Cinnabourbodons

So I've been talking about making something along these lines for a year now, and I finally found myself bored outta my skull enough to finally do it.

I haven't baked a cake since I was about 13 years old, so I didn't go into this filled with confidence at how it would turn out. Especially not since my ingredients were... a little unusual.

Yeah, the name is basically a drunkenly assembled portmanteau combining three things I fucking LOVE: cinnamon, bourbon, and Mastodon. Since I couldn't get a hold of any of Brent Hinds' every-drug-under-the-sun-infused blood (I suck at being a stalker), the first two alone will have to suffice.

So first up, seperate out your various measures of ingredients:
• 5oz self-raising flour
• 4oz caster sugar
• Stork margarine
• 2 eggs
• 2 large tbsps of cocoa powder
• Cinnamon (add to taste)
• A very, VERY generous splash of bourbon. I went for Southern Comfort, the wimpiest, but sweetest, brand I know.

So firstly, grab a pyrex bowl, pour in all your dry powder ingredients first, then add your margarine, then your eggs. Grab a whisk (I'd recommend electric, because I'm a lazy motherfucker, and you're guaranteed a better consistency with a little high-powered assistance), and bury it right deep in there, and start mixing!

Once it's mixed together pretty well, you can start splashing in some bourbon 'til you get the correct texture. I don't really know what that is, not being a cake/bake expert, so I just kinda played it by ear. Or sight. Or taste. Whateverthefuck sense is applicable here.

Add some extra sugar, bourbon, and a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, all to taste.

[Insert photo of finished, whisked product here. Or don't, if you're an idiot who forgot to take one.]

Divide your mixture up between several cake... things. What are they called? The wee paper... skirts.
Cake skirts.
Fuckit, that'll have to do.
Anyway, divide it up between a lot of 'em, or just a couple, depending on how big you want the finished product to be. I went for big-ass-motherfuckers, as I believe is the correct industry term.

Once thats done, pop them into a pre-heated oven (gas mark 3) for between 15 - 20 minutes.
If you're feeling particularly limber, try and air-drum to anything from Blood Mountain. I pulled every single muscle in my arms doing so.



Once the time has passed, take 'em out of the oven and poke one with your finger. If it raises pretty quick, they're done. If it stays poked, then they're either not quite baked, or you've added FAR too much bourbon.
Guess which I fell victim to?

So now that your cakes are ruined, it's time to make the icing.

I didn't realise how fucking annoying it was to whip up some simple chocolate icing! Goddamn!
Dump your butter into the dry ingredients, and basically just... fuck around with a fork trying in vain to integrate the ingredients. Eventually lose the rag with it and say "fuck this!", storm off in a huff for 15 minutes, then grudgingly return and have another shot.

If you're still completely inept, boil up a tiny amount of water, and splash that in there, to help break up the chunks of sugary butter, and continue whisking it into something resembling dog shit.

It tastes marginally better than it looks.

Spread it out over your terrible cakes, and attempt to make it at least halfway presentable by swirling the icing around to little points. God they look awful, don't they? Sprinkle a little cinnamon over the finished products, and try to muster up some faux-enthusiasm at the prospect of eating all of them by yourself...

Grill 'em All!

For starters, I would like to apologise to the girl who partially inspired this post, since she's spent the weekend longing for barbeque food and steak.
So me, being the absolute prick that I am, decided 'hey, I know, I should totally have a barbeque and cook steak on it!'.

Disclaimers and apologies aside, I do genuinely LOVE barbeque season, which for me lasts pretty much from the first day there's still daylight past 7pm, pretty much up until the first snowfall of that winter. I think last summer I must've set some kind of record by attending barbeques for EVERY dinner for just over two weeks. Seriously, even if it was someone I didn't know who was hosting it, I got to know 'em pretty damn quick when I showed up at their home bearing dead animal parts and exotic sauces.
So I never pass on the opportunity to start fires outdoors, and tonight was my first of 2011.

It should go without saying that the first thing you do is fire up your grill. If you use firelighters, or that scooshy liquid shit, you should have your fucking FACE barbequed, you cheating motherfucker. Either charcoal ONLY, or use blocks of chopped wood, anything as close to 'natural' fire as you can get, because that other shit gives off an awful chemical odour, and will make your meat taste of deodorant. Fucking vomit.

So yeah, incase you're completely fucking numb in the brain, the most obvious choices for barbeque-ing are STEAK & BURGS! I usually come up with some extremely booze-sodden meat monstrosities, and tonight was no exception. I blew what little I had left of this weeks food budget on the biggest steaks I could find, and didn't think they should be sullied with just any old swill, I was gonna go all out for these babys:

Yep, any of you who actually read this sensory-serving, starvation-solving, solipsistic, salivation-inspiring soliloquys (yeah, I'm a pretentious, overly-verbose cunt, fight me about it) who know your bourbons will know that this shit just got SRS! Woodford Reserve will burn your throat and blacken your lungs, and is not for the faint-hearted. So I poured a pretty goddamn decent measure of it into the craters I carved on my steak.

I also figured I would (yet a-fucking-gain) make my own burgers. Insert previous blog entries about that process here. I did pull a Frankenstein and create some fuckin' MONSTERS tonight though!

So basically the prep work takes up all your time with barbequing, because once your meat is set to go, and your flames are licking your grill tray, all you gotta do is introduce them!

It's as easy as that, just keep a very careful eye on your steaks if you're like me and like 'em pretty much just bloody as all hell. When I bite into a steak, I want to hear that fucker moo. A figure about a minute for one side, and 30 second on the other is optimal, but if you're against mild bestial vampirism, cook it for a while longer. Pussy.

Yes, thats a strawberry milkshake, sofuckinwhat? There's enough bourbon soaked into the meat to get me nice and drunken. Drunk on carcass, life don't get much sweeter.

Just a short intoduction to a couple of guys you should already be familiar with if you're reading this blog, and thus probably already into metal and food, the awesome GRILL 'EM ALL foodtruck, out of Los Angeles, California. I can't tell you anything this video won't, but safe to say this truck is the ONLY reason I would ever visit Cali. Enjoy, and get salivating!