Honestly, This Isn't a Midlife Crisis

I wrote my "bucket list" when I was 15, but the movie hadn't been made yet, so I called it my "list of things to do before I die."  Some things I wanted at 15, I don't want anymore.  I don't want to be a famous actor in the movies: I really don't like people enough to appreciate all the fans I would have.  I also don't want my own island: No one needs their own island and although I don't like the crush of humanity every day, I would get lonely.  Some things on the list I probably won't ever accomplish because technology and my own motivation won't allow for it.  For example, I probably won't be walking on the moon.  And some of those joys on the list I accomplished quickly, some took a little longer, and some are still going to come true.  I eat fire.  I learned Spanish, French and Chinese languages (although I'm very rusty in speaking any of them now).  I am a chef--at least in my own way. 

I have realized recently, however, that I have many more things in my life to do.  Therefore, I have started a new list:

MY NEW LIST OF SOMEDAY AWESOME ACCOMPLISHMENTS

Travel is on the list.  I want to visit each continent, and except for Antarctica, I want to meet the local folk in the smaller towns.  I want to taste their cuisine and know the regional comfort foods.  (In Antarctica, I want to see the Emperor Penguin from a safe enough distance to not disturb Morgan Freeman.) 

I want to be able to do chin-ups again.  Without assistance.

I'm learning to pick locks.  Since I regularly lock myself out of things with locks, this should be immensely useful to me. 

I've become an ordained minister so I think it would be grand to perform a wedding ceremony.  And maybe a funeral.  Or an exorcism. 

I will have a secret identity and post Urban Exploration adventures under that alias. 

I will accept more dares, but only if there is a greater chance of the dare resulting in fun for me rather than tragedy.  Unless the tragedy also is likely to be fun, then it's Game On!

I will have my own television show.  (Crap.  Now I have to get prepared to have hoards of fans, again.)

If I ever give up being a financial advisor, I will be a butcher.  Or a bounty hunter.  (Picking locks and speaking foreign languages should come in handy.)  (Wait.  I meant, "Probably handier for bounty hunting."  I don't know if animals speak Spanish, French or Chinese.  And since most of them don't have opposable thumbs, I don't think they are negotiating keys too well.)

I want a pencil thin moustache.

I still want to go to outer space.  Richard Branson should be able to help me out. 

And I think I need to be less bashful when it comes to trying new foods.  I really need to get out of my rut.

With that in mind,  here's a fun little recipe.

Poached Baby Octopus for Dessert
1 1/2 cups Port
1/4 cup Sugar
12 Baby Octopus (5" tentacle diameter)
Sugar and Cinnamon mixture (2:1 ratio Sugar to Cinnamon, shaken together in a jar)

If they aren't already, have your local fish monger clean the octopus and remove the beaks.  Rinse them thoroughly.  Heat a large pot of water (6 quarts) to boiling.  Add the octopus and let simmer for 10 minutes.  Drain and put the octopus into an ice water bath to stop them from cooking.  

When the octopus have chilled, rub them gently under running water to remove the outer skins.  Don't worry if you can't get all the skin off--just get most of it. 
In an electric skillet (so much easier to control the temperature), heat the port and sugar until it boils and the sugar dissolves.  Reduce to a simmer and add the octopus.  Cover and simmer on the lowest setting for 2-3 hours, turning them over every now and then to cover all sides evenly.  Yes, they turn slightly rubbery, but that is what octopus is made of: God's old inner tubes.  And yes, the port turns the octopus purple, but that's a natural color for them.  The flavor changes to something wonderful, however.  Magical, even. 

When you are getting close to eating, remove them from the port and let drain.  Place them in a large bowl and sprinkle the octopus with cinnamon and sugar, tossing to coat them evenly.   Serve with fresh sliced strawberries and a scoop of French vanilla ice cream.

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

The December Holidays have come and gone. A new year has begun.

I realize the magic of my season comes from the solace of the hearth and kitchen.  Family and friends naturally gather where food can be found and the wafting aromas lure everyone to the kitchen.

In that spirit, I wanted to show you what I came up with for the hollidays.  I think it worked out well.

Happy Eating and Happy New Year.


Grilled Sweetbreads

Sweetbreads are the thyroid gland of a calf or a lamb.  Which sounds horrible but are really a wonderfully delicate and flavorful meat.  As with all offal, make certain it's fresh or frozen appropriately. 
1 lb veal Sweetbreads
Salt
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper

Rinse the sweetbreads in cold water.  Remove any extra membrane.

Dissolve 2 tablespoons of salt in 2 quarts of water in a non-reactive bowl.  Add the sweetbreads.  (add more water if needed to cover.)  Seal in plastic wrap and put in the refrigerator for 8 hours or more.

Heat your grill to medium high (about 400 degrees).  Rinse the sweetbreads thoroughly and pat dry with paper towels.  Break into skewerable chunks and skewer onto 4 skewers.  (I know--if I used my Thesaurus, I might find another word for skewer.  But I'm not.  Feel free to contribute your ideas in the Comments section.)  Drizzle lightly with olive oil and smear it around with your hand to evenly coat.  Season with salt and pepper.

Lay the skewers on the grill and get to grilling.  Toast each side until golden brown, about 3-5 minutes per side.  (Caution: keep an eye on them.  They'll go from golden brown to burnt in a hurry.)

Remove from the heat and serve warm with a great dipping sauce.  Chimchurri is traditional, but I used a homemade Asian-style soy and vinegar.  Delicious!


Beef Wellington
1 lb Mushrooms (I love a mix of wild mushrooms for a richer flavor)
2 Leeks, trimmed, rinsed and sliced into 1/4 inch quarter-round slices
1 teaspoon fresh Thyme leaves
2 tablespoons Butter or Olive Oil
1 lb Foie Gras
3 lbs Center Cut Beef Tenderloin
2 tablespoons Bacon Fat
Salt and Pepper to taste
1 lb Puff Pastry (we used my Mom's homemade Brioche)
1 Egg, beaten (for egg wash)

To make the Duxelles: coarsely chop mushrooms.  Dump it into the food processor along with leeks, thyme and a 1/2 teaspoon salt.  Pulse until the mushrooms are small and evenly-sized pieces, but not a paste.  Melt the butter in a large skillet on medium high heat.  Transfer the mushroom mix to the pan, add any more salt and pepper to taste, and saute until the moisture has mostly evaporated out, about 8-10 minutes.  Remove from the heat to let cool.

In the mean time, tie the tenderloin like a roast to keep its cylindrical shape.  Sprinkle evenly with salt on all sides.  (Most chefs prefer to not only trim the tenderloin for excess fat and silverskin, but also shape it at this time so everything cooks evenly.  I can see their point, but I know that my family prefers various degrees of doneness in their meat.  When the center is rare, the smaller ends will be medium well.  And that's OK.  Use your judgement.)  Melt the bacon fat in a large skillet (the same one you just used?  Yes.  It's got good flavor...) on high heat.  Sear the tenderloin on all sides, seasoning with pepper as you go.  Remove from the heat place in the refrigerator to cool.  (Remember, you want a sear on the outside and the inside should be cold and raw.)  The searing adds flavor and the tying, searing and refrigeration help keep it's shape.

While cooling, slice the foie gras into thin (1/8 inch) slices.  Assemble the foie gras slices like fish scales (slightly overlapping) on a large sheet(s) of plastic wrap.  It's OK if some of the plastic wrap shows through--this part doesn't need to be perfect, just reasonably consistent.  Spread the duxelles evenly over the foie gras.  Cut the string off the tenderloin, lay it on the foie gras and duxelles palette, and then wrap the plastic firmly around the whole thing.  Refrigerate for 30 min to an hour.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

On a floured board, roll out your puff pastry to a sheet large enough to encase the tenderloin with a little extra overlap.  Move it to a sheet of parchment paper.  (This makes moving it and cleaning so much easier.)  Working quickly, but gently, unwrap the meat from the plastic wrap.  The foie gras should now stick to the duxelles which should stick to the tenderloin.  Place in the center of the pastry and wrap the pastry firmly around it.  Trim the excess off the ends, keeping the trimmings for decoration or a puff pastry dessert (as you desire).   Seal any seams with egg wash.  Using a sharp knife, slice a few small vents into the pastry.  Transfer the parchment paper to a cookie sheet and put the cookie sheet into the oven.

Bake until the desired doneness.  I like rare to medium rare in the center, so using your probe thermometer, cook until it reads 125 degrees in the center.  Remove from the oven.  Take a second to admire your beautiful handiwork, then cover with foil and let rest for 20 minutes.  20 MINUTES!  No touching it, no matter how good it looks.

Starting in the center, slice into one inch slices and serve.  Some people will want to add a sauce.  This is so rich and flavorful that you really don't need it.  Gilding the lily and whatnot.


Rommegrot
This pudding is completely stolen from NPR.  Yes, NPR.  Not Delicious Dish with Alec Baldwin, but the real thing.  Simple and delicious.  Just like Carl Kasell.
1/2 cup white rice
2 cups half-and-half or cream
Pinch of salt
4-6 cups milk
Butter, Cinnamon and Sugar

Heat the rice, half-and-half and salt in a double boiler over low heat. Cover and simmer for a minimum of 2 hours, adding additional milk as the mixture thickens. This is the minimum time you need for the rice to break down. Ideally, it should cook over low heat for 6-8 hours for a smoother, creamier rommegrot. Continue to add milk as needed and periodically check the double boiler to keep it from boiling dry. If it does boil dry it will turn your rommegrot brown. You can adjust the recipe and amounts of cream versus milk to suit your taste, although it is not recommended to make it with just milk.

When ready to serve, make sure the rommegrot is at a pudding consistency. Serve warm with a dollop of butter and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon sugar.

"Traditional Norwegian rommegrot does not use rice. It is essentially just cooked cream with flour, but in this recipe the rice acts as a thickening agent instead. I'm not sure how my family started making it with rice, but this is the way my Norwegian grandmother and also, I believe, the way her mother made it."

You Eat What? (A Reprint)

Some time ago, I wrote this little ditty for Studio Thirty Plus.  I don't really feel like writing something new this weekend, and since this is new to most of you, please enjoy.  (And if you've read this already, enjoy it again.  Or don't.  But I'd prefer it if you did.  My ego is fragile.)

At the request (or rather the e-equivalent of a double dog dare) of one of my newest Wordy friends, I posted a picture of me during a fire eating show.

It's dramatic.

Go ahead.  Take a gander. I'll give you a minute.

See?  Isn’t it great?

As soon as someone finds out I'm a fire eater, the inquiries naturally begin: "How did you start eating fire?" "Why fire eating?" “Doesn’t it hurt?” and, "What does your [mom/wife] think?"

My mom still shudders, but my wife loves it. In fact, that’s part of what convinced her to marry me. (Wife. Not mom. I don’t want pronoun trouble to lead you to the wrong conclusions. Not that my mom isn’t a very handsome woman. She is. I just don’t think of her that way.)  She (wife) had just broken up with her very nice boyfriend because there was no “magic.”  Her family questioned her judgment. But fire was exactly that spark we both needed to become something better.

Fire is more than it appears. Stare into a campfire. The flames lick the air in what is really a simple chemical reaction: super heated oxygen combines with carbon to release more heat, thereby converting more carbon, until the wood turns to charcoal and ultimately, ash. Other chemical impurities provide surprises of blues and greens to the orange flames. But the physical experience of fire only adds to the spiritual. I defy anyone with a soul to stare into the fire and not be transported to a time of our most ancient ancestors and the stories they told. In short, fire is magic.

I started eating fire in 1992, but the decision to eat it was made much, much earlier. At 12 years old, I visited the Ringling Bros. Circus and I was absolutely captivated by the fire eater. Flash forward a few years, living in the mountains of Colorado, still too young to drive, a rainy day and any friends were too far away for a walking visit. (Literally—not at all contrary to popular belief, until I learned to drive, I actually did ride a horse to get around.) My mom always had a rule, “If you’re bored, I’ll find something for you to do,” which really meant chores, and since that held NO interest for me, I made a list of all the things I wanted to do in my life before I died.  Fire eating was on that list. So was wilderness survival and walking on the moon, but I’ll save those for future blogs. 

In my senior year of college at Colorado State University, my roommate, Mike, was a celebrated artist. What he was not, was a celebrated scientist. He waited until his final semester to take any courses relating to science and then he stacked three of them back to back to back. Perhaps it was kismet, perhaps serendipity, but Mike’s chemistry professor had been a fire eater for Ringling Bros. Circus for nearly 30 years. When I found out, I stalked the professor back to his office. I shared with him my story, my longing, my aching to know the art of fire eating. He, in turn, grilled me for hours (pardon the pun), making certain that I was not a pyromaniac, and that indeed I wanted to perform for audiences. When he was satisfied, he simply said, “Meet me here tomorrow. Three o’clock.”

I had no idea of what to expect, but of course, I did what he asked. On arrival, and without greeting, he handed me a brass rod, one end wrapped in asbestos cloth and stated, without ceremony, “What the audience beholds is not what is happening. When well performed, there is little risk of immolation. Instead, the audience can enjoy one act in a show about a slow poisoning over the course of decades.” He then handed me a simple drinking glass filled half way with charcoal lighter fluid. He taught me how to move, how to ignite and how to extinguish. In fact, over the course of nearly 6 months, he taught me the true secrets of fire eating: knowing how to control the flame, how to give a good show, and knowing how much pain I can withstand.  My “graduation” was in front of members of the Fort Collins Fire Department.

So there it is. That's my story about fire eating. I still eat fire regularly—or as regularly as afforded. I enjoy it immensely and I still love the interplay with an audience.  So come join me. Watch while you can. After all, I may only have a few decades left.

And just because I love you all, a recipe:

Hot Buttered Rum Mix

1 stick Butter, softened

2 cups Brown Sugar (I like the molasses in the Dark Brown)

1 teaspoon ground Cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon grated Nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground Cloves

1/8 teaspoon ground Allspice

1/4 teaspoon Salt (if using unsalted butter)

In a mixing bowl, cream together all of the ingredients.  Pack into an airtight food storage container and refrigerate until firm.  (It will get very firm.)  The mix will keep for months in a well-sealed container.

Hot Buttered Rum

1 1/2 tablespoons Hot Buttered Rum Mix

1 1/2 oz Rum (Most recipes call for dark rum, but this is your cocktail.  Use whatever rum you like.)

Hot Water

Cinnamon Stick or Orange Twist for garnish

In a mug, combine the mix and the rum.  Add hot water to top it off.  Stir until the mix is dissolved.  Add garnish.  Cuddle up to your sweetie, sit in front of the fireplace and lose yourself in the magic of a lovely evening.

Pass the Salt

I graduated college nearly 20 years ago.  Wow.  It seems like only yesterday.  I remember my youthfully arrogant, Bohemian ways; I remember my first tattoos; I remember the girls I dated (Hello, ladies) and the books I read.  Or more correctly, I remember reading a lot of books.  So many books.  I studied the complete works of Shakespeare, John Milton and William Blake.  I devoured Plato, Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas.  I read The Bible, The Tao Te Ching and The Rig-Veda.  I studied Updike, Vonnegut and Atwood.  In fact, I read so many books in college that I really don't like reading now.  Honest.  If you were planning on getting me books for the holidays, please don't.

In place of "reading," however, I do enjoy "research" when it strikes my fancy.  Of course, one of my favorite topics for "research" happens to be food.  And what could be more interesting right now than something as timeless and elemental as salt.  It's kind of the little black dress of the food world.

Think about it: most of what we put in our mouths is pretty disgusting.  And everything gets pretty gross once your body works it over for a bit.  So the cleanliness, the purity, virtual sterility of salt cannot go unappreciated.  Salt is the only rock we eat.  Salt is the reason for the salinity of the oceans which in turn contributes to driving the currents of the seas and thereby regulates the temperatures of the earth.  Salt inhibits the growth of bacteria and other beasties and is essential for preserving many foods.  Biomolecularly, the human body requires sodium chloride to maintain osmotic balance of cells, transmit chemical signals in our nervous systems and aids in the elasticity of our blood vessels.

Salt is mentioned in 40 verses in the King James Bible, and has been an important element in most world religions and religious ceremonies throughout history.

Table salt

Oh, and salt also enhances flavors.  (If you doubt it, try baking a loaf of bread without adding salt to the dough. I recently screwed that up.  YUCK!)  For that reason, you'll find salt as one of the top ingredients in many pre-packaged foods.  So much so, that it has been linked to health problems in many first world diets.  (It should be noted that studies on the long term health effects of salt are inconclusive, at best.  While it MAY exacerbate the effects of high blood pressure in some people already suffering from high blood pressure, a salt-heavy diet does not appear to contribute significantly to mortality or morbidity.  In my opinion, foods heavy in salt are usually also heavy in other preservatives, saturated fats and high fructose corn syrup which have all been proven to be significantly worse for you.)

Table salt under 10x magnification

Salt comes to us in many varieties.  We most commonly recognize table salt in our home and restaurant use.  Its small, consistent crystals (which look all too similar to sugar so as to prompt sophomoric pranks of switching the two) shakes out of salt shakers easily, is simple to measure, and dissolves easily.  Table salt is highly refined, removing most flavoring minerals, but adding in iodine, anti-caking compounds and sometimes additional nutrients.  Because of its small grains, I usually use slightly less salt than called for in recipes, but it's the only seasoning I use on popcorn.

Kosher salt

Kosher salt is hands down my favorite for cooking. When seasoning meats, it's broad, flat flakes spread evenly and dissolve quickly. Kosher salt usually contains less additives than table salt but is still rather highly refined. And salt itself is really neither Kosher nor not Kosher. Unless it's soaked in prawns, salt is fine in Kosher seasoning. But Kosher salt is regularly used in Kosher meat preparation. It's flat structure draws out protein-rich liquids, evenly, to the surface which allows for a lovely Maillard reaction. 

Kosher salt under 10x magnification

Sea salt with Greek spices

Fleur de sel, or sea salt, is less refined and contains trace minerals from the salt water from which it came.  The removal of salt (and other minerals) from salt water, or desalinization, is arguably one of the most important advancements in the future of human agriculture.  The salt is flavorful and usually has large crystals.  This is a great salt to grind and add to dishes where the salt is supposed to be a highlight.

Sea salt under 10x magnification

A Himalayan Salt Block

Mineral Salts, or salts that are mined from the land, are usually extracted from land-bound salt deposits, that used to be water deposits.  Through geologic processes, these salts usually contain the highest mineral concentrations.  Like sea salt, they are best expressed where the salt should be tasted.  Because these salts are often formed into large rock formations, they can also be cut into blocks.  This is an AMAZING application and we love to use ours as a serving tray for sliced fruit.  The juices from the fruit dissolves trace amounts of the salt block, which in turn lightly seasons the fruit.  A perfect system.  Shop for salt blocks at The Meadow. 

Seasoned and smoked salts punch up the flavor to a whole other level.  If getting out the grill would be impractical, but you still want that hint of smokiness, try smoked salt.  Or if you want an easy boost of herbs and other seasonings to your potatoes, try seasoned salt. 

I've written before on using salt in a brine.  I've also posted a recipe for cooking a chicken in a salt crust.  However, I love when a chef (or anyone, really) questions what they've been taught.  Chef Oliver Schwaner-Albright had such a crisis of faith and through his experimentation, learned much about when to add salt to meats.   

So when should you use the different kinds of salts?  As usual, my first recommendation is taste and experiment.  What tastes good?  You've got some good hints in foods you already know.  Pretzels wouldn't be the same without salt, so salt baked into a bread's crust should be good.  Many families pass the salt when they split open a melon.  I discovered that I love coffee ice cream with a pinch of sea salt. 

If you can avoid most of the salt used in prepackaged foods, you shouldn't be afraid of salt.  So give it a whirl and try a kick of unexpected flavor. 

For dessert, try:

Ice Cream Scoops Rolled in Graham Cracker and Salt
4 scoops of your favorite Ice Cream (for those keeping track, Mint Chocolate Chip is my favorite)
8 Graham Crackers
1 tablespoon Sugar
2 teaspoons coarsely ground Fleur de Sel

Place a cookie sheet lined with parchment or wax paper in the freezer until very cold, about 15 minutes.  Using an ice cream scoop run under a hot tap, scoop individual scoops of ice cream onto the cookie sheet.  Return to the freezer. 

Using a rolling pin, crush the graham crackers to a coarse powder.  Combine the sugar, graham crackers and salt in a shallow, wide bowl. 

When the ice cream is frozen hard enough to handle, roll the scoops in the graham cracker mix, coating evenly.  Serve and enjoy!


Rosemary and Lemon Cookies with Fleur de Sel
1 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cups white sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Zest of 2 Lemons
1 tablespoon fresh Rosemary, minced
Sea Salt (unground)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and grease (or spray) a cookie sheet. 

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar together.  Beat in the egg and the vanilla.  In another bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, lemon zest and rosemary.  Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet until well mixed.

Put a little salt (1 tablespoon or so) onto a small plate.  Roll the dough into 1 inch balls.  Tap the ball lightly once into the salt.  You want to pick up a few grains of salt on each cookie.  Place the balls on the cookie sheet, salt side, up. 

Bake for 8-10 minutes or until golden brown.  Let rest for a few minutes on the cookie sheet before removing to a cooling rack.  Makes about 4 dozen.


And just because you read all the way through, you get a picture of my Sunday morning.

Apples on a Salt Block.  (And the dog looks on in curious bemusement.)

The Fruits of Our Labors

Almost as a cosmic gauntlet thrown at my feet and certainly as a natural follow-up to the last post about preservation, I came into a bushel of apples and 15 lbs of ripe grapes (1/2 and 1/2 green and Concord--both yummy!)  In an attempt to go through all of the fruit before it turns to compost, yet not have a stomach ache from eating it too fast (seriously, the grapes were so delicious, I continued to eat them well beyond a normal man's limitations.  For the next two days, I spent a lot of time"indisposed."  Did you know that grapes were so high in fiber?  Because I forgot,) here's a few thoughts on what we're doing.

Dried Apples

Apple Juice
Apple Peelings and Cores
Water

Place the apple parts in a sauce pot capable of holding them with a few inches of headroom.  Add water to about 1/2 inch below the top of the apple.   Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and let cook for 15-20 minutes.

Pour into a sieve over a bowl and let drain completely, 20 minutes. Take that juice and filer through dampened cheese cloth if you want less incidental pulp. Seal in a sterile jar and store in the refrigerator. Should keep for about 3-4 days.


Apple Butter
4 lbs Apples, washed
2 cups Water
Sugar
1 teaspoon each of Ground Allspice, Ground Cinnamon, Cloves

Remove the stems, leaves, and worm holes with rot around them, then quarter the apples.  Don't bother peeling or coring the apples.  Put the apples and water into a large pot, cover and heat until boiling; then reduce to a simmer.  Let simmer until the apples turn very soft.  Remove from the heat and let cool. 

Press the apples through a sieve, separating the pulp from the seeds, skins and other undesirables.  Measure the pulp, return it to the large pot and add a like measure of sugar (1:1).  Add the spices.  Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring constantly.  When it starts to boil, reduce the heat to a simmer and continue to stir for two more minutes.  Then stir occasionally until the moisture is mostly evaporated and the butter can be rolled up on a spoon.  The color should have changed from a light blonde to a deep mahogany. 

Pour (spoon) into sterilized jars and process in a water bath for 10 minutes.  Makes about 8 half-pints. 


Apple Syrup
Combine equal parts Apple Juice and sugar.  Bring to a boil, stirring constantly.  Let boil for 10 minutes.  Cool and store in the refrigerator.  Will keep for a month. 


Grape Juice
Grapes
Water

Remove stems from the grapes, but don't bother trying to remove the seeds.  Put them in a sauce pot capable of holding them with a few inches of headroom.  Add water to about 1/2 inch below the top of the grapes.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce to a simmer and let cook for 15-20 minutes. 

Pour into a sieve over a bowl and let drain completely, 20 minutes.  Take that juice and filer through dampened cheese cloth if you want less incidental pulp.  Seal in a sterile jar and store in the refrigerator.  Should keep for about 3-4 days. 


Grape Turkish Delight
This was a ridiculous endeavour, but Turkish Delight is a childhood treat many of my friends have never tried, yet all remember from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.  If you get a wild hair, give this one a whirl. 

4 cups Sugar
4 1/2 cups Grape Juice (in total)
2 tsp Lemon Juice
1 1/4 cups Cornstarch
1 teaspoon Cream of Tartar
1 cup Confectioners Sugar

Line a 9x9 pan with aluminum foil and grease the foil with nonstick cooking spray. Set aside for now.

Place the sugar, lemon juice, and 1 1/2 cups of the grape juice in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, and bring the mixture to a boil. Brush down the sides of the pan with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar crystals from forming, and insert a candy thermometer.

Continue to boil the sugar mixture, without stirring, until it reaches 240 degrees.  But when the sugar syrup is around 225 degrees, begin to get the rest of the candy ingredients prepared.  Place the remaining 3 cups of grape juice in another, larger, saucepan. Add the cornstarch and cream of tartar and whisk until the starch dissolves and there are no lumps (this is super important). Place the saucepan over medium heat and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring or whisking CONSTANTLY.  The mixture will thicken into a smooth paste.

Once the sugar syrup is at 240 degrees, remove it from the heat. Slowly, carefully, pour it into the cornstarch mixture, whisking until it is fully incorporated.  A friend to help with this part is good.  Gloves and an apron are better.  Friends, gloves and aprons all around is best!

Reduce the heat to low and simmer, whisking it every 8-10 minutes, for about an hour, until the candy has turned a light golden-yellow color and is very thick and gluey.  Again, be careful.  The candy is very hot and very thick and it will pop as it slowly boils.  This will burn when it lands on your skin.  (Children's confections are not for the faint of heart!)

After an hour, remove from the heat and pour the candy into the prepared pan and allow it to set, uncovered, overnight.

The next day, remove the candy from the pan using the foil as handles. Dust your work station with the powdered sugar, and flip the candy onto the powdered sugar. Remove the foil from the back and dust the top with the sugar. Use an oiled chef’s knife to cut the Turkish Delight into small squares. Dust each side of the square with powdered sugar to prevent stickiness.

Turkish Delight is best soon after it is made. It doesn’t keep very well, but if you want to try keeping it, store it in an airtight container with waxed paper between the layers, and dust the sides with powdered sugar again before serving.


Lavender Green
This is a delightful cocktail my beloved created, named for the song Lavender Blue.  She remembers her grandmother singing it to her as a child. 

2 oz Dry Gin
1/2 oz Dry Vermouth
1 oz Grape Juice
1/2 oz Lavender Simple Syrup
2 dashes Vanilla Bitters

Shake over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  Garnish with a lemon twist. 

Enjoy the beverage and listen to Burl Ives singing Lavender Blue.

Preservation

The change of seasons in Colorado.  The mornings have turned crisp and the leaves have just started to turn colors.  Coworkers everywhere are bringing a surplus of end of year zucchini and tomatoes to leave in the break room for some sucker to take home. 

So many tomatoes

So what to do with the last of the veggies as the growing season comes to a close?   Or what do you do if your passion for your garden has flagged and you still have veggies you don't want to get rid of?   Or if you want to be completely ready for the coming Apocalypse? 

Think preservation, baby.

All the cool kids have been doing it for years.  In fact, learning how to grow and preserve your own food is arguably THE transition from nomadic hunter-gatherers to the establishment of civilization.  Your grandmother (or great-grandmother, for you young whipper-snappers) likely spent many hours preparing, canning and freezing vegetables to ensure her family had food through the lean winter months. 

Preservation encompasses three primary methods: canning, freezing and drying.  I love all three and each have their uses, but today we're talking about canning.  Many think it's difficult, expensive, and time consuming.  No, no and yes.  To do it right, that is.  But it's worth it for the ability to experiment. 

Like cooking, canning encourages a development of flavors that you cannot achieve any other way.  Canning demands heat and allows for time--critical elements  for the full benefit of taste.  Cucumbers transform into dill pickles; strawberry-rhubarb jam blends into something greater than either strawberries or rhubarb.  Chutney doesn't become the magic condiment it is until it has rested for a few months inside a jar. 

"So," you say, "I want to get started with canning.  Where do I begin?"  Your local super market or hardware store is ideal.  Here's a basic shopping list:

Boiling Water Canner (AKA water bath canner, $5-$80, and cheap is fine here!);
Jar Lifter ($5)
Canning Funnel ($2)
Mason Jars ($12-$20) (Interesting note: Mason Jars were not invented by the fraternal organization, the Masons, but the most prolific producer of Mason Jars is the Ball Company, founded by the Ball brothers.  Who were Masons.)
2-part Screw-on Lids ($2-$5)
I also recommend a good starter book like the Ball Blue Book of Preserving.  Simple clear instructions and good and delicious recipes. 

The beauty of this list?  Everything but the lid inserts are reusable.  Year after year, and all you need to spend is about $2 for lid inserts.  Not bad.

When canning, think safety.  It's not difficult, but it does take time.  Make sure everything is clean and sterilized.  That means LOTS of hot water.  Anything that touches food must be boiled in water for 10 minutes or more, and make certain you keep your hands clean.  Wash often.  The last thing you want is a case of botulism ruining everyone's dinner.  (Another interesting note: the prescription cosmetic Botox® is made from a variant of the botulinum toxin.) 

OK.  I admit, the possibility of killing everyone who tastes your food adds a little thrill to what would normally be a boring dinner, but that's not why I cherrish canning.  I love it because once you have a little practice, you'll find culinary inspiration everywhere.  Spices and herbs, fruits and vegetables: all of these can be put into a jar and canned to be taken to new gastronomical heights. 

Tonight for dinner:

Carrots Caramelized in Fig and Ginger
2 tablespoons Olive Oil
8 large Carrots, peeled and cut into quarters (in half length-wise, then in half across)
2 cloves Garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh Ginger, peeled and minced
1/4 cup Dry White Wine
1 Bay Leaf
Salt and Pepper
3 tablespoons Fig Preserves

Heat the oil in a skillet over medium high heat for 60 seconds.  Reduce the heat to medium and add the carrots, garlic and ginger; saute for 3-4 min until the garlic softens and turns aromatic. Add the white wine and bay leaf, cover the pan and simmer for 14-16 minutes. 

When the carrots have softened but still firm (you don't want them mushy!), remove the lid and turn up the heat.  Most of the wine should evaporate, leaving just a little liquid in the bottom of the skillet.  Remove the bay leaf and add the fig preserves.  Stir until the preserves dissolve into a syrup, then reduce the heat.  Keep stirring until the preserves thicken into a caramel-looking goo and all of the carrots are evenly glazed.

Oven Roasted Tomato Sauce
This is arguably my "signature" dish.  It is certainly my wife's favorite.  It takes time, but the results are incredibly worthwhile.
4 tablespoons Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper to taste
1 Onion, chopped
4 cloves Garlic, crushed
1 quart Canned Tomatoes, chopped, liquid included
1/2 teaspoons Crushed Red Chili Flakes (to taste)
2 Anchovies
1 Carrot, peeled and chopped
1 Bell Pepper, seeded and large diced
1/4 cup dry White Wine
1/2 teaspoon Sugar (if needed)
3 tablespoons fresh Oregano, chopped
8-10 Button Mushrooms, sliced (optional)

Heat your oven to 250 degrees.  Combine the tomatoes, chili, carrots, garlic, onions, peppers and pour into a cookie sheet with walled sides.  Pour slowly or you'll make a heck of a mess. Drizzle olive oil over the top. Spread evenly on the pan and bake for two and half to three hours, stirring and turning over the mixture every 30 minutes. Repeat until the liquid no longer pools in the pan and the tomatos appear intense in color. 

In a large saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat and add the anchovies.  Stir and mash until the anchovies dissolve.  Add the oven roasted tomato sauce.  Mix well, and using a stick blender, break the sauce down. Stir in the oregano. Add the mushrooms and keep warm over lowest heat.  Serve over fresh pasta with a little cheese. 

Spiced Honey
1 cup Honey
2 quarter-inch slices of Lemon
1 stick Cinnamon
2 pods Green Cardamom
6-8 whole Cloves

In a saucepan, heat the all of the ingredients and boil for 2 minutes.  Pour all of the ingredients into a sterilized 1/2 pint jar.  Seal with a sterile 2 part lid and process in a water bath for 10 minutes.  Let the honey season for at least a week or two.  

Dumbing It Down vs Guilty Pleasures

'When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.'  --Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

Today I feel a good rant coming on.  I gotta get some things off of my chest.

Language is exceptionally powerful.  It's true that the mind thinks in pictures and raw emotions, but words stimulate the mind into creating a tangible image to grasp.  If you doubt what I mean, think about the pronoun in each of the following sentences: "She became the president of the company."  "One never knows."  "He left the station at 3:00."  Who were the "she," "one," and "he" mentioned?  What did their faces look like?  Was the "one" male or female? 

So, if you follow my argument, and agree that the words we use change the audience's world by giving them new mind pictures to experience, what happens when we start simplifying the language we use?  It's subtle.  For example, a Martini is a beverage that has 5 parts gin, 1 part dry vermouth, and garnished with a lemon twist or an olive.  So a patron walking up to the bar and asking for a martini made with her favorite vodka is akin to asking for a hamburger but replace the meat with tofu.  We've changed what's in it, therefore, we cannot name it the same thing.  At the very least we should now call it a vodka martini or a tofu burger.  And yes, vodka is the tofu of the alcohol world.  (Tilapia is the tofu of the fish world, but that's another rant.) 

I also see generic over-generalizations, for example "cooking dinner."  "Cooking" demands a procedure of steps to take a set of basic ingredients and combine them into a common mass that is greater than the sum of its parts.  Cooking is NOT opening a can or a package and heating the contents inside.  Even if you closely follow a recipe, "cooking" involves some level of risk.  It allows for both failure and serendipity.  "Cooking" is art and therefore how much of yourself you put in is a variance of degree--analogous in range of a paint-by-number to Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel.

And if you think I'm being melodramatic, I would further suggest that our over-simplification of "cooking dinner" by opening a package and (perhaps) applying heat has gone a long way to contributing to the "food deserts" that lead to both poor nutrition and obesity.  Andrew Zimmern writes a rather scathing and insightful article on the very topic.  Please read it.

Food and language are the mediums about which I most enjoy being self-righteous, but we can all find numerous idiocies that give us crazy eyes.  Television programming (how can there be that many shows about hoarders/antique treasure seekers/ghost and monster hunters/dating rituals of the self-absorbed/B-list celebrities gasping for one last breath of fame?); or driving through the city, dodging a never ending slalom of construction during rush hour; and American political rhetoric.  The list can go on, ad nauseum. In short, we--probably all humans, to some extent, but many Americans, in particular--have institutionally (and lingually and cullinarily) sacrificed the absolute glory and majesty of what's available for a silver bullet of the least common denominator. 

But here we come to the irony of Humpty's statement, above.  Humpty Dumpty is a jerk.  By being so persnickety in his use of language, he would entirely alienate himself from everyone else, and in his isolation would miss out on one of life's greatest joys: the Guilty Pleasure. 

Most of the inane television listed above exists solely to satisfy our guiltiest of pleasures, Shadenfruede.  I confess that I, too, can find myself engrossed in a good episode of Cops.  But remember, I am also quite fond of Spam.  Both are satisfying on occasion. 

That's where I will leave this conversation.  With the idea that, in responsibility and recognition of what we doing, bad things can be really good.  But if we simply accept the banal and lazy ways of the herd, we are destined to be treated as cattle.  Life is too rich not to enjoy it all.  Or as a great man once said (maybe it was Shakespeare, Walter Cronkite or Hagar the Horrible), "Everything in moderation.  But don't overdo it." 

For breakfast, a by-definition-not-cooking-breakfast:

A cheese platter of
Gran Queso
Stilton with Mango
Vermeer Reduced fat Gouda
Menage
Saxon Creamery Big Ed's Cheese

Sliced White-flesh Freestone Peach

Farmers Rye Bread, toasted in a skillet

Applewood Smoked Bacon

Yellowtail Bubbles Sparkling Rosé


P.S. I recognize that I'm neither the first nor the best in ranting about the dumbing down of food or language. "It is what it is," is a phrase that needs to be done away with all together so that we might actually have a conversation about what "it" is. "Have a good one" is a throw-away dismissal that could be so much more rewarding if the receiver heard, "Have a wonderful afternoon." My all time favorite commentary about American's poor writing skills is one writer's passion for Alot. Read it. Laugh out loud. No, I mean seriously laugh out loud, not just LOL.