Polenta 101

Why do so many people have an entirely nonsensical approach to making polenta (or grits or mealie pap or cornmeal mush or mămăligă or whatever you call it in your culture)? Why? Why, each time I have a new cook start working for me, do I have to unlearn him of bad habits? Why are recipes from Food Network, Washington Post, and the New York Times (respectable institutions all) just so nuts?

This comes to mind because I just stumbled upon these words of wisdom in The Virginia Housewife from 1824 which shows that somewhere along the line, somebody had common sense:

When along the way did we forget to mix the cornmeal into cold water to prevent it from lumping so that we didn't have to stand over the hot pot whisking constantly and vigorously while slowly dribbling the meal into the boiling water?

Cooks everywhere, if you don't know this technique, here is my Christmas gift to you.

Prosciutto-Wrapped Loin of Rabbit

I like this dish so much that I wanted to share it with you. I love the late winter flavors and the presentation as well. What you see here is prosciutto-wrapped rabbit loin stuffed with Chinese broccoli leaves and goat cheese, sitting in a pool of Fairy Tale squash cream, surrounded by black trumpet mushrooms.

Start by removing both loins from a rabbit (one rabbit serves one person) and cleaning them of silverskin and sinew. When you remove the loins, remove all the meat from the hip to the shoulder blades in a single piece. The best way that I have found to remove the silverskin is to start a small flap of the silverskin at the shoulder end (the pointed end), then flip the loin over, silverskin down on the cutting board, and skin it like you would a fish. Butterfly each loin about two thirds of the way from the hip end to the shoulder end as you see in this photo.

Next, cover each butterflied loin with plastic wrap and gently pound the flesh until it is even in thickness all over. These I have pounded to about 3/8" or 1/2cm in thickness. Then lay a piece of plastic wrap on your board and on top of that lay out enough prosciutto to completely wrap the rabbit loin. Then lay two rabbit loins on top of the prosciutto as you see here, close to one edge of the prosciutto and so that the rabbit forms a long rectangle. Season the rabbit with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, for each rabbit loin, blanch about eight Chinese broccoli leaves. I'm sure if you're contemplating doing this recipe that you know you can substitute any leafy green in this recipe: chard, spinach, rapini, etc. After blanching the leaves, dry them well (important for the next step) and remove any central stem with a sharp knife.

Lay the blanched and destemmed leaves on top of the rabbit. Fold the leaves as necessary to just cover the rabbit. Season the leaves with a little salt and pepper. Bring some fresh goat cheese to room temperature so that you can spread it. You can do this in the microwave, but you have to be really, really careful not to scorch the cheese. Stir a little salt and pepper (you could even use some herbs in the cheese were you so inclined) into the cheese. Then very gently spread the cheese on top of the broccoli leaves. It's probably best to drop small dollops of cheese in the center of the leaves and gently push it out to the edges with the back of a spoon. Go slowly and you'll get the hang of it in no time.

Using the film as an aid, start rolling the roulade from the side where the rabbit is closest to the edge of the prosciutto. Gently tighten the roll with your fingers as you go. Once you have rolled the rabbit in the prosciutto, refrigerate for a couple of hours to solidify the cheese so that it is easier to handle when you cook it later. This roulade can be cooked entirely on the stove top. No oven time is necessary. If you do not have a flat top or a griddle pan that is big enough to hold the rabbit loin, you can heat a half sheet tray on two burners and use that. Sear the prosciutto all the way around; this will take six or seven minutes. Remove the loin from the heat and let stand for five minutes to finish cooking, to rest, and so that the cheese resolidifies a little bit. Slice and plate. I have best results with a sharp serrated knife, second best results with my ultrasharp prosciutto knife.

Roulade of Gravlax

Let's start off the new year with one of the dishes that we served as an appetizer on our New Year's Eve menu, a roulade of gravlax. I cured a side of salmon for many days in salt, sugar, and a lot of white pepper and then dried the salmon for several more days in the refrigerator to yield what I call prosciutto of salmon, for its ham-like consistency. You could substitute any kind of thinly sliced fish or even ham in this appetizer. This post is about the technique; I leave the flavorings up to you. The tiny leaves you see are micro-lemongrass, which echo the lemon zest in the cream cheese filling.

Start by laying out plastic film on your counter top. If you're using narrow film, you may want to overlap two pieces as I did. Lay out your fish in a large rectangle as you see here. In practice, it doesn't really matter how the pieces overlap each other. Patch any large holes with small bits of fish.

Make certain your filling is very soft, otherwise, you'll not be able to spread it on the fish without destroying your layout. This filling is softened cream cheese flavored with fresh dill, lemon zest, minced capers, and white pepper. I didn't add any salt because the ham-like salmon is really salty and the capers add enough salt to the filling. I've also used all manner of seafood mousses as fillings. Experiment and have fun.

Working very carefully, spread the filling over the fish. Take your time. I will be rolling this from the right edge to the left edge. Notice that I start the filling close to the right edge, but leave a large margin on the left side so that I have an extra flap of fish to help seal the roulade. Also leave a bit of margin on the two ends so that you don't push the filling out onto the counter as you roll the roulade.

Obligatory food porn shot number 1. Doesn't this look good? Notice how faded the salmon looks? That's because I salted it for so long; the longer the cure, the paler the fish in my experience. This fish was a fairly typical salmon red to begin with. The fish was in the cure about a total of 7-8 days, which is a long time for salmon. The longer the cure, the drier and saltier the fish, as well. If you cure your own fish, you'll have to experiment to see what you like.

Using the plastic film, turn over the first little bit of the edge of the roll on itself. Once you have turned over the first little bit, use your fingers to tighten up the roll, keeping the film between your fingers and the fish. Use the film to keep pulling the fish over itself, forming a tight cylinder as you go. The film is absent in the subsequent photos to keep the glare down; this is merely for photographic convenience.

Here is the roulade, rolled about half way. Notice how I have tightened the roll up as much as possible. There is a fine line between tight enough and so tight that you start forcing the filling out of the seams. Be gentle; using the film to form the roll helps you keep the pressure gentle. If you do touch the roll with your hands, use the flats of your palms and roll gently. It's not hard to do, but go slowly until you get the hang of it.

Obligatory food porn shot number two in which the photographer feels compelled to give tight, close up shots of highly edible foodstuffs. The ends of the roulade will be naturally a bit ragged as you see here and that's OK. However, it is a terrible shame that you will have to trim and eat these little snack bits rather than serving them to your guests. Poor you!

Here you see the completed (but unwrapped) roll just before I put it in the refrigerator to chill. Notice about a third of the way down that there is a slight void between a couple of pieces of gravlax (where you see the white filling peeking out). This is nothing to worry about or even try to fix: small voids here and there will not compromise the integrity of the roll once it firms up in the refrigerator. The solid filling will bind everything.

Roll the roulade in the film. I discarded one of the two pieces on the counter and rolled the fish in the other. Gently roll it back and forth on the counter to make the cylinder as uniform as possible. Place on a tray and refrigerate for at least four hours and preferably overnight. You want the filling to firm up as much as possible. If you are in a mad rush, use the freezer.

Here's what you are aiming for, a tight roulade with few internal voids. My hints for slicing the roulade: make sure the roulade is very cold, use a very thin knife with cullens such as a gravlax knife or ham slicer, slice directly through the plastic film, and wash the blade in warm water between slices.

Sorrel-Wrapped Mahi Demonstration

Here's a brief photo essay from a recent lunch special that one of my cooks was prepping. It's a good lesson in how to wrap any kind of protein with a leafy green. In this case, we're wrapping relatively mild Mahi Mahi in bright, lemony sorrel.

Sorrel (Rumex acetosa) is not well known in the US and not commonly grown. In fact, we take all we can get from two different growers and it's still not enough for us. The bright lemony flavor is a favorite in our kitchen. If you've ever tasted the shamrock-leaved Oxalis that we commonly call sour grass and gets its sour flavor from oxalic acid, you know the flavor of sorrel, which gets its flavor from a big dose of ascorbic acid.

Sorrel pairs extremely well with mild seafood such as this Mahi and with poultry; roasted chicken with sorrel sauce is a classic.

Here are the lanceolate or arrowhead-shaped leaves of raw common sorrel.

 

 

 

 

When you blanch sorrel even for just a second, it goes olive drab; it's unavoidable. After blanching, blot the leaves well to remove any water.

 

 

Chop the leaves finely and flatten between two sheets of film. Peel the top layer of film off.

 

 

 

Place the raw fish bottom side up on the sorrel and using the bottom layer of film, wrap the sorrel around the fish.

 

 

 

Here's the bottom side of the fish after having been wrapped.

 

 

And the top side.

And the finished lunch special with rice wine vinegar-poached dried pears, microgreens, and a plum-sesame sauce. We seared the fish bottom side down in a hot skillet and then finished cooking it in a hot oven.

Cabernet Compound Butter

A compound butter, that is a butter that you have mixed with flavoring components, is a great addition to any kitchen. We often use them at the restaurant to make a final addition of flavor to foods that don't otherwise have a sauce, such as grilled meats. Here's a walk-through of the Cabernet butter that I made for our filets mignons last night. Use the same method and vary the ingredients for any other flavor of butter that you'd like to make.

Cabernet Compound Butter

Here you see the ingredients that you'll need: 8 fluid ounces (1 cup) of red wine, 1 tablespoon each of minced thyme and freshly cracked black pepper, 1 pound of sweet butter at room temperature, 3 large shallots in fine dice, and a teaspoon of salt.

Put the red wine, shallots, and thyme in a non-reactive pan over high flame and start the wine reducing.

While the wine is reducing, cream the butter, salt, and pepper either by hand or in a mixer.

This is what you're aiming for: all the wine save two or three tablespoons is evaporated. Cool the wine reduction to room temperature—or else!

Add the cooled wine reduction to the butter and mix thoroughly. Lay a sheet of kitchen film on your work surface, place half of the butter on the film, and roll into a log. Repeat with the other half of the butter.

We store our butter in the freezer to keep it very firm. To serve, we slice a round off the log right through the film, then we peel the film off the round. These butters keep for a long time in the freezer so you can make a variety well in advance and have them on hand at any time.

Try this with rosemary, garlic, and lemon zest for lamb; dill, chervil, and lemon zest for fish; roasted garlic and black pepper for ribeye steak; rum, pineapple juice, and toasted coconut for shrimp; chipotle adobo, cilantro, and cumin for skirt steak; espresso and ancho chile for elk; lobster stock, cognac, and chives for scallops; garlic, sour orange juice, and oregano for pork, etc. You get the idea. The combinations are endless.

Pancetta Demonstration

I got away from the paperwork at my desk long enough to make a pass through the kitchen this morning, only to see one of the prep cooks struggling with (and making a mess of) a piece of pancetta that he was to dice. It seems that all our prep cooks struggle with pancetta, so I figure that a lot of readers do too. Here's a whole pancetta.

This demonstration is not really about pancetta, it's about how to dice any cylindrical foodstuff safely, neatly, and efficiently. It's really a tutorial on a fundamental knife skill, one that our prep cooks seem to have missed along the way somehow.

The basis for cutting anything safely is to establish what I call a "stable base," a flat surface that will not rock or roll while you cut. For any cylindrical object such as this pancetta, a cucumber, or the neck of a butternut squash, you do this by taking a slice across the cylinder, as in this photo.



And you end up with a round that will lie flat on your cutting board, like so.

Using the flat surface as your stable base, slice vertically into the round of pancetta. Make the width of your slice the size of the cube that you want to end up with.

Next, lay several vertical slices on their sides in a stack as high as you are comfortable slicing. Three deep is what I am doing here. Notice that by stacking the slices on their sides, I have created yet another stable base for myself. I'm never going to put myself in a situation where the food that I am slicing might roll or shift out from under my knife.

Then slice each stack into batons as wide as the width of the cube that you want to end up with.

Rotate the batons ninety degrees on the cutting board and make your final slices, finishing the cubes.

Here's the end goal: neat, consistent cubes.

First, You Make Some Roux...

I've mentioned a roux ("roo") several times in recent posts and a reader asked me if I could give a little more how to information. Here is a series of photos that I took Saturday.

The thing to note is that nothing much happens in the first ten or twelve minutes of cooking and then all hell breaks loose in the last five minutes. Your strict attention during the last few minutes is critical.

Time Zero. I put one part flour and one part fat (in this case, canola oil; often, duck fat) into the pan over high heat. Here, it's not even mixed yet.

3 Minutes. I took a photo at this point because I want you to look at it. See all the foam and bubbles? That's the water boiling off from the flour. This is why you never want to dump flour into really hot oil. If all this water flashed to steam suddenly, you could end up in the hospital with terrible burns all over your face. Despite what the macho chefs tell you, don't do it. Start with cold oil and flour.

8 Minutes. You can see fewer bubbles and the tiniest hint of color, indicating that the water is finally boiling away.

11 Minutes. Here we are eleven minutes in and things are just getting started. I have been stirring nonchalantly to this point. But things are about to change, quickly.

12 Minutes. Another shade darker in just a minute.

13 Minutes. Now, you see the texture change. Once this happens, you know things are cooking quickly and you'd better ignore all external influences, save the house burning down around you.

14 Minutes. In all the previous photos, the spatula is sitting against the pan. In this photo and all subsequent ones, though you cannot see it, I'm stirring. There's been a significant color change in the last few seconds.

15 Minutes. This is as light brown as I would use for a gumbo. If I were making a general purpose roux to store in the cooler for some future use, I'd be stopping right about here. But, today, I'm making alligator and shrimp gumbo, so I want a dark roux.

16 Minutes. This is a good red brown roux. I'd stop here for duck.

17 Minutes. Look at the smoke coming off of this! It's not black yet in this photo, but it was about 30 seconds after I snapped the photo. I was too busy working with it at the last second to take a final picture. To stop it from cooking, I threw a couple of pounds of trinity (onions, peppers, and celery) into it, then hit it with a gallon of stock.

Here's the final product. I wasn't kidding about it going black in a hurry, was I?

Collards

For my latest cooking class, we tackled Carolina Low Country cuisine, including collard greens, which are a pan-Southern tradition, not just Low Country. Collards are a cole crop, with huge leaves that look like overgrown Chinese broccoli (gai lan) leaves. They're a good starter green for most people because they are smooth leaved, stay solid when cooked, and are naturally sweet. I prefer turnip greens which are hairy leaved, are less solid, and are decidedly more bitter. As with most greens, I think collards have the best flavor once they've seen a frost or two.

Instructions for prepping collards greens along with photos are at the end of this post.

I typically cook collard greens one of two ways. First, at the restaurant, we finely slice them, blanch them for about a minute or two, until they become very bright green, and then sauté them very quickly in olive oil and garlic, or in bacon grease with garlic. This is a decidedly new-fangled way of cooking them that would probably cause my grandmother fits were she alive.

At home and for the cooking class, I cook them in the classic Southern tradition with smoked pork. In a large pot, bring a couple of inches of water to the boil with your favorite smoked pork product. I used slab bacon on Sunday, but I would have used a ham hock or neck bones if I had them in the fridge. Let the water cook with the meat in it for 20 minutes or so to flavor it, then add the collards and cook to your liking.

I think an hour is the mandatory minimum, but they're certainly edible after ten minutes or so. When asked on Sunday how I knew that the collards weren't ready, I replied, "They don't taste like bacon yet!" Add a little salt in the beginning and then season again just before serving. Don't oversalt in the beginning because the braising liquid will reduce while cooking.

As for quantities needed, figure on one large leaf per person, unless you're inviting me. Figure on four or five for me.

Grasp the collard leaf as in the picture in preparation for ripping out the central rib, which is too tough to eat.

Rip the rib from the leaf.

Here you see the rib separated from a collard leaf. Give the ribs to the hogs, chickens, compost pile, or use them in the stock pot.

Stack the deribbed collard leaves one on top of the other. Slice the stack of collard leaves into halves, straight through where the rib used to be.

Slice the halved collard leaves into fourths, so that you can stack the piles of fourths for the next step.

Slice the collards into whatever size you like. Here, they're being cut en chiffonade, in thin strips.