Allow me to reintroduce myself. With Kale.

Yes, this is a post.

No, I haven’t written anything since the beginning of 2016.

Why? Because posting pictures with smart-ass one-liner captions are SO MUCH EASIER than actually stringing 700 coherent, semi-related words together (especially when said words are glued together with two hours of glaze-eyed blank stares at the computer screen in a vain attempt to assemble them).

In retrospect, it’s amazing I was able to cobble a column together on a weekly basis back in River Falls. Was most of it alcohol-infused garbage? Absolutely. But they had impeccable grammar and punctuation, and most of them were either mildly humorous or cheekily-inflammatory. Hell, the President of the United States can’t even pull off that feat in 140 CHARACTERS.

But if Guns ‘n Roses can stage a miraculous comeback tour, so can I. Here’s a brief recap: I am now middle-aged, living in my suburban utopia with my wife and two children. I seriously consider going to bed at 9 pm virtually every night. Whenever I exercise for more than 30 minutes, my left knee feels like jellied cranberries for four days. I complain incessantly about millennials and other people who don’t know how to use a wrench. I wear ear protection when I cut the grass.

I also cook a lot, and take a distorted amount of pride and joy in doing so. I force it upon the people around me, like an empty-nest mother who has all of her children coming home for the holidays. I take well-lit pictures of my creations, and force it upon the Internet and your Facebook feed. I revel in the fact that I’m probably better at it than most of you. In some (many) ways, cooking has replaced writing as my humblebrag – my aspirations of Gonzo Journalism have been traded in for good extra-virgin olive oil and a go-to homemade brownie recipe.

Which brings us to our recipe: on the surface, kale, much like me, seems super-lame and not worthy of your time (after all, you don’t win friends with salad). But, if the kitchen has taught me only one thing, it’s that ANY vegetable can be saved with the right amount of bacon and garlic.


Additionally, it’s super-easy. It took, like, literally 12 minutes to come together. Side note: I hate (HATE) when people use “like” as a verbal pause, and the word “literally” has infested our lexicon like nothing else this side of “ironic”. I used to love “literally”; now, like Fredo Corleone, it’s dead to me. But I digress – here’s a “salad” recipe, mostly made of things that are good for you, covered with just enough of the things that are bad for you to be delicious.

All of the vegetables in this dish came from our CSA, which I only mention because it seems like the sort of unintentionally-douchey statement a good cook needs to make. Here’s to the first leg of the reunion tour. Hashtag blessed.

Kale. Bacon. Almonds. Other Shit.
Serves 2 as a main dish; 4 as a side dish

3 strips of good bacon
2 bunches of kale, stems removed and roughly chopped
1/4 cup finely diced white onion
2 tbsp minced garlic
2 small carrots, shredded
1/4 cup salted almonds, roughly chopped
3 tbsp shredded Parmesan (use more if you want to)
Freshly-ground black pepper

Cook bacon over medium-high heat until crispy. Set aside, and chop into 1/2″ pieces when it’s not so hot that it burns the ever-living shit out of your fingers. Reserve 1 tbsp of the bacon grease in the pan and keep that pan on the stove.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, let the almonds cook. Really doesn’t matter how long; few minutes maybe? I don’t know. Let’s say 6 minutes.

In the reserved bacon grease, saute the onion over medium heat for 2 minutes. Add the kale and garlic, and cook for 4-5 minutes, until tender-crisp. Don’t overcook it; nobody likes mushy vegetables. If you want mushy vegetables, eat a can of peas. Just saying. Add the carrots and cook 1 additional minute.

Add the almonds to the kale mix, add Parmesan and pepper, and toss. Serve in a bowl that’s ethereal enough to show people you appreciate hand-crafted artisan craft work, but fancy enough to show people you’re way better with money than they are.



Nobody’s Prefect. And there’s no time like the new year to find that out.

While most people enjoy resolving themselves to being a better person in the upcoming year, January is the ideal time to reflect on what a failure you’ve been in the twelve months prior (“glass-half-full” guy, I know).

Whether it’s because you’re 0-9 in fantasy football Super Bowls, or because you’re a sociopath, you probably suck in some way or another.

Cooking is no different, and failure is common for any number of reasons. You may lack the necessary attention to detail. Whether it’s reading the recipe before starting, preheating a stove, or just making sure you have everything you need, one misstep can really fcuk up the entire process. If it’s your third time cooking, you may want to steer clear of anything that doesn’t say “easy” in the title. If all you are good at is opening cans, you may want to stick to the Sandra Lee “semi-homemade” section of the cookbook.

OR you may just have an over-inflated sense of your own culinary aptitude (Luke Skywalker called it “Weakness in Overconfidence”). In this Instagram age of visually-astounding cuisine being prepared by people who are more than qualified to do so, one can easily be led to believe that combining two independent foodstuffs to make a new uber-foodstuff will allow them to create the next gastro-sensation and subsequently break the Internet. I have deemed this delusional state “Fusionitis.” And not only do I own the naming rights to Fusionitis, I occasionally dabble myself.

Don’t get me wrong, some of my favorite things were borne of Fusion: Chino Latino, sweet-savory staples like Chicken & Waffles, and the more recent trend of everything needing to be topped with a fried egg. And, frankly, the only thing that prevents me from succumbing to Fusionitis more frequently is the overwhelming kitchen risk-aversion that comes with having two children under the age of five and a wife whose mood goes hand-in-hand with her hunger level. In short, nobody in the house takes kindly to, “Hey everyone, Daddy screwed the pooch on dinner. It’s gonna be another hour until we eat.”

But on occasion, things DO go south. THIS…is one of those moments:


A breakfast sandwich made out of a cinnamon roll. On the surface, it looks totally edible, and taste-wise, it was.

But Frank Lloyd Wright once quipped, “Form follows function”, and a sandwich is a prime example of this logic. If the sandwich bread doesn’t hold everything in, there isn’t much of a sandwich to be had. A cinnamon roll, in case you didn’t know, turns into two unraveling chunks of gooey dough when sliced in half, thereby completely foiling the whole ‘bread’ theory.

And did I say ‘gooey’? Another well-established tenet of the sandwich is that the butter/condiment/sauce goes INSIDE. This cinnamon roll was smothered in frosting. And don’t get me wrong, I love frosting. LOVE FROSTING. But there’s literally NOWHERE to grasp this sandwich (in the unlikely event that it didn’t unravel to begin with..). You know that nasty feeling of reaching inside a pumpkin to clean it out? Holding onto this was worse.

So, like the wiping clean of 2015, and the optimistic folly that 2016 is teeming with right now, there’s nothing to do but improve. In this sandwich, I’m using Andy Steffan’s delightful cinnamon french toast for the bread, and a cream cheese frosting adheres all of the delicious insides together. I would also encourage you to utilize maple syrup and Sriracha, because of course I would.

So where’s the photo of this Fusionitis-inspired brunch creation, you ask? Don’t have one – I haven’t made this yet. Because, like all great innovations, sometimes the beta-testing is best performed on someone else. But let me know how it turns out.



  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup whole milk
  • 3 eggs
  • 1/8 tsp. salt
  • 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1 tbsp. sugar
  • 8 slices of bread

Heat griddle to medium and spray with cooking spray. Combine dry ingredients (except bread), then add wet ingredients. Whisk until slightly lumpy. Dredge both sides of bread, and cook until golden brown on each side. Keep french toast warm in 200 degree oven until sandwiches are ready for assembly.

CREAM CHEESE ICING (courtesy of Southern Living magazine)

  • 3 oz. cream cheese, softened
  • 2 tbsp. butter, softened
  • 2-1/4 cups powdered sugar
  • 1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon (optional: I added this)
  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 2 tbsp. milk

Use hand mixer on medium to beat cream cheese and butter until creamy. Gradually add cinnamon and powdered sugar, beating on low until combined. Stir in vanilla and 1 tbsp. of milk. Add remaining tablespoon of milk, one teaspoon at a time, until icing is smooth and creamy.


  • Cooked bacon strips (as much as you desire)
  • Reserved bacon grease (1/2 tbsp. per egg)
  • Fried eggs (1 per sandwich)
  • Salt/Pepper (to taste)
  • Deli turkey or ham (3 oz. per sandwich)
  • Sliced sharp cheddar or pepper jack cheese (1 oz. per sandwich)
  • Sriracha (optional)
  • Real maple syrup (optional)

Heat oven to 200 degrees. Top deli meat with cheese on a cooking sheet, and put in oven to warm meat and melt cheese. Cook bacon to desired crispness, and reserve 1/2 tbsp. of grease per egg being fried. Fry eggs until edges are brown and crispy, adding desired salt and pepper. If you don’t like yolk-y eggs, flip the eggs over once edges are set.

ASSEMBLY (bottom-to-top)

  • French Toast
  • Moderate spreading of cream cheese icing
  • Turkey/Ham & Cheese
  • Egg
  • Bacon
  • Cream cheese icing, with syrup/Sriracha if being used
  • French Toast




Kielbasa & Shrimp Jambalaya.


As most of you know, it’s Mardi Gras, and for those of you too responsible to go out drinking tonight…or too cheap to hire a babysitter…or too resigned to the fact that both of your children will be up all night if you have a raging buzz…try cooking the bayou instead of drinking it. I know, it’s not going to replace the beads anytime soon, but c’mon, is flashing really a great idea with the Internet doing what it does? Only if you want generations of ancestors to know what a cheap drunk you were. This meal will fill you up right and is a relatively simple, hearty meal on a frigid Minnesota night. It also is guaranteed to not give you a hangover.

Kielbasa & Shrimp Jambalaya.

Recipe by Max Date

1 tbsp. vegetable oil

1 lb.  pre-cooked shrimp, thawed and de-tailed

¾ lb. kielbasa, cut into ½” pieces (you can also substitute Andouille or chicken)

1 tsp. Cajun seasoning

¾ c. celery, chopped

¾ c. carrots, chopped

1 bell pepper, chopped

1 medium red onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 – 14 oz. can of diced tomatoes with juices

3 tbsp. tomato paste

½ tsp. oregano

¾ tsp. thyme

¾ tsp. paprika

¼ tsp. allspice

1-1/2 c. chicken stock

1-1/4 c. rice

Bay leaf

Tabasco, for serving

Heat oil over medium heat, and add kielbasa, celery, carrot, onion, bell pepper, and Cajun seasoning. Cook until veggies are tender, approximately 7-8 minutes, stirring regularly. Add minced garlic with 1-2 minutes remaining in cook cycle.

Add chicken stock, tomatoes, tomato paste, remaining spices, and bay leaf, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in rice, cover, and cook an additional 15 minutes. Add shrimp and cook for 5 minutes additional, or until shrimp is no longer pink and rice is tender.

Remove bay leaf before serving. Serve with Tabasco and crusty bread.

A Super Bowl of Chili.


You may be aware there’s a football game in 10 days between Brandon Browner’s former team and Brandon Browner’s current team. As tradition would have it, people who generally don’t care about football (or root for teams that never win) gather together for one evening to pretend they’ve been on one of these critical-mass bandwagons all along. People wager on the coin flip, eagerly anticipate commercials for companies who inevitably will go defunct because of the money they spent on those commercials, pretend Roger Goodell isn’t Satan for one day, speculate on what Bill Belichek did or didn’t know about Tom Brady’s deflated balls, and drink themselves into oblivion despite the next day being a normal fully-functioning work day. But mostly, and most importantly, people eat.

Whether you are hosting said event, or merely showing up to polish off your friend’s liquor cabinet, you are going to need to make a dish to keep everyone’s attention well past Katy Perry’s hopeful wardrobe malfunction. For me, that’s always been a big ol’ steaming super bowl of chili. I know, it’s not exactly reinventing the wheel. But much like the super football game being watched, people don’t want something exotic or hoity-toity, they want something familiar, dependable, and domestic. This is the Super Bowl, for God’s sake! THIS IS ‘MURICA! Save your one-bite falafel appetizers for the World Cup, hippie.

Everyone and their mother (or everyone’s mother) has a chili recipe, and everyone has a different take on what “chili” is. This is an original that I came up with a few years ago as part of a Dutch oven wedding gift, and I haven’t run into anyone who doesn’t like it. I’m not one of those guys who likes who likes chunks of beef in his chili, nor do I care for “white” chili or meatless chili (see previous hippie statement). HOWEVER, I do add baker’s chocolate to the chili, as well as cinnamon and brown sugar. I don’t have an actual culinary explanation, but I think it gives it that little extra something something.


I like chili that has some heat to it, and this one does, but I’d call it about a 6 or 7 out of 10. I don’t want something so mild I think I’m eating thickened minestrone, but I also want to be able to use my taste buds the next day. Feel free to adjust the pepper usage up or down as you see fit, though – if you have kids or true Minnesotans eating it, you may want to pump the breaks.

Lastly, this can be made on the stove in a Dutch oven or in a slow cooker. It takes about 90 minutes simmering on the stove (probably more like two hours for a double-batch), and 4-5 hours on low in the slow cooker. If you are doubling the recipe for a crowd, make sure your vessel is big enough. That’s what she said.

Of course, with any chili, if you don’t bring cheese, sour cream, and scallions to accompany your dish, you may as well have brought two quarts of kangaroo excrement, so plan wisely. Bring cornbread, too. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Enjoy the food, and enjoy the footballs, regardless of the PSI.



Recipe courtesy of Max Date

Makes 6 full-meal portions

  • 4 strips of cooked bacon, crumbled
  • 1 pound ground beef (or ground turkey, if you’re like that)
  • ¾ cup chopped onions
  • ¾ cup chopped bell pepper (any colour you like)
  • ¾ cup corn kernels
  • 3 cloves minced garlic
  • 2 red chili peppers, minced (seeded for less heat)
  • 1 small jalapeno pepper minced (ditto)
  • 14-ounce can tomato sauce
  • 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
  • 14-ounce can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 14-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 cup of American beer (Budweiser is preferable)
  • 1 tablespoon cayenne pepper
  • 1 tablespoon paprika
  • 1 tablespoon cumin
  • 1 tablespoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 2 teaspoons dried oregano
  • 1 teaspoon dried parsley
  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 ounce unsweetened baker’s chocolate
  • 1 bay leaf

Suggested garnishes: shredded sharp cheddar, chopped green onion, sour cream, cornbread, and hot sauce, to taste

Note: If you’re using the slow cooker, start with a frying pan. If you’re using a stock pot or Dutch oven, start with that.

Cook the bacon until crispy, and brown the ground beef. Set aside. Keep one tablespoon of grease in the pane, and sauté the onions and green pepper until onions are translucent (about 3-4 minutes). Add minced garlic, chili pepper and jalapeno and sauté until perfumed, another minute or so.

If you’re using slow cooker, transfer sautéed items and meat to the slow cooker, add the remaining ingredients/spices, mix well, and cook on low setting for 4-5 hours. Otherwise, continue with the recipe directions.

Add tomato sauce, diced tomatoes and beer, bring to a boil, then reduce to medium-low heat. Add the corn and beans, and all of the spices. Add the bacon and ground beef back to the mixture as well. Simmer, covered, on low heat for 90 minutes (2 hours for double-batch), stirring occasionally.

Serve on top of corn bread with garnishes.

Turkey Ramen Soup.


Soup. Reliable, comforting, unsexy soup. Why?

  • It’s winter – don’t let the 45-degree weekend fool you, people. Twenty-degree temps will be back to kick your respective private areas starting today.
  • You very likely have a cold. Or, as in my house, everyone has just passed the two-week mark of being Ebola-free, but could descend back into phlegm-hacking chaos at any moment.
  • One pot, one cutting board. Minimal mess, quick cook time. Perfect weeknight meal.
  • Soup is pretty hard to screw up. You literally can’t overcook it. Well, I mean, you COULD, but it’d take a lot of work. You’d probably have to pass out for an extended period of time. Most likely, your house will burn down before soup gets ruined. It’s foolproof!
  • In spite of the fact that we’re two-plus weeks clear of Thanksgiving, you still have leftover turkey. That’s because, as Americans, we’re ingrained to believe that a 19-pound turkey won’t be enough food for six people. You also likely had someone double up on the veggie tray, so this will burn through some of your surplus carrots and celery.


But above and beyond all else, this soup is pretty effing good (side note: the Microsoft spell check recognizes “effing” as a word. What a time to be alive). It’s an original recipe, too, so I don’t need to waste your time letting you know what I changed, nor do I need to fawn over the original chef (…any more than I already do. Max high-fives Max!).

In an ideal world, I’d say use chicken stock, but I used bullion and it was just fine. You can use egg noodles if you’re really into the whole wide noodle thing, but I’ve never met a dish that didn’t do just fine with ramen noodles (including ramen noodles rolling solo). Lastly, if you don’t have any turkey left, try using a pound of rotisserie chicken. I need to check to see if anyone has ever made a soup with chicken and noodles first, but it should prolly work.

So there you go: use up some leftovers, get over your winter maladies, and have some tasty vittles.

And, as always, remember to garnish with a fried egg. Yes, the Egg Council has gotten to me too.


Prep Time: 10 minutes / Cook Time: 30 minutes

1 tbsp. butter
2-3 medium carrots, chopped
2-3 celery stalked, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1 tbsp. flour
1 tbsp. garlic, minced
1 lb. precooked turkey or chicken (preferably dark meat), roughly chopped
6 c. chicken stock/broth
¾ tsp. dried basil
¾ tsp. dried parsley
½ tsp. dried thyme
¼ tsp. cayenne powder
3 packages of ramen noodles, flavor packets discarded
4 fried eggs, for garnish
Sriracha, for garnish


Melt butter in stock pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add carrots, celery and onion and cook until softened, about 5-7 minutes. Add garlic and flour and cook for additional minute. Add chicken stock, meat, basil, parsley, thyme and cayenne. Increase heat to bring soup just to a boil, then reduce heat and allow to simmer an additional 5-10 minutes. Add ramen noodles and cook through, 3-5 minutes.

While the soup is cooking, fry four eggs. Ladle soup into serving bowls, and garnish with fried egg and Sriracha.

Good-Quality Brownies from the Hamptons.


Back when Food Network showed shows about non-contestant forms of cooking, I used to ridicule the Barefoot Contessa, Ina Garten. For one, she came off as just a HAIR aloof, like specifying to use GOOD olive oil (as opposed to the Karkov-brand swill I’d been cooking with), and oh, I don’t know, LIVING IN THE HAMPTONS. For two, well…there really wasn’t a ‘two’, I guess. I just had a thing against rich people. That, and she talked about Jeffrey too much, when you could basically see him wiping secretary lipstick off of his collar as he walked in the door at the end of the day (or at least that was my speculation).

But let me tell you a thing about her brownies: She knows how to make a damn brownie. Now, if you remember many moons ago when I wrote my last blog, I stated something about taking intelligent shortcuts and being okay with 90% of the results if it meant 10% of the work. I have no problem with boxed brownies; I will house boxed brownies all day long.

These brownies, however, are for when you want to show the love in a way that boxed brownies simply can’t do. These brownies are for when you don’t want to do anything else but spend an extra 20 minutes in the kitchen and have your taste buds reap all of the benefits. These brownie are when you want to give a high and tall middle finger to all those prude doctors that say, “You shouldn’t consume a pound of butter and another pound of sugar.” I love these brownies so much, I have the recipe displayed on the front of “Tasty Vittles”, my three-ring binder of recipes (even though it’s committed to memory at this point).


I’m not a natural baker. I mean, I’m not a natural COOKER, either, but, save for a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies, I really only started baking in the last couple of years. For you cookers that aren’t bakers, please keep in mind that trying to amend quantities or substitute ingredients in baking is the worst idea you could ever have. It doesn’t work, so don’t try it. Having said that, I always omit the instant coffee granules (sorry, I don’t have any Sanka sitting around the house) and the walnuts (gross), and nobody’s said, “Hey, these brownies don’t have enough nuts or coffee in them.” These brownies are Kevin Date, chocoholic, approved.

As an additional note for you non-bakers, don’t get water and chocolate mixed up – it’s like getting a Gremlin wet. If you’re worried your double-boiler might go amiss (or if you view a double-boiler as archaic and tedious), just microwave the chocolate chips, unsweetened chocolate, and butter. Start with 90 seconds, stir, and add 45 seconds until fully melted. AND DON’T GET IT WET. OR LET IT EAT AFTER MIDNIGHT.

Lastly, I cut this recipe in half, because I have no self-control in the field of chocolate, and don’t need 1.5 square feet of brownies beckoning me. But 3/4 of a square foot? Bring it.

Recipe courtesy of Ina Garten and :

recipe/video link:



Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 12 x 18 x 1-inch baking sheet.

Melt together the butter, 1 pound of chocolate chips, and the unsweetened chocolate in a medium bowl over simmering water. Allow to cool slightly. In a large bowl, stir (do not beat) together the eggs, coffee granules, vanilla, and sugar. Stir the warm chocolate mixture into the egg mixture and allow to cool to room temperature.

In a medium bowl, sift together 1 cup of flour, the baking powder, and salt. Add to the cooled chocolate mixture. Toss the walnuts and 12 ounces of chocolate chips in a medium bowl with 1/4 cup of flour (not this much; just enough to coat), then add them to the chocolate batter. Pour into the baking sheet.

Bake for 20 minutes, then rap the baking sheet against the oven shelf to force the air to escape from between the pan and the brownie dough. Bake for about 15 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Do not overbake! Allow to cool thoroughly, refrigerate, and cut into 20 large squares.


Slow-Cooker Pulled Pork Rolls.

and coleslaw. and love.

It’s easy to be lazy. Case in point: this blog has not been updated in two months (thank you very little, seasonal work schedule), and – let’s be honest – this one certainly isn’t exactly going to be “War and Peace”. But sometimes being lazy can yield surprisingly delicious results – at least when they’re intelligently employed.

Semi-stealing a page out of the Sandra Lee school of cooking and opening bottles, this meal is really more assembly and patience than straight-up cooking, but hey, it’s the summer, and there are apparently more pressing things at hand. Why toil in the kitchen when lemonade and gin go so well together after a 10-hour work day? This recipe utilizes my favorite meat (pork), my favorite cooking device (the slow cooker), and a few pre-packaged ingredients, which I will rationalize now:

Pre-shredded Cole Slaw Mix: First, you can’t shred cabbage that finely and simultaneously keep all of your fingers. Second, have you ever shredded an entire cabbage?? You have enough coleslaw for like three weeks. I enjoy coleslaw, but I also like moderation.

Rudolph’s Coleslaw Dressing and Garland Jack’s Barbeque Sauce: Could you or I make either one of these and have what would probably be a superior product? Yes, but these are both very good prepackaged products, and if I can get 90 percent of the flavor for less money and lot less work…well…please refer to the first sentence of this post.

Lastly, I enjoy pineapple in my coleslaw. I understand that not everyone does, though I do not understand why. The irony in this is that, for all of the other shortcuts I’m taking, PLEASE USE FRESH PINEAPPLE. That is all.

Is this a porterhouse from Murray’s? No. But it is an eminently edible meal pretty much every day of the week. AND I’M NOT ONE TO BRAG, but this was the concoction that earned me the title of “Chef Max” at Ston’s bachelor party last year. So I have that going for me – which is nice.

What you need:

3-lb. pork butt or shoulder
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
1 tsp. cayenne
2 tsp. brown sugar
1 c. chicken broth
1 package of pre-shredded coleslaw mix
1 c. diced fresh pineapple
1 bottle Rudolph’s Coleslaw Dressing
½ bottle Garland Jack’s Barbeque Sauce
1 package of King’s Hawaiian Rolls

Trim excess fat. Season the pork with salt, pepper, cayenne and brown sugar, ideally the night before, but at least an hour ahead of time.

Heat some oil over medium-high heat in frying pan. Sear the pork on each side for around 6 minutes.

Transfer the pork to a slow cooker and add 1 cup of chicken broth. Cook on low setting for 8 hours.

Meanwhile, make coleslaw by (PAY CLOSE ATTENTION) mixing the coleslaw dressing into the coleslaw mix. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Once pork is cooked, place in a bowl and let rest for 10-15 minutes. Shred pork with forks, and add sauce to your liking (I personally don’t like drowning it, but to each his or her own).

Fill rolls with generous helping of both pork and coleslaw (yes, both go on the sandwich). Serve with aforementioned gin and lemonade.