Listen: Joni Mitchell, Miles of Aisles
Drink: Tecate or Negra Modelo
My latest posts have prompted several questions (online and off) about what to feed vegetarians at a cook-out. I can speak with some authority on this topic, since we have enjoyed many a blaze-up with the beloved vegetarian godmothers to our children. (See? Some of my best friends are vegetarians.)
Communication is critical to harmony between the carnivores and vegetarians. Initially, you must determine whether the vegetarians will vomit, turn green, or go into anaphylactic shock at the sight or smell of raw meat. One of the godmothers got a bit wobbly in the knees when she spied the tub of rendered duck fat in my refrigerator. You also should inquire whether your friends are vegan -- if so, you must also skip dairy products. If there is a 'yes' answer to any of the foregoing, consider scrapping your grilling plans and booking reservations at your favorite Indian restaurant. If you are determined to entertain your vegetarian friends nonetheless, read on.
If you are using a charcoal grill, and I do recommend charcoal over gas, then you may have to buy a new grate for your grill. Your vegetarian guests likely will not appreciate the seasoning of delicious animal fat that clings to your current grate. In fact, it's not a bad idea to keep a separate "no-meat" grate around if you think this is the start of a happy friendship. Once you have your no-meat grill ready to go, decide on the menu. I always think Mexican-style is the most fun. If you are lucky enough to live in a city with a Mexican population, go to a good Mexican grocery for absolutely fresh, steaming up the bag, flour and corn tortillas. If no vegans, also pick up some delicious crema and cotija cheese for furnishing the tacos (hell, get it for yourselves anyway -- if hysteria ensues at the sight of dairy products, that vegan might be crazy enough to rip out your herb garden in a misguided rescue operation).
What to grill? I suggest rajas, essentially roasted poblano peppers with white onions. The incomparable Rick Bayless (expert on all edible things Mexican) suggests you roast the peppers and then add a saute of onion, garlic, and oregano to the roasted, peeled peppers. I have had good success omitting the garlic and simply roasting the peppers and onions over the grill (peppers to be be peeled and seeded in the kitchen), and adding a little oil and oregano at the end. I once received a huge bunch of fresh oregano from my local CSA, which I tied with twine and hung upside down in my garage until fully dried. The freshly dried oregano was a revelation. If you're buying already dried, look for Mexican oregano -- Rancho Gordo sells it online.
You will definitely need a fresh salsa. One of my favorites is grilled tomatillo salsa. Tomatillos (actually not a tomato but a type of gooseberry) are probably the original tomates, and they are delicious. I grill a skewer of fresh tomatillos, husked and rinsed; a skewer of ordinary red tomatoes; a skewer of white onion chunks; and a skewer of fresh garlic cloves, peeled. I also grill a skewer of jalapenos or serranos, to be peeled and seeded in the kitchen. Once blistered and charred, pop all of the ingredients into a blender, and add lime juice and salt to taste. Keep it chunky -- don't over-blend. Cilantro would be a nice addition, too. The salsa should be eaten immediately, although it will keep for a day in the fridge -- but make it in real time for the show.
Note: Please use powder free food prep gloves when peeling and seeding the chiles. The best way is to toss the hot charred chilies into a ziplock bag and let them steam away for a few minutes. Remove from bag and rub outer skins with paper towels. The skin should peel away easily. Simply pull or brush away the seeds. Also, for skewers, I think it is worth the splurge to buy the stainless steel square (not round) skewers. The fact that the skewers are squared means you can turn them more easily on the grill, and the fact that they are steel means that the food cooks more quickly because of the heat from the inside.
Assembly: Crack another can of beer, with a squirt of lime for the Tecate if you prefer. Grill the tortillas, add the rajas, and top with crema and freshly made salsa. Crumble cotija cheese over the taco. Eat.
Additions that also would be delicious: (1) a freshly made pot of black beans or pinto beans; and (2) a vinegary slaw. Ideas for these additions coming soon.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Butter Bourbon Barbecue Sauce
Listen: "Stephanie Says" (Velvet Underground)
Drink: Fat Squirrel Ale
I believe I may have perfected this sauce. It is NOT a regional sauce, which is probably good because it can rest on its own laurels without the burden of ancient pedigrees and disputes. Is beef barbecue? Should you sauce or not? Should the sauce have a base of vinegar or tomato? Chances are you like best whatever barbecue you were raised on, but I say taste 'em all.
As I've said before, I cook by hand, so this is my best guess at proportions. Make it how you like it.
I Vidalia or other sweet onion, minced
stick of unsalted butter
2 tbsp. kosher salt
white pepper
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup bourbon
2 tbsp. molasses
chipotle powder to taste (you might find yourself adding more because the base is sweet)
2 tsp. mustard powder
dash or two worcestershire sauce
most of a bottle of ketchup
ketchup water, possibly
I tossed the minced onion in the butter, adding a hefty pinch of kosher salt and a few grinds of white pepper. After I scalded the onions in the butter, I lowered the heat and added the honey and the bourbon and just let it bubble around -- almost like making bourbon candy. If you do it right, the onions won't melt into the sauce after all is said and done.
I then added what I had left of a ketchup bottle to the pot, plus the last glug of some strained tomatoes I had previously used to make a quick pasta sauce. I then added the molasses. The mixture seemed rather thick, so I put about a third of a cup of water in the used-up ketchup bottle, shook vigorously, and added the ketchup water. I then added the rest of the ingredients and brought to a gentle boil. Adjust for seasoning, and let cool before serving alongside pork.
Drink: Fat Squirrel Ale
I believe I may have perfected this sauce. It is NOT a regional sauce, which is probably good because it can rest on its own laurels without the burden of ancient pedigrees and disputes. Is beef barbecue? Should you sauce or not? Should the sauce have a base of vinegar or tomato? Chances are you like best whatever barbecue you were raised on, but I say taste 'em all.
As I've said before, I cook by hand, so this is my best guess at proportions. Make it how you like it.
I Vidalia or other sweet onion, minced
stick of unsalted butter
2 tbsp. kosher salt
white pepper
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup bourbon
2 tbsp. molasses
chipotle powder to taste (you might find yourself adding more because the base is sweet)
2 tsp. mustard powder
dash or two worcestershire sauce
most of a bottle of ketchup
ketchup water, possibly
I tossed the minced onion in the butter, adding a hefty pinch of kosher salt and a few grinds of white pepper. After I scalded the onions in the butter, I lowered the heat and added the honey and the bourbon and just let it bubble around -- almost like making bourbon candy. If you do it right, the onions won't melt into the sauce after all is said and done.
I then added what I had left of a ketchup bottle to the pot, plus the last glug of some strained tomatoes I had previously used to make a quick pasta sauce. I then added the molasses. The mixture seemed rather thick, so I put about a third of a cup of water in the used-up ketchup bottle, shook vigorously, and added the ketchup water. I then added the rest of the ingredients and brought to a gentle boil. Adjust for seasoning, and let cool before serving alongside pork.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Roast Pork Loin
Listen: Jimmy Webb & Linda Ronstadt, "All I Know"
Drink: Rye Manhattan (Old Overholt Rye and Carpano Antica vermouth, with orange bitters and a twist)
Before we came up north, I arranged for butchery and delivery of several hefty pieces of pasture-raised meat. I intended to order two bone-in pork butts, three racks of ribs, and a turkey. I received the butts and the turkey, one rack of ribs, and two whole pork loins. What follows is a recitation of my first attempt to cook an entire pork loin.
The first thing you need to know is that an entire bone-in pork loin is a mother-huge piece of meat. I didn't weigh it because I never get on scales, and wouldn't know where to find a scale even if my svelte Spouse had consented to clutch that unwieldy piece of meat to her moderate bosom. To boot, my preparation of the loin was foiled by the presence of the chine bone and the feather bones (I think -- I have yet to be initiated into the mysteries of butchery). I promptly took the loin to our local, friendly butcher, who (without charge and a big smile for my toddler's "Praise the Lard" tee shirt) made the loin all nice for roasting. I consulted James Beard's American Cookery for roasting times and ideas for preparation. The only useful thing I learned is that the loin should roast in a 325 degree oven, and that I should count on approximately 23 minutes roasting time per pound. This bit of advice was largely wasted on me, however, because I willfully remained in ignorance of the loin's total weight.
I decided to move towards Italy in terms of taste. I trimmed the excess fat on top of the loin and made several deep incisions over the top of the loin. I made a paste of lemon zest from one whole lemon, two tbsp. lemon juice, minced red garlic, olive oil, chopped fresh rosemary, kosher salt, and white pepper. I inserted splinters of red garlic and bay leaves into each incision, and rubbed the paste over the entire loin, top and bottom. For good measure, I added a sprinkling of freshly ground white pepper and kosher salt overall. I covered the whole with wax paper and refrigerated for the duration of a summer nap (approximately one hour) plus reading time (approximately another hour). Longer is better for the marinating, so nap or read a bit longer if desired.
I let the meat bask at room temperature while I preheated our cranky gas oven to 450. After about a half hour of basking, I popped the meat into a 450 degree oven in order to get the "sizzle" going, a la Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. After another half hour, I turned the oven down to 325 degrees and added two glasses of good white wine to the pan. I then waited. Nothing much seemed to be happening. By now, it was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon -- all good. I parboiled a bag of red creamer potatoes that my mother-in-law bought from the local mega-mart. There was a graph on the outside of the bag that indicated each potato could be eaten in two bites. Who thinks up these things?
Approximately an hour and a half before we wanted to eat, I ladled the parboiled potatoes around the roast, carefully rolling each potato in fat. I waited some more, and scootered with the children in the driveway. About 30 minutes from the desired eating time, my roast was still 20 degrees behind where it needed to be, and the two-bite potatoes were unpleasantly crunchy. I cranked the oven up to 400 degrees.
To shorten the story, we ate approximately 45 minutes later than I deemed desirable. The children ate too many crackers with cheese and the adults consumed too much wine. Neither event was unprecedented in our respective households. On the other hand, both the roast and the potatoes browned up nicely. While the roast was resting, I poured the excess fat from the pan and added approximately two cups homemade chicken stock. I brought the juices and stock to boil, adjusted for seasoning, reduced, and again adjusted the seasoning. I carved the roast into chops except for the plates intended for the children, who are not good with bones. I carved the childrens' portions into rough medallions and piled the extra rib bones on the adults' plates. I smashed the potatoes roughly with butter and salt, and ladled the jus over the potatoes.
Keeps for at least three days in the refrigerator, and reheats nicely paired with rice cooked in chicken stock and butter, and do add some crispy broccoli florets to the plate.
Drink: Rye Manhattan (Old Overholt Rye and Carpano Antica vermouth, with orange bitters and a twist)
Before we came up north, I arranged for butchery and delivery of several hefty pieces of pasture-raised meat. I intended to order two bone-in pork butts, three racks of ribs, and a turkey. I received the butts and the turkey, one rack of ribs, and two whole pork loins. What follows is a recitation of my first attempt to cook an entire pork loin.
The first thing you need to know is that an entire bone-in pork loin is a mother-huge piece of meat. I didn't weigh it because I never get on scales, and wouldn't know where to find a scale even if my svelte Spouse had consented to clutch that unwieldy piece of meat to her moderate bosom. To boot, my preparation of the loin was foiled by the presence of the chine bone and the feather bones (I think -- I have yet to be initiated into the mysteries of butchery). I promptly took the loin to our local, friendly butcher, who (without charge and a big smile for my toddler's "Praise the Lard" tee shirt) made the loin all nice for roasting. I consulted James Beard's American Cookery for roasting times and ideas for preparation. The only useful thing I learned is that the loin should roast in a 325 degree oven, and that I should count on approximately 23 minutes roasting time per pound. This bit of advice was largely wasted on me, however, because I willfully remained in ignorance of the loin's total weight.
I decided to move towards Italy in terms of taste. I trimmed the excess fat on top of the loin and made several deep incisions over the top of the loin. I made a paste of lemon zest from one whole lemon, two tbsp. lemon juice, minced red garlic, olive oil, chopped fresh rosemary, kosher salt, and white pepper. I inserted splinters of red garlic and bay leaves into each incision, and rubbed the paste over the entire loin, top and bottom. For good measure, I added a sprinkling of freshly ground white pepper and kosher salt overall. I covered the whole with wax paper and refrigerated for the duration of a summer nap (approximately one hour) plus reading time (approximately another hour). Longer is better for the marinating, so nap or read a bit longer if desired.
I let the meat bask at room temperature while I preheated our cranky gas oven to 450. After about a half hour of basking, I popped the meat into a 450 degree oven in order to get the "sizzle" going, a la Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. After another half hour, I turned the oven down to 325 degrees and added two glasses of good white wine to the pan. I then waited. Nothing much seemed to be happening. By now, it was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon -- all good. I parboiled a bag of red creamer potatoes that my mother-in-law bought from the local mega-mart. There was a graph on the outside of the bag that indicated each potato could be eaten in two bites. Who thinks up these things?
Approximately an hour and a half before we wanted to eat, I ladled the parboiled potatoes around the roast, carefully rolling each potato in fat. I waited some more, and scootered with the children in the driveway. About 30 minutes from the desired eating time, my roast was still 20 degrees behind where it needed to be, and the two-bite potatoes were unpleasantly crunchy. I cranked the oven up to 400 degrees.
To shorten the story, we ate approximately 45 minutes later than I deemed desirable. The children ate too many crackers with cheese and the adults consumed too much wine. Neither event was unprecedented in our respective households. On the other hand, both the roast and the potatoes browned up nicely. While the roast was resting, I poured the excess fat from the pan and added approximately two cups homemade chicken stock. I brought the juices and stock to boil, adjusted for seasoning, reduced, and again adjusted the seasoning. I carved the roast into chops except for the plates intended for the children, who are not good with bones. I carved the childrens' portions into rough medallions and piled the extra rib bones on the adults' plates. I smashed the potatoes roughly with butter and salt, and ladled the jus over the potatoes.
Keeps for at least three days in the refrigerator, and reheats nicely paired with rice cooked in chicken stock and butter, and do add some crispy broccoli florets to the plate.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)