Sure, Julia Child was a badass in her own way — but do you think she ever blasted Seventh Son of a Seventh Son while cooking up beef bourguignon? (Gonna guess … not. I saw the movie so I’m kind of an expert.) For all the would-be chefs who prefer their kitchen adventures with a side of Satan comes Steve “Buckshot” Seabury’s Mosh Potatoes: Recipes, Anecdotes and Mayhem from the Heavyweights of Heavy Metal (Atria Books, $15).
Mosh Potatoes isn’t the first-ever metal-themed cookbook (see also: Hellbent for Cooking: The Heavy Metal Cookbook by Annick Giroux, which similarly features recipe contributions from famous headbangers). But Mosh Potatoes has the better name. Also, download site Loudtrax.com is running a contest (it ends Monday, a.k.a. February 14, a.k.a. Valentine’s Day) in conjunction with the book. For brave culinary warriors only, “We Dare You to Cook Up Lemmy!” offers Kilmister-approved prizes for folks willing to attempt the Motorhead legend’s contribution to the book. (Details here; the recipe involves chocolate syrup, curry powder, brandy, and fire, among other things. It is called “Krakatoa Surprise,” and I wouldn’t get near it even if you offered me a suit made out of Ove Gloves.)
For those with less suicidal palates, Mosh Potatoes offers a variety of appetizers (“Opening Acts”), main dishes (“Headliners”), and desserts (“Encores”), explained in first-person style by whoever contributed the dish. Some of the recipes are more Food Network-ready than others (Dave Witte of Municipal Waste‘s surprisingly sophisticated Turkey Gyoza with Soy-Vinegar Sauce; Aaron from Red Fang‘s Red Fang Pad Thai); some are worth reading just because of the anecdote (see: Life of Agony’s Joey Zampella’s lobster-hypnosis tips) or suspicious items in the ingredient list (I lost track of how many people included beer or booze, not for the food but for the chef to drink while cooking.)
I’m generally crap in the kitchen, but I can definitely mix a bunch of ingredients together and shove them in an oven. So in lieu of Krakatoa Surprise, I decided to make “The Best Blueberry Muffins,” created by Darkest Hour‘s Paul Burnette. I made sure to pick a recipe from a band I actually know and like; the book’s artists are overall pretty cool, but there are a few odd numbers (Mudvayne? Come on now.)
The muffins call for all the usual ingredients (butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, etc.) plus a boatload of blueberries. They were delicious, though the note about waiting for the muffins to cool before taking them out of the pan was key. Lots of blueberries = lots of molten blueberry juice waiting to sear anyone who dared try and nudge a muffin out of the pan before due time.
They were best within the first 24 hours — I’d recommend making them fresh before, like, a brunch and (after they cool off, f’reals) sharing them with a group. Not too sweet but full of blueberry goodness — perfect for hangovers. My batch of batter made around 18 smallish muffins and they were dee-lish.
Here’s my quarrel with Mosh Potatoes, and I suspect it’s simply due to the number, er, nature of the beast: though author Seabury says he tested out all the recipes while compiling the book, the instructions here aren’t as thorough as you’d find in a typical cookbook. If you’re a kitchen-phobe like me, expect to be intimidated by vague or imprecise instructions for some of the entries. Even something simple as muffins, I would’ve liked to have known how many muffins the batch was going to make before I started out, which is something a reg’lar cookbook would’ve divulged.
But while Julia Child always offered thorough instructions, she certainly didn’t pepper her recipes with drinking games (to my knowledge), and she never used Jägermeister as an ingredient (did she? If so, contact me ASAP with deets). Mosh Potatoes may be light on haute cuisine, but it’s heavy on nacho-salsa-guac varieties, groupie gossip, bad puns (“Kale ‘Em All,” har har), and does contain at least one recipe that should not be read while eating (talking to you and your barfy “ball cheese,” Michael Starr of Steel Panther). For those about to cook…