To call this a recipe is an overstatement, nevertheless I like it and so does my kid. It will pump your levels of vitamin A so high you’ll get an X-ray vision.

Here goes: peel some carrots (I used 2 lbs) and shred them using any available method (I used food processor). Here is a hint: if you are planning to shred carrots by hand, do not buy a whole bunch of small  ones, you will regret it. Add salt, maybe a tablespoon or two of mayonnaise and as much pressed garlic as you can handle. Bam!

P.S. Mayonnaise haters need not comment; it’s French and, therefore, delicious.

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On a long list of things that I am lacking, somewhere between being sporty and good looks, is the ability to do the Yo-Yo thing (shut up, Chimpo). I am not sure if the Life magazine ever ran these photos taken in June of 1961, so here is your chance to see them.

I have a strange feeling when I look at these photos – these Kansas City kids are about 60 years old now, their own kids are likely to be older than they were in these shots, which captured just one second of their summer almost 50 years ago.

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My previous post reminded me that learning English (or any other language other than your own) takes a lifetime. I feel pretty comfortable with where I am now but almost daily I pick something up or correct something that I already know.
When I started many years ago one of the biggest revelations was that when a person says “How Do You Do” they don’t expect a short blurb on the state of your affairs. You just say “How Do You Do” back. Over the years I learned not to answer in length to “How Are You”, “What’s Up” and “Did You Find Everything You Need?”. These and other words lost their original meaning and became something you say to a person walking towards you in the narrow hallway when just silently passing them is awkward. Many foreigners who don’t know these secret English handshakes always complain that Americans are insincere, they ask how are you, but they don’t really want to know. Literal understanding of the language leads to cultural misunderstanding. Another common foreigner gripe is that Americans are always smiling with those false evil smiles while probably hating your guts. I am guilty of betraying my immigrant brothers and starting to smile some more although it took me years to get used to it. Unfortunately years of soviet evil dentistry don’t allow me to look like Howdy Doody.
This brings me to my main subject. Does it bother me when people wish me Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays or Happy Hanukkah? Not at all for several reasons. One of the main ones is that these words pretty much lost their meaning. Does a Walmart cashier really care if my Christmas is merry, or do I even celebrate Christmas. Probably not. I just don’t understand the people who get mad. This clerk has to say it so Walmart doesn’t have to endure another year of being pounded on by blowhard O’Reilly. Some people may say it sincerely but by the end of their shift I doubt their desire to add to the merriness of my holidays. I understand. I just hope that they wish at the same time that O’Reilly goes to hell. I also understand that this is a long-standing American tradition, something that people did since they were children, and who am I to challenge it. I understand that for many people religious meaning is long gone and I don’t judge. Once in awhile it’s fun to reply “I am Jewish” and watch well-wisher squirm, but I’d never do it to a working stiff. There are plenty of snooty people who deserve it.
When people say nice things to me I like it, even if they don’t mean it. When people smile at me I smile back even though I know that it’s more of a reflex than their excitement to see me. It’s always better than meeting one of the students of The D or Emaw who can tell me to fuck off, or even to fuck myself. If I only could…

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I knew there was a post somewhere on this blog about the Russian pancakes made with Farmer Cheese for which I coined a term cheese-niki, but when my sophisticated gastronomical friend Katrina posted a recipe on her blog, I thought it was time to revisit the subject.

There must be some unfortunate reason why the American people are being deprived of multiple milk products. Kefir is only now becoming widely available or even known to many people, there is probably one lonely brand of Farmer Cheese, and such delicacies as baked milk and ryazhenka are mostly unheard of outside of the Russian store. In light of the aforementioned shortages of common ingredients I had to adapt my recipe to whatever is available on hand. Yes, there are ways of making Farmer Cheese at home, but as my daughter would gladly tell you – I am lazy, and all my cooking is based on the least possible amount of work and clean-up.

For this recipe you’ll need a 32 oz tub of the all-natural plain or vanilla yogurt, 1 egg, about a cup of flour, a small amount of salt and baking soda, sugar, and optional vanilla and raisins, craisins or whatever else you might like. You will also need cheesecloth, which is widely available at most grocery stores, craft department at Walmart, kitchen stores and elsewhere.

When buying yogurt look for one with the least possible amount of ingredients; the one I used had just one ingredient -milk. I usually pick a large container at Walmart where it only costs around two dollars. Other yogurts contain fillers, white paint, super-glue and other fine ingredients, but while it may be OK to eat, I have no idea what will happen when you try to cook with it.

The night before you want to cook pancakes (or few nights, if you are a long-term planner), strain the yogurt. The way I do it is to cut a piece of cheesecloth large enough to cover a colander when folded in two. Then I cover the colander with two layers of cheesecloth, empty the yogurt container into it, tie the ends to create sort of a pouch and hang it overnight to drain.

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Cue the soundtrack:

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fp-ATy9tkrg

By the way, I can watch the girl on the right for hours, something hypnotic about her dancing.

El Camino Real in Kansas City, KS was recently listed as the number one on the Kansas City’s Top Ten Cheap Tacos list, which I am following as if it was a list of the 10 commandments of cheap food. After several visits to the place  I would agree that it’s undoubtedly one of the top taquerias in the metro. I usually avoid the word “authentic” because, as I have mentioned before, I have never had a meal in Mexico outside the feedlots for the pasty fat people otherwise known as resorts in Cancun. However, if I had to imagine what the Mexican people eat at home, it would be something like what’s served at El Camino Real.
Over the past several years my idea of the “real” Mexican food has evolved to exclude anything with puddles of melted cheese and mountains of lettuce, not that there is anything wrong with that. The type of Mexican taco I came to like is a simple mound of filling on a small corn tortilla with cilantro, onions and pico de gallo served with it or on the side. Sometimes you will get a lime but that’s as fancy as it goes. The secret is in simplicity which is what I appreciate in any food.
At El Camino Real the kitchen area is open so I was able to annoy the cooks hanging around and taking pictures. This is the first place where I saw the tortilla-making contraption and was able to capture its operation on-camera.

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bVCsBijFHA

The process is pretty simple. After tortillas are rolled…

…they go on the griddle…

…some pork “al pastor” is cut off

the spit and mixed with pineapple you can see above it …

…few more minutes of cooking…

…and done!

On the left-hand side you can see al pastor, on the right side is asada – steak and on the top is the lengua – tongue.
Here is another photo slightly turned:

You can see the rest of the taco selection in the menu:

The place is clean and has plenty of seating. I was able to park right outside of the door but there is plenty of non-metered parking in the area. On both of my visits, there was at least one English-speaking person in the restaurant, usually the waitress. If you dine in you will get complimentary chips, salsa and pico de gallo. Carry-out didn’t come with chips or pico de gallo, but I didn’t ask. They did send plenty of chopped cilantro, onions, salsa and limes.

3 tacos and a Mexican Coke (which is now sold at Costco, at least in Midtown) ran up to $6.48, a little price to pay for what the greatest restaurant critic of all time (to be left unnamed) called “the best tacos I had in my entire life”

*I used Google Translate, I am not exactly sure El Camino Real is The Royal Road

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