Ruth Reichl's Blog, page 24

Things I Love

 

I've been looking for one of these for a while now.  I love the idea of spraying olive onto pans - or spraying neutral oil onto cake pans - but every time I think of using an aerosol spray, I think about the ozone layer. Besides, I like to control the quality of the oil I use.

I've bought regular spray bottles, but they all have problems. Most are made for water, and they tend to clog. And this one is BPA-free, which becomes more important to me the more I read. 

This swell new oil sprayer is from Michael Graves design. You fill it with your own oil, and when you pull the trigger it gives you a measured blast of oil.

It's not cheap - $20 - but when you consider the price of good olive oil, and how much you waste when slicking a pan, it pays for itself in a very short time.  

All I can think is - why did it take so long for someone to come up with this? 

How To Cook a Perfect Piece of Salmon

 

Diane Johnson’s Salmon Cooked on Salt (from the Gourmet Cookbook)

This is just about the easiest way I know to perfectly cook salmon.  If you’re using wild Alaska salmon, you’ll end up with a piece of fish that’s tender, moist, incredibly delicious - and completely sustainable.

Get out your 10-inch cast iron skillet and fill it with 2 cups of Kosher or coarse sea salt.  Put it on the stove, over moderate heat, and  let it warm up for about 4 minutes, until the salt is hot when you touch it.  

Thoroughly dry a 1 1/4 pound center cut filet of salmon and season it with salt and pepper.  Put it, skin side down, on the salt, cover the pan (aluminum foil makes a perfectly adequate cover), and cook for about ten minutes without turning, until it’s almost cooked through.  Remove from the heat and let it stand for another minute.

Take it off the salt, leaving the skin behind; the skin will be too salty to eat, but the fish will be everything you wish a piece of salmon could be. 

Serves 4

 

Big Fish and Endless Roe: More from Alaska

The Adventure Continues

Five days in Alaska has left me with an extraordinary respect for the last wild food we eat - the people who catch it - and the way this fishery is managed.

And a new understanding of just how difficult fishing can be. I managed to catch a rockfish, but the big fish, the one that might have been a fairly large halibut - got away.  I struggled with that fish for what seemed like forever, fighting the mysterious unseen creature, feeling his strength, trying desperately to haul him from the water.  And then, suddenly, the line went slack; I pulled my line out of the ocean to find nothing but an empty hook.

Fishing, for those who choose it, is more than a  job.  It's a mission, a calling, a way of life. We met entire families who live on ships, the children helping out as soon as they can toddle. And we began, slowly, to learn the mysterious hierarchy of fishermen.

Trollers put out hooked lines, catch the highest quality fish - but get the least respect. Their small boats require the least capital outlay.  Gill netters are next up the food chain - they set long nets into the ocean, hauling them out 6, 7 or 8 times in a day, counting the catch.  

They pull the salmon quickly from the nets, counting as they go, throwing them into icy holds filled with chilled saltwater (salt water does not freeze).  

Then the nets go out again.  And again. Tenders- big storage boats, under contract to the fish processors - come by periodically to collect the fish, allowing the fishermen to continue fishing. It's light here, this time of year, from 4 a.m. to 10 p.m.  The days are long.  (One fisherman told me he makes enough in 2 months to support his family through the year. But these are long days. Summer's not for sleeping.)

 

Meanwhile fish and game people are carefully counting the catch, ensuring sustainability. The King Salmon catch was so abundant this week that the season closed early; they'd caught enough, and the fish got a break.

We did a little fishing ourselves. This is Francis Lam with his gorgeous rockfish.  (I caught one too, but it was smaller, and not nearly as pretty.)

Meanwhile, I learned a few things about cooking fish.

1. Be patient; don't cook it too soon.  You want the fish to go into rigor mortis, and then out, before it sees heat. We cooked this rockfish the day Francis caught it.  It was mushy. We cooked a just-caught ling cod too, and it was bouncy.  It would have been smarter to wait a day, rest the fish; they would have tasted better.

2. Spot prawns are awesome!

This is a spot prawn trap.  We set out three.

Although the catch was disappointingly small, it made great eating.

The wonderful Renee Erickson (Boat Street Cafe, The Whale Wins, etc.) was in charge of this. She served the bodies raw, then quickly crisped the heads - my favorite part.  I could have eaten these forever.

3. And then there's roe. It turns out that a great deal of the salmon - and most of the herring - caught in Alaska is prized for the roe.  Almost all of it goes to Europe or Japan.  What a shame!

This is salmon roe being processed. The sacs are pulled apart, the roe swirled in a brine bath, then sorted. 

In Japan they like soft roe; Europeans tend to like the more mature roe, later in the year, which has a harder shell.  Me?  I like roe of any kind.  We took the roe from the salmon we caught, and I combed through it, removing the outer casing.  Then - having absolutely no idea what I was doing - I briefly brined it in a salt water bath, strained it, then cooked it in butter in a double boiler.  I added some rice vinegar, a splash of soy, and served it over scrambled eggs.  I think it was one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten.

A few more Alaska moments....

Imagine this cove beneath the moonlight, mist hugging the mountains, whales cavorting through the water. Imagine the sound of their spouts, the low moan as they converse, the splash as they leap, tails waving, into the night air.  I can't remember a more magical evening. 

The next day we landed at Elfin Cove, an improbable settlement straight out of McCabe and Mrs. Miller. Strolling the boardwalk that curves through town, their version of a sidewalk, you hear the plash of water, continually encountering these small, enchanting waterfalls.

 

This is the longest zip line in the world, in Hoonah.  Completely exhilarating, zooming through the air.

 

And this is the one must-have Alaska souvenir. People were trying to buy them off our feet. They're the epitome of Northern Chic.

 

Best Meal in Juneau

But first, a little scenery.  We flew up to Taku Lodge on a seaplane, soaring over five massive glaciers. It's wild, empty, so beautiful....

All ice and water, green and blue.

Soaring eagles, goats... and at the lodge, a bear in a tree

And then, back to Juneau, and dinner at the Rookery.  A casual, ambitious and fascinating restaurant.

We had a plate of cheese, with the most wonderful homemade kimchi and pickles (those pickled cherries were especially impressive)...

And what may be the most delicious scallops I've ever had.  They were poached in coconut, just barely, and served with a scallion-scattered quid ink adobo sauce.  Black and white...

And then this bibimbap, spicy with kimchi, crunchy with the well-cooked rice on the bottom, rich with egg...

Lots of other fascinating foods on this menu, including a crisp salmon collar and king salmon glazed with lemongrass and served over a salmon chorizo.  Can't wait to come back.

Notes from Juneau

The air here is so invigorating that you gulp it down like food.  Crisp, cool, completely refreshing. 

There's a waterfall next to the glacier just outside of town, and the rushing sound, the calling birds, the ice melting beneath your feet becomes a natural symphony.

Then there's the food....

Tracy's Crab Shack, where you sit on the water, a huge cruise ship rising out of the water behind you, looming like some nightmare urban vision, as you crack crabs and drink beer.

 

The giant crabs are regal, tender, and so sweet you find yourself cracking one claw and then another, eager for more of this amazing flavor, knowing you're not likely to encounter anything so delicious soon again.  The snow crab are wonderful too. The Dungeness, oddly golden here, can't hold a candle to the big guys.  And still....

They serve the crabs with melted butter and lemon.  You don't need either. This is fantastic food, all by itself.

It's good to be here.....

 

Crunch Crunch Crunch

I was at a party last night, and a friend reminded me that I'd given him this recipe years ago.  I'd forgotten all about it.

"You served them at your house," he said.  "You said it was stupid to buy crackers when they're so easy to make.  And then you gave me the recipe.  I've been making them ever since."

I haven't made these crackers in a while - but I will now. Kind of perfect for this holiday weekend.

Mustard Comte Crackers 

Grate enough Comte or Gruyere on a box grater to make 2 cups. Put it into a food processor with a stick of sweet butter, cut into cubes, and pulse until fairly smooth. Add a cup of flour, 2 teaspoons dry mustard, 2 teaspoons mustard seeds, a teaspoon of salt, 3 tablespoons Dijon mustard and an egg yolk and pulse to combine.

Turn out onto two sheets of wax paper and roll each into a log about 8 inches long.  Freeze for a couple of hours, until firm.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cut each roll into quarter inch slices, put onto buttered baking sheets and bake about 15 minutes until golden.  Cool on a rack.

 

Seductive Little Shrimp Cakes from Tacolicious

Got this book the other day, and decided to try the shrimp cakes as a little snack last night, when a group of friends were standing around the kitchen, drinking wine.  Straight out of the pan, the shrimpcakes were an enormous hit. There was one left over, and I ate it cold this morning. Better warm - but still completely irresistible. Definitely a recipe I'll do again.

 

Shrimp Cakes with Corn-Tomato Salsa

(very slightly adapted from Tacolicious by Sara Deseran)

Shell a pound and a half of wild shrimp and pulse them very quickly in a food processor so that there are still a few chunks. Stir in an egg and 3 teaspoons of lime juice.

Chop a stalk of celery very fine.

Chop 3 scallions very finely.

Chop enough parsley to make a third of a cup.

Stir the vegetables into the minced shrimp mixture.  Add 3 tablespoons of mayonnaise, 1 tablespoon of adobo sauce (from a can of chipotle chiles in adobo sauce), 2 teaspoons of salt, a good grind of black pepper, 1 1/2 teaspoons of paprika and a half teaspoon of celery salt.  Stir in 1 cup of panko.  The mixture should be loose.

Pile some panko into a plate.  Scoop up about a twelfth of the mixture and pat into a loose little cake about 2 inches in diameter and a half inch thick.  Plop it into the panko and quickly coat each side. Set on a wax paper lined baking sheet; repeat until you have 12 to 14 little cakes. Cover with plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator for at least half an hour (and up to a day).

Just before serving, heat a couple tablespoons of oil in a large skillet and cook over medium heat about 3 minutes on each side, just until lightly browned.  

Serve with this salsa.

Tomato-Corn Salsa

Scrape the kernels from 3 ears of corn (you should have a cup and a half) into a bowl.

Chop one medium tomato (again, a cup and a half), and add to the corn.

Add a cup of diced Armenian cucumber, a half cup of finely chopped red onion and a diced jalapeno chile.  Stir in a couple teaspoons of salt and the juice of half a lime.  Allow the flavors to marry for at least a half hour, then taste for seasoning. 

This will seem like too much for the shrimp cakes; it is, in fact, the perfect amount. 

Things I Love: Peanut Oil

When you think of peanut oil, you think Asia, right?  Turns out that's wrong.  Peanut oil is a red, white and blue product - and a legacy of World War II.

Dairy products were scarce during the war, and patriotic people replaced butter with margarine. But making margarine the traditional way proved problematic. The classic oil for margarine had been coconut oil, which came from the Philippines. With the war raging in that part of the Pacific, manufacturers seeking a replacement came up with the notion of using peanut oil in its place.  A plus: peanuts were a domestic product that were both abundant and inexpensive. The Planters people, noting its high burning point, began promoting the oil as a ration-friendly replacement for other fats.  (Lulu, the heroine of Delicious!, surely would have used it in her cooking.)

The heyday of peanut oil proved short-lived. Once trade routes between the US and the Philippines re-opened in 1945, coconut oil re-flooded the market, and peanut oil production waned. Undaunted, the peanut people began promoting another product: next time you celebrate National Peanut Butter day (January 24th), remember that peanut butter was not a ubiquitous American food until coconut oil returned to our shores, and food manufacturers needed to find another way to market peanuts. 

But the great interest in Asian cooking has been a boon to peanut oil.  It not only has a high burning point, but its fragrance adds new notes to stir fries.  You could make fried rice with other oils, but I can't think why you'd want to.

 

 

Easy Spicy Chinese Noodles with Pork

There are some days - and this is one of them - when I need a bit of dirty spice to get me going. Something with meat and heat, something that will slither into my mouth, something that will leave a glow and remind me that tomorrow - or the next day - the sun is bound to come up. 

Most people would consider this supper, but few things make me happier in the morning. After all, why not?

Spicy Chinese Noodles

Cook a pound of Chinese noodles, dried egg noodles or spaghetti until al dente, drain, toss with a tablespoon of peanut oil and set aside.

Mince fresh, peeled ginger until you have a quarter cup (it should be about a 3 inch long piece). 

Chop 4 scallions.

Mix 2 teaspoons of sugar into 5 tablespoons of Chinese hot bean paste with garlic (or Korean Kochujang sauce) and set aside.

Heat a wok until a drop of water skitters across the surface.  Add two tablespoons of peanut oil, toss in the ginger and stir fry for about half a minute, until the fragrance is hovering over the wok.

Add a pound of ground pork and stir fry until all traces of pink have disappeared.  Add the bean sauce mixture and cook and stir for about 2 minutes. 

Stir in the scallions and noodles, and quickly toss.  Add a drop of sesame oil and turn out onto a platter.

Serves 4

My Dinner with Nathan: 25 Women, 35 Courses

When Nathan Myrhvold invites you to dinner, you'd be a fool to refuse.  Even if it means flying across the country for the evening.  I've been wanting to experience a dinner cooked by the wizard of modernist cuisine for years, and when an invitation arrived saying he was honoring women chefs at his Seattle lab, it was absolutely irresistible. 

I'll admit there were a few moments during the 35-course six-hour marathon when I wondered what the hell I was doing there. Most of the time, however,  I was too busy paying attention to what was on the plate - and in my mouth - to think about anything else.

Dinner began with this little cocktail:

Basil of astonishing intensity, Everclear, olive oil. A pure whoosh of flavor, dancing across the palate ... and quickly gone. 

Elote: something cold, something new, much is borrowed.... nothing blue. One little bite that fizzles into the mouth and vanishes.

 Gazpacho reimagined as an icy cucumber sorbet in a sweetly tart puddle of berries. 

Chicharron reconsidered.  A  little cloud of gluten that's been microwaved until it puffs itself up into a fluff of pure texture. On top, icecream. Underneath, a deep dark dab of mole.  This was completely charming, utterly delicious.

The stunning texture of this tofu stopped me cold; it was so smooth, so... well, creamy.  I kept taking another bite, thinking "is there cream in here?"  Turns out there was.  A lot.  Fantastic idea; the fat and sweetness of the cream tempers the slightly plastic taste of tofu. 

Totally loved this "Thai squid salad." A smooth orange pillow of sea urchin custard hides a salad of something that look like bits of squid.  And yet the flavor of the translucent white bits says.... coconut. Still, this salad of young coconut does have an emphatic flavor of squid. See those little tendrils on the top? They're strings of  spicy squid jerky scattered beneath the cilantro.

Looks like a piece of binchotan, the enormously expensive Japanese charcoal that burns super-hot. But it's actually......

foie gras. 

The Modernist's take on steak frites. A single fat french fry, starch-infused until it makes a deep growling crunch when you take a bite. Paired with a little bit of steak pudding. 

Give Peas a Chance. Peas (Green Giant, we're assured),  centrifuged until they've separated into a smooth, sweet pea puree and....

this wonderful clear green liquid.  They call it "pistou" and it sings a song of spring. (In the photo at the top Nathan's holding the centrifuged peas.) 

 Green and white asparagus.

"Baked potato."  This is made in some fashion that involves torturing the potato skins until they turn into an entirely new substance, then recombining them with various ingredients so that they taste like baked potatoes with sour cream and feel like nothing so much as a cloud. Eating this I have a little moment of rebellion: baked potatoes, all by themselves, are among the world's most satisfying foods. This, on the other hand, is extremely interesting.

These are the sweetest carrots you will ever taste.  I love the coconut cream in there, and the crisp little curry leaf. 

Nathan's notion of cappuccino: a porcini broth so potent that one sip lingers in the mouth, resonating, a musical chord that's reluctant  to die. The foam on top is dusted with dried porcini.  And yet, as you sip this elixir, marveling at the flavor, the strong scent of coffee suddenly hits you, flooding all the senses, causing utter confusion. "It's a drop of coffee butter," Nathan exults.  For me,  it's the most memorable moment of the meal.

Brassicas in various states of crunch and crumble.

 Lobster.  One intense little bubble of liquid bisque.

 "Spaghetti alle vongole." No spaghetti. No vongole.  Totally great.

Geoduck neck cut into pasta, with the minced belly below. Afterward Nathan walks around the table holding out a geoduck, seeming slightly disappointed that most of the chefs are completely familiar with the strange, enormous mollusks with their laughably phallic necks.  

 The most traditional course: salmon, with its own puffed skin (see chicharron, above), broccoli stems and little lemon pearls.

 

France in a bowl.  Frog's legs. Snails. Garlic. Ramps. Wait... aren't ramps an American vegetable?  I am just about to mention this when I have a swift memory of eating at Pierre Gagnaire 20 years or so ago, and asking him about a flavor that was new to me.  "C'est l'ail des ours, Madame," he said.  I'd never heard of the garlic of the bears, but I looked it up.  Definition: wild leeks, ie. ramps. France in a bowl indeed.

Quail egg in a nest.  Except there's no quail, no egg. Inside that shell is a stunning replica of an egg that was constructed out of passionfruit. 

Polenta

Nathan calls this "omelet," and I've had it before. I've never understood the urge to make food that's more decorative than delicious.

 

Beef stew.

Basically a consomme made with beef and blood which has been flashed with carbon monoxide to set the color. "So cool!" said Ashley Christensen, who was sitting next to me.  Add beef marrow. Enoki mushrooms. Vegetables.  Result: pure flavor. Loved this

All through dinner we'd been looking at four fat chickens, hanging there, obviously waiting rto go back into the oven.  We stared at them, eager to see what the Modernist Cooks were going to do to the chicken.

Suddenly the chickens were in the oven.  And then they were being carved with great ceremony. The skin was crisped to the crackling point. The flesh was soft as velvet.  

The process: the skin had been pulled away from the skin, as if it was a Peking Duck. Then the bird was injected with brine, chilled for days, roasted upside down in a slow oven - and finally finished in a flourish of intense heat. 

It's great chicken. But is it worth all the trouble? 

Rye pasta. Butter. So good.

 

Pastrami on rye. The pastrami is brined, smoked, cooked sous-vide.  It's pretty amazing.

My phone ran out of juice at this point, so I missed photographing the end of the meal. We had a wine course, which involved adding salt to red wine.  Didn't work for me.  There was a posset of tea, which tickled me: ending the meal on such an old fashioned note.  

But then there was this: Nathan calls it "Breaking Bad," and it was so interesting I cajoled another guest into sending me a photograph.  

 A very cool alcohol delivery system....

I'm trying to wrap my head around this meal, but it's not like anything I've encountered before. The food lab isn't a restaurant.  They're not offering you a performance, or an all-encompassing experience, as restaurateurs like Ferran Adria, Grant Achatz, or Wylie Dufresne do. This is food in a different mood, food in the service of science. Much of it is about let's do it because we can, rather than let's do it because it's good.  (The omelet, for me, falls firmly in that category.)

But we're lucky that someone - Nathan Myrhvold - is doing this.  There's been a long history of scientists with an interest in the chemistry of cooking.  It seems particularly wonderful that at this moment, when science has made so many fascinating new discoveries, we have someone who's applying these new techniques - and enormous imagination - to food.

I left the table thinking that this was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the best meal I've ever had. But it may be the one that gives me the most hope for the future. 

The chefs:

Joanne Chang: Flour and Myers & Chang

Ashley Christensen: Poole’s Downtown Diner, Beasley’s, Chuck’s, and more

Amanda Cohen: Dirt Candy

Dominique Crenn: Atelier Crenn

Lauren DeSteno: Marea

Kerry Diamond: editorial director of Cherry Bombe

Sara Dickerman: writer for Epicurious.com

Renee Erickson: Walrus & The Carpenter, Whale Wins, and more

Elizabeth Falkner: formerly of Corvo Bianco, Krescendo, and Citizen Cake

Katie Hagan-Whelchel: ad hoc

Maria Hines: Tilth, Golden Beetle, and Agrodolce

Carolyn Jung: writer for Food Arts

Anita Lo: Annisa

Emily Luchetti: Farallon and Waterbar

Carrie Nahabedian: NAHA and Brindille

Melissa Perello: Frances

Naomi Pomeroy: BEAST

Iliana Regan: Elizabeth

Ruth Reichl: author of Delicious! and much more

Karen Shu: ABC Kitchen

Nancy Silverton: Pizzeria Mozza and Osteria Mozza

Ana Sortun: Oleana

Christina Tosi: Milk Bar

Anne Willan: founder of Ecole de Cuisine La Varenne

Claudia Wu: creative director at Cherry Bombe