Growing up, every family gathering involved some amount of time devoted to falling asleep on the floor. After the dishes were cleared, one by one people would drop. Within an hour my grandparents’ living room was strewn with bodies, chests rising and falling slowly. Some aggressive snoring from an uncle who shall remain nameless.
As an adult, I strive to continue this tradition. My goal is never satisfaction. It’s incapacitation. Which Is why I present to you a new recipe for this year: the Loaded Porktato.
A note about my recipes. I write them in a way that focuses on the most important information. I keep it real, if you will. You won’t find many words like cup, teaspoon, or three to five minutes at 350 degrees. That’s intended. I don’t want you to measure ingredients. I want you to FEEL them. Let your instincts be your guide. You can’t go wrong.
(Also, fun fact: every time I type “porktato,” my word processor corrects it to “prostate.” Just in case I missed an auto-correction somewhere.)
The Loaded Porktato
STEP 1: Make your favorite recipe for barbecue pulled pork.
Make a crock pot of it. Make A LOT. The goal of this meal is to have all parties lying on the ground in a pool of meat sweat.
Make a crock pot of it. Make A LOT. The goal of this meal is to have all parties lying on the ground in a pool of meat sweat.
Obviously, if you are of a non-pork persuasion, you can easily substitute barbecue beef.
If you are vegetarian, you can skip this step.
If you are vegan, you should probably bail out now.
STEP 2: Make a baked potato.
Have you made a baked potato before? Okay, cool. Just do that again.
Have you never made a baked potato? Okay, no sweat. Close your eyes and pull up a childhood memory of eating a baked potato. Got it? Good. How was it cooked by your mother or father or grandmother or great-uncle or next-door babysitter? Okay, now just do that.
Not have a previous memory of eating or cooking a baked potato? Don’t worry. It involves 1) a potato, 2) tin foil, and 3) puncture wounds. You can take it from there.
Remember, don’t stress about this step. The potato is only a conduit for the rest of the fixings.
STEP 3: Split potato in half.
Spread a pat of butter on each half, as little or as much as you’d like. You probably won’t be able to taste it. Then why add it, you ask? Because this is Porktato Time. Things like calories and saturated fats must be turned a blind eye. Leave your margarine or I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not substitutes for your kale casseroles.
Spread a pat of butter on each half, as little or as much as you’d like. You probably won’t be able to taste it. Then why add it, you ask? Because this is Porktato Time. Things like calories and saturated fats must be turned a blind eye. Leave your margarine or I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not substitutes for your kale casseroles.
STEP 4: Pile a scoop of pulled pork on top of the split potato.
Pile on another scoop.
Set your plate down on the counter and take five steps back. Can you still see the potato? If so, plop another scoop on top.
Repeat. Remember, it doesn’t transform into a porktato until the potato is no longer visible to the human eye.
Pile on another scoop.
Set your plate down on the counter and take five steps back. Can you still see the potato? If so, plop another scoop on top.
Repeat. Remember, it doesn’t transform into a porktato until the potato is no longer visible to the human eye.
STEP 5: Sauce check.
Investigate the sauce distribution of your porktato. Does it seem dry? If so, pour more sauce on. You want your porktato to be moist. (I apologize, there’s no other way to say it.) Sauce acts as a lubricant, which is critical as you will eventually be sliding this down your gullet.
Investigate the sauce distribution of your porktato. Does it seem dry? If so, pour more sauce on. You want your porktato to be moist. (I apologize, there’s no other way to say it.) Sauce acts as a lubricant, which is critical as you will eventually be sliding this down your gullet.
STEP 6: Slop on some sour cream.
NOT GREEK YOGURT.
I know some people say: "Greek yogurt tastes just like sour cream." These people are ne’er-do-wells. They bear false witness. Don’t trust them to watch your offspring. Don’t trust them to pick up your mail while you're out of town. And certainly don’t trust them with your culinary choices. Greek yogurt does not taste like sour cream. It tastes like sour cream that has been poured into an abandoned gym sock at the local YMCA locker room, left to curdle and steep for two weeks.
NOT GREEK YOGURT.
I know some people say: "Greek yogurt tastes just like sour cream." These people are ne’er-do-wells. They bear false witness. Don’t trust them to watch your offspring. Don’t trust them to pick up your mail while you're out of town. And certainly don’t trust them with your culinary choices. Greek yogurt does not taste like sour cream. It tastes like sour cream that has been poured into an abandoned gym sock at the local YMCA locker room, left to curdle and steep for two weeks.
STEP 7: Add shredded cheese. Any kind will do.
STEP 8: Sprinkle a fistful of bacon bits on top.
Why? Because 'Merica, that's why. Did our country’s forefathers reach the Mississippi River, look at each other, and say, “good enough.” No. They pushed on, ignoring all appeals to stop, including fundamental human decency. If you stop at shredded cheese, you might as well pack up and go home. Instead, grab those bits of bacon, slam them on top of your porktato, and shout “MANIFEST DESTINY!”
Why? Because 'Merica, that's why. Did our country’s forefathers reach the Mississippi River, look at each other, and say, “good enough.” No. They pushed on, ignoring all appeals to stop, including fundamental human decency. If you stop at shredded cheese, you might as well pack up and go home. Instead, grab those bits of bacon, slam them on top of your porktato, and shout “MANIFEST DESTINY!”
STEP 9: Add fried onions.
You know, the kind your Aunt Ruth uses to top of her green bean casserole. This step is optional, depending on the structural integrity of your plate. But it does add a satisfying crunch to the proceedings.
You know, the kind your Aunt Ruth uses to top of her green bean casserole. This step is optional, depending on the structural integrity of your plate. But it does add a satisfying crunch to the proceedings.
STEP 10: Check your waistband.
You are going to need some give. Does your current outfit seem too restrictive? Change immediately. Sweat pants are a good choice. Jeans are insane.
You are going to need some give. Does your current outfit seem too restrictive? Change immediately. Sweat pants are a good choice. Jeans are insane.
STEP 11: Don’t forget to stretch.
Side bends, torso turns, something. Do you stretch before running a marathon? Okay, well, this is going to be the equivalent of 26.2 miles for your colon. Give yourself a fighting chance.
Side bends, torso turns, something. Do you stretch before running a marathon? Okay, well, this is going to be the equivalent of 26.2 miles for your colon. Give yourself a fighting chance.
STEP 12: Select your consumption location.
I recommend plate on coffee table, ass on floor. You’re going to end up down there anyway.
I recommend plate on coffee table, ass on floor. You’re going to end up down there anyway.
STEP 13: Wait for everyone else to finish building their loaded porktato.
Have some manners. You're not an animal.
Have some manners. You're not an animal.
STEP 14: If you’re so inclined, say a prayer ...
...take a deep breath ... and stomp out any intellectualization of what you are about to eat. You are past the point of rationalizing this decision.
...take a deep breath ... and stomp out any intellectualization of what you are about to eat. You are past the point of rationalizing this decision.
STEP 15: Godspeed.
Remember, the floor is always there to catch you.
Remember, the floor is always there to catch you.
Congratulations. You’ve made — nay, survived — your first loaded porktato. Welcome to the club.
LOL love it! lost your blog for a while... are you writing anymore?
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