Day 4: Tuna Steak and Garlic Bread
Florida: Day Four
28
Apr
Day 4: Fried Conch topped with Hard Boiled Eggs and Honey Mustard, sided with Quince and Apple
Florida: Day Three
27
Apr
Day 3: Sour Cream Jalapeno Monterey Jack and Old Cheddar Biscuits
There was going to be Conch with a Quince and Apple slaw to accompany this one, but we just gorged on these tasty biscuits and wine instead.
Florida: Day One
25
Apr
A weeks vacation, my first in over three years takes me to Florida, for a week of relaxation and cooking—and see space shuttle Endeavour’s final journey to the heavens.
I’m going to be doing a series of blog posts about the food I cook, but for now there will be placeholder pictures.
Day 1: Silver Trout with a Sour Cream Honey Mustard Sauce
Enjoying the Spoils
26
Jan
Duck Prosciutto. Eight Days. In hindsight it seems so simple, but, when I embarked down this path, I had no expectations of how the journey would end. There were so many variables at play: temperature fluctuations; humidity; spice selection—the unknowns left the outcome clouded in mystery. But, there is a certain joy in that: to invest time, money, and energy into a project that may (or may not) result in an oh-so-tantalizingly tasty end result.
To be honest, I would have been horribly disappointed if it had not turned out after investing hours of thought and days of salivation. So, when the end of the project dawned, I could feel my heart pounding. I was excited, but nervous: the best time of any long process is that moment of truth—the first slice through a Beef Wellington revealing that delightfully rare meat ensconced in golden pastry or that spoon delving into a successful chocolate souffle that oozes out on to its plate—that carries with it such a momentous rush of exhilaration, a heady mix of adrenaline and worry that gives way to pride, joy, and tastiness!
I approached that first taste of my prosciutto with heightened nervousness, for at the same time I was planning my duck prosciutto, I was also helping plan the food for a good friend’s 42nd birthday. What better occasion to unveil my ducks, naturally, than to serve it to upwards of thirty people?
During the process of curing, I had weighed my duck breasts everyday—I even had done some basic modeling to predict when they’d be ready—but, when the 14th came, I wasn’t all that fussed on how heavy my breasts were. (For those that are following along at home, they had shed on average about 20%.) For when I tenderly took them down from the hooks they had called home their home for the past week, the first touch let me know all I needed to. The supple flesh, soft yet resilient, felt right; I was reassured, all was well with the universe.
They sat innocently on my countertop for several hours after I had retrieved them from beneath Jaime’s house. But, as I sharpened my Chef’s knife on a whetstone in preparation for slicing into the cured meats, or walked by to proof yeast for another batch of bread, I was drawn to them, I just couldn’t keep my hands off them. The delightfully resilient texture called out for my attention, begging to be massaged so they could release the scents of their wonderfully aromatic herb mixtures.
Finally, as five batches of bread sat on the counter next to them rising away, I knew I could delay the moment of reckoning no more, it was time for the moment of truth. I sliced a little slice off the end of my spicy prosciutto, almost entirely fat with just a smidgen of meat and popped it into my mouth. In an instant, it melted away on my tongue leaving a strong proscuitto-ey taste with a gentle spicy heat. I was, to say the least, hooked.
I started slicing, shaving tastes off each breast in turn, pausing only briefly to revel in the absolute tastiness that a little time and salt had worked in my duck. I started scheming, perhaps I shouldn’t serve it to friends and guests, perhaps I had done something wrong, perhaps I’d have to consume dispose the breasts and start all over.
Eventually the moment of greediness passed—or perhaps the richness of the duck fat got to me, I can’t say for certain—and I realized there would be nothing better than to share the simplicity and joy of home made charcuterie with as many people as possible.
A friend in Hamilton had offered up the cellar of her recently acquired house for charcuterie hanging, and while I appreciated the offer, with a home for my duck breasts available so much closer I couldn’t dream of further separation. In gratitude, however, I placed a sample of each of the prosciutti in some cheesecloth and sewed it up, (also taking the opportunity to similarly secure the other portions in order to ward off any further ‘sampling’.) What better housewarming gift than one that is also an encouragement to use one’s cellar to transform meat into tasty comestibles?
Prosciutti safely secured away from sampling, it was time to turn to the next problem: how to cut over a kilogram of prosciutto into thin slices? I had initially thought a razor sharp knife would be sufficient, but quickly abandoned the idea. We briefly attempted to use a mandolin before abandoning that attempt and turning to a food processor using a slicing attachment. This worked beautifully, gentle downward pressure on the prosciutto and quick pulses resulted in perfect wafer thin slices.
At the party it was difficult to tell which prosciutto was the favourite, as they were all quickly consumed. I knew the verdict, though: my Asian inspired prosciutto was the hands down favourite, the buttery sweetness of the Manuka honey underpinned the Star Anise, Fennel, Coriander, Cinnamon, and Cloves beautifully.
Prepping the Duck
09
Jan
I decided that with my three breasts, I’d try three wildly different spice mixes. The first, coming from love of spicy charcuterie and my recent acquisition of habanero salt, would be a spicy prosciutto. For the second, I decided that I’d do a Port soaked, vintage merlot, Mediterranean herbed prosciutto. And finally, as part of trying to learn and play with Oriental flavours, I wanted to do an Asian inspired prosciutto.
I rubbed one of my breasts down with a light coating of habanero salt before placing it on a bed of kosher salt. The second I coated with a bit of vintage merlot salt, before placing it and the third into the dish, careful to ensure that they were well separated by the salt.
Twenty four hours later, it was time to pour a glass of wine and start working on the rubs.
For my spicy prosciutto, I started with a base of habanero salt to which I added Ground Sanaam chili, Hungarian Paprika, Ground Mustard, Ground Ginger, White Pepper, Black Pepper, before finishing it off with some Maple Syrup flakes.
A little bit of grinding and balancing later, I was off onto the next: my Mediterranean spiced, Port Prosciutto. I set aside the cheesecloth in a bowl of port, and ground some Sage, Thyme, Basil, Oregano, Rosemary, Marjoram, Dessicated Garlic, and Black Pepper into a heap of vintage merlot salt.
The final was the toughest for me to balance, as I was playing with Star Anise, Fennel, Coriander, Cinnamon, Cloves. I wanted a sweeter taste to this, so I was using some New Zealand Manuka Honey, with some sea salt my sister brought back from Bon Aire to balance.
Rubs constructed, it was a simple matter to: massage my breasts;
Wrap them tenderly in cheesecloth adornments;
Descend into the depths;
And hang them out to dry.
Thus the waiting game begins.
14ºC. We’re in Business.
07
Jan
There is something special about crawling under someone’s house to see if it might be the perfect space within which to hang meat to dry. Using my extremely precise wine thermometer, I determined Jaime’s basement was an acceptable 14ºC for my first Charcutepalooza experiment. My location problem solved, I started contemplating where I’d acquire my duck from. I knew I wanted something as local as possible and, ideally, fresh rather than frozen. Luckily, living in Toronto, I have a bevy of options that would fit the bill.
Having a connection to the food I eat is important to me—I love being able to talk to the farmer that raises my food, and I try to reduce the number of people that are involved en route from the farm to my larder. It’s why as often as possible I buy directly from farmers, or farmers cooperatives: I’m a huge fan of Blue Haven Farm, a local co-operative that raises Jumbo Pekin Ducks as well as Muscovy. Unfortunately, due to being rather late to discovering Charcutepalooza Challenges, I only had about two days (weekdays at that, ruling out the great weekend farmer’s markets in the city) to acquire my duck breasts if I were to have enough hanging time to allow the meat to sufficiently dry.
Under a strict deadline, I turned my attention to establishments with brick-and-mortar presence: perhaps Cumbrae’s or Gasparro’s would be carrying duck; or, maybe this would be an opportunity to try out Rowe Farms (which I had been reading a lot about lately, not all positive).
In the end, St Lawrence Market and its host of great shops won out. Located in the heart of old Toronto, the Market established in 1803 boasts over 120 merchants and is oft rated amongst the best in the world. I had set out with every intention of returning home with a full duck as thoughts of making a lovely stock, replenishing my store of duck fat, and duck legs braised in red wine accompanied by roast pears and onions for dinner floated through my head, spurning me on.
I knew I wanted to experiment with at least two, if not four, different spice mixes. Now, as others undertaking the Charcutepalooza challenge have noted, duck breasts, especially naturally raised ones seem small (our internal gauges for a bird breast have been set by long exposure to the increasingly massive chicken breasts produced by factory farming operations), so while sizing up my bird’s bosom I quickly realized that if I were to make the quantity and variation of prosciutto I wanted, I’d have to buy about 8 ducks, none of which were both local and fresh.
Quickly seizing on the opportunity of the over two hundred dollar price tag such a move would require, I justified spending a mere $55 dollars on three large, fresh, locally raised Muscavet breasts from Di Liso’s. Birds in hand, I turned my attention to the second most important ingredient: the Salt.
A good salt is important for when meat is surrounded by high quantities of salt it dissolves into the water inside the meat. The effect of this is threefold: the concentration of salt within the meat halts any bacterial growth; the presence of salt ions disturbs the electrical balance within the meat halting any enzymatic action; finally, and least (or most important!) any tastes associated with the salt impregnates the flesh of the meat.
Heading to Domino’s Foods, credit card already hot, I was snared by some fancy salts. I couldn’t resist their Habanero Salt, with its label warning (XXX Spicy!), and their Vintage Merlot piqued my interest. These salts come at a price though, and at $150/kg, my two little bags raised the clerks concern, and then curiosity.
*Clerk weighs two bags of salt at 200g combined.*Clerk: You do realize this will cost you about $30, don’t you?!Me: Yup! I’m more impressed I was able to grab so close to 100g of each!*Clerk stares at massive box of Kosher salt, andhoitie toitieboutique salts.*Clerk: Just what are you doing with this anyway?Me: I’m making Duck Prosciutto!Clerk: Prosciutto? You can… you can do that yourself?!?Me: Yup! It’s easy!2 minute discussion of charcuterie and dry curing of meat.Clerk: I’ll have to try that!
Having acquired the requisite ingredients and passed on the spark of making prosciutto, all that was left was to head home and begin the initial salt curing of my ducks.
Onwards we go!
No Prosciutto for Raccoons!
05
Jan
There are few better ways to start a year than with a cookbook buying spree. Last year, I picked up Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Bibles, namely The Cake Bible, The Bread Bible, and The Pie and Pastry Bible. Since then, the recipes have become marked with little copper bookmarks and more importantly, splatters of batter.
This year my main focus was on picking up some books on Vegetarian and Vegan cooking—I’m almost always left scrambling when I have someone of that persuasion over for dinner—and used the opportunity to pull the trigger on two Meaty cookbooks I’ve been eying for years: Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing
and The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating
.
and The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating.It’s at this point in the story I start to wonder about synchronicity, for the day after ordering his book, I happen upon Ruhlman’s tweet mentioning 54 blogs participating in #Charcutepalooza. What is Charcutepalooza, you ask? Brainchild of Mrs. Wheelbarrow and The Yummy Mummy, Charcutepalooza is a monthly challenge that uses “Charcuterie” (the book) as a guide in making charcuterie (the Noms that are salted, smoked and cured meats, like prosciutto) as a guide. With new cookbook already en route, I was excited to take on the initial challenge: to make Duck Prosciutto.
My eyes were first opened to the magic that can be prosciutto while having lunch at a friend’s house. His Italian Mother put together a spread of fresh baked ciabatta, prosciutto, and olive oil from her Mother’s olive groves. The vision is still sharp in my minds eye: Porous ciabatta, drizzled with olive oil, topped with Prosciutto di Parma. The prosciutto melting away at the slightest provocation, leaving only a nutty meatiness. The chewy crust of the ciabatta giving way to the soft interior, releasing a burst of olive oil. With that one bite, I would never look at ‘cold cuts’ the same way again. And, now, here I am contemplating embarking on making it… yet again.
Unfortunately, preparing prosciutto requires one to hang the meat in a cool space for at least a week. As an inner city apartment dweller the idea of making it myself has languished amongst a myriad of other ideas somewhere under the heading “Crazy Flights of Fancy”.
The part of my brain that enjoys thinking about such things, was dreaming up solutions to finding somewhere in the 10-16ºC range where I could cure some duck breasts, while the more rational engineering side of my brain was systematically slashing them to bits:
Fanciful Self: We could hang it out the window on a line! It’s winter, surely it’ll be cold enough!Rational Self: Don’t be silly, the sun would cook it during the day, and it’d freeze at night!*Raptor of some description soars past window*RS: Besides, the birds would get at it.
Perhaps a Red Tailed Hawk?
FS: Well, the apartment has two HVAC’s, what about if we put the one that deals with our bedroom on Cool, and the one that handles the main apartment on Heat, instant walk in-refrigerator without needing to wear sweaters and long johns around the house!RS: Floor to ceiling windows give a nice view, but our bedroom has a southern exposure on the thirtieth story of a glass condo tower. There’ll be nothing like the smell of putrefying duck meat to strike home the fact that the sun is a massive burning ball of gas.
It was around this point that I started reading Saint Tigerlily’s solution to this very problem. After reading about someone living in an apartment with a new born baby taking on the challenge, by means no less than evicting her baby, I realized I didn’t have an excuse. The breasts would have to be salted, and the problem of where to hang them would just have to linger unresolved until it needed to be addressed.
And funnily enough, sometimes the resolution lurks just out of sight, waiting for you to abandon hope of finding it, before leaping out in a burst of inspiration:
FS: What about Jaime, he just moved into a house with a cellar!RS: You’re right! And Jaime is as almost as crazy as you are! He might just let us hang some breasts in it!A short time later, over Blackberry Messenger:Me: Hmm, have you been into your basement yet?Me: If say, your cellar were, say 10-16 degrees would you be adverse to Salted Duck Breasts hanging in it?Jaime: We’d have to keep it in a container. I may have a raccoon running around my walls so we’d have to check that first.Jaime: Otherwise, I’d be all for it.Me: Are you around this afternoon?Jaime: Yup, just working from home.Me: Mind if I show up to take your cellar’s temperature?Jaime: Best. Request. Evar.
No questions asked, just blanket approval, and that my friends is proof of just how blessed I am—Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an appointment with a man about his cellar temperature.
Start!
05
Jan
The number of draft posts has risen till they’re almost overflowing their container.
I’ve mulled over how to write an about me page till I’ve needed a stiff drink.
Fancy recipe plugins with neat features have been conceived, themes have been hemmed and hawed over for a seeming eternity.
No more, it’s time to get this show on the road. So bear with me as things are fixed and broken again in a never ending cycle.