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Moving out of Russia
Apr. 4th, 2017 07:06 pmHello all, I've just decided to come over here because I don't want to use LJ when it's on Russian-based servers and making me accept a TOS that means I'm bound by Russian law. Fuck that noise. My entries here are generally going to be friends-only when I make any, which won't be often, but I wanted my archive here.
So, for those following from home, the titles of these cooking-related posts come from the fact that I'm doing them as part of the "100 Things" blogging challenge, where you make 100 posts on a subject. Yes, I have been working on it for years. No, I don't post enough. But I am intent on finishing.
I've done a post on pickled jalapeños before (9/26/13), but I figured I'd write about my second time around because it's good to keep track of how small changes work or don't work as you tweak recipes and techniques. Of course, looking back at my old post, I didn't really say a heck of a lot about the process.
This time around, I used this recipe. I made one mistake: I was completely inattentive, and while I was careful in halving the recipe to account for the fact that I only had 1 pound of peppers, I failed to note that the original recipe called for four PINT jars. I thought, "Oh, then I'll only need two jars, but I'll prep one extra in case I have more stuff than will fit." Good logic, sure...but I was using HALF-PINT jars. Oops. As a result, after filling my three prepped jars, I had to fill two more non-sanitized jars to be refrigerator pickles. Heck, they'll still last for a few months without actual canning!
My peppers this year are much hotter than the last time I posted about pickling jalapeños, which makes me happy. Aside from that, the thing that I changed that I hope will make a big difference is that I added Ball Pickle Crisp to each jar. Of course, now that I think about it, I added enough for a pint jar to each of my half-pint jars. Um. I hope it doesn't alter the taste too much!
I want to do some more refrigerator-canning soon, too. I need to make a new batch of homemade maraschino cherries. That will be an interesting post, since I'll be trying a few new things!
I've done a post on pickled jalapeños before (9/26/13), but I figured I'd write about my second time around because it's good to keep track of how small changes work or don't work as you tweak recipes and techniques. Of course, looking back at my old post, I didn't really say a heck of a lot about the process.
This time around, I used this recipe. I made one mistake: I was completely inattentive, and while I was careful in halving the recipe to account for the fact that I only had 1 pound of peppers, I failed to note that the original recipe called for four PINT jars. I thought, "Oh, then I'll only need two jars, but I'll prep one extra in case I have more stuff than will fit." Good logic, sure...but I was using HALF-PINT jars. Oops. As a result, after filling my three prepped jars, I had to fill two more non-sanitized jars to be refrigerator pickles. Heck, they'll still last for a few months without actual canning!
My peppers this year are much hotter than the last time I posted about pickling jalapeños, which makes me happy. Aside from that, the thing that I changed that I hope will make a big difference is that I added Ball Pickle Crisp to each jar. Of course, now that I think about it, I added enough for a pint jar to each of my half-pint jars. Um. I hope it doesn't alter the taste too much!
I want to do some more refrigerator-canning soon, too. I need to make a new batch of homemade maraschino cherries. That will be an interesting post, since I'll be trying a few new things!
I am a poster child for bad posters. It's not like I haven't been cooking since the last time I made a cooking post! I have cooked many tasty things, in fact, and may go back and write about some of them later. My first real ratatouille, for example...some mint chocolate chunk cheesecake bars...the Octo-Pie (octopus pizza)...
Last night, I made Thai green curry chicken with veggies. Ordinarily, I am quite content to use jarred curry paste for a dish like this. While I'm sure it's far from perfect, it's generally very flavorful and makes a good meal. This year, though, I'm growing lemongrass in my garden, and I decided I wanted to use it (along with other stuff) to make a green curry paste from scratch. I also decided to use the green jalapeños from my garden instead of getting Thai chilies, because, well, I had them!
I've read in a number of Serious Eats articles that making herb/garlic/etc. pastes with a mortar and pestle leads to more flavorful results than using a food processor or blender. I figured I'd give that a shot, so as I minced up ingredients, I threw them into my granite mortar. I used the following:
Garlic (two fat cloves from a fresh head from the farmers' market)
Ginger (about as much by volume as the garlic, chopped from a fresh root)
Jalapeño (one big ol' fat one, seeds and all)
Cilantro (stems included--they're more flavorful!)
Lemongrass stalks (mine are thin, so I used a few)
Galangal (powdered, from Penzey's)
Coriander seeds (from the dead cilantro plant in my garden)
Salt
It took a while to mash them into the paste-like consistency I was hoping for. When it was done, I stuck it in the fridge for the flavors to meld while I prepped the other ingredients: some flat beans (Romano and dragon's tongue), mushrooms, onions, kale, and purple bell pepper, and of course the chicken--a couple of breasts cut in half flat and then sliced. I sautéed the veggies until they were getting tender, then added the chicken. When that was nearly cooked through, I poured in the curry paste, coconut milk, fish sauce, and soy sauce, as well as a sprinkling of brown sugar. I also added a handful of torn basil leaves from the garden. The end result was pretty tasty, if I say so myself. It went well with brown basmati rice.
Last night, I made Thai green curry chicken with veggies. Ordinarily, I am quite content to use jarred curry paste for a dish like this. While I'm sure it's far from perfect, it's generally very flavorful and makes a good meal. This year, though, I'm growing lemongrass in my garden, and I decided I wanted to use it (along with other stuff) to make a green curry paste from scratch. I also decided to use the green jalapeños from my garden instead of getting Thai chilies, because, well, I had them!
I've read in a number of Serious Eats articles that making herb/garlic/etc. pastes with a mortar and pestle leads to more flavorful results than using a food processor or blender. I figured I'd give that a shot, so as I minced up ingredients, I threw them into my granite mortar. I used the following:
Garlic (two fat cloves from a fresh head from the farmers' market)
Ginger (about as much by volume as the garlic, chopped from a fresh root)
Jalapeño (one big ol' fat one, seeds and all)
Cilantro (stems included--they're more flavorful!)
Lemongrass stalks (mine are thin, so I used a few)
Galangal (powdered, from Penzey's)
Coriander seeds (from the dead cilantro plant in my garden)
Salt
It took a while to mash them into the paste-like consistency I was hoping for. When it was done, I stuck it in the fridge for the flavors to meld while I prepped the other ingredients: some flat beans (Romano and dragon's tongue), mushrooms, onions, kale, and purple bell pepper, and of course the chicken--a couple of breasts cut in half flat and then sliced. I sautéed the veggies until they were getting tender, then added the chicken. When that was nearly cooked through, I poured in the curry paste, coconut milk, fish sauce, and soy sauce, as well as a sprinkling of brown sugar. I also added a handful of torn basil leaves from the garden. The end result was pretty tasty, if I say so myself. It went well with brown basmati rice.
My uncle Chick is an avid hunter. In the fall, he has an agreement with a private landowner to keep their property free of the deer that are plant-nibbling pests. He has the deer butchered, and is generous with sharing the meat. The past couple of years, I've gotten meat from him. I love venison. It's very lean, but because it's a game meat, it has a lot of flavor, unlike super-lean beef or pork. Granted, that flavor isn't for everyone, but I really enjoy it. Then again, lamb is one of my absolute favorite meats ever, so you know I don't have a problem with gaminess.
The meat, which I usually pick up from my parents' house where Chick drops it off, is frozen and wrapped in freezer paper parcels, labeled (sometimes almost illegibly--his butcher may not be a native English speaker) with the general kind of cut. There's no specific information, usually, but simple labels like "steak" or "roast." There are also usually a couple of plastic bags of frozen ground venison, mixed 50/50 with ground beef for added fat. The ground meat is the easiest to work with, since it behaves and tastes much like a fairly lean ground beef. I've used it in chilis, in pasta sauce, and in meatballs. This weekend, I dealt with a whole roast for the first time--a bit of a challenge to me, since it's unusual for me to roast large cuts of red meat.
As you know, my wonderful husband gave me an Anova sous vide circulator for Yule this year. I figured that if I was going to be dealing with a large chunk of meat, sous vide cooking would probably be the best way for me to avoid screwing it up entirely. I wasn't exactly certain how to proceed, partly because the lack of cut information meant that I didn't really know whether I'd be dealing with a tough cut or a tender one, and therefore had no real idea about how long I should cook it. It was about 2 pounds, all told: a good size for a 2-person household with some leftovers expected. I decided to just wing it.
Seasonings: I vaguely recalled that Penzey's sold some kind of seasoning for venison, but when I looked it up, I realized it was a seasoning for venison sausage: not necessarily what I wanted. Their site also said, though, that their roast beef rub was good for venison. I looked at the ingredients, and pulled something similar together from what I had in my spice cabinet. I used salt, sweet paprika, garlic, onion, rosemary, savory, pepper, caraway, and a few other things. I rubbed it all over the outside of the roast, and sort of haphazardly wrapped a few strips of bacon around it to add fat. I vacuum sealed it with my brand new FoodSaver (I am having SO MUCH FUN with that thing), and put it in a pot with the circulator set for 131 degrees (the low end of medium rare). I let it go for seven hours.
When I pulled the roast out, I saw that the bacon hadn't really rendered much fat. I think that next time, I'll just pour in a little melted bacon fat instead. I got a cast iron skillet really hot with a good bit of oil in it, and seared the outside of the roast quickly. When I sliced it up, I realized that the timing had been excellent: the roast was beautifully, evenly pink from edge to edge, and tender as you could wish. I think, from the fine-grained texture of the meat, that it might have been a loin cut. Vacuum sealing the meat in the bag with the seasonings seemed to allow for a lot of penetration of flavor, which was wonderful. I served the sliced roast with some barley that I cooked with a parmesan rind and some sage and garlic, and a nice salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette. I had leftovers last night, and it was just as delicious.
I still have one roast and a package of steaks left from this year's batch of venison. I'm excited to see if I can do even better next time!
The meat, which I usually pick up from my parents' house where Chick drops it off, is frozen and wrapped in freezer paper parcels, labeled (sometimes almost illegibly--his butcher may not be a native English speaker) with the general kind of cut. There's no specific information, usually, but simple labels like "steak" or "roast." There are also usually a couple of plastic bags of frozen ground venison, mixed 50/50 with ground beef for added fat. The ground meat is the easiest to work with, since it behaves and tastes much like a fairly lean ground beef. I've used it in chilis, in pasta sauce, and in meatballs. This weekend, I dealt with a whole roast for the first time--a bit of a challenge to me, since it's unusual for me to roast large cuts of red meat.
As you know, my wonderful husband gave me an Anova sous vide circulator for Yule this year. I figured that if I was going to be dealing with a large chunk of meat, sous vide cooking would probably be the best way for me to avoid screwing it up entirely. I wasn't exactly certain how to proceed, partly because the lack of cut information meant that I didn't really know whether I'd be dealing with a tough cut or a tender one, and therefore had no real idea about how long I should cook it. It was about 2 pounds, all told: a good size for a 2-person household with some leftovers expected. I decided to just wing it.
Seasonings: I vaguely recalled that Penzey's sold some kind of seasoning for venison, but when I looked it up, I realized it was a seasoning for venison sausage: not necessarily what I wanted. Their site also said, though, that their roast beef rub was good for venison. I looked at the ingredients, and pulled something similar together from what I had in my spice cabinet. I used salt, sweet paprika, garlic, onion, rosemary, savory, pepper, caraway, and a few other things. I rubbed it all over the outside of the roast, and sort of haphazardly wrapped a few strips of bacon around it to add fat. I vacuum sealed it with my brand new FoodSaver (I am having SO MUCH FUN with that thing), and put it in a pot with the circulator set for 131 degrees (the low end of medium rare). I let it go for seven hours.
When I pulled the roast out, I saw that the bacon hadn't really rendered much fat. I think that next time, I'll just pour in a little melted bacon fat instead. I got a cast iron skillet really hot with a good bit of oil in it, and seared the outside of the roast quickly. When I sliced it up, I realized that the timing had been excellent: the roast was beautifully, evenly pink from edge to edge, and tender as you could wish. I think, from the fine-grained texture of the meat, that it might have been a loin cut. Vacuum sealing the meat in the bag with the seasonings seemed to allow for a lot of penetration of flavor, which was wonderful. I served the sliced roast with some barley that I cooked with a parmesan rind and some sage and garlic, and a nice salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette. I had leftovers last night, and it was just as delicious.
I still have one roast and a package of steaks left from this year's batch of venison. I'm excited to see if I can do even better next time!
Last night, my plan was to cook sliced chicken breast with coconut milk and curry spices. When I opened my can of coconut milk, after shaking it, the plug of solidified coconut cream at the top was so thick and dense that shaking hadn't recombined it even a little. I tried to stir it in, but that wasn't working, so I put it in a blending cup and took my stick blender to it. Um. I think even more of the cream separated out, leaving that and coconut water. What is it with things separating on me lately? I was kind of fascinated by this, though: the cream was so thick and, well, creamy--it was like butter, but butter that tasted like coconut! Yum. It was amazingly decadent and rich and wonderful. I ended up massaging a little of that into the chicken with some of the coconut water and the spices, and that cooked up just fine. I strained the rest of that buttery goodness, and stuck it in a jar. This morning, after spending the night in the fridge, it was even more solid than it had been at room temperature. I am DYING to eat some on a piece of toast or something. I also massaged a little into the very dry back of my hand, and it makes a beautiful moisturizer. This might be something I do intentionally in the future. Of course, if I try to make it happen, it probably won't work, right?
The chicken came out very good, by the way. I love my Penzey's spices.
The chicken came out very good, by the way. I love my Penzey's spices.
At our office's post-holiday party this year, we decided to do a bake-off. I was going to enter with the chocolate torte I've made several times in the past, which is basically a dark chocolate ganache in a chocolate graham cracker crust. It's flavored with lavender, and I add a little rosewater, and it's divine. This time, the store was out of the Ghirardelli bittersweet chocolate chips I usually use, so I grabbed the Guittard organic bittersweet baking melts instead. They were a lot more expensive, but I figured they'd be really good. I'm sure they were. Alas, disaster struck when I tried to make the ganache on Tuesday night. I poured my hot lavender-infused cream over them, and the ganache split horribly. ARGH. I'd already made the crust. I didn't have any more cream or chocolate chips. I didn't have any other go-to dessert recipes for which I had the ingredients in stock. I really didn't want to change back out of my pajamas and go out into the cold, especially since I didn't have time to do that, make the torte, take a shower, feed the cat, and get to bed at a reasonable hour.
I thought about the contents of my cupboards, pantry, and fridge, and realized that with the flour, sugar, eggs, butter or oil, and either cocoa powder or small amount of unsweetened chocolate baking bar I had, I could likely make brownies. The only problem is that I didn't have a go-to brownie recipe, and didn't have time to do my usual research of scouring the Interwebs reading review after review of recipes from my favorite bloggers and cooks. I decided to try Deb Perelman's Smitten Kitchen blog, in the hopes that she'd have a basic brownie recipe. Her desserts are generally well-reviewed, and the few recipes of hers that I've tried have all worked well. She had MANY brownie recipes, including one called "My Favorite Brownies." Sold. I crossed my fingers, took a deep breath, and started in on the recipe. I got the batter into the pan, cleaned everything up, banged it in the oven, and raced into the shower. When I got out dried off, and put on my moisturizer, they were done. I thought, "Well, they smell good and they look good. Good enough, I guess. I don't expect these will win the bake-off, but at least they shouldn't embarrass me." I put them on a rack on the porch to cool, and stuck them in the fridge with foil on top before I went to bed.
Wednesday, I brought them to the office and left them to come to room temperature on my desk until the party. Just before the party, I cut them into a bunch of tiny little squares. The feel of the cutting seemed right for good fudgey brownies. You know what I mean? That slightly springy stickiness? That lack of crumbling or smearing? It seemed like a good omen. I tried one during the party even though as an entrant, I couldn't vote in the bake-off. Wow. They were exactly what I want in a brownie: rich and fudgey, not too sweet, not cakey but not pasty either. They were just perfect, in my opinion. As it turns out, a few other people must have felt that way: I ended up winning the bake-off, much to my surprise. I even beat out a super-tasty noodle kugel (made with friggin' EGG NOG, guys, SERIOUSLY. YUM.) by the talented![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hammercock, which was my favorite of all the other desserts on offer. I don't feel too guilty about that, though, since she apparently already has a set of the Ninjabread Men cookie cutters that were my prize. :)
I guess I now have my go-to brownie recipe. These guys were super easy, requiring only one bowl and permitting butter straight from the fridge. You should make them, seriously.
I thought about the contents of my cupboards, pantry, and fridge, and realized that with the flour, sugar, eggs, butter or oil, and either cocoa powder or small amount of unsweetened chocolate baking bar I had, I could likely make brownies. The only problem is that I didn't have a go-to brownie recipe, and didn't have time to do my usual research of scouring the Interwebs reading review after review of recipes from my favorite bloggers and cooks. I decided to try Deb Perelman's Smitten Kitchen blog, in the hopes that she'd have a basic brownie recipe. Her desserts are generally well-reviewed, and the few recipes of hers that I've tried have all worked well. She had MANY brownie recipes, including one called "My Favorite Brownies." Sold. I crossed my fingers, took a deep breath, and started in on the recipe. I got the batter into the pan, cleaned everything up, banged it in the oven, and raced into the shower. When I got out dried off, and put on my moisturizer, they were done. I thought, "Well, they smell good and they look good. Good enough, I guess. I don't expect these will win the bake-off, but at least they shouldn't embarrass me." I put them on a rack on the porch to cool, and stuck them in the fridge with foil on top before I went to bed.
Wednesday, I brought them to the office and left them to come to room temperature on my desk until the party. Just before the party, I cut them into a bunch of tiny little squares. The feel of the cutting seemed right for good fudgey brownies. You know what I mean? That slightly springy stickiness? That lack of crumbling or smearing? It seemed like a good omen. I tried one during the party even though as an entrant, I couldn't vote in the bake-off. Wow. They were exactly what I want in a brownie: rich and fudgey, not too sweet, not cakey but not pasty either. They were just perfect, in my opinion. As it turns out, a few other people must have felt that way: I ended up winning the bake-off, much to my surprise. I even beat out a super-tasty noodle kugel (made with friggin' EGG NOG, guys, SERIOUSLY. YUM.) by the talented
hammercock, which was my favorite of all the other desserts on offer. I don't feel too guilty about that, though, since she apparently already has a set of the Ninjabread Men cookie cutters that were my prize. :) I guess I now have my go-to brownie recipe. These guys were super easy, requiring only one bowl and permitting butter straight from the fridge. You should make them, seriously.
When my husband has to spend the weekend away because he has to drill with his Army Reserve unit, I like making a particularly nice dinner on Sunday evening for the two of us, since I know that most of his meals for the past few days have been from restaurants or the kind of quick-and-easy homemade he tends to do for himself out in his apartment near his unit. Steak is a common one. Strip steaks have been my favorite for a while now. I feel like they have just the right fat-to-meat ratio, and the boneless ones tend to be easy to cook.
My technique for preparing steaks is what's sometimes called "dry brining." About an hour before I'm going to cook them, I take them out of the package, pat them dry with paper towels, and sprinkle them generously with kosher salt on both sides. I stick them on a plate (uncovered) in the fridge. Over the course of that hour, the salt draws moisture from the meat. But--and this is the nifty bit--that moisture, along with the salt, eventually gets reabsorbed INTO the meat. This results in a steak that remains juicier through cooking, and is a lot more flavorful. To get that reabsorption, you really need to wait at least 40 minutes or more. When the steaks are done dry brining, I heat up a cast-iron skillet with some canola oil over medium-high heat. When it gets really nice and hot, I pat the steaks with paper towels to remove any remaining moisture on the surface (very important for a good Maillard reaction--that is, browning) and pop them into the pan.
Now, Serious Eats recommends flipping your steak multiple times to ensure even cooking from both sides, and says that your steak should get just as brown if you do it right. I've tried this once, but had bad luck (I may have been using too thin a steak). In any case, I wait until the steak gets nice and brown on the bottom, flip it over, and brown the other side. I check the temperature with my trusty Thermapen to make sure it was a nice medium rare. Sometimes I flip a couple more times, depending on how things look and how warm the center of the steak has gotten.
Last night, I decided to dress the steaks up a little bit with a compound butter. A compound butter is basically "butter with stuff in it." You mix your flavoring ingredients into softened butter. This time, I decided to use some black garlic--a fermented garlic from Asia that has a mild, tangy, sweet flavor that's something like a mix of roasted garlic and balsamic vinegar in my opinion--and some fresh rosemary from the garden. I minced the rosemary very finely, and smashed the garlic into a paste, then mixed them in. (I used salted butter. You can use unsalted, too, and salt to your taste.) I spooned the soft butter out onto a sheet of plastic wrap, then I shaped it into a little log and rolled it up, twisting the ends of the wrap. I put it in the fridge to chill. When the steaks were cooked and rested, I took out the butter and cut it into slices, laying them on top of the steaks. The heat from the steaks melted the butter, which dripped down over them to flavor them. The end result was awesome.
You can use a lot of different things to flavor a compound butter for steaks. Gorgonzola cheese is common. Regular or roasted garlic is nice, as are many different herbs (rosemary, thyme, parsley, chives). You can even get exotic and use things like ginger, lime zest, and fish sauce for a Thai-style take on it. It's a great way to add a little something special to steak.
My technique for preparing steaks is what's sometimes called "dry brining." About an hour before I'm going to cook them, I take them out of the package, pat them dry with paper towels, and sprinkle them generously with kosher salt on both sides. I stick them on a plate (uncovered) in the fridge. Over the course of that hour, the salt draws moisture from the meat. But--and this is the nifty bit--that moisture, along with the salt, eventually gets reabsorbed INTO the meat. This results in a steak that remains juicier through cooking, and is a lot more flavorful. To get that reabsorption, you really need to wait at least 40 minutes or more. When the steaks are done dry brining, I heat up a cast-iron skillet with some canola oil over medium-high heat. When it gets really nice and hot, I pat the steaks with paper towels to remove any remaining moisture on the surface (very important for a good Maillard reaction--that is, browning) and pop them into the pan.
Now, Serious Eats recommends flipping your steak multiple times to ensure even cooking from both sides, and says that your steak should get just as brown if you do it right. I've tried this once, but had bad luck (I may have been using too thin a steak). In any case, I wait until the steak gets nice and brown on the bottom, flip it over, and brown the other side. I check the temperature with my trusty Thermapen to make sure it was a nice medium rare. Sometimes I flip a couple more times, depending on how things look and how warm the center of the steak has gotten.
Last night, I decided to dress the steaks up a little bit with a compound butter. A compound butter is basically "butter with stuff in it." You mix your flavoring ingredients into softened butter. This time, I decided to use some black garlic--a fermented garlic from Asia that has a mild, tangy, sweet flavor that's something like a mix of roasted garlic and balsamic vinegar in my opinion--and some fresh rosemary from the garden. I minced the rosemary very finely, and smashed the garlic into a paste, then mixed them in. (I used salted butter. You can use unsalted, too, and salt to your taste.) I spooned the soft butter out onto a sheet of plastic wrap, then I shaped it into a little log and rolled it up, twisting the ends of the wrap. I put it in the fridge to chill. When the steaks were cooked and rested, I took out the butter and cut it into slices, laying them on top of the steaks. The heat from the steaks melted the butter, which dripped down over them to flavor them. The end result was awesome.
You can use a lot of different things to flavor a compound butter for steaks. Gorgonzola cheese is common. Regular or roasted garlic is nice, as are many different herbs (rosemary, thyme, parsley, chives). You can even get exotic and use things like ginger, lime zest, and fish sauce for a Thai-style take on it. It's a great way to add a little something special to steak.
Boy, it's been ages since I actually did a 100 Things food post. Today, though, I'm making bread, and want to document everything I did. When it comes to making bread, that's good if you want to be able to improve or reproduce results.
I'm using the Serious Eats Workhorse Loaf recipe, including all the techniques from their Breadmaking 101 series, but I'm altering it to be half whole wheat. The thing about whole wheat flour is that it absorbs a lot more water than white flour. Because of that, if you just substitute in a lot of whole wheat flour when you're baking without changing anything else, you'll end up with a much drier end product. This original recipe calls for a 70% hydration ratio. That means you use 70% as much water as you do flour, by weight. I wanted to use half whole wheat flour, though, and figured I'd need to up that amount.
I started off planning on doing a 78% hydration, so I measured out 780g of water to my 1000g of flour (500g each whole wheat and AP). In accordance with the recipe, I left out 50g of water with which to mix my yeast. Pouring the rest into the flour and mixing it up, though, left me thinking that the dough looked much tighter and dryer than the pictures they show in the recipe for that stage. That wasn't good. I've had problems with this in the past. It made it harder to incorporate the yeast and salt after, and made the bread too tough.
I decided to add in the rest of the water I'd measured, and used an additional 50g/5% to bloom my yeast. If you're keeping track, this meant I was now at 83% hydration, total, for the recipe. At this point, before you add the yeast and salt, you're supposed to let it sit for a while (15 minutes to an hour, recommending half an hour) for the flour to absorb the water. This is called an autolyse. I know from reading various things that whole wheat flour usually requires a longer autolyse than white, though, and I felt this would especially be true with the increased hydration. I decided on an hour and a half.
When that time was up, I incorporated my salt and yeast solution, which is also the kneading part of the recipe. I turned up the heat in the house so it could rise at a warmer temperature (75 degrees, I was shvitzing, but it was helpful). I folded the dough after half an hour. My dough still felt pretty slack at that point, but I was determined to wait and see before I started worrying that the hydration level was too high. I did the second fold half an hour later, then let it rise for another hour and 45 minutes. Yeah, that's a long time, but I understand that whole wheat dough usually needs a longer rise.
It was still pretty loose by that time, but I could only move forward. I divided the dough, pre-shaped the loaves, and set them for a bench rest of 20 minutes (the recipe says 15-40; I went for short because of the length of the initial rise). Then I did the final shaping folds and put them into the proofing baskets. OK, I don't really have baskets: I just use a bowl lined in a pastry cloth, sprinkled with flour. I stuck them in the fridge for a one hour slow rise, and preheated the oven with the Dutch oven in it. After that time, they had risen a bit more--maybe not as much as an all-white-flour loaf would have, but a bit. They also passed the "poke test," with the imprint of a finger bouncing back slowly after I poked it. I popped the first loaf into the Dutch oven, slashed the top, and spritzed it with water before putting the lid on and banging it into the oven. Fifteen minutes of cooking, vented the steam, and turned the heat down for another 15 minutes. Took the lid off, and 15 more minutes. Result? A nice-looking loaf that didn't spread out as much as I'd feared, with good volume! As it usually is when I bake in the Dutch oven, the bottom was slightly burned, but overall it was good. I do wish the slashes had shown up a bit more. I baked the second loaf a little longer, for a darker loaf, just for comparison's sake. The second loaf didn't have quite as much rise as the first, but again, turned out well. And the first loaf, now ready to cut and taste...is delicious!
I'm using the Serious Eats Workhorse Loaf recipe, including all the techniques from their Breadmaking 101 series, but I'm altering it to be half whole wheat. The thing about whole wheat flour is that it absorbs a lot more water than white flour. Because of that, if you just substitute in a lot of whole wheat flour when you're baking without changing anything else, you'll end up with a much drier end product. This original recipe calls for a 70% hydration ratio. That means you use 70% as much water as you do flour, by weight. I wanted to use half whole wheat flour, though, and figured I'd need to up that amount.
I started off planning on doing a 78% hydration, so I measured out 780g of water to my 1000g of flour (500g each whole wheat and AP). In accordance with the recipe, I left out 50g of water with which to mix my yeast. Pouring the rest into the flour and mixing it up, though, left me thinking that the dough looked much tighter and dryer than the pictures they show in the recipe for that stage. That wasn't good. I've had problems with this in the past. It made it harder to incorporate the yeast and salt after, and made the bread too tough.
I decided to add in the rest of the water I'd measured, and used an additional 50g/5% to bloom my yeast. If you're keeping track, this meant I was now at 83% hydration, total, for the recipe. At this point, before you add the yeast and salt, you're supposed to let it sit for a while (15 minutes to an hour, recommending half an hour) for the flour to absorb the water. This is called an autolyse. I know from reading various things that whole wheat flour usually requires a longer autolyse than white, though, and I felt this would especially be true with the increased hydration. I decided on an hour and a half.
When that time was up, I incorporated my salt and yeast solution, which is also the kneading part of the recipe. I turned up the heat in the house so it could rise at a warmer temperature (75 degrees, I was shvitzing, but it was helpful). I folded the dough after half an hour. My dough still felt pretty slack at that point, but I was determined to wait and see before I started worrying that the hydration level was too high. I did the second fold half an hour later, then let it rise for another hour and 45 minutes. Yeah, that's a long time, but I understand that whole wheat dough usually needs a longer rise.
It was still pretty loose by that time, but I could only move forward. I divided the dough, pre-shaped the loaves, and set them for a bench rest of 20 minutes (the recipe says 15-40; I went for short because of the length of the initial rise). Then I did the final shaping folds and put them into the proofing baskets. OK, I don't really have baskets: I just use a bowl lined in a pastry cloth, sprinkled with flour. I stuck them in the fridge for a one hour slow rise, and preheated the oven with the Dutch oven in it. After that time, they had risen a bit more--maybe not as much as an all-white-flour loaf would have, but a bit. They also passed the "poke test," with the imprint of a finger bouncing back slowly after I poked it. I popped the first loaf into the Dutch oven, slashed the top, and spritzed it with water before putting the lid on and banging it into the oven. Fifteen minutes of cooking, vented the steam, and turned the heat down for another 15 minutes. Took the lid off, and 15 more minutes. Result? A nice-looking loaf that didn't spread out as much as I'd feared, with good volume! As it usually is when I bake in the Dutch oven, the bottom was slightly burned, but overall it was good. I do wish the slashes had shown up a bit more. I baked the second loaf a little longer, for a darker loaf, just for comparison's sake. The second loaf didn't have quite as much rise as the first, but again, turned out well. And the first loaf, now ready to cut and taste...is delicious!
Thing Seventy-One: Szecuan Sriracha Salmon
Jul. 6th, 2015 08:54 pmSerious Eats has a nice technique on their website for pan-frying skin-on salmon filets. I like doing this in a nonstick skillet with less oil, because it's easier to clean up, but I still use the same basic "cook it skin-side down until it's almost done, then flip and finish cooking" method. It works great.
This evening, I patted the salmon filet dry, seasoned it with kosher salt and ground Szechuan peppercorns, and slapped it in a hot oil-sprayed nonstick skillet, skin-side down. I turned the heat down and let it cook slowly through. When it was starting to get towards done, I used a pastry brush to brush on a blend of light mayo and sriracha sauce, like a glaze. I flipped the salmon over, and let it finish cooking. By the time the temperature read 125 in the middle, the glaze had started to caramelize nicely. I let the salmon rest for a few minutes before serving it with cilantro-lime quinoa and a salad. That was some damn good fish: just done enough, tender and melting in the middle with super-crispy skin. The blend of hot and numbing spice was really nice, though I feel like it could have used a little more of the Szechuan.
This evening, I patted the salmon filet dry, seasoned it with kosher salt and ground Szechuan peppercorns, and slapped it in a hot oil-sprayed nonstick skillet, skin-side down. I turned the heat down and let it cook slowly through. When it was starting to get towards done, I used a pastry brush to brush on a blend of light mayo and sriracha sauce, like a glaze. I flipped the salmon over, and let it finish cooking. By the time the temperature read 125 in the middle, the glaze had started to caramelize nicely. I let the salmon rest for a few minutes before serving it with cilantro-lime quinoa and a salad. That was some damn good fish: just done enough, tender and melting in the middle with super-crispy skin. The blend of hot and numbing spice was really nice, though I feel like it could have used a little more of the Szechuan.
Thing Seventy: Corn
Jun. 15th, 2015 02:18 pmThis isn't really much of a recipe so much as a technique. I haven't even done it in about a week, but I was inspired to write it down because I just saw a lovely picture of some grilled corn on a food blog.
I love grilled corn. I love the slightly-charred sweetness of it. I do not, however, love the pain-in-the-ass process of grilling. You have to wait for the charcoal to heat up, dump it into the grill, wait for the grill to get hot and the coals to get ashy, do your cooking, and then scrape off the grill and scoop out and dump the ashes. Way too much of a pain for a quick weeknight meal, in my book. I have, however, figured out a quick and lazy way of making corn that is almost as good as real grilled corn, for anyone with a gas stove.
First of all, leave the husks on. Cut off the top of the cornsilk, since that is dry and burns easily. Stick the corn in the microwave on high, still in the husk. I usually do about 5 minutes, turning halfway through, for 2-3 ears of corn. When it's done, take it out, peel down a little bit to let steam escape (careful!) and just set it aside for a while and do some other food prep. You want to leave it until it's cooled down a bit, unless you have Teflon hands.
When it's cool enough that you can hold it without burning yourself, peel off the husks. They actually come off the cooked corn much more easily than when it's raw. Same with the silk. Even if some silk clings, it shouldn't be a problem. Next, turn on a stove burner to about medium or so. Hold the corn with metal tongs, keeping it right above the flame, and moving and turning it periodically to make sure the fire's getting all parts of the ear. You'll hear popping as some of the kernels burst, and you'll see charred spots form. When it's done to your liking, remove it from the fire. At this point, you can eat it on the cob (maybe with lime, mayo, cilantro, and cotija?) or cut it off after it's cooled to use in another dish. The whole process takes minutes, and requires no cleanup besides washing the tongs, which don't get that dirty.
I love grilled corn. I love the slightly-charred sweetness of it. I do not, however, love the pain-in-the-ass process of grilling. You have to wait for the charcoal to heat up, dump it into the grill, wait for the grill to get hot and the coals to get ashy, do your cooking, and then scrape off the grill and scoop out and dump the ashes. Way too much of a pain for a quick weeknight meal, in my book. I have, however, figured out a quick and lazy way of making corn that is almost as good as real grilled corn, for anyone with a gas stove.
First of all, leave the husks on. Cut off the top of the cornsilk, since that is dry and burns easily. Stick the corn in the microwave on high, still in the husk. I usually do about 5 minutes, turning halfway through, for 2-3 ears of corn. When it's done, take it out, peel down a little bit to let steam escape (careful!) and just set it aside for a while and do some other food prep. You want to leave it until it's cooled down a bit, unless you have Teflon hands.
When it's cool enough that you can hold it without burning yourself, peel off the husks. They actually come off the cooked corn much more easily than when it's raw. Same with the silk. Even if some silk clings, it shouldn't be a problem. Next, turn on a stove burner to about medium or so. Hold the corn with metal tongs, keeping it right above the flame, and moving and turning it periodically to make sure the fire's getting all parts of the ear. You'll hear popping as some of the kernels burst, and you'll see charred spots form. When it's done to your liking, remove it from the fire. At this point, you can eat it on the cob (maybe with lime, mayo, cilantro, and cotija?) or cut it off after it's cooled to use in another dish. The whole process takes minutes, and requires no cleanup besides washing the tongs, which don't get that dirty.
I've been so lax about posting in LJ lately. Sorry. Tonight's the first night of a long weekend, and I got out of work a little early tonight, so I had time to make something nice for dinner. From a list of options I gave him, my husband picked pork chops. I wanted to do something fruity with them, and thought of and dismissed both pineapple salsa and a watermelon side salad, before deciding on peach chutney.
I was able to find two nice ripe peaches at the grocery store, happily. I had everything else I needed for this dish at home, including some cilantro for a garnish. Around 5:15 or so, I took the pork chops out of the package, salted them well on both sides, and let them sit on a plate in the fridge. Around 6:15 or so, I started the chutney. I didn't bother peeling the peaches (I was lazy), though you certainly can if you like. I cut them in a large dice, and put them in a stainless steel saucepan with brown sugar, cider vinegar, raisins, whole cardamom and coriander seeds, and some ground cinnamon, cloves, and ginger. I started it on medium heat, but when it started to cook down a bit, I turned it down to low to avoid burning. When it was nice and thick and chutney-ish, I took it off the heat.
I took the pork chops out of the fridge after they had sat for about an hour and a half. By this time, you could see why I had salted them so far in advance. See, when you salt meat well in advance of cooking, that salt will first draw liquid out of the meat. Watch, and you'll see it pooled on top and on the plate. "But," you say, "doesn't that dry the meat out?" Well, sure, if you cook it with all that moisture still on the outside. BUT...if you let it continue past that stage, say at least 45 minutes to overnight, you will see that liquid disappear. Where does it go? Right back into the meat, believe it or not. This ensures three things: first, that the meat is nice and juicy with no loss of moisture; second, that the salt permeates and flavors the inside of the meat; and third, that the meat is tender.
I heated a cast iron skillet over high heat, with canola oil in it. When it was smoking, I patted the surface of the chops with a paper towel to remove any remaining moisture (there was very little left on the surface), and popped them into the skillet. The reason you want to make sure the surface of a piece of meat is dry before pan-searing it is that if there's moisture there, the meat won't brown: it'll steam, and turn an unappetizing grey. Blah. No one likes that. I cooked the meat on both sides so that the faces of the chop were nice and brown, and the meat was at about 135 degrees (I prefer my pork a nice medium). I let them rest for a while, and served them with the chutney on top. The pork was perfectly cooked: just a hint of rosiness in the middle, juicy, tender, and flavorful. The chutney was the perfect accompaniment. For sides, I served baked sweet potatoes and salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette. It was a great start to the long weekend.
I was able to find two nice ripe peaches at the grocery store, happily. I had everything else I needed for this dish at home, including some cilantro for a garnish. Around 5:15 or so, I took the pork chops out of the package, salted them well on both sides, and let them sit on a plate in the fridge. Around 6:15 or so, I started the chutney. I didn't bother peeling the peaches (I was lazy), though you certainly can if you like. I cut them in a large dice, and put them in a stainless steel saucepan with brown sugar, cider vinegar, raisins, whole cardamom and coriander seeds, and some ground cinnamon, cloves, and ginger. I started it on medium heat, but when it started to cook down a bit, I turned it down to low to avoid burning. When it was nice and thick and chutney-ish, I took it off the heat.
I took the pork chops out of the fridge after they had sat for about an hour and a half. By this time, you could see why I had salted them so far in advance. See, when you salt meat well in advance of cooking, that salt will first draw liquid out of the meat. Watch, and you'll see it pooled on top and on the plate. "But," you say, "doesn't that dry the meat out?" Well, sure, if you cook it with all that moisture still on the outside. BUT...if you let it continue past that stage, say at least 45 minutes to overnight, you will see that liquid disappear. Where does it go? Right back into the meat, believe it or not. This ensures three things: first, that the meat is nice and juicy with no loss of moisture; second, that the salt permeates and flavors the inside of the meat; and third, that the meat is tender.
I heated a cast iron skillet over high heat, with canola oil in it. When it was smoking, I patted the surface of the chops with a paper towel to remove any remaining moisture (there was very little left on the surface), and popped them into the skillet. The reason you want to make sure the surface of a piece of meat is dry before pan-searing it is that if there's moisture there, the meat won't brown: it'll steam, and turn an unappetizing grey. Blah. No one likes that. I cooked the meat on both sides so that the faces of the chop were nice and brown, and the meat was at about 135 degrees (I prefer my pork a nice medium). I let them rest for a while, and served them with the chutney on top. The pork was perfectly cooked: just a hint of rosiness in the middle, juicy, tender, and flavorful. The chutney was the perfect accompaniment. For sides, I served baked sweet potatoes and salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette. It was a great start to the long weekend.
This subject line amuses me. "Slapdash Hand Pie" sounds like it should be the name of some kind of hipster band, or maybe a fast-paced card game that's fun for the whole family (TM). What it was, though, was something between dinner and a snack last night. After work, I met my husband and a couple of friends at a local Irish bar for beer and noshes. They'd been at it all day, unlike me, so they didn't really want to order dinner. Since I didn't want to keep them waiting there while I ate dinner, I assured my husband I'd find something to eat at home. I didn't really want to cook, but figured I'd probably make some of the Amy's tomato soup I had in the pantry. Well, as it turned out, I did feel like cooking after all, just nothing complicated. Fortunately, leftovers were helpful
The leftovers came from my cooking effort on Sunday. In search of something to bring to a St. Patrick's Day party that would provide us corned beef and cabbage haters (I know, heresy) with a substantial meal-like dish, I hit on the idea of making a French Canadian-style salmon pie, just like my dad used to make when I was a kid. It's an extremely simple dish, homey and comforting, and hitting those two marks of traditional peasant food: cheap and filling. The recipe is as follows:
2 pie crusts (use storebought like I did, or make your own)
1 tall can salmon
1 small onion, chopped
3-4 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks (use enough that the potatoes plus the onion make up 3/4 of the filling when mixed with the salmon)
1/2-1 tsp. celery seed (optional, use as much or as little as you like, really)
salt and pepper to taste
Ketchup or chopped canned tomatoes with salt and pepper, for serving
Boil the potatoes and onions in salted water until the potatoes are fork tender. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Drain the potatoes and onions, and dump in the salmon along with all the juices in the can and any skin and bones that might be in there. It's all good, guys, and good for you! Mash everything together until it's all evenly distributed, but not so much that the potatoes get gluey. Put into the bottom pie crust and top with the other crust. Trim and crimp the edges, and cut vents for steam. If you're so inclined, use the trimmed-off crust to make little fish to decorate. (I also did some shamrocks for this one!) It's a good idea to put some foil around the edges of the crust to keep them from over-browning. Bake for about 45 minutes, taking the foil off after about half an hour, until the crust is golden brown. Allow to cool for a while before cutting. Serve with ketchup, as is my favorite, or with the tomatoes, as my father prefers.
Anyway, to make this pie, I had to buy two frozen-in-the-foil-pie-plate crusts instead of my preferred refrigerated Pillsbury crusts. I don't like these as much. I guess that's what happens when you try to buy pie crusts on Pi Day, though: the grocery store is severely depleted! I had a lot of trim left over from the top crust, probably since I had to form it into a ball and roll it out in order to get it to work for me, and I rolled it rather thin. I used some of the trim to decorate the top of the pie, but there was enough left over that I stuck it in a Ziploc in the fridge. Last night, I spied that when I came home, and decided I needed to make a little hand pie with it. Looking in the vegetable drawer, I saw part of a head of cabbage and a leek that were begging to be used. I sliced some of each, and sautéed them up in a little butter until tender and just starting to brown. I formed the pie dough into a circle using my hands (too lazy to get out the rolling pin), and filled it with the sautéed veggies and some cheddar cheese. I folded the dough in half, crimped the edges, slashed the top to vent, and stuck it in the toaster oven until it was golden brown. I probaby cooked it too quickly at too high a temperature, so the crust was sort of crumbly, but it was a really, really tasty little bite. The combination of the cabbage, leek, and cheddar was very flavorful and very comforting. I think I may need to do this on a larger scale sometime.
The leftovers came from my cooking effort on Sunday. In search of something to bring to a St. Patrick's Day party that would provide us corned beef and cabbage haters (I know, heresy) with a substantial meal-like dish, I hit on the idea of making a French Canadian-style salmon pie, just like my dad used to make when I was a kid. It's an extremely simple dish, homey and comforting, and hitting those two marks of traditional peasant food: cheap and filling. The recipe is as follows:
2 pie crusts (use storebought like I did, or make your own)
1 tall can salmon
1 small onion, chopped
3-4 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks (use enough that the potatoes plus the onion make up 3/4 of the filling when mixed with the salmon)
1/2-1 tsp. celery seed (optional, use as much or as little as you like, really)
salt and pepper to taste
Ketchup or chopped canned tomatoes with salt and pepper, for serving
Boil the potatoes and onions in salted water until the potatoes are fork tender. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Drain the potatoes and onions, and dump in the salmon along with all the juices in the can and any skin and bones that might be in there. It's all good, guys, and good for you! Mash everything together until it's all evenly distributed, but not so much that the potatoes get gluey. Put into the bottom pie crust and top with the other crust. Trim and crimp the edges, and cut vents for steam. If you're so inclined, use the trimmed-off crust to make little fish to decorate. (I also did some shamrocks for this one!) It's a good idea to put some foil around the edges of the crust to keep them from over-browning. Bake for about 45 minutes, taking the foil off after about half an hour, until the crust is golden brown. Allow to cool for a while before cutting. Serve with ketchup, as is my favorite, or with the tomatoes, as my father prefers.
Anyway, to make this pie, I had to buy two frozen-in-the-foil-pie-plate crusts instead of my preferred refrigerated Pillsbury crusts. I don't like these as much. I guess that's what happens when you try to buy pie crusts on Pi Day, though: the grocery store is severely depleted! I had a lot of trim left over from the top crust, probably since I had to form it into a ball and roll it out in order to get it to work for me, and I rolled it rather thin. I used some of the trim to decorate the top of the pie, but there was enough left over that I stuck it in a Ziploc in the fridge. Last night, I spied that when I came home, and decided I needed to make a little hand pie with it. Looking in the vegetable drawer, I saw part of a head of cabbage and a leek that were begging to be used. I sliced some of each, and sautéed them up in a little butter until tender and just starting to brown. I formed the pie dough into a circle using my hands (too lazy to get out the rolling pin), and filled it with the sautéed veggies and some cheddar cheese. I folded the dough in half, crimped the edges, slashed the top to vent, and stuck it in the toaster oven until it was golden brown. I probaby cooked it too quickly at too high a temperature, so the crust was sort of crumbly, but it was a really, really tasty little bite. The combination of the cabbage, leek, and cheddar was very flavorful and very comforting. I think I may need to do this on a larger scale sometime.
Thing Sixty-Seven: Lamb and Beef Ragu
Mar. 1st, 2015 07:07 pmWhen racking my brain for a main dish to make for a small potluck dinner, I opened my freezer and saw that I had a half pound each of ground beef and ground lamb in there. I figured that these could be the basis for a meat sauce to serve with pasta. The lamb was an unusual enough addition, though, that I decided I should do a different kind of riff on my usual tomato sauce.
There's a diner in Watertown that serves a really tasty Greek sausage that's seasoned with fennel and orange zest. I found myself thinking about this flavor combination, and also about how well mint goes with both of those flavors. I decided these needed to be flavor components in my lamb and beef ragu.
I started out pretty much like you might with any pasta sauce. I sauteed chopped onions and celery in olive oil, then added some minced garlic when they were mostly soft (to avoid burning the smaller pieces before the rest was cooked). I added the lamb and beef, and browned them. Then, I poured in a good glug of red wine, and cooked most of the liquid off. I put in a can of whole peeled tomatoes and their juice, squeezing each one to bits before dropping it into the pot. I also threw in a can of tomato paste (the lazy cook's shortcut to good thick sauce that tastes like it's been cooked down). I added a bay leaf and some fennel seeds and salt, and let it simmer for quite a while. Then I added some dried mint and some minced fresh orange zest. Later, when it was close to done, I chopped up some fresh marjoram and threw that in as well. The end result is fragrant, rich, and has that slight gaminess of lamb that I love so much. I can't wait to have it for dinner tomorrow night! It'll be easy to just microwave it and serve it over freshly cooked pasta at my friends' house.
Tonight is Dornish "Snake," a.k.a. chicken thighs, which I've made before, but never for my husband. I hope he likes the spicy sauce!
There's a diner in Watertown that serves a really tasty Greek sausage that's seasoned with fennel and orange zest. I found myself thinking about this flavor combination, and also about how well mint goes with both of those flavors. I decided these needed to be flavor components in my lamb and beef ragu.
I started out pretty much like you might with any pasta sauce. I sauteed chopped onions and celery in olive oil, then added some minced garlic when they were mostly soft (to avoid burning the smaller pieces before the rest was cooked). I added the lamb and beef, and browned them. Then, I poured in a good glug of red wine, and cooked most of the liquid off. I put in a can of whole peeled tomatoes and their juice, squeezing each one to bits before dropping it into the pot. I also threw in a can of tomato paste (the lazy cook's shortcut to good thick sauce that tastes like it's been cooked down). I added a bay leaf and some fennel seeds and salt, and let it simmer for quite a while. Then I added some dried mint and some minced fresh orange zest. Later, when it was close to done, I chopped up some fresh marjoram and threw that in as well. The end result is fragrant, rich, and has that slight gaminess of lamb that I love so much. I can't wait to have it for dinner tomorrow night! It'll be easy to just microwave it and serve it over freshly cooked pasta at my friends' house.
Tonight is Dornish "Snake," a.k.a. chicken thighs, which I've made before, but never for my husband. I hope he likes the spicy sauce!
I got new toys!
Both last year and this year, when I went to Arisia, a science-fiction convention held here in Boston, I attended a panel on food science. To someone like me who is both a foodie and a geek, this was awesome. A lot of cool stuff came up in these panels. Sous vide cooking was a big topic. Yes, I want to get an immersion circulator and do this (probably the new Anova model). Of course, this means I will ALSO want to get a vacuum sealer (probably a FoodSaver), and perhaps eventually a blowtorch and a Searzall (which is the best way of searing stuff ever, apparently). We also talked a lot about molecular gastronomy, though. I will admit that there are times when I look at the dishes that use MG methods and think, "that looks pretty, but it doesn't look yummy." The more I hear about it, though, the more I realize that GOOD MG doesn't just transform things for the hell of it. Instead, it transforms them in ways that will either enhance the experience of them, or give you a new and exciting way to experience them. The more I hear about MG, the more interested I get. Shortly after the panel was over, I decided to buy a beginner MG kit from a vendor at the con. It has packets of chemicals and an assortment of tools, as well as a recipe DVD. I can't wait to start acting like a mad scientist in the kitchen. SCIENCE!
The other new toy I got is really a collection of new ingredients. My dad got me a collection of 12 different kinds of peppercorns for Christmas. The difference in the aromas of all of them is huge. I'm already thinking about what I'd like to do with them. I'm sure that many of them would make an excellent crust for a steak. Others might be good in cocktails, if I use them to infuse liquor. Some, I'd even use in desserts. I think I might need to buy a few cheap pepper mills so I can have several types going at once.
Now, I just want to record an idea for a gluten free pizza-ish thing I had. I love me some gluten, but not all my friends do.
Cook polenta, using parmesan, garlic, herbs, and salt to give it plenty of flavor. When it's done, pour it into a lightly oiled pie plate. Chill overnight. The next day, bring it out to come up to room temperature. Put another pie plate the same size and shape into the oven at a high temperature. Let it come up to temperature, preheating the pan along with the oven. When it's hot, remove the pan, hit it with some oil, and transfer the set polenta into the hot pie pan. Working quickly, top it pizza-style, and bang it back into the oven until everything looks done. I'm hoping this would enable the bottom of the polenta to get nice and crusty.
Both last year and this year, when I went to Arisia, a science-fiction convention held here in Boston, I attended a panel on food science. To someone like me who is both a foodie and a geek, this was awesome. A lot of cool stuff came up in these panels. Sous vide cooking was a big topic. Yes, I want to get an immersion circulator and do this (probably the new Anova model). Of course, this means I will ALSO want to get a vacuum sealer (probably a FoodSaver), and perhaps eventually a blowtorch and a Searzall (which is the best way of searing stuff ever, apparently). We also talked a lot about molecular gastronomy, though. I will admit that there are times when I look at the dishes that use MG methods and think, "that looks pretty, but it doesn't look yummy." The more I hear about it, though, the more I realize that GOOD MG doesn't just transform things for the hell of it. Instead, it transforms them in ways that will either enhance the experience of them, or give you a new and exciting way to experience them. The more I hear about MG, the more interested I get. Shortly after the panel was over, I decided to buy a beginner MG kit from a vendor at the con. It has packets of chemicals and an assortment of tools, as well as a recipe DVD. I can't wait to start acting like a mad scientist in the kitchen. SCIENCE!
The other new toy I got is really a collection of new ingredients. My dad got me a collection of 12 different kinds of peppercorns for Christmas. The difference in the aromas of all of them is huge. I'm already thinking about what I'd like to do with them. I'm sure that many of them would make an excellent crust for a steak. Others might be good in cocktails, if I use them to infuse liquor. Some, I'd even use in desserts. I think I might need to buy a few cheap pepper mills so I can have several types going at once.
Now, I just want to record an idea for a gluten free pizza-ish thing I had. I love me some gluten, but not all my friends do.
Cook polenta, using parmesan, garlic, herbs, and salt to give it plenty of flavor. When it's done, pour it into a lightly oiled pie plate. Chill overnight. The next day, bring it out to come up to room temperature. Put another pie plate the same size and shape into the oven at a high temperature. Let it come up to temperature, preheating the pan along with the oven. When it's hot, remove the pan, hit it with some oil, and transfer the set polenta into the hot pie pan. Working quickly, top it pizza-style, and bang it back into the oven until everything looks done. I'm hoping this would enable the bottom of the polenta to get nice and crusty.
pierceheart and I had our honeymoon in Hawaii, staying in Waikiki Beach on Oahu. Our first night there, we'd arrived and checked into our hotel after a LOOOOOONG flight, and we were beyond hungry. I'd heard about a little dive not too far from our hotel called Side Street Inn. It was recommended by both Anthony Bourdain and Saveur magazine as a great place to get tiki drinks and eat good food. We elected to walk there--it was about a half hour walk or so--because we wanted to be able to have those tiki drinks and not have to drive back. Walking in the Hawaiian heat after the crisp October weather in New England and then the climate-controlled planes and airports was a little surreal, especially since it was close to midnight according to our bodies and dinnertime according to the clocks.When we got to Side Street Inn, we ordered mai tais, fried rice, a salad, and some kind of barbecued steak with an Asian marinade to share. The fried rice, from the first bite, absolutely blew me away. It was the most flavorful fried rice I'd ever eaten. It was rich with bits and pieces of meat, and it really satisfied the hunger that had only increased over the course of the walk to the restaurant.
I attempted a clone of it once at home without a recipe, and it came out quite good. Recently, though, I decided to make it for a tiki party at a science fiction convention, and actually found Side Street's recipe as printed in Saveur. I was thrilled. This time, it was just like the deliciously porky fried rice I remembered from my honeymoon.
1 1⁄4 cups medium-grain rice
3 strips bacon, chopped
1⁄2 link (about 3 oz.) hot linguiça
(Portuguese sausage), chopped
3 tbsp. oyster sauce
1 tbsp. instant dashi (Japanese
soup base) granules
1⁄2 cup (2 1⁄2 oz.) chopped char siu
(Chinese barbecued pork)
1⁄2 cup mixed frozen peas and carrots,
thawed
3 scallions, trimmed and thinly sliced
1. Put rice into a medium bowl, cover with cold water, and swish around with your hand until water clouds. Drain. Repeat process until water remains clear, 4–5 more times. Put rice and 2 cups water into a medium pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cover pot, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until water is absorbed, about 15 minutes. Remove pot from heat and let sit, covered, for 10 minutes. Spread rice out in a single layer on a sheet pan and let cool, uncovered, in refrigerator for 6 hours or overnight.
2. Put bacon and sausage into a large skillet (preferably nonstick) and cook over medium heat until the bacon is crisp, about 5 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high, add rice, and stir-fry vigorously to prevent sticking, until hot, about 2 minutes. Add oyster sauce and instant dashi and mix well. Add char siu, peas and carrots, and two-thirds of the scallions. Continue to stir-fry until all ingredients are hot, about 2 minutes more.
3. Transfer rice to a serving dish and garnish with remaining scallions.
Now, I didn't have any char siu pork, and was reluctant to order a dish from a restaurant and pay a delivery fee. I was also reluctant to buy a jar of that mostly-corn-syrup-and-food-coloring gunk that's so often used to make char siu. Instead, I mixed honey, sugar, water, soy sauce, and five spice powder until it tasted right, cooked it down to a syrupy consistency, and added just a few drops of red food coloring for verisimilitude. I marinated pork chops in this mixture overnight after it cooled, and then broiled them. The result was just right. I also didn't have instant dashi granules, but I DID have bonito flakes. I crushed them into a fine powder and used them instead. It worked fine, adding a savory, slightly smoky flavor.
A word of advice: if you want to make this, take the rice cooking instructions seriously. I cooked my rice a day in advance, but instead of putting it on a tray and leaving it open in the fridge, I put it in a container that I covered. The top of the rice was nice and dry, but the bottom was still wet where it had sat against the sides and bottom of the container. This meant the texture could have been better, but it was still very very good.
Thing Sixty-Four: Split Pea Soup With Ham
Jan. 1st, 2015 06:01 pmA while back, I decided I wanted to cook a ham. I've done the tiny little boneless ones before, but this time, I got a quarter bone-in ham to bake. It was delicious, with plenty of leftovers...and a ham bone!
Of course, I knew just what I wanted to do with that ham bone: make pea soup. I'd never actually made it before, but when I was a kid, I used to love pea soup (just from a can). I figured it was time I tried making my own. I froze the ham bone and the leftover ham, and today, I took them out and got cooking.
Some of the recipes that I saw called for pre-soaking the peas, but I figured that since they were so small, it probably wouldn't be necessary. Other recipes called for chicken stock, or just had you put the ham bone in with the peas and start cooking. I decided to simmer the ham bone with a couple of bay leaves in plenty of water for a while instead. I thought this was pretty clever, because if I put the peas in right away, they'd start absorbing liquid before the liquid was all that highly flavored. Putting them in after I'd gotten a good stock going sounded like a good idea. I also sweated a couple of small onions, a celery rib, and a carrot (all finely chopped) in a skillet, and added them to the stock along with the peas. Doing it in a separate pan was a little annoying, but it worked.
Here's the basic recipe I created:
Ingredients:
1 leftover ham bone
1 pound split peas, picked over (I used yellow since that's what the store had)
8 cups water
2 bay leaves
2 small onions or one large, diced
1 rib of celery, diced
1 carrot, diced
About 2 tsp vegetable oil (I used safflower)
Leftover ham, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Method:
Put the ham bone in a pot with the bay leaves and water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then turn down to low and simmer covered until the broth starts to taste flavorful (I think mine went for about an hour and a half or more). When the broth gets to a good tasty state, heat the oil in a skillet over medium low heat, and gently sweat the onion, celery, and carrot until tender (the carrots and celery don't have to be completely soft, but the onions should be translucent and rather soft). Add the vegetables and the peas to the broth, and simmer for about two hours, until the peas are very soft. Remove the ham bone (pick off any meat on it and set aside) and the bay leaves, and puree the soup to your desired consistency with a stick blender. Add chopped leftover ham and whatever meat you reserved from the ham bone. Taste, and add salt and pepper as needed. If it seems too thick, add a little water to thin it out. Serve hot.
Of course, I knew just what I wanted to do with that ham bone: make pea soup. I'd never actually made it before, but when I was a kid, I used to love pea soup (just from a can). I figured it was time I tried making my own. I froze the ham bone and the leftover ham, and today, I took them out and got cooking.
Some of the recipes that I saw called for pre-soaking the peas, but I figured that since they were so small, it probably wouldn't be necessary. Other recipes called for chicken stock, or just had you put the ham bone in with the peas and start cooking. I decided to simmer the ham bone with a couple of bay leaves in plenty of water for a while instead. I thought this was pretty clever, because if I put the peas in right away, they'd start absorbing liquid before the liquid was all that highly flavored. Putting them in after I'd gotten a good stock going sounded like a good idea. I also sweated a couple of small onions, a celery rib, and a carrot (all finely chopped) in a skillet, and added them to the stock along with the peas. Doing it in a separate pan was a little annoying, but it worked.
Here's the basic recipe I created:
Ingredients:
1 leftover ham bone
1 pound split peas, picked over (I used yellow since that's what the store had)
8 cups water
2 bay leaves
2 small onions or one large, diced
1 rib of celery, diced
1 carrot, diced
About 2 tsp vegetable oil (I used safflower)
Leftover ham, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Method:
Put the ham bone in a pot with the bay leaves and water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then turn down to low and simmer covered until the broth starts to taste flavorful (I think mine went for about an hour and a half or more). When the broth gets to a good tasty state, heat the oil in a skillet over medium low heat, and gently sweat the onion, celery, and carrot until tender (the carrots and celery don't have to be completely soft, but the onions should be translucent and rather soft). Add the vegetables and the peas to the broth, and simmer for about two hours, until the peas are very soft. Remove the ham bone (pick off any meat on it and set aside) and the bay leaves, and puree the soup to your desired consistency with a stick blender. Add chopped leftover ham and whatever meat you reserved from the ham bone. Taste, and add salt and pepper as needed. If it seems too thick, add a little water to thin it out. Serve hot.
Brussels sprouts are a fall and winter standby for me. I love them, and so does my husband. I didn't realize that I loved them until a few years ago. See, my father is an excellent cook, as I may have mentioned. Wonderful. That said...Brussels sprouts are not his strong suit. He boils them. To me, boiling sprouts makes them taste like nasty hunks of soggy bland cabbage. I can't stand them cooked that way. Roasting them, on the other hand...it transforms them into something sweet, complex, and sublime. This can be a simple technique: just wash and trim them, cut them in half (to increase the amount of surface area that gets nice and brown), toss them with a little olive oil and throw them in a hot oven on a cookie sheet until they're getting crispy. For this year's Yule feast, though, I decided to up the game a bit.
I started out with some good thick-cut bacon, which I cut into bits, and cooked up in a skillet. When the bacon was crispy and the fat was mostly rendered out, I set the bacon aside, and poured the fat onto my trimmed-and-halved sprouts. I tossed them to coat them in the lovely bacon fat, and put them in a hot oven until crispy. When I took them out, I added the bacon back in, along with some smoked sea salt, maple syrup, and cider vinegar. The smoke and bacon made it nice and savory, the syrup played up the sweetness of the roasted sprouts, and the cider vinegar added just enough tanginess. Seriously, the combination of acids and cruciferous vegetables is a brilliant one that you should try in many combinations.
The feast included not just my husband, our friends, and their kids, but also the parents of one of our friends, and the father's cousin. I made two whole pounds of sprouts, and they all got devoured. This was a great holiday side dish, and went over really well!
I started out with some good thick-cut bacon, which I cut into bits, and cooked up in a skillet. When the bacon was crispy and the fat was mostly rendered out, I set the bacon aside, and poured the fat onto my trimmed-and-halved sprouts. I tossed them to coat them in the lovely bacon fat, and put them in a hot oven until crispy. When I took them out, I added the bacon back in, along with some smoked sea salt, maple syrup, and cider vinegar. The smoke and bacon made it nice and savory, the syrup played up the sweetness of the roasted sprouts, and the cider vinegar added just enough tanginess. Seriously, the combination of acids and cruciferous vegetables is a brilliant one that you should try in many combinations.
The feast included not just my husband, our friends, and their kids, but also the parents of one of our friends, and the father's cousin. I made two whole pounds of sprouts, and they all got devoured. This was a great holiday side dish, and went over really well!
Thing Sixty-Two: Making Leftovers Right
Nov. 15th, 2014 08:08 pmThe subject of this post is from a Nigella Lawson cookbook that I have. It's a blurb she includes with many of the recipes to tell you how best to serve the leftovers. Last night, we had roast chicken legs, barley cooked with mushrooms and truffle oil, and Brussels sprouts. The only thing we had left over was the barley. When I went to get my chicken carcass bits out of the fridge to make stock, though (more on that later), I dumped in a package before realizing it was actually a half roasted chicken. Oops. I didn't want the meat in the stock, so I pulled it out, defrosted it, and took it off the bone. I had some in chicken salad for lunch, and then I made this dish for dinner.
I sauteed some shallots in butter until they were tender, deglazed with a splash of Madeira, and added the barley, a little chicken broth, and some shredded chicken. I let that simmer for a bit until the liquid was mostly absorbed, then grated in some parmesan. Now, this was just about the simplest dish imaginable, and took almost no effort, but man...it was tasty! I'm always happy when I'm able to take leftovers and use them in such a way that they taste like a new dish. This was really satisfying in that way: the Madeira and the parmesan added a lot of flavor, and pulled the whole thing together. It was perfect with a salad on the side.
Now, two for the price of one! I also had part of a little juice box of organic apple juice left over in the fridge from making fruitcake. I mixed it with a little spoonful of homemade apple butter (mostly for the spices) and about half a dropper of fig bitters. I topped it off with the seasonal ginger apple seltzer from Polar. This made for a really, really good non-alcoholic drink that felt like something special. It would have been better still with good quality apple cider instead of the juice, but that wouldn't have been a leftover, would it?
I sauteed some shallots in butter until they were tender, deglazed with a splash of Madeira, and added the barley, a little chicken broth, and some shredded chicken. I let that simmer for a bit until the liquid was mostly absorbed, then grated in some parmesan. Now, this was just about the simplest dish imaginable, and took almost no effort, but man...it was tasty! I'm always happy when I'm able to take leftovers and use them in such a way that they taste like a new dish. This was really satisfying in that way: the Madeira and the parmesan added a lot of flavor, and pulled the whole thing together. It was perfect with a salad on the side.
Now, two for the price of one! I also had part of a little juice box of organic apple juice left over in the fridge from making fruitcake. I mixed it with a little spoonful of homemade apple butter (mostly for the spices) and about half a dropper of fig bitters. I topped it off with the seasonal ginger apple seltzer from Polar. This made for a really, really good non-alcoholic drink that felt like something special. It would have been better still with good quality apple cider instead of the juice, but that wouldn't have been a leftover, would it?
Thing Sixty-One: Free Range Fruitcake
Nov. 9th, 2014 01:55 pmI'm kind of amazed that I haven't written about this yet! This is a recipe I make every year around this time. It's from Alton Brown, and when I first saw the episode where he made it, I knew I would have to give it a try.
I've always loved the idea of fruitcake: a dense, moist, spicy, boozy cake studded with sweet fruit. What could be better for a winter dessert? Alas, most fruitcakes out there don't live up to expectations. Most of them are made with oddly colored, oddly textured glace fruits, and few actually have any booze in them. (Don't even talk to me about pannetone: I don't think I've EVER had one that wasn't bone-dry.)
Alton Brown's fruitcake, on the other hand, uses tons of real dried fruits, as a traditional fruitcake should. It also uses a heck of a lot of alcohol. You start by soaking the fruit (golden raisins, currants or black raisins, cherries, cranberries, blueberries, and apricots) in a full cup of rum, along with some chopped lemon and orange peel and candied ginger. I let it soak for about a day, until nearly all of the liquid has been absorbed. You then cook it with some apple juice, butter, and sugar, mix in dry ingredients and eggs when it's cooled, and bake it up. As soon as it comes out of the oven, you spray or baste the top with brandy, and you continue to do this every couple of days or so for about two months, keeping the fruitcake in an airtight container, until it's properly aged. That's why I like making it around this time. I'd actually prefer earlier: the weekend after Samhain is my traditional time, but this year, Samhain was right up against the weekend, and I didn't get a chance.
I like making mine in a pan that does four mini-loaves, which is just right for one batch of the batter. This way, I can easily bring smaller loaves to the office and to a party or two, as well as giving one to whoever looks after my cat when I'm away at Christmas.
My house smells AMAZING right now, thanks to these little beauties.
I've always loved the idea of fruitcake: a dense, moist, spicy, boozy cake studded with sweet fruit. What could be better for a winter dessert? Alas, most fruitcakes out there don't live up to expectations. Most of them are made with oddly colored, oddly textured glace fruits, and few actually have any booze in them. (Don't even talk to me about pannetone: I don't think I've EVER had one that wasn't bone-dry.)
Alton Brown's fruitcake, on the other hand, uses tons of real dried fruits, as a traditional fruitcake should. It also uses a heck of a lot of alcohol. You start by soaking the fruit (golden raisins, currants or black raisins, cherries, cranberries, blueberries, and apricots) in a full cup of rum, along with some chopped lemon and orange peel and candied ginger. I let it soak for about a day, until nearly all of the liquid has been absorbed. You then cook it with some apple juice, butter, and sugar, mix in dry ingredients and eggs when it's cooled, and bake it up. As soon as it comes out of the oven, you spray or baste the top with brandy, and you continue to do this every couple of days or so for about two months, keeping the fruitcake in an airtight container, until it's properly aged. That's why I like making it around this time. I'd actually prefer earlier: the weekend after Samhain is my traditional time, but this year, Samhain was right up against the weekend, and I didn't get a chance.
I like making mine in a pan that does four mini-loaves, which is just right for one batch of the batter. This way, I can easily bring smaller loaves to the office and to a party or two, as well as giving one to whoever looks after my cat when I'm away at Christmas.
My house smells AMAZING right now, thanks to these little beauties.
