A Jersey Girl in Portland

Making Bacon

Life has been busy. I'm in San Jose with Jay Lake for the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America's annual gathering at which they give out the Nebula awards for the best fiction in a number of categories. Jay is nominated for a novella called "The Stars do not Lie." 

So, instead of cooking things and writing about it, I'm rubbing elbows with some amazing writers. For a sapiosexual person like myself, it's wildly exciting to be around so many smart people.

But the beat goes on and write I must. Bacon. Bacon? Bacon!

I made my first batch of bacon a few weeks ago. And I love it! I'm hooked. I cured it in sugar, salt, coriander and ginger. Wow.

For a guide, I went directly to Ruhlman.

I'm somewhat late coming to the party in a number of culinary areas. I think I'm the last of my cohort to make bacon. But, since I'm not breaking new ground, there are lots of people I can go to for advice or assistance.

Anyhoo, the process is simple. Make a cure, spread it on pork belly, wrap tightly and cure for one week.

Rinse the cure off the belly and air-dry in the cooler for a day. Slice and enjoy.

Ginger and coriander cured bacon

1-1/2 pounds pork belly

1/2 cup sugar

1 Tbsp and 1tsp sea salt of Kosher salt

1/4 - 1/3 cup ginger, chopped

2 Tbsp coriander, freshly ground

Pinch of hot pepper flakes

Combine ingredients, pack onto the belly, wrap in plastic, place the plastic-wrapped bacon in a bag and refrigerate it for one week.

After one week, rinse off the cure and dry the bacon in the cooler for  a day or so.

Slice, fry and enjoy.

The first batch was hella salty so I blanched it for five minutes.  The second batch was good (no, it was fabulously flavorful -- sweet and briney) but it lacked that essential bite that makes bacon taste like bacon and not a salty, fatty pork chop.

The answer is adding a tiny amount -- less than a quarter teaspoon -- of pink salt,* AKA curing salt or Prague Powder.  It's table salt and sodium nitrite. Yes, evil sodium nitrite. It's difficult to make bacon without it.

I'm so excited about my bacon experiments that I'm going to use the rest of the belly -- three, two-pound portions -- into bacon. Then buy another belly.

The next batch I'll make is garlic and thyme cured bacon. It's Jay's idea and it seems like a no brainer. Garlic bacon? What could be better. If it works, I'll make him the the only thing he's (realistically) asked me to make that I've avoided. Bacon sausage.

So. For now, I party in San Jose, and dream of bacon.

Love Big,

xoxo

Nancy

* Not to be confused with Himalayan pink salt, a naturally occurring salt that is pink in color.

(I miss you Tribe, see ya soon)

Porchetta of Rabbit

Spring has sprung in Portland and the city is awash in color; pink, purple, green, yellow and red. Rhododendrons, late daffodils, dogwood, lilac. It's so beautiful it makes your heart hurt.

And, well, I've been  busy.

Speaking of being busy, we had another butchering class at work. This one was rabbit. We made a porchetta of rabbit. It was delicious. Amazing.

I must admit that this is the worst non-recipe I've ever posted. For more technical assistance, google por chetta.  Anyway, here 'tis:

Porchetta of Rabbit

This is a variation of a classic Italian Porchetta, a belly wrapped around a seasoned loin. A few weeks ago we made a Porchetta di Testa at work and (of course) I wrote about it.

In this version, the rabbitlegs are removed and the ribs and spine are carefully cut away from the saddle and loin. 

Chop up the leg meat (removed from the bone) with some bacon, garlic, good paprika and herbs and roll it up inside the muscle.

Poach (preferably in the rabbit stock you made with the carcass) for 30 minutes, chill, slice and serve. 

Oh my it was good. Although, anything served with bacon-wraped asparagus is bound to be delicious.

With thanks to CeeLee for help in the kitchen.

Love Big, XOXO,

Nancy

Amazing potato salad minus the WOW factor

It's 70 degrees in Portland and I have the day off. I'm grilling steaks later, with broccolini (grilled) and baked potatoes.

Oh, potatoes. I love potatoes and I love baked potatoes. But, given my choice, I'd eat potato salad every day.

Last week I had The Tribe over for a cook-out in the rain. Burgers, pork BBQ, potato salad and a lot of other stuff. The BBQ was wonderful, but the spud salad was awarded best in show.

<sigh> I love my Mom's potato salad. Savory bacon, crisp celery, hard cooked eggs, and the mouth feel of mayo. Heavenly.

It's evolved over the years, but the basic recipe is sound. I now use red potatoes, hard-cooked duck eggs and high quality bacon, but it's still the same pot salad my mom makes.

This is about the least precise recipe I use. I make potato salad by feel but--to the best of my recollection--this is the formula.

Potato Salad

4 pounds red potatoes, scrubbed and cut into less-than bite sized pieces

1 pound bacon, cooked and chopped (minus two slices for the cook)

4 stalks celery, finely diced

4 hard cooked eggs, cut up with a hard-cooked-egg-cutter

1 pint (two cups) real mayonnaise (I use Hellman's/Best Foods)

Salt to taste

Place the potatoes in water to cover. Add 1 Tbsp salt. Cook until done -- preferably before the skins fall off.

Rinse under cold water, spread on a sheet tray to cool.*

Combine ingredients, mix thoroughly, and chill.

This potato salad is pure comfort food, entirely lacking in WOW factor (according to a culinarily sophisticated friend). But, damn, the kids and guys will love it.

My sweetie Jay Lake has a killer heart attack potato salad (oops, poor choice of words) with about 21 ingredients. Yummy but really complicated.

Do not misunderstand me. I'm not looking for One Potato Salad To Rule Them All. What I do want is variety. WOW or comfort? Vanilla or not-vanilla? If asked to choose, I'd say YES. I'd like it all, thank you.

Love Big,

Eat Well,

xoxo 

Nancy

  

 

 

 

*Cooling the potatoes is important as adding mayo to hot potatoes and not cooling the finished salad properly is a germ incubator. No bueno.

Porchetta di Testa, Rolled pig face, or what I did at work

I work for an amazing company, Deschutes Brewery, specifically the Portland pub. Yesterday the culinary management team and a couple of line cooks (like me) had a

butchering lesson with Camas of the Portland Meat Collective.

We butchered a pig head to make Porchetta di Testa, rolled pig face. You take the skin, cheek meat and jowls off the pig (in one piece), trim it, season it, roll it and cook it -- chill it, slice it and eat it. Easy peasy.

Here's a photo montage of the process. The pig, the face (and my face), the rolled and trussed Porchetta di Testa, and the stock pot of mirepoix and skinless head to make hog stock.

I made stock last night and this morning. Tomorrow I'll braise the Porchetta in the hog stock and chill it. It'll be yummy. And weird.

     

 

Love big.

Eat well.

Have fun.

xoxo

Nancy

PS: Housemate Lisa, do not look closely at the pot in the fridge.

Adventures in Portland: Big sando and a bold move

It's nutty when you're so busy and work such odd hours that you have to schedule time to have dinner with your house mate. Such is the home life of HouseMate Lisa and I.

So, schedule we do. Last week, for our scheduled dinner, we went to a bar on Division called North. It was a totally random decision. We liked their happy hour menu and it was close to home.

We arrived and realized that the menu wasn't as interesting  as we thought. But the bar had a good vibe and large picture windows that let in the sun of a gorgeous Portland spring day. Great for drinking but to eat? Not so much. The printed menu was really dirty and there was no one eating. Actually, there was only one other person in the bar.

Food Carts to the Rescue! The bartender said we could pick up something from the cart pod, A La Carts on SE 50th & Ivon, and bring it in to the bar.

Perfect. So we picked up "Midwest style pork tenderloin sandwiches" from The Burger Guild.  

Holy Humongous Sando Batman!

It was freaking DELICIOUS. Pork pounded thinly, breaded and deep fried. Served on a hamburger bun with yellow mustard, onion and lettuce. $7.50 for a sandwich that Lisa and I could have easily split.

The top photo is my sandwich. It was Very Large. Housemate Lisa's Sando of Culinary Delight was Scary Large. It was about ten inches wide, dwarfing the standard-sized hamburger bun necessary for conveying the fried pork to one's mouth. It was a beast. So yummy, juicy, crisp and fresh.

As I mentioned, there was only one other person at the bar.

A senior hottie who looked like he'd just stepped out of an AARP print ad. Silver hair, tanned and very well built.

No wedding ring.

He was sitting in the sun reading Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities." We made serious eye contact while Lisa and I attempted to eat our big pork patties. 

Lisa had tea, I had two Manhattan's.

On the way out of the bar, we chatted with the hottie for a minute about Tom Wolfe and "A Man in Full" (which I thought rather fitting as the hottie was all that). We exited the restaurant.

I had a twinge of regret while waiting to cross Division. I wanted to meet him.

I don't know if it was the booze, the sandwich, or the sunshine but I handed my leftovers to Lisa, went back into North, got a cocktail napkin from the bartender and gave the hottie my phone number. I dropped it, smiled and ran out the door -- my cheeks crimson with embarrassment.

Well, what do you know, he called me the next day.

And he's not an ax-murderer, just a lovely hunk of a man, hanging in Portland for a week or so.

The moral of the story? Take a chance. Even if we hadn't hit it off (we did) the act of giving and receiving something as simple as a phone number made two people very happy. And made Lisa giggle.

Love big and eat huge sandwiches.

xoxo

Nancy

 

 

 

A new toy -- a Weber grill

I'm finally settling into the new house. Pictures are hung, the grass has been mowed, and the kitchen has been baptized.

Now it's time to work on the outdoor kitchen. I got a propane-powered from an old BF who moved in with a gal who apparently doesn't like smoked food (or dogs or cats or seafood). To each his own.

I bought a Weber kettle grill. charcoal fired. Big, black and beautiful.

I christened it with a fat, juicy organic chicken. I brined it when I got home from work on Tuesday and cooked it last night.

Oh, it was delicious. I brined it using Ruhlman's Basic Brine.

It cooked for almost two hours, which was roughly 20 minutes too long. Because it was brined, the meat was as juicy and flavorful as a medium rare steak. Also, as a result of the extended cook time, the skin was perfection. Well seasoned and flavored with mesquite smoke.

I used offset heat -- with charcoal surrounding a center drip pan.

Believe it or not, in 25 years of outdoor cooking, (and 15 years of writing about it) I've never made a chicken on the grill. Well, that's going to change.

Hell, yea! It was perfect.

And it passed the first date test.

xoxo

Nancy

(Welcome to the tribe C-Lee.)

Making mead

I've started my first batch of mead. I feel so medieval. Mead was one of the first brewed beverages made by ancient European people. Experts disagree as to which came first, beer or mead, but mead is so easy, my vote is for mead as the First Hooch.

It's quite simple, 4:1 water to raw honey. Stir and wait.

This batch is 20 oz (2.5 cups) honey to 80 oz (5 cups) water.

If I had access to local fruit, I'd have added a cup or so of fruit. It adds another layer of useful yeast. As it is, I have to rely on the yeast in the honey and the wild yeast in the air to ferment the honey water.

I'm using Sandor Ellix Katz' book, "The Art of Fermentation" as a guide.

The honey water is to be stirred vigorously, several times a day for a week or so. The author uses cool or room temp water (oops, I used warm water) and stirs clockwise then counterclockwise to create the 'vortex' that rapidly aerates the liquid (in the biodynamic style), nurturing an optimal growth environment for yeast.

Making mead is a really Portland thing to do. Frankly, I'm the last of my cohort at work to take a crack at the stuff. I did try elderflower wine last spring, but it spoiled before the yeast could ferment the sugared water.

If it works, I'll make a batch as soon as the berries start to roll in. I also have raspberry bushes in the back yard so I may make mead with my own fruit.

I don't think I'd be doing any of this stuff -- from fermenting to brewing -- if I didn't live in such a DIY place.

<sigh> I ♥ Portland.

I'll report back in coming weeks.

xoxo

Nancy

Tuscan nettle (sweet) tart: A recipe is really just a set of guidelines.

I was listening to NPR the other day and heard a food writer talking about a Tuscan Spinach tart. It's a sweet dish and was served as a course in a Tuscan feast. The Romans were apparently less strict about having sweets as a dessert than as a course in a larger, savory meal.*

Anyhoo, here's the original recipe: Tuscan Sweet Spinach Pie

It sounded scrumptious but I didn't have spinach, maraschino cherry liquor, or candied citron.

Nor did I have a deep dish pie pan.

Did I let these minor setbacks deter me?

Absolutely not.

I didn't have spinach, I had stinging nettles. I didn't have maraschino liquor but I had Elderflower cordial. I didn't have candied citron, I had candied ginger.

And I had a shallow pie pan, not a deep dish one . So I cut the recipe in half and soldiered on.

I don't know how the pie will taste. I'm having friends over for dinner tonight so we'll see. But I do know that recipes are occasionally bullshit.Riddled with mistakes.

This one neglected to divulge the baking temperature of the pie. Gotta say, poorly edited recipes are a pet peeve of mine. Damn, if more than one person is reading a recipe, Get It Right.

Tuscan Green Tart:

For the Crust:

9 oz AP Flour (about 3 cups)

1 stick plus 1 Tbsp unsalted butter

3 oz (<1/2 cup) sugar

2 egg yolks

1 tspn baking powder

zest of one lemon

pinch salt

1 Tbsp water if needed

For the filling:

1/2 pound fresh nettles, blanched shocked and finely chopped (blanch for three minutes in lightly salted water)

4 oz blanched almonds

2 ea eggs, separated

1/3 cup sugar (divided use)

1 oz chopped candied ginger

splash Elderflower liquor

For the crust:

Cut together, or use a food processor, to combine flour, butter and sugar until it resembles course sand.

Add egg yolks, baking powder and zest and process until a dough forms. It will look crumbly and not particularly doughy. Pinch it, if it holds together, it's ready. If it doesn't, add 1 Tbsp water.

Mold into a fat disc, wrap in plastic and refrigerate.

Lightly butter a 10 inch pie pan.When the dough is completely chilled (about one hour), roll out the dough.  Place in the pie pan and trim the edges. Flute if you like. Roll the excess dough as well and plastic wrap everything and put it in the refrigerator.

Preheat the oven to 325.

When the filling is done, pull out the crust and dock it  (poke with a fork all over the base and sides of the dough). Either use the remaining dough, rolled out and cut as a lattice or make shapes with it to lay on top of the filled pie.

Filling:

Grind the almonds until they resemble course sand. Reserve. In a bowl, beat the yolks with half the 1/3 cup of sugar until well combined. Add the nettles, ginger and liqueur and mix well.

If you have a good mixer on a base and you haven't used it yet, get it out.

This is why you bought the damned thing.

In a separate bowl, (using the fancy mixer), beat the whites until soft peaks form. Add the remaining sugar and beat until it forms a glossy merangue. It'll take at least 5 -8 minutes.

Fold the meringue into the yolk/nettle mixture. Pour into thr prepared crust, top with decorative lattice, and bake for one hour.

Ooo Baby was this pie delicious. It didn't have a particularly nettle flavor nor did any one ingredient outshine another. It was hearty and well-enjoyed by The Tribe plus one new-to-me fella.

 

Eat well and love big.

xoxo

Nancy

 

*Frankly I don't know if this is an Etruscan or a Roman dish. I would guess that latter, because of the nature of a short pie dough. Anyway, I'd love a food historian to set me straight.

What do you eat when you're sick?

I've been home, practically bed-fast, for three days with strep throat. Strep arrived with a wicked fever, chills, ringing ears, throat too sore to swallow, and a headache/earache that feels like someone is sticking needles in my ears. I wince every time I have to swallow because it hurts like a mo-fo.

I know I'm sick because I have no appetite. At all. But I have to eat. On Sunday I made a small batch of chicken broth with veggies from some stock I made a few weeks ago. I managed to eat a cup or so. It hurts too much to swallow.

On Monday, I doctored Sunday's soup and managed another cup 'o broth but knew I needed real food. Really soft, real food.

When I was a kid, my dad used to eat soft cooked eggs on buttered bread when he was sick. It's remarkably milque toast-ish and really lovely. I used duck eggs and good sourdough. Mmmmmm. His sick food, like turbo charged comfort food.

It was yummy. Oh, so it's hard to beat duck eggs.

A day passes and I find myself needing to eat again. Still stuck at home. Still have needes in the ears, super sore throat, and overall weakness.

So I made Pasta Puttanesca. I had an old BF who loved to make pasta dishes. This was one of his favorites. It has a ton of flavor, olives, capers, sardines, tomatoes, garlic. What's not to love? It's called Whore's pasta, because it's made with easily stored ingredients. Anchovies, capers, olives, tomatoes, and pasta.

I used Mark Bittman's Pasta Puttanesca recipe, but added onion and a little bit of good quality beef.

Oh how yummy it was.

May you stay healthy.

and Love Big--

xoxo

Nancy

The finished dish: Pasta Puttanesca.

 

The Sadist of spring greens; Stinging Nettles.

For reasons large and small, I'm feeling kinda kinky this spring. I'm exploring some of the darker aspects of my psyche.* I'm also cooking like a fiend in my fabulous kitchen.

I was feeling adventurous on Saturday so I picked up two bags of stinging nettles at the Portland Farmers Market. Now, if I were a sadist (shut up you with the sassy remark), I would do wicked things with these nettles and bare nekked friends.

They hurt if you touch 'em. Really hurt like a stinging rash. I know this because...

(This story is rated PG13 for nudity and cussing)

...many, many years ago I was traveling in England. The Lake District I believe.

I was hiking alone, from a hostel to a a pub in a nearby village. It was a lovely hike -- what the English call a ramble -- through fields and over fences, fording streams on bridges as old as the earth itself. 

The pub was everything I thought it would be. Lots of old wood, fIre in the fireplace, a TV playing a soccer match. The food was mediocre, (I think I got a ploughman's and a curry), but the beer was sublime.

I had three pints of the local bitter.

Three pints.

When I left the pub to return to the hostel, I was stumbling a little but happy as can be. I was having an English Experience! It was a blast!!

I got out my map, and decided to return via the scenic route. The map trail skirted a large field. I decided that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. So I cut across the field.

Or tried to. I scrambled over a fence and was overcome with the need to urinate.

<sigh> Being a woman, I had to find a place to squat where I was moderately protected from casual onlookers. I found just the place. There were bushes for cover and a huge, scenic field for me to look at while I peed. I dropped my shorts, and settled back on my haunches for a long (remember-- three pints) piss. I let loose, exhaled and looked up at my scenic field.

Oh SHIT! I'm eye to lips with a gigantic bull. RIng in the nose, dripping snot and saliva, snorting at me.

I leaped up, slipped in a puddle (remember-- three pints) and tumbled backwards into a bush, bare arsed.

I landed in stinging nettles.

I screamed so loud I scared the bull.

I made it back to the hostel and locked myself in the loo with tweezers and a mirror until I got out all the stinging bits.

The moral of the story: If an English hiking map steers you away from an obvious short cut, follow the map!

Enough of that silliness. Back to cooking. The nettles are medicinal. Loaded with vitamin C, and a great curative for allergies and dandruff.

I planned on making all sorts of lovely things with two bags of nettles I procured from Winters Farms. I was going to blanch and puree some, make a quiche or some pasta. I was going to make infused vodka, and dry some for later use in tea.

The nettles are blanched in salted water for a minute or two, then shocked in cold water. Simple stuff.

Alas, I've come down with either the flu or a killer cold. Either way, I'm going nowhere near a kitchen for the remainder of today and probably tomorrow. <sigh>

But I did make some lovely tea. And, well, I did infuse vodka (Hey, it's medicinal!) but the other projects will have to wait.

Oh, before I forget, it has a very mild taste. The Wikipedia folks describe it as tasting like spinach and cucumber, which sounds right to me.

I may still make fun stuff with the nettles.

 But I will keep them well away from my bum.

Love big and eat well.

XOXO

Nancy

* Actually I've been flirting with my dark side for the past year or two but with an ever-changing cast of supporting characters.