Archive for the ‘chopper's lab’ Category

Paper Chef #25: A (rare) day at home

Wednesday, September 12th, 2007

A (rare) day at home

The happiest recent news in Gastroblogia is that Owen of Tomatilla has revived Paper Chef after a six-month hiatus. Paper Chef was our introduction to the food blogging world, and it’s always been Chopper’s favorite event. He loves the excuse to play.

For this episode, Paper Chef #25, the four ingredients are:

Smoked Swordfish (or any kind of smoked item)
Eggplant
Chiles
Something from home

Now, the irony isn’t lost on us that Owen picked “home” for this month’s theme. Over the past months we’ve rarely ever had time to do much cooking at home. For a while this summer, Chopper was working six days a week with most of those days on shifts that lasted through the dinner hour. “Home” meant “where we crash at the end of a long day” and not much else.

This fall, things are finally looking up in that department, and — quite amazingly — this Paper Chef coincided with two days off wherein we weren’t booked solid with errands and social obligations. Of course those two days were yesterday and Monday so we still ran smack up against (and fell over) today’s deadline. So what else is new?

Given this rare opportunity to play, Chopper gave himself the challenge of creating three dishes: a canapé, a soup, and a main. We picked up a sampling of eggplants and chiles at our favorite Asian market, and for the fish — since smoked swordfish is unheard of in these parts (and I’m not a swordfish fan to begin with) — Chopper found a nice big slab of cod, coated it in spices and threw it on the smoker.

My (ongoing) challenge, in addition to my usual sous chef duties, is to put together a photo post of the day using my old, borrowed camera and Chopper’s computer, which lacks my usual photo editing software. Why that, you ask? Well, remember that computer that needed fixing? Ahhahahah, yup. It’s dead again. Soon as I’m done with this post, I’m constructing a shrine to Saint Isidore.

But first, photos…

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Eye of Newt, Blood of Pig: The black pudding variations

Tuesday, May 8th, 2007

black pudding

No, we’re not done with the pig’s blood just yet.

In fact, I’ve a feeling there could be 38 different dishes you can cook with Black Pudding. Thirty-eight at the very least.

Not that I plan on naming them all here.

In fact, I’ll just mention two or three.

First off: Chopper’s Lancashire Hotpot. He made this one on the Saturday after the black pudding was done and served it to unsuspecting guests. The guests were quite pleased and went back to the kitchen for seconds.

That Sunday morning, Chopper made a scramble with spinach, onion, more bits of black pudding, and the last remaining smidge of Lancashire Hotpot. It too was quite tasty, though it could have used something sweet to temper the spinach/onion/pig’s blood nexus.

Enter, apples. Inspired by denzylle’s comment on our Happy Entrails to You post, Chopper created a frittata wherein the black pudding mixed it up with tasty, crunchy bits of Granny Smith apple and the whole thing was topped with grated kasseri.

We declared it tasty and wolfed it down, thus ending Black Pudding Days at casa Belly Timber after only three dishes.

Only three? Surely there must be more!

Now, I’d offer up a challenge to see who can come up with the largest number of black pudding variations, but to be perfectly honest, after writing this post up I think I’m quite ready to move on from pig’s blood for at least a short while. So instead, because we’re never completely done with All Things British in these parts, and because we believe in extending all birthday celebrations at least a week and a half, your challenge (with a hat tip to Riba Rambles for the meme) is this:

Grab a pencil and paper and without looking at any resources, see if you can list all 38 (most commonly agreed upon) Shakespeare plays. And don’t give me any of that silly Francis Bacon really wrote them twaddle.

Mmm…. bacon.
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Happy Entrails to You…

Saturday, April 21st, 2007

happy entrails to you

Is English food a joke?

No! It’s not a joke, it’s an adventure!

I happen to believe one should firmly embrace one’s ancestors’ culinary traditions. Especially when one has ancestors who interbred, had bad teeth, killed one another off on a regular basis, and consumed far too many unnervingly rich, meat-based dishes.

proud pig-eating yorkist

I am, of course, talking about the Plantagenets. We’ve got a chart somewhere around here. On it, I can draw a rather crooked line from me back to Henry II. Not that I particularly want to be related to the king who offed Thomas Becket, but I am happy to claim a few other connections, including the fellow on the right here, who was, despite what those bratty Tudors say, a pretty decent guy.

I bet he ate some damned tasty food before riding off into battle.

Like this crazy thing Chopper’s making.

It looks like a sausage, but he tells me it’s called Black Pudding. I am told it is tasty and not at all dangerous. Not like that Black Pudding that enveloped and digested Timion Vayla, my second level paladin in the Dungeon of Aeras Kinth. Boy, was that a bad night.

No, this Black Pudding is made from tasty things like oatmeal and onions. Oh, and pig’s blood. Lots of pig’s blood. Turns out our local Asian market sells pig’s blood by the pint, and when Chopper made this discovery, I knew we were left with only two choices: Black Pudding or a reenactment of the prom night sequence from Carrie. Since the latter would mean a Chopper impersonation of John Travolta, we opted for the Black Pudding.

Now, I haven’t tasted it yet, so I can’t tell you anything about the results. I can tell you that it’s quite black (the hour and a half plus in the oven congealed the blood quite nicely), and the sausage stuffing procedure was quite messy. So messy, in fact, I may have give up that fantasy I have about CSI Warrick Brown showing up at the door with a spray bottle of Luminol. Far, far too risky.

On the bright side, no prom dresses were ruined in the procedure, and I’d like to think we did my Plantagenet ancestors proud. Especially the ones who preferred a good feast over a good beheading.

(Next: we devour the happy entrails and live to tell the tale.)

Chopper’s Lab: Menudo – not just a boy band!

Friday, September 8th, 2006

Menudo, not just a boy band...

Most people recoil in horror when they are told what the primary ingredient is in the classic Mexican breakfast dish menudo. No, it’s not Ricky Martin…

The first time I ever tried menudo was at a tiny Mexican cafe in San Diego back in the mid-nineties. My friends told me it was good, and having never heard of it before — I was rather young — I ordered it. Little did I know I was about to have a “Mikey” moment, where my friends were just seeing if I’d eat it. Well, I did, and I really liked it, especially the little tender chewy bits.

“What was that?” I asked my friends as they were about to burst into laughter…

no, really, it's tripe

That’s right, beef tripe. Stomach of cow. The funny part for me was that I didn’t mind.

Now, I’ve always been up for a good experiment, so why not try my hand at this culinary gem?

Menudo a la Chopper

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds Beef honeycomb tripe
  • 1 15 ounce can Yellow hominy
  • 4 Red jalapeños, seeded and diced
  • 2 teaspoons Coriander seed
  • 2 teaspoons Cumin seed
  • 1 teaspoon Cloves, whole
  • 1 bunch Cilantro, minced
  • 1 Pig’s foot
  • 2 quarts Chicken broth
  • To taste Salt & pepper

Method

  1. Toast spices in a small, dry pan and grind.
  2. Wash the tripe thoroughly with luke-warm water, then cut into one inch squares.
  3. In a pot, bring the broth to a boil and add cut tripe and pig’s foot. Cover tightly, and boil for 2 to 2 1/2 hours.
  4. Add hominy and jalapeños and continue to simmer for another half hour.
  5. Add spice blend, and half of the minced cilantro. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
  6. Garnish with avocado slices, a crumbling of queso fresco, and a pinch of minced cilantro.
  7. Serve with warm corn tortillas.

I think I did it justice. It was spicy the way I like it, and the texture was just like I remember. It was good enough for Mrs. D to give it a try. In her words…

MizD sez:
First, let me get this out of the way: The tripe terrified me. I mean, look at it. It looks like industrial insulation gone horribly wrong. Or the famous lost hive of the Killer Sea Bees of the Great Barrier Reef. Something entirely inedible, at the very least.

Oh, and it stank. It stank for a rather long time. That “2 to 2 1/2 hours” up there in the directions? Figure on at least half of that time with windows open and fans on high. I can’t quite place the smell — I have to think back, as this dish was one of the last Chopper prepared up on the island — but I imagine it reminded me of the County Fair. And not in a good way.

But then… somewhere around three hours into the process, everything changed. I began to notice the spices, the chiles, the hominy, and at long last the kitchen smelled like dinner.

And I was hungry.

And I chowed down. And it was good. Tripetastically delicious. Indeed, I didn’t have to pretend the tripe wasn’t there, because once it’s cooked (or rather, once it’s been boiled to an inch of its freaky life), tripe is a tender thing that grabs onto it’s little spicy neighbors and makes them taste all the better.

Now, I’m told by various well-informed sources that menudo is the cure for a wicked hangover. We’ll have to keep that in mind, but it will require planning. As in: cook first, party later. I don’t think I need to tell you that boiling tripe while nursing a hangover is not an activity we intend on trying in this or any other lifetime.

A final note: Although we prepared and ate this dish several weeks ago, Chopper just passed the recipe along to me today. Nothing terribly surprising, there — we’ve been horrendously busy with the move — but in the recipe itself, you’ll note an item that I did not mention in my report above: Pig’s foot.

In fact, just an hour or so ago when I glanced at the recipe for the first time, I blinked, stared across our basement cave and said “WTF, PIG’S FOOT??” (Or words to that effect.) You see, I had absolutely no idea Chopper had slipped a pig’s foot into the brew. Truth is, he pulled it (or what was left of it) out before serving, but he tells me that the removal of the pig’s foot is entirely optional and up to the discretion of the menudo master at hand.

Thank you for that one, Chopper. One scary meat at a time.

Chopper sez: So, I’ll consider this experiment in Chopper’s lab a success. What’s next, you may ask… Just wait and see.

MizD sez: Braaaains, I tell you. Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiins. (Hey, what can I say? We’re only seven and a half weeks from Halloween.)

Pizza!

Tuesday, November 1st, 2005

a slice of pizza

Pizza. This crusty Italian pie has become one of the most popular foods in the world. And, everywhere pizza is made a different approach is taken. From the crispy, thin crusted, simply topped, New York style, to the hearty, cheesy, thick crusted pan style pizza of Chicago, to the “specialty gourmet” pizzas that originated on the west coast, and infinite others, pizza is one of the most diverse food offerings to share a single name.

Pizza’s humble beginnings can be dated all the way back to the 6th century B.C., when Persian soldiers baked a simple flat bread on their shields which were placed over top of camp fires, topping the bread with cheese and dates. In the following centuries this simple, easy to prepare food became popular in Rome, and evidence of shops that bear a striking resemblance to more contemporary pizzerias has been found in the unearthed ruins of Pompeii which date back to the year 79 A.D.

Pizza didn’t reach the U.S., though, until the early 20th century, when an Italian immigrant, Gennaro Lombardi, is widely known to have opened the first Pizzeria in New York City in 1905.

Pizza later spread to the “second city.” In 1943, Chicago-style deep-dish pizza was created by Ike Sewell at his now well-known establishment called Pizzeria Uno (which later became a nation-wide chain).

pizza in the pan

In 1945, American soldiers that had been stationed in Italy during World War II returned, bringing a taste for the savory pie with them — so much so, that a mere three years later, in 1948, a niche was found, and the first “kit” was produced that allowed pizza to be made at home, called “Roman Pizza Mix.”

The popularity of pizza in the U.S. really took off in the 1950s, however. Americans really started noticing pizza when Italian-American celebrities such as Frank Sinatra, Jimmy Durante, Jerry Colonna, and Joe DiMaggio all could be seen enjoying pizza. Then, in 1957 frozen pizzas were introduced by the Celentano Brothers, and could be found in local grocery stores. Soon afterward, pizza became the most popular of all frozen foods.

Pizza has had a long and, for the most part, illustrious history. From its obscure beginnings as a simple food for soldiers on the march, to its modern incarnations where just about anything goes, pizza will continue to be enjoyed the world over.

Now, after that long-winded overview of my favorite pie, here’s my version!

Chopper’s meatball deep dish pizza

For the dough

  • 1 pint water
  • 3/4 ounces active dry yeast
  • 1 pound 12 ounces flour
  • 1/2 ounce sea salt
  • 3/4 teaspoon corn syrup
  • 1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon olive oil
  • 2 teaspoons sugar

Whisk water, corn syrup, and sugar together until fully dissolved. Then add yeast, and whisk until yeast is also dissolved.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour and salt.

When the liquid mixture looks “foamy” on top, add to the dry ingredients, and then add the oil.

Fold the ingredients together until all of the flour is hydrated. Then knead for 20 minutes, and mold into a large ball.

Clean out and dry the bowl, then apply a thin coat of oil with a paper towel. Then rub another thin coat of oil on the ball of dough and place in the bowl, and cover loosely with plastic wrap.

While the dough is resting and rising, make your sauce, meatballs, and grate your cheese ;-)

For the meatballs

  • 1/2 pound ground pork butt
  • 1/2 pound ground beef round
  • 1/2 pound ground lamb shoulder
  •  
  • 2 teaspoons dry basil
  • 2 teaspoons dry parsley
  • 2 teaspoons dry thyme
  • 2 teaspoons red pepper flakes
  • 2 teaspoons garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/2 cup bread crumbs
  • 1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
  • 5 ounces frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed
  • More bread crumbs for coating

Work all ingredients together with your hands, making sure not to be too rough.

When everything is fully combined, portion into 3/4 to 1 oz balls, and set aside.

Place 1 quart of vegetable oil in a pot over medium high heat, and have a bowl of bread crumbs ready (about 1/2 a cup will do).

When the oil is hot enough to fry, roll your meatballs in the bread crumbs in batches, and lightly fry them, just enough to get a crust on the surface, but not enough to thoroughly cook them.

For the sauce

  • 2 cans whole peeled tomatoes
  • 1 each medium yellow onion, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon garlic, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon dry basil
  • 1 tablespoon dry oregano
  • 2 teasoons dry thyme
  • 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, minced
  • 1/2 cup red wine
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons brown sugar
  • Salt and black pepper to taste

Put a medium sized pot over medium heat, and add 2 tbl of olive oil.

Crush the tomatoes by hand in a bowl and set aside

Add onions and garlic, and sweat for 2 to 3 minutes or until the aromas start to become pungent and the onion turns translucent.

Add herbs, and sweat another minute, then add red wine.

Reduce the mixture by about 1/4, then add the tomatoes and bring to a simmer.

Simmer for about 10 minutes, then puree the sauce (I use a stick blender), and bring back to a simmer.

Add sugar, and season to taste.

There, that’s all the components. Though, you may want to add some vegetables to your pie as well.

Now, I really like Chicago style, deep dish pizza. And the best part of making it is that you don’t really need a pizza stone (though having one would still be nice). All you really need is a good cast iron pan.

Preheat your oven to its highest possible setting (most just say “broil” which is fine, but if yours goes up to 550 F, you’re good to go).

By now your dough should be well rested, and about twice its previous size. Turn it out of the bowl, and “punch” it down to get rid of any oversized air pockets. This should be enough dough to make two or three ten inch pizzas.

For that size you’ll need 10 oz of dough, rolled thin enough to line your pan from edge to edge, and all the way up the sides as well.

Then ladle in your sauce and spread evenly, make sure not to add too much, or your crust will be soggy.

Now, here comes the first layer of cheese. Since Mrs. D is lactose intolerant, we scoured the cheese aisle at our local market to find something we could use, and we did! There’s a wonderful Greek sheep/goat cheese called Kasseri, “the melting cheese of Greece.” Mrs. D was jubilant. Anyway, layer on about 1/2 a pound over the sauce, then add your condiments, in this case split meatballs, mushrooms, black olives, and red onions, and fresh roma tomatoes.

Place your panned creation in your oven and cook for 15 minutes, or until the crust turns a deep brown. And, there you have it. Pizza a ‘la Chopper!

Chopper's meatball pizza

Seis de Mayo

Friday, May 6th, 2005

chiles

When most people I know (sans culinary classmates) think about Mexican food, they tell me they think of the gooey enchilada, the ubiquitous burrito, and the omnipresent taco. But, the cuisine enjoyed south of the border is far more complex and diverse than the commonly known combination of meat, beans, cheese, and tortillas.

With the passing of Cinco de Mayo yesterday, I thought it appropriate to reflect on the amazing foods of the former Spanish colony.

I mention the Spanish because their influence on the region, harsh as it was, can’t be ignored. For instance, the Spanish introduced pork and chicken to the region, and can you imagine a Mexican restaurant without either of those things on the menu? They also introduced European methods as well, such as roasting, deep-frying (mmmm, chimichangas), and my personal favorite, ceviche.

ceviche

Separation from the European continent caused development to go in different directions, however. For instance, Mexico developed their own set of “mother sauces”: Rojo — a red sauce based on sweet and spicy chiles, Verde — a sour green sauce based primarily on tomatillos, and Moles — highly complex sauces based on chiles, fruit, nuts, seeds, and sometimes chocolate.

Three major regions of Mexico have had the greatest effect on the cuisine. We start with Vera Cruz, the region north of the Yucatan peninsula (more on that below), extending up to the border with the United States. Foods here are, for the most part, dominated by Spanish and Mediterranean influences. Fish and shellfish are common here, as well as the use of garlic and olive oil. Rice is the most common starch, and the use of spices is less common than herbs, such as cilantro, and epazote. Also, it is not uncommon to find cream-based white sauces in the regional cuisine.

From Vera Cruz we go south, to Oaxaca. Home of the Zapotecs, and meeting place for the Mayans, birthplace of Mescal (known by another name here in the states: Tequila. Mmmm… tequila, sez Mrs D...), and of wonderful coffees grown in the mountains. It is also known as the “land of seven moles.” Oaxacan food is known for is generous use of spices, primary among them being cinnamon, allspice, and cloves. Many aromatic stews and braised items are common. And of course, as mentioned earlier, moles.

mole ingredients

Most of the people I know (again, classmates excluded) who even know what a mole is, automatically assume it to be a dark sauce flavored with chocolate. In fact there are seven distinct moles, only two containing chocolate.

Mole Amarillo — a yellow mole based on yellow chiles and thickened with masa.
Mole de Castillo — sweet spices (cloves, allspice, etc), thickened with day old bread.
Mole Chichilo — a dark red mole based on chiles and avocado leaves, also thickened with masa.
Mole Coloradito — flavored primarily with fruits and chocolate.
Mole Manchamantel — known as the “tablecloth stainer” for its use of achiote paste.
Mole Negro — the black, or burnt mole, all ingredients must be charred, fruits and chocolate are common.
Mole Pepian — known for its use of pumpkin seeds.
Mole Rojo — the red mole, based on chiles, also sometimes thickened with day old bread
Mole Verde — based on tomatillos, green tomatoes, and fresh herbs.

Last, but certainly not least, there is the pyramid-riddled Yucatan peninsula. Primarily Mayan in its influences, employing milder flavors; Achiote paste is extraordinarily common, as are black beans, pumpkin seeds, pibil (a stew/sauce used with various meats), pickled onion, sour orange, and hard cooked eggs.

The amazing diversity in Mexican cuisine rivals that of China and Southeast Asia. Personally, there’s nothing better on a balmy spring night than a bowl of my mole negro chili, and a refreshing Corona. Happy belated Cinco de Mayo!

Mrs. D’s Cinco de Mayo trip report

Yesterday, we took an excursion to our favorite pub for this island’s version of Cinco de Mayo. The pub, not at all Mexican the rest of the year, had a few additions to the menu, though nothing that veered into the classical realm that Chopper Dave talks about here (we ordered nachos). The highlight instead was the tapping of two new brews: a smoked chile ale and a chocolate ale. Mixing the two (so they said in the promo for their festivities) would create a “mole ale,” but I discovered a better trick: Buy one glass of each and take a sip of the chile ale first, letting it saturate and cleanse your palate. Then follow it with a sip of the chocolate ale. The chocolate flavor comes through much stronger than it does on its own or mixed “mole” style. It’s spicy, intense and most of all, chocolaty! –miz d.