Entries from October 24th, 2011

D.I.Y. Oyster Bar: How to Shuck

1

24.10.11

I learned to shuck oysters when I lived in New Orleans, where they thrive in warm waters and grow fat and plentiful. Gulf oysters have some drawbacks— they lack the clean, minerally complexity of those harvested in colder waters. The old adage about not eating oysters during months that don’t end in “R” holds true regarding the Gulf oyster. The hot summer waters create ideals conditions for the growth of vibrio vulnificus, a rare but dangerous bacterium most often transmitted to humans through raw seafood. Yet Gulf oysters are special because they aren’t associated with luxury and snobbery. In New Orleans, its common to buy a sack of 300 for about $25 as an interactive centerpiece for an outdoor party or kegger.

You quickly become skilled with the shucking knife when you have 300 oysters to deal with. Anyone can learn to shuck, but most people banish oysters to the “restaurant only” category. This is absurd because there’s no special preparation technique involved in serving them. They are raw! A dozen oysters could easily cost you $25 – $30 at a restaurant, but they are only $1 to $1.25 each if you buy them at Whole Foods.

To shuck oysters, you will need a dish cloth and a shucking knife. No, you can’t do this with a butter knife, I’ve tried. I got mine at a seafood market in New Orleans, but XOXO makes a version you can buy in many big box stores. They cost about $5.

After gathering your gear, examine the oyster. Did you ever notice that one side is flat and the other side is rounded, like a cup? When shucking, be sure that the flat side is facing up so that the delicious oyster liquor stays contained in the cupped side of the shell.

Now cover your left hand with a dish towel and grip the oyster so that the round side makes contact with the table. The towel will protect your hand when the knife inevitably slips while you’re battling a particularly stubborn oyster. Shucking knives are blunt, but they can cause a nasty wound. Believe me, I’ve done it to myself and seen it happen to others way too many times.

Gripping the knife in your right hand, jab the tip into the hinge of the oyster shell, and turn your wrist clockwise. Shucking an oyster is like picking a lock; you need to find the sweet spot in the hinge, and eventually the shell will loosen and separate. Here’s a great tip: sticking oysters in the freezer for 5-10 minutes makes shucking easier, just don’t forget them in there!

This short video by Hog Island Oyster company clarifies the shucking process. I trust them because I’ve had some of the best oysters of my life during their happy hour in San Francisco.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFFplJOfyqg]

Oysters take on the flavors of the waters from where they are harvested, so different varieties require different accompaniments. Hot sauce is a must with Gulf oysters and West Coast oysters are great with lemon. East Coast oysters like these Beau Soleils from New Brunswick benefit from mignonette sauce. You can use my recipe for this classic French condiment that is ridiculously easy to make at home.

Mignonette Sauce

Ingredients

1 small shallot, finely chopped
1 tsp coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 cup white wine vinegar

Procedure

Combine the three ingredients and let sit for at least 15 minutes, allowing the shallots to mellow. Serve as a condiment for an oyster platter.

These are just my opinions, but you should decide for yourself. You will need to do lots of tasting, and serving oysters at home (or seeking out good happy hours) is the best way to do it without going broke.

Butternut Squash Ravioli from Scratch

5

18.10.11

Somebody recently asked on Twitter, “I’m not sure why butternut squash ravioli are supposed to taste like dessert. Are you?” This hit a nerve with me. I had the same reaction the last time I ordered that particular dish at a restaurant. The ravioli were full of dense, cloying, custardy-in-a-bad-way butternut squash filling. I doubt the pasta was even made in-house. In terms of eating out, there’s nothing I hate more than biting into my entrée and knowing I could make a better version at home.

On Sunday I cranked out 55 butternut squash ravioli using one of my all-time favorite recipes from my all-time favorite cookbook, Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking or Everyone. The filling is full of grated cheese, butter, and bread crumbs, and I added cayenne pepper and parsley, avoiding all comparisons to dessert. This time I ran out of regular white flour, so I subbed a cup of whole wheat. It made the dough quite difficult to work with (I really had to beat it into submission), but it gave the pasta a pleasant, earthy flavor.

Butternut Squash Ravioli with Toasted Pecans and Sage from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison (with my own edits)

Egg Pasta

2 cups flour
2 extra-large eggs
2 teaspoons olive oil and water if needed
1/4 teaspoon salt

By Hand: Put the flour on a clean counter, shape it into a mound, and make a well in the center. Put the eggs, oil, and a few pinches salt in the center, break them up with a fork, then gradually begin pulling the flour from the sides. Bring in as much flour as you can and still have a smooth mass of dough that doesn’t stick to your hands.

When you can’t add any more flour, pass the flour remaining on the counter through a strainer, returning it to the counter, discard the lumps. Knead the dough, picking up as much of the flour on the counter as it will hold, until it’s silky and moist but not sticky, 3 to 4 minutes. Slip the dough into a plastic bag and set it aside to rest for 10 to 15 before rolling it out. If your dough is dry and difficult to knead, this resting period will help soften it.

Filling

1 Butternut Squash, about 2 pounds
Vegetable oil for the squash
2 tablespoons butter
salt and freshly milled pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1/2 cup dried bread crumbs

Brown Butter with Pecans and Sage

4 to 6 tablespoons butter
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
2 teaspoons chopped thyme
1/2 cup pecans, toasted and coarsely chopped
Freshly grated Parmesan

1. Preheat the oven to 375. Slice the squash in two, remove the seeds, and brush the cut surfaces with oil. Bake cut side down on the sheet pan until soft, 30 to 40 minutes. Scoop out the flesh and measure. Beat it with the butter until smooth and season well with salt and pepper. Add the cheese and bread crumbs, and mix well.

2. Roll out the dough and form into 2-inch ravioli, circles, or crescents. The mouth of a pint glass or tumbler is the perfect size for cutting out circles. The easiest method for forming the ravioli is to grip the fresh pasta circle like a taco and place about 1 or 2 teaspoons of filling in the middle (you need less filling then you’d think). Wetting your finger tips, seal the edges of the pasta to form a crescent and set aside.

3. In a skillet large enough to hold the finished pasta, melt the butter with the sliced garlic, sage, and 1 tablespoon parsley and thyme and cook over the heat until the butter is lightly browned and has a nutty aroma. Cook the ravioli in gently boiling salted water for 5 minutes, then drain. Add the pecans to the skillet with the remaining parsley, then add the ravioli to the sauce. Cook for 20 seconds, then serve dusted with Parmesan.

Chicken Guillotine

0

15.10.11

Chicken galantine is a truly refined French creation. Dustin got confused and called it “chicken guillotine.” Was it because he devoured it with the haste that the French beheaded Louis XVI during the Revolution? Or was it because the chicken itself had already been guillotined? Either way, during three days I skinned a chicken, butchered it, made a forcemeat from the dark meat and liver, wrapped it and the breasts up in the skin, poached it in stock made of the bones, then refrigerated it overnight. The result was a cold, delicately flavored dish wrapped in rubbery chicken skin.

I’m going to be brutally honest— this thing was a pain in the ass to make. So what’s the point? Using my skills as a charcutière and all parts of the bird, I transformed a 3 pound chicken that could serve 2 or 4 people into an elegant dish that could serve about 6 to 8. This was a resourceful technique for French peasants to bust out in the olden days when meat was scarce.

As usual, I followed the recipe in Michael Ruhlman’s and Brian Polcyn’s Charcuterie. Butchering the chicken was no problem. Ever since watching this Alton Brown video, I am quite comfortable with it.

Removing the skin in one piece was intimidating. Like Eminem, I only had one shot. I followed Ruhlman’s directions closely but still ended up with a chicken skin in three pieces. It wasn’t a huge tragedy since I overlapped them together to form one piece. Then I stretched it all across a sheet pan, froze it for an hour, and scraped the fat off the skin.

Next I simmered the bones and some water in my crock pot for stock. No way in hell was I going to make real stock and sit around my house for 6 hours manning the stock pot. I’m sure Ruhlman makes absolutely beautiful stock using the traditional method, but does it really matter for poaching a chicken skin-wrapped pâté? I doubt it.

Two days later I seared the chicken breasts. Then I ground up the chicken liver and meat with some pork belly, first in the meat grinder and then in the food processor to emulsify it and make it extra smooth. In went the cream, spices, and eggs whites.

Then came the moment of truth. I spread the gloppy meat paste mixture on the chicken skin, laid the breasts across it, and encased them in another layer of meat paste. Calling upon my sushi making skillz, I wrapped it relatively tightly, and tied it with twine. I stood back and admired it while finally feeling confident that my galantine would be a success.

Then I realized I don’t own a pan large enough to hold this monstrosity. Nor did I have a thermometer. I resorted to my cast iron skillet, which contained the cheesecloth-wrapped package and all the stock, but the top third of the galantine remained uncovered. I poached if for 50 minutes, turning it every ten minutes and praying that it wouldn’t dry out. Pretty scrap, I know, but these things often work out for the best.

And it did! The next day I sliced into it, and the layers were even and distinct. The flavors were outstanding, but I couldn’t handle the rubbery chicken skin texture. Like a child removing the crusts from sandwich bread, I peeled the skin off and ate the delicious filling.

The result was similar to the hot dog challenge. Making this chicken galantine was a triumph that tested my cooking skills, but I won’t trouble myself to make it again. In the future, I’ll stick to simple roast chicken with a crispy brown skin.

Vanilla Bean & Buttermilk Ice Cream

1

06.10.11

I’m dairy-obsessed. I crave milk when I have a stomach ache. Most people find it difficult to digest or whatever, but I thrive on it. One fateful day at Barton Creek Farmers’ Market here in Austin, Texas Daily Harvest, my favorite milk supplier, called out, “We have fresh buttermilk!” I didn’t yet know how I would use it, but I knew I had to have it.

I fried some quails and made creme fraiche, but that only made a dent in my buttermilk supply. I needed to use some serious volume. Using this recipe from Smitten Kitchen as a guide, I made a batch of buttermilk ice cream flavored with vanilla bean. It was sweet and tangy, evocative of cheesecake, and it just begs for a fruit accompaniment or caramel sauce. Too bad Dustin hates all fruit, but I procured some cajeta at the last Austin food swap event I attended. This ice cream recipe has a bit more sugar than others to compete with the sourness of the buttermilk.

Vanilla Bean & Buttermilk Ice Cream

1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 cups cream
1 1/4 cups sugar
4 egg yolks
1 vanilla bean, split in half and seeds scraped
pinch of salt

1.Place the egg yolks in a large bowl. Combine the buttermilk, cream, sugar, vanilla bean and seeds, and salt in a saucepan. Stirring frequently, warm over medium-low heat until the sugar has dissolved completely.

2.Remove the saucepan from the heat. Whisk the egg yolks as you pour the hot liquid into the bowl in a thin stream, slowly heating the yolks so they don’t scramble.

3. Pour the egg yolks, buttermilk, and cream mixture back into the saucepan. Stir constantly over medium-low heat until the mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon or spatula.

4. Remove the saucepan from the heat, and pour the mixture into a container. Refrigerate overnight, leaving the vanilla bean to steep for maximum flavor.

5. Strain the mixture after it has thoroughly chilled. Pour into the cannister of your ice cream maker and churn according to the manufacturer’s directions.

Here’s a tip to improve the texture of your ice cream if you use unhomogenized milk (meaning the fat globules are suspended in the liquid instead of evenly incorporated into it) like me. Before chilling the ice cream base overnight, blend it in a food processor or blender for 2 minutes. Do this again the next day right before churning it. Of course I completely forgot to do this, so large blobs of butterfat coated my mouth while I ate the ice cream, interrupting the creamy texture and coating my mouth. Oh well, it still tasted great.

Cookbook Review: 5 Spices, 50 Dishes

1

03.10.11

I’m never going to an Indian restaurant again! That’s what I declare each time I cook from Ruta Kahate’s book 5 Spices 50 Dishes. Armed with this cookbook and five common spices (turmeric, coriander, cumin, cayenne, and mustard seeds), you can make 50 distinct Indian dishes based on beans, meat, eggs, or seafood. She also includes directions for making various raitas, desserts, and breads. Unique recipes like chickpeas with dill, roasted lamb with burnt onions, egg curry, and okra raita result in bright, fresh flavors instead of the greasy slop and frozen naan bread served at sub-par Indian eateries.I have never been anything less than thrilled with Kahate’s recipes, and I’ve cooked most of them. The black-eyes peas in a spicy Goan curry is now one of my go-to meals when I want something quick and easy for dinner. She doesn’t include directions for using fresh peas, but I bring them to a boil when I start cooking, and then simmer them until they’re ready to add to the sauce. With all the fresh black-eyed peas available in Texas right now, it’s a fun and unexpected way to use them.

Black-Eyed Peas in a Spicy Goan Curry from 5 Spices, 50 Dishes by Ruta Kahate

Ingredients

	1	cup dried black-eyed peas or two 15-ounce cans, drained
	2	Tbsp. canola oil
	1	small yellow onion, minced (about 1 cup)
	1	tsp. coriander seeds, finely ground
	½	tsp. finely grated garlic (about 1 large clove)
	½	tsp. finely grated fresh ginger (a 1-inch piece)
	½	tsp. ground turmeric
	½	tsp. cayenne
	½	tsp. cumin seeds, finely ground
	¼	cup minced tomato (1 small tomato)
	2	cups (or 1 cup if using canned peas) hot water
	½	tsp. salt, or to taste if using canned peas
	½	tsp. sugar
	1	cup canned coconut milk
	2	Tbsp. minced cilantro leaves
	1	Tbsp. lemon juice

If using dried black-eyed peas, soak them in water to cover for 6 to 8 hours. Drain.
In a large saucepan, heat the oil over medium-low heat and sauté the onion until it turns dark brown, about 8 minutes. Add the coriander, garlic, ginger, turmeric, cayenne, and cumin, and stir for 2 minutes. Add the tomato and stir over low heat until it disintegrates.
Add the peas and mix well. Pour in the water, add the salt and sugar, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low, cover, and simmer until the peas are cooked through, about 20 minutes. If using canned peas, simmer for only 10 minutes (it is essential to simmer the canned peas too so that the flavors blend better). Stir in the coconut milk and simmer for another 8 to 10 minutes, again allowing the flavors to come together.
Add the cilantro and lemon juice, simmer for 1 minute more, and remove from the heat. Serve immediately.

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