...but the devil sends the cooks

Forks In The Road

2010-12-08T17:11:13Z

The day I quit the computer industry was the day I was set free from the pressures and utter chaos of it. Liberating? Yes. Satisfying? Most definitely.

Four solid months of complete slackerdom. It was always designed that way (well six weeks of it, at least) so I had no reservations about it. Then, like Don Vito Corleone himself was speaking, I was made an offer I couldn't refuse. So back to the industry I go.

Funny thing is...through all of the hand wringing and guilt for leaving what I knew for 20 years and then returning to the heart of the beast, I have no regrets. Even more so, since I have actually been baking my happy ass *off* (keeping my sour starters healthy, making bread nearly every week...and always thinking of the next modifications I can make to my bread recipe arsenal) plus cooking and discovering new food joints and restaurants, I have rarely felt the need to write about such things anymore.

And yeah, about the writing thing...maybe it was just showing off when I couldn't achieve my dreams. Or showing off just because I wanted, needed and craved the attention about thinking that I knew more about food than everyone else. I am the first to admit that such arrogance lives right inside of me and actually feeds me from time to time. Well, maybe a little bit more than that.

But the humbling aspects of meeting and working with food industry people that really DO know more than you, have more experience than you, and actually have DONE MORE than you puts this arrogant little boy into his proper place. The arrogance is still extant but the quest to learn is much, much stronger and associating with and, more importantly, working with experienced folks is the order of the day, even if I can only do that occasionally because of the new path I have chosen.

Will I ever have my wholesale bakery operation (as I cryptically alluded to back in July)?
I will.

Will I make kick ass bread and other bakery goods?
Always.

Everything is just on a different timeline now...one that is bounded by nothing except my desire to succeed, no matter what job I do.

The Future Now

2010-07-16T08:50:52Z

(photo by wm. christman)

Indeed. Right now.

Twenty years in the computer industry. It is time to do something different. And this is what I think the future looks like.

Lab Beast

2010-07-09T18:45:57Z

(photo by wm. christman)

10 quarts, no waiting. Well, as much "no waiting" as bread will allow. Stay tuned for more additions to the new "lab".

Lab Work

2010-05-30T23:43:13Z

(logo courtesy of Sandy's Chocolate Laboratory and Sandesh Reddy)

When I tell people I'm going to India, everyone says "ooh, how neat, you'll get to eat a bunch of great Indian food!". Well, not to burst anyone's bubble, to me India (actually the city of Chennai or Madras to the Brits) ain't all that. To spare you the excruciating details, let's just say this city is not one of my favorite places to go for a variety of reasons. Food-wise, however, there is some outstanding Indian food here but 2 or 3 days of two meals a day consisting of nothing but curries and dosas and tandoories gets tedious real fast.

On my first night here (which includes 24 hours of travel time, going to bed at 6 am, plus all that jet lag), my co-worker and I (full disclosure: the co-worker in this case, is my manager Irina, who is quite cool all around, pretty fun to travel with, and wee a bit of a chocoholic) were expecting an evening of fine supping at one of the restaurants we went to on the last trip. But what her friend Kaushal found for us was anything but ordinary for Chennai. And from the moment I saw Sandy's Chocolate Laboratory and Delicatessen, I knew it would be like Alice falling down the rabbit hole...

Sandy's Chocolate Lab is mainly a dessert place. If there's anything in India that can match curry's popularity, it is sweets. You find them everywhere and in many forms. But chocolate? Well, you can find it but it's just a tiny bit less difficult than finding a (beef) burger joint. Sandy's (named after the founder, chef and lab master Sandesh Reddy) is a small place, tucked away on a small thoroughfare in a residential neighbourhood. Yes, if you blinked while driving by, you'd only see a giant silkscreen of an enlarged thumbprint decorating the small entrance and maybe pay it no notice.

Once inside, it looks 180° opposite of your typical Indian restaurant with low modern tables, equally modern lighting with an easy ambiance and a case of goodies that will immediately get you wondering just what these guys are up to. There's a case of desserts that look familiar but are definitely not and a case of some pretty high end cheeses and cured meats which seem to be rarities in Chennai (and maybe India overall).

Sandy's menu is a very simple affair if you recognize that it is printed on carbonless credit card receipt paper already sitting on the table. Because it looked like the bill from a previous party, our waiter had to come over and pull it out of its holder because we thought it was a bill and were scrupulously leaving it alone.

The menu has a small but diverse selection of starters and mains ranging from corn cakes with salsa to Vietnamese catfish with pesto. And the fact that they had barbecued pork chops there too meant that there is probably a lot more going on here than meets the eye. Although the starters and mains are merely a side light of Sandy's it doesn't mean they skimp on flavor or presentation.

The corn cakes were more like small blinis with a nice, almost smoothly blended salsa with just a nice fresh tomato flavor highlighting the lightly sweet corn kernels. A pasta with an aioli made of capsicum (moderately hot peppers, in India parlance), butter and a bit of cream was a just-right spicy take on the old aglio-olio pasta sauté. The "Asian" chicken was a pan fried breast (just a shade past done) that was completely covered in a light coating of finely ground garlic, mild pepper, and ginger. A nicely sautéed stack of vegetables, arranged in tort fashion accompanied most of the dishes.

even the kids get to experiment (photo by wm. christman)

But the real stars at Sandy's are the completely over-the-top desserts. Most of them have some form of chocolate in them and if you're looking into the dessert case, it is pretty hard to just order one. The highlight of the case desserts was a piece of chocolate cake insanity called the "tiny" cake. If you can call 7+ layers and resembling a giant door stop "tiny".

Actually, the Tiny cake is the only dessert that approaches Cheesecake Factory-sized portions but it is clearly meant to be shared as are most of the other desserts. But given the Indian penchant for sweets, it was no surprise that there were lots of people navigating their slices solo. If the treats in the case weren't enough, there is another menu that the waiters take some pains to recite tableside. This "secret" menu is where the real fun begins.

As far as desserts go on this menu, Sandy's "laboratory" concept is taken quite seriously as beakers, test tubes and other Pyrex lab equipment are used as vessels to carry their sweet treats. Quaint? Maybe. Cute? Definitely. But what they actually fill those things with completely blows away any notion of it just being a gimmick.

The most over the top dessert in this category is the "kids" dessert (available to kids of all ages...). The waiter will ask you of your choice of pastry (a small waffle or pancake) and chocolate (dark, light or white). And that's it. When the dish arrives, the plate is filled with whimsical delights. Along side the pancake or waffle come two test tubes of toppings: tonight it was maple syrup and a stabilized chocolate sauce (dark chocolate which is what I chose). There is a small beaker of "milkshake" also based on your chocolate choice, a small and very moist brownie and a wicked looking giant syringe, minus the needle, filled with thickened chocolate milk.

All of the treats on the plate did not tip the scale sugar-wise as there seemed to be some care to highlighting the flavor of the chocolate. The strange but delightful tableau extended itself with the parents of family sitting next to us who ordered two of these for their twin daughters and were having a grand time with the contents of the syringe, knocking back the milkshake, playing with the test tubes and waffles.The girls were clearly enjoying themselves based on the giggle-fest in full chortle. And that's the point, everything on the plate is meant to be played with and savored in a very un-serious way. (By the way, Irina insisted that she get to use the syringe first. On me. Those pictures won't be posted here anytime soon!)

The Happy Jack (and cookies!) (photo by wm. christman)

Another customised dessert was a series of milkshakes which were thick enough to stand a spoon in. We ordered the "Happy Jack" and the "Cookie Monster". The former was a chocolate-peanut butter mix and the latter a dark chocolate concoction with cookie chunks merely mixed in. Both were served in beakers. Included with each of these was a small "cookies and milk" side; a small beaker with a thick-ish moist cookie and a small test tube of thickened chocolate milk. As with the Kids dessert, preserving the chocolate's flavor was front and center.

Although side-street bound, Sandy's had a steady stream of customers coming in seeking their sweet creations. By the time we got up to leave, the "Tiny" cake was gone as were most of the other items in the dessert case. Deemed "expensive" by Indian standards, Sandy's is a complete bargain compared to what some of their dishes might cost in the US. And Sandesh is clearly going out of his way to create something unique in the middle of so much of Chennai's traditional (albeit good) food. In fact this evening was his last in the restaurant for a month as he was off to New York to do research for an all-new menu for the July. And that just might be worth another 24 hours of travel to Chennai.

---
Sandy's Chocolate Laboratory and Delicatessen (Facebook page), # 14, 1st Cross Road, RA Puram Off Greenways Road, Chennai, India, 044 42303852

Shoot Yourself In The (Bare)Foot

2010-05-01T01:06:21Z

A good day down the tubes... (photo by wm. christman)

I like coffee houses with attitude. I especially like those that reflect that attitude through the clever design to their menus and interiors, and how they handle and treat their customers. Usually, those type of places have folks running them that are very knowledgeable but not arrogantly so. And because these places usually have a rabid interest in serving kick-ass (delicious) coffee beverages, their coffee and roasting skills also reflect the care and attitude.

However, attitude alone is not substitute for good service. And attitude for the sake of having one or trying to prove that you are somehow "hipper" than everyone else by being arrogant, treating your new customers like shit, and generally acting like idiots because you "know better" is even worse. Enter San Jose's Barefoot Coffee Roasters.

Barefoot Coffee Roasters have been around for several years and have become one of the better independent coffee roasters in the Bay Area. I drink their coffee through three or four different, and not affiliated, coffee houses. Their coffee has been consistently good so I have no particular beef with that. In fact, I support businesses like this but find myself less inclined to do so after the treatment I received this morning at their store on Stevens Creek Blvd. in San Jose.

The day started out pretty good for me. There was a huge clump of traffic between me and where I work so I decided to pay Barefoot a visit while I was taking city streets to work. There was a line (there usually is) when I went into the store but they had some nice morning, beat-filled music going on so that was no big deal. The array of BFCR cups and knick-knacks provided decent distraction. I snagged a menu as they don't really have any signage for their drinks. I guess it keeps their coffee house vibe true. So far, no problem.

My drink of choice every morning is an Americano (espresso with hot water). I didn't see that on the menu but there was a thing called a "Romano" which was espresso and hot water. Hmmm. There was no size info so I assumed (yeah, yeah...) that 1) it was literally an "Americano" and 2) it was between 12-16 ounces large. So assuming away...it was settled, a Romano it would be.

I got up to the person at the counter and ordered the Romano. "Will that be for here or to-go?", the person asked. "To go, please", I said. "OK, that'll be $2.73", she replied. "Um wait, but its to-go and you're still charging me tax on that??", I asked. "We just got audited, so 'yes'", was the response.

Stupified, I wondered why exactly this was MY problem? In California, to-go food and drink is usually NOT taxed (forgive me for not being up on the complete rip-off California tax laws that extort money from businesses because THEY can't balance their books. Ever.). I didn't want to make a big deal of it so I paid.

"Jeez, that's the most expensive Americano ever", I said as I handed her the money. "Well, it'll be the best one you've ever had," she shot back. "And if you don't think so, you can go across the street and buy coffee there..."

Um, EXCUSE me? The reason that I'm AT Barefoot, you arrogant fuck-wit, is because I don't frequent Starbucks so why pull out the crap attitude? Especially on someone who you've never seen before. The whole idea is to keep customers, not drive them away no matter how much you think you're the coolest, most bitchin' coffee house employee in the fucking world!

Now, to her credit, she apologized a minute later saying "I shouldn't have said that, sorry..." but the damage was already done. But...if the first thing that comes out of your mouth after someone questions your charging tax for a to-go item and then quipping nicely about the cost of said drink is some sorta attitude-filled, cryptic dribble about "if I don't like it I can go to Starbucks..." then what the fuck is your real problem?

So now my day has just gone from pretty good to right in the shitter because of this idiot being, well.....an idiot, then the barista calls out and says that my Romano is ready. I look and see what she has set down and it's this teeny-tiny white cup (~8 oz.) of espresso and water. She notices the slight askance look when I see it. Then I asked if that was really the size of the Romano? "Yes, we don't add too much water so the espresso is stronger..." Er, ok.

So, I guess that's fine but there's not word ONE on the menu as to how big the drink is - just a flowery description on how the addition of hot water will make the espresso "smoother". There's nothing like making your customers guess what their drinks are. I kind of felt like I just walked into the Las Vegas of coffee houses. I put my money down. And I hope I win something!

"I guess I should have asked for an 'Americano" then but it wasn't on your menu.", I said. The response I got was even more maddening: "Oh, that [the Americano] is on our 'secret' menu...here's your drink..." Stunning.

At that point, I realized that I should have just walked out at being charged tax on a to-go drink. But I had faith that Barefoot coffee was good enough to maybe put up with the gaffe. But what transpired after that point was just one of the worst examples of arrogance in a coffee house I have even had the misfortune to experience. Ever.

So now, was that Romano the "best one that I have ever had"? Eh, honestly it really wasn't. (Oh horrors! Now I'll HAVE to go to Starbucks! Or plunge six-inch needles into my eyes! Decisions, decisions.) It was good but not great. But the taste was clearly overshadowed but the ridiculous ordeal that I had to go through to get that coffee to my lips.

The nagging question now is: does Barefoot have good coffee? I believe they do and the evidence is in the previous cups I have had at the places that use their coffee. However....will I frequent the Barefoot store again? Probably not. Would I recommend other people go there? Definitely not to anyone I like or care for. As for anyone else, unless you'd like an equal cup of completely shitty and totally unnecessary attitude to go with your coffee, knock yourself out.

Pull your head out of your collective ass, Barefoot. The arrogant twits that work at your store will KILL your reputation - may I suggest a customer service seminar or class for all of them?

You've got a good thing going on being a local coffee roaster that has some really great skills. And there are many reasons that I don't frequent Starbucks and you're one of them. Don't blatantly chase away customers that value that merely because your employees think they 'know it all'.

What You Don't Need

2010-04-28T21:39:59Z

I'm not a fan of chain restaurants, in either diner or fast food varieties, so maybe this is just me pissing in the wind. HOWEVER.....

Of all the dumbshit food combos that have blanketed the news lately (A KFC Double Down, anyone? Your delicious heart attack is just moments away!), this one struck some sort of nerve enough to wonder if the aim of all of this is to try and turn us all into (even more) dumb beasts.

What I'm referring to is IHOP's new "Pancake Stackers" that are "delightfully layered with creamy cheesecake..." Yeesh. Why? Aren't pancakes with some maple syrup and a side of bacon or sausage ENOUGH anymore?

Apparently not because IHOP's press release states that they'e topped [their pancakes with] "with one of America's favorite flavors -- cheesecake". Jesus, what's next? A deep fried, beer'n'salt battered slab of back bacon to go with IHOP's take on what makes America's taste buds tick?

Let's take a look at the IHOP scoreboard: Taste Buds 1 , Still Beating Heart 0. Way to go IHOP!

(Thanks to slashfood for the article link for this post.)

Let The Pig Out

2010-04-22T19:26:44Z

(photo by wm. christman)

12 pounds of pork belly means it's bacon curing time!

Just One Day

2010-04-16T17:05:14Z

(photo by wm. christman)

This rather stuffed bread rack was the result of just one day of bread production in the CIA's test kitchen. The light next to the enormous deck ovens is already dark-ish in the daytime and even more at 8:30 in the evening when this shot was snapped.

(Although you really can't see them, the cool hand-written script on the masking tape labels for each of the bread is courtesy of the super-cool Melissa Landa...)

Baguettes 101

2010-04-16T07:39:16Z

(photo by wm. christman)

Remember those crispy, crackly, loaded-with-holes-inside baguettes that your local baker turns out by the bushel full? Yeah, me neither. There are very few bakeries that really turn them out like that. Granted, some are better than others, and some are really awful.

There are so many factors that go into the making of a truly great baguette that it is a difficult thing to pull off. Since I'm right in the middle of an artisan bread class at the Culinary Institute of America and starting to recognize the difference in preparation of dough for baguettes, it is truly stunning just how much thinking needs to go into producing a baguette that you and others will crave to eat.

So far, we have made baguettes for three straight days (among a large set of other breads) while playing with yeast and hydration levels, the number of "folds" - what used to be known as "punching" the dough - over the course of a few hours of fermentation, and the method of shaping and proofing (and skinning).

It turns out that higher yeast levels give a great rise but add way too much of "yeasty" taste (a slightly astringent, "feety" scent and taste) and it really tends to homogenize the "crumb" (the internal texture of the bread). Baking off the baguettes shows the higher yeast content as well with the slashes, cuts made in the top of the dough to get that final baguette "ears" shape, tearing out of their narrow position in the very 1/2" middle of the top of the loaf. (BTW, the French say you should be able to pick up a baguette but it's "ears" after it is baked.)

The first two days had both straight yeast and yeast and sourdough starter varieties of baguettes. And both versions showed signs of over-yeasting. The bread itself was passable but ultimately disappointing. That led directly to the baguettes in production on day three that had a drastic reduction in leavener.

crusty top with slashed ridge "ears" (photo by wm. christman)

Sam, one of the students in the class who also works in the CIA's Greystone Wine Spectator Restaurant, was tasked with the baguettes this day. He reduced the yeast by 50%, and instead of using the entire amount of sourdough starter, he made a "poolish" the day before (a poolish is a slurry of flour and water with a tiny amount of yeast and stored at around 75° overnight) and used that in a 50-50 ratio with the sourdough starter to make up the total amount of flavored "starter".

Due to the reduced leavener, the dough was slower to rise, a bit more difficult to shape, and slower to proof. You might think that this would be a bad thing but bread baking is all about timing. And waiting and judging exactly "when" a dough is ready is key to great bread.

baguette-style crumb - the texture inside the bread (photo by wm. christman)

The results of all this tinkering with the formula for the baguettes? Much, much closer to that crusty/crunchy thin crust with a treasure trove of air holes in the crumb inside. You can see from the pictures (above) the crumb and crust structures.

And the taste? Taste-wise, this was more dead-on baguette-like for me. So much so that I got to take two of this day's baguettes with me to have something to show in this posting. Let's be frank though, I was all about eating these baguettes for breakfast and lunch the next day, they were that good...the photos were just a bonus.

Back In The Fire

2010-04-14T20:56:34Z

"Man, that's a lot of bread..."

This was Chef Aaron Brown's comment during last night's evaluation on the second day of the CIA's The Art and Science of Artisan Bread Baking course, in session this week in St. Helena, California.

Although there are no visuals this time around (no cellphones in the test kitchen, please...), there was a seven-shelf, steel rolling Metro shelving unit (6 feet tall, 10 feet long) that had every shelf filled with ciabatta, pugliese, boule, and baguette. The 100+ loaf baking frenzy started at about 4pm and ended three and a half hours later, each loaf crackling as it hit the 72° kitchen air.

It was a day of experimentation with what is known as "baker's percentage" and varying hydrations for starters. If you haven't already caught on, this is the "science" part of bread baking.

The "art" is how and what you use for flour (of the myriad of varieties), what your dough looks and feels like when you "fold" it and when it is "proofing", how you shape it, and how you bake it off. It all adds up to one heck of a lot of bread.

Sea Change

2010-04-03T05:36:33Z

(photo by wm. christman)

One of the few constants is my life is my "to-read" book pile which is constantly four and a half feet high. Displaying signs of under-use, it is semi-caked with dust and some of the books in it are a couple of years old from when they were purchased. I just have a notorious habit of buying books that I just can't wait to read then put them on the pile. And guess what happens next? I schedule time in my mind to read that book soon, i.e., somewhere down the line, i.e., when I've got nothing else to do... er, i.e., practically never.

It is brain-dead stupid and I know it. But when I finally get around to reading something truly inspiring (or entertaining) plenty of self-ass-kicking happens. This was definitely the case with Michael Ruhlman's "The Making Of A Chef".

As it turned out, India was the perfect place with periods of "nothing to do". Between work and researching food, I had a chance to finally crack the cover on this book. And what I found was a perfectly inspiring tale of a writer who fell so far into researching his subject - the Culinary Institute Of America and what makes it and its students tick that he ended up virtually making it a second career. (Ruhlman is also the writer of the ultra-beautiful French Laundry Cookbook plus several of his own books about chefs, the CIA, food, he is also the creator of one of the best food blogs on the internet called Michael Ruhlman; Translating The Chef's Craft For Every Kitchen.)

The validation of the line that is drawn between the familiar and reality is inspiring. To wit: I worked for several years with Tom, a CIA student who took a three month leave from his work at Apple Computer to pursue his hobby, and ended up being a lead sous chef for him and the twice-a-year dinners he put on. In those moments, I had an inkling but didn't truly know how a professional kitchen operated or what it felt like.

Ruhlman's descriptions of the methods, trials and tribulations of the 60 year old institution created for me moments of out-and-out laughter and tears, recognizing that the familiar was reality. Confirmation that we did run Tom's kitchen in a very similar manner was powerful. The book also recreated, over and over again, the exhilarating rush of my week's worth of working in the CIA's Greystone Campus' large, bustling kitchen late last year.

If you have ever wanted to know what makes some chefs and food-folk tick, this book fills that need completely. For me, the inspiration that this book created has forced a long-overdue sea change, and a major one at that. At this very moment I'm almost 100% sure of the direction but am still filling in the minute details. And Ruhlman's book will come along for the ride as a reminder of some truer purposes in life.

Texas Barbecue Party

2010-02-09T17:00:59Z

feast |fēst|
noun: a large meal, typically one in celebration of something
verb [ intrans. ]: eat and drink sumptuously

The importance of cooking for those that you love (or just like a whole bunch) is the basis for a feast. Planning, scheming, and turning out food for a large crowd is thrilling, vexing, exhausting and supremely satisfying. The latter half of 2009 started and ended with large scale feasts, one in Los Angeles and one in San Jose. This is the second of two posts covering these events in detail.

(photo by wm. christman)

"It's a New Braunfels Bandera offset smoker."

Many years ago, my friend Tom had been researching Texas Barbecue and landed upon this unit as a potential (holy) grail for home barbecue. Looking over at the matte black finished smoker with its squat firebox and tall chimney, I immediately wanted one. The problem was availability. New Braunfels was a small Texas company with growing pains that didn't allow them much in the way of left coast sales. But with 40+ phone calls and two months later, I located one. Two weeks later I had done my first smoking run with a few racks of St. Louis style cut pork ribs.

Every three or four years since then, my wife Janet and I put on a giant-sized Texas barbecue. We do it because it's fun and we love Texas-style barbecue (low and slow) and frankly, the same amount of wood is used whether or not the smoking chamber is filled with meat or not. Barbecue travels well and leftovers last a long time. Most importantly, our friends always have a good time. Billed as "Bill and Jan's Texas Barbecue Party", we have been upping our game every time out for the past 12 years. The first official one had about 20 people and maybe 40 pounds of meat. Second one was 43 people and 86 pounds of meat. With the 2009 version, we were out to set a personal record. Here's how it came together...

The standard meat menu for our parties is brisket, pork ribs (St. Louis cut, not baby backs), pork butt (the butt-end of the shoulder for pulled pork), chicken, and homemade sausage. Past years have seen beef ribs and pork baby back ribs. We usually do some smoked barbecued beans (that actually go inside the smoker for 4-5 hours) and have done wild things like smoked cheese-stuffed jalapeños and smoked, brown-sugar coated pineapple spears. Because there were close to 80 people on the invite list this year, we planned to fill the smoker completely with meat and do the beans on-stove.

the beast, at night... (photo by wm. christman)

Food prep begins about three days before the event. Two desserts that always make their appearance here are some sort of fruit cobbler and a cornbread and chocolate bread pudding. Cornbread is easy enough to bake off and freeze so that's in the bag. Making sausage needs a day's worth of lead time, to marinate and develop flavors. A meat run is done at one of the best local butchers, Dittmer's in Mountain View, then sausage stuffing and rib trimming usually happen on same evening.

"rubbing" butts and briskets (photo by wm. christman)

The rest of the meat prep is done in the morning on the day before the event - the ribs, brisket and pork butt are treated to a dry rub or just salt and pepper. Beans are usually washed and soaked then as well. Everything else, including salad and appetizer prep, cooking off dessert and getting the chicken into a flavored brine, gets done on the day of the event.

one chicken after a four hour soak in brine (photo by wm. christman)

We smoke meats all night, the night before, and up to the start time of the party which is usually 3 pm the following afternoon. That means the fire gets lit some time around nine in the evening. The firebox gets starter chimney full of mesquite at first because it burns hotter and gets the entire smoker up to temperature very quickly. That takes about 45 minutes.

Once the smoker chamber/chimney gets to about 180°, the meat starts to go in and the first hardwood is put on the mesquite coals to slowly smolder its flavor into the meats. We usually cook two briskets, minimally trimmed, between 13 and 15 pounds each. The fibrous cut lends itself to long cooking either by braise, boil or slow roasting at a low temperature and typically takes the longest to finish - this year we shot for a 17 hour version. (By unwritten Texas barbecue law, meats should ought to get to an internal temperature of 185°, pardner...)

as it needs time, the brisket goes in first... (photo by wm. christman)

Once the briskets are in, the pork shoulder is next. The standard supermarket trimmed pork shoulder is about four pounds. We used to mess around with four to six pork shoulders of that size but found that it is much better to take an entire shoulder, not broken down into family-sized pieces. A whole pork shoulder, bone out, is between 16 and 18 pounds, in two pieces, so that size cut is going to benefit from low and slow too.

We tend the fire overnight and feed the firebox every 90 minutes or so trying to keep the internal temperature of the smoker chimney to between 180° and 220°. We take turns napping, checking temps and adding wood when needed. Leisurely prep of black lentils, small dice turnips and carrots (for the lentil salad) takes place in the wee hours of the morning alongside some spirited drinking of beer, wine, bourbon and/or single malt. Anticipation of the day ahead makes it so "tired" never really sets in. We just think of it as the best all-nighter one can do.

pork butt after eight hours in smoke...the brisket below is the one you see in the picture above this one only several hours later... (photo by wm. christman)

With the smoker humming right along for about 11 hours, the party morning light allows us to set up the dining, sun and living rooms with chairs and landing spaces for plates and the back yard with the drink table - Jan is completely in charge of the libations, alcoholic and not. Every year she features a specialty drink, mixed Janet-style (i.e., strong). Last time it was fresh lime and garden mint mojitos. This year, by popular request, Lynchburg Lemonade.

The chicken and sausage are meats that pick up a ton of smoke and don't take that long to cook and they get put into the smoker mid-morning. Salads are finished, cobbler (fresh berry this year) and the bread pudding with plenty of large chunk chocolate get finished and baked off. Much running around getting beer, wine, plates and utensils ensues. Sometime after noon, our helpers show up - this year it was Les, Andrea, and Howard doing barbecue duty.

And we usually make two sauces: a mustard-based one for the pork and a tomato-based one for everything else. Of course, Texas barbecue means that sauce is merely and add-on...its the low and slow smoking that gets the top billing, flavor-wise. The sauces are always one-of-a-kind creations the recipes of which only reside in imagination.

As was mentioned, we usually put a cast iron pot of beans in the smoker for our version of smoked beans. We had so much meat in the smoker we had no room. Janet took point on the beans this year and proceeded to rip...it...up with bacon, onion, pepper as a base and a murder's row of sauces and seasonings along with the soaked beans. (I wish we had taken a picture...they were a thing of beauty and were the first to disappear from the serving table.)

As the meat finishes (gets to temp), the smoker starts to empty out an the kitchen cutting boards start filling with large, fragrant slabs of meat. Barbecue doesn't have to be served at blazing hot temperatures so we just put it into an unheated oven for a little while. The insulation in the oven keeps it plenty warm. Apps are put out and drinks checked. Janet makes sure her "bar" supplies are ready to do and we usually test flight a few of her cocktails d'jour. That gets us fully lubed for the frenzied push to the dinner bell.

hot pork meat means pulling fast and furious, else your fingers get pretty toasty... (photo by wm. christman)

One of the more interesting (and borderline painful) tasks is to pull the pork shoulder apart. A cut of meat this big really retains the heat so rubber gloves are needed to prod and pull the meat apart. Even with the gloves, the heat of the tender meat causes some pretty red and hot hands so you have to pull FAST. (This is also one of the best jobs in the barbecue kitchen as tasting is mandatory - thanks to both Les and Howard for diving right in.)

Our party is a truly Texas "come early, stay late" affair and guests slowly start arriving 'round 4 pm or so. Everyone wants to know if they can bring something and we request that they bring only their appetites. If they feel that they must bring something we ask that they bring a bottle of wine so we get LOTS of wine from this party! We always target 5:30 to have everything out so pork is pulled, chickens gets cut into serving pieces, brisket sliced, sausage broken apart, and ribs cut by then. Sauces, salads, beans, and sliced bread get staged as well.

hungry barbecue freaks, mommy! (photo by wm. christman)

Once all the meats are "trayed" (the jumbo family-style version of "plated") everything hits the table and the dinner gong is rung...well, ok, we just usually shout that the food is ready. But since everyone is usually hanging around the kitchen anyway, not much prompting is needed. The feasting goes on into the night and desserts eventually make their way to the table with three or four half gallons of premium ice cream. Its non-stop for hours! This year the house was rocking 'till late in the evening with the last folks leaving about 11 pm.

pulled pork, ribs, chicken and sauces above... (photo by wm. christman)

So, what about that personal record, you're asking? This year we had 53 guests and cooked over 110 pounds of meat (uncooked weight, 'natch) which beat the last time out by quite a margin. (The leftover meat poundage was just over seven pounds which means everyone ate roughly two pounds of meat each. Yeah!) We also served up several pounds of salads, beans and bread, and a boat load of beer, wine and Lynchburg Lemonades.

We show our appreciation to our next door neighbours by assembling a few plates if they cannot make it, if only to thank them for putting up with the smoke. We offer our couches and carpeted floor to anyone who either is inebriated by food or alcohol or both. Everyone has a great time, everyone leaves happy, and bringing leftovers home is encouraged. After a quick check to take care of any perishables, we collapse sometime after the last guests leave.

more! (photo by wm. christman)

Clean up the next day is a chore but we're always so stoked that so many people showed up that things go quickly. We're just glad that we were able to share some hospitality with them. And that's what cooking for those you love is all about.

LA Summer Grill

2010-02-08T15:19:48Z

feast |fēst|
noun: a large meal, typically one in celebration of something
verb [ intrans. ]: eat and drink sumptuously

The importance of cooking for those that you love (or just like a whole bunch) is the perfect reason for a feast. Planning, scheming, and turning out food for a large crowd is thrilling, vexing, exhausting and supremely satisfying. The latter half of 2009 started and ended with large scale feasts, one in Los Angeles and one in San Jose. The next two posts will cover those events in detail.

(photo by wm. christman)

The usual modus operandi when I go to Los Angeles is to get together with Les, who is my one of my best friends down there, and proceed to spend two and a half days visiting as many interesting restaurants, food trucks, farmer's markets and bars as our stomachs can handle. Usual (dietary) caution is thrown to the wind as we exist for one thing during those times: feasting.

In June of 2009, as we were planning another weekend of sheer gluttony, we decided to take one of those days and cook for handful of our LA friends. Since it was in the middle of a sweltering LA summer, it seemed natural to do a Mediterranean-themed summer grill.

And as most of our feasts go, we over-planned with the expectation that we'd scale back anyway. The initial menu had items like fig and prosciutto flatbread and beer-can chicken but as we planned shopping and judged time those seemed to over-complicate the theme. So we settled on a majority of cold apps, some excellent locally baked bread from the Village Bakery in Silverlake, two or three different kinds of marinated and grilled beef and chicken with potatoes and herbed grilled vegetables. Wine, bread pudding, ice cream and fine bourbon rounded out the deal.

Instead of the usual Friday afternoon fly-in start, I drove down to LA on Thursday morning with a trunk full of cooking gear, nearly all of the dry ingredients we'd need, and a challah and hangerdried cherry bread pudding (on ice, 'natch) that I had cooked the night before. That allowed us to fully flesh out our menu that evening over a selection of sushi and afterwards, several glasses of bourbon. Friday morning was allocated to shopping and Friday afternoon was prep. We already knew that early Saturday afternoon was going to be hectic.

On Saturday, a morning diversion to 2009's Erotica LA convention (the "other" reason for being in LA that weekend) preceded our actual kitchen blitz, but by 2pm we were in full-on work mode. Meats got our first attention. We spatchcocked four whole chickens and dunked two of them into some flavored brine and dry-rubbed the others with a garlic-lime mix.

fresh habañero rubbed hanger steak (photo by wm. christman)

For the beef, we bought two beautiful looking hanger steaks and two skirt steaks. The day before, we picked up some nice looking habañeros at a local supermarket and those got diced up and mixed into olive oil with a bit of salt and then spread on one of the hanger steaks. One of the skirt steaks received a soy-garlic paste marinade. The other two pieces of beef got a simple dusting of coarse salt and cracked black pepper.

a lesson in knife skills...the Mediterranean salad (photo by wm. christman)

Getting the meats done led to the next mountain of work: chopping, dicing and assembling a multi-multi-multi ingredient Mediterranean salad, then putting together a tomato and garlic dip, plus a bowl of hummus The salad was problematic and it was clear that there were way too many vegetables for the bowl. I think the knife work and assembly took nearly an hour and we started to lose track of time. The end result was worth it but we nearly blew our entire schedule on that one dish. The tomato and garlic dip was a straightforward puréed production as was the hummus.

colourful smashed potaoes, ready to grill (photo by wm. christman)

Once we were clear of nearly everything that went into the cold dishes, we got to the outdoor grills. We fueled and lit all three in succession and checked on the next door neighbours, who took on the cheese plate, potatoes and grilled vegetables. They were in much better shape than we were. They had everything done: sliced and oiled crooknecks and giant zucchini, purple and golden pre-smashed potatoes, and lightly sugared wedges of pineapple. All ready for fire.

Parmesan and thyme pâte à choux...soon to be gougères (photo by wm. christman)

The last bit of business were cooking off some Parmesan and thyme gougères which are always a hit and fun to do. Since they're best fresh from the oven, baking them off was planned for just after the meat went on the grills - chicken first then beef 15 minutes later. That way, the 20-30 minutes of baking they required timed out the chicken to be close to done and beef to about medium rare.

cheesy and puffy... (photo by wm. christman)

A quick, five-minute prep of butter, water, flour and egg (with cheese and thyme) for the pâte à choux was completed and the gougères were piped for baking. We got all the apps out when the gougère production hit the oven so they'd arrive as a high note to the apps. The meat was well on its way, and the veg was in full grill mode. Within 30 minutes meat was rested, sliced and plated along with the potatoes and veg, bread was sliced, wine poured, and the main event was on. We had achieved our summer grill...ah, feasting.

the finished grilled habañero hanger steak (photo by wm. christman)

For dessert, the challah bread pudding was a pretty standard production with egg-rich challah, reconstituted dried tart cherries, eggs, cream, sugar and butter. We just put it into the switched-off oven just before all of the mains hit the table. By the time it was just heated through, the group had plowed through a good portion of what we prepared and just needed something sweet to push them into the bliss of a food-coma nap. The bread pudding with vanilla ice cream filled that niche nicely.

The end result? A bunch of full, happy, and sated folks enjoying a comfortably warm Los Angeles evening. And that continued to stoke the fire for the rest of the evening which was filled with tipsy after-dinner bourbon, European herbal aperitif, and single malt boozing and extra snacking on the leftovers; the perfect end to another LA feasting weekend.

Please Don't Eat The Plate

2010-02-07T05:25:59Z

(photo by wm. christman)

Mark K. of Kihei, Hawaii writes, "Are we going to hear anything about Indian food??"

Well Mark, yes and no. As it usually happens with good food, the actual item disappears before any pictures can be taken. And what is a ...but the devil... posting without a delicious looking photo to (hopefully) make you drool?

And so it happened on my current business trip to India with the carrot halwa at Chennai's Eden, a restaurant with a modern Indian bent started by some local hotel management graduates.

I got the chance to click a few photos of their carrot halwa before the table's still-hungry occupants licked the plate clean. This version is moderately dense and carrot-y sweet. The condensed milk pushes the richness over the top. In smallish spoonfuls it's really good...and you'll go on tilt if you slurped up the whole thing in one go. Not that I have ever done that.

You can see a recipe for carrot halwa here or just go ahead and Google "carrot halwa".

The St. Louis Cut

2010-02-06T19:16:05Z

(photo by janet christman)

Say "barbecue" to just about anyone and you're likely to get "ribs" as a response. I have been doing barbecue, in various forms, for years. And while one could endlessly debate the different methods of barbecue meat prep, technique, rubs and sauces, I prefer my rack of ribs cut in a "St. Louis" style.

Janet and I recently hosted our "once-every-three-or-four-years" Texas Barbecue Party and as I was doing prep for the chicken and ribs, I grabbed the camera to document the technique that Tom Dowdy taught me many years ago.

The St. Louis cut (also known as the Kansas City or SLC cut) takes a side of ribs minus the chine bone (the connector that goes to the spine of the animal) and reduces it to a squared-off rack and a meaty strip of ends. (Conveniently, the squared shape of the rack of ribs fits cleanly into the smoker.)

ready for trimming (photo by wm. christman)

The first few cuts are more clean-up ones that involve trimming stuff on the bone side (the side that faces in to the inner cavity of the pig). You'll be removing a flap of meat and stripping the membrane that hugs the ribs on that side.

the flap of meat on the bone side will vary from one inch to nearly three inches on healthy sized hogs (photo by wm. christman)

The flap cut is easy. You just run your knife parallel to the surface of the ribs to remove it. Lifting it as you cut takes it off easily and cleanly.

cut parallel to the bone side (you can see the pleura just below the knife) (photo by wm. christman)

Next is probably the biggest pain in the butt with this cut: removing the pleura (membrane) from the bone side. The pleura is tough and very difficult to chew and for those reasons alone, you want to remove it. It also contracts when heated and will cause your rack of ribs to develop the equivalent of culinary scoliosis.

I usually use a strong bamboo chopstick and a kitchen towel to loosen and remove the pleura. (You can also use a paring knife to ease the pleura away from the bones.) Using a shallow poking motion, you ease the chopstick underneath a piece of the pleura near the short end of the rack - this may take a few attempts, it can be pretty slippery and tough.

Once you get underneath a piece of it, wiggle the chopstick back-and-forth horizontally until you start to lift the pleura away from two or three of the small ribs. When it starts to lift off the bones, the pleura will make a slight sucking sound, not unlike slurping coffee.

working the pleura up and away (photo by wm. christman)

Once you've got it separated like this, grab a kitchen towel, wrap it around your fingers and work it under the separated pleura. Then use the towel to rip it off in one long strip. In a meat processing plant, the action of breaking down the primals that make up the ribs will nick the pleura and it won't come off in one clean piece. Just repeat the chopstick poke and wiggle then towel rip until you get most of the pleura off.

The rest of the St. Louis cut is easy. Turn the rack meat side up so that the curved edge is at the top of your cutting board. The tops of the rib bones are about 1/3 the way down from the top edge of the ribs. Feel around on one side to see where they begin.

running along the top of the bone and though the cartilage (photo by wm. christman)

The slightly deceptive thing about this is that nestled up against the tops of the bones are equally vertical pieces of cartilage that extend close to the top edge. Just put the edge of your knife where it seems less hard and start to make a horizontal cut along the top. Then with downward pressure, pull your knife in a straight line through the meat and cartilage. It is generally good to leave a piece of the cartilage in the finished rack so don't too close to the top edge of the bone. You can always trim more off if you need to.

the finished St. Louis cut with ends and scrap (photo by wm. christman)

Then trim up the vertical ends to square off the rack. When you're done, you should have a nicely shaped St. Louis rack, a thick set of rib "ends" and few random scraps to add to the pork stock bone bin (pork stock makes a great base for barbecue sauce, by the way...).

Rub them up (and the ends too!) with your favorite spices or just use coarse salt and pepper, let them rest a few hours or overnight in the refrigerator then get them to the smoker for a couple of hours of quality time in the smoke.