Has the nation of white pale mountain singers and cruise lines run out of butter? Yes, butter! The yodeling has stopped and the bread has gone dry. The people of Norway have found inspiration in the Egyptians and other Arabs and have taken to the streets!

For my last good deed of 2011, and my undying crush for the handsome Prince Haakon Magnus, I’m going to teach the people of Norway how to make their own butter.

Listen up you TinTin Lovers!

Homemade Butter for Norway

2 Cups Heavy Cream

In a Kitchenaid mixer, whisk the heavy cream on medium high for 10 minutes. Start slow, and then build your way up. You will notice the cream turn into scrambled eggs with liquid. This is what you want. Remove it from the bowl and strain it for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes use your hands to squeeze out any left over liquid. Mold, sprinkle with salt and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.

Let the fighting stop. And for you non-speaking rebels, see the Norwegian version below.

2 kopper Heavy Cream

I en Kitchenaid mikser, visp kremfløte på middels høyt i 10 minutter.Begynn sakte, og deretter bygge deg oppover. Du vil merke at kremen blir til eggerøre med væske. Dette er hva du ønsker. Ta det fra bollen ogpress den i 30 minutter. Etter 30 minutters bruk hendene til å presse utnoen venstre over væske. Mold, dryss med salt og kjøleskap i inntil 2 uker.

Nick Denton’s gawker wrote:

http://gawker.com/5869463/norwegian-butter-crisis-escalates-as-swedes-arrested-in-smuggling-scheme

Wall Street Journal (WSJ) agrees:

http://blogs.wsj.com/source/2011/12/19/norway-embarrassed-by-butter-shortage/

Rumor has it 1 in 100 of these will burn you so bad that you’ll die. Not sure how true that is, but it’s worth the risk.

1 Bunch Shishito Peppers
Light Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Salt

Heat a large pan on medium high for 2 minutes. Drizzle a thin layer of Light Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Add the peppers to the hot oil cook for 5-6 minutes. Flipping the peppers over every minute.

Plate up and drizzle with salt.

Good luck

Chicken Thighs with Chimichurri Sauce

I just stared eating chimichurri sauce a few years ago and figured out the 2 tricks you need to remember to make it memorable. First, always add oregano and second, drizzle it over chicken thighs.

Chicken Thighs

It’s best to BBQ over medium heat for 45 minutes, but if you don’t have a grill just use your oven.

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Cover your thighs in Olive Oil and a sprinkle with salt and pepper on each side. In a single layer place them in the oven and bake for about 45 minutes.

I go through a cycle of diets — no-carb, low-carb, vegetarian, vegan, liquid, no-sugar and the no-salt diet. I like switching between them. The problem is they last a month before I go back to eating regular food for a while, then pick the next diet. I know, unhealthy.

I do find it odd when someone goes on one of these extreme diets and they use so many substitutions. You’re giving something up for a reason; why eat a substitute full of chemicals and other crap just to get something that kinda/almost tastes like the original?

My mother is constantly going on (and off, an then back on) her BFFs diet, the Atkins Diet. I remember her lighting a candle the day he died. She was so distraught over his passing. She called the clinic asking where the funeral was and they kindly told her it’s only for friends and family, not idolaters.

When she’s on Atkins, she eats vegetables, meats and cheeses. That’s it. So many times she’s asked me to make the “Fake Mashed Potatoes.” I always have to remind her that it’s Mashed Cauliflower and not fake mashed potatoes.

Growing up in Manhattan, we thought that only two types of people lived in Brooklyn — thugs and my assailing cousins. I was equally scared of both of them, so I avoided the aggressive borough as much as I could. But now that inflation keeps rising, I’m being economically pushed out of Manhattan. I’m now at a place where I need to come to terms with the idea that I will have to move, and that the move might take me to Brooklyn.

To prepare myself for this potential move, I’ve been going to BK as much as my taxi allowance permits. So far this summer, I’ve made the excursion twice. Once was for The Great Hot Dog Cookoff where I competed and the other was to visit my family for my goddaughter’s first birthday. (Yes, I am the godfather to a little girl in Brooklyn). Both times the anxiety kicked in right when I made the commitments to go. I’m much bigger than I was as a kid, so the thugs of BK are less terrifying. However, my cousins still scare the shit out of me. I always feel like they’re either going to beat me up or curse me out for no reason whatsoever. It’s never happened, but I can’t shake the impending beating from my mind.

Anyway, for my goddaughter’s birthday party, one of my cousins made this lovely shrimp salad. Just like everyone else there, she’s very pro-Brooklyn. Brooklyn this, Brooklyn that — all in the really heavy accent we’ve all grown to love. It’s like shut the fuck up already. We get it. Brooklyn is amazing and you’re never leaving, blah blah blah…

During the party, as I watched the Brooklynites on one side of the room and the Manhattanites on the other side, one thing became clear: Either you’re in or you’re out, and I was out. As much as I wanted the recipe, I didn’t think she would give it to me for the simple reason that I’m not from Brooklyn.

I took a swig of her Hennessy to get some courage before I crossed the room and asked her for the recipe. As I cringed, waiting for the physical or verbal assault I was sure was coming, she said she would be delighted to share it with me. I guess the people of Brooklyn are not so bad, after all — either that, or she was wasted. Not really sure if she remembers, come to think of it. If you’re reading this, please don’t curse me out or beat the shit out of me for making a few changes and posting this.

My dad knew that medical insurance was something you paid for, but he was too embarrassed to use it. Just like food stamps, welfare checks and Section 8 housing insurance were things the government gave you because you were poor. My father has actually been paying for prescriptions out-of-pocket all these years because he didn’t want the Bangladeshi cashier at Duane Reade to judge him.

Last year, I spoke to my dad and told him to show the cashier at the pharmacy his insurance card. I told him that it doesn’t mean he’s poor and that it isn’t considered welfare — even rich people use medical insurance. To be honest, I don’t think he listened to me.

Last week he came over and asked me to make him some soup. Turns out he’d finally gone to the dentist and couldn’t eat solid food. I figured it was the least I could do, since god knows how much he just paid for his appointment.

I recently went to the land of retired doormen, elevator men and porters: Puerto Rico! Nothing like what I had expected. Growing up, the only Puerto Ricans I knew were either in gangs, worked in my building or came out of hiding on a random Sunday in June for a parade. OK, OK… not all of them, but enough for me to make a statement like that without worrying about a serious challenge. It is one of the most absolutely beautiful and tranquil places I have ever been.

Once we arrived on the small island of Culebra, we hired a boat to take us fishing and snorkelling. Shortly after sailing out, I realized two frightening things: First, I forgot to cut my toenails. Second, how are we going to eat? I asked my cousins if either of them had a nail clipper, and as usual they were useless. I didn’t dare ask Captain Bill, but I did want to know what we were eating. He told me he had some fresh grouper that he would make for us. Grouper is one of those fishes I’ve heard about but am not really sure if I’ve ever had it. I don’t even know if I would recognize it if I saw it.

While we were snorkelling, Captain Bill pan-seared grouper with sesame seeds for us. I was completely surprised. It was delicious — white and flaky. It took hold of me and didn’t let go until I’d devoured the entire meal completely.

How could I keep something so good to myself?

 KAYZBXBVP5QS

Cooking with clams makes me nervous — almost as nervous as I felt for Star Jones when Nene Leakes delivered her verbal beat down on Celebrity Apprentice. It was so intense that Obama went and nabbed Osama bin Laden in order to interrupt The Donald’s show. Props to the President for sparing us watching three black contestants leave the show in one episode. I see a trend at NBC. Watch your back Al Roker!!!!

Turns out, cooking clams isn’t so scary. The only thing you need to do is make sure you clean the clams properly: Add the clams to a large pot of water, making sure the water covers all the cockles. Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of corn meal and 1 tablespoon of salt over the cockles and add the pot to the refrigerator for 2 hours. When you’re ready to cook them, just rinse the clams and they’re ready to go.

Recipe: Linguini with Clam sauce

Number of servings (yield): 4

Meal type: dinner

Microformatting by hRecipe.

However, some people stay stuck and you can spot them from a mile away. You always know the asshole that’s going to order Chicken Parmesan at a restaurant.

Even though the chicken is fried, Chicken Milanese is a great adult summer lunch dish — very light and refreshing. But there are a few important rules to this dish. First, use Panko breadcrumbs. Second, use fresh heirloom tomatoes, and third, don’t over-fry your chicken. My lazy ass sister uses 4C breadcrumbs and jarred salsa to save herself 10 minutes. Trust me, it’s not worth it!

It’s hard to tell how much you will need for each ingredient. It really depends on how much chicken you’re making. One pint of tomatoes and a handful of arugula will make enough salad for 8 chicken breasts.

My mother used to make me this traditional Albanian dish called Pasul or Grosh — the dish had a different name depending on where you were from. Since my mother is a gypsy, I just call it bean and lamb soup. It’s really simple to make and will warm your belly while boosting your self-esteem.