Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
A Boozy Passage to Port Sangria
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| (photo credit: arstechnica.com) |
THE FREAKIN' JELL-O IS CLEAR! We can see those bits of canned pear. And they're ruining our lime-flavored horse hoof pudding (we didn't know what gelatin actually was at the time. I'm glad the marketeers saw "horse hoof pudding" around the corner, and chose "Jell-O" instead).
So, when someone decides to take some cheap (or past-its-prime) wine, load it up with sugar and bits of fruit, I'm not buying. If I'm going to drink booze that's in its geriatric state, odds are that it's a can of Natural Light I found under my car seat with a "born on" date reminiscent of when Chumbawamba was all the rage. Because that can locks in the freshness. And Natural Light is the "beer with the taste for food" (I feel like I've written that quote on this blog before).
Maybe that's why I was surprised at my reaction to an email from a PR firm wanting to send me Port for the purpose of making "Ciderhouse Sangria". First of all, I'm notorious for never writing about sample wines here (and certainly don't hold your breath for any crappy reviews). Secondly, many PR emails get treated with the same attention as those promising untold wealth from Nigerian princes, or miracle drugs that will give me 36-hour "stimulation" (as if to insinuate that Middle School- the age of awkward erections- was a pleasant time).
But this concept of mixing cider (good) with whiskey (great) with Port (spectacular) lulled me into a waking dream of warming elixir, bubbling in my gullet, keeping Old Man Winter's sobering, icy hand at bay. "Yes, please send me the sample," I unconsciously typed, forgetting my usual caveat that this sample "will almost certainly not be reviewed, and, if so, reviewed beyond any reasonable time frame."
A few days later, a sample bottle of Sandeman Porto from the Thomas Collective appeared at my doorstep. Port, a fortified, generally sweet wine from Portugal (always from Portugal) comes in many different styles. This sample was a basic Ruby Port, meaning it comes from moderate-quality grapes, with the juice having significant skin-contact during fermentation to extract color and flavor, which- following fermentation- is aged for about 3-5 years in large, neutral cask before bottling. Ruby Port is a fitting product for a Sangria preparation, as I would want to drink anything of higher quality by itself. Not that it's bad; it's just the most-modest of Ports.
As it turned out, the resulting punch ended up tasting a bit too much of Bourbon whiskey for me (I had a falling-out with Bourbon in college, and its sweetness is more than I can bear). Granted, the recipe called for Rye whiskey, which I did not have on hand. However, if you do like the taste of Bourbon, or Rye, this recipe makes a very simple, rather original, warming, and potent cocktail that is certainly befitting of the flavors of Autumn:
Sandeman Ciderhouse Sangria
1 bottle of Sandeman Founders Reserve Porto (or any 750 ml bottle of Ruby Port)
24 oz apple cider (non-alcoholic)
3 oz rye whiskey (or Bourbon)
1.5 oz maple syrup
2 Granny Smith apples
2 pears
Directions: Dice apples and pears and set aside. Mix all remaining ingredients together in pitcher. Add in apples and pears. Let sit for at least 8-12 hours (or overnight).
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Put these peaches in your mouth.
Someone asked me to post this recipe on Twitter. Posting a recipe in 140 characters is a real painus in the anus. Here, I can go on and on and on and on (and on)......not that that's ever happened.
For the sake of brevity- and food porn- I'll deal mostly in pictures here. Said to be worth a thousand words, these pics are worth a thousand calories, all under the guise of healthy eating (hey, it's fruit, right?)
Either adapted or stolen directly from a Steven Raichlen cookbook, I present Grilled Peaches:
1. Procure brown sugar, butter, and Bourbon. Any self-respecting household should have all these things on hand at any given time. Also, get some peaches. If you're in Georgia, get Georgia peaches. What is this, amateur hour?! The are very ripe white peaches from Fort Valley, GA. Oddly, they don't smell like peaches, but exactly like Riesling. See what I did there? Silly, huh?
2. For the sauce, start melting the butter in a pan over medium heat. I used 4 oz. The quantity is not critical. What is important (for the sake of this recipe, anyway) is to have a 1/1/1 ratio of butter/brown sugar/Bourbon.
3. Once the butter's melted, add the brown sugar (in this case, you guessed it, 4 oz.), and stir until it melts into the butter.
4. Once the sugar's melted, move the pan OFF the flame (or turn it off entirely), and add in 4 oz. (or whatever fits your ratio) of Bourbon.
5. With a fancy gas range, I just tilt the pan a bit over the flame, and the Bourbon will ignite. Use a long lighter on an electric range, and a flaming arrow if you're a great distance from the pan, and an excellent marksman. Allow the flames to subside, then remove from the heat so the carmel/booze mixture doesn't burn.
6. Cut your peaches in half. Use a sharp knife or precision karate chops.
7. Pour the syrup-y goodness over you peaches and toss to coat.
8. Yeah, my grilling picture sucks. But grill those buggers over a hot flame for a few minutes, just to heat everything up and get a nice varnish on the peaches.
9. All you health nuts can just go ahead and eat the peaches at that point. But us regular folks- who might wear tennis shoes or an occasional python boot- like to use the peaches as a topping for ice cream or gelato, which is Italian for "expensive ice cream".
10. If you have extra syrup, go ahead and pour it over the dessert. You deserve it, you handsome devil.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Resurrection
Leftovers are a drag.
To some, this is an inflammatory statement. Akin to saying, "I can't stand Glee." (btw- I can't stand Glee).
So, before I'm verbally smacked in the face with an open-faced meatloaf sandwich (or accosted my a rabid army of Gleeks), let's break this down:
1) Eating the same thing in sequence is very boring. This is why I'm not in the military, avoid prison, and run through failed diets like a pack of smokes at an Al-Anon meeting.
2) Many foods, though delicious initially, lose a whole lot of luster when refrigerated and reconstituted.
Eating leftovers- ones not meant to improve overnight like a pot roast or a soup- is like fighting a gustatory battle against the evil forces of hunger with a decimated officer Alex James Murphy, pre-Robocop enhancements.
But, even when dealing with the most-ravaged of leftovers, a little culinary surgery can turn the most lifeless Steve Austin into the Six Million Dollar Man.
Take, for example, the low country boil (or "frogmore stew", "shrimp boil", or any number of regional names). This southern, coastal delight is a mash-up of shrimp, corn, potatoes, and sausage, boiled together in seasoned water (most traditionally, in straight-up seawater). Generally made for a large crowd, the one-pot feast is dumped onto a table covered with newspaper, and devoured by famished, often-tipsy, party or tailgate guests.
When the crowd has been eating all day, the chance of leftovers is more palpable. What's left? A fridge full of Murphys and Austins:
Cold, greasy sausage, enveloped in a film of congealed pork fat. Wrinkled corn. Potato mush. And, of course, shrimp that have already been cooked once. And overcooked shellfish is an abject disaster.
Alas, at times, fiscal responsibility outweighs the desire to discard. With a few ingredients and some basic know-how, you can rebuild it. You have the technology.
Six Million Dollar Pasta (or Robocop Pasta, if you prefer)
1 Tbsp unsalted butter or olive oil, or a combo of both
1/2 lb. smoked kielbasa (about the equivalent of 1 link), cut into 1/4" half-rounds
4 scallions, chopped (greens and whites)
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
2-3 heads of garlic, minced
1 red pepper, seeded and cut into strips
1 Tbsp cajun seasoning
1 Tbsp all-purpose flour
1 Cup whole milk or half-and-half
1/2 lb. cooked large (30-35 per pound) shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 lb. (1/2 box) dry pasta (in this case, linguine)
Salt & Pepper to taste
1) Melt butter, or oil, or combo of both (I like that one) in a pan. Add the kielbasa sausage and sauté on medium heat until the sausage has given up some fat.
2) Add the scallions, celery, garlic, peppers, and cajun seasoning. Sauté until veggies are a little soft (3 minutes)
4) Add the flour and mix into the goodness. Once the flour is incorporated and has absorbed the fat, add the milk. Put the spurs to it and crank the range to high (the flour will thicken the milk into a sauce, but only once the liquid boils (don't ask me the science on this). If the sauce gets too thick, add more milk, a bit at a time. Bing bang boom.
5) Add pasta to boiling water after the milk goes in.
6) Once the cream sauce is how you like it, add the shrimp, basically just to heat them up. Salt and pepper to taste.
7) When the pasta is ready, strain it and dump into the sauce (I also like to add a small ladle of the pasta water to the sauce).
8) Garnish, or don't garnish. I don't care. And who am I to influence your garnishing decisions?
I know your first instinct is to drink a tall glass of whole milk with this. However, since there's already a bunch of whole milk in the recipe, do something wacky and drink wine. In the case of this dish, containing both a seafood element and some sausage, I figured there may be opportunity to go either way- red or white- with the wine. Fortunately, PR pal Constance had slung me some sample New Zealand beauties recently (okay, it was a long time ago. PR folks: I'm a really terrible person to send wine to). In any case, they fit the bill: A Sauvignon Blanc and a Pinot Noir. White and Red. It was meant to happen this way.
The wines of New Zealand always tend to be great with food, especially from the Marlborough region (on the South Island). The significant distance from the equator and the maritime influences 'round those parts make for bottlings that aren't too heavy, are crisp and clean, and bonzer with chow (though I think "bonzer" is an Aussie saying, and now I've lost my entire Kiwi readership). Although many other wine grapes are grown in New Zealand, Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir are definitely the ambassadors for white and red, respectively, and neither of these offerings disappointed.
In the end, the acidity of the Sauvignon Blanc balanced the rich pasta dish, with pronounced grapefruit goodness to tame it's fiery cajun soul. The Pinot Noir, although tasty on it's own, didn't jive with my lofty aspirations of a colorblind meal...
...but it was bionic; resurrected from a refrigerated tomb to bring hope to generations of leftovers.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
English Roots Reggae and Pimento, please.
This post is a verbose explanation of this video I posted Sunday night.On the eve of Lent, I (not so) fondly reminisce back to last year's challenge: giving up all meat and animal product for 40-47 days. Eventually, I failed, but I set myself up for failure. Meat is good, and so omnipresent in our culture (especially Southern culture). I'm not sure if I gained respect or concern for vegans during that odyssey. Let's just say I'm glad it's long-since over.
This year, I will sacrifice no such thing. Rather, with March's thaw in full swing below the Mason-Dixon, my primal instinct to place hunks of beast over crackling open flame has stirred. And, as one is drawn outside by coming Spring's pleasant and sunny disposition, I desire festive sounds pumping from the porch speakers: Steel Pulse, Jimmy Cliff, Bob Marley...
...if by cosmic serendipity, this season's first masterpiece needed to be Jerk Pork Shoulder. Now, to the uninitiated (technically, myself included, as I've never been to Jamaica), "jerk" refers to a spice rub or marinade based primarily on two elements: the allspice berry (called "pimento" in Jamaica) and the tongue-scorching Scotch bonnet pepper. The term "jerk" has debatable origins: some say it comes from the Spanish term "charqui" (used to describe dried meat). Other sources claim a term derived from "jerking" the meat around on the grill. Frankly, with all due respect to historical accuracy, I really don't give one tenth of a damn about it. What's important is that jerk is totally delicious. The combination of aromatic allspice (along with tons of other spices and flavors; not to uncommon for foods originating on the trade routes of the Caribbean), hellacious and heavenly burn from the Scotch bonnets, and salty, succulent smoked meat is something that speaks to me. Seductively. And feeds me smoked meats. And gets me a beer.
Indeed, jerk pork is like the wife I never had. And when my current wife reads this, it will not help my case with her.
For my inspiration, I turned to the consummate Jamaican- Steven Raichlen...
...okay, well at least the guy sure does know his way around a grill.
Jamaican Jerk Pork Shoulder
recipe adapted from Steven Raichlen's Barbecue Bible: Sauces, Rubs, and Marinades
1 Pork Shoulder, about 8 lbs. (either boneless or bone removed, cap fat trimmed)
8 Scotch Bonnet Peppers (seeded if you like mild, wimpy stuff)
1 Medium Onion, chopped
2 Bunches Scallions, chopped, including white part
1/2 cup Flat Leaf Parsley, chopped
1/2 cup Cilantro, chopped
2 tbsp Fresh Ginger, chopped
1/4 cup Kosher or Sea Salt
1 tbsp Fresh Thyme Leaves
1 tbsp Dried Allspice Berries, toasted and ground
1 tsp Fresh Ground Black Pepper
1 tsp Grated Nutmeg
1/2 tsp Ground Cinnamon
1/4 tsp Ground Cloves
1/4 cup Fresh Lime Juice
1/4 cup Packed Dark Brown Sugar
2 tbsp Soy Sauce
1/4 cup Water (if needed)
Pretty simple: combine everything but the pork shoulder in a blender (I had to do two batches), and blend until it's an unappealing-looking liquidy goop. Reserve.
If your pork shoulder has been boned [Beavis & Butt-head laughter], it should fold open and be almost a large, flat rectangle. Start cutting slices- not all the way through the meat- on one side, then flip and make similar cuts where you did not on the other side. The idea is two-fold: flattening out the meat (like an accordion) will not only help decrease the cooking time, but it will also increase the surface area in contact with the jerky marinade goodness. Don't worry about the intramuscular fat... if you smoke it right, that stuff will rend away. This is something I've done before, and I felt affirmed when Raichlen mentioned it in another one of his books, Planet Barbecue.
Put the meat and marinade in a huge zip bag or non-reactive tray. Make sure all the meat is in contact with marinade, and let all that mess get busy in the fridge overnight.
The next day, start soaking a couple handfuls of any hardwood chips (I like oak, hickory, or apple) with a handful of allspice berries in water for 1 hour before smoking begins. Set up your grill or smoker. I use a 22" Weber kettle with a drip pan in the middle (filled with some water) and two piles of about 20-25 coals to each side. The meat will sit over the pan, not directly over any coals.
Once the coals are glowing and no longer have leaping flames that burn your tender knuckles, drop a handful of chips n' berries on each mound. You should have a good bit of smoke, and the internal temp of the grill should be around 250-300˚ (a little high by traditional barbecue standards, but we're after a nice crusty exterior here).
Have a knife handy. STAB ANYONE IN THE THIGH WHO TRIES TO OPEN THE LID OF THE GRILL TO "PEEK"*. After about 2 hours, you may need to add a couple coals and some smoke if the temp starts to drop. This is the only acceptable time to open the lid. After about 3, maybe 4 hours, you should have meat with an internal temp of 190˚, and it should pull apart with a fork. You, my friend, are now in flavor country.
If you MUST have wine with this dish, I can't think of anything better than rosé. The wines of Tavel are particularly delicious. And quite frankly, if you made yours pretty spicy, a little sweetness from a White Zinfandel will work pretty well. I like red Zin with pork BBQ, but this is a different animal. Sweetness tempers spicy. Got a problem with a self-admitted wine snob recommending white Zin? As my mom always said: tough toenails.
Honestly, though, this is a meat meant for cold beer. I suppose Red Stripe would be the easiest Jamaican beer to find. However, if you want to seek out the slightly-more obscure, see if you can find Dragon Stout (same producer as Red Stripe, though).
*meant in jest only. This blog and it's authors are not responsible for any subsequent stabbed legs. But seriously, opening that lid really messes with the barbecue, man.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Shellfish Bastard
A trip to Your Dekalb Farmers' Market for some pepper go awry (as usual). If the image above doesn't look like a downright hootenanny, then- in the immortal words of Ivan Drago- I must break you. Ah, Dolph, we hardly knew ye. With all due respect to I Come in Peace, Red Scorpion, and Masters of the Universe, Lundgren really showed his range in Rocky IV. Cut from the cloth of the true thespian, he was.
[painfully obvious lack of transition]
Van Burin (fellow food-lover and not-fellow Cleveland-sports apologist) and I were playing God. How did we arrive at this divine authority to decide which crawfish were coming home with us, while others were spared? As our tongs- as if the hayforks of damnation themselves- guided the fate of our unsuspecting quarry, I pondered, "will the Rapture be this way? Will mankind be reduced to a proverbial sorting table of clammering crustaceans, only to be pluck'd at will by the Angel of Dea-"
"Dude," exclaimed Van Burin, "they've got fresh blue crabs."
Indeed, this wasn't going to be your daddy's Low Country Boil...
Woodstock Critter Boil
1 bottle white wine (something you'd drink by itself)
1 C Emeril's Original Essence (or make your own here)
1 C Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning
1 C Old Bay Seasoning
1 C Sea Salt
1/4 C Liquid Crab Boil
4 Lemons, quartered
4 Yellow or White Onions, quartered
5 lbs. White Creamer and/or Red New Potatoes (the smaller, the better)
2 lbs. Andouille Sausage (cut into 1" pieces) - ATL-iens, find Patak sausages!
2 lbs. Polska Kielbasa Sausage (cut into 1" pieces), Patak if possible
6-8 Ears fresh Corn, shucked and broken in half
3 lbs. live Crawfish, purged thoroughly*
5 lbs. (about a dozen) large live Blue Crabs (male)
3 lbs. 16/20 Wild American Shrimp, head-off, shell-on
Old Bay, for seasoning
Butter (go for the real stuff)
Hot Sauce (I'm partial to Texas Pete)
Step 1: Get a big pot. Mine is 25 gallons, but a standard turkey-fryer size (7-10 gallons) would work, depending on the size of the crowd. Oh, and you can bathe in mine. We didn't. That's gross. Anyway, we filled it up to about 2/5-1/2 full. Get that water a'boilin' (putting the lid on the pot helps speed up the process).
Step 2: As the water gets hot, add the Emeril's, Tony Chachere's, Old Bay, and Sea Salt and stir until dissolved. Also add the lemons, onions, and dill. I ended up moving all the solid stuff to the outside of the basket, so it wouldn't mix with the seafood. Basically, we just making a hellbroth of flavor here. Since the food is extracted from the broth, I really don't think you can over-season. Let everything meld for about 10 minutes.
Step 3: Add your potatoes to the pot. I know lots of folks like to add potatoes to a cold pot and cook them as the water heats. As these are pretty small potatoes, I think they'd get too overcooked by the time everything's done.
Step 4: After the potatoes have been in for about 10 minutes, add the corn and sausage. Let cook for 5 minutes.
Step 5: Add your thoroughly-purged mudbugs (aka crawfish) to the pot. Make sure they're submerged so they can soak up the goodness.
Step 6: After another 5 minutes, add the blue crabs to the boil.
Step 7: 3 minutes after the crabs go in, kill the heat, dump in the shrimp, and put the lid on the pot. Let everything steam for 3 more minutes (5 if the shrimp were still frozen).
Step 8: Extract the goodness (use an oven mitt, dummy). Transfer to a table covered with newspaper or foil pans. Immediately cover with melted butter and dust with Old Bay Seasoning. Grow fat off your accomplishment.
I tried several wines (too many that day) to find a good pairing with the meal. If you brush your teeth after dinner, I'll tell you all about them in another post!
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