chadzilla

mint jelly... f*ck you!

One of our younger cooks was taking inventory of the dry storage area in our kitchen, and walked over to me at one point carrying a jar.  "What's this mint jelly stuff for, chef?"  That jar had been sitting there for quite the time.  We'd had one before, then gloriously chucked it in the can one day... and there was much rejoicing.  Soon afterwards, another one somehow appeared there.  It sat there for another long extended period of time in an old fish box mixed with some other miscellaneous pantry items.  Now, it begged to be seen again, but only so to raise my awareness of its long obscurity.

It occurred to me that it had been at least 3 years (or more) since I could recall anyone requesting a ramekin of that nasty stuff to accompany their order of lamb chops.  Those cooks working in free-standing restaurants may not be aware of this (and in fact a whole new generation of cooks may be spared this bit of culinary digression), but there was once a time when almost everyone who ordered lamb... and this is regardless to the preparation or ethnic flavor combinations... asked for some damned mint jelly to spread all over it.  This usually caused the chef to cringe in disgust... partly due to the nastiness of that sweet crap and also because it was a slap in the face to the preparation that the chef had created which probably did not compensate for a quarter cup of mint jelly smeared on top a la minute.  For some reason, I have been exposed to this phenomenon many many times in my career, and I whole-heartedly believe that it's because hotel restaurants attract a great deal more of these by-gone diners than the hip cool restaurant in the Design District.  Plus, a few years back it was difficult to find a hotel that didn't have an executive committee comprised of more than a handful of these older guys hooked on the jelly.  Times are a changing.

Now, I am well aware that there was once a classic 'mint sauce' that was traditionally served with lamb... like all the freakin' time.  The strange thing is how this mint-flavored green food-colored apple jelly substance was deemed the appropriate and necessary topping to all things lamb in this world, and was allowed to shadow out it's original self.  It's like ordering a steak of A5 wagyu and spreading Heinz ketchup all over it... no wait, it's actually far worse than that.

Some spontaneous internet hopping reveals some interesting aspects of lamb's place in our culinary history.  Why isn't lamb popular here as it is in the slightly-more eastern portion of the globe.  If we're so entranced with such things as blasting a royal wedding over every channel, paper, and internet site then why don't we eat the lamb as well?  (Yes, people here do eat and enjoy lamb, but it never shows up on the school lunch menu or on the McDonald's marquis as a lamb-burger... or is that all just kangaroo meat anyway?).  We're talking mainstream here.  It seems this break is the result of all or some of three factors:  1) in the 1800's cattle ranchers often used violent means to protect their grazing grounds against sheep herders to much success  2) American servicemen returning from those World Wars had more than their fill on the cheap flavorless dry mutton that was fed to them in Europe and placed a moratorium on the meat in their homes once they returned  3) the cattle lobby for the beef industry is very very powerful and has done a great job at making beef "What's for Dinner."

Whatever the reasons, lamb is not so taboo anymore (except for my wife who will not eat it because her Taiwanese mother warned her that women should never eat it).  Thank God that mint jelly did not hitch an unwanted ride along the woolen coat-tails of lamb's resurgence.  Good-bye mint jelly.  You really do suck.  Perhaps you quietly dissappeared while we weren't looking.  Maybe as pork bellies were on the rise and veal chops started vanishing from every menu in the United States, you slipped away undetected... without so much as a slimy neo-green trail.  You did it without hoopla and fanfare and I'm glad you at least had the respect to spare us a second coming.

cha cha cha lua avec moi

Cha lua is like Vietnamese luncheon meat.  I used to buy loaves from Viet markets back in New Orleans and cut it up for instant noodles, frying, griddling for breakfast, sliced for sandwiches (banh mi specifically, but anything else as well... griddled and put on white bread with mayonnaise, mustard, hot sauce, and pickles and a fried egg is awesome late at night).  I never really thought about making it until recently.  In it's basic sense it's pretty easy.  There's a good recipe on Ravenous Couple that gives a good texture and serves as a neutral flavor base to build upon.

It's a mousseline paste-like mixture of pork seasoned with fish sauce and sugar combined with a water/tapioca starch/single-acting baking powder slurry.  Traditionally rolled in banana leaf, but plastic wrap is good if you're not married to tradition.  Steam and done. 

The texture is soft and spongey without being rubbery.  Maybe I'm easily hooked because my wife keeps a steady supply of fish and shrimp cakes or balls rotating through our fridge, but the texture is up there for me.  This piece was deep fried which gave it a papery crispness on the edges probably from the tapioca element.

There is a lot of room to play on flavors, textures, and mouthfeel (adding fatty rich elements definitely) here.  Even simply smoking one whole would be damn good and it would be interesting to see the outer texture afterwards.

full moon greetings

The great thing about having an internet presence throughout the last few years has been the capacity to connect with other chefs whom I would never have met otherwise.  Sometimes there is a face... other times it's just a name or assumed name, but the same personalities make there way around this great cyber-kitchen like characters in some complex internet-based gameworld (sort of a "World of Food-Craft"*).  One such chef is Uwe Riehs, and after a few years of emails and blog comments we were able to share a few beers together.  That day happened to be a few days ago during the April full moon, and it just made the timing seem even moreso appropriate.

If Uwe was an online game character, he would probably be some sort of warlock slash sorcerer slash monk ascending down from the mountain tops (seriously, he does live somewhere up in the mountains about an hour away from the Canadian border).  He has a website/blog at gratifood.com.  The basic premise of the gratifood concept is relating energy to food.  This energy can be positive or negative.  Sounds kind of hoakie at first, but the idea is timeless.  As humans, we depend on food collectively to perpetuate our existence.  All that we create is fueled by our consumption of foodstuffs.  To look at this in a bigger picture of human existence throughout time, just ponder how we nourish ourselves as a society from a century ago until today.  The evolution of agriculture and animal husbandry into modern terms has changed more over this period than over the entire span of humanity.  This is an ongoing debate among food circles today and is part of the drive towards local, organic, farm to table, sustainability, CFA's, farmers markets, etc.  The point being that we have to simply do better than what we currently are.  Just a look at Chef Jose Andres tweets today before the Atlantic Food Summit reinforces this idea... "Food is the most important source of energy in this world" - fossil fuels have nothing on what maintains mankind, @chefjoseandres insists.

"This tastes delicious.  What's in it?"  "Love."  This idea has existed for a very long time.  The belief that there is more to enjoyment of food than the physical ingredients that compose it (the whole is greater than the sum of the parts).  Mom's food tastes better because she puts love into it, right?  This is the basic belief.  I once took a job in a silly little hippie restaurant after moving to Santa Fe during the last century.  I had an order come in for a miso soup one day, and the customer popped her head into the kitchen to request that I put a little extra love into it because she was having a bad day.  Well, this is just a little silly besides being the open door of opportunity for all sorts of sick chef humor that I could have retorted with (could be a good way to make some money though... "Add love-  $2 extra" on the menu).  Anyway, this is probably a bad example since most of my disdain for the restaurant was actually for the owner... an obese little troll of a woman who took hippiness to a new level (including beliefs such as her weight problem was due to parasites put into her stomach by the government and that farmer's kept chickens close to the farmhouse so that the aliens couldn't abduct the poultry to perform experiments on... seriously).  For the young smartass egotistical budding chef that I was back then, that was just a little too much to absorb and keep a straight face.  Is she really that different from the Donald when you look at eccentrics?  Anyway, not to get off subject I do believe that the passion to create great food is necessary for creating great food... not alien-free chicken.  And to stay closer to the original point... check out Uwe's blog.  There are many great chefs out there today, some more in the limelight than others, and the current evolution of food is towards creating simple good stuff for us to eat.  Uwe is one of those guys... travelling, cooking, learning.  There are many new and exciting techniques and ingredients to achieve greatness of texture and flavor, but the mission statement is the same.  We all need a little extra love in our food (free of charge). 

Again, this is not an idea but a current reality.  Even a few years ago, there was much discussion over whether or not fine dining was dying.  I don't believe that it is or ever will, but there has been a huge movement towards more approachable food created in a sincere and elevated manner.  There has been the comfort food trend.  Restaurants that broke the scene like Momofuku.  Also cited this week by Allen Susser over the closure of Chef Allen's after 25 years... fine dining with a more casual approach.  Gastropubs.  Chef-driven food trucks.  "Ratatouille... but that is a peasant dish."  

* I strangely feel compelled to state that I have never played any such online games as World of WarCraft, and my only point of reference for such games has been from the South Park episode.  I am not that big of a geek.

what is cajun spaghetti?

I don't categorize my posts (what few there are) anymore, but if I did this one would go under 'preservation' or 'history'.  There are a few childhood favorite dishes that I shall never get to savor again because they were prepared by an older aunt, grandma, or other who is no longer with us... no real recipe was ever written or left behind, and although duplicated that original flavor is lost forever.  One such dish that I've always loved is my Aunt LouAnn's spaghetti.  This is a true cajun dish.  Yes, I know it sounds like a bastardation of Italian food, but I personally feel that cajun food is the most bastardized cuisine in the USA so it's all good.  Besides, a real cajun spaghetti sauce has more in common with a French espagnol than an Italian marinara.  A web search of 'cajun spaghetti' yields only hits of typical spaghetti dishes with shrimp or sausage thrown in or maybe incorporates 'cajun seasoning' (which is exactly what anyway?  like there was a ubiquitous 'latin seasoning' or 'oriental seasoning' that could be added to virtually anything and qualify it as a dish of that cuisine.)  Enough of my boring ranting.

Lou-Ann's sauce in all of it's glorious rusticity

This version of spaghetti consists of slow-cooked medium spaghetti and a red sauce with ground beef, fresh pork sausage, and chicken wings.  The sauce begins with a dark roux*.  For a large batch, melt  1 cup of lard and stir in 7/8 cups of flour.  Stir consistently over medium low heat.

*Traditional rouxs are generally tighter and are more of a 1:1 ratio, but most dark rouxs used in cajun cuisine are thinner.  You should be able to stir it quite easily throughout all of it's stages.  True, there is excess oil (or lard), but that just helps with cooking the vegetables once added.  Dark roux is used for flavor even moreso than for it's hindered thickening power.  While on the subject, true gumbo is a very thin liquid... not the overly thickened goop served in most tourist traps.  Does it make sense that a traditional dish from an area as hot as south Louisiana would be so disturbingly viscous?

I took this picture in the blinding midday sun, so get it a good shade browner than this shot actually reveals.

 The 3 meat components:  3.5# ground chuck, 2.25# fresh green onion sausage*, and 2.5# chicken wings (she uses only drummettes, but I got to throw the back wings in) are all cooked ahead of time.  The beef cooked and crumbled stovetop with salt only then drained.  The sausage stovetop slowly and covered then sliced.  The wings seasoned with salt, red and white pepper then slow roasted until done.

*I've never really had a sausage anywhere else but south LA that had this particular sausage.  It's typically referred to as 'butcher sausage,' but any green onion variety fresh sausage can substitute.  Don't use Italian or other regionally flavored sausages.

The holy trinity:  There's dark roux... the next step must be the Holy Trinity (onion, green bell pepper, celery, and garlic).  Yeah, I know that's 4 ingredients and a trinity is 3.  'Trinity' alone is the first 3 ingredients.  'Holy Trinity' is when you add the garlic.  I didn't add it up, that's just what they call it.  Dice 1 medium yellow onion, 1 green bell pepper, 3 ribs of celery.  Slice about 12 cloves of garlic.

Back to the cooking... once the roux is the color above, add in the holy trinity and cook and stir until it's cooked through translucent.  Add in the ground beef and sliced sausage and cook and stir until it is hot.  Add 6 each 15oz cans of plain tomato sauce (that's 11 1/4 cups).  Add in about 2 1/2 cups of water also.  For this I used water to deglaze my chicken and sausage pans after cooking.

Season with white and red pepper.  Let simmer slowly about an hour.  Add chicken wings and cook another 15 to 20 minutes.  Serve over slow-cooked spaghetti.  Devilled eggs on the side.

I've realized after writing this that I've posted this subject before (brain fart).  Actually interesting that I originally debated its post-worthiness, and here I am posting it twice.  Anyway, the recipe is much more exact this time... although still with a certain vagueness.

short bursts of great information

Previously, I had posted twitter rushes from Will Goldfarb.  I have 2 more to add to that, and most of the tweet/recipes are related to the recent R4D PoP-uP dinner here in Miami.  Twitter does provide a great forum for modern recipes with simple amounts and abbreviated ingredients.  The processes are usually understood or implied, but I can say firsthand now that Will's processes are very detailed... and that will be part of the hit or miss experimentation for those who don't have the extra info.  Twitter also lends itself excellently to the way Will thinks... quick bursts of information flying at you with incredible speed.

I was excited to have copies of all of the night's recipes beforehand when Will prepped in our kitchen and I was lucky enough to assist with a handful of the preparations.  I wanted to share this valuable information, and now that he's tweeted it out... it's public domain!  Thank you for the generosity, Chef!  These recipes are required for anyone working in pastry, but the techniques go beyond that.  These can be adapted to many different flavors.  I can say, again firsthand, that the textures are purely amazing on most of them.  Download these and save them.  If for nothing else but the additions of Will's recipe amounts for sorbet and ice cream stabilizers (mix these with a little of the sugar in the full recipe before adding in to your ice cream/sorbet base for a much smoother effect... advice from Will).

Download Willgoldfarb twiter rush 5

Download Willgoldfarb twitter rush 6

room 4 inspiration

Last night, a pop-up dinner by Chef Will Goldfarb took place in Miami.  I was very fortunate to participate in this event along with some other local chefs and would like to post a few quick notes, shots, and thoughts.  Although feeling physically drained from this demanding week, my excitement and inspiration are at peak levels.  It's hard to walk away from a weekend like this without feeling completely re-motivated.  The dinner would not have happened without the passion and drive of many individuals and definitely without the support of the many diners who came out (another very motivational aspect of the event).

The last year in Miami has shown that maybe we are not so far behind other major American cities when it comes to alternative dining.  We've seen an increase in the numbers of trendy casual restaurants and chef-driven spots, the food truck scene has exploded with vengeance, underground dining has been successful, farmers' markets don't seem as lame as they used to be, diners are coming out and supporting these ventures, and service... well, we still need improvement in this area but things are looking pretty good overall.  Regardless, pop-ups are on the rise as well and events such as this one spark conversations and ideas and the ball keeps on rolling around.  The organization, smoothness, and success of the R4D pop-up cannot be mentioned without giving full credit to Randy Rubins who put in many hours to make this event happen.  Randy is owner of Ciao Imports which supplies a wealth of amazing imported ingredients for local chefs and is also the sole distributor of Will Powders, Chef Goldfarb's line of modern ingredients.  Blooming Events supplied the venue and decor.  The evening was broken down into 2 seatings for 50 each (an 8:00 & 10:00).  A bar/lounge area was set-up outside for guests to utilize both before and after their meals.

Will arrived mid-week to prepare for the dinner, and utilized our kitchen at the Trump International to get everything ready.  Although we were busy with other business, I was very fortunate to be able to assist with prepping a couple of the recipes.  Working with Will was a great learning experience.  His methods and processes are right on point, and his years of experimenting and tweaking shine through in the flavors and textures.  His mind runs a mile a minute and it's hard to keep up with his thought processes.  After watching him work for a few days, I can simply sum things up by saying that Will Goldfarb is a total badass.  The guy rocks.  His level of organization was on another level and he can spit out calculations and ideas all day without ever touching a calculator or computer.  A very humbling experience.

Since the Room 4 Dessert dinner was a 'dessert' dinner, Randy arranged to have a few local chefs participate by adding in some savory courses to begin the meal.  These were a few of the usual suspects:  Chef K and I included along with Jeremiah of the Gastropod and Alberto Cabrera of The Local.  With all modesty, I must say that we represented well.  Jeremiah's cryo-shucked oyster was nicely balanced, rich and savory from the oyster and dashi (along with a nice touch of Ciao Imports caviar).  I did not get to taste Alberto's dish in its entirety, but the tongue terrine was incredible and the red pepper kimchee sauce was a great balance.

This was a great event for pastry in general.  I can understand how the concept of a 'dessert menu' would turn some diners off, but this wasn't like eating a pound of sugar or the equivalent of 6 courses of your grandma's banana bread pudding.  Goldfarb's awareness of flavor balance made the course transgression quite interesting.  The way he played off the levels of sweet to salty and sour made for some very nice transitions.  Flavors were bold and spot on, but never tipping the scales so far in any one direction that he couldn't reel the tastebuds back in for more.



The Princesses of Pastry (as Goldfarb described them), otherwise known as local pastry chefs Malka Espinel of Johnny V's and Jenny Rissone of Pastry is Art were very instrumental in making this dinner successful.  They assisted Will in our kitchen with the prep, and kept things rolling throughout the night of the event.  They are also part of the usual suspects.

While on the subject of assistants, I must mention the small handful of students from Le Cordon Bleu Miami who helped out (Will's culinary Alma Mater is Le Cordon Bleu in France).  A small number of these students took advantage of the opportunity to work with such a great chef and will reap benefits from this experience that I'm sure they are not yet aware of.  By keeping the right mentality, jumping in with their heads down and mouths shut, and taking on each assignment with a simple 'yes, chef' they are training themselves for success.  On the flip side, it is rather dissappointing that some other students who had volunteered never actually showed up for work on the last day (possibly after finding out that would have to bust their little candy asses a little too hard for comfort).  It's very difficult for me to understand why someone who commits themselves to becoming a chef would allow such an opportunity to slip away or shy away from hard work.  Work of advice to these individuals... if you're scared of breaking a sweat or getting bitched at, then you're training for the wrong line of business.

Finally, I can't conclude this post without mentioning our dish submission for the evening.  Considering Will's background in modern cuisine, it seemed appropriate (and expected) that we should each utilize such ingredients and techniques in our preparations.  Chef K and I did a version of 'spaghetti and meatballs' that consisted of lamb tartar, lamb jus noodles, compressed green apple, pea tendrils and arugula, and scallion ash oil.

The lamb loin was cooked at 50º then minced and folded with an aioli flavored with rosemary and fennel.  Pressure cooked black mustard seeds were also folded in.  The noodles were lamb jus gelled with agar agar and locust bean gum.  The green apples were compressed with honey, black pepper, and lemon juice.  The tiny salad is simply local pea tendrils and arugula tossed with Ciao Imports olive oil, sea salt, and pepper.

Hopefully this experience will leave Miami with an appetite for more pop-ups and other adventures in alternative dining.  You are the fuel that drives this.  If you want it and support it, it will happen.  The chefs will come.  Local chefs will let their passions push them harder.  Venues will increase.  The whole scene gets better, and we all live happily ever after.