Somewhere Between Meat and Fat

I've got your nose.

Hold the Mayo

After a perfect Saturday of tacos, walking around Lady Bird Lake, and hiking through the greenbelt, Blackberry Shortcake and I went to the Food Hole to get some provisions for a light meal. She had suggested artichokes, and being that artichokes are her favorite food, I was all for it. It feels good to serve someone their favorite food, and we had yet to have any artichokes in our meals together. 

I had a wild hare and decided to make mayonnaise from scratch. For the first time. I was using the recipe from Fergus Henderson's The Whole Beast. It failed; I became frustrated. The instructions in the book–though whimsically written–just weren't that clear. I felt like the young kid in the obligatory scene in those old movies where he finds out that his hero, the Champ, or star quarterback was a fraud, or doper: "Say it ain't so, Champ, say it ain't so?"

I thought maybe it was the immersion blender generating too much heat, so I tried an ice bath and a whisk to cool down the oil. Nothing. Just a big messy bowl of olive oil and egg yolk snot. I gave up. We enjoyed the artichokes, cheese, and charcuterie nonetheless. Those things really are amazing, and I am intrigued about who first thought it was a good idea to eat the spiky things, and how many people suffered from the choke before figuring out to remove it. I mean, really? 

It was just the day before that by chance, on a lovely South Austin walk, that the Shortcake and I had stumbled upon two bolted artichoke plants. The plants were huge, unwieldy looking things. Having gone to bolt, the artichokes that remained on the plants shot skyward on long stalks, standing erect like proud phalluses in the afternoon shade.  The Shortcake was excited to see the very plant on which her favorite food grew (if we could just find that damned elusive taco tree, we'd be set), we had been talking about them shortly before coming across these fine specimens, which made the discovery somewhat surreal. Whoa. I love when things like that randomly happen. It feels like things are synching up; destiny unfolding. 

I slept on the failure of the mayonnaise. I woke up way later than I ever would on a Sunday. I ate, had some coffee. There was work to be done in the garden and I was intent on knocking it out. After finishing my greenthumbery, I sat and relaxed a bit. I started thinking about the failed mayo, just sitting in my fridge. It taunted me like a beating heart beneath the wood flooring. It was getting to me. I cleaned the whisk and bowl and set out to beat this shit into submission. Nothing. Still nothing. 

The information age is good for many things. I sought out a use for this spent mess. Perhaps there was a custard, or bread that needed over two cups of olive oil and three egg yolks. After a few videos I realized where the mayo failed in the first place. I never let the emulsion happen with just the egg and mustard. That is what suspends the fat. Ah ha! There it was. An answer, a hypothetical answer, but an answer all the same. Start over with one yolk, some mustard, and some salt, form the emulsion, then very slowly add the failure. The website said, "I heard if you... but I've never tried it." I've tried it. It worked. 

Miraculously, the one egg yolk held all of the failed mayo. Now I have over twenty ounces of mayonnaise and a sore forearm. Understanding the origins of my failure shed light on the recipe itself, and knowing now the technique needed, it makes sense in its whim. I also have the feeling of satisfaction that comes from the tenacity to overcome adversity through deliberate and dedicated action. 

Of course this was resuscitating mayonnaise, not climbing out of a canyon after cutting off my own arm, but I was really going to be bummed if I had to pour out all that spensive olive oil, and fancy egg yolks. After all, we are in a recession, right? Wasting that much food seems rather bourgeois to this ignorant pleb. And just like that kid in the old movie, I was vindicated; my hero, despite his transgressions, came through in the end. The curtains close, the lights come up, goodnight.  

Gilded Recession pt. 2

I woke to the steamy breath of my bed mate. We were spooning, an entanglement of limbs, and hair; our bodies intertwined. For a bulldog, he sure could cuddle. I apparently was in his space. He came and went, his toenails clicking on the hardwood as he made is way from my room into the hall and back again. I felt good. No hangover. Nothing. The true signs of an alcoholic, the absence of pain, and the thirst for more.

I was up for awhile before I got out of bed. YogaMarketingBrownieGirl had gotten up, leaving to go teach an early morning class somewhere. After some time passed, Shaddley could be heard stirring about. I got up. Coffee. I needed some, and he was on it. We briefly discussed breakfast. There was a little bit of steak and potatoes left from the night before, and I really wanted to make a hash with them. We had bacon, but no eggs, so we decided to go to the store.

It was Valentine's Day. The traffic in the store was heavy for 9:30 on a Saturday. We found the eggs, got some English muffins, more bacon and started to make our way back to the front, when we found ourselves standing in front of a massive display of lobster tails. We looked at each other, and thought, "Fuck it!" We took one with us. Shaddley picked up some flowers for the wife, and we were on the way back to his house with our early morning bounty.

Back at his house, we made another French press, and got to work. I diced the steak and potatoes and started frying them with some butter, onion and garlic for the hash. We prepared a nice hot tub of white wine and butter for the lobster tail to poach in. Shaddley got to work on preparing a delicate, and delicious Hollandaise. We fried some bacon, toasted some muffins, and cracked eggs for our Julia Child style omelets. We plated everything up, cracked the lobster tail, finishing the meat in even more butter. It was beautiful, this plate of food; breakfast. Steak and fingerling hash, bacon, english muffins, omelets smothered in Hollandaise, and topped with lobster.

Fuck your recession.

As we ate, we were in awe of ourselves. We both looked anxious. Fearful. I was certain that at any moment the authorities would be bursting through his door, taking us to some secret FEMA camp for those like us. Fiends. Gastronomical terrorists. How could we eat like this? People in the world were starving, and we were simply filling our arteries with fat, delicious, delicious fat. Each bite was like an orgasm for my mouth. One bite of omelet, Hollandaise, lobster, and bacon sat on my fork, poised to enter the gaping chasm through which so much other food had perished, I looked at it admiringly, lovingly, as if it were my lover on the tarmac, striding towards a plane that would take her from me forever. I took it in my mouth, closing my eyes.

"I feel like if your wife walked in right now, it'd be like she caught us having sex."

"I know..."

We cleaned our selves up, did the dishes, and sat there in awe. YogaMarketingBrownieGirl would be home soon. We were still high from our meal. After some discussion, we decided we had to make her something. Fortunately, we still had some lettuce that wasn't used from our dinner the night before, eggs, and bacon. We got to it. Carrots were diced put in a pan, smothered in duck fat, and roasted in the oven. The eggs got the nine minute non-boil method, this is where you boil some water toss in some eggs, turn of the heat and let them sit for nine minutes, resulting in creamy, cheese-like yolk, rather than a gray chalky one. Bacon was cut and cooked. Left over aioli turned into a vinaigrette, and the whole thing was dressed, tossed, plated and covered in Reggiano.

Salads are vehicles for perversion.

We were mad; in some states we would have been committed. The food had gotten to our heads. She came home excited as usual. We asked if she had eaten. She said 'no', just her luck. We presented her with the salad and sat with her at the table. She was excited about the eggs. She wanted protein after her day of leading complicated stretches. We stared at her. She noticed.

"What's wrong with y'all?"

"Nothing."

"Why are y'all watching me eat?"

"Just excited."

"You're kinda freaking me out..."

"Sorry, we're still high from breakfast."

"Oh? What did you have?"

That was a loaded question. We spilled our guts; our forbidden affair laid bare. Adulterous gastronomy, and we were the sinners. She ate. We watched. After she finished, we sat and relaxed. She left again, one of her millions of jobs beckoning to her from the ether. Alone again, Shaddley and I sat there.

"Do you have to be home soon?"

"Not really. It's my day off."

"Want a beer?"

"Of course."

To be continued...

Cooking for Couples, Pt. 3: Logistics

In an attempt to figure out some logistics for a potential dinner club in the works, Shaddley and YogaMarketingBrownieGirl came by my house for dinner on Friday night. We discussed our ideas, concerns, and plans briefly during our meal before the night quickly devolved into one of those grand Dionysian affairs that we all know and love.

I had spent that day playing in the garden, harvesting some snow peas, beets, and fennel, as well as making some chicken stock from the chicken carcass from the Friday before. My house smelled wonderfully warming as the stock slowly simmered on the range for hours and hours. I planned on making a mushroom risotto with the stock, but had no idea what else to cook. When I finally made my way to Wheatsville to pick up a few items that I had neglected to purchase when I'd left work the night before, I found myself standing in front of the meat case engaged in a full on mental eye roll. Everything looked good, so what to get? After about ten minutes of picking up and inspecting individual cuts of delectable Niman Ranch meats, I settled on a small, tied, center-cut pork loin.

The fennel finally grew up!

Rock the funky beets...

Back in the kitchen, I had big plans for the beets and fennel that I'd picked that afternoon. The golden beets got roasted in duck fat with a few cloves of crushed garlic, the red ones cut into vibrant little matchsticks; the fennel got delicately shaved and set aside. These veggies were to be used to dress up a salad of freshly picked greens from the backyard. I've eaten more salad in the last two months than I have in the last five years, which is definitely a good thing. With the salad's accompanying components prepped, I carried on about my business.

The pork loin was seasoned with a generous amount of salt, and set aside to rest for about an hour. As a salted roast sits, the salt will draw out the juices, which then combine with the salt before being reabsorbed into the meat, resulting in a more flavorful roast, inside and out. This waiting period allowed me to sit down, drink a glass of wine, and ponder some of the great mysteries swirling in my head that evening. Life is beautiful. After this cool down period, I worked out the timing for the meal based on when my guests would be arriving from North Buda, and got to work rubbing and searing the roast before sticking it in the oven.

With my stock finished, and maintaining a nice temperature on the stove, I was ready to get into the risotto. I had picked up some king trumpet and maitake mushrooms when I was at the market, two mushroom varieties that I find to be deliciously meaty and flavorful. This risotto stemmed from the same recipe as the last batch that I'd made, the only variance was the the use of red wine instead of white. As the risotto got close to finishing, the mushrooms were sautèed in some bacon fat and butter, and placed aside to be added when the risotto had finished. Timing appeared to be on my side, as the North Buda All-Stars rolled up right when the loin had finished resting, and the rice had achieved the right amount of tooth. Providence.

Tossed salad...

I heart risotto.

As always with this pair, we drank. Shaddley had brought two bottles of Sur de los Andes Malbec Gran Reserva, which was a perfect compliment to the earthy flavors of the mushroom risotto. This malbec, like many others that I've fell in love with, was moderately jammy, with a nice spicy backbone, and soft, velvety tannins that didn't over power the subtle flavors of the meaty mushrooms. I would like to have some of this wine laying around to casually sip on during one of these beautiful winter days. Shaddley, make this happen!

Vino.

The all seeing eye.

Choose your own caption.

Flapjacks.

Anyway, when we finished the wine, beers were pulled from the cellar [box in my closet...], and it was time for a tour of my New Glarus cache. A more in depth review of these beers will be featured in the next installment of Tasting Notes, but I'll quickly cover the bases here. We started with the Organic Revolution, which is a simple golden ale produced with organic Wisconsin barley, and organic German Hallertau hops. Malty, yet balanced, this was a great beer to segue from wine to IPA. Up next we tried the Hop Hearty, which I recently reviewed, and it was well received by YogaMarketingBrownieGirl, who loves IPA's. After this delicious citrus bomb we moved on to the mutha of the New Glarus line: Wisconsin Belgian Red. This beer is amazing. Fashioned in the style of a Belgian sour red, with a pound of Door county cherries in every bottle, this beer will make your toes curl faster than a wicked witch's under a displaced Kansas home. More on this abomination later. Full, intoxicated, and becoming increasingly tired, we should have stopped there, but we persevered and drank an Apple Ale from the New Glarus Unplugged line. This beer is not at all like a cider, but rather a nice brown ale with a massive apple nose, and finish. It is almost reminiscent of kombucha; effervescent, fruity, and delicious. Rosy cheeked and thoroughly pushed to the limits of excess, my guests fled for the safety of their South Austin refuge. They think they're safe, but I shall strike again, and next time it may be fatal. There'll be nothing to stop me, this time...

There Must Be Something in the Air

Risotto. This dish seems to be rather ubiquitous at the moment. It had been a few years since I'd last made risotto, which is to say that some brushing up on the subject was necessary. I had already been thinking about risotto, when the most recent issue of Food & Wine showed up featuring a small column on 'Perfecting Risotto'. The recipe included was for Milanese style risotto, which is flavored and colored with saffron. The day I decided that I would try and get risotto down by the end of this month, risotto posts and articles were popping up everywhere.

I decided that I would use the Milanese recipe as a base for duck confit risotto. I had some friends coming over for dinner, and thought this would be a perfect meal served with a simple salad, picked fresh from my garden. I unearthed a leg and thigh from their protective duck fat layer, wiped off the excess fat, and stuck these well preserved animal parts into a hot oven on my roasting rack. I wanted the skin to get nice and crispy, and it didn't disappoint. 

Risotto is a dish that has to be done right, or else it's just some rice dish. It is very easy to overcook risotto, resulting in mushy, dense failure. I like to avoid failing most of the time, and would really like to get the basics down for this delicious dish. I put my patience hat on, and got to work. All of the ingredients, except for the parsley, which I grew, I purchased at Wheatsville, and a few were local, like the duck, butter, and the wine. The results were great, and the only critique I have, would be to use homemade stock rather than store bought. I didn't have any chicken stock on hand so I went with the Pacific brand chicken broth, which was an okay substitute, but I know that homemade stock would make this better. 

Return of the poorly lit kitchen pics.

I was really excited to get to use some of the duck confit. It tasted amazing, and the texture was sublime; supple, rich, and unctuous. The well crisped skin made a delicious garnish, and overall the dish was well received. After a few more attempts with this base recipe, I will share it, but for now, I'll share a nice vinaigrette recipe of my own. It is beautifully green, and healthful. 

Hemp Vinaigrette

scales up easily

Ingredients:

1 Tbsp hemp oil

2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 Tbsp champagne vinegar

1/4 tsp dijon mustard

1/4 tsp finely minced garlic

1/4 tsp finely minced shallots

Salt and white pepper to taste

Method:

Combine oils and set aside. In a small mixing bowl, add all other ingredients but the salt and pepper, mix. Slowly drizzle in the oil mixture, whisking to form the emulsion. Taste, and add salt and pepper to taste. 

So This is Christmas?

When you decide to no longer celebrate a major cultural holiday, you tend to get asked a myriad of questions about your choice of abstention, ranging from politely inquisitive to indignantly offended. I won't tell you why I choose to not celebrate Christmas, and hope that adds to the mystique a bit. What I do celebrate, however, are gratuitous days off of work; days free of obligation and responsibility. Without having to go to see family, or partner's families, Christmas has been just one of those days for about six years. 

This was a stellar Christmas, in that regard. I stayed home, hung out with two of my best freinds, and saw my father. It was like I was the Christ-child and they were the Three Kings, bringing me gifts of humor, wisdom, and books. Marisa, who, no offense, is always good for a laugh, came by and we watched some older episodes of Top Chef. I made her an omelette, showcasing the absurdly fast and delicious technique that Julia demonstrates below (thanks Ruby for telling me about this!). Marisa had left some fakin' bacon in my freezer, which finally got used, relinquishing space that will be better used taken up by real meat. I think I've gotten her hooked on Top Chef.

Nearly right after she split, the Professor came by, and we watched more Top Chef! We also drank some beers. As always, a visit from the Professor is full of great discussion. My father came by as I was making dinner for myself, and hung out with the Professor a bit. We switched gears, and watched some Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares -- the British version with all the f-bombs! -- as the Professor drifted away into the ether, in search of neck-bearded Kiwi's and former roommates. Pops brought me two books, a massive tome of the works of Gibran, and a cookbook from Jamie Oliver, whom I'd never heard of, as well as this tiny camera tri-pod that I've been trying to hustle off of him since June. The book, Jamie at Home: Cook Your Way to the Good Life, is actually pretty informative, and the recipes are broken up into seasons, based on what each yields in his home garden. After a stretch of recipes, on say, tomatoes, he describes how he grows his tomatoes, which varieties, and where to order them. I like that.

For dinner, I had a Niman Lamb Shank, that was braised for most of the day, and was finished with a glaze made from a reduction of the braising liquid and honey. I'm not much of a chard eater, but I figured I should give it a chance (Hey, it was Christmas!). I picked some chard, and kale, which got blanched and sauteèd lightly in duck fat. I did the same thing to the fingerlings. Duck fat and potatoes are friends. I hope we continue to carry these lamb shanks, because they are delicious, and I'd like to do more with them. I wasn't the only one eating these shanks that night, although, maybe the only one alone. This was a pretty nice meal to eat in front of people who had already eaten, as well. Lamb shanks just look primal, and have that handy bone grip.

 

Shiny shank.

Chard, you're alright. 

So, this is Christmas, and a happy New Year.

Vegans and Cast Iron

Sometimes I do my best thinking when I'm asleep. Solutions to problems, recipes, and strange contemplative lines of thought often arise when I'm not yet awake. Maybe I'm having these thoughts at the moment that I'm actually waking up, and want to believe that these things happen when I'm sleeping. I'll probably never know. This morning, I had a strange thought about cast iron cookware and vegans. 

I sometimes entertain vegans, or vegetarians, and always want to do right by their dietary choices. Something in me gut is telling me that cast iron may not be the preferred cookware to prepare food for either in. The curing and cleaning processes of this amazing material may not lend itself to be truly vegan, especially if you use as much animal fat in your cooking as I do. Why I thought about this, I have no idea, but it is interesting to me. Vegans, what do you think? And what about everyone else? Should I just not use my legion of cast iron when cooking for those with an animal deficient diet? Cast iron makes up most of my cookware fleet, and there's bound to be some instance where its use is actually necessary. Thoughts?

How to Make Bacon Toffee

Back in September, when I was fasting, I did a lot of reading about food. I found two blogs that are worth both mentioning and reading. The first was one called Butter Pig, created by Tom Dowdy, a chef that had gone to the CIA in New York, had a tech job, and loved to feed his friends elaborate meals that were true Dionysian affairs, the second was Obsession with Food, written by Derrick Schneider, another techie-foodie, and best friend of Tom. It was on OWB that I found out that Tom had died suddenly last December, a solemn occasion that was celebrated by a beautiful feast prepared by his best friends for his family and loved ones. Tom's impact on his friends was powerful, and Derrick does a beautiful job of interpreting such a difficult subject in two admirable, and inspiring posts from earlier this year. The meal they cooked, and the feelings of remembrance, love, and grace, resound deeply with me. 

I had been pouring over these blogs late one foodless night, when I found it. It seemed too good to be true; a combination that seemed wrong in every way, yet so laden with ecstasy that it had to be right, like a forbidden culinary love affair. Bacon toffee. I wrote the recipe down in my recipe book, and vowed to make this beastly abomination soon enough. I tried my first batch for Thanksgiving, but the absence of a candy thermometer proved fatal to the consistency, and color of the final product. Guessing when candy hits 285º is hard your first time, so I sought out the tools I needed. Version 2.0 of the bacon toffee went off without a hitch. It hit its temperature, ensuring that it would have a hard break, and set up beautifully. I took the entire batch to Wheatsville on Sunday, and doled it out over the next two days to all my meaty friends. They loved it. I'll be making more this week end for an annual Holiday beer tasting potluck that a buddy of mine throws. Enjoy friends. This is a secret weapon for your arsenal. 

Bacon toffee slams!

Bacon Toffee

Ingredients:

1 cup sugar

1 stick of butter

1/4 cup water

5 strips of bacon

Method:

Crisp bacon, set aside to dry on a paper towel lined plate, chop into small squares when cool. In a sautè pan or sauce pan combine the rest of the ingredients, and mix well with a metal whisk or wooden implement (plastic will melt). Bring the mixture up to 285º[300º works], remove from heat, add bacon, and pour onto a  baking sheet covered in Silpat, or parchment paper. Let rest for two hours. Cover with a clean towel, and lightly rap with a hammer to break the toffee into shards. Keep in a covered container at room temperature. 

Confit Me

Long before there was the convenience of modern refrigeration, our culinary forefathers had to find ways to preserve their food. Seafaring nations such as France and Britain, saw this as an absolute necessity as they set their sons adrift, absent a sense of security in procuring food while out to sea. One method of food preservation has not only stood the test of time, but has become a technique that is used in fine dining establishments  around the world: confit. 

The process of confit arguably comes from the Glascony region of France, and is the practice of preserving meats by salt curing, and slow poaching in their own fat. Once the meat and fat are cooled, they can be stored for up to six months in the refrigerator, in sealed containers. Recently, I've put away two different types of confit, duck and rabbit, for consumption at a later date. According to Fergus Henderson, the flavor of confit will "keep and improve for many months." 

Around Thanksgiving, the Butcher got in some ducks from Sebastian at Countryside Meats. Sebastian's ducks aren't the fattest ducks around -- I think he keeps the fat from the internal cavity for himself, but that's just a speculation -- but they tend to render out some fat. Anyway, I purchased a duck, broke it down like I'd been shown, and set out to confit the legs, save the breasts, and make some stock (last week, I purchased a rabbit from work, also from Countryside Meats, and made confit with it's plump hind legs). Despite rendering all the skin from the beast, I wasn't going to have enough fat to confit the mighty legs. As much as I don't like going there, Central Market sells one pound tubs of duck fat at a decent price. I suggest you pick some up (in the meat case), and cook some veggies in it. You may never want to use butter again. 

Yum, yum, yum...

After procuring the fat, I was home free to confit! You must first salt the meat, and let it rest for at least 24 hours, which starts the curing process, before you confit. The method I used involves making a layer of salt, pepper and thyme in the bottom of your vessel, on which you lay the meats, repeating the layering as you add meat. After the allotted time passes, you must wipe off the excess salt, pat the meat dry and place it in an ovenproof container. You then cover the meat with fat, and cook in a medium temperature oven (325º to 350º) until fork tender, about two and a quarter hours. The cooking time varies for the type of animal that is to be made into confit (duck legs - 2 1/4 hours, rabbit legs - 2 hours, goose legs - 2 3/4 hours). Remove the meat and fat from the oven, allow to cool, transferring the meat and fat to a storage container once it is cool enough to handle, and refrigerate.  

Legs in the terrine.

Cover with duck icing, I mean, fat. 

Place in clean storage container.

Sit back and relax.

Now you have confit to use at your leisure. To reheat the meat, wipe off the excess fat, and heat either in a pan on the stove, or in the oven until the meat is heated throughout, and the skin crisps up. You can also add your confit to soups, stews, or yummy things like cassoulet. Don't forget to save that excess fat, it can be used again for general cooking purposes, or to confit more tasty treats. Stand by that oven, and stay warm!

Canning Conundrum

I hate making mistakes in the kitchen, nothing makes me more livid. If you mildly botch a dish, no one will notice, but you'll always know. In this case, I didn't make an error on a plate of food served to a guest, but rather had a plan that was flawed from the start. 

During my trip across the Pond, I fell in love with a lot of things of a culinary nature, but one condiment stuck out above all the rest. Chutney. I mostly ate chutney served with Stilton, or other cheeses, but really, it can go on anything. I saved apples from the freebox at work in order to make this delicious apple accompaniment, only to not have the right equipment to fully process the jars (I also may have cooked it down too much... it's darker than I would have wanted).

When I went to can, I could only get the water about a half an inch above the lids, rather than the suggested inch. All of the lids are depressed, which I guess means they're sealed, but I don't really have the confidence to give one of these to someone. I'm asking the blogosphere for some opinions here. I refrigerated the jars, rather than leave them at room temp, so they'll keep for a little while, but I just don't know. What do y'all think? You can leave comments here, or on Facebook or Myspace if you have any suggestions or thoughts. 

Mother Nature Laughs Long and Hard

Mother Nature's Son

Red Rocket

"You should really get that checked out..."

I'm just sayin'?! Okay, that has to be the most hilarious thing I've seen growing from the ground. I almost pissed myself, I laughed so hard. It got picked.

I don't post many recipes here, but today, inspired by this radish, I'm going to. This is a recipe that comes from The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating, by Fergus Henderson, owner/founder of St. John. This may be one of the least unusual recipes in this canon of offal, game, and swine. You should buy it. 

Radishes to Accompany Duck or Goose

The fresh, peppery radishes make a perfect foil for the rich birds. 

Ingredients:

3 bunches of radishes with happy leaves

Juices from the roasting pan of the duck or goose, or duck fat and a splash of chicken (duck) stock

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Method:

Remove the leaves from the radishes and wash both the leaves and radishes. Heat up your roasting juices or fat and stock, then add the radishes. Let this sizzle, stirring frequently. In approximately 5 minutes the radishes will have changed to pink blushing orbs, still crispy but with a hint of giving. Add the radish leaves and remove the pan from the heat. The leaves do two things: they give a wonderful flavor, and they add a structural weave, preventing your radishes from rolling all over your plate when served. Season with salt and pepper and stir, letting the leaves wilt a moment, then serve with roast duck or goose. 

 

Duck Fat  Loves You

I think that this dish can do more than accompany duck or goose. We had it last night with a Niman Ranch Ribeye Roast, and it was a nice foil for the rich meat of the roast. I think you could use the drippings from roast beef or pork, and it would be just fine. If you have duck fat laying around, then use it. Duck fat is the bomb. I've made this recently to accompany pan seared duck breast, and it is a nice complimentary flavor, so if you plan on having duck soon, try this. If you are a vegan or vegetarian, or may be entertaining one, butter (preferably the Remember When Dairy variety, for the non-vegans) and some Imagine No Chicken Chicken Broth would do fine. For those vegans who may actually read this, a blend of some of the richer oils, like walnut, and grapeseed oil, with the aforementioned broth, would produce nice, tender results. 

Enjoy. 

Cold Leftovers

Thankgiving is over. Good. Next year will be better, and will be here before we know it. I enjoyed waking up this morning in a relatively clean house, without having to clean up the wake of destruction that usually envelops my house on Thanksgiving. Instead, I got to make coffee in a clean kitchen, and enjoy my day doing nothing in particular. 

Turkey pile

I ended up not making the radish dish, due to time, but I will and you'll here about it. It's really simple, I've made it before, but it is so damn good. That's because anything cooked in duck fat is good. I did make an apple pie, poached some pears, and made bacon toffee. The end result was interesting.

My contribution

The pears came out fine. I used some leftover syrup I had from the last batch of poached pears I made for a brunch last week. Even the kids liked them. One kid, Caleb, the child of my co-worker Miranda, touched one, but didn't eat it, prompting a, "Don't touch it if aren't going to eat it," speech from some adult. Grubby kid hands all up on the food...

My bacon toffee is still in its beta testing stages. I couldn't find my thermometer, so this left me guessing when to pull it from the heat. This means I need to go buy a) a candy thermometer, b) a regular thermometer. Due to this lack of precision, the candy didn't get hard like a Skor bar, instead it was more like a soft toffee. The flavor was there, and bacon is just fucking good, so I see where it's going, but it wasn't right. Next time. This will be something that I keep up my sleeve for a long time. I mean, it's bacon toffee?! I envision a summer day with some vanilla ice cream mixed with broken pieces of bacon toffee, or a nice salad with bacon toffee in lieu of bacon... Yum.

v1.0

My pie... Oh, my pie. It was so beautiful, it was a shame that it was eaten before it fully cooled. You can chose which lesson should be learned here:

a) don't stay up so late drinking, that way you can wake up before noon to make pie for evening meal.

b) make pie/crust day before

c) hold out longer than two hours before caving for hungry partygoers

d) don't worry about, have another drink

Regardless of lessons, it was a good pie, it just never set up all the way. It was still pretty warm when I finally cut into it. The crust, which is from a recipe that I have been working with for several years, turned out the way I wanted for the first time in a while. Sometimes it gets too warm too fast, which makes it so hard to work with. This year, I employed a more regulatory system to control the temperature of the dough. It made a few trip back in the fridge as other things were worked on. I used honey crisp apples, which are a nice blend of sweet and tart, and keep their shape as they cook. It was moderately disappointing to watch it ooze when I removed the first slice...

Pie

Pretty pie

The success with the crust makes me want to make another pie soon. I like making pies. It's the only baking I ever do, so it's nice to feel good about doing it. Baking is scary to me for some reason. I guess that comes down to practice and familiarity. I don't eat many sweets anymore, so that means I rarely make them, which is no excuse not to gain practice making them for others. Most people like baked goods. I know when I have high quality baked goods versus just so-so baked goods, but overall I'm indifferent. Except for pie. I like pie. Pie can also be savory, and that gives it extra bonus points. Its all about that pastry. Thats the hard part, especially in Austin, Texas. When it's eighty degrees on Thanksgiving, one must be careful when handling their pastry. Until next time. 

All Over But The Crying

Breathe out. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

That's nice. The week has come and gone, and I seem generally unscathed. Life is beautiful. Tomorrow will be a fun day of prepping and cooking. I'm not doing it up like years past, when I've been responsible for orchestrating feasts for orphaned Austinites. This year I'm going to someone else's house, and am only responsible for a pie. 

Of course, I'm doing more than the pie, but that's all I'm on the hook for. I've already had a great week of cooking, and practicing technique that will be useful for the rest of my life. More on that later. As for tomorrow, I'll be doing some poached pears, an apple pie, bacon toffee, and some homegrown radishes cooked in duck fat. Yum. 

I am backed up on some blogs, and will spend some of my three day weekend working those out. Expect your spare time to be cluttered with pedantic rants about beers, Canadian singers, food, confit, and life as perceived by a bearded weirdo. Cheers.

Fried Food Friday!

My father has a weird look on his face...?

Friday was Halloween. My Pops called me, and asked if I wanted to go have lunch with him. I asked if he wanted to just come over and eat some lunch at my house. I had plans to make some fish and chips with some freebox wild, line caught Cod that I had procured the Monday prior. He agreed and said he'd pick up some other vegetable because he didn't want to eat potatoes.

I wanted to make a salad with some arugula and radishes that I'd picked from my garden, so I got to work making a nice hemp oil vinaigrette, and burnoised some carrots that were laying around. I cut the potatoes I had, and put them in some water to soak. After the prep was done, I got some oil hot in my big old Dutch Oven. Pops called me to see if needed anything, and told him "No." Even protesting some of the seafood options he listed off because they are not sustainable, such as stuffed Orange Roughy. I pulled out the Cod, and it was foul. Bad. Turned. No longer edible or servable. Fuck.

The General at attention

I called him and told him what was up. He headed over to the Central Market, and picked up some stuff before coming to my house. When he arrived, I had the batter all mixed up, and was ready to roll. He got about a pound of Cod, some Conch (!!!) and a broccoli crown. I got to work, cutting up the cod into pieces, tossed the potatoes in the now extremely hot oil, and started to batter some broccoli. The fries cooked really quickly despite being very thickly cut. 

I started doing the fish in batches, and quickly amassed a pile of fried goodness, that we would eat as soon as we figured out what to do with the Conch. Did I want to make cracked Conch, a process of beating the shit out of the stuff until it was flat, battering and frying it, or make fritters? Fritters it was. I quickly chopped some celery and bell pepper, tossed them and the diced Conch in the remaining beer batter, added more flour, baking powder and beer until the consistency was pasty enough to make a proper fritter, and spooned them one by one into the hot oil. Done. 

Right about the time we were ready to eat, my landlord, Kent, showed up. My father and Kent used to live together down the street at 32nd and Harris Park in the early 70's. Something that I didn't know until I lived as Kent's tenant for about two years in the front house. One day, my dad was over and I introduced them, and they were all like, "Ah, man, it's you!" Which freaked me out because we had found the place by walking by. Anyway, we asked if kent wanted to join us, and he did. 

Clockwise from the left: fish, conch fritters, fried broccoli, and fries

Golden fried deliciousness

I guess this isn't the ideal meal to serve two men over fifty-five, but whatever, none of us are going to live forever, and fried food is comforting. I arranged all the fried goods on a big plate, got some hot sauce, and honey mustard out and we went to town on the unsuspecting mass of battered, greasy goodies. Deelish. We annihilated everything. Yum. We didn't even eat the salad... so that's still around for me to enjoy at a later date. 

The End.

Ba-raise the Vote

For the record, I want you to know, dear reader, that you will not see discussions of politics here at The Life and Times of a Bearded Weirdo. I leave that up to other people, at other blogs. 

That being said, I will say that Monday after I got off work, I went to Fiesta and cast an early vote. Before doing so, I got to work on braising some lamb and beef using a recipe from the Austin Gastronome. I didn't make my own pasta, for I do not own the proper devices, yet... 

I thought about this all day. What pasta would I use? I love the pappardelle, but I haven't seen it in a store -- not even Mandolas has it -- but thought that a nice braised ragout would go well with a toothy, hollow pasta. I decided to use some chiocciole. This looks like a curled rigatone, with one end pinched. It ended up serving its purpose just fine.

I got to work, prepping up the veg, and meats. I used a nice local Loncito's lamb shoulder steak, and some Niman Ranch sirloin. These two cuts were meant for each other. I love my Dutch Oven, the General of my Cast Iron army, so I jump at the chance to whip it out. 

Silence of the Lamb...

I got everything together, went and pulled the lever, and came home to a house that smelled amazing. I was in the garden when the Butcher showed up. We had a beer, and I kicked him down some veggies for his own dinner. 

A few hours, and glasses of Becker Vineyards Texas Iconoclast Cabernet Sauvignon later, the meat was falling apart, so I started some pasta, cut up some ciabatta, and poured some olive oil. I waited until the pasta was done to sauté my organic king trumpet mushrooms. I tossed it all together, plated it, fancied it up, and ate. 

Inside out Wheatsville T to the rescue...

This is nice. I need a date for one of these dinners. 

Kudos to Mr. Wilson for posting this recipe over at the Gastronome. Braising is one of my favorite techniques, and, well, shit, I like lamb, and beef, have a great source for both at work, so this was a no-brainer. I will be cooking this again over the next few months of the Texas cool-to-cold season. Thank you!

So. Vote so you don't feel like an asshole when someone asks you if you voted, even if you think this system is broken (you can write me in, even though, technically, I'm not legally eligible). Eat good food, hug your neighbor, and love your life. 

Some Food I Ate

Food. We all have to eat it, some of us love it. These photos make me think I need new plates. More plates just means more dishes to wash. Damn. 

Why is everything so far away?

Here we have Butterfish that was cooked in a parchment pouch, with a lemon buerre blanc, bacony crimini mushrooms, with wilted spinach, and sweet potato puree. 

It's a shame you can't really see how yellow that buerre blanc was.

These photos made me angry. I don't like the lighting in my kitchen. From now on, I've decided only to take pictures of food at the dinner table where the lighting is better. Boo white on white kitchen color schemes! Boo. Of course, poor lighting doesn't affect the taste of food.  

Heart bad, fat good.

I should be arrested for these grits. I love grits, but this was just perverse. This was southern food night for me. I took a beautiful, local, Richardson's bone in pork chop, brined it with a bunch of thyme, and pan cooked it in clarified butter (ghee). The grits were cooked using three parts chicken stock, and one part, ahem, heavy cream. I sauteed some jalapeños, shallots and onions, combined them with grits, butter, and a huge piece of Cypress Grove Humbodlt Fog chevre wrapped in goat brie. And, of course, you need healthy greens cooked in rendered bacon fat and lemon juice. I won't forget to mention the tempura battered fried local organic okra. Yum.

Dark T-shirt to the rescue.

I glisten on the inside.

These came out much better at the dinner table. I think my Doctor would slap me if he saw that last one. Sorry Al! Heart attacks keep you employed.

I learned this color scheme in art class in elementary school. Purple, orange and green. Yes.

The Butcher got some prime sirloin in. It looked great, and so did my produce that day. Especially the organic corn, and the local organic green beans. I had some sun gold and black cherry toms in the fridge, and those damn grits were still lurking about. 

Dark shirts are a hot commodity in the food porn biz.

I decided I'd use up this giant heirloom tomato that was hanging around, and some spinach by making a nice layered baked polenta with the blasphemous grits. I layered everything into a little casserole dish, added some heavy cream for good measure, and baked it until it was crusty and brown. The corn got some heavy cream action too. The green beans were blanched and cooked in the clarified butter that the steak was cooked in while it was resting. I was drinking some some Becker Vineyards Cab so a Cab Reduction seemed appropriate. 

This is the true nature of the Force.

This was my favorite set of pics. The colors in this meal really made it beautiful. Not to mention that piece of prime sirloin. Not usually my favorite cut -- ribeye is king -- but the marbling was great, and the taste was amazing. 

Pictures of this last meal prompted a discussion between the Butcher and I. All these big hunks of meat. Why was I not cutting it up, fanning it, etc. I would for guests. I mean, I'd share a steak that size if I was hosting guests, especially ladies. I don't know many women that want to be served a huge steak. In the case of these meals, I was eating them, alone, and like to cut up my steak myself. 

Showing Appreciation with Food

I'm required to have departmental meetings quarterly, and it can be difficult to schedule them without interfering in someone's life. So, I decided that I would cook my staff lunch as a nod of appreciation for their efforts and sacrifices.

I wanted to do some easy Indian recipes, mainly because they scale up so nicely, and taste great. My original plan was to do Chana Masaladar (actually Punjabi, not Indian), which is similar to Chole, potato curry, and Kharee Masoor Ke Dal -- lentils flavored with curry leaves.

Due to a scheduling mishap yesterday, I was unable to go to Swad and buy the curry leaves. I tried Fiesta to see if they had them, but no dice. So, no dal. Oh well.

I got up early and made these two dishes, and some basmati rice.

Potato Curry with Yogurt Gravy
Ingredients:
2 large potatoes (can also use paneer)
2 Tbs oil or ghee
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1 Tbs coriander powder
1/2 tsp tumeric powder
1/2 tsp paprika
a pinch of asafoetida
2 tsp gram flour, or all purpose
1 bay leaf
1 tsp minced ginger
1 tsp finely chopped green chile (serranos are great)
4 Tbs yogurt
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 tsp salt
1 cup H2O

Method:
Peel and cut potatoes into your desired size. Boil potatoes until a fork goes through them easily, drain and set aside. In a bowl, mix yogurt with tumeric, paprika, coriander, ginger, and chiles. 

Counterclockwise: Tumeric, coriander, ginger, paprika, serrano.

Over medium heat, heat ghee/oil. Add asafoetida*, cumin seeds, flour, bay leaf, and roast until the flour browns lightly (3o seconds - 1 minute). Add yogurt paste. Stirring constantly, stir fry until ghee/oil and paste separate, about 1-2 minutes. Add water incrementally, stirring constantly. Cook about 2 minutes.

Add potatoes and mix well, but very gently so you don't break the potatoes. Add cilantro. Remove bay leaf. Cook for 2-3 minutes. You can add more water if the gravy is too thick, but may not be necessary.

Cover and cook for up to four minutes. Add salt to taste, serve hot.

I heart pools of ghee. My doctor does not.

Chana Masaledar
Ingredients:

4 Tbs Ghee or oil

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 medium onion, chopped

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/2 tsp coriander powder

1/2 tsp cayenne

3 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced

a piece of fresh ginger, about 1/2 inch square, minced

2 Tbs tomato paste

1 can or 3/4 lb garbanzo beans

2 Tbs lemon juice

salt to taste

Method:

In a large skillet, heat ghee/oil. When hot, put in cumin seeds. As soon as they begin to darken (very quickly!) add the chopped onion. Stir and fry for 7 minutes. 

Slow and low, that is the tempo...

Turn heat to low and add coriander, clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Mix well, and add the garlic and ginger, stirring for three minutes. Add tomato paste, stir until evenly incorporated. 

Open and drain chick peas, reserving about 2 Tbs of the liquid (or if using dry garbs, soak overnight, cook for at least two hours or until tender, and use 2 Tbs of the cooking liquid). Pour this and the chick peas into the skillet. Add salt, cayenne, and lemon juice. Mix well, and cover, letting the flavors combine for 10 minutes. Stir occasionally, adding a few Tbs of water if too thick (not always necessary). Be careful not to break the chick peas. Serve hot, with basmati rice.

This recipe came from the back of  a Rumi poetry book. It is one of my all-time favorites.

Okay. Here's a tip on basmati rice. You know how when you go out for Indian food, and the rice is perfect -- each grain is separate, and laying on each other like some hot, white, starchy orgy. Well, there is a reason for that. Soaking. After you measure out the basmati, soak it in water for up to an hour. This will both make the cooking time less, and separate the grains. The ratios vary as well. For one cup of rice, use two cups of water (like normal), but for 2 cups of rice, you need 3 1/2 cups of water. It's weird, but it works out. 

These recipes are easy to do. Most Indian food recipes seem daunting because of the laundry list of spices that are used. It's okay, drink some wine; relax. Wheatsville carries most of theses spices in bulk, minus the asafoetida, and once you have them, measuring them out ahead of time really makes these recipes easier to follow. 

The staging of the spices also assists with the depth and levels of the flavor profiles of each dish. DO NOT ADD ALL THE SPICES AT ONCE!!! You will end up with a confusing tastsing, and possibly bitter meal -- I've done this with the Chana and it sucked. 

*Asafoetida - You need this. There is no substitute for this spice. You can get it at Fiesta, Whole Foods, Central Market, any Asian grocery. It is stanky, and almost unpleasant until cooked. Some say it smells like cat urine, I agree. It doesn't taste like it smells once it combines with hot ghee/oil. Do not be afraid, it is your friend. Oh, and a little goes a long way, so that bottle you buy will be around for a while. 

I like to serve most Indian dishes with condiments such as: yogurt (or riata), chopped onions, chopped cilantro, chopped serranos, and chopped tomatoes. Flat breads such as naan or roti are good as well.

Have fun. Happy eating.

"You think I'm torturing you. I'm giving you flavor, so you can mix with rice and spices and be the lovely vitality of a human being." -- Rumi