Chef BQ Newsletter

Passion in the Pan; It's Always the First Time!

2011-11-28T06:00:00.000-08:00

I love to cook.

I love being in a kitchen, any kitchen. There's a 'buzz' that comes from familiar environs. The smells, sounds and tasks all run about the same wherever you go: scents of garlic warming in a pan, rhythmic tapping of a blade on a cutting board and requests for miracles in minutes...

...love it!

There is a sense that something is being created; a classic dish revisited, a comforting soup simmering, or a perfectly formed loaf of bread taking shape. We may have prepared the same recipe a thousand times, but, each batch is a little different, unique.

Special.

According to a former Yankees catcher, "It's deja-vu all over again!"

Who can forget the piercing aroma of dough rising in a warm spot of the kitchen or the golden tan of a well-tended bake? How can anyone remain unfazed while diced onions and celery slowly simmer in a stockpot, waiting for stage-two in a stewing process?

The thrill of a new pair of pants, a crisp shirt, of cushy shoes, heck, even the smell of a new car wears off after a while, but, good cooking, now, there's something that never loses it's draw.

Have you ever walked past a pan of, oh, let's say, breakfast sausage and said,

'Ya know, that really doesn't hit me right now."? Maybe if you were sick.

"No, I'll think I'll pass on that chicken gravy made from the pan juices...it just looks kinda yucky. There's bits in it. I mean, you didn't even use a mix!" Right-Oh, genius...real gravy does have bits, those are from the scrapings of your roasting pan. The French call them 'les sucs', the 'sweet bits.' All those wonderful carbohydrates turning to simple sugars, then, getting caramelized into savory brilliance!

These are the 'One-percenters' of gravy hierarchy that transform good to excellent.

We had Thanksgiving at my work, providing a traditional turkey dinner for our senior residents and their families. As I diced up the livers, hearts and gizzard of the birds, my lead cook asked, "So, that's for the giblet gravy? You're gonna cook that and put it in the gravy?"

"Yessiree, Ritchie" I affirmed, "and once these little bits of deliciousness are saute'd, I'll blast them in the food processor to make them smaller for our peeps to enjoy. Plus, it will add a texture to our gravy, like mixing in a pate'..." My guy has been cooking for years in hospitals and isn't used to certain real cooking techniques.

"Well, this I gotta see," he huffed and walked away.

I love making gravy and have done so a thousand times. Each time is a little different, but, all are fulfillling. It's a simple preparation using antiquated methods that is still valid today.

Eventually, dinner was ready and we began to load up the buffet tables.
Ritchie had a small bowl with some of his stuffing in it, covered with the turkey giblet gravy he eyed suspiciously earlier.

"Th-th-this is a-MAZ-ing, Brian," he stammered. Ritchie stutters when he gets excited about a topic, like a really good episode of Jeopardy! or Wheel of Fortune.

"Oh, you have REALLY outdone yourself on this...the residents are going to just LOVE it!" he continued, "Is this something you just made up or is this from a family recipe? I just gotta know how you did this!"

We reviewed the process of using a stock made from turkey bones, scrapings of the roasting pans, saute'ing onions, celery and turkey giblets, blasting big pieces into bits using a food processor and thickening our sauce with a roux; a paste of wet-sand texture made of melted butter and flour.

"That's all? Just those things and it tastes THIS good?!" he asked, "Yeah, but, that's gonna take a lot of time; there's labor involved. Can't we just open a can?"

"Then, you're not gonna have THIS!" I chided, reaching for his bowl of stuffing and gravy.

"Nuh-nuh-nuh," he said, putting up an arm to shield my attack,
"I'll make the stuffing and let YOU make the gravy. I'm good at this and you're good at that!"

Deal.

Good things from the kitchen don't have to be overly-wrought or have a laundry list of ingredients. Sometimes it's just five things that are needed, sometimes even less. Often, the '1%' of greatness is right in front of us, we just need to recognize it and embrace it.

Keep the Passion in your pans!

Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

Outdoor Cooking Ain't Always 'Bout the Q!

2011-05-21T21:16:00.000-07:00

I love my Weber grill and am passionate about my smoker. Cooking on the deck, at the park or in a school parking lot usually finds me in front of a fire with licking flames or belching sweet, aromatic smoke.
My head has been turned to a new love, however, and the stable of cooking apparatus has just increased by one. Sounds a little weird coming from me, but, just hear me out on this one...

BBQ has a little competition.

We took a trip up to Seattle over spring break and landed in Pike's Market one afternoon. After the requisite viewing of salmon throwing, sitting on the bronze pig and eating mounds of Dunginess Crab Cocktails out of 3 oz. plastic portion cups, we headed to The Final Stop. Mom wanted to go the Spanish Table, some mediterranean version of Sur La Table with olive oil and smoked paprika.

"Big deal," I said, "we can get that crap in Portland. It's not that hard to find anymore. Come on, let's beat the traffic down I-5..." Lisa would have none of it.

"No, we're ALL going to walk down and you boys can stand outside and smoke your cigars. Siobhan and I will do some shopping, " she informed us with the pleasant smile of a veteran tour guide. This wasn't her first rodeo; she knew how to handle a disinterested group.

"Aren't there any cute girls over there at that "Free Egypt" rally?" Pat and Liam made note and began to scour the crowd, comparing and contrasting Seattle protesters with the Portland variety.

Mission Accomplished Mom.

We stepped into the store and sure enough, there was the wall of olive oil, Barefoot Contessa books, Giada de Laurentis books (that girl should be selling a tooth whitener or something!), and ceramic jars with wooden spoons made by some kinda Earth-friendly, sustainable, third world co-op. It was even staffed by an anemic looking guy with glasses that could be pleading for donations every three months on PBS. You know the type, probably drives a Prius with bike and kayak rack. Anyway...

Lisa was off to a corner in the front of the building and called me over to look at Paella pans.

"Neat, what are we going to do with that?" I said, looking at my imaginary wrist watch. "They're too thin and we would need to build a fire for that thing. It'd be Hell to control..."

"No, honey, they have burners right over there, " she pointed out.

Then, what to my wandering eyes should appear...? A double ring, concentric burner; it was enameled with a tri-pod stand and air adjustment system that ran on Propane! A huge pan could rest and cook comfortably on this stunning piece of simple engineering (insert angelic heralding here). It was like a wok burner, only flat. And it was brilliant!

The demure owner crept up and asked if we needed assistance. Questions were asked and answered; Lisa and I smiled and nodded our heads as he spoke. Our minds were already preparing summer dishes and we fancied ourselves entertaining guests with our newest piece of outdoor gadgetry.

"Um, the guys want to know when we're leaving," Brendan interjected, "Hey are you gonna buy that pan?" "Way-way-wait a minute," he said, waving his hands like we were making a bad approach for a carrier landing, "That's $200 for a pan and burner! Do you want that or do we really need that?"
The heretofore tepid salesman turned his head to our 7th grade lifestyle coach and said,

"Take a walk, kid!"

We bought it and spent most of the drive home creating dishes and scenarios for using it for any meal or occasion. I even passed up the suggested stop at Cabela's to look at guns. Yeah, that's an impact piece.

The following weekend, we called some willing culinary Guinea pigs to join us for the inaugural cookout.

After turning three or four screws on the stand for assembly and hooking up the propane, the burner was ready for primary ignition.

As the pan began to heat up, oil was added to lightly coat the bottom. An array of pre-seasoned meat and fish lay before me like a palette before a canvas. There was a perfect sequence to obtain, as with any dish, to achieve optimal flavor and texture. This would be determined and followed, allowing for careful observation and minor tweaking.

First the chicken was browned in the oil; the skin crisping nicely. Then the sausage was added; we used a Portugese style linguisa. Once sufficiently browned, we dumped in the chopped onions, celery and sweet pepps. Now, it was beginning to take shape! When the onions were cooked to a transparent color, we added one quart of arborio rice. Any decent rice could be substituted; just steer clear of any generic, par-boiled product. It would be a crime in most countries to use an inferior (see Uncle Ben's) rice. I'm just sayin'...

The whole shootin' match was stirred with a metal spatula to evenly distribute the ingredients. Two quarts of liquid were poured into the pan and stirred once again. Water is fine, but, a chicken stock is better...like a Chevy vs. a Cadillac. Go Caddy on this baby. Smoked paprika and the defining herb, saffron, were added last as the pan was brought to a boil. Heat was reduced at this time to a slow simmer.

I know arborio rice is done when I dig just under the surface and taste a grain or two. Each kernal will double in size and go from flat white in color to an opaque hue of yellow with the bleeding of the saffron. Just before the rice is done, arrange your seafood on top, it will cook gently and not get hard like some fish flavored cracker.

And the aroma? Aye Dios mio!

Throughout the cooking process, family and guests came by to check on the proceedings.
"Now, what's that?"
"How do you know when it's done?"
"What's that amazing smell?!"
"Dude, I mean, Dad, this smells flippin' awesome!" (Liam).

And finally the flavor.
As we scooped up each persons portion, we finished with a little garnish of fresh herb; in this case chopped basil and thyme from our garden.

It was a spiritual experience.

The yellow, saffron-scented rice, browns and reds of chicken and sausage, pink and juicy shrimp, green peppers and a chiffonade of basil combined to produce a masterpiece.

Lisa and I just sat there and looked at it.
Could a dish taste as good as it looks, we wondered?
One bite told us:

Absolutely!

Our thanks to the Iberians for sharing this brilliant, outdoor, communal dish.
We will use our new Paella pan and burner throughout the summer.

Now, the Gypsy Kings?
You can have them back...

Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

Soda Bread and Cod Liver Oil

2011-03-15T21:15:00.000-07:00

"God save us and protect us!" was a favorite phrase of my dear Irish grandmother. She had alot of things that have become touch stones for my siblings and I. One was her soda bread.

My first thoughts of soda bread find me at her chrome trimmed, Formica kitchen table on Prospect St. in Watsonville, CA, my hometown. Her Bakelite radio was tuned into KOMY-1240 where she could get local news, farm reports and weather. On-Air talent, Vic Rue, would sometimes read articlles from area newspapers or tell stories that made my grandmother snicker through her nose.

Grandma was old school, even in the 60s. She was born on a farm in Ardboe, County Tyrone, Northern Ireland in '18 and 90' as she would say. Her family lived in a one-room, thatched roofed cottage and worked as sharecroppers or tenant farmers on the larger property owned by non-Catholics. Cars hadn't been invented yet, nor had man learned to fly. Queen Victoria ruled over all of Ireland which would not see independence for another 30 years!

Although she emigrated to America at 16 years of age, she never lost her brogue nor the great pride of her Gaelic heritage.

Most weekends she would call down to our house and ask for a boy to help her with a few things. I loved spending time with her, so, would often volunteer.
After digging a few 'preities' and pulling some weeds, she'd call me in for a break. Her stories of the 'olden days' would captivate me as I sat there having a slice of soda bread with butter and a glass of milk.

I would be at a loss to think of a more genuine soul than this simple farm girl who shuffled about her kitchen in clothing that reflected the styling of 'Aunt Bea' from the Andy Griffith show. She had the clompy, black lace-up, thick healed shoes, leg wraps and support hose that made her legs look like those of a Dough Boy from WWI.

Nobody's grandma was like her.

She would retrieve her dishes from a sideboard and china cabinet. Each glass was there and stacks of differing plates neatly filled the lower shelf. She moved deliberately with each piece of dining ware and set them in front of you. A slight ridge in the center of the floor betrayed a faint sqeal as she walked over it.
This could take minutes; there was no wisking about closing doors with the bump of a hip or giving the knee to a drawer. No, each cabinet door creaked and every drawer screeched as she slowly opened and closed them. A cuckoo clock made the only other noise in the house, keeping a soft, yet, noticeable beat.

She was the real deal, the genuine article, broke-the-mold material.

"Darlin', woudjuz like a some marmelade on your bread?" she'd ask as you took a first bite of her carraway and current studded loaf. She kept her bread on a cake stand with a thin dish towel over it to keep from going stale too soon. I got up to get the marmelade from the fridge and there it was on the door with it's label secured by an 'elastic' as Grandma called it. We call them rubber bands.

It was her brown medicine bottle of 'Cod Liver Oil.' I grabbed the marmelade and quickly closed the door before she got a notion to do some 'healin'.

"Darlin', bring me the Cod Liver Oil and let's have a spoonful!" she enthusiastically called to me.

She would say it with certainty, like it was being dispensed to a farm animal and it was de-worming season.
Before you could say 'Art Linkletter', she deployed this spoon that must have come from the Army. She loaded up a dose, tilted your head and pinched your nose as she administered what was to become decades later, beneficial Omega-3, fatty acids.

It was disgusting.

The spoon rattled every tooth in my head as I instinctively bit down while she quickly drew it out of my mouth. Sometimes, I'd cry, especially if I fought it and blew some back into my sinuses.
Not fun; like somebody made you snort anchovies for some God-awful reason.

Anyhoo, the soda bread became even more tantalizing as a cleanser of the olfactory after the assault leveled by a loved one. When it was warmed, the butter would melt and fill the air pockets in the loaf. Marmelade had that sweet/acidity thing going on that I have come to treasure. I quickly forgave her country doctoring and focused on the reward of her homebaked treat. Her smiling eyes through thick glasses, her gentle and easy laugh, her simply expressed hospitality are as vivid today as 40 years ago.

There we would sit, this old lady from Ireland and her weed-pulling, potato digging grandson, sharing some soda bread with a whack of butter and chasing it with a glass of milk and a 'cuppa tay.'

Her soda bread lives on today; I'd just as soon keep the Cod Liver Oil as a memory.

Granny Quinn's Soda Bread (as dictated by her daughter, Sr. Anne Christine)

3C flour
1/2C Sugar
2t baking powder
1t baking soda
1t salt
1 1/2C raisins

2 eggs
2C buttermilk
2T oil
2T carraway seed

Method:
Sift dry ingredients and add raisins.
Combine eggs, buttermilk, oil and carraway. Add to dry and mix on low speed till a pancake batter consistency has been reached.
Pour into loaf pan (paper lined or sprayed/floured) and bake at 350 for approximately 1 hour (or until center of loaf springs back when gently touched).
Cool for 10 minutes and remove gently. If you use paper, like me, it lifts out without any hassle.

Serve warm with a generous knob of salted butter!

(**Note: I use about half the raisins and carraway seeds, but, suit your own taste.)

This loaf is super easy, everyone loves it and it maintains those cultural ties to Ireland on St. Paddy's day.

Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chefbq.

Thanksgiving? Stick to Yer Guns!

2010-11-21T08:53:00.001-08:00

'Don't Mess with Texas!' read the successful bumper sticker campaign to clean up litter in the Lone Star state.

Same goes for traditions around the Holidays. Ya start messing with things around the Holidays and someone's gonna get Western on ya; a little bit of justice meted out by an angry mob

So, when Lisa had a conversation earlier this week with her kitchen staff and one mentioned her reluctance to attend a family get-together, all had their guesses as to why.

'Are they bad cooks?'

'Still having issues with his mom?'

'Do they have a dog that buries his muzzle where it doesn't belong, 'cuz I HATE that!?'

'No, my sister-in-law decided she was going to put cumin in the mashed potatoes, fer gosh sakes!'

'Huh?!'

'What the...?!'

'Get OUT!'

"Yeah, she decided she wanted to do something a little different and she's been on this 'I-just-discovered-a-new-spice' kick. There's cumin everywhere!"

Well, discovery is good, the mom's agreed, but, you just can't change something for the sake of change. Sure, the girls like their hair style and color to fluctuate, and that new diet plan of eating only green leafy veggies on 'T-days', but, certain portions of our lives are not going to evolve.

They are set in stone. They are Holiday traditions.

Like Mom's grape Jello salad ring with grapes and walnuts. Mayonnaise anyone?

Or pie with a crust on top, or green bean casserole.

Could you imagine green bean casserole made without Durkee's French Fried Onions from the can?! Yeaaaa-NOT!

Tonight's Chocolate Mousse has been replaced by Carob flavored Yogurt.

Yay! None of the fat and zero grams of Fun!

Yuck.

And none of the memories, too. Food, family, and creating memories are what the Holidays bring out in us. Traditions make us slow down and think about the past. Funny, even marginal cooking can be stomached when wrapped in a tradition. Why do you think Fruit Cake has survived all these years?!

In this era of instant information, be a gatekeeper to slow stories and simmered sauces. Make your family sit together to talk, laugh and reminisce. Tell a part of family history that no one has heard before. Hold dessert till all have finished eating and the plates have been cleared, scraped, rinsed and stacked by the kids. THEN, they can have dessert.

Oh, and don't let someone's girlfriend bring a vegetable dish; no one will like it and her stock with the family will go south. It'll probably have cumin in it...

Easy Pan Gravy

take a half stick of butter, melt it in a 4 qt. saucepot then add 1 cup of flour to make a paste; set aside.
Remove turkey from roasting pan and set on cutting board.
Take roasting pan with all bits and juices, and add 2 cups water.
Scrape the pan with a metal spatula or slotted spoon to get every bit of baked on brown stuff off. Place into saucepot with butter/flour paste.
Add one cup of cold milk to saucepot and place on medium heat, stirring occasionally to maintain a silky consistency. Bring to a boil for two minutes to cook the flour and reduce to a simmer till service.
Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Whisk in a lump of butter if you like ( a BIG lump!). Add milk if too thick.

Have a blessed Thanksgiving and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends.

The Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

Lazy Susan, Smart Cook

2010-08-27T07:26:00.000-07:00

Do you have one of those friends that you say to yourself,

"Ya know, we need to get together more often!"?

Something always seems to come up, especially when children are involved, which precludes planned events.

Our friend, Dana, aka DB, called recently and said,

"You guys need to come out and have a glass of wine."

It had been a while since Lisa and I saw 'Date Night' on our last date night, so, we leapt at the opportunity to be with other adults.

We drove south to the Charbonneau area of Wilsonville. I love the drive because when I cross the Willamette river there at the Boone Bridge, I feel I'm officially in 'the country.' Hand-painted signs for produce, cider and Freedom dot barbed-wire fences while my eyes always strain for the open door of a barn, providing a peek at an old pickup that needs me.

A series of right-angle turns puts us out on a gravel road with a wheatfield on one side and a filbert orchard on the other. Just past the pastured llamas, we arrive at Dana's house tucked between several Doug Firs. DB meets us before we hit the door with hugs and smootches all around.

Her slobbering dog, Dave Berry, greets us with, well, slobber.

"Come in, come in...it's sooo great to have you guys out here!" Dana always makes you feel like you're the only person on the planet, she is so warm and gracious.

"Let's get some wine opened... or would you like something else?" She gets us set on bevvies as we start talking about kids. Hers are off on adventures and so are ours. Reminds me of the fashion bumper stickers of years ago, but, ours would say..."Boston-Vietnam-Corvallis."

"I hope you guys are OK with kind of a light, grazing dinner," our hostess pleaded, "It's just so hot out, I thought we'd just keep it light."

Perfect idea.

We sat at the the kitchen table and took the Lazy Susan for a spin. It was all there: Fruit, Veggies, Cheeses, Cured Meat, killer Bread and Balsamic/Olive Oil for dipping.

'Boy-likey,' I'm thinking.

I learned long ago that when 'foodies' are together, the gloves come off regarding standard decorum. If you like blanched green beans, don't feel required to a limit of three. If gorgonzola is your gig, cut off a slab. Need a turn or two of fresh cracked black pepper? Twist and shout!

Eating with gusto is like writing with adjectives; it embellishes and heightens the sensory experience.

"Is this OK for you guys...?" Dana asked, "I mean I could get some more stuff out..."

I shot her the Look through the eyebrows and Lisa concurred,

"This couldn't be better! It's light with a variety of colors and textures, salty/tangy/sweet. It's perfect!"

"Here's to good friends," someone said as we clinked glasses.

We talked some more and finally hit our limits. Then my phone rang, it was our eldest.

"Siobhan is still crying. She hasn't stopped since you left. She's like crazy-crying now."

Lisa instructed Patrick to load her up and take the 20 minute drive out to The Country.

Profuse apologies to our hostess were dismissed with a "That's what kids do."

Patrick and Bonnie arrived in time to have dessert. What gathering would be complete without a spill, too! It took all of 3 minutes for Siobhan to find a beverage and tip it over.

"Oops, Mom...this spilled. It gots spilled on the floor. Come here kitty, lick it up," our daughter called to the cat, Mr. Betty. Years ago, Dana's kids thought the stray was a girl, named it, then upon a vet visit found evidence to the contrary. That's kind of a microcosm of good parenting skills: ya get lemons, make lemonaid. Everything can either get fixed or adapted, hence, the 'Mr.'

Good cooking skills sometimes require little cooking, just common sense.

Dana showed us a wonderful meal full of variety, flavor and color. Nutritionally, it was a smash hit as well; plenty of dietary fiber (veggies), calcium (soft cheeses), vitamin C (fruit), iron (meat) and grains (bread). It touched all the bases.

I believe they call that a home run.

This was so good, we did the same thing the following week at home with our kids.

We sat on the back deck one evening, busted out the hummous, raw veggies, meats, cheeses and great bread. Our kids LOVED it! It was all finger food, we ate at a more leisure pace and spent more time together talking.

Time together at the table. It sounds so simple and insignificant, yet, even our children would agree it is some of the best times in our lives.

So, get out there to Costco, Whole Foods, Trader Joe's or whatever and build a deli-meal of finger foods. Set a budget, first. It can get a little out of hand when you start piling on the cheeses.

Our thanks to an inspirational foodie friend, Dana Berry--Great Ideas!

Luv ya, mean it!

Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,

the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

Feast on the Fourth

2010-06-28T06:32:00.000-07:00

The Fourth of July, why do I love thee?

Is it the smell of charcoal and starter fluid?
Maybe, it's Lisa's American flag banana cake with whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries.
The wish of someone, anyone, bringing a clutch of deviled eggs in an antiquated, covered Tupperware container.
I wait with great anticipation for a potato salad. Will it be creamy, mustard-based, have relish, cooked egg or garnished with parsley and paprika? Will the potatoes be russets, reds or yukons? It's maddening, really, like waiting for Christmas morning as a ten-year old.

Side-dishes, I love the individual sides. We ask folks to bring something that they do BEST, doesn't matter; starch, veggie or fruit. The only caveat is that it is home-made. Course, you have to 'ooh and ahhh' upon presentation of each dish as it gets placed on the buffet table.
What vessel displays each creation? A family piece, something trendy or is it recipe specific?

Fourth of July allows us to be completely sentimental, patriotic dopes.
That's what I like.
Wrap your wardrobe, food and decor in Red, White and Blue, put on the Marching Band CD, and all is well in the U.S. of A.

At least on Tiara Drive in Milwaukie, Oregon.

Pork Ribs over Mesquite Charcoal
This recipe is not for the faint of heart. It takes time, observation, yet yields kudos for the patient cook. Pork ribs over charcoal for three hours make the 10 hour drive from California a little more palatable for nieces and nephews. This is for Jackie, Clarabella and Shash.

Dry Rub
2C Salt
1/4 C Pepper, ground
1/4 C Paprika
2T Tumeric
1T Allspice, ground
1T Coriander, ground
1T Garlic, granulated

Method:
Combine all ingredients and shake well to blend in a gallon ziploc bag.
Pour into a 'dredge'; one of those big metal or plastic shaker-things.

Pork Ribs
3 racks Pork Spare Ribs, cut in half and rubbed liberally with the Spice Blend. Let them set for at least a couple of hours before putting on the grill.

Method:
In your Weber dome or whatever, build a charcoal fire with mesquite charcoal. Find it, it's the best. Locally, I get it at my United Grocers/Cash and Carry supply store. Once the stack of flame is gone completely white, knock it down and spread the coals evenly. The grill should be at least 6 inches above the coals and preferably more. The closer you get, the meat can scorch.
The layer of coals should cover 1/2 to 2/3 of the area under your grill.
You don't need wall-to-wall coal coverage. A little heat goes a long way.
Place the racks of ribs, bone-side down, on the grill and cover. You must have a cover with venting for this to work. You want smoke to come out of the Weber at the top with air intake venting in from below.
The first 30 minutes are crucial. Listen for the 'pst-pst' of grease creating flames in the smoker; we want to spritz this with a water bottle to keep the flames down. 'Spritz' not 'Soak.'

You will notice three levels in the cooking process:
1) The racks will begin to pool liquid on top. The meat is 'sweating.'
2) The racks will then begin to 'cup.' Hold your hand out, palm down. Gently begin to bring your fingers in. That 'cupping' is what the racks will do on the 'bone-side.' Turn them over.
3) Cook racks until the meat recedes from the tips of the ribs. Once the tips are visible, the racks should be done. This takes at least 3 hours when done correctly.

Ribs get better with age, so, when you pull them off, let them rest for 20 minutes or so, to cut them. Once cut, layer them in a container with a drizzle of your favorite sauce. Cover with foil and let them steam. This makes good ribs really outstanding; the meat just falls off the bone.

Happy Fourth of July and if you're in the neighborhood, drop in for a rib!

Take care God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

No, it's "Leg of Lamb!"

2010-04-01T17:50:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or are our kids light-years smarter than we are? I mean, they can send a text message, drive with their knees, pound a 24 oz. can of caffeine-laced energy drink and shuffle their iPod for a new tune all at the same time!

Our kids can hear us and have 100% comprehension with only one ear bud in..DUH-uh!

They can recognize poor CG (computer graphics) and thoughtfully critique a Tim Burton film (the only reason Helena Bonham Carter stars is because she's married to the director...DUH-uh!)

So, as I posted a running shopping list at home for a Sunday dinner, our Guardians of Pop Culture alerted me to an error.

"Dad, what's so funny about Roasted Potatoes, Mint Demiglace Sauce and Seasonal Veggies?"

"Whaddya mean?" I shot back.

"It says here, 'Laugh Out Loud' on your shopping list," noted my Keeper of Cool.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you have 'LOL' on top here, see?" Liam was pointing out improper use of 'texting' to me.

"Hey, Einstein, that stands for 'Leg of Lamb.' I countered.

"Uh, no Dad, 'LOL' stands for 'Laugh Out Loud, ' slowly drawled my son. "We use that abbreviation when we are 'texting' our friends," he continued, clawing the air for italics.

This makes him feel like he's helping me, a poor stupid parent in my Life's Journey; to understand these strange new technological advances.

God bless the children...

"I can show you notebooks from cooking school, twenty-odd years ago," I exclaimed, "that show 'LOL' was used as Leg of Lamb before the Internet was even invented! That's back when kids played in the yard, came home when the street lights turned on and rode their bikes everywhere!"
None of our bikes had multiple gears, brake levers or were even shiny after a couple of months; they were trashed because we rode them everyday!"

At this point, I was hitting a stride and puncturing the air with my 8 inch chef's knife for dramatic effect. Liam was pretending to feel threatened with a quivering lip and upturned eyebrows. I was rounding third and heading for home...

"that was before yogurt in a cup, Nike, GreenDay, LiveAid concerts, free dress at Catholic schools and bottled water was what Europeans drank because theirs was polluted.
When I see 'LOL', it doesn't make me laugh, it makes me drool!"

We looked at each other for an instant.

"Are you done?"
"Yep."
"When's dinner?"
"Five minutes. Call you brothers."

Easter LOL, Leg of Lamb:
1 Leg of lamb, boned and tied
1/2C Dried apricots
1/2C Dried Figs
4 sprigs Rosemary
8 cloves Garlic
to taste Kosher salt
to taste Black pepper, fresh cracked

Method:
Pre-heat oven to 325 for 15 minutes. While that is firing up, place lamb leg on a cookie sheet or half sheet pan. Open one end of the leg with your fingers and begin alternately stuffing the dried fruit and garlic. It's kind of squishy, but, the web of string holds the meat together. Once all fruit and garlic is in place, thread your rosemary sprigs through the length. When the leg is cooked, you can pull the entire sprigs out before carving. Coat the exterior with the Kosher salt and pepper to your liking. Place LOL in oven and cook till 130 internal temp is reached; about 90 minutes, depending on your oven. Let the roast rest 15 minutes before carving. If you don't have an inexpensive stick thermometer, grab one at your favorite supply store or hardware store.

Take care, a Blessed Easter to All and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

chef bq.

Relish and Splendor

2010-02-27T13:39:00.000-08:00

I've always believed that a boloney sandwich could top a Filet Mignon anyday; just depends on the company, really.

White bread, warm processed meat and hydrogenated vegetable oil spread superceding the delicate texture and flavor of a beef tenderloin?!

In a word: yes.

A memorable meal is a combination of many elements; among them are the food, atmosphere, ambiance and in this case, the company.

It was 1976 and my oldest brother, Steve, was working as the lone ranch hand on a 16 section parcel of Hell about 40 miles south of Grants, near the Zuni indian reservation. I would drive out from Albuquerque every so often with supplies in a '69 Olds Cutlass that blasted Steve Miller from an under dash, 8-track tape player. I was only 15, could legally drive in New Mexico and my parents recent divorce embued me with the spirit of Dr. King's words, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, I'm FREE at last!" Puffing on a couple of pilfered cigarettes and screaming the lyrics to 'Jet Airliner' with the windows down at 75 mph, put me on top of my teenage world.

"You can have California," I thought, "Freedom lies in the desert."

Leaving the only home I ever knew in Santa Cruz county was not what I would have chosen, but, two months removed had me whistling a different tune.

New Mexico was an escape in one sense and an awakening in another.

I guess this helps to explain how sitting on the tailgate of a pickup, shooting prairie dogs on a mesa in 'The Land of Enchantment' became one of my most treasured food memories. It wasn't really about the food, per se. The boloney sandwich was about 80 degrees with a fine, windblown grit as garnish and the day was about 100-105. God, it was hot. Oven door open, so hot you could hear the heat, hot.

Didn't matter though; I was spending the weekend with my brother, "The REAL cowboy!"

And this is how cowboys do it, they take what they get and don't complain.

"Wanna beer?" Steve asked as I leveled my .22 at a prairie dog mound about 75 yards away.
"Sure!" I chirped, remembering a moment later to feign routine, "Yeah, shur..." I followed with a more relaxed tone.

He had a six-pack of Coors bottles bobbing in an icy slush bucket near the pickup's wheel well behind us.

"Don't tell Mom!" Steve ordered.

No need for that instruction, I thought, that'd be a CARE package, Mercy Mission buster for sure!

I layed the rifle down, unscrewed the cap on a frosty Coors and took a long, slow pull off the bottle. It seemed the beer was approaching the solid phase, it was so insanely frigid.

The combination of cold and carbonation just about gave me a heart attack; there was a sharp, frozen pain behind my sternum that lasted about two seconds. It departed with a burp that eminated from the ankles. This is blissful, I thought, a beer in one hand, sandwich in the other.

"Quit swinging your f___ing legs! I can't shoot!" Steve told me.

Guess I was a little too blissful and got carried away.

"Sorry." I said.

"That's OK...watch me pop that sucker that keeps poking his head out."

Steve took aim with the .25-20 and squeezed the trigger.

WHAM!...(pop).

The tiny, soft-point bullet from the Winchester found it's target.

"Nice," I whispered, staring through binoculars.

Funny thing: when it gets up around 103, you conserve your motions instinctively; you don't talk much. You just listen and move with slow, direct purpose. And so, after a while, Steve said,

"Let's check 'em."

Miniature clouds puffed up from the soles of our boots as we walked from the pinon tree-lined road out to the prairie dog town. The dirt was finer than sand; it was a powder formed from being picked up and blown around, milling itself into a dust that looked and felt like brick red baby powder. It got everywhere. As the day wore on, it combined with the sweat on our arms and neck to form a delicate paste.

By the time we reached our target area, however, the geology had shifted to a mix of sand and pebbles among the scrub grass. The desert breeze teased the tops of the sage brush and they bobbed to every gust.

"Coyotes'll get 'em tonight," Steve said as we surveyed the carnage, "Damned things ruin grazing area and an animal can break a leg falling into one of their holes," he continued.

Our shooting completed, he gave me a tour of the ranch and we got a few things done.
By nightfall, we found ourselves sitting outside, having a chaw of tobacco and a beer, staring skyward in our aluminum patio chairs. The sky was as black as I've ever seen it and the stars twinkled between hues of white, pink and blue. It was completely silent except for the occasional shifting of an animal in the barn.

This is amazing, I thought, miles of nothing-ness filling my senses. Some distance away, coyotes began calling each other.

"Want some dinner?" Steve asked.
"Sure." I said.

"How 'bout a boloney sandwich?" he followed.

"A boloney sandwich sounds great."

That's it. Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things"

chef bq

Sugar Addiction and Mini Resolutions

2010-01-05T12:30:00.000-08:00

For some of reason, this year I couldn't wait; I could practically taste Christmas.

Thanksgiving was a teaser; a slice of pecan pie here and a sliver of pumpkin pie there. If I squinted just a little, the vague outline of mince pie, Christmas cookies and chocolate in its many forms, could be seen around the calendar's corner.

No dessert, confection or amuse would be safe from my prowling palate during Advent.

Pfeffernusse, Mexican wedding cookies, shortbread and thumbprints; I love them all!

The Christmas Sweet Season hit with the sensory overload of a SpongeBob cartoon marathon.

Fruit cake was good and yes, I would like extra hard sauce!

Designer Chocolate? Why yes, I would like to taste the differing terroirs of 72% cacao!

Macaroons? Maybe just one...

Things were getting bad and I knew it.

I was going down in a twisted, uncontrollable sugar tailspin and if not for the aid of my eldest child, I would have bought the farm, bit the dust, O.D.-ed.

"Dad, here...have a salad and some chicken broth."

We grabbed the controls of a Holiday binge and slowly eased her out of a 4-G dive.

That's what a culinary wingman is for...

It's time now for some annual introspection; let's see what we should do, what we can do and how to make those two lines intersect. What can I do to make this forty-niner body work better?

New mattress--done.

Exercise--haven't been so good.

Eat smarter--can do.

Sugar and carbs are killers for me anymore. Hell, I brag to my boys how we'd get kicked out of an all-you-can-eat buffet when working in the oilfields of Oklahoma. Slamming 3/4 lb. burgers, fries and a chocolate malt when playing football. Eating everything I wanted when first married because I was running 40 miles per week.

Those days are gone and adaptation is needed. I'm bumping the big 5-0 and need to get in better tune with my body. Quit putting the pedal to the metal at the table and start listening to the hum of the engine. What does it really need to run well?

Food intake is one leg of the three-legged stool of middle age fitness; the other two being exercise and rest. I guess that goes for any age, actually.

As a chef, I should place my money where my mouth is and start eating healthier foods at better times of the day when fuel is needed for optimal performance. So here it my plan with a few options for those of us trying to make some real change...

Sweets:
1) Dried fruit. Raisins, dates, figs, apricots...you name it! There are so many products available out there, it's easy to find several things that you will like. The good thing, too, is that these sweets keep really well and are easily transported; you can keep a ziploc bag of goodies in the car and have something tasty on hand 24/7.

2) 'Larabars.' These things kick boot when it comes to flavor and health. They don't give 'em away, but, with flavors like 'Pecan Pie', 'Mole'', Chocolate/Coconut, Key Lime and Apple Pie, I can justify the buck-fifty for a snack. Made from a base of dates, nuts and spices, these bars are versitile enough to have a hunter and GreenPeacer agree on at least one thing.

Soon, I'll be grinding my own versions with similar flavor combinations.

Vegetables: Keep 'em coming! I like 'crunch' when I eat so, we keep our veggies on the raw or blanched side. Salad dressing is OK, but, it shouldn't lay on your greens like frosting on a homemade birthday cake. A little really does go a long way.
Acidity: you will be amazed at what a squeeze of fresh lemon or lime will do to broccoli, green beans, corn or carrots.
Kosher salt? Oh yah, you betcha! We keep a 4 oz fluted ramekin on the first shelf in the kitchen for 'just a pinch.' And something to remember too: you can't eat 'em if you don't got 'em. When you go grocery shopping, buy what looks pretty to you or things that you know you'll like. No sense in patting ourselves on the back for buying Brussel Sprouts and then hoping their anti-oxidant qualities will somehow enter our systems through 'crisper drawer' osmosis.

Exercise: I'm not really qualified to speak on this topic. Lost the desire to sweat and can't figure out how to get it back. It's good for you, I know it, but, can't seem to get motivated...

...maybe some Omega-3s from a piece of Grilled Salmon will stimulate my brain...

Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef bq.

The Last Holiday Standing

2009-11-20T19:39:00.000-08:00

What's the toughest part of Thanksgiving dinner for a cook? Is it Gravy? Getting the breastmeat done without being dry? Or is it remembering to make three times more food than a Company of Marines can consume?
Most calls I get are about Gravy: real, homemade, memory creating, eye-closing grandma goodness.
"How do I make that, BQ?"
Well, before I dispense this treasured bit of knowledge, there's a story to read:

In a matter of days, we will have a house full of people; eating, talking and in Joe Quinn's case laughing so hard, he scares the baby. Lisa and I will work the kitchen and dining room with all the aplomb of a seasoned WWF tag-team duo. Complete sentences will be pared down to clipped phrases and questions will be answered with nods, 'Got its' and 'Yep's. It's like a 'Dream Team' or pairs figure skating couple. OK, maybe nix the last analogy, but, you get the whole hand-in-glove idea...

Did I mention that I love Thanksgiving?
It is the remaining Holiday that hasn't been co-opted, denegrated, secularized or otherwise misappropriated. Sure, it's taken some hits from the 'Blame America First' crowd, but, she remains firmly embedded and bundled in giving thanks to God.
God: G-O-D. It's OK to say it--I believe in God and I am thankful for His many blessings.
No apologies necessary.
Thanks are necessary.
Thanks to the Almighty and Thursday's the day.

Perhaps, it is it's lack of commercial profitability that has been Thanksgiving's saving Grace. I mean, how can you spin Pilgrims, Indians, corn and turkey into a mall blitz or it's own section in the music store? That's right, ya can't.
Can we make miniature turkeys out of chocolate and wrap them in decorative foil?
How about a line of seasonal clothing that incorporates large buckles on shoes, stovepipe hats and feather bonnets?
Nope, that won't bring home the retail bacon.
What is it about Thanksgiving that is so endearing and so enduring?

Christmas has been equated with binge shopping and emotional crashes while Easter reminds us that nursery room pastels, green plastic grass and chocolate bunnies are to be celebrated annually. Didn't God know this would happen with the birth and resurrection of His Son?
Sheesh...

I think Thanksgiving has endured due to it's simplicity. It has remained true to it's purpose of giving thanks to God without the embellishments of gratuitous spending on meaningless things.
We gather together, we serve one another, we indulge in aromas and taste sensations, we think of others before ourselves and we are grateful for those most treasured of blessings--each other.

I leave with the words of our first President:
"...Whereas both houses of Congress have requested me to recommend to the people of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God...that we may then all unite in rendering unto Him our sincere and humble thanks for His kind care and protection..."

G. Washington
City of New York, 1789

Turkey Gravy

Turkey pan drippings...........all of them

flour........................................1/2 Cup

turkey juices..........................all of them

milk.........................................1qt.

salt 'n peppa..........................................to taste

Method: Have your turkey out of the oven at least one hour before dinner is to be ready, I'll explain. Remove turkey from the roasting pan and set aside on a sheet pan. The bird will throw juices as it rests--save these.

Pour off your pan drippings from the roasting pan and save in a food storage container. Pour 2 cups of hot water into your roasting pan and scrape with a spatula to remove all the little bits from the pan. Save this stuff. Now, skim the fat off of your pan juices and place it in a 2 qt sauce pot on medium heat with the flour. This will form a paste (roux) to which we will add our remnant pan juices and scrapings. Cook slowly and add 1 qt of milk. Stir continuously till it bubbles. If it's too thick, adjust with turkey stock. Salt and pepper to taste.

I hope everyone of you have a peaceful Thanksgiving. Take the time to talk to God, He'd love to hear from you!

Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,

the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

Chef bq.

Cooking in Circles...

2009-10-25T15:00:00.000-07:00

No sooner than the 4th of July is over, it seems, then the kids are back in school. What happened to the 'Discover Oregon' Summer? Digging for fossils in Eastern Oregon, hiking trails in the Cascades and floating a trout stream?

Ah well, we did get out to the coast, have a 'blast' of a 4th of July party and entertain more family than have visited in a long, long time. It was a wonderful summer spent close to home.

I call it 'Back Deck Time': those brilliantly simple, summer evenings spent anticipating a scorching sun setting behind the laurels, getting your seat stolen when you take a potty break and watching our two year old daughter charm an entire group of adults and adolescents in flickering candlelight.

Lisa and Brendan did a bang-up job on the garden, too, bringing daily harvests of green beans, radishes, lettuces, then, later we were treated to carrots, tomatoes and our first watermelon!

We found that the best way to enjoy our garden vegetables was to prepare them simply; either raw or lightly blanched and tossed with a balsamic-based vinaigrette. Pop it with some fresh, chopped herbs and voila!

Summer is a perfect time for casual get togethers with friends (and to sample each other's cooking). Guys, you know what I'm talkin' about. Sneeking a peak at how your buddy does it, how others manage kitchen duties and how to make it look effortless. My buddy, Pat, is a master at backyard cooking. His smoked chicken thighs were the best chicken I have ever tasted.

Drop-dead.

Spot-on.

Perfect.

The skin was crisp and brickish in color. The flesh was the desireable hue of garnet and the subtle, intoxicating aroma of judiciously employed smoke lay on the palate like a down comforter.

They were so delicious, I needed napkins and tissues: the former for my fingers and the latter for my eyes. I believe I ate four in addition to a knock-out salad with garden tomatoes.

Have you ever eaten something so good, that you provide running compliments along with 'Umms' and 'Ohhs?' It was embarassing to sit there and point out to your wife how well the moisture of the meat was retained while achieving the crispy exterior. To explain to everyone and no one the risks involved between juicy meat and gelatinous skin; to be technically 'done' but, aesthetically incomplete. I heard myself talking too much about the same thing. Eventually, I had to just sit there quietly, eat my dinner and not say another thing about the chicken, not even an 'mmm-MMM!' to myself.

The convenient thing about firing up a smoker is that as long as you're there, ya might as well launch anything else you can find into it. Don't just smoke the ten chicken thighs you are serving, do ten extra for Smoked Chicken Quesadillas, Smoked Chicken Chile in the fall and winter or for an interesting pizza topping.
When we have a cool protein to work with, all we need to do is fill in the other two slots with starch and veg for our meal.
I like breaking down the meal preparation in this fashion, whether it's home cooking or for a catering in wine country: Starch, Veg and Protein with protein at the center of these concentric circles.

Beef, Chicken, Pork, Lamb or Game. Pick one. I choose Chicken.
Potato, Pasta, Rice or Beans. Pick one. I choose Rice.
Corn, Tomatoes, Green Beans or Cucumbers. I choose Cukes.

Now, how do these come together?
I BBQ the chicken.
So, I need the rice preparation to compliment this. How about a pilaf with Red and Green Peppers? Done.
Cucumbers...let's balance the richness of the BBQ chix with a zingy cucumber salad. Lisa does a salad with rice vinegar, fresh ginger, cilantro and sesame oil. I could eat this as a meal!

Great meals often are the simplest ones with fresh, pure ingredients allowed to shine through.
The wonderful company of friends is 50% of the menu, too!
Pat and Cindy O'Reilly shared one of those experiences with us this summer. We won't soon forget it.
Unlike Pat's Mullet wig at the school Halloween dance last night, his BBQ Chicken was a happy memory.

Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"

Chef BQ.

Berry, berry good

2009-07-07T05:59:00.000-07:00

A chef friend in California swears (practically) that French fraise du bois, wild strawberries, are the epitome of the berry genus.

He obviously hasn't picked and eaten local strawberries from Oregon's Willamette valley. These strawberries are as fickle as our vaunted Pinor Noir wine grape; susceptible to bruising, mold from moisture, yet, yield an outer-body experience when the stars align themselves.

Had one of those special moments last Monday night...

We had gone out to a friends farm last Sunday to pick a few berries for jam. When we arrived at the field, it became abundantly clear that we were probably the first folks to harvest this field.

The bushes were bright green and lively; low berries touching the ground were molding and rotting, but, the other 90% were stellar, scarlet gems! (sound of a long held note by Cherubim, here).

"How much more we gotta doooo-uh?!" whined one of our boys. Lisa and I looked at each other to see which would field the questions.

"Guys," I said, "this is like saying the gold is too heavy to carry back to the car."

"Yeah," followed Lisa, "You NEVER see this kind of fruit set at a you-pick-it farm. This is like the Mother Lode! So, get busy, we need two buss tubs full!"

We got our jars, lids, sugar, lemon juice and cooking utensils lined up for a Monday jam session after work. Propane was full for the outdoor burner (crab boiler in the NW) and the assembly line mapped out. Brendan was my right hand man. As jars and water came to a boil, we began paring our fruit in the deep, porcelain kitchen sink. JoJo (my nickname for Brendan) is always good for running commentary and interesting facts about whatever it is that you're doing.

"Dad, these berries are like totally red all the way to the center! Do you want the ones that look like this?" he asks, holding a bruised strawberry.
"Nah, let's pass on those guys. If we are canning questionable fruit, we may get a bloom of bacteria later and some off flavors," I offered.
"Ah, SIIIICK!" he muttered, "We could make like a Jam-Bomb and tie it to balloons, then, have an air burst of contaminated jam over Portland!" JoJo chuckled.
"OK...THAT'S sick! Sounds like you're playing too much video game stuff," I said.

The water pot for jars was on a boil and the smaller water pot for lids and bands was gently simmering. All was as it should be.

"JoJo, let's get this fruit into the pot and get going."
"K, Dad. What's the lemon juice for? Isn't that going to make the berries sour?"
"The acidity of lemon juice keeps the color bright. We adjust sweetness with the sugar." I said.
"Nii-iice..."

As the berries, sugar and lemon juice began to cook, the aroma brought Patrick out to the back deck.
"Oh man! What smells so good?!"
Patrick put his head over the pot of strawberries and immersed his face in the delicious vapors.
"Oh My Gawd!"
"Goodness..."
"Oh My Goodness!" Pat exclaimed, "This is like so flippin' phenomenal!"
"Here," I said, "Have a taste."
Pat closed his eyes and just "Mmmm"-ed.

Our canning continued well into the night, making 110 1/2 pints of Strawberry jam.

At 10:30 p.m., Lisa pulled a freshly baked loaf off a cooling rack, sliced it and placed it on the table. Three boys, a mom, and a dad ate the entire loaf, one deliciously slathered slice at a time.
"Dad, this so ROCKS!" proclaimed Liam through a wad of bread and jam.
"Cool, but, hold your voice down, the baby's sleeping." I said.

"Oh, sorry. If she wakes up, then we'll have to share and there's none left!"

Oregon Strawberry Jam

strawberries, pared and rinsed

lemon juice, fresh sqeezed, about 1/4 cup per gallon.

sugar, about half what the standard recipe calls for (almost 1 cup/pint of jam! Yuck!)

pectin, use the SureJell, low-sugar type in the pink box. It sets well with half the sugar of the regular pectin

Directions:
Place pared fruit, lemon juice and sugar in your big pot. Look to see what volume your pot is so you can gauge the amount of pectin to use. For example, if it's an 8 qt pot and it's 3/4 full, then you have to add enough pectin for 6 qts of jam. 1 Qt.=2 Pints=4 half-pints. Each box of SureJell will do 8 half-pint jars. Follow the directions on the box!!!

Seriously, that is the toughest part of this whole process, figuring out pectin measurements.
If you're pectin is too shy, then you have 'berry syrup' for all your baking needs.
That's just plain wrong.
When I add the pectin and bring things to a boil, I test the 'set' of the jam.
Take a serving spoon of hot jam and place it on a bread plate. Place the plate in the freezer for 5 minutes to cool. If the jam is set when cool, then, you be good to go! Commence the canning!
(Thumping of a drum on a Roman ship echoes, the Olympic theme song begins to blare...).

Make sure your jars are hot when filling with hot jam. This creates the vacuum seal when it cools. Only do about 6 jars at a time, till you get comfy. Be methodical, work clean, and use canning tools like a jam funnel and jar tongs. They make the process much easier.

Get creative with labeling. Home made products are such treasured gifts. All of us respond more enthusiastically to a food product than to a gift card.

Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"

Chef BQ.

Childhood Horrors

2009-04-01T22:25:00.000-07:00

I remember being afraid of monsters under the bed, that if I let even a teeny part of my toe out from under the blankets, that gremlin would grab it with his claws.

Then there was the 'Big Lady and the Little Lady'; two spinsters down the street that took an evening walk each night. They seemed to appear out of nowhere and never spoke a word; dark clothing, heavy coats and hats obscuring their faces didn't help the situation either.

Alas, we come to Brussel Sprouts. Mention the word and watch children, pets and seniors run for the hills. They reflect the American experience with the likes of cod liver oil, collard greens and a chewable multi-vitamin; all disgustingly vile parts of a shared cultural fabric. That which didn't kill us made us stronger. The same could be said for cholera.

No, Brussel Sprouts have a bad rap from birth and some folks that grew up during the Depression
can tell stories of eating them, pinto beans or squash for months at a time,

"Cuz, we couldn't AFFORD meat! We had meat on Sundays and maybe a teaspoon of sugar in our coffee. But, by golly, we had a garden and grew everything that went on that table! Times were tough and Mama did the best she could with what we had. And if I EVER see another Brussel Sprout, it'll be too soon..."

Yikes! That is a tough nut to crack but, once I get a little bacon going in a pan, then add a few bits of chopped garlic, well, as you all know, just about anything can be saved.
I'm getting ahead of myself, backup...

So, I chef at a senior living community which has been a blessing in so many ways. One of the wonderful and often times surprising things is the candor with which old folks will respond. When something is amiss, guarantee that not less than a handful of self-appointed spokespersons will clue you in on a little secret.
Conversely, when things are going swimmingly, you just may get a slap on the back or a simple nod of approval followed by a wrinkled smile and a wobbly thumbs-up.

"Mr. Quinn!" I heard one of my diners in the lobby calling across the mailboxes, "those Brussel Sprouts were de-LISHOUS at lunch! Whatja put in 'em, they were s'good?"
"Well, thank you, Mrs. Kranklebaum, I'm glad you enjoyed them. I boil them in salted water then toss them in a reduction of Balsamic vinaiger. 'Course, bacon and garlic get saute'd first then the whole thing is finished with (whisper) 'butter.'

"You can sure do those again," a voice behind me agreed. I felt an aluminum walker nudge me, it was Mrs. Katz. "But, my grand dad always put ketchup on 'em, so, that's how I like 'em."

"I say just leave 'em like you made them today. If folks don't like it, don't eat it!"
It was Mrs. Franco, a retired Army nurse who saw action in WWII, Korea and early Vietnam.
"They were the best I've ever tasted," she continued, "and keep up the good work; this is the best food I've ever had here and I've lived here for 20 years!" With that, she gave me a wink, a whack on the back of my leg with her cane and off she went through the sliding doors.

Balsamic Brussel Sprouts
2 qts. boiling salted water
4 cups pared Brussel Sprouts, halved lengthwise

3 pcs bacon strips, cut to fork sized
2T. garlic, minced
1/4C. balsamic vinegar
1 stick butter, cubed and cold
to taste salt

Method:
Drop all B.S. into the boiling, salted water.
Saute' bacon pieces on medium heat and when almost done, add minced garlic. Warm the garlic until the tiniest pieces get a touch of brown. Immediately add your vinegar and reduce by 2/3. Reduce heat to low and whisk in your lumps of cold butter till each is incorporated into what is now a rich, emulsified sauce. Add salt to taste.
By now, the sprouts should be fork tender. If so, drain and toss with the sauce. Keep warm on the stove top till ready to serve.

These are really a treat; my kids love 'em, the seniors LOVE 'em and you will too!
What have you added bacon, garlic and balsamic to that HASN'T been fantastic?!

Take care, God bless and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things"

Chef BQ.

Corned Beef, 101.

2009-03-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

St. Paddy's is right around the corner; we know that, given several recent indicators:
Is it the furniture stores declaring 'a pot 'o gold' in savings?
Was it the midget dressed as a leprecaun separating two wrestling opponents on TV?
It might have been the shamrocks taped to windows throughout residential neighborhoods.
Could have been news coverage of the river in Chicago getting dyed green.

For me, I know St. Paddy's is near when dwarfs, little people, midgets, whatever you wanna call 'em, are front and center of any promotion involving shady, seasonal 'deals.' Furniture, autos, payday loans and car stereo businesses incorporate midgets dressed as leprecauns for the month of March, then, the same schlub gets dressed as the Easter Bunny in April!
Aren't there better outlets for 'wee people?' In my home, we could use someone to scrape gum from under tables. Or how about a service to change your oil in the driveway? And who couldn't use some assistance finding things under kids beds? This is good, practical, solid, helpful work ideally suited for the vertically challenged.
Come to think of it, kitchen work would be perfect! Cleaning the backs of cabinets, shelving and storage areas is an untapped industry. They could clean ovens by being IN there, scrubbing away and whistling, too. All cooks hate that job and would pay dearly to have the ability to get the corners clean.

That's it: I'm hiring 'wee people' for temporary, short stints to do the work that we can't or won't.
I wonder if they need a 'Green Card...?'

Easy Corned Beef

1 piece----Corned Beef Brisket, size dependent on your hunger
water-----to come up half-ways on the meat
spices-----the little packet that comes with purchase or 1T Pickling Spice

Method:
Place brisket in a covered roasting pan and fill with enough water to come up half-ways on the beef. Right after the 10 o'clock news, place your brisket in the 250 degree pre-heated oven.
Go to bed.
At 6 a.m., remove covered pan from oven and place meat on a cookie sheet using your biggest spatula. Let cool for about 20 minutes, then transfer to the fridge to cool. Once cool, slice brisket to desired thickness for plating up. When ready to reheat, arrange slices on a cookie sheet and pop into a 350 oven to warm up and hopefully get a little crispy on the edges.

Need to hold the dinner while guests are having beverages? Not a problem! Corned Beef has the half-life of Uranium-232 and gets better as it sits and gets all steamy...

Serve with boiled red potatoes, wedges of boiled green cabbage and a healthy whack of wholegrain mustard. I make a veloute' sauce using chicken stock and place the mustard in that, then, drag ladles of this sauce over the entire plate! Better give you a quickie on a veloute':

Veloute' (French for almost gravy)
1/2 C. -----Flour
1/2 stick --Butter
1 qt. ------chicken stock
to taste ---salt

Method:
Place butter in a sauce pot on medium heat and melt. Add enough flour to make a 'wet sand' paste. To this, add 1/2 your COLD chicken stock and whisk by hand. Once it starts to thicken, add the remainder of the stock. Pinch your salt to taste. EZ.

A boiled dinner isn't really that spectacular unless you spent 7 years in a Hanoi POW camp. So, elevate your game by making the mustard sauce using a veloute' base AND get your reheated corned beef CRISPY! Texture can either doom or rescue a dish.

Happy St. Paddy's to one and all,
Take care, God bless and remember,

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

Chef BQ.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-25T05:20:00.000-08:00

Do you ever wake up and say, "Ya know, I need to work on 'such-and-such'--I've neglected it for too long and need to get it working again..." The 'it' could be a garage, an auto, a weightloss program or in my case, a potential weight-gain program.
I'm talkin' 'bout some serious cooking! And what better time to get re-aquainted with our beloved pots and pans, our gadgets, and those trusted appliances than this week of Thanksgiving?
I'll match a tradtional, Thanksgiving food item with a gizmo that has been in a storage box or back of a cupboard, lonesome and forelorn.

Like ALL good kitchen excursions, this one starts with a story...it's 5 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, the first cup of coffee is down and I'm having a 'healthy' breakfast of Garam Masala Chicken with Coconut Milk in a cereal bowl as I write...

...the Quinn family FINALLY made the change of address from SW Portland to SE Portland; actually, we now reside in Milwaukie, a suburb. During that time of transition from one house to another, we stayed at a friend's house while ours was getting re-vamped. Yeah, VERY nice friend. Aye-yaye-yaye, was the new place a mess! Not sure what was worse, the three brimming cat-boxes that were left or the WWF hootchy-mama posters in the boy's basement bedroom.
When that blessed day of taking up residence arrived, we plopped down hastily assembled bedding, swept and mopped, then sat around and lapped up the intoxicating aroma of fresh latex paint in empty, resonant rooms.
"Hey, Mom, it doesn't smell like cat-crap anymore," proclaimed Liam.
"Liam!" said Dad.
"...POOP, it doesn't smell like cat POOP anymore..." he added, "Sorry, Mom."
Dad smiled.

We were in the new house but, had given away the '70s dining room set of Lisa's childhood. Not a lot of tears; we could never find the conquistadore paintings or club and mace set that went with the table and chairs originally. Darn.
"Mom, Dad, we need to have a meal at the table...together and on Sunday," Brendan informed us. Dang if he wasn't right! It was 6 weeks of commuter meals, dinner in a recliner on stylish Solo dishware. We were so busy with moving out of one home and getting into another that we forgot to sit down AS A FAMILY! Good God in Heaven, we neglected our mealtime together! This won't do, especially for the family that tries to make dining together a mainstay, an anchor for our lives.
Lisa found a beautiful antique table and chairs that fit snugly into our little dining area. She bought new placemats and matching napkins to go with her new interior color scheme.
She did a marvelous job on everything including our first dinner. We all sat down, parked the baby in her highchair on the corner and said our traditional blessing. There was a pause at the finish as we waited for an ad-lib:
"...and thank you God for our new house, our new table and chairs, that we may be forever grateful and that tonight is the first of many wonderful memories at this table.

Amen."

Fresh Cranberry Relish (serves alot)
1lb. bag Cranberries, Oregon preferably
4 Oranges, juice and zest
1 cup Sugar, or to taste

Method: Buy a microplane or zester at the local, expensive kitchen shop. A microplane is worth it's weight in flawless diamonds, but, looks like a wood rasp. You will thank me. Remove the zest (outer peel) of the oranges by running along your microplane or zester and place in your food processor. Add cranberries and sugar. Cut your oranges in half and juice them. Add juice to the cranberries.
Blast away till a fine puree is accomplished; about 3 minutes. Place in a container and let rest overnight; the color will run and give you a brilliant, vibrant red on Thanksgiving Day.
Serve in a clear, crystal bowl to show off the aforementioned electric red!

The Best Turkey Gravy in the Whole, Wide World
This takes a commitment and is not for the 'instant chef.' If you want E-Z, open up some Knorr bouillion cubes or something, I dunno. If you want guests to pick up their plates and lick the gravy off, then, this is your recipe...

1 cup turkey giblets, diced
1/2 cup turkey fat, from your pan drippings
1 T. Italian seasoning
1 cup white wine, riesling or gewurtz, preferably
1 1/2 cups flour, AP
1 qt. turkey stock, made from bones
2 cups milk
to taste kosher salt

Method: Saute' diced gibs in the turkey fat and deglaze with the white wine once gibs are cooked. Add the Italian seasonings and reduce the wine by at least half. Add the flour to form a paste and reduce heat to medium-low. Add half of the stock (including the pan scrapings from the roasting pan!) and allow to thicken. Whisk in the remaining stock, allow to thicken and add the milk. Adjust texture with milk and saltiness with kosher salt.
Pour into a metal container and place in a water bath till service.
It is crucial that a stock is made with turkey bones, onions and celery and sprigs of fresh thyme. Stock is the palate upon which edible cooking becomes a simple work of art.

Enjoy your Holiday and remember...

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends--
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

God bless,
Chef BQ.

Grillin' and Chillin'

2008-07-22T05:45:00.000-07:00

I like to work efficiently, whether in the kitchen, around the house or under a car. If you're there, ya might as well get a few things done. As long as the hood's popped, let's check the oil and also, the coolant, air filter, brake fluid and bugs in the radiator. Heck, while the garage door's open, let's find that gas can and tile cutter buried under stackable milk crates.

If the grill is on, let's do more than cook the burgers...what else can we burn...? How about some veggies, chicken thighs or some flat bread? All of these things are easily sourced at the market and will hold nicely for days in the fridge, to "feed another day!" This means that we need to P-L-A-N a little bit when shopping. Look at foods and wonder "what can I do with this..." then drop it in your cart.

Summer grilling can be somewhat messy and does require a time commitment.
Gotta heat up the grill...burn off the old grease...brush it down...get it to temperature. Turning on a gas valve in the kitchen stove is SO much easier! Yeah, but, we don't get those wonderful, tasty grill marks and seared, crispy skin. Not to mention, you'd miss the romance of the 'process' to which I am a slave. What about the whole 'dad fighting back licking flames, taming the smoldering beast, subduing the smoky serpent' thing? Ya gotta have a story to tell at the table about how you lost sections of arm hair and got black grease under your fingernails while preparing a meal for the family.

"No son, it wasn't a blown head gasket on the Ford, it was a pile of skirt steaks on the Weber with a little too much fat that gave me these scars..."

A properly involved grill cook has to earn his marks, his badges of courage!
Like my grandfather who was a WWII Navy veteran. We'd ask him where he got his tattoos, the green-blue faded designs of banners, anchors, ropes and stars. "The Indians gave 'em to me when they had me tied to the stake up by Reno," he would say, "Good thing your grandmother hit it big on the slots, 'cuz she came riding down on her horse and knocked 'em all on the head with her bag of silver dollars. She rescued me but not before the Indians gave me these marks..." We believed the part about the Indians but, grandma must've been 300 lbs in her knee-high hose. No way could she mount a horse...

Stories...Life is so much more interesting when there is a story involved. Like the time I forgot about the gas grill I turned on HIGH to pre-heat, only to have a child ask if that dark smoke coming out of the back porch would alert the fire department.

With our Dog Days of summer at hand, it's critical to work within the constraints of excessive heat. I chewed my son Liam's butt for turning the oven on to make a quesadilla last week when it was 103 degrees in Portland. "Here son, have a popsicle..." I offered to his amazement. We seldom have popsicles for dinner but, we had to work within the parameters of our heat wave.
So, we grilled several items out on the back porch to be eaten cold at later meals. I love grilled veggies that are drizzled with a balsamic vinegar and served cold. Chop up some fresh herbage from the garden and add a splash of some super deluxe extra virgin olive oil to make your summer grilled veggies sing! LaHHHH-DEEEE!

Spinach salad is a favorite of mine, especially with a creamy dressing. Add a protein like grilled and chilled chicken, salmon, tuna or steak and you have a healthy, satisfying AND delicious entree'. And as far as a dressing goes, make a vinaigrette using a bit of tahini paste in your standard Italian vinaigrette. We used this at the winery and the lads were practically drinking it out of the bottle! Tahini can be found at middle easten markets or specialty markets catering to the "Loca-vores," (those of us that try to eat foods from our area when available).

Hey, let's get that grill fired up...far and away from the house!
"Yo, yo! Keep on grillin' as you be chillin' this summa."

Grilled Vegetable Pasta with Garden Herbs
(serves 8)

2 Zucchini, halved length-wise
2 Crook necked Squash, cut same as Zucch
2 Heirloom Tomatoes, halved and stemmed
8 Garlic cloves, peeled and minced
2T EVOO (extra virgin olive oil)
1T Salt, kosher
1lb Pasta, your favorite kind

Method:
Prepare squash and tomatoes as directed. Place on a pre-heated grill and score on both sides. Grill has to be hot enough to leave good, clean, dark marks on the veggies but not to blacken the entire sides. Once grilled, place on a cookie sheet and cool.
As the veggies are cooling, put a gallon pot of water on the boil and make your way to the herbs outside (this implies that you are growing a variety of herbs at home!). Cut enough fresh thyme, oregano and rosemary to make 4T of chopped herbage.
Once water is boiling, drop pasta and cook to your desired doneness, giving it a stir to keep from sticking.
Place a larger saute pan, 12" or so, on a medium burner and pre-heat. Cut squash and tomatoes to fork sized pieces and reserve. Add squash to pan and saute' for two minutes, then add garlic and cook till smallest bits of garlic get a touch of color. Immediately add tomatoes and chopped herbs.
Cook till hot, season with salt to taste and spoon over cooked pasta.
Top with some grated Romano-Pecorino and you are good to go!

Is this easy, or what?! And with the herbs, garlic and cheese, you have all the spots on the palate getting the 'happys.'

Give this a go, and let me know.
And remember...

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"

Take care and God bless,
Chef BQ.

Dry rubs, outdoor grills and Whoopi cushions

2008-06-09T09:30:00.000-07:00

My middle son, Liam, is very 13. He devises battle implements out of broken garden tools, asks for permission to take apart the old microwave oven and sets boobie-traps using sewing thread. The other night, I 'tripped' one of those boy-traps.
Walked up the driveway after work and noticed a message scrawled on a post-it, attached to a beer bottle that was sitting on the antique milk box on the back porch. The placement, overwrought design and 'bait' had me smelling a rat, but, I proceeded. Two steps later, a sewing thread trip wire stretched across my chest and snapped. I stood frozen, waiting for a guillotine to slam down or a pit of pungie sticks to open up.
Nothing.
Then, a head popped out of a doorway, "Dang, it didn't work!"
"Hey son, what are you up to?" I asked.
"The string was supposed to make a cinder block fall on a whoopie cushion...guess it was too heavy." Brendan, our 10 year old, grabbed the cushion and placed it under his arm, activating the desired noise.
"Doesn't work as good under your arm, Dad, but, it's still pretty realistic," Brendan chuckled, "here, I'll sit on it."
And we, all three of us 'boys' laughed like heck as Brendan and Liam took turns impressing me with their simulated bodily emanations, complete with facial contortions.
I reached into the fridge, cracked a beer and leaned on the kitchen counter as Brendan laughed himself silly reinflating and deflating the whoopie cushion.
"Dad," he giggled, "I can't wait for summer and putting this under people's chairs outside. It's gonna be SO funny!"

Yeah, I thought, I can't wait for summer either, but, my thoughts usually run towards my grill and a good dry-rub. I love creating a rub that suits the day and the food. Sometimes a sweeter or more aromatic concoction is in order. Other times, spice is the name of the game. Outdoor cooking is as varied as your imagination; I'd like to help with a couple of guidelines.
I have a basic formula for all dry-rubs and then spin-off variations from there.
Give these a shot the next time you fire up the Weber and reach for a piece of salmon or a thick bone-in pork chop.
Just check your seat cushion if you swing by our house...

Dry-rub Base Blend
1 C Kosher Salt--(saltiness)
1/8C Black Pepper, whole--(heat)
1/8 C Red Chile flake--(heat)
1/4 C Paprika--(color)

Additional Variations (add to above recipe), 1/8 Cup=2 Tablespoons
1/8C Allspice--(sweet spice)
1/8C Clove--(sweet spice)
1/8C Fennel Seeds, freshly ground--(aromatic spice)
1/8C Cumin Seeds, freshly ground--(aromatic spice)
1/8C Coriander Seeds, freshly ground--(aromatic spice)
1/8C Basil, dry--(sweet herb)
1/8C Thyme, dry--(savory herb)
1/8C Oregano, dry--(savory herb)
1/8C Tumeric, ground--(yellow coloring spice)

Take the Base recipe and add your additional ingredients as you think you might like. Purchase all your herbs and seeds whole and grind them in a coffee mill--takes two seconds and you will have remarkably fresh flavors.
Guard your spice mill with zealous fervor; someone may want to wash it, to 'clean' it. That's like scrubbing your cast iron with steel fiber to get the seasoning off every time you use it. Just rip my heart out, puh-LEEZ!

These aren't huge batches so you won't be stuck with a dud if you make something you don't particularly care for.
Ease into it. Don't put all the ingredients listed above into a Nuclear Dry-Rub. More is not better.

Have fun and remember...
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."

Take care and God bless,
Chef BQ.

Snow, Snap and Spring

2008-05-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

Came home the other night from the restaurant, it must've been after 10, tired, hungry for home cooking and felt the 'beer cramp' coming on. Ya know when your dominant hand gets that shape after a long, hot day at the rock pile; the pleasing involuntary response to caress a large, chilly bottle of fermented malt beverage? The hand was aching and I was more than ready for some hop therapy.

As I walked up the driveway, picking up a Razor scooter and parking a Red Flyer wagon, the sound of frogs in our neighbors neglected pool caught my attention.

"This is what I LOVE about spring," I thought, "the all-or-nothing serenade of Helen's frogs." Often time, Lisa and I would laugh in bed as one begins to chirp and within two seconds, thirty of his closest friends chime in. Then, even more suddenly, they come to an abrupt halt. Cessation may last a few minutes or a half hour, but, the frogs remind us of the joys of spring, the promise of new life.

Fumbling for the key to the back door, I take a deep breath and WHOOSH!...a rush of warm, lilac infused night air wafting down the breezeway envelopes me like a gentle ocean current.
"Now, THIS is what I love about spring!" I says to meself, key in the doorlock.
I stand there, breath in and breath out, breath in and breath out. Yes, these are still my favorite flower. Their delicate flavor never varies in intensity, their fragrance is as soft and soothing as a mother's hush.

Lilacs are only a two week window for us and mark the arrival of the 'fragrant' time of year. It's a nice change from the smell of mud and moss, fir nettle clogged gutters and damp wool. I could get used to this, the floral scented world. But, would I appreciate it if it was available all the time? Would I take this soothing aroma so sweet and heavy you can taste it on the back of your palate, for granted?

Probably. So thank God for seasonality!

And speaking of seasonality, I gotta tell you about a classic pasta combination of spring: Fresh Peas and Pancetta.
Lisa asked me about how my day went tonight and told her of a pasta special that sold very well. It had sugar snap peas in it with pancetta, garlic and a black pepper cream with penne pasta.
"That's like the one I used to do at Laura Silvestri's in Half Moon Bay," she said, "only we used prosciutto, snow peas and Parm-Reggiano. Same diff, though..."
I put me diet Coke down and asked her what they had for dinner earlier. I was starvin'!
"Here, I just wrapped it up for you. You're not gonna believe this," she said.
There to my amazement was a dish with a grilled chicken breast, arancini pasta tossed with butter and garlic, and a PILE of glistening, crunchy, sugar snap peas! No joke!

"This is what I LOVE about spring," I sighed.

My lover chuckled, "You're so easy..."

Penne Pasta with Sugar Snap Peas, Pancetta and Cream (Serves 4).

8 oz. Penne pasta, dry
8 oz. Pancetta, cut into cubes the width of a pencil
2 Tbs. Garlic, minced
2 oz. White wine
16 oz. Cream
1 Tbs. Black pepper, fresh cracked
1/2 juice of lemon
2 C. Sugar snap peas
1/2 C. Romano-Pecorino cheese, grated.
4 Air-kisses

Method:
Cook pasta in a rolling boil till done. Done is defined as how YOU like. My done is different than your done.
Drain when cooked and toss lightly with a smidge of oil to keep things from sticking
As the pasta is cooking, saute' the pancetta on med-high heat in enough cooking oil to just cover the bottom of the pan. Use a larger saute' pan for this job, maybe a 10-12 inch rig.
When cooked but, not crispy, add the garlic and warm till the smallest bits of garlic start to brown. Immediately, splash with white wine to bring down the temp of the pan and let the wine reduce. After about 2 minutes, add the cream and reduce by half. Add the lemon juice, black pepper and adjust for salt. Toss in the sugar snaps and swirl in the sauce for no more than a minute. Honest, you want to keep them crunchy and vivid green.
Add cooked pasta and shake that pan!

Serve in cool bowls that you found at Kitchen Kaboodle or Pier One Imports. Garnish with the Romano and have at it!

Find something to LOVE about springtime in your kitchen and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."

God bless,
Chef BQ.

The 'Other' Turkey...

2008-03-09T21:30:00.000-07:00

Raise your hand if you are one of the millions of Americans who, three days after Thanksgiving, declare that this is gonna be the year that you eat more turkey. Gosh, it tastes great, has a 'heart healthy' fat content, whatever that is, and is pretty darned cheap to put on. We love turkey sandwiches in a deli, but, seldom prepare turkey at home.

Why is that?

My buddy Steve recently took me to a relatively new deli in downtown Portland. He raved about the authentic feel in an urban setting but, it was the pastrami that made my friend go berserkawitz.

"Quinnster, ya gotta check out these sandwiches here...see this one, it's the corned beef brisket with special sauce on fresh rye...and the pastrami comes with chopped liver, like a pate'..."

Watching the cooks pull smoked corned beef briskets up from the holding oven and hand carving each sandwich was like sitting at the dining room table during a painfully slow turkey carving on Thanksgiving. I had to swallow several times and make a conscious effort not to reach across the counter and grab a taste of the trim.

"Sweeney, the sonsofbitches use real smoked corned beef for their pastrami," I whispered, "not some nasty top round jacked up on liquid smoke."

"Quinnster, THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!" he shouted as he smacked me on the shoulder.

Corned beef; the lowly, wretchedly colored neon red meat that some of us obligingly prepare once per year only to make our house smell a little weird when followed by boiled cabbage and over-cooked potatoes.

No wonder we only attempt it on an annual basis: it looks funny, has a lot of fat and takes FOREVER to cook!

Why bother?!

When it's done well, we LOVE it and can't wait to do it again. But, like a roast turkey, we never do. It's SO much work...the darned corned beef never seems to cook all the way...my cabbage and potatoes are reduced to mush by the time the beef has boiled to a close proximity of doneness. UUUHHHH! Just give me a couple of pints and let's call it good! Ta heck with corned beef!

Hear me out on this one: If given the right instruction and the proper tools (a killer recipe), anyone can succeed this coming week with a traditional St. Patrick's day dinner. This is 'THE YEAR' for all of us to kick some major booty in the kitchen when our American St. Paddy's dinner comes around.

Remember my 'Cooking with your Eyes Closed' segment...the whole schpeel on slow cooking overnight in a covered roasting pan with a bit of liquid...and it's called 'braising'? Well, those students that didn't do the homework can have an opportunity for a re-take.

We're going to prepare a Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner that will be the envy of every church dinner, any downtown pub, and those who dreamed of one day saying,

"Yes, I prepared Corned Beef in my sleep and my guests LOVED it!"

Corned Beef Brisket

First off, an inside tip: If you have a Costco, United Grocers/Cash and Carry, or some other quasi-wholesale food outlet, give them a call and ask for availability of corned beef brisket. Previously frozen is OK, these tougher cuts of meat don't suffer from freezing; they acutally help to tenderize the more stubborn cuts.

Corned beef brisket is running about $2.00/lb wholesale right now. Get a whole brisket and cut it into three pieces from short end to short end. This will allow ease of handling and slicing...how fun is that?!

OK, this is beyond EZ, but, I'm gonna tell you anyway...ready?

Take the brisket cut into three pieces and place into a covered pot that will fit into your oven. Empty the microscopic seasoning packet into the pot along with 2 bottles of your favorite ale. Not Buzz-wizer, not Sewers, but, a real friggin' ale made as local as possible, OK? splurg!
Now, place in a pre-heated, 275 oven when you go to bed (around 9 or 10 ). When you wake up at 6 or 7, your house will smell like a home with a fork tender corned beef brisket there to greet you in your bath robe (you in the robe, not the brisket...). Remove from the oven and using a big-ass spatula, gently extract the three pieces of meat from the pot. Place the meat on a cookie sheet and let cool at room temp for a half-hour. Then transfer to the fridge for a good chill. When ready to serve, slice the chilled meat on the short side, not the long side, into desired thickness. I like about a 1/8-1/4 inch slice. Place on a cookie sheet and into a 350 oven to re-heat; they get a little crispy and lose a little more fat. Dee-Lish!
Meat is done...was that easy or what?! Again, folks think you are the local version of Mario-friggin'-Batallia for 'creating' such a culinary triumph.

Cabbage and Preities

For the cabbage, use a standard head of green cabbage. Don't use red, Nappa or savoy; it ain't the same.
Get a pot of salted water on the boil. Take a head of cabbage with the stem side up and cut in half, right down the middle of the stem. DO NOT REMOVE THE CORE! Now, take each half and cut into 1/8th wedges, using the stem or core as the base of each wedge. The stem keep the leaves from falling off and turning the whole mess into cabbage goo. Drop the wedges into the salted water, which is simmering, and cook till fork tender. Remove and place in cold tap water to cool.
For the potatoes, use only red potatoes. If red potatoes are not available, then, well...just drink Guinness and have a wee dram of 'uisce beatha' the Gaelic beverage called 'water of life' which the brits call 'whiskey.'
Seriously, now cut your red pots (potatoes) into fork sized wedges or pieces and cook till fork tender in simmering, salted water. When done, strain and turn out onto a cookie sheet to cool. Place in fridge to chill. These can be reheated in the oven when ready to serve with a couple of lumps of salted butter and whatever else you like on top.

The Kicker
I wasn't going to do this for fear of becoming too involved but, I'll throw it out there for the adventuresome.
This is the Mustard Sauce from Hell. Ya ladle this delicately over the dish of corned beef, cabbage and spuds and well...people begin to weep uncontrollably.
I take no credit nor any blame as to what may transpire when guests partake of such a dish...

Make a roux with about half a cup of flour and half a stick of butter...low heat and create a 'wet sand' paste. To this add, cold chicken stock (broth if you hafta) of about 2 cups. Whisking all the while, add two more cups of chix stock as this thickens. Once the sauce comes to a light simmer, add 4 Tbs of whole grain mustard (Plochmans, Beaver brand, whatever) and adjust the salt with kosher salt.
This REALLY ties the whole thing together.
A man from Kerry once told me, "Quinn, 'dis is brilliant!"

Happy St. Paddy's to the only Irish guy I know named, 'Tony.'

Give this a go and hit me with some feedback...successes only.

Take care and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

God bless,
Chef BQ.

The Bloody French!

2008-02-26T21:44:00.000-08:00

Being of Irish ancestry, I was taught that the Brits were the enemy. They turned the land of my fore fathers into a serfdom, starved the inhabitants and drove those well enough to travel, into exile. English invaders outlawed our hallowed Catholic faith and education, over took our churches and cathedrals, making them their own!
In traveling the continent, the UK and the Irish republic, I have found, however, that two generations and one hundred years have done much to soften the sting of British imperialism.
They are in fact, quite nice people. Most Brits are very friendly, eager to offer assistance to travelers (english speaking) and are most satisfied in their current state. These are folks you'd like to have as neighbors; dad drinks a little too much, mom tends to share privileged information on anyone and the kids are wise beyond their years.
Brits remind me of Oregonians who read; pale, educated, ruddy and pleasant.
They will sit there and hold their tongues on a topic till an invitation is extended either by gesture or comment.

"These tomatoes look nice," one could remark in a market, "Yes, they do..." a Brit would reply candidly.
"How d'ya think they grow them so nice her in England?" I would ask.
"They DON'T!" the shopper would snap, "they're either from Italy or North Africa...we caunt grow them here...the Bloody French pinch the good ones, too, on the way to England. These are the seconds!"
(O-kayyyy, a little animosity here...)

Lisa and I had spent 3 months in the UK and Europe during our honeymoon in 1990. The last leg of our journey was up from Portugal, through Bordeaux and into Paris for the train ride to London. After I smoked enough Cuban cigars to choke a mule, we boarded a train that would take us under the English Channel and into familiar language for the first time in 60 days. We checked into a B&B late that night in Folkstone on the Channel. It was up the hill and a stone's throw from the depot. Our hostess couldn't have been more welcoming; she was big-lady huggable: glasses, heavy-set, house coat, plump, rosy cheeks. A TV blared in the adjacent room behind a louvred glass door; father layed in his recliner, shoes off, dark socks on, looking at the paper but not really reading in his Vinny t-shirt and half-specs draped with a chain.

We awoke the next morning to the comforting aroma of bacon cooking, potatoes frying and tomatoes grilling. Lisa and I laughed in a bed that was so thick with blankets and comforters, we thought we would suffocate.
"I feel like we're home," Lisa said to the lady as we shuffled into the kitchen and sat at the table to enjoy our choice of tea or instant coffee. The lady smiled and commented that she wells with a great satisfaction when Americans stay and feel at home with a good English breakfast.
"Oh, but, we had SO much great food in Italy, France and Portugal. Gosh, the risotto, cheeses, grilled sardines...there was SO much wonderful cuisine on the continent," we continued, "but, to have eggs, bacon, potatoes, coffee...WOW! This is even BETTER than home after all the European fare."
"Oh now, you're being too kind," our hostess feigned,"we're just simple country folk, you know..."

"That may be," Lisa countered, "but, we cherish the beauty of simplicity done right!"
"Speaking of 'simplicity'...remember that onion soup with truffles in the Dordogne valley of France? That was exquisite..."

Our endearing, maternal hostess rose, clearing our empty plates with a huff,
"Bloody French..." she muttered and dropped them into a soapy sink.

Here's a recipe that is sure to inspire admiration and not scorn...

French Onion Soup (serves 8-10)

8 Onions, yellow, med, sliced (not rings!)
2 ribs Celery, diced
1/4 C. Cooking oil, (olive, canola, duck fat, whatever!)
1/4 C. Garlic, chopped
1T. Thyme, fresh, chopped
2 Bay Leaf, whole
1 gal. Chicken, Beef or Duck stock (from bones puh-leez!)
8-10 bread slices, artisan stuff
8-10 slices of some kinda Swiss cheese; Gruyere, Emmantaler, etc.

Method:
Saute' onions and celery with the oil in an 8 qt. pot. As the onions cook and reduce in volume, reduce your heat so things don't get black on the bottom. We want to allow the onions to get a little bit of color, some browning, but not black (that is the bitter, unappetizing flavor). This requires constant monitoring and attention. Stir the onions, check the bottom of the pot. DON'T go out and prune three rows of vines and think all will be well. It won't! Cooking the onions is a chemical process: we convert starches of the onion to simple sugars by way of heat. These simple sugars caramelize and give us the wonderful color for onion soup.
Now add the garlic, thyme and bay leaf. Cook for an additional 2 minutes. Add the stock and bring to a boil. Scrape the bottom of the pot with your wooden spoon to cajole the remnant bits of 'onion sugar' from the bottom.
Reduce to a simmer for 2 hours.
When ready to serve, adjust salt to taste. Ladle soup into bowls and serve with a crusty, cheesy, toasted slice of bread on top.

The savory character of the stock marries with the natural sweetness of caramelized onion sugars. Fresh herbs make it garden simple.

The 'Bloody French' have got it goin' on with this classic preparation.

Just add lotsa wine...

Take care, and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

God bless, Chef BQ.

Bones and Brew

2008-02-06T10:16:00.000-08:00

It's chilly here in Portland this time of year. The warm rain gives way to windy, bitterly cold days that turn the mud into concrete-like adobe. The airstream dips down from the Arctic and blows our moderate, rainy Northwest into central California.

This is the kind of weather relatives down south reserve for the wilds of Lake Tahoe and the Donner Party. For those not familiar with California history, the Donner party were a group of pioneers who got stuck by early snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains and, well, ran out of regular food. They ended up using 'seasonal and local product.'

Could you imagine that, having to make a meal of a travel partner? Gosh, you'd have to cut away the fanny pack and Bermuda shorts; and who'd want to pull those sandels off?! Jeez, I mean how would you decide what cuts to use first? Do you go for the tender backstraps or if given some time, braise a tougher piece with lotsa flavor?

I think I'd probably opt for the veggie entree'; some tree bark and fiddlehead ferns with a splash of pure, mountain water...

Back in Oregon, the dry, frosty air of January and February lends the palate to rich, substantial flavors. Hearty reductions, marbled meats and earthy root vegetables beckon us to ladles and deep bowls. This is real, down-home, comfort food weather.

I came home one day and as I set foot in the back porch mudroom, the soothing vapors from a pot of chicken stock warmed my senses. As I unravelled a scarf, dropped a cap on a hook and hung up two layers of fleece, the gentle, savory aromas drew me closer to the source. There on the stove top sat a tall pot with a raft of chicken bones softly simmering along with onion, carrot and celery ends. Sprigs of winter thyme sprouted from within this delicious elixir. I hovered over the pot and drew deep breaths; it was like eating the air.

"So, what's for dinner?" I asked Lisa as we kissed, "This smells GREAT!"

"Well, it's kind of a Smorgy-Bob's," she stated. If it's an assortment of things from meals past, then it's a smorgasbord in our house.

"So, more to the point, WHEN'S dinner?!" I pleaded.

"Call the guys and we'll get started. Brendan, can you set the table?" the chef ordered.

"Whoa, somethin' smells good," exclaimed our tablesetter as he came up from the boy-cave downstairs.

As Pat and Liam pounded up the stairs, they too seemed pleased at Mom's choice.

"Dude, this must be Ninja Soup...'cuz it's kickin'," Liam joked with Patchy, giving him a Roger Moore judo chop and side kick.

Lisa had placed an array of bowls on the kitchen counter with everything from wild and basmati rice to broccoli and carrots. Some flat noodles occupied one bowl and sliced chicken was in another. Nine bottles of hot sauce lined the counter waiting for adolescent boys to challange one another. We ladled up piping hot broth over each unique bowl and gathered at the table.

"Mom, this is amazing, it's like better than what it's supposed to be," mused Patrick.

"Good chicken stock is the key. It's basically just bones and water," followed Lisa, "Good things have to simmer, though. You have to allow simple things the time to become great."

Here's a shot of medicine for your winter blahs...

Chicken Soup with Goodies

1 Chicken, deboned, meat reserved
4 qts water, cold
1 celery heart
2 carrots, cut in 1 inch pieces
1 onion, quarterd
few thyme sprigs
1 bay leaf

Method:
Place all (except chicken meat) in a 6qt pot and place on medium heat. Bring to a boil and immediately reduce to a simmer. Save all your skin and add to the bones for the stock.
Now, cut your chicken meat up into fork sized pieces and saute' with canola or olive oil. Be sure to get a little color on the meat; tastes better and doesn't look anemic.
Now comes the fun part: begin scavenging around your fridge for 'submersables;' things that will dwell nicely in the bottom of a bowl of broth. Look for veggies like onions, celery, carrots, cabbage, radishes or broccolli and cauliflower. Proteins to include: sausages, chicken, beef strips, salmon, shrimp. Herbal possibilities are: fresh basil, cilantro, mint, thyme or lemon grass.
The idea is to use what you have on hand; we ALL have stuff in our fridges that will wither away because they are the last of the bunch.
So, gather your goodies from 'Fridge Forraging', dice them, slice them and place them on a large tray or in separate bowls. Let the family create their own bowls and then ladle the steaming hot goodness over their creations. Finish with a squeeze of lime, pinch of kosher salt or a dash of Sriracha hot sauce!

Honest to Pete, the kids just LOVE it!
Give it a shot and lemme know of your successes.

Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."
Chef BQ.

Fanta, Cabbage and Peanuts

2008-02-04T11:20:00.000-08:00

My wife, Lisa, had returned to our home just a few minutes after me. She was somewhat out of breath, the baby was crying and the kids were hungry. It was nearly 6:00 after all.

"Hey, where've you been? I thought the kids were out early today," I asked.

"Oh, yeah, they were, but, we stopped by the African family's house and we made some dinner for them," she exlpained.

Our parish has sponsored a family from Burundi at the last minute and they dropped out of the sky like an empty Coke bottle. None of us speak Swahili or K'rundi and equitorial Africa hasn't been on the TimeShare listings. Something about civil war and ethnic cleansing that can put a damper on cultural exchanges. Consequently, we weren't quite sure how our new toys worked.

Lisa figured them out, though, real quick.

"I looked up their country on the Internet and found that the base diet consists of, well...just about anything they can get. Mostly, it revolves around rice and sweet potatoes; protein if available," she followed, "Did you know that Burundi is THE poorest country IN THE WORLD?!"

Good God in heaven, she is really off the reservation on this venture, I thought. How can she go head-long into helping to relocate and acclimate folks that might as well be from Mars?!

"We went shopping today and they LOVE Fanta orange soda, unsalted peanuts and the mother wanted cabbage and fish," Lisa continued. "I showed her how to use the oven and stovetop."

I can just picture my dear bride, stirring a pot with one hand, bouncing a baby on a hip with the other. Laughing and gesturing the whole time...

"I'll get dinner going, don't sweat it. Here, let me pour you a glass of Gris," I said.

As Lisa placed our 6 month old daughter in the high chair, she told me of the elaborate menu prepared for our sub-Saharan guests.

"All I did was make a pot of Basmati rice, boiled some sweet potatoes and poured Fanta orange soda by the 2 liter bottle. You'd think it was dinner at the Benson Hotel, the way they dug in and celebrated!" Lisa took a long sip of her Pinot Gris then, requested an ice cube. "They just LOVED it!"

But for the Grace of God, so too go we, I thought.

"Here are three ice cubes, 'cause you deserve 'em," I boasted as they plopped into her stemware and clinked as we toasted. "Wow, cooking has brought us another new relationship but, I suspect we don't know what that is just yet," I concluded.

"Who knows?" Lisa followed, "One of those 8 children might find a cure for cancer, run for President or do the same thing for someone else someday."
I love it when she's right.

Thanks, Loverlu, for showing us what power, kindness and love can be found through Fanta, cabbage and peanuts.

Now, let's try another dish with peanuts, cabbage and mandarin oranges:

Pad Thai at Home (serves 6)

1 pkg Rice stick noodles, looks like fettucine, only different
1 Onion, medium, diced
2 lb chicken meat, cut to fork sized
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 carrots, peeled, halved and cut on a bias
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup coconut milk
1/2 cup peanut butter, either creamy or crunchy
2T soy sauce
1T fish sauce (found in the asian food section)
1/2 cabbabe, sliced as thin as possible, a 'chiffonade'
2 cups peanuts, ground
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
6 each mandarins or clementines, peeled and sectioned

Method:
Put a 4 quart pot of water on the boil.
Saute' the diced onions and chicken. Add the garlic and cook for
another two minutes. Add the stock, coconut milk, peanut
butter, soy and fish sauce. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer.
Simmer covered for thirty minutes and stir occasionally.
Drop your noodles into boiling water for ten minutes or till desired
doneness. When done, strain and toss with half the sauce. Arrange noodles
on plates with a bed of the crunchy cabbage underneath. Ladle remaining sauce onto
noodles and garnish plate with peanuts, oranges, and cilantro.

Wine suggetion:
--dry Gewurtztraminer
--Pinot Gris

Thanks for reading and remember:

"Food, Faith, Family and Friends...
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"

Take care and God bless, Chef BQ.

Futurama: Cooking for Tomorrow

2008-01-19T20:18:00.000-08:00

"Futurama" always makes me think of think of the 'Jetsons' cartoon from the early '60s. One day, when there are no countries and we all live in peace, treadmills will whisk us from one point to another. Bubble-top vehicles will putter along silently, transporting throngs of commuters to destinations unknown. I always wished I had a robot that combined the efficiency of a computing device with that of a gingham apron-wearing, tear-shedding, never ending grandma-hugger like 'Rosie' from that show. Elroy was lucky...
'Futurama' also brings to mind the shoe pounding Nikita Kruschev being led around by the nose by a black haired vice-president Dick Nixon at an exposition in Berlin, 1958(?), showcasing the modern conveniences available to the average, American housewife.
Appliance garages, dishwashers, microwave ovens and push-button ease made life look pretty sweet for the pearl wearing mom in heels. Scary thing is, some kitchens haven't changed since then...

The 'Futurama' about which I speak, though, has nothing to do with space suits or communists' chagrin. It has everything to do with 'Cooking for Tomorrow.' I'm talking about 'Cooking Ahead' like, preparing today for the next several days. I love my weekends for various reasons, but, one of them in particular, is spending some quality time with Frank Sinatra, a glass or two of red wine and getting intimate with mire poix (diced onions, celery and carrots; the base of French cooking) and garlic over the 1947 O'Keefe & Merritt gas stove in our home. I can roast a chicken, cook off a 5-rice blend and get a tomato sauce on the low-n-slow in an afternoon while STILL having time to bounce our new baby girl and get spit-up upon.
Is Life great, or what?!

Cooking ahead is what we do in the restaurant biz; I prepare today for tomorrow and the next day. We don't re-invent the wheel everytime we tie on the apron strings. Therefore, things are in a continual state of preparation and execution. We cook today what we may need for the next couple of days. This constant flow keeps things fluid in the kitchen and at the table. Don't mess with the flow!

Below is a quick prep item that each home should have on hand. When you have it, you use it. If you don't, you make excuses and settle for less than your best. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'...

Roasted Herb Chicken with Lemon.
1 chicken, whole
some salt, kosher
some pepper, ground
some paprika, ground
1 lemon, sliced
some herbs: thyme, rosemary and sage, whole

Method: Place chicken on a cookie sheet and sprinkle with an equal parts blend of salt, pepper and paprika from a height of 12" above the bird. This disburses the seasonings evenly. Paprika ALWAYS gives a great color to meat.
Place sliced lemons, and enough sprigs of thyme, rosemary and sage that will fit in the cavity of the yard bird into the critter. Place into a pre-heated 250 degree oven and cook till you have juices in the bottom of the pan. This signifies the extra juices of the bird are out and the protein is done. Give it the 'thigh test.' Grab the tip of the leg and pull away from the body; it it snaps back, the protein is still elastic and NOT done. If it kinda lays there, well, guess what...dinner's ready!
Now, you can serve this chicken as is...wonderful! Or, you can cool it in a window or uncovered in the fridge and pull the meat off the carcass when cold. Zip loc bags in the freezer keep things readily available. Save the meat for a chicken pasta, quesadilla or a light veggie broth with diced chicken. Reserve the bones for a pot of stock with onion ends and celery hearts with carrot tips.
Now, you have a protein ready to go for whatever dish you fancy.

The future is today, young man; not in plastics, as they said in 'The Graduate', but, in proteins. They are the foundation of our cooking. Cook ahead today and glide through your tomorrows.

Take care and God bless.
And remember: "Food, Faith, Family and Friends; the best things in Life aren't things."

Chef BQ.

Good Taste or Taste Good; "Trust the Force, Luke."

2007-12-06T19:36:00.000-08:00

Fashion, cooking and Star Wars.

"Good God in Heaven, chef, what in Blazes ties these three together?!"
Since cinn-a-bon hairdo's of Princess Leiah never caught on and food was never a part of the screenplay, well, we are doing some stretching here.
It starts with a story, like all good food recipes do...

A friend* of mine fancies himself a gourmand. He reads voraciously on the latest food and wine trends, has the income to purchase top of the line products and gadgets, lives in a trendy, loft-drenched area, still, to his credit shares generously.

My friend drops names; not of people but of brands. Kobe, Salume, Parm-Reggiano and free-range chicken pass his lips like like an IPA passes mine. I shop for available products at a good price, then combine them into something greater than just the sum of the parts. My friend will only shop where things cost more, insisting that quality follows price.

He shakes his head at me and I laugh at him.

He could plop $100 of cheese on a tray, slide out some organic, multi-grain crackers milled by a cloister of Basque virgins and slice a few Honeycrisp apples to impress a group. All this while sipping half a glass of bracing New Zealand sauvignon blanc the entire evening. People will smile and make vapid conversation.

Yours truly, on the other hand, would make a risotto with $20 of cheese, start 'em with wine and garlic asparagus in the kitchen as we hang out, and throw in a mixed green salad with a simple balsamic vinaigrette from ingredients found on my refrigerator door. We would probably use some questionable language, hug and kiss alot, laugh like hell and have a recycling pile going before we hit the dining room table!

I have actually heard my friend tell people of his amazing taste and impeccable palate, how he can sense 'bretanomyceces' in a room, even before a cork is pulled from a bottle!
He abors 'score whores' except when he is one of them, touting his latest futures purchase based on the advance copy of the online edition of Wine Spectator, Wine Advocate or Whatever-Vine publication.

Yeah, that's what I said, "Shock and Awe."

Therefore, my advise to every person with whom I speak regarding food and beverage is this: Trust your palate.

Only you are going to experience the sensation of taste in your mouth. If it tastes good to you, then it's good! So what if it came from Safeway, Albertson's or your local grocer. Who cares if you purchased the inexpensive shoulder cut, as long as you slow-cooked it and the texture became as succulent as beef cheeks!?

Truth be told, you can attempt to purchase good taste or you can work towards making things taste good.
Trust your own sense of taste while striving to make your palate a better judge of taste.
Listen to your culinary guardian angel, perched on your apron collar who speaks to you just as Obi-wan-kanobi whispered to an aspiring young Jedi, "Trust the Force, Luke."

*(may be one person or an amalgam of personalities. Let's just call it a literary device.)

OK, let's get cookin'...

Baked Salmon with Hazelnut Crust

(serves 4 peeps)

I love this preparation because people think you've gone to Hell an' back...

Ingredients:

1/2 cup Hazelnuts, toasted and ground, Willamette valley

1 Cup bread crumbs, seasoned

sprinkle kosher salt and ground black pepper

5 oz. salmon filet, make 4 of these (that's one per person...)

2 Tbls Blackberry jam (marionberry in Oregon)

4 oz. vegetable stock, Pacific Foods (in Oregon)

1 stick salted butter, cut into 8 cubes, still hard!

Method:

Pre-heat your oven to 4-bills (400).

Take your bread crumbs and ground hazelnuts to the food processor for a little "get acquainted" session. Let 'er rip! Don't get too crazy; we want crumbs not hazelnut butter.

Place in a mixing bowl when finished.

Spray each filet with aerosol oil (PAM) and toss with the crumb mixture. Toss, toss, toss.

Now, with the delicacy of a nun on May-Day, place the filets on a cookie sheet and launch into the 400 degree oven.

God, this is such a no-brainer...!

Grab a 2 qt. sauce pot and add the jam and stock to it. Place on medium heat. Once it has come to a boil and all is incorporated (looks the same), begin to whisk in your cubes of butter on low-medium heat.

When all are 'incorporated', and look like creamy-style purple stuff, you are done!

Remove salmon when the flesh feels like the skin between your thumb and index finger pushed together (taught, the protein is set, not squishy...)

Moral of the Story: Trust your palate! You are your own best judge.

...and remember:

"The Best Things in Life Aren't Things."

Take care, Merry Christmas and God bless, Brian.

Wing Tips or Turkey Tales...

2007-11-18T20:12:00.000-08:00

When I give table manners classes to children, the first question I ask is if anyone gets together for a big feast on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Invariably, a hand from each member of the group of 8-12 year olds shoots into the air.
"Why, " I ask, "are these such special days for our families?" The responses are as varied as they are honest.

"I love the gravy and mashed potatoes..."
"My grandparents always come over..."
"The house smells so good ALL DAY LONG!
"We always laugh and hug alot..."

Wow, from the mouths of babes. I never hear about gifts or vacations, money or clothes. Children remember EXPERIENCES and tell us all the time what it is that's important and memorable to them. They recall the feel of the tablecloth mom unfolds for special occasions, drinking from a glass with a stem that has sparkling cider bubbling away and writing their names on steamy kitchen windows.

As adults, we recant stories with friends at work about Holiday gatherings of years gone by. We reminisce how the memory of an aroma brings us instantly to a precise moment in an exact location. I can smell the sage scented steam eminating from the overdone bird at my grandmother's house sitting in a pan on the luxurious electric range top. My mom is at a burner loosening stubborn bits from the bottom of the roasting pan with a slotted spoon and half a bottle of dry Vermouth. This was the humble beginning of a gravy that you could put on a chunck of bread and make a meal. On the table, I looked at it as Liquid Gold in the gravy boat. There was more intense, concentrated flavor in that piece of porcelain than on the rest of the table combined. Not a slight on the meal, this is just fact.

We recall with crystal clear specificity those feasts that really helped to define who we are as parents and families. The Love that enveloped us as children, just like the permeating aroma of roast turkey on Thanksgiving, needs to be shared and passed on to our next generation. The preparation of food, dining together and the service to one another provide us with that monumental opportunity.
So, let's get cookin'...

With the proximity of Thanksgiving, I begin to get lots of calls for a quick tip or two. So, this week I will endeavor to throw out some common sense pointers on elevating your Thanksgiving game in the kitchen.

Fresh Cranberry Relish

This is as easy as making a milk shake in the Cuisineart.
Take a 1lb. bag of fresh cranberries, place them in the CuisineArt and add,
Juice and zest (the pithless peel) of oh, I dunno...8 Mandarins or Clementines (little bitty oranges), add
1 cup of sugar for starters...you may like it a bit sweeter, who knows...now,
Blast Away!

The sugar dissolves in the juice, the juice keeps the color bright red AND you have a WONDERFULLY fresh tasting relish for the table that doesn't have the Rings of Saturn etched in the sides (like the canned, demi-cylinder we saw in our childhood).

Sweet Potatoes

Now, this is so easy and the flavors are clean and unmuddled. My kids like these potatoes at breakfast, but, we save them for special occasions.

Take 5 lbs of Sweet Potatoes (not Yams, there is a difference) and peel them. Cut them into thumbnail-sized cubes ('guy' thumbnail sized, not 'LaQui'isha' size nails from down at the bo'teek) and push them into a pot of boiling water. We want to barely cook them; till they are just fork tender and NOT sluffing off into the water.

In a small sauce pot, place two sticks of salted butter and bring them to a boil. Look and listen, here. We want to boil the water out of the butter and get those remaing milk solids to get 'toffee scented' by browning. When you smell the toffee and see the browning, throw in a handful for freshly chopped sage and listen to it go "Whoosh!" as it releases water into the browned butter and infuses the liquid. Remove from heat.

Get a large saute' pan (12 inches or two-10 inch) nice and hot. Add enough canola oil to cover the bottom of the pan and add sweet potatoes to be a thickness of two deep in the pan. Let them get brown and crispy one on side before giving them a shake. Once done, remove to a waiting metal bowl and keep warm till all the potatoes are saute'd. At that point, toss them with Romano Pecorino cheese (the real Eye-talian kind!) and the browned butter.
You will think you have died and gone to Heaven! (I am told this is served at the Pearly Gates; St. Peter likes the play on saltiness (fisherman!), sweet and savory.

That's it for now. I hope these tips are put into use and we are all successful on Thursday.

Remember, "Food, Faith, Family and Friends; the Best things in Life aren't things."
Take care and God bless, Chef BQ.

Cooking with Your Eyes Closed...

2007-11-11T21:34:00.000-08:00

Wow...thanks to my fourteen year old son, I can now write in a much more user friendly format. Thanks Patchy!

My mission with this blog is to encourage more people to cook and dine together as friends, family and neighbors.

When we endeavor to do this, we will in some small way make our homes, neighborhoods and cities better places. And isn't that our goal in Life, to leave this place in better shape as having "run the race" and been responsible stewards? Not only can we build for a cultural future, we can have one heckuva great time getting there!
Sure, we could get all warm and fuzzy watching 'Grease' from under a quilt with a bowl of popcorn,but, nothing beats the blissful beating of a heart warmed by a Black Bean soup with Andouille Sausage.
What can compare to the euphoria found with a slice of freshly baked bread slathered with homemade Apricot Jam?
How do we put a price on that jar of homemade pickles you made with your son and then decided who could be worthy recipients of such gifts?

Cooking for others makes YOUR body, YOUR heart feel good. I've always felt is some way 'guilty' for deriving such satisfaction, such blissfilled peace in my cooking. Yeah, they get to eat but, I get to COOK! Perhaps it is the pleasure of providing service to someone, a loved one. We could buy clothes for each other and feel just as rewarded, right? We could give them a check for $500 and dial-in the exact soul gratifying feeling of love, right?
Can't we just take them out to a fancy, expensive restaurant, eat and drink to our appetites content, tip the server extravagently and whisk away without the dishpan hands?

Nope. Nuh-uh. Nahhhh...

Nothing comes close to the feeling of completeness to be found cooking for someone, a guest, a loved one.

"But Chef, why the hell should I go to the trouble of sourcing food, schlepping it home, getting the kitchen all hot and make a mess only to have people eat as fast as humanly possible and leave?!"

Excellent question and the answer is as easy as pulling a cork: Because cooking and dining together are cornerstones of every culture, every race on every continent and have been so since man first crawled out of the muck.

Cooking is more important than:

--any movie to be seen or any episode of 'Grey's Anatomy' (Ugly Betty is close, very close).

--fleeting, adolescent sports fame

--the latest auto fascination

--your next fantasy kitchen remodel.

The time taken by one to carefully prepare a dish, either simple or complex, is an outward sign of affection, respect and selflessness. And dang, doesn't THAT feel good?!

A first recipe to be prepared on the Chef BQ Blog is so easy, you'll be cooking with your eyes closed! Honest!
OK, OK, I'm sure you all have some doubts about skill level and that kinda thing. I'm here to tell you, everyone can do this AND everyone will succeed. Guarenteed.

Awright, here goes...first a couple of interview questions; just to see if you think you can do this. Can you:
1) turn an oven to the 275 degree mark
2) shake seasonings from a little glass dispenser onto a piece of meat 6 inches away?
3) safely deploy oven mitts (hint: they're easier than gloves).
4) chew your food with your mouth closed?

If you've answered all of the above in the affirmative, welcome to the kitchen. If not, well...get out the Etch-a-Sketch and wear a helmet the rest of your life.

Slow-cooked Beef Short Ribs with Chinese 5-Spice

Ingredients:
5 lbs. Beef Short ribs.
2 Onions, medium, sliced
3 celery ribs, cut on bias
3 carrots, medium, cut on bias
10 cloves, garlic
1 ginger knob, thumb-sized, sliced
1 qt. chicken stock, Pacific Foods
1 lb. fingerling potatoes, whole
1 1/2T Chinese 5 Spice (most large grocery chains carry it).
1T Kosher salt (chef's choice)

Method:
Brown the beef ribs in a skillet or saute' pan with enough oil to cover the bottom of the pan. We want to get a little crispiness on the meat. If it' smoking it's too hot, if you don't hear a sizzle when you gently place the meat in the oil, then it's too cold. Medium heat ought to do 'er. Used to tell the cooks, "If you ain't hearin' it, you ain't searin' it!"
As the meat is searing, line the bottom of a covered roasting pan with the sliced and diced veggies, ginger and 5 Spice. Place your Fingerlings (cut to fork-size pieces) over the veggies and finish with the gorgeously browned short ribs. Pour the quart of Chix Stock over the meat, pop it with your kosher salt, place the lid on the pan, give it a goodnight kiss and into the preheated (275) oven she goes.
In at 10 p.m., out at 6 a.m.
You will arise to the aroma of a house that smells like a home: garlic, ginger, braised beef...Yay-yus!!!

When you take the pan out, use a slotted spoon to remove all the meat, potatoes and any vegetables that are still hanging out. Place them on a cookie sheet to cool, then refrigerate till dinner. Use ziploc bags if you like. The broth is wonderful and can be placed in a bowl in the fridge. Once it cools, skim the fat off the top and reheat the liquid for a light snack with noodles, fresh greens or use it as the base for your Short Ribs as dinner. Serve up in a nice, big bowl.

Whatever you do, DON'T eat alone. That would be a tragedy.
Call someone to join you or gather the family.
And remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends; the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"

God bless, Chef BQ.