Ken Albala's Food Rant

The Gastronomical Cat

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

I have a remarkably weird cat. Ray likes to thumb through the cookbooks. It's rarely the same one, so he has clearly been looking for a specific recipe for some time now. Nope, not in Julia. Jeff Smith, you must be kidding? So this morning he pulls out The New Basics by Julee Rosso and Sheila Luckins. I am NOT kidding. He opens it quickly, I think finds what he wants and rips a page out, then crosses his arms and sits on it with a satisfied look on his face, waiting. I've long been wondering who leaves the dirty pans in the sink. And where those stray bits of bulghur wheat tabbouleh came from. He has very clearly been teaching himself how to cook so he doesn't have to eat cat food any more. Normally he waits till I'm gone to start reading, but this morning, I guess he couldn't wait. And for some reason he didn't think I could put two and two together - that he's the one messing up the kitchen, and then pretending it was the kids.

So here's the bigger question: do I invite him to cook with me, and just pretend the whole thing never happened? Or do I confront him, and tell him to stop tearing up my old 1980s cookbooks. Actually I never knew he could read either. What other things do you suppose he's been keeping from me. OH! That's why the pickles have been disappearing too! He's been nibbling on them. And look how he's just sitting there as if nothing's happened. Opposable thumbs apparently are not such a big deal folks.

Baby Artichokes

2012-01-29T17:30:00.001-08:00

They are in season now, funny enough. So if you find baby artichokes - they are best battered and fried - but here are some other ideas. In all cases pull off the outer leaves, peel the stem, cut off the top pointy end of each and the very bottom discolored end of the stem. Keep them in a bowl with lemon juice as you work to prevent discoloration. Then you can marinate them in olive oil and vinegar with oregano, and roast them on the BBQ, then submerge completely in oil. I don't know why this isn't more common in the US, it is among the most delicious things imaginable. Next to them is an experiment: they were blanched briefly and covered with 1/2 strong brine and 1/2 white wine vinegar with fennel, coriander, bay, peppercorns. Why not? They could also just be put in a good O&V dressing after blanching and served as an appy.

It was an overall pickle day in fact. From big red bartop pickled eggs to little quail eggs in rice vinegared tea. Also meat, just to see what happens. Little salametti I made last night as demos for a workshop are now in brine and some other leftover odds and ends, just to see what happens. I also made some coppa stuffed in hogs middles. Should work nicely. What I'm really awaiting is the pickled broccoli rabe. They went very dark, smell a bit funky and I'm hoping haven't gone slimy. Fingers crossed.

Beef Back Ribs

2012-01-25T20:27:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the best fun in the kitchen is to buy something you're unfamiliar with and hit it with your best shot. I spotted these ribs and am pretty sure I'd never cooked them before. They're not short ribs. Rather some weird scraggly end of what I assume was left after removing various steaks. There wasn't much meat on them, very short sections, only three bones. Cost about 4 bucks. I browned them in oil, doused with tempranillo and then for no good reason apart from the fact that I had these ingredients around, threw in 2 anchovies, a few squirts of tomato paste in a tube and a sliced shallot. Covered the casuela with tin foil and left to simmer maybe an hour and a half. They were unbelievably tender without being mushy, rich without being unctuous or too fatty, just a lovely deep rich beefy flavor. DO try them if you see them around folks.

Coconut Cup

2012-01-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

For those of you who regularly eat fresh coconut, the normal way of dealing with it is to poke a hole, pour out the water, smash the whole thing and remove the flesh. After all, it's a nut. The shell is waste. (Incidentally I'm working on a book about nuts now.) But I insist otherwise. In the Middle Ages coconuts were rare exotics - and I don't mean the flesh which no one ever tasted, I mean the shell. Set in silver and used to in communion service. Or to judge the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow. You must admit, even without the silver, it is stunning. This was an ordinary coconut bought at the store. Carefully saw off the top, scoop out the flesh. (Carefully! I have a few wounds from this one.) Then scrape off the hairy part, sand the hell out of the exterior. Gradually proceed to the finest grade until extremely smooth. Then apply a mixture of beeswax and mineral oil. (I use it to keep my wooden spoons lovely too.) At this moment it holds a perfectly made Manhattan. Buffalo Trace, Sweet Red Vermouth, Angostura bitters and some preserved cherries from the backyard. Did I say perfect?

Relearning How to Bake

2012-01-15T08:51:00.001-08:00

By now you have figured out my oven obsession. Yesterday I decided to make Fornax more efficient by doing some interior patchwork, starting with vacuuming out all remaining sand then applying mortar to any interior nooks and crannies. Little did I realize how good a job it was. After stoking her for an hour, I raked out the coals, gave the floor a quick wet mopping with a newly made broom and threw in a standard sourdough. Not one minute later the bread was burnt to a cinder. Not just the side facing the hottest wall, but the entire bottom. I'm guessing it must have been 1000 degrees. I've never seen such immolation. Clearly I need to rethink fuel and stoking now that she retains heat so well. Not all was lost though. Nathan Crook had only to suggest the word quail and poof: it came into being. These cooked in maybe 4 or 5 minutes tops. Just marinated and set into a clay cassola. Magnificent.

An INFERNO for Food Scholars

2012-01-11T09:46:00.000-08:00

When you do a lot of editing, you meet many wonderful people who work hard, write well and turn in assignments on time. They will be enthroned in paradise. Another sort of food scholar is cut from quite a different cloth. Irresponsible, inept, or just plain lazy. For these folks I have devised a simple schematic inferno, at the very least to give me some pleasure imagining their torments in the afterlife.

On the uppermost tier are the Grammarians. They mean well, are are often quite virtous, but never gain redemption because they are focused entirely on correct usage, spelling and ultimately meaningless details. Their punishment is to correct grammatical errors at the supermarket for eternity. Everytime they correct tomato’s, it magically changes back again. Beneath them are the insufferable Pedants. They refuse to have fun because they are always right. As punishment they will try to pronounce French words forever hereafter and every time they will be corrected by an obnoxious waiter. It’s “poo-ey fwoo-say!” The third tier is reserved for those who can’t follow simple directions whose fate is to wander aimlessly on the highway looking for the right exit while their dinner reservation expires. Dullars are next, they have to listen forever to a monotone drone on Food TV explaining recipes for excruciatingly simple dishes. The Lazy occupy the fifth tier, they might mean well but never get around to doing anything completely. They are consigned to remain on the couch while people just in the other room are having cocktails and nibbling enticing appetizers. The Silent, who never answer emails or phone calls are trying to place an order at a specialty grocery store, but no one can hear them. “A pound of truffle paté please!” but they are ignored forever. Layer 7 is for for the Late. Their food arrives hours after they order, and it is cold and moldy. They are forced to eat it anyway. The Flakes in the 8th rung of hell, do put in their order, but it never arrives. They go hungry until the end of time. The final lowest level of hell is reserved for the Plagiarists. They have bits of their own bodies plucked off and eaten by others.

Ah, now I feel better.

Fornax the Oven

2012-01-02T09:26:00.000-08:00

Isn't she gorgeous? Fires like a dream. I baked a sourdough loaf and then a spatchcocked chicken for her first load. Interestingly neither tasted smoky at all, the smoke really stops once she is super hot. Note to self, I need a metal peel, a little narrower than my pizza peel, and an ash bucket! And a small mop! Otherwise the kiddie gardening set's hoe and shovel worked perfectly. I completely forgot about oven tools!

OVEN of my dreams

2011-12-31T16:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you have to follow where your errant dreams lead. Even if you have no idea what you're doing. This oven is a point in case. I planned to have it done by the New Year to put in the new book, due imminently. I still don't know if it will work, but I will share some photos nonetheless. First is a form made out of eathenware clay on a mound of wet sand.

Then it was cut into blocks, about 150 of them, and fired in my electric kiln. I know I could have fired them in place with wood, but I wanted to make life difficult. Then I put them all back together - harder than I thought. What posessed me to use some Greek letters I'll never know. Is it Phi Xi Psi? They wouldn't go back together without mortar and putting the sand back in the empty space. A few gaps, I hope don't structurally compromise the whole.

And then I just covered it all with stucco, hoping nothing falls out of place when I remove the sand. The bricks are just to hold up the arch on the opening. There's a little chimney at back too. Otherwise nothing much to it. I'll give you the specs in The Lost Arts of Hearth and Home. Cost me about 150 bucks. Not an earth oven, nor a 10,000 dollar commercial pizza oven. MY fingers are so crossed. Please cross yours too. And HAVE a HAPPY NUDE YEAR!!

Flameware

2011-12-19T17:52:00.001-08:00

I know this is not food, but closely connected to it. A few weeks ago I spotted flameware clay in Berkeley, make by the same company that makes by regular 50/50 mix. They offered me a "rusty skillet" glaze too. It's a cone 8 clay, so St. Theresa (the kiln) really had to work hard to get this up to temperature, but as you can see, it is very pleasant in color and texture. More importantly, in case you don't understand what this stuff is - a stoneware that goes right on the stove top. (Not soft earthenware, which chips and scratches.) So for the trial run there's a chicken and vegetables simmering in the olla. Broccoli rabe in the cassola. The pipkin is untested, as is a bigger pentola still unfired. Oh and the little butter melting cup up front. Despite the fact that it's 30 bucks for a 25 lb. bag, I think this set was worth it. Well done Leslie's and IMCO.

Robert May and Brian May

2011-12-17T14:18:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed how Brian May, Queen guitarist, has a decidedly 17th century hairdo? Much like that of Robert May, celebrated 17th century cookbook author? Hmm. Did you also realize that May lived in the age of Hooke and Boyle, the birth of Astrophysics and other May has a PhD in the same subject? Hmm. There must be more. Well I was feeling in a Baroque mood today. This recipe is not exactly in May, but it could easily have been. It is 2 lbs of pork shoulder very finely chopped, with chopped apricots, dates, raisins, walnuts, pistachioes, candied citron, angelica root, sugar with ambergris, musk, all soaked in Batavia Arrack and spiced with nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, pepper. That went into a crust of mangalitsa leaf lard, sprinkled with coarse sugar. I'm hoping it will slide out and be sliced vertically. We shall see tonight.

Vinegar Hoax

2011-12-17T08:27:00.001-08:00

This morning I was moving some of my vinegar from a big crock into smaller bottles and I thought I'd play around with making shrub. This is a delightfully refreshing, very 18th century drink made of vinegar, sometimes fruit flavored and sugar. You mix it with cold water and drink in the summer. My vinegar is obscenely sour and I noticed that after adding a little sugar it mellowed. Then I added some sapa, cooked down grape must I made a few years ago, to give it some thickness and depth. As I was doing this I noticed a bottle of balsamic vinegar, which my wife buys from Trader Joes. I know very well you can't buy real balsamic vinegar for 5 bucks, though the label here does fake it: from Modena and I.G.P. which is an indication of protected geographical origin. Which means part of it must be made somewhere near Modena. But here's the best part. I tasted it side my side with my sweetened musted vinegar and they are absolutely indistinguishable. I guess I should take that as an insult to my shrub, huh?

Interview

2011-12-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

http://www.heritageradionetwork.com/episodes/2112-A-Taste-of-the-Past-Episode-83-The-Lost-Art-of-Real-Cooking

Here's a really fun interview with Linda Pellacio.

Stupid Arbitrary Rules

2011-12-04T14:27:00.001-08:00

Have you noticed how the world is filled with stupid arbitrary rules? I don't mean practical moral precepts, which are eminently useful. I'm talking about things people tell you to do which serve no purpose whatsoever. Cooking is rife with examples. People do things one way, it gets repeated a million times, then everyone thinks it's inviolable law. Perhaps no other food is so subject to the whim of arbitrary rules than beans. I've written some of these stupid rules myself. And this story just goes to show, such rules were meant to be broken. I got home last night with this brand new iron olla from The Spanish Table, and wanted to try it out so badly, that I just chucked in some dry red beans, water, salt, and a touch of oregano, and threw it on the fire. Not this fire, I mean in the fireplace fire. And left it there, until morning. Reheated it up and the beans were perfect, intact, and yet cooked through. Succulent, perfectly seasoned. And broke every rule about how beans ought to be cooked. Let me know if you have a similar rule-breaking story.

Thanksgiving Pre-Game Lineup

2011-11-23T08:12:00.000-08:00

People have asked me what I'm doing for Thanksgiving and I have to admit that it's pretty staid and traditional. All the same, I thought describing the line up might be fun, with the expectation that things will happen spontaneously, as always. There must be turkey, a fairly small Willy Bird, but he's been seasoned with wild sumac and juniper provided by our friend Miss Butterpowered Bike. Brining makes the bird taste like saltwater, so I just salt (delicately smoked Maldon flakes) and season a day or two before. Then there's also a goose. Actually two. One to roast on a spit before the fire, the other has been curing, finely chopped with the fat, in a cow's bung the past few months. I have no idea what it will be like, most likely a kind of spreadable confit, but not cooked of course. The bones went into a fine stock I froze, for the roast goose.

With this I was thinking of Varsa, a traditional Romanian sauteed sauerkraut with butter and paprika. This time my own sauerkraut and I'm thinking goose fat to stick with the theme. Kimmy is bringing roast Brussels sprouts which will go perfectly too. Got to be mashed potatoes, scalloped white sweet potatoes with maple syrup, a stuffing - I'm thinking made with a fresh sourdough spelt bread I'll bake today. J is making a fancy salad, though it's heresy on such a day. And of course I forgot to get string beans. I do the exact same clichee casserole, but with fresh shrooms, cream, stock, and fried onions on top.

The starters will be whatever I can find in the cave. A cured tuna belly - which turned black, a kind of tarantello, though I'm thinking of smoking it, to make it a sorra. A good 16th century trick. I also have a slab of mangalitsa lardo I made a couple of weeks ago, for the intrepid. There's the free-form cheddar, though maybe I'll make some fresh mozarella today too. Wouldn't you know there's a recall on raw milk this week in California, so it will have to be pasteurized. Drat. Smoking it might be fun. Some sopressata. I'm also considering breaking out the garum and soy sauce. The former is nearly a year old now, the latter close to that. Neither have been tested yet. Maybe each as a kind of dipping sauce for cardoons if I can still find them. Oh, I have some pickled walnuts too, a full year old and some pickled lemons. Who knows what other surprises might be in there? OH, miso pickled burdock root, now nearly 3 years old and never touched. I think I put it up when we started the first cookbook. Isn't a larder a lovely thing?

My usual drink of choice is good bourbon, couldn't find Pappy Van Winkle, but Buffalo Trace will do. This year there's absinthe too. A bottle of Enigma that's been waiting patiently a long time and some Jade Edouard, which is splendid. And of course the concord eau de vie chez moi, which is very pleasantly sweet and aromatic this year. Lots of wine too naturally - I've been on a pinot noir kick since visiting the Willamette Valley.

Apple pie is traditional, got to do it. A pumpkin pie also forcoming. And if I can find them not too expensive, a pecan pie. We'll see. So when are you coming?

TEDx talk on Cooking

2011-11-19T10:41:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rt-oaLVjz3U

Mangalitsa, Freeform Cheddar and Concord Hooch

2011-11-05T14:59:00.000-07:00

I've been speaking in public lately about various kitchen tasks. I will be speaking again at Oregon State this week. DO come by. Three talks free and open to the public. In the course of writing, I have been struck that these operations are performed rhythmically, some every week like baking bread, some every month or so like curing meat, some every few months, like cheese making. Distillation is usually once a year now. At least when using my own grapes. I can't say any of this is well thought out or premeditated. The ingredients themselves dictate these rhythms, as well as storage space, rates of consumption. Quite interesting. And rarely are there examples of everything sitting around at once.

But this week there just happens to be. Above is some Mangalista pig I found at Corti Bros in Sacramento yesterday. Just a pound, to see what it's like, in a hog middle. To the immediate left is an amorphous blob of cheese. Raw milk cheddared, dried a few days and washed with arrack. Don't ask me why, I just like the grassy flavor and thought it would do nicely. The shape is thanks to a kitchen towel, in which I drained and squeezed the cheese. Why not?

Then lastly, today was hooch day. My concord grapes have been fermenting about 2 1/2 weeks. Pretty crude as wine, but distilled, just delightful. A full 3 liters make about half a bottle. I also tossed some with wine to see how it would taste fortified. Then a rather large bottle of gin made from zin. It was an 08, made by a friend of a friend who I helped at a pressing a few weeks ago. With juniper, rosemary, bay berries and leaves. Should be lovely. Can't wait till Thanksgiving when we down them!

Acorn Abelskivers

2011-10-29T06:04:00.000-07:00

I have been waiting patiently for this year's acorn crop. Looking intently, picking up one or two dropped on the sidewalk by a careless jay. And then we finally hit the jackpot. Actually Buster found them, not a few hundred paces from our house. A tall white oak, dropped what must be a hundred pounds. Of all odd things, they taste quite sweet, even raw. I did a quick processing, drying in the oven for a few days, cracking, pounding, pounding again. Still not completely fine, but no matter. Perfectly lovely unwashed. A shopping bag of acorns gives you maybe a pound or two dry and ground. The idea to abelskive them came from Ms. Butter. Here's my recipe: A cup of slightly coarse unwashed acorn flour, a sprinkle of baking powder, a heaping tablespoon of apple butter (which I thought fitting, and I made some last week) an egg, pinch of salt, and enough milk to make a thick batter. I added a dab of cream too. Then cook in ample butter in your abelskiver pan. Notice the lovely cakey texture. Went perfectly with blackcurrant preserves.

Perfect Salami

2011-10-22T22:11:00.000-07:00

My salami making workshop last night in Lodi was such a delight. Twelve of the loveliest people, yards upon yards of intestines, no equipment at all, and good local wine. Cindy at Cheese Central in Lodi orchestrated everything beautifully. And these babies I brought for tasting. The bung of a few months ago and the baroque stinky hog middles made into sopressata. The former very fennelated, the later oreganized. They are of such an exquisite delicate sourness, with natural bacteria, not very salty, and no garlic, which is my preference. I could live on this stuff. A desert island food.

Three Beautiful Dishes

2011-10-19T19:58:00.000-07:00

I have had some absolutely unmitigated disasters recently. So to console myself, I hope you will indulge me, by ogling at three ordinary weekday meals I cooked recently. The first a regular steamed Asian shrimp dumpling, ginger, soy, sesame, etc. with a twist of cameron molido. Made it softer inside, saltier, but didn't quite stick together with a toothsome bite as ordinarily. But still splendid. Serve with soy and black vinegar dipping sauce.

Then a Shepherd's Pie. Lamb shoulder coarsely chopped with herbs, and carrots, celery, onion, a lot of wine, and with a kind of latke fried first and then put on top. It prevented the whole thing from going soggy on top. Oh yes, and I threw in zataar, sumac, cumin and pomegranate syrup. Why not? Gorgeous. Even after a few days, as leftovers. To swoon for.

Then tonight, on the grill, in a paella pan, roasted fennel bulbs, grapefruit segments, capers, then jalapenos, tomatoes, and shrimp. Some fresh oregano, parsley, holy basil. What more could you want? A side of couscous. Just rocked.

Mesost or Brunost: A Foray into Whey Cheese

2011-10-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: Assay #2 with goat whey yeilded a hard block of crunchy caramel candy! This was despite the addition of cream. (And not sugar!) I think the key will be NOT bringing it up to the hard crack stage. Though how it gets that lovely dark brown color then, I don't know. Not yet at least. It is so like candy in the final stages, that I think the soft ball should do it. Well, at least I have 3 lovely little crottins for my efforts. Wrapped in grape leaves.

This thread of thinking was spurred on by the indominable Janet, aka The Old Foodie, who has posted some whey recipes. It then made its way to the ASFS listserve, via Cara, and then to Anne Mendelson, who gave me more details about what to do with whey. I just happened to have some whey sitting on the counter after making cheese this weekend. One quart has some carrots fermenting, but the other was destined for glory as cheese. Well, not exactly cheese. It's more like caramelized whey fudge. You've had gjetost, right? This is the same thing, but made with cow's milk rather than goat. It's disconcertainly sweet at first, but when you think of it as cheese not caramel, it's lovely, especially thinly sliced. The procedure could not be simpler, though it takes Herculean patience. Put a quart (or two, whatever you want) of whey in a pot. Mine had been fermenting a couple of days at rooms temperature. Put it on the lowest possible temperature and leave it there for about 5 or 6 hours. Late last night I really wanted to go to sleep, but stayed up with the mesost. By the end it was brown, and coming together exactly like caramel. This first shot was a little too salty, since I'd salted the curds from the first cheese originally to drain more whey, and all that salt went in. I think if you have whey without salt, add just a pinch, because at the end the quart gives you maybe 3/4 of a cup of cheese. Anne told me to add cream, but I didn't have any, and it came out very smooth and lovely. I'm just assuming this is the original way it was done. Lovely texture, gorgeous aroma, I think less salt and it will be magnificent.

Brooms

2011-10-08T17:21:00.000-07:00

I can't say I had any idea how to do this, and I clearly need more practice doing the cross stiching, but these are my very first brooms. The first technically a besomer, for flying around and consorting with demons. How timely! The second flattened in a vice and sewn across, which is much harder than it seems. The handles are from twisted privets in the yard, which I've been thinking of making into magic wands for years, but this is much better. The broomcorn (aka Sorghum bicolor) I bought on line, but I also have seeds and will plant some right now for the spring. But here's the fun part about making your own brooms. They smell delicious and they actually work. The besomer, you may think is a bit of laziness, but no. It is perfect for corners in the kitchen, bits of flour (I'm also baking and making cheese today). And they really don't sell these any more. I have a ton of sorghum left, so if you want one, let me know! Or better yet, come by and let's make a few. You probably don't know, but things like this are going into the next cookbook. Almost done!

I LOVE GUM

2011-09-30T17:17:00.001-07:00

I don't know who set me off today on the topic of gum, but I love it. The whole action of chewing just makes me happy, whether it's chicle, betel, coca, or qaat. But today we're talking about gum as in the resinous exudate of trees. #1 (below) is mastic, which is where the word masticate comes from. A sweet called Mastika Gliko, so simple to make. Sugar, water, rosewater, lemon juice and crushed mastic cooked into this sweet chewy confection. I had it once at Francine Segan's house in NY years ago and finally made it. Ah it was a conversation with Liz Vasile this morning that set me off. #2 (above) is much more interesting. I was searching all day for spruce gum. I remember Kennebec years ago, sold in historic houses. And so I set out foraging on campus. I did find a white spruce, with just a little sap dripping, but way too fresh to use. Then I found a monster pine, with a huge yellow streak where sap has been running for a few years. It has to be hard and dry. This was heated in the BBQ in a piece of tin foil pierced a few times, so it dripped into another tin foil lined pan. (Leaving the bark and other junk behind of course.) I then rolled it in sugar flavored with musk and ambergis. REALLY. ThanKs Deana! I've been chewing a piece for the last half hour. Incredible. But #3 was the weirdest of all. A little package of "ediable" gum bought last year in an Indian grocery. It goes into a fried snack mix with nuts, vermicelli and the like. I think. So I fried it up and salted it. YES, fried gum. Crunchy, resiny, really quite nice, though not much to look at. SO dear friends, if you have a real spruce, send me some sap and I'll make you some seriously lovely gum. Forget Bubblicious!

Porchetta

2011-09-25T10:10:00.001-07:00

If you have a yearning for a really good porchetta, can't find a whole pig, and aren't on your way to Italy, here's a decent solution. First recognize that you are trying to replicate the architecture of the pig, which means you need good fatty skin on the outside. Easy enough if you buy some good pork belly. Butterfly it so it is opened flat. Then lay down some sausage meat, that's the pink you see here, chopped by hand, and then lay on a wad of pork shoulder. Put more sausage around that, roll on the sides of the pork belly - and be sure to use some skin to cap the ends too, then just tie the whole thing up. Roast slowly over a wood fire for about 2-3 hours. Let cool. Slice. It went beautifully with a green sauce of pounded parsley, roasted garlic, salt and lemon juice. In Italy you buy this from a truck, on bread. Un Believe Able.

Durian: The King of Fruits

2011-09-16T18:23:00.001-07:00

Let me say from the start, that I will not comment on the supposedly fecal aroma, or custard-like texture that many Westerners find offensive in the durian. This gorgeous specimen just happened to be sitting in the kitchen this week, supplying a photo for my next book, and was just opened a few minutes ago. As you can see executed with my brand new shiny ten dollar machete-like kitchen hatchet from Thailand, which I adore. (It cut through a chicken bones and all in a few seconds.) I have eaten these beasts before, but I have never seen one with such clean and discrete sections, sweet flesh and unctuous texture. I apologize for saying it, but it was the best durian I have ever tasted. I was about to eat the whole thing but got through half and decided to try a recipe: Whizz it in the blender with some good pastis. Then freeze. Why not? A durian semifreddo. I just happened to be drinking Ricard and it brought out the flavor so nicely. OK, my family just walked in and is now throwing a fit from the stench. No accounting for taste or smell.

Pipian

2011-09-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

I find it hard to believe I've never entered a cooking contest of any kind. I'm really not a competitive type, but more importantly, I don't like losing. Still, I couldn't refuse a serious chili cookoff for Charles' 50th birthday. I think 23 teams. (And I did win.) This one is called Que Picante Puta Pipian. I was asked to post a real recipe. Here's as close as I can get:

First heat a few tablespoons of anatto seeds (achiote) in a cup of peanut oil for about 10-15 minutes and strain out the seeds. It will turn bright yellow. Then buy a 4 lb shoulder pork roast (with a nice amount of fat) and chop it coarsely with cleaver. Small pieces, though, not large chunks. It's all in the texture. Salt and pepper the meat, season with oregano and cumin and brown this in two tablespoons of the oil. Save the rest of the oil for other dishes. While this is browning take 6 medium hot large green chilies (I used fresh poblanos) and roast them over an open flame until blackened. (You can use regular green bell peppers too if you prefer no heat.) Put them in a paper bag, let cool and then seed and scrape off the blackened skin. DON'T wash them. If you can't get all the burnt part off, no big deal. Put the chilies in the blender with 2 cups of good chicken stock, 10 chopped green tomatillos and a cup of unsalted shelled pepitas (pumpkin seeds). Liquefy completely. Add to the now browned pork. Then heat a comal and place on it two cut up onions and let them char. Chop finely and add to pot. (You can also just brown in a pan in a little oil if you like.) Add two finely chopped cloves of garlic. Turn the heat to a simmer and add 2 cups of fresh orange juice and the juice of two limes. Continue to simmer for about 2 hours. Also add a single square of serious chocolate. I used a 72% cacao bar. I think at one point I also added a couple of handfuls of nopalitos to make it a little greener. It certainly isn't a traditional pipian in any sense, but tasted pretty good.

Beef Bungs: A Reprise

2011-08-29T20:07:00.001-07:00

A little over a year ago I posted an episode about beef bungs. Little did I expect that they would become tastings for various receptions, or that it would be the most frequently visited post on this entire blog with 729 visits as of today. (I just figured out how to find these stats!) Today I thought it worthwhile to give it another shot, though I have to admit, this cow had a very oddly shaped stomach. Thinner and longer than the last one and coming to a taper, as you can see. The large one is a regular Milanese style salame with fennel. About 5 pounds.

The smaller is an entire goose, boned and skinned and chopped finely, with meat and fat stuffed into the casing. It's about 2 1/2 pounds so I used 2 tbs salt, 2 of maple sugar, 1/2 tsp instacure #2, a lot of pepper, thyme and that's it. Theoretically it could be kosher, and that's really where I got the idea for curing goose a long time ago. Historically Jews cured duck and goose, though a fat honking (literally) goose salami like this is something I've never heard of. I'll report back in about 3 months to tell you how it turned out.

Grain Alcohol Day

2011-08-20T12:07:00.001-07:00

I've been tasting fruit this past week from the roof dehydrator. It all came out nicely, very tart, chewy, serious plums, tomatoes and nectarines. And it then stuck me, why not go a step further? It must have been the limoncello recipe I was working on the other day. Why not toss everything into grain alcohol? I got a few little jars, you can see here in the center. Then I got carried away. The last meyer lemon on the tree with bay leaves and dried kumquats. Some shallots, ginger and lemon. Whole fresh tomatoes. Who knows? Some jars with spices like grains of paradise, cassia buds and long pepper. Went through 2 bottles. I have no idea which will be more interesting either, the fruit or the hooch.

Chorizo and Lap Cheung

2011-08-18T06:23:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why I haven't ranged much beyond Italy with fermented sausages, but I think wrapping up a textbook that includes China and Mexico put the idea in my head. So here you see some handsome chorizo. (Although I admit, it will probably end up more Spanish, hard and dry rather than fresh - but does include ancho chilies and cumin.) And if you can see, just behind it is lap cheung. Why not? Soy, rice wine, ginger, garlic, sesame oil. I'm not sure what those are to the left. Oh, dried porcini salami. Would help if I labelled things. But here's the real dilemma, if they're really good, do I put them in the textbook or save them for the next cookbook?

The Enigmatic Jar 'O Meat

2011-08-13T03:23:00.000-07:00

Update: The same porky mass went into little jars and was poached, into what I affectionately called "pig jam" and as expected, it did not cure at all. Very mild, would be completely ordinary sliced and fried as breakfast sausage. Once again, proving that it is all in the bacteria, which gives it that lovely sourness. All the same, this is kind of like a country pate. Not quite spreadable, but would be excellent on a sandwich with mustard and a cornichon. OH, next time I throw some liver in! Still, the big cured jar is much more interesting.

Some time last spring I became a bit obsessed with spam. Not actual spam, but making something like it at home. Why, I can't imagine. I don't like it. I suppose I imagined I could make it edible. To my surprise, there were a few very curious discoveries. Namely, you can cure meat without any casings whatsoever. Salami does not need to dry, it just needs bacterial fermentation. Behold, this jar 'o meat. It is just coarsely chopped pork shoulder, salt, sugar, cure, some fennel seeds. I put this in a mason jar, stored at about 55 degrees. And left there for over a month. A kind of wet salami. I know it looks really scary, but very tasty as is (seriously), and really delightful sliced and lightly fried. Not unlike pork roll. I'm still waiting to see what's become of the dozen tiny jars of pig jam I made ages ago now.

Dehydrator Project

2011-08-10T20:06:00.000-07:00

We were tooling about town for a dehydrator the other day. Yes, the plug-in kind. And now I'm so happy no such thing can be found in Stockfish CA. So my son and I went to the hardware store, bought some ferring strips, some wood screws and screening. It's always near 100 degrees here and dry as a bone. So why not? And here it is. Taken before it was loaded with tomatoes and peaches. After two days on the roof, everything is very nearly dry. Another day and they'll be perfect. I think it needs more rungs, because some of the fruit slides down on this steep angle. And maybe some duct tape on the sides. Sharp screen edges! The plans will be in the next cookbook. It is such a cool and simple device, with a hinge - there are two frames top and bottom to keep the critters out. Cost about 20 bucks in total. Much better than the hundred or so for the electric model, nu?

Lion's Head

2011-08-06T23:01:00.001-07:00

I've spent the 24 hours mostly testing recipes and shooting them. With a camera, of course. All for a big text book. Three World Cuisines. Equipment, ingredients, food and culture, etc. Recipes too. This shot of the Lion's Head Meat Ball will not go in, though I like it the most. The suggestive spoon and puddles of fat. It tasted the best after cooking a while. The other meatballs were younger and prettier, but the last did taste the best. So I share it with you. Pork shoulder chopped by hand very finely, ginger, shallot, Shaoxing, sesame oil, soy. Browned in the wok, then poached in stock with curly greens - the Lion's Mane! SO satisfying and delicous, you could even eat the wait staff. Tomorrow morning I'm ready to tackle hot and sour - OK, so I'm on the soup section. Soupcon.

Lamb Shanks in Almond Milk

2011-08-04T21:26:00.000-07:00

Of all odd things, my wife and I came together on a single odd ingredient this past week. You have to understand, she doesn't eat anything I make on principle. But recently it has gone further: a raw food diet. I'll eat fish raw, meat, love it. Even human flesh. But vegetables in the juicer? And a never ending string of vegetal mush plates with nuts. They don't taste bad, but I'd shoot myself in the head before I ate only this.

And then I see boxes of almond milk. Horrid industrial pabulum. BUT, it can also be made from raw almonds and has been since the Middle Ages. Then there suddenly appeared raw almonds for about 12 dollars a pound at the health food store, and only 3 at the farmer's market. Must do it.

SO, you soak them over night, peel meticulously, and pound them in a big mortar, pour over hot water, soak several hours and strain, then you get this, above. Exactly like milk. Look closely. And delicious on its own. One jar went into various vegetal shakes. The other into lamb shanks with herbs, pepper, verjus (fresh unripe grapejuice) pinch of sugar and cinnamon. Can you see the marrow oozing out of the bones? Let me tell you folks! The almond milk works much like coconut, and even regular milk. You can also make cheese and butter out of it. OH, those are in the last cookbook. Well, check it out. A fabulously unctuous ingredient, well worth the time to make at home, even if it ends up in a shake.

Peter Chrysologus Starter

2011-07-30T17:09:00.001-07:00

The hidden world of bacteria never ceases to amaze me. A month or two ago my starter began to stink something awful. I know, you think it needs to be saved from 1856. Not at all. So I chucked it. Mostly because I was going to be away for a while and not baking. Upon my return I began a new one. Flour of wheat, rye, maybe something else and water. Then: What is that smell? Sort of like parmesan, and feet. It did take two weeks to finally smell like starter. And then of all things, it is raging lacto leviathan. Raised this baby in less than 6 hours. I normally let it go from 12 -14 hours rising. WHAT?? It is nearly 100 degrees here, but still. That is totally unbelievable for a sourdough. So, to honor today's saint. His name is Peter Chrysologus. Means Golden Word. And The Word is awesome.

Pizza Paneer Truck

2011-07-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

Whaddya know? The paneer works really nicely on pizza. This dough is made with a bit of my new untested sourdough starter made with some wheat I grew in a pot out back. It's now raising its very first bread. On top is the paneer from earlier this week, halved little yellow tomatoes, pickled okra (I think one of the best batches I've ever made) some leftover ratatouille mostly zucchini, walnuts. I think that's it. No sauce. Some sage and basil from the garden. I think a $20 pizza at the very least. I wonder if you could sell this from a truck. Maybe with rose in summer. And instead of a kiddy tune, you pipe some Cole Porter. I'd come a running.

Paneer Riserva con Tartuffo

2011-07-27T19:09:00.001-07:00

OK, I will admit I have been getting out of hand this week, throwing together extraneous ingredients that just happened to be in the fridge. It started with some local truffles that begged to be used immediately. In eggs with cheese, sure. With oysters wrapped in bacon, why the hell not? But this one was sheer chance. Who bought all this milk? I'm bored, I'll make some paneer.

If you don't know how, this is the gateway drug for all cheeses. 2 quarts of whole milk. Juice of two lemons. Bring milk almost to boil, pour in juice, let curdle. Pour into a cheesecloth-lined sieve and drain for an hour or so. Then press for a few hours. Unwrap and lovely. It first went into a saag paneer of course. But all the rest? I kneaded it with salt to be smooth and dense. Poured over olive oil and threw in some truffle slices. It is AMAZING. This was the first tiny jar after a week or so. The bigger one I'm going to let sit and age a bit in the cave. Delicious. Closer to feta than I would have imagined, but truffly. Say OH MY.

Tabbouleh

2011-07-24T09:04:00.001-07:00

About 20-something years ago, in a little apartment in the Bronx, I tried out some recipes from the Silver Palate cookbook. Tabbouleh sticks in my mind as especially toothsome. I must have stuck to the recipe at first because that particular page is splattered with unspeakable ordure. Maybe of use someday to an intrepid culinary archaeologist. Even more interesting is how far I've strayed from the original recipe. The only thing similar is the hour's soak 1:1 ratio in water. I seem to have tripled the amount of parsely and lemon juice, thrown in red pepper and shallots. And interestingly, less olive oil than the original. All the other ingredients in the original are gone. Weird. But still a staple, as you can see with this Greek salad, hummus and homemade pita. This stuff is just in my blood.

Mead

2011-07-22T19:08:00.001-07:00

I know you've tasted mead. Sweet and syrupy and completely revolting. You mean the Geats in their great Meadhall were sipping this swill when Grendel attacked? We beg to differ. Make it yourself folks. (Preferably wearing horns and weilding a battle axe.) Crank up the Zep too. Seriously, it is the oldest and simplest of fermented drinks. One big jar of honey. If you want it to taste like something, use wildflower. Add 8 times the amount of water, stir well. Add a packet of wine yeast. (I've tried wild yeast many times, and it just has never tasted that good. And don't even think of bread yeast!) And here's the secret: a simple airlock. Costs about 2 bucks on line. I used two big old bourbon bottles, an arilock fitted in each, just stuck into an old champagne cork with a hole drilled down the middle. All it does is let the gas bubble out and no air in. Next put it on a shelf and go to England. Looking at portraits of Sir Kenelm Digby will definitely serve as inspiration. and while you are gone, drink unspeakably good ale and farmhouse cider. So when you get home, after about 2 weeks' fermentation, siphon it into bottles, and you will be very happy to drink flat warm, extremely flavorful and DRY delicious mead. By the mugful. It will make you ready to slay monsters. And I have to admit, I'm sorely tempted to distill the next three bottles. What would I call it? Dragonslayer?

Mopani Worms

2011-07-17T15:06:00.000-07:00

I am of the opinion that if there's anything you want from pretty much any place in the world, New York is a good bet, or often even better London. People from every corner of the former Empire, which means most of the world. I spent this past week loitering there, mostly eating pork scratchings (aka cracklings) astounded by places like the Borough Market, the Ginger Pig in Marylebone, Neal's Yard in Covent Garden, etc. We are talking serious food here. But who could guess at the stodgiest of all revered old purveyors - Fortnum and Mason - I would find these for sale? You've all seen the commercial right? The white guy gives the South African couple some chicken to taste and he says, "tastes like Mopani Worms." Well, it doesn't taste like chicken, at least these were hard and crunchy and salty. If they were fattier I would say they're not unlike pork scratchings, but that would insult the Pig Gods. Let me say, these worms were tasy, interesting, and I hope if you see these for sale in your locale, try one. Look closely between my fingers to see what you're in for. But the flavor and texture was quite pleasant.

Salo

2011-07-05T17:00:00.001-07:00

This one is for my friend Katrina, from whom I got the bug to make salo. It is what it looks like: a big thick hunk of fat. Not unlike lardo, but from the Ukraine. This was cured for about 3 weeks. But then I went and tinkered with it. And smoked it. So think raw bacon. And then I think most of it was consumed at a party yesterday. At least I didn't come home with any. Or I would have seriously thought of smuggling a few slices to Oxford to let Katrina taste it. (The Symposium is this week.)

If you want to know more, I suggest checking out her far more authoritative coverage of the topic.

www.gastronomicalme.com/2011/05/24/finally-curing-salo-pork-back-fat/

Lefse

2011-07-02T08:31:00.001-07:00

Here's my first shot at lefse. The fates decreed, after a big batch of mashed potatoes last night, but also meeting some guys from Minnesota (don't you know?) who gave me some serious pointers. The dough is devilishly sticky, and I don't have a lefse stick or one of those cool flat griddles. But a good cloth covered board and rolling pin works in a pinch. Basically just take good mashed potatoes with lots of butter, cooled, add flour until you get a soft dough that holds together. Mine sat overnight. Then flour everything in the universe, including yourself, and gently roll out rounds, and ever so gently transfer on the rolling pin to a hot ungreased skillet. Looks like flatbread, but soft and chewey, and very potatoey. Butter and sugar was lovely. Even better some leftover turkey, rolled up. Ham and cheese would be divine.

'Nduja

2011-06-30T17:13:00.001-07:00

I know this will scare some of you. I admit my own trepidation, but I was rather tipsy last night, had captive tasters and thought, why not? It is raw pork shoulder. Well, it is cured, no less than any salami, for a full three months in fact. But not dried at all. So the texture is much as it was when I put it in. In a jar that is. Sealed under rendered pork fat. Pleasantly sour, a little spicy from cayenne. Salt, Instacure #2, but not much else, as you can see. I don't know where I got this idea and it's not the classic southern Italian 'nduja, but I think from NW Italy, where it's too humid to dry salami. I have another batch just curing in a jar. This basically simplifies the entire curing process, so you need nothing but meat, a knife, the cure and someplace about 55-60 degrees. The fridge is too cold, Stockfish is now too hot. My cave did the trick. And it is SO damned tasty. Among the best cured meats I have ever made.

Colocasia (aka Taro)

2011-06-27T06:16:00.001-07:00

Our fabulous market is among the nicest things about living in Stockfish CA. On any given day there will be something for sale which I have never seen. This is taro. I have used its in mature form, but never as a whole young plant. The base was peeled, the whole thing chopped up and simply steamed. It was quite like spinach, as the lady said it would be. So a little coconut milk, some turmeric and fenugreek, a little green chili pepper. Really quite remarkable. Why is this not more popular? The ancient Romans ate it. Especially popular in Cyprus, to this day. And of course all SE Asia, Hawaii, West Africa, S. America. So what happened in the West?

1000 Year Old Eggs

2011-06-23T15:36:00.000-07:00

This is just something screaming to be made at home. It must have been my last visit to my favorite Asian supermarket. Live bull frogs, balut, and of course the 1000 year old eggs. And Andrew Zimmern thinks he needs to span the globe?

Here's how to do it. Take 6 duck or chicken eggs. In a bucket (with gloves! - this is seriously alkaline) mix about 2 or 3 lbs of clay with a few handfuls of wood ash, a packet of cal (calcium hydroxide or slaked lime, which you can buy in a Mexican grocery), some moistened tea leaves, and a handful of salt. Mold the clay mixture around each egg (shell on, uncooked of course) and then wrap each in fallen bamboo fronds. (I have a lot of these, they drop as the bamboo grows in its first few weeks.) Rice bran is traditional. Put the bundles in a clay jar and leave them somewhere. For 1000 years.

Actually, I will pull them out 100 days from now, which is the second week of September. Hopefully they will smell like horse piss and the white will turn translucent brown and the yolk a terrifying greenish blue. Hopefully I'll get some delicate pine-needle patterns on the eggs as well. I will take a picture for you then too, OK?

Coteghino

2011-06-19T16:09:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: WHOA! I KNOW I DIDN'T wait a month. Why would I? A weekandahalf was fine. Just delicious. Eaten heartily. And I only told them after dinner that it is skin sausage. Boiled with some onion, celery and carrot for about 2 hours. Believe it or not it's cold and rainy here in June. Not since the 1920s! Perfect.
Please pardon my absence these past weeks dear friends. I was last seen hiking in Glacier Nat'l Park. Elk just feet away, grizzlies, big horn sheep, and they all looked so delicious. So you can imagine my chagrin upon returning home to find my cave nearly empty. I made a few odds and ends yesterday, some pickles here, kimchee, etc. But far more interesting is the coteghino - something I've always wanted to make. Cotica means skin, so this is basically a skin sausage. Just buy some pork belly, remove the skin and chop finely. Mix with an equal part of half fat and half meat, also finely chopped. It really should be in a very wide football shaped casing, but these beef middles are what I have. I think I'll leave them a month or so to cure, then boil, about 4 hours gently. What I really like about these (apart from being served with beans!) is the resourcefulness of using every part of the animal. One of these days I'll get a whole pig and just cure the whole thing, but in the mean time a good Asian butcher has it all there. Every single organ sold separately in fact. I also found a fat slice of leg meat with a huge 3 inch cap of fat, which is now being cured for lardo. The fat back was split, rolled and tied for pancetta. O Happy Day.

GIVEAWAY: ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FOOD CONTROVERSIES AND THE LAW

2011-06-06T09:39:00.000-07:00

Hey Folks, I SO enjoyed that last giveaway that I thought I'd do another. Partly motivated by the fact that the publisher sent me many copies of this encyclopedia, because I pimped it for them, but also because I'm moving my office soon - just one door down, but clearance is good.

This is the A-Z ENCYLOPEDIA OF FOOD CONTROVERSIES AND THE LAW, 2 vols. edited by Liz Williams, whom you might know as director of the Southern Food and Beverage Museum in Nola.

What is the historical, etymological connection between the legal term tort and the culinary term torte? Post your answer here as a comment.

UPDATE: Several of you came quite close, especially with tort, deriving from medieval legal French via Latin toquere to twist, i.e. twisted and mischevious. The torta also comes from the same verb in late Latin. Torta panis was to start a flat bread, almost certainly twisted or braided, given the name. Then applied to any flat confection, tarts, tourtes, torta in Spanish is still a bread.

Ali's is the funniest though. Tell me where you live and I'll send it along. I know Australia, but where???!

The Cheese Blintz

2011-06-05T14:32:00.000-07:00

Aren't these gorgeous? I was making blintzes on TV yesterday morning and the newswomen (Mae and Britta) so distracted me and wanted to help that I never had time to roll it out. So I had to come home and make these. (Incidentally, locals, if you know meteorologist Britta Merwin, I fed her her very first blintz.) And if you attended the Jewish Food Fair today the crepes for the blintzes were made by me, at least the frying stage.

Here's how: batter is about a cup and a half of flour, two eggs, vanilla, a tsp baking powder, a spoon or two of sugar, and enough whole milk to make a light thin batter. OH and add a few tbs melted butter too. Fry these up in butter in a VERY hot nonstick pan, as thin as you can. Swirling the pan is the trick. Fill cooled crepes with a mixture of cream cheese, cottage cheese, sugar and vanilla. Roll up as you see them here, and dab with raspberry jam. Your own of course! Honestly, I haven't eaten one in years and years. Fabulous.

Food Cultures of the World Encyclopedia GIVEAWAY

2011-06-02T18:21:00.000-07:00

HEY FOLKS!

The Monster four volume FOOD CULTURES OF THE WORLD ENCYCLOPEDIA is now in print. Seeing how most of you will not be likely to lay down $380 on amazon for this baby, and seeing how I have many copies taking up my dwindling office space, I thought I'd just give away a set. They weigh a ton - around 150 chapters, covers the whole world.

SO, the first person who can guess my favorite Spanish soup (I did happen to write the chapter on Spain) by 9 PM tomorrow will win the entire set. OK, no point in waiting until tonight!

*AND THE WINNER IS*

BiblicalFoods with the tenth answer - salmorejo cordobes - after only 20 minutes.
Congratulations! Those of you who guessed gazpacho were very close, but the correct answer was right there on page 27 of The Lost Art. It's a thicker much more interesting kind of gazpacho. BiblicalFoods please get back to me via email and tell me who you are!! and give me an address, because there was another correct answer from David Farris. I'll put the whole beast in the mail today if you can get back to me soon via kalbala at pacific dot edu.

UPDATE 10:47 PM: I have to say I would never have guessed in a million years that the winner is the dad of one of my favorite students, who I had the pleasure of meeting at a talk/book signing last summer. Maybe I talked about the soup! THAT worked out perfectly, huh?

Goldilocks Candy

2011-05-30T10:33:00.001-07:00

Are these not absolutely arresting? I can't imagine calling them anything but Goldilocks. Just messing around with sugar candy today. These are just sugar, a little water, boiled to the hard crack stage with a touch of vinegar. Then a tablespoon of butter, some vanilla and almond extracts. The lighter ones at the top of the image had no butter. But the question still remains: HOW do you pull this stuff without burning your hands? When it's malleable it's too hot to touch and when cool enough it begins to get stiff. These I started to pull when still too hot and then twisted at the end to give it that sheen. It's supposed to be a kind of taffy, but rock hard at this point. Maybe it will soften? They sure aren't Gibraltars, which is what I was originally shooting for.

UPDATE: 3:30 this morning I figured it out. To pull this like taffy, you need to cook this to the soft crack stage. Not as visually arresting, but this is a truly sophisticated flavor. Use 2 cups of raw demarara sugar, 3/4 c. water, 2 tbs Butter, 2 tbs rice flour (just what happened to have around) 1/4 c dark wild flower honey, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 tsp cream of tartar. All together, heated without stirring. Soft crack is 270 degrees, I don't have a candy thermometer, so a bowl of ice water did the trick. Pour out and let cool. Then pull. Easy Peasy. Chewy and lovely deep caramel flavor. Now I need some wax paper to wrap these! Seriously.

Alaskan Yellow Eye

2011-05-29T05:55:00.000-07:00

I live in a place where, for reasons I cannot fathom, the very idea of whitefish is utterly unknown. I mean smoked whitefish, sold whole, pretty much anywhere food is to be found, on the East Coast. Shrivelled, with a shellac hue of skin, fragrantly fishy and oily. In it's perfect form, with just a touch of mayo on a bagel. I know you will cringe here - a cinnamon raisin bagel.

That, this is not. But rather a species I think called Yellow Eye, a slab given to be by Wild Bill, my history department compatriot, who caught him in Alaska. I smoked it yesterday with some wild salmon, and what you see before you is, I must admit, much better than whitefish. The capers aren't bad either. Now if I could only get a real bagel in this wasteland.

Cherries like Amarena Fabbri

2011-05-25T19:31:00.000-07:00

So I do some experiments with cherries and everyone in the world has a story on cherries in print. Well these are mine! A tree planted in my tiny backyard, that stretched straight up to find sunlight beyond the house next door. Which means I get some and the birds get the rest. Every year I inch a little further up at the risk of breaking my neck. But this was enough. A few pounds. Very sweet.

I looked at a lot of maraschino cherry recipes. Not in a million years, Dumping them in Luxardo just doesn't sound like fun. I'm not using caustic chemicals. So I went for the amarena aesthetic. Not cooked, just soaked in syrup. Made of boiled down cherry juice and sugar, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg. And the secret ingredient is indeed: almond extract. Crushing the pits and distilling them would have worked better - next time. I was racing against the birds.

Half this luscious syrup, half rum. So far delicious, and I bet in several months they will be perfect. But I promise, next time we will ferment the cherries, distill them and toss the rest in.

Molasses Candy

2011-05-20T16:47:00.001-07:00

What utter malevolence is here confected? What dark and brooding comfit, bitter as the blackest depths of hell? What better CANDY for the END of the WORLD??

Well to tell the truth, I was wandering in Tudor Place last week (in Georgetown) a historic house I've always wanted to see. And there I saw a recipe for molasses candy. What? I plucked out tiny notebook and scribbled down something frantically. Further investigation shows recipes in practically every 19th c. cookbook. Makes perfect sense. A surfeit of molasses. It even floods North End neighborhoods of Boston. Simple but very dangerous recipe. (My left hand is completely blistered and in abject pain.)

So here's how to do it: Boil a cup of molasses and a tablespoon of butter with a touch of vanilla extract. Constantly stirring. To the hard crack stage. (Test a drop in a bowl of ice water until it comes out crunchy.) Then add a half tablespoon of vinegar and a 1/4 teaspoon baking powder. I don't really know why. Turn out onto a buttered cookie sheet. Now before it cools plunge your tender naked (and well buttered) hands right in and start pulling like taffy. Into long strands, and keep folding over. Then before it becomes solid stretch one final time into thin ropes and twist them. By now your hands will be blistered and red. Lay out on a plate. (The candy and yourself.) Now enjoy the fruits of sin. It's your last chance!!

Gorditas

2011-05-17T19:26:00.000-07:00

So, last week I spoke at a gig on Nuevo Latino Cuisine at Davis. The lunch was fantastic. Adriana from Pico Pico Maize Cafe in Napa and SF made Arepas with magnificent sides. And she explained to me how to make them. I haven't had a chance until today. BUT, in fact, today we have a guest contributor. My son, who wrote this recipe (and called them gorditas for a class assignment). But it is entirely his recipe as he wrote it (a very different style from my own, as you'll see). BTW - He's 14.

Gorditas by Ethan Albala

Meat and cheese-filled corn pocket
Serves 4 people
Prep/Cook Time: 1 hour and 15 minutes
Ingredients:
1 pound ground beef, 1 onion, ½ of a green bell pepper, ½ of a red bell pepper, cilantro, salt, pepper, ½ teaspoon of cumin, ½ a teaspoon of oregano, “P. A. N.” pre-cooked white corn meal from Columbia, mozzarella cheese, 4 Roma tomatoes, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 1 chile mulatto, pinch of piloncillo, cinnamon, and nutmeg
Procedure:
1.) Filling
1. Heat olive oil in pan
2. Break up ground beef in pan, cook until brown
3. Add chopped onion to pan, along with the cumin, oregano, salt, pepper, bell peppers, piloncillo, cinnamon, and nutmeg
4. Turn heat down, and let filling simmer on low
5. Pass chile over open flame to soften
6. Break open the top of the chile and pour out the seeds
7. Soak chile in a bowl of 2 cups of hot water for 10 minutes
8. Blend chile with chopped tomatoes and soaking water until smooth, then add it to the filling in the pan.
9. Let filling simmer for ½ hour on low heat with the top off
2.) Wrap
1. Preheat oven to 350 F
2. Mix 5 cups of water and 4 cups of P.A.N. mix into bowl
3. Make 12 even balls of dough; racquet ball size
4. Flatten balls into a ¾ inch thick, 3 inch diameter even disc
5. Put patties into dry, hot pan to make a crust, then put in oven for 20 min at 3500 F
6. Slice the side of the Gorditas to make a pocket, do not cut all the way through
7. Fill pocket with filling, cheese, and cilantro, sour cream or yogurt optional
8. Eat and enjoy!

D.I.Y. Deli

2011-05-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

I did a fun Deli Workshop benefit today, none diminished by a trip to DC the past few days. (Hopefully my whole Food History course will be available in the Great Courses series on CD. I'll let you know when I do. )

The nicest thing about this: I did practically nothing today. These pickles have been sitting out on an open shelf for the past year. UNPASTEURIZED. UNREFRIGERATED. Still crisp and lovely. Sour as hell.

This here pastrami I made a month or more ago. Seriously smokey and intense. I just froze it and steamed it up for today. Along with a fresh corned beef that's been curing for the past week.

Oh also some mustard I made. And sauerkraut made months ago. This is the whole point I guess. It DOES last indefinitely. And DOES get better with time. Yes, they went into a Reuben. The King of Sammiches.

And some breads. The rye I made this morning, was quite soft and pleasant. The other my standard long raised sourdough, still working despite the fact that the starter has gone funky as it always does in May heat. But sudden;y it's cold and rainy. Bizarre. I don't think I've ever seen it here. And the starter seems happy again. Go figure.

LHAM RECIPE

2011-05-05T17:34:00.000-07:00

No, this is not an Algerian L'ham Lalou or a Thai Khao Lham. It's yet another of my attempts to invent a new word. It's a lamb-ham. A cured and in this case smoked lamb shank. It was five bucks. Took less than a week. And I smoked it along with a whole chicken and a lot of other little things. Here's what you do. Buy a pair of lamb shanks. Salt them generously with a tiny tiny pinch of instacure #1, and some good unrefined sugar. Add some spice, cloves I like. And thyme. Whatever. In a ziplock in the fridge for about a week. Then smoke over the coldest smoke you can manage - I used hickory soaked in local ruddy zin. Never got above maybe 180 - 200 degrees. In a regular little Weber kettle. A few lumps of hardwood charcoal to get it going. Then hung in the cave (i.e. wine fridge with all the other salumi) for a while. I'm impatient. But I think it should keep a long time. Think of it as a little teeny lham. Carved as is, very thin slices. Lightly cooked, no more.

Apple Cider Donuts

2011-04-29T16:08:00.000-07:00

When I was in college I spent a few weeks each year at the end of May working at a local orchard. It was a beautiful place, right on the site of the Battle of Monmouth and situated in the state park. There were a few odd jobs, like thinning peach trees – imagine being covered in peach fuzz in sweltering heat, or even worse tying little mesh bags of human hair on saplings to keep the deer away. They got the hair from a barbershop, so there were also cigarette butts and lollypop sticks mixed in. Most of the time, however, was spent picking strawberries. On hands and knees shuffling down each straw-covered row, filling up flats. The were delicious fat strawberries. The owners had an ingenious stratagem to keep us from eating them all. On the first day they said, “Eat as many as you want.” Several pounds I’m sure the first day. Just a few on the second. And by the third day the last thing you wanted to eat was a strawberry. Anway, it was much more fun chucking them at my friend Joy instead. Stains permenently.

In my mind there was a certain Rousseauian pleasure in being close to the earth, laboring hard, and earning a mere $12 a day, which was consumed each night in drinks. It was tough, especially when it got hot and humid. But the best part was mid day, someone would come by with an ice cold jug of apple cider and a paper bag of cider donut rejects. They were crunchy little nubbins, covered in cinnamon and sugar. I think the experience has spoiled me for life on store-bought donuts.

I have never been able to replicate them exactly. Naturally the setting and back breaking-labor enhanced the flavor. And no recipe I’ve found has quite the zing. So I’ve messed with them. Also, traditionally these are fried in vegetable shortening, which apparently prevents them from soaking up oil and going soggy, but I just can’t conscience using the stuff. So we’ll go with lard. (Preferably rendered at home; the hydrogenated flavorless white block of lard is just as bad as shortening.) If that doesn’t appeal to you, use vegetable oil.

Make a batter of by creaming ½ stick of butter with ¾ cup of sugar. Add a capful of vanilla extract and a pinch of ground nutmeg. Then add 2 eggs, mixed in well, followed by 1 ½ cups of apple cider (the unpasteurized brown stuff, preferably from tart apples like Empire, McCoun and Winesap) (or better yet use real hard cider, the alcohol evaporating as they fry makes them super crisp, then gradually mix in about 3 cups of whole wheat pastry flour, 2 tbs baking powder and a pinch of salt. Don’t over mix. You want a fairly stiff batter, so add more flour if necessary.

Get a cast iron skillet with a couple of inches of lard bubbling hot. Then drop in misshapen globs of batter from a kitchen spoon. The more irregular the better. Turn over and continue frying until brown. Place on a rack and immediately sprinkle with a 50-50 mix of cinnamon and sugar. Eat them as soon as you can get them into your mouth without getting burned. Chances are you will have a lot left over – put them in a bowl and sprinkle with Apple Jack (a splendid whiskey made since the 18th c. just a few miles from the orchard mentioned above.) Calvados will work fine too. Serve these juicy spiked knobs with vanilla ice cream and pretend you are a colonial landowner.

This BTW is a lottle amuse bouche from the forthcoming:
LOST ARTS OF HEARTH AND HOME

Croissants

2011-04-23T17:22:00.000-07:00

Have you eaten a hotel croissant lately? What are they thinking? Soft, deflated, greasy from shortening. There is absolutely nothing you can do to ressurect such dead deflated pastry. Just toss unceremoniously without honors or dignity. Not even worth it. By chance I saw a recipe on Zester Daily a few weeks ago. Since I am constitutionally incapable of following recipes, at least it gave me the pluck to just give it a shot. A plain dough of 3 cups of flour, one yeast packet and water. With a layer of butter (2 sticks), rolled thin, folded, chilled and rolled again 5 times. Took a couple of hours. Cut into triangles rolled up. Baked at 400 degrees for about 35 minutes. Made 9. They are nothing less than fabulous. Crisp, light, flaky, soft with a slightly stretchy texture inside. What's the big deal? These are really simple. I will never eat another hotel croissant again.

UPDATE: Milk, not water! And my pal Chef M says, cut a notch in the base of the triangle and then it spreads the base out further, and more easily curved into a crescent. The notch is of course hidden by the tip of the triangle after rolling. Brilliant.

Good Snail Hunting

2011-04-21T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have recently discovered the single most effective method for gathering snails. First, it is preferably done at night, especially after a light drizzle. This lures the buggers out of their little hiding places and crannies onto the wet grass to get a drink. It was about 10 PM the other day, walking Busteroni, when I noticed the wriggling congregation, after accidentally stepping on a few stragglers loafing on the sidewalk. On late-night doggie walks, for reasons that I think you can imagine, I wear a powerful camping light strapped to my hat. So I happened to aim the light onto the lawn. Behold! Dozens upon dozens of snails of every size and hue. My restraint last season paid off. I grabbed my big stock pot, gathered maybe 50 decent-sized specimens and gave them a hearty repast of matzoh meal. (It is passover after all, and who knows? They might be observant Jews.) They are now hanging out in the garage. I promise, once they are dispatched and garnished, tonight or tomorrow, I will share a photo.

But you wonder, what will I do with them? This time, it must be classic. Escoffier's directions are flawless. He basically says boil, remove from shells, and boil again until all the slime is gone. This will take several changes of water, and maybe an hour of cooking, if your snails are fairly dainty like mine. Then, if you have the patience, mix with garlic butter and parsley and put back in the shells. Or serve in one of those neat iron snail pans with indentations. I think my abelskiver pan will work fine.

But here's the big question. Do I now qualify as a snail farmer? They're not exactly domesticated, but they do live at my house year round, exclusively in the boxwood hedges on the northwest side.

Spring Cleansing Veggies

2011-04-18T19:43:00.000-07:00

At the risk of seriously offending my porcofiliac friends, here is a meal not only lacking in meat of any kind, but dare I say it... vegan.

No, I have not lost sight of my ideals. Let me explain, this is after a trip to New Orleans. More meat than could choke a camel. Restuarant August was truly phenomenal. Strawberries in season and combined in unimaginably delightful ways with crudo tuna, pork fat, lamb belly, sweetbreads and various other carnivorous delights. It was several hours and about a dozen courses. Ravioli truffled with seafoam and tomato concasee was dizzying. And dare I say Cochon was even better? A selection of "boucherie" bits of salami, smokey pancetta, pate, ham, coppa. Followed by a smoked hock on read beans and rice.

So can you blame me for craving some vegetation upon comng home? This is so simple, but greens is greens. Mustard in this case. Surrounded by sauteed corn, shallots and jalapenos with a good shot of lemon juice. Some sliced little orange tomatoes on top. Came together wonderfully. Try it instead of that salad I know you are dreading right now. Perfect for spring and after overindulgence.

Pickled Pigs Feet

2011-04-10T05:54:00.000-07:00

My sons and I have a few odd and silly rituals, among which is going to visit the pigs feet at the supermarket. They're on the top shelf, aisle 6, above the spam and canned meats. Little pink gnarly hunks of flesh, skin and bone in a glass jar. They look absolutely vile. I take the jar down (I'm certain it's the only one that ever existed) greet it warmly, consider buying it for a split second, but always put it back. I have to admit, I've never tasted pickled pigs feet.

Thus was inspired the jar before you. Split and cross-sectioned feet, simmered until tender, then tossed in a jar with vinegar, salt, pepper, bay leaves, who knows what else? Oh, some of the broth to top it up. And on the counter. I'm not exactly sure this is how to do it. Anyone have any advice?

Good Shit

2011-04-06T18:03:00.001-07:00

I am a man who rarely succumbs to expletives in common parlance, almost never in moments of anger, and certainly not casually for trite effect. But today, and it usually does approach stealthily, I found the urge to curse irresistable. It began around 7 am when I found myself cursing before a class at UT Austin into which I was skyped. Then my Western Civ class. OK, you can't talk about 19th c. Imperialism without cursing a bit. Before I knew it, I was cursing at colleagues. In e-mails. "OH for FUCK"S Sake!" I said to someone.

So it is only fitting that this be named something indecorous. Though it includes some of my favorite things. Broccoli rabe, capers, onions, chili flakes and, believe it or not, corned lamb shank - which is marvellous beyond description. But the whole can only be described as "good shit." I'm sure Alton Brown wishes he could use that phrase on TV from time to time.

PIZZA MOVIE

2011-04-05T13:07:00.000-07:00

http://us.penguingroup.com/static/pages/publishersoffice/screeningroom/0411/getcreative/get_creative_in_the_kitchen.html This is a movie of me and Rosanna, making pizza utterly from scratch. It follows a clip from my hero Graham Kerr!

Grilled Bamboo Shoots

2011-04-04T21:44:00.001-07:00

Last night I was enacting one of those quintessentially Californiesque rituals at the behest of my son (a native): grilling tri-trip. While setting up my little kettle grill (a present from the Bush's Baked Beans people, for which I am eternally grateful) I happened to accidentally trample on a clump of bamboo shoots. They spring up the second, literally, that the rain stops and sun comes out. And they reach 6 feet within a week. So you have to be there the moment they sprout.

So being fortuitously felled, I chucked them on the grill. These were the last two before I thought of capturing the moment. You just peel off a few layers of outer leaf. Inside: Bamboo of such delicacy and deliciousness, I heartily endorse the virtues of growing bamboo, even at the risk of having them take up the whole universe. Isn't it worth it? Is there a more beautiful plant in the world? Edible to boot?

GUESS what this will be

2011-04-02T14:20:00.001-07:00

in about a year from now. Well, let me describe the procedure. Mind you, I'm trying to do this in the most primitive and original way I can, with the most labor I can possibly expend.

First I boiled a pound of whole red winter wheat until cooked through, then pounded it into a course wet meal in the big mortar. The same to a pound of yellow soy beans. Then kneaded them into a dough by hand, rolled them into balls and put them in a big bowl on a bed of rice inoculated with Aspergillus oryzae. They sell it in a little bucket at the local Japanese grocery.

This will sit until it gets all moldy. Then it will be left in the sun until dried. Then put into a strong brine in a jar outside all summer and left for about a year and slowly strained. YES, soy sauce. Shoyu, more accurately. I saw recipes on line that were super technical, others that just let whatever mold grow on it, but I think it really needs to be this specific kind of powdery mold. We'll see, maybe next time I'll wing it with the local mold. Patience!

Shredded Goose Confit

2011-03-31T05:35:00.001-07:00

Here in the San Joaquin Valley the weather doesn't slide gently into spring. It goes immediately from cold and wet to summer. 81 is the forecast today. At the first whiff of heat, I thought it best to clear the shelves of some projects left out "commando" style. Among them: the confit goose legs I put up back in the fall. First simply reheated until the skin was crispy. Served with mustard and kraut. Even better the next day. But on the third? A time to experiment. In the pan with a tablespoon or so of goose fat, a minced shallot, then pounded until it turns to these lovely crunchy shreds. A long lost cousin to hash. Can be used with eggs, on a sandwich, but I put this in tortillas with melted cheese and green chili sauce. Honestly, I don't think there is any place that this would not be delicious.

I Hate Hamantaschen

2011-03-27T07:40:00.000-07:00

Though I might be accused of abjuring the faith of my ancestors, I shall be frank and unabashedly forthright: I've never liked hamantaschen. Soft and greasy globs of dough, sugar and jam. Even the authentic prune and poppy seed versions left me wondering, what's all the fuss? I hate Purim too. And this year I was happy to be away. But I saw some hamantaschen of such unparalleled beauty in Paris last week (the self same that appeared in the Times) that I can't get them out of my mind. I never even tasted them.

But when I woke up at 3 AM this morning, thinking of hamantaschen, I knew Something Had To Be Done. The recipes on line were so depressing. Oil, sugar, flour... Martha's and Sarabeth's at least had butter and pretty frilled margins. Nope, I had to wing it. And though you know I rarely believe in recipes, this worked so nicely, despite what sounds like a cacaphonous conglomeration of random ingredients, that I will submit, the following for your delectation:

Maple-Blood-Orange-Oat-Kumquat-Amarena Hamantaschen

Take 1 stick of butter and cream with 3/4 cup fine maple sugar, add one egg and 1/4 tsp vanilla extract. Zest and then juice half a blood orange and add to the mix. Next in a blender whizz a cup of rolled oats and a tbs ground flaxseed until fine, add a cup of flour and a tablespoon of baking powder. Let dough chill in fridge for an hour. Then roll out, cut circles with a small wine glass - you should get about 30-40. Place a tiny dollop of your own kumquat marmalade in center and top with an amarena cherry (Fabbri is best) (I wouldn't use maraschino) Then fold in corners so you have a triangle and bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Let cool. EAT. MANY.

Leftovers

2011-03-25T16:29:00.001-07:00

What a curious day. I lectured in the morning on William Morris, which I haven't done in a decade. About the pleasure of making things for other people. The exercise of labor outside the capitalist economy. We were covering Utopian Socialism the day before. And by sheer coincidence I woke up at 4:30 this morning to start baking. And also emptied the cave of salami that was definitely ready, and a cheese made a month ago. Sort of like provolone. And some pickled asparagus. All of it was perfect. And I brought all this to my food policy class. And this is what was left. Do you think one could possibly be happier? Only wish I had some homemade wine to bring too.

A Feast Inspired by The Borgias

2011-03-23T15:37:00.001-07:00

So if you read any cooking magazines, you will have seen by now a flashy add for Jeremy Irons as Pope Alexander VI in "The Borgias: The Original Crime Family." I have no doubt it will be a bodice-ripping, blood-splattered melodrama like The Tudors. But what caught my attention is a feast inspired by the series, with culinary luminaries like Marcus Samuelsson, Todd English, Nancy Silverton and Cat Cora.

In case you don't know the Borgias, Rodrigo was from Valencia and became pope Alexander VI in 1492, drew up the infamous Treatise of Tordesillas which divided the world between Spain and Portugal, among more infamous acts. So I guess that's why they were thinking New World ingredients. Chili sauce on shrimp, tomatoes in a cibreo, and a chocolate budino for dessert.

But of course the Borgias never ate any such things. Tomatoes and chilis don't show up in recipes until the late 17th century, and chocolate was drunk, not put into cakes until much later - and no European in the 15th century ever tasted chocolate anyway. OK, I know, they say "inspired by" but why? They could have used real dishes these people ate, taken directly from contemporary cookbooks. There are even Catalan recipes (that I a convinced come from Rupert of Nola) adapted in Martino of Como and published in Platina's De honesta voluptate. (Produced at the papal court for God's Sake!) In other words they had the real thing - and there are even modern editions. And they decided to fake it. What's the point? What do you learn about anything except the egos of these chefs. Drives me absolutely rabid! A real opportunity to taste culinary history and they make the whole thing up! (I now fling myself into the corner with my mouth foaming).

Un Jour Pour Flaneurs

2011-03-21T05:50:00.000-07:00

I've never considered posting from abroad. Not bringing a computer made that impossible this time, but upon return, why not? I found myself with a free day in Paris on Saturday. Among my favorite things in this world is a mindless mapless ramble without any particular goal. Of course if you know the city, you inevitably drift toward familiar haunts. In NY, it might be Balducci's or Chinatown. In Rome, the Campo dei Fiori, or even better the market in Prati. Always a matter of food, of course.

So how delightful that my internal gastronomic compass should direct toward Les Halles. Or at least the big stinking open pit, that even after being gone many years, still has magnetic force. Not the belly anymore, perhaps the bung? Adjacent is the old Jewish neighborhood in Marais. Most of the kosher butchers were closed. But there was Schwartz's, packed utterly to the gills and spiling into the street, or I would have tucked in for some pastrami.

Did stumble on a little market though, too early for oysters alas, sea urchins as well, but there were my favorite pine-honey candies. Still regretting not smuggling home cheeses though. A few little museums, some brightly colored marshmallows - apricot, mint, rose. And the whole day was spent. A dinner with gorgeous snails, rilettes, ruddy Chevergny - not to mention VERY frightening andouillettes. Do you know what I'm talking about here? Pigs intestines stuffed into pigs intestines. Smells like pig shit, otherwise very tasty. It's just the feeling of having intestines in intestines, in your intestines, that's philosophically perplexing.

Pickling Sunday

2011-03-13T16:55:00.001-07:00

What a pleasant day for pickling. Someday I hope I'll be able to say I grew these and put up 100 pounds, but no. No chickens, no woodland for mushrooms, no verdant asparagus laden fens. But our local farmer's market did supply. 5 bucks for a big flat of brown eggs, 2.50 a bunch for fat local asparagus, and our own fungi finder provided these. Simple acid pickling. Not "canned" just hot brine and vinegar (50/50) with spices - saffron and lemons with the eggs, dill with the asparagus. Sealed and should be ready in a week or so. LOVE this stuff.

Walnut/Currant Bread

2011-03-13T05:59:00.001-07:00

I think I threw everything in the house into the smoker yesterday - a cured brisket, sausages, a pork shoulder. So it was surprising at the end of the day that this bread was the most interesting thing that happened.

I'm not sure if this is how it's supposed to be done, but if you start with a regular levain dough, after 2 hours' rising, dump in walnuts, currants, sugar, butter. What could be bad about that? 12 hours rise in a bread pan. It makes a lovely breakfast, toasted. But what's that smokey smell? Ah, it's me.

Cider and Piquette

2011-03-06T14:14:00.000-08:00

I have begun several fermentation experiments with somewhat mixed results. As you can anticipate, these are of the spontaneous and natural kind. Nowhere near a campden tablet or commercial yeast (though I am seriously considering the latter.)

Cider, it turns out, is about as easy to make as naturally fermented wine. The first batch went through a meat grinder, worked, but quite a mess. Bashing the apples (fuji) in the monster behemoth mortar worked better. Then wrung out in a sturdy cloth. This is about six weeks old. Fermentation must have stopped because it tastes like it's just about to think about turning to vinegar. Still quite pleasant though.

Even more so is the piquette or acquarello. Made from spent grape skins, rehydrated and a bit of sugar thrown in to restart the fermentation, and give it some bubbles. It was a very traditional drink in Europe centuries ago. To tell the truth, after several months all the sugar fermented out and it was bone dry and piquant. (Hence the name.) A touch more sugar before drinking rounded it nicely. I was going to call it recycled grape soda. But no, it has quite a kick, as I learned after guzzling it down. Yummmmm.

Escabetx

2011-03-04T05:54:00.000-08:00

Having breakfast at my desk in the morning means sitting adjacent to the storage shelves, and every now and then my nostrils are assailed by something pungent and odorific.

Today I sniffed with particular interest. OO doggy, OO dat? Ah, sardines. I forgot about them. A week ago, no two I think. At room temperature. In an escabetx. That means fried and doused in vinegar, olive oil, rosemary, pepper.

The surprise? It's remarkably mild. Dare I say even delicate? But it's not herring. Please, anyone knows where to find fresh herring, let me know. Pappa needs some seafoo.

Meat Zeppelin Sliders

2011-02-26T16:34:00.001-08:00

Never underestimate the depths of depravity to which the human soul will plunge in moments of sheer unmitigated mind-numbing boredom. My son asked me to make donuts. Why not? So I start dumping buttermilk, butter, flour, sugar, egg, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, fennel, almond extract - OK, so I got carried away. And then fried up some zeppolline. Little Zeps.

And then, I recall the zeppo-crema, zeppole filled with sorbet or ice cream. Weird, but a very Sicilian thing. They even put ice cream on a bun. BINGO, says my mind. Hey they put a hamburger on a crispy creme, right? Somewhere in this derelect nation of ours. Why not a diminutive hamburger, pickle, barbecue sauce on a little crispy sweet zeppole? Not bad. My son only asked "Why did you put BBQ sauce on it?"

NPR story on Taco Bell

2011-02-25T15:53:00.000-08:00

http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/wamc/news.newsmain?action=article&ARTICLE_ID=1766982

This is from a series called The Academic Minute which will air on Tuesday. Best, Ken

piccole lasagnette

2011-02-22T08:59:00.000-08:00

Start with two gallons of raw milk. Proceed to set curds, cut, drain, then boil the whey for ricotta - still warm from the pot, mozarella made from a handful of the fresh curds - still squeeky. A few fresh rounds of paper thin pasta dough in each ramekin, dabs of tomato sauce. And into the toaster oven. It doesn't get any fresher than this.

The larger cheese (aka Felicity) is still under weight, maybe a pound or pound and a half, but quite elegant, in a mold made from a little paint bucket with holes drilled in it. I'll let you know how she turns out maybe three or four months from now.

Migliaccio

2011-02-16T04:48:00.000-08:00

So naturally with a good quantity of blood around I wanted to try out another recipe. I had a vague recollection of a blood pie, which I thought, logically, was called sanguinaccio. No such thing. That refers to a chocolate pudding in Southern Italy, and is a synonym for biroldo, boudino, in central Italy - a sausage.

And had I not by sheer chance bought a little bag of millet (delicious by the way in the original polenta) I would not have even thought of the word migliaccio. It was presumably originally made with millet, but by the 16th century became a sweet blood pie. Don't you love how recipes change so dramatically over time while their names stay the same?

The funniest thing is I just googled it, and of course immediately found a recipe from by old pal Messisbugo. It's basically a quart or so of blood, a good handful of grated cheese, a couple of eggs, and a whole lot of sugar and cinnamon. I can't say I actually enjoyed eating it, but I can definitely understand it, and can also understand now why as this evolved people put chocolate and orange peel and rum in it. The texture was very much like chocolate cake, and as you can see, really looks like it too.

Buckets of Blood

2011-02-13T11:40:00.000-08:00

I went for a drive yesterday, an aimless jaunt, and found myself at a huge newly remodelled Southeast Asian supermarket. I wandered around, looking for nothing in particular, pretending not to notice the vaguely unsettling odors. Nice looking produce, big bags of rice, live fish in tanks.

And then, there it was. My heart's desire. Slightly stained, dripping a bit, but exactly what I have always been looking for. A BUCKET of blood. Five pounds for six dollars. I bought a slab of pork belly and I am ready to go. BOUDIN NOIR.

(I imagined the bucket spilling in the car on the way home, and getting stopped by a cop: "Trust me officer, it's just pig's blood!)

The procedure could not be more simple, if that is, you can get past the bizarre gelatinous mass of congealed blood in the bucket. Most recipes use a lot of filler. The CIA Charcuterie's was mostly grain. Herzmann's looked right, as did Hank's (of Hunter Angler). But as usual, I wanted to wing it, no machines. No recipe.

So 2 lbs. finely chopped belly. (Which is, like bacon, more than half fat, so the final mix should be 1/5 fat, or 20%) And about 3 pounds of blood. I squished it all with my fingers to mix it up. In went a pinch of instacure, 3 tbs salt, a lot of pepper, even more nutmeg (which I adore), some thyme. And about a cup of shallots fried in fat. Poured through a funnel into the casings. I got about 5 foot-long puddings using beef middles. Poached them in my biggest stockpot for about 25 minutes gently. Then sauteed in a pan with some granny smith apples, cut and browned again on the sides. I will not hesitate to tell you, even at the risk of boasting, that this is the best boudin noir I have ever tasted.

#13: A Rant

2011-02-11T21:06:00.000-08:00

Is the number 13 really unlucky? For reasons that I can't explain as a rational being, I have never ended a paper on page 13, or even stopped chopping on 13 cuts. (And yes, I count, thanks to Sesame Street and Martin Yan.) SO you can imagine the trepidation with which I approached my 13th book. One never knows in what order they will actually be published, and if I were counting as I wrote or edited them, this would be further along, but I'm pretty sure it will be #13. There were serious nightmares dealing with contributors. Late late, lame, dropped out, replaced, followed no directions. The last chapter turned in the day the whole thing is due Feb 1st. Ask me who it was, I'll tell you. Then the past week has been the hell of fixing references. Entirely my fault for not making contributors do it themselves. But we're already a little over the deadline. Like that really means anything after two years! But I have NEVER missed a deadline before. Hate the idea.

BUT! HUZZAH! I turned the damned monster in today, with only two minutes (literally) to spare before picking up the kids. Two years makes it to the finish in 2 minutes. Weird. It's that number again. Funny enought the cover was set a long time ago, I suggested a nice 16th c. kitchen scene and they're using it. Maybe this wont be 13 after all. (BTW. This book is a Cultual History of Food: The Renaissance, one volume in a big set.)

OH, Also just noticed real BEAST of an encyclopedia (FOOD CULTURES OF THE WORLD) is up on amazon. Dare you to pre-order. And on Monday I start proofreading. All 4 volumes. GASP! CHOKE....

alligator

2011-02-07T06:03:00.000-08:00

I have eaten alligator a few times before, and against my better judgement I have always sauced it or cooked it in a way that obscures any hint of alligatorish flavor. And I have to say, even this relatively simple straightforward beer batter, yeilded results that were delicious, but still left me wondering, where's the alligator?

I wonder how one would cook this so it tastes like something. Option #2 would been gumbo, but maybe I should just have tossed it in a pan with butter? I wont say tastes like chicken, that would be an insult to the poor fowl.

Italian Ice

2011-01-29T14:38:00.000-08:00

UPDATE: THIS IS THE TRUCK!! When I was young I took a summer job driving an Italian Ices truck on the Jersey Shore. There were maybe a dozen flourescent flavors in big tubs refrigerated at the back of the truck, and whenever someone hailed me down, I had to put the truck in park and go scoop the ices into little paper cups. The sugary syrup naturally soaked into my skin and after a few hours it made me Very dizzy. The obnoxious tune that played over and over was hypnotizing. Little dirty children with sticky money chasing after the truck, a weird sugar buzzed psychadelic trip. I lasted two weeks.

It's a shame that I have flashbacks of this experience, because I really love Italian Ice. It's not gelato, which uses cream, nor granita which is just ice. The egg white makes the difference here. And you defintiely do not need an ice cream maker. I used Meyer lemons since that's what I have, in season right now in Stockton. The fruit is small but pretty intense and aromatic, so here's a delicious dessert that's simple to make and can be saved in the freezer until warmer weather arrives. (That's another week or two in Stockton!)

Take half a bottle of dry rose wine and one cup of turbinado sugar. Heat to boiling until the sugar is all dissolved and then let cool. Grate the zest of two lemons, squeeze and strain the juice and add to the zest. Mix this with the cooled wine in a bowl and put into the freezer. Next take 4 oranges and cut off the tops. Scoop out the flesh and juice with a spoon, leaving the peel and tops intact. Freeze these as your containers for the ice. Squeeze out the orange juice and add to the lemon-wine mixture and return to freezer. Every hour or so stir up the semi-frozen mixture until you have a fine grainy and almost solid slush. This should take about 5 or 6 hours. Next beat one egg white at room temperature with an infinitessimal pinch of salt until stiff peaks are formed. Fold this gently into the slushy ice and as quickly as you can, scoop into the empty orange shells, put on the tops and pop in the freezer. Let harden over night. When you want to eat them, take them out of the freezer for a few minutes and serve, or if you want to keep them longer wrap the whole oranges in plastic wrap. And wait till summer.

Panettone

2011-01-17T11:21:00.001-08:00

It's things like this that make me think I must have been Italian in another life. Every Christmas I buy a panetonne and proceed to eat it myself. This year the one I bought was a little too sweet. A little too redolent of artifical vanilla. And a little too cakey. This is bread, after all.

So, when I espied in the cabinet some whole candied mixed citrus, I had to give it a shot. Start with sourdough starter, about 2 cups. Add in a few cups of whey, an egg, a hefty pinch of saffron, about a tablespoon of melted butter and a half cup of sugar. Knead in the finely chopped candied fruit. A tablespoon of salt. Let rise for a few hours knock down and let rise again in a bowl lined with parchment paper. A cylinder would have been a little better, but the shape doesn't really matter. About 10 -12 hours later bake at about 450 degrees, right on the parchment. OH MY, is this delicious!

Bresaola?

2011-01-16T23:28:00.001-08:00

I was cooking on Saturday with Rosanna, something we rarely get to do. Making a pizza, utterly from scratch (that means grinding grain, making cheese, sauce from tomatoes) among other sundry perversties. All filmed for the Penguin website. I'll give you the link when it's up.

But once again I am surprised by the stuff I really do forget about. This hunk of beef round was cured, hung somewhere and then when I went commando with cured flesh, it was hung on the shelf in the kitchen. Hard as a rock. I never imagined it would be edible. Shaved thin, with great effort, and take a look. I wish you could come and taste it. Delicious. Went very nicely on the pizza too. Dry, not terribly salty, but with a nice tang, juniper I think. Who remembers? But we like it!

Paellismo

2011-01-14T06:56:00.000-08:00

One day over the break I took the boys into Berkeley to buy presents, and simply had to stop at one of my favorite stores, The Spanish Table. Bought odds and ends with no particular dish in mind.

But by sheer coincidence I happened to win, via Zester Daily, a paella set - from The Spanish Table. I never win anything! But there is was, rice, a new pan, piquillo peppers, saffron, pimenton. And I just happened to have the other odds and ends I bought: razor clams, an end of serrano ham, chickpeas. Why not? It was actually a stunningly good paella too. Rice came out perfect, not too dense and clumpy, not over flavored. I'm thinking chorizo overpowers it. Little bits of ham work much nicer, and as for overcooked chicken breast, forget it. I imagine vegetables alone would be fabulous in this too.

Latke Trick

2011-01-14T06:40:00.001-08:00

DO you suffer from soggy latkes? We've all eaten them. Someone fried too many in a pan, on too low a temperature, or covered them with foil. They would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven.

Here's a neat trick to avoid such tragedy. Coarsely grate your potato (pictured is the results of but one) into a bowl. Squeeze out every drop of water by hand into another bowl. You don't need a strainer or cloth. Bare hand works fine.

Wait a minute or two and you'll see the water separate into two layers. Discard the upper layer of dirty water, keep the surprisingly dry white starch below. Add it back to the grated potato. Mix in well, with a touch of salt, pepper, thyme. Then divide into about 3 small cakes and fry in just a few tablespoons of duckfat or goosefat until brown and crisp. Eat at once, or keep warm UNcovered in the oven.

If you are stark raving hungry, serve with a round of boudin noir (I brought this one back from Paris) and some homemade sauerkraut. I suppose some sour cream couldn't hurt. It is said that the first meal of the New Year presages all to come. This was my first. HUzzah!

Pig Crazy

2010-12-29T03:37:00.001-08:00

There is something about this holiday season that has made me go pig crazy. Not that I don't ordinarily revel in every imaginable piggy part, but I seem to be eating pig in some form at every meal lately. There was the beautiful shoulder ham I smoked for Christmas, which was sliced, fried and deglazed with rootbeer as leftovers. Not to mention the salamis for breakfast. Or the can of boudin noir I brought back from Paris. Oh, or the great pork chop I had for dinner last night.

Well, the other day Vanessa Barrington, author of DIY Delicious (a cookbook that is in most respects very much like my own; a truly kindred spirit), came over to play in the kitchen. We tried some smoked and pickled vegetables, which I'm still letting mature, but it was mostly a pig day. She brought this pickled Portuguese pork for me to taste, which was unbelievable. And we just wacked up a ton of pig for some pates, guianciale, bacon. And FINALLY, some liverwurst, which you see here. The liver was huge and very frightening, to tell the truth. But the technique could not have been simpler. It is just pork butt, lightly poached liver, onions and spices, pounded to a paste, put in a beef middle, and smoked for about two hours over oak. I'm letting it mellow for a couple of days in the fridge. Maybe it will make it all the way to New Years, that is if I do! Have an Oinky New Year!

Eels

2010-12-23T13:22:00.001-08:00

After a recent discussion about the pleasures and perils of eels, I decided to share some of my friends. Ceci ne'st pas un eel. Not even eels, nor even elvers. Isn't that the cutest name? No, they're basically noodles in oil, vaguely garlic and fish flavored, sold to Spanish people as baby eel surimi. Replete with a little silvery stripe down one side. Who are they kidding? Don't buy it.

And alas, we are told not to buy the endangered Anguilla anguilla, close relative of Magilla gorilla, which some people, like our friend Janet, live in mortal fear of. Along with dangling prepositions. Is it anything dangling perhaps, asks Dr. Freud? Sometimes a pipe is just an... eel.

Well, this beauty is my friend Harold. Part pet since I've had him so long and say hi every morning. Yes, there was a Maude. I ate her. Harold, is now old dried up, smoked too much. So I haven't the heart to let him go. But I do take him for walks every now and then. See the leash? In case he wants to snap at friends.

Vinegar

2010-12-22T19:22:00.000-08:00

I really don't know why I waited so long to make vinegar. Well, I've tried before. Diana Kennedy's pineapple peel vinegar was alright. And every now and then someone will offer me a lump of slimy snot - this is the MOTHER. She has been cherished her for six centuries, handed down from the Knights Tempar, after their order was disbanded, hidden in a Scottish monastery and passed on to the Rosicrucians and Free Masons.

Well, something inside told me, like bread and pickles and everything else wonderfully bacterial, vinegar makes itself. It changes from week to week and its ancestry is of no consequence whatsoever. Locale however is indeed paramount. Maybe our problem is that we call it a mother and think it must be a thing that can't generate on its own. WELL, not on it's own, with bacteria all over the place. Turning alcohol into acetic acid. No big deal.

So, as always, I start poking around the shelf and what see I? A glass. One full glass that didn't fit into the still when I made eau de vie back in September. Just left it out. And now: Vinegar! Serious sour, lovely. I take no credit. And there it was - the slimy raft of mother. Generated spontaneously on the shelf. Commerical wine sure doesn't do this, and I think I know why: sulfur kills all. Leftover wine does not turn into good vinegar. Just goes nasty.

SO, DIRECTIONS: Crush grapes. Whatever quantity you like. Let them ferment, pushing down the top every day, or more often. Bubble bubble. Toil, but no trouble. You will have made wine in two weeks or so. Strain it. Leave it out. Wait about three months. VIN AIGRE. I'm not sure, but at this point I think you just keep adding a little wine at a time, leftover glasses. In a big crock. I started with some amontillado. For no reason whatsoever. Go for it, and please let me know what happens. This all goes into the sequel to The Lost Art. Yup.

The Gingkos of Swann Street

2010-12-18T15:13:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you a story. About 25 years ago, as a senior in college, I lived above Dupont Circle in Washington DC, in a neighborhood that was then pretty much on the edge of upcoming and fairly seedy. On the corner of 15th and Swann. My roomate Giovanni Cherubino chose it, while I was away in the summer. Today it seems to be pretty yuppified. Apart from the beautiful woman in the apartment window directly facing our living room, the principal charm of the venue was the stately gingko trees living the avenue. Given, if memory serves, by the ambassador from Japan in the late 19th century, when the houses were all built.

Since then, I have had an overwhelming affection for these trees. Yes, 25 million years old, living fossil. Male trees have motile sperm. They are closer to animals than plants. And when the females bear fruit, you better believe it, the aroma is feral. But the leaves are so delicately beautiful, yellow maiden hair fans, it's worth the season of stench.

And come that season, as anyone who has looked closely early in the morning can attest, elderly Asian women appear collecting the foul smelling fruits. So I thought, after a decade living at this house in California, with a beautiful tree right down the block, time to pilfer a few from the ground, after a good storm, and see what the fuss is about.

My friend Willa recently told me, thank goodness, to wear sturdy rubber gloves. Not just the stink, but nasty caustic acid. So I picked up a plastic shopping bagful. Brought them into the backyard, sporting said gloves and began to peel away the fruit. Unfathomably nauseating butt stink. Washed them many times. The stink was still not gone, after cracking them as gently as possible to remove the shells. Odor is dizzying still. Soaking the nuts in hot water to remove the dark papery skin beneath the shell. And then voila! Here they are. Two hours later. IS THIS difficult and dangerous enough?? A handful of nuts. Next pan roasted. The taste is very mild indeed. A little bitter, but there is real taste, unlike the canned gingko nuts. Less than a cup yield though. I shall savor them very slowly.

Pottage of Fat Goose with Pureed Peas

2010-12-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

If you perchance peruse historic goose recipes, going much further back than Dickens’ roast goose served on the Cratchit’s Christmas table, you will find a panoply of intriguing techniques. There is goose baked whole in a pastry crust in 16^th century Italy, goose stuffed with oats and boiled, geese semi-roasted, slashed and finished on the grill in what was known as a carbonado in Restoration England, goose ragouts and others served in a staggering variety of sauces. But one in particular caught my attention. It hails from Le Cuisiner of Pierre de Lune, published in 1656, and involves salted cured goose, served in a “pottage” of puréed peas. Here is the recipe, translated from the original:

Potage d’oie grasse aux pois passés

If the goose is salted, do not lard it; if it is not, then lard it with bacon; then cook it in a pan with lard, and then cook through with bouillon, and a bundle (of herbs). Cook your peas separately and pass through a seive with the goose bouillon, parsley, a bit of pepper, and a morsel of green citron. Garnish with fried bread and little bits of crumbled bacon.

To help recreate this dish, here is a full description of the technique: Carefully remove each half of the breast from the goose with a sharp boning knife. Keep the skin attached. Remove the legs and thighs intact for another use, such as confit. Use the bones and giblets for a light stock, which you can freeze for use later in the recipe. (Reserve the liver for yourself, seared and served on crackers.)

Mix 2 tablespoons of fine sea salt with 1.5 tablespoons of unrefined sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of instacure #1 (or “pink salt” which can be bought on line or at specialty grocers, or celery powder cure which works fine), 1 tablespoon ground pepper and a tablespoon of crushed juniper berries. Liberally coat the breasts, put into a large gallon-size ziplock bag and store in the refrigerator for a week to ten days. Turn the bag over every day.

Remove the breasts from the fridge, rinse off and pat dry. Brown them gently in a pan with a 2 tablespoons of melted lard (or goose fat). Toss in a bouquet garnis tied with string. Pour over goose stock to cover half way and cook breasts through very gently, with the pan covered, about 15-20 minutes. The final texture and taste will be remarkably like cooked ham.

Meanwhile boil a pound of green or yellow split peas in the bouillon with some parsley, pepper and candied green citron. Pass through a seive or purée in a blender or food processor. To serve, put the peas, which should be fairly thick, in a large deep platter and lay the goose breasts, thinly sliced, on top. Scatter croutons and bits of crumbled bacon on top for garnish. Serves 4-6 people.

Goose for Christmas

2010-12-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

One Christmas break about 30 years ago my best friend Andrew and I decided we should eat a goose. We were in high school, and typically did odd things like this - throwing formal tea parties, making wonder wine. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing - just roasted it, drained off all the pan drippings, fat and all, and made a raspberry tinged sauce. It was good, surprisingly enough.

In the intervening years, I've come to realize that goose is one of the most perfect foods on earth, but there's so much more to do with it than roast and serve. So I've been curing goose breast, smoking odds and ends, rendering fat, chopping liver, making stock - everything you can imagine.

Recently the nice people at D'Artgnan sent me a goose (and the recipe, 17th century salted goose breast on a puree of peas from Pierre de Lune, should appear on their site imminently). But I also had other bits. This is the legs and thighs, cured for 10 days then simmered slowly in the fat for about 5 hours. Stuffed into a jar and put on the shelf. It has since gone opaque. Should definitely wait for Christmas. But AH, the anticipation!!

A Surprise of Cheese

2010-11-28T14:20:00.000-08:00

One of the nicest things about going away is, of course, coming back. And among the most intriguing are those things you forget about, refuse to throw away, however uninteresting, and toss in a corner. I DO have my own corner for experiments now.

Well, after a week of eating unfathomably good food in the Loire Valley this past week, I started cooking goose a dozen ways for D'Artagnan (to be posted anon) and I spotted a little cheese I forgot about a couple of months ago, that just didn't taste that great.

Lo and behold, it matured beautifully. Nutty, with a nice tart bite. Not unlike Parmigiano at all. Fabulous in slivers, grated I'm sure will be great. It's a local milk, raw. And disproves my theory that you can't make decent cheese in very small batches. This was just two gallons. About 3/4 of which you see in my hand. Probably cost me more than $20 a pound, but it is really fine, and utterly local. Natural bacteria, no starters, conditioners or other crap. Voila. C'est le terroir.

Smoking Bishop

2010-11-13T12:36:00.000-08:00

Here is my contribution to the above mentioned blog-roll (like a swiss roll, without the cream filling - well, who knows, maybe).

My task was to make the "smoking bishop." Which Scrooge offers Cratchit, I think the day after Christmas, to discuss his future at the firm. So I thought, let's find a real recipe, from the 1840s and make it. No problem.

Problem is, the phrase does not seem to appear in print anywhere before 1843 when the story first appeared. And if you go on line or check the authorities on such things, every single recipe seems to copy some other prototype, that was written after 1843, because it substitutes oranges and a grapefruit for Seville oranges. Well, who actually knows what Dickens had in mind, if nothing was ever printed? (Please correct me if I'm wrong, dear friends - this is not my period!)

So, with my newly adopted casual aplomb, I thought, AH, free to make it up totally. First of all, baking oranges is a bad idea. They get acrid. Steeping them gently, so the oils permeate the liquid is the preferred, and indeed I think historically more accurate way to mull. Here I've used what I had, which are cassia buds, long pepper and slivers of nutmeg, plunged into the orange.

Most recipes say use cheap red wine and a lot of sugar. What?? And ruin good port by adding it to swill? I chose to just pour this whole bottle of port over the orange (a gorgeous "cara cara") heat and let steep for a few hours. Then muddle a bit to release some juice and more volatile oils. Reheat gently and sip.

And you know what? IT IS FABULOUS! I don't think I'll ever drink port again unless it's hot. A little spicy, aromatic, dare I even say unctuous? Perfect for a cold day. And exactly the right thing to make your mind expansive about the future. Well done DICKENS!

And let me say, the next day it is even better, especially following the exhaustion of 13.1 miles at a plodding pace. 2 hours and 24 minutes later. Enough to pick up any lagged spirits!

The Celery Cure

2010-11-13T07:49:00.001-08:00

This story begins about a year ago. I was sitting at the feet of Paul Bertolli, arguably the finest maker of organic salame in the country, learning about the technique as an absolute neophyte. He was generous with details, tasting, explaining the importance of well reared pigs. Then at one point I asked about nitrates, and he turned to me "no nitrates!" But but... "no nitrates!!" He repeated.

I finally coaxed out of him the secret of celery powder. And how, for some reason, to qualify as organic, cured meats must contain no industrially-produced nitrates, but celery powder was ok.

At that point, the major manufacturers of so-called "no nitrates" cured meat said nothing about celery powder, it was just one among many natural flavorings. In effect, people were being lied to, since celery powder does in fact contain nitrates. Since then, Niman Ranch does explain on the package that their bacon, franks, etc. do contain nitrates naturally occuring in celery powder. But many people still believe they can buy "cured" meats that are nitrate free.

IN any case, a couple of months ago I was browsing the Sausage Maker catalogue - most of which holds no interest for me, since it is mostly machines for large scale production (though I admit, I have never once been disappointed in the quality of casings they supply) and then lo an behold, there it was: celery powder!

I used in on everything. Beef and pork salame, which you see above. A cured shoulder ham, some bacon and pancetta, a nice bresaola. Just now I cut into the lighter pork salame on the far left, and I have to admit, I can't tell the difference. If anything it was more subtle, but that may have just been an accident of my method of seasoning - chuck it in. I was a little worried that the powder might not replicate the double whammy of instacure #2, nitrite and nitrate, but again, no difference I can tell. How do you like that?

Venaison

2010-10-31T13:09:00.001-07:00

Kristine showed up yesterday with a cooler full of deer. I cannot even begin to tell you how much fun it was taking him apart. Here are some salami made from the front leg. All chopped by hand. The hind quarter became jerky from the round, a stunningly gorgeous and succulent roast from the eye of the round, some stew with pomegranate syrup, bones for stock. Even rendered down the fat, though I'm not sure anyone has the guts to taste it.

I can't wait until these are cured!

Ah, and here's the roast. YUM.

A Drop of Blood?

2010-10-28T14:40:00.000-07:00

I hate to say, but no, it's not really blood. It's pomegranate molasses. Fra Luigi popped over the other night with a big bag of pomegranates from his tree and it got me thinking. Time To Make a SERIOUS mess.

So I broke them open by hand, squeezed big hunks into a stockpot. And yes, I got splashes of what looked like blood everywhere. Then just cooked it down with a few tablespoons of unrefined sugar and a vanilla pod. Very low simmer for about 3 hours.

And in the morning, this lovely, tart, nutty sweet, blood-like super-thick syrup was in the pot. I need not tell you how difficult this was to get into the jar! Nor that about a dozen or more pomegranates cooked down to this. But it is essential in Middle Eastern stews, and let me tell you, a little in tomato sauce is heavenly. Best of all, it never goes bad, completely shelf-stable forever. (Incidentally this can be done with grapes, for sapa.)

And just in case you don't have a costume for Halloween, go as your favorite saint, dripping blood from some missing body part. This would be great for Lucy. Though I'm thinking now of Oedipus. Anyone have a crown I can borrow?

Garum

2010-10-18T19:46:00.000-07:00

This was such a nice rainy cold cooking weekend. First rain in over 6 months. Roasty vegetables, baked beans. Rack of lamb cooked an open flame. And a lot of new salami experiments.

I put up a big shelving system to hold all the jars and equipment. It's like having a new kitchen. All the clutter on the counter is cleared.

I was looking for herring to pickle at the downtown farmer's market but instead found these lovely fresh anchovies. SO we're making ancient Roman garum. Just these and salt in a bucket, Beginning to het a little stinky. I can not WAIT. Maybe a few months, then the liquid poured off. That should be it.

What Caliban Really Had for Dinner

2010-10-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

The Sunday Times in Britain ran this neat review of Joan Fitzpatrick's Renaissance Food book, which covers my chapter and first experiments in historic cooking. It's funny how so many years can pass. These were only a prelude to The Lost Art.

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article7167559.ece

And Check out www.good.is/post/why-fast-food-is-not-saving-you-time-nor-doing-you-other-favors/ Very nice review of the cookbook.

And yet another in teh Chicago Tribune www.chicagotribune.com/features/food/sc-food-1015-real-cooking-20101018,0,3746979.story

National Fluffernutter Day

2010-10-08T17:26:00.001-07:00

In honor of National Fluffernutter Day, and after reading several posts relevant to the topic, I resolved that I could no longer resist. Abandoned the pile of midterms being graded and rushed home to make this paean to pure kitsch.

NOT a fluffernutter, as you know I cannot abide rules. So this is a thin Finn crisp rye cracker with caraway. A layer of Skippy, creamy of course. A layer of Fluff. A layer of nutella. Absolute gorgeosity of deliciousness. Another cracker on top was an improvement. But next time I think some bacon. Seriously. But what to call it? Fluffonutellina con speck. Actually a thin slice of lardo would be great too. Got TO RUN. AND DO IT NOW!!!

So what you see first now is the reposte. A slice of homemade sourdough bread toasted. A layer of the best Lebanese Helwa. Chunks of Mo's Bacon Bar made by one of the most exquisite creatures on earth, Katrina M. Then REAL fluff. Crushed pistachios and a drizzle of local wildflower honey. (Perfect dessert after a halibut vindaloo.)

Holy Smoke

2010-10-04T21:52:00.001-07:00

Saturday I spent the whole damned day in front of the smoker. Which would have been nothing terribly out of the ordinary, but I had a strange feeling that I was channeling a past life. Seriously. Not a New Age Mystical intuition, but an odd ability to live in the bodies and minds of people who lived many years ago. I was a Baptist preacher, I'm guessing in the 17th century. Trust me, I can rant. Hence the name of this blog. But sometimes I wonder how a Brooklyn born Jewish boy came to be sitting in front of a smoking kettle, sipping his own moonshine, chewing on a plug of baccy. Listening to bluegrass.

Smoking everything I could get my hands on. So I am actually myself smoked. Unpictured are the pork shoulder which was simply roasted in wet smoke after all this was done. 6 hours maybe. Ate last night at Lisa's. OH, and a little eel. He's hard as a rock now and hanging in the wine fridge. No idea what to do with him. But see the beef jerky. Top sirloin. Round does not work as well. Then a pancetta. Cured and smoked. It's really just a rolled pork belly though. Went into a broccoli rabe sauteed with garlic and chili peppers. Swear I nearly fainted.

And best of all a little tongue. It's got to be a calf, much smaller than any I've seen before. Bought at the Asian grocery for a few bucks. Fresh. Cured for a week, then smoked over oak. Next steamed for several hours and peeled and sliced thin. I'm guessing.

You are coming over aren't you?

The sink is now unclogged after I made a rash decision to chuck some wayward brussels sprouts into the garbage disposal. We shall not do anything of the kind again. But now we are ready to go.

There are pickles in the cabinet going, fresh salame in the wine fridge. I am gearing up for a party of some kind folks. Let me know you'll be around.

The Splendid Table

2010-09-30T13:14:00.000-07:00

HEY Folks, Starting Tomorrow Night you can download an interview with me on NPR's The Splendid Table with Lynne Rosetto Kasper. I think it's the best food show out there.

http://splendidtable.publicradio.org/listings/101002/

ALSO, just in today, a very nice review on culinate (that really sounds like a dirty verb to me) nonetheless:

www.culinate.com/books/book_reviews/is_real_cooking_a_lost_art

and another on www.thegastronomersbookshelf.com/8177_the-lost-art-of-real-cooking-ken-albala-2010-us

BTW, the effect of these was immediate. Sunday afternoon the book is #496 on amazon. Only behind Pollan in this category. THANKS LYNNE! And Kind Reviewers.

nope make that #398 as of 5:30