Eggs Benedict with Rosemary Pork Loin, Orange Hollandaise and Wild Arugula Salad

We're all pretty familiar with your standard Eggs Benedict: two poached eggs over a slice of Canadian Bacon or ham, on a toasted English muffin, luxuriously topped with Hollandaise sauce. Well here is a fresh take that makes use of leftovers from Saturday evening's pork loin roast. Combine them with with farm fresh organic eggs and produce, and crusty sourdough bread to make an elegant Sunday brunch.

This recipe also uses a number of techniques that are good to have in your repertoire.

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The Difference is in the Brine

Why bother to brine a pork roast, a turkey, or a chicken?  Well, there are two reasons.  The first is that all three of these meats generally don't contain a lot of intramuscular fat and therefore tend to dry out when you roast or grill them.  Brining helps the meat to retain its juices, even if it's slightly overcooked.  The second reason is flavor.  A basic brine is made up of water, salt and sugar.  Soaking a roast, a bird, or even chops in this liquid allows the meat to become seasoned all the way through, not just on the outside.

Lately one of the things I like to keep in my larder is a pork loin roast.  A 1-1/2 to 2 lb. roast is the perfect size for my little household of two plus dog.  I brine it for about 2 hours, then sear it off, and roast it.  The whole process takes about 3 hours, largely unattended.  Properly cooled and left whole, the cooked roast with keep for about 3 days tightly wrapped in the fridge.   Then I just slice off pieces as I need to make grilled sandwiches or to have with eggs and toast.

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Pulled Pork that Practically Cooks Itself

I ordered a pork shoulder through Basis Foods a couple months ago. The online store estimated each one at about 8 or 9 lbs. But when it arrived from Mountain View Farm it was a whopping 13 lbs, and...it was frozen. So I popped it in my freezer because unless I had a special occasion or a plan to make use of all that pork, there was no way the Buddy and I were going to be able to eat all of it.

Last week I finally thawed it out. The boneless half I sliced into steaks which I used to make Char Siu, and Tasso Ham. The bone end, which weighed about 7 lbs. became the easiest pulled pork ever. I looked up David Chang's recipe for his Bo Ssam in the Momofuku Cookbook, and was truly surprised at how basic his recipe was for marinating and cooking the pork: Rub pork with salt and sugar and marinate overnight. Cook pork, in a covered pan at 300 degrees until fork tender.

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My Almost Biscotti Disaster

"Eeek! "

That's the sound that came out of my mouth as a tray of half-baked biscotti logs slid off the oven rack and ended up  standing vertical with the edge of the tray stuck in the hinge of my oven door.  Luckily the actual logs of biscotti held on and didn't fall off.  When I righted the tray there were some casualties, but I was able to salvage most of my work.  So at least my first attempt at making biscotti wasn't a total disaster...

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All Aboard the Sous Vide Bandwagon

Okay, so I have been accused of being a little bit of a gadget girl.  But you can't blame me, it's genetic. Sources have informed my that my own father has been known to order computer equipment, then have it shipped to my sister's, whereupon she would bring it over as a gift.  My dad would exclaim something to the effect of, "Wow, how did you know this is exactly what I've been looking for?'  and my mom would be none the wiser.  Sorry guys, the jig is up.

Well, I've been wanting to get into sous vide cooking for some time, but it's not a technique that's necessarily used at my current job.  Until New York City Health Department developed standards regulating the use of sous vide, many restaurants were using the technique under the radar.  But now that most of the top restaurants in the city are certified to use sous vide, it has become quite commonplace.  After all, Thomas Keller's Under Pressure, a book demonstrating the use of sous vide in his restaurants, has been around for years, and there are very accessible pieces of equipment on the market now that make sous vide a very practical addition to the home kitchen.  So as a restaurant professional, there is no way I'm going to get left behind in the dust.

Sous vide is a French term meaning under vacuum.

Easy Pickled Jalapenos

Forgive me father for I have sinned (I imagine the late James Beard to be looking down at me with disdain from his kitchen in the sky).  It has been two weeks since my last post, and in that time I have twice eaten takeout pizza, and once I even had Taco Bell.  But it has been very difficult to have home cooked meals now that I am working more nights at the restaurant.  The powers that be have decided to expand the dining room, and add 50 more seats.  So after the departure of the Hulk, they have brought on a second, more experienced chef to help run the kitchen.  He and I have cooked together before, and as his sous chef I get to play more of a supporting role.  Remember that episode of Battlestar Galactica (the newer series) when Colonel Tigh had to run the ship while Commander Adama was recovering from a gunshot wound?  And remember the relief that he felt when he was able to return command to Adama?  Well, color me Tigh.  Now I get two full days off, but the other 5 nights are spent in the trenches, on the line, cooking with my crew until close.  So when I get home late and starving, pizza and nachos sound like a really good midnight meal.  The problem is that I always wake up in the morning feeling kind of crappy and regretting it.

Fast food and takeout are not cheap eats either, especially here in New York.  So I am on a new mission:  to  take a little time on my days off to stock my larder with fresh homemade goods from which I can make quick, delicious, and healthy midnight meals during the rest of the week. Having already discovered how easy it is to make home-cured meats, I figured I would add home-canned goods to my routine.

Steak and Kidney Pie, or the Dinner that Wasn't

"...not too much kidney...just enough to give it that touch of bite...and lashings of steak, oooh, and it's good steak too!...ooh." - from Jeeves and Wooster, Season 1: The Hunger Strike.

Is it possible we watch way to much Jeeves and Wooster?  Perhaps it's a sign, that after the 'teenth  time of watching Tuppy Glossup describe Chef Anatole's masterly Steak and Kidney Pie with such mouth watering anticipation, I finally needed to make one.

In keeping with the spirit of Jeeves and Wooster, I decided to use a British recipe for Steak and Kidney pie.  I remembered coming across a recipe in Hugh Fearnley Whittingsall's River Cottage Meat Book,  so I ordered some grass fed beef kidney and steak from Lewis Waite Farm.  Last week I finally had a chance to thaw  them out and work on the pie.

The thing is this:  When we made beef kidneys in culinary school, I could barely stand to taste them.  Yet Tuppy Glossup and Mr. Whittingsall managed to convince me that Steak and Kidney pie could be truly delicious.  Here I believe, was my first failure in judgment.  My second, was perhaps getting frozen instead of fresh kidney. After thawing it out (properly, i.e. in the fridge), I took the kidney out of the package, and started trimming it.  The center was still a little frozen, but as I continued to cut, it continued to thaw out.  It also began to give off a distinct odor of piss.  Not a strong odor, but it was there. 

Home Cured Bacon makes the Best BLTs

Home Cured BLT Sandwiches

Bacon, oh delicious bacon. Is there any other food that inspires people to the same degree of epicurean lust?  In one Jim Gaffigan standup routine, he spends a good two and a half minutes extolling the joys of eating bacon in its many forms. One waiter at work shared with me that having described a dish as containing bacon, he has had even more than one customer grunt "Yeah, bacon!" Bacon is equally delicious and dirty. It is salty, sweet and smoky all at the same time, not to mention luxuriously fatty. It is a guilty pleasure that connects us to an older more primal way of life. Since modern refrigeration has eliminated the need for us to even make bacon or other cured and smoked meats, it is something we do for the pure enjoyment of flavor.

A couple years back, we bought a Brinkman smoker for the house at an end-of-season sale. And a few weeks ago I got my hands on an entire slab of Berkshire pork belly, so naturally I decided to try making bacon at home. I consulted three different books on the matter: Jane Grigson's Charcuterie and French Pork Cookery (originally published in 1967), Michael Ruhlman & Brian Polcyn's Charcuterie, and Hugh Fearnsly Whittingsall's River Cottage Meat Book. What I learned was that making bacon really easy.

First, there's the Cure:

First you dry cure the belly in a mixture of salt, sugar, and whatever flavorings you may choose. Salt is the only essential ingredient, since it is the primary preservative. Beyond that, sugar and other flavorings are added to balance the salt, and a small amount of curing salt (a.k.a. pink salt, saltpetre) though not essential, is added to maintain the rosy pink hue of the pork and as a precaution against botulism. All three books vary greatly on their suggested ratios of salt to sugar. Ruhlman/Polcyn's cure is a ratio of 2 parts salt to 1 part sugar, plus 10 percent of their combined weight in pink salt. Grigson's cure calls for 2-1/2 lbs. of salt to only 1 oz. sugar, and 1 oz. pink salt. Fearnley-Whittingsall's cure falls somewhere in between. I decided to try two recipes: the River Cottage one and the Ruhlman/Polcyn one. The basic process is pretty much the same. Once you mix the cure, you just slather the belly with enough of the cure to evenly cover it, and set it in a container or ziploc bag in the fridge. The River Cottage recipe says to pour off any liquid that is released and rub the belly with fresh cure each day, Ruhlman/Polcyn directs you to simply turn the meat to redistribute the cure and the liquid. A 1" thick piece of belly will usually be ready in about 4 to 5 days. Then you just wash off the cure and you have what is commonly referred to as salt pork. Before smoking, let it dry in the fridge for a day or two. Drying creates a tacky surface on the meat known as the pellicle, which allows the smoke to adhere to it.

Then there's the Smoke:

Bacon, as commonly understood in America is then just smoked salt pork. The River Cottage recipe calls for cold-smoking the bacon, at a temperature of less than 100 degrees F (ideally 75°-86° F), for 24 hours continuously, or up to a week, intermittently. Ruhlman/Polcyn, call for a hot smoke, at 180° F to 200° F until the internal temperature of the bacon reaches 150° F. So again, here is a matter of personal preference. The longer the smoke time, the smokier your bacon will be. A cold smoke takes longer, but it is more difficult to maintain the proper temperature without special equipment. A hot smoke can be done in a charcoal grill in a matter of a few hours. Since I didn't have the proper equipment (or time, for that matter) for cold smoking, I decided to just go with a hot smoke. The difference is that hot smoking slow cooks the meat as it smokes, resulting in a final product that is essentially ready to eat.

To hot smoke meats, you can use a charcoal smoker, like the cylindrical kind, or a charcoal grill. The technique simply involves building an indirect fire, which roasts the meat rather than grilling it. The meat is not placed directly over the coals, but a distance above or to one side. In a cylindrical smoker, the meat is held on a rack a couple feet above the coals. In a charcoal grill, you would build your fire on one side of the grill, and place your meat on the other side, away from the coals. In both cases, the grill is then covered, trapping the heat and smoke inside so that the meat slow roasts the same way it would in an oven. If you use hardwood charcoal, you will get the smoky hardwood flavor without having to use wood chips. However, hardwood charcoal burns hotter and faster so you will probably have to keep a close eye on your fire. Using lump charcoal and wood chips is definitely easier. First soak your wood chips in water for about half and hour. In the meantime, light the coals. When they are glowing red, spread the wood chips over them so that they smolder and create the desired smoke. Then just place your meat away from the heat source, put the lid on, and slow smoke until the meat reaches the target internal temperature of 150° F.

So How Did it Go?

As luck would have it we experienced a warm spell last week - just as my bellies had just finished curing and drying, and were ripe for the smoking. It was 60 degrees outside and everyone was walking around t-shirts. Looking around, it was hard to believe we were still in the middle of February. So I went digging around in the basement for our smoker. I opened up the package, and what did I find inside but two copies of the complementary recipe book, but no assembly instructions. Thankfully, this was not a problem. After working in a futon shop in my post college years (thanks Lou and Lorrie) and having to assemble many a home furnishing product, I found the smoker was not much different. Charcoal, on the other hand, was a problem. As in, I didn't have any, and my car was in the shop. If I had had an electric hot plate, I could have rigged the smoker to work like the Big Chief electric smoker we use at work, but I didn't have a hot plate either. It's moments like these when a close-knit family of pack-rats is a definite blessing. I called my aunt and uncle who live down the street to see if they might have an electric hot plate or some charcoal kicking around. They couldn't find their hot plate, which they were sure they had but would have to go rooting around their basement to find. They did find an old 20 lb. bag of charcoal they had no use for, since they were grilling with propane nowadays.

Bacon, fresh from the smoker

By the time I got started smoking my belly it was close to dark, and we don't yet have lights out in our backyard, so I was out there with the belly, a pair of tongs, a bag of charcoal, a roll of newspaper, a butane torch, applewood chips soaking in a bowl of water...and a flashlight. But it was worth it. The hardest thing about the whole process was just getting the fire lit. But once I got the coals glowing in the bottom of the smoker, I just sprinkled the applewood chips over them, set the belly on the top rack of the smoker over a pan to catch the drippings, and closed up the smoker . Aside from checking the coals from time to time to make sure they hadn't burned out there was not much else to do. I think the temperature inside the smoker was probably higher than 200°F, but in about 2-3 hours, the belly had reached an internal temperature of over 150 degrees so I took it out and let it cool. It had turned an amber color from the smoke, and was glistening and smelled amazing too.

Today it snowed again, and it's hard to believe that just a few days ago it felt like Spring. We reminded ourselves by making some of the best BLT sandwiches ever. As I unwrapped the parchment package, the aroma of smoke was released into the air from the slab of homemade bacon. I cut a few 1/8" thick slices off the slab, arranged them on a parchment lined baking sheet and set them in a 350° F oven. In about 15-20 minutes they had rendered just enough fat, and were just beginning to crisp. I let them drain on a paper towel. Hmm-boy did they make some killer sandwiches. There are two things about homemade bacon that really make it stand out from the supermarket stuff. First it's drier, so it doesn't shrink and curl nearly as much. Second, its flavor is so far superior, and it is so easy to make, I don't think I can ever go back.

Yup, that's the good stuff.

NOTES:

Even though the package of wood chips I had said that you could use them dry, this method ends up creating flare ups that cause the temperature to get too hot, and create undesirable charring on the meat.

The hot smoked recipe I used said that the bacon would keep up to two weeks in the fridge or 3 months in the freezer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaK9bjLy3v4

A Big Bowl of Red - Grassfed Steak Chili

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to represent the restaurant at Chelsea Market's NY Chilifest 2011. I along with representatives from our other two restaurants in our group, spent several hours ladling out some damn good chili and schmoozing away a Sunday afternoon. It was the first public cooking event I participated in and I had no idea what to expect. All the meat for the chili cookoff was provided by Dickson's Farmstand Meats, and ticket proceeds were being used to support Food Systems NYC - both supporters of local and sustainable food production. Restrictions allowed three people from each restaurant to attend and serve their (hopefully) award-winning chili to 1200 people, and promote their restaurant. One of the tricky things was how to transport 50 gallons of hot chili to the event and keep it warm on only two small hot plates. The solutions were as varied as the chilis. One of our neighbors even brought their own electric steam tables and trays, only to find that there was no access to power - only butane.

The event started at 4pm and for the first couple of hours there was just a sea of people stopping from table to table, chili mug in one hand and a beer in the other. There were television people there, filming, and asking each team to describe their chili. There were also a host of photographers, one of whom stopped me at one point, saying "that's perfect, don't move." At another moment, I turned around to find a mic in my face and a video camera pointed at me. My cohorts had thrown me to the wolves. Here I was, having had nothing to do with preparing our chili, yet now being asked by a reporter to describe it. I am sure during the course of this event, I did or said something dumb that is somehow going to end up in print with my real name attached to it. Oh well.

By the time two hours had elapsed, even the most hearty looking chili-eater was passing our table by, putting a hand over his stomach and gesturing that he could eat no more. And at 6:30 the judges had made their decision and announced the winner of the competition. Unfortunately the judges did not award us the Golden Chili Mug, but we got a good response from the public, and our chili was pretty much gone, so we took the chance to sample some of our competition. There was everything from Texas style "bowl of red," sans beans, to very traditional Mexican style chili, to more unexpected and modern "chef" interpretations. Of course, Fette Sau, a barbecue joint located in Williamsburg added some pork to their chili, and Telepan presented a green chili that contained kernels of hominy. Even the Food Network test kitchen had a table. The aroma of beef, chiles, and spices from the various tables lingered throughout the concourse at Chelsea market. I could only imagine the aroma that could very well follow as 1200 people digested the 20-30 ounces of chili served to them by all the restaurants, and all the beer provided by Brooklyn Brewery. Once our chili-pot was empty, we certainly didn't stick around long enough to find out.

Since I didn't actually participate in the chili-making for the event (credit goes to my executive chef and his team at my former restaurant), I have been meaning to put up a big pot of red chili for me and the old boyfriend. After some hectic days at the restaurant following the departure of the Hulk, and gearing up for Valentine's Day, I finally had a day off. So last night I thawed out 2 lbs. of Manx Station Farms grass fed steak I had knocking about my freezer (from Basis Foods, of course) and made a pot of slow cooked steak chili. I often make a chili with spicy chorizo, chipotle peppers, and mole style spices. But this time I decided to keep it simple and go with a basic American style chili: red and black beans, tomatoes, onions, red bell pepper, garlic, chili powder, cumin, and cayenne. Okay, so I did add a little cocoa powder at the end for some richness, but just a little. We enjoyed it in front of the tube, watching one of our more recently discovered favorite movies: Jeff Daniels' Escanoba in da Moonlight. In case you haven't seen it, think The Hangover, meets Parenthood but better.

Grassfed Steak Chili

INGREDIENTS:

2 lbs. grass fed (or whatever) steak, diced

vegetable oil

1 large onion, diced

2 red bell peppers

1/4 c. chili powder

1 Tbsp. ground cumin

1 tsp. cayenne pepper

6 cloves of garlic, minced

1 Tbsp. tomato paste

14 oz. cooked black beans

14 oz. cooked red kidney beans

28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes

water

1 Tbsp. unsweetened cocoa powder

salt and black pepper to taste

PROCEDURE:

1. Coat the bottom of a large dutch oven with oil and cook the onions and red pepper with the spices over medium low heat until soft. Add the tomato paste and garlic and cook for a few seconds until the garlic is fragrant.

2. Add the meat and cook until it is no longer pink. Add the beans and tomatoes, and enough water to cover all the ingredients. Simmer gently, covered for 45 minutes, then uncovered for another 45 minutes. until the meat is very tender. Stir in the cocoa powder and add salt and pepper to taste.

3. Serve garnished with sour cream or grated monterey jack cheese and sliced green onions.

TIP: Chili, like stew always tastes better the next day, after all the flavors have had a chance to mingle.

Try this with : Maple Glazed Cornbread

All the meat for the chili cookoff was provided by Dickson's Farmstand Meats, and ticket proceeds were being used to support Food Systems NYC - both supporters of local and sustainable food production.

The Hulk has Left the Building

"You won't like me when I'm angry."

I had only heard about him, this bad ass cook we had working at one of our sister restaurants.  A legend in his own time, he could run a busy saute station like no one else.  He owned that station - as he should, after working it for 8 years.  He also had a legendary temper.  So naturally, last July when the most recent chef de cuisine gave notice, and the company offered me the job, I was a little nervous.

Okay, a lot nervous.

After being given a sous chef position with only a year and a half of cooking experience, I already had enough on my plate.  Three months later the company wanted to me to take over as chef de cuisine at another restaurant?  Not only was it another kitchen with a totally different menu, but it was a kitchen that easily turned out double the food volume.  And did they forget that the kitchen was staffed completely with Latino men, all of whom had been cooking there for several years?  What business did I have coming in and taking charge of their kitchen?  Despite my reservations, both executive chef and owner assured me that the kitchen staff was all on board and that I would have all the support I needed.  Nothing could have been further than the truth.

After several weeks of hitting my head on all the low hanging pipes and low passages of my new kitchen, it became quite clear that my primary mission was to babysit - one that if not handled delicately could bring on a cold shower of resentment from my new staff.  During those first few weeks, I worked every day, getting to know the restaurant, the menu, the routine for every service...I came to rely on my receiver/ butcher for essential advice about inventory and how to manage food costs.  He was also my eyes and ears when it came to keeping an eye on the cooks, making sure they were prepping fresh ingredients every day, and keeping on top of food quality and consistency.  "Check the pickles," he would say, pointing out that they were sometimes inconsistent in flavor and color (from the turmeric).  Then after a few months he quit, and so did one of my strongest cooks.  In the month of October I probably had only two days off. I took care of all the receiving and butchering while we looked for replacement cooks.  I took this as an opportunity to prove to my cooks that I could work just as hard if not harder than they did.  Some days I was at the restaurant for 16 hours at a time, and in the midst of it all there were a slew of private functions - weddings, engagement parties, birthdays, holiday parties, etc.  There were times I thought I was going to lose my mind.  At it's worst, I found myself curled up in a ball in the corner of my office, very likely indistinguishable from a quivering ball of snot.  But every evening at 6pm I somehow managed to pull myself together, put on my game face, and face the next service.

Then there was the Hulk.

The Hulk was the biggest battle I was up against at the restaurant.  Everyone on the staff agreed he was like two people.  When he was in a good mood he was like David Banner - easygoing and cooperative.  Then there was his other identity - the spiteful and angry one that slammed pans around and alienated everyone around him.  His attitude toward me was one of constant intimidation.  During service he would either purposely ignore me when I asked him a question, or answer me as if it were so obvious only an idiot would have to ask.  Very rarely did it seem as if I weren't inconveniencing him somehow.  He was like some territorial predator, and I was the trespasser on his hunting grounds.  Only when he needed something from the powers that be, did he treat me with any respect whatsoever.

Toward the end of our time together, I did see some glimpses of hope that things might work out.  One slow evening, I got to see Dr. Jekyll instead of Mr. Hyde, and got him talking about menu ideas.  The next week we worked on some of his ideas and sold them as specials and it seemed to put him in good spirits.  Then, after a particularly difficult weekend service, I got to have a little heart to heart conversation with him in which he seemed to open up and agreed to try to find better ways for us to work together.  But it was not to be.  A week later, in the middle of Friday dinner service, I was trying to resolve an issue a mis-printed order and he told me to shut up.  When I wouldn't back down, he had a meltdown, yelling, "F*** this place!" and stormed out of the restaurant.  I'm sure he thought things would fall apart without him.  But you know what, the show must go on, and it did.  I had already been training one of my strongest grill cooks to work the saute station, so that evening I told him to do just that, and I would cover his end of the grill.  Suddenly everyone stepped up their game, including me.  The food runner was calling out orders and expediting, everyone was suddenly talking and communicating with each other.  This was no time for ego or grandstanding.  We were all in it together and we just had to get through the night's service.  After it was all over, it was like a weight had been lifted.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the Hulk has left the building.

BBQ Chicken Wings, Braised Greens & Cole Slaw

Collard Greens, Lacinato Kale, Savoy Cabbage, Leeks... These are just some of the things I had lingering in my fridge from my last delivery from Basis "Good Food to You". Since you can click the link and check them out, I won't say too much on the subject except that it's kind of a cross between a CSA and a grocery delivery service that only delivers sustainably raised fully traceable goods, including milk, dairy, and meats. They do not yet deliver to Eastern Queens, but lucky for me I work (and pretty much spend most of my waking hours) in Brooklyn. The produce bag is always a surprise mix of seasonal items, some familiar and some more unusual. I signed on as a way to challenge myself to use ingredients that I may have never encountered before. One week I received Japanese Purple Sweet Potatoes, which were such a revelation I had to order some for the restaurant and worked them into a special with Salmon and Blood Oranges.

But I digress.

Yesterday, I had to find a way to make use of the greens and cabbage I had before they wilted. Braised Southern Style Greens and Cole Slaw seemed like logical (and delicious) ways to make use of this wonderful produce. BBQ Chicken wings and Three-cheese mac n cheese rounded out the meal. For the greens I consulted James Beard's American Cookery. His recipe calls for Collard, Dandelion, and Mustard greens, but I had Collard Greens and Lacinato Kale. His recipe called for ham, but I had a couple chunks of pork belly and a bit of bacon in the freezer instead. Isn't seasonal regional cooking all about adapting cooking techniques to the ingredients available to you anyway?

So sorry folks, but I don't have recipes to share in this post. Instead here are the techniques:

Basic Braised Greens

Hearty bitter Greens such as Collards, Dandelion and Mustard, with tough stems and veins lend themselves very nicely to braising (and pork). The method is simple. Trim, chop and thoroughly wash your greens. Do not dry, but set aside. In a large saucepan, brown diced bacon or whatever pork product you choose to use. If you are using lean meat, you will need to use some oil or fat. (If you do chose to use ham or some other already cooked meat, skip this step and just add it at the end instead). Add the wet greens to the hot pan of meat and fat, and wilt until they turn bright green (see photo above). Add a splash of vinegar (or lemon juice) and some water to the pan, not to cover but just enough to form a puddle at the bottom of the pan and keep the greens from scorching as they cook. Season the whole lot generously with salt and reduce the heat so the liquid is barely simmering. Cook gently until the stems of the greens are just tender (this may take a while if they are thick), tossing them from time to time and adding water as needed. Oh, and when I say season generously, I mean generously. It's the salt and vinegar that takes the bitterness out of the greens. I also like to add a sprinkle of crushed red pepper flakes to the greens as they cook for a little bit of heat.

Basic Cole Slaw

When I make cole slaw, I like to wilt the cabbage first by salting it and letting it weep. This draws out extra moisture so the cole slaw doesn't taste so crunchy and raw. To do this, cut, core, and thinly slice the leaves of a head of cabbage. Toss the cabbage in some salt and set in a non-reactive colander to drain for about an hour or so. After it has wilted slightly, rinse the cabbage and drain well. To make the cole slaw, add shredded or finely diced red onion and if desired, shredded carrot. Mix everything with enough mayonnaise to coat, and add vinegar or lemon juice, salt, and sugar (or honey) to taste. Flavorings you might choose to add could be dijon mustard, toasted celery seed, or even some chili paste or siracha (it complements mayo like you wouldn't believe). Refrigerate and let the flavors meld for a couple hours before serving. You may need to freshen it up with a little lemon juice or vinegar before serving.

Basic Barbecue Sauce

Here is an easy formula for a basic barbecue sauce: 1 part molasses, 1 part ketchup, 1 part vinegar. Just heat the mixture up in a saucepan until the vinegar reduces and the sauce is the right consistency. To that, you can add whatever flavorings you wish: a splash of Tobasco or Frank's Hot Sauce for heat, bourbon, Triple Sec, or some other kind of liquor, hoisin or soy, for an Asian spin, Chipotle peppers for a little Latin kick, horseradish, cocoa, or instant coffee just to name a few. On this particular evening, I didn't even bother with reducing the sauce. I just marinated the chicken wings in the BBQ mixture and put the whole lot in a Pyrex dish in the oven at about 375 degrees, brushing the wings with the pan drippings as they cooked. By the time the wings were cooked most of the vinegar had evaporated and left a thick delicious mess in the bottom of the pan. I just tossed the wings around a bit before arranging them on the plate and pouring the sauce from the pan over them. By the way my BBQ flavoring of choice this evening? Chili Sambal.

The Disclaimer

Okay, so here's the thing about using method over recipes: A lot of it is trial and error, but rule #1 is you must taste everything as you go along (except of course raw chicken and the like). You need to use some judgment and make adjustments along the way as needed. For instance, if you decide to take the lazy way out like I did with my chicken wings, and there's too much space in the pan, you may end up with a black charred crust in the bottom of that pan before your chicken is cooked. Then by all means mix some warm water into the pan before you reach the charred black crust stage! Oh, and rule #2? Where there is room for experimentation, there is also room for much error. On this occasion all went as planned, but that is not always the case. Eh, so sometimes things that seem like a good idea don't always work out on the first try. In those cases, if I can figure out what not to do the next time, at least I've learned something.

Maple Glazed Cornbread, a Delicious Meeting of North & South

Have a bite of this with your morning coffee!

I am obsessed with cookbooks, as I am sure most avid cooks and food bloggers are. From my slowly growing collection I make lists and lists of recipes, techniques, and new things to try. I especially love when the author gives us a little glimpse into how the recipe evolved, information about the ingredients, and where they come from, etc. Still I find my favorite recipes usually come to me not from cookbooks, magazines, internet, or a food focused television network (need I speak the name?), but by word of mouth. This cornbread is made from one such recipe.

The original recipe was given to me by a pastry cook friend of mine, who was sworn to secrecy by her friend, whose Southern forebears would probably roll over in their graves knowing that their heirloom recipe had been passed along to a Yank like me. Until that day I had never been able to produce a moist delicious cornbread from any recipe I tried. Even the Joy of Cooking let me down, and forget the recipe on the back of the cornmeal package. Every attempt resulted in dry, crumbly bread - barely edible when fresh, and definitely not edible the next day. This, I have sadly come to learn, is what distinguishes Northern style cornbread from it's Southern cousin. Northern cornbread is traditionally a savory affair, with a higher proportion of cornmeal, often omitting flour altogether. Was I wrong to want the kind of cornbread I loved at barbecue joints - that sweet, moist bread that was just perfect for mopping up sticky meaty barbecue sauce dripping from a rack of St. Louis pork ribs?

Well, this was it. However, my adaptation differs from the original on two points. First, the recipe given to me called for a portion of cake flour, which is not something I always have on hand. I make it with 100% all purpose flour and actually prefer that it's not as cakey and has a nice looser crumb. The second adjustment is in the glaze. The original recipe calls for a glaze of honey, butter, and water, but I have added that old Yankee flair by using maple syrup in place of honey, and adjusting the proportions to account for it. Applied after the cornbread has baked and has had time to cool slightly, the glaze is the magic key to keeping it moist and buttery. It is even good cold, and will never need to meet a pat of butter. It keeps well, stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to two days, but I have never seen it sit around for that long.

By the way, anyone who wants to try the original recipe can send me a message and I will be happy to send it to you. However I cannot so publicly breach a confidence as by publishing it. Cheers.

INGREDIENTS, for (1) 9" x 13" cake pan:

2 c. cornmeal

2 c. sugar

2-1/2 c. all purpose flour

2 Tbsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

4 eggs

1/3 c. corn, or other neutral cooking oil

1 c. milk

1/2 c. buttermilk

3 oz. (6 Tbsp.) brown butter (see step 3 below)

GLAZE:

1-1/2 oz (3 Tbsp.) butter

1/3 c. pure maple syrup (not the fake stuff, please)

1-2 Tbsp. water

a pinch of salt (optional)

PROCEDURE:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spray the baking dish or grease with butter.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. In a separate bowl mix the eggs, corn oil, milk, and buttermilk.

3. Meanwhile, make the brown butter. Place the 3 oz. of butter in a small saucepan or saute pan and melt over medium-high heat. Watch it. First the butter will melt, then it will start to foam as the fat separates from the milk solids, visible as white granules or clumps. Once all the water in the butter has evaporated, the milk solids will start fry. Once they are lightly browned and take on a nutty aroma, the butter is ready. Remove immediately from the heat, and be careful because brown butter is VERY HOT. It will continue to cook even after you have taken it off the heat , so let it cool some before using it. Also, take care that you don't burn the butter or it will impart a bitter, carbon like flavor to your bread.

4. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the egg and milk mixture. With a few swift strokes of a wooden spoon or whisk, mix them together briefly. Pour in the cooled brown butter and stir in immediately until the batter is just smooth and uniform, taking care not to overwork it.

5. Pour the batter into the baking dish and bake in on the middle rack of the oven for 30 minutes or until a skewer stuck in the middle comes out clean or with only some crumbs sticking to it. Let cool 5-10 minutes.

6. While the cornbread cools, make the glaze by simply heating all the ingredients together in a small saucepan until the butter is melted. Whisk or stir it briefly to combine the butter with the water and syrup. Using a pastry brush, dab the glaze all over the top of the cornbread. Allow the glaze to absorb and set before cutting the cornbread.