Austin Food Blogger Alliance Cookbook.

Mando Rayo's fried egg tacos. © Ryan Schierling

We love cookbooks, and believe that if you truly want a comprehensive understanding of a family or community, read one of their collected cookbooks cover to cover. Find the most dog-eared, sauce-splattered pages, cook those recipes and you will know the way to their hearts. 

Last September, we were asked to test a pair of recipes for the Austin Food Blogger Alliance cookbook, set to be published in the Spring of 2013 by History Press.

Mando Rayo of Taco Journalism has one of the most exhaustively-compiled review sites of taco trucks and taquerias in and around Austin, and we've used that vast database for years now in finding new tacos. His fried egg taco recipe produced a deliciously spicy, messy handful best served "after many tequilazos." 

The crackers take the cheese.

Artisan crackers: plain, rosemary, and caraway rye. © Ryan Schierling

The cracker aisle at any given grocer is a sad, sad place to find me. My brow inevitably furrows and a fist rests defiantly on one hip. I am looking for something simple and elegant. Not something that is heavy on the seeds and nuts, or garlic and herbs, or artificially cheese-flavored – simply a cracker sturdy and plain to partner with a dip or a lovely portion of fine deli cheese. This is no occasion for the sweet grain flavor of Wheat Thins, or its crumbly woven cousin, the Triscuit®. While those have their place in the cracker continuum, that place is nowhere near my triple-creme Brie.

Water crackers might do in a pinch, but they tend to be delicate and, let's be honest, a bit boring. What appears to be the last, best option on that vast expanse of shelving is a single SKU of organic artisanal crackers "with sea salt" that costs way too many whole dollars per pound. It just plain makes me grumpy to pay three times the cost of a loaf of bread for something that weighs a third as much and takes a fraction of the time to make.

Seriously, how does such a simple cracker get so routinely overpriced? At some point I finally snapped and refused to be blatantly ripped-off. I could no longer justify the purchase of these fancy-schmancy slabs of haute-flour and water when my hard-earned cash could be better spent on specialty cheese. So, I made my own. (And if they can call them "artisan," then we certainly can, as well.)

Now my little Atlas pasta machine gets used more often for crackers than for making pasta, and just one little batch makes twice what you would get in that precious box on the shelf.

The recipe I have long used is adapted from Alton Brown's recipe for Seedy Crisps in his baking primer I'm Just Here for More Food. The basic proportions and technique of this recipe have served my purposes exceptionally well. Though, I must confess that I have never actually tried the original as written. When it comes to entertaining, apparently I've not yet been in the market for a whole wheat seed cracker. My goal from the beginning was to achieve a deliciously-plain artisanal flatbread-style cracker and somehow I saw the bones of it in this recipe. An artisan cracker that can be offered as proud retinue for a platter of fine cheese or a well-heeled salmon spread. 

When I do bake variations (see some listed below the recipe), the flavors are typically delicate, almost culinary neutrals, and based upon simple additions to the basic artisan flatbread formula below. However... nearly every time I make crackers, I also include a batch of the caraway rye. Granted, it's not the most versatile variation, but I have something of a weakness for caraway, and rye, and these are such delicious snacking – a slice of smoked cheddar or a schmear of whipped cream cheese and... swoon!

Maybe the farmer in the dell is okay with letting the cheese stand alone (heck, some days I am too), but at our wee suburban table I'd happily offer that role to this home-crafted cracker.

New Orleans, new again.

I-10 East, 90+ mph, just out of Houston. Swing-lens panoramic film camera. The flask is in my argyle sock, sucker. (Click for larger.) © Ryan Schierling

I was a teenager the last time I was in New Orleans, insisting on eating nothing but giant bowls of seafood gumbo as our family vacation took us through Louisiana and across the south. I didn't understand the nuances of Creole or Cajun cuisine, or the origins of the dish, and I didn't care. All I wanted was a spicy bowl of something new and exotic – kissed with Louisiana hot sauce – that I couldn't get back home in Kansas. I affectionately remember Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo, the Maison Dupuy's talking bird in the hotel lobby, and window shopping for a Nikon F3HP camera that I couldn't afford on Canal Street. 

Somehow, It's been 25 years since I set foot in the Crescent City. Julie's never been. 

Now that we're living in Austin, it's an eight-hour drive to New Orleans. There are no longer any excuses. Mardi Gras seems a touch over-indulgent for a proper reintroduction, so I make a few impulsive calls and December 30th we point the car east for a celebration of New Year's Eve.

Thanks 2012... you've been delicious.

A fraction of the 2012 action. © Ryan Schierling

2012 passed with such a quickness, and before we even realized it, our second calendar year here at Foie Gras Hot Dog had come to a close. 

It was an engaging, fun-filled year. We started off with a Today Show Home Chef challenge, winning enough votes to have our "papaquiles" served from the Today Show food trucks at SXSW.

We did a few things we shouldn't have. We made Oysters Jones, because in this economy, not everyone can have Oysters Rockefeller. The sequel to Bitchin' Bacon & Beef Bombs™ was... something from a low-rent neighborhood convenience store on The Island of Dr. Moreau? We still don't talk about that one much. And somehow, against all odds, I came up with Chicken-fried Chicken à la King Ranch Chicken.

Julie reverse-engineered the best ice cream sandwich on the planet - the It's-It - and then did Sopes con Platanos so well I could cry. She also made beautiful cakes for a dear friend's wedding in Seattle, and mastered the art of the Italian Meringue Buttercream. 

We don't eat out too much, but over in Montopolis, Yolanda Sanchez Cornejo served us the best Mexican food we've ever had, out of a trailer next to a laundrette. We also ate more chilaquiles than anyone in Austin proper this year, and were subsequently awarded the keys to the city. Well, not really, but if you need to know where the absolute best of the best chilaquiles are, come find us and we'll point you in the right direction (hint: see below). 

Enough with the retrospective – here are the five most popular Foie Gras Hot Dog posts from 2012, as determined by you, the readers. Our sincerest thanks to everyone who has made this delicious journey with us. We couldn't have, and wouldn't have, done it without you.