11 posts from March 2008

Normally, I retard my dough in the fridge overnight to slow down the process, since this increases the taste of the crumb. This time I ended up having to go two nights since the dinner was pushed a day -- plus, I had some minor problems with the dough... So I was a bit unsure about how it'd turn out, and thought about making up some rice as a backup plan. But then I cursed my doubts and charged ahead. And it worked out just fine. I was very happy.

This particular bread was used to accompany a Meen Kari, which is a very aromatic, and slightly hot fish soup (at least this recipe is -- there are variations). And what I wanted, was a thick naan, to soak up the soup. Shaping a naan is just about as important (and, I have discovered -- as difficult) as all the other elements that goes into creating the thing. In a way, I guess it's pretty much like shaping a pizza dough. The consistency and general attributes of the dough itself obviously influences what you can actually do to the dough. I'm reasonably confident (but by no means certain) that my dough is right at this point -- but my abilities to shape it leaves a few things to be desired. This is a little frustrating: I didn't realize I'd have to become a pizza pie-tossing, juggling acrobat just to create a simple naan bread.

Not that I have any cause to complain. I initially wanted to create a naan that was comparable to restaurant naans simply because the store-bought ones tasted like the sole of a shoe (and had suspiciously similar shapes). So when I started reading The Breadmaker's Apprentice, hoping to turn out some baguettes, I started thinking about applying some of that knowledge to naans. I don't know, but I think that this might lead to a far better naan than what you get in a restaurant.

I think this certainly is better than a typical restaurant naan. The air-bubbles in the crumb are bigger, which creates a lighter, fluffier feel to it. The crust is crispy. But most important of all, the crumb has an actual taste to it.

"Gosht" can mean both lamb and goat in authentic Indian cuisine. In this case -- as in most Western joints -- it does of course mean lamb. Not that there's anything wrong with eating goat, mind you. I've enjoyed jerked goat as a bar snack in Jamaica. Eh, now that sounds a bit iffy, that. But it's basically no different from beef jerky, really. Just with goat.

So yeah, I was in Kingston, Jamaica. I'm sure the tourist resorts are fantastic, but man oh man -- the rest of the place was a mess. They were killing each others like it was going out of fashion. And they'd just recently ruined a power-plant that provided one third of the country's electricity, so I hung out (ie., drank) with these dudes who were repairing the plant. Well, their company's suggestion, for the country of Jamaica, was to bring a couple of barges over, to tie them over. But the Jamaican government declined, seeing as how the last time they brought those barges over, those barges didn't operate very well. Which is understandable, seeing as how those barges were manufactured during WWII, as temporary power plants that were moved up and down the Mississippi river, as a backup plan in case of a German invasion of the US.

So the company did the only reasonable thing -- they renamed the barges. And the Jamaicans said "yeah okay, man." And that was that.

Sorry, can't think of anything sensible to say about this dish. I guess this is more of a diary, than a blog. But how can you resist something called "Saag Ghosht"?

Every now and then, I cook something really good. Every now and then, I cook something that's pretty awful. The more I cook, the more frequently my grub ends up being good. And when that happens, I try to expand my horizons. I try to cook unusual things.

The last three meals I made were great. So I got a little ambitious and went for something unusual. I tried to create a galette -- well, hell, to cut to the chase: a tandoori spiced salmon pizza with pâte brisée in lieu of the pizza dough. It didn't turn out too good, though. The pastry wasn't cooked through -- only the edges had that lovely crispy crust... The tandoori paste was overwhelming. It looked good, but the taste -- not so good.

Considering the rather obvious (in retrospect) fact that short crust pastry is very rich, maybe I should have done something to the tandoori paste, to lighten it. I don't know.

This is a tricky one. But I still think the overall idea is sound, though.

And yeah, the rice is the same as the last dish I made. I guess I can be a bit predictable.

A few decades ago, when I lived in England their national dish was Roast Beef with Yorkshire Pudding. The French even have a derogatory term for the English: "Rusbif." (Ever seen the British comedy "Chef!" with Lenny Henry?)  "They have a hundred religions, but only three sauces."

Well a few years ago they apparently had a vote on the matter, and now Chicken Tikka Masala is their new national dish. This is pretty funny -- and sad -- in several different ways. Funny, because it's like Germany ending up with gefilte fish as their national dish after occupying Israel. And a little sad (but a funny kind of sad) because CTM has such an odd, and/or controversial origin.

CTM is the most popular Indian restaurant dish in the world. But the recipes I've found for this dish have always been a complete disappointment. The only way I've managed to create a CTM that I liked, is when I tried to recreate it the way it was supposedly invented: Ie., an angry (and ignorant) customer sent his Chicken Tikka back, demanding that the chef put some gravy on it... According to the story, the cook warmed up some tomato soup, slopped it on the plate, and sent it back out again. The customer was happy, and thus Chicken Tikka Masala was born. I've heard many variations on this story. One took place in England, one in Scotland (one of them even involved Swedish royalty, for some odd reason), and at least two that happened in India itself. The first time I heard of CTM, it was a British military officer who demanded gravy, and the second one was an all-Indian affair, with no British persons involved whatsoever -- but that bit just might be a tad influenced by nationalistic fervor. Not that I'd blame 'em: it must be a bit upsetting for a country such as India, with what is arguably the most amazing culinary heritage in the world to have an occupying force bastardize a dish of theirs, make it their own national dish -- and now, Marks & Spencer is actually selling microwave TV dinners with CTM to India. I think Gandhi woulda kicked Churchill in the bollocks over that kinda stunt.

Well, so the way I do this CTM is simply to do a Chicken Tikka -- marinated chicken grilled on skewers. It's traditionally done in a Tandoor oven, but a simple Weber kettle works just as well. The marinade uses yogurt, flavored with all sorts of goodies: garlic, ginger, cumin and coriander seeds, green cardamom pods, lime juice (and sliced up pieces from that lime), fenugreek seeds, panch puran and of course, turmeric. Chicken Tikka just means chicken pieces (I guess Murgh Tikka didn't fly, for some reason), and it can be done in lots of different ways. But the Chicken Tikka I saw first was very yellow, from the turmeric. So that's how I do it.

The rice was flavored with minced red onions, cumin and coriander seeds, curry leaves and a few, precious strains of saffron. The sauce -- well, it had a little of everything. It was like freakin' ragù alla bolognes -- simmered real slow, bits and pieces thrown in as it went, zapped with an Evinrude, pressed through a sieve, bit of cream added, bit of this, bit of that...

But the real star was the naan. This was the first time I used instant yeast, and I was worried about how it would work since I've been using active yeast up until now. I'm either on to something, or I got lucky -- because that was some fantastic naan. If I can reproduce it a couple of more times, I'll put a proper recipe up.

Bread making is the most challenging thing I've ever attempted. I'm not at all religious, but I was brought up a Christian -- and I remember that prayer about daily bread, and in particular the descriptions about how Jesus would break bread with people, as a sign of friendship. That always confused me -- why would Jesus break a loaf of bread, instead of slicing it up like a civilized person? The only people I'd ever seen who'd do such a thing, were drunken hoodlums who'd steal a loaf of bread and some sliced ham and then rip and tear at it, shoving the stuff down their throat, like -- well, like drunken hoodlums...

But with this kind of bread, I understand. I get it. Breaking bread with someone is a sign of friendship. I like that. This naan; this bread, it would make Jeebus and Judas best friends forever.

For he today that breaks bread with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This act shall gentle his condition.

Heheh.

A fillet mignon peppersteak is easily my favorite steak. In fact, I'm pretty sure the first steak I ever tasted, was a peppersteak -- probably not a fillet mignon, though, but I certainly liked it.

Beef tenderloin is pretty damn expensive, and it has the least flavor of any cut -- you're paying purely for the tenderness. So it makes sense to make the most of that wonderful tenderness. I'm normally a medium-rare guy, but in this case, I'm firmly in the rare camp. The flavor comes from the sauce. And I truly love a good sauce...

The way I do this, is to crack one whole tablespoon of black peppercorns per person, press it into the steaks and cook them in a stainless steel skillet (not non-stick) over medium heat, with some peanut oil and butter. I do NOT let the pan heat up fully before I put the steaks in -- that way, they stick to the pan and leave lots of lovely drippings for the sauce. I went four minutes on the first side and about three on the other, for rare steaks. Then I left them on hot plates in the oven, to rest uncovered (if you cover them, the condensation will ruing the crispy outer layer). Then I deglazed the pan with brandy and used a whisk to release the sticky bits in the pan, and added some Dijon mustard, butter and cream. The final touch to really make the sauce would have been some demiglace, which I didn't have -- so I reduced two cans of beef broth down to about 10% of its original volume (one can would have been more than enough -- and it didn't need to be reduced quite that much), creating a supercharged beef broth with an amazingly strong flavor... The problem I had last time was that I didn't have enough sauce, as I didn't dare add too much cream since it diluted the flavor. Well this time around, that was NOT a problem.

Oh and here's a closeup of the cut uh, halfway through the meal. (I used another camera, with a screwed-up color balance setting, so it looks a tad different). Long live rare meat!

This is by far the airiest, lightest, fluffiest cheesecake I've ever made. When I started my cheesecake quest, I was aiming for a goal that a friend of mine dreamed up: a cheesecake that wasn't so dense that you felt like you'd swallowed a brick after eating it -- and ideally, a cheesecake so airy and fluffy that you'd be able to eat two pieces for dessert.

I fear I may have gone too far with this one... It's like Mr. Angelfood meets Mr. Cheesycake. Luckily, I screwed the crust up by trying to incorporate bittersweet chocolate morsels, in addition to the honey graham crackers, sugar, butter, vanilla and cinnamon. The chocolate made the crust dense, bitter, and dry. And that's a good thing, or else I'd risk people trying to suck down three or four of these buggers for pudding.

Update: Okay, here's my recipe. This is the result of a LOT of experimentation. I may add a step-by-step demo with pictures at a later date.

This is an extremely light and fluffy cheesecake. The "secret" to it, is to beat the egg whites separately from the rest of the batter, and to use more egg whites than yolks.

I use a traditional springform pan for my cheesecakes. Some people use a shallow tart pan, which I admit results in a quite elegant, petite cake -- but it'll only yield about eight servings, compared to about twenty for my springform cake. And it's the same amount of work, so you do the math... Besides, going through the effort of creating an excellent cheesecake, only to end up with no leftovers is just too traumatic to contemplate.

The crust is flavored. This is important. Too many commercial cheesecakes have these boring crusts that brings nothing to the party.

For the crust:
1 package Graham Crackers (These typically come in a box with three packages, total weight 14.4oz, so that's about 4.8oz for one package).
3 tablespoons brown sugar
4 tablespoons melted butter (more if needed)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 325ºF.
2. Before opening the package, crush the crackers with your hands. Then pour it into a food processor and pulse it until you have coarse crumbs -- don't overdo it, or else the crust will become too dense.
3. Add the rest of the ingredients and pulse it a few more times. Make sure there is enough butter to make the mixture stick together.
4. Brush the bottom of a spring-form pan with melted butter (to prevent it from sticking), and add the mixture.
5. Press the mixture into the pan -- I use the bottom of a glass, and then a spoon around the edges.
6. Bake in oven for approx 12 minutes, and let cool.

For the filling:
3 8oz packs of cream cheese
7 eggs
1 cup white sugar (or more, according to taste)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 200ºF.
2. Separate egg yolks and whites, but discard two of the yolks (otherwise, it will become too rich. If you like it rich, only discard one yolk -- but using an equal amount of yolk and whites makes it too rich for my taste).
3. Beat the cream cheese until smooth (I use a hand-held electric mixer, but obviously a big, standing mixer works just as well.)
4. Add everything else, except the egg whites. Beat until smooth.
5. Clean your mixer and beat the egg whites until stiff peaks.
6. Add egg whites to the cream cheese mixture and mix thoroughly with a spatula. You do not want to merely FOLD it in gently, as this would leave you with patches of just egg white in the cake -- it has to be mixed until it is completely homogeneous. Yes, a lot of the air will be mixed out of the egg whites -- but enough will remain to ensure a fluffy texture.
7. Brush the sides of the spring-form pan with melted butter.
8. Pour mixture into pan, until it fills it to the top (there may not be enough room for all of the mixture).
9. Bake for 2 hours at 200ºF (for a browned surface, increase to 300º during the last 10-15 minutes).
10. Place on a rack to cool for 2 hours, covered with aluminum foil to slow down the cooling process. Then, chill overnight in the refrigerator.
11. To help release the cake from the pan, heat a thin knife with hot water from the tap, and then run the knife around the edge of the pan.

Serving suggestion: I like to add some fruit jelly, preserve or sauce -- strawberry, raspberry, blueberry, plum etc.

This recipe intentionally overfills the pan, making the cake balloon up almost like a soufflé. However, it will shrink back to its normal size as it cools -- but it won't shrink so much that it starts pulling away from the walls of the pan, causing unsightly cracks in the surface (this was an accidental discovery).

This was a real treat -- very improvised. Been saving shrimp peelings for a while, and made some fish (well, shrimp) stock, and wanted to make good use of it, so I decided on a fish pie.

Only problem is, when I looked around for a recipe, I couldn't find one. I found plenty of recipes that were called fish pies, and they had fish -- but they had no pie. These things were basically just casseroles, maybe with some breadcrumbs and cheese up top, au gratin -- but none with an actual pie crust; a proper pâte brisée crust. And I know how to make that, having made quite a few quiches.

Sadly, since this thing was completely improvised, I didn't actually look at my quiche recipe, and ended up with a pretty fragile crust (and oversalted, to boot) -- as you can see. But everything else was just right. Basically, I did a finely chopped mirepoix with some flour for thickening, and some shrimp stock -- I think it'd be called a velouté sauce. Then I added some coarsely chopped onion, celery and carrots (I would have added potatoes, but there was no room -- besides, the pastry provided the starch), a little cream, some salt and white pepper (just using white for aesthetic reasons).

Wanted to keep the flavors as simple as possible, so the shrimp stock would shine through -- which it very much did. Oh hang on -- heheh, there's the fish, of course. Some really nice steelhead trout fillets, which was almost a shame, since this kind of a dish works just fine, with any kinda junk fish, really. Dang, now I just realize -- the one thing I did want to add into it all (apart from the parsley) was dill. Forgot the dill. Oh hell, I was thinking of adding some cheese, too. Oh, and an egg -- except, I DID actually remember the egg (since I had one out already, with which to brush the top of the pie with). Oh well, this was far better than I'd normally expect, from such an improvised, experimental thing. Next time, it'll be perfect, of course.

Augh -- katastrof! This, my second attempt at this recipe, was a complete and utter disaster. First time around, everything went really well, but I had a simple idea for an improvement: Don't braise the fish in the sauce, because it ruins the lovely, crisp texture of the skin. This time around -- well, I used the sauce to cover up the fish... Because the skin ended up on the bottom of the wok.

I don't know exactly what went wrong, but I think it was that I didn't allow the oil in the wok to get hot enough. I don't like deep frying things -- it's smelly, it's messy, and potentially kinda dangerous. Also, I don't like having to dispose of the oil -- hence, I try to not use a lot of oil, so my deep frying attempts sometimes end up as a sad compromise between sautéeing and deep frying. And in this case, the fish stuck to the bottom of the wok. Badly.

My oven-baked fries weren't crispy (because I had to turn them off at one point, since I had timing problems). And I used far too much flour. The one aspect of the meal that I improvised -- the carrots -- ended up completely overcooked. Basically, every single element of this meal was a complete failure. The only thing that could have gone worse, would be if I'd set the house on fire.

And the worst bit about it is, this was some of the best fish I've laid my hands on in ages. It smelled perfect: it smelled of nothing. Truly fresh fish doesn't smell "fishy." A lot of supermarket fish either smells of fish, or it smells of ammonia (which is either used to preserve the fish, or to hide the fact that it isn't fresh, and smells fishy -- I'm not sure which). The only time I've ever had fresher trout than this, is when I pulled it out of a stream in the Norwegian highlands. And that distresses me the most -- I ruined some of the best ingredients I've had in ages.

This should have been cooked with a simplistic approach -- not some overwhelming chili sauce. Àla meunière: a gentle dusting of flour, salt and pepper, some lemon juice, and parsley. It would have been the cat's meow; the bee's knees; the dog's bollocks -- instead, it was just bollocks.

Oh well, they cain't all be Cadillacs.

This is one of the simplest and fastest recipes I've ever made.

1. Re-hydrate some shiitake mushrooms (or just use any mushroom you can find -- those dehydrated mushrooms are a tad over hyped I think).
2. Heat the water for the noodles.
3. Peel the shrimp and set aside (freeze the peel for stock!).
4. Chop up a red onion and half a cucumber.
5. Mix together 3 tbsp of rice wine vinegar, 2 tbsp soy sauce, 1 tbsp brown sugar and 2 tsp corn starch (I use a small "tupperware" type container, so I can just shake it, to mix it -- easy).
6. Chop up 4-6 cloves of garlic, place in a small mis en place bowl with as much hot chili pepper flakes as you like -- 1-3 tsp.
7. Throw shrimp into a medium hot pan/wok, stir fry for 1 minute, add mushroom, bell peppers, garlic and chili pepper.
8. Add vinegar-soy mixture.
9. Add cucumber and cook until heated through.
10. Serve over noodles.

It wasn't very sour, though. Maybe I should have upped the vinegar, or used a more potent vinegar -- the rice wine one is very mild.