Sourdough Starter: Day 04

I walked into the kitchen this morning while getting ready for work and my mom was making a face. It was her something-stinks-in-here face. I smelled it too. She spied some ravioli on the top but she was pretty confident that ravioli were to blame. I didn'tof the trash and decided that was the source of the stink. It did smell a bit like cheese, afterall. I suggested maybe it was my vat of rotting stuff, argue.

I was pretty nervous when I saw my pitcher of goo this morning. It had really bubbled up a lot overnight and I was afraid it was going to overspill its bounds. Unfortunately, the Long Island Rail Road waits for no one, and I had no time to transfer my muck to the one-gallon vessel Silverton suggests using in the first place. I asked my dad if he would do it, or at the very least, put it on a cookie sheet or something. He put it on a dinner plate. Good enough.

When I came home from work, I saw the bubbling had subsided a bit. The volume had actually decreased slightly. Everyone kept touching the plastic wrap I had on top, so I'm not sure if the volume decreased on its own, or because of all the poking and prodding. I don't think it matters. Since I had to add another 4 ounces of flour and 8 ounces of water, I was definitely going to move to a larger container. The best I could do was a 4-liter Pyrex mixing bowl. Good enough, though I'd have preferred something taller.


I knew taking off the plastic wrap would expose us to the funky aroma, and I was kinda looking forward to it. Then I did it. I removed the wrap. Wow, was that vile smelling goo. It smelled like rotting cheese, really. And the texture was spongy, but very sticky -- not too wet

I mixed up my flour and water. My scale has the pesky habit of losing mass if you leave something on it for a minute or two. For example, when I first added the flour, the reading was precisely 4 ounces. When I went to add the water, the reading was 3 7/8 ounces. Damn! So I added flour until it read 4 1/8 ounces, then added the water to 8 1/8 ounces -- which then dropped down to 8 ounces. Beautiful. But really annoying.

I dumped the whole lot of culture into the bowl with the fresh flour and water and saw that my cheesecloth sack-o-grapes was inflated just as Silverton said it might be. That means the grapes are still actively fermenting, thus filling the bag with gas (presumably CO2 and maybe some methane). The grapes themselves were very plump -- surprising because I squeezed each grape individually when I added them to the paste. Silverton says one must add new food (flour) on day four to keep the balance between yeast and bacteria. Apparently, if one does not feed one's culture, the bacteria out-compete the yeast, which is a bad thing indeed. I'm not sure about the logic here (why don't the bacteria eat the flour also, or is it that the bacteria would gang up on the yeast with no other food source available, or something else entirely?), but I do believe it works. I trust Silverton. Bread is her life.

I mixed everything thoroughly, though I did not stick my hand in and mix everything up, swooshing around the grapes. I relied on my trusty green spatula to do that. I may have done it if I didn't think my spatula was up to the task, but I had no reason to doubt him today. He performed beautifully. Then, despite my better judgment, I licked the spatula. I made sure I was next to the sink, just in case... Well, I had an audience (just my mom -- she was both repulsed and attracted to the stink, and her curiosity got the better of her), so I dramatically licked the spatula, then flipped it over and licked the other side. Truth is, the second lick was completely unnecessary. The mixture still tastes kind of raw (although I did add fresh flour today, so it probably still should) and had a mild fruity flavor. I could definitely taste the grapes. I got a hit of alcohol, and still fish. I decided the fish must be acid -- probably lactic -- because it also reminded me of vinaigre.

I'm still really optimistic about this. I can't wait for that first loaf of bread. Though Silverton says it won't get really good until about the fifth loaf. Is that because of the culture or improved technique, or both?

Roast Chicken and Other Stories

I just finished reading this book. Yes, it is a cookbook. Yes, I read it cover-to-cover. It is the first time I've set out to do that (I think it's happened on accident before), and I'm not sure I'd do it again. More about that at a different time, perhaps.

I offer the following, as some background:

I received this book from my foodie-uncle on Christmas Eve. I was a bit over-served at the time (to put it mildly...) and I don't know if I properly displayed my gratitude and enthusiasm. Nevertheless, Uncle Steve: this post is for you (and the next one's for my homies). I know. I should never speak or write again. So anyway, he made me a lovely basket (actually, a gift-wrapped cardboard box, but it's all good) containing this book, some arborio rice, nice olive oil, a 22-year-old balsamic, white truffle oil, a spatula (although this was apparently for my sister -- something I'm still struggling to understand), and a silvah plattah (translation: silver platter -- but it's more fun to type it with my Long Island accent preserved). Best gift this Christmas, hands down. Still don't know what to do with the truffle oil, but that's another post. This one's about the book, remember?

So, as I said, I read every page, in order. I quite liked the setup of the book. Hopkinson devotes a couple of pages (and maybe four or five recipes each) to a variety of ingredients. For instance, he has a chapter on brains, one on tripe, and one on sweetbreads. Mmmm-mmm. He also discusses different herbs, onions, eggs, lamb, and many other common foods. Each chapter starts with a whimsical image -- maybe of the highlighted food item, maybe not. I quite liked these little pictures -- there are no actual photographs in the book though. Minus 1 point. He leaves the reader with a couple of paragraphs talking about the featured ingredient, sometimes with anecdotes and fond memories. In that sense, it's kind of enjoyable to read. For the most part, however, it is a cookbook, and so I never found myself waiting with bated breath to see what Hopkinson would do with the offal next. (There's lots of offal.)

I should fully disclose that I haven't prepared any of these recipes. However, they all seem fairly simple, if not a bit time consuming. And as any good British chef would, Hopkinson puts cream and onions in almost everything -- and prepares a complimentary French sauce for topping. These recipes are not for the faint of heart -- I might've had a couple of heart attacks just reading them. But a lot sound really good.

In some ways, I'm thinking of this book as an encyclopedia. If I find myself with some Anglophilic ingredient, I feel that I can turn to Hopkinson's book and figure out what to do with the smoked haddock. However, there weren't many pages I was dog-earing for easy preparingation later on (what's wrong with that sentence? -- my English is poor from lack of use).

I think this will be a good book to keep around for reference, but not something that will reside close at hand with Bittman's tome and the ever-reliable Joy of Cooking. There are a few things I'd like to try (like its namesake roast chicken), but nothing moved me to go to the market straight away.

Next on the reading list: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Sourdough Starter: Day 03

It's been almost exactly 72 hours since I first combined my flour, water, and grapes to begin my sourdough starter. I was really nervous yesterday (really -- I felt a little nauseas -- sad, right?) because absolutely nothing was happening. Okay, well, actually all that happened was that the flour and water began to separate. I thought I saw some white mold, but it was really just the cheesecloth floating up.

I came home from work today at about 6:30PM and didn't see much going on again. I was really disappointed. I realized my kitchen is a little cold, so I convinced myself my starter was retarded (as in slow to get its groove on, of course) and that maybe I'd fallen a day or so behind. Well, I went into the kitchen a couple of minutes ago to take some photos for the ol' blog (I felt guilty I didn't yesterday -- sorry my zero readers!). I was totally expecting nothing again -- or, rather, still. Boy was I surprised.

As you can see from the photos, the total volume has increased quite a lot. Lots of yeast and bacteria lovin'. Oh yeah. The color is a bit more yellowish-brown. The vat o' crap is bubbling quite a bit -- it's not exactly edge-of-your-seat excitement, but if you watch for a couple of minutes, you can totally see the bubbles float to the surface, overcome surface tension, and pop. And it's o-so-satisfying to actually HEAR the bubbles pop. I have a renewed enthusiasm here. In just about 3 hours, things totally turned around. My flea-like patience just got a little boost. Maybe now I can have cat-like patience. Better not count on it, though.

Oh, and for the record, I did taste it as reccommended by Silverton. I was surprised by the raw flour taste, because I'm a doofus. (Did I cook it? Of course it'll taste raw.) It's got a nice funk going -- my refined palate detects flavors of alcohol and fish, with a mild yogurt finish. Mmmm-mmm good. And check out the picture with my finger in it. How good does that look? Remind you of anything? God, I hope not. But it is interesting that the texture has changed quite a bit. Or, at least interesting to me.

Sourdough Starter: Day 01

I mentioned in yesterday's post that I baked some bread. It turned out pretty well, but is lacking a bit in flavor. Truth be told, I think the bread would have benefited from much more time proofing and rising. My yeast was a bit sluggish. ...And I forgot the salt. Yeah. Bland. Yeah...

Well, I did a little research and decided I'd like to follow Nancy Silverton's recipe for sourdough starter and make a couple of breads from her book Nancy Silverton's Breads from the La Brea Bakery. This requires a 14-day process, but you theoretically only have to do it once in your lifetime...or until you forget about it...or otherwise murder it. SO TAKE GOOD CARE OF IT!!!

Okay, so I ordered the book online and also checked it out of the library because I just can't wait for it to arrive. I didn't read the foreword or intro yet, but it's pretty dang long. I do plan to read it, but the way I see it, I have 14 days to catch up. I flipped through the recipe for the starter in the library and stopped at the market on my way home. I bought 20 pounds of bread flour, some grapes, cheesecloth, a large container (actually this is to store my open bread flour, not for the culture), and a jar of wheat germ. The wheat germ isn't needed until I actually bake some bread...in 14 days...but I'd be pissed if I'm missing ingredients when bread-day arrives.

Day 01 requires just flour, water, and grapes. I couldn't get organic grapes, so I bought regular red grapes and rinsed them gently. I wrapped 'em up hobo-style in cheesecloth and added them to my mixture of flour and water. I squished the fruit and dunked it a bunch of times, then sunk it to the bottom of my pitcher (you can see 'em in the photo above). I covered it tightly with plastic wrap and walked away. Tomorrow I should see some bubbling. I don't actually have to do anything until day 04, unless mold starts to grow.

P.S. You can see some bubbles here, but they're in there just because I whipped some air in when I mixed my flour and water.

Sunday Dinner: Loin of Pork with Grilled Potatoes

My mother took out chicken cutlets for dinner. Blegh. Chicken cutlets rarely make for a proper Sunday Dinner -- especially in January. Maybe if it was just her and I, I'd settle for the cutlets. But today was to be the whole family, minus Cotton (who is in college). I had to up the ante.

What to make....what to make...

Loin of pork! I just happen to have a nice piece of hog here.

Okay, I confess: we freeze meat. There. It's out there. I'm so, so sorry. It's not my choice -- I don't really care for frozen meat. But my mother complains if I buy meat when our deep freeze is packed to the brim, so alas, I dug a loin of pork out of the freezer.

Now, some things tolerate freezing better than others, and loin of pork isn't horrible. If anything, it turns out a bit more tender. I guess all those sharp, angular ice crystals break down the meat fibers a bit. I've prepared and eaten a good many LOPs (yes, sometimes I say this acronym out loud), both frozen and fresh, and I dare say, I prefer the previously frozen. Maybe I have bad taste -- or, er, no taste. You may not like my LOP, but I doubt you'd be able to tell me I pulled it out of the freezer.

I caught an episode of In Julia's Kitchen with Master Chefs. Roberto Donna was on making pizza. The way he spoke about and handled the dough had me sitting on the edge of the sofa: I had to make a dough. Rather than pizza, I settled on bread. This was going to demand the full attention of my oven, so the pork was going to have to cook on the grill. I planned on using the rotisserie. I seasoned up the pork with salt, pepper, and garlic -- really simple, but lots of flavor. I went out to the garage to find the spit and motor, but no luck! So I just threw the pork on the grill. The burners directly beneath the pork were on low and the outer burners were on medium. With the lid closed, the temp was about 400F. I cooked the pork for about 1 hour, maybe a little more. I knew the meat was hotter than 140F, and it just felt done, so I took it off. It was perfect! My father sliced it quite thin -- just the way I like it. My brother admitted it was the best loin of pork he's ever eaten. I wasn't blown away myself, but it was excellent indeed.

I served it with Paula Deen's grilled potatoes. They were fairly good, although I'm not a big potato person -- unless their really greasy. By the way, I used olive oil in place of the butter in Paula's recipe. We also had some steamed haricots verts. And my bread.

I just whipped up some chocolate sorbet for dessert. I can't wait...

CSA Update

I caved. I sent in my check for $668 to The Golden Earthworm. I bought a full share and a fruit share. Hopefully I can find a use for all the vegetables and fruits. Jelly??? I never made jelly before.

On the Importance of Adding Ingredients in Order...

This past weekend were the NFL Divisional Playoffs – the games before the games before the Superbowl. My father is a big Dallas Cowboys fan and told my mother he wanted to get everything done on Saturday so that he could watch them stomp on the Giants on Sunday. Good plan.

We usually eat some form of roasted meat on Sundays, but this week, my mother asked me to prepare something that we could eat in front of the television like the football-watching savages we are. She suggested meatball heroes. I never say no to a good hero.

And so it was, and it was good.

In an effort to keep our arteries nice and flexible, I decided on turkey meatballs. I have no beef with beef, but I'm trying to cut the cals where their absence will be noticed the least, and when you have cheese, tomato sauce, and crusty bread, I say you don't even need meat. Many will disagree. Some of them live in my house. But whatever. Turkey it is. Gobble. Gobble gobble. Plus my mom requested my recipe for what she proclaimed the best meatballs she's ever eaten. They happen to be made from turkey. Voilà.

My Irish-German cousin always brags that he learned to make meatballs from a 100-year-old Italian woman. Well, I learned from a 60-year-old Jew, and I think mine are better. My sister and I exclusively use Ina Garten's recipe for “Real Meatballs” (as opposed to fake ones, I guess). However, we freely make changes, so now we have our own Kraut McJew recipe. I laugh at tradition. My meatballs are fantastic...if I stick to my recipe.

The secret to my meatballs, regardless of what type of marbled meat I use, is my combo of bread soaked in milk and seasoned dry bread crumbs. It's a magical combination that imparts the perfect texture. What I usually do is cut up some Wonder white sandwich bread (about 4 slices per 1.5 lbs of animal matter) into small (¼”) cubes. I soak that in enough milk to almost cover the bread (maybe ½ to ¾ cup). Then I work with my other ingredients.

I only have laziness to blame for yesterday's meatball debacle. I didn't feel like using a second bowl (I can't handle all that washing!), so I put the bread and milk in my huge Pyrex bowl (I was also doubling the recipe). I think I ended up using too much milk in the first place because of the shape of the bowl – maybe I'm imagining it. Geometry was never my strong point. But my critical error was adding everything else to this bowl of bready mush later. See, I usually keep the bread and milk aside until the end, but that means two bowls. Remember the lazy. This time, I mixed everything together at once, and the bread got way to evenly combined and my meatballs were a bit more dense than I wood have liked, just like my brother.

Nobody complained. In fact, I still received compliments. But not best-meatball-ever compliments. It was sad. And Dallas lost. Maybe if I added the mush at the end, the Cowboys could have one. Then, my beloved Packers would have to play in Texas Stadium where they haven't won since 1989. I guess I should be grateful for my dense meatballs after all. Go Pack Go!

*****

Edit: My father reheated the meatballs in the oven for a couple of hours in my large Le Creuset Dutch oven. The texture and flavor dramatically improved.

To CSA, or Not to CSA...

I'm trying to decide if I'd like to do CSA again. Yes, it's a little bit early to think about it, but I was just checking out the yarn CSA (I know, how cool is that!) I read about over at Rebecca's Pocket and that really got my gears turning.

First, a quick overview of CSA... CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture. It's a way to eat local and to support local farmers, among other objectives. I'm not sure if all CSA programs work the same way, but here's my example. I signed up for the Autumn Harvest CSA offered by The Golden Earthworm, a farm on the north fork of Long Island about sixty miles from my house. Every week for twelve weeks, fresh, organic produce grown on the farm was delivered to a pickup spot (someone's house; same place each week). The homeowner (volunteer?) kept all the boxes of produce for the participants that chose their home as the pickup location in their garage. Every Tuesday, I'd head over to the house, move the produce from one box into a bag that I brought, fold down the box, and sign that I picked up my goods. I paid in advance. I never knew exactly what was going to be in each box - quelle surprise.


The short review:

Everything was pretty good, but I wasn't an instant convert to local and organic.


The long-winded review:

First of all, it was just too much of foods my family doesn't enjoy. Case in point: We received white salad turnips and kale nearly every week. I tried my darnedest to use these things up, but we just didn't like 'em. (Although now I have solution for the turnips - I just cut them really small and add them to any strongly flavored soup or stew. I added them to chili and, by golly (did I say "by golly"?), that was the best damn chili I've ever made. I think I could sneak them into tomato sauce was well.)

Another issue I encountered was that on CSA day (Tuesday), I spent hours washing greens and trying to find a place for them. It's true that I'd have to do the same if I bought from the market, but the truth is I wouldn't buy all those greens or I'd buy them when I had time to process them. Yes, this is a weak complaint (I'm weak, what can I say), but it was something I never got used to. I ended up throwing away very little though, and really only at the end of the season when I'd eaten more kale than I ever intended to and it was looking pretty bad. And I could never figure out what to do with daikon radishes. Too bad they weren't parsnips. Roasted parsnips taste like toasted marshmallows...if you use your imagination.

I get really grossed out when I find bugs, which happened almost every week. One time, after I had already washed it in the sink, I found a grub in my blanched broccoli rabe. Yep, all that rabe went in the trash. Wish I had a photo to show you the boiled little guy. Wait, I'm lying. I don't wish that at all.

But I'm optimistic for the new season. First of all, if I do sign up again, I'll get a full share, not just Autumn. Hopefully that will get me more of the things we like (tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, etc). Second of all, I did the math again and it's a real bargain -- only $21 per week for really great stuff. It seems like a lot of money because you have to pay up front, but I didn't really buy any vegetables from the store during the fall. Maybe just like some onions and whatnot. Therefore, if I end up donating some of it or throwing some away, I'm not losing major $$$ like I would if I threw out organic stuff from the market.

I love the cooking challenge that CSA provides for me. It's kind of like that old Food Network show Ready Set Cook (remember Sissy Biggers? Last time I saw her was on Victory Garden) or a little like Iron Chef for you youngsters - a bunch of secret ingredients and my pantry. It's fun. Also, we tried so many new things -- turnips, kale, bok choy, pumpkin (well, I've had pumpkin pie, but I never cooked with a whole pumpkin before), and some things I'm forgetting. We got excellent herbs, tomatoes, peppers, and absolutely the best potatoes.

So I think I've convinced myself that I'd like to give it a go, one more time. I'll see how the full season goes. Golden Earthworm also offers a fruit share, although it's not organic and is technically from a neighboring farm. I'm definitely thinking about that too.