Older Bolder Life

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the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Damned Authentic Jamaican Jerk Pork

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Longtime friends and readers know that we tend to favor spicy and robustly flavored foods around our camp; this week’s recipe – Damned Authentic Jamaican Jerk Pork – fits that bill perfectly.

I’ve always loved the floral heat that authentic jerk pork (and chicken) brings to the flavor table, though I have to admit, I’ve at times been a bit intimidated by what looks to be a somewhat daunting prep to prepare the spice paste essential to true jerk pork.

In all honesty, it’s simply not that big of a production, and can be done (with decent knife skills) in under 20 minutes (really more like 13-14 minutes) if you stay on task and work efficiently.

Jamaican Jerk features the floral heat of Scotch Bonnet peppers, which can be a bit of challenge to find in some parts of the States, but take note that habaneros are a kissin’ cousin to the Scotch Bonnet (though to our palates they not quite as floral).

The peppers are potent – try a recipe with the low end of the pepper range listed, and move up the pepper scale to suit your tastes – my wife loves the front-end, short burst of heat of the habanero and keeps telling me to up the pepper count in the next batch.

And while I typically handle all other peppers without gloves, I do wear a glove when seeding and cutting up habaneros or Scotch Bonnets – one eye rub after not doing so years ago taught me an indelible lesson.

Of note, you can cook this one entirely on the grill (indirect for most of it, finish direct heat) or do as we do and smoke the pork to an internal temp of 150ish, then finish on the grill (to 190-195) for a nice crispy and caramelized crust. That’s our latest cook in the smoker (left) and finishing on the grill (right).

Another point of Jamaican Jerk tradition has to do with the cooking wood involved – typically it’s pimento wood – which can be a bit tough to source in many locales. We’ve found that oak or pecan with a bit of apple works damned well with this prep, and while many recipes call for throwing bay leaves and or allspice berries on the fire, I typically don’t. (We’ll experiment more and report back in a few weeks…)

Hot damn, this one’s really good.

1/4 to 1/2 pound Scotch Bonnet peppers (see comment above about using Habaneros), stemmed and rough chopped
1/2 large green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, chopped medium
1 small white or yellow onion, chopped medium
1 medium shallot, chopped medium
1/2 bunch green onions, white and green parts cut into 1-inch pieces
2 medium garlic cloves, chopped
1.5-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled, chopped medium
1 tsp dried thyme (a generous 2 tsp if using fresh)
3/4 tsp dried basil (3 large leaves chopped if using fresh)
2 and 1/2 tsp ground allspice, you’ll probably want more…
1 tsp good ground cinnamon
1 tsp good fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup coarse salt
2 tbsp avocado or olive oil
1 tbsp soy sauce (perhaps more)

4-5 pounds of pork shoulder, deboned, butterflied

Combine the hot peppers, green bell pepper, onion, shallot, green onions, garlic, ginger, thyme, basil, allspice, cinnamon, pepper, salt, and your oil of choice in your trusty food processor bowl and process to a smooth paste.

Pulse in the soy sauce, and taste the robustly spiced, pretty damn salty mixture, adding more seasoning (allspice and soy sauce usually for me) as needed, along with up to 1/4 cup water to loosen the paste up if needed.

Now take the deboned pork shoulder and pound to a uniform thickness (shoot for 1 and 1/2 inches) if needed, then make a series of 1/2-inch deep cuts, 2 inches apart, aligned with the short side of your flattened pork shoulder. Now flip the shoulder over and make a similar series of cuts on the other side parallel with those on the first side.

Slather half of the spice paste onto a nonreactive pan (or whatever you’re using to marinate the pork), lay the pork on, then coat with the rest of the spice paste. Marinate for a minimum of two hours and up to eight.

When ready to cook, you have a couple of options – complete the entire cook on the grill or smoke the pork shoulder first, then finish on the grill for a nifty crust.

We like to smoke this over low heat (225-250) until the interior temp is 145 to 150 ( that’s 90-120 minutes typically for us pending the size of the shoulder), then finish over hardwood charcoal on the grill to get a tasty and attractive char on the shoulder sections. For those cooking to internal temp (as I do), you’re looking for 190-195 typically.

If completing the entire cook on the grill, most recipes call for a 40-60 minute cook using indirect heat, with a finish using direct heat to lay in a nice caramelization and crust.

Rest for 10-15 minutes, then slice or do as the Jamaican’s do and whack it into bite size pieces with a cleaver.

Beware, this one’s really good and you’ll be coming back for more. The spice paste recipe easily doubles and will keep sealed in an airtight container in the fridge for several weeks.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Two Fire Pork Belly

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As many of you have, we’ve played around with pork belly over the years, most often doing a home cure in the fridge to make pancetta, which then hangs in a closet during cooler winter months to dry and tighten up, though the inclusion of a bit of pork belly in our Christmas Eve tamale filling has been nothing short of revolutionary in terms of taste and texture too.

That said, a buddy was recently in Kansas City on business, and dined at what appears to be a damned nifty restaurant called Q39. My friend gushed poetically (an unusual move for him) about their smoked and grilled pork belly, and has been pestering me almost daily for a recipe to try and replicate the dish at home.

After consulting our own files, and finally me pestering Chef Libby down in Austin as well, she steered me to a recipe that Raichlen published a few years back intended to mimic this very dish pioneered at Q39.

While I didn’t have a full or half belly on hand last week, I did have some pork belly strips (attaboy Costco) totaling about 4 pounds, so I gave them a spin using our go to rib rub developed by my son and I some years back.

In a nutshell, the pork belly is trimmed (you’re cooking skin-off pork belly here), seasoned well with a flavorful rub, slow smoked at 225 to golden perfection, then chilled before a quick flash-type grill over high heat.

The idea behind the rest overnight (or at least 4 to 6 hours) in the fridge is apparently to tighten up the smoked bellies so they’re a) easier to slice, and b) the fat holds up better during a quick grill over higher heat to caramelize and crisp up the slices.

This is one of those stupid simple recipes that literally takes a few minutes to get started, and offers a fairly blank canvas for you to paint upon in terms of different rub spices and flavorings to consider.

As Raichlen noted, bacon is about smoke and salt, and barbecue is about smoke and spice. The marriage of the two in this dish yields a damned tasty, and most unusual treat most of us haven’t enjoyed before.

The main caution with this recipe is to smoke this one low and slow so as not to melt the belly’s fat off during the initial cook, and to grill quickly over higher heat during the second cook to crisp and caramelize the pieces to perfection.

Hot damn, this one’s good.

3-4 pounds pork belly, skin off

Your favorite pork rub
Good salt
Fresh ground pepper

Remove the skin from the pork belly, and score on all sides using a sharp knife in a 1-inch crosshatch pattern (roughly 1/4-inch deep).

Sprinkle the rub over all sides of the belly (pieces), and massage in.

Fire your trusty smoker to 225, and smoke to an internal temp of 165 (for most will be in the 3-4 hour range); you’re looking for the belly to tighten, become a nifty bronze color, and hit the temp target noted.

Set on a wire rack at room temp to cool, then into the fridge overnight.

Cut into 1/2-inch thick slices (against the grain), season each slice generously with salt and pepper, then grill over medium high heat until sizzling and caramelized on both sides (2-3 minutes per side).

Serve immediately with your favorite sauce or aioli; Q39 serves this with a bacon onion marmalade (savory marmalades are a great concept – we’ll post our favorite soon).

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Smoked Santa Maria Tri-Tip

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As we’ve all plowed through the recent holiday weekend, which some might (erroneously in fact) argue is the peak of “the grilling season” in the States, we find ourselves settling into a nice routine of grilling several outstanding proteins every week and enjoying them, most often with a cool, flavorful, refreshing salad over the following days.

Recently we’ve been playing around with tri-tip, a somewhat unique cut of meat that is kinda’ve of a cross between a largish steak and a smallish roast; my butcher buddies argue that it’s really a roast cut from the lower part of the sirloin, so it shares some of the (lesser marbled and chewier) characteristics of sirloin steaks.

Most tri-tips you’ll run across today have their generous fat caps and silver skin already trimmed for you, weighing in somewhere in the 2-3 pound range most often; untrimmed they can run close to 5 pounds.

Steve Raichlen in his ginormous book BBQ USA has a nifty, and fairly detailed explanation of the tri-tip’s apparently indisputable ties to Santa Maria, California; if you’re into food history it’s a great read with Raichlen’s typical dry humor woven in nicely.

The rub recipe below is adapted from Raichlen’s suggestion of the classic Santa Maria rub his travels and research unearthed years ago, though I think it’s much better with a bit more cracked pepper and the Mexican oregano. And don’t be put off by what appears to be a hefty dose of granulated garlic in the rub, it melts in nicely and doesn’t overpower the flavors at all.

Of note, we’ve grilled this recipe over live fire for what seems like forever (red oak is the traditional wood of choice in Santa Maria), though of late we’ve taken to smoking this one at 225 until it’s 125-130 and searing in butter in a cast iron pan to crisp up the exterior, and keeping the interior a delightful, and delicious, medium rare.

The classic Santa Maria salsa served with this is a bit unusual as salsas go, but it’s damned good – I’ll share that recipe next week…

1 tbsp freshly cracked black pepper
2 tsp good coarse salt
2 tsp granulated garlic (or garlic powder)
1-2 tsp dried rosemary, crumbled
1 tsp dried Mexican oregano

1 tri-tip, 2-3 pounds, trimmed of fat cap and silver skin

Prepare the rub and generously season the tri-tip on all sides; then rest in the fridge for a minimum of an hour up to overnight.

For a smoked, pellet grill, low and slow cook, fire your grill/smoker to 225, and cook until reaching an internal temperature of 125 to 130 for medium rare (135-140 for medium).

Pull and sear in butter (or oil of choice) in cast iron quickly on your stove/grill to crisp and brown up the tri-tip, looking for a finished temp of 135 for medium rare, 145 for medium. Rest for 15 minutes, then slice thinly against the grain (don’t forget there are two grain directions in a tri-tip!).

For a standard, live-fire grill cook, cook for roughly 10 minutes per side to reach the medium rare temps above; pull and rest and serve as per above.

Next week I’ll share the classic Santa Maria salsa that is often served with this delightful protein.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Pickled Shrimp Ceviche

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Back a few years ago I shared that I worked for a time helping to open a Cajun restaurant nearby in the far reaches of the DFW metroplex; I’d always wanted to peek behind the curtain of the restaurant industry and I was intrigued by the skills and gentle manner of the authentic Cajun chef running the place.

He was raised outside of New Orleans, came from a very colorful background personally, was immensely talented in the kitchen, and (like myself) profoundly influenced in terms of food by a beloved grandmother and other extended family back home in Louisiana.

Chef M had a killer pickled shrimp recipe (that we made in 5 gallon batches) and worked hard to reproduce what he insisted was a Louisiana Gulf Coast favorite in this Pickled Shrimp Ceviche.

Chef M and we kitchen minions had a lengthy discussion one morning about use of the term “ceviche” for this recipe; some of us pushed the point that ceviche (or cebiche) was historically Peruvian and classically prepared by marinating raw fish or seafood in a tangy, spiced citrus bath (in the Peruvian model that meant limes or what were/are actually less astringent green lemons). The citrus juices not only impart wondrous flavor but denature the proteins in the fish, causing it to appear “cooked” even though by the most strict food chemistry perspective it’s not.

Chef M countered that particularly in the states and Australia the term ceviche has evolved to encompass use of some gently cooked proteins as well as raw seafood, as in the pickled shrimp that we’re using here, and apparently as used for decades by his grandmother back home. It’s ironic how so often our taste buds “run home to mama” in terms of tastes and textures that we enjoyed during our childhoods…

I even double checked the concept with Chef Libby in Austin, and she concurred this recipe unquestionably deserves the ceviche label, and she’s even added a modified version to her catering menu.

He also noted (quite wisely I might add) that citrus-cured raw shrimp has a texture that many find off-putting (I sure as hell do), and that many of the shrimp preparations he grew up with back home involved a lightly cooked (you might even say par-boiled) shrimp.

Bottom line – argue whether it’s ceviche or not as you wish, but unless you’re a formally trained chef from Louisiana, raised cooking Cajun specialties from childhood, I’ll take Chef M’s word over whatever your opinion might be…

Chef M challenged us to give this recipe a chance, and while I’ve modified it a bit in terms of what you see here, this is largely the recipe that Chef M brought to the DFW area from home, and will be a perfect addition to your summer rotation. It’s one of those texture and flavor combinations that’s simply a divine pleasure to eat.

Try it once as written, and then riff on your own version to suit your tastes – I usually throw in a bit more avocado, cucumber, jalapeño, and cilantro when making a batch for us…

3-4 avocados, 1/4-inch dice

1 pound pickled shrimp, 1/2-inch pieces

3/4 cup red onion, chopped medium
1/2 cup cucumber, chopped medium
1/4 cup fresh jalapeño, chopped medium
2 tbsp fresh garlic, minced

1/2 cup cilantro, rough chop (or more)
Juice and zest of one lime
1 and 1/2 tbsp pickling liquid
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

Cut the shrimp to size and place in a medium bowl.

Into your trusty food processor go the chopped red onion, cucumber, jalapeño, and garlic; pulse to a fine chop/mince (do NOT puree). Add the mixture to the shrimp in the bowl.

Stir in the chopped cilantro, lime juice, lime zest, pickling liquid, and lemon juice.

If serving in the next 30-40 minutes, add the diced avocados and stir to mix well, making sure all the avocado pieces are coated with the mixture in the bowl. If not serving in the next 30 minutes, cover and throw in the fridge, adding the avocado 15-20 minutes before service.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Gulf Coast Pickled Shrimp

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I’ve shared before about my love of Gulf Coast seafood before, here’s a snippet from a post about Texas Shrimp Boils –

My parents both grew up along the Gulf Coast of Texas, in or near a little community by the name of Bay City. My maternal grandfather had a beach house very close to the mouth of the Colorado River where it empties into the Gulf, a rustic wood-framed cabin on the tiny spit of land there between East and West Matagorda Bays.

The Camp as it was called by everyone in the family save for my grandfather, who had christened it the Mason Rouge (it was painted a nifty barn red), was a key focal point for summers of my youth as we travelled down to fish, crab, laze in the blistering coastal Texas summer heat, comb the beaches, and just generally live the life of a miniature pirate back in the 60s.

The camp was wiped out time and time again by a number of hurricanes, most notably by Carla, and each time Pa-Pa (paw paw) would rebuild it a little bit bigger.

Fresh seafood was the order of the day; we pulled crabs from the crab trap every few days, caught fish morning, afternoon, and night, and bought “table” shrimp from the little bay shrimper (his boat was Little Bob) whose ramshackle operation sprawled on the riverbank about half a city block away. We probably had to drive the furthest – about 10 minutes – to pick up a bushel of oysters dredged that morning when the oyster mood struck.

Some of my earliest memories of wanting to learn about the art and mystery of cooking came from standing at my grandmother Ma-Ma’s (maw maw) elbow as she created another masterpiece on the ancient (and dammit, I mean ancient) gas stove in the corner of the first floor “kitchen” at the Camp.

She was a masterful Southern cook, using something akin to alchemy to transform uber-fresh, simple ingredients into some of the best food I’ve ever tasted. Of course, those memories are buffered by time and the myopic, simplistic perspective of youth, but damn, her fish cakes, gumbo, fish, and shrimp were stunningly good.

Though I didn’t appreciate as I should back then, it was she who taught me to relish the tasty simplicity of a perfectly boiled shrimp, most often back in the day pulled from the pot, iced down to cool quickly, and eaten in a simple shrimp salad or dipped into just-crafted cocktail sauce bursting with nasal-clearing horseradish and savory Worcestershire (the Cajun influence in that part of coastal Texas was welcome!)…

I don’t recall Ma-Ma stirring up pickled shrimp, but they were on the menu of several of the hole in the wall seafood restaurants in Matagorda back in the day, typically as an escabeche-influenced appetizer, and I remember the mouth puckering acidity of the shrimp and bursts of spice from the onions and peppers after stealing a bit from the communal plate.

We hadn’t pickled shrimp in years around our camp until a few months ago when I stirred up a batch for next week’s Pickled Shrimp Ceviche (holy cow is that a great recipe); we feel like we’ve stumbled across an old friend in this recipe, and it’s found a spot in the summer rotation already.

Two key points for this recipe: One, There are dozens of ways to season boiled shrimp in the pot; here’s our routine, but feel free to use whatever recipe your Ma-Ma (or whoever else) taught you. And two, as you research various pickled shrimp recipes available today, you’ll see that folks use a host of various vinegars and citrus to pickle the shrimp. By all means experiment on your own to see what you like the best – we like this combination for its burst of acidity and the pineapple adds a subtle, interesting twist.

1 and 1/2 pounds raw medium shrimp, shelled, deveined
Your favorite shrimp boil spices

1/2 cup brown rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1/2 medium red onion, cut into thin slices
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1-2 jalapeño or serrano chiles, stemmed, seeded, cut in thin slices
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed
3/4 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp or more good salt

Rinse the shrimp, and bring a large pot of water to a boil (2 quarts should be fine for this amount of shrimp); season as per your routine (see note above). We follow the routine detailed here for our shrimp boils.

Now add the shrimp and the remainder of ingredients to a large jar or BPA-free food storage bag, shaking or turning to evenly distribute all the goodies. The shrimp must be covered by the liquid in the jar; if not, add a bit of water or more vinegar to cover.

Into the fridge it goes for at least 24 hours to soak up all those great flavors; give it a shake or stir occasionally as well.

Enjoy, and these shrimp are amazing in the pickled shrimp ceviche (next image below) coming next week.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Sesame and Parmesan Crusted Tuna Steaks

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Today’s recipe is another one of those recipes that’s so ridiculously simple it really doesn’t even need a formal recipe, though there are few things worth noting as you pull together these Sesame and Parmesan Crusted Tuna Steaks.

We first stumbled across this recipe in one of our favorite cookbooks of all time, a collection of restaurant recipes collected from eateries around Santa Fe and Northern New Mexico; the cookbook is long out of print, probably considered to be too simple even back in the day for repeat printings. The cookbook was a thick paperback, simply printed without any pictures, but probably the most used cookbook in our kitchen among a bookcase full of them…

Back in the day, looking for a tasty alternative to grilling tuna steaks over live fire (always good but you have to be very careful not to overcook), my wife found this recipe and we adopted it as one of our favorites after the first run.

There are several tricks that make the entire process much easier; one of which is pulling the tuna from the fridge at least 30 minutes before cooking, patting it dry, and then placing on a rack on the counter to let the surfaces dry even further. Any persistent moisture on the surface of the tuna will weaken the bond of the parmesan-sesame seed crust we’re after.

As you’re getting ready, grate approximately 3/4 cup of good block parmesan cheese (use the smaller holes) and mix with at least half of cup of sesame seeds (we like to use both dark and light sesame seeds for interest); spread the cheese/sesame seed mixture out on a plate. Common sense applies here; cooking only a couple of tuna steaks? Then grate less cheese and use less sesame seed. Cooking four or more tuna steaks? Then you’ll need more cheese and sesame seeds…

When you’re ready to go, heat a skillet over medium-high heat for several minutes, then add a tbsp (+/- more or less pending how many pieces you’re cooking) of avocado, olive, or coconut oil.

Now for a pro-tip from our friend Chef Libby in Austin; one of the tricks professional chefs use to ensure that coatings stick very well to proteins is to dry the proteins carefully, then lightly flour the protein’s surface before using a light egg wash to adhere the final coating.

So we’ll dip each tuna steak into flour (on the largest opposing sides of the steaks), dusting off any excess; you make the call on which flour you’d prefer. Now dip each coated steak surface into an egg wash, then immediately into the parmesan-sesame seed mixture to form the coating.

Reduce the stove temperature to medium, and cook the coated tuna steaks to the desired degree; be very attentive and do NOT overcook your tuna.

We like to serve these hot with a spicy salsa or sauce – the images today include the Mango Salsa Number 1 that I shared last week.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: The Versatile Okra Crisp

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A little over a year and half ago I shared that I spent several months helping a group of compadres open a little Cajun restaurant nearby; it was an eye-opening experience for me to work in the kitchen “behind the restaurant curtain”.

Of course this was back in the pre-COVID days, which for restaurants seems an eternity ago (as it does for all of us), and clearly life in the restaurant biz was very very different then.

One of my responsibilities back in the day was preparation of huge batches of gumbo, up to forty (yep, I said 40!) gallons at a time in a huge floor-mounted steam kettle. The restaurant then was being directed by a very talented, Louisiana born and bred, young chef who had adapted recipes from his family back home to production in a commercial kitchen setting.

I have to admit his gumbo recipe is one of the very best I’ve ever tasted (sorry Mama – pronounced maw-maw, his really is better…), and it’s become one of our absolute favorite cold-weather soups (or stews if you want to argue that point) in our rotation.

One of the tricks that this particular chef taught me was that precooking okra before adding to the gumbo effectively de-slimed it and enhanced it’s earthy, vegetal flavors. We did it in the restaurant by flash frying for no more than 4 minutes in a commercial fryer; yes it was done in terrible oils (canola or soybean pending what was available, it’s just part of the restaurant game and begs another discussion on a different day). Nonetheless, it was so tasty I’d have to stand over the 20 pounds or so we’d do in a batch to keep my kitchen mates from grabbing handfuls to snack from.

The prep was easy – just head the okra, trimming off the stem end, and slice into 1/3 to 1/2-inch pieces and go to it.

Chatting up the recipe one day with my friend Chef Libby in Austin, she recommended a trial of baking the sliced okra at home in a medium oven after adding a splash of a healthy neutral oil (we think avocado works best here, olive oil can impart more flavor that you’d think) and a grind of good salt and pepper.

We’d actually already started doing that before Libby and I talked about it; it’s a piece of cake to spread the prepped okra pieces out on a piece of parchment, and then throw in the over for 45-50 minutes (with a turn somewhere in the middle).

The okra comes out perfect for topping gumbo, though my lovely wife likes this prep so much we do it as a side dish now and again, top salads with it, and even as a healthy snack out of hand.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Easy Peasy Italian Seasoning

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One of our family mantras we’ve embraced for years now is the simple mindset of “dammit, we can do that”.

The first time I personally uttered that phrase was back in 2003 as we shopped around for barns to board our daughter’s first horse back then. That critter was entirely her project – from purchase to boarding to ongoing maintenance (if you’ve never been involved with horses, the ongoing costs are never-ending and impressively varied) – though that animal led us down a path none of us expected at the time.

The “dammit, we can do that” approach to that particular challenge led to buying a horse farm and show operation the next year, which we managed top to bottom as a family, and used as a learning lab for a plethora of life lessons, including teaching both of our then early teenage kids how to run a business.

The “dammit, we can do that” mantra works wonders in the kitchen too.

With a bit of research, creativity, and a modicum of skills there a host of great recipes and techniques available to the home cook these days; making home spices mixes with great ingredients is a prime example.

We love spicy, full-flavored foods around our camp, and have taken of late to buying organic, fresh as possible spices at our favorite local grocer, using them in various dishes as called for, and mixing up our own classic spices mixes as well.

This Easy Peasy Italian Seasoning is one that we find ourselves reaching for more and more often this fall; if you can measure and stir with a spoon, you can put this one together in minutes, and it’s a wonderful spice mix to have on hand for a host of recipes.

The Grilled Diablo Chicken Margherita from a few weeks back is a prime example of a dish where this spice mix shines; we’ve thrown it on chicken and pork headed for the grill all fall, and my wife thinks it works on grilled shrimp too.

I’ve very intentionally left the volume of the recipe up to you – I’m making a giant batch for gift giving this holiday season, though when I’m throwing together a quick recipe of this one at home, I typically use 1 part equal to 1 teaspoon using the following ratio.

(And note, while many commercial Italian spice mixes will have salt added, I’ve left it out so you can better control how much salt you’d like to add when cooking. Want salt in your mix? By damn, put it in.)

6 parts dried basil
6 parts dried oregano
6 parts dried parsley
3 parts crushed red pepper flakes
3 parts rosemary
3 parts thyme
2 parts marjoram
1 part granulated garlic

Combine the dried spices in a small bowl and mix well. Store in an airtight container or bag in a dark cabinet or the pantry.

Enjoy.