Light a Fire

I can't really call myself a writer.  A writer is someone who does it all the time, continuously, slaving, laboring.  This is something I cannot do due to this little thing called income, and I need it.  Working for an airline for 10 hours, then coming home to write is a formula doomed to fail.  You would think that being able to travel around the world on someone else's dime, meeting interesting if not insane people, and just being around travel would invoke stories that would pour out easily on paper, and really, they should.  Mentally, however, the last thing I really want to do after dealing with the day is think.  Drained of all energy and willingness to participate in the rest of the day, I trudge home with my backpack in tow, ponytail unwound, shirt untucked and collapse in my bed.  While staring at the ceiling, I think to myself, "I really should write something, I've got a decent story to tell." But my hands communicate to my brain with the rebuttal, "we ain't jockeying no keyboard, so can all thoughts of productivity."  On my days off, I get the brunt of my writing done, but I procrastinate.  The week of work sometimes extends its tired hand into the reaches of my leisure time, and I move my computer to a good writing nook, only to have it sit there all day while I watch mindless Netflix.

photo credit: comicvine.gamspot.com and no it's not me.

By the way, this is not the airlines fault, it's mine.  There are writers who work jobs and are still able to put ink to paper.  This problem is mine, and if I'm going to be a "writer" (whatever that means) all I need to do is light a fire and do it.  For those of you who have been so kind as to peek in on this little blog startup, thank you.  I'm making a promise to you.  More content, shorter content, fun reads, cooking, crazies, etc.  But know, I'm doing it for me, more than you.

To digress to my passion without not even a whiff of a transition, I came up with my own brine.  No name for it yet, but going through the red tape of copyrights and such.  A previous post gave the basics to this technique that really helps proteins stay moist (hate that word) when putting them to open flame.  While staring at a pork chop in the kitchen last weekend (I tend to do that, it was really a beautiful pork chop), I decided that rather than do the same old boring, delicious thing I always do, I was going to open the pantry and see what mad scientist shit I could put together.

Brian's Bourbon Brine (patent pending, all rights reserved, this brine cannot be recreated without the express written consent of Major League Baseball).

A little bottle of Bourbon - If you fly enough, you know what these are.  If you are a flight attendant, you have a lot of these in your house.
3 cups water
2 cups ice
3-4 center cut boneless pork chops, thick
1/2 cup Kosher Salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
A squeeze of honey (squeeze is a bonafide unit of measure)
Half an orange, grind the rind, squash out the juice (I believe those are also rap lyrics).

Look at the cross-hatching!

Grab a gallon Ziploc bag and stick Babe in there.  In a large bowl combine all of the ingredients and stir until the salt and sugar dissolve.  Throw the ice cubes in there and wait until the temperature gets to around 50 degrees.  Once chilled, pour it into the bag with the pig and seal taking out as much of the air as possible.  Place the bag on a platform during a thunderstorm, and raise into the air through the retractable roof in your ceiling and wait for lightning to strike, lower.  Put pork in the fridge for about 2-6 hours so that all the ingredients can introduce themselves properly. With bourbon in there, this should be no problem.

Remove the party and wash the pork.  This gets the excess brine off, you don't want this to be too salty.  Do not, salt the pork some more, but you can add pepper, or some herbs as a dry rub.  For this one, try rosemary.  Grill on medium high for about 15-20 minutes depending upon the thickness of the pork.  Flip it a couple times.

Done, looks good on a plate, tastes good in your mouth, does nothing for you on the ceiling (I was a really bad cook once).