Day 46, Ingredient No. 56-Whiskey/Bourbon

There are very few aspects of life that make me happier than seeing a man sit down at a bar and order a whiskey/bourbon/scotch in order to make himself appear more “manly.” It is easy to spot this kind of man. He is usually wearing the kind of outfit that screams, “You will sorely regret talking to me if you choose to do so.” He will sit down at the bar and give a confident nod to any attractive woman who happens to be near him. Then, in another bode of confidence, he will ask the bartender for a (bourbon/scotch/whiskey), “straight-up.” But then he will be taken aback when the bartender asks him what brand. This is because he doesn’t drink those kinds of alcohols and has never even considered that even a modestly stocked bar will sell over a dozen brands, he just thought he’d order something “manly.” But not to be deterred, he will usually order something top shelf, just for the appearance of being able to say, “anything top shelf.” Then, as his drink arrives he will proceed to gently swirl it in his glass, take a small sampling of the aroma, trying to give off the image of a connoisseur and bring the glass to his lips. He will take an ever so small sip. And then, the part I absolutely love. After he takes a sip so small that it would not be surprising if only a single molecule of the drink had hit his tongue, he makes a very slight, and yet, very obvious grimace. He tries to hide this as best he can, but it is painfully obvious to everyone around him. He ordered a whiskey/bourbon/scotch to make himself appear more manly and then proceeded to do one of the most un-manly things you can do; grimace and shutter after a sip of alcohol. Although it would be unimaginably painful for me to have to talk to a douche bag like this, I absolutely love when I see one at the bar, because the visual entertainment of his attempts of manliness is bar none.

The fact is no drink can make you appear manly. And take it from me, a man, that a lot of men would prefer an obnoxiously sweet, fruity, umbrella-laden drink over a straight bourbon. I know because I am one of them, and seeing as how I don’t give two shits about appearing “manly”, I will gladly order one of these drinks at a bar if I feel so inclined. And I won’t have to worry about shuttering after every sip, of course.

If there are “manly” connotations associated with drinking whiskey, bourbon, or scotch, then call me effeminate, I am simply not a fan. I have had some that I enjoy, but the fact is, I’m a beer drinker, and thanks to the proliferation of microbreweries here in the U.S., I’m a damn happy beer drinker.

I added bourbon/whiskey to my ingredient list for the fact that it is common in cooking, at least here in the southeast, even though I had never cooked with it before. If you don’t typically enjoy drinking something, you never really think to cook with it.

My idea was a take on a buerre noir, black butter sauce. I would add whiskey and some few added flavorings to the typically buerre noir for what I hoped would be a delicious take on the sauce with a nice kick. Unfortunately, I became a little overzealous with the aforementioned added flavorings. The sauce ended up being a competition amongst very distinctive flavors. And in the end, I was the loser. It is not to say this sauce was terrible, but it was like a band composed of nothing but 4 lead guitarists, there was nothing to bring it together.

In the end, I know that mistakes lend themselves to experience and experience lends itself to becoming a better cook. However, I know I am at least a pretty good cook, so every disappointment such as this is a little hit to my ego and pride. Yet, I am consoled by the fact that if I could cook 144 dishes without a single disappointing one, I wouldn’t be writing this blog, I’d be too busy receiving Michelin stars. So I must do what we all must do when we create a disappointing meal; learn from our mistakes and move on. And say to hell with whiskey.

(Note-I am posting the recipe though, as I said, it was disappointing. Perhaps you can take it as a base and make improve on it)

Whiskey Butter Sauce

-1/3 cup balsamic vinegar

-1/3 cup whiskey

-1 tbsp soy sauce

-2 tbsp Worcestershire (yes I’m proud to say I spelled that correctly on the first try)

-2 star anise

-1 tbsp tomato paste

-3 tbsp butter

Reduce the vinegar, whiskey, soy sauce, Worcestershire with the star anise by 2/3. Add the tomato paste and butter. Remove the star anise.

 

Day 28, Ingredient No. 23-Eggs

When one wakes up to find they are stricken with a hangover, they generally want and need to consume certain things to stave off the feeling that they over imbibed the previous night. A lot of water, perhaps some caffeine, acetaminophen or ibuprofen, rest, and a hearty meal are sure fire ways to at least somewhat alleviate the dreaded feelings of a hangover. Of course, the latter is best when you don’t have to cook it yourself, considering the state you have found yourself in where even moving out of the bed is enough to make your gut ache and your head swirl. However, if you find that you must prepare yourself something to eat (generally just to have something in your stomach for the ibuprofen intake) it is best that the aforementioned dish be something quick and not labor intensive in any sense at all. Basically, not Eggs fucking Benedict.

But as I awoke this morning, feeling as if my head were a lump of iron, I knew that I had promised my girlfriend that I would cook what is perhaps her favorite dish for breakfast. You guessed it, Eggs fucking Benedict. On any other day I would have stated that I was in no condition to move immediately from bed to kitchen and begin a labor intensive dish, but having promised her I would make it the previous night when I drew number 23, eggs, and hearing her talk all night of how excited she was for me to prepare it, I knew I had to. So off I stumbled into the kitchen, downed a piece of bread, chugged a bottle of water, popped a few ibuprofen, and got to cooking.

Eggs Benedict is one of those dishes in which the history and creation are not crystal clear. But then again, most people don’t care about that. All they know is it has pork, bread, poached egg, and glorious, absolutely glorious hollandaise.

Hollandaise is a mother sauce, and of the mother sauces, it is by far the most finicky, i.e. easily broken. Over-heat the eggs and they scramble. Add the butter too quickly and it breaks. Add too much butter and it becomes egg and butter soup. Yet, as with all things in the kitchen, a little practice goes a long way, and once you make a hollandaise it becomes, as the cliché goes, “like riding a bike.”

Begin by whisking the egg yolks

Drizzle the butter in slowly

And done

 

 

There are a few different methods for cooking hollandaise. There is the stove top method, in which the eggs are beaten in a saucier on direct heat and then moved off and back on to the heat source in intervals. Most people forego this method because your timing of bringing the eggs off the heat and then returning them to the heat is absolutely crucial or you will scramble the eggs. And scrambled eggs are great, but I imagine they lend to a rather unsavory “sauce.”

Another method is to use a food processor or immersion blender to do the whisking for you. In this method, you add all your ingredients minus the butter, give them a mix, and then slowly drizzle in the warm butter. This method is by far the easiest, however, if you have a food processor, blender, or immersion blender that is anything but top notch, you can very easily find yourself with a broken sauce. Believe me, I know from experience.

Perhaps the most popular method for preparing hollandaise is the double-boiler method. In this method, a bowl is placed over a pot of boiling water (not touching the water!) and the sauce is prepared inside the bowl. This method allows for the proper cooking of the egg yolk while the heat remains relatively low to prevent over-heating. Though I have used all three methods to successfully create a hollandaise, the double-boiler method is my preference.

As mentioned earlier, there is no concrete evidence as to how Eggs Benedict came to be, but one creation story involves my very state this morning; hungover. The story involves one Lemuel Benedict, a former stock broker who found himself with quite a case of the “heads” at the Waldorf Hotel in 1894, where he requested, “buttered toast, poached eggs, crisp bacon, and a hooker of hollandaise.” There is much dispute as to whether Eggs Benedict came to be thanks to Mr. L. Benedict himself, however, I’d like to think in his fog of a hangover, he knew that this dish would ease the aching of his head, because it certainly did so for me this morning.

Or perhaps it was the half-gallon of water I chugged, 4 ibuprofen, full Red Bull consumed, and hot shower, but who knows. What I do know is that no matter who created this dish, I am forever thankful.

(Note-No I did not use clarified butter. Usually I would have clarified some the night before, but I was too busy drinking. And yes I could have done it this morning, but damn it, I was hungover, cut me some slack. Also, as you will see I used pork belly bacon in lieu of Canadian, or back bacon. I enjoy both but I already had bacon on hand and I enjoy the crunch.)

Yeah, so I messed one up. But with how hungover I was, it’s amazing I could even boil water.

Hollandaise

-3 egg yolks

-4 oz butter (approximate)

-1 tbsp lemon juice

-1 tsp cayenne pepper

Whisk the egg yolks over a double boiler, on and off the heat in increments of about 15 seconds. Whisk until the yolks are thickened. Melt the butter. Drizzle the butter into the eggs very slowly while whisking constantly. Continue until all the butter has been incorporated or the sauce is very thick. Whisk in the lemon juice and cayenne. Season with salt and pepper.

Eggs Benedict

-2 English muffins

-6 pieces extra thick bacon

-4 eggs

-3 scallions, sliced thin

Cook the bacon until very crispy. Poach the eggs and season with salt and pepper once out of the water. Butter the English muffins and toast. Top the muffins with bacon, the poached eggs, hollandaise, and scallions.

Day 1, Ingredient No. 2-Molasses

     Today I woke up with an abundance of energy and excitement. It was my first day in months that I would have a real day off, a day off from the restaurant as well as a day with no school work to be done. Of course, it was also the start of the culinary lottery. So after waking up later than I had been able to in weeks, having sex with my girlfriend (of which it also felt like it had been weeks), it was time to get cooking.

I turned my attention to my crafted “lottery machine.” By lottery machine, I of course mean a cardboard box filled with 144 ping-pong balls I had numbered with a Sharpie. I cut a hole not much bigger than a ping-pong ball (and soon found out it needed to be bigger) and taped a printed list of the 144 ingredients. So as my girlfriend looked on, I gave the box a shake (and damn ping-pong balls are so noisy) and tipped the box over to reveal the first ingredient of my quest.

The ball hit my hand, the starting point of 144 meals, the start of what I hoped to be a wonderful culinary experiment, brimmed with delicious meals, culinary creativity, and wonderful times and memories with those I would share the meals with. And it all started with this first number, the number 2. My eyes quickly shifted over to my reference list where they found the number 2.

2. Molasses

Molasses? Shit. Of all the savory herbs, meats, seafood, vegetables, and condiments I had to start with something sweet? And not just a sweet food such as an apple or banana, but molasses which is essentially a sweetener.  Well, I had purposely put some items on the list which I knew would be somewhat difficult to make the star ingredient of a dish. I did this with purpose, I did it for the challenge, but to start with an ingredient like molasses would not be the easiest ingredient for sure.

Oh sure, If I were a baker drawing molasses would be no problem. Gingerbread, Boston Brown Bread, spiced cookies, Anadama bread, pumpkin pie, all just a small number of the amount of baked goods that incorporate molasses. But the simple fact is, I’m not a baker.

And this is not to say I don’t like molasses. In fact, it is an ingredient I love. Add some sweetness as well as deep, rich, slightly smoky, almost malt-like flavor? Yes, I do love molasses. But I surmised making it the star of a dish might prove to be a bit of a challenge.

Yet, one aspect I hope will last in this experiment came in to play. Because my mind was only focused on creating a dish with one particular ingredient, and every other ingredient being an afterthought, the ideas starting flashing quickly in my mind. What about a BBQ sauce? A glaze? Baked beans? Braising liquid? Ah, yes. Not letting the mind wander to a vast amount of ingredients allows it to be more decisive.

I liked the idea of either a glaze or a braising liquid. The question is, what protein would I use said glaze or braising liquid with? I had a few ideas, so I decided to just go to local meat market and see where that led my thoughts.

I immediately shuffled over to the pork section, Pork and molasses being wonderful together. But then again, what about a nice demi-glace with molasses on a seared steak? Hmm. As I stood there scanning my eyes caught what was once easily my favorite protein, but now was one I ate so rarely I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten them. Yet, as soon my eyes caught them, I knew; Baby back ribs.

For a large portion of my years, particularly my early and mid teenage years, I believed I would never grow tired of baby back ribs. Tender, smoky, fatty, ever so slightly chewy, and as all things pork go, absolutely delicious. But then I secured my first job in a restaurant (like most cooks I started at the age of 16 as a dishwasher) and my first job as a cook, both in BBQ restaurants.

Now, BBQ may be something that is held sacred by people, and one of the simplest food pleasures there is. Take a usually tough piece of meat, season it will a bevy of spices, and smoke it for a long period of time until it is deliciously smoky and tender. It doesn’t get much simpler or more delicious than that. However, 2 years in BBQ restaurants rendered BBQ almost utterly inedible for me.

The reason is simple; BBQ’s most appealing factor is the smokiness of the meats. In order to impart this flavor, one must utilize smoke (just in case you were wondering). But one aspect of smoke that is not so pleasant is being surrounded by it…constantly. So at my tenure at the second restaurant I worked for, I began to despise that hickory smoke that just a few years prior would have caused my saliva glands to go into hyperactive mode, sometimes so much that a deep breath could drown me. But after working open to close 6 days a week for months on end, this smoke not only became an un-savory scent, but also a scent I couldn’t escape. It seeped into every fiber of clothing I wore to the restaurant, even my socks. And no amount of washing could negate the smoky scent. You could pull a load of clothes from the washer, put them into the dryer, immediately take them out and they would smell more like smoke than detergent. I despised it. Because of this, only until about a year or two ago (approximately 5 years removed from the BBQ restaurants) I still could not bring myself to eat BBQ of any sort.

However, I can happily say I know have rekindled my passion for all things smoked. But, seeing as how I don’t have a smoker, and want to be able to directly control a low temperature (which would be extremely difficult with a typical charcoal grill) I decided that I would forego the smoke and braise the ribs. This of course would also enable me to better utilize the molasses.

One aspect of cooking pork ribs that so few people are able to get right is not the cooking time, the cooking process, or even the flavorings. In fact, what they usually get wrong for tender ribs that pull easily from the bone is perhaps the most simplistic step in cooking pork ribs-removing the silver-skin, the tough membrane that covers the concave portion of the ribs. Some people may be proponents  of leaving the silver-skin on, but if my cooking of thousands of racks of ribs has served me justice, I have found that removal of the silver-skin is imperative. Generally speaking, if you do not remove the silver-skin, your left with a basically inedible rubbery layer that feels as if you’re trying to chew  through ribs that have had latex gloves melted onto them. That just doesn’t sound appealing to me.

Many people (including a friend of mine) do not remove the silver-skin because, in their words, “It’s fucking impossible!” Well, some baby backs and St. Louis ribs tend to hold on to their silver-skin as if they were a 16 year old newly deflowered girl hanging on to their first lay, but the silver-skin on most racks can be removed so long as you use the right technique. I generally have no problems using this technique-

1. Slide the blade of a pairing knife under the second to last bone of the smaller (more curved) side of the ribs, allowing the knife to follow the curve of the bone. Once you have reached about ¾ to 1 inch under the silver-skin, turn the tip of the knife into the bone, allowing the silver-skin to be raised from the bone.
2. Remove the knife and repeat step one on the last bone on the same side of the ribs.
3. Work your fingers under the silver-skin that you just raised with the knife. Work your fingers to the far end of the other side of the bone.
4. Turn your hand, still grabbing the silver-skin, parallel and over the top of the ribs. The silver-skin will generally be removed in one swipe. If not, it will usually go about halfway to ¾ of the way. Repeat the process where the silver-skin still remains.

I had decided to dry rub these ribs before braising, and brown sugar is, of course, a vital ingredient to a dry rub. Although I usually keep brown sugar on hand, it’s not really necessary as long as you have molasses and granulated sugar. In order to make brown sugar (and the proportions aren’t exact and frankly don’t need to be), combine approximately 2/3 of a cup of granulated sugar with 2 tbsp of molasses and blitz in a food processor and you have brown sugar.

     

     I busted out my spice tub and homemade brown sugar and made a dry rub. I let the ribs sit in the fridge for 1 ½ hours after seasoning to lets the spices start to go to work. Adding the aromatics, beer (of which I surprisingly didn’t drink most of before adding), and molasses made for an already pretty tasty smelling dish. 3 hours later, I would see how they turned out.

Day one, dish one. The verdict? These ribs were wonderful. They were tender, juicy, sweet, sticky, and packed with flavor. But now the true verdict-did this concoction highlight the molasses? The truth is, not really. But there was an undeniable sweetness, both naturally from the ribs as well as the molasses directly on the ribs, as well as the tangy, sweet sauce made from the braising liquid. So the molasses may not have been the conductor, but it was certainly a first chair. Overall, I’m very happy with how this dish turned out, not to mention very full.

1 dish down, 143 to go.

Guinness and Molasses Braised Baby Back Ribs

-2 racks of baby back ribs

-2 14.9 oz cans of Guinness Draught

-3 tbs molasses

-1 yellow onion, half-mooned

-4 ribs of celery with leaves, rough chopped

-4 cloves garlic, crushed

-1 pt. beef stock

-Spice mixture as follows-

-2/3 cup granulated sugar

-1 ½ tbsp molasses

-1 ½ tbsp smoked paprika

-1 ½ tbsp kosher salt

-1 tbsp granulate garlic

-1 tbsp ground mustard

-1 tbsp black pepper

-1 tsp dried thyme

-1 tsp cayenne pepper

-1/2 tsp oregano

-1/4 tsp ground cumin

-pinch red pepper flakes

Remove the silver-skin of the ribs and cut into half racks. Rub the spice mixture onto the ribs and let sit in the refrigerator for 1 ½ hours. With the ribs meat side up, pour the molasses, Guinness, and stock on top of the ribs. Remove the ribs from the pan and add the celery, onions, and garlic on the bottom of the pan. Place the ribs meat side down on top of the vegetable mix. Cover pan with foil. Place in a 300 degree oven and cook until tender (about 2 ½ hours). Remove the ribs from the oven and strain approximately 2 cups of the braising liquid into a saucier. Reduce by ½ and add 1 ½ tbsp of butter, season with salt and pepper and serve over the ribs.