04-19-2009
A Pen and a Fork #2: Hot-Dogs
And A Giveway!!
"How much junk food does he eat?" Dr. Olman is asking.
"Oh," Janice says, with enthusiasm, "he's a real addict." His wife is, it occurs to Harry, a channel that can't be switched. […]
". . . tons of fat through his system," Dr. Olman is saying, "rivers of it, some of it has to stick. Marbled meats, pork sausage, liverwurst, baloney, hot dogs, peanut butter, salted nuts ...""He loves all that stuff, he's a terrible nibbler," Janice chimes in, anxious to please, courting, betraying her husband. "He loves nuts.""Worst thing for him, absolutely the worst," Dr. Olman responds, his voice speeding up, losing its drawl, `full of fat, not to mention sodium, and cashews, macadamia nuts, they're the worst, macadamia nuts, but it's all bad, bad." In his intensity he has begun to crouch above her, as if over a slippery putt. "Anything made with hydrogenated vegetable shortenings, coconut oil, palm oil, butter, lard, egg yolk, whole milk, ice cream, cream cheese, cottage cheese, any organ meats, all these frozen TV dinners, commercial baked goods, almost anything you buy in a package, in a waxpaper bag, any of it, ma'am, is poison, bloody poison. I'll give you a list you can take home."
John Updike, Rabbit at Rest, New York: Knopf (1990)
Hot dogs? "Bloody poison"? Hm - probably, if you get them from a street vendor on Columbus Circle.
Now what about you use gorgeous Frankfurters from La Cense, made with grass-fed beef and without weird additives, and tuck them in a home-baked hot dog bun?
Pictures curtesy of hot-dog bribed Marc
I borrowed the recipe for the buns from the King Arthur website and I am pretty sure it was a success considering the silence in which the four of us religiously devoured our 'dogs. As Marc gentlemanly pointed out, I was a "hot-dog virgin". Not anymore you'll be pleased to read. We garnished the buns with a stupendous green mango relish prepared by Marc, a few of the now classic ramps pickled by Stéphane, and sauerkraut fermented by Whole Foods (yeah, get off my back [lâchez moi les baskets]).
Ah you should have seen us on the rooftop of my Williamsburg building, basking in the sun and preparing coals in a miniature barbecue to grill our Frankfurters before we embarked on an entirely different adventure involving hickory smoke, firemen and homemade Knackwuerste - traditional sausages from Strasbourg and a ubiquitous component of Choucroute Garnie [a larger, hands-on, from-scratch, down and dirty kind of project- shhh (chut)] . But more about the rooftop-smoking next time, or on one of my fellow bloggers' pages (et hop, stylishly flinging the baby in someone else's arms). And for a chance to win a $25 gift card, just pop me a comment (US residents only) and sign up for the grass-fed party before lunch, April 29 (Claire time, aka NYC time on the early side - 12:00). I will then randomly pick a winner (Wiener?).
I'll copy the recipe for the buns (it can be halved), just in case you have separation anxiety issues with this blog:
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 packets or 2 scant tablespoons active dry yeast
1/2 cup warm water (105°F to 115°F)
2 cups warm milk (105°F to 115°F)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 teaspoons salt
6 to 7 1/2 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour*
egg wash: 1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon cold water
This particular dough should be quite slack, i.e., very relaxed in order to make soft and tender buns. So you want to add only enough more flour, past the 6-cup point, to make the dough just kneadable; sprinkling only enough more to keep it from sticking to you or the board. In a large bowl, dissolve the sugar and then the yeast in the warm water. Add the milk, oil, salt and 3 cups of flour to the yeast mixture. Beat vigorously for 2 minutes. Gradually add flour, 1/4 cup at a time, until the dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl. Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface. Knead until you have a smooth, elastic dough. Because this dough is so slack, you may find that a bowl scraper or bench knife can be helpful in scooping up the dough and folding it over on itself. Put the dough into an oiled bowl. Turn once to coat the entire ball of dough with oil. Cover with a tightly-woven dampened towel and let rise until doubled, about one hour.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly oiled work surface. Divide into 18 equal pieces. This is done most easily by dividing the dough first into thirds, then those thirds into halves, then the halves into thirds. For hot-dog buns, roll the balls into cylinders, 4 1/2-inches in length. Flatten the cylinders slightly; dough rises more in the center so this will give a gently rounded top versus a high top. For soft-sided buns, place them on a well-seasoned baking sheet a half inch apart so they'll grow together when they rise. For crisper buns, place them three inches apart. Cover with a towel and let rise until almost doubled, about 45 minutes.Fifteen minutes before you want to bake your buns, preheat your oven to 400°F. Just before baking, lightly brush the tops of the buns with the egg wash and sprinkle with whatever seeds strike your fancy.
Bake for 20 minutes or until the internal temperature of the bread reaches 190°F. (A dough thermometer takes the guesswork out of this.) When the buns are done, remove them from the baking sheet to cool on a wire rack. This will prevent the crust from becoming soggy.
Gee (ça alors), I've never posted such a long and detailed recipe for bread! Believe me, if you have the least idea about what you're doing it shouldn't take you more than 5 minutes putting things together, and 5 minutes of kneading - then you pretty much leave it to the yeast to do its thing.
OK, now I want another hotdog, so move along people, chopchop! (tout le monde dégage, hophophop!)
04-17-2009
Uncanny Root Vegetable Moment
Can't remember what they're called. 
"Party animal turnips"?
04-15-2009
Morel Macarons with Foie-Gras Ganache
Last week I was lucky enough to receive a little ziploc through the mail, filled with dried morels kindly offered by Justin from Marx Foods, and the mission to come up with a recipe. I can't say I looked very far. Pierre Hermé's new book on Macarons (a jewel of a book that will make you an emotional wreck) and a foraging expedition upstate New York during which a few oblivious foodies gaily sauntered among dried leaves, made it clear that it would have to be autumnal looking macarons.To hell with spring and its frightful pastel bunnies (Au diable le printemps et ses abominables petits lapins pastel).
Tut tut tut (hep hep hep), don't leave just quite yet. Macarons don't have to be your cooking nemesis. A little equipment is needed, true, but pretty much the same kind than for making silly old cupcakes, which doesn't seem to be a problem for 90% of the blogs out there who post cupcake recipes every week or so.
So.
In a large bowl, put 150g almond powder and 150g confectioner's sugar, sifted thoroughly, along with about 15 of your dried morels, powdered (hello coffee grinder!). Pour 55g of pre-packaged egg whites mixed with 1/2tsp brown food colouring (if you so wish) on top, set aside.
In a pan, boil water and sugar until it reaches 115°C. At that point, start whisking more eggwhites () in your stand-up mixer. When the syrup reaches 118°C, it's time for you to pour them on the whites as they are getting their little butt kicked by your Kitchenaid. Keep whisking until the temperature of the meringue drops to 50°C. Pour it all in the bowl containing the almond/sugar mix, and fold in large upward strokes until well combined. The batter should flow from the spatula, forming a ribbon. You're not aiming at preserving the air bubbles in the meringue here, so go for it.
Transfer to a piping bag with a large nozzle, and pipe little blobs on your silpat (they will spread on their own). Let it sit to dry on the countertop for at least 30 minutes before cooking them at 180°C for 12 minutes.
Make the ganache. Dissolve 1/2tsp powdered gelatine in 10cl of warm chicken broth, purée 125g of foie gras in your food processor and add the purée to the pan with the broth while gently whisking until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste - I thought pepper came through as a really important flavour to balance the sweetness of the shells. Don't skimp (pas d'économies de bouts de chandelles). Fold in 1/2c heavy cream, whipped, refrigerate. Yes, it's a little decadent, this recipe is, have you noticed? But you know what, if you go for it, just go all the way (faites pas les choses à moitié).
When you are ready to assemble your macarons, sauté the leftover (rehydrated and finely diced) morels with a knob of butter and a little salt. You can either fold them in the ganache or layer some on top of the ganache within the macaron. Garnish half the shells with ganache and sautéed morels, sprinkle with a touch of fleur de sel for some crunch, cover with the other half of the shells, and store in the fridge for at least 24h to let the morel flavour develop.
Now now (allons allons). It wasn't all that complicated was it? Justin darling, I hope you like the concept. It was certainly fun to develop.Now people, head over this way and vote for me. I know, I know.
Wait, why can I hear an echo of my own typing? Is everyone gone? Really? Oh shoot. I knew French sophistication was a dead-end. Next time, morel CUPCAKES!
04-10-2009
Cured Salmon
The good news about having Marc over at your dinner party, taking pictures, is you can guarantee that all the food is going to look glam. The other good news is that every bite tastes as good as it looks. You'll have to take Colloquial Cook's word for it, dudes (va falloir me faire confiance sur ce coup, les gars).
I am considering ways I could convince Marc (or blackmail him, what the heck - I occasionally give in to the odd spell of despotism) into coming back to France next year with me. I would sit him in the pantry, between the flour bucket and the spice rack, and he would make my food - subsequently, my blog - look consistently attractive. Actually, if I could get a three-for-one offer and get Stéphane to come and make latkes grilled in duck fat (and you should have seen him lovingly modeling those shredded potatoes like an old Jewish mama), and Stacey to badmouth neurotic New Jersey housewives while preparing duck rillettes tartines, I would be thrilled. They may have to squeeze in that pantry a little bit, but wouldn't it be intensely satisfying to have a dinner party in your closet and be able to pull it out any time you feel like a bit of a buzz? I think I have a concept® here.
Well, we ate. Take a deep breath. Char-grilled new onions and romesco sauce (football helmet required when roomies step in to taste the leftovers), soppressata, chorizo and Pata Negra (ah - be still my heart), prune and liver terrine with a spicy apple chutney, fig-hazelnut-rosemary bread, Swedish cardamom and orange limpa, fennel-cured salmon, citrus gravlax. ...And breath out. Stretch, take a drink. Oh did I mention we had a *few* good (wooohoo) bottles including a Puligny-Montrachet which catapulted me right back to when I was a five year-old iddy biddy thing (quand j'étais toute petiote). Yes, French kids are taught about good things from an early age.
I was very pleased with the citrus-cured salmon, but because I mostly eyeballed it, I don't really have a recipe. I know I started with a fairly thin, skin-on, 1lb piece of salmon, which took only a day and a half to cure (good when you're short on time). I packed it in several layers of foil, cosily tucked in a curing blanket made with about a cup of coarse salt and half a cup of brown sugar, mixed with the zest of many a lemon and orange (blessed be microplane graters), and a few tbsp of toasted and crushed black peppercorns. Then I put it in the refridg', pressing it down with a plate weighed down with canned goods. After a few days, the conjugated efforts of salt and gravity had squeezed enough moisture out of the salmon. It was firm, it was transluscent but darker, it didn't feel raw nor squishy (cru et ramollo) when you prodded it (quand tu le tatouilles). It was mercilessly pulled out of its cure, rinsed well and patted dry with paper towels.
Thin slices work well. Get someone else to do it for you and your hands won't smell of salmon for the next week.Yes, French ladies have all kinds of tricks like that to twist men around their little finger (pour embobiner les hommes) into doing the dirty work for them. You learn that in lady-school, along with how to speak in a deep breathy voice. [A little aside here: a breathy voice is useful when you're ordering stuff from IKEA on the phone and they're reticent to deliver it. Make sure you talk to male staff, preferably from the warehouse. Fabulous.]
Jamon iberico will give you a breathy voice if your vocal folds need a little push-up. It's "sex on legs" as the vulgum pecus has it, except it's a black pig's legs. But who gives a damn (franchement,on s'en tape).
Oh, and don't go before you bite into the delightful (some might say oesophagus-perforating) sharpness of a lemon-passionfruit-ginger curd tarte.
We have this one cheesy coffee mug with an unidentified soccer player too. Any clue who that hunk may be? (mais qui est ce bellâtre?)
04-05-2009
Uncanny Kiwi Porn Moment
Full frontal.
This blog is becoming unacceptably filthy.
