The Gastronomic Phenomenon

I guess the tides have turned...

2010-04-26T23:01:00.000-04:00

A couple of months ago, I opined that el Bulli closing (at that time, temporarily, while it now will be closed permanently) will open the door for chefs to seize the #1 ranking on the S.Pellegrino 50 Best Restaurants list. I figured that this seizure may take a year or two, at the least. Well, I was wrong.

S.Pellegrino released their list a few hours ago in London. Here's the list. You'll notice that el Bulli is not on top. Noma, the Nordic restaurant led by genius Rene Redzepi is. The losers here? Blumenthal and Keller, without a doubt.

With regards to Blumenthal, the Fat Duck slid to third. Yes, they had food poisoning concerns earlier in the year. That probably warranted the slide. But...Blumenthal is a magician, a modern day Willy Wonka. I find it hard to believe that this choice was an easy one, but hey, I've been wrong before.

Keller was hit the hardest, though. Not only did Per Se slide, but The French Laundry slid many a place all the way to 32. Remember, this was on top of the list not a decade ago. What happened? Well that answer may be complicated, but in my opinion, it deals with Keller not being there. Many reviewers have stated that while the quality is high, it isn't what it was when Keller was behind the stove. Can the same be said for Per Se? I suppose only time will tell...

The winners are clearly Redzepi and Grant Achatz, whose Alinea is now the best restaurant in N. America. That is quite a feat, and he will only continue to march on. Unless of course he decides to have an empire.

(And BTW, Mr. Overrated Himself, Gordan Ramsay, has not a restaurant on the list--or even the top 100. Keep making your TV shows, it's doing wonders for your real job!)

What Have I Been Up To Lately?

2010-04-25T17:05:00.000-04:00

The answer to that is simply: school. Exams are coming up, and I'm on the editorial board of our publication at school. That has taken up a crazy amount of time, and has not left me the space to really cook up some amazing dishes.

That being said, I got a smoker. A friend at school is moving, and he gave me his off-set smoker. What are my thoughts?

1. It's tricky. A lot trickier than I had imagined. That being said, I can smoke a piece of meat while working, so it's efficient!
2. I'm starting to get into the whole rubs and sauces bit. More on that later.
3. I'm staring at an 8lb pork shoulder right now; hoping to make some pulled pork in ~4 hours!

As always, I'll keep you guys posted. Hell month is over in a couple of weeks, and I'll have much more time to devote to my favorite past time.

The Greatest Chef You've Probably Never Heard Of

2010-04-25T12:28:00.000-04:00

The recent Brittany episode of No Reservations really piqued my curiosity. Seafood, to me, is the end-all of cooking. Beef...chicken...pork...they all seem so simple when compared to seafood. Brittany, of course, is famous for its seafaring history, its oysters (the Belon; if you think you've had it, you probably haven't unless you've been to Brittany), and lastly, its chef--Olivier Roellinger.

His story is really compelling. Olivier had suffered a horrendous accident, which caused him to relearn not only how to walk again, but to live again. This newfound sense of livelihood eventually propelled him to a 3rd Michelin Star in 2006. Then he gave it all up, not 2 years later.

What does he do now? Relaxation...in his food...his life...etc. What intrigues me about him is simple: he's such a great chef, yet doesn't care for the "establishment." He doesn't need others telling what's good, what's bad, what's wrong, what's right. The stress was too much, and I presume that his prior experiences really just told him to enjoy it while it lasts.

However, he isn't out of the game, so-to-speak. He runs this place, and ironically enough, it just earned its first Michelin star. He runs a store full of spices as well, which is fairly neat. And to add onto that, he apparently designed a $100 pepper mill.

Life's not always so bad, eh?

Smoking...

2010-03-21T20:00:00.002-04:00

(no, not that kind!)

My friend Randy has a smoker. An electric smoker. I thought these things didn't exist, but alas, they do. Currently we have a 3 lb. brisket going, with some mesquite chips helping flavor the meat. I'll post up when it's done, but needless to say, we opened up the door to the balcony just so we can smell that incredible blend of wood and meat.

So it's not very "haute," but hell, sometimes you need to enjoy the simple things. Like smoking a beef brisket on a school night.

White Truffle Oil

2010-03-08T14:29:00.002-05:00

Yes, I know it's fake and not made from real truffles. Yes, I know it's not the same as having actual truffle slices or shavings. But . . . the flavor! I used this with making a sauce for lobster, and to say it interacted well with the lobster meat would be an understatement.

Sometimes, when we cook, we have go-to ingredients. For a while, mine was curry powder. Curry is so flexible and so easy to use in small quantities. See, when we season, we almost always overdo it. That's the nature of the beast . . . we need to have more to compensate for our perception of inadequate flavor (especially those who cook a fair amount, largely because you get used to salt very quickly; the opposite is also true, btw--more on this later!). But I think after this past week of experimenting, I feel that WTO will soon be it. It's so versatile, and simply adds a richness and a depth, that when used appropriately, enhances the umami and meat flavors of a dish.

Stay tuned for some more recipes; in the past week, I've done a scallop dish and a lobster dish to a variety of degrees of success. I have one lobster left, and I will probably tackle that beast in the next day or so.

So my apologies for the lack of posts, it was my break, and boy oh boy did I need it.

My Perfect Roast Chicken

2010-03-01T16:04:00.002-05:00

". . . I knew then I couldn't call myself a chef just because I ran a kitchen. In the end, of course, the importance of trussing a chicken meant far more than actually trussing a chicken." - Thomas Keller

Trussing a chicken, in the words of the great TK, makes the bird. It cooks more evenly, and it protects the thinnest part of the breast, which is usually what's overcooked. It provides for a bit more area near the darker sections, where the chicken is habitually undercooked. Here's how you truss a chicken:

"Position the chicken so that its cavity faces you. Place the center of a 2-foot-long piece of butcher's string beneath the chicken's tail, the little triangle at the bottom of the cavity. Lift the string up outside each leg and pull it down between the legs, reversing the direction of each end so that they cross. Pull the strong over the thighs (the drum sticks should squeeze together at this point) and the wings. Maintaining tension on the string, turn the chicken on its side, wind the ends of the string over the neck, and tie securely." - The French Laundry Cookbook, p. 171.

Some caveats. I used cotton string, because Target isn't exactly the end-all for cooking supplies. My chickens didn't have the neck (I know, I know), so instead I tied a fairly tight knot where the neck would be.

Roast Chicken

1 Chicken, as fresh as possible. Mine was approximately 3.5 lbs.
2 tsp White Truffle Oil
Sea Salt
Fresh Ground Black Pepper
1 tblspoon thyme.

Clean the chicken and pat it dry, removing any extraneous feathers. Coat the cavity in salt, pepper, and thyme. Truss the bird. Place the chicken in a roasting pan, breast-side up, and with your hand, rub in the truffle oil, coating the skin as completely as possible. I did it tsp by tsp, so as to enhance the surface area rubbed in and (to hopefully) rub more into the places that need it. Coat with sea salt and pepper. I go a bit heavier on these, preferring to see the individual crystals. Cook at a high temperature--425-450--until the thigh meat, at its deepest point, hits 165. Like TK says, the sooner the dark meat is done, the moister the breast will be.

I used the drippings and made a simple reduction. Add about a tablespoon of dijon mustard, a tablespoon of thyme, a tablespoon of old bay/baltimore spice (thanks Art!), a bit of water (I usually do a cup per 2 cups of drippings), and reduce by half. Serve over a piece of bread, with a generous amount of sauce. I prefer the sauce to be a bit liquidy for chicken; I'm not sure why, other than I used to get freaked out by jellied sauces on my Thanksgiving turkey early on in life, so the habit has just stuck to make them a bit "loose."

Disclaimer: some like cooking chicken to about 150 or 160. You can do that, just keep an eye on the dark meat and make sure that it's done. More often than not, it's the last to finish and it will be undercooked if you take it out when the breast hits 160. So be careful!

1 chicken serves 2-4. For tonight, I have 2 chickens. Simple meal, with simple flavors, done right. Does it get better than this?

Enjoy.

Tasting Menus--What Say You?

2010-02-23T23:36:00.001-05:00

So, in the middle of a shit ton of school work, I'm attempting to put together a tasting menu for a close friend of mine (check out her ridiculously good fashion blog-The Queen of Hearts). Some people seem to go either way with tasting menus. Some believe them to be nothing more than an excuse not to prepare a lot of food or a "proper" meal; others seem to love the fact that you grab the persons attention and never let go, never letting them meet the "law of diminishing returns or flavors" head on. I think I'm in the latter group, but honestly, I've never done one. My true opinion will have to wait . . .

That being said, here are some ideas. 5 courses, nothing too big, but with a decent amount of variety. Here's what I have in mind thus far:

Tomato "Bisque": the idea for this course came around the time I was opining about guilty pleasures. This will be my first use of tomato on this menu, but in reality, I need to be using it more. I grew up eating tomatoes whole, or cut in half with a healthy dose of salt on them. If you have wonderfully fresh, garden variety tomatoes, the skies the limit--you just need to not be afraid of their acidity. I'm keeping this one underwraps until it's been tested, but for the sake of conversation, it may or may not include a ravioli, a basil/cream emulsion, and some . . . well . . . "coarse" salt.
Salmon Tartare with Gruyere over Leeks and Spinach: this takes inspiration from a recent dish I did for a school-function, and it consisted of a ravioli stuffed with salmon mousse, green onion, and swiss cheese. I thought the combination was amazing; the sharp, tanginess of the swiss really set off the flavors of the salmon nicely. I'd like to bring the salmon flavor to perhaps a cleaner forefront (hence the tartare preparation), but I think that to offset it, a basic "salad" would work well to give it some balance and textural comparison.
Butter-Poached Lobster with Rosemary, Beurre Monte, and Tomato Confit: this will be my second preparation of Keller's butter-poaching method, the first being a pretty decent smash. This is another dish where I really think the powers of the tomato can help out; the acidity should be offset by the beurre monte, and it should all wrap together very nicely. Lobster needs some acidity; hence the vinegar in the water while steeping. Add a bit more to finish, and it should be a nice pairing. And just to reiterate, rosemary, when it's not overpowering and at the forefront of the flavors, may be the most delectable spice to use with lobster.
Braised Lamb Chop with Asparagus and Wild Mushrooms: lamb may be my favorite red meat; when done right, I can't help but literally suck the marrow out of the bone. I prepared lamb for Valentine's Day, and I think it went over really well. Asparagus seems to get a bad rap (or is it wrap? I guess it depends on how you're using it [the asparagus, that is?]), but the main task when preparing asparagus is to remove the bitterness. I like how mushrooms will contrast with that bitterness, and I think the earthiness really helps the lamb nicely. I'm not a fan of doing a lot to lamb; it's flavor is so rich that really, it stands on its own, and for my dish, it'll be at the forefront.
Lemon Tart: simply put, this is a tribute to Marco Pierre White. I'll be adding my own twist, but the classic taste should remain the same. The structure, on the other hand . . .

I'll obviously be charting the progress of these dishes, that evening, and any possible changes. Your feedback is, as always, more than welcome!

My Grandmother's Fried Chicken

2010-02-18T18:58:00.000-05:00

One of the things that has come up in random conversations this week is chicken. Fried chicken, to be specific. Lent begins this week, and traditionally, Catholics the world over give up something of great value or enjoyment to themselves. Mine should have been fried chicken, but it wasn't.*

See, ever since I was a little kid, fried chicken has been a weakness. A really, really big weakness. My grandmother used to make it at home, using some old world Italian tricks, and it tasted phenomenal. (whether the tricks had anything to do with that remains to be seen). We used to eat it cold with some salt and pepper, usually at the beach. At the time, I probably hated it. Now, it's the way that fried chicken should taste, and what I compare everything to in an effort to make the best fried chicken myself. To me, fried chicken isn't spicy, or overly complex, or anything that KFC would market (although, I am ashamed to admit, I have frequented KFC a few times in the past). It's that slightly soggy crust, the salt crystals, and that cold, day-after frying taste. And ever since then, I've been searching for that perfect recipe that mimics the exact tastes and textures of that chicken. But like Platonic forms, it will probably never amount to anything other than debate, sorrow, and a false sense of accomplishment.

The point of this is simple: in food, we have reference points. We have emotions tied to these reference points. Because I was happy eating fried chicken when my grandmother made it, then I am (usually) happy when I'm eating cold fried chicken (like at 1:30 today); the taste has memories of happiness, so therefore when I come close to the taste, I remember the happiness. Likewise, if I was sad or upset, that taste reference point and emotions will also come into play with negative effect. Hence my almost severe aversion to anything formed into a fake patty of fish. One day in elementary school I was pretty upset, and for lunch I had fish sticks. Just that memory tie-in alone is enough for me to look with utter disgust at a box of fish sticks, flake-formed patties, etc. (I almost vomited the last time I thought about a McDonald's Filet of Fish).

So a moral of this story is pretty simple: remember your food, remember your life, and try to get the people that you cook for to do the same. If you can do that, then your meals will be all the better for it.

(*I'm floating between things to give up, but right now it's between either nail-biting, cursing, or pepsi. I'll probably do nail-biting. Maybe. And yes, I should have made this decision by yesterday. And yes, I didn't make that decision by yesterday. So sue me, I'm trying!)

Thomas Keller Appreciation Night

2010-02-14T00:08:00.006-05:00

Butter-Poached Lobster with Zucchini, Portobellos, and Rosemary-Infused Rice.

4 Lobster Tails, ~5oz a piece
1 Medium Zucchini
3 Portobello Caps, sliced to about 3/8" thick (2 slices per plate)
1.5C Rice, long grain.
4 Sprigs fresh Rosemary.
Butter (I used 6 sticks; it depends on how big your pot is)
Salt
Pepper
Olive Oil

Serves 4.

For the beurre monte.
In order to get to the heart of Thomas Keller's famous butter-poached lobster, one must make a beurre monte. Put your lobster tails in a pot, and cover with water so that you have about 1/4" between the water and the tops of the tails. Drain and measure the water. That's the amount of butter you will need. I needed ~6 sticks (I needed roughly 4C, but I like to be sure and I wanted a bit more beurre monte). Boil 1 tablespoon of water in a pot, and then incorporate chunks of butter, whisking constantly. This will allow the butter to maintain its emulsified state; without that water, it'll break up and clarify. DO NOT let it reach above 200 degrees (or to boil). It will break, and then you're fucked. Set this aside (you have about an hour, so relax, and keep it on very low). (once you're done poaching, you can also keep it frozen).

Removing the lobster shells.
Boil about 2 quarts water with 1/8C white distilled vinegar. Turn it to half, wait until the bubbles stop appearing, and pop the tails in there. Steep for 3 minutes. Remove them from the water, and then take the shells off (save them for stock!). Set aside, covered.

For the rice.
Create a tea with 3 sprigs of rosemary and 4 cups of water. Steep for 10 minutes (at least, more if more flavor is desired). Let it boil down to about 3.5C, add the rice, and constantly check on it. Rice is a tricky bitch, and you can always add a tad more water to make sure it cooks through. But once it's overcooked, it's game over, so watch out and keep your eye on it. Mine took ~20 minutes tops.

For the zucchini.
I put about a cup of water in the bottom of pot, and place the slices (roughly 3/8" thick) in there clockwise. Season with salt/pepper, and steam for about 10 minutes; wait until the centers start to become translucent, and immediately remove them from heat, set aside.

For the portobellos.
Place the ports in about 2 tablespoons butter and 1tablespoon olive oil, season with salt/pepper, and saute until each side is getting a bit brown. Roughly 4-5 a side, depending on your heat (I prefer to cook ports at lower temps, right around medium, to enrich their flavor--remember folks, browning seals in NOTHING).

For the butter-poached lobster.
Put the tails in the beurre monte. You want to make sure it is no higher than 180 degrees (170-175 is preferable). I used a little $20 kettle that has much more precise temp control than my stove. Again, always check the temp. Always, always, always. Cook for about 7-9 minutes, depending upon size and how deep the beurre monte is. The deeper it is, the more likely for temp fluctuation (unless you have a sweet circulator; if you do, well, fuck you, and please send me one!). I sprinkled some rosemary on the top; whether or not it did anything is debatable, but I like to think it did. (and yes, there are bubbles, but I took this right after doing a stir and dropping them in; I assure you it did not boil!)

For presentation.
Start with a spoonful of rice; I kept the rosemary in the rice for taste and presentation purposes. You can remove it if you like. Put the zucchini next to it, 3 slices per plate, and then place the lobster on top. Put 2 slices of port per plate, and drizzle with the lobster-steeped beurre monte. Sprinkle parsley, and serve. I did about 4 different ones, but pictures of the fourth suck. My bad.

It's all about finesse- Thomas Keller

Enjoy.

Ferran Adrià closing el Bulli PERMANENTLY.

2010-02-13T12:06:00.000-05:00

Wow.

From the NYT's Food Blog:

Ferran Adrià, the Catalan chef who for two decades has been the leading catalyst and inspiration for avant-garde cuisine, has decided to permanently close his restaurant El Bulli, considered by many to be the world’s greatest, and to replace it with an academy for advanced culinary study, Mr. Adrià said in an interview on Friday.

In January, Mr. Adrià had said that the restaurant would go on a hiatus starting in 2012 , but that it would reopen in 2014. For many years El Bulli, in the Mediterranean town of Roses, north of Barcelona, closed for half the year so Mr. Adrià and his chefs could spend the off months developing new techniques, like the foams, airs and other culinary wizardry that he has created.

He told The Wall Street Journal at that time that his research would “be focused on sustaining and growing our brand however possible. A brand with goals like ours requires a big capital investment.’’

On Friday he said he decided to close the restaurant for good because he and his partner, Juli Soler, had been losing a half million Euros a year on the restaurant and his cooking workshop in Barcelona.

“At that level of contribution,’’ he said of the losses, “I think we would rather see the money go to something larger that expands the concept and spirit of what El Bulli represents.’’

He said he would use that money — which he earns mostly from consultancies and other businesses — to establish his new academy and to finance scholarships so the world’s most talented cooks can attend.

“We had planned to use the two years to see how El Bulli could evolve,’’ Mr. Adrià said in a telephone interview. “We’ve been looking at many options, but yesterday we decided that the foundation would be the most satisfying.’’

He said of the demands of the restaurant, “at that bestial pace, it would be impossible to continue.’’
Adrià said the academy would be “a place for free thinking and kicking around ideas’’ about food. The El Bulli academy would likely work with many cooking schools around the world and would seek students — perhaps 25 in the first year — who had the highest levels of professional training.

“Throughout the history of El Bulli we’ve made seemingly drastic decisions in order to maintain our level of creativity,’’ he said.

Mr. Adrià, 47, arrived at El Bulli in 1983, when it was a French restaurant. Soon he took charge of the kitchen and by the 1990s it became known as a laboratory for daring innovation.

“Mr. Adrià’s idea, as he describes it, was simply to ‘do new things with old concepts,’’’ Mark Bittman wrote in 2006. “So, seeing chicken curry as a concept and determining to do something that hadn’t been done before, he developed a dish, now famous, in which the sauce is solid and the chicken liquid.’’

In 1997 he won three Michelin stars. He has since been proclaimed by many to be the greatest chef in the world. He has been widely influential in the spread of “molecular gastronomy’’ — a term he has renounced.

The restaurant will reopen for six months on June 15 after its winter break and will close for good in December 2011.

The 3,000 people on the waiting list for one of about four dozen seats, will just have to hope that someday Mr. Adrià will open another restaurant.

He said that has no plans to, but the academy might be open for breakfast, or an occasional lunch. (And he is the director of gastronomy at El Bulli Hacienda Benazuza hotel near Sevilla.)
“Everything new looks strange,’’ Mr. Adrià said.

http://eater.com/archives/2010/02/12/adria-changes-mind-will-close-el-bulli-permanently.php
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/feb/13/ferran-adria-closes-el-bulli

I will have reaction a bit later. Needless to say, the only reaction is wow. Just wow. What a shame. Adrià was unrelenting; he refused to open another el Bulli, and in the end, that may have cost him. But he stuck to his guns. Where would we be if Keller didn't open Per Se or Bouchon? Or if Blumenthal didn't have the Hines Head right next to the Fat Duck? This is the manifestation of "behind the stove" v. "restaurateur."

If you're snowed in (or even if you aren't)...

2010-02-11T00:42:00.002-05:00

It always helps to have something to dream about.

The Kulinary Gangsta, and why Guy Fieri needs to go back to his cave.

2010-02-09T10:07:00.000-05:00

I want you to watch that video at least 5 times. When you're done, watch it once just so the image of the bleached-haired, yellow-jacketed Guy Fieri is burnt into your skull like the Jeff Bridges-voiced Hyundais were during the Super Bowl. It will be painful, but it is necessary.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this clown, he won one of those stupid fucking Next Food Network Star shows and has been flooding TV screens ever since, on shows such as Guy's Big Bite, Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, and Ultimate Recipe Showdown. It appears that the Food Network's logic was clear: he appealed to that booming, chopper-loving, freewheeling, multi-pierced dynamic, and could bring a bit of "wtf" to a lineup that includes ever-growing wasteband of Emeril Lagasse, the eye candy of Giada De Laurentiis, and the Michelin-starred success of one Robert Flay. (I'm kidding on that last one; McDonald's is closer to a Michelin star than Bobby Flay will ever be).

If you were still defending the Food Network, you have no choice but to jump ship at this point. It simply blows; the shows/lineup serve no purpose, and as long as they continue to gear up for market niches and demographics and not actual food or culinary legitimacy, it will be relegated to purgatory on my TiVO. I understand that you need to pay the bills, but really, this is the best you can come up with? Fuck, I'd rather watch Hannah Montana at this point.

But hey, we can all be kulinary gangstas, right?

(If you want an actual cooking show, look no further than Eric Ripert, except maybe when Mario Batali finally gets a mainstream show on PBS; common theme? Public broadcasting).

My Perfect Wings

2010-02-07T23:12:00.007-05:00

What's better than hot wings during the Super Bowl? I can think of no other dish to eat during the big game (and this year's was a very big game). Here's what I do to make the perfect batch wings...

10lbs wing pieces...usually frozen
1 Gallon Cold Water
1.5 Cups Cajun Spice (depends on the salt content; you want ~1.25 cups salt in the brine)
2 Sprigs Fresh Rosemary
1 Bunch (small) Parsley
2 Lemons, juiced
3 tablespoons black peppercorn
2 tablespoons thyme
1 bulb of garlic, peeled and smashed
10 bay leaves

2 parts favorite hot sauce
1 part butter

First, make the brine. In part, it was inspired by Thomas Keller's brine for fried chicken. I made some adjustments, including no honey, more pepper, less bay leaves, and substituting cajun spice for salt (it adds some heat, and depending on the spice, will have a large amount of salt content; if you get nervous about too much salt, then limit it to about a cup or so). You want to make the brine by mixing all of the ingredients listed thoroughly, to ensure equal dispersion of spice. Subsequently, put the defrosted wing pieces in it, and store it for at least 4 hours in the fridge (picture shown was after they were taken out). Overnight is preferred, but the lack of meat (and thus flesh to penetrate) is a key difference between brining wings and normal chicken pieces. I used the bag that the wing pieces came in because it was easy and you can seal it. Less oxygen = quicker, more effective brining.

Second, heat the fryer. I used a small batch fryer (~10 wings at a time), with about 3/4 gallon of vegetable oil. I prefer peanut oil, but vegetable oil has a good smoking point. The fryer should be eated to about 360-365. Mine has a radial knob, so I put it slightly past 350. It'll do the trick. I usually wait 15 mins for it heat effectively.

Third, rinse the brine, pat the wings dry, and put them in, making sure they don't overlap or they'll stick together (if you don't mind breaking up melded chicken flesh, then be my guess). The amount of wings will depend upon size of the fryer. Like I said, I fit about 10-11 wings depending on size and type of piece (I can fit more drumstick type pieces). Cook for approximately 13 minutes, or until golden brown with fringes of deeper brown. I prefer my wings to be very crispy, mostly because I just adore the taste of crispy chicken skin. So sue me; I know it's not healthy!

To serve, I present the wings, sans sauce, with a sprig or two of rosemary. I prefer to put the sauce on very late, so as to preserve the crispiness of the skin and the taste of the flesh. For the sauce, put the 2 parts hot sauce with the 1 part butter in a pan, and simmer until mixed. I add a few drops of Blair's Ultra Death Sauce for good effect. The amount of sauce I usually make is ~3 cups, so you're looking at a 2C:1C ratio of hot sauce:butter. Do NOT buy the premade wing sauce; the fake butter will kill you, or at the very least, make your wings taste like burnt silicone. Simply toss a few wings in sauce, and then serve on a separate plate with a sprig of rosemary. These wings are so good that you don't need a sauce, so don't feel threatened or pressured. Enjoy.

Snail Porridge ala Heston Blumenthal

2010-02-06T13:11:00.036-05:00

I can take no credit for this dish, except where I deviate. The genius behind the combination is Heston Blumenthal, and it goes without saying that my changes would have never been possible had he not put the two together.

16 Snails (usually 1.5doz in a can)
2.25 C of Oats, sifted
6 oz unsalted sweet cream butter
1.5 C chopped parsley
4 Cloves Garlic
3 pearl onions, small dice
5 slices of prosciutto (basically, 1 package of the pre-sliced, or about 1/4 pound)
3 Leeks
2 C Chicken stock
Caviar
Olive Oil
Salt
Pepper

Serves 4.

To prepare the snails:
Clean the snails. There will be a sack of grey goo; squeeze it out, and rinse the solution that they were preserved in. Take one slice of proscuitto, mince it, and place it in a pot with about 2 oz (half a stick) of butter. Throw in the parsley, onions, and 3 garlic cloves. Cook for about 10 mins, then add the rest of the butter. Have it cook, simmering over medium heat, for about 30 mins. At the halfway point I added some fantastic Greek olive oil, a splash (~tblspoon), just to get a bit different flavor out of the snails.

To prepare the porridge:
Heat the chicken stock with a pinch of salt, pinch of pepper, and the last garlic clove, over medium high heat, until it starts to boil. Throw in the oats, and keep incorporating the oats into the stock. You won't have enough liquid, but don't worry. When the snails are down, drain the entire pot of snails right into the porridge. Pluck the snails out of the sifter or colander, and take all of that goodness in there and put it into the porridge as well. Always keep incorporating; if it's too thick, add either chicken stock or water slowly. I like it thick, almost like a risotto.

To prepare the leeks:
Take your leeks, clean them, cut off the end and the flowers/leaves, and throw them in a pot of boiling, salted water. Boil for about 5 minutes, then blanch them in cold water. In a pan with a tblspoon of olive oil, saute the leeks, but be weary of their structure. You don't want them to disintegrate, you want them to keep that nice, long look. When they are done sauteing, you want to cut them, long-wise, into thirds.

For the presentation:
I have two favorite presentations. With both, start with a decent spoonful of porridge in the center of the plate; I presume it's about 3/4 of a cup or so. Now take a few pieces of leek, and place it on top of the porridge, almost like a bed of vegetation. Alternatively, you can place one leek to the side, and one leek in the center of the porridge. Place 4 snails on top of the porridge; either directly on the leeks or around the centered leek (which ever presentation you prefer). Slice the remaining prosciutto in half, and roll up the halves to resemble a horn/cornucopia shape. You want to ease the smaller end into the snail shell; for the presentation with the bed of leek, simply add this to the top of the snails. Add another leek to the side of the porridge, and place a dab of caviar at the end. Sprinkle with parsley, or use bigger leaves and place dabs of caviar in the middle. For the second presentation, with the leek in the middle of the porridge, the ham can be placed to the side of the porridge, with it overlapping the edge, big open end of the cone facing up. For the caviar, place a spoonful on the side of the dish, and add a shell to make it appear like another snail.

While this dish is much simpler than Blumenthal's original, it incorporates the original spirit and contrasts that his has, while adding my own bits and different ideas. Enjoy.

Feast: Snail Porridge ala Blumenthal, Scallops and Prosciutto, Roast Beef, and Pineapple Upside Down Cake

2010-02-06T11:59:00.007-05:00

Last night was a feast. There was a lot of cooking. A lot of good wine. A decent amount of licorice tasting spirits, which may or may not include absinthe.

What the [temporary] closing of elBulli really means

2010-02-03T22:22:00.009-05:00

If you're a foodie, then you've heard by now that the best chef in the world is closing shop for 2012 and 2013. If you're not a foodie, let me summarize Ferran Adria quickly: he's the best chef in the world. He thinks about food like no one else, and he is as brilliant as any artist you can imagine. He is the Picasso of the culinary arts. This may seem like an overstatement, but it is just reality. His methods were highly guarded secrets, but any glimpse into his madness, like the elBulli 2003-2004 cookbook, are so highly sought after that many a chef will happily pay $200+ for a chance to learn from the master. He changed the life of Grant Achatz. Hell, he changed my perspective on cooking forever, shifting it from sustenance and work to pure joy and expression.

But now he will be gone for 2 years. What does it mean? Well, it means a few things. First, if we are to believe the press release, the 2 year absence will result in an encyclopedia of knowledge that Adria has built up in over 30 years of experience. Needless to say, that will be the most sought after book of all time. Sorry, Heston. Second, this is an opportunity. For Grant Achatz. For Heston Blumenthal. For Thomas Keller. They weren't going to surpass el Bulli on S. Pellegrino's 50 Best in the World list. They just aren't in the same league. (Keller's French Laundry had the title from 2003-2004; The Fat Duck had the title in 2005; elBulli has had the title ever since.) Now, though, they will have a chance. Will they take it?

Only time will tell. My money is on Blumenthal. But Achatz is experiencing quite a ride, and it wouldn't be shocking to see him push all bounds. The usual criticism lodged at Achatz (if it is lodged at all) is that he simply doesn't take enough chances--he goes so far, then pulls back. Well, Grant, the ball's in your court.

Tilapia with Sauteed Avocado Spaghetti

2010-02-01T13:37:00.009-05:00

As promised . . .

Tilapia is an overlooked white fish. It is overlooked because it is cheap, and is usually sold frozen. Do not overlook this fish! When done right, it can be a very flavorful meal. When done wrong, it can be very "meh," although not as much as whiting (which gets just plain gummy).

4 Tilapia filets
2 Roma Tomatoes
6 oz Spaghetti
5 Pearl Onions
2 Avocados
Olive Oil (don't slouch)
Sea Salt
Pepper
Ginger

Start with the vegetable prep. You want a very sharp knife (like a Tojiro DP 8.25" Chef's Knife) to slice the tomatoes so you can see the beautiful, natural arrangement of flesh, seeds, and gel, without interruption by tears or gashes. You want at least 3 good tomatoes per filet, sliced at around 1/4", so this allows some room to screw up and to consume the rest with some light vinaigrette or sea salt. You choose. Once you get ~12 slices, set them aside, and lightly cover them with olive oil, sea salt, and fresh ground black pepper.

Halve the pearl onions, set aside.

With the avocados, most people skin them. I understand that, and if you want to, by all means, do it. It's tempting. But that course, their black skin is also a very interesting texture and flavor combination. I say leave it in.* You want to "score" around the core with your knife...basically circle it with your knife, long-wise, until you have two halves. Peel apart the halves, use a spoon to get the core out (if it didn't fall out), and season with salt/pepper/olive oil. Set aside.

Throw a pot of water on the burner, add salt, and boil. People think there's a science behind spaghetti. There isn't. Taste taste taste! Watch it, and it won't ever go bad. Think it's as easy as rice in a cooker, and it'll go wrong. Again, your choice.

In a saute pan, add ~3 tblspoons olive oil, and throw the avocados right in there, face down, over medium heat. Go on, do it. Does it defy logic? Maybe. But there is a method to this madness. Cover the pan, and let them cook until the greens have significantly lightened, usually around 10 minutes. Remove them from the pan, set aside, but keep the oil. Throw the onions in, caramelize, and remove. Keep the oil. Now, if you have a hot pan, you can add a bit more oil to get some more liquidity. Be very, very, very careful not to dilute.

Now I know what you're thinking--where's the freakin fish? Well, herein lies the beauty of tilapia--it literally cooks in under 7 mins. Vacuum pack the fish if it is not already vacuum packed, and throw it in a pot of simmering water. Check on it. Once it turns opaque, take it out. Do not worry about if it's done (at least at this juncture). As long as it's opaque, you're good to go. Remove the filets from the packs, put them on a plate under foil, and set aside. If you don't have a vacuum pack, put it in a foil bag, add some oil, and throw it in the oven at 300 degrees for about 7 minutes.

Throw the spaghetti in that pot of boiling water, and watch it. Again, watch the freaking spaghetti. Don't slouch. Once it is al dente ("to the tooth"), drain it, and throw it back in the pot. Remember that oil? Throw enough in there to coat the spaghetti. Slice the avocados, and throw them in there as well. And you might as well add the onions while you're at it, too. Keep turning and turning the spaghetti, coating it with all of those nice flavors. Movement is key. No burning, yet the flavors infuse. Do this for about ~5 mins, or until you can see the spaghetti darken. Take it off the heat, cover it, and set aside. The steam will help keep it warm, while the flavors will keep working on the spaghetti.

In a new pan, add oil, and fry the tomato slices; you want to lay the slices down in a clockwise fashion until all space is covered. If there is some overlap, be careful; you want them to maintain their shapes, but you want them to have a nice olive flavor. Add a pinch of ginger, too. Ginger + tomatoes is an absolutely great combo if you know the proper proportions. A pinch is just that. This should take all of 3 minutes on high heat. Quick quick quick!

In the rest of the oil (presuming you had enough; if you don't, add some to the old pan), take the fish darker side down (usually the side where the skin was) and sear it. This will cook it through, and it will add some nice avocado flavors to the fish. If it wasn't cooked through before, check for opaqueness; don't be scared to check it with a knife. Remove from the heat, and immediately plate. Add 3 slices to each piece, overlapping if need be. Next to the fish, add a small portion of spaghetti, and lay out three-four pieces of sliced avocado. The onion is not necessary for presentation (per se), but should be "within" the greater spaghetti aggregate.

And that's that. Is it complicated? Meh, not really, just a lot of simultaneous pans and such. But it is delicious. If you have any questions, let me know. I may update it from time to time for precision and efficiency purposes.

Enjoy.

*Note: about avocado skins; not many people eat them. If you choose not to eat it, that's fine. I ate it (and have eaten it) once it is cooked through, largely due to the contrast in texture. Some may be put off by it, but hey, the choice is yours. You should never be scared to try something. The only potential (and so far unsubstantiated) negative that I've seen about the skin is an enzyme that is prevalent in the whole of the avocado may be more prevalent in the skin, which could lead to possible food allergies with latex like foods (think bananas). Cooking it well should eliminate that. But again, the choice is yours. Try it!

Even Tilapia can taste good . . .

2010-01-31T01:58:00.006-05:00

Recipe coming tomorrow.

Tojiro = Heaven

2010-01-31T01:57:00.001-05:00

Like buttah.

A Free Master Course from Marco Pierre White

2010-01-30T22:02:00.002-05:00

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

2010-01-30T12:38:00.007-05:00

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

2010-01-28T17:29:00.007-05:00

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

2010-01-27T00:28:00.008-05:00

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!

Sometimes, you just need a really fucking good knife.

2010-01-26T00:11:00.009-05:00

(Photo source: Murata.ca)

Tojiro DP Gyutou 210mm (8.25") Chef's Knife.

It arrives in 2-5 business days. (theoretically)

Thoughts on why I chose this over the Global G-2 and others will follow.

Some things I like . . .

2010-01-25T13:26:00.013-05:00

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'.

Why?

2010-01-24T14:39:00.006-05:00

Edit: The original title was "Rachael Ray Must Die." While I have a new title, the spirit remains the same. Figured I'd cover my arse, Lord knows lawsuits are a bitch.

This blog's title is not worded to evince a threat or to become a harbinger of doom. It is worded--rather bluntly, I must say--to reflect the poor state of popular American cuisine and food culture. We want fast. We want simple. We want cheap. And none of these things are wrong (per se). Fast cooking can have its advantages. Simple cooking is often the best, particularly if the ingredients are the best available. Cheap cooking allows people without the wallet (or the stomach) for foie gras to survive. However, when your meal consists of preserved, sauced cardboard cooked over a Bic lighter, the soul and meaning of food are completely bled to death. Food becomes less about art (or science), pleasure, and relationships, while becoming more about multitasking, exclusion, and robotic consumption.

This sounds fairly cliche, but it's true. How much of a part does Rachael Ray play in this? Well, along with every single one of the marketable smiles at the Food Network, quite a bit. We're made to believe that their food is good and that they want nothing but to show us how to live with $3 and a spork. We're made to believe that their "chefs" are not just television personalities, but real, experienced, and extremely talented chefs (I wasn't aware Emeril had 3 Michelin stars; did I miss that memo?). Meanwhile, they sell us shitty orange-handled knives and pans, daytime talk shows, and stupid Iron Chef retreads (I'm sorry, nothing can compare to the original Japanese series. Sorry, Bobby Flay).

The entire image of America that the Food Network (and the like) wishes to show us is an America devoid of character, color, and life. Rachael Ray--both in concept and product--is symbolic of this vampirism. How did this happen? I hope to explore that question, but not necessarily by dressing down television programs and their hapless hosts (unless it's necessary, which it often is). I hope to cook. I hope to taste. I hope to show that food is not dead, that it is not about marketability, but rather about pleasure, nourishment, and relationships. Easy? Not even close. But it will be fun. In the end, I hope to prove why "Rachael Ray" must no longer be allowed to define American food culture. In other words . . . she must die.