I'm not sure what Jim was thinking.  I know this much for sure:  he was excited that the Giants were in the playoffs, and he really really wanted some dirty water dogs for his party. 

Sounds like a pretty fool-proof plan to execute, right?  I mean, you got the Giants in the playoffs, you got a bunch of beersh, you got you a boatload of Sabretts (skinless, although I complained and instructed otherwise).  Seems like a perfect night.  One that could run on autopilot.

But something went wrong.  Horribly, horribly wrong. 

Brace yourselves.

On November 9th, 2007, I took these things:

Turned them into this stuff:

And made a few of these:

They were pretty good. Grinding your own hamburger meat is always preferable to buying that nasty stuff from the supermarket.  Although, given the chance, I just go to the Swiss Pork Store in Fair Lawn, NJ, and buy some of their freshly ground beef, which is simply the best.

Anyway, on November 17th, 2007, the kitchen started smelling prit-tee funky.  We searched high and low for the offending organic matter, which was clearly being consumed by micro organisms, which were in turn creating tiny but smelly micro organism farts and stuff.  We finally found the source of the odor:  the garbage disposal.

The people at Insinkerator claim that you can put just about anything down their disposals.  Who am I to question this.  However, when you put fat trimmings in there, and you kind of ignore them for several days, you apparently get this:

Why are we compelled to bite a blister, giving it just a little pinch with our canines, even though everything in our wiring tells us that it will hurt.  Why expose that delicate pink flesh, hidden underneath and not-quite-ready-for-prime-time, to the air and elements?  It should be kept under the tough, bubbled, blister skin, until it's ready to take over for the soon to dry-up-and-fall-off stuff.  But no, we poke a hole in the protective blister skin as soon as we get the chance.  Why? To relieve pressure?  Nah.  Doctor's orders?  Nah.  No, we chow down on the blister bubble because God put that really tasty juice under there, that's why.

Thank you, God, for making blister juice so darned salty delicious and irresistible.

I've cut open a lot of heads of garlic over the years.  Of this you are assured.  Just about everything that I cook has garlic in it.  Right or wrong.  Hell I even steep it in hot water, making "garlic tea," when I have a sore throat.  I'm not sure if it helps, but it sure is fun.

But I've never come across this:

Crispy ear from a pig that so selflessly gave its life so that a bunch of friends could eat.  OK, so it's not that strange.  And it really wasn't this week.  A few weeks ago, though.

Pig intestines at Grand Sichuan were a lovely treat.  Fried crispy, like cracklins, with a nice porky flavor.  I have to say that for the money, there were a lot of intestines.  Not that I have any barometer for such a thing.  It just seemed like a lot.

Served with vegetables in a spicy sichuan pepper-kicked sauce.  Highly recommended.

I don't want to come off as inappropriate, but the first thing that came to mind was "KKK".