Archive for December, 2011

Tasting the Holiday Spirit(s) – Round 3

Vrylena's contribution: Whispers of the Frost

It didn’t sneak up on me this year. I planned, recruited cohorts to bring cocktails, secured last-minute kitchen help (thank you S.!), invited new bloggers, and – in an uncharacteristic flash of Martha Stewart-like craftiness – made a center piece. Don’t know what that was about. . .

In year three, Obscure Holiday Cocktails officially became a tradition.

S. outdid herself (again) with cheese pairings, and the cocktails kicked ass! Seriously. All (at least to my taste) were great. So much so, that I actually got a little nostalgic about the gnarly Grinch and the revolting Christmas Pudding – ghosts of cocktail parties past.

But on to the details of 2011:

First Up – Christmas Bellringer
My contribution was this citrusy, boozy little number. A cousin to last year’s tropical crowd pleaser, The Ulimate Holiday, the Bellringer was tart with a nutty edge. More complex than a Screwdriver, but orange-juicy and pleasant, it’s the kind of drink that sneaks up on you. Again, more Santa Monica than Santa Claus, but whose judging? Methinks the dark of early December makes me crave the beach.

Fixin’s:
1 oz Gin
1 oz Cointreau
1 oz Frangelico
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed orange juice
Orange twist

Pairing: Caprichio De Cabra, a Spanish goat cheese high in fat and protein plowed through the drink’s tart sweetness and draped my tongue in a happy hug.
Bottom Line: The fruity cointreau and the nutty frangelico totally mask the gin. Proceed carefully.

Next – Greek Airmail
A. twisted this vintage spirit around with a liquor from his heritage (the Greek Metaxa subbed for rum) and produced a fragrant winner. Earthy from the biting tonic and bitters, sweet from the honey, tart from the lime and fresh from the mint. Balanced is the word. Much like the man, himself.

1-1/2 oz Metaxa
3/4 oz Lime juice
1 oz Honey
Splash Q Tonic
Dash of bitters
Muddled mint

Pairing: England’s Keen’s cheddar – more nutty than sharp – added one more dimension to the flavor frenzy. Nice.
Bottom Line:
A terrific aperitif. I recommend it as a start to an evening.

Kate stirs the Tom & Jerry's.

Then – Lion’s Pride
Adam took delicious liberties with a seasonal tipple revealed by the bartender at Brunswick’s beer mecca. Hence the name. Very, very adult with a peppery finish, this frothy concoction won my heart. It featured bitters (a popular ingredient this year) and was like nothing I’ve sipped before. Herbal, with a smooth base from the egg white, it rolled around in my mouth like a savory sauce until the twin kicks of lime and pepper asserted themselves. Sublime.

Fixin’s:
1 oz St.Germain
1 oz Gin
Portion of egg white
Dash Peychaud Bitters
Lime juice
Shake and top with lime zest and black pepper

Pairing: Valencay, a goat’s milk covered in ash, was a grown up cheese for a grown up drink. Instead of countering the Lion’s Pride’s flavors, it matched them. Brilliant.
Bottom Line: Classic yet original. Smooth yet spicy. If only folks referred to me this way!

And Then – Whispers of the Frost
I adore the name (so, granted, I was predisposed) but Vrylena’s beverage continued the evening’s winning streak. Culled from Old Mr. Boston De Luxe Official Bartender’s Guide (I sense V is just as enamored by such-titled things as I) this delicately named drink is anything but. Powered sugar and citrus barely tame three dark, potent alcohols. Subtle it is not. But truly luscious. It went straight to my head.

1 oz Bourbon
1 oz Sherry
1 oz Port
Dash of Powdered Sugar
Serve with slices of lemon and orange

Pairing: My pick for best pairing of the night. A Bayley Hazen Blue stared the high alcohol content of Whispers of the Frost right in the eye and didn’t back down.
Bottom Line: A couple of these and you’ll be ho ho ho-ing. Ergo, this cocktail is not advisable for office parties.

Finally – Tom & Jerry
Kate continued her nog-ish ways again this year with a creamy warm Tom & Jerry.  Two years ago, I dissed the Rye Flip for being an anemic cousin to Egg Nog. Tom & Jerry caused me to reconsider that assessment. Like the flip, it’s thinner and less weighty than nog, but offers the same velvety, pie-like spice that saucily chortles, “Christmas.”  Without the heaviness.

12 eggs
1 Cup Sugar
1 Bottle Brandy
Ground allspice
Ground cinnamon
Ground cloves
Dark rum
Milk
Nutmeg

Pairing: S. rightly skipped the cheese this round and presented us with not one, but TWO, delectable homemade chocolates: Ghost Chili Salt Bark (with salt from Gryffon Ridge Spice Merchants in Dresden, ME) and Guittard Chocolate with Candied and Roasted Marcona Almonds and Sea Salt. Yes, the women is my hero.
Bottom Line: A lovely way to end a lovely evening.

Other highlights? S. brought the best deviled eggs I’ve ever had the honor of devouring and Steffi (the awesome owner of Schulte & Herr) popped in for the Christmas Bellringer round and left behind (bless her) a plate of her restaurant’s signature lox. All and all, a successful night of imbibing, noshing and gaiety.

Blogger’s Note: Check out the insights and thoughts of the other participants at their blogs at the links above!

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Book Review O-Rama: Odd Bits

Granted, I’d never cooked a pig’s head until a few weeks ago (more on that below), but offal has been an awfully big part of my life for years (as have shanks, livers and marrow). Brains and tongues of various creatures enliven trips abroad, and sojourns to Au Pied du Cochon for its namesake dish fill my calendar whenever possible.

A great holiday gift for serious cooks.

I was even born into eating bits. A “whole animal” philosophy has governed my, um – let’s say “down home” – south Georgia relatives for decades.

So Odd Bits: How to Cook the Rest of the Animal seemed right down my alley for this food blogger “o-rama” assignment (Made possible by our friends at Rabelais. Also, check out other books and reviews here). A cookbook dedicated to poaching, roasting, braising, and stewing the wobbly, dense, bony, protruding and down-right weird parts of animals?

Sign me up.

So what did I think of it?

The review part

For the most part, I loved it. Author Jennifer McLagan (renown scribe of James Beard Award-winning, Fat) presents most recipes with charming personal stories and clever insight.  A dish for Navarin (lamb cheek stew) reads as a wistful love letter to her dear French friends Ted and Giselle (Their English. . .was so full of wonderful 40’s slang I felt like I was in a black and white movie”) while also crisply instructing (“Pat the lamb cheeks dry and season well with salt and pepper.”).

Quotes from other notable food writers and chefs sprinkle each chapter with whimsy, gravity – or a wink and a nod (“Chef Daniel used to say that they should have the feel of a firm, young breast.” – Susan Spicer, referring to the thymus gland of a calf.)

Interim sections discuss the culinary origins and historic uses of such funky animal nether-regions as the cockscomb. Did you know the wiggly red growth crowning a chicken’s head was a favorite of Catherine de Medicis, wife of French king Francois I? Now you do.

Best of all, McLagan makes every recipe sound manageable – be they challenging, day-long adventures or quick dinners. Many re-imagine the common with odd bits. Ravoli of Brains and Morels, for example, sounds simple and succulent. While copping to it as a way to sneak brain to the unsuspecting, she insists that the recipe also plays to calf brains’ rich texture. I’ve dog-eared that page for a future meal – if I can find brain anywhere in the mad-cow fearing US!

From blood sausages to goat shoulder to several preparations of the much-maligned tripe, McLagan tackles it all. Some recipes made Adam cringe in the reading (Testicles with Caramelized Onion and Double Smoked Bacon) and others barely qualify as “odd bitty” (Wild Boar Shanks with Cranberries and Chocolate). One I’m particularly looking forward to trying is Pig’s Tail and Rabbit Stew. Not only does the combination of mild meat and flavorful fat sound delicious, but I cracked up at her frank instruction, “If your rabbit comes with its head, add it in with any trimmings to the stew.”

My only issue with the book was the long, dual-purpose “preaching to the choir while scolding the unbelieving” introduction. It set me on edge. Perhaps not every reader considers sweetbreads a staple like I do, but surely those who would pluck this tome off the shelf would be cognizant of humane animal husbandry, no? Do we really need paragraphs lecturing us about how “today we are so removed from the sources of our food that we rarely think of meat coming from living, breathing animals.” I think not.

Head of the beast

To test McLagan’s recipes, I decided to dive into the deep end and roast what she calls a “cornucopia of odd bits” – the pig’s head. Or, rather, my friend Evelyn decided and I decided I was up for it! In fact, Adam and I took a back seat to these foodie phenom friends (Evelyn – who researched and purchased the head – and her husband, David) and we tackled the challenge in their commercial kitchen in Vermont. The night before Thanksgiving (crazy, I know). While the fat level in the head makes pork belly seem like child’s play, the flavor is superb. Jowl, brain and snout are greasy-luscious gifts from the Gods. Crisp cheek skin and ears are an adult (and MUCH better!) version of pork rinds.

While I’ve included McLagan’s ingredients below, for cooking instruction, I highly recommend this video of acclaimed chef Fergus Henderson doing the deed.

Ingredients:

  • 1/2 pig’s head (about 5-1/4 pounds)
  • Course sea salt and ground pepper
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons lard
  • 2 Vidalia or other sweet onions, halved and thickly sliced
  • 6 cloves garlic
  • 1 bunch fresh thyme, 4 large rosemary springs, 4 juniper berries, crushed
  • 4 cups poultry stock
  • 4 cardamom pods, 2 star anise (broken into bits)
  • 1 tablespoon coriander seeds and 1 small dried red chile
  • 1/2 cup honey
  • 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar or verjuice
  • 1 bunch watercress, trimmed

Here’s our story in pictures:

Evelyn pulls the head out of the fridge

David frees her from plastic. Evelyn named her "tres cher," which I misheard as Cher at first!



Evelyn thanks tres cher properly while Adam looks on.

I wash off extra hairy bits from her teeth and jowl area.

She's ready to hit the oven.

A final baste and she's done.

Adam eats the eye. Doesn't he look thrilled!

Maxed out on fat!

We save the rest for stock and such.