Thursday, July 29, 2010

Poach an egg


One of my friends had a dream about a breakfast that I made. He dreamt about my Pacific Northwest Eggs Benedict with lox in place of the ham. I cooked this on the morning of a beer and wine sampling excursion in Woodinville, near Seattle. Something about the boozy day crammed the hollandaise sauce and muffiny goodness into his subconscious and kept it there for later dreamy inspection. Good work brain. To make this tasty breakfast you must first poach an egg. For some reason people have a lot of trepidation toward this task. You will ruin a few, or not, in your quest for that one-of-a-kind texture, but it is worth it.

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1. Getting those eggs. If you have a chicken you are at a clear advantage over the non-poultry raising masses to which I am a part. The reason for this is not only flavor (a home laid egg is going to be yummier), but in the freshness. Fresher eggs will hold their shape better and give you a greater chance of poached success. You can see this most easily when frying an egg. The older ones spread out more and rob you of that classic cooked egg look. The same thing happens when the egg is cooked in a liquid instead of on a solid. Organic eggs are a good bet, but be sure to check those expiration dates and look for the ones that are the farthest out. This may anger the grocer, so be discrete.

2. Poaching liquid can come in many forms. The French have many different liquids for many different applications. Court bullion, it is called, can vary greatly in its composition. For our purposes we will be using water, salt and vinegar. Put water into a pot to a level of four or five inches. Bring it to a boil and add a slash of vinegar and a big dash of salt. We are not going for flavor here, but instead, the chemical actions of the salt and vinegar; specifically, that they firm up the exterior of the egg to help it poach better. Bring this liquid to a low simmer. You want just a few bubbles forming and popping below the surface.

3. Doing the thing. Crack your egg into a ladle, being careful not to break the yolk or get shell fragments into the albumen (word of the day.) Gently lower the ladle into the water and let the egg slide out of the side of the ladle just above the water line. Next, bring the ladle out of the water by turning it in a fluid motion away from the egg. Then you wait for three or four minutes. Using a slotted spoon, slowly fish the egg out of the poaching liquid and place it on a warm plate. Do this again and again until you are surrounded by poached eggs.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Recipe One

Creme Brûlée, This is a dish that gets your attention. That's the only reason people make it. This is one of those dishes that was probably invented because some king would have killed the guy if he didn't. I spoke of getting laid, this is the one for that. The sensual nature may make one think of sex things and the high caloric content will make one insecure and more easily seduced. This affects boys and girls alike. In the USA it was popularized, legendarily, by good ole' Thomas Jefferson as a new way to torture his slaves. The first thing to do is to gather your ingredients:


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1 pint of cream.
The cream is the most important part because it is the first word in the title of the dish. It is the ether upon which the dessert is vibrating, man. It is the foundation. I used some organic cream that tasted pretty good. There are better creams in glass jars and I won't condescend to say what I got was the best. With dairy, the more pretentious, the better.

6 eggs.
Organic yolks, separated by moving the egg back and forth between shell halves cracked along the proverbial equator. Farmers probably have good ones. Be sure to remove that little white thing that clings to the yolk for a better effect. If you don't it will be removed when you strain it, but you don't want to cut corners and start down that slippery slope, if such slopes exist.

1 half cup of sugar.
Use white sugar or whatever. It's sugar. It really doesn't matter in this case. Also, at the end, the white sugar makes a glassier crust. The cheaper, the better.

2 Vanilla beans.
They say that Mexico makes the tastiest vanilla beans. They also say that Madagascar makes the best vanilla beans. Or Tahiti. I used two of them because I wanted to impress some people with my mad skills, as they say. You need to cut the bean gently the long way and be sure not to cut all the way. It should be butterfly vanilla.

Scrape the goo out of the pod. This goo is the seeds:


Put this goo in a pot with the cream. Then, you bring this almost to a simmer and take it of of the heat, stirring a lot to keep the cream from scorching. In the meantime, mix the sugar and egg yolks until they go from runny to thick to very runny.



Mix the cream and vanilla into the yolky mix, a little bit at a time, until half of the mix is incorporated. Then, add the rest. Whisk while you do all of this. The next step is to strain this stuff through a sieve to make sure the clumps come out, and yet, preserve the vanilla seeds.

You will strain this fluid into four 7 OZ ramekins. These ramekins will be placed into a water bath (bain-marie) that is half way up the side of said ramekins. These are placed into a 250 degree oven for an hour. Then you tap the side of the dishes. When they wiggle in the middle without being liquid or solid (whoa!), they're done. Let them cool. Wrap them in plastic and put them in the fridge.

After they have rested for a few hours, they will be solid enough to be finished. If they have browned on top, you can use a paper towel to get the brown bits of of the top. Do this, if need be. The last part is the one that seems hard and makes people like you.

Put sugar on the custard to a depth of one eighth inch. Then use a torch, propane, butane or whatever to heat the sugar until it is liquid. Move the dish side to side and back and forth, making the liquid sugar coat the top of the dessert. Relax while you do this. Sugar can feel fear. Do this until the sugar glass has reached a dark brown in some spots and a clear color in others. Smoke is fine. Variation is key to success. Once you have achieved this step, put the dish in the freezer for a few minutes to cool and feed to the ones you love.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Basic Manifesto

On my friend Geoff's refrigerator is a recipe from the 1970's for something called "SPAM Italiano." It consists of alternating strata of SPAM and mozzarella cheese, baked to a gooey state and topped with a sauce made from ketchup and dried oregano. Serve with Quaaludes. This was a marvel of the times: a perfect blend of masochism and brown. The, then middle aged, survivors of WWII simply wanted to enjoy the good life, the easy life. They were untroubled by something that would give Mussolini's army PTSD. Though the recipe on the fridge is a joke to us, at one time it was an earnest attempt at dining pleasure. Earnestness fades to embarrassment and irony. As the coke(and SPAM) fueled orgies of the seventies faded into AIDS and arteriosclerosis, one becomes afraid of one's own thoughts on "what is right." Am I doomed to seem silly in a future I don't understand? Will I lose my sense of self? We shall see.

To cook good food the rules are simple:
1. Use the best ingredients you can afford. If you don't have the money to buy good quality veggies and grains, free-range eggs, and fats, you have a few options: Get food-stamps, get some friends or grow your own. This is rule number one because it is rule number one. Do not break it.
2. Experiment and screw up. I can cook some tasty treats, but I've also made foods so revolting that friends have never spoken to me again. I've cooked things that were so hot that girls and boys cried for the pain to end, for death's gentle hand to soothe their suffering. These cries were in vain--life went on. I've made sauces that curdled and curds that softened. Out of the darkness comes light. Failure is the best way to learn. Other cliches as well.
3. You have my permission to make things you think you can't. Never made a samosa? Go make one, I give you my permission.
4. Respect chefs. I have no formal culinary training. I'd like some, but it's not in the cards right now. That being said, I don't think I'm a chef. I'm a decent-to-good cook. I know some chefs and they are brilliant. They have special knowledge. One day, maybe I will too. If a real chef tells you something, they are probably right. People who think they are something they're not get eaten by bears.
5. Get good equipment. I buy super expensive pots and pans and things at super cheap prices. Go to used restaurant supply stores. Go to those stores that sell things that the other stores didn't. Don't buy plastic anything (except for food grade containers).
6. Take time to do it right. Don't cut corners or be afraid to double check. Don't be lazy.
7. Cooking is fun and the number one way to make friends and get laid. If you don't like to cook, be an appreciator instead. I have weak math skills, but I still like to read about physics.