Turkey Pastrami Prep

For Christmas this year, my brother got me a classic Weber kettle grill, something I’ve wanted for a while. I christened it with burgers right after the holiday, and barbecued a pork shoulder just last week as part of Food & Films 2010 (no post about this event yet), but I certainly don’t consider myself an excellent pitmaster. To learn more about barbecue, I’ve been reading about the technique and watching Steven Raichlen

And so it was, Friday night. I fired up the TiVo and found an episode of Primal Grill. I believe it is the first episode of the series, ‘Smoke Screen’. Raichlen prepared turkey breast pastrami-style. He cured it with salt, sugar, black pepper and other spices, then slowly smoked it, sliced it thinly, and piled it on sandwiches. I had that “I’ve got to make that” moment, and immediately began thinking of the first opportunity I’d have to get working on it. I recalled that I am going to a party on Sunday. Perfect occasion. It was decided.

Not wanting to show up to a party with just a bunch of sliced pastrami, I knew I had to do something amazing with it. Raichlen used his turkey pastrami in Reuben sandwiches, so I took his idea and ran with it. I picked up some cocktail rye and pumpernickel breads, Alsatian sauerkraut, and ementhal at Fairway, along with the turkey and spices I didn’t already have. I also may have picked up a snack…

I’d actually never had a mallomar before this evening. I’ve heard great things about them, about their addictive properties, their seasonality, their…perfection, but I never really imagined them to be anything special. I mean, it’s just marshmallow on top of a cookie, covered in chocolate, right? Pretty simple. How amazing could the mallowmar be?

Well, I did this…

…six times. They were darn good.

The cure for the turkey pastrami includes ground coriander, mace, kosher salt, garlic, paprika, black pepper, anise, dark brown sugar, pimenton, and ground mustard.

I measured all my dry ingredients….

and peeled my garlic cloves….

and chopped them coarsely.

Then, I ground the whole peppercorns and anise seeds coarsely in my coffee grinder (dedicated to spices!). I added the garlic and some canola oil to the spices to make a dry rub.

Then it was time to work on the turkey. I gave it a rinse, patted it dry, and rubbed it all over with the fragrant cure.

I wrapped it tightly with plastic wrap, set it on a plate, and put everything in the refrigerator overnight. Twenty-four hours would be nice, but that’s not going to happen. I’m going to smoke it Sunday, and should detail that process here in the next few days.

I forgot to describe one optional step… If you’re so inclined, spill red food coloring on your light colored counter tops. Then try to clean it up. Then walk around with the evidence.

You caught me red-handed.

Beef Stew

Last week, the average low temperature around these parts was 28°F. Not absolutely frigid, but not exactly warm either. This, my friends, is stewing weather.

 

I will confess up front, however, that I did not make any stew this past week. Nope. Not me. But I did eat some! Big T. made it, and he declared it his best beef stew in a long while, and perhaps his best beef stew ever. I will also confess right here and now that these pictures are not from Big T.'s best ever beef stew of last week, but rather from a beef stew I made last year. Yup, this post has been waiting a year to be written, and here I am.

 

And, I guess while I’m pouring my heart out, I should further confess that I really don’t like beef stew all that much.  Yeah.  Sorry, Big T.  Beef stew is a little too rich, too hearty, too…..masculine for me.  I just can’t appreciate the in-your-face meat-and-potatoes heaviness of it.  I like all of the ingredients on their own and in various combinations, but it seems when they are all dumped into the same pot, I just don’t enjoy it.  Therefore, when I’m making beef stew, I do a few things to cut the richness and overwhelming beef flavor.

 

I don’t really have a recipe for beef stew.  I think any logical combination of meat and vegetables works in some way, and I still haven’t found any amazingly earth-shattering mélange.  However, there are a few ingredients and a few techniques that I will apply to every beef stew I make. 

 

I start by trimming any excessive or hard fat from the meat.  The longer I plan on stewing, the bigger the pieces of meat.  I want them tender, but not stringy and devoid of all texture.  What kind of meat?  Ideally, chuck roast, but almost anything will work.  Then, I heat up some oil in a heavy Dutch oven (oven-safe).  I season the meat with salt and pepper, maybe a little garlic powder, and flour it lightly.  I brown it until it looks delicious and perfect, working in as small of batches as is necessary to accomplish this task.  Sometimes the browning alone takes nearly an hour.  I remove all the meat from the pan and then sweat some onion, garlic, carrot, and whatever other aromatics I plan on using for my broth.  Next, it’s time to brown the tomato paste.  Yep, tomato paste.  Always tomato paste.  There is no better way to add dimension to a stew or braise than with tomato paste.  It does some umami magic and stew without tomato paste isn’t worth eating.  (Again, sorry Big T.)  Once the tomato paste is a gloriously rusty shade of brick, I deglaze with some red wine.  This is essential.  It adds acidity and brightness to the overall dish, and a great fruity quality.  Yum.  The meat goes back in, and I add beef stock or, much more likely, water to cover.  Not too much!  Just cover the meat.  I add a bay leaf and maybe some thyme and bring to a simmer.  Then it goes in the oven.  You preheated your oven, right?  I like a temperature of about 250-275°F.  It doesn’t matter as long as it’s not too high.  I figure the stew will simmer at an internal temperature of 212°F-ish, but the oven needs to be a little warmer.  The great thing about stewing in the oven is that you don’t really need to stir.  I still do, every hour or so to make myself feel important, but there’s not really any risk of burning and the heat is infinitely more even than you can achieve on the stove.  I let the stew simmer in the oven for 2 hours or until the meat is just about at the desired level of tenderness. 

 

While the stew is….erhm…stewing, I cut up the vegetables I want in the stew.  The aromatics I added earlier will basically be mush and have given all their flavor to the broth.  I don’t really strain them out, but I do add some fresh stuff for textural reasons and for brighter flavors.  I pretty much always do carrots and potatoes, but sometimes add corn, string beans, peas, etc.  Put the vegetables in the pot when the meat is nearly done, add more liquid if necessary to just cover everything, and put the pot back in the oven. 

 

Next, and this is a requirement for me, fill a big ole pot with water and set it on high heat.  This, my friends, is for the EGG NOODLES.  Stew, for me, is mostly an excuse to eat egg noodles.  By the time the water boils and the noodles cook, the vegetables you added to the stew should be just about done.  If you want larger chunks of vegetables, you may need to adjust your timing for the egg noodles, but whatever you do, don’t forget the EGG NOODLES!  Big T. forgot the egg noodles.

 

If you wish, thicken the stew with flour or cornstarch dissolved in cold water.  Just mix a tablespoon or two with the water and slowly add to boiling stew.  Make sure to stir as you add your starch of choice.  I bet blending some potatoes would thicken the stew up too.  I should try that. 

 

Anyway, put a little butter on your noodles and then pour on a ladle of stew.  Have a glass of red wine and compliment yourself on your delicious stew.  Then, declare it the best you’ve made in a long time, and perhaps your best stew ever.

 

 

Perfect Roast Chickens

Throughout my childhood, Sundays always meant roasted meats. Every now and again, we'd have a pork loin, but usually we had either roast beef or chicken. I'm not roast beef's biggest fan -- I prefer my beef ground and grilled with a slice of cheese on top -- but until recently, I vastly preferred roast beef to roast chicken. Roast chicken was dry, tough, tasteless. The only good thing about it was gravy and the Stove Top usually paired with it. Mom would buy eight pound Purdue oven stuffer roasters and cook the hell out of them. In her defense, it's nearly impossible to properly cook a bird that big. It's the turkey paradox -- by the time the thigh is done, the white meat has the texture of saw dust.

Nowadays, though, I friggen love roasted chicken. I've discovered good quality chickens that are the perfect size for even roasting. I now exclusively buy and roast Murray's or Bell & Evans chickens, with Murray's as my bird of choice. They're a bit more money than Purdue, and for Sunday dinner, one is definitely not big enough for my family, but they are unbeatable when cooked properly. They taste like football and family and love and all that crap. Oh, and they taste like chicken!

I do most of my grocery shopping at King Kullen. They usually sell Murray's chickens for $2.59 per pound. For the three to four pound birds I love, that translates to $8-10. For two birds, the $16-20 yields more than one meal. We don't eat all the meat, and small chickens make the best stock.

I don't exclusively buy "organic" or "natural" products. I don't trust these labels. However, I do like the idea of regional (if not local), sustainable, healthy foods that are raised, grown, or otherwise produced without manufactured products (like antibiotics, chemical fertilizers, processed feed, etc.). Murray's is doing this great thing where they label the birds with a code that allows the customer to look up the farm on which the chicken was raised. I think this is kind of cool. I like knowing where my food is coming from.

This chicken is from Pennsylvania! It grew up on either the Brubaker Farm in Middleburg, PA or the Wertz Brothers farm in Danville, PA.

Like all Murray's chickens, this one was grown and processed without antibiotics, hormones, growth stimulants, animal by-products, artificial ingredients, or preservatives.

Murray's also claims that the birds are humanely raised and handled. There's a lot of information about this on the Humane Farm Animal Care web site. Look for this label if you care about farm animal welfare.

For a great Sunday dinner, it's not only important to buy the best chicken, but to cook it the best way. Start by drying it thoroughly with paper towels. Then season aggressively, especially inside the cavity. I used salt, fennel seed, celery seed, poultry seasoning, cayenne, and black pepper. (See the end of this post for amounts).

This was a more complex seasoning mix than I usually use. In general, I like salt, fennel seeds, and cayenne pepper. I tried out the celery seed here just because it sounded good, and I used a little poultry seasoning so I have less to throw away. We seem to have purchased excessive amounts of this blend during the 2008 Thanksgiving season. Really, the most important seasoning of all is the salt though. I use about a tablespoon per chicken.

I season the outside of the birds evenly and then season the cavity. I probably use two thirds of the seasoning on the inside of the chicken and the remaining third on the outside. I roasted the birds side by side in a V-rack breast side up. My technique has changed now, however. I start the birds breast side down and roast for the first half of cooking that way. If I'm just roasting one bird, I like to put cook it in my 12" cast iron skillet. It's the perfect size. If I care about presentation, I will put a small piece of parchment on the bottom of the pot so the skin does not stick and break. Usually, I don't care though.

I don't truss the birds. I usually tuck the wings under and put the ends of the drum sticks in slits in the skin at the tail end. The skin shrinks as it cooks and pulls the legs in tight to the body, helping everything cook evenly. It also leaves the cavity open by pulling the skin away. This allows the heat to flow into the cavity so the bird cooks from the outside and inside. I NEVER stuff the bird. No lemon. No garlic. No onions. No herbs. Just dry seasonings.

I like to roast at 400F. They take around an hour, but I always use my thermometer to cook to 160F. I let the birds rest, but I don't cover them with foil. Then I usually just split the bird at the joints. Don't forget to eat the oysters and the Pope's nose! They are the chef's treats. On rare occasions, I will make gravy, but it usually comes out too salty. I'd rather a perfectly seasoned bird than gravy.

Check out that perfectly browned skin!

Perfect Roast Chicken Recipe
Adapted from Adam Roberts

INGREDIENTS:

• 2 3-4 lb chickens
• 2 tbsp salt
• 1/2 to 1 tbsp fennel seeds
• 1/4 to 1/2 tsp cayenne
  

METHOD:

Remove chicken from refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature (1-2 hours).

Mix salt, fennel seeds, and cayenne pepper. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 400F. Line a roasting pan with parchment. Choose the smallest possible roasting pan that will accommodate both chickens.

Thoroughly dry chickens, inside and out, with paper towels. This will create a crisper skin.

Place the birds in the pan and season the cavities VERY aggressively. You should use about 2/3 of the seasoning mixture. Then, season the breast and wings of the bird, putting more seasoning on areas where the meat is thicker. Flip the birds so they are sitting breast sides down in the pan and season the backs. Focus on the legs and thighs. All your seasoning should be used up.

Roast for about 30 minutes breast side down at 400F. Flip and roast another 15 minutes. Check the temperature of the breast and thigh in EACH bird. They should be 160F. If not, cook another 10-15 minutes and check again. Repeat until the birds are done. If it takes more than 1 hr 20 mins, something is wrong. The birds were not room temperature, or your oven and/or thermometer are broken. You can cut the skin between the thigh and the body and the juices should be clear or just slightly pink. Allow to rest, uncovered, for about 10 minutes. Then carve as you like.

Serves 6-8.

Roast Chicken is the Story

Roast chicken has, over the last several years, become one of my favorite foods. I'm not sure if it's because I've been doing a lot more reading about food -- seems like EVERYONE has something to say about roast chicken and omelettes -- or if I'm just appreciating simpler preparations. Regardless, I frequently find myself searching for an excuse to roast a chicken.

When I was younger, everyday I would ask "what's for dinner?". A couple of meals excited me, a couple disgusted me, but most responses just did nothing for me. Put roast chicken in the third category. My mom would buy big, old Purdue hens. These chickens suffer from the turkey paradox: they're just too big for an even-cooking roast. It's virtually impossible to have perfectly cooked breasts AND thighs. Also, I think Purdue chicken smells. I used to think all chicken, when raw, just kind of stank, but after going through several Murray's and Bell & Evans birds, I know that good quality, fresh chicken, much like fresh seafood, should have no smell at all. It also shouldn't be slimy and ooze its moisture just coming to room temperature. It was not roast chicken that I didn't like, but a certain brand of chicken. Sorry Purdue, I am not a fan.

In my market, Bell & Evans and Murray's chickens never go on sale, but I have found that they cost about the same as Purdue birds when those birds are not on sale. Still, I can get a 3-4 lb quality chicken for about $8-$10 and feed a family of four. Add in some potatoes and vegetables and I'm still well under $20 for the meal. Therefore, when it's up to me, I buy Murray's or Bell & Evans (Murray's slightly preferred -- not sure why!).

I've also recently subscribed to Ina Garten's roast chicken breast technique for all kinds of chicken preparations. The other day, I roasted several bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts for chicken chili and they were great: juicy and tender. I roasted the pieces for 40 minutes at 450F (not convection) with just a little oil, salt, and pepper. A few days later, I roasted some split breasts for my mom for soup -- much better than boiled chicken. Then, I roasted some again for a pasta dish. The chicken turns out with great texture and flavor, although you do lose an opportunity to create flavor via browning. I think that it's worth it anyway.

Breakthrough

This may seem like a really small thing, but I've perfected cooking rice.  It doesn't involve a special steamer and is not done on the stove top.  Rather, I follow Cook's Illustrated's recipe for oven-baked brown rice [subscription required -- sorry!].  It comes out perfectly fluffy and flavorful and not at all mushy.  I also cooked my steel cut oats using the same technique and it worked great.  I just need to reduce the amount of water from a 4:1 ratio to more like a 3:1 or even 2.5:1.  This will take some tinkering, but the rice alone is a major success.

Photo credits: Mr. Kris

A Saucy Dilemma

Although I often try to cook ethnic, traditional, or more gourmet-types of meals, my cooking isn't always all that sophisticated. I like a hot dog every now and again (but don't tell my mother!), and during the week, I eat many simple meals -- perhaps some grilled chicken, brown rice, steamed vegetables. The other day, Dad made a long-simmered tomato sauce (or on Long Island, sawce) and we had it with spaghetti and Italian sausages (sawsages) -- not a terribly complex meal.

I don't think there is anything traditional OR authentic Italian about Dad's tomato sauce (we're German-Eastern European-Scottish-Irish after all), but it's great and we all love it. He sweats onion, carrot, and later garlic. He adds some tomato paste and browns it to a rusty red (this is a key flavor component, I think). If there's meat involved, that's usually browned before the onions sweat, and is usually removed from the pot, but not always. He usually uses some chopped canned plum tomatoes (bought whole, chopped at home) and perhaps some canned sauce, puree, or some other canned product. [Don't turn your snooty snout up at these ingredients. If you buy good quality canned products, you can do just fine working only from the pantry.] My larger point here is that the end product is not always exactly the same, but it is always good.

I always go back and forth on one issue in particular involving our faux-Italian food, and that is whether I prefer a long-simmered and deeply flavored sauce, or a fresh, bright, tomatoey sauce. It's really difficult to choose, but I suppose it comes down to one ingredient: meat. If there's meat involved, I prefer the long-cooked sauce; no meat, and fresh tomato flavor it is!

Photo credits: FotoRita

My French Press Procedure

For Christmas, I got Tackle a 17 oz Bodum Brazil French Press - the same pot I use on a daily basis in my office. I also gifted him some Biggby coffee, arguably my favorite coffee.

However, I suppose I left out a few essential items, as well as instructions. Granted, the instructions would produce coffee the way I like it, but having consumed much joe with Tackle, I think I have a good idea of his tastes.

I think the most important aspect of a great cup of coffee is the coffee itself. That means good, fresh beans. In a perfect world, I'd use whole beans, grind them immediately before combining with water, and that would be that. However, since I do most of my brewing at work, grinding daily is out of the question. Also, I don't have a burr grinder, nor the purse to get one, and I really think that's the only way to grind beans for French Press coffee. Therefore, I leave it to the experts and buy coarse-ground coffee from quality suppliers -- Fairway or Biggby. Both roast their own beans and the brews made from them taste great. I make sure to store ground coffee in airtight containers. Opaque is ideal, but I just keep the coffee in the dark under my desk where it's relatively cool. I also buy less more often, rather than more less often. Coffee is one thing that should not be bought in bulk.

When it comes to daily brewing, I have a bit of a ritual. I begin by filling my Brita Pitcher with cool tap water. Good water is key, especially when your only ingredients are coffee and water. I fill my electric kettle with 0.5 liters of filtered water and flip the switch. If I was less lazy and didn't mind making an even bigger production in the office, I'd fill my mug up with hot tap water. However, since I have the somewhat disgusting habit of washing my mug the morning after drinking the coffee, it's already warm from washing.

Anyhow, I wait for my kettle to reach a boil, then click off. I've read many times that the water should be 190-200F, not 212F, so I wait until the kettle clicks off, then add my coffee to the pot. For one mug, I use 2.5 scoops of coarse ground coffee. How big is a scoop? I think about 1 tablespoon. The scoop came with my press. By this time, I think the water should be around 200F. I add all of the water and stir with a chopstick. Then, I let the coffee steep for 2-3 minutes. I press the filter down slowly and decant into my mug immediately. When I use my larger press at home, I make sure not to leave any "extra" coffee in the pot. It will continue to brew and will taste bitter and disgusting. It should be put in a thermos, or never made in the first place.

I always drink my French Press coffee black because I think it has excellent flavor and body without dairy or sugar. However, even if you *need* milk and/or sugar, I strongly urge you to try a French Press. It's not that much more work, effort, or time than any other method and has great results.

One final note: I just want to emphasize the importance of an even, coarse grind on the beans. They must be even in size so extraction is done evenly. It must be coarse so the grinds don't clog or go through the filter.

Photo credits: maggiejumps

At the Stove, a Dash of Science, a Pinch of Folklore

Today's New York Times Science section has an article by Kenneth Chang about food science. He made a few dishes and allowed biochemist, cook, and author Shirley Corriher to critique his practices from adding sugar to stir fry to soaking fish in rice wine for a few minutes. Chang also consults food scientist Harold McGee and Sichuan food expert Fuchsia Dunlop.

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.