One of the advantages of being here in SoFla is that citrus grows on trees, as it were.
So, all of a sudden your backyard grove sprouts forth with several tons of fruit and they must be given use. In my case, we're talking about Seville (i.e. "bitter") oranges.
For the uninitiated, these are not defective oranges, these are oranges with especially low sugar content and are not so much bitter as really, really sour. Their juice is used in marinades, etc. in Caribbean cooking. (For future reference, their quality can be approximated by mixing orange juice, lime juice and lemon juice in a 2:1:1 ratio. But I digress.)
One of the biggest differences between regular oranges and bitter oranges is the peel and the aromatic content thereof. The bitter orange peel is reallllllly aromatic. So what to do?
There are several options, but the subject of this entry is making of bitters.
Here is my recipe:
1 (750-milliliter) bottle "grain alcohol" (the 190 --!-- proof stuff)
½ lb. orange peel strips
1 t. fennel seed
½ t. coriander seeds
2 cardamom pods
10 drops orange flower water
15 drops gentian extract
Put these in a glass bottle or jar (make sure you don't have a lot of airspace) and shake daily for a week, minimum. 2-3 weeks is ideal for me, but if you like sharper flavors, by all means let it go longer. Strain through a paper coffee filter and decant into a bottle. I like the clear glass swingtop bottles of "French lemonade."
But you do whatever works best.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Please Stand By
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Do Not Try This At Home
One of the easiest and most impressive desserts known to man is that ol' "Continental" standby, Bananas Foster.
Epochs ago, on my 2nd or 3rd trip to New Orleans, I managed to have dinner at one of those grand ol' restaurants in New Orleans, a subspecies of the hospitality industry extinct nearly anywhere else. Back in the day, every major city would have 3-4 of these, where every single solitary dish was named using this format: [Main Ingredient] [Someone's Name] and so you'd wind up with something like "Veal Johnson."
Anyway, even at the early stages of man's estate, one never gets over the fondness for a colossal fireball, tableside. Thus began my fondness for Bananas Foster.
At this point, because I have befriended a significant number of attorneys, I must point out there really IS fire involved, and a lot of it. And you must be hyper-careful. Tie back any long hair, make sure there is nothing over the pan (chandelier, etc.) turn off any vents that may pull up flames. No, seriously, we're talking a for-real fireball. In your house.
So, after noodling around, here is MY recipe for Bananas Foster. Usually we have it following my spectacular gumbo, when we're (okay, "I'M") feeling New Orleans-ish.
Figure this will prove a fairly dainty dessert for 8 people, pretty decent for 6 people, or pretty impressive for 4. It doesn't multiply well, sadly.
4 tablespoons unsalted butter.
½ cup packed brown (dark or light, your call...I only had light brown on hand) sugar
¼ tsp of almond extract and ½ tsp. vanilla extract or 2 tsp amaretto
1 strip orange zest about 3 sq. inches.
2 large bananas (you want them JUST when there is no green showing, because they need to be firm enough to stand up to all the thermal abuse they'll have to undergo) peeled and halved (if feeding 4 or 8) or thirded (if feeding 6) lengthwise and then crosswise. If you want to divide it even more, you could slice them into ½" slices, I s'pose.
1 oz gold or dark rum (I used Bacardi 8)
2 cups vanilla ice cream - pineapple sorbet is a "healthier" alternative and just as yummy - divided into bowls and stashed in the freezer. You want this ice cream as cold and hard as a bureaucrat's heart.
Add extracts to rum and set aside.
Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed 12-inch skillet over medium heat...do not let it foam yet. Add the brown sugar (break up any lumps...this is key) and zest. Dissolve the sugar by shaking the pan, about 1 minute. (If the pan's too hot, or if the butter has already foamed up, the butter will "clarify" and it and the sugar will NOT turn into a proper sauce).
When the sugar has dissolved and is beginning to bubble up, place the bananas, CUT SIDE DOWN. About a minute into it begin spooning the bubbling caramelly goodness over the curved side. Cook another 30-60 seconds. No more. Unless you like caramelized baby food.
Epochs ago, on my 2nd or 3rd trip to New Orleans, I managed to have dinner at one of those grand ol' restaurants in New Orleans, a subspecies of the hospitality industry extinct nearly anywhere else. Back in the day, every major city would have 3-4 of these, where every single solitary dish was named using this format: [Main Ingredient] [Someone's Name] and so you'd wind up with something like "Veal Johnson."
Anyway, even at the early stages of man's estate, one never gets over the fondness for a colossal fireball, tableside. Thus began my fondness for Bananas Foster.
At this point, because I have befriended a significant number of attorneys, I must point out there really IS fire involved, and a lot of it. And you must be hyper-careful. Tie back any long hair, make sure there is nothing over the pan (chandelier, etc.) turn off any vents that may pull up flames. No, seriously, we're talking a for-real fireball. In your house.
So, after noodling around, here is MY recipe for Bananas Foster. Usually we have it following my spectacular gumbo, when we're (okay, "I'M") feeling New Orleans-ish.
Figure this will prove a fairly dainty dessert for 8 people, pretty decent for 6 people, or pretty impressive for 4. It doesn't multiply well, sadly.
4 tablespoons unsalted butter.
½ cup packed brown (dark or light, your call...I only had light brown on hand) sugar
¼ tsp of almond extract and ½ tsp. vanilla extract or 2 tsp amaretto
1 strip orange zest about 3 sq. inches.
2 large bananas (you want them JUST when there is no green showing, because they need to be firm enough to stand up to all the thermal abuse they'll have to undergo) peeled and halved (if feeding 4 or 8) or thirded (if feeding 6) lengthwise and then crosswise. If you want to divide it even more, you could slice them into ½" slices, I s'pose.
1 oz gold or dark rum (I used Bacardi 8)
2 cups vanilla ice cream - pineapple sorbet is a "healthier" alternative and just as yummy - divided into bowls and stashed in the freezer. You want this ice cream as cold and hard as a bureaucrat's heart.
Add extracts to rum and set aside.
Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed 12-inch skillet over medium heat...do not let it foam yet. Add the brown sugar (break up any lumps...this is key) and zest. Dissolve the sugar by shaking the pan, about 1 minute. (If the pan's too hot, or if the butter has already foamed up, the butter will "clarify" and it and the sugar will NOT turn into a proper sauce).
When the sugar has dissolved and is beginning to bubble up, place the bananas, CUT SIDE DOWN. About a minute into it begin spooning the bubbling caramelly goodness over the curved side. Cook another 30-60 seconds. No more. Unless you like caramelized baby food.
Take pan off the heat. Immediately add the rum and shake pan gently. Put a flame (those loooooong "stick" lighters are ideal) just on the edge of the pan until the rum flames up -- it WILL flame up, and probably flame up even more than you thought it would -- shaking the pan to distribute the flame over the entire pan.
Keep shaking until the flames die down (about half a minute), serve the bananas over the ice cream and serve the sauce on top of that. A sprinkle of almonds wouldn't go amiss, either.
-J.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Beef. I like Beef.
In two separate discussions elsewhere the subject of steak came up.
Which prompted me to dig up and complete this post that had been mo(u)ldering away in a near-forgotten sector. (What the coarse and vulgah population might rudely term my "draft pile." But they'd be wrong.)
Anyway.
Last Christmas I received a sampler pack of seasonings from Big Fancy Food Emporium. Smallish tins of +/- 1 oz. each. Mexican this, Seattle that, etc. Anyway. They had a steak seasoning which I rather enjoyed. But, while one is trudging through The Great Recession, buying the large tin at $10 (!) for a mere 4 oz.* (!!) is not going to happen.
So.
I set about deconstructing it and, frankly, improving it. If you ever pick up these sorts of seasonings you will notice three things at the head of the ingredients list (in the USA, ingredients have to be listed in order, starting with the most abundant one) sugar, salt, and paprika. Sure, they may give them ultra-posh adjectives such as "Herne Bay sea salt" or "Peruvian sun dried paprika" but you must realize these things are cheap filler. Also there were some variants of ingredients which I thought (correctly, as my lab research shows) could be substituted or upgraded.
Thus, I gathered Joey (Davy is more of the quality control tester) and we assembled in the kitchen, gathering our spice jars and an old coffee mill we comandeered AGES ago for the purpose of spice grinding. You will NOT believe how helpful Joey was. He has an eerily accurate palate.
But I digress.
Here is my version. It is, on purpose, NOT identical to the original, because as noted above, I believed I should change some of the things I didn't like "while I was at it." I'll note those as I go.
(This is all by volume, use teaspoons, cups, or whatever.)
3 parts granulated garlic (Usually I'd go for fresh garlic, but in these applications, it'd fall off and/or scorch. So I got a good brand of granulated. The original rub had granulated roast garlic, but I found it got bitter over the charcoal grill's high/dry heat so I switched...oh, make sure you use the granulated and not the powdered stuff, which often has bizarro ingredients!)
1 part EACH black peppercorns and red pepper flakes (in the original, I couldn't detect much heat from the chile seeds/ribs...but I tend to like a bit of heat, so I used flakes instead of a seeded dry chile...although next time I might experiment with a varietal such as cascabel)
2 parts each coriander seed, dill seed, yellow -- I s'pose you could try brown or black -- mustard seed.
Put all in a spice mill and whiz 3-4 pulses...you want a pretty good crack, but not a homogeneous powder. I like mine a TINY bit finer than spice rubs straight out of the tin...in my opinion you get better adhesion that way.
Oh, and note the lack of salt. I like salting the meat first, letting the juices flow back and forth in an osmosis ballet and then adding the spices.
What I did is get a big ol' segment of cow (pretty cheap per pound at the warehouse-type places) and then slice myself. But before doing that, I let it wet-age. If you get the beef -- do not try this with pork, AMHIK -- you can age it in the original cry-o-vac if it has not lost its seal. I've let mine go 16 weeks and the results are spectacular. The taste isn't as minerally/gamy as with dry-aged beef, but it is equally tender.
Now.
What you do with your steak is salt it first as it comes up to room temperature. You will see some "perspiration" on the surface and then you sprinkle your spice rub. Then go light your charcoal fire. (Or wait 30 minutes if your BBQ grill is a gas model.) For max foodieness, I used real hardwood charcoal, but you use whatever. I also use one of those "chimney starters" so that I don't need to worry about (yuck) lighter fluid. When the coals glow, you dump 'em into the BBQ grill.
You drop the charcoal WAY to one side of the vessel. Pile it as far and high on ONE side as possible. This is key.
When the "coal side" is intolerably hot, you put your steaks on the grate. You could, if you are insufferable like I am, give them that quarter-turn for fancy-pants grill marks. The idea is to sear the outside, HARD. You want as much stuff caramelizing there as possible. This is also key. Do not peek, do not flip, etc. Let it go there. 1 minute per inch of thickness per side. So, a 2" thick steak would go 2 minutes per side. Then you slide them to the part of the grill where the coals are NOT. You want the steak to cook to your desired doneness as slowly as possible. The slower you go, the more time certain tenderizing enzymes have to do their voodoo. This is also key.
Finally, take them off and cover LOOSELY with foil, let them rest 10-15 or so, so the juices -- which are trying to exit as a result of the heat, much like water exits a boiling pot -- have time to calm down and go back into the steak where they should be.
There. (Photos to follow)
-J.
* That's 110gm for the metric kids.
Which prompted me to dig up and complete this post that had been mo(u)ldering away in a near-forgotten sector. (What the coarse and vulgah population might rudely term my "draft pile." But they'd be wrong.)
Anyway.
Last Christmas I received a sampler pack of seasonings from Big Fancy Food Emporium. Smallish tins of +/- 1 oz. each. Mexican this, Seattle that, etc. Anyway. They had a steak seasoning which I rather enjoyed. But, while one is trudging through The Great Recession, buying the large tin at $10 (!) for a mere 4 oz.* (!!) is not going to happen.
So.
I set about deconstructing it and, frankly, improving it. If you ever pick up these sorts of seasonings you will notice three things at the head of the ingredients list (in the USA, ingredients have to be listed in order, starting with the most abundant one) sugar, salt, and paprika. Sure, they may give them ultra-posh adjectives such as "Herne Bay sea salt" or "Peruvian sun dried paprika" but you must realize these things are cheap filler. Also there were some variants of ingredients which I thought (correctly, as my lab research shows) could be substituted or upgraded.
Thus, I gathered Joey (Davy is more of the quality control tester) and we assembled in the kitchen, gathering our spice jars and an old coffee mill we comandeered AGES ago for the purpose of spice grinding. You will NOT believe how helpful Joey was. He has an eerily accurate palate.
But I digress.
Here is my version. It is, on purpose, NOT identical to the original, because as noted above, I believed I should change some of the things I didn't like "while I was at it." I'll note those as I go.
(This is all by volume, use teaspoons, cups, or whatever.)
3 parts granulated garlic (Usually I'd go for fresh garlic, but in these applications, it'd fall off and/or scorch. So I got a good brand of granulated. The original rub had granulated roast garlic, but I found it got bitter over the charcoal grill's high/dry heat so I switched...oh, make sure you use the granulated and not the powdered stuff, which often has bizarro ingredients!)
1 part EACH black peppercorns and red pepper flakes (in the original, I couldn't detect much heat from the chile seeds/ribs...but I tend to like a bit of heat, so I used flakes instead of a seeded dry chile...although next time I might experiment with a varietal such as cascabel)
2 parts each coriander seed, dill seed, yellow -- I s'pose you could try brown or black -- mustard seed.
Put all in a spice mill and whiz 3-4 pulses...you want a pretty good crack, but not a homogeneous powder. I like mine a TINY bit finer than spice rubs straight out of the tin...in my opinion you get better adhesion that way.
Oh, and note the lack of salt. I like salting the meat first, letting the juices flow back and forth in an osmosis ballet and then adding the spices.
What I did is get a big ol' segment of cow (pretty cheap per pound at the warehouse-type places) and then slice myself. But before doing that, I let it wet-age. If you get the beef -- do not try this with pork, AMHIK -- you can age it in the original cry-o-vac if it has not lost its seal. I've let mine go 16 weeks and the results are spectacular. The taste isn't as minerally/gamy as with dry-aged beef, but it is equally tender.
Now.
What you do with your steak is salt it first as it comes up to room temperature. You will see some "perspiration" on the surface and then you sprinkle your spice rub. Then go light your charcoal fire. (Or wait 30 minutes if your BBQ grill is a gas model.) For max foodieness, I used real hardwood charcoal, but you use whatever. I also use one of those "chimney starters" so that I don't need to worry about (yuck) lighter fluid. When the coals glow, you dump 'em into the BBQ grill.
You drop the charcoal WAY to one side of the vessel. Pile it as far and high on ONE side as possible. This is key.
When the "coal side" is intolerably hot, you put your steaks on the grate. You could, if you are insufferable like I am, give them that quarter-turn for fancy-pants grill marks. The idea is to sear the outside, HARD. You want as much stuff caramelizing there as possible. This is also key. Do not peek, do not flip, etc. Let it go there. 1 minute per inch of thickness per side. So, a 2" thick steak would go 2 minutes per side. Then you slide them to the part of the grill where the coals are NOT. You want the steak to cook to your desired doneness as slowly as possible. The slower you go, the more time certain tenderizing enzymes have to do their voodoo. This is also key.
Finally, take them off and cover LOOSELY with foil, let them rest 10-15 or so, so the juices -- which are trying to exit as a result of the heat, much like water exits a boiling pot -- have time to calm down and go back into the steak where they should be.
There. (Photos to follow)
-J.
* That's 110gm for the metric kids.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
No pictures, alas.
Today, dear Internet, I made and utterly savo(u)red a hamburger of such excellence it has left me marveling 4 hours after the fact.
I regret we are not yet capable of feasibly cloning cows, because this cow was definitely worthy of getting the whole Jurassic Park treatment. This was a Hall of Fame cow, whose sacrifice for a greater purpose was so noble and pure it was clearly maniftest to every single tastebud I currently own.
My sorrow will be great when it finally sinks in that the odds of ever again having a burger anywhere near as delicious are smaller than even purely theoretical particles. But my soul is still aglow and sorrow will have to wait, much like Suicide Tuesday for devotees of XTC*.
To anyone wishing to attempt to replicate it here is the basic road map.
Take a couple of pounds of beef from the short rib (sans bone and sinew, natch) and put it through your grinder**. If using your grinder is a complete PITA to you, feel free to skip to the end. Use the coarsest setting, and grind TWICE. This is key.
Form the burgers -- a gentle hand, s'il vous plait -- into burgers 1''/2.5cm thick. Very often in food programs you see skyscraper-ish burgers anchored by lumps o' cow 3''-4'' tall. Unless you have developed a way to unhinge your jaw, this is not a fun way to eat and you will not get a good, even bite of your burger and you will not get the full spectrum of taste of beef, bun and condiments. The diameter of your burger should be +/-½''/1cm greater than that of your hamburger bun, to compensate for the shrinkage in cooking. Give the burger meat a slight dent in the center, to compensate for the puffing that also happens whilst cooking.
At this stage there is a hotly debated divergence of opinion. Cook on an open grill or in a pan/griddle? Each has its advantages. An open grill allows for smoke and flame to interact with the beef, and a pan or griddle allows for greater searing (esp. in a cast-iron pan situation) and a greater retention of rendering fat. I prefer grill. The beef has enough fat that any which renders out will not go missing, and the searing is sufficient. You do whatever you want.
I salted the burgers, then dusted them with a certain steak rub which I hacked (because I was NOT going to pay $2.50/oz.) to my immense delight.
As far as bread goes, I went to my local bakery where they had these buns made out of the same eggy dough as challah. This is ideal, because the crumb is tender enough to collapse slightly under bite, absorbent enough to contain condiments and juices, and will toast slightly in a beautiful way.
Condiments:
Heinz Organic Ketchup - the ne plus ultra of ketchups. In a trial of a thousand years I might come up with something almost as good. So I just buy it.
Grey Poupon Dijon Mustard and Gulden's Spicy Brown Mustard - 50-50.
Vidalia onions, raw and sliced as thinly as your patience will allow. (In my case, I like one gossamer-thin slice that covers the surface area of the cooked beef.
McClure's Pickle relish, the regular not the hot. About a tablespoon, spread evenly.
Sea salt.
Cook the burger over a rocket-hot flame, and the nanosecond you have proper grill marks, flip over to a cooler -- think "medium" vs. "high" -- section of the fire. Cook 2 minutes for medium rare...which, because you ground this yourself, is a far safer proposition.
Enjoy.
-J.
* The recreational pharmaceutical, not the band.
** Mincer, for the rest of the Anglosphere.
I regret we are not yet capable of feasibly cloning cows, because this cow was definitely worthy of getting the whole Jurassic Park treatment. This was a Hall of Fame cow, whose sacrifice for a greater purpose was so noble and pure it was clearly maniftest to every single tastebud I currently own.
My sorrow will be great when it finally sinks in that the odds of ever again having a burger anywhere near as delicious are smaller than even purely theoretical particles. But my soul is still aglow and sorrow will have to wait, much like Suicide Tuesday for devotees of XTC*.
To anyone wishing to attempt to replicate it here is the basic road map.
Take a couple of pounds of beef from the short rib (sans bone and sinew, natch) and put it through your grinder**. If using your grinder is a complete PITA to you, feel free to skip to the end. Use the coarsest setting, and grind TWICE. This is key.
Form the burgers -- a gentle hand, s'il vous plait -- into burgers 1''/2.5cm thick. Very often in food programs you see skyscraper-ish burgers anchored by lumps o' cow 3''-4'' tall. Unless you have developed a way to unhinge your jaw, this is not a fun way to eat and you will not get a good, even bite of your burger and you will not get the full spectrum of taste of beef, bun and condiments. The diameter of your burger should be +/-½''/1cm greater than that of your hamburger bun, to compensate for the shrinkage in cooking. Give the burger meat a slight dent in the center, to compensate for the puffing that also happens whilst cooking.
At this stage there is a hotly debated divergence of opinion. Cook on an open grill or in a pan/griddle? Each has its advantages. An open grill allows for smoke and flame to interact with the beef, and a pan or griddle allows for greater searing (esp. in a cast-iron pan situation) and a greater retention of rendering fat. I prefer grill. The beef has enough fat that any which renders out will not go missing, and the searing is sufficient. You do whatever you want.
I salted the burgers, then dusted them with a certain steak rub which I hacked (because I was NOT going to pay $2.50/oz.) to my immense delight.
As far as bread goes, I went to my local bakery where they had these buns made out of the same eggy dough as challah. This is ideal, because the crumb is tender enough to collapse slightly under bite, absorbent enough to contain condiments and juices, and will toast slightly in a beautiful way.
Condiments:
Heinz Organic Ketchup - the ne plus ultra of ketchups. In a trial of a thousand years I might come up with something almost as good. So I just buy it.
Grey Poupon Dijon Mustard and Gulden's Spicy Brown Mustard - 50-50.
Vidalia onions, raw and sliced as thinly as your patience will allow. (In my case, I like one gossamer-thin slice that covers the surface area of the cooked beef.
McClure's Pickle relish, the regular not the hot. About a tablespoon, spread evenly.
Sea salt.
Cook the burger over a rocket-hot flame, and the nanosecond you have proper grill marks, flip over to a cooler -- think "medium" vs. "high" -- section of the fire. Cook 2 minutes for medium rare...which, because you ground this yourself, is a far safer proposition.
Enjoy.
-J.
* The recreational pharmaceutical, not the band.
** Mincer, for the rest of the Anglosphere.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Pretend, for a moment.
This is not really new content.
It really is NEW, so that's good. It's just not so content-ish.
But one cannot be deaf to the vox populi, so I must place digit to keyboard and issue dispatches from the front.
Today's dispatch is in the form of a cocktailian recipe.
Many, MANY epochs ago, my parents' go-to beverage was the whisk(e)y sour. Having grown up practically submerged in rum and its cocktail offspring, bourbon was seen as both The Done Thing in this new (to my parents) land, and also as quite an exotic quaff. So there you have it. At that time (i.e. the tail end of the Mad Men years) this was a very big cocktail, having supplanted in popularity the dry Martini and Manhattan as a looser and more relaxed beverage.
Then, of course, that ghetto of a decade (the 1970s) clamped its jaws upon the throat of civilization and all manner of vile beverages infested the land. But now cocktailness is making something of a rennaissance in the broader culture and with it come classic potions of yore.
So I go for the Whisk(e)y Sour. It is yummy, and soothing and also I have a gift bottle of Virginia Gentleman I'd like to finish so that I may free up shelf space to try something new, bourbonwise.
So here is my recipe.
Take an old-fashioned or double old-fashioned (i.e. "rocks") glass, and stash it in the freezer. Some people suggest filling the glass with ice, but the appalling slowness of my icemaker, I like not wasting such a precious commodity.
Assemble your ingredients. Lemon, bourbon (in this case Virginia Gentleman, which I am trying to finish) and simple syrup. (You will note the judicious use of the labelmaker.)
Slice your lemon in half, equatorially. (Incidentally, if you use a Meyer lemon you will need less syrup.) If you use a manual citrus press, cut two deep perpendicular scores into each lemon half.
Squeeze. An average lemon should get you 2oz (+/-60ml) of juice.
Add your bourbon. 1½ ounces (+/-45ml).
Then your syrup. Call it one ounce (+/-30ml)
Fill your shaker's tumbler with cracked ice. (Some people like to add some of the lemon peel. I approve, but often don't remember or cannot be bothered.) 
Shake until a thin frost forms on the outside of the steel part of the shaker.
Strain into the awaiting vessel filled with fresh, "dry" ice. (Not "dry ice" but ice that happens to be dry. This is crucial.)
It really is NEW, so that's good. It's just not so content-ish.
But one cannot be deaf to the vox populi, so I must place digit to keyboard and issue dispatches from the front.
Today's dispatch is in the form of a cocktailian recipe.
Many, MANY epochs ago, my parents' go-to beverage was the whisk(e)y sour. Having grown up practically submerged in rum and its cocktail offspring, bourbon was seen as both The Done Thing in this new (to my parents) land, and also as quite an exotic quaff. So there you have it. At that time (i.e. the tail end of the Mad Men years) this was a very big cocktail, having supplanted in popularity the dry Martini and Manhattan as a looser and more relaxed beverage.
Then, of course, that ghetto of a decade (the 1970s) clamped its jaws upon the throat of civilization and all manner of vile beverages infested the land. But now cocktailness is making something of a rennaissance in the broader culture and with it come classic potions of yore.
So I go for the Whisk(e)y Sour. It is yummy, and soothing and also I have a gift bottle of Virginia Gentleman I'd like to finish so that I may free up shelf space to try something new, bourbonwise.
So here is my recipe.
Take an old-fashioned or double old-fashioned (i.e. "rocks") glass, and stash it in the freezer. Some people suggest filling the glass with ice, but the appalling slowness of my icemaker, I like not wasting such a precious commodity.
Assemble your ingredients. Lemon, bourbon (in this case Virginia Gentleman, which I am trying to finish) and simple syrup. (You will note the judicious use of the labelmaker.)Slice your lemon in half, equatorially. (Incidentally, if you use a Meyer lemon you will need less syrup.) If you use a manual citrus press, cut two deep perpendicular scores into each lemon half.
Squeeze. An average lemon should get you 2oz (+/-60ml) of juice.Add your bourbon. 1½ ounces (+/-45ml).
Then your syrup. Call it one ounce (+/-30ml)Fill your shaker's tumbler with cracked ice. (Some people like to add some of the lemon peel. I approve, but often don't remember or cannot be bothered.) Shake until a thin frost forms on the outside of the steel part of the shaker.Strain into the awaiting vessel filled with fresh, "dry" ice. (Not "dry ice" but ice that happens to be dry. This is crucial.)
There you go.
-J.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Foodies, you have a mission
Your task for this week is simple, but hardly easy.
Find yourself a GOOD butcher. This means either an independent shop, or a good butcher dept. in a good supermarket), because moving plastic wrapped sirloins and boneless/skinless chicken breasts from the back to the refrigerated case is not that. You need someone who can score you the good stuff, and the hard-to-find stuff. You may want breast of veal, or a saddle of lamb or free-range capon or Kobe (or grass-fed) beef, or some unusual cuts like flatirons or hanger steaks.
You need to find someone who knows his (or her) stuff. You need to hack away the distance between the front end of your personal food chain and you. You need to find a butcher who doesn't just sell "ground beef" but rather, sells beef that he (or, again, she) will grind to your specs on the spot.
It is one of the pillars of food sense that the fewer the number of people involved with your food, the better it will taste and the better it will be for you. Food that has been lovingly -- even passionately -- raised will give you a huge-@$$ jump on getting something delicious on the plate.
And a butcher is the person who can get you that.
Find one and cultivate that relationship. A butcher who is both knowledgeable and on your side will let you know when something beautiful has come in, when you should be guided into considering a different something, when you don't need that supah-pricy cut.
Of course, this is likely easier in the big cities that have enough of a population to make such a butcher establishment economically viable. But even mid-sized locales still have a good butcher shop somewhere. All you need do is find it.
Imagine how glorious that Thomas Keller roast chicken will taste with a real chicken; one that hasn't been swimming in weirdo ingredients and hormones and antibiotics.
Be a friend, make a friend.
-J.
Find yourself a GOOD butcher. This means either an independent shop, or a good butcher dept. in a good supermarket), because moving plastic wrapped sirloins and boneless/skinless chicken breasts from the back to the refrigerated case is not that. You need someone who can score you the good stuff, and the hard-to-find stuff. You may want breast of veal, or a saddle of lamb or free-range capon or Kobe (or grass-fed) beef, or some unusual cuts like flatirons or hanger steaks.
You need to find someone who knows his (or her) stuff. You need to hack away the distance between the front end of your personal food chain and you. You need to find a butcher who doesn't just sell "ground beef" but rather, sells beef that he (or, again, she) will grind to your specs on the spot.
It is one of the pillars of food sense that the fewer the number of people involved with your food, the better it will taste and the better it will be for you. Food that has been lovingly -- even passionately -- raised will give you a huge-@$$ jump on getting something delicious on the plate.
And a butcher is the person who can get you that.
Find one and cultivate that relationship. A butcher who is both knowledgeable and on your side will let you know when something beautiful has come in, when you should be guided into considering a different something, when you don't need that supah-pricy cut.
Of course, this is likely easier in the big cities that have enough of a population to make such a butcher establishment economically viable. But even mid-sized locales still have a good butcher shop somewhere. All you need do is find it.
Imagine how glorious that Thomas Keller roast chicken will taste with a real chicken; one that hasn't been swimming in weirdo ingredients and hormones and antibiotics.
Be a friend, make a friend.
-J.
