One Pie
There’s an endearing New England efficiency about this product from the One Pie Canning Company of W. Paris, Maine.
Want a pie? Here’s your pie.
And don’t get fancy and call it pumpkin. It’s squash, dammit.
One Pie recipe
Robert Frost would approve.
P.S. The part of the recipe covered by the quick sale sticker tells us to bake for 20 minutes at 425 degrees, then 45 minutes at 375 degrees. That’s going to be One WELL-DONE Pie.
Union Jack and West Coast, left to right. The Union Jack has settled somewhat; it looked cloudier when poured.
The other day two titans of the IPA world were on tap side by side at EBI, my local dispensary. So I filled a growler with West Coast IPA and a growler with Firestone Union Jack and quickly found five IPA lovers to taste and compare.
These are both “Stone-style” ales, after that Southern California brewery, which means they’re characterized by intense hoppiness, a citrus nose and taste, and moderate ABV (alcohol by volume, a bit over 7% for each). It’s my favorite style of beverage and I think these two are the best of the best.
As rare as a solar eclipse… two giants of the IPA world, side by side.
But enough about me… what did my tasters say? Although it was a blind tasting it was easy enough to identify the Union Jack because it’s unfiltered, leading to a moderate cloudiness when poured. Both had a foamy head that quickly reached one inch and a pleasing citrus aroma. And they were very similar on first sip, but on repeated investigation they moved apart.
West Coast maintained its citrus characteristic that provided a lasting tartness in the mouth. Two tasters didn’t like this, saying it was too much and lasted too long. The others were positive. Two called it floral and one described it as “peachy, assertive and forward.”
The Union Jack had a muskiness that definitely appealed to the non-West Coast pair but the others cast a firm vote against it. One person really didn’t like it, calling it “minerally, uninteresting and timid.” Ouch.
The next day there was a bit of each left in the growler so I tasted them flat, not the way to enjoy a beer. It was interesting how different these apparently similar beers tasted now. The tartness of the West Coast and the muskiness of the Union Jack really came through. And actually I liked them both, with a slight edge to the West Coast. Guess I’ll have to do this again.
Gazpacho. It’s the salad that eats like a soup. The solution to a gardener’s late-summer tomato glut. And, when combined with sangria and Bloody Marys, a key component in the perfect liquid diet.
Because the tastes and ingredients are familiar, gazpacho is a gateway drug for all kinds of culinary experimentation: new cuisines, new ways to prepare old favorites, or simply the idea that cold soup can be good. Sneakily feed a cup of gazpacho to your kids or your Michigan relatives, and cochinita pibil or even uni may well be the next stop.
I have three recipes for gazpacho: one simple, one comparatively complex in texture and preparation, and one that cheats with tomato juice. I have to admit that I like the tomato juice version the best because it’s the most predictable (and also cheapest when made out of season). But that’s exactly the reason you should pay no attention to my preferences.
Tomatoes vary widely in their sugar-to-acid ratio and you definitely need to taste before serving (but after chilling and allowing the flavors to mature) if you are making a predominately fresh version. Your tools are acid, salt and capsicum to round it out if the first taste seems a little flat. (Or olive oil but I go easy on the stuff, feeling that gazpacho is essentially a light refreshment.)
As they formerly said in Spain, “salud y amor y pesetas, y tiempo para gastarlos”–may you have health, love and money and time to enjoy them. Sadly, a Spanish visitor tells me they no longer use this toast because in the Euro economy nobody remembers pesetas.
These glasses will shortly be filled with wine.
The Saratoga Wine & Food Festival, held last weekend, is a lively event where local fun lovers take back the town after the racing crowd departs. There are fashions to view, Ferraris to test drive, and large quantities of food and wine to taste, but I made a beeline for the tent where they were serving up Certified Angus Beef.
CAB Sirloin after 30 hours “dry aging” in refrigerator
The Certified Angus designation came into existence in 1978 after the USDA lowered the bar for earning the USDA Choice grade. Angus marketers wanted a “high Choice” designation that maintained the former quality standards, so they built their own. Their website uses the double entendre mumbo jumbo that “It’s a cut above USDA Prime, Choice and Select” but the fact is that this is Choice beef that meets additional standards, some related to appearance and others related to making sure older or larger animals don’t slip through. (There is also a CAB Prime and a CAB Natural, grown with no hormones or antibiotics, but I’ve never seen these at retail.)
The finished product
I like the flavor profile of Certified Angus a lot and am fortunate that it’s often on sale at my local supermarket, the Albany-based Price Chopper chain. At the festival Prime Restaurant was demonstrating its own preps, paired with Chianti, including a sirloin that had been “dry aged 52 hours”. This got my brain spinning. True dry aged beef hangs in the cooler for weeks, loses up to 1/3 of its weight, often develops a “curd” that must be removed on the surface, and becomes immensely tender because of the chemical changes in the meat.
This was something different, probably rested a couple of days uncovered in the walk-in, rotated regularly, then brought to room temperature 4 hours before the evening rush (hence the 52 hour total). It was grilled with a nice crust and served with jus that the server advised us to forsake so we could concentrate on the meat. It tasted spectacular. Could I possibly do the same thing at home?
On the grill
I picked up a 705 gram steak for $7.99 a pound and did my usual “refrigerator aging” per Jacques Pepin but extended the time to about 30 hours, flipping and wiping off accumulated moisture several times. The steak dropped 25 grams of moisture during the process and the surface changed noticeably. The meat was then brought to room temperature, rubbed with a proprietary seasoning salt, grilled to rare/medium rare.
The result was about as good a steak as I’d tasted, suffused with the unctuous muskiness of a great cut of beef. No reason not to do it this way again and again, and extending to the full 52 hours next time. (Also I’ll keep the meat on a rack atop the plate, so air circulates on both sides.) Thanks to the festival gods for making this happen.
The finished product: Carnitas (fat bits are chopped separately so they can be removed if you prefer)
The original pulled pork, without the attitude. Amazingly easy because all you need is piggy, water, salt and time. Number of servings determined by the size of the roast; allow 1/2 pound per person measured by uncooked weight.
Ingredients:
1 pork shoulder roast (bone-in preferred) with plenty of fat, 3-8 lbs
Kosher salt, to taste
Water
Method: Chop pork into 3/4 inch dice, chopping fat separately. Place in a heavy deep skillet and cover with water. (Include the shoulder blade bone if there is one) Add some salt, maybe 2 t; don’t try to for a salty stock because it is going to cook down a lot. Bring to boil then turn down to a simmer and allow to cook 4-6 hours, stirring occasionally. During this time the water will cook away and the fat will render, so the pork is first boiled and then sauteed to melting tenderness.
Carnitas Tacos
Future carnitas after two hours
When the pan has almost run dry, discard the bone (after scraping off any meaty bits) and remove the fatty bits if you like. Correct the seasoning; it should be salty but not overly salty. You can serve as-is in bite size chunks, or shred the meat with your serving spoon. Best use of this pork is in tacos but it also goes well in a Cuban-style sandwich on crusty bread. Or simply stuff into your pie hole using both hands.
Creamy Andaluz Gazpacho
If you like chunks of fresh veggies in your soup, this is the gazpacho for you. The secret is a quick pickling which helps them stay crisp. Adapted (and dramatically simplified) from a Cooks Illustrated recipe, this is a good way to use the end-of-the-season tomato “seconds” that cost a buck a pound or less. 4-6 servings.
Ingredients:
2-3 lbs nice tomatoes
1 small cucumber, peeled and seeded
½ red onion
1 small green bell pepper
½ t Tabasco, or ½ jalapeno, seeded
2 garlic cloves, peeled
Kosher salt, about 2 t total
A big chunk of stale white bread, about ½ cup or more
3 T good olive oil
2 T red wine vinegar
Method: take about a third of the tomatoes and half each of the cucumber, onion and pepper and chop into ¼-inch dice. Add ½ t Kosher salt and mix in with your fingers or a spoon. Allow to macerate a half hour during which time the diced vegetables will throw off quite a bit of liquid.
Meanwhile, add the garlic, jalapeno if used and oil and vinegar to the blender and pulse until garlic is pulverized. Add reserved tomato, onion, cucumber and green pepper and blend until liquefied. Add 1 1/2 t salt and blend then taste; the soup should taste a bit undersalted since more salt will be added from the chopped veggies.
Tear or chop bread into 1 inch chunks and pour the liquid from the diced vegetables over it. Work in the liquid with your fingers till the bread is thoroughly moistened. Add to the mixture and the blender and blend till the bread is pulverized. Transfer to a serving/storage bowl and pour in the reserved diced vegetables. Refrigerate at least 2 hours before serving.
Fried Okra
If you’re going to fry chicken or fish, might as well fry okra while you’re at it. My fried okra ends up a bit deconstructed because the cornmeal doesn’t stick to the okra about half the time. But the green tidbits look pretty shining through, and the fried cornmeal batter tastes good on its own. 4 servings.
Ingredients:
1 lb okra
1/2 t Kosher salt
1 c buttermilk
1 c cornmeal
1 T cornstarch
1 t baking powder
Vegetable oil for deep frying
Okra Frying
Method: use only small fresh okra without brown streaks. Cut off the stems then cut into 3/4 inch pieces; if they are very small you can leave them whole after removing the stem. Place in a bowl with buttermilk, add salt and stir to combine. Marinate 15-30 minutes, stirring several times to make sure all surfaces have equal exposure to the buttermilk.
Meanwhile, heat deep frying oil to 375 degrees. Combine cornmeal, baking powder and cornstarch and mix very thoroughly (or sift the ingredients then mix). Dredge the okra pieces in this and then fry until golden brown in batches. Keep warm in a 200 degree oven. Serve and enjoy.
Use this Simple Spanish Gazpacho recipe when your tomatoes are so good, you don’t want any other flavors getting in the way.
Simple Spanish Gazpacho
Adapted from the excellent Simple Spanish Food website. It’s meant to be drunk from a glass or cup. 2 servings.
Ingredients:
1 lb nice tomatoes
1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped
2 T good olive oil
1/2 t Kosher salt
1 t champagne vinegar
Method: Put the garlic into the blender along with salt, oil and vinegar. Blend to pulverize the garlic. Wash the tomatoes; remove stem and any bad bits and coarsely chop. Add to blender and blend until liquefied. Refrigerate at least 2 hours before serving.
Note: If the flavor seems too sunny and one-dimensional, try adding a dash of Tabasco, a bit of salt or an extra splash of vinegar.
Green beans marinated in pickle jar liquid
After I sliced and served my last Kosher style pickle, I was left with a jar filled with wonderful brine. Rather than just throw it out, I got some more cucumbers from the garden and plunged them into this brine, to see if I could make even better pickles by reusing it. About five days later, the cukes had transformed themselves into rather bland pickles and there were white curds (different from the scum that had formed with the original batch) floating on the top.
Knowing from my bread making experience how often wild yeasties invade a casually tended sourdough, I should have expected this. My pickle brine was a giant petri dish, and the chance of getting the same product two times running was probably about the same as life forming from carbon molecules in the early days of our planet. So the answer is: drink the stuff, or experiment with it in potato salad or maybe a Bloody Mary (both these uses are mentioned on various websites). But don’t expect that your pickle juice will ever get better than the day you crunch into that perfect half-sour. Start fresh the next time around, with everything thoroughly cleaned.
Speaking of the internets, in the course of my research I found there is quite a culture (sic) of people who re-use the pickle liquid from commercial pickle jars. They soak vegetables in it, or spray it on potato chips. So in the interest of science, I brined some chicken thighs in liquid from a gallon jar of Vlasic pickles and blanched some garden green beans and plunged them into the same liquid (though not with the raw chicken) along with a couple garlic cloves and a few flakes of red pepper.
Note that this is a completely different substance than my pickle brine, though it’s interesting that people on boards like chowhound seem to talk about the two liquids interchangeably. A commercial pickle jar liquid is vinegar based and it’s also going to have preservatives and stabilizers in it. Thus it would seem unlikely any chemical reaction is going to take place. More likely the pickling is done with another process, then the pickles are transferred to the jars for preservation and distribution.
And indeed my chicken thighs (after 8 hours) had a mild tang, but none of the moistness and tight texture of meat that had been brined. The beans (after 24 hours) were also pleasant, but tasted like beans flavored with pickle jar liquid. No chemical transformation had taken place.
So, no. Other than the exceptions and adaptions above, I would say you can’t reuse pickle juice. It’s like a soufflé. Enjoy, then move on.
This pickle is fully developed and needs to be eaten right now.
These are darn close to Guss’s Kosher pickles in my opinion. All you need is cucumbers, water, salt, garlic and patience.
Ingredients:
A pound or more of nice pickling cucumbers
Water
Kosher salt or another non-iodized salt
A handful of garlic cloves, peeled
Jar or jars with tight fitting lids (recycled spaghetti sauce jars are good for this)
Method: Wash the cucumbers and jars very thoroughly, including the lids, to keep unwanted beasties from growing. Squeeze the cucumbers tightly into the jars, adding 1-2 garlic cloves per cuke. Make a brine consisting of 1 part salt to 20 parts water (a teaspoon of Kosher salt weight about 8 grams, so you’ll need about 3 tsp for a pint or half-liter of water). Pour the water over the cucumbers, filling all the way to the top, and LOOSELY replace the lids. Place in a cool dark place for a few days.
Beast of the Deep: Kosher pickles in their brine
In 3-7 days, the water will become cloudy and bubbles will appear on the surface, indicating the pickling process has begun. Move the pickles around in the jars to be sure all surfaces have equal exposure to the brine. Replace lids loosely and continue to ferment 3-4 more days till they look like pickles, not cucumbers any longer. Taste one. If it’s still crisp at the center you’ve got a perfect half sour. Tighten the lids and refrigerate. They will continue to slowly ferment for another week or so at which point they’ll start to get too sour to be eaten any longer, but hopefully your batch is depleted by then.
Comments: This is a lower salt ratio than most recipes, allowing for a more leisurely and controllable fermentation process. If you have pickling spices or some dill twigs by all means toss them in at the beginning. Some people like to add a celery stick or two or a grape leaf, which supposedly keeps the pickles crisp.
