I Write for Food| Reviews, recipes, travel, and photography

February 4, 2023February 4, 2023

Come for the Food . . . Stay for a Mocktail

It’s a cool, rainy night in Greensboro, NC. I’ve flown into town on business, but am also armed with a restaurant recommendation from a fellow gaffer: Machete.

The Machete I know is a B-movie starring Danny Trejo, the famous Mexican-American actor who has appeared in 215 movies.

215!!!!

That’s a lot of movies.

Any guesses who has been in the most?

Eric Roberts, with 455.

Whose best line may be from The Dark Knight: “What makes you think I wanna hear you talk?”

But I digress.

Which you have to expect if you name your restaurant after one of the modern era’s best-known exploitation flicks.

But tonight, I’m out to find a new Machete.

Machete the restaurant is located a bit outside of downtown, in Greensboro’s Fisher Park neighborhood. I walked in on a Tuesday night, without a reservation.

I asked for a seat at the bar.

This took a bit longer than I would have expected. The bar was largely open, and the restaurant sparsely peopled.

Eventually, I was seated at the bar. Ash introduced herself, gave me a menu.

(For the record, she was wearing a mask. I took this shot at the end of the evening, and asked if she’d mind removing it for the photo. She was nice enough to agree. But she wore it all other times, and I hate that I feel it’s necessary to point this out.)

We spoke a bit about the menu, and I asked her if the bartender could make me a mocktail.

If you’re unaware, a mocktail is a non-alcoholic cocktail. In most cases, the bartender will make you something simple, like a ginger or mint lemonade, and charge you the same as a cocktail.

So why do I occasionally order them? Because I have hopes that if there’s enough demand, restaurants and bars will put some thought into them, and make some complex beverages worthy of consumption.

And I’m usually disappointed.

So when Ash asked what I liked, I gave my usual answer – not sweet, citrus, ginger, light and refreshing, and prepped myself for the ginger lemonade.

Instead, I got something different.

Not a lemonade. Something that tasted like a good cocktail. It was light, refreshing, and had more depth then one typically sees in a mocktail. I was pleasantly surprised, and it was a good start to the evening.

Ash had told me the menu was largely small plates, and had made a couple of recommendations.

I started with the potato, described on the menu as “potato: veal . allium”.

What arrived from the kitchen was a small bowl with a rectangular Hasselback potato, topped with chives and scallions. Alongside, a small pot of broth, which I poured over the potato.

The broth smelled wonderful – a veal brodo, thicker than a broth. With the potato, a simple deconstructed stew.

I ate this a slice at a time, a spoonful of potato, onion and broth. It was like a warm hug, comfort food chasing away the chill and damp of the night.

Not a drop was wasted.

Notably, the veal in this broth was the only meat in this meal. The rest of the meal was accidentally vegetarian – where the dishes are so good, you don’t even notice you’re eating vegetarian.

Asian milk bread, cranberry and raspberry butter

broccolini: sesame . ginger . crunchy garlic

The bread service arrived. This evening, a Chinese milk bread, with a cranberry and raspberry butter. Milk bread is a bread made using milk rather than water. The final product is light, fluffy and slightly sweet. It paired nicely with the fruity tang of the butter. From the presentation, I’m guessing a cranberry compound butter, dusted with freeze-dried raspberry powder.

Next up was the broccolini, one of my favorite vegetables.

Amoxicillin, a non-alcoholic version of the drink Penicillin.

Here the presentation was simple – charred broccolini with scattered garlic chips, dressed with a sesame and ginger sauce.

It’s a great preparation.

The broccolini is undeniably the star of the dish, but the dressing complements it well, smoothing some of the bitterness.

As for the fried garlic chips, well, they’d taste good on a plate of rusty nails.

My first mocktail was long gone, and I wanted to challenge the bartender a bit. This time, I asked for something herbaceous, deep and complex.

After about five minutes, Kevan presented me with what he called Amoxicillin, his take on a mocktail Penicillin.

This started off bitter.

Almost too bitter, then quickly hit with citrus and herb. It finished with a smoky draw.

Fantastic – easily the most complex non-alcoholic drink I’ve had.

Kevan told me a long list of ingredients, including grapefruit juice, black walnut, and kinh gioi. Kinh gioi is a Vietnamese herb with sawtoothed leaves, looking a bit like mint. However, when you bite into it, you get a strong lemon taste. He had muddled some of this into the drink.

But where did the smoke come from?

sunchoke: brown butter . smoked onion . preserved lemon

Well, since Penicillin is a scotch-based cocktail, Kevan wanted to reproduce a bit of that flavor in the drink. So he added a bit of brewed lapsang souchong tea, a black tea that is finished over a pine fire. It has a very smoky finish. Shaken into the mocktail, it provided the complexity and finish of a good cocktail. This is the best mocktail I’ve had, and really sets a high bar. I can’t recommend this one enough, if you have the palate.

Earthy sunchokes – look a bit like mushrooms here, don’t they?

Next up was one of my favorite tubers, a plate of sunchokes, prepared as both a dish and the garnish for that dish.

Sunchokes – sometimes called Jerusalem artichokes – are hard to find in stores, and really aren’t for everyone. They aren’t a version of an artichoke, which is the usual assumption. Sunchokes are actually a member of the sunflower family.

Raw sunchokes look a lot like ginger. They have the same shape, the same thin skin, and are also a tuber that grows underground. Because of this, there’s often a bit of grit.

The sunchokes were surrounding a pool of smoked onion puree, topped with chips of fried sunchoke, drizzled with drops of preserved lemon gastrique.

This is kind of a fun dish. I ate the chips with my fingers, dipping in the onion puree. It was like an elevated chips and french onion dip.

Eventually, I quit playing with my food, and simply scooped up bites of sunchoke and puree, dragging it through the gastrique. It was earthy, smoky, sweet and salty at times, depending on which element I had the most of in any given bite.

While each dish was delicious, this may have been my favorite of the night. It’s rare to find sunchokes on a menu, and if you do they’re usually pureed. So to be able to eat them as a vegetable, yes, including a couple bits of grit, was a nice surprise. The preserved lemon gastrique is an unusual addition, but it plays well with the smoked onion puree.

frenet menta malt bar: chocolate mousse . brownie brittle

Dessert – yes, I saved room for dessert – was this impossible-to photograph monstrosity.

Billed as “frenet menta malt bar” this was an intriguing dish.

Brownie crisp, milk chocolate mousse, and a deep dark chocolate bar

Frenet branca is a bitter herbal liquor often drank as a digestif, an after-dinner drink to aid in the digestion of one’s repast. It’s . . . an acquired taste.

Frenet menta is the mint-flavored version, so a simple man would say this dessert is a chocolate mint cake, with a side of pudding.

It’s a bit more than that, although the mousse and the cake weren’t quite as harmonious a pairing as you might think. The mousse was silky and lush; the brownie crisp suitably crunchy.

Perhaps it’s my imagination, but the herbal notes of the frenet never seemed to mesh cleanly with the chocolate.

Regardless, an ambitious dish and I applaud the effort. Far better this than another unimaginative creme brûlée.

I received another surprise when the bill arrived.

Those 2 delicious mocktails?

$7 each–a bargain.

Machete is that rare restaurant where the bar has the same elevated talent as the kitchen. Both drinks and food are prepared with a high degree of expertise, and brought by knowledgeable servers.

I highly recommend it.

Oh, and that wait for a seat at the bar? The restaurant was packed when I left. They had a full book when I walked in, but took some steps to accommodate me. So make a reservation!

Machete is located at 600 C Battleground Avenue, Greensboro, NC. Their phone number is 336.265.8859. Open 5 pm – 9 pm Tuesday through Thursday, and till 10 pm on Friday and Saturday.

https://machetegso.com

May 14, 2022

Memphis in May. In Mississippi?

My day started in Detroit with an 8:30 flight to Memphis. It was 60 degrees.

It’s 10:40 now, 87 degrees, headed to 95, with humidity to match.

I’m sitting in a dirt parking lot in Byhalia, Mississippi. It’s about a 40-minute drive from the Memphis airport. To my disappointment, I didn’t have to drive through Halia to get here.

I’m reflecting on my clothing decision; cotton underwear would have been a bad choice. There’s a literal swamp up the road, and a figurative one . . . Never mind.

The route from Memphis to Byhalia follows the railroad line, seemingly unchanged from the days when Mississippi shipped bales of cotton on the train to Memphis. Whenever I get out of the major cities and drive a bit deeper into the country side, I’m reminded of how railroads determined the location of cities and businesses. If you want to experience the real South, follow the railroad tracks, not the interstates.

It’s an interesting drive to Byhalia. Leaving Memphis, you pass an enormous BNSF Intermodal yard, seemingly at least a mile long, where double-stacked containers are unloaded from the train. Giant cranes move these 53′ containers from rail to road, loading them onto trailer chassis for truck transport to destination. It’s a gigantic operation, truck traffic is very heavy, and the road is crap. Glad I chose the pickup at Hertz. A sedan would be bottoming out every 50 feet.

Shortly after passing that operation, you cross the state line into Mississippi. The vegetation is lush, befitting the near tropical climate (humidity, anyone?).

I know I’m headed in the right direction as each exit’s signs advertise another BBQ restaurant. Although when I arrive at Exit 10, there’s no sign.

I decide I’m OK with that.

A couple of turns later, I’ve crossed into Wallace Count. I pull into Jimbo’s Brickhouse BBQ. It’s situated at the front of a large lot that runs all the way back to the railroad tracks. By the tracks, the ruin of an old siding. Beside the restaurant, a stack of wood, with a couple of different hardwoods.

Interesting.

It’s one of the old out buildings from when this lot housed a brick factory. Hence the name.

At least 2 kinds of hardwood there, I think

When I roll down the window, I get a whiff of smoke and rendering fat. I’m in the right spot.

I’m early, so I kill some time. The AC is cranked up on the truck, and I’m exchanging waves with everyone who drives through the lot – Mississippi is hospitable. I chuckle a bit as my playlist spits out The Hold Steady’s big hit, then Elvis’ version of How Great Thou Art (his only Grammy-winning album). It’s almost like my phone knows where I am.

At a couple of minutes to 11, I see a lady plugging in the fans on the patio, so I mosey over. Tandy greets me with “How y’all doin’?” She leads me inside.

It smells of heaven, or at least close enough for this BBQ aficionado. The walls are plywood, with the mandatory amount of pig pictures, sculptures, and other ephemera.

I don’t believe The King ever ate here. But if he had, he’d still be coming back.

The menu seems pretty standard for the region – ribs, chopped pork, chicken. The usual sides: turnip greens, potato salad, mac and cheese. The mandatory Memphis-area appetizer, the sausage and cheese plate.

This is the menu, but, like all good BBQ places, they’ll let you freestyle your own plate.

Then I notice a couple of surprises. Brisket is listed as one of the meats, and one of the sides is smoked cabbage.

I start by ordering the working man’s charcuterie, the Sausage & Cheese appetizer. I admit it; I’m a sucker for this. I usually only see it around Memphis, or in a Memphis-style BBQ joint. It almost never varies: a pile of smoked sausage, cut into 1/4″ rounds, cubes of cheddar and pepper jack cheeses, pepperoncini, bread & butter pickles, Ritz crackers, and mustard (honey mustard if y’all are fancies).

The classic Memphis appetizer, one I almost always order.

The only thing made in house, if anything, is the sausage, and sometimes (rarely) the pickles. That’s the case here, as none of this is made in-house, although the sausage is cooked here, and Tandy informs me “there’s a trick”. From the shiny casing, I’m guessing that trick might be cooking it below the pork butts, so the rich rendering fat drips all over it. But what do I know?

Or care. It’s delicious, homey, comforting, and reminds me of all the good BBQ meals I’ve had in shacks and dives around Memphis. Fantastic.

I also order a combo plate, brisket and chopped pork. For the sides, turnip greens and potato salad.

Tim’s Combo (not on the menu, but it should be): Chopped Pork, Beef Brisket, Turnip Greens, Potato Salad. Everything on this plate tastes great!

Portions are generous. Sides are served in small bowls, like you’d get with a cup of soup. I’m guessing the 2 slices of brisket are 6 ozs., maybe a bit more of the chopped pork. The platter comes with two small cups – a bit of cole slaw (Memphis style!) and sauce.

Let’s start with the brisket. This will get controversial quickly. The brisket slices are thick, over 1/2″. There is a distinct smoke ring, and a thick bark. The meat is moist and tender. So tender if fact, that it pulls apart easily. So, to a Texan, probably heresy, as it’s lacking the proper “pull”. It’s delicious, with a rich beef taste and a peppery smoke flavor. I sauced it a bit for variety, but it didn’t need it.

Bark? Check. Smoke ring? Check. Tender? Check. Tasty? You bet!

The base house sauce is a typical southern BBQ sauce, with that familiar Open Pit flavor. That’s not a criticism. It’s perfectly fine for a number of meats.

They also have a spicy BBQ sauce. I was advised to try a bit first, as “the heat level varies by how cranky Jimbo is that day”. I cannot tell you how much that remark pleased me. Today, Jimbo seems pretty OK with life, as the spice level is moderate. You know it’s there, and your tongue tingles, but you can still taste the brisket.

Chopped pork – bark, smoke ring, fat. Goooood stuff! And look at those greens!

The chopped pork is delicious – bits of fat and bark interspersed with short strings of pulled pork. Chopped pork is a Southeast thing; I’ve only seen it in Memphis, Mississippi and Georgia. It makes a great sandwich, or if you have some leftover Ritz crackers (I do!) to make tiny fancy pig canapés to treat yo-self.

And the sides? Oh my!

The turnip greens are perfect – seasoned, tender through, and swimming in pot likker enhanced with a bit of smoked meat. As is proper, Tandy brought along the pepper vinegar to finish the greens. I would eat a bowl of these with cornbread anytime and be a happy man.

The potato salad took me back to the church basement, to the potlucks of my youth in Missouri. Someone always made potato salad that tastes just like this, with chopped pickles, a bit of mustard, and some egg yolks crushed in. It tastes down home, and if you know what that means, you’re with me.

I asked Tandy if Jimbo was busy. A few minutes later, and I’m talking to my new friend, Jimbo Dalton. He and his lovely wife Lisa are about to celebrate their 30th anniversary. They opened up this spot 2 years ago.

2 years ago.

At the height of a global pandemic.

I asked Jimbo if he was crazy. He said he figured people were still gonna eat, and they’d need someplace to do it. They’d been running a food trailer for a year, and he felt it was time. He thinks he made the right decision.

Jimbo said it ain’t about money. He said if he feeds somebody, and “they walk away rubbin’ their belly and smilin’,” he feels like he won a trophy.

We started talking ‘cue, as Memphis in May is the country’s largest BBQ competition. It seems we both feel the same about competition BBQ; it’s not the real thing. Competition is at least 1/3 about how the meat looks piled up on parsley in a styrofoam box. In all my stops at BBQ shacks, dives, respectable restaurants and places of ill-repute, I’ve never been served my meal like that. So it’s fake, and it’s about doing it once.

Real BBQ excellence is doing it every day, we agreed. Putting out great product and building a base of loyal customers is the real win.

I did ask Jimbo about that brisket. I said I understood why the slices were so thick, that the meat would fall apart if cut to normal thickness. I complimented him on the taste, and we talked about how he cooks it – rubbed with salt, pepper and garlic, then cooked over low heat for 16 or 17 hours.

I asked why he made it so tender, when the Texas standard is to have a bit of pull to the meat. He asked “Where you from?”

I answered Michigan, just outside Detroit.

He said, “Well this is Mississippi, and people ain’t go no teeth. So I have to make it like that!”

It took a while for me to stop laughing.

At this point some of the other customers started weighing in, suggesting I should come by on Friday for the catfish, or try the smoked cabbage.

And a few seconds later, a small dish of smoked cabbage was in front of me.

Jimbo said he cuts it up, seasons it, and throws it in the smoker. He said he did it once for a special, and so many people came back asking for it he made it permanent. It’s pieces of cabbage, about 1″ x 3″, single leaf thickness. You can see some specks on the piece, probably pepper. It’s very tender, does not taste like cabbage and has a faint taste of smoke. Subtle, not overpowering. It’s a bit weird, meaning I’d happily order it again. I might even try experimenting with this in my own smoker.

I asked Jimbo what he likes to cook most. He said he’ll do about 100 lbs. of catfish on Friday and he always runs out. But he started with ribs.

When the pitmaster tells you ribs are his favorite thing, you have to try ’em. And I’m glad I did.

And, like magic, 4 bones are in front of me. The ribs are dry, meaning rubbed not sauced. I asked if it was his own rub, and he allowed it was. I asked what was in it, and he just stared at me.

He did say he had a special sauce for the ribs, and some appeared on the table. This was a darker, sweeter sauce, and I guessed a molasses base. He agreed it might have some molasses. The ribs were right between falling off the bone and gnaw-able. The meat came off the bone with a bit of pull, and I mean that in the best way. He’s really found that midpoint where you can easily eat to the bone, and not have to embarrass yourself to do so. If I’m back in town, I’m ordering these first.

The counter was loaded with giant slices of homemade cake (caramel, coconut, and others) and a small fridge was loaded with pie. I tried neither, nor did I clean off any of the plates I ordered. I tasted a lot of things, but these portions are generous. I couldn’t do it (although I ate every speck of those greens!).

Jimbo’s mom and dad work back in the kitchen, so the place is a family affair. Mom was running the fryer, turning out batches of fresh cut fries and onion rings. Dad seemed to be supervising . . . which appears to mean the same thing in the North and the South.

For a place that’s been open 2 years, you’d never know it. It has that lived-in feel of an established BBQ shack, and the customers seem to love it. I’d happily eat there again any time I’m in town.

A man and his smoker. Jimbo built it himself, says it took 5 days. The temp gauge is under his hand. Yep, he hid it. Trade secrets, doncha know?

Regular readers will know there are 4 kinds of BBQ restaurants: bad meat, bad sides (Type 1 – like 1 and done), good meat, bad sides (Type 2 – very common), bad meat, good sides (Type 3 – very rare), and good meat, good sides (Type 4).

Jimbo’s is a Type 4. I’d go there just for the sides (I’m lying), and the meats are great.

I highly recommend Jimbo’s. They’ve got it all – great food, friendly service and you can taste the love.

I don’t do rankings or superlatives (“The Number One BBQ shack in the world!”, or “THE BEST BBQ EVER!!!!!!”). Go to YouTube or TikTok for that noise.

But I’ll tell you this: Jimbo’s is a great BBQ shack.

If you eat there, you’ll leave happy and full, rubbin’ your belly and smilin’.

Jimbo’s Brickhouse BBQ is located at 8600 MS 178 in Byhalia, MS. They’re open 7 days: Sundays 11 – 3, and from 11 – 8 Monday through Saturday. You can call in orders at 662.838.2714, but then you’d miss meeting all the nice people there. You should probably go in and sit awhile.

June 21, 2021

On Becoming a Gaffer

A few months ago, I received one of the best gifts ever: 8 weeks of glass-blowing classes.

I’ve always been a fan of glass art, and this was my opportunity to learn exactly what went into it.

The classes were held at Acorn Glassworks in Plymouth, Michigan. For three hours each week, I head into the hot shop.

Hot shops are called that for a couple of reasons – one, because they are designed around work with hot glass. Two, because they’re, well, hot! In this shop, there are two large furnaces for making glass. Both are over 2,000 degrees. Additionally, there are three smaller furnaces, called glory holes, used to reheat (flash) glass on a pipe or punty. Glory holes are about 2,200 degrees. Even the annealer, the oven used to cool the finished pieces, is 900 degrees.

All told, hot shops are usually over 100 degrees, and considerably hotter when near the furnaces. It’s sweaty work.

During the first class, the first half hour or so is spent on Safety. With seven people in the shop, space can be at a premium. Add in 2,000 degree molten glass on the end of a 5′ punty, and it can get . . . uncomfortably close. You’re taught how to move around the shop correctly, and how to announce your presence to others. Communication is key. Accidents tend to be of the serious kind, given the medium.

Our first project was to make a flower. You take a punty (a solid pipe) to the furnace, open the door, endure the blast of scorching hot air, and stick the end of your punty down into the molten glass. You spin the pipe, to gather the glass, then raise it out of the glass, spinning the entire time, so any excess glass falls back into the furnace. You then pull the pipe from the furnace, constantly spinning, to keep that blob of molten class on the end of the stick.

Molten glass has a consistency of honey, so you can imagine trying to keep it from dripping. You spin the pipe constantly, which keeps the glass in a round shape, without drips.

For a flower, you tip the punty up, and press the hot glass onto the concrete floor. This gives the blob a conical shape, kind of like a Hershey’s Kiss, with a flat bottom on the end away from the pipe.

You sit on the glass working bench, and grab one of your tools, the tweezers.

Tweezers are just what they sound like, except much larger than you’d use to work with a splinter. Maybe a foot long or so.

You place the tweezers on the edge of the flat bottom, and you squeeze hard, to cut/indent the glass.

You then spin the pipe a bit, keeping the glass centered. You continue cutting in with the tweezers, so you have 5 or 6 petals.

At this point, the glass will have cooled too much to work, so you have to reheat. Back to the glory hole, a 2,300 degree blast furnace. You slide the punty into the furnace, till the glass is again glowing bright orange. While this is happening, you’re still spinning the pipe, making sure the glass stays centered on the pipe.

Back to the bench, and to the tweezers.

This time, you grab each of the petals with the tweezers, and pull out, lengthening the petals. Spin the pipe, grab the petal, stretch, repeat.

You do this very quickly, until you have 6 petals of approximately equal length. Then you again grab one of the petals, and this time you pull hard–stretching the flower away from the pipe, pulling the glass into a thin stem.

Twisting the pipe during this process puts a spiral or two in the stem, or you can skip that, and keep the stem straight. Either way, you use the diamond shears to cut deeply into the stem. You then use the tweezers to gather a bit of water from the tool bucket and you tip that water onto the cut mark. This thermally shocks the glass in that area.

Once this is done, you carry your pipe, with a dangling glass flower, over to the knockoff table. As you’re walking past other students, you’re announcing yourself, letting them know you’re coming through.

At the bench, you invert your punty so the flower rests on the fireproof cloth. You grab a small wooden club, and tap the punty with about as much force as if you were cracking an egg. If your thermal shock was done correctly, the stem breaks cleanly from the pipe. You put the still hot pipe in a bucket of water, don an asbestos glove, and use some giant tongs to move your flower into the annealer.

The annealer is a 900-degree oven that gradually cools the glass over several hours, preventing thermal shock and breakage.

Ta-da! You’ve made your first glass.

Next is paperweights, and then to actually blowing glass.

Blowing is much more complex, and is the basis of most hot glass making. Once you can effectively blow a bubble, you can make almost anything.

To start, you choose a blowpipe. These are about the same length as punties, but are hollow–big steel straws.

Again dipping into the furnace, gathering a blob of glass onto your pipe. Blowpipes are thicker than punties, so your gathered blob will be larger. It will also be harder to keep on the pipe.

Once you’ve cleared the furnace, you take your gather over to a large stainless steel table.

Working on the marver – the trays are filled with colored frit. You can roll the hot glass in the frit, to apply color to your piece.

The marver is used to rapidly cool the glass, making it easier to handle. You roll the blob across the marver, rolling it with a downward angle, which pushes the glass off the pipe, making the workable glass section larger. You then level the pipe, and roll the end section even. If you do this correctly, you will have a round cylinder on the end of the pipe, the perfect shape to begin working.

At this point, you do a Cap and Blow, which is actually a Blow and Cap. After puffing into the pipe, you cover the end with your thumb. You keep rolling the pipe, keeping the glass on center.

Physics goes to work. On one end of the pipe, a smokin’ hot blob of molten glass. Inside the pipe, air under a bit of pressure. On the other end, no exit, as your thumb is over the hole.

As the air inside the pipe heats, there’s only one place to go. The air begins to expand, and an air bubble begins to force its way into the molten glass. When the bubble is the size of a strawberry, you take your thumb off the pipe end, and you hear the “pfft” of the escaping air.

The bubble stops expanding.

The glass has cooled quite a bit by this time, and you head back to the furnace. You gather again, on top of the bubble you’ve created.

Coming out of the furnace this time, you have a softball-sized blob of glass on the end of your pipe. You have to really pay attention, and spin quickly, to keep this from falling off the pipe.

Back to the bench, and you reach for a block. Blocks are primitive tools, carved wood with a bowl on one end, and a long handle. The bowl is open on one side. They’re kept soaking in the tool bucket, so they don’t catch fire when you do the next step.

Placing the block under the blob, you allow gravity to drop the glass onto the soaked wood. It steams and hisses as you rotate the pipe, using gentle pressure to encourage the glass off the pipe, and the blob into a smooth cylindrical shape. Finesse is key here.

The block shapes and cools the glass. Placing the block back into the bucket, you stand, keeping the pipe on the right side rail, and begin blowing.

You blow with about the same force as playing a trumpet. Our instructor, Mary, jokes that band kids make great gaffers, as they’re already good at this part.

As you blow, the strawberry-sized bubble you made earlier begins to expand. Continuing to roll the pipe while blowing (a bit like patting your head and rubbing your stomach), keeps the glass on center, ensuring the bubble blows out evenly.

Blowing into a mold to quickly shape the glass

If you’ve done it correctly, it will look like a big light bulb.

At this point, you can apply color, blow the glass into a mold for shape, or otherwise manipulate the glass.

Flashing the glass again to heat it up, you sit back down at the bench, rotating the pipe as you pick up the jacks, giant tweezers used to shape the bubble.

As you spin the glass, you place the legs of the jacks on each side of the bubble, using gentle pressure to create a line. This is cutting a jack line.

Each time you work the glass, you have 15 seconds or so before it cools off. Once it has cooled, your tools won’t work. They’ll clank on the cool glass, making a sound that cues your instructor to shout, “More heat, Tim!”

The vertical piece of plywood is a heat shield

Back to the glory hole.

When you’re good, you can shape a cup in a single reheat. For us students, it’s four or five trips to the glory hole, reheating and working the glass. Or a dropped piece, which goes in the cullet bucket.

After smoothing the sides, you use a wooden paddle to flatten the bottom, gently pressing the wood to the spinning glass. Again, finesse is key. Too much pressure will collapse the bubble and you’ll get to start over.

When you have a flat bottom, and smooth sides, you call for a punty.

A helper takes a solid pipe to the furnace and gathers a very small amount of glass. They use the marver, pushing forward while they roll, to pull the glass back onto the pipe, leaving only a small amount at the tip.

This is taken to the gaffer, who grabs the pipe with the tweezers, lifts the punty toward their face. They blow on the punty, to cool the tip a bit. They then guide the glass into the center of the bottom of their piece.

Opening the mouth of the cup with the jacks

Once the punty is attached, the gaffer applies water to the jack line. He then taps the blowpipe hard. If done correctly, the jack line breaks cleanly, and the helper now has the glass on their pipe.

They immediately move to the glory hole, reheating the glass. The gaffer takes his blow pipe over by the knockoff table, and places it in a dry bucket to cool. He hurries back to the glory hole, taking the pipe back from the assistant, thanking them for their help.

Back to the bench, and begin using the jacks to open the mouth of the vessel. Again, heat is key, as is finesse. If you force it, it will quickly go out of round, and you’ll have a very awkwardly-shaped cup (I have several, if you’d care to buy one!). Slow gentle pressure, easing open the jacks while spinning the pipe, opening the mouth of the vessel to the size you want.

Once the vessel has been shaped to your plan, you tip up the pipe, apply water to the tip of the punty, and head over to the knockoff bench.

A gentle tap to separate the pipe, then a brief heating with an oxyacetylene torch to heat any sharp edges in the break point, which are then pressed down flat with . . . a butter knife.

Asbestos glove, giant tongs, and a quick step over to the annealer.

If you’ve done everything correctly (and you won’t, for at least a few classes), you’ll have a flat sided, flat bottomed, symmetrical cup.

Like this:

And once you can do that, you’re well on your way to becoming a gaffer. You have the techniques you need, a base mastery of the tools, and a sense of the finesse required.

From this point on, it’s learning new techniques.

I enjoyed the classes so much I immediately signed up for the Intermediate class. It’s 8 weeks of further instruction. After that, you’re educated enough to be dangerous, and you can rent studio time in the hot shop.

I’ve burned myself twice, both times from my own mistakes. Neither were serious, although as I type this, I have a sear line across my palm from Saturday’s class. You really shouldn’t touch the pipe near the glass.

Trust me, you won’t touch it for long.

I really enjoy the classes.

Glassblowing requires your full concentration. It’s physically demanding (lots of sports drink, and you’ll still be wiped out from the heat), and it allows me a creative outlet.

I’m experimenting with new shapes, and getting better with color.

I hear fewer shouts of “More heat, Tim!”

I’ve also made some new friends.

And my kids got me some cool glassblowing T-shirts for Fathers’ Day. So I got that going for me.

Which is nice.

Acorn Glassworks is located at 650 Church Street, Suite 120, in Plymouth, MI. You’ll find glass studios all over, and most offer classes.

COVID protocols are been followed in our classes. Masks are required, except when blowing. Hand sanitizer is used constantly, and the punties, tools, and blowpipes are disinfected with 70% isopropyl alcohol. I didn’t reference this in the story because we’re all bored with hand sanitizer by now, right?

May 3, 2021May 3, 2021

#Quarantine Cooking – Caramelized Mushroom Pasta – Meatless Monday

I’m two shots in (vaccines, that is), so kind of hoping this might be the last edition of #Quarantine Cooking. While I still might do a recipe from time to time, I really started this site to make people aware of great local restaurants I came across.

As with so many other things, then came COVID.

But it appears the vaccines are going well, so maybe things will be opening back up soon?

Anywho . . . I’m still cooking at home, with a vegetarian in the mix.

The trick to vegetarian or meatless cooking, in my opinion, is making delicious food. Delicious food that doesn’t happen to contain meat.

Taste has to be the primary goal, and meatless the outcome. That’s when a recipe is successful, and this recipe has that in spades.

Today we’re making Caramelized Mushroom Pasta. Originally featured as a recipe by Allison Robicelli in The Takeout, we’re going to use mushrooms in a couple of ways.

To start with, 2 pounds of mushrooms. You can use any kind of mushroom, but try to use a couple of different types. With more than one type, you’ll have more than one flavor, which makes this dish more interesting. Try cremini and shiitake, or button and portabella, or morels and chanterelles, if you happen to have hit the lottery recently.

Brush the mushroom caps to remove any dirt or other . . . stuff.

Then, break off the stems, separating them from the caps.

If you’re like me, while you’re doing this, you’ll flash back to the Muffin Tops episode of Seinfeld. That’s OK, you’re normal, keep going.

Nothing weird about that WHATSOEVER!

Grab a 2-qt saucepan, and fill it up with a quart of vegetable stock, and 2 cups of water.

Now, if you have a vegan or vegetarian in the house, you probably have one or two partially full boxes of vegetable stock in the fridge. Here’s your chance to use them up. You want to end up with 6 cups of liquid in the pot. Use whatever mix of leftover broth and water you have to make that happen. If you’re not shooting for meatless, you could even use some leftover chicken broth.

I won’t judge.

Put that pot on to medium low heat. and add in the mushroom stems. You don’t have to chop them up, just dump ’em in.

Back to the mushroom caps. You can slice these up, chop them, mince them, or rough chop to fat chunks. What will your diners prefer? I like nice chunks, but the family likes a smaller dice. I pretty much mince the mushrooms. You do what works best for you. It won’t change the cooking time much.

Put a Dutch oven on the stove, over high heat. High! Not medium, not medium high. High. We’re going for caramelization here, not tanning.

No oil or butter in the pan.

Which is over high heat.

Add the sliced mushrooms, and season with salt. Put a lid on the pot, and leave it alone for 5 minutes.

After 5 minutes, take off the lid, and add 1/4 cup of olive oil. Stir well, and continue to cook over high heat for 20 minutes. If anything starts to stick, add a bit of water, scrape the bottom, and continue. There’s a lot of moisture in those ‘shrooms, and it has to evaporate for the vegetables to begin to caramelize.

After 20 or 25 minutes, there should be great color on the mushrooms. Reduce the heat to medium, and stir in a diced onion, 3 cloves of minced garlic, 3 sprigs of fresh thyme and 2 Tablespoons of white miso. Cook for 4-5 minutes, till the onion is translucent.

Place a strainer atop the pot, and pour in the simmered mushroom stock (the pan with the stems). Strain out the stems and little bits.

Add in 1 cup of heavy cream, then add 1 pound of uncooked pasta right into the pot.

Turn the heat back to high, until the pot reaches a boil. Boil for 12 or 13 minutes, till the pasta is al dente.

If you’re going meatless, stir in 1/4 cup of grated Parmesan. If you’re going vegetarian, sub in a suitable amount of brewer’s yeast.

Add 3 torn sage leaves, and stir to combine.

Taste. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon into pasta bowls, and top with additional grated Parmesan/brewer’s yeast, and a bit more of the torn sage.

Slice up a French baguette, top with some unsalted European butter (Plugra is great, as is President).

Creamy, umami-rich pasta. Delicious, rich and filling.

You won’t miss the meat.

Bon appetit!

February 14, 2021February 15, 2021

#Quarantine Cooking – Mushroom Bolognese

When boredom sets in, we try different things.

For me, that meant a food challenge: Meatless February.

I did this for a few reasons – first, it would force me to cook new recipes, and use new techniques. I wouldn’t spend a month eating flavorless food, nor would I simply buy 100 pounds of Impossible or Beyond, and sub it in for burger in every family recipe. Or eat mac & cheese every meal. I wanted to try new things, and learn something new in cooking.

Second, I’d recently watched a documentary on Netflix, The Game Changers. Thought-provoking, and made me wonder about the health benefits of a month’s diet without meat. You can watch it and judge for yourself, or check out their Web site: https://gamechangersmovie.com

Third, I have a committed vegetarian in the house. It wouldn’t hurt to steer the menu to her for a month, right?

So Meatless February, and I’d like to share one of the best recipes I’ve found so far. It’s so good you’ll not miss the meat, I promise. I’ll be cooking this one even after this challenge is done.

It’s Mushroom Bolognese, and I found the base recipe on The Takeout, here: https://thetakeout.com/this-mushroom-bolognese-is-so-rich-it-made-the-fortune-1826465596.

I’ve made some changes to it, though, and think mine is better.

First, let’s get this out of the way.

This takes a LONG time to cook – about 3 hours. It’s not a quick weeknight recipe.

However, most of the cooking time is unattended. So there’s 30 minutes or so of work, and 2 1/2 hours of simmering. It’s like making a pot roast–you have to allow the right amount of time, but you don’t have to do too much once it’s in the oven.

To make this, you’ll need:

3 lbs. fresh mushrooms. Mix ’em up, at least 3 different kinds. The more the merrier, as it will add depth of flavor. While this recipe is good even if you use 3 pounds of white button mushrooms, it’s so much better if you add in some shiitake, cremini, portabella, or other type of mushroom. So get crazy, and buy 3 or 4 kinds. 3 pounds total.
2 big fat carrots. If you buy the 3 lb. bag, grab the 2 biggest carrots in the bag. If you buy the 1 lb. bag, use 3 or 4, as they’ll be smaller.
5 cloves garlic.
1 big, heavy onion. Buy whatever’s on sale: yellow, white, Spanish, sweet, whatever. Get 1 big onion.
Tomato paste. You can buy one of the little 6-oz. cans, but you won’t use it all and some will go to waste. Buy a tube of tomato paste instead (Italian section of the market), and you can keep the rest in the fridge, and cut down on waste.
White wine, about 1/2 a cup. Use whatever’s left in the fridge, including champagne (Valentine’s Day!), as long as it’s white, not pink or red. If you have to buy a bottle, get something Australian or Chilean with a screw-on cap–no waste.
Mushroom or vegetable stock, about 1 1/2 qts. Swanson’s boxes are easy. You’ll need 2.
Sherry vinegar
Hard, grating cheese. If I say Parmesan Reggiano, this is no longer vegetarian. Ditto Pecorino Romano. Let your conscience be your guide.

Almost all the work time you’ll be investing in this recipe is prep. So, if you don’t have a kitchen staff, sous chef, or help meet, grab your best knife and get to work. Peel the onion and carrots, chop to a 1/2″ dice, then do the same with the mushrooms. This will take forever, and you will hate me for directing you to do all this manual labor.

Or you can be lazy like me, grab the good ol’ stand mixer. Mine has a food processor attachment, and one of the tools make a near-perfect 1/2″ dice. Run the mushrooms through first, then the carrots, then the onion. You’ll need a big bowl, probably your largest, to hold all the chopped veggies.

Put an 8-qt. Dutch oven or stock pot on the stove over medium heat. Add a couple tablespoons of oil, and let it heat up.

Once that’s hot, add the chopped onion and carrot. Saute them until they’re beginning to soften, 4 or 5 minutes.

While that’s happening, chop the garlic cloves, or push through a garlic press. Add the garlic to the softened vegetables, and stir for 30 seconds or so.

Add about 2 tablespoons of tomato paste to the pot. Stir to distribute it around, and let this cook for a couple of minutes so it caramelizes. It will look darker when this happens, changing from bright red to rust.

Once you see that color, dump in the 1/2 cup of white wine. Scrub all the good brown bits off the bottom of the pot, and let this cook till the wine is almost gone.

Dump in all those chopped mushrooms, and give everything a good stir. Your pot will be almost full of mushrooms.

Here’s the first lengthy pause – you have to let the mushrooms cook till almost all the liquid has cooked out of them. The overall volume will reduce by half or more. DO NOT RUSH THIS STEP! You want to cook all the moisture out of the ‘shrooms, even let them pick up a bit of color from the heat. Give it a stir once in a while, turn the heat down a bit if it’s sticking, and let 35-45 minutes of cooking elapse.

You can see the difference in the two photos I’ve posted.

Once the vegetables have cooked down, add in a bay leaf or two. Put in 1/2 a tablespoon of dried thyme, or a tablespoon of fresh. You could add in a sprig or two of rosemary, if you’d like.

Now add 6 cups of stock to the pan, and stir everything up. If you’re using vegetable broth, you might want to drop in a tablespoon of Better than Bullion brand Mushroom concentrate. If you don’t have any, don’t sweat it. It will still taste great.

This begins the second long pause, as you are again going to let everything in the pot reduce till almost dry. This will again take a long time, and, as before, DO NOT RUSH THIS STEP! You want to cook all those flavors into the ‘shrooms, and you can’t rush the process. Just like before, stir it once in a while, watch the heat if it’s sticking, and let 35 – 45 minutes of cooking elapse.

In that first long cook, you cooked all the flavorless liquid out of the mushrooms. It was kind of like squeezing water out of a sponge.

In this second long cook, you’re concentrating flavorful liquid INTO the mushrooms, letting that wrung-out sponge suck up the flavorful broth. This ensures a tasty final product.

When it looks like the picture on the right, you’re almost done.

At this point, you can spoon half the sauce out of the pot, put it in your finest plasticware, and put it in the fridge or freezer for later.

Or, if you have a bunch of people coming for dinner, or ravenous teenagers at home from school, just leave it in the pot.

Fill another large pot with water, add a generous amount of salt, and put it over high heat.

How much salt? Till the water tastes like the ocean. A lot of salt, more than you think. 3 or 4 tablespoons, at least.

Once the water is joyfully boiling, dump in a pound or two of good-quality pasta. I like pappardelle for this dish–the wide noodles are great for plating, and holding the sauce. Don’t use a small shaped pasta–this isn’t the dish for elbow macaroni, or a tiny penne. Yes, you can use spaghetti, but pappardelle is better. Just use pappardelle, all right?

Now, to this point, the sauce is incredibly healthy and low-calorie. Nothing but chopped vegetables, broth, and a skotch of wine and tomato paste.

BORING!

Now we make it rich.

If you haven’t divided the sauce, add in a whole stick of butter. If you did halve the sauce, use half a stick.

Add about a cup of grated hard cheese. Parmesan Reggiano works great, but isn’t vegetarian. Pecorino Romano is cheaper, still isn’t vegetarian, and not quite as flavorful. Mozzarella is for pizza, and if you try to melt Velveeta into this, the vegetables will rise up and rebel against you. You can find vegetarian Parmesan–BelGioioso makes one. Trader Joe’s sells other vegetarian cheeses.

This is not the time to add nutritional yeast to sub for cheese. You’ve invested a lot of time in this sauce, and you want the juice to be worth the squeeze. Find a cheese that works for you.

Add in a couple tablespoons of olive oil.

Stir. Taste.

It will be thick.

And rich.

And unctuous.

And maybe need a bit of salt. Now would be the time to add it, if necessary.

By now, your pasta should be ready. Scoop a cup or two of the water out before you drain the pasta. You’ll use this in the next step.

Drain the pasta, and while the colander is doing its job, add a cup or so of the pasta water into the sauce. It will thin it nicely.

One final step for the sauce. It’s rich, flavorful, but could maybe use a bit of acidity. Remember that sherry vinegar? Now’s the time to add a dash or two–just a bit, to add a little brightness to the sauce. Taste it, see if it meets your standards.

Once the pasta is drained, dump it into the pot of sauce, and stir to combine. The pasta will soak up the sauce, and become even better.

Or, if like me you have family members that don’t like their pasta like this (sigh), then put some dry pasta in a bowl, and top with the delicious, rich mushroom bolognese. If you happen to have some good bread, or some hot garlic bread, or a decent breadstick, now would be the time to put them to good use.

Buon Appetito!

January 26, 2021

Peyton Was Right

In the annals of effective advertising, Peyton Manning serenading a Chicken Parmesan Sandwich ranks right up there.

If you’re advertising a Chicken Parmesan Sandwich.

But he wasn’t, and for the life of me, the name of the company he was actually working for escapes me.

And good luck getting that ear worm to stop now: Hm hm hm, hm hmm hum humm!

But I digress.

What’s important is that sometime over the last weekend, I began to crave a Chicken Parmesan Sandwich (CPS from now on, since I don’t need the word count).

And a CPS is one of those things that’s really hard to make well at home. You need some marinara on hand.

A good baguette.

You need some gooey mozzarella, and a breaded chicken cutlet.

And a deep fryer to toss it in.

That’s a lot of work for one sandwich.

It’s really easier to buy one.

I checked Yelp, and they directed me to a nearby sub shop (name omitted to protect the guilty).

I checked the menu, and sure enough, they offered a CPS.

I ordered on-line. The full-size was over $11, but this was a serious crave.

Picked it up 15 minutes later, drove it home, and opened the bag.

Inside was a rolled aluminum foil tube, wrapping a sandwich about the size of a hot dog and bun.

Unwrapped, there was a nice multi-grain bun, well-toasted.

That was the best part of the sandwich.

The overwhelming taste was “dry”. Overly-grilled chicken chunks, a tablespoon of canned marinara, an ounce or two of shredded mozzarella.

The chicken was arid, completely devoid of any juice or moisture. The marinara was so sparse, it did nothing to contribute, save a tinny tomato taste in a few bites.

I didn’t even finish it.

Disappointment.

But this is a happy story, one of heroically overcoming obstacles to obtain one’s goal: a great CPS.

The following day, back on-line I went, charging into the breach, courageously confronting a World Wide Web over-populated with uninformed palates, illiterate reviews, and questionable taste.

History is replete with stories of epic quests: Jason and the Golden Fleece, the Twelve Labors of Hercules, the demigod Gilgamesh the Sumerian.

And one man, in search of a great Chicken Parm.

These are the things I do for you, my loyal readers.

A deeper Web dive led me to a place I’d visited before, a fried chicken shack that turns out some of the best Southern fried chicken I’ve tasted.

Ma Lou’s Fried Chicken in Ypsilanti makes some of Michigan’s best fried chicken. It comes in three spice levels: Southern fried (none), mild, and Spicy AF.

And there’s a Chicken Parmesan Sandwich on the menu.

The menu describes the sandwich as “Marinara sauce, garlic aioli, mozzarella cheese, basil, toasted baguette”. It’s priced at $10. You can order it with breast, thigh, or marinated tofu, in any of the three spice levels.

In less time than it takes to type, I’d ordered my sandwich. They told me it would be ready in 15 minutes.

It’s a 13-minute drive from my house, and the sandwich was ready when I arrived.

When I got home and opened the bag, I again found a rolled aluminum foil tube. This one was much fatter, probably 2 1/2 times thicker than the sub place’s sandwich.

I unwrapped it.

Look at that gorgeous sandwich!

A giant pounded breast, fried crispy and crunchy, with specks of spices visible in the breading.

A substantial baguette, to stand up against the juice from the chicken, and the generous slathering of aioli and marinara.

The marinara looks homemade, with visible chunks of tomato and onion.

Fresh basil visible, and whole.

If I’m nit picky, MAYBE a bit light on the mozzarella, fella.

A great Chicken Parmesan Sandwich has a number of critical elements:

Juicy chicken? Check!

Crispy fried cutlet? Check!

Fresh-tasting marinara, with a substantial garlic kick, either from the sauce or the aioli? Check!

Great bread, to absorb the juices and sauce flowing out of the sandwich with every delicious, delectable bite (and folks, this sandwich is MESSY! You’ll need a few napkins, and a short-sleeve shirt.)? Check!

And how did it taste?

Hm hm hm, hm hmm hum hummmmm!

Ma Lou’s Fried Chicken is located at 15 W. Michigan Avenue, Ypsilanti. Current hours are 11 a.m. to 9 p.m., Tuesday through Saturday. Closed Sunday and Monday. Carry out and delivery only right now, although dine in may return 2/1. Check their Web site to be sure: http://www.ma-lous.com/menu/

July 17, 2020January 30, 2021

#Quarantine Cooking – Savory Dutch Baby

When the weekend rolls around, maybe you sleep in a bit. That commute from the bedroom to the kitchen table or office was particularly grueling this week (darn those Lego blocks!!!!), and you’ve earned it.

So when you roll into the kitchen at 10 a.m. or so, it just doesn’t seem like a “breakfast” time.

And it’s too early for lunch.

Precisely why brunch was invented, of course, and we’re leaning into that this week, with a recipe for a Savory Dutch Baby.

If you’ve never heard of a Dutch Baby, that’s OK. It’s a bit of a hyrbrd, a mashup of a frittata and a pancake.

I first ran into this dish at a great breakfast spot in Chicago’s Gold Coast neighborhood, The Original Pancake House. There, the Dutch Baby is served with lemon and powdered sugar, or strawberries and whipped cream, for those who like dessert for breakfast.

Here, we’re going to make a savory version of the dish. It won’t tickle your sweet tooth, but it will give you a hearty, delicious brunch dish.

For the Savory Dutch Baby, you’ll need:

6 large eggs
1.5 cups of milk (whole, 2-1-1/2%, skim–probably not almond or soy)
6 T butter, melted and cooled
1 cup flour
4 T cornstarch
Salt, pepper, and fillings

To start, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. While preheating, place a 10- or 12-inch cast iron skillet on the middle rack. You’re preheating the pan, too.

Now, find some toppings/fillings for the Dutch Baby. Check in the cheese drawer, look for leftover cold cuts, open up some of those plasticware containers with dinner leavings, etc.

I found some Black Forest ham, a couple small pieces of cheese, and a shallot.

I grated the Gruyere and Parmesan.

I diced the ham and shallot, and started sautéing in a small pan.

Once that starts to caramelize a bit, start the batter.

Crack six eggs into a blender. If you don’t have a blender, a hand mixer will do. But if someone has gifted you with a Ninja, now’s the time for it to earn its keep.

Whip the eggs for a minute or so. You want them really frothy, with a lot of air beat into them.

Pour in the milk, beat some more.

Add 4 Tablespoons of the melted butter. Make sure it’s cooled, or you’ll have scrambled eggs in your blender. Not the plan for today.

Add in the flour, cornstarch, and a reasonable amount of salt and pepper. Blend just till combined.

Now, a decision point.

You can either stir your fillings into the batter, or you can sprinkle them on top, either now, or when it’s finished.

What’s the difference?

If you put them into the batter, the pancake won’t rise quite as high. They’ll get incorporated, so it will be a bit denser.

If you put them on top, the pancake will rise higher, but the fillings won’t be incorporated. While the residual heat will melt the cheese, it will be more like an egg crust pizza.

I like mine incorporated, so that’s how we’re rolling today.

Mix the grated cheese, the sautéed ham and shallot into the batter, just till combined.

Remember the cast iron skillet?

The one that’s been preheating in the oven for 15 minutes or so, while you were making the batter?

It’s really, really hot now.

So when I say “Take the preheated skillet from the oven,” please don’t reach in and grab it. Caramelization, the bad kind, will occur.

Using a potholder or oven mitt, remove the mad hot skillet from the oven, and put on a trivet or other heat protective device on the counter. Or just put it on the stove top.

Pour in the other 2 Tablespoons of butter, and swirl the pan to coat the bottom and sides.

Pour in the batter, and put the filled skillet back in the oven.

Bake for 22-25 minutes, til the top is crispy and browned.

(“Browned,” not brown. Browned = flavorful. Brown = burnt. One is better than the other.)

The Dutch Baby will be puffy, probably higher than the sides of the skillet.

As soon as you take it out of the oven, it will begin to deflate. So be sure everyone is ready to eat.

Slice it into 4 – 6 pieces, depending on appetites.

2 pieces if you have a 6’6″ son like I do.

Great with a nice green salad. I like arugula with a citrus viniagrette.

Let me know what you think, by leaving a comment–especially if you make it.

Happy Brunching!

June 9, 2020

#QuarantineCooking – Roasted Pineapple Salsa

Today we’re going to make one of my favorite condiments, Roasted Pineapple Salsa.

I first had this dish about fifteen years ago. It was in a little taqueria outside of Hermosillo, a city in the state of Sonora, in Mexico.

It was an open-air restaurant, one whose name has faded from memory. However, I do remember the tacos al pastor, featuring meat carved from a trompo. In my opinion, the only authentic way to make this dish!

The al pastor was on point, but what really set this place apart were the salsas. Of course, they were all homemade.

But with the al pastor, they brought this salsa. It was a revelation! I’d never thought of using pineapple in a salsa, even though al pastor is traditionally cooked with this fruit.

Once I had it, I knew I had to add the recipe to my repertoire.

It’s great for tacos. It’s great for any grilled meat, and it’s delicious on fish. Very flavorful and versatile, which is what you want in a homemade condiment.

Now, let’s talk pineapple.

Yes, you can buy canned pineapple.

And you can buy little plastic containers of pineapple cubes.

And yes, you could use these to make salsa.

But we aren’t going to do that.

We’re going to use a whole pineapple, one you buy at a fruit market, or grocery store. We’re going to do this because it’s a lot cheaper.

We’re going to do this because the salsa will taste better, and because we’re going to learn the easy way to cut up a fresh pineapple. Once you know you can do this in less than a minute (!), you’ll do it more often.

That’s right, less than a minute. Only seven quick cuts. I learned this from a diving guide in Costa Rica, who brought pineapple along as a snack on a snorkeling trip. It took him about 20 seconds to cut up a pineapple, faster than I’d ever seen it done. So I made him show me again, so I could do it myself.

When you’re selecting your pineapple, there’s really only two things to remember. One, tug on the leaves. If they detach easily, that pineapple is dried out and dead. Pick another one. Two, heavier is better. For pineapples of equal size, the heavier one will be juicier and more delicious.

For this recipe, you’ll need –

1 fresh whole pineapple
1 or 2 jalapenos
1 red onion
1 bunch cilantro
2 or 3 limes

Once you have your pineapple at home, lay it horizontally on a cutting board. You’ll also need a long knife. And set the oven to 450, to begin preheating.

The first two cuts are simple – cut off the top and bottom of the pineapple. Take about an inch to an inch-and-a-half from each end. Stand the remaining pineapple vertically.

The third cut? Slice the pineapple in half vertically, so you have two half circles.

Lay the halves down horizontally, with the spiny skin down.

Probably the most difficult cut, but you’ll get it.

Lay the knife along one long edge of the pineapple. Set the blade about a half-inch from the peel. Start cutting down into the pineapple, turning the blade to stay 1/2″ from the peel, all the way around the half circle of pineapple. When you’ve gone all the way around, set the peel aside.

Repeat for the second half of the pineapple. That’s five cuts.

Lay one of the pineapple halves round side down on the cutting board. You’ll be able to see the woody core in the middle. Set the knife along side the core, and make the same type of circular cut around the core. You may find it easier to do this halfway, then spin the half around and do the other half.

Repeat for the second pineapple half.

That’s it! You’ve cleaned a pineapple. You now have two cleaned halves, and a few pieces of scrap. In the interests of frugality, I’ll say these scraps are useful if you’re smoking or roasting pork. Rather than throw them out, you can put them atop the meat, and the juice will tenderize and flavor the meat. That isn’t this week’s recipe, but I don’t want you to waste the opportunity.

For now, set those scraps aside, and cut the pineapple into 1/2″ thick rings.

Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper or foil, and place the rings on the tray. Spray with cooking spray named after a woman, or brush with oil.

Put in the 450-degree oven for 15 minutes.

At the 15-minute mark, flip the rings, and roast for 10 minutes more.

Remove the pineapple from the oven, and allow to cool.

While it’s cooling, seed and core the jalapeño. I had half a Poblano left over from another dish, so I diced it and the jalapeño.

Dice half the red onion.

Mince the cilantro and stems.

Place the cilantro, onion, and peppers in a serving bowl.

Zest 2 of the limes, and add the zest to the bowl.

Squeeze the juice from 2 or 3 of the limes (3 small, 2 large) into the serving bowl.

By now, the pineapple should have cooled. Cut it into small chunks, and add to the bowl.

Stir to combine, and taste. Add some salt, enough to really make the flavors pop.

If you wanted to, you could add a bit of fresh mint as well, to make an even fresher taste.

Let this sit for a half hour or so, to let the flavors meld. Give it a good stir before serving, and let me know what you think of the recipe, and how you used the salsa.

May 29, 2020

#QuarantineCooking – Charred and Raw Corn Salad

Of all the recipes we’ve done for Quarantine Cooking, this is the easiest. Heck, it barely qualifies as cooking – but no one else needs to know that!

It’s also one of the quickest – it’s ready in less than 15 minutes.

And it’s one of the tastiest.

It’s Charred and Raw Corn Salad, and is based on a recipe from Bon Appetit magazine. So you know the pedigree is solid!

In Mexico, eloté is one of the most common street foods. Also called Mexican Street Corn, elote is grilled corn on the cob, covered in a mixture of crema, lime juice, cilantro, and cheese. It’s delicious, hitting all the taste notes.

This salad is ALMOST eloté in a bowl.

It will become one of your favorites, I promise.

For this recipe, you’ll need:

6 fresh ears of corn on the cob
3 – 4 limes
1 bunch cilantro
Olive oil
1 Fresno or jalapeno chile
1 large shallot
3 Tablespoons unflavored Greek yogurt
1 oz. parmesan cheese, grated

Place a cast iron skillet on the stove, over medium-high heat. Add a tablespoon or two of olive oil as the pan preheats.

Husk 2 ears of the corn, and cut the kernels from the cobs.

Pour the corn into the skillet, and pat down into a layer. Let this cook undisturbed for a few minutes.

Peel the shallot, and slice it very thinly.

Juice the limes into a medium sized serving bowl, the one you want to serve the salad in.

Chop the cilantro and stems. Add about 1/2 cup to the lime juice.

Add the shallot, and some salt and pepper. Stir, and let this sit for a few minutes.

Check the corn on the stove. Some kernels may pop; that’s OK. Stir the corn a bit. Are the kernels starting to char black? Good! Thoroughly mix the corn, and pat down again, and let it continue to cook.

Husk the remaining 4 ears of corn, and cut the kernels from the cobs.

Stem and seed the chile. Slice into thin rounds, or dice. You be you.

Back to the stove.

If the corn has turned golden all over, and black in spots, it’s done. Pour the charred corn into the serving bowl.

Add the chile.

Add the raw corn.

Add 3 Tablespoons of olive oil.

Add the Greek yogurt.

Add the parmesan cheese.

Stir well to combine.

Taste, add salt as needed.

There, done! A quick and easy salad that looks great, and tastes even better. It’s got a bit of heat, a hit of acid, a touch of burned, and the great taste of sweet corn, all evened out with the yogurt and olive oil.

It’s one of my favorites.

Let me know what you think!

May 19, 2020

#QuarantineCooking – Chile Colorado

A couple of weeks ago, I ordered a bunch of dried chiles on-line.

Shipping was delayed a bit, and I kind of forgot about them.

So I was pleasantly surprised earlier this week when these beauties arrived: three bags of wonderful dried chiles.

I had ordered them with one thing in mind. Cooking one of my favorite dishes, Chile Colorado.

Chile Colorado is a simple dish. It’s basically a braise, chunks of beef or pork cooked for a long time in a seasoned broth. In the last hour of cooking time, a blend of chiles is added to provide the finishing touch and spice to the dish. Texans might call this “a bowl of red” – just meat, chiles, spices. No frijoles!

Served with warm tortillas, it’s really one of my favorite things to eat.

I made a sous vide version of this once, for a chili cook-off at my office. I knew it wouldn’t win, as Midwestern chili has beans, and sometimes corn.

White chicken chili is even a thing.

And don’t even get me started on the abominations committed in the name of chili around the city of Cincinnati, OH.

But I wanted to try it, so I made a version with boneless pork butt, cooked it in the sous vide for 16 hours or so, and took it in for the judging. It didn’t win, but some of my Hispanic co-workers told me it was their favorite. One even said it tasted just like her abuela used to make.

So I knew it was a winner.

Not that I’m bitter about it.

(sniff)

It’s fine.

(wipes away a . . . No, it’s just allergies!)

I’m over it.

Really.

And we’re going to make it today.

It’s not a quick dish, but it isn’t complicated. I had to run some errands, so I adapted the recipe for the slow cooker, to accommodate unattended cooking. If you’re working from home, this is perfect. Start it before your afternoon of Zoom calls, and you’ll be ready in time for dinner.

Top to bottom – Guajillo, Ancho, and Pasilla chiles

For Chile Colorado, you’ll need:

2 – 3 lbs. of beef chuck or pork butt, trimmed into 1 1/2 in. cubes. You can use beef stew meat, or you can break down a chuck or pork roast. I used beef stew meat.

5 dried ancho chiles

2 dried guajillo chiles

2 dried pasilla chiles

1 Tablespoon Mexican oregano. No, you can’t substitute “regular” oregano.

2 bay leaves

1 Tablespoon cumin powder

1 Tablespoon sage powder

6 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

5 cups chicken broth, divided

Salt and pepper

The chiles and oregano are key to the dish’s taste. You can order them on-line, or find them in any Mexican supermarket/mercardo. This is where they will be cheapest. Look for dried peppers that are kind of like raisins – dried, but still flexible. If you press on the pepper, and it crumbles to dust, it’s really old, and has no taste. Your dish won’t either. Find those raisin-like peppers, and you’ll be much happier with the finished product.

Browning the beef in a 12″ cast iron skillet

To begin, season the meat with salt and pepper.

Heat a 12″ skillet on the stove, with a Tablespoon or two of vegetable oil. Use medium – high heat.

Once the oil is hot, begin browning the meat. You’re not trying to cook it, just searing and browning. You’ll probably need to do this in 2 batches.

While the meat is browning, add 3 cups of chicken broth, garlic, bay leaves, cumin, oregano and sage. Set the slow cooker for high.

Once the first batch of meat has browned, scoop it out of the skillet, and add it to the slow cooker.

Begin browning the second batch of meat.

Once that’s completed, add to the slow cooker, along with anything left in the pan. There’s a lot of flavor there!

Cover with the lid, and forget about it for 3 – 4 hours.

Place 2 cups of chicken broth in a small pan on the stove. Heat to a boil.

Take the 9 dried chiles, and cut off the stems. Dump the seeds out–you don’t need to get every single one out, but try to get most. The seeds hold most of the heat, and this will be warm enough without them.

Place the cleaned dried chiles in a bowl. Pour the boiling chicken broth over the chiles. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap, and allow the chiles to steam for 20 minutes.

After 20 minutes, dump the contents of the bowl into a food processor or blender–an immersion blender will NOT work for this, and a blender is best.

Puree the chiles on high until smooth. Really blend the heck outta this–you want a smooth mixture. Put that OCD to good use here, and spend a minute or two getting it really smooth: start, stop, pulse, puree, blend.

If the motor smokes, or you smell burning electrical wires, you’ve probably blended a tad too long. The sauce is smooth enough.

After 3 hours or so, check the meat in the slow cooker. Is it getting quite tender? Then you’re ready for the next step.

Dump the contents of the slow cooker into a large pot, or a very large skillet on the stove. Add the blended chiles from the blender.

Cook over medium heat, uncovered, for another 45 minutes.

Finishing the chile, cooking down, concentrating the flavors

The chile will be a deep mahogany color. The consistency will be thicker: a stew, not a soup. The meat should be supremely tender.

A bowl of Chile Colorado, over white rice

Taste the chile. While it won’t be “hot”, there will definitely be heat. Season with salt and pepper as necessary.

You can eat the chile alone, or if you want to stretch it a bit, you can serve it over white or brown rice.

Warm some tortillas in the microwave or oven, and have these on the side. You’ll want to sop up every bit of that sauce.

And if you don’t like this?

You probably like beans in your chili.