I’ve said it before, but this past weekend reminded me why I find the process of turning an animal into meat rewarding on several levels.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I am particularly fond of slime and guts and those smelly places within the nether regions of any creature’s body. It’s that I like doing something that requires precision with a blade so keen I’ve cut myself without realizing it — is that my blood or the creature’s? Thankfully, such instances are rare these days. I may not have perfected the craft, but I know my way around pretty much anything that swims, crawls, flies or runs.
Cutting fish or jointing deer or breaking down a bird shows you that all of us are really very close to one another: I have shoulder blades, as does every other mammal I’ve cut. We all — even fish — have livers. And hearts. Some creatures have specialty bits that make them fun to work with, in a gastronomical sense. I look for nice orange roe in fish, gizzards in birds and kidneys in deer. All are little joys at the table.
I did not catch the halibut I broke down this past weekend. Or rather, I did, but through misunderstanding. Holly and I fished the San Francisco Bay on the Tigerfish with our friend Evan, and Evan had hooked a sizable California halibut, which means one larger than 10 pounds.
Evan was using a rental rod with the drag set too loose, but I thought he said he was hung up on the bottom. I was once a deckhand, so I have some experience getting hooks out of snags. So I took the rod and tested it. Nope. This was a fish. Now I should have immediately given the rod back to Evan, but we were fishing in only about 10 feet of water and in a flash the halibut was at the side of the boat. Andrea the mate netted it and we had ourselves a 15-pound halibut.
We decided to split the meat if I would fillet the fish and pack it into serving sizes and freeze it. A good deal.
That’s how I came by this big fish, the largest flatfish I had ever taken a knife to. Everything was large and easy to spot, and the cheek meat was as big as a half-dollar. The halibut had slightly unripe roe sacs, which I saved as well.
Evan had caught a smaller halibut, too, and between them both we wound up with 12 1/2 pounds of pure meat, plus the roe, plus the rack of the large fish I used to make one of the best fish stocks I’ve made in a long time.
We ate the roe last night, fried in bacon fat and served with a wedge of lemon and some chives. This is how I serve shad roe, but I learned something this time: The unripe roe of the halibut was creamy, not grainy like a ripe shad roe. Holly caught a bit of liver taste, and we both agreed that the consistency and even the taste was remarkably similar to hummus! So next time I get an unripe roe, I will use it for a bruschetta. Lesson learned.
We also ate the cheeks, served atop a shrimp risotto. They have the deepest flavor of any part of the fish — this too is something universal, as hog jowls and beef cheeks hold a similarly lofty position on those beasts. Salted, dusted in flour and fried in bacon fat. Heavenly.
These little delicacies are my reward for the hard work of cutting and slicing and packing and simmering and freezing. Bits and bobbles are the harbinger of many wonderful meals made from more standard cuts. This is what I think about as I fillet or joint something Holly and I have brought home.
I don’t view breaking down an animal as mere dissection. To me it is a literally visceral reminder that we are all of a piece, and that each piece has a purpose.
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Tags: Fish
As the winner of last month’s Paper Chef, I get to judge this month’s edition. And while there was a rather shocking dearth of entries — two, in fact — each was definitely up to the Paper Chef standard.
The required ingredients were: honey, fennel, prosciutto and fresh favas.
- Ilva of Lucullian Delights did a creamed fennel tucked into prosciutto cups topped with fresh fava beans.
- Tammy from Food on the Food conjured up a fava puree bruschetta topped with prosciutto with a shaved fennel salad.
Both dishes looked good, and I would have happily eaten both. Both also had flaws: Ilva’s fennel cream looked a bit gray and the favas looked like an afterthought. Tammy’s dish was not as integrated and her prosciutto looked like an afterthought.
I liked the technical skill of Ilva’s prosciutto cups and the clean lines of Tammy’s dish.
It finally came down to which dish I found more accessible, and which one I felt treated each ingredient with the most attention. So I chose as the winner of Paper Chef No. 29…
…Tammy, from Food on the Food. Congrats, Tammy! You get to host next month’s edition, which will emerge on the first of June.
But as it turns out, both candidates come away with something: Ilva won the People’s Choice Award.
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Tags: Uncategorized
I’ve been out of sorts lately. Not necessarily bad, but I feel a little thin, and not in a good way. Technology has been failing me lately, and juggling several creative jobs is leaving me wrung out and sodden more often of late. This is when I remember how mentally calming it was to work with my hands: digging clams, sweeping floors, cleaning carpets. When the day was over, you turned it off and had a beer. Or six.
But I am not that man anymore. And I don’t reallywish to relive the days when my back was stronger and my bar tab larger. Those days I spent dreaming about doing what I am now doing. The Fates have been kind. And while I still drink beer, on days like these I turn to wine. Good wine. Old wine. Wine that reminds me where I was when it was a grape on a hillside.
Today it was a 1996 Torre Oria Reserva, an old Spanish tempranillo from the region surrounding Valencia. Old Spanish reds are one of the first things I reach for when I feel off. They are my comfort wine. Old Spanish reds do more listening than talking, which is something I need at the moment.
This wine, however, did have something to say. What first struck me was the nose, which reminded me of toasted walnuts. A little burnt, a little fatty. Odd. Underneath was alcohol — also odd, as the wine is only 12 percent — and the faintest wisp of blackberry. The grape’s ghost walking quietly in a forgotten hallway.
Like many Spanish reds, this Torre Oria did not lack for acidity and was sharp enough for me to suspect it had never been visited by the smoothing faeries who cause the malolactic fermentation we so love in California reds. Sharp, yes — but nowhere near as biting as a Greek agiorgitiko I tasted recently.
And damn was this wine woody! I suspect it had slept in a gigantic oak barrel for a decade before being evicted and forced to dwell within the glass confines of a bottle. The wood notes were so forceful they’d muscled past vanilla and on into an almost peanut butter flavor.
But all of this complexity, this picking of nits, came from sitting with this wine and thinking closely on it. Quaffing the rest of my glass down, the strongest impression it left me with was a nuttiness not unlike a good sherry.
I should think it would taste good with a bowl of nuts, or a cheddar cheese…why yes, it does. Another glass, another sip. I am starting to feel a bit better.
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Tags: Wine
For the two of you who have been on the edge of your seats wondering who won the inaugural Meat & Greet, which asked the food blogosphere to give me your best shot with offal, I apologize. I was off turkey hunting yesterday (it’s the last weekend of the season), and today my server was severed for most of the day. Grrrr…
Better late than never, I suppose. I have to say I was really happy that so many of you answered the call for what can be a tricksy ingredient to manage in the kitchen. Even the chicken livers so many of you went with can be off-putting.
My entry, symbolic of course, is above: It’s a dish of brined, seared wild duck hearts served with garlicky Tuscan kale and a dollop of my fresh fava bean puree. Nothing earth-shattering, but a tasty way to eat these little morsels.
Here is the round-up, in no particular order:
Kit’s Chow in Vancouver, British Columbia made an Asian-style Braised Beef and Beef Tendon in a clay pot. It looks inviting for cooler weather, which in BC they are no doubt still having. KC gets points for using something as unusual as tendon.
Pete from This Edible Life in London has a pretty spectacular use of chicken livers, with Moroccan ras-el-hanout and figs. Pete gets points for creative use of popcorn…
Warner from The Art of the Pig in New York has an “exhibition” entry — he already has the prize of “Variety Meats” I am offering. Good thing, too, because his country pate looks, very, very tasty. Where’s the offal? Pork and chicken livers, baby.
Robin of Kok Robin in Rotterdam, The Netherlands, has a beautiful Asian dish of tongue called Man & Wife Tongue Slices. It has all the racy flavors you would expect from a Sichuan dish. Apparently the original also had heart and stomach — what’s the matter, Robin? Didn’t have the guts to use stomach? OK, I know. Bad joke.
The delightfully named Pixie of You Say Tomato, I Say Tomato in Great Britain chopped some chicken livers and cooked them with wine and mushrooms.
Not to be outdone, fellow UK resident Michelle (albeit she’s a South African) of Greedy Gourmet, mixed her chicken livers with soy and honey. Delish. Major food porn points for the stellar photo and presentation.
Continuing the international flavor of these entries, Ivy over at Kopiaste (”Hospitality” in Greek) used basically the whole innards of a lamb to make the traditional Greek Easter dish, kokoretsi. You have to see this one to believe it. And for good measure, she ads magiritsa, which as far as I can tell is Greek menudo — an offal soup with a ton of dill and parsley in it.
Back in the US, Michelle from Illinois’ Big Black Dog did a delicious-looking braised oxtail, which of all the items technicaly termed offal is the most accessible and is — gasp! — almost becoming trendy!
Amy and Jonny from We Are Never Full in Brooklyn delved into the wonderful world of kidneys, with a veal kidneys with cognac and mushrooms. Their dish and Pixie’s share many of the same flavors.
And last but not least, I am so glad that Carolyn of 18th Century Cuisine in Michigan had the balls to make animelles frites, or, ahem, Rocky Mountain Oysters — oh hell, testicles! Too bad no picture.
OK, so who won? The winner of a copy of Variety Meats, edited by Richard Olney is…Kok Robin, for the Chinese beef tongue.
Why? Well, the presentation was stellar. The preparation was fascinating. And the layering of flavors, coupled with the fact that the tongue was served sliced thin — as it should be, in my opinion — made me really, really want to try this dish. Bravo, Robin!
I do have to give honorable mention to Amy and Jonny for using kidneys, which are one of my favorite bits, and to Ivy, for a double-barreled shot of Greek gutsy goodness! If I had more copies of the book, I’ve hand ‘em to both of you. Thank you all once again for entering.
Now, on to Meat & Greet No. 2: Things That Used to Fly. Cook me a bird that is neither a chicken nor a turkey in a way that will make me say, Holy Crap that looks fantastic! The contest will give equal weight to taste and originality — the weirder the bird, the more bonus points you get.
Look for more details in a few days.
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Tags: Meat & Greet
Well, since I won last month’s Paper Chef with a dish of wild duck gizzards, wild cottontail rabbit kidneys, an asparagus sauce and a quinoa risotto, I have the honor of announcing this month’s challenge. What’s Paper Chef? Why it’s one of the oldest blog events in the whole food bloggery multiverse, silly rabbit! Mmmm…rabbit….
Ahem, I digress. After consulting Ilva, Paper Chef’s answer to The Chairman, I fed numbers into a randomizer and came up with these three ingredients from the standing list:
And since I get to choose the fourth ingredient, I have decreed it shall be…
FRESH FAVA BEANS!!!!
Yes, fresh favas. Those little slippery nuggets of emerald love! As you can see in my previous post, I am currently swimming in them. So why not give myself a home field advantage, yes? Um, no. Actually, I am the judge and so will not be defending my title. If for some reason you try and try and still cannot find fresh favas, we’d rather have you use dried ones than not enter.
Here are the rules: You need to submit your dish to Ilva at luculliandelights AT gmail DOT com by noon(ish) on Tuesday, May 6. You must use all four ingredients in your dish and points will be awarded for originality, taste and appearance — just like the real Iron Chef. Also include:
- A link to your blog’s URL
- A permalink to the Paper Chef post
- Your name and anything else you’d like to add
Look for the roundup back at Ilva’s place shortly thereafter.
Allez Cuisine!
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Tags: Uncategorized
