You Are Getting Sleepy . . .

. . . as you stare into the mesmerizing swirl of spicy paste that makes an otherwise-ordinary pork roast into a hypnotic point of ocular fixation. This represents one of those rare occasions when I went off-recipe in a substantial way. I'm usually a recipe-follower, one who takes pleasure in perfectly re-creating a dish that looks exactly like the photo in Bon Appetit. I like the scientific precision of the recipes in Cook's Illustrated and the feeling that as long as I do everything just as I've been told, the result will be at minimum palatable. The result of a poorly-received meal is a great deal of personal self-flagellation (metaphorical) that I'd rather not risk.

Whilst on vacation, Caleb read a book entitled "Anti-Cancer", a sort of instruction manual for eating and living your life in the least cancer-encouraging way possible. He loves this stuff. Whereas I view food almost exclusively from the p.o.v. of "what tastes good," Caleb seems to approach food as a tool for the constant betterment of one's physical plant. Food can make you healthier, stronger, less prone to illness, more prone to have washboard abs. This is admirable. His typical breakfast is a bowl of homemade oatmeal sprinkled with flax seeds and blueberries. I like a good fried-egg sandwich.

One thing we both agree on, at least for the moment, is turmeric. We are both Pro. Caleb, because it combats cancer, me because it's in delicious Indian food. So I was trying to find a preparation for pork that would incorporate the Spice Of The Moment. I found an Indonesian recipe called babi gulang, which is typically a whole roast suckling pig, spiced and cooked on a spit over an open flame. The version I found called for making a curry-like spice paste out of shallots, lemongrass, lime juice, garlic, turmeric (natch), jalapenos and a number of other goodies, rubbing it all over some dead pig and roasting it on your grill. Wisconsin Januaries not being amenable to outdoor grilling, I decided to make this paste and, after carving my roast into a blanket of raw pork, spread said blanket with the spices, rolled it up cinnamon-bun-style, and tied it with kitchen twine. I was then able to cook it in the usual way in my oven, and the result is something I am calling "Ho-Ho Of Meat." It tasted great, and the cancer-fighting spice paste has definitely not made its last appearance in my kitch.

Now. Stare DEEP INTO THE MEAT. Relax. Count backwards from ten. When you wake up, you will not remember anything about this blog post.