Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Friday, July 1, 2011
Fighting the Sea Monster, Round 2
(alternate title: "Fighting male-pattern baldness". I think it's time to throw in the towel and Bic that bitch. But how awkward if I end up having a birthmark that says "Live Nudes" or something...)
About a year ago, I decided to buy an octopus and cook it. Maybe because it was cheap. Maybe because I'd been mesmerized by a recent viewing of Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, and felt humans had to even the score. Or, perhaps I'd cobbled together a stash of Assyrtiko, and was compelled to cram my suck-hole with something briny and very Greek. After determining that a long kiss with Olympia Dukakis would be too Greek (and certainly far-too briny), I opted for an octopus.
But here was the problem: like nibbling into the lower lip of Olympia Dukakis' leathery maw during the hypothetical make-out session that should have never advanced to this disturbing point, my cooked cephalopod of one year ago was exceptionally chewy. Like rubber.
But that tends to happen with octopodes. The interweb is littered with tips and tricks to eliminate the chew. A sort of boiling method- last year's opus- failed miserably.
So why battle this tricky little critter again? I blame it on a recent meal at Atlanta's Kyma, where they crank out an octopus dish so tender and delicious, it's like eating heaven, provided heaven is an 8-legged sea creature that predicts soccer matches. Honestly, good octopus is akin to a firmer, milder scallop, in my opinion. If that sounds like something in your wheelhouse, then you can understand my misguided persistence. Gleaning some hot tips off our waiter, I opted for a new preparation, sure to be a smash hit.
Out of a marriage of trade secrets and my own chops in the kitchen, I decided to cut my octopus into individual tentacles, braise it for an hour in a mixture of red wine vinegar, olive oil, lemons, garlic, fresh oregano, salt, and pepper, then finish it with a good crisp on the grill. Tender and Crisp was the goal. Like a Burger King TenderCrisp sandwich, except edible.
(no matter how it turned out, few things look cooler than a tentacle on the grill).
I garnished with some grilled lemon slices, a few herbs, a sprinkle of sea salt, and a drizzle of good olive oil...
...disaster. So chewy. Inedible to some.
Sea Monster - 2. Balding Land Ape - 0.
I guess all I can do is toast that which has become my latest white whale...
...at least until I get my peepers on Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus. Gator tail, anyone?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
We didn't cook a dog. Dogs have personality.
Jules: Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces.
Jules: I don't eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Okay, all you North Shore Animal League folks can relax. It's not a dog we cooked. It's a lamb (P.E.T.A. folks continuing not to relax). However, you have to admit that it does look like we've got Fido hooked up to the spit:
So, dog lovers, rest easy. Lamb lovers (and I'm not talking about "lamb with a side of potatoes"), sorry. Lamb lovers (as in "lamb with a side of potatoes"), here's how it's done:
1 whole lamb (about 25.30 lb.), head off*
Kosher or Sea Salt
6 lemons, halved
3 or 4 footlong branches of fresh rosemary
thin copper wire
6 oz. lemon juice
6 oz. red wine vinegar
1/4 cup chopped garlic
2 tbsp crushed black peppercorns
1/4 cup rosemary leaves
1/4 cup oregano
32 oz. olive oil (extra virgin or regular)
*when I cook whole hogs, I usually get head-on, because the cheeks offer some of the best meat on the animal (and the ears and tongue are good eatin' too). With lamb, the heads are heavy, but I don't believe they bring as much meat to the table, so I opt to leave them off rather than pay for the extra weight.
1) Dig a 4' x 2' pit, or block off an area with bricks or stones on a non-flammable area of your your yard. For example, doing this in a bed of pinestraw would be a bad idea. Build a fire with charcoal (not the lighter fluid-infused kind, unless you like meat that tastes like lighter fluid) and/or wood (I used both). Once the coals are ashy, move them to the perimeter of the rectangle, leaving the middle empty.
2) Unwrap your mummified lamb (make sure it's thawed; you can order them in at a butcher shop and have them hold it for you until thawed, as most come in frozen...unless there's a farm around the corner from you). Rub the inside and out with salt. Fill the cavity with the halved lemons and rosemary sprigs. Close the body cavity with the copper wire.
3) Mix the lemon juice, vinegar, garlic, peppercorns, rosemary, oregano, and salt-to-taste in a large bowl. While whisking, drizzle the olive oil into the bowl to create an emulsion. This "vinaigrette" will serve as your baste for the lamb.
4) Secure your lamb to your spit with the meat forks on the spit rod and tie the legs with copper wire and secure to the rod. We also used some additional copper wire to wrap around the middle of the beast. Secure the spit rod to your rack (we made one out of 3/4" iron gas pipe fittings...it's about 4 feet wide). Position the lamb about 18-24" above the fire, depending on how hot it is. We also put a pan in the middle of the fire pit to catch tasty drippings. The area in the picture to the left is where I'm burning more wood to create coals to shovel onto the cooking fire when those coals get low...about every hour or so.
5) When your small grill rotisserie motor does not have the power to turn the lamb, curse momentarily, and then get creative. We tied some twine to the neck and positioned the lamb on its side over the fire, then secured the twine at that angle on the top post of the spit rack. The lamb only needed to be repositioned about every 30 minutes.
6) Every time you reposition the lamb, make sure to baste liberally with the olive oil mixture. I make a "mop" out of a stick and some strips of a dishrag. You can also buy mini mops at BBQ supply stores.
7) Your lamb should be done in about 3-4 hours, but the best way to check is with a meat thermometer. Stick it in the thickest part of one of the legs, and also in one of the shoulders. 145˚ means medium-rare. 155˚ is medium. 165˚ is well-done. Once mine hit mid-rare, I boosted the coals underneath, basted it up, and positioned the critter on each side for about 10 minutes to crisp up the skin.
This was my first go at it, and I was happy with the results, but I'd like to try it again with a proper rotisserie motor. There's definitely an element of "feel" when it comes to cooking the beast evenly, and I moved coals around to the thicker parts, as well as just kept an eye one what was cooking and what wasn't. In the end, it ended up a little more cooked than how I would want a rack of lamb at a restaurant, but everything was very moist and tender, so I wasn't complaining. The dogs didn't complain either; they clearly knew it was a lamb and not one of their own...or they just didn't care.
For wines, I alway encourage folks to drink what they like. When I'm messin' with lamb, I gravitate towards big reds: Syrah in particular. Zinfandel is also a nice pairing, or a smoky Malbec or Tempranillo-based red wine. For something a little lighter, a Grenache-based wine would be good. Here's a lineup of what we knocked back, bellies full of an animal with no personality (otherwise, we wouldn't eat it...maybe):
Sunday, February 7, 2010
How to use Twitter; How to use Cactus
...a couple weeks ago, I waltzed into local Harry's Farmers Market (yes, waltzed), camera in hand, with a good idea for some posts. I was also buying beans...or was it chicken? Anyway, Harry's- formerly a local place- was acquired by Whole Foods several years ago. As with any Whole Foods, I knew it'd be chock full of weird stuff I've never used in the cooking process.
So, I start snapping away. About 8 pictures in, I was approached by an employee who asked me to quit taking pictures. He said it was against policy.
I complied, understanding that this guy was just doing his job. However- slightly confused an perturbed- I went to Twitter instead of management. I'd heard the Whole Foods folks run a tight social media ship, so I figured I'd put them to the test. And here we go:
I hope no one got in trouble. I was just curious about the policy, and I frankly wanted to check out their Twitter chops. I have to admit: this incredibly quick response and action taken was impressive. This is the power of the internet, especially social media. I became part of the conversation, and a simple complaint changed policy in favor of the consumer. Well done, Whole Foods.
So, how did I get into this whole bugaboo in the first place? I wanted to post, maybe once a week (or if I'm short on material or effort), a picture of a food I've never cooked. With all the tremendous food-folks who read, yours truly was hoping to glean some insight from the more-enlightened. Recipes, ideas, or impassioned shouts to "stay away!" appreciated:
Nopales Cactus....GO!
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