Jedi Kitchen Tricks

This recipe is certainly silly. It says to separate the eggs, but it doesn't say how far to separate them - Gracie Allen

My Mommy’s was brass.


I don’t know if it was really made of brass, it could’ve been brass-plated or brass colored. I just remember it being brass. I had no idea what it was for, though I am certain that on several occasions, when my Jungle Jim became a Spaceship, that it was useful as some implement of an intrepid space explorer.

I’ve never purchased one myself, but there’s always been one in my kitchen. There’s one now - made by Tupperware. I’ve never used never used it.

An ex-girlfriend of mine once brought me back one as a gift from Britain. It was ceramic and interesting looking. I never used it for its intended purpose. Became a scouring pad dish as I recall. (That same girlfriend also ran my wok through the dishwasher when I was out of town. We didn’t last long as a couple).

Jedi Kitchen Tricks

Good gracious! Who left the mop running? – Flora (Sleeping Beauty)

This weekend I finally got around to getting the big barrel grill up and running for the season. For the first time out this season we picked some St. Louis cut spareribs we had in the freezer.

I pulled the ribs out of their Cryovac, wipe them with paper towel and applied a nice layer of my favorite dry rub across all surfaces. I set my woodchips (pecan) and herb stems to soaking and started a lump charcoal fire with my chimney starter. I got all my tools prepared.

And then I brought out my mop.

Jedi Kitchen Tricks

I mean, I thought something for the apartment...maybe a new clock, or a cool phone, or a great art book, or something...but a blender? I mean, what is this? 1958? Give the little wife a blender?! - Father of the Bride - 1991

I have acquired a lot of kitchen equipment over the years (Some twice.)  I am picky about the devices I choose. I was schooled by the Frug and in most cases could pass the Alton Brown unitasker test. I could get by without some of them, but they make life easier.

There is only one I wish had come into my life earlier and that’s the stick blender. Invented in Switzerland in 1950, it didn't start working it's way into our kitchens in the mid 80's. I would have been saved a couple of messes if I had gotten one earlier. That’s what happens when you ignore trustworthy advice and use a standard blender for hot stuff without venting and covering with a towel. That aside, it isn’t easy to get food out of completely. It also can be a pain to clean and keep track of the parts.

Jedi Kitchen Tricks

Alan Stanwyck: You'll be wearing rubber gloves. Do you own rubber gloves?
Fletch: I rent 'em. I have a lease with an option to buy.

I can’t be alone in this.

The first time you handled a chilli (in my case it was when I still spelled it chile, and the only choice was a jalapeño) you ignored the advice of every expert and did it bare-handed. Then you touched a sensitive extremity – I was lucky that it was my nose – and you swear to use gloves the next time.  For a starting cook, without much guidance in those days, rubber gloves meant Playtex yellow gloves. Great for washing up, but not very precise when it comes to close-in knife work.

Jedi Kitchen Tricks

A two-year old is kind of like having a blender, but you don't have a top for it. - Jerry Seinfeld

If you know what you are looking at on the right, you might want to skip this.  Or not.  It's kinda fun.  

 I love kitchen tips - those handy ideas that make cooking easier, (and make you wish you'd thought of it yourself). This may have come from Alton Brown, or Sara Moulton. Cook's Illustrated is also a possibility. It used be really handy for these, but time and repetition have rendered them redundant - even silly. Not as bad as: To open jar, rotate top counterclockwise, perhaps. It just seemed that way whenI gave up my subscription after years.

Here's the scoop - most blender jars  have the same screw thread pattern as a standard Mason jar (not wide mouth). You can use a Mason jar as a small blender carafe or as a replacement for a dedicated spice grinder. Just screw the bottom ring, blade and gasket on as the jar's lid, invert and mount on the base. Shazam.

Makin' Bacon, eh? Cheater's Style!

Last October I posted on the proper way to make Canadian Bacon, and 90% of the time that is how I make it. However, while I have no objection to using the grill or smoker during the Winter, energy conservation requires us to cover every door and window (save the main entrance) is covered with heavy duty plastic until Spring truly arrives. I could use the big grill, I suppose, but it would require me to walk around two townhouses, take the tarps off the grill, and . . . well, you get the idea.

So, if I need something during the depths of Winter, like say pulled pork for a Bills tailgate party, I cheat. The provenance of my particular cheat is Chris Schlesinger and John Willoughby's "How to Cook Meat", and consists of adding liquid smoke (about 1/2 cup for each gallon of water) to the brine and cooking the meat in a 200° oven. Does it work? Yep. Is it as good as outdoor smoking? No, but it will do until the plastic comes down.

Boil three days in a deep kettle . . .

"Take two pounds of meat from the rump, boil three days in a deep kettle with the head of an axe, and, then, throw away the meat and eat the axe." - The WPA Guide to Utah (1941).

Corned Beef and Cabbage, more often referred to as a New England Boiled Dinner, is something we look forward to when St. Patrick's day rolls around, even if there isn't a jot of Irish blood in any of us. For years I had heard that Corned Beef and Cabbage was unknown as a dish in Ireland, but recent scholarship suggests that the Irish used corned beef as a substitute for their Irish bacon - unavailable in the United States. My lone, slim Irish Cookbook, by perhaps the most famous Irish cookbook author Darina Allen, contains a recipe calling for either corned beef or Irish bacon. She does indicate that it is rarely eaten in Ireland.

Despite the name "New England Boiled Dinner", and like many similarly named dishes, don't boil this. I gently simmer it with aromats: onion, garlic, and a some home-concocted pickling spice. After about 2.5 hours I added cabbage, and 10 minutes later potatoes, carrots, rutabaga, and parsnips. The beets were cooked separately, in salted water. It was great, but I am baking rye bread today for the Reuben I am really lusting for. I also need my annual red-flannel hash fix.

Cooks notes: I corned this beef (point cut brisket) in the Ruhlman/Polcyn liquid pickle. I have also had great success with a dry cure modified from Cook's Illustrated. I should also note that when I corn beef strictly for the purpose of creating a cold-cut, I steam the meat à la David Rosengarten, rather than simmer it. It gives a better consistency for slicing.

Oh, and there are no photos of the brining process. I have been battling pneumonia for 10 days and was barely able to through the brine together!

Happy is said to be the family which can eat onions together. -- Charles Dudley Warner

Call it French Onion Soup or Soupe à L’Oignon Gratinée, it is simply a great soup - perfect for a meal on a cold winter night. I have written of my love of soups before, and I am sure I will again, but this soup has a special place in my heart, because it is always my example when discussing the topic of the recipes.

I have been blessed in the past six months to receive three wonderful cooking related books, each of which discusses the concept of a recipe. First, Jacques Pepin's Chez Jacques, a lengthy but elegant dissertation on the recipe, including the observation that: A recipe is a teaching tool, a point of departure. Then there is Michael Ruhlman's brief but equally elegant observation that "Recipes are not assembly manuals." Finally, the is the delightful John Thorne, who opined that "Matt takes a recipe as being instructions for making a dish, where, as often as not, its nuts-and-bolts aspect (which some might say is its only aspect) rarely holds my attention."

These writers sum up my feelings on a variety of levels. The bottom line for me is that a "recipe" is someone's opinion. Here is where Onion Soup comes in - if a recipe were more than simply someone's opinion, there would only be one recipe for French Onion Soup. It's a great example of the variations that can occur; from simplicity to gussying the concept up like a tart.

So, before we get to my opinions, let's deal with some facts and some conjecture. The facts, or at least as we know them. Onions are an ancient food. They were most certainly eaten in their wild form, and have likely been domesticated for more than 5000 years. References exist in ancient times from China, Sumeria and Mesopotamia. Soups made of onion are documented as far back as the Roman Empire.

Onions and radishes were fed to my forefathers as they built the pyramids, and rubbed on Gladiators for strength. By the Middle Ages the main foodstuffs were beans, cabbage and Onions - no mention of meat, fish or fowl. So, while onions were enjoyed by the upper classes, they also remained a inexpensive food for the lowest of the low.

That leads to my conjecture: despite the legends about the various Kings Louis of France, this had its origins as a peasant dish - a way to use up stale bread and readily available onions. That's why I eschew ingredients such as veal stock, champagne or fine cognac.

Here is where opinion comes in. The five basic ingredients of French Onion Soup are: the liquid, the onions, the cheese, the bread and the flavorings. Let's start with the liquid. Most likely the available liquid would have been either the cooking liquid from a previous meal or just water. I have made good ones with water, acceptable ones with canned low-sodium chicken stock (sorry Ruhlman) and barely passable, but edible ones with soup base. For myself, I generally prefer an unassuming homemade beef or chicken stock. In this case I used turkey stock made from the Thanksgiving carcass.

The onions: Many recommend sweet onions such as Vidalia or Maui's. Pooh on them! As many authorities, particularly Russ Parsons, have pointed out, the difference in sugar content between Vidalia type onions and other harsher onions is minimal. The real difference is that sweet onions have less of the sulfur compounds than other, sharper onions. During cooking, these sulfur compounds cook off. Parsons even suggests that the sweet onions are less sweet after cooking than regular onions. So, at about a third of the cost, I'll take yellow storage onions.

The cheese: Usually recommended are Gruyère and Emmenthaler - both are excellent choices. But, in my effort to be frugal in the manner of a peasant housewife I must admit that deli provolone makes a decent topping. I will say that my favorite is also my favorite swiss style cheese: Jarlsberg. I love its nuttiness, and it makes a great Reuben. The main thing to remember is that it is onion soup garnished with cheese, not the other way around.

The bread: It has to be good white bread - no Wonder Bread - but it doesn't have to be expensive artisanal bread. I almost always have homemade, but most supermarkets have decent bread these days from baguettes to wider Italian type loaves (no seeds please). The important thing is that the bread get stale in a day or two. You can dry it in the oven at low temp to finish the job, but don't toast it. I have great results with either straight dough or sourdough.

The flavorings: Salt and Pepper. I have used some thyme on occasion, but found it unnecessary. As to liquids, I usually deglaze with a higher acid white such as Sauvignon Blanc. Cognac as a finisher just seems wrong, but a decent not-too-expensive California Brandy works for what I want.

That's my opinion!

A final note: There are no photos of those beautiful mahogany onions after slowly cooking. The camera needed recharging at a most inconvenient time!

Soup For Your Soul(mate)

Tom Yum Goong is spelled many ways, too many to keep track of (Dtom yum Gkoong is Kasma Loha-unchit's variation on the spelling - I assume it is the most phonetically correct). But that doesn't matter because it is one my favorite soups on the planet.

To me soup is a nearly perfect food; nourishing, warming, comforting, and great for almost any occasion. The origin of the word restaurant is found in restaurer, to restore, originally a hearty, flavorful soup to restore ones vigor.

My favorite soups are usually those which are identified with a certain place on the map, and which in a way identify a culture – at least in my mind. They are simple peasant blends that are wonderful, though many can be gussied up like a tart for the big city folks. Minestrone for Italy; Barley Broth symbolizes Scotland; Avgolémono evokes Greece; Onion Soup Gratinée – France, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Oh, and don’t forget the special soup of my own ranks of chosen people: Good Chicken Soup with Matzo Balls! I haven’t yet tried Czernina, the Polish Duck Blood Soup, but I’d bet a well made one would do the same.

Tom Yum Goong is the perfect evocation of Thailand. I don’t think I can be accused of hyperbole to describe this national soup of Thailand as the perfect balance of hot, sour salty and sweet, just hot and intense enough to make one giggle with a pleasure.

That’s why I am married.

During the beginning of our official courtship (the unofficial part lasted 14 years) we ate a meal at a great local spot called Saigon Bangkok. We were there for the lunch specials, which include Tom Yum Gai - the variation with chicken instead of shrimp. The soup made us giggle so bad we could hardly talk. We were married not long after.

So, I make it a point to make Tom Yum Goong at least once a year. It warms our hearts and our souls. While I have made a pseudo Tom Yum with other, more readily available ingredients, the best results come from getting as close as you can to traditional. Being a whack job, what you see in the first photo is a pot of lemongrass that stays inside in winter and outside in summer. It started from a stalk I bought at Wegmans. I stuck the leftover one in water and it rooted. You can get Kaffir Lime Leaves fresh there at times, but I used dried, and bumped it up with some fresh lime zest.

I tend to start off treating this unusually, as more of a tisane than a soup - steeping the lemongrass and lime leaves to extract the flavors, then removing them ( yes, I know, educated eaters know not to eat them, but it's just easier).

So, then I float in the rest of the flavors, and at the last minute I add just enough shrimp for dinner a (reheated shrimp taste like erasers - I prefer to add more shrimp when reheating).

The result - delightful!!!

It's Not About the Garnish!

Choucroute garnie, the dish described as "the symbol of Alsace" by Larousse Gastronomique, is one of our favorite dishes for a cold winter night. A large platter of sauerkraut, seasoned with Juniper Berries, Peppercorns, Cloves, and in my case Caraway simmered with an Alsatian Riesling and topped with assorted sausages and other meats. Aromatic and quite special. I started out with a trip to one of Buffalo's hidden gems - Spar's European Sausage on Amherst Street The photo of the meats shows across the back a pair each of their Knockwurst, Nurnberger Bratwurst, Spicy Smoked Bavarian and Bockwurst sausages. Next to that is a Ham Hock from Tops and some diced Canadian Bacon of my own creation. I rounded it out with some Hartmann's sausage from Wegmans - a pair of Weisswurst and a pair of Smoked Nuclear sausage. Oh, and two Sahlen's hot dogs. This is Buffalo after all.

The wines were an Alsatian Riesling and a Gewürztraminer - ostensibly to find which worked better. In practice we saved the Gewürz for another time.

David Rosengarten had a great commentary about choucroute which gets to the heart of the matter - "Remember: choucroute is about sauerkraut, not the meats that top it". For this batch I bought Rosoff, which many had suggested was most like the stuff they used to get from the barrel at the deli. I found it salty and lacking in tang. Next time I go back to Strub's from Canada.

Still the finished dish came out well, if not perfect, served with whole grain mustard and a glass of good wine!

Why-a no chicken?

Leave it to Chico Marx to come up with the right quote.

Our annual New Year's in Hudson, Ohio (a suburb of Cleveland), is a couple of days of great food, great drink and really great friends. It is also one of the two times a year I have the need to show off. I usually do something special from the field of charcuterie - a pate, a mousse, gravlax - things of that sort.

Since I have been making my way through Charcuterie, I decided it was time to revisit the galantine - something I hadn't made since my original foray through Jacques Pepin's La Technique 25 years ago. Except for the boning (in the case of Ruhlman and Polcyn skinning then boning), it is not difficult, just time consuming. That's the main reason I don't ha

I definitely wanted something better than a battery chicken, but I knew that getting something free range was unlikely with the kids home, so I headed to Dash's, a local smaller market. They advertise an all natural "Amish Chicken". I am pretty certain it's just a marketing ploy, but I thought I'd check it out. I didn't get very far on finding out what it was - I could see the damned pop-up thermometer from 5 feet away. Next to it was a "free farmed" all vegetable fed bird, so I decided to give it a try.

Imagine my surprise, when I unwrapped the bird, to find another of those damned pop-ups! They should be illegal! In fact, that caused, the only tear while removing the skin (luckily, Pepin's advice to use a piece of skin from elsewhere to patch the tear works quite well!). In brief, the process here is to remove the skin in one piece to use as a casing, the breasts as a garnish, the dark meat and some of the other trim to make a forcemeat, and the carcass and the rest of the trim to make a stock for poaching and in my case to make an aspic after poaching.

All went pretty well. I realized when sauteeing the breasts that there was too much meat, so I continued to cook one breast for lunch and split the other one. I also had way too much forcemeat (I measured precisely in grams, including the mushrooms and pistachios I added as extra garnish), but I think the extra might make an interesting filling for ravioli.

Since I haven't done this often, my skills at getting the casing smooth weren't perfect, but it was made with love. It was slowly poached on the stove top, though I think next time I'd use the oven for better temperature control. The last two photo show the galantine removed from the stock after being in the fridge overnight: the first still in the cheesecloth, and the second mostly unwrapped.

My game plan was to reduce the poaching liquid and clarify it for an aspic glaze. But, my wife came home and and asked what it looked like when I had shingles in '79. It was and the trip was postponed. So I had a choice, and decided to freeze it. I froze it right in the pan I poached it in, submerged in the poaching liquid. Bob delGrosso doesn't think I'll be happy with the result. I agree, but I had to try!

I'll let you know!

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The Great Sausage Experiment

I have wanted to try dry-cured sausages for a long time, and with the guidance provided by Ruhlman and Polcyn, and the inspiration of Bob delGrosso, I was pretty sure I could succeed. My biggest concern was finding the place with the best environment. The most temperature stable place in the house is the cupboard in the basement, where we store extra cooking equipment and our wine rack. But, it's also where the sump pump is, and I figured that was a prime source of bad mold.

But, I got an email from Chef delGrosso which contained sound advice, and I have his permission to reprint it here: "Listen you can probably cure in you kitchen now. Don't overthink it. Do it, and if it doesn't work, then worry about it. My basement is actually a bit too dry (rel humidity is about 40%) but I'm not freaking out -yet." Mine too, despite the sump.

So I started it last week. I didn't bother taking pictures of the grinding and mixing process, as I just did the Italian Sausage one a few weeks ago. But, what you have below is kind of a time-lapse of the last 11 days. No sign of mold at all, but the drying process seems to going too fast. I have been concerned with case-hardening, and have taken to misting twice daily.

Today, I weighed the sausages, and after only 11 days they have lost more than the 30% they are supposed to lose in 18 -20 days from 719/694 grams to 387/371 grams. So, I guess I will cut into one tomorrow.

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Makin' Bacon, eh?

I could have named this post "a perfect breakfast". My wife and I had our eleventh wedding anniversary last Thursday, but couldn't celebrate it until last night. This morning's brunch was Eggs Benedict and a sparkler. A note to the purists out there, I use a Yogurt "Hollandaise". Lipitor can't do it alone!

Of all of the components of this dish, perhaps the most important ingredient is the bacon. To me that is Canadian or Back Bacon - cured and smoked pork loin. Some people recommend peameal bacon, which is a pickled, uncooked loin. Some heretics even recommend a slice of ham. It's the real thing for me, preferably home made and these days that means the recipe in Ruhlman and Polcyn's Charcuterie. So, when Dash's had their three day meat sale, I bought a whole pork loin.

A boneless pork loin is fairly easy to break down. The first step is trimming any fat and silverskin. Abandoning the latter, I still ended up with a good amount of usable trim, mostly fat for use in sausages. I cut a two pound roast from the sirloin end - sometimes I divide it further for stir frying and such, but I had some in the freezer and this is a nice sized roast for a family of four. I also cut three chops from the rib end which I quick brined and grilled for dinner that night.

That left me with a 3.75 lb. piece of center cut pork loin. You don't have to tie it up, but it holds its shape better for - well for use in Eggs Benedict or an occasional egg McMutant. It then went into the brine to be refrigerated for 48 hours. One of the reasons I wanted to do it now is that the garden herbs I needed for the brine will soon be gone. In fact, there is a frost warning for tonight.

After brining, the loin was rinsed off, and placed on a rack in the fridge for 24 hours.



After the rest in the fridge, a nice tacky pellicle had formed and the time came to hot smoke the loin. As this was to be hot smoking, the fire was in the main chamber - rather than the side car (I have to work on that!). The smoke was created with chunks of pear wood gleaned from trimming my mother-in-law's tree. The aroma was fabulous, and the result perfect for today's breakfast.



One final note, the weather factored into my equation. While Buffalo gets a bad rap weather-wise, but we are approaching the time of year when the plastic sheets go up on the windows and the back door. So I was thinking about what I would do if the weather kept me from using a grill. Ruhlman and Polcyn suggest that you can just roast the loin, but that doesn't work for me. To paraphrase Trapper John McIntyre on martinis: Yeah but without smoke, a bacon just doesn't quite make it.

My answer: A lesson that was truly brought home in "How to Cook Meat". Add a half a cup of liquid smoke to the brine!

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Fun With Intestines

Bob del Grosso is a great cook and a great food blogger. He and I share a love of Ruhlman and Polcyn's masterful Charcuterie. The book is good because it is both well though out and well explained. It has information useful to both the professional and the home cook.

What has been most intriguing is Bob's recent attempts at Pancetta and my desire to work on some dry-cured meat products. We'll get to that, and Bob's advice later, but the last week or so has been filled other projects oddly all out of Charcuterie, we will get that started soon.

The fall is sausage time, as the weather has cooled enough (or not) for grinding pork products with greater safety. It is also, after a long summer of grilling, a time when I have a whole lot of trimmings - especially pork trimmings. There were scraps of meat and fat from whole pork loins used in Canadian bacon (we'll get to that next), and a whole lot of rib trimmings (The boneless brisket portion and the skirt flaps). Since they were leaner than the pork butt called for in the recipe, I adjusted the proportion of meat to fat. Everything else was just ground for use in meatloaf or meatballs.

The Photos show the progression from cubed meat to ground meat, being beaten briefly with the paddle, stuffed and portioned. The links were tightly wrapped in plastic wrap and frozen in a ziplock bag. Except for one. I cooked it up and had it on a bun with some sauteed onions and peppers and some Weber's Mustard.

Darn Good Eating!

Oh, and the last photo is the cracked housing on my KitchenAid sausage grinder. Rest well old friend!

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