"Why did we agree to do this, it's a helluva lotta work...?" I wondered out loud.
Lisa and I were going over the menu for the upcoming St. Patrick's Day Festival put on by our Parents-In-Partnership Club (the PIPS) at St. Agatha Catholic School and the load of feeding 600-800 people was weighing a tad heavy on a busy couple. With kids. With work. The litany of excuses came like a torrent as to why we didn't need to do this anymore. Hell, we started the damned thing 16 years ago as a corned beef and cabbage dinner in the parish hall, only to watch it grow with bagpipers, a neighborhood parade route and motorcycle cops. Then, the parents club took it for a few years and made it a fundraising event. It was Big Time now with tents, thick electrical cords for the bands, tokens and T-shirts! You know it's reached another level when cash is not accepted at food and drink stations. A 5K Fun Run even made it healthy, fer chrissakes!
"Look at it this way, we're back where we belong after a five year hiatus, the food will be GREAT, and it's Siobhan's turn to really experience a proper St. Paddy's Day, local event," Lisa assured me. Our older kids all have great memories of marching in the parade, helping in the kitchen and having one generally fantastic day. I think.
Oh God, I thought, "it's for the children..." Well, that pretty much locks it down then. So, "in for a penny, in for a pound," as the adage goes, we ordered our food products and began the roller coaster ride that is planning, ordering, preparing and executing a successful food event. Siobhan being only six and in the first grade guaranteed another 8 years of the Lisa and Brian Cooking Show. I will be 61 when she graduates 8th grade.
Good Lord.
Two hundred pounds of corned beef began a 24-hour cooking cycle in our home on Wednesday for a Saturday meal. Thanks again to neighbor Tony for the commercial oven install that allowed three briskets to be braised every twelve hours (225 degrees; we'll talk tender later) with all the ease of cooking at work. The boys had to be beaten back with the wooden Tomato Sauce Paddle several times to prevent product loss. Shepherd's Pie filling for 200 was done on the Crab Boiler on the back deck and cooled in buss tubs. Sausage Rolls, 700 of them, had to be hand rolled. We made enough to fill the food stations and planned on having leprechauns do the rest on Saturday.
Hot dogs, 400, were a no-brainer and the idea of cutting the corned beef for the sandwiches with crispy cubed potatoes was a stroke of genius.
"How are you feeling about this so far?" I asked Lisa on Friday night.
"Good, this feels really good. We're prepped, have a good plan for tomorrow and we have volunteers," she said breathing a sigh of relief.
Saturday morning found us walking into the Hall at 8:00. The tents were ready, but, empty except for parent volunteers making last minute arrangements. The principal was dumping ice onto 12 kegs of beer, Bonnie was zipping about on her Razor scooter and my Loverlu was walking the field of battle, surveying her plan of attack; moving a table here, checking hot boxes there, and getting psyched for the onslaught to come. There were still 4 hours before the official step-off, but, preparation cannot be too soon.
As I pulled sausage rolls in puff pastry out of the oven, we checked them and agreed, "This is gonna work well..." Shepherd's Pies, Corned Beef, Yukon Gold Potatoes, Whole Grain Mustard Sauce and Twice-Backed Potatoes all got the Lady's approval and were staged by 11:00.
People we've never seen began arriving. Green curly wigs, people in white long sleeved shirts and vests, pipers on the church steps tuning their drones, Portland Police lining up to escort the parade, firefighters in their turnouts, fire trucks, lights, sirens, a guy selling helium balloons in the shape of pets on a string...it was like walking into a Moroccan bazaar. The convergence of humanity was staggering.
Lisa and I chuckled.
"This is pretty cool..." We held hands, giggled again, had a smooch.
"Ready to go?" she asked, "The kitchen's good?"
"Hell yes, let's do this!" I followed.
We didn't look up for the next three hours as bands played, food flew out of the kitchen to outside tents, friends popped in to congratulate and re-hydrate us, tempers flared temporarily and our Altar Society ladies shuffled in, one by one, for a hug and a kiss.
"This is what it's all about," I thought, "People getting together, having a drink, listening to a tune, sharing a meal and a hug. Maybe even having a spin on the dance floor." An old Okie oilfield buddy used to say, "They was all there: eight to eighty, crippled, blind and crazy!"
Indeed, we had every walk of life present including some of the local homeless. All having a grand time.
At one point, I was able to leave the kitchen and take a 10 minute break to fire up a cigar and check out the party. A middle aged man with a dog on a leash came up to me and while his dog watered the tree next to us, leaned over and whispered while looking away,
"Are you the guy with The Sauce? I heard you're the guy that makes The Sauce."
He was referencing our published Tomato-Fennel Sauce featured at the annual Knights of Columbus Spaghetti Dinner held every October.
"What are you looking for, what quantities?" I asked, looking away from him, poking the grass with my toe.
"I got some from you last year at the Christmas Bazaar and I ran out. You got some?"
"Maybe..." I teased him, "But, it'll take me a coupla weeks before it's ready. Can you wait"
"Yeah," he said, "How do I contact you?"
"What mass you go to? I'm at the 10:30; meet me in the Hall afterwards for coffee and donuts..."
He nodded, gave his dog a click from his mouth and off they strolled.
You can't make this shit up, I thought, shaking my head and taking a good, long draw off a brilliant Honduran cigar.
People are people; we are wonderful at times, pains at others, but, seeing a friend you haven't seen in a year or two is restorative. Parents that sent their kids to St. Aggie's and have fallen off the radar, "C and Es" we call them; only to be seen at Christmas and Easter showed up. Hopefully, this event will help them to reconnect not just with old pals, but, with something much more important: their Faith.
This is why we cook: we are called to serve one another through the kitchen, with a plate, a knife and fork or even with a hug in the Parish Hall. We provide an edible catalyst that buds new friendships, maintains current relationships and restores old ones.
It's Family.
We are a Faith Community and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Take Care, God Bless and Remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things."
chefbq.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Cooking with Gas...Finally!
Have you ever known a mechanic whose family cars never seemed to run real well? How about the landscape guy whose front yard looks like Green Acres? The construction contractor whose home is forever in remodel mode? How does that happen, I mean, is there such a disconnect between career and home that the two seem to be oddly divergent?
Actually, I understand completely from first hand experience. You see, a chef being married to another chef isn't all Martha Stewart garden parties and putting the 'Bam!' in the evening meal. It seldom is. Just like every other household where both parents work, putting on an evening meal is a challenge. A challenge made even more so when the stove top and oven are '60s vintage, wacky-wired pieces of culinary dysfunction.
Was preparing a meal recently when another coil burner went on the fritz. I slammed the pan down as the buzz of an electric arc shorted out my mid-saute' endeavor.
"Son-of-a-bi..." I fumed.
"Da-DEEE!", warned my 6 year old daughter, "DON'T say that BAD word!" Siobhan was creating another work of art on the grocery list dry erase board when the equipment failure and Dad's subsequent expletives flared up.
"...Gun!" I followed, giving Siobhan a glance over my reading glasses, "Gun, I was going to say Gun."
"Nuh-uh, I know what you were going to say, 'cuz you say it ALL the time when you get mad," she noted.
"Can you pick me up and pretend that you're dropping me? And catch me when I almost touch the ground?" she queried, "You NEH-verrr play with me, come on, it's been TWO DAYS!...," as she pulled my hand away from the pan and onto her hips. With a giggle fueled launch, she was touching the ceiling then nearly dropped to the floor.
"Do it a-GAIN, daddy!" she squeeled.
I was immediately in a better mood.
We had acquired a gently used Viking 6-burner gas range with convection oven from a contractor friend a while back and had it sit in the garage for two years during two home improvement projects of greater priority. Once the basement was redone, it was noted that the panel and home needed to be rewired and updated. The recent reduction from 4 electric burners down to ONE, however, provided the impetus for us to move on the new stove. Maybe it was the night when our Chinese exchange student, Chuyang, aka 'Fred', came out on the back deck one night and asked,
"Mistah Kween, why ah you kooking ow-sigh?" Squatting over my crab boiler burner, I was sauteing up a stirfry in a 12" pan. Sweet peppers, onions, pork, and sausage with thin slices of ginger sizzled away as Fred noted,
"Een my country, pee-po kook like this ow thee time," he continued, fueling laugh lines from Brendan and Liam.
"Yeah Dad, you look like the dudes on the sidewalks in Hanoi only you should have like a lit cigarette dangling from your mouth," chided Liam.
"Nuh, nuh, nuh...the country side outside Beijing," snorted Brendan, "and you need flip-flops!"
Both boys spoke from first hand experience having travelled to these counties in past summers with our former exchange students.
Heckle and Jekyl continued to crack each other up at my expense until dinner was ready.
Flippin' comedians, we have our share in the Quinn household, but, they were right. It was time to get that range in the house ASAP! This is ridiculous having a home with two chefs cooking like 3rd world street vendors. Fortunately, we found out during trick or treating with our little girl, that our neighbor Tony happens to do home remodels. After a pair of meetings, he committed to getting it done in a couple of weekends at the 'Brother-in-law' price.
With very little assistance and the suggestion of "You can help best by just staying outta my way," he had it knocked out in no time. Gas line, 220V plug for the oven, stainless hood, it was all there and working! A quick once-over with the shopvac and you could hardly tell he had been there.
I stood there looking at it. Wow, it's just like at work, only better. Flicking a knob, the electric ignitor sparked a steady blue flame to life. Then another, then another till all burners were raging. I chuckled, then, looking around like a kid getting caught playing with fire, shut them down quickly. Placing a 10" saute pan over a flame, I watched as the underside became enveloped by this evenly distributed, perfectly blue heat source.
"This is how Life is supposed to be," I thought, "I can now live to the fullest intent of the Creator..."
"So, when's dinner ready," asked Liam, bombing through the front door from the gym, "WHOA...DUDE! It's working! Niiiicccce..." he added seeing the finished project in place and functional.
"Soon," I offered, "and it's going to be a stir-fry."
"Sweet, ahma take a shower...," Liam hollered as he headed down the basement steps.
As I was saute'ing vegetables and strips of beef, I began to kick my self for not making this change sooner. All the parts were there, it was just a failure to launch. "Never have the time, it'll be too expensive for us right now, the inconvenience will be unbearable..." There was a litany of excuses including the basement and wiring projects, however, in hindsight, we could have piggy-backed the stove onto one of the other projects and just dealt with it!
The rice cooker 'dinged' me out of that thought stream to indicate the sticky rice was ready. A few more flips of my saute' pan and we were in the home stretch. Brendan arranged plates on the kitchen counter ( I prefer to dish up and garnish the plates) and scooped a portion of gleaming white, short grain rice onto each plate. Dad followed with veggies and beef steaming an ambient aroma of ginger, peppers and Hoisin sauce. Sprig of cilantro over the top.
All were called to the table, plates were placed immediately as the heady vapors continued to waft gently from each dish.
A blessing was said.
"Nice...ow-ow-OW-OW-OW...good stuff...mmmmMMMM!" were some of the immediate comments. The plates were colorful, healthy and piping hot. A stir-fry is a perfect way to clean out the crisper section of your fridge, too. What do you do with half and onion, two carrots and a partridge in a pear tree before it goes South and you give it the pitch? Combine all with a remnant protein and soy sauce based condiment, then, create!
"I'm LIKIN' that new stove, Dad," Liam said as he stretched back in his chair. And in his best Vietnamese accent followed,
"Now, yew no-mo koo ow-sy. Yew very RICH man!"
Indeed, rich in family with all the laugh lines and whoopy cushions that follow.
Beef and Vegetable Stir Fry: serves 8
2C Rice, white short grain
3C Water,
pinch Salt
2 Onion, medium, sliced
3 Carrots, sliced
4 Celery ribs, sliced
1 Ginger, fresh, thumb-sized piece, sliced paper thin
any Vegetable remnants: sweet peppers, spinach, kale...
2lbs Protein: beef, chicken, pork, fish, cut in fork-sized pieces
1/4C Soy based sauce: Hoisin, Plum or the like.
1C Water
Method:
Rice...place rice, salt and water in a small rice cooker. If you don't have one of these, go to an Asian market and buy one. They are cheap (less than 20 dollah), easy to clean and beyond useful.
Stir-fry...place a large (9" or better) saute' pan or wok on a burner and let 'er rip on high for about a minute. Add a small amount of cooking oil to just coat the bottom of the pan and carefully add the sliced onions. Shake to prevent sticking and add the celery, carrots and ginger once the onions are beginning to get some nice brown color. After 3 or 4 minutes, turn out the veggies into a mixing bowl and set aside. Return the pan to the burner and re-heat for 30 seconds. Add a small amount of cooking oil and carefully slide the protein into the pan. Don't pile it up; you want all the protein to make contact with the pan and just leave it alone for a couple minutes. This is allowing the meat to get some color by the caramelization process of the high heat. If things are moving too quickly for you (there's smoke!), reduce your heat to a comfortable level. With a metal spatula or tongs, turn the meat to sear on the other side. Once meat is done, return veggies to the pan, add soy-base sauce, water and a lid if you have one. There might be some scary sounds coming forth (steaming), but, be strong! Have Faith! This is what it's supposed to do. Give it a couple flips with a spatula to blend all ingredients and scoop onto the shiny white rice on the plates.
I love to incorporate leafy greens like kale, chard or spinach to add texture and great nutrients. It's neat too, to see the brothy sauce fall through the rice and pool on the plate, YUM! Those little grains of rice working like miniature sponges for all that flavor!
It's exciting, exotic, nutritious and hits a perfect price point: cheap.
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."
chefbq.
Actually, I understand completely from first hand experience. You see, a chef being married to another chef isn't all Martha Stewart garden parties and putting the 'Bam!' in the evening meal. It seldom is. Just like every other household where both parents work, putting on an evening meal is a challenge. A challenge made even more so when the stove top and oven are '60s vintage, wacky-wired pieces of culinary dysfunction.
Was preparing a meal recently when another coil burner went on the fritz. I slammed the pan down as the buzz of an electric arc shorted out my mid-saute' endeavor.
"Son-of-a-bi..." I fumed.
"Da-DEEE!", warned my 6 year old daughter, "DON'T say that BAD word!" Siobhan was creating another work of art on the grocery list dry erase board when the equipment failure and Dad's subsequent expletives flared up.
"...Gun!" I followed, giving Siobhan a glance over my reading glasses, "Gun, I was going to say Gun."
"Nuh-uh, I know what you were going to say, 'cuz you say it ALL the time when you get mad," she noted.
"Can you pick me up and pretend that you're dropping me? And catch me when I almost touch the ground?" she queried, "You NEH-verrr play with me, come on, it's been TWO DAYS!...," as she pulled my hand away from the pan and onto her hips. With a giggle fueled launch, she was touching the ceiling then nearly dropped to the floor.
"Do it a-GAIN, daddy!" she squeeled.
I was immediately in a better mood.
We had acquired a gently used Viking 6-burner gas range with convection oven from a contractor friend a while back and had it sit in the garage for two years during two home improvement projects of greater priority. Once the basement was redone, it was noted that the panel and home needed to be rewired and updated. The recent reduction from 4 electric burners down to ONE, however, provided the impetus for us to move on the new stove. Maybe it was the night when our Chinese exchange student, Chuyang, aka 'Fred', came out on the back deck one night and asked,
"Mistah Kween, why ah you kooking ow-sigh?" Squatting over my crab boiler burner, I was sauteing up a stirfry in a 12" pan. Sweet peppers, onions, pork, and sausage with thin slices of ginger sizzled away as Fred noted,
"Een my country, pee-po kook like this ow thee time," he continued, fueling laugh lines from Brendan and Liam.
"Yeah Dad, you look like the dudes on the sidewalks in Hanoi only you should have like a lit cigarette dangling from your mouth," chided Liam.
"Nuh, nuh, nuh...the country side outside Beijing," snorted Brendan, "and you need flip-flops!"
Both boys spoke from first hand experience having travelled to these counties in past summers with our former exchange students.
Heckle and Jekyl continued to crack each other up at my expense until dinner was ready.
Flippin' comedians, we have our share in the Quinn household, but, they were right. It was time to get that range in the house ASAP! This is ridiculous having a home with two chefs cooking like 3rd world street vendors. Fortunately, we found out during trick or treating with our little girl, that our neighbor Tony happens to do home remodels. After a pair of meetings, he committed to getting it done in a couple of weekends at the 'Brother-in-law' price.
With very little assistance and the suggestion of "You can help best by just staying outta my way," he had it knocked out in no time. Gas line, 220V plug for the oven, stainless hood, it was all there and working! A quick once-over with the shopvac and you could hardly tell he had been there.
I stood there looking at it. Wow, it's just like at work, only better. Flicking a knob, the electric ignitor sparked a steady blue flame to life. Then another, then another till all burners were raging. I chuckled, then, looking around like a kid getting caught playing with fire, shut them down quickly. Placing a 10" saute pan over a flame, I watched as the underside became enveloped by this evenly distributed, perfectly blue heat source.
"This is how Life is supposed to be," I thought, "I can now live to the fullest intent of the Creator..."
"So, when's dinner ready," asked Liam, bombing through the front door from the gym, "WHOA...DUDE! It's working! Niiiicccce..." he added seeing the finished project in place and functional.
"Soon," I offered, "and it's going to be a stir-fry."
"Sweet, ahma take a shower...," Liam hollered as he headed down the basement steps.
As I was saute'ing vegetables and strips of beef, I began to kick my self for not making this change sooner. All the parts were there, it was just a failure to launch. "Never have the time, it'll be too expensive for us right now, the inconvenience will be unbearable..." There was a litany of excuses including the basement and wiring projects, however, in hindsight, we could have piggy-backed the stove onto one of the other projects and just dealt with it!
The rice cooker 'dinged' me out of that thought stream to indicate the sticky rice was ready. A few more flips of my saute' pan and we were in the home stretch. Brendan arranged plates on the kitchen counter ( I prefer to dish up and garnish the plates) and scooped a portion of gleaming white, short grain rice onto each plate. Dad followed with veggies and beef steaming an ambient aroma of ginger, peppers and Hoisin sauce. Sprig of cilantro over the top.
All were called to the table, plates were placed immediately as the heady vapors continued to waft gently from each dish.
A blessing was said.
"Nice...ow-ow-OW-OW-OW...good stuff...mmmmMMMM!" were some of the immediate comments. The plates were colorful, healthy and piping hot. A stir-fry is a perfect way to clean out the crisper section of your fridge, too. What do you do with half and onion, two carrots and a partridge in a pear tree before it goes South and you give it the pitch? Combine all with a remnant protein and soy sauce based condiment, then, create!
"I'm LIKIN' that new stove, Dad," Liam said as he stretched back in his chair. And in his best Vietnamese accent followed,
"Now, yew no-mo koo ow-sy. Yew very RICH man!"
Indeed, rich in family with all the laugh lines and whoopy cushions that follow.
Beef and Vegetable Stir Fry: serves 8
2C Rice, white short grain
3C Water,
pinch Salt
2 Onion, medium, sliced
3 Carrots, sliced
4 Celery ribs, sliced
1 Ginger, fresh, thumb-sized piece, sliced paper thin
any Vegetable remnants: sweet peppers, spinach, kale...
2lbs Protein: beef, chicken, pork, fish, cut in fork-sized pieces
1/4C Soy based sauce: Hoisin, Plum or the like.
1C Water
Method:
Rice...place rice, salt and water in a small rice cooker. If you don't have one of these, go to an Asian market and buy one. They are cheap (less than 20 dollah), easy to clean and beyond useful.
Stir-fry...place a large (9" or better) saute' pan or wok on a burner and let 'er rip on high for about a minute. Add a small amount of cooking oil to just coat the bottom of the pan and carefully add the sliced onions. Shake to prevent sticking and add the celery, carrots and ginger once the onions are beginning to get some nice brown color. After 3 or 4 minutes, turn out the veggies into a mixing bowl and set aside. Return the pan to the burner and re-heat for 30 seconds. Add a small amount of cooking oil and carefully slide the protein into the pan. Don't pile it up; you want all the protein to make contact with the pan and just leave it alone for a couple minutes. This is allowing the meat to get some color by the caramelization process of the high heat. If things are moving too quickly for you (there's smoke!), reduce your heat to a comfortable level. With a metal spatula or tongs, turn the meat to sear on the other side. Once meat is done, return veggies to the pan, add soy-base sauce, water and a lid if you have one. There might be some scary sounds coming forth (steaming), but, be strong! Have Faith! This is what it's supposed to do. Give it a couple flips with a spatula to blend all ingredients and scoop onto the shiny white rice on the plates.
I love to incorporate leafy greens like kale, chard or spinach to add texture and great nutrients. It's neat too, to see the brothy sauce fall through the rice and pool on the plate, YUM! Those little grains of rice working like miniature sponges for all that flavor!
It's exciting, exotic, nutritious and hits a perfect price point: cheap.
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."
chefbq.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Gravy, the Lifeblood of Thanksgiving.
I remember the wine tasting days when the smarmy sales reps with a pallet of plonk to sell would slither into the restaurant and suggest serving a particular white wine, 'well chilled'; code for "this wine is awful, but, get it cold enough and the alcohol will be the only thing tasted." Great for summer dining!
When it came to food, frying or 'Cajun style' was another method employed to mask a lackluster product. A sorry piece of fish could be deep-fried and consumed with the right dipping sauce or coated with a searing blend of spices and incinerated in a piece of cast iron. Once your taste buds were sufficiently muted, you could be eating a neighbors cat and find it just as pleasurable as the swordfish advertised on the specials board.
Sauces and gravies, too, were developed hundreds of years ago to enhance the...'wholesomeness' of dubious protein sources. We've come a long way since then and with Thanksgiving right around the corner, thoughts of a sauce masking the meal are heretical. Every morsel of the menu is delectable and made even more memorable by chairs filled with family and friends. The sauce, the Turkey Giblet Gravy, is a stand-alone dish that could be featured as it's own course. Maybe not worthy of a wine glass, but, you get the idea that the gravy can be the star of the show. Actually, in our home, the gravy IS the star; all other dishes revolve around it. Call it Grav-i-ty!
Our Turkey Giblet Gravy is so critical to the day, that when we sit down, at least one child will ask if enough was made.
"We have to have some for tomorrow, ya know," Liam reminds us, "We can run out of turkey, but, coming up shy on gravy is a sin. Y'ever tried it on a sandwich cold? It's like spreading pate'..."
We even gave up on a traditional gravy boat years ago, and why not? The frustration of attempting to ration the 12 ounces of volume for one spin around the table is simply unnecessary and counter to the joy of the day. OK, we may put one down for the sake of a guest or to dust off a family heirloom, but, we will need a quart sized container in the center of the table to keep the peace and everyone in their seats for the first 20 minutes.
"So, Dad, what are giblets anyways," one of the boys asked years ago. Now, we all want to expose our children to new experiences, but, we sometimes have to use stealth and guile over the bright light of truth in selling the product. There could be some damaging glare at a young age.
"Meat bits," was the pat response, "and you like meat bits, right?"
As the boys got older and they were able to enjoy strange cuts of meat without a gag-reflex, we could let them in on the 'secret' of giblets: they are in fact the heart, gizzard and liver of a turkey. When finely diced, saute'd with onions and celery, deglazed with white wine and blended into the pan gravy, they are mystical...Oi! It just gives you the chills; 'goosebump good.'
The GREAT thing about making outstanding Turkey Giblet Gravy is that you don't need any special ingredients. No trips to stores, special equipment, or expensive books are required, just your natural powers of observation. When we do anything well in the kitchen, it behooves us to pay close attention with our senses of sight, taste and smell. We will proceed in three steps: making a thickener (a roux), making a stock, and cooking our giblets.
Ready? This is easy, fun and hugely rewarding. You could become a family legend like my mom and her gravies. I remember pretending to interview her one year in high school while she was making a pan gravy; we all laughed so hard.
And what are we making again?
Gravy, of course, but memories for sure.
Turkey Giblet Gravy, yield 1 quart
Step 1: Make the thickener, the roux (roo), by melting one stick of butter or margarine. Stir in about one cup of flour to make a wet sand texture paste. The roux should not have any dry lumps of flour in it. Set aside.
Step 2: Create the pan juices (stock). Remove the turkey from the roasting pan and set on a cookie sheet. Take 2 cups warm water, pour in roasting pan and stir with a small whisk or metal spatula to get all the little yummy bits from the bottom of the pan. Once the roasting pan has been thoroughly 'cleaned', pour contents into a 2 qt. sauce pot and set on medium heat.
Step 3: Dice the turkey liver, heart and gizzard into teeny-tiny bits, the size of a pencil eraser. Dice half a medium onion and 2 ribs of celery. Combine all in a pre-heated saute' pan and cook till onions are transparent. Set aside.
Home stretch: Add 2 cups milk to the stock, bring to a boil, and add the giblet mixture. Reduce to a simmer and add half the roux, whisking steadily off the heat. Once the roux has been dissolved, return to medium heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Adjust thickness with more of your roux if desired.
Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Cover till service.
Pretty cinchy, huh!?
This is the stuff of which legends are made.
This is when you can taste 'The Love.'
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"
chefbq.
When it came to food, frying or 'Cajun style' was another method employed to mask a lackluster product. A sorry piece of fish could be deep-fried and consumed with the right dipping sauce or coated with a searing blend of spices and incinerated in a piece of cast iron. Once your taste buds were sufficiently muted, you could be eating a neighbors cat and find it just as pleasurable as the swordfish advertised on the specials board.
Sauces and gravies, too, were developed hundreds of years ago to enhance the...'wholesomeness' of dubious protein sources. We've come a long way since then and with Thanksgiving right around the corner, thoughts of a sauce masking the meal are heretical. Every morsel of the menu is delectable and made even more memorable by chairs filled with family and friends. The sauce, the Turkey Giblet Gravy, is a stand-alone dish that could be featured as it's own course. Maybe not worthy of a wine glass, but, you get the idea that the gravy can be the star of the show. Actually, in our home, the gravy IS the star; all other dishes revolve around it. Call it Grav-i-ty!
Our Turkey Giblet Gravy is so critical to the day, that when we sit down, at least one child will ask if enough was made.
"We have to have some for tomorrow, ya know," Liam reminds us, "We can run out of turkey, but, coming up shy on gravy is a sin. Y'ever tried it on a sandwich cold? It's like spreading pate'..."
We even gave up on a traditional gravy boat years ago, and why not? The frustration of attempting to ration the 12 ounces of volume for one spin around the table is simply unnecessary and counter to the joy of the day. OK, we may put one down for the sake of a guest or to dust off a family heirloom, but, we will need a quart sized container in the center of the table to keep the peace and everyone in their seats for the first 20 minutes.
"So, Dad, what are giblets anyways," one of the boys asked years ago. Now, we all want to expose our children to new experiences, but, we sometimes have to use stealth and guile over the bright light of truth in selling the product. There could be some damaging glare at a young age.
"Meat bits," was the pat response, "and you like meat bits, right?"
As the boys got older and they were able to enjoy strange cuts of meat without a gag-reflex, we could let them in on the 'secret' of giblets: they are in fact the heart, gizzard and liver of a turkey. When finely diced, saute'd with onions and celery, deglazed with white wine and blended into the pan gravy, they are mystical...Oi! It just gives you the chills; 'goosebump good.'
The GREAT thing about making outstanding Turkey Giblet Gravy is that you don't need any special ingredients. No trips to stores, special equipment, or expensive books are required, just your natural powers of observation. When we do anything well in the kitchen, it behooves us to pay close attention with our senses of sight, taste and smell. We will proceed in three steps: making a thickener (a roux), making a stock, and cooking our giblets.
Ready? This is easy, fun and hugely rewarding. You could become a family legend like my mom and her gravies. I remember pretending to interview her one year in high school while she was making a pan gravy; we all laughed so hard.
And what are we making again?
Gravy, of course, but memories for sure.
Turkey Giblet Gravy, yield 1 quart
Step 1: Make the thickener, the roux (roo), by melting one stick of butter or margarine. Stir in about one cup of flour to make a wet sand texture paste. The roux should not have any dry lumps of flour in it. Set aside.
Step 2: Create the pan juices (stock). Remove the turkey from the roasting pan and set on a cookie sheet. Take 2 cups warm water, pour in roasting pan and stir with a small whisk or metal spatula to get all the little yummy bits from the bottom of the pan. Once the roasting pan has been thoroughly 'cleaned', pour contents into a 2 qt. sauce pot and set on medium heat.
Step 3: Dice the turkey liver, heart and gizzard into teeny-tiny bits, the size of a pencil eraser. Dice half a medium onion and 2 ribs of celery. Combine all in a pre-heated saute' pan and cook till onions are transparent. Set aside.
Home stretch: Add 2 cups milk to the stock, bring to a boil, and add the giblet mixture. Reduce to a simmer and add half the roux, whisking steadily off the heat. Once the roux has been dissolved, return to medium heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Adjust thickness with more of your roux if desired.
Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Cover till service.
Pretty cinchy, huh!?
This is the stuff of which legends are made.
This is when you can taste 'The Love.'
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"
chefbq.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Buttery Noodles, Sidewalk Chalk and El Rey del Mundo
It seems it was just a few weeks ago when the idea of a Fall season was laughable; sure September was starting, but, we were having gorgeous days in the 80's, the ground was pick axe hard, parched from an early and blazing summer. This is the year, I thought, that it wouldn't rain until Halloween. Mother Nature has a funny way about her though. The rain came a few weeks later and it came down in monsoon-like sheets for 3 days.
Still, it was an extraordinary summer season...
...a time of much anticipated vacations, well intentioned home projects, over abundant vegetable gardens, and sandy swimming suits hung over patio rails.
One of my pleasures is sitting out on the front porch, watering the lawn, smoking a cigar and listening to the end of the day. Our 50's vintage, metal shell-backed swing with nine coats of paint remains a sturdy companion, made no doubt at a time when car fenders and bumpers actually 'fended' and 'bumped.' One night especially comes to mind...
The sun had slipped past a towering laurel hedge behind me and began radiating its warm glow across to the neighbors gently bending, thirty foot stand of bamboo in front of me. The ivory and pale greens of their leaves contrasted brilliantly against the backdrop of dark and brooding cedars. Robins begin darting in and out of trees seeking an optimal roost. Siobhan had joined me with her box of sidewalk chalk, a bowl of buttery noodles and bare feet.
"Dad, what do ya want me to make you?" she asks, knowing full well what she will create, yet again.
"I dunno, how 'bout some hearts and rainbows?" I suggest.
Stick with a proven winner, me thinks, and avoid the fuss of artistic disaster. She sets her bowl of noodles down, tucks her curls behind her ears and begins the Concentric Heart Project, 9.0. She starts with a small heart of one color and makes larger and more colorful hearts to encompass each preceding one.
"That's nice, baby girl. Is that for Mom?" I ask.
"Not finished yet...!" she informs me in a sing-song voice, still on her hands and knees, horn rimmed glasses teetering on the tip of her nose.
I'm reading a book by American gastronome, James Beard, which was written in the early 60's. Picked it up at a yard sale for a buck and figured, 'what the hell.' It's a somewhat interesting collection of stories: from his childhood on the Oregon coast to European travels late in life which focus on foraging, cooking and eating. This at a time when our American culture was head-over-heels with the post-war zealotry of convenience: canned was good, frozen even better and electric was as necessary as the next ICBM. Beard wrote at length about seasonal, fresh and local foods decades before a California chef, Alice Waters at Berkeley's Chez Panisse, brought California Cuisine to American palates, shocking a nation about the importance of 'fresh' and 'local.'
"Done!" Siobhan pronounces, raising chalk-caked hands, "and it's for Mom and Tobin."
Good Lord, I think, looks like I just lost out to a first grade boy.
"Isn't he the one that's always in trouble?" I ask.
"Yeah, but, he's fun!" she assures me.
Bless her little heart, she has a crush just like I had on Jennifer Russo in first grade. I return to my book.
Beard repeated his mantra of building a cuisine from the ground up; starting with basics, creating layers of clean flavors with solid, simple ingredients. Nothing new really, the French are credited with taking notes from Italian cooks hundreds of years earlier and codifying it. And while Julia Child was wowing them for entertainment on the new TV with elaborate, French fare sporting funny sounding names, James Beard was eating crabs from the West coast, touting and tipping California wines, fishing for salmon, preparing summer greens for salads in New York and harassing every local butcher he could find. Great sauces started with carefully tended stocks, Mr. Beard would say, a delicious steak began with marbled beef and good company was essential to feeding both body and soul.
As I look down upon our daughter's creation, I realize that Siobhan's sidewalk art and our own home cooking share a common ingredient at their very essence--a heart.
Concentric hearts from inside-out illustrate how good cooking starts with fundamentals and works out...
Bonnie's buttery noodles with Romano cheese + cream and garlic = alfredo...
Alfredo + bacon and eggs = carbonara...
Art imitating Life!
I chuckle at the relation, take one last draw off my cigar and look once again at it's band that's beginning to singe...
...El Rey del Mundo...
...King of the World...
Pasta Carbonnara: serves 6
1 lb. Pasta, whatever shape you like
2 T. Cooking oil, (I use reserved bacon drippings whenever I can!)
8 oz. Pancetta (Italian style bacon) or bacon, cut to 1/2 inch slices
2 T. Garlic, diced
6 Eggs, beaten
1/2 C. Romano or Parmesan cheese, freshly grated
taste Black pepper, freshly cracked
touch Cream (optional for desired consistency)
Method:
Bring 4 qts water to a boil and add pasta. Stir occasionally to avoid sticking. Reduce to medium heat till cooked to desired doneness. While that is boiling, move to a separate burner and begin the other half of the dish.
In a large saute pan, heat oil over medium heat, then add pancetta. Cook to desired doneness (I'm not a fan of crispy bacon chips), then add the minced garlic and warm for a minute or two. "When is garlic done?" Well, it will release it's water in the form of vapor as it cooks. Don't let it get brown or crispy. Garlic is done when the water vapor has subsided. Use your powers of observation: look and listen!
When garlic is done, remove from heat, add the beaten eggs, grated cheese, black pepper and hot pasta, stirring vigorously. The eggs will miraculously cook off the burner with just the heat from the pan and pasta; coating the noodles with a decadent layer of 'sauce.'
Garnish with something green (parsley, green onions, etc) and server IMMEDIATELY!
Buon Appetito!
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life Aren't Things!"
chefbq.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
"Chicken Ain't Nuthin' but a Bird!"
"It was a dish for old Caesar,
Also King Henry the Third,
But Columbus was smart, said "You can't fool me,
A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird!"
~Cab Calloway, 1940
Don't you just love enthusiastic people? Somebody at work, a neighbor or friend at church who carries that gift of a ready smile and a positive outlook are gems that we hold dear. They can brighten our days and elevate our occasional down moods.
We look forward to seeing them.
Passionate people aren't only a subset of this same group, but more specifically, form an elite corps of radically focused true believers that can zero-in on a topic, jump up on a soapbox and preach with the fervor and conviction of a Penticostal minister. All with a smile on their lips and love in their hearts.
My friend Janice is one of these gifted individuals, especially when it comes to her beloved Southern food and Carolina roots.
Last week, I found myself at our workplace information hub: the front desk. We were scanning invoices, checking mailboxes and engaging in idle banter with other staff, when our exercise coordinator rounds the corner in full stride; matching Addidas warm-ups flying.
Janice throws a quick high five at me, then, stops long enough to ask how the weekend went with 'momma' out of town. 'Shugh' and I talk food all the time, but, Mondays usually start with a weekend, culinary adventure.
She parked her wheely cart with fitness gear and licked her lips, ready to preach. Her eyes were wide, hands were out front with palms down, barely keeping a lid on the story about to erupt. She began her sermon on a fried chicken and waffle brunch at the Screen Door restaurant with a sacred enthusiasm usually reserved to iPad devotees at an Apple store opening.
"...the collards were tinder with a little bit uh bakin, the biskeets were perfect cat hayds," her breathing quickening to a pant, "an man, that graivee, ah tell ya wut, you could pore that on a dead cat an ahd tare it UP!"
When she got to the chicken, well, I thought a spirit was about to abandon her body. 'Shugh' wiped her mouth with one hand and paused,
"Nugget, this chicken was...," she raised her hands to either measure a bass or call upon the Lord,
"...thuh most a-mazin' frahd chickin' ahve had in this town. It was hot an crispy on thuh outsahd, an steamy-juicy on thuh insahd. An peppery, too...," her voiced trailed off into that delicious memory and her body seemed to go limp from the recollection.
Fifteen years in Portland have not diminished her North Carolina accent one little, bitty, syllable and given her passion for the topic, actually enhanced her drawl the way I imagine Bourbon would...
"B-dazzle, ya'll GOT-ta go if you like real fried chicken. Yore boys are gonna dig it," she concluded, pointing at my chest, then, snapping the handle up on her carry-on luggage kit.
My boys and I followed Janice's empassioned plea and found that she actually had not oversold the experience. That weekend we were seated outside at the Screen Door Restaurant after waiting 45 minutes for a table. We could smell the fried chicken about half a block away and the four of us became giddy; poking and prodding each other like kids going to the fair.
We ordered chicken all around and sipped drinks, craning our necks to see the heaping platters of Southern Goodness coming out of the kitchen.
Finally, it was our turn.
We examined our meals and just stared, slack-jawed, at the simple home-cooked beauty. The waitress was saying something and we just kind of mumbled a reply in unison. The aromas were etherial, yet, comforting. It was the longest 7 seconds of the night.
A blessing was said.
"Ow-ow-owww, hot-hot-hot," cried Liam tearing away a piece of crispy skin and meat.
"Bacon in the collards, Hell Yes!," exclaimed Patrick.
"Whoa, check this out, it's like an aquifer of juice," Brendan informed us, displaying a golden half-breast.
Our evening was an expression of the food: we ended up talking to tables next to us, they displayed and described their desserts. Not suprisingly, each person had a tally of their visits to this fine purveyor of Southern victuals.
"This is our 7th time. You HAVE to come back for the brunch," said the two-top next to us,
"The fried chicken is skewered and presented on a waffle!"
We talked, laughed, gawked, met folks and shared stories.
Ain't that what good cookin's supposed to do?!
Janice, JJ, Shugh, whatever you want to call her, is a distinguished ambassador of home cooking and an inspiring preacher of the gospel of Fried Chicken. It may be just a bird, Mr. Calloway, but, this flightless fowl can soar given the right breading.
Amen, Sistah Janice!
Crispy Southern Fried Chicken
Ingredients;
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces (whatever pieces you like)
2 cups buttermilk
2 cups flour
2 Tbl salt, kosher
1 tsp pepper, ground
1 qt. canola oil
Method:
Place chicken pieces in a bowl and sprinkle with salt one at a time. Pour buttermilk in and mix by hand till all pieces are soaked. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, pour oil into deep sided cast iron pot/skillet and heat to 300 degrees on the stove top. Buy a high temp thermometer if you don't have one. It takes out the guess work. Remove chicken pieces from the buttermilk, one at a time, and dredge in the flour giving them a good coat. Once four pieces are ready and the oil is hot, gently slide one piece at a time into the oil. I suggest using tongs for safety. When desired color is reached, turn each piece over gently. This should take 20-25 minutes for each batch. When done, remove to a cookie rack in a pre-heated oven (200 degrees) to keep warm. Internal temp of the meat should be 160 degrees or higher.
Don't poke the chicken as it is cooking, the breading will fall off. Keep an eye on the oil temp; cast iron retains heat very well and you will probably adjust your flame down as the process unfolds.
Make a salad with your garden greens, have plenty of paper towels on hand and always make more than you will eat that night. Left-over fried chicken is like dessert!
Take Care, God bless and Remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"
chefbq.
Also King Henry the Third,
But Columbus was smart, said "You can't fool me,
A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird!"
~Cab Calloway, 1940
Don't you just love enthusiastic people? Somebody at work, a neighbor or friend at church who carries that gift of a ready smile and a positive outlook are gems that we hold dear. They can brighten our days and elevate our occasional down moods.
We look forward to seeing them.
Passionate people aren't only a subset of this same group, but more specifically, form an elite corps of radically focused true believers that can zero-in on a topic, jump up on a soapbox and preach with the fervor and conviction of a Penticostal minister. All with a smile on their lips and love in their hearts.
My friend Janice is one of these gifted individuals, especially when it comes to her beloved Southern food and Carolina roots.
Last week, I found myself at our workplace information hub: the front desk. We were scanning invoices, checking mailboxes and engaging in idle banter with other staff, when our exercise coordinator rounds the corner in full stride; matching Addidas warm-ups flying.
Janice throws a quick high five at me, then, stops long enough to ask how the weekend went with 'momma' out of town. 'Shugh' and I talk food all the time, but, Mondays usually start with a weekend, culinary adventure.
She parked her wheely cart with fitness gear and licked her lips, ready to preach. Her eyes were wide, hands were out front with palms down, barely keeping a lid on the story about to erupt. She began her sermon on a fried chicken and waffle brunch at the Screen Door restaurant with a sacred enthusiasm usually reserved to iPad devotees at an Apple store opening.
"...the collards were tinder with a little bit uh bakin, the biskeets were perfect cat hayds," her breathing quickening to a pant, "an man, that graivee, ah tell ya wut, you could pore that on a dead cat an ahd tare it UP!"
When she got to the chicken, well, I thought a spirit was about to abandon her body. 'Shugh' wiped her mouth with one hand and paused,
"Nugget, this chicken was...," she raised her hands to either measure a bass or call upon the Lord,
"...thuh most a-mazin' frahd chickin' ahve had in this town. It was hot an crispy on thuh outsahd, an steamy-juicy on thuh insahd. An peppery, too...," her voiced trailed off into that delicious memory and her body seemed to go limp from the recollection.
Fifteen years in Portland have not diminished her North Carolina accent one little, bitty, syllable and given her passion for the topic, actually enhanced her drawl the way I imagine Bourbon would...
"B-dazzle, ya'll GOT-ta go if you like real fried chicken. Yore boys are gonna dig it," she concluded, pointing at my chest, then, snapping the handle up on her carry-on luggage kit.
My boys and I followed Janice's empassioned plea and found that she actually had not oversold the experience. That weekend we were seated outside at the Screen Door Restaurant after waiting 45 minutes for a table. We could smell the fried chicken about half a block away and the four of us became giddy; poking and prodding each other like kids going to the fair.
We ordered chicken all around and sipped drinks, craning our necks to see the heaping platters of Southern Goodness coming out of the kitchen.
Finally, it was our turn.
We examined our meals and just stared, slack-jawed, at the simple home-cooked beauty. The waitress was saying something and we just kind of mumbled a reply in unison. The aromas were etherial, yet, comforting. It was the longest 7 seconds of the night.
A blessing was said.
"Ow-ow-owww, hot-hot-hot," cried Liam tearing away a piece of crispy skin and meat.
"Bacon in the collards, Hell Yes!," exclaimed Patrick.
"Whoa, check this out, it's like an aquifer of juice," Brendan informed us, displaying a golden half-breast.
Our evening was an expression of the food: we ended up talking to tables next to us, they displayed and described their desserts. Not suprisingly, each person had a tally of their visits to this fine purveyor of Southern victuals.
"This is our 7th time. You HAVE to come back for the brunch," said the two-top next to us,
"The fried chicken is skewered and presented on a waffle!"
We talked, laughed, gawked, met folks and shared stories.
Ain't that what good cookin's supposed to do?!
Janice, JJ, Shugh, whatever you want to call her, is a distinguished ambassador of home cooking and an inspiring preacher of the gospel of Fried Chicken. It may be just a bird, Mr. Calloway, but, this flightless fowl can soar given the right breading.
Amen, Sistah Janice!
Crispy Southern Fried Chicken
Ingredients;
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces (whatever pieces you like)
2 cups buttermilk
2 cups flour
2 Tbl salt, kosher
1 tsp pepper, ground
1 qt. canola oil
Method:
Place chicken pieces in a bowl and sprinkle with salt one at a time. Pour buttermilk in and mix by hand till all pieces are soaked. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, pour oil into deep sided cast iron pot/skillet and heat to 300 degrees on the stove top. Buy a high temp thermometer if you don't have one. It takes out the guess work. Remove chicken pieces from the buttermilk, one at a time, and dredge in the flour giving them a good coat. Once four pieces are ready and the oil is hot, gently slide one piece at a time into the oil. I suggest using tongs for safety. When desired color is reached, turn each piece over gently. This should take 20-25 minutes for each batch. When done, remove to a cookie rack in a pre-heated oven (200 degrees) to keep warm. Internal temp of the meat should be 160 degrees or higher.
Don't poke the chicken as it is cooking, the breading will fall off. Keep an eye on the oil temp; cast iron retains heat very well and you will probably adjust your flame down as the process unfolds.
Make a salad with your garden greens, have plenty of paper towels on hand and always make more than you will eat that night. Left-over fried chicken is like dessert!
Take Care, God bless and Remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
the Best Things in Life aren't Things!"
chefbq.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Cooking Can Be a Grind; and That's OK...
Liam leaned straight back in the metal folding chair, like a two-by-four about to slide out, his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed and directed up towards the gently swaying branches of our neighbors Doug firs.
"Dude, that was awesome...I knew it would be good, but, put together like that, it was flippin' a-MAZE-ing!"
(Burrrppp!)
Mom and Bonnie are taking a one month 'tour de California Cousins' which leaves three teenaged boys and Dad at home. Great, I thought, this'll give us time to get all those projects done that we've always had on the back burner! It'll be guy-time with plenty of father/son bonding. I had visions of circular saws whirring, nails getting beaten into boards, wheelbarrows moving dirt from point A to point B...all capped by a hearty dinner full of laughter, clinking glasses and "I LOVE you, Man!"s on the back deck. Then, Life got in the way...
Well, we lost a cook at work and I went into overtime, leaving only Sunday free.
Nuts!
Implement Plan B: Move most projects to back burner and focus on the evening meal; maybe the chicken coop could still get done.
The dinners required some forethought and pre-meal prep; walking through the front door at 6 p.m. from work didn't leave much time for a casual stroll to the dinner table.
I'd buy a load of assorted proteins, chicken, beef and pork, along with some seasonal vegetables to last us the week. The chickens were split and slow-roasted, pork went out on the smoker. The meat was then cooled, wrapped and dated for later use. The beef was reserved for a special recipe from Patrick.
Pat had a recent stint working at one of Portland's burgeoning food carts and mentioned the trend of custom grinds for each burger cart. The one that caught his attention used bacon in the ground chuck blend. Holy cow, we concluded, what could be better than richly marbled beef laced with one of God's great gifts to mankind?! A night was set for our 'Boys-Burgers-Beer' event and the necessary equipment was lined up. The 5 quart KitchenAid mixer was to be employed with grinder attachment. If for some reason you don't own this brand of mixer with crank-up handle (not the tilt-head!), run don't walk to your nearest retailer and secure one for your home kitchen. It is as essential as a sharp chef's knife, a 10" cast iron skillet and a large cutting board. Your life will change with this mixer and grinder attachment. No, I don't work for KitchenAid...
The beef used in this grind was something called 'Boneless Beef Ribs' or words to that effect. It is the beef trimmed from ribs in slabs that actually show the indentation from where the ribs used to be. The marbling of fat was like a spiderweb or fine netting; for a chef, it's jaw-dropping eye candy! We cut the slabs into 1/4" wide strips about 6" long. The strips were dusted with an off-the-shelf seasoning blend and fed into the grinder. Every other strip was paired with a slice of bacon.
(Insert angelic single note here..."ahhhh!").
The ground meat was then formed into massive oval patties to fit our pub rolls, selected for size and hearty texture, followed by the patties placed on a pre-heated grill. We kicked our heat down to 'low' since we knew the melting fat would create some flare ups.
As the burgers slowly charred on one side, Brendan sliced home made pickles, red onions and tomatoes. Liam assembled the stable of condiments: Frank's Red Hot, Sriracha, Mayo, three kinds of mustard and ketchup. Pat set up a runway of dinner plates and napkins. Tillamook extra sharp white cheddar and pepper Jack cheeses were prepared and set grillside for final approach.
"...and we're flipping!" I called out, signaling 3 minutes to cheese flaps down and beginning our glide path.
As the burgers were pulled from the grill to a side plate, Pat placed our four split rolls onto the grill for 30 seconds of toasting. Burgers and rolls were moved into the assembly area and a flurry of reaching arms created each guys personal monument.
Three of us sat on the back deck and waited for the last burger artist to complete our party.
A blessing was said.
The anticipation was palpable and I must admit, was a bit nervous about meeting expectations.
Watching and waiting those first few seconds, I found Patrick to make the first indication of satisfaction.
"Mmmm, mmm...," he groaned, his eyes slowly closing and gently shaking his head.
"Oh, oh, OH!," followed Brendan, "ee-yeah, this is in-CRED-able! You can taste the beefiness, but, you get that hint of smokiness from the bacon."
When Liam likes something he's eating, a primordial fear overtakes him that someone will steal his food if he sets it down. He looks like he's in a Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest.
"Someone tell Liam to breathe, please," I asked, "and you don't need to unhinge your jaw to enjoy this."
We laughed, shared comments on taste, texture, char, acidity, and spice. Our local jazz station softly played on an old radio as we finished, set our plates aside and took turns stretching.
"This was worth it," Brendan proclaimed, "We should make this like our special guy's meal."
It took us about an hour to prepare and 10 minutes of clean up, but, the time spent together serving one another and sharing a meal was more than just a moment.
It was a menu of friendship, fellowship and of love that we will taste with precise memory in years to come.
Is cooking at home worth all this effort? Our fifteen year old seems to think so.
Every last, delicious and memorable bit of it!
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
The Best Things in Life Aren't Things."
chefbq.
"Dude, that was awesome...I knew it would be good, but, put together like that, it was flippin' a-MAZE-ing!"
(Burrrppp!)
Mom and Bonnie are taking a one month 'tour de California Cousins' which leaves three teenaged boys and Dad at home. Great, I thought, this'll give us time to get all those projects done that we've always had on the back burner! It'll be guy-time with plenty of father/son bonding. I had visions of circular saws whirring, nails getting beaten into boards, wheelbarrows moving dirt from point A to point B...all capped by a hearty dinner full of laughter, clinking glasses and "I LOVE you, Man!"s on the back deck. Then, Life got in the way...
Well, we lost a cook at work and I went into overtime, leaving only Sunday free.
Nuts!
Implement Plan B: Move most projects to back burner and focus on the evening meal; maybe the chicken coop could still get done.
The dinners required some forethought and pre-meal prep; walking through the front door at 6 p.m. from work didn't leave much time for a casual stroll to the dinner table.
I'd buy a load of assorted proteins, chicken, beef and pork, along with some seasonal vegetables to last us the week. The chickens were split and slow-roasted, pork went out on the smoker. The meat was then cooled, wrapped and dated for later use. The beef was reserved for a special recipe from Patrick.
Pat had a recent stint working at one of Portland's burgeoning food carts and mentioned the trend of custom grinds for each burger cart. The one that caught his attention used bacon in the ground chuck blend. Holy cow, we concluded, what could be better than richly marbled beef laced with one of God's great gifts to mankind?! A night was set for our 'Boys-Burgers-Beer' event and the necessary equipment was lined up. The 5 quart KitchenAid mixer was to be employed with grinder attachment. If for some reason you don't own this brand of mixer with crank-up handle (not the tilt-head!), run don't walk to your nearest retailer and secure one for your home kitchen. It is as essential as a sharp chef's knife, a 10" cast iron skillet and a large cutting board. Your life will change with this mixer and grinder attachment. No, I don't work for KitchenAid...
The beef used in this grind was something called 'Boneless Beef Ribs' or words to that effect. It is the beef trimmed from ribs in slabs that actually show the indentation from where the ribs used to be. The marbling of fat was like a spiderweb or fine netting; for a chef, it's jaw-dropping eye candy! We cut the slabs into 1/4" wide strips about 6" long. The strips were dusted with an off-the-shelf seasoning blend and fed into the grinder. Every other strip was paired with a slice of bacon.
(Insert angelic single note here..."ahhhh!").
The ground meat was then formed into massive oval patties to fit our pub rolls, selected for size and hearty texture, followed by the patties placed on a pre-heated grill. We kicked our heat down to 'low' since we knew the melting fat would create some flare ups.
As the burgers slowly charred on one side, Brendan sliced home made pickles, red onions and tomatoes. Liam assembled the stable of condiments: Frank's Red Hot, Sriracha, Mayo, three kinds of mustard and ketchup. Pat set up a runway of dinner plates and napkins. Tillamook extra sharp white cheddar and pepper Jack cheeses were prepared and set grillside for final approach.
"...and we're flipping!" I called out, signaling 3 minutes to cheese flaps down and beginning our glide path.
As the burgers were pulled from the grill to a side plate, Pat placed our four split rolls onto the grill for 30 seconds of toasting. Burgers and rolls were moved into the assembly area and a flurry of reaching arms created each guys personal monument.
Three of us sat on the back deck and waited for the last burger artist to complete our party.
A blessing was said.
The anticipation was palpable and I must admit, was a bit nervous about meeting expectations.
Watching and waiting those first few seconds, I found Patrick to make the first indication of satisfaction.
"Mmmm, mmm...," he groaned, his eyes slowly closing and gently shaking his head.
"Oh, oh, OH!," followed Brendan, "ee-yeah, this is in-CRED-able! You can taste the beefiness, but, you get that hint of smokiness from the bacon."
When Liam likes something he's eating, a primordial fear overtakes him that someone will steal his food if he sets it down. He looks like he's in a Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest.
"Someone tell Liam to breathe, please," I asked, "and you don't need to unhinge your jaw to enjoy this."
We laughed, shared comments on taste, texture, char, acidity, and spice. Our local jazz station softly played on an old radio as we finished, set our plates aside and took turns stretching.
"This was worth it," Brendan proclaimed, "We should make this like our special guy's meal."
It took us about an hour to prepare and 10 minutes of clean up, but, the time spent together serving one another and sharing a meal was more than just a moment.
It was a menu of friendship, fellowship and of love that we will taste with precise memory in years to come.
Is cooking at home worth all this effort? Our fifteen year old seems to think so.
Every last, delicious and memorable bit of it!
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends,
The Best Things in Life Aren't Things."
chefbq.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Pencils, Angels and Pork Chops
We all grew up with sage one-liners, parroting them as children: "Save your pennies and the dollars with save themselves." --Lisa's Gram
"Don't cry over spilt milk."--my Mom
"They'll be grown and gone before you know it!"--every grandparent
And a personal favorite:
"Life gives you lemons, make lemonade."--every parent
Then around college age, we became more knowledgeable, 'wiser' and more eloquent than these trite '-isms' of our superstitious and ignorant ancestors. We may have been intelligent, but, not smarter as our own children would eventually remind us.
A few weeks back, we actually made it to the table one evening with a full house for dinner; every child present and accounted for! Once the call is made by Mom, each child that is handy, takes it upon themselves to yell for another child. Brendan yells down the basement stairs for Liam. Siobhan runs down the hall and yells for Fisher, knocks on his door and just in case he had nuclear earbuds in, she tells him that dinner is ready. Bonnie-Belle then runs over to the computer and gives Patrick a hug, whispering into his headphones that it's 'Time.' Much commotion ensues as Mom employs each attendee in a quick task.
"Quick, put this down in the center of the table."
"Put a glass at each setting; small glass, but, not a baby glass for Siobhan. She'll get mad."
"TONGS! Where the HELL are the tongs!?" Two seconds later, "FOUND 'EM!" Still out on the grill.
"Brendan, fill a water pitcher..."
Everyone gives a quick glance at the table before grabbing a chair, it all looks good we say to ourselves, and take seats.
A blessing is said.
Lisa has been doing some neat things lately with lightly dressed pastas and a variety of mixed greens. This evening, she had bowties tossed with arugula and baby spinach, crumbled feta cheese and a zippy vinaigrette. She grilled some thick cut pork chops which had been lightly rubbed with kosher salt, fresh cracked black pepper and a killer little sauce. Potatoes were quartered reds with fresh garlic and garden rosemary. It was simple, straight-forward, but, it had all of us practically falling out of our chairs.
"Whoa...MOM! What's in this PASTA...it totally rocks!" exclaimed Brendan.
"Yeah, and the pork chops are like...so grubbin'!" Liam followed.
It's nice to hear a compliment on your cooking, but, teenage boys are not that picky and will eat anything, pretty much. So, you kind of consider the source.
That night was different.
Lisa sat there taking it all in as the boys tried to guess what was so different.
"It's citrus-y," said Pat, "but, it's not tart or sour. It's not sweet, either."
"You're close, but, not quite there. Give up?" she asked. Siobhan was giggling and whispered something in Mom's ear. Lisa said, "OK."
"Meyer Lemons!" shouted Siobhan, "Mom and I picked them out at New Seasons."
Sure enough, Lisa and Bonnie had gone to the hippy grocery store after school, over by St. Agatha's and decided to find a fruit or vegetable that Siobhan had never eaten. Lisa made a lemon vinaigrette for the pasta and a Meyer lemon butter for the chops. The Meyer lemon was brought to the US in the early last century from China and is a cross between a lemon and either an orange or mandarin. The peel is thin and fragrant; the flesh is juicy with a tinge of orange.
The flavors of Lisa's concoctions were focused, lean and refreshing. The soft acidity kept the palate fresh after every bite; nothing was muddled or over-powered.
We took turns extolling the attributes of the meal from perfect grill marks to the vanilla toastiness of roasted rosemary to not liking spinach 'but in this pasta it was great.' Siobhan then got up from the table, still chewing and took a stance at the corner.
"Hey Dad, watch this!" as she stood at attention with her arms to her side.
"Pen-cil!" She then took a breath and flung her arms above her head while her feet jumped to shoulder width apart.
"Angel!"
"Pencil-Angel-Pencil-Angel...," she continued, "I learned how to do Jumping Jacks today!"
The table erupted in cheers, laughter and congratulations.
"That's GREAT, baby girl," I said, "We're so proud of you. That Mr. Kelly is a pretty good PE teacher."
Patrick grinned and smirked.
"Dinner and a Show at the Quinn house..."
Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette
2 oz. meyer lemon juice, freshly sqeezed
1/2 t. kosher salt
1/2 t. fresh thyme, chopped
1/4 t. cracked black pepper
1 egg yolk
6 oz. olive oil, extra virgin
Method:
Combine all but the olive oil in a small mixing bowl and whisk together.
Slowly pour the olive oil in a thin stream into the aforementioned mixture while whisking. Pour from the outside of the bowl and incorporate into the center of the liquid. This will aid in the emulsion or blending of the vinaigrette; it won't separate.
Brush this onto grilled meat, add to a cold pasta salad or use it for dipping. It's pretty versatile.
Have fun with this, we did.
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."
chefbq.
"Don't cry over spilt milk."--my Mom
"They'll be grown and gone before you know it!"--every grandparent
And a personal favorite:
"Life gives you lemons, make lemonade."--every parent
Then around college age, we became more knowledgeable, 'wiser' and more eloquent than these trite '-isms' of our superstitious and ignorant ancestors. We may have been intelligent, but, not smarter as our own children would eventually remind us.
A few weeks back, we actually made it to the table one evening with a full house for dinner; every child present and accounted for! Once the call is made by Mom, each child that is handy, takes it upon themselves to yell for another child. Brendan yells down the basement stairs for Liam. Siobhan runs down the hall and yells for Fisher, knocks on his door and just in case he had nuclear earbuds in, she tells him that dinner is ready. Bonnie-Belle then runs over to the computer and gives Patrick a hug, whispering into his headphones that it's 'Time.' Much commotion ensues as Mom employs each attendee in a quick task.
"Quick, put this down in the center of the table."
"Put a glass at each setting; small glass, but, not a baby glass for Siobhan. She'll get mad."
"TONGS! Where the HELL are the tongs!?" Two seconds later, "FOUND 'EM!" Still out on the grill.
"Brendan, fill a water pitcher..."
Everyone gives a quick glance at the table before grabbing a chair, it all looks good we say to ourselves, and take seats.
A blessing is said.
Lisa has been doing some neat things lately with lightly dressed pastas and a variety of mixed greens. This evening, she had bowties tossed with arugula and baby spinach, crumbled feta cheese and a zippy vinaigrette. She grilled some thick cut pork chops which had been lightly rubbed with kosher salt, fresh cracked black pepper and a killer little sauce. Potatoes were quartered reds with fresh garlic and garden rosemary. It was simple, straight-forward, but, it had all of us practically falling out of our chairs.
"Whoa...MOM! What's in this PASTA...it totally rocks!" exclaimed Brendan.
"Yeah, and the pork chops are like...so grubbin'!" Liam followed.
It's nice to hear a compliment on your cooking, but, teenage boys are not that picky and will eat anything, pretty much. So, you kind of consider the source.
That night was different.
Lisa sat there taking it all in as the boys tried to guess what was so different.
"It's citrus-y," said Pat, "but, it's not tart or sour. It's not sweet, either."
"You're close, but, not quite there. Give up?" she asked. Siobhan was giggling and whispered something in Mom's ear. Lisa said, "OK."
"Meyer Lemons!" shouted Siobhan, "Mom and I picked them out at New Seasons."
Sure enough, Lisa and Bonnie had gone to the hippy grocery store after school, over by St. Agatha's and decided to find a fruit or vegetable that Siobhan had never eaten. Lisa made a lemon vinaigrette for the pasta and a Meyer lemon butter for the chops. The Meyer lemon was brought to the US in the early last century from China and is a cross between a lemon and either an orange or mandarin. The peel is thin and fragrant; the flesh is juicy with a tinge of orange.
The flavors of Lisa's concoctions were focused, lean and refreshing. The soft acidity kept the palate fresh after every bite; nothing was muddled or over-powered.
We took turns extolling the attributes of the meal from perfect grill marks to the vanilla toastiness of roasted rosemary to not liking spinach 'but in this pasta it was great.' Siobhan then got up from the table, still chewing and took a stance at the corner.
"Hey Dad, watch this!" as she stood at attention with her arms to her side.
"Pen-cil!" She then took a breath and flung her arms above her head while her feet jumped to shoulder width apart.
"Angel!"
"Pencil-Angel-Pencil-Angel...," she continued, "I learned how to do Jumping Jacks today!"
The table erupted in cheers, laughter and congratulations.
"That's GREAT, baby girl," I said, "We're so proud of you. That Mr. Kelly is a pretty good PE teacher."
Patrick grinned and smirked.
"Dinner and a Show at the Quinn house..."
Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette
2 oz. meyer lemon juice, freshly sqeezed
1/2 t. kosher salt
1/2 t. fresh thyme, chopped
1/4 t. cracked black pepper
1 egg yolk
6 oz. olive oil, extra virgin
Method:
Combine all but the olive oil in a small mixing bowl and whisk together.
Slowly pour the olive oil in a thin stream into the aforementioned mixture while whisking. Pour from the outside of the bowl and incorporate into the center of the liquid. This will aid in the emulsion or blending of the vinaigrette; it won't separate.
Brush this onto grilled meat, add to a cold pasta salad or use it for dipping. It's pretty versatile.
Have fun with this, we did.
Take care, God bless and remember:
"Food, Faith, Family and Friends
the Best Things in Life aren't Things."
chefbq.
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