Things You Would Never Consider Putting In Your Mouth (and Why You Should) Pt. I

10 Aug 2010 1 Comment

by scolgin in Cooking Tips, Observations, Recipes, The Pantry Tags:

Your ancestors put some pretty gnarly things in their mouths. People in different places at different times have eaten what they had to in order to stay alive. People in some places eat sea cucumbers.

You’ve probably put some pretty gnarly things in your own mouth when you think about it. The same people who wince at the idea of eating an oyster will happily shove the leg of a chicken in their mouth; those who gag at the thought of eating a fried grasshopper will eagerly gobble down a fried shrimp, which is basically the grasshopper of the sea. I guess it’s all about what you’re used to.

I’m going to do a series about things you would likely not consider putting in your mouth, and tell you why you should. I’m not going to suggest anything dangerous or overly slimy. This is not an extreme-eating blog. (Once many years ago, when I first got into hunting wild fungi, I found a particular mushroom with a coating of slime on it. It was large and meaty, though, and I wondered if it was edible. I consulted my books, and found out it was — although the description in one book said, “Edible, though hardly incredible.” The mushroom is called the Hideous Gomphideous. As I was preparing it in the kitchen of my mother’s home in Sonoma, California, mom came by and asked me what kind of mushroom it was. I told her, and she said, “I am NOT eating anything called a Hideous Gomphideous.)

Today I want to tell you about bottarga. A specialty of southern Italy, bottarga is the dried, salted roe sacks of either mullet — bottarga di muggine — or tuna — bottarga di tonna. I decided to write about it this morning, as I was in the kitchen with a very sharp knife shaving the the mold off the outside to have some for lunch when our nanny, Karina, said, “What’s THAT?!?” And I explained to her what it was and what you do with it.

bottarga di muggine

As you can see from the picture, it’s appeal is not immediately clear. Somewhat like an unsliced salami — a good analogy for this particular piece, which has molded over. But the mold merely keeps the treasure inside safe. Like most dried, salted things, bottarga originally evolved in the days before refrigeration as a method to preserve the edible egg sacks of these fish for future use. (It seems to me that many of the world’s best foods evolved in the days before refrigeration.) For eons it toiled in the obscurity of rustic regionality, before finding its way onto the menus of upscale Italian eateries from New York to Beverly Hills. I wish I had known it in the olden days, when it was probably pennies a pound. Now it is an expensive delicacy. But a little goes a long way.

Now what on earth, you reasonably ask, does one do with dried mullet roe? Here’s a lusty summer recipe that will transport you to a seaside village on Sardinia as the sun sets. Make sure you’ve got a big red wine to drink with it. And if you can’t find bottarga or don’t have the will to try it, the recipe will still work with parmesan sprinkled instead.

Spaghetti with Bottarga and Tomatoes

1/2 lb pasta (for two people)
2 large, super-ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped
1/4 cup olive oil plus more for drizzling
dried pepperoncini (crushed red pepper)
1 small, thumb-sized chunk of bottarga
salt & pepper

In a large saucepan, cook the tomatoes in the olive oil until most of the moisture is gone and the tomatoes are thick and saucy. Season liberally with salt. Cook the pasta in salted water until al dente. With tongs, lift the pasta out of the water and into the sauce pan, allowing some of the pasta water to come along for the ride. Turn the sauce to high heat, toss pasta until completely coated. If the sauce has become at all watery, continue to cook over high heat. Then turn off when thickened.

With the tongs, divide the pasta into piles on two large plates. Scoop any extra sauce over the pasta. Sprinkle with pepperoncini, then with a cheese grater, shave the bottarga evenly over the two plates. Serve with salt and pepper to each diner’s preference, and a bottle of good red wine.

The Sacred Soups of Sunday

10 Aug 2010 Leave a comment

by scolgin in Cooking Tips, Observations, Pork, Recipes Tags: ,

Sunday is a sacred day, for different reasons for different people. My wife was raised in church, she likes to dress up and go to a service. For some people, it’s a football game and maybe a tailgate party. (I understand the appeal of both these traditions.) I like to take it slow — make a rich pot of smooth Hawaiian coffee, read the paper. And sometimes, I like to make soup.

Soup isn’t a breakfast in America the way it is in other countries. America is missing out. There’s nothing as spiritually nourishing on a Sunday morning, particularly if it’s chilly out or you’ve happened to have drank a bit too much on Saturday night, as a rich steaming bowl of soup. Sometimes when I’m in a clean mood, I like miso soup with crispy bits of tempura batter (tenkasu) sprinkled on top. As part of a traditional Japanese breakfast with pickles and fish and rice, it’s dynamite. But the Sacred Sunday Soups I’m talking about are the heartier kind — where you can eat them in the late morning and want nothing else until dinner time. Throughout the world there are examples, but the two I fall back on the most come from Mexico and China, respectively. I’m talking about pozolé and congee.

Pozolé is the name of the large corn kernals (hominy) you’ll find floating in the soup. It’s also the name of the soup. It means “foamy” in the Nahualt language. Don’t be intimidated. It is a typical dish of various Mexican states across the country, and corn being sacred in traditional Mexican culture, it is often served on holidays. You begin with one of those cheap pork shoulders I often talk about in this blog. You cook it for hours in water, then make carnitas with the meat. The broth becomes this rich, spicy soup with the corn kernels and meat and condiments. I’ll tell you how to make it after I tell you about the other soup.

The other soup is congee, which you may have had before if you like going to those big dim sum palaces where they wheel the carts around. Congee is a rice porridge with condiments — it’s ridiculously easy to make, requiring nothing more than rice, a good chicken broth, a hunk of ginger and some bits of pieces of stuff to put into it. I’ll tell you how to make it after I tell you how to make pozolé.

Both these soups soothe the soul, make great leftovers, and can feed a whole bunch of people impressively. Next time you want to see some friends, instead of having a dinner party, have a Sunday brunch and serve pozolé or congee. It’s the sacred thing to do.

Pozolé

1 pork shoulder, 3-5 lbs, with bone
2 onions
1 bay leaf
salt
1 small can hominy
2 dried chili pasilla
2 cloves garlic
1 small bunch cilantro
3 fresh jalapeño or serrano chilies
4 radishes, sliced thinly
3 tbsp dried oregano
lime wedges

THE DAY BEFORE: Cook the pork shoulder in a pot of water with the onion and bay leaf and salt to taste. Cook for a couple hours, until the water has reduced by about half and the pork is fork tender. Strain the broth into another pot. When cool, place in the fridge overnight. Take the pork shoulder when cool, cut the meat off into cubes and place in the fridge.

The next morning, take the broth out, and skim the fat from the top. Place the pork chunks in a baking dish, toss with the skimmed fat and some salt, and roast in a 400-degree oven, tossing the meat occasionally, until it’s golden (or about 45 minutes). This will be your carnitas, which you can eat with salsa in flour tortillas for tacos. You can store in a tupperware in the fridge or freeze and save for later.

Reheat the broth, setting aside 1 cup. Drain can of hominy and add to broth. Place the pasilla chilies in the broth to reconstitute. Once the chilies are soft, remove stems and seeds and puree in a blender with half an onion and garlic cloves. Add puree to the broth. Shred up some of the carnitas meat and add that to the soup. Simmer on low heat until ready to eat. Once you are ready (soup can be made a day or two ahead, and gets even better sitting in the fridge), serve in bowls with other listed ingredients as condiments for each diner to add at his or her discretion — half onion chopped with cilantro, chopped fresh chilies, dried oregano, sliced radishes and lime wedges for squeezing over soup.

Congee

(The following is for two people. For more, multiply the recipe according to numbers)

1 quart good chicken stock (preferably homemade)
1/4 cup long-grain rice
thumb-size nub of fresh ginger, crushed with the flat side of a knife
2 eggs
2 tbsp chopped peanuts
2 tbsp chopped cilantro
2 dried arbol chilies, toasted
2 tbsp chopped pork or chicken meat
soy sauce

Heat chicken stock in a pot with ginger. Add rice and simmer over low heat for 30 minutes until porridgey. Remove ginger. Crack two eggs gently into the soup, turn off heat, and cover for five minutes.

Serve with other listed ingredients as condiments in small bowls, for each diner to add at his or her discretion. Toast the chilies over the flame of a stove until they begin to blacken, and crush into a small bowl. (Note: I’ve done variations on this recipe, using duck stock instead of chicken, with chunks of duck meat. I’ve used Szechuan peppercorns as a condiment, and slices of ginger. You can experiment and add your own inspired additions.)

Fusion or Confusion?

07 Aug 2010 Leave a comment

by scolgin in Cooking Tips, Observations, Recipes

Once years ago I was sitting with my friend, Dan, having a beer at the bar at P.F. Chang’s. He said, “You know what no one has tried yet? Mexican sushi!” I said, “Well, there’s probably a reason for that. What’re you thinking — like carnitas sushi?” It because a running joke. But who would’ve predicted Korean beef tacos?

Sometimes fusion cuisine can be good. Sometimes it works. Witness Nobu Matsuhisa introducing butter and Peruvian ingredients to his Japanese cuisine. More often than not, the successful fusion comes about that way — an inspired chef melding influences with a subtle hand. Too often, unsuccessful fusion is a marketing idea gone awry — an uncomfortable collision of cultures. North African ideas, say, superimposed over French preparations. The ascension of fusion to a global trend over the past decade has resulted in all sorts of ill-advised pairings — Asian fajitas and Caribbean pizzas. Some of the worst offenders even put “fusion” in their restaurant names.

Of all the fusing — or “infusing”, I prefer to think of it in a less egregious approach — I find what works best is the transference of certain Asian (particularly Japanese) ingredients or techniques with those of France and Italy.

The following, a recipe of my own, combines Japanese, Italian and Indonesian ingredients and preparations. The key to its success is the subtlety. I would call the dish Italian in spirit, with hints of Asia. The broiled black cod is a traditional Japanese fish and style of cooking, the potatoes and Swiss chard veering Mediterranean, and the complex kecap manis an Indonesian touch tying it all together. (I will do another post on kecap manis, the “miracle ingredient” of Indonesian cooking. You would do well to find yourself a bottle.)

Broiled Black Cod with Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes

Filets of black cod (Chilean sea bass would work well, too)
potatoes, peeled and boiled
head of garlic
Swiss chard
olive oil
meyer lemon
milk
butter
kecap manis
sea salt & pepper

Roast garlic head until golden. Remove from cloves and mash into potatoes with a little milk, butter and salt & pepper. Place in a dish and keep warm in oven. Place black cod fillets on foil and broil in the oven. Meanwhile, chop Swiss chard and sauté in olive oil. Keep warm on a very low flame. When cod is roasted to a golden brown, turn off oven. To plate:  Place a circle of swiss chard, topped with a circle of potato mixture, then place black cod on top.

To sauce: heat juice of a meyer lemon in a small pan. Remove from heat, and melt in half a stick of butter, stirring constantly, until velveted. Drizzle over top of fish, and then create a circle design around fish with drizzle of kecap manis.

A Brief History of Quinoa

07 Aug 2010 2 Comments

by scolgin in Recipes, Starlets, Yoga Students & Quinoa (stories) Tags: ,

From the upcoming Oliver Stone documentary, “The Truth About Quinoa”:

“Horace Tollman, former engineer for the US state department, revealed that quinoa was not actually a grain at all, but a genetically engineered biocrop created in the 1970s in an effort to infiltrate and destroy the Soviet wheat crops. It was never meant to be eaten…”

Okay, not really. Quinoa is not a “true” grain, as it is not the grass family. (Take that, quinoa!) But is more closely related to beets, spinach and tumbleweeds. (Now we’re getting somewhere.) It originated in the Peruvian Andes, and its name translates from the Incan as “Food which is eaten by skinny yoga students”. Quinoa is high in protein (so is pork) and is gluten free. So there you have it.

What to do with it? My friend, Paul, IM’d me one day to tell me he was doing “something with quinoa” for lunch. “Why?” I said. I guess he didn’t want gluten. I’m sure you could find some recipes for it in “Cooking with Shirley Maclaine” or “Ali MacGraw’s Favorite Yoga Creations”. (What is it with these flaky “Mac” women, anyway??)

Actually, seriously folks… I don’t really have anything against quinoa. It just sort of plays as a convenient Falstaff to my hero, pork. And its popularity with the yoga crowd makes it overly ripe for ridicule. In the interest of fairness, here’s a recipe (WARNING to skinny starlets: the following recipe contains butter.):

2 cups cooked quinoa
4 or 5 asparagus, cut diagonally into 2-inch spears
2 cloves garlic, minced or crushed in a press
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp butter
1/4 cup grated parmesan
1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley

Cook the quinoa however you cook quinoa — I’ve never cooked it, so I don’t know how. I guess you probably steam it like rice. In a separate pan, heat the olive oil and gently saute the asparagus for 5 minutes over medium heat. Toss in the quinoa. Remove from heat. Stir in butter until melted, toss in parmesan and serve in bowls sprinkled with Italian parsley, salt and pepper.

The Torta

07 Aug 2010 5 Comments

by scolgin in Eating Out, Markets & Stores, Pork, Recipes, World's Best Sandwiches

Do you live near a Vallarta Market? If you are in Southern California, you may be fortunate enough to have a Vallarta Market near you. It’s the Whole Foods of the Mexican community, minus the organic and the quinoa and the whole-paycheck part. The Vallarta Market is REALLY inexpensive, and has really great Mexican stuff. The prepared foods are fabulous (pick up the “Pork al Pastor” pre-marinated in the meat section, take it home and grill it up with some tortillas and their homemade salsa roja.)

Anyway, the best part of the Vallarta Market, in my humble opinion, is the Torta Cubana. You can only eat this sandwich once a year, or it will kill you. It takes two days to eat, and each time you eat it, it takes half a day to digest. But it is worth it — a bun piled with beans, fried egg, grilled ham, bacon and cheese. (And still, it’s better for you than one of those Carl’s Jr. things you see on TV.) Add some salsa and pickled jalapeños from the salsa bar in the area you go to sit and eat. And remember, eat half and take the rest home. For y’all unfortunate folks with no Vallarta Market nearby, here’s a recipe so you can make it at home:

Serves two for two days (or four):

Two kaiser rolls or other roundish, flattish bread (you could even get away with ciabatta)
two slices ham, grilled quickly in a hot pan
four pieces of cooked bacon
two eggs, fried
grated colby or cheddar
1/2 cup refried beans
1/2 small onion, chopped
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
mayonnaise
red salsa
pickled jalapeños

Slice the buns open, brush with mayonnaise, and grill in a hot pan until toasted. Add a little more mayo. Then build your torta — refried beans, topped with a fried egg, topped with a slice of ham and the bacon, topped with grated cheese and then chopped onion and cilantro. Put the top bun on. Now put a little vegetable oil (canola, sunflower, whatever) in a pan — just a little bit to create a light barrier. (This could be a good instance for one of those oil sprays I’ve seen.) Heat the pan and place the tortas in the pan to toast. Cover with a lid that is slightly smaller than the pan, so you can press the sandwiches down some. (You could use a panini grill instead if you’ve got one.) When the bottom seems lightly toasted, flip the sandwiches and grill the top. You want them a little toasty on top and bottom, and you want the cheese to begin to melt a little. Take the sandwiches off, remove the top and drizzle with some salsa and add some jalapeños, and put the top back on. Serve.

If you like to experiment, you can mix it up by trying different cheese, different meat (leftover cochinita pibil makes a great torta, as does shredded chicken).

Beverage suggestions: Cold Mexican beer, cold Mexican soda

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries