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Archive for the ‘Traditional Foodways’ Category

Photo by Flickr User vieux bandit

Recently we bought some fresh ginger root and I was about to wrap it in aluminum foil and put it in a zip top bag in the freezer when I found myself wondering how people used to store it before freezers were everywhere. It turns out the answer, as is often the case, is alcohol!

Years ago I bought a wonderful reference book called Keeping Food Fresh by Janet Bailey which is basically the ultimate guide to choosing and storing all kinds of food. I’m always going to it to answer questions like these. Ms. Bailey gives several ways to store fresh ginger root, including my freezer solution, however she says the most intriguing one she has run across is submerging the whole root in sherry and storing it in the refrigerator. She goes on to suggest uses for the ginger flavored sherry which results from this happy combination, including salad dressing and a little something to liven up your next stir fry.

Further research revealed that many kinds of spirits have been used for this purpose, including brandy, vodka, sherry, and sake. It seems that a fairly high alcohol content is required since most sources do not suggest wine. Completely submerging the root (peeled or unpeeled) in distilled spirits or sake (which runs about 18-20% alcohol) is said to preserve it for six months. Ms. Bailey only gives ginger stored in the freezer a life of four weeks, so I had to give this a try.

Our ginger had two sections so I cut it apart and stored one the usual way in the freezer and put the other in a recycled mayonnaise jar, covered it with vodka and stashed it in the fridge. Really, I’m guessing that the fridge isn’t strictly necessary, but I have one so why not increase the chances of success?

I am most intrigued by the cocktail and cooking possibilities conferred by this method of ginger storage. If I had enough sherry in the house (we’re running low from the holidays) I would have used that instead. I love the idea of throwing a bit of gingery sherry from the jar into a sauce or salad dressing. For now, I will have to be content with thoughts of ginger flavored vodka cocktails. Not a bad trade off I’d say.

Cheers!

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My mother is from Connecticut, my dad was born and raised in the Bronx, and my husband is Australian, leaving me no defense against being called a Yankee; or at least a Yank in my husband’s case. Hewing to stereotype, our Yankee family usually has a standing rib roast and yorkshire pudding for Christmas dinner, but I think it might be time for a change. This year I’m making a southern-style Christmas dinner, with aged Kentucky country ham as the centerpiece, surrounded by traditional sides like collard greens and corn bread.

How did this come about? Well, I confess to being lured in by Saveur‘s most recent issue and its focus on all the different ways ham is prepared as a celebratory food around the world. I’ve been served aged country ham in the past, by a friend who grew up in the south, and when I started reading up on the history, that clinched it.

American aged country ham is a traditional food of the south, found mainly in Virginia, Kentucky, Maryland, Tennessee, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Missouri. It is actually a close cousin to prosciutto, jamón ibérico, speck, and other similar European dry aged hams. All of these styles of ham rely on a salt cure to suck the liquid out of the meat, preserving it and concentrating its flavor. After the salt cure (which sometimes also includes sugar and spices), the ham can be smoked (or not) and then hung in a cloth wrapping to age for at least 6 months.

Due to the time consuming nature of this process, it’s getting harder and harder to find a true dry aged country ham. Some of the old makers have been bought out by larger companies who are now taking shortcuts with the process to yield more profit. Even in the 1970s when James Beard was writing his American Cookery, he said, “Nowadays one seldom finds a ham aged more than two or three years. Formerly it was not uncommon to find them aged six or seven years, especially from Virginia or Kentucky.” Adding to his lament, I can say that during my research for Christmas dinner, I could only find hams that had been aged for one year.

I decided to go with Col. Bill Newsom’s Aged Kentucky Country Ham for my Christmas dinner. I like the fact that the company is owned by the founder’s granddaughter and she still uses the same 18th Century family recipe to cure the hams, which includes a salt and brown sugar cure and then a slow smoke over hickory wood.

Ham ordered, I began to research recipes. A word of caution: there are many horror stories on the Internet, from people who heard about the wonders of aged country ham, decided to try it out, but cooked it the same way they would a ham bought in a (Yankee) grocery store. Aged country ham needs to be soaked for one or two days before cooking to remove the excess salt left from the curing process. If you don’t do that, it will taste like a piece of rock salt with ham flavoring. It is also important to serve aged country ham sliced as thinly as possible (think prosciutto here) and at room temperature which makes it taste less salty.

As with all traditional foods, there is much lore surrounding the best way to prepare it. Betty Fussell, and others claim that tea in the soaking water will help draw out the salt. I’m going to try out that suggestion and see what happens. Other popular recipes include the use of Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper as part of the braising liquid. I think I’ll stick with white wine, or maybe apple cider, and a little Calvados (see, I’m still a Yankee at heart). The final question is, to glaze or not to glaze? I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking a fruity, but not too sweet, glaze could be a nice foil for the intense, salty ham. Other traditional options include bread crumbs, brown sugar and mustard; or molasses, brown sugar and mustard. So many choices!

Below I’ve listed our complete Yankee Southern Christmas menu and I wish you and yours a sumptuous and flavorful holiday!

Col. Bill Newsom’s Aged Kentucky Country Ham

Nigella Lawson’s Sweet Corn Pudding

Melissa Clark’s Wildflower Honey and Whisky-glazed Sweet Potatoes (except I’ll be using Bourbon instead of Whisky)

Collard Greens braised slowly with the ham hock cut from our country ham

Robb Walsh’s Cane Syrup Pecan Pie

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In his book In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto, Michael Pollan writes that that stone ground flour is more nutritious than flour made in a mill equipped with metal or porcelain rollers. The thing that really surprised me is that he wasn’t just saying that whole wheat flour is healthier (which it is), but that white flour ground with stones is healthier than white flour ground with rollers.

I decided it was time for me to learn a little about the history of flour. After all, it’s a ubiquitous ingredient, seen in cuisines the world over and humans have been making it for thousands of years. For the purposes of this article I’ll be discussing wheat flour, but of course there are many other flours used in different cultures. First, a little wheat nutrition lesson, and then we’ll explore the different ways there are to make flour. A kernel of wheat has three parts, the bran, the endosperm, and the germ. Here’s an illustration:

Most of wheat’s important nutrients are located in the bran and the germ. The bran contains insoluble fiber (important for digestive health), incomplete protein, some trace amounts of B vitamins, and Iron. The germ is the most nutritious part of the wheat kernel containing protein; vitamin E; almost all of the B vitamins, including folic acid; carotenes and other antioxidants; and omega-3 fatty acids. The endosperm (which is the largest part of the wheat kernel) consists of carbohydrates, incomplete protein and trace amounts of vitamins and minerals.

One of the oldest technologies for making flour is the combination of a stone mortar and pestle to initially break the grain, and the saddle quern for grinding it. The saddle quern is an elongated stone with a depression in it where the grain is placed, and then a woman (it was usually a woman) kneels in front of the short end and pushes a smaller stone back and forth over the grain in a rocking motion. It takes a long time to make any useful amount of flour in this manner. In fact, archaeologists examining women’s bones from a Neolithic site in what is now Northern Syria, found many of the women had deformities to their toes, legs, back, and pelvis which can be attributed to spending many hours kneeling in front of a saddle quern. Boy am I glad we don’t have to make flour that way anymore!

A Saddle Quern / Photo by Flickr user unforth

The next development is the rotary quern which consists of two round stones placed on top of each other. The lower stone is slightly convex, and the upper, concave. The top stone has a vertical handle coming from it’s top and a hole in the middle where the grain is fed. The operator (also most likely a woman) uses the handle to turn the top stone, grinding the grain between the stones. The finished flour flows out from between the edges of the stones. Some versions included a spout which would feed the finished flour out into a container. Here’s a great video of someone operating a rotary quern. That still looks like an awful lot of work to get enough flour to make a loaf of bread.

As one might expect, the ancient Greeks and Romans made some important contributions to grain milling technology. The Romans built larger versions of the rotary quern and used animal or slave power to drive them and the ancient Greeks invented the first water mill. A wooden spindle ran from the top stone through the bottom stone. This spindle extended down into a stream and a horizontal water wheel was placed on it. The flow of the water causes the top stone to turn, thus grinding the grain. Eventually the Romans turned the water wheel in the other direction and used gears to transfer the power of the water to the grinding stones. This configuration: a vertical wheel, gears, and two grinding stones working in a rotary manner, remained the predominant method of milling flour until roller mills were introduced in Europe in the 19th Century. There were some changes as to how the stone mills were configured and powered, but essentially the technology was the same for almost 2000 years.

A Model of a Roman Water-powered Grain Mill as Described by Vitruvius (born c. 80–70 BCE, died after c. 15 BCE)

The latest development in flour milling I’ll discuss here is the replacement of grind stones with metal or porcelain rollers which happened around 1870. A mill equipped with rollers uses multiple sets of them turning at different speeds to break the grain and then to grind it. Rollers were faster than grind stones, they produced more flour from a pound of grain and they produced a product with a longer shelf life (more on that later). So it makes sense that the millers of 19th Century Europe and America would jump at the chance to convert their mills to this new technology that would help them make more money and increase their customer base. In fact, in only took about 10 years for most stone mills to be replaced by rollers.

A Modern Flour Mill / Photo by Kate Waxon

So, how do these different milling technologies affect the nutrition of the flour? At some point people discovered they could separate the bran and the crushed pieces of germ from ground wheat fairly easily by sifting it through cloths of an appropriate weave. In Medieval England this was called “boulting” and by using multiple cloths of differing weaves quite fine flour could be made which contained little bran and germ. However this “white” flour still contained the oil from the germ which was released when the germ was crushed during milling. Wheat germ oil, being rich in beta carotene, gave a yellowish gray cast to the flour. The oil also began to oxidize as soon as it came into contact with air, which meant that this “white” flour would only stay fresh for about six months, after which time the wheat germ oil would turn rancid, affecting the taste.

This all changed when rollers were introduced. When grain passes through two rollers moving at different speeds the slower one holds it and the faster one strips it. This meant that not only could the outer bran of the grain be removed as could be done with stone milling, but the germ could be scraped off before grinding. And so was created the first truly white flour, ground solely from the endosperm of the wheat. It was a snowy white and due to the lack of wheat germ and wheat germ oil, it had double the shelf life of the old style “white” flour. Before roller milling was introduced, “white” flour was very expensive and only affordable to the wealthy. The poor used what we would call whole wheat flour today and the truly poor could only afford rye or barley flour. Once roller mills made it more affordable, white flour’s popularity exploded and everyone felt wealthy to have it.

Unfortunately, the lack of nutritional knowledge at the time, meant that millers didn’t understand that in removing the germ from their flour they were taking away a major source of vitamin B, especially from the poor for whom bread was the main source of nourishment. Once roller mills became ubiquitous we see a higher incidence of diseases caused by lack of B vitamins such as pellagra and beriberi.

Once the requisite vitamins were discovered and better understood (during the 1930s) we began enriching some of our flour with Iron, Niacin, Thiamine and Riboflavin. Folic Acid was added to the list in the 1990s. These are of course the nutrients contained in the wheat germ which was removed during the roller milling process. In stone ground “white” flour there is no need for enrichment.

Having learned some of the history of flour milling and how it affects our nutrition, I would now like to bake some bread with stone ground “white” flour and compare it to bread made with good quality all purpose, unbleached, roller milled flour. I’m curious to see if the flavor, color or texture is different. After a cursory bit of looking around, there seems to be plenty of stone ground whole wheat flour available in the US, but hardly any stone ground “white” flour. So far I’ve only found it at Wade’s Mill in Virginia and Central Milling in Ogden, Utah. I might consider mail ordering some from them, but since freshness is so important, I’d really rather get it locally. Please contact me if you have any sources in the New York tri-state area and stay tuned to read the results of my bread baking experiments.

Sources:
Campbell, Judy, et. al. “Nutritional Characteristics of Organic, Freshly Stone-Ground, Sourdough and Conventional Breads” in Ecological Agricultural Projects (McGill University, Quebec, Canada, 1991)
Elton, John “Evolution of the Flour Mill, From Prehistoric Ages to Modern Times” in Souvenir of the First International Miller’s Congress and Annual Convention of the National Association of British and Irish Millers (Paris, 1905)
Hazen, Theodore, R. “How the Roller Mills Changed the Milling Industry” in Pond Lily Mill Restorations
Pollan, Michael. In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto (New York: The Penguin Press, 2008)

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Reading Fuchsia Dunlop’s memoir, Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memory of Eating in China, had me wanting to move to Chengdu and learn Mandarin. I even added a book on learning Chinese to my wish list, really! Unfortunately, at the moment this particular fantasy is not too practical. So I did the next best thing: I cooked up some Dan Dan Noodles.

In addition to relating her adventures as the first westerner to study at the Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine in Chengdu, Ms. Dunlop also thoughtfully provides a few recipes (for more, see her two wonderful cookbooks). In particular I was intrigued by the tale of Xie Laoban’s Dan Dan Noodles. Mr. Xie owned a noodle shop near Sichuan University in Chengdu where Ms. Dunlop was studying. She and her fellow students agreed that his were the best Dan Dan Noodles to be had in all of Chengdu. She attempted to wheedle the recipe out of Mr. Xie. Over the course of several years he would drop little hints of ingredients or techniques, but he never truly revealed all the secrets. Slowly the puzzle pieces fit into place and Ms. Dunlop cooked a version for her student friends and they all agreed that she had nailed it.

The story has a bitter-sweet ending. A number of years later Ms. Dunlop returned to Chengdu and immediately sought out her favorite noodle man to show him a copy of her newly published cookbook. She found that his shop, along with a large swath of the surrounding neighborhood, had been torn down by the Chinese government. She was not able to find out where Mr. Xie had gone or if he had opened another shop.

As you may know, Sichuan cuisine has some specialized ingredients which create its unique flavors. In her scholarly Sichuan cookbook Land of Plenty Ms. Dunlop kindly provides a large section on the Sichuanese pantry, with names and descriptions (in English and Chinese) of all the common ingredients used in this complex cuisine. One of the most distinctive ingredients is Sichuan pepper. It’s actually not related to pepper or chiles; it’s the berry of the Prickly-ash tree and has been used in Chinese cooking for thousands of years. It has a delightful citrusy aroma and when eaten it causes a tingling and numbness in the mouth that is intensely pleasurable. When combined with hot chilies it forms the bedrock of many Sichuanese dishes.

Sichuan pepper

Ms. Dunlop warns that much of the Sichuan pepper available at Asian markets in the US is of poor quality and she recommends several mail order sources. It turns out that one of them, Adriana’s Caravan, is right here in New York City and they allow you to pickup your order in person if you pre-pay over the phone. They had almost all the ingredients I needed for Mr. Xie’s Dan Dan Noodles, and were able to have them ready for me that very afternoon, talk about convenient. Adriana’s Caravan has a huge catalog of spices and specialized ingredients from all over the world and they take good care to order in small amounts, so what you get is nice and fresh. Their Sichuan pepper is a lot more expensive ($36/lb.) than what I’ve seen in Asian markets, but it’s completely worth it. I’ve never experienced this amount of mouth numbing tingle, even at the downtown branch of Grand Sichuan restaurant. I’ll have to cook more recipes soon which feature it, so it doesn’t go stale on me, oh, the hardship!

At this point I only had three ingredients left on my shopping list: ya cai, a variety of Sichuanese pickled mustard greens; dried Sichuan chilies, also called “facing-heaven” chiles because they grow upside down; and fresh Chinese noodles. Helpful members of the online food forum eGullet recommended the Hong Kong Supermarket in Flushing, Queens as being one the best sources for Chinese ingredients in New York City. So I hopped on the Number 7 train and went out to one of the largest Chinatowns in the US.

The Hong Kong Supermarket is located inside of the Hong Kong Plaza on Main St. in Flushing. It’s a large full-service grocery store, complete with fish, meat and produce departments as well as pan-Asian packaged goods from China, India, Japan, Korea, Thailand, and many other places. The fish looked stunningly fresh and the prices were really good, if I lived closer, I’d do all my fish shopping there. The packaged goods are labeled in a wide variety of languages depending upon their origin and, thankfully, some packages also have English on them.

There’s an entire aisle of pickled vegetables, so that’s where I went looking for ya cai. I found a jar labeled “Pickled Mustard” in English, and showed a woman who worked at the market the Chinese characters in Ms. Dunlop’s book, asking if it was the ya cai I was looking for. She shook her head and said what I wanted was in a different part of the store. She led me to the produce department and showed me the fresh bean sprouts (which looked lovely and crunchy). I thanked her and decided to use an alternate ingredient suggested in the recipe, Tianjin or Preserved Vegetable, which I had already found.

When I got home, I did a little more research, and it turns out that ya cai can also mean bean sprout. It seems it is used to describe the Sichuanese pickled mustard greens because the proper greens to use are tender and young like a bean sprout. If the woman in the market was not from Sichuan (most Chinese immigrants in New York City are Cantonese speakers), it makes complete sense that she thought I wanted bean sprouts.

Luckily, the Hong Kong Supermarket did have the right Sichuanese dried chilies for the recipe. They were not labeled in English, but their place of origin was. They were from Chengdu! So I took a chance and bought them. When I got home I googled for an image of Sichuanese “facing-heaven” peppers and they looked exactly right. Next time I’m shopping for exotic ingredients, I’ll use Google Images before I leave for the store.

Dried Sichuanese facing-heaven Chilies

If you’ve never gone shopping in an ethnic market where most of the packages are unintelligible and the staff doesn’t speak very much of your language, you don’t know what you’re missing. It’s like taking a little vacation without leaving home. Oh, and how did the Dan Dan Noodles turn out? Let’s put it this way, the cooking was way easier than the shopping and just as much fun. The dish comes together very quickly and is multi-layered with classic Sichuan flavors including the pleasurable numbness of the Sichuan pepper, and the heat from the “facing-heaven” chilies. If I do say so myself, these Dan Dan Noodles were better than any I’ve had in New York’s Sichuan restaurants.

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“Is Slow Food Really Slow?” is a series here on Comestibles in which we explore the hypothesis that some of the processes many modern home cooks have declared too time consuming are a lot easier than the admen would have us believe.

Everybody panic! It’s the great pumpkin shortage of 2009! I, for one, am deeply suspicious that Nestlé/Libby is making it all up to increase sales. I can report that my local grocery stores have plenty of canned pumpkin on the shelves as I write (the Sunday before Thanksgiving) and my mother, who is providing pie — which is of course the best in the universe — for our gathering, has not called to tell me that she will have to make apple instead this year. We had terrible rain during the growing season here in the northeast, and yet, yesterday at the Farmers’ Market, they had lovely pie pumpkins for sale at $1/pound. How are pumpkin supplies in your area?

If you can’t find pumpkin canned or fresh, I would recommend substituting sweet potato or butternut squash, I’ve heard that it’s difficult to tell the difference once the sugar, spices, eggs and cream are added.

When a friend of mine recently gave me a sugar pumpkin from her garden, I got excited because I’ve been wanting to try making pie from fresh pumpkin for years and the best type to use is the sugar pumpkin (sometimes called pie pumpkin). If you try this at home, don’t use a Halloween Jack ‘O Lantern type pumpkin. They are not sweet enough and they’re also quite a bit more fibrous.

I think we can safely say that it will take longer to make a pumpkin pie this way since opening a can only takes about 30 seconds and roasting a pumpkin takes about an hour and a half. However, as with home baked bread, the active time required is a lot shorter than you might think: about 23 minutes. I timed it thus (I have colored the active parts green, for the rest you can be out of the kitchen):

Chop in half and clean out the pumpkin: 15 min.
Bake pumpkin: 90 min.
Cool pumpkin: 15 min.
Scoop flesh out of pumpkin: 5 min.
Puree pumpkin flesh in food processor: 3 min.

So we’ve established that while yes, technically it is slower than opening a can, it’s not as horribly time consuming as you might think. But does the pie taste better? I did not go so far as to make two pies side by side for comparison (I’ll have enough weight to lose after the holidays as it is, okay?), but going on the memory of the many pies I have eaten which were made with canned pumpkin, I can say that I really didn’t detect any particular difference in flavor. It was delicious! However, I found it very satisfying to make a pie the way my great-grandmother would have, and I didn’t have to add another can to the recycling bin.

One thing I did notice is that after roasting, when I pureed the pumpkin it was a very bright orange, not that dull brownish color you find in canned pumpkin. I’m no nutritionist, but I’m guessing there was a lot more beta carotene and other “good for you” compounds in the fresh pumpkin.

So get thee to a Farmers’ Market and buy some sugar pumpkins. The one I used made the perfect amount of puree for pie (you need about 2 cups of puree for a 9 inch pie). I didn’t measure it but it looked to be about an average size based on what I’ve seen for sale. Ask your farmer, I’m sure she can tell you which size to get. Or better yet, buy two and make pumpkin muffins, or pumpkin bread with the extra. The puree also freezes very well, so don’t worry if you have too much.

Fresh Pumpkin Puree

Makes about 2 cups of pumpkin puree

1 medium sized sugar pumpkin (also called a pie pumpkin)

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Cut the pumpkin in half lengthwise and remove the stem. Scoop out the “guts,” saving the seeds if you wish for roasting later. Place the pumpkin halves on a lightly oiled baking sheet, cut side up, and bake until the pumpkin begins to collapse in on itself and the flesh is tender (about 90 minutes).

Allow the pumpkin to stand until it is cool enough to handle easily (about 15 minutes). Then scoop the flesh out of the skin and puree in a food processor until smooth. If your puree seems a little watery (mine wasn’t at all, but pumpkins can vary), line a strainer with cheese cloth and set it over a bowl. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and leave it to drain overnight in the fridge. The final puree will keep in the refrigerator for 2-3 days and freezes very well.

If you need a pie recipe, try this one from Simply Recipes, it turned out very well and I especially liked the addition of cardamom to the spice mixture.

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egg

Soft boiled eggs are oddly comforting and yet luxurious at the same time. Maybe it’s because I’ve most often encountered them while staying in a cozy bed and breakfast somewhere in Europe, run by a kind grandmotherly type. Who can resist the lady in the frilly apron asking, “would you like more toast dear?”

Recently I ran across this wonderful collection of genuine traditional Irish recipes (no green food coloring here!) which of course included soft boiled eggs. It got me thinking that I should try making this time honored breakfast at home.

How could I have waited so long? This is one of the easiest breakfasts I’ve ever made. No messy pans to clean up, and it takes a total of about 5 minutes! Better yet, the fact that the egg is still in it’s shell when served forces you to eat slowly, giving your stomach a chance to tell your brain that it is full. Surprisingly, one egg and one slice of buttered toast is very satisfying and sticks with me right through to lunch at the cost of only about 198 calories.

I know many people worry about the risk on contracting Salmonella from raw or undercooked (i.e. soft boiled) eggs. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimates that 1 in every 10,000 eggs may be contaminated with Salmonella and that 1 in every 50 “average consumers” could be exposed to a contaminated egg each year.

I think the best way to combat this is by not being an “average consumer.” Before factory farming, Salmonella was not a wide spread problem in this country. If you buy your eggs from farmers who raise their chickens the way your great-grandmother did, you will significantly lower your risk of being exposed to Salmonella.

I buy eggs from Tello’s Green Farm stand at at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket in Brooklyn. Not only are these chickens organic, they have no cages whatsoever, roaming around the Tello’s 5 acres in Red Hook, NY scratching for grubs and taking baths in the dust, just as my great-grandmother’s chickens did (yes, my great-grandmother, really did raise chickens). Not only do I feel more comfortable soft boiling these eggs, they also taste fantastic, with bright orange yolks indicating their freshness.

There is one other danger associated with soft boiled eggs. If you’re not careful you might become an inveterate egg cup collector. For more information see the Ultimate Egg Cup Resources Guide

A Soft Boiled Egg with Toast “Soldiers”

1 large egg at room temperature
water
salt
1 slice of bread
soft butter

Fill a small sauce pan half full of water and bring it to a gentle boil. Use a spoon to lower your egg carefully into the water so it doesn’t hit the bottom and crack. Boil your egg for 4 to 6 minutes depending on your taste. At 4 minutes the whites are opaque but still soft and the yolk is very runny whereas at 6 minutes the whites are all solid and the yolk is a bit runny.

Put your bread on to toast now so it will be done at about the same time as your egg. When your bread is toasted slather it nicely with butter and cut it into long narrow strips that you can dunk into the top of your soft boiled egg. These are your “soldiers.”

When the egg is finished use a spoon to remove it from the pot and gently dunk it in some cold water (or run it under the tap) to stop the cooking. Transfer it to an egg cup and serve with salt. If you don’t have an egg cup, espresso cups do quite nicely (see photo above).

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pavilion

Oxford Cricket Pavilion / photo by bishib70

In September I went to food history geek wonderland, namely the 2009 Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery. It was my first time attending and if you’re thinking about going next year, I highly recommend it.

Each year the Symposium has a theme, alternating between concrete and abstract ideas. For example, this year’s theme was “Food and Language,” an abstract idea, and next year will highlight the more concrete “Cured, Fermented, and Smoked Foods.”

The event is put on by the Oxford Symposium Trust which holds a fund raising picnic each year on the first day of the Symposium. This year to go with the theme, the picnic was based on the Oxbridge Luncheon in Virginia Woof’s book A Room of One’s Own. It was held at the University Parks Cricket Pavilion (see photo above).

The menu was created by Elisabeth Luard, Geraldene Holt, and Derek Muircroft. The gathering was particularly decorated by the presence of Mrs. Woolf herself, in the personage Ms. Ellie Piercy, late of the Globe Theatre. She was received with much enthusiasm by the assembled crowd as she read from A Room of One’s Own and some of her letters; including one to her sister in which she described the stressful day she had to sack her cook. The menu was as follows:

Individual game pies served with spiced pear chutney, salmagundi, and potato salad with Old English Salad Cream.

Glorious Fruits and Friandises

Isis and other cheese by the Oxford Cheese Company

Rice puddings by Mrs. Geraldene Holt

Accompanying wines donated by Penfolds, Peter Lehmann, and Yalumba

It was a lovely late summer day and the historic surroundings only added to the bonhomie. I found my fellow symposiasts — some of whom are very well known in the food world — very welcoming, encouraging this new comer to plunge right into the lively conversation.

Despite the exquisite game pies, I tried to eat lightly because I knew dinner that evening was going to be a real treat. Chef Fergus Henderson, of St. John Restaurant in London, created a dinner based on the diaries of Samuel Pepys, in honor of Harlan Walker, the long-time editor of the Symposium’s proceedings.

Here’s the menu:

Parmesan Cheese Straws and Champagne

Ox Tongue & Beetroot
White Pickled Anchovies
Bottarga
Bread and Butter
Served with Solear Manzanilla (Bodegas Barbadillo, SL)

Venison & Trotter Pie
Roast Quail
Boiled Leg of Mutton with Caper Sauce
Fricasée of Rabbit with Peas
Beef Shins
Whole Roast Jerusalem Artichokes
Served with Château Bahans Haut-Brion 1999 & Clarendelle rouge 2004.

St. Paul’s Aflame by Jelly Mongers Bompas & Parr
Served with Málaga No 1 Selección Especial 2006 & Alvear Solera 1927 Px (Bodegas Alvear)

Mr. Pepys’s diary is one of the few contemporary reports we have of the Great Fire of London in 1666. When he saw that the fire was coming close to his house he dug pits in the garden to bury some of his prized possessions, including his wine and a wheel of parmesan cheese. This is what inspired Mr. Henderson to create the Parmesan Cheese Straws we had for an appetizer.

The food was glorious. It was all served family style at the long tables in the dining hall at St. Catherine’s College, Oxford. It really put me in mind of the “groaning boards” of yore described in historical novels. And best of all, I got to eat it surrounded by historians, cookbook writers, journalists, and food enthusiasts of all stripes. Here are a few pictures, to give you the idea:

anchovies

White Pickled Anchovies

quail

A Bowl of Quail

The most exciting part of the evening was the unveiling of the banquet course entitled St. Paul’s Aflame, which was a representation of the Great Fire of London in jelly (that’s Jello to us Americans). It was made by Bompas & Parr, two young men who have recently revived the art of jelly making in the UK.

jelly

St. Paul's Aflame

jellyhouses

Jelly Houses of London

It was presented on a long rectangular table with St. Paul’s Cathedral done in orange jelly; the river Thames represented by curving pieces of mirror traveling down the table; and as far as the eye could see little houses of jelly in different shades of red and orange representing the burning city of London. The jellies were made with natural fruit juices and had just the right amount of sweetness; very different from the neon green Jello of my youth. And of course there was the wobbly factor. After all the wine we had at dinner, we did enjoy poking at our little houses and watching them jiggle.

At this point, the Symposium proper had not even begun! Stay tuned for more reflections on Oxford, 2009 soon.

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loafbread

For almost a hundred years admen (and yes, they have mostly been men) have been telling us, “cooking is hard; let’s go shopping.” In particular, they want us to shop for processed foods like cake mix and canned chicken stock. But is it really that hard to make these, and other things at home, the way our great-grandmothers did? I intend to find out.

Today begins a new occasional series here on Comestibles called, “Is Slow Food Really Slow?” in which I examine the hypothesis that some of the processes many modern home cooks have declared too time consuming, like baking a cake from scratch or making chicken stock at home, are a lot easier than the admen would have us believe. We’ll begin with the staff of life: bread.

If you can answer your email, write the latest report required by your boss, and talk on the phone with a client, all while tweeting with your best friend about where to meet after work, then you can bake bread at home. Your great-grandmother knew that it was all about multi-tasking and she didn’t even have the Internet.

The amount of active time in the kitchen needed to bake bread, without using any fancy equipment, is about thirty minutes. Yes, you read that right, thirty minutes. I timed it myself, just the other day. It’s all the waiting time in between that scares everyone (the total time is about four hours), but this is where you pull out your mad multi-tasking skills.

The process of baking bread can be divided into seven distinct segments, but you only have to be in the kitchen for three of them. This leaves you with several periods during which you can do other things. You can even leave the house if you’re careful about it. Here is how the time breaks out (I have colored the active parts green, for the rest, you can be out of the kitchen):

Measure and mix the ingredients: 10 minutes
Short rest: 10 minutes
Knead: 10 minutes
First Rise: 90 minutes
Punch down and shape: 10 minutes
Second Rise: 45 minutes
Bake: 45-50 minutes

There is really only one danger faced by the multi-taking baker: over-proofing your dough. If you choose to leave the house during that 90 minute first rise, be sure to return on time. If you allow your dough to rise too long, the yeast can become exhausted and the strands of gluten can break. This will result in door stops instead of loaves.

Also, if an unforeseen disaster strikes, forcing you to abandon your bread making, you can shove the dough in the fridge to slow it down and pick up later where you left off. Once you’ve baked bread at home a few times, the fear will leave you and you’ll realize that it is not nearly as persnickety as we have been led to believe.

Home Baked Bread

Adapted from Marion Cunningham

Makes two 8½ x 4½ x 2½-inch loaves

If you haven’t done this before, here’s a nice video demonstration of how to knead bread.

1 package active dry yeast (or 2¼ teaspoons)
2½ cups warm water
2½ teaspoons salt
5½ to 6 cups all-purpose flour

Stir the yeast into the warm water in a large bowl and let stand for a minute. Add the salt and 4½ cups of the flour and stir with a wooden spoon until well combined. Add a little more flour if needed for the dough to come together into a mass that can be kneaded. Turn the dough out on to a lightly floured work surface, knead it for 1 minute and then let it rest for 10 minutes.

After resting, knead the dough for about 10 minutes sprinkling flour on it, and the work surface to prevent it from being too sticky. Stop kneading when the consistency of the dough changes and and it becomes smooth and elastic. Grease a large bowl with butter, put the dough in it, turning it to coat it slightly with the butter, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm place until double in size (about 90 minutes).

You’ll know the dough has finished rising when you poke it with your finger and it holds the depression and doesn’t bounce back. At this point, punch down the dough and divide it in half. Shape the pieces into loaves by stretching gently down and around the sides and forming a seam at the bottom. Place each loaf, seam side down, in a greased loaf pan. Cover the pans with a dishtowel and put them in a warm place to rise again, until the dough is double in bulk (about 45 minutes). Bake the loaves in a 350F oven for 45-50 minutes, or until the crust is well browned. Remove from the loaf pans and turn out on racks to cool.

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cookedhead

Remember that game your mother or grandmother used to play with you? This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. Or maybe you’ve played it with your lover, grabbing their toes and making them squirm with laughter. Well, Fergus Henderson, Britain’s Minister of Offal, thinks about romance in a slightly different way.

In his most recent book, Beyond Nose to Tail: More Omnivorous Recipes for the Adventurous Cook, he describes a certain recipe as “a perfect romantic supper for two. Imagine gazing into the eyes of your loved one over a golden pig’s cheek, ear and snout.” The recipe in question is Pot-Roast Half Pig’s Head.

As you may know, I recently came into possession of half a pig’s head. So, gentle reader, you know what I had to do.

It’s a really easy recipe that basically involves braising half a pig’s head for about 3 hours, in chicken broth, brandy, and white wine with some garlic and shallots; and then wilting some greens in the remaining cooking liquid. The only fussy bit is shaving the pig. Yes, they are quite hairy, so give yourself a good 15 minutes for that part.

I’m not going to reproduce the recipe here because Mr. Ferguson’s whimsical and slightly archaic style is what makes it. Go buy the book or get it from the library and take it to bed with a glass of wine. I promise, you’ll have a good time.

If your beloved is an appreciator of food and an adventurous eater, Fergus Henderson just might be right to invoke Tin Pan Alley love songs at the end of his recipe, when he writes, “There you have it, dinner for two; open something red and delicious: Moon, June Spoon.”

It was the crispiest pig skin I’d ever had, crunchy and rich like the perfect piece of buttered toast. After a few moments, I realized I was drunk, but not on the wine, which if I remember correctly was a serviceable Côtes du Rhone. No, I was drunk on fat. It goes right to your head, just like Champagne. You feel a bit dizzy, and very satisfied; sort of like after sex.

Thanks Fergus.

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pate3

In pre-World War II Brittany, Autumn was the traditional time to slaughter the pig. The celebration was often called a boudinnerie after the blood pudding that might be made or perhaps a gratonnerie if pork cracklings were on the menu. All the parts of the pig were used to make a large variety of dishes which were then washed down with lakes of cider and eau de vie.

When I first found out I would have the opportunity to cook with some very fresh, local pig’s offal, one of the first cookbooks I opened for inspiration was When French Women Cook by Madeleine Kamman. It is a memoir with recipes that really captures the France of the 1930s-1950s. In the introduction Kamman writes, “most of the recipes in this book have never been written down before,” and then she goes on to describe her relationships with the eight women (conveniently from eight different regions of France) who taught her about cooking at various points in her life.

In her description of Breton pig slaughtering traditions Ms. Kamman mentions dishes called cochonnailles or pork delicacies served cold. In honor of the season I decided to use my pork livers and hearts to make Ms. Kamman’s recipe for Grosse Cochonnaille which she translates as Coarse Country Pâté.

Special thanks to Kenny Dahill of MarWin Farm for the very fresh livers and hearts which he provided gratis.

grinding

I had never made pâté before and found it relatively easy. The only special equipment you need is a meat grinder. I used the grinder attachment for my KitchenAid mixer and it worked quite well. One technique of pâté making that Kamman does not address in the book is the importance of keeping your equipment and ingredients very very cold. This prevents the fat from separating out of the mixture. Luckily, Ms. Kamman’s book occupies the same shelf in my home as Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn, which has lots of detail on this subject.

It’s obvious that Ms. Kamman means this dish to be for a celebration as it serves 12! I wound up with a large 9×13 inch baking pan full of porky, fatty goodness. Even though the pâté is made with liver, it’s mild and rich, not too offally at all. I particularly like the spicing which is the traditional quatre épices or four spice mixture that is often used in baked goods like pain d’épices. Here, the hints of cinnamon and clove lend a certain sweetness to the pâté.

This dish is best served with a bottle of Muscadet, crusty French bread, grainy mustard, and lots of pickles.

Grosse Cochonnaille
(Coarse Country Pork Pâté)

Adapted from Madeleine Kamman with technical help from Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn

Serves 12

1 pound pork liver (or a mixture of liver and hearts)
2 pounds Boston butt of pork
1 pound unsalted fatback
4 cloves garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 onions, peeled and chopped in a 1 inch dice
4 shallots, peeled and coarsely chopped
½ cup coarsely chopped parsley
4 slices of white bread, crusts removed
½ cup milk
6 eggs
4-½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon quatre épices (see below for recipe)
Freshly ground black pepper
Cayenne pepper

Before beginning, put your meat grinder in the freezer to chill for at least an hour.

Remove the membranes from the liver and cut away the flaps, lobes, gristle and membranes from the hearts (if using), then chop both meats into a 1 inch dice. Cut the Boston butt and the fatback into 1 inch cubes. Toss the chopped meats and fat thoroughly with the garlic, onions, shallots and parsley. Cover this mixture and put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold. You can also use the freezer for this, but if so, don’t allow it to freeze solid.

Tear the bread into 1 inch pieces and soak it in the milk for about 5 minutes. Then break the eggs into the bowl with the bread and milk and add the salt, quatre épices, 6 grinds of pepper from the mill, and a large pinch of cayenne pepper. Use a whisk to beat this mixture together well. Cover the egg and spice mixture and place it in the refrigerator to chill.

Now to grind the meat. It is best to catch the ground meat in a metal bowl as it will retain the cold better. Place the metal bowl inside another bowl filled with ice to prevent the fat from getting too warm during the grinding process.

Remove your grinder from the freezer and set it up. At the last moment bring the meat mixture out of the refrigerator or freezer and grind it as quickly as possible. When finished grinding stir in the cold egg and spice mixture from the refrigerator. Be sure to combine it well so the spices are distributed evenly.

Take a spoonful of the pâté out of the bowl and cover the rest, putting it in the refrigerator so it stays cold. Make a small patty of your spoonful of pâté and cook it in a frying pan. Cool it quickly by putting it in the freezer and taste it cold to check the seasoning of the pâté. Remember that foods served cold need more seasoning than those served hot. Adjust the seasonings and make another test patty if needed. When you are satisfied with the flavors, pour all of the pâté into a 9 x 13 inch baking dish and bake at 350 F for about 45 minutes or until it is nice and brown and the internal temperature reaches 150 F on a thermometer. Remove the pâté from the oven and allow it to cool to room temperature. Then cover and chill for at least 3 hours before serving.

Quatre Épices

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
4 teaspoons ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cloves
2 teaspoons grated nutmeg
4 teaspoons ground coriander

Ironically, Madeleine Kamman’s recipe for quatre épices contains five spices. Use the freshest spices possible, grinding them yourself if you can. Mix them together and store in an airtight jar in a cool, dark place.

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