Popcorn plus yeast = not so bad

The now-famous Russ recently invited a few of us at the office to enjoy some popcorn topped with brewer's yeast. As someone who brews beer, I was anticipating a wholly gross experience, but yeast on popcorn actually tasted quite natural and oddly familiar.

In this video segment of Nate's Plate, you'll see me, Russ, Bridgette and camera-woman Jordan.

Russ has amazing lunches

What better way to return to Nate's Plate than by letting my friend Jordan do my work for me? I cannot escape Jordan. I met her while "interning" at Found Magazine. Then, she got a job across the street from the coffee shop I was known to frequent. Now, she works at the same fancy advertising agency as me. This means she also works with Russ, the man who brought us fried mung beans and sunberries. This makes Russ the most-featured man in Nate's Plate history. Jordan actually sits next to Russ and has noticed something about his lunches: They are amazing.

Dear Nate’s Plate readers,

I would like to tell you about Russ. He sits next to me and his lunches are amazing.

Sometimes I bring a sandwich. I feel rather proud of myself, because I made it. I put the condiment on the bread and it has at least two elements to it (a meat and a cheese). Sometimes, if it’s a ham sandwich, I will mix mayonnaise and Honeycup mustard. Then I feel like I am the greatest.

But this kind of satisfaction would never be enough for Russ, whose lunches come in at least three different containers. I asked him if he ever just eats a sandwich.

“On rare occasion, yeah,” he said. “Not often, though … I’m a huge fan of Zingerman’s sandwiches and that sort of stuff, but it’s hard to recreate that at home.”

Well la dee dah.

He claims that it’s because his dad bought some too-skinny bread when he was a kid and his sandwiches were always falling apart, but I don’t buy it.

I think that he just likes to rub it in my face that he gets to eat lunches like this one:


This lunch consists of homemade latkes, a delicious-looking homemade cookie bar of some sort, and a bean concoction that smells like a warm haven from the doldrums of winter.

This is my lunch:


This lunch consists of Meijer generic goldfish-like crackers, sugar-free hot chocolate, and lip gloss. And that isn’t even the original hot chocolate; I reconstituted the dregs on the bottom by adding more hot water.

Look at him, sitting at his desk by the window, smugly enjoying his satisfying bean concoction (that was quite possibly cooked by his wife, who does yoga but is not a vegetarian (update 06/2010: she IS). GOD, is there anything in Russ’s life that isn’t perfect?):

Sunberries

Sunberries. They look like the kind of berries that you're not sure you can eat until you see a bird eat one first. In other words, they look like poison berries. But they're not -- I made the guy who grew them in his back yard eat one before giving them to me. He didn't die, so it was my turn for some chomping.

Executive summary: Not only are sunberries not deadly, they're not gross.*



What? You want more details than that?

OK.

It's hard to describe sunberries, and I could probably describe them however I want to because I bet you'll never ever have your hands on them in your life. But since I am such an objective blogger, I'll throw you a bone.

Think of a nice sweet grape combined with a tomato without the acid. As they ripen, the tomato taste fades away. That in a nutshell, er grape peel, is the flavor of a sunberry.

They're like strange candy in odor and flavor, and would do well in packaged form if they had a nice waxy consistency like Starbursts.

I think I detected some mealiness, but it's hard to say since sunberries are so tiny. It might just be their tiny seeds that contribute to this mouthfeel.

This tininess also makes each one a little tease.

So, should you eat sunberries? Sure, if you know someone who grows strange things in his yard. If you're a confectioner, I'd recommend harnessing their flavor and using it to make some candy. It would have to be better than violet candy.

Disclaimer:
*I love all fruits and vegetables and eat raw tomatoes for a snack, so maybe I am biased.

Mung Crunch! (Fried Mung Beans: Colleague's Cookin' Special Edition PART 2)

You may recall that I reviewed a colleague's fried mung beans a while back. Here's his long-awaited write-up and recipe. And by "long awaited," I mean it has been sitting on my computer for months waiting for me to post it. Here's what Russ has to say.

In these difficult economic times I feel the need to make the most of everything in our cabinets. This has involved making use of a variety of questionable purchases that have been lying around for months. Possibly the most perplexing was the 3 lb bag of mung beans I found underneath the Halloween candy. Much like the whole dried hot peppers and can of chopped clams this must have been a “seemed like a good idea at the time” purchase from the Indian grocery store.

My only previous experience with mung beans was a quote from The Office about said beans “smelling like death," as seen here.

The best part of this video is that it is as much about Crazy Train as it is mung beans. The quote is at 1:30 wait for it… wait for it…

As I found while frying them, they do indeed smell like death. My wife actually got sick to her stomach from the smell. As with just about any food once they are fried and salted they are delicious. My recipe is below.

Mung Crunch
250 g mung beans (8 oz.)
1 tb Vegetable oil
Salt to taste
1. Just soak the mung beans overnight. Drain them and dry thoroughly.
2. Fry in vegetable oil over a moderate heat, turning frequently, until they are browned and crisp - between 5 and 10 minutes.
3. Drain on kitchen paper towelling, sprinkle with salt, and cool. They store very successfully in airtight jars.

Fried Mung Beans: Colleague's Cookin' Special Edition

When my coworker Russ inquired about the possibility of writing a piece about fried mung beans for Nate's Plate, I didn't hesitate to say yes. I pictured a pan on his stove with steaming off-white refried beans bubbling away, stinking up his house. Boy was I wrong. Fried mung beans are actually hard (I guess they're just fried once) and dark green-brown in color.

I had the privilege of sampling Russ's Famous Fried Mung Beans before his review was completed, so I decided I'd write my own. I was drafting a corporate spam e-missive and an email from Russ appeared in my inbox: "Mung beans are at my desk. Drop by and sample the goodness." It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

I walked across the office and there were the little guys on his desk, hanging out in a jar of Mrs. Renfro's "Smoky" Roasted Salsa. The beans weren't the fried mess I expected at all. They were hard and looked rather insect-like. The ones without their shells looked like Honey Smacks cereal. Most importantly, FRIED MUNG BEANS ARE DAMN GOOD.

Fried mung beans are not a side dish for a meal, as I had expected. They're a salty, crunchy, kinda-burnt-tasting treat. They're a wholly addictive snack that leaves the slightest amount of oily residue in your palm.

The fact they they were stored in an old salsa jar only made them better. It added some southwest pizzaz that delicately flirted with my taste buds. When removed from the jar, the beans smell rather neutral, which is good since Russ reported that they stink terribly when being prepared.

As the jar emptied, I already found myself hoping that there are more fried mung beans on their way to the office. I'd buy a bag of these at the party store, and that's high praise. I suppose I could do that, since Beer Nuts already exist.

And don't take it from me. Take it from Eric, a.k.a. Pep-Pep. After sampling some fried mung beans, this is what he said:
"Holy crap those are good ... Those are REALLY good ... Those are one of the best snacks I've ever had."

The people have spoken. Fry on, Russ!