Real American Barbecue

Just the thought of it makes my mouth water. If there ever was a poster child for the Slow Food Movement, I think that this cooking style could be it. What culinary alchemy do I speak of? Barbecue, of course. In this country, barbecue (also known as barbeque or BBQ) is defined as a method of cooking particularly tough or almost un-edible portions of a pig using low temperatures and hardwood smoke. The only possible addition to this definition would be the cooking of beef brisket, but that is a unique food item popular in Texas. As for traditional barbecue, this practice of cooking not only refers to the cooking medium, but has also come to be an event at which people gather and enjoy each others’ company while waiting for the pork to finish cooking.
What makes barbecuing such a unique cooking style is that instead of cooking meat to a specific temperature, you cook it to a particular doneness. For example, a traditional cut of meat for barbecue would be the pork shoulder (or Boston Butt, but no one seems to know why it’s called this. The “butt” refers to the “butt-end” of the shoulder, but as for “Boston”…) because it has a lot of connective tissue and a moderate amount of fat. As this meat is slowly heated over the course of 10 or 12 hours, the collagen in the connective tissue melts and turns into gelatin. As this gelatin is basted by the fat in the meat as it cooks, the meat now literally falls apart and the shoulder is easily shredded into edible chunks. The gelatin is also responsible for the satisfying “mouth-feel” that someone experiences as they eat the appropriately named “pulled pork”. No sauce is necessary when the pork provides its own!
The use of hardwood smoke is essential to the barbecue process, as well, because it not only provides the medium for the heat to transfer into the meat, but it also imparts its own unique flavor to the food that it is smoking. It is imperative that hardwood smoke be used, as any conifer or softwood tree releases pitch as it burns, and the resulting acrid smoke residue will destroy whatever food you are cooking. My personal favorite hardwood of choice is apple-wood, as I think it imparts a nice sweetness into the pork. Traditional “Pit Masters” use hickory, and this wood dishes-out a deep, heavy flavor into the meat. Mesquite wood is preferred by Texans for their brisket, and I’ve used pear and cherry-woods for adding special flavors to my pork.
Spice rubs are a hotly debated topic in the barbecue world, and with the exception of the question of whether to use sauce (and if so, what, kind…) nothing gets barbecue enthusiasts riled-up faster than what type of spice rub to use. By adding a mix of spices to a cut of meat, a person can seriously raise the flavor potential of an otherwise bland cut of pork, and the low temperature wood-smoke helps to create a type of “crust” around the meat as its fat begins to render off and mingle with the spices. This crust is affectionately known in the southern part of the United States as “Mr. Brown”. While every grocery store has dozens of spice rubs that they insist are the best for barbecue, the main ingredient is typically salt, and you pay through the nose for something that you can easily make at home for far less money. By using whole spices and grinding them as you need them, you not only save money, but the essential oils in the spices are protected from air until you release them through grinding. Once exposed to air, these spices quickly lose their flavor. As you are now in control of your spice rub, you can add as much heat (through chili’s or peppers) as you want, and as much salt as you want to create whatever flavor that you desire.
Low temperature (200 to about 225 degrees Fahrenheit) wood-smoke for barbecue can be achieved a number of ways. Traditionally, large logs of hardwood were set aflame and allowed to burn down to embers. The food (usually a whole pig) was then placed over the embers and allowed to cook over the smoldering embers. As this method is not very efficient, due to the large amounts of logs that would have to be carefully burned and tended (not to mention the possible exposure to rain or wind), new ways of harnessing the power of wood-smoke have been utilized. The Polynesians had the right idea with burying a whole pig with superheated rocks inside and around it to cook until it was tender. The Hawaiians still use a traditional imu pit for their kalua pig at luaus, and the packed earth around the pit helps retain heat and reflect it back into the meat. The only reason this isn’t considered barbecue (in an American sense) is that no smoke is involved in the cooking process. Modern pit-masters use a trench dug in the ground and lined with bricks or rocks, and then surround it somehow with more bricks or earth to protect it from the elements and offer a concentrated area for the smoke to rise and envelope the meat. Similar to a cob oven, heat is absorbed into the bricks and/or earth and radiated back into the food.
While this is the de facto standard for professional pit-masters in America, true barbecue can be achieved without retrofitting your entire backyard into a barbecue pit. Using a charcoal grill, for example, you can build a low-heat fire on one side of the grill, place soaked woodchips (so that they smolder instead of catch on fire) onto the coals, and place the meat on the other side of the grill. This method requires a lot of grill maintenance (refilling coals, replenishing wood chips, etc.) for the minimum of 10 hours required for cooking, so I prefer using an electric smoker. Looking very much like R2-D2 from the Star Wars films, my smoker allows me to place large chunks of wood into a metal dish that sits atop a modified hot plate. I can set my target temperature, place my food into the smoker, put the lid on, and only have to return every three hours or so to replenish the wood. This method yields incredibly tasty and tender barbecue, and its relatively low maintenance certainly makes life easier for me.
Barbecue is a commitment to time and taste. In our fast-food life of “commodified tastes”, it is nice to invest over half of a day into preparing a meal. This manner of cooking demands that I slow down and really think about what I am cooking, and I always feel a sense of pride whenever I bite into a pulled pork sandwich that I have made from scratch. This process puts me in touch with my food, and every time I make barbecued pork, it tastes a little different, adding to its appeal as a “slow food” in my diet. Because of the amount of work and time that goes into preparing this food, I rarely just cook it for only my wife and I. We will usually have a small group of family and friends over to celebrate life and enjoy each other’s company while we prepare and finally eat this pork. In this way, the food acts as a social connection, much in the same way as Steven Feld describes in his article, The Boy Who Became a Muni Bird. In this article, people of the Kaluli Tribe in Bosavi relate to each other over the food that they consume together. Likewise, I feel that our convening on my back patio with the scent of apple-wood in the air helps to join our relationship on a very primitive level, like cave people gathered around a fire sharing a meal. It is in this spirit that barbecue, both as a cooking method and as a social gathering, helps to bring people together in a sharing of something that we have in common and is essential to our survival: eating food.
Here is my recipe for pulled pork:

Real Barbecue Pulled Pork
Recipe by Dave Lamsek

1 five-pound boneless pork shoulder (Boston Butt)
For the brine:
2 quarts water
12 oz (by weight) pickling salt
2 Tb dark molasses
1 Tb honey
For the spice rub:
1 Tb toasted cumin seeds
1 Tb toasted fennel seeds
1 Tb toasted coriander
1/2 Tb black peppercorns
1 Tb chili powder
2 Tb onion powder
1 pinch cayenne
1tsp garlic powder
Apple-wood and a smoker or charcoal grill (propane releases water vapor when burned, so this prevents smoke from penetrating the meat, so no gas grills!)

Brining a large cut of meat helps it to retain moisture during a long cooking process. By the power of osmosis, the salt in the liquid is forced into the cells walls of the meat and keep internal moisture from leaving. Not only does this ensure moist meat, but it ups the flavor level, as well.
Assemble brine ingredients in a large container (large enough to fit the pork and all of the liquid. Whisk to dissolve the salt. Place the pork in the brine, and lay a bag full of ice cubes on top of it to keep it submerged. Place in refrigerator or a cool place (replacing the ice as necessary) for at least 8 hours. After 8 hours, discard brine, and pat the pork dry (do not rinse).
To toast spices, place in a small skillet over medium-high heat. Cook until spices start to crackle. Remove from heat and cool before combining with the rest of the spices in a spice grinder (or old coffee grinder; don’t use your regular coffee grinder! Your coffee will be very spicy!).
Sift spices all over the pork, using one hand to pat the spice into the pork (“rub” is a bit of a misnomer…) making sure to cover the entire piece. Preheat your smoker (or prep your coals and hardwood) to 210 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the pork, fat side up (so it can self-baste) onto the grill rack; cover; replenish wood as necessary. After 10 hours, test for tenderness with a fork (it should shred away very easily with no resistance); continue cooking for up to another 2 hours if necessary. Remove from smoker, wrap in foil, and allow the meat to rest for about 30 minutes. Shred with a fork, and enjoy the fruits of your labor with the ones that you love!

Feel like makin' gnocchi?

When I think of the term “slow food”, I think about my experiences with a local Italian restaurant and its owners. It was no surprise, then, that I read with great pleasure Alison Leitch’s article Slow Food and the Politics of Pork Fat: Italian Food and the European Identity. This article dealt with the issue of trying to save certain historical aspects of Italian society while struggling to keep up with the speed of the modern world. The Slow Food Movement was created to cherish certain national delicacies that make a certain region unique. One such food item of interest is Lardo di Colonnata. This dish is essentially pickled pork fat, and was a central part of the diet of marble quarry workers in the area. Now, the government is trying to make it “safe” by requiring certain preparatory measures during its creation. These measures will render a homogenous lardo, and the town of Colonnata will lose its significance as being the best producer of this food.
This “anti-homogenization” of food is at the heart of the Slow Food Movement, and fast food is an easy target because of the chemically stabilized flavors that make a Big Mac taste like a Big Mac whether you are in Seattle or New York City. It is arguable that this Slow Food Movement is a corollary to going back to simpler times when people could truly slow down and enjoy a meal together.
As I mentioned in my introduction, there was an Italian restaurant literally half a block from my home called Il Ristorante. The owner, Angelo, and his brother were from Florence and wanted to offer some of their “comfort foods” to Seattle diners. My wife, Ericka, and I came to know Angelo after spending many evenings atop a bar stool in his Tapas Bar, and Ericka had fun trying to speak Italian with Angelo’s brother (who didn’t speak any English, but knew how to flirt like a teenager…). I decided to throw my wife a surprise birthday party a few years ago, and Angelo said that he would love to make a special dinner for our close friend’s and family. I will never forget him saying to me when I made the reservation: “Plan on being here for at least three hours. An Italian meal is more than just putting food in your mouth; it’s a celebration.” How right he was. We spent close to four hours grazing over six courses of amazing food with equally amazing Italian wine, and my wife had an absolute blast. The experience of slowing down and actually tasting every bite while we conversed and laughed and told stories was something that I have since tried to bring into our daily dining, even though our schedules’ are so hectic.
A few weeks after our fabulous Italian dinner, Angelo called us and asked if we would be interested in learning how to make the potato gnocchi that we were raving about. We jumped at the chance, and were soon wrist-deep in hot baked potatoes. There was no recipe, and Angelo said that he would make this dish a little different every time, to keep it interesting. This line of thinking falls right into place with the Slow Food Movement and its bucking of homogenized flavors. After making the potato dumplings and dropping them into boiling water, we switched out attention to the sauce that would turn these simple gnocchi into culinary gold. With a blend of gorgonzola cheese, sweet vermouth wine, nutmeg, butter, cream, and black pepper, we relished in the knowledge that we were taking whole ingredients and making a delicious sauce that was devoid of artificial flavorings or preservatives. It was very comical when we later told friends what we did the other night: “We went and made gnocchi with some Italian guys down the block…” Needless to say, we raised a few eyebrows when they would say, “Makin’ whoopee?”
After we finished assembling our handmade meal, we remembered the advice Angelo had given us before. Therefore, we slowed down. We drank some wine. We had a warm conversation. Most importantly, we took the time to make a fine meal and enjoy it among good company. Here is the “recipe” for making a gorgonzola cream sauce (obviously, there is no written recipe, so we’ve had to eyeball amounts in order to recreate this delicious dish):
Gorgonzola Cream Sauce
As adapted from Angelo’s Ristorante
1 Tb olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup cream
6 oz gorgonzola cheese
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
1 healthy splash of sweet vermouth wine

Add olive oil to sauté pan over medium heat. Add garlic and pinch of salt, cook for two minutes or until fragrant. Add gorgonzola and cook until half has melted. Add cream, nutmeg, and pepper, stirring constantly until bubbly and slightly thickened. Serve over fresh pasta or gnocchi; garnish with fresh basil chiffonade and more freshly ground pepper.

Water, water, all around...

“Eat all of the food on your plate! There are starving children in Africa!” This was a common statement from my sister when she would make dinner for me when I was very young and my parents weren’t home. Needless to say, for fear of being chastised or beaten by my older sibling (we’ve never gotten along very well, if you hadn’t noticed by now) for wasting food, I learned quickly to clear my plate and eat everything in front of me. While it was/is true that there were/are starving children in Africa, it wasn’t until many years later that I realized that there are people starving in our own community here in Seattle, as well.
I first became aware of the Magnolia Helpline while I was in Junior High School, and spent many days volunteering to help with food/supply drives in order to help our neighbors who couldn’t help themselves. Also, for my final service project (Eagle Project) that I needed to obtain the highest rank of Eagle Scout in the Boy Scouts of America, I worked with local grocery and pet stores to collect food, supplies, and money for the King County Humane Society, which then distributed these items to senior citizens and disabled people who could not afford to keep their pets. The project was a huge success, and I was amazed at how much pet food would have been wasted because of torn bags or dented cans and simply thrown-out by stores. When David Giles came to our class to talk about the organization that he volunteered for, Food Not Bombs, his modus operandi reminded me of how I was similarly able to provide for so many pets in King County. While I never climbed into any dumpsters (I don’t think the Boy Scouts would have approved!), the principle was the same, and I collected food that was considered “trash” by store managers and redistributed it to needy cats and dogs.
With estimates of up to 1/3 of all of the food produced in America being thrown-out, it boggles my mind how anyone in this country could go without. Our consumer culture is driven by the desire for the freshest and longest lasting food items, so we over-produce to ensure that these demands can be made. A point was made in class that our culture of supermarkets and suburban living have also influenced our buying habits; instead of going to the market daily for our needs, we go to the supermarket once a week and expect our food to last until we return the next week for more groceries. Thus, the banana that is ripe today will be of little use by next week, and will be subsequently thrown-out. Also, the stores stock an overabundance of food in order to lessen the chance that someone will shop elsewhere if they can’t find something there that they want. According to this business strategy, in the long run, it is cheaper to throw away food than to run-out and lose business.
After reading Janet Poppendieck’s article Want Amid Plenty: From Hunger to Inequality, I now understand better how government institutions have helped to regulate financial aid for the poor and have, in turn, prevented some of our own citizens from receiving the food and aid that they might desperately need. As my aforementioned experience as a Boy Scout shows, I was actively involved in collecting money and food for local food banks when I was young. As a matter of fact, I was actually directly involved in the 1994 Scouting For Food Drive that Poppendieck mentions in her article. Now that I know that my efforts in collecting donated food were a mere drop in the bucket to what is really needed to ensure that all of our citizens have a chance at proper nutrition, I am hopeful that programs like Food Not Bombs can raise the populace’s awareness to our neighbors’ needs. Even though I don’t want to be put on an FBI terrorist watch list, I think it is imperative that we get involved on a local level so that our fellow citizens will not have to choose between things like paying the rent or buying food to survive. As Mr. Giles mentioned in his presentation, “Food is a right”. Let’s see if the Boy Scout in me can take this motto and still make a difference.

The Power of Control

After reading the first few chapters of Ruth Ozeki’s novel All Over Creation, I began to wonder why we were assigned this book for a class on the anthropology of food. As the novel progressed, however, I began to see the significance of the plot in regards to the control of the American food supply. While I enjoyed the novel for its character development and vivid dramatic storytelling, I thought that its information on food science was nothing more than science fiction. While the quirky heroes of this story were “neo-hippies”, I figured that their wild ideas about food safety and bioengineering were nothing more than the product of Ozeki’s imagination. Wow. I have never felt so disturbed by the truth. After watching the documentary film The Future of Food, I became painfully aware of the frightening truth about our food supply. Who knew that we trust the production of our main agricultural crops to chemical companies, most notably Montsano, who has such a strangle hold on our farmers that they are essentially powerless in deciding the outcome of their own crops?
With connections to people in the highest offices of government (former Montsano associates such as Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas and former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, not to mention the head of the Environmental Protection Agency, among many others), Montsano has the political power and money to control not only the quality of the food that farmers grow, but also the value of that food in the marketplace. Agribusiness has taken over as the primary means for us to get our food. Since Agribusiness has the word “business” as part of its name, it is clear that businesses are in the business of making money. Whatever they can do to maximize profits and ensure the future profitability of their business is of the utmost importance to these companies.
The bioengineering that is occurring in our food supply raises more questions about its safety than it can offer answers. Whether making “Round-Up Ready” seeds that contain a gene that keeps them from being killed by weed killer or by engineering the truly frightening “Terminator Gene” that causes the seeds to go sterile after they germinate once, this tinkering with Mother Nature seems to be a bit like playing with fire. With the cover of government agencies saying that these bio-engineered foods are completely safe, we have to wonder why they have been banned in other countries such as the Japan and the countries of the European Union. When the Japanese government said that they would just sit back and watch American children for the next ten or twenty years to see if they develop health problems due to the ingestion of genetically modified foods, that should have raised a large red flag to the American population. I know now that when I go to the grocery store, I will specifically seek-out products that say “Non-GMO” on their labels. I really don’t like being a guinea pig for America’s chemical corporations to experiment on.
Likewise, as Michael Pollan comments on in his book The Omnivore’s Dilemma, changing the natural course of how organisms live in the world has drastic effects on our health, the health of domesticated animals, and the health of our environment. For example, the forcing of cattle to eat corn (because it is cheap and maximizes profits) instead of their normal diet of grass (which their bodies are uniquely designed to digest) causes undue stress to the body of the cow, and increases the amount of intramuscular fat in its meat. This, in turn, raises Omega 6 fatty acids, which counter the effects of the good Omega 3 fatty acids that grass-fed cows have more of. Pollan mentions that even farm-raised salmon are being fed diets of cornmeal to cheapen the cost of feeding. By doing this, he argues, eating salmon (which typically is very high in Omega 3’s) that is fed corn is actually higher in Omega 6’s and lower in Omega 3’s than a grass-fed piece of beef.
After learning about all of these disturbing things that happen to our food on the way to our plates, I have really tried to be more selective in my shopping choices. I try to cook from scratch whenever I can, and avoid the pre-packaged foods with the “50 different chemicals” ingredient list. In class, I loved the “Name That Food” game just from reading the ingredients list from a pre-packaged food item. How did our food supply come to this? Why are we filling our bodies with chemicals that the government says is okay for us to consume? In my opinion, it all comes down to cost, and with the power of the U.S. government to hide the facts from us, the average consumer has no idea about what they are putting into their body, and as long as it is cheap, they probably don’t really care, either.

Omnivore's Choice

After reading the chapter in Michael Pollan’s book "The Omnivore’s Dilemma" about the ethics of eating animals I was, frankly, surprised that the author was able to find so many reasons that made it (arguably) morally “okay” to choose an omnivorous lifestyle. In my experience, when someone mentions that they are a vegetarian, a long diatribe ensues on how horrible people are who choose to eat meat. Pollan actually offered some counter-arguments that actually had some philosophic basis to them. I chose to be a vegetarian when I was 15 due to a STRONG influence from my older sister who chose the vegetarian lifestyle the year before. When I say chose, I should really say that I was picking a lifestyle that prevented my sister from “mooing” whenever I ate a hamburger or chastising me for supporting the killing of innocent animals. At that extremely impressionable time in my life, I found it prudent to follow in my sister’s footsteps and stop eating meat. At first, I felt like I was really taking the “high ground” in terms of healthy living and not harming our fellow creatures on this planet. However, even with guidance on dietary issues (consuming a variety of legumes, nuts, etc. in order to obtain complete proteins and essential amino acids), I soon found that my health began to suffer. I did lose about 25 pounds, but a lot of that was muscle, and not just fat. I was sluggish and depressed, and had issues with strength and endurance. I lived as a complete vegetarian for 6 months. After consulting with my doctor, he recommended re-introducing chicken into my diet, and to up my vitamin C intake. I knew that the body loses certain enzymes required for the digestion of meat after not processing it for a few weeks, so I was concerned about the physical symptoms I might be experiencing in my digestive tract later on. I was assured that only meats with myoglobin (flesh that is red in color because of the processing of grass in the animal’s diet) would upset my digestive tract, and white meat animals, such as chicken, would not have the same effect on my body. I began eating poultry again, and within about 10 days I was feeling immensely better. I justified to myself that eating poultry was okay because most birds (especially domesticated chickens) were really stupid and had no idea how their lives would end. Not the most philosophical of viewpoints, but hey, I was only 15! So, at this point I was considered a “demi-vegetarian” (i.e: I would eat anything but red meat), and continued this lifestyle for another 9 years until I weaned myself slowly back on to red meat. Call me selfish, but I believe life is too short not to enjoy what I eat, and having a balanced array of foods (flora, fauna, and fungi) to eat allows me to stay healthy and enjoy my meals. I find that I am much happier when I eat a balanced diet, and I can rest in the knowledge that moderation is the key to healthy living. Am I part of the industrial “machine” that Pollan talks about in regards to the processing of animals for food? Yes, I am, but I have choices. I can choose to buy my meat directly from farms that are known for taking care of their animals up to and including the time of slaughter. After perusing www.eatwild.com (after reading about it in Pollan’s book), I have found farms as close as Sedro Whoolley that allow you to visit and see how their animals are treated, and you can actually purchase whole animals that they will butcher for you, or you can butcher yourself. At about $6 per pound for every cut of beef, this is an economic as well as a moral and healthy choice for choosing to be an omnivore. These animals are not only treated with respect, but they are naturally grass-fed and hormone and antibiotic free. After watching “The Meatrix” at www.themeatrix.com, and its sequels, I find that the choice of where my meat comes from makes a huge impact on my choice to eat meat. It is hard to support the modern “meat machine” once you know how things really work. What is the old saying? “If you don’t know how sausage is made, you shouldn’t ask.” Is ignorance really bliss in this circumstance? Are we that removed from the reality of the slaughter of animals for our consumption? Do we ever wonder why the press (and any member of the public, for that matter) are not allowed to see what happens in a slaughterhouse? These are questions that we need to ask ourselves before we slice into that juicy New York Strip or bite-off a chunk of Baby Back Pork Rib. As Pollan says, it is a decision that we shouldn’t take lightly, but as he illustrates with even a vegan diet, animals (and other life-forms) will die in the production of all our food. Field mice chopped in a grain combine, gophers being run-over by tractors, birds dying from ingesting poisoned insects; these are all examples of the trade-off between life and death that we face everyday, regardless if we are vegetarian or not. Pollan’s argument that our lives with domestic animals are symbiotic is, in my mind, quite true. The statistic about 50 million dogs and only 10,000 wolves in America helped to bring things into perspective. Also, the comments on freeing chickens and cows back into nature was rather striking, seeing that these species could easily slip into extinction without our protection. Humans are omnivores by nature (we have canine teeth for tearing meat and molar teeth for grinding vegetable matter), and if we choose our meat carefully and try to buy from reputable sources, I see no problem with enjoying the abundance that the earth has provided.

"Not found in nature" orange...

When it comes to nourishing my body through careful food selection, I make a concerted effort to try and cook all of my meals from scratch. This means skipping the myriad sauces and “flavor mixes” at the supermarket and creating my own through carefully selecting base ingredients that I don’t need to reference against my old chemistry book in order to find their origin. Making my own mayonnaise and barbeque sauce is an example of this attempt at healthy living. With my insanely busy lifestyle, however, this is no easy task, and sometimes it is very tempting to reach for something at the store that has thirty ingredients, half of which I’d need a dictionary in order to pronounce them correctly. Whether out of necessity (time, money) or the allure of being “bad” with eating forbidden fruit, these food items do enter my kitchen from time to time. One of these items in particular I consider my “guiltiest pleasure”: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.
With its “not found in nature” color of orange and its superb simplicity of preparation, I am not too proud to admit that I keep these little blue and orange boxes in my pantry at all times. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of Friday nights in my youth (good Catholic family, fish and Mac & Cheese every Friday, even outside of Lent…), or just knowing that the recipe always be the same, but this is a quintessential comfort food in my household. Just like Michael Pollan’s description of McDonald’s food tasting like nothing else in his book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, I find that Kraft Mac & Cheese has its own nature-defying flavor that compares to nothing else. Is it the tripolyphosphate or the sodium phosphate (isn’t that a floor cleaner?!) that makes this food so irresistible? Scanning the ingredients list, I find several items of mystery origin, as well. After reading Pollan’s research on corn, I find that this crop has found its way into my Mac & Cheese in the form of citric acid and lactic acid. Who knew corn could have all of these uses? The industrialized food community, apparently…
After reading Steve Ettlinger’s Los Angeles Times article “What Twinkies can teach us”, I found out that my guilty pleasure was also assembled from such things as thiamine mononitrate, a B vitamin supplement made from petroleum in China, not to mention artificial colors “Yellow 5” and “Yellow 6”. Were “Yellows 1-4” not orangey enough for Kraft? Were they trying to look like real cheddar cheese? Also, one ingredient for the “cheese sauce” mix is “enzymes”. Any particular enzymes?
I’ll be the first to admit that homemade baked macaroni & cheese made with “real” ingredients such as sharp cheddar cheese, butter, paprika, egg, flour, etc., and topped with toasted panko bread crumbs will satisfy not only your taste buds, but your desire for eating natural foods, as well. However, sometimes nothing will satisfy your hunger like an assembled pot of steaming hot chemically created food product. Because of this, “Kraft Dinner” (as our Canadian neighbors call it) will always be my guilty culinary pleasure. What’s that old saying? If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll make you stronger? I think I prefer, “Ignorance is Bliss”.

$30 in a Bun

The link between food and memory is a very strong bind. More importantly, the connection of taste to trigger past experiences can be stronger than sight or sound. Sipping a perfect pina colada with your eyes closed can take you back to that little beachside Tiki bar in Maui, or eating that first ripe raspberry of the season can take you back to when you were 10 years old, lying in the warm grass, chomping on raspberries and watching fireworks explode in front of you. One specific meal that I had that always makes me laugh when I think about it was the dinner I had on my wedding night.
My bride and I got “Maui’ed” with just our two best friends as witnesses on Makena Beach in Maui, Hawaii. On our way back to our condo, we stopped in Wailea for dinner. After wearing a black tuxedo for 7 hours in the hot Hawaiian sun and enduring photo after photo, I was more concerned with rehydrating myself than with eating, but once I had consumed approximately two pitchers of ice water, my appetite returned, and I was just about ready to eat my shoe leather. Just about everything on the menu looked great, but I decided upon the Kona coffee glazed, smoked pork chop. As this was a fancy restaurant that we were dining in, with the ocean lapping at the base of our table on the beach, I assumed that the meal would be superb. Our appetizers and salads were phenomenal, so I eagerly awaited my pork chop. As my dish was placed in front of me, I deeply inhaled the sweet, hickory-smoked aroma of my meal. As I took the first bite and let all of the flavors wash over me, I literally laughed out loud. My bride asked what was so funny. I said not a word, but cut a slice of pork and put it into her mouth. I said, “what does that taste like to you?” “A hot dog!”, she said.
Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had a $30 hot dog before! For whatever reason, my pork chop tasted just like something that you would slather with mustard and eat in a bun. Now, as our little inside joke, whenever I eat a hot dog I ask my wife, “do you know what this tastes like?” “A hot dog?”, she asks. “Exactly.” We are both transported back to our wedding night on the beach in Maui every time we eat a hot dog. Now, that is a link between memory and food that I will never forget, and if I need a reminder of how great our wedding was, I can just grill up some quality hot dogs and blend up a tasty pina colada. I can almost feel the warm ocean breeze…

Perfect Leg of Lamb

Food has an uncanny way of crossing cultural lines and literally brings people to the table in sharing something that is essential to the survival of all humans. When care is taken to respect certain cultural or religious restrictions on diet, food allows us to interact as citizens of planet Earth, and celebrate the myriad flavors this world has to offer. Case in point: About three weeks ago, my wife, Ericka, and I hosted a dinner party that featured guests from three different countries with three different native languages being spoken at the table. After my cousin, Britt, attended our New Year’s Luau Party and introduced her boyfriend, Hassan, to us, we had such a good time that we exchanged contact information and promised to make time to get together and enjoy a meal together soon.
We made good on our promise, and shared several meals with them over the next few months. Hassan is from Iran, and is in Seattle finishing his Doctorate in Electrical Engineering from the University of Washington. After getting to know Hassan better, we have learned a great deal about Persian culture and its fascinating history. He is a brilliant young man, and his control of the English language puts us native speakers to shame! With a cultural restriction on eating pork, Hassan had mentioned that lamb was a large part of the Persian diet, and that he was still looking for a decent lamb dish since he arrived in America. Lamb is a meat that is not overly popular in this country, so not a lot of restaurants (outside of ethnic restaurants, of course) serve lamb dishes. I just happened to have a superb lamb recipe, and I was anxious to share it with my new friend. We set the date, and I crossed my fingers, hoping that Hassan would finally have a lamb dish that would rival what he could find back in Iran.
As we set-about prepping for our dinner party, Britt called and asked if an exchange student from France that was staying with her could tag along for dinner. Ericka and I always say, “the more the merrier!”, so we set an extra set of dishes on the table. I made a grilled leg of lamb and a Caesar salad with homemade dressing, and Ericka made blanched asparagus with cheese sauce and saffron rice pilaf. As we sat down to our meal (following an hour of hand-constructed cocktails, cheese, crackers, and fruit), Hassan was raving about how amazing the lamb smelled and looked, and our new friend from France, Marie, was very excited to enjoy a home-cooked meal. We were a little apprehensive to serve our food to a French person, assuming that every citizen of France was a food expert. Fortunately, we knocked this meal out of the park. Hassan told us that this was, by far, the best lamb that he has had since arriving in America. Britt wanted to know our secret for making the BEST asparagus (perfectly tender, but not crunchy or mushy), and Hassan loved the addition of saffron to the rice pilaf. Marie was a bit shy because she felt she couldn’t communicate in English very well, but her incredibly clean plate showed us that she really appreciated the home-cooked meal.
It was so amazing to have three languages (English, French, and Farsi) being spoken at the dinner table, and we traded slang and local colloquialisms in our native languages amidst our hearty laughter and full belly’s. All in all, this was a fantastic evening. As Britt spoke French, she translated for Marie, and she said that this was, hands down, the best meal that she has had since arriving in America in January. Needless to say, we were so honored! We had hosted a truly international meal, and gained knowledge and respect for other cultures while satiating our hunger and having a fantastically fun evening. As the heart of the meal, the lamb brought us all together to enjoy each other’s company. Here is the recipe for making super tender and tasty leg of lamb:

Grilled Leg of Lamb
As adapted and enhanced from Alton Brown’s Silence of the Leg of Lamb”recipe

1 four to five pound boneless leg of lamb
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
6 cloves garlic
5 Tbs Dijon mustard
10 mint leaves
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/8 cup olive oil
12 grinds of quality pepper
Kosher salt

Combine garlic, mustard, mint, brown sugar, olive oil, pepper, and salt in a food processor and blend to make a thick paste. Flay the leg open and brush the paste onto the meat. Truss with butcher’s twine, and cover outside of roast with Kosher salt. Fire-up two chimneys worth of hardwood lump charcoal, and prepare some chunks of apple wood wrapped inside of aluminum foil. Once coals are completely covered with ash, pour one chimney on one side of the grill, and one on the other. Lay the foil wrapped apple wood onto the coals, and place the rosemary next to the coals. Allow the grill grate to heat-up, and lay the lamb on the center grate. Grill (lid closed) for 15 minutes, then flip the leg over. Grill another 15 minutes, then move the coals as far to the sides as possible, and roast for another 45 minutes (for medium rare), allowing the apple wood smoke to swirl around the lamb. Remove from the grill, wrap in foil, and allow to rest for 15 minutes before carving into slices. Enjoy!

Puerco Pibil

"This dish is, in fact, so good that I will have to go back into the kitchen and kill the chef. It's my little way of keeping balance in the world." --Johnny Depp playing Agent Sheldon Sands from Robert Rodriguez's film "Once Upon a Time in Mexico"

After watching Rodriguez's film on DVD (and seeing what an important role this particular meal had in it) I was curious as to what this food item was all about. Fortunately, as a bonus feature on the DVD, Rodriguez offered his "10 Minute Cooking School" where he takes you step-by-step how to make this delicious meal. Puerco Pibil is actually a derivative of a Mayan recipe that has survived into Mexican cuisine today. Literally meaning "pit or buried pork", the name harkens back to barbecuing an animal in a pit until its meat is falling off of the bone. Intrigued by Rodriguez's recipe, I set about looking for ingredients and begged my wife to let me make it for her.
As I searched the local grocery stores looking for anatto seed and banana leaves, I received many an awkward look from store employees and management alike. Thinking that my pursuit of culinary bliss was vanquished without access to these ingredients, I summarily gave-up and shelved the recipe for another day. Sooner rather than later, however, I was taking a long weekend with my family over at Lake Chelan for the annual Winemakers' Dinner. This was a feast that I will recall in another posting, though! While shopping for some groceries at a local supermarket, I stumbled upon my four-leaf clover of spices: anatto! The essential ingredient in Achiote Paste, this Caribbean seed is tough to find outside of Latino neighborhoods; fortunately, Chelan has a large population of Mexican people, and therefore the stores cater to their tastes. Now if they only carried banana leaves, I'd be in business... Eureka! Frozen banana leaves! Needless to say, the store needed to order more of both after we cleaned them out.
Now, back on the west side of the mountains, I gathered the remaining ingredients and faced the daunting challenge of turning this mess of seemingly disparate food items into culinary gold. Note to self, don't touch eye after slicing habeneros for at least two days...trust me on this one! So, here's how we dance:

Puerco Pibil, as adapted from Robert Rodriguez's "10 Minute Film School"

4-5 pounds boneless pork shoulder (pork butt), trimmed and cut into 2 inch cubes
7 cloves of fresh garlic, smashed
2 habanero peppers, seeded and diced
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 cup white vinegar
Healthy dose of quality tequila or mezcal
2 1/2 Tbs anatto seed
2 tsp cumin seed
8 allspice berries
1/2 tsp whole cloves
1 Tbs black peppercorns
2 Tbs Kosher salt
Banana leaves

Preheat oven to 325 F. Place all whole spices into spice grinder and grind until all are moderately powdered. Place all liquid ingredients in a blender with garlic, peppers, salt, and spices. Blend until smooth. Place pork chunks in a zip-top bag and pour blender contents into the bag. Seal tightly and ensure no air is in the bag. Massage bag for a few moments to evenly distribute spices. Line a large baking dish with banana leaves, and make sure some leaves hang over the sides. Pour contents of bag into dish and fold over banana leaves. Cover with a few more leaves, and then wrap tightly with aluminum foil. Bake for 4 hours and serve with sauce over Spanish rice.

The blend of spices with the heat of the habaneros and the acidity of the liquid ingredients combine with heat to break-down the connective tissues in the pork and render one of the most flavorful meals around. Getting the freshest spices and grinding them yourself is the key to making your taste buds soar. If you can't take the heat of habaneros, serranos or even jalapenoes could be substituted without a real loss of flavor. Also, Rodriguez insists on using top shelf tequila (this is why, he surmises, that the chef is shot for making the dish with such good tequila), but I'd rather use Cuervo Gold and save the really good stuff (Cabo Wabo!) for my scratch margaritas (a topic I may have to broach on another day).
My wife loved this dish so much, she said it's now her favorite meal! She even talked our butcher into getting 25 pounds of pork butt to freeze so I can make it for her whenever she wants. If that isn't an endorsement, I don't know what is! What is strange about this dish is that it would be equally at home on a cold winter's night as well as a hot summer evening. I first made it in November, and it had a very comforting quality about it; this was hearty comfort food to help keep warm on a blustery, wet Seattle night. The earthy tone of the anatto (not to mention the cool, surface of Mars color) really grounds the dish, and the cloves and allspice give a hint of sweet contrast. Fantastic. Fork tender pork simmered and steamed inside banana leaves is an amazingly satisfying meal. I urge you to try it for yourself. Don't worry, we won't shoot the chef.