Even Tilapia can taste good . . .

Recipe coming tomorrow.

A Free Master Course from Marco Pierre White

Before he tore up British "celebrities" on Hell's Kitchen, Marco Pierre White was the first big deal in Britain. He was the first "rock star chef," but more importantly, he was an enfant terrible. Courtesy of YouTube, here's how it is done (also note one of the chefs, Gordon Ramsay, who Marco famously made cry; needless to say, Ramsay's out of his league here).

Late Night Cooking: Poached Chicken with Spinach and Pearl Onions

Last night when I got back from a happy hour fundraiser, I was absolutely famished. So I did what anyone would do and spent an hour cooking.

3 Skinned and Boned Chicken Breasts; brined in 2 quarts water, 1 cup sea salt, .5 cup sugar, 2 bay leaves, 1 Japanese chile. (You can adjust the salt to taste, but be sure to raise the sugar appropriately to make sure that you're not cutting it out of the flavor.) Brine for at least 6 hours, preferably overnight.
1 "bushel" Spinach; I have no idea what in the world to call the amount of spinach, past it's in its usual grocery store form of being clumped together with a band around the middle. Use the whole thing. It's ~1lb.
6 pearl onions.

Skin and halve the onions, coat lightly in olive oil, salt, and pepper (to taste), and set aside.

In a stock pot, pour in enough water to leave at least an inch of breathing room between the surface of the chicken breasts and the surface of the water. I believe I put in approximately 3 quarts. Take the water to a brisk boil, then turn it down to approximately low/mid heat. I watched the water with my thermometer until it was 160 degrees. Drop the chicken breasts in, and cook for 15-20 minutes, holding at that temperature. If they aren't done, check your water temps to see how far the breasts brought down the temps, and add on 5-10 mins and keep checking. Poaching, if done correctly, will not leech flavor. But, if the water gets too hot, it's game over. So check those temperatures!

While the chicken is cooking, coat the bottom of a saute pan in olive oil. Cut the stems from the spinach (you can leave a half an inch on; if you like the stalk, leave a bit more). Put the spinach in, coat with salt, pepper, 2 tsp garlic, 1 tsp sage, and 1/2 tsp ginger. Watch the spinach. You want the spinach to become bright green, with only minor darkening on the edges and parts of the stalks. Once it becomes bright green and sauteed (but not dark, wilted, and mushy; be aware of this), turn off the heat, cover the pan but allow for a sliver of ventilation, and set aside.

Once the chicken is poached, remove from the water, dry off, and immediately throw it in a sauce pan with a tblspoon of olive oil. Coat with salt, pepper, ginger, and garlic (all in pinches), and keep tossing. The key to this is even coating; skinless chicken breasts become stringy incredibly quickly. Coating the skin evenly and with minor bursts of heat help to give you that sauteed flavor without the stringiness on the surface. Once browned slightly, toss the spinach in, give a few tosses, cover, and set aside.

In the pan that had the spinach, place the onions, halved side down, put on medium/high heat, and cover. Let the surface caramelize. When you see the skin turning translucent, remove. You should have a nicely browned halve and a slightly translucent onion.

For presentation, slice each breast into thirds, and arrange it in the center of a dish with 1 piece being on the bottom and two pieces leaning on that piece (it looks somewhat like a triangle). Divide the spinach by three, and put one portion on top of the chicken and "drag it out" so that it goes towards the edge of the plate. One halve onion should be placed at the "4 corners," with one onion on the trail of spinach (4 halves per person, or 2 whole onions each). Finish with a very thin shaving of ginger on top of the chicken/spinach.

Pictures will be up when I make it again.

Saltines

Everybody has a culinary guilty pleasure. If you say you don't you're a liar, and you probably eat Spam by candlelight when your parents put you to bed. Mine is the saltine. And not any saltine--the generic saltine put out by whatever grocery store I go to. And here's why.

Saltines do a number of things for me. First off, they are a decent, casual snack that can be a light lunch if I'm in a hurry. They are versatile. They can take a jam just as easily as a brie. They can be slathered in hot sauce or any other sauce for that matter. They can be eaten plain, particularly the ones with a decent amount of salt (and nothing pisses me off more than buying saltines that have little to no salt; I bought saltines, not cardboard).

Secondly, they go together with my favorite and simplest of soups--tomato. When I was a kid, I was never a fan of that soggy bread texture resulted from placing crackers in soups. Therefore, I never did it. Tangentially, I hate cereal (to this day) for that very same reason: soggy bread/crackers are just too much for me. But for saltines, my tastes have matured (if you can call it that), and I like nothing more than a good tomato and basil soup with freshly cracked saltines and ground pepper. It's an incredible meal, one that I wish to eventually "perfect."

Mmmmmmmmm.

What's your guilty food pleasure?

Things to look forward to

1. Snail Porridge



2. Eggs Poached in Tea (Eggs Twining?).

Borrowing from another blog, BLT/IDM, I think the idea of tea and eggs can be expanded. How so? Well, it presents an interesting memory for me: sunday breakfast. I wasn't allowed to have coffee, so I'd drink heavily creamed and sugared tea (in a way to "mimic" coffee) with my eggs and bacons. While their recipe involves hard boiled eggs, I want to try something a bit different: poaching. How much of the flavor would be infused, if any? Further, instead of vinegar, what about a dash of lemon juice? We shall see . . .

3. Dinner Parties

There may or may not be 2 on the horizon. These are fun for a couple of obvious reasons. First, friends get together and have a good time over good food. And secondly, I get to cook, and depending on how much capital and time I have to work with, I get to cook very adventurously.

Stay tuned!

Some things I like . . .

Yesterday I told you what I didn't like about food and food culture. Now I will tell you about some things that I like:

• Molecular Gastronomy: it may have its detractors, but I find the entire movement to be one of the most fascinating trends--not only in cooking, but in culture as well. This is not necessarily because of its merits, but rather--regardless of whether you like MG or not (White, Marco Pierre)--it is because we are now discussing taste, flavors, smell, umami, sight, etc, etc. Molecular gastronomy has enabled us to look at food from an entirely different perspective, and this will only help cooking in the long run. While detractors are plenty (witness the current allegations of 'poisoning' against elBulli), most are just afraid of change. It happens man, it happens.
  
• Food Nostalgia: nostalgia arrives, usually, in the form of "homecooking." For example, I may think that my mother's tomato-crab sauce is the best possible tomato-crab sauce out there. Is it? Honestly, probably not. Yet we hold these types of assertions as undeniable truths--not because of logical relevance--but rather because our taste memories have imbued us with a static reference point (or status quo) of taste judgment. Some, like Heston Blumenthal, have wielded this gastronomical curiosity to great heights (like the entire In Search of Perfection program), but it is ripe for exploration in all levels of cooking, taste, and culture.
  
• The Michelin Guide: there is nothing more subjective than "liking" something. Further, there is nothing more preposterous than telling the world that your liking of that thing is the definitive judgment. That's why the Michelin Guide is so vital--not because it's accurate (which it probably is), but simple because it exists. It's a reference point, a place at which to start. Will everyone agree on who should get a star(s)? Doubtful. But the Guide at least comes with enough "gravitas" to allow the amateur to establish a foundation. Once we know who's at the top, it becomes a whole hell of a lot easier to know what path to take. The Michelin Guide shows us where to go--for better or for worse--and thus it is an invaluable resource. Even if Alain Ducasse doesn't step in his restaurants but once a decade.
  
• Accessibility: you want to buy foie gras, eh? Probably have you no idea where to go (or if it's been banned by the local government). Want a Douglas Fir puree? Same deal--where the hell do you get a Douglas Fir? And further, how in the world does one puree it? But once you get past instances like those, cooking and food culture is incredibly accessible. By its very nature, everyone at some point must cook or at least experience a meal. It is the only "art" that the entire world must partake in regardless of choice. If you don't partake, you die. With that being said, as a novice chef, there are books out there to guide you if you want to create a meal. You can go to schools, if you so please. Hell, even Wikipedia has some value. To borrow a well-worn, over-used, and overrated cliche: if the world truly is the young chef's oyster, then it's just a matter of shucking the damn thing. (I made that last bit up. sort of.)
  
• Art: yes, I referenced this in accessibility, but it is important enough to warrant further attention. Some people are adverse to cooking being called an art (regardless of whatever that high school cooking class was called). Some don't think that Eric Ripert paints his plate with seafood, or that Ferran Adria is every bit as mad in his logic (ham fat over cherries?) as Beethoven was in his composition. They simply refuse to see it. But riddle me this--what really separates cooking from "art?" Is it the use of naturally derived resources by which we change and transform into something likable? The last time I checked, marble came out of the earth, and unless I'm severely misinformed, so does asparagus. Could it be the use of mathematics that underlines the structure of most pieces? Because we need cups and ounces just as much as musicians need rhythm and painters need geometry. Where is the dividing line, exactly? The answer is simple--there isn't one.

I have more, but those are probably among the most prevalent. I usually like to leave Top 10 lists to Letterman, but there may be some in the future. Just sayin'.