Doing the Dutch

Until yesterday, my kitchen lacked a Dutch oven, and I was sad. They looked so glossily beautiful in photos in cooking magazines, and chefs using them always seemed a little too smug and satisfied with life. The technique of braising is prized and praised in Cooksville and while a Dutch oven is not necessarily required in order to braise, its suitability for the purpose put it squarely in the WANT category. But Dutch ovens are spendy, and I just couldn’t pull the trigger on the purchase. Fortunately, big-box retailer Target had a sale this week that placed a shiny red Cuisinart Dutch oven within fiscal reach, and my wife brought it home to me.

My precious…

Where were we? Oh, right, I neded a recipe. I chose “Braised Guinness Stout Short Ribs” from NPR’s “Kitchen Window.” Thus speaketh contributor Howard Yoon:

This is my adaptation of a basic short-ribs dish, but with Guinness beer as the liquid instead of wine or stock. The tomato paste provides the acidity, while the Guinness adds a pleasing malty taste to the meal. Serve this with a side of steel-cut oatmeal and a pint of Guinness, and you have the perfect, cold-weather Irish meal.

I gathered the required ingredients…

…and largely followed Yoon’s instructions, except that I used only three and a half pounds of short ribs instead of the five to six pounds that he calls for. Seriously, the amount I used would have been quite enough for four people and I’m not sure I could even fit five or six pounds of ribs plus veggies in my five-quart pot.

Fast-forward past the prep, the browning of the ribs and the sauteing of the vegetables (using the same Dutch oven, which I love), combining all and allowing it to sit in a 300 oven for just shy of the full two hours recommended. The ribs were not quite fall-off-the-bone tender, but they were in the neighborhood. The recipe didn’t call for salting (or peppering) the ribs before searing, which I wish I had done. I added salt and pepper to the veggie mixture before adding Guinesss, tomato paste, and ribs, but it wasn’t quite enough and didn’t impart enough saltiness to the meat. Finally, I thought there was not enough tomato paste aciidity to balance out the “baseness” of the Guinness, even though the tomato aroma during cooking was both detectable and delightful. I would certainly recommend doubling the amount of tomato paste called for, and will try using wine instead of stout next time around.

Still, I enjoyed it (as did M), partly for the heartiness of the dish, and partly because, well, it was my very first braise. I served it with Israeli couscous, which was delicious with the broth. Indeed, I liked the dish so much that I had it (sans couscous) for breakfast this morning.

I already have a new short rib recipe in mind.

Battle Pork!

Behold, the latest pound and a half of pork loin that has volunteered to undergo transformation by conductive heat in my oven, all in the cause of my finally cooking a pork roast that is (one) not dry, and (two) not insufficiently flavored. Such were the outcomes the first couple of times I tried roasting a hunk of pig. The first time, I foolishly allowed the loin to reach a target temperature of 165° Fahrenheit (and while still in the oven, no less) forgetting that the meat would continue to cook (and, given the circumstances, overcook) while sitting innocuously on my counter. Blorg.

The second time around, I tried getting by with a mere hour of marinating. Not sure what I was thinking. As you might imagine, not much flavor penetration took place.

In addition, I’ve not been entirely pleased with my selection of marinades/glazes. The flavor hasn’t been bold enough to really influence the pork (when it’s been given time enough to try, that is).

Also - and this is strange for me - I haven’t used enough salt.

So. We’re doing things differently with the latest porcine volunteer. First, better preparation. Next, a decent length of marinating time. Finally, proper monitoring of temperature.

What we have so far for this third attempt ( in addition to a 1.5 to 2 lb. pork loin roast*):

• 12 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
• 4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
• 6 tablespoons fresh oregano, leaves only, chopped
• 4 tbsp balsamic vinegar
• 2 tsp kosher salt
• 1 tsp freshly-ground pepper

All ingredients into the food processor or blender (except the pork, of course); puree the mixture, which should come out looking a muddy mess with green bits in it. Use a spatula to coat the pork loin with some of the mixture. If your pork loin is bound by strings but split down the middle, try to work some of the marinade into that split. Place the pork loin into a zippable plastic bag, pour the rest of the marinade in there and seal it up as free of air as you can (as in the image above). Put it the fridge and let it sit overnight; turn it once during that time.

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Now that’s what I’ve done so far. Here’s what I plan to do late afternoon tomorrow:

Remove the pork-in-a bag a half-hour before I intend to stick it in the oven. Preheat the oven to 350° Fahrenheit. Take the pork loin out of the plastic bag and put it in a shallow roasting pan. Roast it, uncovered until an instant-read thermometer registers 155° Fahrenheit, a good ten degrees short of Big Brother’s usual recommendation. Remove the pork loin from the oven and place it on a rack above a plate so that the meat can rest without sitting in a growing pool of its own juices. Tent loosely with foil and allow to sit for ten minutes.

While the pork is roasting in the oven, I suspect I’ll do something with carrots. But carrots aren’t the big issue. It’s all about the pork tomorrow.

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Update: So this is what happened.

Remove the pork-in-a bag a half-hour before I intend to stick it in the oven. Preheat the oven to 350° Fahrenheit.

Check - except that (1) I set the oven to 400° Fahrenheit instead of 350, (2) I placed a cast-iron skillet in the oven to get it good and hot, and (3) after transferring the skillet to the stovetop (oven mitt!) and setting the flame under it to medium-high, immediately placing the pork loin in the hot oven, I seared the pork loin on four sides, just shy of 2 minutes per side. Then into the oven for…longer than I had expected. I thought that with the searing, I could get away with roasting the pork loin for as little as 30 minutes. Not so, as the thermometer revealed that the loin’s core was a cool ninety degrees. Roasting time was more like an hour and fifteen minutes to get the pork loin up to 155° Fahrenheit. Out of the oven then and onto a rack over a plate, and under tended foil for ten minutes.

I apologize for not having remembered to take a picture of the finished product. By the time the food was done, getting down to eating was the only thing on my mind.

Oh, the pork loin itself? Beautifully crusty-brown outside, juicy inside, and tender. The marinade did its work; the oregano, garlic, and balsamic vinegar imparted a tasty blend of flavors, combined with seared Maillard reaction goodness. Again, not as salty as I had expected, which turned out to be a good thing, I think. M and I judged this roast a success.

Pearls of great price

One night a while back, at the Turkish/Mediterranean restaurant Aya Sofia, I found myself marveling over a kind of pasta I’d never had before. Or was it a grain? Whatever it was, it was delicious. Creamy texture, rich flavor. I may have moaned in pleasure, and my wife may have laughed in response. I asked the server what it was I’d just inhaled and learned a new term: pearl couscous. See also: Israeli couscous.

A couple of days later, I turned to my friend and mentor, the Internet, and grew wise.

Following in the tradition of pasta shaped and/or marketed like grains (think Italian orzo and rice), Israeli couscous is technically not related to the staple carbohydrate of the Mahgreb called couscous. Invented in the 1950s by the Tel Aviv-based firm Osem, Israeli couscous is extruded (like ordinary pasta) and toasted to dry (like Jewish farfel). The result, when cooked, is a chewy, buttery carbohydrate that is shaped more like pearls of tapioca than actual couscous, and that has, over the years, become a staple in Israel. To make matters more confusing, traditional African couscous is often mistakenly referred to as a grain. In fact, it is a method of treating durum semolina (the same wheat used to make pasta), that produces small granules, which are then steamed several times and fluffed.

We’ve had it three times now, starting with a variation of this fine recipe and moving on to a couple of homemade concoctions, all of them delicious. Chicken stock is your friend when it comes to Israeli couscous. So is butter (mmmm).

Ribeyes. Broccoli. Oh, yeah.

Lean beef cuts like sirloin may be where it’s at these days with the diet mavens - and I take the point - but I must confess a weakness for well-marbled ribeye.

So I took two ribeye steaks, each about an inch thick, covered them with a sheet of plastic wrap and left them on the counter to gradually warm to room temperature. Put a cast iron skillet in a 500° oven to get good and hot. Set an oven mitt in plain sight so I wouldn’t forget it, because , you know, I’m just like that.

Cut up a couple of servings of broccoli florets, rinsed them, set them up in a veggie steamer in a covered pot containing a half-inch of water.

Made up a new batch of grillmaster Steven Raichlen’s Java Rub recipe, which follows (not sure if this recipe from Raichlen’s handy How to Grill is the same formulation as his marketed “Java Rub”).

6 tablespoons ground coffee
2 tbsp coarse or kosher salt
2 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp paprika
2 teaspoons ground pepper
2 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp onion powder
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder

Mixed all in a bowl; used my hand rather than a whisk or fork, which was really helpful in breaking up those pesky lumps of brown sugar.

Used my spiffy oil sprayer to lightly coat the steaks with extra-virgin olive oil, then coated both sides of the steaks with the Java Rub. Followed Alton Brown’s advice in I’m Just Here for the Food, v.2.0 about really massaging the rub into the meat, then waiting a few minutes while the salt in the rub brought the liquid within to the surface. Then I applied more rub, worked it once more into the steaks, let them sit a bit.

In a small saucepan, I combined the following and set the burner to low:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
1 tbsp water

Kept an eye on the saucepan, stirring every so often. Once it’s was all mixed and starting to bubble, I turned off the heat. (After cooling for a while, this mixture develops a taut skin. Just stir it away and don’t think about it.)

I put on the oven mitt and removed the hot cast iron skillet, placing it over medium-high heat on the stovetop. I put the steaks in the skillet and let them sit for ninety seconds, then turned them with tongs and let them sit once more for ninety seconds. (This is longer than the thirty seconds per side that Brown suggests in his Pan Seared Rib Eye recipe, but it’s my kitchen.)

I then turned off the burner under the skillet, made sure I was still wearing the oven mitt, and put the skillet back into the 500° oven. I set the timer for two minutes.

I then started the burner under the pot with the broccoli, medium heat.

When the oven timer went off, I used my hand-with-the-oven-mitt to pull out the skillet. I turned the steaks with the tongs, then set the skillet back into the oven for another two minutes. When time had elapsed, I shut the oven off, withdrew the skillet from the oven, and transferred the steaks to a plate. I “tented the steaks loosely with foil” (always loved that phrase) to let them sit for two minutes.

The broccoli was done by now, so I removed it from the steamer and divided it between two small bowls. I spooned the warm four-part sauce over the broccoli. I transferred the steaks to serving plates. Then, along with my wife, I ate dinner.

Verdict: success. I was highly pleased with the steaks - the vigorous application of the rub really made a difference. The ribeyes were tender and rich with flavor. Confession: I was going to leave a large leftover portion of my steak for tomorrow, but that intention quickly went by the boards.

I wonder if the actual rubbing-in of the rub assists in breaking down fibers in the meat? If I were a real cook, I would know.

Update: A fair number of ribeye-recipe hunters have found this page, so I thought I should add a pic of what the finished product looks like:

Yeah, that’s good eatin’. The small glass pan in back contains the above-mentioned broccoli sauce.

Another update: Give the ribeyes a chance to warm up from cold death; take them out of the fridge twenty minutes or so before you start cooking them.

Also: When you let them rest after removing them from the oven, don’t let them just sit in a pool of their own juices. Put a rack over the plate, or line up a bunch of skewers or chopsticks or such on the plate and then put the steaks on those. Then tent with foil.

Toolin’ up in the kitchen

As I’m kind of shy and diffident when it comes to cooking - quick to remind people that I’m no creative cook, a mere babe in the woods without a clearly written recipe - it usually takes a lot of time and fretting before I can bring myself to purchase kitchen equipment. For example, I waited a long time after having ruined one cast iron skillet before finally acquiring another (that’s a story yet to be recounted here). Fortunately, my supportive wife constantly reminds me that I’m good enough, smart enough, and deserving of proper tools.

A few months back, I had made soft whimpering noises about how great it would be to have a oil atomizer, something with which I could lightly spray olive oil rather relying on my heavy hand and a tablespoon. During the holiday season, M found herself in possession of a gift card from Crate & Barrel. M loves her some Crate & Barrel, and when she announced that it was time to burn up the card, I assumed we’d be picking up some stylish knick-knack or other. But instead, and to my delight, M said something along the lines of “Let’s go get that oil sprayer thingie.”

As it turned out, we spent all of the card’s value (plus a tad more) on the sprayer and two other tools.

The oil aerosol stands tall and ready for use. As most of you already know and the rest can guess, the clear cap is attached to a tube that acts as a plunger/pressurizer. You open the sprayer, fill it with extra-virginy goodness (or any other kind of oil), close the sprayer and use the cap to build up pressure inside. Then you’re set to spray. I use it to spritz food directly and to apply a trace of oil to a pan when a light touch is desired.

The two-stage knife sharpener on the left has two crossed carbide blades to set the blade’s edge, and two ceramic rods with which to finish the edge. No, I’d never heard of “setting” or “finishing” knife edges before. There’s also a component for sharpening scissors.

The star of the show, however, is the Microplane grater/zester. Greatly have I desired one of these gizmos. Just holding it makes me feel like a real chef. Romano and parmesan cheese shavings are light and fluffy as clouds with this thing, and I can get lemon zest without grating down to the rind as I often did using a cheese grater.

Just looking at these tools makes me happy.

Cooking lessons

I did something last night that I’d never done before: I took a skinless, boneless chicken breast half and sliced it lengthwise, not quite all the way through, on the thin edge of the breast. Then I opened it like a paperback book.

I was very excited.

The recipe, “Pampered Chicken,” came from The EatingWell Diabetes Cookbook. No, I’m not diabetic - and thanks for asking - but my father was and my brother is and so it’s on my mind a lot, though perhaps not so much as it should be. Anyway, the recipe’s approach is a pretty common one: you slice open the breast and insert something yummy (in this case, cheese). Fold the breast shut, dip it (egg white), coat it (dry breadcrumbs, chopped parsley, grated Parmesan, kosher salt, pepper), brown one side in a hot ovenproof skillet, turn it and move the skillet immediately to a hot oven for about twenty minutes. Oh, yes, friend. It was good. But not uncommon…outside of my own kitchen, that is.

Millions of cooks enjoy making stuffed chicken recipes, after all, and they think nothing of preparing them. I’ve always been reluctant to try it, though. I vaguely recall making a chicken Kiev dish once or twice ages ago, but have usually thought such dishes either too fancy or perhaps too daunting for my culinary skill set, which I consider awfully limited.

To tell the truth, I’m kind of a lumbering oaf in the kitchen. Messy, slow, not terribly organized. If you say “mise en place” to me, I’d probably say “Gesundheit” in response. More problematically, my grasp of cooking fundamentals - an understanding of the concepts that allow cooks to look at a pile of foodstuffs, recognize how they might come together, and so produce a meal without guidance - is not the strongest. As a result, I rely heavily on recipes and the saints who provide them. (My approach to blog design is much the same.)

On the positive side, I’m at least a well-intentioned oaf. That’s my single best quality when it comes to cooking. That is, I can bring myself, fitfully, to try new things…assuming that they call within the outer ranges of my comfort zone.

Also: I actually like cooking (as opposed to simply liking food). This came as kind of a surprise to me.

This year, this brand new year, I hope to expand that comfort zone by developing new skills in the kitchen. It’s an actual resolution (I’m among the credulous who still put stock in the New Year’s ritual). I found myself encouraged by animated French mice, of all things; Ratatouille gave me a culinary charge I hadn’t felt since the first time I saw Big Night. And though I pride myself on being resistant to most reality shows, I was glued to the television for the recent rebroadcasts of the Food Network’s two lightly-scripted contests. Kinda silly, I know, but you take inspiration where you find it, yes?

Damn. I’m hungry now.

Cat, fish, recipe

You’d smile too if you were on the payroll of the Catfish Institute

So I was reading an issue of Eating Well and ran across a full-page ad featuring celeb chef Cat Cora and touting her new spokespersonship for something called the Catfish Institute. I paid attention to the ad because Cora is teh cute, but eventually I noticed that there was also an actual catfish recipe involved. I love catfish, its second-class reputation notwithstanding (as do other smart people), and so scooted right over to get the goods on Cat Cora’s Catfish Lettuce Tacos.

In a word, friends: awesome. We’ve had it twice now, most recently last night. As always with recipes, things get changed in the translation from outline to actual meal. First, ignore the call for oregano in the cooking instructions; it’s not listed in the ingredient list and is a typo (should say “black beans” instead, I think). Also, rinse the black beans beforehand if you’re using the canned variety.

With my usual heavy-handedness in the kitchen, the dish turns out to be more of a catfish salad than a “lettuce taco,” but we don’t mind that. Radicchio is nice but not required; crispy romaine pairs well with the butter lettuce. The marinade with chili powder, cumin, and cayenne pepper gives the fish a redder hue in real life than in the image above. I pre-heated the oven with a cast-iron skillet inside, used the skillet to sear the marinated fish atop the stove over high heat, and then popped the pan back into the 400 degree oven for 12 minutes.

The fish is indeed spicy, but the lettuce, tomato salad mix, and (optional) sour cream provide cooling balance.

It occurs to me that this would make a nice casual dish for visiting friends. Of course, that means you have to clean the place up. Small price to pay for this recipe, though.

Addendum: I do think you can skip the radicchio; it’s got a bite to it that’s really not needed, given the spices at work here.

Also: Sour cream is recommended. Aside from cold cereal, what isn’t improved by adding sour cream?

One more thing: With the diced tomatoes, you can accumulate a lot of liquid in this dish; it can get kind of soupy. Try to keep things crisp by draining away the liquid and seeds in the tomatoes, making sure you’ve spun your lettuce dry, and that there’s not excess water in the rinsed beans.

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