Brat-bingsu

what a rough week

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Davida and I had a challenging last week; if some of you noticed, this post is late. That’s because we had a COVID exposure and stayed isolated for five days. Neither of us tested positive using rapid tests, though there were a few suspicious days where I wasn’t feeling very good and was somewhat useless, which sorta set me behind.

I feel totally fine now, which means I can dump more garbage down the hatch, and today, that means I’m ingesting a dish that we’re calling brat-bingsu.

“But Dannis, what is brat-bingsu?” you ask. “Also, how are you the most handsome man in the world?! It is unbelievable how handsome you are.”

This idea, which is Davida’s, is our dumb version of a classic Korean dessert called pat-bingsu. Bingsu is a shaved ice dessert that can have all sorts of shit on it, like fruit, ice cream, condensed milk, mochi, pretty much everything is game as long as it’s on a mound of snowy ice. The word “pat” means sweet red bean, which is the most popular variation of the dish.

Also, I am the handsomest man in the world because this is my newsletter and I can put all sorts of words in your mouth when I am addressing completely made-up questions.

Since Davida is from Wisconsin, we are obligated to talk about Wisconsin all the time in this household.

Bratwursts are a time-honored food in her home state. When you go visit for the first time, everyone greets you with a necklace made out of sausages, then they spray you in mustard and butter using a fire hose. I decided to embrace brat culture by putting some on a shaved frozen beer base, along with some of the stuff you might find in at a backyard grill out (or “fry out,” as they say up there).

Then I decided to give Korean culture some love by including sweetened condensed milk as well as some mochi bits for texture. I call this Wiskorean™ cuisine, which is a term I now own. If anyone ever uses the term Wiskorean™ without my permission, I will sue them, which is how I plan to make my early retirement fortune.

I also thought it would be a good idea to try and redeem the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine from last week, despite my past shitty experience. It wasn’t designed to grind up frozen hot dogs, but the least it could do is grind up some frozen beer, right?

Okay, so this time I paid attention to Snoopy’s directions (sort of) and put some beer into both of the ice trays supplied with the toy.

Then I let them hang out in the freezer overnight to set up.

The next day, I prepped a few ingredients in order to get ready, and put them in tiny little dishes.

Those of you familiar with cooking recognize this preparedness as mise en place, which is a term the French shout constantly while in a kitchen. The thing is, nobody actually knows what it means.

If you are a celebrity chef on a cooking game show, you must constantly refer to “mise en place” with a grave look upon your face during every challenge, which is how you will win the game. Do not question this.

When I opened the freezer, I was greeted with a delightful sight.

The Miller High Life I’d poured into the trays had risen up and created a “turtle head,” so to speak, above their rims. What a wonderful display of science. My English degree tells me that it probably has something to do with the carbonation in the beer, but my paycheck tells me I should have gotten a medical degree instead.

I put the oversized frozen beer chunk into the Snoopy ice grinding receptacle and shouted about mise en place until Davida asked if I was feeling okay.

I placed Snoopy’s ass squarely over the ice brick and pushed down as hard as I could.

The frozen beer compressed quickly and I started turning the handle frantically. I could tell that I was not getting far because at some point, the crank just sort of rotated in place. Snoopy, way to ruin my day again. I should have learned my lesson the first time.

Considering I was only able to extract a tiny amount of beer ice from the blocks, I had to move fast.

I dumped some beans, brat chunks, and mochi on top and drizzled some sweetened condensed milk over the frozen beer.

Fuck, this stuff melts quickly.

The gang came over to inspect my work as I finished the brat-bingsu with some spicy brown mustard.

I could see them whispering to each other and saying something about mise en place but I was in too much of a hurry to fight with them.

My brat-bingsu masterpiece was complete.

It was also a serving size fit for a toddler, but whatever. I’m a 41-year-old dude that made a dish using an actual children’s toy, so I guess I can’t really say too much.

It was fuckin’ disgusting.

I thought it’d be the combination of the ingredients, like the chewy sweet rice cakes with the pre-cooked bratwursts that was going to do me in, but surprisingly, it was the goddamn frozen beer. If there’s anything you should learn from reading this today, it’s that frozen beer makes an absolutely terrible base for bingsu. Maybe it was the fact that I was not mentally expecting it, but that cheap skunky beer tasted bitter frozen, and okay, maybe eating a spoonful of it with condensed milk and mustard wasn’t the brightest idea.

Okay, well. You can all point and laugh at me for now, but I’ll have the last laugh. Just whisper the word “Wiskorean™” to yourself in the mirror and watch as the lawsuits start piling in.

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