Relearning How to Bake

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

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.

Flameware

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

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.

Interview

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

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

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?