Category Archives: Editorials

Review – The Professional Chef, The Culinary Institute of America

Picture 2As a great man once said: Holy calamity, great insanity, all you ever gonna be is another great fan of me! We here are Stephenson and Duess have to start somewhere with our book reviews and what better place to start than on a book that we are great fans of – it’s a monolithic book without author – a seminal book about the fundamentals of cooking. The Professional Chef is truly a foundational book and covers everything from the basics of nutrition, to knife skills, to meats, vegetables, starches and dairy; desserts, breakfasts…charcouterie….this list goes on. It is not just a manual for professionals and it not just a basics book. This is not like the Joy of Cooking or the Silver Spoon which are rich compendiums of recipes and techniques. It is not a cookbook, though it has a number of fabulous recipes. This book is a real guide to cooking technique, tools, ingredients, methods, and meals.

You can check out the table of contents here. I have the 7th edition, but it looks like they’ve added sections in the 8th edition on Asian, European and American cuisines.

This is a book that I am proud to say that I read from cover to cover – and I did it while trying to impress my soon-to-be wife, Mrs. Stephenson (it might have been the book – I’m just saying).

The book begins with food, nutritional and kitchen basics. From here it moves on to ingredient identification. I found this to be very useful. What do True Striped Bass or Dilitini look like? You’ll find the answer in this section. It then moves on to stocks and “liasons” or thickeners – roux to bechamel, clarified butter etc. There are certainly more indepth instructional books for stocks and sauces (like the fabulous Peterson’s Sauces manual), but these chapters certainly gives you a solid basis in the essential aspects of cooking sauces and stocks.

One of the things that I most appreciate in this book is the chapter structure. The book provides a walk through of how to cook each type of ingredient (IE Potatoes or vegetables) through a single recipe – like doing a gratin or simple steamed carrots. There are a lot of very useful instructions in these step by step guides – like pan steaming carrots with some sugar will add a lovely glaze when you cook away the steaming liquid. For more complex things, you are given clear photographic and other sensory reference (smell, texture taste etc) for each step. This resolves an important issue I have with other such books – when you are trying to learn a new technique, how do you know you have it right if you have no reference with which to measure each step in the process? The other thing offered in these steps is a way to troubleshoot your dish – if it’s too this or that, what might have gone wrong.

From each step by step basic cooking methodology, the book moves on to a sequence of recipes that build on that method. The recipes are in restaurant proportions so you’ll need to translate them to serve a smaller group. They also use weights, so you’re best with a kitchen scale – though you can do without if you use a “common ingredient weights chart” like this one here or you can google up a weight-to-measurement for the ingredient you need to measure (though, again, nothing beats a kitchen scale – they’re $30 for a good inexpensive one – do it!).  The recipes are actually quite amazing. They range from the very simple to the very intricate.

Before I go on too long here, I will conclude this review by saying that this is simply the best all round cooking manual I’ve encountered. It is easy to see why it’s on the curriculum of many culinary arts programs. It is clearly written with a rich range of topics that will serve both the beginner and the initiated very well. It is very well organized, illustrated and I found it a pleasure to read – its not at all dry. I would think that this book would fit well on the shelf of anyone wanting a good reference and/or foundational instuction to culinary compentency.

Makin’ Bacon. The movie. Part 2.

This is the video companion to the second part of our posting on Makin’ Bacon -  Makin’ Bacon – Part 2. The Big Smoke.

As food-wunder-geek Alton Brown said, “Until you’ve made your own bacon, you haven’t eaten bacon”. So kick back, light up a nice blow torch (don’t ask…just watch), and check out the movie for the second part of our Makin’ BAcon tutorial.

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To follow the story, you can also check out:

Makin’ Bacon Part 1 – doing the cure

Makin’ Bacon Part 1 – The Movie

Stay tuned for segments on hot smoking, and  a review/tutorial on “The Smokinator 1000″ which turns the fabulously modest and flexible Weber kettle grill into an unbelievably effective smoker for less that $100. We’re certain that you’ll love it as we do.

Wax on, wax off, or the importance of repetition

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I baked another rye sourdough bread today. 300 g bread flour to 200 g rye, 12 g of salt and 200 g of active starter. It came out great, apart from the slashing I tried, which caused the crust to break in unexpected places.

Still, the flavour is there and I am finally beginning to be able to handle sticky rye dough without getting it stuck to myself and/or the entire mixer. I’ve made this bread now twice, sometimes three times a week, for some time. Every time I make it again I learn something new, but I am now pretty confident that the end result will be delicious.

There are other breads waiting for me, other recipes I am planning to explore. But they can continue to wait, for now. Part of this has to do with my wife declaring the rye her most favourite bread ever, but part has also to do with the journey of exploration. In baking, it matters whether you use 12 or 15 grams of salt. 10 ml of water make a difference to the feel and finish of a dough, something that rarely happens in cooking.

Which makes experimentation all that more interesting. Experimentation that changes things incrementally, maybe substituting whole grain for white bread flour, maybe exchanging rye for Fife. The results are always delicious, and always interesting. The aim is to, one day, find a formula that can’t be improved, that is the essence of a dark, delicious, sourdough rye.

I am looking forward to the journey.

Makin’ Bacon – Part 2 The Big Smoke

Alright. Where were we. Oh yes. Home made or artisan made bacon is simply the best thing ever. Once you’ve had it, it is not an easy thing to forget!

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When I dream of bacon - this is what I see.

We cannot say enough good things about the transformation that the humble pork belly makes when it is cured and then either smoked or simply roasted in the oven. You end up with an ingredient that will transform the simplest soup, stew, salad…um…scone, sandwich, burger, shepherd’s pie, braise….into something really sumptuous.

This is part 2 of our bacon tutorial. Its arguably the simpler part of the bacon making process if you’re familiar with smoking. It becomes even simpler if you simply roast it in the oven. Smoking is not necessary at all. An oven roasted bacon is a beautiful thing. The ever meat-tastic Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall reports that he smokes maybe a quarter of the bacon he makes. He finds that the oven roasted bacon makes for an excellent ingredient as well as being very tasty out of the pan. All this is to say that if you do not have access to a smoker, don’t fret – the oven is a perfect place to finish a bacon.

Our home made bacon has been sitting in the fridge for 5 days in its cure (See Makin’ Bacon part 1…or even better, Bacon – The Movie Part 1). We’ve been turning it once a day and rearranging the pieces so that the each take a turn at the bottom of the stack. After about 5 days, the flesh will firm up and will become a richer hue of redish pink rather than the light pink of the raw pork belly. If it still feels really squishy and looks light pink, give it another day.

Anywhere between 3 and 7 days the belly will be cured. The longer it sits in the cure, though, the saltier it will become. I find that, if I measured 50g (1/4ish cup) of cure per 3-5 lb belly, 5 days works quite nicely. It allows the spices to permeate the meat and the cure is solid but not too salty.

Some people rinse the belly at this stage. I find that when using this curing method, there is no need to rinse. You’ll also get the added bonus of keeping the spices on the meat which adds some nice texture and great flavor to your finished bacon.

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Weber at 250 degrees at the top of the dome. This equals 230ish degrees at the grill surface.

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Our lovely bacons after about 3 hours in the smoke. The "Smokinator 1000" smokebox is on the left hand side of the grill.

At this point you can either very simply wrap them in foil and roast them in the oven at 250f for about 3 hours to an internal temperature of 130f OR you can hot smoke them.

We’ll be doing an more in depth exploration of smoking at a later point. You can check out the soon to be released movie to get a brief overview. The short story is that you want to smoke it at 230ish degrees for, again, about 3 hours. I like either Oak, Maple, Alder and small amounts of hickory but you’ll need to experiment to get a taste that agrees with the taste buds of you and yours’. These bellies are being smoked in a combination of Oak and Alder (ignore what I said in the video…I changed my mind mid course). I went for a lighter flavoured smoke because I wanted to the spices and the quality of the meat to really shine through. It really gave the bacon a great light smoky flavour that complimented everything very well.

Once the bellies have been smoked or roasted, you’ll want to let them cool a touch, and then cut the rind (skin) off. Its helps to angle the blade up towards the skin while using long even strokes when doing this. It stops you from cutting into the layer of meat underneath.

From here you want to chill the bacons overnight and then carve into portions and freeze what you are not going to use immediately. We vacuum bag ours up and put groovy/nerdy labels (it is a fine line sometimes) on them for friends.

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Cinnamon bacon cut into chunks, vacuum packed and ready for the freezer and friends.

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Bacon in the cast iron pan with some green tomatoes from the garden.

When you cook this kind of bacon, you will discover that it is nothing like commercial bacon. It does not shrink in the pan at all. The best way to cook it is on low heat. I prefer a cast iron pan but any heavy pan will do the trick.When we finished the bacon, Mrs. Stephenson and I made ourselves these amazing bacon and panfried green tomato sandwiches on rye bread. So so good.

Please keep an eye out for future discussions on smoking and “The Smokenator 1000″ which is the most excellent and ingenious tool that we used in the Weber kettle grill to smoke the bacon.

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I can personally vouch for the deliciousness of these sandwiches. They were spectacular.

Some excellent sources for diving deeper into makin’ bacon and meat curing are Michael Ruhmann’s Charcouterie and Mr. Meat,  Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s River Cottage Meat book. Two different approaches though both very committed to making excellent cured meats.

Stay tuned for the movie accompaniment to this posting. It’ll be coming within a day or so. In the meantime, best of luck with your bacon makin’.

The Other Bacon. Not a Pretty Sight.

Mr. Duess will love this one. While I was looking about on the internet to make certain that our very recently and most excellently produced instructional bacon video was the best bacon video ever made by a human being ever, I discovered a monstrosity of epic proportion and singular pertubation.

Just to be clear, what you are about to see here has nothing to do with how we make bacon or how we would ever even think of making anything at all. This video really highlights how far away from food the “food industry” is.

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Yes…this pretty much confirms that unless you make your own bacon or buy it from a reputable small provider or organic provider, you’re pretty much eating directly from the ass of evil. “…time to put the coffee on and scramble some eggs…” the video says. Holy crap…literally. I may drive a fast car Mr. Duess, but this video gives speed a bad name.

This video puts in to perspective why we are doing what we’re doing here at Stephenson and Duess.

The actual reality of industrial food – especially industrial meat – really comes into view in this video. I’ve watched it a few times now and have to say that, with each view, it becomes clearer and clearer to me that what we are doing here is not just about making good food and having a good time; it is really about recovering food from industrial production, marketing and “experts”. Food IS something that you can make at home, with friends, with good ingredients, with enjoyment. If you do a bit of legwork, it really does not cost much more money. It does, as Mr. Duess is fond of saying, take some time, but even this can be rolled into moments with friends and family or taken as a time to decompress.

In any event, I think that we could and should work our way through these industrial “How its Made” videos. It will be good for a bit of entertainment. It will also, and I’m certain about this, be good information and imagery from which we can sharpen our mission.

How does the saying go? There are two things you don’t want to see being made, hotdogs and legislation.

Bread. The road so far.

I had been baking bread for years, on and off,  with somewhat limited success. For a while I owned a bread maker and tried to convince myself that the resulting loaves where both tasty and healthy when they were really just crumbly and horrible. At other times the bread I made was flat and flaccid with none of  the deep flavour and crispy crust I loved about artisan bread. Obviously, I was doing it all wrong but I didn’t know what, why and where to start to change that deplorable situation.

This all started to change when Mr. Stephenson called one day on the telephone and informed me that he had found a small place in Little Italy that was selling baker’s yeast and whether I wanted to accompany him for the purchase. Sure thing, I thought and when I returned home with a sample of the fabled Italian yeast I went to work and started researching what makes good bread.

Time

Mr Stephenson, who drives a fast car, sometimes scoffs about my obsession with time. Time, for me, is a frequently overlooked but absolutely essential ingredient to many foods and has the ability to transform the mediocre into the outstanding.

Time, a good friend to people like us, is also the enemy of the food industry. Time, as we all know, is money and as a result many foods manufactured industrially have taken the results of time and tried to replicate them with chemicals, with flavour enhancers, artificial flavours, colourings, extra fat, extra salt, modified this and modified that.

The food industry has two goals: Manufacture food quickly, then make sure it has a long shelf life. Both of these needs are the antithesis of good food and thankfully we can bypass them entirely.

When it comes to bread, this is what I had always been doing: Take flour, water, a little salt, a little sugar. Mix, rise, deflate, rise, bake. The rise, I had been told, needed to happen in a warm place to get the yeast to work, so was the sugar.

My first mistake

What I have been finding out is that the above method has a snowball’s chance in hell to produce good bread. The magic ingredient, time, is missing entirely and the flour has no chance at all to release it’s flavours. The yeast feeds on the first food that’s available, the sugar, and leaves the wheat or rye alone.

What I do now, apart from frequently using sourdough starters, is give the dough time to work, give the yeast an incentive to interact with the ingredients. I use little yeast, in a cold environment, over a long time. Almost all of the bread I am baking starts life in the refrigerator, where the yeast will go to work very slowly, but with mouthwatering results.

Because I add no sugar, the yeast needs to look for nourishment elsewhere, and as a result the sugar in the grain itself gets used as fuel, breaking down the cell structure and creating depth of flavour. Many people we talk to don’t like to acknowledge the idea that the food we create is made with the generous help and support of many species of micro-organisms. Too many commercials telling them to disinfect their kitchens have done their work, hammering into their heads the message that bacteria are a bad thing and that a sterile environment is something to strive for.

This of course is absolute nonsense. While we do keep our kitchens clean, botulism is no joke, we also understand the symbiotic relationship us humans have with bacteria and other micro-organisms such as yeast, wild and otherwise. Our entire digestive system relies on the help of tribes of friendly bacteria to work and anybody who has ever taken antibiotics knows that kick-starting intestinal flora with a generous supply of yoghurt is a very good thing indeed.

What we do when we bake bread is to create a habitat that the kind of organisms we’d like to move in will find inviting. A bread dough provides shelter and food for yeasts, and in return we get flavour and rise. Not a bad exchange, especially as we’ll be killing off the entire yeast population during the baking process.

My second mistake

Most cheap bread baking machines don’t reach a temperature anywhere high enough to create a decent loaf. Baking bread needs high temperatures, 500º, with the addition of steam to create a crispy crust. Steam can be added in several ways. Commercial bread ovens inject steam at high temperatures. We can mimic that effect by keeping a pan at the bottom of the oven and filling it with hot water at the beginning of the bake. Then get a spray bottle and spray the walls of the oven to create an instant moist environment.

The drawback to this is potential mess and, especially of you’ve got an electric oven, the obvious disadvantages of mixing water with electricity. I own a very simple gas oven, so don’t have to face these issues, but I would be most cautious with a domestic electric model.

Thankfully there is a solution to this dilemma and it has changed the way I bake for the better. It is called a cloche, an unglazed ceramic bowl with a matching ceramic plate underneath. The cloche re-creates the environment we’d find in an old wood fired brick oven, or a steam injected bakery oven and loaves come out perfectly crisp, every time. I can’t recommend them highly enough.

I’ll be posting more about my personal bread making discoveries as I make them. Stay tuned.

Dinners at the food source

Here’s an article on eating at the source – in a field, on a farm, where the food came from.

Check out the article here.

A couple of questions developed in my mind as I read this. Does this event lead to a more direct connection to the food or is it a piece of dinner theatre with the field playing the lead roll? Or both? Is this a case of truth in fiction?

On the one side, I can see that this event introduces the audience to an encounter with their food that is informative, tasty and “novel”.  On the other side, does paying big bucks to eat at the source really achieve a direct connection to the food – or does it import a fine-dining restaurant aesthetic and politic into the field?

As an urbanite, I think that its possible to achieve a better relationship with food by buying from farmers at the market, participating in a CSA vegetable or meat share, and learning about ways to prepare these foods. This is to say that I think that a good connection to food is about competency to procure, handle and prepare the food.

I’m quite sure the fine-dining-in-a-field was excellent, fun and memorable. I am suspicious of the idea that physical proximity, in the case of the fine-dining-in-a-field, equals a more direct connection to the food. I do, however, think that it has potential value as a piece of theatre that might inspire further investigation of and engagement with food.

Cooking Methodology – Making it your own

Home made pizza is one of those things that I think is difficult to master. There’s the 500+ degree oven and the whole pizza stone thing. There’s also the question of the dough. I just perused a very interesting methodology for making pizza dough that dives deep into all of the variables.

If one was quite serious about making the best possible pizza, one could play with all the variables – liquid, fat content, type of flour, salt, yeasts, tempurature, rising time, resting time etc – to come up with a formula that works well, not only for your tastes, but also for your setting (IE your kitchen, your oven.)

This is something that comes up again and again when Mr. Duess and I discuss cooking with friends. They often wonder about recipies. Our response is that you use the recipe as a starting point to figure out the principals and then the rest is about tailoring it to your tastes, your cooking style and your cooking context.

The article is full of really good information and a method that I think Mr. Duess and I often take for granted, which is to try something, take measurements, and then revise based on how it turned out. Cooking is like anything else in that respect. The important part is to consider how it could have been done differently. This is not only about considering the recipe, but also your ingredients, your tools and your style.

When trying something new, we often will come up with something that just does not work. (One of my favorite things that Mr. Duess will say to me is that he’s glad to take a risk when I’m around because if it doesn’t work, we’ll eat it anyways – unlike, perhaps, our wives or a dinner party guest) Many times we have taken a risk and fallen flat on our faces. Its always, without fail, better the next time – even if by a little bit.

I found this article fascinating in that it discusses playing with all the vairables to come up with the best recipe to suit your own very specific situation. Its a method that will allow you to come up with your own version of things. This will bring you and yours a great deal of pleasure.

Here’s the article.

The source is a bit unlikely and not at all our thing (its some kind of management/personal actualization consultancy – funny place to find good info about cooking pizzas), but the information and method are great.

Dismembered chicken and the fat of the duck

Tonight a friend dropped by, with a cooler bag full of frozen organic chicken carcasses, duck fat and two pots of what he believes to be demi-glacé. He fell in love with woman from Istanbul and is following his heart to Turkey, where he will teach English for a year. That meant, amongst other things, that he had to clean out his freezer and as the man used to be a linecook at Canoe, and other Toronto fine dining establishments, it was quite the freezer.

So much so that I have no idea what to do with the bounty. My own freezer is overflowing, so I’ll either have to purchase a larger model, something that has been on the cards for quite some time, or get creative. Mr. Stephenson, are you in need of a tub of duck fat?

Pork Jowel Cured in NYC Apartment

This is a fantastic article that reminds me of our endevours to create cured meats in the city. Lucky for us, Mr. Duess has a nice cool basement for drying our pancettas and guanciales so we do not need to look “out of house” for a place to hang these to dry. Its interesting to note that the author did not use curing salts, just salt. I must say that the thought of a nice carbonarra made with guanciale is making my mouth water right about now.

Check out the adventure here.

Midweek baking

When Mr. Duess and Mr. Stephenson talk to friends, and frequently strangers, about their adventures in the kitchen where they bake bread, cure meats and lure unsuspecting lacto-acidic bacteria into carefully prepared habitats there’s one all to frequent question:

“Where do you find the time?”

Now, both Mr. Duess and Mr. Stephenson are far from being retired, years away from sitting quietly on their front porch, pipe in hand and feet beslipperd. Yet they like few things better than a slice of freshly baked rye bread, dipped into a humble dish of peppery olive oil. And to achieve that goal, midweek baking is frequently a necessity. Here’s how to do it:

Day One:

In the evening, take your sourdough starter out of the fridge and feed.

Day Two:

The next morning, prepare your dough. Today we used 180g rye and 320g wheat flower, with about a cup full of very active starter. Salt, water; about 300ml for a (roughly) 60% hydration of the dough. Add everything to your mixer and knead while you’re taking a shower. Take the resulting dough ball and put into an oiled bowl, cover and refrigerate. Go to work.

In the evening, remove dough from the fridge and allow to come to room temperature. Fold and stretch three times, then let rise in a banneton for two hours. After the first hour, pre-heat the oven to 500º. Bake for 45 minutes or until the bread has an internal temperature of 200º. This is the result:

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The loaf had hardly risen in the fridge, and even after three hours at room temperature little had changed. The rise happened almost exclusively in the oven – the so called oven spring, where the yeast goes on one last manic feeding frenzy before being killed off at just over 140º.

The most secret and valuable of ingredients – time

In today’s world, most of us are time starved. From the moment we wake up, to the minute we go to bed, we tend to be in a hurry. No longer do we start the day ingesting a leisurely bowl of porridge, steaming hot and topped with a comforting dollop of honey, accompanied by a rejuvenating mug of coffee or tea, pondering the morning papers – no, we’re checking our email, tweeting on twitter and keeping up with the domestic and professional tribulations our friends go through on facebook. Neither Mr. Stephenson nor Mr. Duess are strangers to these pressures.

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Photo credit: gadl on flickr

This kind of life then leads to the publishing of a plethora of recipe books and magazines, for those of us who can still be bothered to cook, promising culinary ecstasy in 30 minutes or less. Which is of course utter nonsense and the path to disappointment and mediocracy.

The truth of the matter is that good food takes time. Good anything takes time. Time, not unlike bacon, makes most things better. Wine, pickles, cheese, vinegar, bread, sausages. Even fish, if you decide to hang it in the smoke.

The good news is that once you’ve paid into the time bank, by curing bacon, smoking fish, feeding a sourdough starter or canning tomatoes, you are then able to withdraw deliciousness. And get a proper meal on the table, in ten minutes or less. A loaf of home made bread will not just still hunger, eating it will be an emotionally and sensually satisfying experience. It will make you happy the way a TV dinner never can. A basement full of shelves groaning under the weight of preserves, pickles and canned vegetables will warm your heart on a cold winter morning. And a  slab of smoked bacon, wrapped in cheeseloth, will fill you with joy and anticipation.

And all because you’ve added time, the secret, and most precious of ingredients.