Bacon Trout Roe and When to Salt Your Meat - A New Year's Feast

Last night we met 2012 head-on with the thought that if the world was going to end, there were some things we needed to eat and drink before it did -- and yes, Virginia, that included bacon-infused trout roe.

I was across the country planning my New Year's Eve dinner party via the Internet when I stumbled across the California Caviar Company, which focuses on sustainability and adding a creative flair to the time honored tradition of slurping up fish eggs for the new year and other festive occasions. Having done my time appreciating the purity of sevruga and beluga in the past, I was ready to try something new and skip the king's ransom the former items command.  CCC's line of infused roes, at $15 or less per ounce, was just the thing.  I settled on BBQ salmon roe, saffron whitefish roe, and the crowd favorite, based on amount consumed, bacon trout roe.  I served them with creme fraiche, root vegetable chips, mini toasts, and plenty of bubbly, and we were merry and gay.  I can also picture the bacon trout roe on scrambled eggs, the BBQ salmon roe on grilled fish, and the saffron whitefish roe on a seafood risotto or paella.  Projects to squeeze in before the apocalypse!

For the main, I ended up having a disagreement with Julia Child.  We had a melty roast beef tenderloin her way -- baste with melted butter and roast at 400 degrees, turning and basting a few times, to an internal temperature of 120 degrees, 35-45 minutes. But Julia, dear child, doesn't want you to salt the meat until it's been in the oven for half an hour, and while the roast was lovely in other ways, it tasted underseasoned and wasn't taking kindly to correction at table.  I think Julia developed her style before the myriad modern debates about the right time to salt meat, all of which agree upon salting before cooking, and part ways only on the question of how long before cooking to start.  So next time, I'll salt ahead. (This post has me sold on the hour per thickness of steak approach, but we're not talking about steak here.)  I'll also repeat making Julia's pan sauce for steak, which works just fine for a roast, though it does tend to slosh red on your walls when you stir:  Pour out most of the fat in the roasting pan and saute a couple tablespoons of chopped shallots in what's left.  Add 1 cup red wine and 1/4 cup chicken or beef broth and stir to loosen all the bits stuck to the pan.  Boil down until reduced and somewhat thickened.  Gradually whisk in 2 tablespoons of butter that you've cut into a few pieces.  Pour on your sliced tenderloin.

I accompanied the beef with sumptuous Wild Mushroom Bread Puddings, total keeper, and we washed it down with a 2007 Napa Valley syrah handcrafted by our friend and dinner guest Doug Hill, proprietor of Hill Family Estate.  Delicious!  When we'd drunk up Doug's wine, we switched to an Aussie Shiraz blend I like, though it had a hard act to follow.  This vintage is no longer available, but I'll be looking for future years.  A pinot noir would also work with this menu.

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Hoping to get the Mayan gods to change their mind about the year to come, we finished our feast with Mayan hot chocolate from DB Infusion Chocolates, a fancy outfit located in my hometown of Madison, Wisconsin.  Madtown has apparently become a chocolate hotbed, adding upscale cacao concoctions to bratwurst and fried cheese curds as a local specialty.  The secret to Infusion's Mayan mix, in addition to three kinds of chiles, is cornmeal.  Oh, and the glug of rum I added can't have hurt.

Happy new year and may the world keep turning!

My single best cooking tip ever: use lots of bowls and towels.

I've just wound up a season of holiday cooking and a new year stretches ahead.  As I reflect on culinary adventures past and plan for 2011 (which will be a bit more lovely than all years before), I've reached a conclusion:  All cooking is easier if you use lots of bowls and towels.

If you've been in a professional kitchen you know this.  Bowls and towels galore!  But in the home kitchen, it's easy to succumb to fear of cluttering the small space and creating a giant clean-up job.  Don't do it.  Using these tools liberally will declutter your kitchen and speed your progress enough to make it worth washing a few more bowls.  (If this is obvious to you, stop reading.  Somehow it's been non-obvious to me for years.)

Picture this:  You've got a couple of bunches of greens -- let's say chard.  You know greens are good for you, but a serious pain in the neck to prepare.  All that swishing in water, then cutting the leaves off the stems, then shoving around mountains of leaves as you struggle to chop them, because greens cook waaay down and you have to start with quarts to feed four people, and who has a cutting board that big?  You plop the mess of freshly washed greens onto the cutting board, the countertop becomes an instant swamp floating bits of onion and garlic skin from your previous task, and you have no room left to work.  Fail!

How about this instead:  You start with your grunge towel (see below) and a stack of prep bowls at hand.  You put your cleaned greens in your biggest bowl and bring the bowl to your cutting board.  Look, no swamp!  One handful at a time, strip the leaves from the stems, dropping the leaves in another bowl as you go.  Start a new bowl when the first one fills up, which it will unless you've got another really big bowl.  As your work surface gets swampy you mop up with your grunge towel, unconcerned with the scraps and detritus.  (Give the towel a shake over the sink as needed.)  When you're done de-stemming, give the cutting board and the big empty bowl a swipe with the towel.  Now chop or chiffonade a handful of leaves at a time, putting the results in the big bowl you emptied in the previous step.  When you're done, another mop to the counter.  You're ready to cook, the kitchen is clean, you wasted no time moving stuff out of your way, and all your bowls need is a rinse.

Grunge towels are your old dishtowels you don't mind getting dirty -- not the beautiful new ones picturing bright futuristic beets from Anthropologie or Crate & Barrel, but the stack of worn, stained stalwarts in the cupboard.  For each cooking project, you want a dedicated grunge towel to wipe dirty hands, get spills, clean and dry the cutting board and counter between tasks, and otherwise get messy stuff done.  At the end of the day, the grunge towel goes in the dirty laundry, no questions asked.  The bright beet towel still hangs on its hook, ready to dry your clean dishes and hands during less intense times.  Please don't confuse your housemates by hanging the grunge towel where the regular towel goes.  No one wants to dry their hands on the towel you cleaned the garlic press with.

Prep bowls should be lightweight and in various sizes.  I like stainless steel for the bigger ones and glass custard cups for small jobs.  Take out a stack of prep bowls before you start cooking.  It helps you overcome your puritanical reluctance to reach for one.

Oh, and if you don't have any beautiful kitchen towels?  You should get some.  They cheer up a space like crazy.

 

The best chocolate ice cream ever (the secret is caramelization).

I'm still in the honeymoon phase with my professional grade "Supreme" Cuisinart ice cream maker.  But I'm pretty sure I'm not blinded by young love when I say that my recent creation is the best chocolate ice cream ever, or at least so far. 

By "my" recent creation, I mean I created this gift to humankind by (mostly) following a recipe.  To be precise, this recipe by mad geniuses Ethan Frisch (Guerilla Ice Cream) and Max Falkowitz (Serious Eats).  I ignored the "smoked" and tequila parts, but stuck close to the caramelizing of raw sugar and honey, which I'm convinced combines with the spices to create the magic.

Speaking of spices, compared to your average ice cream recipe there's a lot to do here, so I wasn't going to go spice hunting too.  I skipped the star anise and used unsmoked cardamom pods toasted in a dry pan until fragrant.

As for tequila, it's an intriguing thought, but I had white rum so I used that instead, in a reduced amount of 5 tablespoons total.  The result tasted not like booze, but chocolate -- but oh so much better.

Drink this yummy organic Cab and help Chilean earthquake victims.

Looking for a hard-working wine after a hard-working day? 

Here are the important tasks that Miguel Torres' Las Mulas 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve ($11.99 at K&L) will do for you, with just a turn of a corkscrew.

• Delight you:  Drink in the dark cherry flavors and silky mouthfeel.
• Help people in need:  The Torres family is donating a portion of proceeds from the Las Mulas label to victims of the Chilean earthquake, which devastated areas surrounding the winery in the Maule Valley.
• Save the planet:  The grapes are organic, harvested by hand and free of chemicals and pesticides.

Here's one of las mulas (Spanish for "mules," or course) at work in the vineyard, bringing it home to you.

 

Grilled Black Cod with Nectarines and Olive Oil, and the wine you need for all your summer stone fruit dishes.

Our nectarine tree is in.  This causes anxiety to my husband, the nectarine harvester, who starts agitating for us to give the crop away indiscriminately lest we perish under the burden of bounty.  I guard against this, though, because (a) colleagues wandering by the office kitchen won't appreciate our precious fruit, with its brown spots, wounds, and oozes, the way that we do, and (b) these nectarines are drop dead delicious in all kinds of dishes.

Here's what I made this weekend.  Juicy nectarines (pre-pubescent peaches) and fruity olive oil with a bit of peppery bite are the perfect foil for the smoky, buttery fish. This dish is all yin and great for hot days.  If you're in the Bay Area, just add a sweater.

Grilled Black Cod with Nectarines and Olive Oil

1 medium shallot, minced

1 wedge lime

2 ripe medium nectarines, pitted and diced

1 teaspoon whole grain Dijon mustard* (more if you like a lot of mustard)

A good glug of best quality extra virgin olive oil

3/4 pound skinless black cod filet**

Olive oil for brushing, salt and pepper

Place the shallot in a bowl and squeeze the lime juice over.  Add a good sprinkle of salt, stir, and let macerate while you dice the nectarines.  Add the nectarines and mustard to the shallots and stir gently to combine.  Pour in olive oil, stirring, until there's enough oil to pool in the the bottom of the bowl.  Set aside to blend the flavors while you prepare the fish and salad.

Preheat the grill with a fish rack on high.  Brush with oil.  Cover the fish with olive oil, salt (coarse sea salt if you have it), and pepper.  Grill until cooked through and separating into large flakes, about 3-4 minutes per side.  Serve topped with the nectarine sauce, and if you like, the Cucumber Dill Salad (below) alongside. 

Serves 2.

* The whole grains cling to the nectarines in a nice way, but use regular Dijon mustard if you don't have the whole grain type on hand.

** Aka butterfish, though there's a lot of confusing nomenclature around this fish (black cod isn't actually cod, butterfish is something else, black cod is aka sablefish, etc.).  White fish with big flakes is what you're after.

We had this with the 2007 Santa Barbara Winery Sauvignon Blanc, Santa Ynez Valley.   

Heavenly!  A rich styled sauvignon blanc, the wine undergoes 20% barrel fermentation for lush stone fruit flavors with fresh citrus overtones.  Serve this with anything featuring nectarines, peaches or apricots.  I didn't know that the winemaker recommended matching this bottle with grilled fish and fruit salsa when I chose it, but I praise my psychic powers and the winemaker's good taste for that righteous pairing.  The 2007 release has been replaced by the 2008 at the winery.  I haven't tried the newer bottling, but it just earned 90 points from Wine Enthusiast and you can expect it to be fifteen bucks well spent.

Cucumber Dill Salad

Adaped from my Feng Shui Cookbook.  Salting the cucumbers removes excess water and gives them a silky texture.

1/2 to 1 lemon cucumber, or 1/2 a regular cucumber

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

1/2 teaspoon rice vinegar

A few shakes dried dill (or some fresh chopped if you have it)

1-2 teaspoons sesame seeds

If using a lemon cucumber, it's up to you whether to peel it (I didn't -- I like the mild crunchy skin).  Slice thinly and cut the slices in half.  If using a regular cucumber, peel the cucumber and slice thinly.  Place the cucumber slices in a colander, sprinkle with the salt, and let stand and drain for 10 minutes, stirring halfway through.

Whisk together the mayonnaise and vinegar.  Add the dill and stir to combine.

Place the sesame seeds in a small dry skillet over medium heat.  Toast, shaking frequently, until light golden brown.

Rinse the cucumbers under running water and pat dry on a towel.  Toss with the dressing.  Refrigerate 10 minutes or until ready to serve.  Serve sprinkled with the sesame seeds. 

Serves 2.

Farmer Jane dinner at Flea Street Cafe = loads of delicious local food and wine plus tales of women tilling the land, as told by awesome Bay Area activist/author from my hometown of Madison, Wisconsin! Woot!

The Farmer Jane dinner featured the food of Full Belly Farm from the Capay Valley. The killer (and unexpected) match was braised Full Belly lamb with zucchini, eggplant, and mint-cilantro salsa verde paired with 2009 Montemaggiore 3 Divas (the divas being Viognier, Rousanne, and Marsanne) from the Russian River. My husband, who as a general matter cares for neither lamb, cilantro, nor wine of the white stripe, was knocked out. Our bellies and hearts are full.

Go-to July supper, quick: sweet corn and tri-tip risotto

It's July. The days are long and you're getting a late start on dinner.  Fortunately, since it's July, you have the following things on hand:  1-2 ears sweet corn, 4-5 gypsy peppers or 1 red or yellow bell pepper, a couple cloves of garlic, some white wine, some grilled tri-tip (or other grilled thing), a large sprig of mint, and a ball of bufala mozzarella.  (Two words if you're not stocking bufala mozzarella at all times right now:  tomato season.)

Here's what you do to get your delicious seasonal supper on the table in no time:  Cut the kernels off the corn.  Dice up the peppers, tri-tip, and mozzarella.  Chop the mint.  Tell your spouse, guest, child or pet to set the table.  Heat a saute pan over medium heat and cover the bottom with extra virgin olive oil.  When it's hot, add the corn and peppers and saute a few minutes until starting to soften.  Add the garlic and stir for a quick minute.  Add a good splash of white wine, so there's some liquid in the pan, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer several minutes until the wine is mostly gone and the vegetables are tender-crisp.  Turn off the heat and stir in the tri-tip and mint.  Remove the pan from the heat, give it a moment to breathe, and stir in the mozzarella.  Your goal is for the cheese to get a little soft but not melt into strings, which makes serving and eating tricker and obliterates the nice creamy texture that you paid the big bucks for.  Season to taste with salt and pepper (probably about 1/2-3/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper) and serve.  This serves two. 

You can switch up your ingredients depending upon what you have.  The key elements that shout "July!" are fresh corn, fresh herbs, and something grilled.  We enjoyed this with a bottle of Frog's Leap Rutherford Cabernet.  I wish this much happiness for you.

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