One of the most significant differences between Japanese chefs and French ones is the way they use a knife.
The Japanese cut away from the body while classical French technique requires you to cut towards yourself.
Small but hugely significant.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
That Italian-Japanese Cross-Connect
File this one under the "who-bloody-knew-but-obvious-in-retrospect"-category!
Turns out that "sushi rice" makes a more than excellent substitute for the arborio, or carnaroli in a classic risotto.
In fact, both rices belong to the same japonica family, the key characteristic of which is that they are glutinous (= starchy, sticky) and not "long-grained" like basmati.
Smack to the forehead, deliciousness for dinner.
Turns out that "sushi rice" makes a more than excellent substitute for the arborio, or carnaroli in a classic risotto.
In fact, both rices belong to the same japonica family, the key characteristic of which is that they are glutinous (= starchy, sticky) and not "long-grained" like basmati.
Smack to the forehead, deliciousness for dinner.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Revisiting Ol' Favorites
How quickly doth a fairly ambitious dish that you once made turn into a "staple"!
Good cooks never talk about this but as their technique deepens, they get very good at formerly complex tasks. "Fancy" dishes turn routine that they can do at a moment's notice with minimal kerfuffle.
It's called learning and it's useful to remember that all those slave years in the galley kitchen were not wasted. Most importantly, all that separates you from you from the great chefs is plain ol'-fashioned hard work (and an understanding of technique.)
This is a great dish. What makes it great is the both the elegance of its concept, and the fact that it can be endlessly reshuffled to align with the seasons and the ingredients at hand.
The older recipe required — arugula, corn, carrots, sage.
This version — radicchio, peas, carrots, rosemary.
You should be able to see the infamous shuffle yourself.
Speaking of shuffling, what would your inner Italian Grandma think of these "crab balls"? Bet she's thinking about how delicious they would be in her mouth!
Risotto with Crab Balls
Good cooks never talk about this but as their technique deepens, they get very good at formerly complex tasks. "Fancy" dishes turn routine that they can do at a moment's notice with minimal kerfuffle.
It's called learning and it's useful to remember that all those slave years in the galley kitchen were not wasted. Most importantly, all that separates you from you from the great chefs is plain ol'-fashioned hard work (and an understanding of technique.)
This is a great dish. What makes it great is the both the elegance of its concept, and the fact that it can be endlessly reshuffled to align with the seasons and the ingredients at hand.
The older recipe required — arugula, corn, carrots, sage.
This version — radicchio, peas, carrots, rosemary.
You should be able to see the infamous shuffle yourself.
Speaking of shuffling, what would your inner Italian Grandma think of these "crab balls"? Bet she's thinking about how delicious they would be in her mouth!
Monday, February 21, 2011
EPIC FAIL!!!
There is virtually no modern chef or cookbook in the world that talks about failure.
(Except you, Julia, you're an inspiration every passing day, baby!)
You will fail. Yes, you will fail. No matter how much you prepare, you will fail.
Occasionally.
If you are suitably ambitious, you must accept that failure is inevitable. It's called learning. There can be no learning without failure.
What is needed is a healthy attitude to failure. It happens. Scream for a minute or two, and then dial the takeout. Regroup later, analyze your failure, and always, always, always revisit the dish another day. Which you will nail correctly and beautifully but only because you failed the first time. That's called learning. Extraordinarily rarely, you will fail twice. That's called learning too!
(The CC has even failed thrice, and lived to cook another day!)
Incidentally, of all the smug fucks, a certain Richard Olney informs us that: "A failure is no disgrace and may very often be more instructive than a success."
Yeah?!? Well, fuck you, Richard Olney, when you have screaming hordes in your living room on a hot summer's day, and your dish just disintegrated, you might just have a slightly different view of success.
Or not.
There does seem to be a utility in having a suitably detached point of view. In time, you will rapidly learn to look at your failures in a funny light. It'll turn into a good party story.
Comedy is merely tragedy with added time and perspective.
Wasn't it hilarious when that dish fell apart right before Thanksgiving? Or that burnt dish on Valentine's Day? Or that food that disintegrated right before the party guests started streaming in?
Go on then. Be ambitious. Fail with confidence.
You're gonna fail, and you're gonna love it!
(Chime in with your failures, readers. This is a contest in who can embarass themselves the most!)
(Except you, Julia, you're an inspiration every passing day, baby!)
You will fail. Yes, you will fail. No matter how much you prepare, you will fail.
Occasionally.
If you are suitably ambitious, you must accept that failure is inevitable. It's called learning. There can be no learning without failure.
What is needed is a healthy attitude to failure. It happens. Scream for a minute or two, and then dial the takeout. Regroup later, analyze your failure, and always, always, always revisit the dish another day. Which you will nail correctly and beautifully but only because you failed the first time. That's called learning. Extraordinarily rarely, you will fail twice. That's called learning too!
(The CC has even failed thrice, and lived to cook another day!)
Incidentally, of all the smug fucks, a certain Richard Olney informs us that: "A failure is no disgrace and may very often be more instructive than a success."
Yeah?!? Well, fuck you, Richard Olney, when you have screaming hordes in your living room on a hot summer's day, and your dish just disintegrated, you might just have a slightly different view of success.
Or not.
There does seem to be a utility in having a suitably detached point of view. In time, you will rapidly learn to look at your failures in a funny light. It'll turn into a good party story.
Comedy is merely tragedy with added time and perspective.
Wasn't it hilarious when that dish fell apart right before Thanksgiving? Or that burnt dish on Valentine's Day? Or that food that disintegrated right before the party guests started streaming in?
Go on then. Be ambitious. Fail with confidence.
You're gonna fail, and you're gonna love it!
(Chime in with your failures, readers. This is a contest in who can embarass themselves the most!)
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Moving On
An old friend died recently.
And how does the CC revisit it?
All he can think of is that she was thin, and she loved to dance, and she loved food to a fault.
She was much older than the CC to the point that she both babysat the CC, and that he attended her wedding as a callow boy, and yet, all the CC can remember is all the food she loved. He can recall instantaneously every single thing she ever loved. and where she ate it, and how she ate it. (You don't need a camera. The memory is good enough.)
She even taught the CC how to dance. And how to gorge away later late at night after expending the calories!
Food then, as Proust would've insisted, is the ultimate carrier of memories.
Dance away sweetheart, we'll miss you!
And how does the CC revisit it?
All he can think of is that she was thin, and she loved to dance, and she loved food to a fault.
She was much older than the CC to the point that she both babysat the CC, and that he attended her wedding as a callow boy, and yet, all the CC can remember is all the food she loved. He can recall instantaneously every single thing she ever loved. and where she ate it, and how she ate it. (You don't need a camera. The memory is good enough.)
She even taught the CC how to dance. And how to gorge away later late at night after expending the calories!
Food then, as Proust would've insisted, is the ultimate carrier of memories.
Dance away sweetheart, we'll miss you!
Ode to an Omelette
A paean must be written to the very French concept of barely set eggs. They may be in various forms — poached, baked, omelette but the key point is that they are barely set. Just at the edge of being cooked but basically somewhat raw.
In the interest of hygiene, the CC must mention that you can't do that with commercial eggs in this country.
You need freshly produced eggs from an good organic producer that you know personally otherwise you are out of luck!
However, if it's possible to source these in the heart of Manhattan, the CC fails to see what the excuse is?
Even if you have excellent organic local eggs, you must first wash each and every one of them before you crack them. The logic is that these wonderful organic eggs may not have bacteria on the inside but like all "stuff" they have bacteria on the outside!
Yes, this may sound pain-staking but it's absolutely necessary if you are gonna barely cook them. Also, these organic eggs tend to be a tad fragile unlike your supermarket force-fed chicken eggs so a little gentleness is needed.
Just try it.
The CC never liked soft-boiled eggs until he made high-quality ones for himself. Now, he recoils at the idea of eggs being overcooked.
Oh, and make sure to have some crusty bread at hand to soak up all the eggy goodness!
Sunday morning. Ooey-gooey goodness. Happiness.
In the interest of hygiene, the CC must mention that you can't do that with commercial eggs in this country.
You need freshly produced eggs from an good organic producer that you know personally otherwise you are out of luck!
However, if it's possible to source these in the heart of Manhattan, the CC fails to see what the excuse is?
Even if you have excellent organic local eggs, you must first wash each and every one of them before you crack them. The logic is that these wonderful organic eggs may not have bacteria on the inside but like all "stuff" they have bacteria on the outside!
Yes, this may sound pain-staking but it's absolutely necessary if you are gonna barely cook them. Also, these organic eggs tend to be a tad fragile unlike your supermarket force-fed chicken eggs so a little gentleness is needed.
Just try it.
The CC never liked soft-boiled eggs until he made high-quality ones for himself. Now, he recoils at the idea of eggs being overcooked.
Oh, and make sure to have some crusty bread at hand to soak up all the eggy goodness!
Sunday morning. Ooey-gooey goodness. Happiness.
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Japanese Pressure Cooker
Not the insane work ethic that causes them to blow their tops in private, the CC refers to the otoshi-buta which is a particularly elegant concept.
Basically it's a wooden "drop lid" that sits right inside the pot on top of the vegetables or meat that you are simmering in dashi.
The idea is simple. It raises the temperature of the water above 100°C so that food cooks faster. In this process, it also allows for caramelization of the sugars are added first in the Japanese process. Also, the food stuff doesn't roll around in the boiling water which allows control of the texture because the food doesn't get "beat up".
You don't really need this specialized instrument though.
Classically trained French chefs use a similar technique. They advise you to make a simple round out of parchment paper and place it in top of whatever you are simmering.
In the modern world, aluminum foil will also do the work perfectly adequately.
If you've never seen this technique before, it seems wondrous (faster! tastier! magic!) but it's just plain ol' physics at work.
Basically it's a wooden "drop lid" that sits right inside the pot on top of the vegetables or meat that you are simmering in dashi.
The idea is simple. It raises the temperature of the water above 100°C so that food cooks faster. In this process, it also allows for caramelization of the sugars are added first in the Japanese process. Also, the food stuff doesn't roll around in the boiling water which allows control of the texture because the food doesn't get "beat up".
You don't really need this specialized instrument though.
Classically trained French chefs use a similar technique. They advise you to make a simple round out of parchment paper and place it in top of whatever you are simmering.
In the modern world, aluminum foil will also do the work perfectly adequately.
If you've never seen this technique before, it seems wondrous (faster! tastier! magic!) but it's just plain ol' physics at work.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Spaghetti with Crab Meat and Peas
Sometimes, there is a level of awesomeness that pictures simply don't do justice to. You need full-on Smell-O-Vision™ to appreciate this one.
That this is both easily made on a weeknight, and that it is definitely better than sliced bread means that the Italians just do some things better!
Garlic! Chillies! Olive oil! Exclamation Marks!!
Madre di Dio!!!
Ingredients
linguini (or spaghetti.)
1 cup crabmeat
8 cloves garlic (chopped roughly)
1/2 cup peas
1/2 cup parsley (chopped fine)
4 dried read chillies (crumbled fine)
1 cup white wine (optional, substitute by water)
olive oil
sea salt
black pepper
Recipe
Prepare the pasta in heavy-salted water.
Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a pan, fry the garlic and crumbled red-chillies languidly, add the crabmeat, peas, salt and black pepper and fry for 2-3 minutes. Add the white wine. Let it cook for a bit.
Toss with the spaghetti. Top with parsley and more black pepper right before serving.
That this is both easily made on a weeknight, and that it is definitely better than sliced bread means that the Italians just do some things better!
Garlic! Chillies! Olive oil! Exclamation Marks!!
Madre di Dio!!!
Ingredients
linguini (or spaghetti.)
1 cup crabmeat
8 cloves garlic (chopped roughly)
1/2 cup peas
1/2 cup parsley (chopped fine)
4 dried read chillies (crumbled fine)
1 cup white wine (optional, substitute by water)
olive oil
sea salt
black pepper
Recipe
Prepare the pasta in heavy-salted water.
Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a pan, fry the garlic and crumbled red-chillies languidly, add the crabmeat, peas, salt and black pepper and fry for 2-3 minutes. Add the white wine. Let it cook for a bit.
Toss with the spaghetti. Top with parsley and more black pepper right before serving.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Haandvo
The greatest of all vegetarian dishes (at least in the CC's unhumble opinion.)
Poetry should be written about this stuff, and wars raged but it hasn't happened yet so the CC assumes that he lies alone in his passion. (Sigh!)
This is a lentil and rice flour mix that has been fermented (lactobacillus!), and then mixed with ginger, green chillies, spices and vegetables, and topped with the classical Indian technique of spices fried at the last minute in oil (vaghar, baghar, chowk, etc.) In this case, the spices are sesame seeds as you can plainly observe below.
Finally, the whole thing is baked with coals above and below.
Eat it with a sip of buttermilk (yogurt + water) and watch the mixture evolve as you chew. Each bite will be subtly different as your saliva works its magic with the two components in tandem.
The crispy brown bits are the best part (Maillard, Maillard, Maillard!)
The Gods themselves designed this dish because they got bored of ordinary, every day perfection!
Poetry should be written about this stuff, and wars raged but it hasn't happened yet so the CC assumes that he lies alone in his passion. (Sigh!)
This is a lentil and rice flour mix that has been fermented (lactobacillus!), and then mixed with ginger, green chillies, spices and vegetables, and topped with the classical Indian technique of spices fried at the last minute in oil (vaghar, baghar, chowk, etc.) In this case, the spices are sesame seeds as you can plainly observe below.
Finally, the whole thing is baked with coals above and below.
Eat it with a sip of buttermilk (yogurt + water) and watch the mixture evolve as you chew. Each bite will be subtly different as your saliva works its magic with the two components in tandem.
The crispy brown bits are the best part (Maillard, Maillard, Maillard!)
The Gods themselves designed this dish because they got bored of ordinary, every day perfection!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Sa-Shi-Su-Se-So
Eh?
No, the CC hasn't lost his marbles. At least not yet!
These are the horizontal letters of the Japanese alphabet in the "s" row, and they stand for the order in which to add ingredients when simmering vegetables in dashi (which the Japanese do a lot!)
satō - sugar (typically in the form of mirin)
shio - salt
su - vinegar
seyu / shōyu - soy sauce
miso - miso
Okay, they cheat a little with the shōyu to fit it into the scheme but we'll just call it cute. and let it slide.
There's a sorta logic to it. The sugar requires time to get absorbed (larger molecules) so it needs to go in there first. And the miso gets in there last because it really shouldn't be overcooked. The rest is a just a cutesy mnemonic to remember it all.
Kawaii!!!
No, the CC hasn't lost his marbles. At least not yet!
These are the horizontal letters of the Japanese alphabet in the "s" row, and they stand for the order in which to add ingredients when simmering vegetables in dashi (which the Japanese do a lot!)
satō - sugar (typically in the form of mirin)
shio - salt
su - vinegar
seyu / shōyu - soy sauce
miso - miso
Okay, they cheat a little with the shōyu to fit it into the scheme but we'll just call it cute. and let it slide.
There's a sorta logic to it. The sugar requires time to get absorbed (larger molecules) so it needs to go in there first. And the miso gets in there last because it really shouldn't be overcooked. The rest is a just a cutesy mnemonic to remember it all.
Kawaii!!!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Radicchio Salad
Simplicity itself, and the perfect way to brighten up a winter's day.
Ingredients
1 head radicchio
1 orange (split into two)
1/2 cup walnuts
1 Meyer lemon
3 tbsp walnut oil
3 sprigs mint
gorgonzola (diced)
sea salt
pepper
Recipe
Wash the radicchio, and slice into thin slices.
Roast the walnuts at 350°F for about 10 minutes. Cool.
Split half the orange into slices. Slice each into half.
Juice the lemon, the other half of the orange, and make a vinaigrette with the walnut oil, sea salt and pepper. Mince the mint, and mix with the vinaigrette.
Toss all the ingredients together.
Ingredients
1 head radicchio
1 orange (split into two)
1/2 cup walnuts
1 Meyer lemon
3 tbsp walnut oil
3 sprigs mint
gorgonzola (diced)
sea salt
pepper
Recipe
Wash the radicchio, and slice into thin slices.
Roast the walnuts at 350°F for about 10 minutes. Cool.
Split half the orange into slices. Slice each into half.
Juice the lemon, the other half of the orange, and make a vinaigrette with the walnut oil, sea salt and pepper. Mince the mint, and mix with the vinaigrette.
Toss all the ingredients together.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Konkan Café
The CC normally never endorses restaurants but has been known to make exceptions for exceptional ones (duh!)
This is one of them.
In Mumbai, in a tourist-encrusted corner, a man (Ananda Solomon) is trying to make classically home-down cuisine from the coastal regions of Maharashtra.
He has women (yes, women - there are no males traditionally!) come in every morning to grind the spices the ol'-fashioned way using a mortar and pestle.
The results speak for themselves.
Is it expensive? Yes, it is. But attention to detail always is.
The CC (who's a cheapskate at heart) will happily pay out for a meal of this anal-retentive detail every single time!
Yes, this is seafood-oriented (as a true coastal cuisine would be) but if you are vegetarian, just tell the chef to make whatever pleases him, and he will deliver. The coastal regions have vegetarian traditions too. This is India where every goddamn place has a "traditional" vegetarian tradition!!!
(There were a buncha Gujarati losers on the adjacent table who made their way into one of the great restaurants of all time, and ordered mundane crap. It was extraordinarily painful to watch. These money-grubbin' ass-monkeys were, quite literally, not aware of their own culture. The chef, who attended them personally, was a masterpiece of Japanese emotion — inwardly seething while outwardly polite.)
On a more positive note, the squid was ethereal, and the dessert (jackfruit, not very sweet) was so divine that the CC who normally doesn't like dessert would eat it by the bucketful.
This is the food that gods themselves would desire!
banana flower fritters
sol kadhi
jackfruit in coconut milk
Konkan Café.
(Mumbai, India)
This is one of them.
In Mumbai, in a tourist-encrusted corner, a man (Ananda Solomon) is trying to make classically home-down cuisine from the coastal regions of Maharashtra.
He has women (yes, women - there are no males traditionally!) come in every morning to grind the spices the ol'-fashioned way using a mortar and pestle.
The results speak for themselves.
Is it expensive? Yes, it is. But attention to detail always is.
The CC (who's a cheapskate at heart) will happily pay out for a meal of this anal-retentive detail every single time!
Yes, this is seafood-oriented (as a true coastal cuisine would be) but if you are vegetarian, just tell the chef to make whatever pleases him, and he will deliver. The coastal regions have vegetarian traditions too. This is India where every goddamn place has a "traditional" vegetarian tradition!!!
(There were a buncha Gujarati losers on the adjacent table who made their way into one of the great restaurants of all time, and ordered mundane crap. It was extraordinarily painful to watch. These money-grubbin' ass-monkeys were, quite literally, not aware of their own culture. The chef, who attended them personally, was a masterpiece of Japanese emotion — inwardly seething while outwardly polite.)
On a more positive note, the squid was ethereal, and the dessert (jackfruit, not very sweet) was so divine that the CC who normally doesn't like dessert would eat it by the bucketful.
This is the food that gods themselves would desire!
Konkan Café.
(Mumbai, India)
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