Good Medicine

I should start this post out with a solemn warning:  the following entry has been soaked in Nyquil.  Proceed at your own risk.

So, I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with something akin to walking death.  Of course, I did what I always do when my not-so-trusty immune system lets me down:  I went straight to my favorite Vietnamese/Lao restaurant (Pho Lena) and got some therapeutic pho-to-go.  I have a lot of faith in the healing properties of pho, or at least in its placebo effect.  Shortly after a good dose of soup accompanied by Family Guy, I took some Nyquil and sat down to write this post.

Sticking with the theme of soup, I thought I'd recount my adventures with crock-pottery from last week.  My friend Kat had decided to host a What-A-Crock party to which we were all supposed to bring something created in a CrockPot.  I decided to make a pot roast, but realized I had some pork tenderloin hanging out in my freezer.  My plan was to cook the tenderloin along with some apples for a couple of hours and then cut it up to serve it.  I added a bit of chicken stock, some balsamic vinegar, freshly chopped sage and some frozen blueberries, and then I walked away.  For a while.  When I came back to it, I had two large pork tenderloins surrounded by a soup-like mixture with some barely recognizable apples.  I decided to run with it and I tried to cut up the meat into small pieces.  I ended up shredding it into what appeared to be pork spaghetti.  This clearly wouldn't suffice.  I attacked it with some kitchen shears and attempted to cut up the lengthy pork strands.  I ended up with a tasty little stew to which I added a few raw blueberries, some fresh sage and a sprinkle of gorgonzola.  It was a hit.  If I were to try to replicate this accident all over, I'd cut up the pork into bite-sized pieces before it lost it's structure, and I'd add some gorgonzola earlier in the process while saving some for the final plating.  The combination of colors from the sage, blueberries and gorgonzola was refreshing.  The soup itself was extremely healthy, with the only added fat being that from the tenderloin (which clearly wasn't much).

I'll definitely be serving it again, just without the pork spaghetti stage.

And on that note, I shall surrender to the Nyquil...

Worth it's weight in gold

A couple of weeks ago, I had an amazing revelation: perhaps I should start using some of the "very special" ingredients that I've been stockpiling.  Like saffron.  I have tons of the stuff.  It's one of the top ingredients that fall under my "ingredient hoarding" compulsion.  Other items in that list would be Madagascar vanilla beans, white truffle salt, hazelnut oil and French gray sea salt.  I would assume that all of these items have a relatively short shelf life (except perhaps the salt).  The irony is that I don't even know what to do with most of these ingredients, so there's really no reason to actively stockpile them; I have yet to hear myself despair, "If only I had more saffron available!"

Fun Fact:  1 pound of saffron requires an entire football field's worth of flowers and can cost up to $5000.

So, what to do with these beautiful little crocus threads...

I decided that paella would be a good use for saffron.  It would also help me use up a portion of the gargantuan bag of frozen giant prawns from Costco.  This was another purchase that was preceded by the thought, "oh, those would be really handy to have around the house!" and followed by the thought, "I don't want to waste those big beautiful prawns on just myself.  I'll save them for a 'special occasion.'"  I think this is how ingredient hoarding usually begins; good intentions, poor execution.

Saffron and prawns, check.  The recipe also called for grape seed oil, which, *shock and awe* I happened to have a full bottle of which was rapidly approaching it's "use-by" date.  I decided to use some of my French gray sea salt at the table and some of my Madagascar vanilla beans for the flan.

I invited two of my coworkers and their female counterparts to join me for this saffron-laden meal, forgetting that one of them is vegetarian.  Apparently he eats seafood and wild game though, which meant the prawns and mussels were in, but what about the chorizo?  As fate would have it, the other coworker (an enthusiastic carnivore) happened to have some caribou chorizo lying around his freezer and he offered it up for the occasion.  Perfect!  I cheated a bit with the free-range organic chicken broth, but otherwise it was very much a farmed-animal-free meal.

The paella was very easy to make.  The sauteed onion, chicken stock, saffron and white wine made a fantastic broth.  I will definitely be holding onto that flavor combination for future creations.

The caribou chorizo was interesting to work with.  It was in hamburger form, so rather than slicing a piece of cured sausage, I formed little meatball-esque gobs of raw ground caribou which I squeezed the liquid out of and then seared in the hopes of creating a stabilizing outer layer.  I was moderately successful, but there was still significant disintegration during the cooking process.  The final product somewhat resembled Cajun "dirty rice".

Overall, the whole process took far less time than I had expected, which meant that it ended up sitting on the burner longer than it probably should have.  The rice lost some of it's structure and was more "spreadable" than I'd have liked, but the fantastic flavor was intact.  The caribou was easily recognizable and it added an intriguing depth to the spectrum of the meal.

My guests brought a spinach salad with toasted almonds and dried cranberries.  The fresh baby spinach leaves provided a great visual contrast against the very warm colors of saffron rice and cooked prawns.

For dessert, I made flan.  I have a love-hate relationship with this dish.  Love it because it's a classic; all creamy and silky, a secret little reservoir of caramel hiding in each ramekin, waiting to be plated.  Hate it because it requires dealing with candy napalm, volatile molten sugar which quickly turns from "slightly caramelized" to "overly carbonized" in a matter of nano-seconds.  I, of course, let my first batch of sugar go a few shades too dark and in a brief lapse of judgement I reached for the cold water tap to both cool and dilute this hellishly hot mixture, hoping to reclaim the pot and start all over again.  Shame on me.  I know better.  Pouring water (with a boiling point of 212 degrees) into a pot of 350 degree sugar will not create more liquid, it will create explosive steam which will project that sticky 350 degree plasma-like sugar right onto the unsuspecting chef.  As soon as I heard the water hit the sugar, I realized my mistake and threw a towel over the pot to try to subdue the little candy volcano I had just created.  I don't often get an adrenaline rush in kitchen, but flan can do it every time.

At any rate, I had to let the sugar cool and harden on its own and then waited it out while the hot tap water unhurriedly washed away the inch of hard candy from the bottom of the pot.  This is equivalent to trying to dissolve a big ol' lollypop in a drinking-fountain stream.  Less than thrilling, but hey, I suppose I'd already gotten my adrenaline fix for the day.  Needless to say, I didn't let the sugar burn the second time around.  I managed to transfer the molten mixture to each of the ramekins and made 16 beautiful little flans.  Unfortunately, they tasted like caramel-covered heaven on a plate, thus ensuring that the Erica v Flan saga shall continue.

Everyone seemed to like the meal, start to finish.  I paired it with a beautiful 2006 Las Rocas Garnacha (one of my favorites!) as well as a Tempranillo blend and a Rioja which I can't remember the names/vintages of.  When I make it again, I'll try it with traditional chorizo and I'll add some chicken pieces.  I'll also try to time it so that the rice doesn't mushify as much.  As far as the flan goes, I'll definitely make it again, and hopefully skip the whole burnt sugar volcano bit.

Here is a photo from Kat's camera phone.  Maybe next time I'll break out the Nikon...

I think that my main goal (ditch the ingredient hoarding habit) was accomplished.  I've definitely given myself the freedom lately to abandon the guilt associated with breaking out my finest ingredients.  That's what they're there for!  I think that as long as I choose options that really show off each of them items, then that's certainly far better than letting them waste away on the shelf, donating their best flavor molecules to the atmosphere.

C'est vrai, non?

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food."

And so it begins...

After a few years of culinary adventures, I decided it was probably about time I started jotting some notes down, and what better way than the always-accessible, ever-cliche "food blog"?  I must admit that I'm not entirely sure of the usefulness of this blog for any outside readers, but I certainly think it will help me to capture some of my trials, tribulations and perhaps a success here or there, for use in future endeavors.  If, along the way, I'm able to share some fun ideas with other folks, then all the better.

I plan on posting accounts of some of the epicurean experiments that take place in my kitchen, as well as any fun recipe ideas or dishes I come across in the "real world."  I also plan to include information about wine pairings and perhaps a photo or two.

I've been doing quite a bit of cooking over the past two weeks, so there will likely be a retroactive post or two.

Watch this space...