Watercress salad wrapped in chèvre and bresaola, with lavender and fennel pollen.

It was Thanksgiving, and I gave you pulled pork I’m sorry.  I just wasn’t very organized this year.  I didn’t trial-run anything for the Thanksgiving feast at Jim’s parents—I hadn’t even decided to attend until two days before.  But I do have something for you.  It’s not turkey… or mashed potatoes… or pumpkin pie.  But it is delicious and was an interesting little addition to our Thanksgiving: Watercress salads wrapped in lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre and grass-fed bresaola.

Now, I wouldn’t normally post something that required such specific ingredients.  But this just happens to be that good. Worth spending the time searching for grass-fed bresaola.  Worth finding lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre (it shouldn’t be that hard).  And they are definitely worth the time spent to roll them up individually.

The grass-fed bresaola has earthy, grassy tones that I wouldn’t necessarily want in my air-dried meat—except that it goes so fabulously well with the flowery lavender and talcy and yellowed fennel-pollen.  Add to that sharp watercress (with their juicy, crunchy stems attached) and good, (at least 6 year-) aged balsamic and, really, how could I not post that combination?

It was really perfect for Thanksgiving—a meaty, earthy start to a warm and cozy turkey dinner—and would fancy-up a roast chicken dinner party anyday.  So… now you know what to do with that grass-fed bresaola and all that lavender-and-fennel pollen goat cheese lying around…

Watercress salad wrapped in chèvre and bresaola, with lavender and fennel-pollen

Makes 20-25

  • 1 1/2 tablespoon good balsamic vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, more to taste
  • 1 tablespoon good olive oil or other oil
  • kosher salt, pepper
  • 1 large bunch watercress, trimmed with most of stems left on
  • 20-25 slices bresaola
  • 4 oz. lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre, room temperature

In a medium bowl, mix balsamic, lemon juice, and oil until combined.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Add watercress and dress so all the leaves are wet.  Let sit for 20 minutes to 1 hour.

Working one at a time, spread goat cheese carefully onto a slice of bresaola, taking care to apply enough pressure with your butter knife flat against the meat so that it spread thinly but doesn’t rip through.  Leave both ends of the bresaola slices without cheese on them.  Add a small handful of watercress onto the goat cheese and begin wrapping the bresaola by rolling from one side to the other—like rolling a cigarette.  Once rolled, press the edge down to seal the roll.  Begin again and roll until you are out of slices or of energy.  You can add a bit of salt and pepper on top if you like.  Serve room temperature.

(Relatively) Quick Pulled Pork Wraps

Since you’ve already made the coleslaw from last post—you do cook everything I talk about? no?—now it’s time to procure a large hunk of meat.  About 4 ½ pounds of pork shoulder (or pork butt) to be exact.  Preferably from a good butcher, one who’s about 80 years old and learned the art of butchering as a young lad.  If this is not available, get organic from the supermarket.  Now for a spice rub.

It’s paprika, brown sugar, salt, cayenne, garlic, thyme, and red wine vinegar.  Buzz it all up in a food processor, stream in a bit of olive oil and it’s time to get your hands dirty.  This is the point at which you’ll get to know your meat, its every nook and cranny.  Massage it.  Get in the hard to reach spots.  Whisper a few sweet-nothings.  Then place it in a roasting pan, wrap it all up with saran wrap, and tuck it in for the night.

The next day, just pop your pork into the oven and hang around with it for a few hours.  You’ll be sniffing the air and growing hungrier and hungrier as the hours pass, but, please don’t eat anything else you’ve got in the fridge—you’ll want to save all the space in your stomach for this puppy.  It’s relatively quick as pulled porks go—about 4 hours—so you’ll survive the tempting aroma.

After 4 hours pass, take out your pork to check for doneness.  You want a fork to shred the meat easily, in biggish pieces, and the meat should be seriously moist and unctuous.  If you feel your head might explode before you shred and can finally chow down, it’s done.

Shred the pork into a mix of big, small, and medium pieces, breaking up the crispy bits and incorporating them into the bowl.  Try not to take too many tastes—it’s a give-in that you’ll sneak a few bites but you really need to save room for the completed wrap(s).  Tell your dog (or your boyfriend) to stop whining—good pulled pork is a labor of love. It’s time now to salt your coleslaw, heat your tortillas, pour your beer, and take out the extra large roll of paper towels.

Set everything out on the table.  Make yourself a wrap before letting anyone else know dinner’s ready, you don’t want to wait in line for this.  Eat and ohh and ahh.  Toss away the paper towels and forget about wiping your hands—this is fingerlickin’ stuff.

Pulled Pork Wraps

adapted from Tyler Florence’s Tyler’s Ultimate

These wraps are addictive so, if you can, save for a lot of leftovers or midnight snacks.

  • 1 boneless pork shoulder (about 4 to 41/2 pounds)
  • 4 tablespoons kosher salt
  • 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup paprika
  • 2 to 3 sprigs thyme, leaves only
  • 4 cloves garlic
  • 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
  • Scant 1 tablespoon cayenne
  • 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • coleslaw
  • 1 pack of fajita-sized flour tortillas

Place the pork, fat side up, in a roasting pan fitted with a rack insert. Place the salt, pepper, brown sugar, paprika, thyme leaves, garlic, vinegar, and cayenne in a food processor and pulse until well combined. Add extra-virgin olive oil until you have a nice paste.

Rub all over the pork, being sure to get into the nooks so the salt can penetrate the meat and pull out the moisture – this will help form a crust on the outside when cooked.

With a sharp knife, score the fat with in a cross-hatch pattern. Cover the pork with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours or up to overnight.

Allow the meat to sit at room temperature for 30 minutes before cooking. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

Roast the pork for 4 hours, uncovered, until the outside is crispy-brown (it should look like mahogany). Let the meat rest on a cutting board for 10 minutes before slicing.

Warm tortillas in  oven for a few minutes.  Eat pork wrapped in tortilla with coleslaw.

More love… coleslaw love.

I made this coleslaw the other day—with grainy mustard and red wine vinegar—and Jim surprised me with an unknown fact. He never used to eat coleslaw before he met me. OK, not never, but he wasn’t a coleslaw aficionado, as we are now. It was shocking news. I had thought he loved coleslaw because, in fact, I wasn’t accustomed to eating coleslaw before I met Jim. I had thought he just really liked it, so I went along. Turns out he did the same for me.

I’ve tracked it down to one day, earlier in our relationship, when we were first forming our ritual grocery-shopping routine where we spend hours shopping, trying samples, and kissing in the produce section. We were going to make hamburgers and wanted a side. I enthusiastically asked if he wanted coleslaw, thinking it was a smart thing for me to suggest. He enthusiastically agreed. We both took one another’s enthusiasm to mean a fervent fondness for coleslaw. Since that day, whenever we’ve made anything that could go well with coleslaw, one of us goes out to get, or makes, coleslaw and proudly presents it to the other. The other will make a show of giddiness to make his or her partner feel that being obsessed with coleslaw is okay.

Somewhere down the line though, after all the great coleslaws (and all the bad), after all the discussion of what makes a good coleslaw and all the bonding that we were trying to do, we both began to love coleslaw. I think really, our love for coleslaw came into play right around our first verbal “I love you’s.”

And it’s only gotten better from there—on both accounts. Today’s coleslaw is the perfect example of a nurtured love of coleslaw. It’s got flavorings, but none that muck up a good coleslaw taste. The grainy mustard wards off the too-sweetness that carrots can pack, and the red wine vinegar keeps everything alive. There’s lots and lots of cabbage, and nothing is too wet or soggy. It’s great taco-coleslaw, or on-the-burger coleslaw; it doesn’t taste overly mayonnaissed or—worse—like there’s too much sour cream. And it went perfectly with….

Well, you’ll find out what goes with this coleslaw next post. See you then.

Coleslaw with Grainy Mustard

adapted from Tyler Florence

You can easily double this recipe.  Add salt at the last minute so your coleslaw won’t get all watery and gross.

  • 1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
  • 1 cup mayonnaise
  • 1/4 cup sour cream
  • 1/2 lemon, juiced
  • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 2 teaspoons sugar
  • 1/2 head savoy cabbage finely sliced
  • 1/2 head purple cabbage, finely sliced
  • 2 carrots, sliced on mandoline
  • Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Combine the mustard, mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, vinegar and sugar. Mix well and add finely sliced savoy cabbage, purple cabbage, green onions and carrots. Season with pepper, to taste, cover with plastic wrap and set aside in the refrigerator until you are ready to serve. About 1/2 hour before you want to serve, add salt to taste.

Cilantro, my love.

These Parsi-style scrambled eggs are what I like to call a “Jimmy Dish.”  It’s just what my man loves: golden-yolked, farm-fresh eggs, jalapeno, a dash of dairy, and lots and lots of cilantro.  He found the recipe in Saveur magazine a few days after I got laid up with a bad back. I could tell by the look on his face that cilantro was involved. My boyfriend is obsessed with the herb.

Not that I don’t share his enthusiasm; you won’t catch me in the “anti-cilantro community.” I love the pungent quality of its delicate leaves.  Cilantro’s bright, citrusy taste reminds me a bit of fennel without too much distinct licorice flavor.  I love cilantro.  Always have.  And I guess I’m a tad bitter that, when Jim came into my life, he laid claim to it.  I had thought I loved cilantro just as much—no, more!—than the average Joe.  And, since I’d spent more time in Southern California than most of my New Jersey friends, I thought I was entitled to be cilantro’s #1.  But no.  Jimmy thinks he’s a hot rock because he spent a whole year in Southern California shooting meth and—more importantly—eating burrito after burrito just teeming with cilantro.

Well, big whoop.  I’m here tonight to reclaim cilantro with these eggs.  Even if Jim found the recipe first.  And even though he actually cooked these eggs while I took pictures—the green guy’s mine.

So, now that that’s established, let me take a deep breath and tell you about the eggs.  Jalapeno gives enough heat to snap at your tongue every few bites while the eggs and cream keep that heat in check.  Roma tomatoes allow for this to be made year-round, and you won’t even notice their lack of flavor.  And the cilantro, well, I think you’ve learned that I have strong feelings there.  The cilantro adds a brightness, it practically shines through the yellow eggs.

We like to mix in the cilantro stems, finely minced, while we are whisking the eggs and cream together.  The stems are a bit juicer and more flavorful than the leaves, and using them in cooking is a wonderful trick I learned from fellow-cilantro addict Jamie Oliver.  And that guy knows his herbs.

These are great for breakfast, but I like them for dinner with a big pull of multi-grain bread.  And, of course, lots of cilantro on the side.

Parsi-style Scrambled Eggs

(with ungodly amounts of cilantro)

serves 2-3 hungry people or 4-6 as part of a spread

adapted from Saveur Magazine, Issue #114

  • 4 tbsp. unsalted butter
  • 1 small white onion, finely chopped
  • 1-2 serrano or jalapeno chiles, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 2 plum tomatoes, cored and chopped
  • 8 eggs, beaten
  • 1⁄2 cup 1 bunch chopped cilantro leaves and stems
  • 1⁄4 cup heavy cream
  • Kosher salt, to taste

Melt 3 tbsp. butter in a 12″ nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 10 minutes. Add chiles and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until they begin to soften and brown lightly, about 3 minutes. Add remaining butter and tomatoes; cook, stirring occasionally, until tomatoes release their juices, about 6 minutes.

Add eggs, cilantro stems, cream, and kosher salt. Reduce heat to medium and slowly cook the eggs, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, until soft curds form and the eggs just set, about 6 minutes.

Transfer eggs to a platter. Sprinkle remaining cilantro over eggs and serve hot, with toast.

Sick-day soup.

When I’m sick (yes, I got sick—my body’s way of  saying look, you’re on the couch anyways…) I like to eat foods that are acidic and spicy.  No noodle-soup, give me something to wake up my nasal passages and energize my stuffy head. And if nasal passages and stuffiness doesn’t get your tummy growling… this tomato & black bean soup will do the trick.

It’s more acidic than my regular black bean soup, with equal parts tomato and black bean.  Chipotle peppers in adobo sauce lend a spicy smokiness that screams earthy, complex… sexy. (Because who doesn’t need a bit of sexy in their sick-day soup?)

If you can, find some fresh oregano to use for the soup.  Fresh and dried oregano are really different animals. Dried oregano is too piney, akin to thyme, and gives off a deep, woodsy flavor—great for a sauce but, as I didn’t want to feel like I was eating a bowl of marinara, too strong for this soup.  Fresh oregano, on the other hand, is mild (depending on the type of fresh you have, some are pungent, mine was mild) and citrusy, with a touch of bright bitter.  If you wrap up a bunch of fresh oregano and drop it into the soup,  you’ll add a taste that will seem clean on the palate, a bright flavor that’s non-acidic.  It’s a way to counterbalance the tomatoes without adding a dairy, and I think it gives the soup that hidden-flavor mysteriousness that I like to call the sumthin’-sumthin’.  And, since this recipe is almost entirely made from canned goods, herbs elevate it into freshness.  If you don’t have fresh oregano, go for marjoram or cilantro or even nothing at all; just don’t substitute dried.

If you’re short on time, you can serve the soup after about 15 minutes of medium-heat simmer time, but I like to simmer low and slow—over low heat for about 45 minutes—before pureeing the soup a bit with the immersion blender and serving.  If you don’t care for thick soups, you can nix the pureeing for a more minestrone-consistency.  You could also add some grated cheese and sour cream to garnish but if you’re eating this during a cold, eat it plain.  Your nasal passages will thank you.

Smokey Tomato and Black Bean Soup

serves a few hungry people as a first-course or lunch

  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 1 onion, diced
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • half of one (7 oz.) can of chipolte peppers in adobo, with sauce
  • 1 (30 oz.) can black beans, drained
  • 1 (28 oz.) can fire-roasted whole tomatoes, with liquid
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 small bunch fresh oregano
  • salt, pepper

Take half of peppers out of the can, split them open with a paring knife and scrape out the seeds.  Discard seeds. Chop peppers.

Add oil into a big saucepan or medium dutch oven over medium-high heat.  Add onions, cooking until they begin to brown.  Add garlic and chilis and about half the adobo sauce.  Cook for a few minutes.

Add black beans and tomatoes with liquid and water.  Break up the tomatoes with a wooden spoon, leaving them in chunks.  Bring to a boil.  Skim off the foam if you are particular like that, and then lower the heat.  Add fresh oregano and simmer gently for the flavors to meld, 15 minutes if you are famished, 45 minutes if you can wait.  Season with salt and pepper and serve.

Jimmy talks scotch.

[Editor’s Note:  Being that we are inching towards the 3-year mark, and that the prospect of us going our separate ways seems more and more unlikely, we’ve decided it’s high-time Jimmy started speaking up here on Caviar and Codfish. I like to think of me as the Caviar and Jimmy as the Codfish. I urge you to do the same, and to leave him encouraging words because I’d love to have him stick around.]

“Honey, I don’t think your P.O. reads my blog.” This from Robin on numerous occasions when I complained that one of her posts mentioned me and alcohol in the same sentence. I was not allowed to drink, you see. And yet I did. Regularly. (We hid the liquor bottles behind a fake wall of Phyllo Dough in the freezer.) I did not want to go back to the clink.

I sometimes wondered what my P.O.—a teeny-tiny Hispanic woman who once told me she thought she’d found her “niche” in criminal justice (never a good sign)—would think if she stumbled across my girlfriend’s sunny domain and noticed a wine pairing, say, or even some mention of a night out drinking. Considering that my five years(!) of probation stemmed from my teenage years as a thug-druggie, you’d think that this blog (written by my lover/partner/best-friend/everything) devoted to seasonal cooking and humane carnivorism would, if anything, prove that I’d changed my ways. (I’ve never met a meth-addled locavore.) But of course I couldn’t take a chance: these were stupid, petty people I was dealing with—or at least that’s what I had to keep on telling myself for fear that they’d prove me right and crush me.

Anyway, that’s all over. October 24th was my last day of probation, Robin and my parents threw a party for me, and I’m guest-blogging today to tell you about two of my presents, both bottles of the scotch. The first, from Compass Box (my new favorite whisky makers), is the aptly named Eleuthera (Greek for “freedom”). A light-colored smoky blend of twelve- and fifteen-year-old malts, it goes down surprisingly smooth for something 92 proof(!), though “smooth” does not stand for “boring” here: there’s plenty of peat (more than Talisker,” less than “Lagavulin), plus, I think, the slightest hint of something sweet that keeps bringing you back to the glass. In short, it’s one of the best scotches I’ve ever had. And I was sad to read on the Compass Box website this morning that because one of the fifteen-year-old malts they were using became unavailable, Eleuthera has been “retired” since 2005. Apparently it’s still in some stores, though. If you see it, get it.

The other bottle is noteworthy for being good and cheap. At about thirty dollars a 750ml bottle, Jon, Mark and Robbo’s Malt Scotch Whisky is significantly cheaper than the Macallan or Dalmore 12 Years, and to my mind about as good (certainly better than the comparably priced JB Black). It’s marketed as accessible scotch (the three blends are called “The Smooth Sweeter One,” “The Rich Spicy One,” and “The Smokey Peaty One”), and that’s exactly what it is and exactly what it should be (I don’t want a “complex” bottle under forty dollars). If you already like scotch, you’ll like it; if you’re trying to like scotch, it’s perfect. I was given The Smokey Peaty One, of course (actually that’s the only one I’ve tried, so the others just might suck, though I doubt it), and I’ve taken to drinking one glass of the Eleuthera and then switching to Jon, Mark and Robbo’s—it really works.

I hope you enjoyed reading this guest-post as much as I enjoyed writing it (I really, really doubt it); depending on your comments, it might not be the last.

Red, round, and crunchy.

Red, round, and crunchy: I’m having a love affair with radishes. Especially the ones available now. They’re crisp, slightly sweet, and mild with the touch of heat you expect of radishes. I’ve always heard, “the hotter the soil, the spicier the radish” and while I’m not sure if this is true, all my radishes have been mellow and delicate lately.

These radishes make their way into all kinds of dishes but, sometimes, the little red orb can take second fiddle—all too often falling into the “garnish” category. So, even though this recipe is hardly one—not even close to a meal, hardly a side dish, and less than a salad—it’s the recipe that’s got me ga-ga for radish. And now that I’ve learned how good radish-lovin’ can be, I’m never letting go.

I simply make a very mustardy vinaigrette to coat the radish slices. Radish is, afterall, in the mustard family; so I’m not surprised that the combination works so well. A good, aged balsamic vinegar levels the mustard’s bite. My balsamic’s aged 15 years and I got it on sale. But ever since my first sweet-tangy taste of it, I knew I’d spend anything—sale or no—for this stuff. Trust me, it’s nothing like supermarket balsamic, closer to a good port wine. And well… I think that balsamic may have played matchmaker between me and my radish.

It may not be much… but eating these radishes—picking them out of the bowl with my fingers—made my day yesterday, just when I was feeling my worst.  There’s something about the spicy mustard, the snappy vinegar, and the crunchy radish that makes eating out of hand–and licking your fingers—invigorating.  The perfect bit of bite.

Radish in Mustard and Vinegar

serves 1-2 for a snack

The mustard taste is strong here.  If you aren’t a total mustard fan, start with 1 tsp and add more to taste.

  • 1 bunch red radishes
  • 2 tsp good balsamic vinegar
  • 2 tsp Dijon mustard
  • 1/2 small shallot, grated
  • 1-2 tablespoons olive oil

Slice radishes thinly.

In a small bowl, add balsamic, mustard, shallot, and mix.  While stirring, drizzle in oil.  Stir until completely combined. Season with salt and pepper.

Stir in radishes.  Eat immediately or let marinate for up to 4 hours.  Serve alone or with crusty bread.

How to cook when you can’t.

As you know, I’ve been out-of-sorts lately.  I’m having back problems and, no matter how much I want to, I can’t spend hours in the kitchen cooking the dishes that I most like to cook.  In honesty, more than 20 minutes in the kitchen is liable to have me cursing myself the next day.  But I’m determined, doggedly determined, not to eat take-out and frozen foods throughout my recovery.  No more pizza!  No more subs! No more sushi… okay, a little more sushi.

Not about to let my bad back bring me—or this blog—down, I’m planning to showcase a few super-easy, hardly-active dishes.  For those of us too sick, or hurting, or just too lazy out there, food doesn’t have to take much to taste good. This cauliflower saute proves that rule.  Cauliflower is the miracle vegetable for good reason, no? And this version’s creamy and very barely sweet.  Like hash without the trouble of corning your own beef a few days earlier— and don’t worry, I make up for the loss of fatty corned beef with a whole stick of butter.  Yes.  A stick.  Because quick food shouldn’t have to taste healthy, either.

Cauliflower, Carrots, and Cashews

serves 4

Three C’s makes the ingredients in this dish quite easy to remember.  Another trick to cooking when you can’t. (heh.)

  • 1 stick (8 tbsp) butter, divided
  • 1 head cauliflower, cut into florets
  • 5 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
  • 1 teaspoon tumeric
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine, optional
  • 1 teaspoon salt, more to taste
  • 1/2 cup cashews

Add 4 tablespoons butter into a large pan over medium.  Once melted, add cauliflower and carrots.  Stir to coat evenly. Add tumeric and cover.  Go lie down and leave pan to cook 15 minutes.

Uncover pan, add white wine and raise temperature a bit.  Let wine cook off, then add rest of butter, salt, and cashews, stirring.  Cook until everything is tender to your liking.  Go back to the couch and serve coffee-tableside.

Warm, comforting, sloppy, and ugly.

Hi guys! I’ve been missing you all but since I’m back at work even though my back is hurting as much as ever, I’ve spent most my afternoons konked out on the couch.  But I’ve managed, with the help of some peppery friends, to keep things colorful in my kitchen.

This pepper stew is exactly what home cooking should be—warm, comforting, sloppy, ugly, and something you’d never get in a restaurant.  It’s a barrage of peppers—fresh ones, roasted ones, spicy ones, and smoky ground ones.  If you can get your hands on any fresh ones still (I was surprised to find my local farm was still selling theirs) please make this stew.

Now that the weather’s gone cold, I think we may all need a little pep-me-up.  This is it.  I can’t promise it will cure a bad back, but it sure made me forget about my pains—for the length of dinnertime, at least.

Pepper Stew

adapted from Jamie Oliver

  • 3 pound pork shoulder
  • 2 red onions, peeled and finely sliced
  • 2 fresh small red chiles, deseeded and finely chopped
  • 2 generously heaped tablespoons Spanish smoked paprika, plus a little extra for serving
  • a small bunch of fresh thyme
  • 5 fresh peppers, seeded and sliced
  • 2 red peppers, roasted, peeled and seeded, and sliced
  • 1 30 oz. can whole tomatoes
  • 4 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • chopped parsley

Preheat the oven to 350°F.  Score the fat of the pork shoulder in a cross-hatch pattern.  In a large dutch oven add some olive oil and, when hot, the pork fat side down.  Let the fat of the pork render for 15 minutes, until browned.  Remove pork to a plate.

Add chiles, paprika, thyme, and fresh peppers to the dutch oven.  Cook for 10 minutes.  Add roasted peppers, tomatoes, vinegar.  Bring to a simmer.  Reduce heat and add pork back to the dutch oven, pushing it towards the bottom, so that it’s partially covered.  Cover and put in oven.

Cook for about 3 hours, or until the pork is very easily pulled apart with a fork.  Serve with rice or noodles and a dollop of sour cream if you like.

And the winner is…

It’s a little late in coming (hectic week, bad back, Halloween fun) but I’ve finally found a winner for the La Cense grass-fed beef giveaway.  I picked the winner (comment number 9) through a random number generator.

The ninth commentator is Judy from No Fear Entertaining! Yippee! Judy, just send me your mailing address so I can get it to the La Cense people – and your surprise gift will be on it’s way!

Don’t despair if you didn’t win.  You can join the Grass Fed Party at http://grassfedparty.com and enter to win the weekly grass-fed giveaway.  Find me on the site as “CaviarandCodfish” where I am, if I do say so myself, 100% grass-fed.

Thanks to Susanna from La Cense for working with me on this giveaway.