dynagirl

Markets visited (no rabbit; boo!); beans done, pork loin roasted, duck confited, saucisse seasoned, and veal stock on hour five.

Cassoulet 2010: It begins.

I love popcorn.

Where have you been all my life, onion goggles? #nomoretears

Now that all our landline phones are old school and corded, we’re tethered to exactly two working jacks. Incentive to wire up the kitchen is on its way, thanks to Richard at ericofon.com:

One of the many neat things about this phone is that I’ll have somewhere to stash the phonebook besides under the couch. The chalkboard is reversible to cork, which is nice, since even thinking about chalk sends me screaming into the other room.

Copy this list into your blog, including these instructions. Bold all the items you’ve eaten. Underline any items that you would never consider eating.

1. venison
2. nettle tea —no way
3. huevos rancheros
4. steak tartare
5. crocodile
6. black pudding
7. cheese fondue
8. carp
9. borscht
10. baba ghanoush
11. calamari
12. pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. aloo gobi
15. hot dog from a street cart
16. époisses —pretty sure I had this delicious stinker in Paris; I’ll check my notes
17. black truffle
18. fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. steamed pork buns
20. pistachio ice cream
21. heirloom tomatoes
22. fresh wild berries
23. foie gras
24. rice and beans
25. brawn, or head cheese
26. raw Scotch Bonnet pepper oh hells no
27. dulce de leche
28. oysters
29. baklava
30. bagna cauda
31. wasabi peas
32. clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. salted lassi —but that’s an idea (I don’t care for the sweet ones much)
34. sauerkraut
35. root beer float
36. cognac with a fat cigar
37. clotted cream tea
38. vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. gumbo
40. oxtail
41. curried goat
42. whole insects
43. phaal — again, not a masochist!
44. goat’s milk
45. malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. fugu — and won’t ever
47. chicken tikka masala
48. eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. sea urchin
51. prickly pear
52. umeboshi
53. abalone
54. paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. spaetzle
57. dirty gin martini — the only way to make a martini
58. beer above 8% ABV
59. poutine
60. carob chips —gross!
61. s’mores
62. sweetbreads
63. kaolin —except in Kaopectate, etc.; ask me again when I’m pregnant
64. currywurst
65. durian —yuck
66. frogs’ legs
67. beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. haggis
69. fried plantain
70. chitterlings, or andouillette
71. gazpacho
72. caviar and blini
73. louche absinthe
74. gjetost, or brunost
75. roadkill
76. baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. snail
79. Llapsang souchong
80. bellini
81. tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. pocky
84. tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant — but I think that three visits to Sanford counts
85. Kobe beef
86. hare
87. goulash
88. flowers
89. horse —find me some and I’ll cook it!
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. soft shell crab
93. rose harissa
94. catfish
95. mole poblano
96. bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. snake

via Sara with No H

Cake Wrecks. Read every page. I can’t decide my favorite horror, there’s far too many. Edible babies are always right up there, though. Eew.
via Metafilter

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1

Fricadelles de Veau à la Crème , p. 373
Veal Patties with Cream and Herb Sauce
Gratin Dauphinois, p. 523
Scalloped Potatoes with Milk, Cheese, and a Pinch of Garlic

For being a pretty straightforward meat/milked-bread/egg/etc. recipe, the veal patties came out nicely light. I was a little uncertain how the tarragon/wine/cream sauce would pair up with them; I needn’t have worried. Served on lettuce from the CSA (she recommends a bed of sauteéd spinach, but somehow I didn’t read the sauteéd part) with the base scalloped potatoes recipe, this was a really nice summer supper–rich but neither overwhemling nor too warming.

One note about the potatoes; it’s been my experience that low-and-slow works better in my oven so they were in for an hour at 350° instead of 20-30 minutes at 425°.

How to Rick-roll a cake.

A friend just sent me this article about deadly mold in old pancake mix, which is funny in two ways — that someone can’t read “best by” dates, and also because pancakes aren’t exactly rocket science: flour + baking powder + eggs + milk or buttermilk + salt + sugar = pancakes. That’s it. Whoever came up with “pancake mix” found a great way to charge a ton for ten cents worth of ingredients that are usually on hand anyway.

Pizza takes better if it’s cut in squares. Why?

Dude built a gorgeous Bender robot that also brews beer. This man is a hero!

“Take the twisty off, lower the bag and start eating down,’ Foley told one customer after handing her a sandwich. ‘Don’t take it out of the bag.’” EXACTLY.

Suburpia finally re-(re-re-)opens. Whew! I almost drove to Milwaukee the other day but found out it wasn’t open yet. Back when I worked at the Journal, they had just reopened the first time down on Plankinton, and my friend D was practically hyperventilating about it, and couldn’t believe I’d never had one.* I thought she was crazy, but those sandwiches were as addictive as promised.

For years I’ve wondered about those secret spices. I think soy sauce and celery salt play a part, as do the cut of the onions. We’ll have to get to Milwaukee again soon.

*There had been one on Brady when I first moved to Milwaukee, but what did I know? and it closed fairly soon after that.
via CzelticGirl

Saturday:

white chili CI

Sunday:

leftoversGreatest Hits: chili, prime rib

Monday:

Cuban sandwiches

salad

Tuesday:

Vietnamese pork chops (thit neo nuong vi) VC

Gratin Jurassien MtAoFC

cauliflower

Wednesday:

leftoversGreatest Hits

Thursday:

some sort of fish

maybe some green beans

Friday:

HEY HONEY, TAKE ME OUT FOR RIBS. Thanks! xoxo

on deck:

sülze

sauerbraten

bean soup (use the cassoulet bean water)

Swedish meatballs

*all menus subject to change based on cook’s mood/energy/whim

I’m going to make this soon, just ’cause of the name and story.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1
Oeufs en Croustades à la Bérnaise, p. 120
Poached Eggs and Mushrooms, Bérnaise Sauce
Tartlettes

Gratin de Quenelles de Poisson, p. 185 – 188
Fish Quenelles
Quenelles Gratinéd in White Wine Sauce
Fish Mousse

Oh, dear, the backlog. I made this all at the end of July…
The poached eggs are delicious and easy. The Quenelles, need a little more practice. The great thing, though, is that the base can be made into all kinds of different things. The little fish dumplings were very good on their own, but somehow a little overwhelming. Maybe more fishy than our palate is accustomed to? When the quenelles stopped working in my pot, losing their shape, the better recipe was found by, as recommended, pureéing what’s left. I spooned that into little dished, added some cheese on top, threw them under the broiler–et voila!–a delicious mousse.

European butters are great, but super-expensive — like, ten dollars a pound expensive. I’ve found a happy medium in the Wisconsin-made, organic, from-grass-fed-cows butter that just arrived at the Jenny Street market; it’s got a hint of tang, and, with the higher butterfat content and the grass-fed cows, a truer butter-ness to it. Next time I’m feeling ambitious, though, I’m totally going to make my own butter. My mom had us doing this as kids, rolling a mason jar across the floor to each other for a science experiement / cooking lesson / game.

Peace Love and Barbecue
Big Bob Gibson’s Hickory-Smoked Chicken with White Sauce, pp. 55-6
We’ve spent two long weekends working on the house, and by Saturday evening all I wanted was to fuck up a chicken baaad. Between the gorgeous weather and not feeling up to going out, I figured, hey! grill! Sure, I’m tired, it’s 4:30 in the afternoon, I’ll need to go to the store, and this recipe wants you to barbecue the damned bird for three to four hours. What could be more perfect?

Talking to my coach (my brother, an aspiring competitive pitmaster), he said that while the 3-4 hours is ideal, it’d still be great if we just pulled it off the fire when we couldn’t stand the hunger any longer. We also didn’t have any hickory; just generic hardwood charcoal. You can see why we’re the farm team, and not in the majors yet.

The bird is halved, seasoned, and set in the middle of a two-sided fire. (In lieu of salt and pepper, I seasoned this one with Mr Mill’s Magic Dust.) As soon as the chicken comes off the grill, it’s dunked in a white sauce that’s made with mayonnaise, vinegar, and some other simple things. Hooootchiemama, this was terrific! The top photo shows a serving the “nice” way, but in reality, we pulled the meat off and ate it with our fingers. I can’t wait to try it with the hickory and the longer grill time. Wow.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1
Pipérade, pp. 137-8
Open-faced omlette garnished with onions, peppers, tomatoes and ham

I thought this seemed too simple to be really great — it’s just onions, peppers, tomatoes and a little garlic sautéed with eggs and ham — but served with a crisp white wine and a baguette, it was a gorgeous little supper.

There’s a few leftover boxes of phyllo in the freezer that I need to address; this took care of only one roll. Since there’s so many variations in the spanikopita recipes that I found, I just cribbed together the best bits of all the ones I saw, and added a few things that I thought would be good. Measurements are approximate, but this has:

• just under 3# spinach (3 10oz boxes)
• 2 small onions + 1 large shallot
• ~½ c. parmesan
• ~½ # feta*
• 2 T. Rosenburg I found in the freezer
• juice of one lemon
• a splash of vermouth
• 1/2 c. toasted pine nuts
• 4 eggs
• salt & pepper

If I’d had some parsely or dill on hand, that would have gone in, too. There’s about ten sheets layered on the bottom, then the filling, then five more sheets, more filling, and about ten sheets on top. In the background, you can see there’s a round pie plate where I laid out the extra phyllo from the roll, plopped in the leftover filling, and just folded it in on itself. That’s the one I’ve been snacking on, and it’s awesome.

*there would have been more but The Cheese Nibbler (um, me…) got to it

Only rarely do people believe that mincemeat actually has meat in it, and I’m here to testify. It’s actually a very old technique for preserving meats through the winter.The day after Thanksgiving, my mother and I made it. She says that since a batch will make eleven pies, you pretty much only ever make it three or four times in your life.

The photo above is some raisins going through the grinder (which was crappy and got thrown out in favor of my great-grandmother’s); the meat itself wasn’t so Play-Doh Hair Factory dramatic-looking.

Julia Child and Company
Turkey Casserole, pp. 217
turkey gratineéd in white wine sauce with mushrooms and onions

The word “casserole” has been severely devalued — say it, and the first thing I think of is either that narsty canned green-beans-and-soup thing that gets dragged out to holiday tables, or tuna hot dish; to me, it pretty much means bland, over-salted, icky gunk, probably with a layer of broken potato chips on the top. Call this recipe a casserole, call it shit-on-a-shingle; if you’re serving this, just don’t call me late for dinner!

Mr. Dynagirl usually gets a Thanksgiving turkey from work. Seeing as how we usually aren’t hosting the holidays yet, our moms pick out their own turkeys, and if I were to get a turkey to roast I’d go find an heirloom breed (or at least a Diestel), the poor thing languishes in the downstairs freezer for lack of a better idea of what to do with it. I finally figured I’d better do something with it, if only because I was going to be needing the freezer space for the cassoulet.

I’m not sure if this is originally a French thing, or if she just worked this up in the familiar idiom. When the turkey finally thawed, I cut it up into pieces (reserving the breast to the freezer for smoking later) and simmered it with the usual stock accoutrements. Mushrooms and onions are worked up on their own. (I think! I’ll look it up and edit this later.) Once the meat is cooked, the remaining stock is cooked down with wine and cream, and the casserole is topped with grated Swiss cheese. Even without the breast meat, this twelve-pound turkey yielded two pie plates and three bread pans of the most delicious, most luscious, most fucking awesome “casserole” you’ve ever had.

It would be devilish fun to make this for that kind of potluck event where everyone trots out their same nasty hotdishes; they’d get to this one, and they’d be p0wn3d! But I’m not competitive like that. No siree, Bob… hrm.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1
Cassoulet de Porc et de Mouton, pp. 339-405

This year, instead of roasting a duck and making sausages, I used duck legs confit and Saucisse deToulouse. (Hooray, Amazon!) I also split it up into several pans — all the better to have more crust, and not be trying to manage a giant, 30-pound (? whatever, really heavy), overflowing roasting pan. It filled three eight-cup soufflé pans and a very large roaster. I had a little trouble with the very full oven and it’s really craptastic uneven heating, so next year I’ll probably do the baking in two rounds.

This was as great as ever, and I’d probably have to say the best so far. There’s about $140 of groceries in this, which is always startling up front, but that’s also about 28 servings of OMG TEH DELICIOUS in my freezer.

I made salsa yesterday, and while the jars were sterilizing I got wondering about the history of canning. I hope all those “freedom fries” morons cleaned out their pantries, because the French invented it:

Nicolas Francˆois Appert (1750 – 1841) was the French inventor of airtight food preservation. Appert, known as the “father of canning,” was a confectioner. In 1800, Napoleon Bonaparte offered a 12,000 franc reward to anyone who could devise a method for the food preservation in order to provide his troops with daily rations in order to keep his armies adequately supplied while on the march. After years of experimentation, Appert submitted his invention and won the prize in 1809. The following year, Appert published L’Art de conserver les substances animales et vegetales (or The Art of Preserving Animal and Vegetable Substances for Many Years).

Stalking the Wild Breaded Pork Tenderloin in Iowa.

TupperDiva, a nice collection of all things Tuppery. Lots of gorgeous scans. I recognize some of the products and hadn’t realized they were Tupperware. We didn’t have much of it (expensive!!), but they still make the best (only?) cake carrier on the market. If only I could find the legendary kimchee keeper in the US, that would be nice.
Via Scrubbles

Everything Bento at cooking cute.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1

Foie de Veau Sauté, p. 405
Sautéed Calf’s Liver

Sauce Creème à la Moutarde, p. 406
Cream and Mustard Sauce

Although I’ve whole-heartedly embraced poultry liver… this was quite a bit scarier, as liver was one of threetwo items that my parents would let slide from their “this is not a restaurant” rule: only when Mom served lobster (HA! so they could eat it all) or liver would she cook something else for us.*

Well. Liver’s definitely an accquired taste.

I bought the organ from my favorite people at the Saturday Farmers’ Market. It was funny; as soon as I mentioned to anyone over fifty that I was going to make liver, they immediately told me how to make the standard liver and onions we all grew up avoiding. I think I know why we all hated it — the cheaper beef liver is stronger in flavor than calf’s, and most everyone recommended five minutes per side, far longer than it needs.

I sort of tentatively gummed the first bite or two… but… it was actually kind of good. Mr Dynagirl also approved (possibly more heartily than I). The sauce worked really nicely; the deep bass of the liver needed the high note of the mustard. Simple sautéed potatoes mellowed things out, spreading the intense flavor around.

Things I learned for next time: get calf’s liver, not beef; if beef is the only option, try soaking it in milk for an hour; a little goes a loooong way.

* she came from a family of ridiculously picky eaters (omg, no onions**?!) and, understandably, wasn’t about to see a repeat of that.

** True story: about five years ago my mom took her father down to Milwaukee so he could buy shoes. We met for lunch (at Coquette, swoon) and I actually saw the man ORDER FRENCH ONION SOUP — and then proceed to pull out all of the onions, bitching the whole time.

Escalope de Saumon Frais Rôti à l’Huile d’Olive
Bistro Cooking, Patricia Wells, pp 144-145.

It’s been really hot, and that doesn’t make for a kitchen that feels like making long, wintry, northern French meals. Time to turn south! Since Mastering doesn’t get too much into Provence, I finally pulled down Bistro Cooking and started looking through it. I made the tapenade (page four) and really didn’t care for it — with the niçoise olives, it was too bitter, and, after tasting the sauce here, I was increasingly worried about this book. Until…

This salmon dish, courtesy of Guy Jullien of La Beaugravière, is so straightforward that you could probably turn it out in fifteen or twenty minutes, with a salad, if you work fast. Sauté some shallots in olive oil [ What? French without butter?! mon dieu! but we are in the south now... ], when they’re softened, throw in some chopped tomatoes and let them thicken; remove from heat and add some crême fraîche. Cook the salmon about two minutes on each side, then finish four-five mintues in the oven, plate with the sauce and fresh basil; season. That’s it!

When I had checked the sauce for seasoning, it was not unpleasant but it sure seemed… well, unfinished, and a bit bland. It was at that point that I remembered that, um, I DON’T REALLY CARE FOR SALMON THAT MUCH, and himself likes it less, and — dammit! Why do I always think, “hey, it’s hot, I don’t want something too fussy, I know, SALMON.” Shit! The tapenade wasn’t yummy, dessert was going to be a risk (lavender ice cream) and NOW I’VE MADE SALMON. With an unexciting sauce, to boot. Woe!

HOWEVER.
Remember how the sauce seemed unfinished? It needed the salmon. The perfectly cooked, simple fish–with its tender flesh sliding apart luciously as the fat became like a delicious, briny butter–worked so well with the sauce that it was like they were in some sort of danse érotique, a rolling, slow tango of YUM. Hooray! Star Liquor has had a really frolicky selection of French rosés, and the random one himself grabbed was perfect with the fish.

This will definitely go into regular menu rotation. I’m also happy about that because Patricia Wells is from Milwaukee, and when we went to himself’s brother’s graduation, we saw her get an honorary degree in “culinary journalism” from my alma mater. Why didn’t they offer that when I went there?

P.S., re: the lavender ice cream. Once again, Epicurious failed me. The flavor was great–in fact, it could have used more lavender–but the combination of lavender and honey with the insanely thick texture this produced, plus the complete lack of a high note (I think Emeril’s on to something, pairing the lavender with lemon) made me feel like I was eating a clay/mud face mask. Bleargh. Evidently, I don’t make ice cream frequently enough to judge a recipe–yet. I’ll have to start experimenting, but also in smaller batches. Who goes through a whole QUART of ice cream?!