101

Nothing is quite so satisfying than making a stock so rich it gels.

And then freezing it in ice cube trays for easy access.

5-minute dinner

A very satisfying five-minute dinner. First step, had leftover brown rice. Second, sautéed green beans (the skinny haricots verts), with cashews and black sesame seeds (for three minutes at most, on high). Third, added tamari and mirin. Done. Delicious.

pickling

Made two types of pickles recently, a brined burdock-and-carrot pickle and a tsukemono-style eggplant.

The burdock (gobō) and carrot pickle was a basic brined vegetable pickle with about two teaspoons of salt in a cup of water. (I usually refer to Wild Fermentation for basic brining techniques). I had about a quart of thinly sliced burdock and carrot with some shredded ginger and Korean chili pepper flakes. After 5 days it was tart but still very crunchy. The earthiness of the burdock permeates the carrots and the ginger brightens everything up.

Meanwhile, the eggplants were pressed in my tsukemono ki. I tossed a very long Chinese eggplants that was cut into one-inch lengths with a teaspoon-and-a-half of salt and then tossed them with dulse flakes, a type of seaweed that is relatively sweet. I pressed the eggplants for a good day, tossing them a few times throughout. They lose some moisture, obviously, and remain a little spongy but lose the bitterness of raw eggplants. I ate most of them snacking after dinner. Perfect for warm evenings and pilsener.

shokutaku tsukemono ki

I finally buckled down and bought myself a shokutaku tsukemono ki, a tabletop pickle press (I had been waiting to come across one that wasn't plastic, but that doesn't seem likely to happen).

It's quiet small, with a "capacity" of 2.2L, but I'm guessing that in reality it'll be about half that size. I have Ikuko Hisamatsu's Quick and Easy Tsukemono which covers eveything from lightly marinated cooked vegatables to rice bran — or nuka — pickles. (Nukamiso-zuke should probably be made in a non-plastic container; I've made them in a Burley crock, traditionally they're made in wooden barrels that breathe more). The size will be perfect for small batches of things; the screw helps pull more moisture out of the vegetables to speed fermentation.

I also think that the rectangular will be great for whole carrots, burdock strips, daikon, asparagus and other long vegetables (and I have multiple round crocks anyway). Here's to a spring of new and exciting pickles!

Lastly, anyone know if this warning is something to be heeded? (Click to enlarge).

Gyuniku no Misozuke

Maybe I'm anæmic, maybe having red meat last night just had me craving more. Same project as last night: various vegetables in the fridge; went and bought a cut of meat. This time, a strip steak that looked to have lots of juicy fat (it was melt-in-your-mouth good, actually).

Instead of turning to Julia Child, I went to Hiroko Shimbo's The Japanese Kitchen. I marinated the trimmed steak in miso, sake and mirin (the steak protectively wrapped in cheesecloth, an interesting method). The fat I trimmed was rendered for a fried brown rice with onions, garlic and Japanese scallions (Shimbo called for shiso, which I grew last year and is otherwise impossible to find out here. Moreover, there were scallions in the vegetable bin). The steak was seared, sliced and served with a reduction of the marinade and a dash more of sake (Shimbo called for brandy, of which I have none).

That I served with Shimbo's a cold stir-fried carrot and burdock and my pickled asparagus.

• The steak was incredible. Even though it was only marinated for three hours, it had a wonderful aroma of miso and some sweetness from the mirin; it was just seared and rosy pink inside. Delicious.
• The fried rice was perfect. It was strong (from the beef fat) and could hold its own against the steak. The Japanese scallions, added at the end, livened it up.
• Pickled asparagus was a sharp contrast to the sweet of the miso and the fat of the steak and rice. And they are perfectly intact and flavorful, fermented ten (!) months ago.
• And then the burdock and carrot: both vegetables regained all of their crunch after cooling. The earthiness of the burdock and the sweetness of the carrot were a perfect match for the pickles and meat, something-in between the two.
  

This is excessively verbose. But it was that good.

a(n anti-) celebration

Once there was a time. And I posted this. I had made the decision to become a baker. And I took it very seriously, reading Calvel, Hamelman, Kaplan; I made more bread at home, I came to have intuitive understanding of bread.

And then, this winter, I've had more respiratory illnesses and flus than I can remember in a winter. Allergies? But I can eat wheat. Allergy to yeast? Then I'd never be able to eat anything fermented. Yesterday I was preliminary diagnosed with "Baker's Asthma," wherein I have asthma somehow triggered by all the fine particulate that I inahale on a daily basis (even with a mask for the last few months). And all that comes with an inhaler that "may increase the risk of asthma-related death."

Whoa.

So I needed something (and have been craving red meat, maybe I don't eat enough kale?), and I needed to recognize the comfort of knowing — after months — what is wrong, and I need comfort in knowing that I need a major change in my life.

And there she is — Julia Child — waiting to comfort me.

Biftek sauté au beurre — Pommes Anna — Champignons sauté à la Bordelaise — Chou frisé à la vapeur

First, these beech mushrooms need to be noted. Them come white, as picture, or this beautiful mottled brown. And are just wonderful.

So, pan-broiled steak : a sirloin seared in butter (with some of the rendered fat I cut off), mushrooms sautéed and tossed with scallions, garlic, breadcrumbs and wine (so 1960, but really f—ing good), Pommes Anna, and kale, steamed and tossed with some raw red wine vinegar. Even better, I had everything except the steak (a mere 8oz) and wine (a great Syrah-Grenache for seven bucks).


And next? (anyone want to foot the capital for pickle bar?)

miso

This is why miso age is counted in summers: at 6 months — a winter — it doesn't look like much. I re-packed it and I'll re-check it on it's first birthday (my 28th, this was started on my 27th). This miso is mostly soy, and some brown rice. It has a nice aroma, but a mild flavor.

breakfast

I made one of the most satisfying (and surprisingly simple) breakfasts in a long time today.


I made a simple miso soup (dashi, tamari, miso, julienned carrots) and ate that with Japanese white rice, nattō, and a steamed egg (and tea, of course, being that smallest bowl).

So I was steaming the rice... which, this being the first time I've tried that, I must say is ridicuously good. I took Sho-Chiku-Bai sweet rice, soaked it for 20 minutes, placed it in a bowl in a steamer with an equal volume of water and steamed it for 20 minutes. It came out perfect. And then my nattō needed something. So I greased a small bowl with sesame oil and steamed the egg, beaten, for maybe 6-8 minutes. It was stirred three or four times during that period. And it was moist, creamy and the ultimate topping for rice mixed with nattō (or at least on par with a raw quail egg).

blood orange marmalade

So a year ago when I tried this — and had great results — I didn't take any notes or leave any details in the blog post. So I had to start from scratch. And marmalade recipes vary greatly in method and proportions. Some have you slice the fruit and pick out the pips; June Taylor cuts the rind into triangles (which I tried and didn't like as much) and it appears that she candies the rind first; some have you juice the fruit and then chop the rind. Most have you hold the pips (and often membranes) for pectin (except the ones that use commercial pectin, which seems ridiculous). Worse, sugar ranges from about one-to-one to thrice(!) the quantity of fruit. Some measure the fruit in quantity, or weight, or juiced-and-peeled volume. It's overwhelming.

So I had a half dozen blood oranges that were really too bitter to eat. And then some lovely Meyer lemons to balance that out. I peeled the rind off of three Meyer lemons and juiced them: the rest I held back for the pectin bag. I cut the rind into strips about an eighth of an inch wide. I juiced the blood oranges very well, leaving very little membrane left inside. I cut those in the same manner. All the pips and membranes went into cheesecloth and was tied up (that's where most of the pectin is). I used about an equal weight of fruit and sugar.

I cooked the fruit and pectin bag for about twenty minutes to soften the fruit and then added the sugar. After fifteen minutes I took out the pectin sack and let it cool enough to squeeze out all that pectin. I cooked the marmalade until it jelled just enough on a saucer placed in the freezer, which was about 222ºF (and most recipes suggest 8º-10ºF above boiling). This was even more red than last time, and has great flavor. I might even use a tiny bit less sugar next time, but only as I like marmalade on the bitter side.

rillettes

Duck rillettes. Quite possibly one of the most delicious things on earth. Rillettes is potted meat, from the Old French rille, or "strip of lard" (Robert Historique). Traditionally made with pork, duck or other fatty meats will work.

Here we go. (Recipe inspired heavily by Jennifer Mclagan's recipe in Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient [2008])

Take a duck and take it apart. Reserve extra fat for rendering (above right), use breasts for another use (see last week) and make a damn fine stock with that carcass. Keep the bones in the legs and wings. Marinate all of that overnight with coriander, pepper, orange peel, pork belly (or blanched salt pork), bay leaves and a splash of vermouth (or white wine, the vermouth is in tribute to Julia Child, who seemed to have loved it for cooking.)

Drain and sear the meat, fat side down, until nice and dark. Cast iron is ideal. Add marinate. Cover and bake at 250º for a while — I went for 3½ hours. (Added a splash of port after an hour.) And then two more hours at 200º. And then I let it cool for an hour in the oven, uncovered.

Above left is what's left: beautiful dark meat, falling off the bones (make a second stock with those bones, it's worth it). Shred every bit of meat that you can get off the bones, and then shred every bit of fat. Work it all together and add the liquid (which you've reduced to a thick sauce) from the roasting, as well as some of the fat. A splash of calvados or brandy here is nice.

Pack it all into ramekins, and then cover with a layer of clean duck fat. Let that sit in the fridge for a few days. It'll keep like that for, they say, months. Once the fat seal is broken, eat it in a few days. (Eat at room temperature.)

And here it is, on a sourdough baguette. It is very very good. Riduculously good.

quatre-quarts

Julia Child's quatre-quarts ("four quarters," literally — "The English like the formula so much that they use a pound of everything — hence, of course, the pound cake" she tells us).

I hadn't made a pound cake before, I love the process. Six ounces butter is whipped until a mayonnaise-like consistency. Three eggs and a cup of sugar are beaten until fluffy and doubled in volume. One and a quarter cups flour are sifted in, and then the butter is folded in. And baked at three-fifty.

I glazed this with quince syrup leftover from candying quince for panforte. I then served it with Tartine's lemon cream: lemon curd with butter beat into it, essentially. Very very good.

kaga-style duck

The duck adventure continues (one duck will go a long way for one person, which either makes me look greedy or lonely)! This is another recipe from Hiroko Shimbo: "Duck prepared in the Kaga style." The duck breast was seared and then sliced thin and dipped in flour (I used wheat and brown rice flours, recipe called for wheat and buckwheat...) and allowed to rest. They are then re-dredged. Meanwhile a broth of dashi, sake, a bit of sugar, mirin and shoyu is prepared. Leeks are then quickly parboiled in that mixture, removed and followed by the floured duck strips. The result was very tender and unlike anything I've tried: The flour forms a nice skin but obviously hasn't been fried. Miraculously, it doesn't make a mess in the broth, which is then ladled over the duck and leeks:


(Duck rillettes, to be consumed next weekend, were actually the reason for me having extra duck breasts for my own amusement and consumption: that adventure started two days ago and will be done in a few more. I like that every part of the duck went somewhere: stock, rendered fat, cracklings, rillettes, teriyaki, poached duck breast...)