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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Greatest Chef You've Probably Never Heard Of
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?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Smoking...
(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.
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.
Monday, March 8, 2010
White Truffle Oil
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.
Monday, March 1, 2010
My Perfect Roast Chicken
". . . 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.
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.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tasting Menus--What Say You?
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:
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!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Grandmother's Fried Chicken
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!)
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!)
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