Inspiration

So, after six months of silence, what could bring me back to the world of blog?

But perhaps first, why did I leave? One week after my last post, I got a job. A no shit job with 40 hours of hard, draining work and only two days off and very little energy for cookery.

But inspiration strikes. As does competitiveness.

Cousin Gas (whose blog went on hiatus just about the same time mine did) has returned with a harrowing tale of her toddler daughter shitting in the bath.

My inspiration, however, is not so gross, but rather a reminder of the awesomeness of cooking. And one sorely needed after two weeks of noodles-in-a-cup lunches.

After work last night I stopped off at the grocery store, for random staples, and grabbed a package of three thin-cut steaks. Three bucks for three steaks. Can't beat that.

Anyway, today I decided to whip them up for lunch. I decided a simple preparation was what I wanted. So inspiration struck, and I improvised this little number; Garlic Minute Steaks.

First off, do you own a Needler? Why not?!

Mine is also known as a "48-Blade Meat Tenderizer", but they come in cheaper variants with as few as 16 blades. It looks as much like an instrument of the Spanish Inquisition as the French Kitchen. I originally bought it for making cube steaks, but I realized it had much more to offer when I saw Masaharu Morimoto working over a whole chicken with one on Iron Chef America. Since then I use it whenever I do a marinade or brine, to get flavor deeper into meat.

In this case, I work over my steaks with the needler, then rub it with minced garlic, which gets into all the little holes the needle made. Neat trick, if I do say so myself. I use jarred minced garlic largely out of laziness, but remember that it is also packed in olive oil, so the meat gets oiled as well.

Then needle the steaks again, to drive more garlic in.

Season with black pepper and a bit of kosher salt (but not too much; reason later). Whip out your cast iron of choice (I used a griddle), melt a quarter to a third a stick of butter on it, then slap on the steaks before the butter burns.

Being thin, they cook quick, so we want screaming high heat. Experiment with the exact settings on your stove and cooking time for optimum results. What we want is a nice sear outside, with the desired doneness (medium rare for me) inside. Turn only once.

Remove and sit to rest. Season further with some alder-smoked sea salt.

What's that? You say you don't have any alder-smoked sea salt?

Why not?!

My God, it's full of stars

A little post-birthday daytrip to Portland.

Setting aside my guilty pleasure breakfast at a McDonald's out of town, and the primary purpose of the visit (books, another of my gluttonous appetites), I had lunch at Jake's Famous Crawfish. Dunno how famous they really are, but I like to think I'm doing my part.

I first discovered this gem at 401 South 12th in the Pearl Disctrict, a few summers ago. On trip to San Francisco to visit family (who, coincidentaly, read this blog, Hi, guys!), I had planned a half-a-day in Portland, but I was delayed by the asshattery of the rental car company and had time only for dinner.

That time, at the height of summer, I sat at a table on the sidewalk, enjoying a crawfish boil in the delightfully warm twilight. But the cajun feast is limited to the Dinner Menu, alas.

I disapprove of time-of-day dependant menus. Any place that proudly announces "Breakfast All Day" gets an extra star in my mind. And my father once legendarily threw a hissy fit when he couldn't get a cheeseburger at McDonald's at 9am.

"But it's a McDONALD'S! That's what you DO!!"

He's not a breakfast eater.

Anyway, the server helpfully suggests that Jake's Etouffee would be a good choice "If you want something with crawfish." I have no idea what an etouffee is, but what the Hell.

I also order a calimari appetizer, one of my benchmark foods. Like the French dip or clam chowder or all-day pancakes, calimari is one of the indicator species of a restaraunt for me. I think highly of any place that can do it right.

The calimari is delicious; lightly fried, just enough saltiness. There are three dipping sauces. One is the obligatory cocktail sauce, with a pleasant sinus burn denoting the use of fresh horseradish. Second is a decent but nondescript mayonnaise based sauce often misidentified in America as aioli (true aioli is nothing more than garlic, olive oil and maybe a little egg). But the star is the little cup in the middle, wherein lay a green thing that looked like a salsa verde, but was actually quite sweet, with hints of cilantro.

I forgot to ask the server what it was, and will be kicking myself until the next time I go back there.

(By the way, I prefer "server" to "waiter" or "waitress" or God save us from "waitron". "Waiting" implies idleness. Servers are doing shit.)

Then came my etouffee. Turns out it's a crawfish and shrimp stew.

I don't normally think much of fancy plating, but I had to take a picture.

Something about the whimsy of the intact crawfish perched atop a pile the the flesh of his shrimpy stewmates is delightful.

The stew itself was quite tasty. It lacked the bright spices of the crawfish boil I had hoped for, but the earthy stew still had plenty of dark fire.

After a bit of shopping and a visit to the world's smallest offically designated park (15 inches across), I arrive at the most anticipated non-book related stop of the day.

Voodoo Donuts. (Ankey and 3rd)

I didn't bother to take a picture of it, since it isn't much to look at, so here's a picture of the box they put my donuts in.


If that doesn't tell you everything you need to know, they also sell panties with their logo. My cousin's birthday is coming up, and I thought about getting her a pair, but maybe there are some things you don't get a married woman for her birthday.

Also, they only take cash, I only had a twenty and I didn't want to cut into the donut budget.

The above pictured pink box contained a Voodoo Dozen, which is when you allow the register jockey to choose your donuts for you. I could have gotten a second dozen without repeating a donut, but there are limits to reason. And that twenty.

I also got, for my parents, a pair of the titular Voodoo donuts...


And for myself...

That's right. The Bacon Donut!!

Your brain will fight it, but just let it sink in.

It's actually a Mable Bacon Bar, which was one of the major draws to hitting Voodoo in the first place. Something such as this must be tasted.

And it is GLORIOUS! The salty and the crunchy and the just-slightly charred baconness married perfectly with the sweet, slight tang of the maple icing and the fluffy pastry beneath.

What genius, what visionary brought us this gift? For surely there will one day be a monument to his glory.

You will note that I'm eating it in the car. I am proud to say I made it out of Oregon before digging into my prize.

I pulled over at the first rest stop.

The Game

Sometimes the potential of a new recipe with potential is more exciting than a new recipe coming out perfectly the first time.

Tonight's dinner was a chili recipe I got from Rachael Ray's magazine. (Don't judge me. It was an impulse buy. Not like I have a subscription or anything.)

It's a "Redeye Mole Chili". Redeye is a type of gravy featuring coffee, and mole (MO-lay) is a savory Mexican chocolate sauce mostly associated with chicken. So the chili includes both coffee and chocolate, which I found intriguing. It also included ancho chiles, which are smoked, roasted pablano chiles, and cinnamon.

The recipe came out alright, but there's room for improvement. And I am jazzed because I can see what it needs. The game is afoot, Watson.

With the coffe, unsweetened cocoa powder and anchos, there are a lot of dark, earthy flavors, but without a lot of freshness to balance them.

Some sweetness is called for, a yellow onion, for a start, instead of the white (raw, chopped red onion is also added at the end as a garnish). I'll replace the roasted chiles with fresh ones to bring some fruityness, and use chipotle powder (my new favorite spice) to maintain the smokiness.

The ground beef was a mistake, too. Cubed beef next time.

Fresh cilantro added at the end, instead of the ground coriander. Broke my own rule, there; when ever possible, opt for fresh herbage.

Cut the bacon too big, too.

This process is how we make a recipe our own.

PS; I'm pretty sure I'm using "chili" and "chile" properly, but I would not put money on it.

A Moment

A while ago, I had some business in Seattle, The Big City of my region. I took the opportunity to hit the famed Pike Place Market, with its shouting fish mongers flinging huge sea creatures around, its ever-shifting make-up of shops and that place with the really great donuts I can never get because they're cash-only.

But the real gem of Seattle, in my view is down below the market. Down from the street level, down below the three-level Down Under, home of the magic shop, comic shop, head shop (ask your parents) and the museum dedicated to the shoe of the World's Tallest Man, which is literally a hole in the wall.

Down the outdoor stairwell where you can always find a street musician of some sort because the acoustics are better than half the concert halls in town. Cross the street and down more stairs, you come to a small balcony.

And on that small balcony is the door to El Puerco Lloron. The Crying Pig.

My parents came to the Puget Sound area from Los Angeles, and lamented for many years about not being able to find genuine Mexican food. Then they found this place.

And it was good.

More than good.

It's only barely more than the hole in the wall that houses the giant shoe, but that is it's charm. The chairs are metal folding chairs, the tables are a mish-mash of mismatched wooden kitchen tables and tin folding tables embossed with the logos of Mexican beers.

I approach with reverence, and gaze at the hand-written menu on the wall. I briefly consider the special, a Chicken Mole (I've been looking for a Chicken Mole), but ultimately choose the same thing I get every time I'm there.

Taquitos Machacas. Small Shredded Beef Tacos.

The #1. And with good reason.

Hey, my food's done already. No fast food is this fast and on a real plate by a real cook, not some high school register jockey in a paper hat. Accompanied by a Mexican Coke (made with sugar cane not refined sugar, Mexican Coke is less cloyingly sweet and more savoury than it's pussed-out American variant).

I sit in a corner for privacy.

I spoon some rice and some beans onto the first taquito, gently raise it up (maintaining an even keel to ensure that none of the broth is lost out the back end) and take a bite.

And it happens.

I have A Moment.

A Moment of gourmet bliss. A Moment of foodie zen. A foodgasm.

One of Those Moments that reminds us that food need not be mere fuel shoveled into the face. A Moment that reminds you that our senses are what connect us to the world around us. Our senses connect us to the world around us. To the people around us.

Food is an expression of the person making it.

When Southerners talk about putting love into food, this is what they mean.

Even if the woman behind the counter spoke English (which I can't vouch for because she only ever speaks Spanish), and stood by my side and walked my step-by-step through the process, I couldn't recreate this.

This food is like a Frenchman's Crepe, or the Texan's Dry Rub. It is in-built. Hard-wired. In the bone.

But I don't need to know how it is made. I know where to get it.

A while back, I made a Mango Pepper Vodka Sorbet, which of course required a Pepper Vodka. It's pretty easy; 3 Tablespoons cracked black pepper corns in a fifth of vodka, and give it a shake every now and then for a week.

The thing is, the sorbet (which was awesome, by the way) only required 1/4 cup of the vodka, so afterwards I still had nearly a full bottle of vodka, and I don't drink vodka.

At dinner with J&R a couple weeks ago, I mentioned the dilemma of what to do with a bottle of Pepper Vodka I had no intention of drinking. J ran upstairs to the computer room and produced an Emeril Lagasse recipe for a Pasta in Pepper Vodka Sauce.

It's different that other pasta sauces; it uses one shallot and garlic rather than onions as an aromatic and 1/2 cup of heavy cream. Plus the vodka, of course.

I tried it last week and it is a phenominal sauce. The Pepper Vodka brings a damned fine bang to the proceedings, so I thought I'd try it as a pizza sauce this week, using tomato sauce in place of the diced tomatoes.

I expect to be using it as my standard pizza sauce to a while.

Now comes the quest for the perfect crust.

Something to look forward to

One of the frequent topics of discussion at Sunday Dinners with J&R is my proposal of a decadant feast we shall indulge in when they win their bet with G&S, and G&S have to fly up for a visit.

My plan for an appetizer is Deep Fried Crab legs, an idea that came to me while watching Iron Chef America (Battle King Crab).

According to my father, anything that isn't Maryland Blue Crab is an inferior meat that needs all the help it can get (preach!).

But the massive size of King Crab (which is readily available in our area, though it is pricey) is a quality worth exploiting. I figure carefully cracking some King Crab legs so as to keep the meat intact in one large tube (then carefully removing the tendons) will give us a single hunk o' crab about the size of a chicken tender.

Given the looser structure of seafood, flouring won't really work, I think. What is called for here is a breading. I experimented with chicken tenders a while ago in the new deep fryer. Panko (Japanese) Breadcrumbs worked alright, but the crushed Ritz Crackers (generically called butter crackers) were a brainstorm of mine I was quite pleased with. It gave a pleasant butteryness to the tenders, and brought salt to the scenario, which saves me the trouble.

I'll try again and coat the chicken in egg (which I forgot) to try for a proper crust, then try with the crab.

I'm also planning a Tres Leche ("Three Milk") cake. But that's another Blog.

Not dead

Upgraded the computer to Windows 7, which means I have to reload Word, hence my weeklong absence.

The new fryer is awesome. Tried a few things, including three kinds of chicken tenders as research for my planned Deep-Fried Crab Legs.

Longer post to come.

Last night I did a Halibut Provincial (I'm sure I'm spelling that wrong) soup. It was sublime. I chose it because, as I've written before, I wan to work with fish more, but also because it uses fennel bulb, which I've been wanting to work with for a while now.

Fennel is a fascinating plant, distantly related to onions, I believe. I think it is unique in the vegetation world because it produces a spice (fennel seeds), an herb (fennel frond) and a vegetable (the bulb or root). I've used the seeds in pasta sauce for years, but this was the first time I've worked with the bulb. I sweated the chopped bulb with a chopped onion and the smell was amazing.

Add some garlic (alright, a lot of garlic), salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme, vegetable broth and of course the fish.

The soup came out with a buttery quality, despite the complete absense of butter. It's a soup miracle!

And the herbs worked well, but a bit more spice is called for, and more salt to bring out the other flavors.

I'll definitly be making this again, though not often, as halibut is expensive around here.

Dessert was a Pepper Vodka Mango Sorbet from Alton Brown, made with fake sugar to keep it inkeeping with the healthyness of Sunday dinners.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of my Steak & Potatoes epic sometime this week.

PS; We got a deep fryer on sale yesterday. This week will be fun.

I just made some fantastic scrambled eggs.

Making a Mango pepper-vodka sorbet this weekend. With fake sugar. *sigh*

Did Uncle Dick's meatloaf this week, and somehow it was undercooked. There was a raw bit, but not in the center, where you'd expect it. Not sure how that happened.

Quick bites

Reviewing my food note book of dinners I cooked this past week.

Monday - Crab Burgers
From the family cookbook I put together a few years ago, this is my grandmother Bob's recipe. I prepare faithfully, including onions and celery, which I now feel are superfluous. A bit too crabcakey, the aromatics overpowering the cheese. In future just crap meat, shredded cheese and just enough mayonnaise to hold it together.

Set a bun on fire with the broiler.

Thinking of maybe a crab bruschetta.

Tuesday - Crock Pot Pepper Pork Chops
A new recipe for me, from Alton Brown. Fantastic. Definitly a keeper. The pepper flavor is strong without overpowering the pork.

Wednesday - Leftovers

Thursday - Smokey & Creamy Corn Soup
Another new recipe, from one of J&R's Weight Watchers cookbooks. The smokey component comes from Chipotle Powder, which my mother thought was too hot. It was right on the edge of my tolerance, but it worked.

Too late, I realized that corn bread was needed, but my mother whipped some up. Crumbled in the soup itself gives the soup a nice body and texture.

Fishy fish

I've never been huge on fish. I love tuna, like salmon, and the rest I could do without.

But I'm trying to expand myself, so I wanted to try cooking fish, rather than nibbling it when offered.

Thumbing through a Weight Watchers cookbook borrowed from J&R, I came across Honey Teriyaki Salmon. Honey, good. Teriyaki, good. Salmon, good. I immedietly decided it would be my first entree for Sunday Dinner.

It's a marinade dish, and one requiring stuff we already had in the kitchen; soy sauce, honey, garlic, ginger (left over from the Spice Cream) and citrus juice. I subbed Key Lime juice (which I also have on hand) for the called for fresh lemon.

But then there was the fish. J&R had graciously given me a slab of it last sunday, but it went off in our freezer during the week (one reason I buy most fresh ingredients as needed), so I had to go out and get some more. I grabbed a couple nice-looking pieces at "The Metro" (our local up-scale grocery), and got them home to discover not only bones but (~gasp!~) skin, which I hadn't realized in the store.

I see myself improving as I actively dedicate myself to cuisine, but my knife skills are wanting. I am certainly not up to anything involving blade and fish. Using our odd, off-set filey knife, I managed to skin the filets losing about a quarter of one filet and some clinging bits of shiny skin on the other.

J has known my parents and I since I was a child, longer than I can remember in fact. R has been around since my teen years. They are my extended family; my uncles.

And when they come to our house for dinner, they're lucky if I can get it up to put on shoes, or change out of my sweat pants. I have seen them passed out on my living room floor. They can suck down a few bits of skin, Weight Watchers be damned. At least I got all the bones out. I think.

For all the trouble with the fish, it turned out stupendous. The recipe, overtly healthy though it may be, will be dutifully transcribed into the computer, and enter my ever-growing slush fund of dishes.

Why, yes, I am a genius.

Finally got around to turning the Ginger Spice Cream. The turning didn't go so well; I think my ice cream maker is dying.

But the flavor is there. Two scoops in a martini glass with some Schweppes ginger ale poured over it. My father called it "sheer brilliance." It is reminiscent of a root beer float in it's creaminess, but the ginger is soooo crisp and light. An invigorating thing.

Meanwhile, I'm experimenting with a way of cooking my Flat Drunk Chicken on my pizza stone in the oven, rather than on a grill.

Soon, I will start the Tequila Risotto.

You heard me.

PS; "Ginger Spice". It just hit me.

I don't WANT to eat healthy, I want to eat GOOD!

My parents' best friends, who we'll call J&R, are in a bet with other friends in California, S&G about who can lose the most weight. Loser has to fly to visit the winner.

Obviously the 'rents and I are rooting for J&R, because then we get to see S&G, too.

To aid them, we've agreed to get together each Sunday for a healthy dinner.

Tonight marked the first Healthy Sunday Dinner at J&R's place. Dinner was chicken, pasta and oven-roasted veggies, after J helpfully inquired about what stuff I won't/can't eat (vegetables & raw tomatoes, for the record).

Next week, dinner is at our place and I'm cooking the mail course. J loaned me a couple Weight Watchers cookbooks and even a hunk of salmon, when I mentioned I'd been wanting to cook with salmon.

I've never been keen on "healthy" cooking. I feel that good food is healthy enough. I've been losing weight without counting calories or sodium or compromising ingredients (whole milk is for cooking, 2% for drinking, skim for watering plants).

But thumbing through the books, I found some things I really want to try.

How does Teriyaki Honey Salmon sound? Sounds yummy to me.

Pappardelle (not really) bolognese

This experiment is correction of a cardinal sin. Upon first reading Mario Batali's "Babbo Cookbook", I cooked up a variation of this recipe without making it as intended first.

I eliminated things I figured weren't important and I didn't like, specifically celery and carrots.

Turns out that shit is important. And, more amazing, I liked them.

Chopped onions, celery and carrots together make up the Italian aromatic mix called Gremolotta. Or is it Gradiska? Anyway, it's a big deal and I kick myself for blowing it off last time.

One thing is, I couldn't find Pappardelle pasta (wide strips of flat pasta). Batali being Batali, his recipe involves making ones own pasta, and I'm not above that sort of thing, but I have no pasta roller. So I bought lasagna noodles, partially cooked them and sliced them into little sheets, then finished them in the sauce itself.

It worked, but I cut the pasta too big.

Finished with some shaved parmisan, fresh oregano and a bit of olive oil (extra virgin, of course).

A successful venture.

New rule: No fucking with a new recipe until I've made it properly once.

A few years ago I started making Pumpkin Pie Spice Ice Cream, which is just a vanilla ice cream recipe with Pumpkin Pie Spice mix added. It's delicious, but the name was a mouthful, so I asked around about what to call it.

My friend Moriah suggested "Spice Cream" which is so fucking perfect I can't believe I didn't think of it.

But the name also opened up the possibility in my head of other Spice Creams, and the first that popped into my head was ginger. A proper Ginger Ice Cream; like as would put a proper hurtin' on ya. But I can get fresh ginger at the store, so I'll go that route instead of using the dried spice.

Steak & Potatoes; part 1

It’s not that hard to follow a recipe. Just about anyone can cook like that (and everyone, at a bare minimum should know that much).

But there’s so much more than that. It’s the “why” of cooking that fascinates me.

Why, for example, do we put salt in everything? Even things we don’t want to taste like salt? Have you ever thought about this as you toss a pinch into a cake batter, or a cup of coffee (yes, some people put salt in their coffee)? Why do some people (including me) put a pinch of sugar in red pasta sauce?

Why do cookbooks call for volumes of flour (cups and such) while professional bakers weigh it (metrically, no less)?

It’s knowing the answers to these questions that make a great cook.

For the purposes of illustration, I’m embarking on a series of essays about one of my favorite meals, an icon of the American table.

Steak and potatoes.

This is cowboy food, and cowboys didn’t have a lot of room to lug around all kinds of exotic ingredients.

My take on this dish is comprised of only six (6) ingredients. The steak, the potato, salt, pepper, oil and butter.

When really learning to cook beyond just following a recipe, I believe it’s best to start simple. Less components means less variables to account for, less new information to absorb. Once you have those basics, you can begin studying and incorporating more methods and flavors.

But simple isn’t always easy.

Within this simplicity, there are so many choices to make. After all, who among us has not eaten or even *cough* served shoe leather and library paste masquerading as the John Wayne Special.

I originally intended this to be one blog post, but I got one thousand words into it and hadn’t gotten to the potatoes yet, so I’ll be breaking it up into a series, each dealing with one element of the dish. This allows me to go more in depth (and indulge my penchant for overwriting).