chadzilla

laughing bird shrimp

One of our seafood guys hyped up this fresh Caribbean white shrimp that's been making it's way onto menus for the past year or so.  It's available through CleanFish.  They are so fresh, you can eat them raw.  Although the shrimp are on the small side (bad for customer perception, but small shrimp are beautiful to me), they are never frozen and each gallon contains nothing but shrimp without added preservatives.  The flavor reminds me of eating fresh shrimp from the boats years ago.  The laughing bird name comes from a nearby island off Belize where the shrimp are farmed using sustainable methods.  When cooked, the shrimp become a brilliant deep orange.  The flavor is purely shrimp (not the bland stuff which constitutes the overwhelming majority of shrimp available in the US... all texture, no flavor).  The price point on these (for us) is somewhere around $10/pound (available in an 8lb gallon) and that makes them a prime candidate for replacing a lot of 'unsustainable' shrimp on most restaurant menus.

I know there are quite a few chefs out there who have been utilizing them, so we're interested in hearing how you've integrated them into your menus and the general consumer feedback.

two potatoes

 

It's respected all over the South, but I've never really been a big fan of sweet potatoes (blasphemy, I know).  There have various attempts to like them over the years... Japanese yams, boniato, purple looking things.  The garnet is the only variety to grab my attention (yes, even moreso than the Louisiana Beauregard).  Maybe it's the simplicity.  This potato doesn't need to be mashed up with cinnamon and brown sugar, it doesn't need a coating of tempura batter and a dip in hot oil, it is completely unnecessary to bake it in a pie (sorry, Tee Eva), put marshmallows on top of it, or be transformed into cookies, crumbles, or breads.  It doesn't need country western songs sang about it.  Just bake, cut the skin, and eat.  They're that damn good... well ok, maybe some butter... but, that's it.

 

The Kennebec potato... (sorry, I stole this photo montage from the Kennebec Potato website for lack of my own photo).  I remember hearing about a certain potato variety a couple of years ago that had the special ability to yield great fries simply by cutting them and frying them.  Was it some kind of magic?  ... a deeply guarded trade secret?  No, it's the kennebec.  There's no pre-fry, no pre-blanch in water, steaming, sous-vide, no stealing Heston Blumenthal's chip technique from his 40 pound book, etc.  These potatoes right out of the dirt have an appropriate starch content for frying.  Cut into batonnets or sliced into chips, they fry up crispy and stay that way.  We recently fried some and keep them out loosely wrapped for a few days to examine their snack factor... not bad at all.

Sure there are a freakin' billion potato varieties out there (and any Peruvians in your circle of friends will be quick to tell you that Peru is home to over a thousand varieties), and I know there's always a potate du jour in fashion within the culinarian's realm, but... for simplicity, practicality, and comforting taste and texture these two are my top papas.

golden crab

I want to begin this post by saying how much I love crab.  To watch me eat one is probably not a pretty sight.  It's almost a primal instinct.  I cannot remember a time in my life when I wasn't eating them.  When blue crabs were in season, I would literally eat them (hot or cold) 5 times a week.  It was common jabber among my uncles and others to wax on whose cages were catching and where, what was used for bait (fish heads or nutria carcasses), and distinguishing the flavor differences between lake crabs, bayou crabs, and brackish to salt water crabs.  Soft-shells were a treasure.  Some eaters prefer skinny males.  Others prefer fat females (my preferred category since they usually were full of bright orange eggs).  A crab boil is a great communal event between a family or friends.  The rituals of washing them, casting out the dead ones, getting the seasoning ingredients together, watching the clock and the pot for indications of steam which would decide when the next ingredient would get thrown in, lining the table with old newspaper, breaking out old butter knives, making dip (ketchup, mayo, and assorted other ingredients), and the entire time drinking beer.

Since I've moved to Florida, eating crabs happens much less often.  There is one local monster which I had vaguely heard of, read stories of, but always remained elusive...  The Golden Crab.

 

This fairly large crab is indigenous to Florida, and finally after 3 years of bugging our seafood purveyors about it... they showed up.  I actually received a couple as samples which were brought right to our door by the fishermen themselves.

The first time I had ever heard of golden crab, it was on a sign at our local Chinese grocery (sounds like something out of a fantasy adventure movie... "You must seek the Golden Crab").  Although a small sign out front read "We have golden crab," a year later they still never seemed to have it.  Settling for blue crab once again, I was temporarily placated.  I searched the web and kept hounding our purveyors.  Not only could I not find it, but very very few restaurants had it as well (I'd hear occasional stories of it being served here or there).  Stone crab is everywhere in season for a ludicris price which doesn't balance out to a good dollar to enjoyment ratio for me.  Golden crab... has seemed to avoid the spotlight that stone crabs and mojitos have bathed in.

The story on these crabs is that they live at a depth of 2000 ft. or more where the waters are fairly cold.  Fishermen travel out for miles off of Port Everglades and stay out for days using sonar tracking devices to pull up their huge condo cages with pulleys.  They come in every Thursday with live golden crab and this happens all year round.  I wish we had a way to offer these on our menu, but we're just not that type of restaurant... and people just don't seem to enjoy the thrill of getting their hands dirty and having crab fat dripping down on their blue jeans like I do (and I'm not going to do it for you... I'm not your momma).  

Each crab weighs from 3 to 5 pounds and they are fairly large monsters.  They move quite lethargically, and I am in admiration of their grandeur.  Well, not so much in admiration as to not eat them.  For some reason, boiling seems to be preferred over steaming.  I had to cook these in our hotel kitchen because I just don't have a pot big enough at home.  It is suggested to use plain water, but of course I didn't listen.  I dumped in some salt, onion, garlic, celery, bay leaf, and it was really difficult to resist putting Zatarain's in there as well.  The meat is very clean and sweet.  The flavor is outstanding.  The price is about $3/pound.  I really hope to conjure up a reason to bring these giants in again in the future.

more thoughts on 'natural'

Our friend, Chris, sent a response to the earlier post 'au natural?'  His question was to the point, "how will future cooks learn respect for product (we are dealing with molecules, flavor compounds, and artificial ingredients)?"  This was an angle I had not thought of before, and it made me ask another question...

Why do we (or should we) respect the product?  Seems ridiculous, but let's think about it.

I believe that our fascination with superior ingredients and nature's gifts is deeply rooted in their diversity.  When we say 'celebrate diversity,' it refers to the randomness of nature and the rare appearance of perfection in this world.  How boring would it be if we did have the technology and will to reproduce that perfect specimen in nature.  How could we have respect for that which is rare if it became common... or was in some way possible without the contribution of a higher hand or supernatural being or cosmic force (along with a meticulous grower who passes his respect on to you).  It would be like removing individuality from nature and turning unique ingredients into cookie cutter components.  Do we really want that?  What about superior works of craftsmanship?  Which would inevitably garner more respect... a perfectly aged bottle of wine which was babied and cared for from grape to glass or a similar solution produced in a lab that could somehow taste equivalent.  Would the soul from that wine be somehow removed?  Can we sense that when we eat? 

I believe in many ways that we can.  Surprisingly enough, so does Hervé This.  In "Building a Meal," he cites that love is the most important ingredient in a dish (followed by art, then technique).  We taste it from childhood with the meals our mothers prepare for us.  Reading these words by This was the equivalent of my reaction years ago reading Stephen Hawking.  When faced with the question on whether or not there was a God, he concluded that there was.  Here is a man of total science... with more grasp of the answers to the universe's questions that you and I will ever have the full mental capacity to comprehend, and he believes in God.  The same with This.  Here is a man who wants to feed you arificially flavored jelly balls instead of a carrot, and he claims that love is the most important ingredient in a dish.  Confusing, isn't it?  Even if your opinion differs from his, that's diversity and that's what we're defending.

Linda brought up the example of perfection as eating a sun-ripened tomato fresh off the vine.  Even if we had the capacity to reproduce that tomato, in that state of perfection, and create a hundred copies... wouldn't we be destroying what makes that tomato special?

It's true that we manipulate flavors, textures, and some chefs will even mess with your head a little and throw off your expectations... but it's not out of disrespect for product.  There is still a celebration of nature.  There is still the necessary task of seeking out special ingredients.

Additional Note on this Subject:  Ryan Zimmer of Hong Kong Pastry Kitchen just posted on a meal he had the opportunity to partake of created by Gagniare and This (pics included).  Apparently they have already given this cuisine a moniker... compound cooking.  Check out his post here.

stove monkeys

Yet another colorful term to describe what we do everyday.

We recently made the acquaintance of Matthew Mytro who is cofounder/owner of a chef-geared clothing start-up company called Stove Monkeys.  Sure, there have been some food-oriented apparel lines out in past years, but the designs that Matthew and his crew have come up with are a bit more stylish for today's chef (not like the old "Shiitake Happens" shirts, chile pepper baggy pants, and croc-style clogs that have made their mark over time).  These look more like modern urban wear.  Check them out, show some support, and represent.  Here are some designs.

 

 

 

Matthew, who is also a chef, is in the Miami area helping out a friend at a Cleveland based steakhouse here.  He is also very involved with hosting "Flavor Tripping" parties up north.  These have been around since the 1970's when miraculin pills were first made available and have enjoyed a recent resurgence in popularity.  If you've never heard of miracle fruit, check out some basic info here.  Turns out, there is a major grower of the berry right here in South Florida just a few miles from where we are.  You can't argue with fate.  Looks like we'll have to host some type of 'flavor tripping' cocktail party this summer.  We'll keep you posted.