Ask any of my co-workers, and they’ll tell you I planned to spend today floating in the pool, eating salty pistachios and lifting frigid bottles of beer from a bucket bobbing right along side me.

Well, the bucket of beer didn’t happen, but the pool did. The pistachios did, too.

Curry happened. Actually, curry happened to burgers, and a precedent was made.

Weeks ago, Bridget came across this recipe for Curried Lamb Burgers in the July 2008 issue of Bon Appetit. We decided to give them a go.

Now, you need to know that Bridget and I rarely fight over food. For starters, there’s usually plenty to go around, but when there’s not, we settle it like grown-ups (After you. No, after you. After you. No, after you.).

These burgers were a different story. They were good, and the leftovers were even better. So much better, in fact, that I left work early for lunch one day just to make it home before Bridget. I knew there was only one serving left, and it was going to be mine. It was.

We decided to make these again for today’s festive meal, and they were a hit! I may never eat barbecued burgers again. There’s a curry and ginger base to these burgers. There’s also cilantro, and a minted-yogurt raita (the milky-white sauce in the pic above). In place of a bun, naan (Indian flatbread), and instead of pickles, green grilled tender-crisp vegetables.

I’ve never been to India, but curry always takes me there (trite, I know). It’s so exotic and deep and unique. Bollywood Burgers can change the world, or at least the way you eat burgers.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY! Play with fire and think of me!

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Like anything great, it takes time to build - plus, creating something out of nothing is HARD. First, let me tell you where we are. We’re in the process of finding/developing some killer-delicious products. The first (to be named/branded later) is a fudge tartlett. What you see below are tartletts in preparation for the shipping test (how will they ship? what will they look/taste like when they get there?) we’re giving these this week.

You’ll notice I said “finding/developing” because the Blakery is going to feature products I find that are amazing, and need to be thrust into the spotlight.

This fudge tartlett is too good not to share with the world, and we’ve even created a version with my peanutbutter dulce de leche.

When the Blakery launches, we’ll tell our story in full - including the story of the baker behind the product. But, for now, we’ve still got a lot of work to do. For instance, this week we hope to finalize a component of the product packaging.

While you’re waiting for the Blakery to launch, check out the two sites that inspired this idea: Tank Goodness and Foodie Boxes.

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I’m a foodie, and as such you can probably assume that I’m not as trim as I could be. I don’t go to the gym, pump iron or really even move all that much (which is about to change with a new project [Healthy Blake]).

I do own a really nice treadmill, and every once in a while I replace a daily meal with a protein shake. Sometimes I even replace a meal with a nutrition bar, which brings us to YouBar.

Let me start by saying that I probably wouldn’t have been interested in YouBar if it was just another protein bar, but they’ve put a very innovative spin on the concept by letting people like you and me build our own bars.

They sent me a sample pack that included Honey Cashew, Breakfast Bar and Great Date With Chocolate. The Breakfast Bar had a strong coffee flavor, and not much chocolate. It was dense, spongy and a little sticky which made it my least favorite of the three.

I didn’t expect to like Great Date With Chocolate, but it was really good. It tasted a little like chewy chocolate fudge with maybe a little dark cherry. There was a little Fig Newton action going on as well (this was my co-workers’ favorite).

Honey Cashew (pictured left) was my hands down favorite. It tasted like this honey fudge I got from the Farmer’s Market a while back, but with a lot of cashewiness…like a whole lot. It was firm, but crumbled and melted the moment I bit-in.

Now, I happen to love cashews. When I was in college, I always talked about starting a company that made cashew peanut butter, and (of course) I called it, Cashutter.

Anyways, I’m actually nibbling on a Honey Cashew bar as I write this post. I’m glad I am because I forgot about the little bits of crispy rice that add a surprising, mousy little crunch.

Each of these bars is around 150 calories, and contain 8 grams of fiber. Sound good? Heard enough? Want some? OK!

Here’s another Blake Makes Giveaway! We’ve got 50 sample packs (each containing 6 bars) to give away! Comment on this post for your chance to win! Power to the people!

We don’t ask much, but we do ask a little:

1. Make sure you’re registered with our SOOPZ Network. Register Now!
2. Sorry, but U.S. and Canadian residents only this time.
3. We’d like you to be interested in blogging about YouBar, and not just want free food.
4. We’d also like you to link to us and to YouBar if you do decide to post.

Good luck! We’ll announce the winners soon!

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The belly was vacuum-sealed. He’d already cooked it, but not before marinating it in some of my peanut butter dulce de leche.

Sound strange? I’ll admit it’s a little unorthodox (peanut butter and pork), but that’s just Mike. He keeps you guessing, and will surprise you over and over again.

It’s never surprising, however, how good the food turns out. He’s actually made this on his blog before (his pic is better than mine).

Mike gave me very simple instructions, “Crisp it up a little in a nice hot pan. Then, drizzle on a little of this.” He handed me a small bottle of his homemade BBQ sauce.

I felt so special, like I had a secret to keep. Honestly, I had to fight the impulse to tuck the foodstuff under my shirt and speed away.It sat in my fridge for a few days, but it was always on my mind. I knew tonight was the night.

I’d never cooked pork belly before, so I was a little intimidated. Plus, I knew Mike could cook this stuff in his sleep, and (of course) he’d be reading this post. It had to be good. It had to do Mike proud.

I melted a little butter into a little olive oil in a pan. When it was nice and hot (just under the smoking point), I added the belly. It seared for about five minutes on one side, and another five on the other side.

I sliced the belly into two inch cubes, and plated it on top of a silky, smooth sweet potato puree. A swirling drizzle of BBQ sauce later, and this dish was ready to ascend into heaven.

It took five minutes for me to finish off the plate. It was so good, in fact, that I ate it all.

Now that I review this entry, I don’t think I did the preparation (all of Mike’s hard work) justice. I may get him to guest post with the details. If you’re feeling jealous, good! This was amazing.

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I love watermelon, and all its juicy, ruby-red succulence. I have vivid memories of sizzling, hot summer fish fries in the country with my family where at the end of the fried feast, they’d bring out the watermelons. They were huge and ice cold (indeed, they were so cold they’d burn your hands if you held them too long). We always sliced ours first in half, then into quarters lengthwise. When you’d get your portion, it’d take up your whole lap.

I would always eat mine like my dad. With a fork and knife, he’d start at the top, and make one horizontal slice across the entire length of his portion. Then, in quick, vertical chops, he’d create ten or so perfectly geometric, three-dimensional triangles. Next, he’d sprinkle on a little salt, and delicately eat each segment.

Those melons from my childhood always seemed to be incredibly sweet, but since I’ve grown up, they’ve been hit or miss. I do my share of thumping and shaking and smelling, but I haven’t figured it out. How do you pick a sweet watermelon? Maybe you can’t. Maybe that’s just one more thing we can blame on global warming.

Last week, I decided enough was enough. I installed a few of those twisted energy-efficient light bulbs, and considered buying a Prius. I was going to make a difference, so when life gave me flavorless watermelon, I made watermelon sorbet.

I’m not sure if it was in retaliation over the melon, or the global warming thing, but I jerked open my knife drawer and yanked out my ice cream scoop. Five minutes later, the meat from the ‘lemon’ was piled into my blender. After a quick blitz, it was through a strainer and into a large metal bowl.

I measured out 5 cups of the melon water. In a small saucepan, I melted 1 cup of sugar into 1 cup of the watermelon juice over low heat. Next, I zested and juiced 1 small lime. I mixed everything together with a good pinch of salt, and threw it in the fridge for the afternoon (I tossed the melon halves into the freezer).

When the watermelon slurry was nice and cold, I poured it into my ice cream maker. About half-an-hour later, we had slush. I poured it into the frozen rinds, and placed them back in the freezer. The next morning, I put them in the fridge to soften slightly.

After a few hours, they were still frozen, but soft enough to slice. I dotted on a few mini-chocolate chips, and ta-dah! I had created sweet watermelon slices, complete with seeds and all.

It was so good - perfectly refreshing, very melony and quite clever (if I do say so myself). Of course, I can’t take all the credit. My Gourmet Cookbook (Watermelon Sorbet with Chocolate Seeds) got me a good 80% of the way, but I didn’t follow the recipe exactly.

Take that Mother Nature! Take that flavorless watermelon dealers! Take that global warming! From now on, when you buy a watermelon that tastes more like water than melon, use this little trick. I’m always looking out for my Blake Makers. Never fear.

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Pretty soon, it’ll be aprons on, whisks out and posts up! Stay tuned!

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I present Roasted Chicken with Green (Herbed) Salt from Two Fat Ladies Obsessions.

I think every cook wants a recipe for roasted chicken that they can pull out of their back pocket at a moment’s notice. Chicken is something almost everybody likes, and when it’s good, it’s like comfy PJs for your soul.

I’ve made Gourmet’s Perfectly Roasted Chicken, and it turns out nicely, but they recommend turning the chicken every 30 minutes for nearly two hours basting with every turn. Not with this bird. Nope, with this chick there’s no turning, no butter, nothing. Actually, it’s as easy as P-R-P.

Step 1: Place

Get ready for this one, because it’s a very tricky and complicated step. Remove the chicken from its grocery store wrapping, and PLACE it in a roasting pan (Preheat your oven to 400).

Step 2: Rub (And Stuff)

To make the rub, toss into a food processor

• 4 heaping tbsp. of coarsely chopped rosemary
• 4 heaping tbsp. of coarsely chopped thyme leaves
• 2 heaping tbsp. of fresh marjoram leaves (we used 1 tbsp. dried)
• 12 cloves of garlic

1 lb. fine sea salt (we used pink Himalayan salt).

Blitz to pulverize, then dump the green salt into the largest bowl you have. You’ll want a big bowl because you need the moisture from the herbs to evaporate letting the salt dry out. Let it stand for a good 24 hours - just long enough for the whole house to get nice and yummy-smelling. Store in an air-tight jar in the fridge.

Rub the bird (inside and out) with 2 tbsp. of the salt mixture. Stuff her with 3 large (bashed) garlic cloves, 3 husky sprigs of fresh rosemary and 2 dainty sprigs of fresh thyme. DO NOT USE ANY BUTTER, OIL OR FAT.

Step 3: Place (Again)

Place the salty chicken (already in the roasting pan) in the oven, and roast at 400 for an hour-and-a-half. Don’t open the door, just let it hang.

We’ve made this three times recently, and every time it’s perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned.

I know you already know this, but let the chicken rest after you remove it from the oven. Resting for 15 minutes is good; resting for 25 is better. While you’re waiting, I’m sure you could get away with picking off a few crispy, salty specs. The best (and most inconspicuous) place to snatch a little appetizer is from around the cavity opening - along with the “Pope’s Nose.”

Be lazy like us and toss a few peeled and chopped carrots, onions and sweet potatoes into the roasting pan, and let them cook right along with the chicken. When the chicken’s done, so is everything else (BONUS: it’ll all be coated in greasy chicken essence). Our vegetarian friends just don’t know what they’re missing.

It’s good to be back. I’ve missed you guys. bk

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