There’s no denying that beer and potato chips are a match made in flabby-gut heaven. It’s the reason half of us hit the gym the next day. The effort of sweating out that sodium and malted barley doesn’t keep us from indulging again and again.
Jon Lovett, executive chef of SPiN Toronto — yes the ping pong club serves some pretty good grub — took his Ghetto Gourmet bag of Lay’s regular potato chips and smoked, fried, churned, and baked a sweet snack.
Taking a page from his own creations where Jon puts a “spin” on American classics – he did say this with air quotes — Jon made a perfect appetizer of crispy smoked artichoke hearts breaded with chips, and because beer and chips are such a great combo; an ice cream sandwich with vanilla and Lays cookies, and Guinness ice cream. Start the treadmill, I’ll be working this off for a week.
I don’t know how often you prepare fresh artichokes for yourself, but they’re a heck of a lot of work for very little sustenance. Not only does Jon peel and chop the artichokes with mad speed, he smokes them – not in a smoker — but with a handheld smoking gun using real wood chips. I am in awe of this little device that is often used to infuse sauces or cocktails with a hint of smoke. As long as what you’re smoking is sealed (in this case, a tray of artichokes wrapped in plastic to keep the smoke inside), this nifty little gadget pumps out smoke through a hose in mere seconds. The smoker takes up less precious condo space than a Slap Chop. New catchphrase: you’re gonna love my smoked nuts.
The smoked artichokes are breaded with a mix of crushed potato chips, flour and cornstarch, then deep fried and served with a creamy SPiN dipping sauce.
“Beer and chips are classic together, so this is a new way to have them,” Jon explains as he scoops rich, sweet Guinness ice cream onto a vanilla sugar cookie that’s been baked with crushed chips. The ice cream sandwich is rolled in more crushed potato chips for the perfect sweet and salty combination. Perhaps what I need isn’t a three-hour session on the treadmill, but a torturous “spin” class. (I know, it’s a groaner even with quotes.)
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