Thankseating

Yup, what holiday really signifies stuffing your face till you pass out and if you don’t, you are the odd ball out.  We had a posse of great friends and a few new acquaintances over for food, drink and merriment.  I am not a big fan of cooking for hoards of people.  I prefer the small intimate diners where you can worry about detail and know that you don’t need a long distance phone plan to talk to guests at the other end of the table, but there is something satisfying about looking around a long table and seeing everyone eating, laughing and enjoying themselves.  While I knocked out a prosciutto, thyme, garlic 22 lb behemoth of a turkey, mike’s famous stuffing, and a host of appetizers, many friends rounded out the meal with amazing additions.  Sylvie, a fine Canadian, brought her killer sugar pie, and a traditional meat pie.  Yes in Canada they apparently give it to you strait.  Garron, banged out a fatty mackerel dish, that was strangely enough loved by an Israeli.  Josephine and John did a stuffing. And Antonio, who claimed that “I can’t cook… I will bring booze” did just that.  There was more of course.  But what made the meal so memorable was the community effort to make it all work.  Ahh holidays.

Inspector Poirot and the case of Gigot a la Moutarde

There are a few dishes that will instantly take me back to my childhood.  Pork with whisky soy sauce and sour crème.  London broil with Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, and my mothers chicken soup.  But this one was my favorite.  After some detective work that made me feel like Inspector Poirot, that had my mother go through books, only to find that very recipe I needed was unreadable due to wine spillage (must be a Fash family gene), I found myself at the library going through a Julia Child cookbook.  Gold.  After a quick trip to the photocopier I was home free.  I have made this a few times and the only thing I can say is…good lord that is good… and sooooooooo simple.  Funny, how the simple things are always the best.  I would not go so far as to call this peasant food, but it is so simple, and if your history is as poor as mine (unless it comes to the American corporatocracy and how it has fucked the world… and us) it just may well have been.

I made this for 20 friends for new years eve dinner.  I made two legs, but I will give you the recipe for one 5lb leg as that just seems more reasonable.

Take a 5lb leg of lamb.  Mine had the bone out to make for faster carving whilst trying to serve 20 hungry people, but a bone in cut is more flavor packed.

First make the mustard coating.

Take ½ cup of Dijon mustard

2tbs of soy sauce

clove of garlic mashed

1 tsp of minced rosemary

¼ tsp of powdered ginger

and mix together in a bowl.  Then beat in:

 

2tbs of olive oil to make a crème.

 

Paint the leg of lamb with this magic sauce and let sit or a few hours to take in the flavor.  I like to leave it for at least three or four.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F and cook for about one to one and a half hours.  Think less about the time and more about the internal temperature.  Lamb is so beautifully tender, that overcooking it should have you tossed in the clink.  I use a digital thermometer to measure and yank it out at 140 degrees F as it will still raise an extra five or ten degrees after it comes out.  Let it rest for 15-20 min and slice that puppy (or lamb) up.

This is one of those amazing winter/autumn dishes that just sings when it is with roasted veggies, especially parsnips.  Thank you Mum!

 

I dine the Swine…Do YOU?

Pork, pig, swine, hog, or any of several mammals of the family Suidae, having short legs, cloven hooves, bristly hair, and a cartilaginous snout used for digging, especially the domesticated hog, Sus scrofa domesticus, when young or of comparatively small size.  Shit, it is all good.  I wanted to get a tattoo of a pig but my wife has expressly told me that my days of getting tattoos are over (and on some occasions I am glad she has made this clear).  I LOVE the pig.

Don’t get me wrong here, I have many friends of the Jewish faith, but they all seam to eat pork so I really have no qualms about yelling my undying love for this beautiful animal at the top of my lungs.  The problem with pork is simple.  It went through that whole “the other white meat” mess that paired it with chicken.  I mean really!  I like chicken, but pork is a whole different game.  Unfortunately while trying to get people to eat more of it they bred this fine animal to be lean and tasteless.  You want the good stuff, the shit, the Diablo.  Well find a farmer who does it right and lets his, or her, animal grow up the way it should.  As that is truly one of the best things in life.  My wife teases me about my obsession with pork belly.  As far as I am concerned I am not a crack junky so this pales in comparison… right?  There is a farmer at our local farmers market, Rocky Canyon Farms that sells pork that is so flavorful and juicy, you will wonder what the hell you have been eating from the store.  While we are not all so fortunate to have this vendor on hand, your local butcher can surely give you some better cuts, or an Asian market excels on the pork front.  Here is a good link to help you through the different cuts.  But if you ask me.. go for the belly baby!

http://nymag.com/restaurants/features/70097/

 

How Much Would You Pay?

“May I please have some bluefin sashimi?”

Waiter: “Why yes, it is $200.”

“I will go with the snow leopard … its more sustainable!”

Really, this is what we have come to.  2011 has brought in something I never thought I would see.  A fish, yes just one single fish, selling for $396,000.  Holy Crap.  Let me drop the levity on you here for a moment.  One fish.  Yes just a single animal. One thing that once swam in our fine seas, has become so rare, and valued, that it commands a price tag of almost $400,000.  WOW, WOW, WOW!!!!!  This very fish that sold for this fine price in Japans Tsukiji market, was supposed to be placed on the IUCN endangered species list in the spring of 2010.  Why not?  I mean there are only 3-10% of the population of these amazing globe trotting animals left on the planet.  Surely they must qualify for protection.  Well yes they do, but something came in the way.  MONEY.  People do not look below the waves as they do above it.  We have an opportunity to possibly, maybe, hopefully… give this magnificent creature a chance and we are turning a blind eye so a single fish can line someones pocket with $400,000 shiny pieces.  I am a realist and know that at this price, legal or not, people will fish for it.  Its only chance is a complete ban.  We owe it to the the young people we pass every day in the streets and the children they will one day have.  We claim to be the smartest animal on planet Earth…..yet we are the single thing destroying it.  Last time I checked I did not see a zebra flicking trash on the ground, or a toucan raping our seas for the last glimmer of life.  Be smart.  Get educated.  Make a difference.  Please!

What’s In a Name?

The California scorpionfish.  Sounds quite menacing.. and it should be.  Related to the infamous stonefish, which is deadly to humans, living off our sun drenched coast is its cousin that does indeed pack a doozy of a sting.  I have seen people put their hands down on these well concealed fish, only to scream, or whatever you call it when you exhale massive amounts of bubbles underwater, as the venom surges through their body.  While our scorpionfish is not as worrisome, it is not something I care to experience.  So yesterday while out fishing on the Monte Carlo, I hauled in a few keepers that made their way into my burlap sack.  I have heard wondrful things about the flavor of these fish and was excited to give them a try.

On the boat I had the deckhand filet them for me, except for one that I did myself when I returned home, so the spines were not an issue as I jostled around the kitchen tonight.  Supplies were getting a bit thin on the $5 per day diet, and luckily I had a few things that made this meal just downright lip smacking.  The fish… I kept simple… just some salt and pepper.  But I had a can of white beans and some bacon, so I sort of came up with an idea to serve the fish simply over a bed of white beans, bacon and onion… all things I had in the pantry and fridge.

I fried up the bacon in a cast iron pan and when crispy, put it into another skillet with some of the grease and added half of a diced red onion and sautéed till the onion was turning golden.  I tossed in some garlic and a can of white beans and let that all suck up the bacon grease love!  With the rest of the bacon fat and a bit of butter, I fried the scorpionfish filets till they took on a golden color, which was only a moment in the pan.  The beans needed some tang so I squeezed some lemon juice in and wow.  The fish just popped.

There is something special about catching your own food.  I used to hunt with my father as a boy, and when I lived in Alaska I ate more things from the wild than I did from a feed lot, but as of late I have drifted away from that side of me.  So I had some great satisfaction eating a tasty meal that is as fresh as it gets and caught with my own effort.  Many people shy away from hunting.  Maybe it is because they cant pull ther trigger when bambi is giving them the sad eyes, but a fish is different.  It has a cold stare that never seems to make a personal connection with those people who yank them from the water.  But being a fish biologist I know they are some of the most amazing animals on the planet and they do indeed have a personality that is unique to each and every fish… just in their own cold blooded special way.  So tonight as I reveled in my primeval manliness at being able to provide for my family, food-wise, I paid homage to the last wild food that is commonly plied for our great planet.  Fish!  Thank you ocean!

p.s. as i was baiting up my hook i did kick a burlap sack and sunk two scorpionfish spines into my big toe.  I stood there , semi-freaking out about the explosive pain that was sure to come… sure to come… sure to come.  What?  Nothing but some blood dripping onto the deck.  Well I guess when these guys die they lose their ability to inject poison…or… I am just super tough.  Probably not.

Sand-dabbling in the Pacific

License… Check. Rod… Check.  Gear… Check.  Ahh, waiting at the 22nd St. Pier in San Pedro California for the boat to set sail, yet strangely enough, heading out to catch some fresh seafood off the southern California coast, the waft of fried bacon lures me into the galley to order up a breakfast burrito.  As the boat putts out of the harbor, grease dripping out of the burritos paper wrapping onto the well worn nautical chart table, I believe we are heading for some lipid based destination.  But a simple wipe of the hand makes me realize that I really have no idea where the hell we are heading.  Bryan, the unassuming, yet forward deck-hand, claims that our rigs are totally set up wrong and that we need X, Y and Z to score the big fish.  I pass on his recomendations as I am taking my queues from the salty old guy who is missing a finger and sporting the well worn hat of a fella who has been sinking hooks for 50…60… maybe 70 years.

The boats engine slows and the cattle-like rush to the rail is a good sign that we are here.  I casually watch the regulars select their slices of squid and bait their hooks, pretending to be checking my knots.  Being a fly fisherman, knots are the only thing I seem to be comfortable with today.  The quarry is deep and only familiar to me through my dive mask or 6 inches of acrylic at he aquarium where I work.  So I bait up and cast into the dark blue ocean below, not knowing what to expext.  BANG, I am onto something.  As I crank it up, unsure of what may be at the end, I yank a beautiful sanddab from the sea and onto the deck.  Within seconds, the attentive deck-hand is by my side.  The hook, deep inside the fishes throat is giving me pause.   “you gonna keep it?”… “can I?”… “yes”… “sure”, and the hook is ripped from its body and the fish is slung into sack #11.  The deck-hand is quickly off to the next guy .  I am left standing there, a little overwhelmed by the efficiency of the whole thing.  All I wanted to do was reach into the bag and give the fish a look.  Maybe pay homage to the life I just made my own.  But no, I am strait back to the rail with the primeval juices flowing.  An hour later I am four fatty sanddabs and two keeper scorpionfish the better, with a solid 10 fish returned to the sea as they did not meet California DF&G size requirements.  This is something that not everyone on the boat seemed to give much thought… or action.

Cigaret butts over the side, an empty can of soda cast into the waves.  “What the fuck is he doing?” I asked Brenton, my buddy to my right.  We figured that even though we were defenders of the ocean, now is not the time to piss off the 300+lb black man with gold chains that weigh more than me, who just committed the environmental infraction.  After all, we are on a boat in the middle of an ocean that would of suited Jimmy Hoffa for his late night “drops”.  But the reason we were here was to try our luck at getting a piece of some of the last wild food our planet has to offer.  I was struck by the diversity of the fisherpeople, not in terms of skin color, but of the types of people on deck.  Crusty old timers, an asian couple, young women, well dressed homeboys, guys inked all over… and us.  All trying to get a bit of wild earth in our bellies that night.  Cool… except for the can and the butts.

As I raced back up the Harbor Freeway with a bag of fresh fish, I strained my brain for things I could do with my catch.  What was on hand at home?  It was a long day and I was in no mood to stroll the aisles of some store for the one or two things that may of been needed for a recipe i concocted.  So home I went.  Feet up and chilling.  Then dinner time hit, and I had to do something with the fish.  After all I did just extract a slice of life from the very ocean I devote my life to, and I should eat some that night.  So I prepped the sanddabs and cranked out a beurre blanc.  Yay for butter!!

Whooooooo, That was good.  The fish was alive just hours ago.  I was the one that made its life abruptly end, and as I slipped the flesh from the fine bones and ate, I realized something wonderful.  As mush as I preach sustainable seafood, people were on that boat, not for fun, but for sustenance.  There was fresh fish on a number of tables tonight, mine one of them.  As we take things from our planet we must always realize where it comes from.  That is what makes us appreciate it and give it respect.  Tonight, the sanddab that tugged at the end of my line, was now giving my wife and I a beautiful dinner.  So for that… THANKYOU!

I need a Shuck

Salty, complex, ALIVE!  Oysters are one of those things that people either infatuate about or are so revolted by, they gag and run.  I am one of the former.  There is something about the simplicity of a raw oyster.  Its the taste of the sea… yes we have all heard that one, or the way they feel in your mouth, before you bid them ado and send them on their way down.  Oysters are like the wine of the sea.  There may be a single species, as is the case of the east coast oyster, Crassostrea virginica, but there are countless varieties each absorbing the subtle flavors of the minerals flowing from the river they are situated by, or the saltiness of the water around them.  Malpeque, Wellfleet, Umami, Olde Salt and Stingray are all the same animal, yet all are so different.  It may bring us to raise the question of nature or nurture, but put that aside and for a moment and enjoy them for all of their local beauty.  Growing up on the East coast, I was always protective of the East side selection.  I liked the taste of the Atlantic that would fill my mouth with each split shell.  I suppose it was something I acquired from years of sailing, where the taste was something I encountered throughout my childhood in long island sound.  But as I got older and more interested in the differences, my nose in the air for East coast oysters, slowly lowered and welcomed in the earthy flavors that could be found from the West coast.  Living here in Los Angeles, the West coast selection is something I have tried to embrace as I now see this coast as my home.  So now it is Oystrville Select, Yaquina Bay, Hama Hama, Little Skookum, and Quilcene.

I recently picked up Mark Kurlansky’s book, The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell, and was swept up in the role that oysters played in the founding of America.  It’s sad to think that New York was once the global hotspot for oysters.  Now, most right minded people would not dip a toe in those waters let alone slurp down a filter feeding bivalve, yet they were the cornerstone to the city in its heyday.  The book is a fantastic read if you like to learn about how the history of food shaped the people and the places you visit on a layover to Europe or catching a broadway show.  But this book made me realize that I wanted to know more.  Not about the history, but about the present offerings of one of my favorite things.  So I found a true gem that has made my mouth water again… and again.

A Geography of Oysters: The Connoisseur’s Guide To Oyster Eating In America, by Rowan Jacobsen.  Like a guide to the bays and inlets that ring our fine land, he dissects the minerals and care each oyster is given from spat to slurp.  By the time I was done I had compiled a list of oysters I had to track down and taste.  The way I see it, it is a mini vacation to a place without having to necessarily go there.  Pick this book up and give it a read.  It will help guide you through the many subtle and dramatic differences of the oysters from our waters.

So while I am on the $5 a day challenge, I will have to give in and splurge on a few new flavors that I have tasted from the pages but not yet on my tongue.  So that is why I maybe cranked out another Veggi curry.  It was great last time and provided many many meals, at next to no dent in the wallet, and proved to be just as good this time around.  But even though there is curry in the fridge, there are oysters on my mind.

Pounding the Pistou

So the eating on the cheap plan is still in full effect.  Actually I spent far less on food last week than I thought I would.  But I spent the extra cash on an evening out sipping Dales Pale Ale… so lets just say I am still on track.  After last weeks never ending curry, I decided to try something that was a bit more unique.  I have a wall of cookbooks, most of which are full of tasty pictures of food and shots of quaint European fishing villages, yet I have only scraped the surface of their intended content.  So I thought that this was the time to do them justice and give some random recipes a try.  So, what happened to match the ingredients I had on hand was a Zucchini Fritter with Pistou.  Pistou, meaning to pound in provincial french, is a beautiful sauce made from garlic, basil, parmesan and olive oil.  So after a long day, I realized the Pistou was fast, prepping the fritters was a bit more lengthy.  Some grated zucchini, that had to be heavily salted and left to sit for an hour to extract the moisture, was not what I noticed when I read the recipe the first time.  Anyway I cheated.  After waiting about 45 min my stomach got the best of me and I ended up squeezing the misture out like I was strangleing a small animal.  Combine it with some flour, egg yolk and water and I had a nice dough.  After folding in some beaten egg whites, the fritters went into a hot pan with oil.  This was the quick part.  They took just two seconds and they were crispy and golden.  Pair them with some yummy fresh beans steamed in the zucchini juice and spoon over some of the pistou, and dinner was ready.

Hummnn, tasty? yes.  loaded with deep fried fatty, oily goodness… for sure.  Good thing I had the beans or I think it would of been too much.  But I am still within my budget.  There are two fritters left but I do believe they will be a perfect mid day snack to get me through the afternoon.  So I better pick something for tomorrow that has a little less oil in it.

Lentil Potato Curry Crazy

Curry.  Maybe it is my English roots, or the fact that I have a sick addiction to Indian food… ohhh how I love a lamb vindaloo, but tonight was a big batch of vegetarian curry.  Many people have the wrong idea about Indian food.  Its going to be too spicy.  It is going to be fatty and unhealthy.  Sure I have ventured into some “authentic” Indian eateries and walked out pissed off about a bunch of mushy crap.  But good Indian food, and I mean from people that know what they are doing, can make some fantastic dishes with not 10, not 5, but 0ne or two spices and some great healthy and fresh ingredients.  Indian food to me is an art in blending spices and layering of flavors.  My father, now retired, has all the time in the world to let a good Indian curry simmer and develop.  For myself, time is a little harder to come by which is why I have not experimented too much with this line of food.  But on occasion, I will set into the kitchen with a goal of spice and aroma that leads me to some sort of curry dish.

So in the theme of the month, eating on the cheap, curry is a super way to add tons of flavor to legumes and starches, without breaking the bank.  I poked around at some recipes and stuck my head in the pantry and found some things that worked quite well if I do say so myself.

I sort of went at tonight’s dinner with a blank notepad and a bunch of stuff I had on hand.

1 cup green lentils

4 potatoes (cut into 1/2 inch cubes)

3 tablespoons of curry powder

2 dried habanero peppers (from last years crop)

32 oz of diced tomatoes

one red onion

4 cloves of garlic

3 cups water

salt and pepper

-Bring the water to a boil in a big stew pot and put in the lentils with one tablespoon of the curry powder to cook for 15-20 min.  Add the potatoes and tomatoes to the lentils and simmer.  Heat up a pan and add oil and the sliced onion and saute till soft, then add the minced garlic till aromatic (maybe a minute or two more).  Add this to the big pot and add the rest of the curry powder and some more water to cover the potatoes.  Crush the dried habanero’s and stir in.  Let simmer as low as possible for 45 minutes.  Taste and season.  Done.  Wait, what was I saying about simmering all day!  I had some long grain rice on hand, so I served the curry over the top.

The whole house smelt amazing.  Curry will do that, and of course I made myself a extra large helping that caught me off guard, but the food region of my brain was doing all the talking.  Lentils, potatoes and rice are very filling.  So I have a good amount left, which will come with me for lunch that I will serve over the veggi cutlet I have left over from two nights ago ( I love leftovers.  Sometimes they are even better than when you make it fresh!)  I do believe that this whole curry set me back about $3.50.  This was dinner for two and at least another 4 or 5 servings.  Man, at this rate I can retire in a few months.  Come to think of it.  How come every high school does not offer a “eating at college on a budget” cooking class?  I mean when it come to push comes to shove (please read: when it comes to food or booze), we all know what a college student chooses… freshman and sophomore year anyway.  Maybe I am onto something.

Day One: Veggi Cutlets

So here we go.  30 days, $5 a day, what will come of it?  Will I be sick of beans or will I find new, and inexpensive ways to feed the family while putting money aside for all of the other things a new home owner needs to deal with (and there are many).  So after a super weekend of helping friends join in heavenly matrimony up in Sonoma, sipping great wines and apparently gorging myself on lamb, wild salmon and fresh from the farm produce, I sat down last night to write out a list for the week.  As far as I can tell, I have always been that guy who wanders the aisles looking to see what strikes my fancy or what beautifully marbled piece of meat there is to work with.  So entering the store with a list of items that I had to stick with was something of an oddity.  But I did it.  I did not find everything I needed, but then again, the week is young.  I spent a total of $44, but this included enough lentils to get me through 30 days as well as some spices and oil that I was in need of, that will last far longer than my 30 day experiment.  So right off the bat I realized that as much as a solid spice rack is fun to play with, it is a necessity for the manipulations of the legumes I hope to create.

Tonight turned out well.  Veggie cutlets were the springboard into the cheap eats program (if anyone has a better name for this next 30 days… please offer it up).  I pieced together a vegan recipe, that turned out to be super filling, very healthy, tasty and only cost $2.50 for dinner for two and lunch for us both tomorrow.  Yes $2.50!  Where the hell have I been dropping my hard earned paycheck up to this point?  So I amassed the following items on my counter and got to work.

2 cups garbanzo beans

1 cup of oatmeal (spin through the food processor till a bread crumb consistency)

4 tbs olive oil

1/2 cup vegetable broth

4 tbs soy sauce

6 garlic cloves (minced)

1 tsp lemon zest

1 tsp dried thyme

1 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp dried sage

I mashed the garbonzo beans and oil in a bowl with a spoon,  combined the oatmeal, thyme, paprika and sage in a second bowl and mixed.  I added the beans and the dried ingredients together and blended then added the veggi broth and soy sauce and worked it in together. I let the moisture get absorbed into the mix for a little while and then made 6 patties.  In an oiled pan I fried them for 12 minutes a side till they were golden brown and aromatic.  I placed them with a simple spinach, onion and vinaigrette salad on a plate and gave them a try.

Yummy.  But they could of used an aoli or yoghurt sauce on top to give it an added dimension and a bit more moisture.  But for a first attempt they were pretty damn good and way below my budget.  So these will be kept in the rotation for sure, and with some kind of sauce, these will be a real hit.