Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Peach Crespelle

Silken Summer

Peach Crespelle

The pulled pork I made for Dad's birthday was juicy, succulent, and packed with hickory flavor. The sauce had a tad too much vinegar in it (I've tweaked the recipe) but still set off the pork beautifully. The bacon buns were everything I hoped for savory with a touch of sweetness, light without being completely insubstantial.

The barbequed beans also turned out well and the three hours they spent sitting on a rack below the pork while it smoked paid off in spades. The Calabacitas with fresh corn, squash, and tomatoes was also delicious and a good complement to the 'Q. The last element was dessert.

Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring and because it has fresh peaches in it. ~ Thomas Walker

What to fix for dessert was easy. It is, after all, peach season. How to fix it was another matter. Or would have been if I hadn't recently taught a class on crepes and so had a few leftover crepes in the fridge. But I decided to include mascarpone cheese so instead of calling the crêpes (the French word) I call the crespelle (the Italian word).

The recipe is so simple it hardly deserves the term "recipe." Except that each element was chosen carefully to show off the peaches in their best light.

Peach Crespelle with Peach Coulis

Coulis:
2 c sliced fresh peaches
3/4 c water
3 tbsp Frangelica
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
Crespelle:
4 ea crespelle (cre;ecirc;pes)
3 ea peaches – peeled and sliced thinly
3 tbsp Frangelica
8 oz mascarpone – at room temperature

Coulis:
Combine the ingredients in a small saucepan over high heat. Cook, stirring, for 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for about 15 minutes.

Pour the mixture into the bowl of a food processor and purée.

Crespelle
Place mascarpone in a small bowl, add Frangelica, and using an electric hand mixer, beat for about 1 minute. Place a spoonful of mascarpone in the center of each crespelle, add a few peach slices and fold into a square. Set on a plate, folded side down. Add another couple of peach slices, a small dollop of mascarpone, and spoon some coulis over the top. Serves 4.
This same recipe can be used to make strawberry, blueberry, plum, or nectarine crespelle.

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Sunday, August 27, 2006

Bacon Buns

Baking Better Barbeque Buns

Bacon Buns

Sometimes I baffle myself. For instance, I've been on a bun binge this year. No idea why, but it's been ages since I've bought a bun. I've baked burger buns and breakfast buns, buns that were brash and buns that were buttery, even basic buns -- and most recently I set out to bake a better barbeque bun. I've no idea why.

For my father's birthday I'd decided to make barbeque, specifically pulled (hand-shredded) pork. In this area of the country pulled pork is typically served as a sandwich on hamburger buns -- those soft, ultra-refined-flour, sweet things the supermarkets sell. They're actually not bad as a base for barbequed sandwiches, they pretty much disappear beneath the pork, smoke, and sauce contributing little more to the flavor than a fork would, but I believed something better could be brought to the plate.

Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon. ~ Doug Larson

I've learned a bit with each of my prior efforts at burger buns. The flavors have been consistently excellent but the texture hasn't. It's gotten better, but has continued to be heavier than I wished. With each experiment I've taken what I learned and went looking for something new to try. I've looked for a bun that had real flavor and still had a light texture.

I'm not there yet, but closer.

I think some whole-wheat flour is needed for both flavor and texture -- but I've learned it's much less than I originally supposed. This time the proportion of wheat to white was less than 1 to 3 and I suspect 1 to 4 will be best.

Slow rising and minimal yeast produce deeper and richer flavors and I have bias toward such flavor. But these characteristics also produce a tougher bread because the gluten is more developed. And I didn't want the bun to be so much an ingredient as a condiment -- at least in this case. So I elected to do a quick single rise.

Lastly, I did want some flavor so after giving thought to what would complement the pork, I decided to use bacon fat in the buns instead of the usual butter. It was an excellent choice and the buns had a lovely pork flavor.

Bacon Buns

1 c milk
1/2 c water
1/4 c bacon fat
1 c whole-wheat flour
3 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp instant yeast
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 ea egg

Heat the milk, bacon fat, and water in a small saucepan until about 120F.

Mix together 2 cups flour, yeast, and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer using the paddle attachment. Mix in milk mixture, followed by the egg.

Add remaining flour 1/2 cup at a time -- switching to the dough hook after adding a cup and a half of flour. Knead for 8 minutes then turn out on a floured board and knead 2 or 3 minutes longer if required. Shape dough into a roll and allow to rest for about 10 minutes.

Divide dough into 10 equal pieces. Form each piece into an oblong shape and place on a parchment lined baking sheet (you'll need two sheets). Spritz buns with a light coating of oil and cover with plastic wrap and allow to rise until slightly more than doubled in bulk.

While the buns are rising, heat the oven to 400F and position a rack in the middle of the oven.

Bake for 8 minutes, then rotate baking sheet 180 degrees. Bake another 2 to 4 minutes until golden brown.

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Friday, August 25, 2006

Pulled Pork

Traditions

Barbequed Pork

Traditions come in all forms, sizes, degrees of formality, and frequency. They are a way of proclaiming who we are, of acknowledging special events, of defining our relationships. They are affirmative by nature and even sad traditions, such as funerals, remind us that life is a continuum and circular -- however that circle is defined.

For quite a few years I fixed a birthday feast for each of my parents on their birthdays. Then I left Knoxville (yet again) and since I've returned (yet again) I've enjoyed renewing these special meals. They affirm my love, and even sense of duty, to my mother and father. They are something I make myself (remember how, as a child, you were told that the gifts you made were the best ones?) and I spend a lot of time thinking about what to fix.

Barbeque Roast

It must be something I think the parent who's having the birthday will particularly enjoy. It must be something (at least mostly) I haven't fixed for a prior birthday, and ideally it should include something I invent just for the occasion. The occasion that prompted my most recent efforts was my father's birthday, which we celebrated today. My parents have reached an age (pretty-damned-old) where they don't like driving at night and so the dinner was a lunch.

As befits a man born and raised in the South, Dad is a barbeque lover. In the South, barbeque is also a tradition.

Dad didn't barbeque (in the proper sense of the word) when I was a child, but he did do a good bit of grilling, on a grill he built himself, over real wood -- none of this briquette business. He taught me how to build a "proper" fire starting with a tiny tepee of twigs and fluff gathered from the woods and building out to a substantial tepee of small logs. Done "properly" this could then be lit with a single match without benefit of newspaper or starter fluid.

Those days were long ago and these days he doesn't have a grill at all, much less any kind of a smoker. So for barbeque he's had to rely on a local chain. Their 'Q is good (slow-roasted in smoke as it should be) but I thought for this event I'd smoke a pork roast myself and shred it to make pulled-pork. In these parts pulled-pork is served on a hamburger bun with a sauce that falls somewhere between Memphis and North Carolina in character -- which just happens to be Knoxville's location.

Not content with supermarket buns I came up with a recipe of my own (to be posted later). I also made barbequed beans (also to be posted later), a sort-of succotash of fresh corn, tomatoes, and squash, and a dessert (again, to be posted later).

I bought a shoulder blade roast, known as Boston Butt, 2 days ago, applied the following spice rub, and wrapped it up tight to marinate until yesterday morning.

Pork Dry Rub

1/4 c paprika
2 tbsp kosher salt
2 tbsp onion powder
1 tbsp cumin
1 tbsp garlic powder
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp rubbed (dried) sage
1 tsp dried, ground lemon peel
1/2 tsp ground chipotle

I mix this up and store it in a small mayonnaise jar with large holes poked in the lid. The holes make it easy to apply to meat. To seal the jar I use a couple of pieces of plastic wrap between the lid and jar.

Yesterday morning I piled about six pounds of briquettes in a starter chimney and lit it. when the fire was ready, I dumped it into the fire basket, added a bit more charcoal, and tossed on some chunks of hickory I soaked in water. seven and a half hours later I had barbeque.

Then it was a matter of letting it cool enough to handle and then pulling it apart into shreds of meat. My fingers are still stiff. As for the sauce, you can find the recipe here.

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Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Last Meal Cafe

Last Meal Cafe

Sandwich Sign


Melissa at The Traveler's Lunchbox is compiling a list of things to eat before we die. At first I thought the purpose was to name things you haven't eaten but want to try before going to that great buffet in the sky. She restricted contributions to five items and it seemed fairly doable. It would require some careful consideration and evaluation, but I figured I could limit the list to five.

Then, reading her list, I realized she meant things we've already eaten and want to be sure to eat again. My god! That list must be hundreds of dishes long. Where to start? How to decide? Am I willing to give up a bowl of lobster bisque to have a last piece of my grandmother's bourbon cake? Must I forego perfectly smoked pork ribs to enjoy once last bite of roast piglet in Spain? Which is more important to my happiness in the afterlife, another plate of Spaghetti Carbonara outside of Hadrian's Villa near Rome, or another a last serving of cannelloni at Arrivederci in Scottsdale. The whole thing is downright cruel and inhuman.

So I decided to limit myself to one kind of thing under the assumption that I could still eat others kinds of things without unduly limiting myself. And I knew immediately what I would limit myself to: sandwiches.

Why sandwiches? First off because I figured I could come up with five best sandwiches without putting myself through any terrible existential angst. Second, because if I suddenly learned I was going to die tomorrow I'm not sure I would think to ask for a sandwich. And third, because a really good sandwich is every bit as rare as a perfectly smoked rib or a truffle soufflé.

BLT

Number one on the list, is a BLT made right here. The toast is made from my own sourdough. Hellman's mayonnaise is slathered generously on both pieces of toast. The bacon is smoked at smokehouse not far from, the lettuce is Boston Bibb, and the tomato is local and sweetly acid, and over half an inch thick. And then, because I always do, I'll make another one. One just isn't enough.

Reuben

The Rueben is number two. In particular, the Rueben served at a particular diner (whose names escapes me) in Merrimack, New Hampshire. The bread is a surprisingly light but well-flavored rye made there in the diner (a perfect sandwich is impossible without perfect bread). The corned beef falls apart in your mouth. The sauerkraut delightfully tangy in contrast to the slightly sweet sauce, and the cheese is an excellent Vermont Swiss. Best of all, you can sit on a stool at the counter and look out a huge picture window onto the Merrimack River.

Mufaletta

If I can't have either of those, then I want a Muffaletta from Central Grocery in New Orleans. There's some argument as to whether or not it was invented there, but it's certainly one of the best with its huge circular loaves of Italian-style bread, cut into quarters. The olive salad that bites you back, the best of deli meats and cheeses are stacked on top, and it drips down your chin with each bite. A true killer sandwich.

Cubano

There's one sandwich on my list that I've heard about, and made a couple of times, but have never had on its home territory: the Cuban Sandwich. This beauty also uses and Italian-style bread, but in a batard form. The bottom layer is braised pork roast, followed by deli ham, salami, Swiss cheese, and dill pickles. The inside of the bread is coated with yellow mustard and the outside is buttered and then grilled. It is a voluptuary's delight.

Last, but not least, is a Grilled Cheese sandwich. In this case, start with a loaf of James Beard's Sour Cream bread, butter the bread with the best butter you can find -- the butter matters in such a simple sandwich -- and then place slices of Grafton Village Classic Reserve Cheddar, sliced 1/4" thick in between. Place it in a cold cast iron skillet and set the temp to medium-low. When the bottom is browned, flip it and brow the other side. The cheese will be perfectly melted and best of all will have partially soaked into the bread because of the rather open crump of the Sour Cream bread.

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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Cuban Sandwich

Cubano

Cubano

Last week I fixed a Cuban pork roast for one of my clients. As a rule, I don't eat what I make for clients because I cook just enough for them and I monitor my food costs fairly closely, but in this case the roast was a good bit larger than required and so I had some leftover. So I made Cuban sandwiches.

These are marvelous things consisting of roast pork, ham, salami, dill pickles, Swiss cheese, and yellow ball-park mustard. It's built on a bread similar to Italian and then grilled. In this case I used Dijon mustard instead of ball-park and Spanish Mahon instead of Swiss, but it's the pork marinated in citrus juice that makes this sandwich particularly distinctive.

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

Morphology: Volution

Morphology: Volution

Tomatoes

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Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Obsession

Obsession

Lamb Juice

obsession -- a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling

Yes. The small container above contains lamb juices -- Perhaps 2 ounces? -- that escaped from a grilled leg of lamb while I was eating dinner. The juice is seasoned only with the salt and pepper added to the meat before grilling. The essence of grilled meat.

Obsession.

A light film of juice had accumulated on the plate I'd set the rest of the lamb on. With a suitable piece of bread it wouldn't have lasted a moment. But I didn't have any bread. And I couldn’t simply wash it down the drain. It was too good. Too precious.

Obsession.

So I carefully poured it into a container, labeled it, and then froze it. I don’t

Laughter is brightest, in the place where the food is. ~ Irish proverb

know what I'll do with it, perhaps simply thaw it and pour it over a slice of bread I just baked. Maybe a slice of tomato on another slice of perfectly fresh bread. Perhaps a couple of sardines on a third. Certainly a glass of wine to wash things down. Just a few simple flavors. A moment or three of focused pleasure.

Is saving two ounces of lamb juice obsessive?

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Monday, August 14, 2006

Chicken with Feta Sauce

If It's Tuesday It Must Be Athens

Athenian Chicken

Chicken is one of my favorite foods, its flavor infinitely adaptable to mood, style, and cuisine. A simple roast chicken with herbs can speak to you of a French bistro or an Italian trattoria. Braise it with cumin, turmeric, and cinnamon and you have a Moroccan tagine. Dip it in seasoned flour and fry it and you're tasting the American South. No other meat is so ready to change its personality from one meal to the next. No meat so willing to please.

Chicken is also relatively cheap -- at least compared to beef, lamb, and pork -- as well as low fat, so I serve it not only to myself but to clients. All of which means I'm constantly looking for new chicken recipes. I've run across several recipes for

Baked Peaches

chicken with a feta cheese sauce, but they didn't particularly impress me. When I ran across another one -- actually one I'd already seen several times -- I suddenly knew what to do. I call this Athenian Chicken because of the feta and because the chicken itself is prepared somewhat like both Chicken Kiev and Chicken Florentine.

It's a real knock-out. And to go with it I baked peach halves dusted with ground chipotle and a touch of butter.

Athenian Chicken
2 ea boneless, skinless chicken breasts
4 tbsp minced thyme, oregano, and parsley
1 clove garlic, lg -- minced
3 oz feta -- crumbled
1 tbsp olive oil
1/3 c white wine
1/2 c half and half
ground white pepper to taste

Heat oven to 375F.

Pound chicken breasts flat* -- they should be about 3/8 inch thick.

Combine 3 tablespoons of minced herbs with garlic and 1/3 of cheese. Spread half of mixture on each breast, roll up, and either tie with twine or pin with toothpicks. Lightly season breasts with salt and pepper.

Heat oil in a medium skillet over medium-high heat, then, treating the breasts as though they're 3-sided, brown on 2 sides -- about 3 minutes per side. Turn un-browned side down and place skillet in oven on the middle rack and cook for another 6 to 8 minutes.

Remove skillet from oven and place breasts on a plate and tent with foil.

Being very careful of hot handle, add wine to skillet and deglaze over medium heat, reducing wine by about half. Add half and half and bring to a good simmer. Add remaining herbs (reserving a couple of pinches for a final garnish), feta, and white pepper to taste. Cook for about 30 seconds. Plate chicken breasts, removing twine or toothpicks, pour sauce over them, and sprinkle with final pinch of herbs.
*I've found the best way to flatten chicken breasts is to spritz the inside of a gallon plastic bag with water, put the breast inside it, and then pound with your pounder of choice.

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Saturday, August 12, 2006

Chantry Knife Sharpener

On the Edge

Knife Sharpener

Reaching to your knife rack, you grab your chef's knife. With your other hand you pull out the steel and, with a few quick strokes, realign the knife's edge. Over time, using the steel has become a habit. The habit keeps your knives safe, easy to use, and extends the time before you have to actually sharpen your knife. And if you're like me, knife sharpening is a PITA.

Back when I used to watch TV in the evenings the chore wasn't too bad. I'd get out my stone, collect my knives, and sharpen them while watching MASH or Happy Days. Neither activity required my undivided attention and together they allowed me to relax and accomplish something at the same time. (Polishing copper is another good TV task.)

Unfortunately I don't watch TV most evenings anymore -- I have better things to do -- and keeping my knives sharp has become more of a chore. Some years ago I bought a Chefs Choice sharpener based on recommendations from several fellow cooks. Although the results couldn't compare with the edge I achieved by hand using a stone, it wasn't a bad choice: fast, easy, and simple. It was "good enough" but I wanted an unconditional "good" if not an outright "great."

I knew one of the food service companies offered knife sharpening to restaurants and that most chefs relied on it to sharpen their personal knives, but it wasn't a practical solution for me. Then, a few weeks ago, I was chatting with the executive chef for one of Knoxville's best restaurants and asked him if he knew of an alternative. He said he used the Chantry sharpener at home. In fact, he said it was "great."

What the hell? I bought one.

As you can see, it consists of two round bars with ridges (similar to small steels) forming a V and set at a predefined angle. The bars are spring-loaded and free to rotate in place. To use it you simply draw the blade through the V several times.

It works. Unlike ordinary steels, which straighten the edge but don't actually remove any metal and so can't sharpen the blade, this gadget does sharpen quickly and effectively. It's faster than the Chef's Choice and I would rate the resulting edge as "good enough," maybe even "good."

However, the edge is different from that produced by a stone or the Chef's Choice. The device creates micro-serrations.

Pete Thibodeau, who tested the Chantry for the LA Times said, the Chantry turns knife blades in "hacksaws." That's a colorful turn of phrase but, although it's intended as opprobrium, I'm not sure it is.

A smooth knife blade works essentially by wedging the item being cut apart at a microscopic level. On the other hand a serrated knife, like a saw, works by removing material. A serrated blade can make a mess of carving a roast, but is perfect for getting through a hard bread crust. A smooth blade is perfect for roast, but will crush a dense crust. Each blade type has its uses.

However, the serrations produced by the Chantry sharpener can't be seen. They can be faintly heard by drawing the knife across a wooden cutting board. The edge works perfectly well for slicing roast or cutting a pocket in a raw chicken breast -- far better than an ordinary serrated blade. I haven't tried it on a hard crust of bread, so I don't know it's superior in that application to a smooth edge.

Frankly, if a hacksaw could do as good a job of dicing an onion as my Wusthoff Santoku blade, I'd use a hacksaw. I'm interested in what works more than how it works. But I do have a concern about this sharpener.

I don't know how much metal the Chantry is removing from the edge. There isn't a noticeable dust below the sharpener after using it so it doesn't seem to be great, but if the edge doesn't hold up and I end up sharpening more often then I may be shortening the life of my knives. This isn't as great a concern with the Wusthoffs, which I can easily replace five or ten years from now. But I have two nameless Spanish blades and one of them is my absolute favorite knife. It would be impossible to replace short of making a trip to Spain -- which would add considerably to the replacement cost.

If you're looking for a new knife sharpening solution, I'd recommend giving the Chantry a try. At $40 it's worth checking out and forming your own opinion.

Chantry Knife Sharpener, Model 550.

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Friday, August 11, 2006

Paper Chef 20

Mea Culpa

Image

I just got an email asking if I was ticked off about Owen taking back responsibility for Paper Chef. The writer noted that I hadn't mentioned the current competition here and that I hadn't entered.

Shit! I screwed up.

Was I irritated that Owen had taken over the contest again? A bit. I enjoyed hosting it. Did I intend to snub either Owen or Paper Chef? Definitely not. In fact I was relieved -- which is why I screwed up.

My plate has been overly full for the past couple of weeks. In addition to being laid up for a few days with a bad back, I've taken on a new weekly client, I've been planning fall classes (I'm now teaching at three venues -- and maybe a fourth), I've gotten involved in a new online cooking advice service (www.chefsline.com), and I've been exploring a writing project. I've also got a local TV appearance lined up next week, which is no big deal but I need to figure out how to take the best advantage of it. In short, I've been about as busy as Owen was when I volunteered to act as the temporary Paper Chef host.

Consequently, I spent all of about 10 minutes being irritated and then put PC out of my mind. Too far out of my mind. I should have put up a couple of posts directing people to Tomatillo. I didn't and for this I apologize to Owen and to anyone who came here looking for PC details and didn't find them.

So, please check out Owen's roundup of the entries for the 20th Paper Chef competition. And read Stephen's announcement of the winners. (Note to Owen: Being judge really goes to Stephen's head -- "it's always fun to have unlimited power over one's peers and betters" -- don’t let him do it again.)

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Thursday, August 10, 2006

Supper

Supper

Pork Ribs

Baby Potatoes w/Tarragon

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Wednesday, August 09, 2006

White on White

White on White

White on White

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Sunday, August 06, 2006

Chicken Tagine

Keep 'em Curcumin

Chicken Tagine

A recent piece in Slashfood highlighted studies that linked curcumin, a compound found in turmeric, to reduced risk of cancer and Alzheimer's Disease. Turmeric is the spice that gives curry powder (and American mustard) its distinctive color, but it's also a common spice in North African and Middle Eastern cuisine -- which is what brings me to it.

For the past year or so I've been interested in non-European Mediterranean foods (some of which I've posted here), which has led me to use tumeric fairly frequently. Last week I made Spanish Pork Kabobs and this weekend I made a Chicken Tandoori, which also used tumeric.

I am not a glutton. I am an explorer of food. ~ Erma Bombeck

As usual, I had something in mind when I started researching recipes and consequently, although I looked at quite a few recipes, the end product was of my own devising. The result was good, I was pleased with the proportion of fruit to meat. But the seasoning was milder than what I hoped for. I've posted what I did below, and following the recipe are some notes on what I plan to try next time.

Chicken Tagine

1 1/2 lb chicken -- cut into 1" cubes
3 tbsp olive oil
1/4 tsp coriander
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp tumeric
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp crush red pepper
2 tbsp olive oil
1 ea md. red onion -- cut into rings then quartered
1 c chicken broth or stock
8 ea dried figs -- stemmed and cut in half
8 ea dried apricots -- cut in half
8 ea prunes -- cut in half
1/4 c raisins

Combine chicken, 3 tablespoons olive oil, and all spices in a bowl. Use your hands to mix thoroughly.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a dutch oven over medium-high heat and brown chicken in batches. Remove last batch of chicken, add onion, and sauté for about 3 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent burning. Add stock and deglaze pot.

Return chicken to pot and add dried fruit. Bring to a boil then immediately reduce heat to lowest setting, cover, and simmer for one hour. Serve on basmati rice.
Note for next time: Increase turmeric to 1 1/2 tablespoons, increase ginger to 3/4 teaspoon, increase red pepper to 1/2 teaspoon. Add juice of one lime.

Also, it would certainly be worthwhile to marinate the chicken in the spices for several hours, and it might be worthwhile to heat the oil in a small skillet and infuse it with the spices before marinating.

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Friday, August 04, 2006

A Minor Disappointment

A Minor Disappointment

Chicken Souvlaki

My back has almost recovered from whatever I did to it last Thursday, but I’m still eating the dishes I’d prepped for the class that night. Yesterday I thawed out the Chicken Souvlaki and grilled it. The particular menu I was going to teach was one provided by Willams-Sonoma and featuring WS recipes (about half the classes I teach there use WS menus and recipes and the rest are of my own devising).

The souvlaki was good, but not great -- as opposed to the pork kabobs, which were also a WS recipe and were insanely great. Looking over the recipe I see I should have realized the marinade was weak and punched it up, but the truth is that when I'm doing WS recipes I look at them more with an eye toward opportunities for teaching than taste.

No man in the world has more courage than the man who can stop after eating one peanut. ~ Channing Pollock



I don’t think that's an unreasonable bias, the recipes are thoroughly tested and sometimes include ingredients I'm not fond of and so wouldn't ordinarily use. For instance the final dish for that class was a marinade that featured fresh cilantro. I'm one of those people who can't abide cilantro -- it tastes like rust to me. So I was going to prepare and serve that one without ever tasting it.

The situation reminds me of a series of science fiction stories I once read that included an alien chef who worked for a human. He couldn't even taste the dishes he prepared because they would have poisoned him. At least I don't face that obstacle.

If you're interested in seeing the recipe you can find it here.

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Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Buttermilk Sherbet

The Good Old Days

Buttermilk Sherbet

I'm old enough to remember hand-cranked ice cream as a kid. I also know that ice cream was a valid excuse for having children. That way you (as an adult) could enjoy fresh creamy ice cream without having to sit and turn the crank. If you've never used one of these devices, you fill a large canister with an ice cream mixture, insert a paddle with several blades that stirs the mixture, set the canister in a larger bucket filled with ice and salt, attach a crank mechanism to the top of the canister, and then turn the crank for about 140 hours until the ice cream is soupy instead of liquid.

The problem with this process is the crank is impossible to turn. You see, the gears that convert the crank motion to the paddle affair in the canister are made of metal and no matter how thoroughly greased the gears may be, they rust. This makes turning the crank exceedingly difficult (at least it does for a 10-year-old).

Ice Cream Maker


Then there's the squabbling.

While one kid turns the crank, another has to sit on a pad of newspaper on the bucket assembly to hold it still while the crank is turned. The sitting bit is easy enough, but your bottom gets wet and cold. So you fidget, which makes it harder for the kid on crank duty. Then there's the third child who disappears and never takes his (or her) turn as he (or she) is supposed to but still gets to eat the ice cream. Lot's of opportunity for squabbling.

Perhaps this experience is why I've never been a big ice cream lover. Ice cream's alright, but I almost never buy it. Nevertheless, there was one ice cream we had as kids that I really liked and that didn't involve the ice cream machine/rack: buttermilk sherbet.

My father would make this and although it was frozen as hard as a block of ice, it was pretty tasty. I hadn't thought about it in years, but for some reason it popped into my mind the other day and so I made a batch. I varied from Dad's recipe in two ways. First I added some fresh mint to it, and second, I made a point of stirring it with a fork every hour until it was frozen. The stirring makes it much easier to scoop out and to eat.

Buttermilk/Pineapple Sherbet

2 c buttermilk
2/3 c sugar
1 can crushed pineapple (8 ounce)
3 tbsp minced fresh mint

Add sugar to buttermilk and stir until dissolved. Stir in mint and pineapple (with juice). Pour into an 8x8 dish, cover, and freeze for eight hours.

Once each hour, scrape the sides with a fork and stir mixture -- the process is like making a granite but the buttermilk won't freeze the same way a granite does.

Try these buttermilk desserts too:
Buttermilk Pudding
Buttermilk Pie with Lemon Mint Sauce

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