Archive for February, 2006

Chopper’s Cheap Eats: Oxtail

Wednesday, February 1st, 2006

Braised Oxtail

This past weekend I was strolling the aisles of our local supermarket. Because we live on an island, it sometimes gets difficult to find quality foods at decent prices, but Saturday was a glorious exception.

First, I found one of my favorite main items in the meat case — oxtail — cheap! $1.49 a pound, and it was the good stuff too — from Misty Isle Farms, near Seattle — so I got two packs. Total so far: $6.50

Then I remembered that I also had a pound of dried fava beans in my pantry at home that I had purchased at a farmer’s market during a previous trip off island. I also remembered that we had onions, carrots, and garlic left unused from another meal preparation.

At this point, my brain gears began to turn and I bolted off to the produce section. I was in luck. A major sale on produce items was happening that day. I found asparagus for $1.09 a pound, and red bell peppers at 2 for 88 cents. Top it all off with rutabagas at 69 cents a pound and I was set for veggies.

The only other thing I needed was a “flavorful liquid,” and to my surprise I found quart containers of my favorite brand of stock, also on sale at $1.99 each

Total for the day: $11.35.

Total for the entire meal, not including a $10 bottle of wine (on sale), but estimating the cost of items already on hand: ~$16.00

Which leads me to this…

Oxtail

Braised Oxtail, with Fava Beans and Mixed Vegetables

Serves six

Ingredients

  • 6 large sections of oxtail
  • 1 large white onion, diced
  • 1 elarge rutabaga, peeled and cut into strips
  • 2 red bell peppers, one diced, the other cut into strips
  • 2 garlic bulbs, peeled and minced
  • 3/4 lb baby carrots
  • 1 bunch of asparagus, ends trimmed
  • 1 lb dried fava beans, soaked overnight, and peeled
  • 1 quart beef stock
  • 2 teaspoons mustard (I used Lopez Larry’s Smokey Chardonnay Dijon, but any kind that isn’t French’s will do fine.)
  • 1 teaspoon Israeli zahtar
  • 1/2 cup rice wine vinegar
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Method

  1. Place stock in a medium sized pot over medium heat. Add soy sauce as needed for body and flavor (trust me; it works astoundingly well).
  2. Season both sides of the oxtail sections with salt and pepper.
  3. While stock is heating, take half of your baby carrots and dice them to the same size as your diced onion. Take the other half and slice them lengthwise.
  4. Place a cast iron skillet over medium high heat and add two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil to coat the bottom.
  5. When the oil starts to smoke, add the onion, diced carrots, and diced bell pepper. Caramelize these vegetables well and stir occasionally to avoid burning. Then deglaze the pan with red wine and add all the contents to the stock.
  6. Add another tablespoon of EVOO to the pan and place back on medium high heat. When the oil starts to smoke again, add the oxtail and caramelize well on all sides. Then, again, deglaze with red wine and add to the stock pot, which should now be at a simmer. Reduce heat to a low simmer and cover tightly. Allow the pot to cook for at least an hour; two would be better.
  7. While the pot is simmering, fill another pot with 4 cups of water. Add 4 tablespoons of Kosher salt and the 1/2 cup of rice wine vinegar, and bring to a boil.
  8. Blanche and shock vegetables as follows: When the water is boiling, add the carrots and rutabaga and bring back to a boil. Cook until softened but not mushy, then remove them and place in a bowl of ice water.
  9. Then place the asparagus in the boiling water for about 30 seconds. Be careful not to overcook. Then move it to the ice water with the carrots and rutabaga.
  10. Now, place the fava beans in the boil and cook until tender, then remove from heat, but leave them in the pot (ie, do not shock the fava beans).
  11. Fava Beans

  12. When the oxtail is “fork tender, well done,” you’re ready to serve. Ladle out two cups of the stock and place in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. In a small bowl, combine 1/2 cup of water with 2 tablespoons of cornstarch, making sure the starch is thoroughly dispersed. When the stock is at a boil, add the mustard and whisk until it’s fully incorporated, then add the starch water (known as a ’slurry’) a little bit at a time. You won’t likely need to use it all. Reduce until the sauce attains the desired thickness.
  13. Take your cast iron skillet again, and add two tablespoons of EVOO, and place back on medium-high heat. Add the garlic and the vegetables from the ice water and lightly sauté with the zahtar.
  14. Plate the sections of oxtail on top of a bed of fava beans, then spoon the sauce over top. Arrange the vegetables as you like, and serve with a nice chianti.

Braised Oxtail


Mrs D sez:

We snagged the Israeli Zahtar at World Merchants spice, herb, and tea shop just below Pike Place Market in Seattle. Zahtar’s a spice blend that’s used in Middle Eastern and North African cooking. It’s got multitudes of variations, but this particular blend is made with toasted sesame seeds, Syrian sumac, and Moroccan thyme. It’s subtle and herbaceous, but even the light touch of it in the sautéed veggies gave this part of our meal a distinct and delicious Middle Eastern flavor.

Eek, a Meme, Part One

Thursday, February 2nd, 2006

In which Chopper and I are tagged for two memes and reveal to the world just how incredibly geeky we are. (As if we haven’t done that already…)

First, the Ten Things You Never Knew About Me meme. Oh jeez, this hoary old thing? It’s so last month. Well yeah, I was tagged by Cookiecrumb on January 11th and I’m just now getting to it. Color me slow. (Did I mention that I always completely write off the month of January? No? Okay then. Blame it on Paper Chef #14, the Extreme Workload Edition.)

So… at the risk of, well, revealing something, here are, a la carte, ten things you never knew about me.


actual drawing, done by me, before I knew how to draw arms.

                      1. Plomeek Soup
Spock was my first childhood crush. A crush so intense that I learned how to draw by drawing Spock. A crush so long-lasting that years later, I still cry every time I watch Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

                      2. Heinz Baked Beans
If there is one thing and only one thing I can do with a guitar, it is play a fierce but rather bad rendition of Pinball Wizard from Tommy. I will not, however, reenact the Ann-Margaret gushing TV scene from the movie.

                      3. Meatloaf
My first paid theater gig was as a Transylvanian in a stage production of The Rocky Horror Show. It ran for months. It ran so long that the Bag-o-Eddie-Guts I built (as props assistant) went bad and started to stink of, well, Eddie Guts. Don’t ask me what I used to make the Bag-o-Guts. Thankfully, I can’t remember.

                      4. Iron Rations
You. Yes you. The geek in the corner. Also, you, Misters Diesel and Colbert. You know what I’m talking about. That’s right, Iron Rations for a hard campaign. To go along with that plus one scimitar and that handy cleric with his Cure Light Wounds spell. Did I mention I still have a folder full of character sheets. Make that two folders.

I'm attacking the darkness!

                      5. The Number Two
Once upon a time, I was attending classes just a short stroll from a theater that was showing the Terry Gilliam masterpiece, Brazil. One fine spring day, my classmates and I decided to attend a showing after class. The next day, we did the same. And the day after that. And… well, this was back when movies were cheap so I lost count.

                      6. Suet Pie
When Chopper and I planned our wedding, we knew one thing and one thing only, right off the bat: Chopper would not be wearing a tux. We didn’t know what he’d be wearing; we only knew: no tux. And then we went to the theater and saw Master and Commander and our fate was sealed. Or rather my fate, since I had to sew the damn thing. Fortunately, our British nautical theme did not extend as far as the food.

                      7. Shameful Head Pasties
So, I get out of college and the first thing I decide to do with my utterly useless arts degree is direct Shakespeare. Something simple perhaps? Twelfth Night? Romeo and Juliet? Nah. Gimme that cannibalistic blood bath, Titus Andronicus. I should note that the theater was tiny and we came awfully close to paying the front row’s dry cleaning bills on more than one occasion. Ahhh, stage blood.

                      8. American Pie
Another college (yes, there were two of them; I was indecisive), and another odd job. This one involved photographing visiting performers for the school paper. Don McLean was one of the funniest, nicest guys ever, but I still can’t help but sing “My, my, this here Anakin guy” every time that song comes on the radio.

dude, I haven't a clue what that song means, either.

                      9. Herzwesten Dark
Ah, nothing like a good, well-aged dark beer to save you from invading Janissaries. I’m a sucker for great tales of historical intrigue with secret magical underpinnings, and nobody does it better than Tim Powers, one of my all-time favorite authors. I had the great pleasure of interviewing Tim for a (sadly now defunct) genre magazine, and still heed his writing advice today. Especially the bits about obsessively researching and ignoring deadlines. (I heartily embrace the ignoring of deadlines.)

                      10. Psycho Amber
Remember back, I mean waaaaay back when we first started this blog and said we were going to write about beer? Well, um. See, we’ve got this Tiny Kitchen and brewing is rather a bitch around here. Someday, we promise. Someday. Meantime, back, waaaay back before we landed in this house, we had a large kitchen and Chopper brewed a batch called Psycho Amber, and I made a label for it, and entered it in a contest, and won us a wort chiller — which we have yet to use because we’re stuck with this tiny kitchen. Come springtime? We’re taking over the living room and brewing between the comfy chair and the entertainment center.

The birth of Chopper Dave's modeling career.

WCB #35: Pekoe in the leaves

Friday, February 3rd, 2006

The Cat is brooding. She cannot get past that whole Year of the Dog thing.

We tried to lure her out for photos, but alas, she keeps to darkened rooms and dusty corners.

So, we’re diving into the archives. This week: Vintage 1980s, Pekoe in the leaves.

Pekoe in the leaves

Meanwhile, the puppy is giddy. See, Chopper came home with three ginormous packages of ribs (on sale, dirt cheap), and the puppy (as usual) is anticipating many table scraps this weekend. She will, alas, be disappointed. Not only are we expecting a colossal wind storm that may very well knock out our power during the Superbowl broadcast, but Chopper must go to work Sunday afternoon because (ahem) some person who has no respect for great sporting events has made dinner reservations at 5:30 p.m. Dude. We’re less than 100 miles from Seattle. Have you no heart?

Ah well. There’s always TiVo. If the power stays on.

And I swear, if anyone gives away how many touchdowns Shaun Alexander scored before Chopper finishes watching the fourth quarter, there’ll be hell to pay!

(Look for more weekend cat blogging at Kiri and Clare’s Eat Stuff!)

hints of spring

Tuesday, February 7th, 2006

an early spring

So, I had every intention of baking referee striped gingerbread cookies on Monday and then biting their heads off, but then this freaky yellow thing appeared in the sky and I noticed equally freaky purple things in the garden and got distracted.

Oh, and because it was sunny, we had to spend half the day cleaning the car. Is it wrong of me, as a food blogger, to confess I found a green cheeto in the hatch?

Eek, a Meme, Part Two

Friday, February 10th, 2006

Hey kids, it’s time for yet another get-to-know-your-bloggers meme!

Wait a sec. There are so many of them. Isn’t it a little suspicious? I mean, does anyone know who starts these things? Is it one of us, innocently curious? Or could it be… Alberto Gonzales?

Ahah! Just wait. Next meme, it’s gonna be last four books checked out of the library and last four protest marches attended, and then we’ll know for sure. Sneaky bastard.

Oh, all right, I’ll take off the tin foil for a moment and play. (But I’m putting it right back on after, I swear!)

So, what have we got? It’s the 4×8 meme — or in our case, since there are two of us: the 4×4x8 meme. (Hey! We’re in 3-D!) This week’s tag comes from Biscuit Girl of You Gonna Eat All That? And since we trust her to not have ulterior motives, we’ve attempted to answer all questions to the best of our abilities.

The 4×8 Meme

Four Jobs I’ve Had in My Life:

Chopper:
1. Jiffy Lube Technician.
2. Gaffer for USA Network shows Silk Stockings and Renegade.
3. Jenny Craig Food Distributor (stop laughing!)
4. Pastry Chef

Mrs D:
1. Stage Manager of the most annoying dinner theater ever.
2. Art Department Coordinator for a cheesy low budget film about evil space bugs.
3. Restaurant hostess
4. Fabric store clerk

I should note that were Chopper to say “mom made me do it,” on answer #3, he would not be lying. I should also note that the food served at the most annoying dinner theater ever, was also the most revolting excuse for Italian banquet food ever.

Four Movies I Could (and I do) Watch Over and Over:

Chopper:
1. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
2. Galaxy Quest
3. The Big Lebowski
4. The Usual Suspects

Mrs. D.
Ummm… Four big fat dittos. Heck, why do you think we first went all googly for each other. Yes, it was the Trek. But… oh hell, I can’t help myself. Here are four more:
1. The Hunt for Red October
2. Shaolin Soccer
3. Shaun of the Dead
4. Master and Commander

Four Places I’ve Lived:

Chopper:
1. Portland, OR
2. San Diego, CA
3. Vancouver, WA
4. Friday Harbor, WA

Mrs. D:
1. Portland, OR
2. Boston, MA
3. Reno, NV
4. Vancouver, BC

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:

Chopper:
1. Iron Chef
2. Battlestar Galactica (the new one, duh.)
3. Stargate SG1
4. Good Eats

Mrs. D:
Once again, ditto. Oh, and…
5. 24
6. CSI
7. Invasion
8. The Daily Show

Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:

Chopper:
1. Disneyland
2. Black Butte, OR
3. Tijuana, Mexico
4. Encenada, CA

Mrs. D:
1. Disneyland
2. Black Butte, OR
3. Northern British Columbia
4. Carmel, CA

Dang, we need to get out more. Not only do we need to get out more, we need to get out more together. I will note, with much embarrassment, that of all of those vacations, only one took place after Chopper and I met: the trip to Black Butte, which was our honeymoon.

Black Butte Ranch, August 2004

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

Chopper:
1. Daily Kos
2. Nation States Forums
3. Ill Will Press
4 Homestar Runner

Mrs. D:
1. Boing Boing
2. 43 Folders
3. Food Blog Scool
4. Flickr

And lots of food blogs, but y’know, diplomacy and all that…

Oh, and lots more leftie blogs, but you know, the G-man could be watching and… right. Like they don’t already know what we just ate for dinner.

Speaking of food…

Four of My Favorite Foods:

Chopper:
1. Tacos
2. Foie Gras
3. Sausage
4. Single Malt Scotch (yes, it’s a food.)

Mrs. D.
1. Sushi
2. Dark Chocolate
3. Any kind of fish, so long as Chopper’s cooking it.
4. Asparagus. Ditto on the Chopper’s cooking it thing.

(Oh, and cheese sandwiches. Pssst. Pass it on.)

About that foie gras: Chopper got to sample some while in culinary school and he’s not been the same since. Sometimes I catch him looking up websites that ship the stuff and then checking our bank account…

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:

Chopper:
1. Seattle
2. Thailand
3. London
4. Prague

Mrs D:
1. Seattle (Yes, we have a thing for Seattle. Call it unbridled lust, if you will.)
2. Vancouver BC
3. Yorkshire
4. Oh, to heck with it. I’ll settle for a house with a clean kitchen.

Four Tags: People I’m Tagging to Continue this Meme:

(Yes, four is plenty. Eight tags would be just plain excessive. Not that we’re not excessive on many occasions, but really now, could we even find eight food bloggers who haven’t been tagged already?)

1. Brett of In Praise of Sardines
2. Jamie of 10 Signs Like This
3. B’gina of Stalking the Waiter
4. Cyndi of Cookin’ With Cyndi

WCB #36: Cats and Dogs Living Together!

Saturday, February 11th, 2006

cats and dogs living together

Do NOT touch my catnip-infused crumply paper until my licking is DONE!

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, check out all the cute (and fierce, and sneaky) kitties down at Clare and Kiri’s Eat Stuff!)

The Mighty (and Creative) Cheese Sandwich

Sunday, February 12th, 2006

festive, but cheesy
Mexican tuna melt with goat cheese and pico de gallo.

Sometimes the timing is just perfect. Take today’s random link hop, for example. In it, I stumbled across this terrific piece titled How To Be Creative (The Long Version) over on Hugh Macleod’s most excellent blog, gapingvoid. Yes, he’s the guy who’s doing that cool Geek Dinner (with free wine) thing mentioned over at Food Blog S’cool.

Here are three of my favorite snippets from How To Be Creative:

5. You are responsible for your own experience.
Nobody can tell you if what you’re doing is good, meaningful or worthwhile. The more compelling the path, the more lonely it is.

9. Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.
You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you don’t make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow-line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness.

27. The best way to get approval is not to need it.
This is equally true in art and business. And love. And sex. And just about everything else worth having.

(Oh, just go read it. It’s great stuff.)

Point is, since I’m in the middle of a (long overdue) redesign of the site, and I’m in Brainstorm Central for new Belly Timber-related projects, this resonates. Oh, how it resonates.

And, I think it’ll resonate with a great many fellow food bloggers now that we’re in the middle of the Great Cheese Sandwich Controversy of 2006, because what is this all about if not celebrating our diversity to blog about food any damn which way we want to — including singing praises to the Mighty Cheese Sandwich?

Non-bloggers (and yeah, I’m generalizing a teensy bit) don’t get it. They seem to think we’re all on the same page. We all want to put up a professional front. We all want attention from the print media. We’re all gunning for that elusive golden ring of getting noticed or better yet, landing that coveted book contract. (Silly non-bloggers; such a narrow view.) Truth is, many of us are here for the fun, or for the community, or (to steal from Alton Brown) we’re just here for the food.

Some of us are professional creative types in our other lives; some not. Some of us know full well what it’s like to be on the receiving end of criticism (hell, someday let me dig up the snarkfest of a review I received for my production of Titus Andronicus; it’s got serious trash-the-director entertainment value); some of us are new to it. No matter. If we didn’t think we could handle criticism with grace, or humor, or snark or however we damn well please to handle it, we wouldn’t be here, would we?

Which brings me to my fourth wonderful snippet from How To Be Creative:

19. Sing in your own voice.
Picasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldn’t paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinberg’s formal drafting skills were appalling. TS Eliot had a full-time day job. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan can’t sing or play guitar.

But that didn’t stop them, right?

Exactly. (And oh lord, do I agree about Dylan…)

Point is, not all of us are skilled bloggers. We’ve got strong points; we’ve got weak points. I suck ass at restaurant reviews, and I don’t particularly like describing how food tastes because I am terrified of the bad Iron Chef Judge food cliché. (”Oh, this dish is so profound! The flavors in my mouth — they make me so happy!”)

(That’s three gulps in the Iron Chef Drinking Game, right there, by the way.)

Some of us are still learning how to take decent food photos. Some of us are timid in the kitchen and stick to the strict following of tried-and-true cookbook recipes. Is that wrong? Is that bad?

More importantly, is it a reason for us to give up blogging?

(Obvious answer: hell no. We blog for ourselves, first, dammit.)

Anyway, I’d have lots more to say on this, but Chopper’s due home from work and he’s going to be awfully grumpy if I don’t spiff up and resize all those photos I took of what we ate for dinner.

Sin

Tuesday, February 14th, 2006

sin

(Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake, served up by Chopper on this fine Valentine’s Eve.)

(Recipe available to the highest bidder.)

(Just kidding. We’ll post it later.)

Paper Chef #15: Mighty Aphrodite

Wednesday, February 15th, 2006

pear, freshly poached

I wanted to spend the weekend making cheese sandwiches. Trouble is, every time Chopper sees the ingredient list for Paper Chef, his eyes light up like a puppy in a butcher shop. And this time? Beets, lime, pears, and aphrodisiacs, and us a couple blogging together? Ahem. How could we resist?

So, we hit the books. Or rather, the Google, and discovered all sorts of nifty lists and references to dozens of aphrodisiac foods, from the obvious (caviar) to the unexpected (coriander).

Now, I have a personal favorite aphrodisiac. It’s a combination of dark chocolate and Barry White. Gets me every time. But Chopper had other plans (or maybe he’s saving the dark chocolate and Barry White for later). See, he’d recently received a $25 gift certificate to our local grocery, and now he’d found the perfect excuse for some sensuous splurging.

So, to completely knock us out of contention for Paper Chef’s Super Saver category, we picked up three lusty participants for our lusty trio:

Caviar (Okay, black lumpfish roe, close enough for our purposes. Ah, mystical fish eggs, symbol of fertility…)
Truffles (They’re musky. Need we say more?)
Snails (I’m told it has something to do with their shape. What? It’s suggestive?)


Marcus Licinius Crassus: Do you eat oysters?
Antoninus: When I have them, master.
Marcus Licinius Crassus: Do you eat snails?
Antoninus: No, master.
Marcus Licinius Crassus: Do you consider the eating of oysters to be moral and the eating of snails to be immoral?
Antoninus: No, master.
Marcus Licinius Crassus: Of course not. It is all a matter of taste, isn’t it?
Antoninus: Yes, master.
Marcus Licinius Crassus: And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals.
Antoninus: It could be argued so, master.
Marcus Licinius Crassus: My robe, Antoninus. My taste includes both snails and oysters.

Sparticus, 1960, Lawrence Olivier as Marcus Licinius Crassius; Tony Curtis as Antonius

Ahem. So, where was I?

Oh, yes, we weren’t done yet. Chopper had other ingredients in mind for our Lusty Trio, and surprisingly, we found that several of them were also included on various lists of aphrodisiacs. Here are six more:

Vanilla (Its powerful scent evokes strong and sensuous emotions.)
White wine (In moderation, of course, or the hot date ends badly.)
Wasabi (Nature’s Cialis, rumor has it.)
Red chiles (Hot, hot, hot.)
Coriander (According to The Arabian Nights, a coriander concoction once saved a merchant from 40 years of infertility!)
Agave nectar (Not fermented agave, like tequila or pulque, but still…)


In Aztec times, pulque was the highly esteemed drink of the elders, priests and warriors, a nectar that according to myth oozed from the 400 breasts of the goddess Mayahuel.
–source: Sign on San Diego

Four hundred???

Okay, I think that should do it for aphrodisiacs. Time for some recipes.

a slice of red

Snails in beet cups with truffle butter

Ingredients

  • 1 very large red beet
  • Snails, as needed
  • Compound butter (see below), as needed
  • Red chiles
  • 2 tsp coriander seed

For compound butter

  • 1/4 lb European style butter
  • 1 tablespoon red bosc pear, minced
  • 1 tablespoon garlic, minced
  • Zest of 1 baby lime, minced
  • 1 small black truffle, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon red chile flakes

Take two tsp of butter and melt in a small sauté pan over low heat.
Add remaining ingredients and sweat over low heat for five minutes or until aroma is pungent. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Season to taste with salt.

When ingredients in pan are cool and remaining butter is soft, fold both together until thoroughly combined and roll into a log with parchment paper.

For beets

Fill a small pot with water, and add enough salt to make it taste briny. Then add a small handful of red chiles, and 2 teaspoons of coriander seed, and bring to a boil. Add the beet, skin on, to the boiling water and allow to come back to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.

Cook the beet until it is tender but not mushy, about 30-45 minutes. Remove it from the boil and place in a bath of ice water until its cool enough to handle. Then peel the skin off by hand and cut into thick slices.

Cut rounds out of the slices with whatever tool you can find; a biscuit cutter, ring mold, etc. With a Parisian scoop (a.k.a melonballer) hollow out the rounds, making them into little cups.

Place a shelled snail into each cup and add a thin (1/8 inch) slice of the compound butter on top.

Place all the prepared cups onto a sheet pan lined with parchment, and roast in a 350 F oven for 10 minutes.

Serve hot. Olympic Rings configuration optional.

Snails in beet cups with truffle butter

Salmon and beet mousse barquettes

For candied lime zest

  • Zest of 2 baby limes
  • 1/2 cup white sugar
  • 1/4 cup water

Combine water and sugar in a small pot and bring to a boil. When the mixture begins to get “frothy” add the zest strips.

Cook for 5 minutes, then strain. Place zest on a silpat, or parchment and into a 150 F oven and allow to dry.

For the mousse

  • 4 ounces smoked salmon
  • 2 ounces cooked red beet
  • 4 tablespoons tofutti cream cheese
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon wasabi powder
  • 5 large sprigs of fresh dill

Place all ingredients into a food processor and puree until smooth. Season to taste with salt.

For barquettes

  • 2 cups AP flour
  • 1/2 cup shortening
  • 1/4 cup butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1 bosc pear, peeled, cored, and pureed
  • 1/4 cup water

Biscuit method

Combine dry ingredients in a mixing bowl and stir together thoroughly.

Add butter and shortening, and “cut” into the dry ingredients with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs.

Add the pureed pear and fold into the mixture, then add water as needed to bring the dough together.

Mold dough into a ball and wrap in plastic. Chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

When dough is properly chilled, roll portions into thin (1/8 inch) sheets and place in barquette molds, trimming away excess. Dock (poke holes in the bottom) as needed to keep the dough flat as it cooks.

Place molds in a 350 F oven until golden brown. Then remove and allow to cool.

Final assembly

Pipe finished mousse into cooled barquettes in whatever style you like. Garnish with a small dab of caviar (or in this case; black lumpfish roe) and candied lime zest.

Salmon and beet mousse barquettes

Poached pears with agave caramel sauce

Ingredients

  • 2 Bosc pears
  • 4 cups sweet white wine
  • 1/2 cup lime juice
  • 1/2 cup agave nectar
  • 2 vanilla beans
  • Beet powder for garnish

Poaching method:

Combine wine and lime juice in a two quart saucepan over low heat.

Split and scrape vanilla beans and add both the seeds and the hulls to the liquid.

When the liquid reached between 160 and 180 F peel the pears, leaving them whole, and place in the poaching liquid.

Cover the pan, and poach the pears for at least two hours, three would be better.

When pears are cooked through, remove from the liquid.

For sauce:

Ladle off 2/3 of a cup of the poaching liquid and add to another pan over medium-high heat.

Add the agave nectar and bring to a boil. Reduce until the mixture is thick, dark, and caramelized.

Plating:

Make six cuts along the length of the pear, being careful not to cut through the stem end. Push down onto a plate, giving a slight twist, allowing the pear to “fan out.” Spoon the sauce over top, and garnish with a vanilla bean hull, and a sprinkling of beet powder.

Poached pear with agave caramel sauce

Now, I should note that I neglected to include smoked salmon on my list of nine (nine!) aphrodisiacs, above, but whether documented or not, as far as I’m concerned, in my book the combo of smoked salmon and Peter Gabriel is right up there next to dark chocolate and Barry White. (Follow all that up with a glass of port and Alan Rickman, and I’m done.)

Oh, I could go on, but never mind that. Our Lusty Trio turned out quite delicious and so rich that just the smallest helping did me in for the evening. In fact, the both of us have been in recovery for three days, so it’s a wonder we’ve gotten any blogging done at all!

Tagged with:

Mighty Cheese Warriors: An Historical Perspective

Sunday, February 19th, 2006

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Damn time machine was on the fritz this week. I gave it a few kicks in the side, it sputtered, then belched spicy, persimmon-colored steam, then at long last, it spit out the piece below, which is apparently an encyclopedia entry of some sort. Is this is from our future or from the future of an alternate present (and if so, how the heck did the machine make it back here)? Eh, no matter. After all, it’s rather hard for Gastroblogian historians to resist a good yarn.


(The following transcript is from the speeches of Jaques Rochefort Gouda, circa 4246 AD, Gastroblogia Central Archive. As much as we historians would like to believe we know the facts revolving around the birth of Cheese Sandwich Day, and the accuracy of Gouda’s elaborations, alas, we have only spotty records; myths and bedtime stories passed down from generation to generation, and we can only say that we hope every inch of it is true. Especially the parts we’re least likely to believe. )

Citizens of Gastroblogia, today on the 2240th Anniversary of Cheese Sandwich Day, it is vital that we reflect upon the humble origin of this great symbol of our freedom, and so, I offer up a brief history as precursor to our riotous and cheese-filled celebration that will begin in just a few short moments.

(crowd goes wild)

Let us travel back through the mists of time to the origin of our beloved nation and to the mighty cheese sandwich that will forever be so dear to our hearts.

(more thunderous applause)

Few of you realize that the birth of our great nation was not an easy one. Oh, no. We had a rival. An older nation, confident in its supremacy but so attached to the old ways it had grown stagnant. Yes, East Epicurikstan –

(boos and hisses throughout the crowd)

East Epicurikstan, where the average citizen, despite his professed love of cookery, did not concern himself with what he ate, or what his neighbor ate, or his second cousin for that matter –

(cries of shock from the crowd)

Yes, East Epicurikstan, a harsh regime that claimed status as a meritocracy, but was, in truth, beholden to such outdated notions as “advertisers” and “editorial boards.”

(more hisses)

Always, in East Epicurikstan, the interests of the few trumped the interests of the many, and always, they looked upon the newfangled activities of neighboring Gastroblogia with disdain, for here in Gastroblogia, it seemed, we lacked censorship. We lacked corporate overlords. And shockingly (to the East Epicurikstanians), we allowed — even encouraged — our citizenry to do anything they wanted.

(a mighty cheer from the crowd)


At the height of the Great Controversy, citizens of Gastroblogia declared their solidarity by carving their cheese sandwiches into outlandish and suggestive shapes. This particular artifact was found on the steps of the East Epicurikstanian Embassy by a writer of “glossies” whose name has long since faded into the dark recesses of forgotten history.

Now, one would think that would lead to chaos. Well did it?

(crowd responds with a resounding “NO!”)

No! Not chaos, but community!

Yes, poor East Epicurikstan, stalled in the dark ages because they clung, white-knuckled, to the archaic notion of top-down information dispersal, and yet, they still tried to impose their rigid beliefs on their neighbors, including the notion that one should not discuss what one ate for dinner, especially if one ate a cheese sandwich!

(crowd boos and hisses)

But, good citizens of Gastroblogia, we knew better. Even then, in the early days of our great nation, we knew better. We knew we did not need such impositions. We cast aside their glossies and the trappings of their so-called meritocracy and we rose up, declaring our autonomy. Who was East Epicurikstan to impose their trends upon us? We could start our own trends, peer to peer!

(crowd cheers)

And that’s exactly what our great ancestors did! But it didn’t end there. Oh no, dear people, this was only the beginning!

Shocked at Gastroblogia’s impudence, the East Epicurikstanians rattled their sabers and cried absurdities. “There are too many bad food blogs,” they said, “Some of you should just go away!”


It is believed that in Days of Legend, centuries before the Birth of Blog, Mighty Cheese Warriors carried their sandwich gifts to neighboring tribes via canoe, thus ushering in a resplendent era of universal cooperation, feasting, and cheese production

Our great Gastroblogian ancestors responded, puzzled. “What does this mean?” they asked. “You might as well say there are too many stars in the sky simply because some shine brighter than others.”

One Gastroblogian cried, “Define many!” Another cried, “Define bad!”

The East Epicurikstanians couldn’t respond. They groped at “many.” “Well… lots” one said. “So many, I can’t find the good ones,” another proclaimed.

“How long did you search?” the first Gastroblogian asked.

“About ten minutes,” the East Epicurikstanian replied and twiddled his thumbs.

“Ahah!” the second Gastroblogian exclaimed.

“But,” said the East Epicurikstanian, “you don’t follow the rules. That’s why you’re bad.”

The Gastroblogians could only look at each other and shrug. “Rules?” they cried. “We have rules? Did someone give us a rule book?”

(laughter from the crowd)

And still, despite this all, the East Epicurikstanians rattled their sabers.


Firemen who rescued errant cheese sandwiches from tree tops were held in the highest regard in Gastroblogia and days were named in their honor. It is not now known how so many cheese sandwiches found themselves in need of tree-top rescue, but if Gastroblogian myths hold any grains of truth, we suspect that herds of “sentient sammies” (brought about by human-cheese hybrid experimentation) had something to do with it.

Now, one industrious Gastroblogian, not content to leave the discussion where it stood, set out to find these supposed rules, hoping that a definitive answer would at least curb the aggressions of their irritable neighbor. She searched high and low and found many different sets of rules, yet none of them matched one another and many were composed by the same corporate paymasters the citizens of Gastroblogia so disdained.

She found manifestos, each different, each pertaining to an individual citizen’s needs and desires. At long last she happened upon a collection of statements that best summed up the philosophy of Gastroblogia. She gathered them up from their various sources, carried them home and then spoke to the citizens of both Gastroblogia and East Epicurikstan.

“A blog is a conversation,” she said. “You may have it with yourself, or with your friends, or with your family. You may have it with your community, or with all the world at once; no matter. You choose, just as others may choose to partake in that conversation or leave as they see fit.

“You may find a conversation with yourself suddenly extends to the world, or you may find that in a conversation with the world, you are the only participant. Some conversations are more interesting than others. Some punchbowls at parties contain better punch. You are not obligated to serve the best punch, nor are you obligated to drink the worst punch.

“Nor are you ever, even when you share your blog with the world, obligated to engage in conversation with anyone but yourself. The point is only to do what you want to do because you want to do it. Beyond this, there are no rules.”


Cheese sandwiches often bore likenesses of great figures of Gastroblogian culture. It is well known that the Julia Child sandwich, considered priceless, is, to this day, kept in a temperature controlled vault in the Great Hall of Cookery. Sandwiches bearing the likenesses of East Epicurikstanians were often met with a less noble fate. Others were simply consumed. One legend tells of a Gastroblogian who constructed the world’s largest cheese sandwich, only to discover it bore the image of Jeffrey Steingarten. Unable to resist its siren song, the Gastroblogian devoured the entire thing in a single sitting and was promptly sent to the hospital.

Satisfied, the Gastroblogian sat back from her podium and took a bite of her sandwich.

“But,” the East Epicurikstanians cried, “What about professionalism? Who wants to read about what you ate for dinner?”

The Gastroblogians could only roll their eyes. They looked at one another and shook their heads, fearing the worst: The East Epicurikstanians just didn’t get it. The only thing to do now was to ignore their rending of hair and gnashing of teeth.

“We need a symbol,” they cried, “An emblem to represent our autonomy and our celebration of all that is good and delicious and lacking in rules.”

Briefly, they considered such things as the three bean casserole or tuna surprise.

But then the woman who’d sought out the rules rose from her seat, stood in front of her people and, with her half-eaten meal in one hand spoke the phrase that we all know so well today: “Ich bin ein Käsesandwich!”

(wild cheers from the crowd)

And so, great citizens of the Most Delectable Autonomous Collective of Gastroblogia, let us not forget our humble beginnings. Let us not forget the mighty cheese warriors who carved a path from our dining rooms to the stars and beyond!

(crowd applauds)

Let us not forget our eccentric and irreverent ancestors of Gastroblogia!

(crowd cheers)

And most of all…. Let us…. EAT!

(crowd digs in)