Hey, all.
I have moved my blog to smokyoven.wordpress.com. See you there!
WK-W
Monday, July 4, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Spring Roasts
I always want lamb in the spring. One of my favorite cuts is the boneless leg of lamb. I've recently paired it with both a potato and green garlic gratin, and a roasted tomato panzanella. Both meals came together very well. The most important thing to remember about this recipe is that you have to trim, season, and tie the leg the night before you plan to roast it. If you are new to trimming and tying meat, don't sweat it -- it's not as hard as it sounds.
To feed four adults and four kids, I purchased a 4-lb. leg -- 4 lbs. after boning. To trim and season the leg, open the meat up like a book. You may need to make additional vertical cuts in the meat to get it to lay flat. It's fine to have two or three flaps of meat -- just be sure that you rub the seasoning all over the inside.
Remove all silverskin, then flip the meat over and trim of all excess fat from the skin side of the roast. I don't care for the taste of lamb fat, so I trim the fat down as much as possible while leaving a nice creamy cap. Butchering hint: Use a very sharp chef's knife on a clean cutting board that you use only for raw meat. If the cutting board is plastic, slip a wet paper towel under the board so it won't move around on you. Sharp knives and sliding boards are a dangerous combination. Also, put on an apron. If you don't get messy, you're probably not having enough fun.
Season the leg with ground juniper berries (1-2 tablespoons whole berries); kosher salt & tellicherry pepper; 6-7 cloves garlic, minced; 4-5 branches fresh rosemary, chopped; and the zest of two Meyer lemons (save the bald lemons -- you'll want them later). Roll up the leg and tie it together with 6-7 lengths of butcher's twine, wrapping both horizontally and vertically. The idea is to make a neat and even package of meat so that the meat roasts evenly. Don't worry if it's lumpy on one end; it is a leg, after all. Let the leg refrigerate overnight.
Take the leg out of the refrigerator 30 minutes before you want to start cooking. You want the roast to come to room temperature before it goes in the oven. Rub the outside of the leg with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. I got the lamb off to a sizzle at 475 degrees for 20-25 minutes. I then squeezed the juice from the bald lemons over the meat and added a large glass of wine to the pan. Turn the heat to 325 or 350, depending on how hot your oven runs, and flip the roast once or twice during cooking so that it brown evenly. After about a hour and a half of cooking, start checking the internal temperature of the meat. I find that it comes up medium rare-medium for me when the temperature shows 150-155 degrees internally. Let the meat rest for at least 20 minutes, then remove the twine and slice. You should have lovely, well-seasoned pink lamb.
I served this with Sans Liege's Groundwork Grenache but a dry rose would go down nicely as well.
To feed four adults and four kids, I purchased a 4-lb. leg -- 4 lbs. after boning. To trim and season the leg, open the meat up like a book. You may need to make additional vertical cuts in the meat to get it to lay flat. It's fine to have two or three flaps of meat -- just be sure that you rub the seasoning all over the inside.
Remove all silverskin, then flip the meat over and trim of all excess fat from the skin side of the roast. I don't care for the taste of lamb fat, so I trim the fat down as much as possible while leaving a nice creamy cap. Butchering hint: Use a very sharp chef's knife on a clean cutting board that you use only for raw meat. If the cutting board is plastic, slip a wet paper towel under the board so it won't move around on you. Sharp knives and sliding boards are a dangerous combination. Also, put on an apron. If you don't get messy, you're probably not having enough fun.
Season the leg with ground juniper berries (1-2 tablespoons whole berries); kosher salt & tellicherry pepper; 6-7 cloves garlic, minced; 4-5 branches fresh rosemary, chopped; and the zest of two Meyer lemons (save the bald lemons -- you'll want them later). Roll up the leg and tie it together with 6-7 lengths of butcher's twine, wrapping both horizontally and vertically. The idea is to make a neat and even package of meat so that the meat roasts evenly. Don't worry if it's lumpy on one end; it is a leg, after all. Let the leg refrigerate overnight.
Take the leg out of the refrigerator 30 minutes before you want to start cooking. You want the roast to come to room temperature before it goes in the oven. Rub the outside of the leg with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. I got the lamb off to a sizzle at 475 degrees for 20-25 minutes. I then squeezed the juice from the bald lemons over the meat and added a large glass of wine to the pan. Turn the heat to 325 or 350, depending on how hot your oven runs, and flip the roast once or twice during cooking so that it brown evenly. After about a hour and a half of cooking, start checking the internal temperature of the meat. I find that it comes up medium rare-medium for me when the temperature shows 150-155 degrees internally. Let the meat rest for at least 20 minutes, then remove the twine and slice. You should have lovely, well-seasoned pink lamb.
I served this with Sans Liege's Groundwork Grenache but a dry rose would go down nicely as well.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Baked Beans
I can't think about baked beans without hearing Cliff Arquette's "big fat juicy beans" line from Waiting for Guffman. Anyway, these are juicy beans that freeze well. My daughter will eat a whole pan, if left to her own devices. I use Rancho Gordo's Yellow Indian Woman beans, when I can get them. They stay firm and creamy, even after hours in the oven.
The night before you want to cook the beans, sort and rinse two pounds of dried beans. Soak overnight. The beans will take at least six hours to cook after the overnight soak, so plan ahead. The next day, drain the beans and hold in the colander. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Score a hunk of salt pork and cut into two pieces. Place salt pork at the bottom of a large bean pot or Dutch oven. I have a large cast iron Dutch oven from Le Creuset that works very well. Halve an onion and stud each half with six whole cloves. Add to the pot alongside the salt pork. Pour the soaked, drained beans over the salt pork and onions but don't stir.
In a large sauce pan, bring the following ingredients to a simmer: five cups water; half cup dark molasses; half cup brown sugar (dark or light); 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon Colman's mustard powder; 1 tablespoon kosher salt; 2-3 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper; two bay leaves; and at least four chopped, canned plum tomatoes. If you are lucky enough to have some of Scott Peacock's Slow Roasted Tomatoes in your freezer (I had the last of the Early Girls peeled and roasted in a low oven with butter and brown sugar), use those instead of the canned tomatoes. After your ingredients are simmering and the sugar is dissolved, pour over the beans but, again don't stir. The liquid should cover the beans by an inch or two. If you don't have quite enough liquid, add a cup or two of hot water.
Cover beans and place in the middle of a hot oven. Check on them every 45 minutes or so to make sure they stay soupy. Add hot water as needed to achieve that end. After about five hours (and the house will smell so good that everyone will keep asking you when the beans will be ready until you write it out on the chalkboard), take off the lid and drag the salt pork to the top of the beans. Cook for the last hour uncovered. Shred the salt pork and add it back into the beans.
These beans go down well with just about anything, but are especially good with roast pork or a rack of spare ribs.
The night before you want to cook the beans, sort and rinse two pounds of dried beans. Soak overnight. The beans will take at least six hours to cook after the overnight soak, so plan ahead. The next day, drain the beans and hold in the colander. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Score a hunk of salt pork and cut into two pieces. Place salt pork at the bottom of a large bean pot or Dutch oven. I have a large cast iron Dutch oven from Le Creuset that works very well. Halve an onion and stud each half with six whole cloves. Add to the pot alongside the salt pork. Pour the soaked, drained beans over the salt pork and onions but don't stir.
In a large sauce pan, bring the following ingredients to a simmer: five cups water; half cup dark molasses; half cup brown sugar (dark or light); 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon Colman's mustard powder; 1 tablespoon kosher salt; 2-3 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper; two bay leaves; and at least four chopped, canned plum tomatoes. If you are lucky enough to have some of Scott Peacock's Slow Roasted Tomatoes in your freezer (I had the last of the Early Girls peeled and roasted in a low oven with butter and brown sugar), use those instead of the canned tomatoes. After your ingredients are simmering and the sugar is dissolved, pour over the beans but, again don't stir. The liquid should cover the beans by an inch or two. If you don't have quite enough liquid, add a cup or two of hot water.
Cover beans and place in the middle of a hot oven. Check on them every 45 minutes or so to make sure they stay soupy. Add hot water as needed to achieve that end. After about five hours (and the house will smell so good that everyone will keep asking you when the beans will be ready until you write it out on the chalkboard), take off the lid and drag the salt pork to the top of the beans. Cook for the last hour uncovered. Shred the salt pork and add it back into the beans.
These beans go down well with just about anything, but are especially good with roast pork or a rack of spare ribs.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Cooking in Corners
The title of this entry is a bastardization of one of my favorite Nanci Griffith songs:
Working in Corners.
Times are hard. My father is wandering slowly but surely toward his grave, and I've been back and forth from Tennessee to help my mother more times than I care to count. It might go without saying but the business of dying wears on the living. And no one ever seems to have the will or means to cook anything to eat. My mother and I have had made do with room service, fine lunches, hasty on-the-way lunches, and plates of salami and cheese instead of supper. For her part, Spouse in SF has kept the children fed with a steady diet of cold ham, pasta with butter and cheese, Green Chile Kitchen takeout, and Thai take-out. Everyone is feeling irritable and unappreciated.
Now usually my mother's freezer is a wonder to behold, stuffed with homemade stocks of all kinds, chili, goulash soup, beef stew, etc. When I arrived most recently at my mother's house, on the heels of the most bitter snowstorm in a century, the freezer was nearly bare. I found beef stock and some vegetable soup. I cannot abide vegetable soup. Something would have to be done. I fixed a martini and slumped over some cooking magazines. Snow, sorrow, and winter. Of course, I would make a pot of chili.
I hit on a recipe in Cooks' Illustrated, which I usually find much too fussy. I try to remember that these folks get paid to refine recipes ad nauseam, but I am usually just resentful and occasionally scornful (of course, you wouldn't add bread crumbs at that step!). I was intrigued, though, by two things in the chili recipe: (1) The opportunity to create a custom dried chile powder; and (2) the use of a 1-hour brine to prepare dried pinto beans for the chili pot. Hot dog. The next day, I hit the local Whole Foods, looking for pastured chuck roast (or blade roast, which was recommended as cheaper and more flavorful) and whole dried chiles. I found some pastured chuck roast, although it turned out to be pricey plus loaded with tendons and silverskin, and two dried chiles of a mild type. One was guajillo and the other was one I'd never heard of and have since forgotten but it had the advantage of listing its Scovill rating, which was in the medium-hot range.
Back in my mother's kitchen, I set to while she knitted in front of the fire and called out companionably once in a while. First, I took a cup of dried pinto beans (rinsed) and put them in a large pan with 4 quarts of water and about a quarter cup of salt. It seemed like an awful lot of water for one cup of beans, but I suppose they are earning their salaries at Cooks' Illustrated. Bring beans to a boil and then soak for one hour. While your beans are brining, take four or five of each kind of chile and remove the seeds and membranes. I always use powder-free surgical gloves when I work with chiles, fresh or dried, and you should, too. Then toast the chiles in a dry cast-iron pan until they are nice and brown but not burning. Take the pan off the fire and let the chiles cool.
Now you have two balls in the air, the beans and the chiles - time for more. You will need to add to your agenda at least two cups of homemade stock (preferably beef but chicken is fine), one large can chopped tomatoes, two medium onions (peeled and quartered), three tablespoons corn meal, a lager beer (I made do with a Miller Lite), three or four peeled and chopped fresh garlic cloves, and one fresh jalapeño (sans seeds and membranes).
Get out the food processor. Grind the dried chiles, add a pinch kosher salt, and a tablespoon of oil. Add one cup stock and the cornmeal, and pulse until it forms a paste. Scrape your chile paste into a bowl and set aside. Throw the quartered onions in the processor and chop. Add jalapeños to the chop. If you are using homemade stock, bring to a boil while fiddling with the paste and onions, then set aside.
Remove all silver skin and tendons from meat, and cut into bite-sized pieces. This can sound way easier than it turns out to be, but persevere. You want to end up up with at least three pounds trimmed beef. Brown in batches in a large cast-iron pan, salting lightly while in pan. Place browned beef on a big plate where you can collect the juices. When you are done with the last batch, you will deglaze the frypan with a half can of beer (make sure it is a lager style) and then add the beef, juices, and frypan lager to the mixture below. Take a slug of the beer remaining in the can and then set aside.
In a large pot, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil and sauté the onions and jalapeño until soft. Add a bit of salt. Add the garlic and sauté just until fragrant, about one minute. Add the tomatoes and mix well. Add the drained, brined beans and mix well. Make sure you really rinse the beans before adding to the pot. Now add the chile paste and bring to a simmer, stirring to ensure the paste is thoroughly blended. Add the beef with its juices, the leftover stock, and the remaining beer. Simmer covered for about an hour and a half, stirring occasionally.
Adjust seasonings and pick your garnish. Great accompaniments include grated sharp cheddar, sour cream, chopped onions, avocados, and chopped fresh cilantro. And you must drink beer if you are a drinking person. My current favorite is Mama's Little Yella Pils by Oskar Blues. The chili will feed about 6 hungry people.
Errata and Additional Comments
I made this chili last weekend to freeze for the Super Bowl and realized I left out a few key additions to the main recipe above. Once the mixture is together in the pot, add cumin, oregano, and cayenne pepper to taste. You also should add a tablespoon of molasses, particularly if you are using spicier chiles in the chile paste. For my latest batch, however, I toned down the kick by using only guajillo chiles for the paste - advisable for kids but not for grown-ups. Guajillos and ancho chiles are going to go in my next grown-up version. I also used masa harina instead of cornmeal, which didn't thicken as well as the cornmeal. This chili also would be good nacho-style, ladled on tortilla chips with melted cheese and all the fixings.
Working in Corners.
Times are hard. My father is wandering slowly but surely toward his grave, and I've been back and forth from Tennessee to help my mother more times than I care to count. It might go without saying but the business of dying wears on the living. And no one ever seems to have the will or means to cook anything to eat. My mother and I have had made do with room service, fine lunches, hasty on-the-way lunches, and plates of salami and cheese instead of supper. For her part, Spouse in SF has kept the children fed with a steady diet of cold ham, pasta with butter and cheese, Green Chile Kitchen takeout, and Thai take-out. Everyone is feeling irritable and unappreciated.
Now usually my mother's freezer is a wonder to behold, stuffed with homemade stocks of all kinds, chili, goulash soup, beef stew, etc. When I arrived most recently at my mother's house, on the heels of the most bitter snowstorm in a century, the freezer was nearly bare. I found beef stock and some vegetable soup. I cannot abide vegetable soup. Something would have to be done. I fixed a martini and slumped over some cooking magazines. Snow, sorrow, and winter. Of course, I would make a pot of chili.
I hit on a recipe in Cooks' Illustrated, which I usually find much too fussy. I try to remember that these folks get paid to refine recipes ad nauseam, but I am usually just resentful and occasionally scornful (of course, you wouldn't add bread crumbs at that step!). I was intrigued, though, by two things in the chili recipe: (1) The opportunity to create a custom dried chile powder; and (2) the use of a 1-hour brine to prepare dried pinto beans for the chili pot. Hot dog. The next day, I hit the local Whole Foods, looking for pastured chuck roast (or blade roast, which was recommended as cheaper and more flavorful) and whole dried chiles. I found some pastured chuck roast, although it turned out to be pricey plus loaded with tendons and silverskin, and two dried chiles of a mild type. One was guajillo and the other was one I'd never heard of and have since forgotten but it had the advantage of listing its Scovill rating, which was in the medium-hot range.
Back in my mother's kitchen, I set to while she knitted in front of the fire and called out companionably once in a while. First, I took a cup of dried pinto beans (rinsed) and put them in a large pan with 4 quarts of water and about a quarter cup of salt. It seemed like an awful lot of water for one cup of beans, but I suppose they are earning their salaries at Cooks' Illustrated. Bring beans to a boil and then soak for one hour. While your beans are brining, take four or five of each kind of chile and remove the seeds and membranes. I always use powder-free surgical gloves when I work with chiles, fresh or dried, and you should, too. Then toast the chiles in a dry cast-iron pan until they are nice and brown but not burning. Take the pan off the fire and let the chiles cool.
Now you have two balls in the air, the beans and the chiles - time for more. You will need to add to your agenda at least two cups of homemade stock (preferably beef but chicken is fine), one large can chopped tomatoes, two medium onions (peeled and quartered), three tablespoons corn meal, a lager beer (I made do with a Miller Lite), three or four peeled and chopped fresh garlic cloves, and one fresh jalapeño (sans seeds and membranes).
Get out the food processor. Grind the dried chiles, add a pinch kosher salt, and a tablespoon of oil. Add one cup stock and the cornmeal, and pulse until it forms a paste. Scrape your chile paste into a bowl and set aside. Throw the quartered onions in the processor and chop. Add jalapeños to the chop. If you are using homemade stock, bring to a boil while fiddling with the paste and onions, then set aside.
Remove all silver skin and tendons from meat, and cut into bite-sized pieces. This can sound way easier than it turns out to be, but persevere. You want to end up up with at least three pounds trimmed beef. Brown in batches in a large cast-iron pan, salting lightly while in pan. Place browned beef on a big plate where you can collect the juices. When you are done with the last batch, you will deglaze the frypan with a half can of beer (make sure it is a lager style) and then add the beef, juices, and frypan lager to the mixture below. Take a slug of the beer remaining in the can and then set aside.
In a large pot, heat a couple of tablespoons of oil and sauté the onions and jalapeño until soft. Add a bit of salt. Add the garlic and sauté just until fragrant, about one minute. Add the tomatoes and mix well. Add the drained, brined beans and mix well. Make sure you really rinse the beans before adding to the pot. Now add the chile paste and bring to a simmer, stirring to ensure the paste is thoroughly blended. Add the beef with its juices, the leftover stock, and the remaining beer. Simmer covered for about an hour and a half, stirring occasionally.
Adjust seasonings and pick your garnish. Great accompaniments include grated sharp cheddar, sour cream, chopped onions, avocados, and chopped fresh cilantro. And you must drink beer if you are a drinking person. My current favorite is Mama's Little Yella Pils by Oskar Blues. The chili will feed about 6 hungry people.
Errata and Additional Comments
I made this chili last weekend to freeze for the Super Bowl and realized I left out a few key additions to the main recipe above. Once the mixture is together in the pot, add cumin, oregano, and cayenne pepper to taste. You also should add a tablespoon of molasses, particularly if you are using spicier chiles in the chile paste. For my latest batch, however, I toned down the kick by using only guajillo chiles for the paste - advisable for kids but not for grown-ups. Guajillos and ancho chiles are going to go in my next grown-up version. I also used masa harina instead of cornmeal, which didn't thicken as well as the cornmeal. This chili also would be good nacho-style, ladled on tortilla chips with melted cheese and all the fixings.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year's Day
In Tennessee, you must eat black-eyed peas for good luck on New Year's Day. Black-eyed peas are thought to represent wealth in coins, while collard greens symbolize greenbacks. Making a big pot of black-eyed peas is easy and, if you add rice, you have Hoppin' John. Here's how to make a pot of black-eyed peas.
Soak two pounds of peas in plenty of water overnight or for about 6 hours. Drain, and place in large dutch oven or other heavy pot. Add a ham hock, rinsed, a stalk of celery, a half of a yellow onion, two bay leaves, and a whole dried chile such as a guajillo. Don't add salt until the peas are cooked. Add cold water to cover by at least an inch or two.
Bring peas to a boil, and skim the meat scum that will come from the hock. Simmer (active bubbles but don't boil) for an hour. Check peas for tenderness. Once the peas are tender, remove the hock, celery, onion, bay leaves, and pepper. Remove excess water with a ladle until the peas are as soupy or as dry as you like. Remove good meat from the hock and chop finely. Throw ham back into the peas, and season to taste with salt and pepper.
Good luck!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)