The Japanese Gril - Sakekasu-Cured Black Cod

The last of the recipes I tested for the forthcoming book The Japanese Grill by Tadashi Ono and Harris Salat (look for it this Spring from Ten Speed Press) put me over the edge enough that I'm going to buy the thing when it comes out. That's saying a lot, because my cookbook cabinet is full, so for every book that comes in, I have to give one away.

This recipe was for black cod fillets cured in sakekasu, the lees from making sake. Despite getting the wrong kind of sakekasu, which made following their recipe a bit difficult, the fish cured beautifully and yielded an amazingly subtle grilled fish.  It had a wonderful complexity - the nose of sake, the fat of the fish, the hint of smoke from the grill all came together to do really happy things in my mouth. I was glad I scraped as much skin as I could off the foil (see picture) because the burnt/fat/sake was even more intense there. It may be exaggeration to say it was the best fish I've had in my life, but it definitely was the best in memory. The fish took some planning because of a 3-day curing process, but the prep time was minimal, and ingredients themselves were few and simple, as were the techniques used.

That was true of all the recipes I tested for The Japanese Grill. Most had very few ingredients and relied on the interplay of basic tastes and textures, including those imparted by the grilling process itself. While designed for standard grills, all adapted easily to cooking on Mechazawa-san (the large Egg), and most were quick enough to prepare that they'd be perfect for a weekday evening dinner.

The only sad thing about making the recipe was that it was the last one of the lot for me to do. This was a ton of fun, and I could have kept on if they were doing an encyclopedia. I even found out I don't mind following a recipe exactly when it's for a good cause. But for now, it's back to the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery project, plus whatever else unusual and new comes my way.

D'Artagnan "French Kisses"

I suppose if you're trying to market prune-wrapped liver, you need to come up with some sexier-sounding name; nonetheless, I kind of cringed at this one. The name didn't keep me from trying these, though, served as dessert for the grilled chashu dinner.

The treat, from (for me, at least) reliable retailer D'Artagnan, was also something I wouldn't have gotten past Phil, because the liver in question was foie gras. His argument basically followed the line of "any duck with a liver that enlarged is sick, and you shouldn't eat sick animals." He was probably right, but in moderation I'm unapologetic. The stuff tastes good.

There were six tiny, Armagnac-infused prunes stuffed with small beads of foie gras in the package. The first post picture shows them served individually in salts (small open bowls used with tiny spoons to allow each individual to salt their food at the table; a larger bowl, often with a cover, was called a "master salt").

These were really fine and nicely balanced. Sweet/salt/tart, smooth/textured, and rich/clean were all present and accounted for among the Armagnac, prune, and liver tastes. They were interesting enough to make you want to savor them, which the small size encouraged. Definitely worth it as a special treat.

Marinated Tomato, Mushroom and Ramp Salad

One of the recipes I didn't test for The Japanese Grill was for grilled lobster with ponzu. It calls for you to kill the lobster and split its head before you cook the crustacean. Killing things is something I'm still not up to doing without Phil, so I passed. But I did make their homemade ponzu sauce. I used it for a sort of emergency salad that turned out good enough to be a recipe.

Courtney's Marinated Tomato, Mushroom, and Ramp Salad
(to serve 3 generously as a side salad, or 1-2 as a main dish salad)
About a dozen cherry tomatoes, halved
1 small bunch of about a dozen ramps, washed and sliced into 1" pieces
8 oz enoki or beech mushrooms (or use regular white mushrooms sliced about 1/4" thick)
3/4 cup ponzu (Japanese citrus sauce; I used homemade from the recipe in the forthcoming book The Japanese Grill; you can get prepared ponzu at most Asian markets)

Combine vegetables in a non-reactive bowl. Add ponzu. Gently stir, using a lifting motion to thoroughly coat all vegetables. Let marinate about one hour, gently stirring and redistributing the vegetables every 15 minutes or so so they marinate evenly. Turn the entire mixture into a sieve, strainer, or colander and drain. Keep salad cool until ready to serve. Serve as is or, if desired, on lettuce or spinach leaves.

Cooking Notes: You could use a spring onion or diced green pepper or diced cucumber if ramps are not in season, but the ramps do work very well with the other flavors and are preferred.

The Japanese Grill - Chashu

The last of the meat dishes I'm testing for The Japanese Grill was chashu - a marinated, grilled boneless pork roast. I had my friends Jess and Marlene over to help me try it.

The marinade was a bit more challenging to make than the other recipes, as some of the measurements were open to interpretation (e.g. how thick is a thick slice of ginger? how small is a small scallion?). I used common sense as a guide and it came out wonderfully.

The best thing about the chashu was that it is served at room temperature. This meant I was able to finish it right before my guests arrived. They came into a house that was fragrant with the finished pork, which was about the best appetizer I could have offered. I was free to sit and socialize with them, because the cooking was done. All that was left was for the roast to rest. And we were able to eat when we were ready, not when the food was.

The fact that it also tasted excellent was a bonus. Lots of umami in the sauce and in the pork, a bit of caramelized sweetness, and a ginger/garlic/onion flavor that can't ever go wrong. It was a very close second to the porterhouse steak. As with that dish, the leftovers were as good if not better than the "firsts" - an important consideration for me now.

I don't know if they're going to use all the tested recipes in the final book, but this one's staying in my file regardless.

Basic Buttermilk Biscuits for One

When I made biscuits for Phil and myself, I cut the recipe in half. For one person, further reductions were in order. Reproduced to save other singles the hassle of conversion, and to prove that yes, they come out just as well in small batches.

Basic Buttermilk Biscuits for One
2 oz all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
7/8 oz lard or shortening
1-1/2 oz buttermilk

Preheat oven to 450F (230C). Mix dry ingredients together. Cut lard or shortening in until the mixture resembles fine crumbs. Stir in buttermilk. Kneed gently on a lightly floured board about a dozen times. Pat approximately 1/2"-3/4" thick and cut using a 2" biscuit cutter. Gently re-kneed the trim and cut again. Makes 3 - 4 2" biscuits. Bake 10 - 12 minutes until tops are golden.

Cooking Notes: As shown in the first post picture, being sure the cutter makes a complete round is necessary to get a good rise from the biscuit. The back two biscuits are from the initial cut; the front left biscuit was made of trim and then cut into a complete round; the front right biscuit was formed from the rest of the trim and there was not enough to make a full round, so it wasn't cut and consequently the edges didn't expand as much in the cooking.

Also, the first post picture is arranged to show all of the biscuits together rather than how they were cooked. For baking, the biscuits were given ample space on the baking tray as shown in the picture above.

Eating Notes: Just as good as their larger-batch counterparts.

Proof that I am Still Adjusting

I had to order some more Mangalitsa lard from Foods in Season. I also needed some black cod to make cured black cod for The Japanese Grill project, and Foods in Season offers sustainably fished, really fresh creatures. They ship promptly, and everything always comes in perfect condition. When I got home, it all was waiting for me. In a very large and heavy box. Two boxes, really, taped securely together into a large cube.

Foods in Season supplies restaurants, not individuals. I should have learned my lesson on this when I received the 10-lb sack of lamb sweetbreads I somehow couldn't resist the last time I placed an order. The lard and the fish were fine, I knew what I was getting into and I know how it will be consumed. But somehow I ended up with a box of 6 pounds of perfect mushrooms, three varieties, mixed.

Even if Phil were still alive, this would be a daunting volume of mushrooms. As it is, I haven't a clue in the world how I'm going to eat this much fungus. I suppose I can dry, pickle, or can them. Maybe this will let me learn my lesson? No, I'm not taking my own bet on that one.

1966 WDEC - Washington

Next on the states' roster in the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery is Washington, "Evergreen gem of the Northwest" (Picture of Cascade Pass Trail). I've been getting more picky about the things I'm trying since I'm on my own; even so, there are a couple of recipes of interest. The line-up:

Red Caviar in Cream: salmon roe mixed in a blender with cream cheese and sour cream. This seems like a crime against caviar, and I'll pass.
Dungeness Crab Louis: I consider Crab Louis to be a truly American dish, and it's one I've never made, so I'll give this a try.
Baked Salmon: What it says, with some tomato puree and a bit of spice. Meh.
Venison Mincemeat: I like mincemeat, but this recipe is a bit too sweet for my taste, and that combined with it just not being mincemeat season and I'll pass.
Baked Lima-Bean-and-Pear Casserole: lima beans with a lot of brown sugar and canned pears. Again, a bit sweet for my taste.
Schlee: OK, it's called schlee. That is such a great name I have to try it. Plus, it's bacon and mashed potatoes with wilted lettuce. What's not to like?
Prune Butter: Similar to apple butter. I will never use up the canned butters and jams I have already, so I'll pass at least for now.
Aplets: Tiny cubes of gelatin made with applesauce. If I can effectively scale down the recipe I will try it.

And thus it is off to the kitchen.

The Japanese Grill Filet Mignon

By Wednesday I only had 5 days left to finish The Japanese Grill recipe testing project, and I have commitments from Friday through Sunday that will prevent me from cooking dinner at home. So hot on the heels of the swordfish steak I tried their filet mignon. Weighing in at a little over a half pound, this was hardly the little dainty piece of meat the name implies. In fact, grilled and served with mushrooms and a complementary dipping sauce, it was quite a feast for one person.

The other advantage of the dish was that it was fast. I was expecting to be home by 4:30 but didn't make it until 7 because of some client concerns. Nonetheless, I had everything cooked, plated and ready to eat by 7:35.

Again, I'm grateful for the project. There is no way I otherwise would, after an unexpectedly extra-long work day, have gone to the store to buy some fresh meat to grill. I would have just come back and scarfed some almonds and cheese or something and called it a night. This was much more civilized, and the cooking itself helped me unwind.

The Japanese Grill Swordfish Steaks

Phil's friend and colleague (and now my friend) Joe came over to help me eat and to take a look at getting the observatory back on line. One of two endeavors was successful, and we'll keep trying on the observatory.

I am forging ahead with The Japanese Grill recipe testing project, so made a marinated swordfish steak. It is a simple marinade, nicely balanced in flavor, and worked really well with the fish. They called for me to grill at a higher heat than I normally used for fish; the result, though, was still nice and moist. Joe is vegetarian, and I used the same marinade and methods to do some portobello mushrooms for her. She really liked them.

It was a lot of fun. It made me happy being ribbed for taking pictures of everything, and the end result was a congenial evening with someone who likes to cook, agrees that Phil was an absolutely fabulous guy, and doesn't mind fussing about for a bit trying to make software talk to the telescope and mount.

I'm so grateful for friends and food.

The Japanese Grill Short Ribs

Made some short ribs as part of The Japanese Grill recipe testing project. It's interesting testing a recipe because you really do have to stick right with what they tell you. In this case, I was tempted to change up the spicing a bit and to infer in places where the draft recipe appeared to omit important steps. But I held firm and just made the ribs the way the recipe said.

The results, while not as transcendent as the porterhouse steak from a few days ago, were solidly in the "very good" category. This is the first time I responded back to the authors with suggestions for changes beyond fixing obvious typos and editorial errors. It's gratifying and kind of humbling to be part of the process.

1966 WDEC - Virginia - Virginia Batter Bread

I'm still a sucker for spoon bread. So.

Virginia Batter Bread
(to serve 4 - 6)
1 cup white water-ground cornmeal (or masa)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
2 Tbsp butter
4 cups milk, scalded
4 eggs, separated, with whites stiffly beaten and yolks well beaten

Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Grease a 2-Quart Casserole. Combine dry ingredients. Add butter to milk. When melted, stir into cornmeal mixture. Blend thoroughly. Add well-beaten yolks. Fold in stiffly beaten whites. Pour batter into greased casserole. Bake 45 - 50 minutes; stir twice before crust begins to set.

Cooking Notes: I scaled this down to serve 1 person and used a 1-1/2 pint casserole, shown in the picture, to do the baking. As a result, I dropped the cooking time to 40 minutes. I stirred the casserole the first time 12 minutes into cooking. When I went to stir again 10 minutes later the crust already had started to set. I gave it a bit of a stir anyway.

Eating Notes: Classically excellent spoonbread, too moist to be eaten by hand. The bread was moist, rich, and full-bodied. Aside from the relatively long cooking time, it was quite easy to make, and would be happy with breakfast, lunch or dinner and with either sweet or savory accompaniments. Definitely a winner.

Anniversary Gifts

Sunday would have been our 21st anniversary. We both knew what we wanted - Phil wanted a micro lens for his Nikon D200 so he could have more fun taking food pictures; I wanted a pair of egg scissors, since we'd been eating more boiled eggs at breakfast. The gifts arrived several weeks ago. But even though we knew what they were and that they were here, we coyly waited to exchange them on the intended day. Best laid plans, and all.

Saturday night I went to where my egg scissors were "hidden" and I brought out his gift of the lens so I could use them Sunday. The micro lens is anything but - it's an 85mm close-up lens that should be fun to learn how to use. Picture above shows "first light" through the new lens. I only wish it were him using it instead of me.

The "egg scissors" turned out to be a rather cool (ok, very cool) "egg topper," shown in the first post pic. The topper has no blade or sawing mechanism or anything of the sort. Instead, it works by shock. You set the topper over the egg, pull up the round ball at the top and then let it go. It smashes back into the top of the flange-shaped part, a shock travels down the flange and the shock is transferred to the egg, making the shell crack. Then you can take off the shell without losing the top bit of the egg as you would with conventional egg scissors. It sounds improbable, but it works, as the picture below shows:

I think Phil would have been most satisfied with the results.

Japanese Grill Porterhouse Steak

I did the first full recipe for The Japanese Grill recipe testing project and, if it's any indication, I'll be glad to have signed up for the task. The irritations of having to measure volume instead of weighing have been outweighed by the incredible results.

The Porterhouse steak shown above was done to their specs, adapted for cooking on Mechazawa-san (the large Egg). In addition to being hugely fun to cook (Mechazawa-san got to get up to 750F and had lots of extreme flaming action) it came out absolutely perfect - a seared, garlicky crust encasing a perfectly medium-rare core, with marbles of fat that added to the taste. Yum. The leftovers were just as good if not better (which is good, since I'll be eating them for a while...), as the marinade and meat flavors further melded.

1966 WDEC - Virginia

Moved rather quickly through the last couple of states, now to be in Virginia in the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery, just 5 states from the end of the "American Cookery" chapter (photo of Shenandoah skyline by W. Grotophorst via Wikimedia Commons). There are a couple of items of possible interest in "the home of the famed." The line-up:

Almond Bouillon: Canned bouillon with ground almonds and cream, cooked for a half hour. So weird I'll probably try it.
Martha Washington's Crab Soup: Made this for Phil and me for Thanksgiving. It was good.
Norfolk Shad Without Bones: Shad baked so long the bones disintegrate. If I were cooking for more than one, it would be a definite, and I still may try it.
Baked Smithfield Ham: I'm sure it's great, and that it would last me about 2 months. I'll pass.
Brunswick Stew: Robust chicken and beef stew. It makes a lot, but it probably would can well. Also on the downside, though, it's not really a warm weather dish. Maybe I will, maybe I won't.
Virginia Batter Bread: Cornbread stirred during baking. I think I'll try it.
Spread Apple Pie: No-crust pie made with applesauce. I still have some applesauce sitting in the fridge; if the applesauce isn't moldy, I'll try the recipe. If it means buying a new jar, I won't.
Peanut Brittle: Standard recipe for the same. I'll pass.
Peanut Chews: Doesn't look particularly special, so I'll let this one go as well.

So while I'm not at the grill, it'll be off to the kitchen.

1966 WDEC - Vermont - Maple Cream

With company coming over to try the first of the grilling projects, it seemed a good time to make this dessert.

Maple Cream
(to serve 6)
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
2-1/4 cups milk
3 eggs, separated; egg whites stiffly beaten
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup maple syrup (I used Grade B)
1 tsp vanilla extract

Soften gelatin in milk in top part of double boiler. Place over hot water and heat to scalding. Add salt to egg yolks; beat salted egg yolks, stir in syrup, and add to milk. Cook over simmering water, stirring, until mixture starts to thicken. Remove from heat. Beat in stiffly beaten egg whites. Pour into pudding dish and chill until very firm.

Cooking Notes: Maybe it's because of testing the cookbook recipes, but I made this exactly to spec. The custard seemed to take forever to start to thicken, leading to some fear it wouldn't set. I don't have a proper pudding dish, so I used a Pyrex casserole instead. I also added a bit of sliced fresh summer truffle as a garnish (after I took the picture, so it's not shown).

Eating Notes: Far better, both in appearance and taste, than I'd expected. The mixture completely pulled away from the dish as it chilled, so I probably could have used any mold and then unmolded it for serving if I'd wanted to. As it was, when I dug in with the spoon I was rewarded with the surprise of a carmelly aspic at the bottom, which became a sort of topping when the custard was plated. The combination of clear maple gelatin and creamy egg-and-maple custard was perfect, and it wasn't at all too sweet. Adding the truffles was a nice touch. The crunch perfectly offset the smoothness of the dessert itself, and the mild earthy flavor went well with the maple. Definitely a winner.

Maruichi Shrimp Kakiage with Mixed Greens and Ramps

More single person food. When I was getting supplies for The Japanese Grill project, the homemade kakiage (mixed tempura) jumped out at me and I picked up a package of a half dozen. I reheated them by sauteeing in coconut oil over high heat and served them with wilted mixed greens and ramps, seasoned with a bit of ponzu (Japanese citrus soy sauce). It's amazing how much difference it makes just adding a touch of something homemade and fresh to a packaged entree. It also helps that the tempura was first rate, with just the right amount of shrimp sweetness, a good selection of vegetables included in the tempura, and a skin that stayed crispy even after reheating.

First True Spring Omelet of the Year

Going to the farmer's market this week was hard - there will be a lot of "first time without Phil" things like that, I know, but this was a trip that always was special to us both. Both ironic and encouraging that this Saturday was the first time a number of spring harbingers were available, including morels, ramps, and some more goose eggs. I sliced the morels and cut the ramps into 1" pieces, then lightly sauteed them in butter. Then I mixed them with buffalo yogurt and just a hint of black pepper. I didn't use anything else because I wanted the flavor of the ramps and morels to come through without having to fight.

The result was fabulous. Light and creamy with the distinct earthy notes of the mushrooms and the green garlic/onion/field taste of the ramps. Picture above shows the yield from one goose egg. Served it with some goat breakfast sausage from Many Rocks Farm and some rhubarb tart. Welcome, spring. New food, new life. Not exactly the one I'd anticipated, though.

The Japanese Grill - First Steps

On Sunday I went to the Maruichi Japanese grocery to get supplies for the recipe testing I'm doing for The Japanese Grill. I had several questions about ingredients that turned out to be useful to author Harris Salat as they have prompted him to decide to include additional information and pictures for the Japanese ingredients so that those of us who struggle with our Japanese are sure we're getting the right thing.

I've also started making some of the marinades, which can keep for several weeks in the fridge, to make the actual cooking a bit easier. Shown above is a garlicky concoction that will go toward some beef in a couple of days.

The oddest thing has been using a measuring cup when I've become so used to weighing everything. I also have to be very careful not to approximate with spices and not to tweak. So far, so good, though, and it's sort of fun. First test will be Thursday when I have some people over to try some steaks.

Courtney's Whitefish and Sausage for One

Quick, easy, and the perfect amount for one person.

Courtney's Whitefish and Sausage for One
(can be scaled)
3 breakfast sausages (about 2 oz; I used sage goat sausage), cut into bite-sized pieces
3-4 white (button) mushrooms, sliced about 1/8" thick
1 large spring onion, tops and white parts, cut into 1/2" pieces


4 - 5 sprigs parsley, minced, plus a couple left whole for garnish
1 Tbsp drained capers
1/4 cup plain whole-fat yogurt
generous dash Tabasco or other hot sauce
1 6-oz whitefish fillet (cut in half crosswise if needed to fit into the pan)
ghee for frying

Heat a heavy large frypan on medium heat and add just enough ghee to coat (unless the sausages you are using are very fatty). Add the sausage pieces and cook until just barely done. Remove from pan and set aside. Add more ghee to form a slightly more generous coating. Saute the mushrooms and spring onion until the mushrooms are cooked and the spring onions are just starting to caramelize.

While the sausage and veggies are cooking, mix the minced parsley, capers, yogurt, and hot sauce. When the mushrooms and onions are done, combine them with the mixture.

Return the pan to the fire, add more ghee if needed to coat, and saute the whitefish, skin side down, for 2 -3 minutes. Flip the fish and saute 2 - 3 minutes more, or until just  barely opaque.

Plate the fish, spoon the sauce over, add the sausage and garnish with the reserved parsley sprigs.

Start to finish, this took me less than 15 minutes. The sausage/fish/yogurt mix was well balanced and comforting without being boring. An easy winner.

1966 WDEC - Vermont

With the pending project for The Japanese Grill I'm going to be slowing down for a bit in the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery project. Too bad, because I'm up to the "V" states with Vermont "New England's most rock-bound, without an inch of coast." Not too much to interest me in the way of recipes, either. The line-up:

Eggs Dropped in Cream: Eggs poached in cream. I make eggs this way on occasion, but don't know that it merits a recipe. You poach the eggs in cream, put them on toast, and put salt and pepper on them.
Roast Turkey with Giblet-Butternut Dressing: Serves too many more than one.
Maple sugar on Snow: Boil maple sugar to soft ball stage and then drizzle it out on the snow. We used to do this when we were kids, and it's fun. But again, a recipe? And it's somewhat problematic in April in DC in any event.
Maple Cream: This one I'll probably try - it appears to be homemade maple syrup Jello. Intriguing.
Bread-and-Butter Pickles: A fairly standard recipe and I'll pass.
Raspberry Shrub: I like shrub quite a bit and will make some this summer, if I can get my hands on inexpensive raspberries. This is a standard recipe.

And that's it. Off to the kitchen, but with no rush.

1966 WDEC - Utah

Utah, "Great Salt Lake...Bingham Canyon...Bryce Canyon...Rainbow Bridge...Monument Valley, Great Desert," is renowned for its stunning geography (photo of Bryce Canyon by Jon Zander via Wikimedia). That's good, if the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery is any guide, because the recipes aren't really enough to bring me there. The line-up:

Crayfish Saute: Crayfish sauteed with onion and then braised in a bit of white wine. I have some spot prawns in the freezer I've been saving, but the recipe itself is fairly pedestrian and I'll likely pass.
Grandmother's Steak: Steak fried in bacon fat, lard and onions, then boiled for an hour. No, thanks.
Sand-Pail Picnic Dinner: OK, I'll confess I like the recipe even though I will not make it. It calls for you to wrap up corn, chicken, and potatoes in foil, layer them in sand in large galvanized buckets, stick the buckets in a charcoal pit, remove them (using asbestos gloves) at the end of the cooking, dump the pails out on the ground, and then "let each person fish for his bundle" among the smoldering ruins. This is a recipe Ted Forth (Wikipedia) would love. I'd likely have the county zoning board after me if I tried it.
Celery Fritters: What it says; celery minced up and added to a basic fritter batter. Seems like a waste of deep fat frying lard to me.
Mormon Vegetable Stew: Casserole of eggplant, peppers, onions, and cheese. Sounds perfectly fine but not particularly special.
Mormon Biscuits with Cream Gravy: Buttermilk biscuits with a plain white gravy. Nothing new, and I'll pass.
Apricot Mousse: Not really what I would call a mouse, this is whipped cream mixed with apricots and then frozen in a mold. It isn't calling me.
Almond Slices: Grated nuts, flour and sugar mixed with butter and eggs to hold it together, chilled and then made into cookies. I'm not really in a cookie mood right now.

So, nothing much to try here, but perhaps I'll come back some time.

WDEC - Texas - Ranch-House Beans

Right now, comfort food isn't such a bad thing. So.

Ranch-House Beans
(to serve 10 - 12)
4 cups dried pinto beans, washed and drained
8 cups water
1/2 lb salt pork
2 - 4 Tbsp chili powder, depending on taste
1/4 - 1/2 tsp hot pepper sauce, depending on taste
Salt to taste

Bring beans and water to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let stand for 1 hour. Add salt pork and simmer, covered, for 1-1/2 to 2 hours or until beans are tender and water is almost absorbed. While beans are cooking, remove scum from top and stir occasionally. Remove salt pork and stir in enough chili powder, hot pepper sauce, and salt to give beans a spicy flavor. Beans can be prepared ahead of time and reheated.

Cooking Notes: I diced the salt pork and left it in, because throwing away perfectly good cooked salt pork seemed somehow anathema to me. When I was boiling the beans some things came up and I realized I'd have to leave the house for more than an hour. So I set the oven to 225F (110C) and just let it bake for the afternoon. At the end of the afternoon the beans were perfectly tender but still a little watery, so I reheated the pot at medium-high until most of the water boiled off, as instructed. Relative to the instructions, I used a heavy spicing hand.

Eating Notes: An excellent example of the genre. Phil's brother, Chris, has been up helping out with some things here (thank you, Chris!) and between the two of us we ate all but enough for a small bowl for my lunch tomorrow. We both thought they were spicy enough to keep us interested (and the Kitchen Goddess uninterested) while being accessible enough for adults and kids.

Short Term Project and Therapy

Some weeks ago I wrote in response to a call for recipe testers by Harris Salat, who, with Tadashi Ono, is writing a cookbook due out next spring called The Japanese Grill. I was thrilled to be accepted and Phil and I were really looking forward to doing this. Then last week my life kind of turned upside down and I forgot about it.

This morning's email, however, had a note from Harris, recipes, and instructions. What fun! The obviously sucky downside is that Phil isn't here to help me. But I feel like he's with me and encouraging me to Fight-O! and do my best.

So today I went to Maruichi, the small but excellent Japanese grocery in Rockville, scored the special supplies, and Tuesday I will start in (tomorrow is rehearsal night) by making some of the bases and marinades one needs before moving on to the actual grilling.

All feedback has to be in by April 26, so there will be a lot of grilling in the meantime. We're understandably sworn to secrecy about the recipes, but there's no problem with discussing the experience or the general nature of the food, and I'll be doing that.

Two intensive weeks with Mechazawa-san, careful instructions, and a deadline sound like exactly what the doctor ordered.

1966 WDEC - South Dakota - Rhubarb Pie

Finally came enough out of sleepwalk shock to make the rhubarb pie this morning. Amazingly, the rhubarb was still good and crisp.

Rhubarb Pie
(to make 1 9" pie, or 4 5" tarts)
3 Tbsp flour
1 - 1-1/4 cups sugar
1/4 tsp salt
4 cups diced rhubarb
Grated rind of 1 orange
1/4 cup fresh orange juice (also about 1 orange)
Pastry for 9" pie with lattice top, unbaked
2 Tbsp butter or margarine

Preheat oven to 450F (230C) Mix flour, sugar, salt and rhubarb. Add orange rind and juice. Turn into pastry-lined pie pan. Dot with butter. Cover with strips of pastry, lattice fashion.

Bake at high temperature for 20 minutes (15 minutes if you're making tarts). Reduce heat to 350F (180C) and bake another 20 minutes (325F (170C) for 15 minutes if you're making tarts).

Cooking Notes: I only had 3 cups of rhubarb (the yield from four stalks of the size shown in the picture above, so rather than make a pie I made 3 tarts. My piecrust amounts were a bit shy, so the lattice was more of a decoration than anything else. All else scaled, but to spec, including the sugar (I used 3/4 cup). The kitchen goddess watched and supervised:

Eating Notes: Surprisingly good. The rhubarb was well-cooked and not at all slimy. The filling was nice and bubbly and wasn't too sweet, which was a relief. Simple spicing was good, allowing the orange zest to balance the rhubarb's own acidity without cluttering the palate. And amazingly, I tasted it; the grief sauce was just the thinnest glaze.

Leftovers with Baby Kale

Having both half the stomachs and half the income in the house, I'm now highly inclined to save restaurant leftovers I previously would have left behind. I do, however, have a new commitment to doing something beyond shoving them into the microwave (or just eating them cold from the fridge).

Wednesday's lunch was Thai chicken of some mildly spicy variety I don't remember. It was good. To reheat it, I took some fresh Kale and wilted it in a large saucepan. At the same time, I heated a generous tablespoon of coconut oil and then sauteed a large green onion and the leftovers in that over medium-high heat until the chicken was fragrant again and the onions had just started to carmelize over the edges. Picture above shows it. Plated the kale and spooned the chicken over.

The result was good, and sufficient to serve two not-terribly-hungry people. I have a feeling I'll be making more such things going forward; if this is any indication, it isn't such a horrible fate.

Breakfast for One

Leftovers were standard breakfast fare for me the last time I lived alone. Slipping into old habits, but with better food. Cucumber, sweet red pepper, and a chop from the rack of boar. A side of rice with some furikake (Japanese rice seasoning) on top. Nice, but I'd go back to Friday's breakfast in a heartbeat. Everything is still seasoned with a helping of grief sauce.

Blue Ridge Dairy Buffalo Yogurt

The folks at Blue Ridge Dairy are back at the Farmer's Market. Phil and I tried the buffalo mozzarella a couple of weeks ago. It was great, but I forgot to take pictures or make notes. We remembered enough, though, that we bought some of their buffalo yogurt last Saturday.

It is different from other yogurts I'm familiar with. The taste is a bit richer and a little less tart than the Greek Gods yogurt. The texture is almost like a very creamy ricotta cheese - the lumpiness is visible in the picture. On balance, those two differences combine well, although I think it's the texture I find most appealing as compared to standard yogurt.

In addition to eating it straight, I made some into dressing for a tossed salad, combining it with some capers, anchovy paste, and a few spices. Both ways were excellent, and it's a nice change worth the extra price every now and again.

Things Come Together as They Fall Apart

I'm still somewhat sleepwalking through a new life. Finding a picture of Phil was hard since he was always the one behind the camera. At least I've pieced together what happened. When Phil was small - 3 or 4 - he was stung by a bee and had a severe reaction. Neither of us knew this because he was too little to remember and nobody ever told him. We'd specifically discussed this because my mother developed bee allergies as an adult, so we'd asked one another about our bee sting history, and Phil said he was sure he must have been stung sometimes because all kids get bee stings, but he didn't remember.

When the medical examiner told me she was pretty sure he died from anaphylactic shock, I assumed it had to be something other than an insect; that an insect would have left a mark she'd have seen doing the autopsy. But I called to clarify and she said no, there would have just been a tiny puncture wound and there wouldn't have been time for any welt to form.

So I asked Phil's younger brother, Chris, did he remember if Phil ever had been stung. And the answer came back this morning - yes. Chris knew Phil had been stung because Chris was stung as a child and had a normal reaction to the sting. His mother, however, went ballistic, and rushed Chris to the doctor explaining that Phil had had a terrible reaction as a child. She insisted for some time after that Chris bring antihistamines to school with him just in case he was stung again. It seems never to have occurred to her that Phil, the child who actually had the bad reaction, was the one at risk, and as far as I know she never told him about the incident. Perhaps she thought that since he was the one who was stung, of course he knew it. But Phil didn't remember, and had no idea he had an allergy and a bee sting could kill him.

My guess is as he was riding along, a bee, attracted by the sweat, landed on his neck (I assume it was his neck because he wouldn't have swatted a bee if he'd seen it; he was nicer than that). He felt a bug and swatted at it, killing the bee, which stung him in the process. Before Phil knew much of anything he was gone.

So that's how everything fell apart in my world.

It doesn't make him any less dead or me any less horribly sad. But I am now especially glad Phil's mom died before he did. The death alone would have been horrible for her. Knowing that it might have been prevented had we known about the earlier incident would have been more trauma than any mom deserves to bear.


And now it's coming together. Everyone has been incredibly gracious; friends are proving themselves to be friends in deed, not just word; Phil's colleagues at Goddard have made me see that he was really special to a lot of people; his younger brother and his wife have been supportive and true; my clients and colleagues have bent over backward to help me as I hack my way through the underbrush to carve a new path for myself.

And then there's this part of me at foodforreal. To the readers who have sent me emails I want to give a special thank you. Knowing that we touched you or just gave you ideas makes me indescribably happy. And keeping up the blog now becomes therapy, and will help keep me from expressing my grief in crappy eating (the last time I was single, I believe my standard diet was Colt 45 (cheapest stuff I could get) and Doritos. I've come a long way).

Now I promise (mostly) to get back to food, which Phil will be part of for me forever.

Rack of Wild Boar a la Mechazawa-san

The fresh wild boar from D'Artagnan was to have been our Easter dinner. I owed to Phil to do my best. So. Uncooked, packaged rack shown below.

Had our friend Dottie over and smoked the rack at 275F (140C) for an hour and a half on Mechazawa-san (the big Egg). After about an hour, I realized Mechazawa had become a bit exhuberent, pushing the temperature to 350F (180C). So I shut the egg down really slow for fifteen minutes and then let it sit completely closed for another 15 minutes while I organized the dishes and made the asparagus to go with.

The result was really good, although on Sunday I was still eating it with a very distressed palate. The meat is gamy and flavorful without being at all dry, and there is a nice marbling of fat (visible at the top left of the first post pic) that isn't gristly in the least. I wish the circumstances were different; I think the result in that case would have been divine. The rack had 10 good-sized rib chops and to me, anyway, the price tag was worth it.

If Phil had been my co-eater on this one, it would have been long gone by Monday evening. With just me, the leftovers will last the better part of a week.

Goose Eggs

Julie at Groff's Content had a small bowl of goose eggs on Saturday morning - two she said definitely were double-yolk among them. Picture above shows them, with a chicken egg for reference. We bought the two double-yolk and one additional for Sunday breakfast. One of the double yolks was for me, since I usually have 2 eggs; and one, plus the single yolk was for Phil, who has 3.

As it turned out, Sunday breakfast was mine alone. In a daze (as I still am, really) even though hungry, I didn't want anything. But I need to eat, and we bought those eggs together for Sunday breakfast. So.

Shown above cooking, they were as impressive, and double-yolked, as promised. I had mine over medium, and managed to flip it whole with a regular spatula, although I considered using a fish lifter for the job.

Eating-wise, I thought that for the most part the whites tasted like those of chicken eggs. The bonus was in the very rich, creamy and dense yolks. The fact is that I'm too upset right now to actually enjoy even food I can tell is this good. But yes, I could tell, and it's worth trying some if you come across them in a market someplace.

Easy Whitefish with Ventreche and Yogurt Sauce

(Note: I blogged this Friday evening to post ahead, since we thought we'd be enjoying the weekend and Monday is my rehearsal night. It's our last dinner together to post. I'm on my own, at least for a while, now.)

Impossibly simple and nice-to-look-at dinner for two (or scale it as desired). On a large griddle, fry a couple of thick slices or several thin ones of Ventreche, pancetta, or bacon. Take off the griddle and reserve. Fry two whitefish fillets in the bacon grease (if you used ventreche or pancetta you may need to add a little more fat to coat the griddle; there just needs to be a fine film so the skin won't stick. Fry them skin side down for 2-3 minutes or so (the edges should just be starting to turn opaque), then flip and fry 1-2 minutes more.

While the fillets are cooking, mix a few tablespoons of yogurt, a few tablespoons each of capers and chopped roasted red peppers, fresh herbs if you have them, and whatever seasonings and spices strike your fancy (I used dijon mustard, just a drop of pomegranate syrup, and a generous amount of fresh black pepper). Plate the fish and spoon the sauce over. Cut or break the meat into pieces and place on top.

Grief is the Crappiest Sauce

It's been a little over a days. I know how lucky I am to be this horribly anguished, but even so that doesn't yet make the anguish very much less. The medical examiner did an autopsy and couldn't find a thing wrong. From what they can see he is a really healthy dead guy. So now it goes to a specialist in cardiopulmonary pathology.

I did get to talk to a friend of the EMT who treated him. He said that from the people who saw what happened, Phil stopped his bike, got off, seemed disoriented, and collapsed. People rushed to him right away, including people who knew CPR, and the EMTs came so fast that there never even was a police call made. The EMT was a guy who has been repeatedly commended and is considered one of the best in the business. But even the best EMT can't bring back the dead.

So I sit in this strange limbo for another day before getting or not getting answers. I'm exhausted but afraid that going to bed will no more yield sleep than it did last night. The kitchen gods sit beside me as I blog - even Goddess Nadja is content to curl up by my side rather than try to crowd the keyboard like she usually does.

And how is this about food? Last night I couldn't eat at all. Managed to choke down a couple of glasses of good champagne because the guy deserves it, but that was it. This morning I was hungry but just didn't want to eat. I forced myself to have one of the double-yolked goose eggs and some of the wild boar bacon I mail ordered (both to be blogged). It was good, but felt as though I was completely limited to whatever mechanical feedback my taste buds and tongue would provide. No joy in the food, no aroma, no expectation of sharing a new taste with Phil. Same with the bacon - I tasted it like a machine.

Some friends brought lunch of store-bought sushi and I was glad for its blandness. Just sustenance here and no need to pretend otherwise.

For Easter dinner, we had ordered the fabulous-looking rack of wild boar from D'Artagnan. I owed it to myself, to Phil, and to the boar to have it. I smoked it on Mechazawa-san using hickory (to be blogged later). My friend Dottie was over so I would have dinner company. We both agreed the boar was fantastic, but again my dissection was clinical.

I'm really, hungry, but if hunger is the best sauce, it's still not doing enough for me right now. Grief is the crappiest sauce.

1966 WDEC - Texas

(Note: I blogged this Friday evening to post ahead, expecting to be spending the weekend enjoying the weather. Life has completely changed for me since then, and maybe what I'm making will change because of that, but I'm leaving it to go.)

Texas, "first in prideful spirit," is next on the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery list of states (photo of Williams Prairie by the Katy Prairie Conservancy via Wikimedia). Despite it being the largest of the contiguous states, it will not take me too long to travel through. The recipes:

Beefsteak and Oysters: Take a steak and put oysters on top of it. Not really worth a recipe.
Beef Picadillo: Ground beef and pork simmered with just enough unintuitive ingredients that I may try it.
Turkey and Beef Tenderloin: Open face sandwiches topped with beef, sliced turkey breast, and a mushroom sauce. I'll probably pass, but it doesn't sound bad.
Barbecued Turkey: Turkey roasted on a spit and basted with barbecued sauce. Serves 15. Thanks, but no.
Toasted Rice: Rice baked before cooking. I've never made this sort of thing except as a kid with a box of Rice-a-Roni, so I'll try it.
Ranch-House Beans: I'm a sucker for beans, so I'll try this, as well.
Spinach and Onion Salad: Spinach, torn up, topped with sliced onions and then with French dressing poured over. Again, I'm not seeing how this merits a recipe.
Flan Sol y Sombra: Flan with coriander and honey. I love flan, so if I have the time I'll try it.

So! A couple of potentially new things, and I'm off to the kitchen.

Absent my Photographer, Lover, Eater, Friend

Phil went out this afternoon - a glorious one, with the cherry blossoms full and the temperature perfect - for a bike ride. He didn't come back. From what I know, he collapsed a few miles from our house. Some passers-by tried to give CPR and called Fire and Rescue right away, but it wasn't enough.

I was out myself, at the thrift store scoring a couple of pairs of shorts and a polo shirt for him and a really great suit for myself when the hospital called and said to come right away. But he was already dead, even when they called me (although they didn't tell me that then). So tonight I'm saying the first of many goodbyes to someone who has enriched my life more than any one or thing I can possibly imagine.

Today we had the last of the Ventreche for breakfast, along with some millet-rice cakes and eggs. We went to the Farmer's Market and bought a bunch of veal from Evensong and some goose eggs from Groff's Content and a baby goat from Many Rocks Farm and were sorry because Stefano at Copper Pot forgot to bring soup this week. Then we rounded out our cart at the Whole Foods and the Co-op. Phil teased me because I got a lot of nice comments on my spring outfit. The freezer was completely full with the goat in it, so I took out the lamb sweetbreads to defrost them enough so I could break them up and give some to Lane.

We came back and did a bit of work in the yard until the sun was too high for my skin to be happy. So I started some laundry, we had a quick lunch of blue cheese and my homemade lamb-lentil soup, and we decided to split up for the afternoon, then do some later yard work when the sun was lower. We said goodbye and I left him to work on his bike. And that's it.

The few friends I've had the energy to call have come through for me and for that I'm grateful. Food-wise, Lane took the sweetbreads to divide; our friend Dottie stayed with me through the evening and is coming over for Easter Dinner so I'll have someone to cook for and something to blog; and my friend Eleanor invited me for dinner Monday, but I'm going to try to convince her to come here for the same reason.

I don't know what's going to happen over the next days and months, to me, let alone to the blog. Phil was 48, in better health than he'd ever been, never been to a doctor in his adult life. When I left him at 1:10 he was fine. When I saw him at 3:30 he was dead. I'm still in shock and don't quite believe everything myself. It's 11:30 as I write this, long past my bedtime, but although I am exhausted, sleep seems a long way coming.

1966 WDEC - Tennessee - Turnip Greens with Hog Jowl

I didn't have any hog jowl (although Bill from Babes in the Woods says he can get me some), and it seemed salt pork would be unimaginably salty. But I did have some Ventreche from D'Artagnan (which will be the subject of a future post) that I thought would fit the bill. So in the interest of experimentation, I made this Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery recipe.

Turnip Greens with Hog Jowl
(to serve 4)
1 lb mustard greens
1/2 lb salt pork, fresh hog jowl, or ham hock
1 lb young tender turnip tops [greens]

Wash and drain mustard greens. Put in pot with meat. Add just enough water to cover. Simmer, covered, until meat is tender. Wash and drain turnip tops. Put in a pot with enough water to cover and simmer until tender. Add turnip greens with juice to mustard greens and meat. Simmer, covered for 10 minutes. Drain and reserve liquid. Slice meat and serve over greens. Juice drained from vegetables is called "pot likker" and is served separately in cups. Serve with corn bread.

Cooking Notes: Reflecting what was available at the farmers' market, kale took the place of mustard greens and spinach stood in for the turnip tops. I used half the greens and the full measure of meat (another reason I didn't want to use salt pork). A half pound of Ventreche translated into two 3/4" rounds. The meat was tender after about 40 minutes. The second addition of greens cooked only about 5 minutes more than that. We skipped the corn bread.

Eating Notes: Usually I cook greens only just until they wilt, and boiling them for ever and a day was hard to do. Same for the bacon; boiling bacon except as an inclusion in pork and beans just doesn't seem right somehow. For the outcome, I expected a slimy mass of greens topped with gray bits of flavorless meat. With such expectations, maybe it was easy to be amazed at how good this was. The kale lost some color; otherwise it stood up to its long boil remarkably well, retaining a good greens flavor and not turning to slime. The spinach added some bright green color and a brighter taste. The Ventreche was tender and still nice and porky. The "pot likker" had just the right mix of salt, meat, fat, and greens. And having the broth on the side made the whole thing into a true meal.

The recipe turned out to be an unexpected success. Variations on this theme are likely to become a popular emergency meal choice for me, especially when I have a variety of greens to use up. And it is nice to have a reminder, when I'm so looking forward to finishing the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery "American Cook Book" section, of why I'm doing this project.

Evensong Farms Butifarra

Julie at Evensong Farm has been experimenting with sausage. We have been among the beneficiaries. Her latest offering at the Farmer's Market was Butifarra, a Catalan sausage also known as Botifarra (Wikipedia). Half of a one-pound rope is shown above, grilled on Mechazawa-san and served with sauerkraut - our first sausage-and-kraut feast of the season.

Short answer to "did we like it?" Yes indeed. The Butifarra had a good meat/fat balance, was quite garlicky, and  was fresh enough that the cumin and nutmeg notes were distinct without being overpowering. Julie made only a small batch this time (15 lbs total, if I remember correctly), so this is probably it unless by some fluke she didn't sell out last week and we can score some at the next market.

So Julie, if you're reading this, please make some more!

Weird Crappy Food (Plus a Decent Find)

As I mentioned in my post about the cod liver packed in its own oil, I'm a sucker for weird food. So when I get the electronic circulars from Asian Food Grocer it's all I can do not to sink all sorts of money into things if only because I don't know what they are and they sound like stuff you just couldn't get in a standard American supermarket. Usually I'm good, adding a bunch of items to a shopping cart and then abandoning it at checkout (true confessions: I do this at brick and mortar stores, as well). But sometimes I just can't resist hitting "Place Order."

This haul was high junk - all sweets (except for the miso, which I got so as to feel not-so-guilty about the order) and none of those traditional, except for the yokan (Wikipedia):

• Japanese Kit Kat Mini's - Chocolate & Sweet Potato
• Japanese Kit Kat - Kinako Ohagi [red bean]
• Yokan (Dainagon Shiro)
• Hata Ramune Soda Curry
• Maruman Organic Red Miso
• Maruman Organic White Miso

Phil said, "You're not expecting me to eat that crap, are you?" I was crushed, but hey, what are clients for? so I brought everything except the miso there. And Phil was right for 75 percent of the stuff. First, all Kit Kat bars taste essentially alike. The milk chocolate-covered red bean and sweet potato versions were indistinguishable from one another. The white chocolate-covered sweet potato ones tasted different, in a violently sweet kind of way. They disappeared almost instantly from the common area. Curry soda, in the distinct ramune bottle (Wikipedia again), had a slightly curry aromatic to it, but otherwise was unremarkable.

The yokan, on the other hand, was worth the experimentation. Rather than a homogenous bean paste, it had red beans floating in it (they are the shadowy things in the picture; the packaging is clear plastic where it's not printed). Honestly, it looked rather suspect. I'm glad about that, because it tastes quite good chilled and sliced. Very bean-y and not too sweet, the paste also is made more interesting by the whole bean inclusions. And its off-putting looks keep the hordes away.