Ad hoc cooking

On the flight home Tuesday from The Most Relaxing Vacation Ever, I was looking through my photos and recipe files on my Mac and apparently, I used to be a cook! Unless you dig back several months on this blog, you would never know, since most of what I’ve been doing here has been staring straight ahead with a glazed expression on my face in disbelief and horror that I have actually been relocated from California to New Jersey. That or gibbering about the dismal quality of kitchen in which I’ve been cobbling meals together for (can you believe it) the last three months.

I sat there on the plane, scrolling through the pictures of strawberry rhubarb tarts and bi bim bap, grilled strip steaks, orange-and-garlicky pork roasts with caramelized onions, pad thai and artichokes with clarified butter, creamy leek shiitake risotto and duck and andouille gumbo and lemon meringue pie and potato mushroom gratin and chili con carne….man, that looks GOOD! I wouldn’t mind making that bouillabaisse again! It was like that little flame in the back of my brain flickered for a second, reminding me that it is still there. I guess that’s what a good vacation will do for you.

And about that vacation. We were about 3 years overdue for one, what with extenuating circumstances, so when a very last-minute trip to Grand Cayman to chill, see some family, and celebrate our anniversary suddenly worked itself out, I took about 37 seconds to pack, shook the NJ dust off my feet and headed south to balmy breezes, silky warm aquamarine water, powdery gold sand, palm trees with iguanas lolling in their fronds, and a little tropical storm action thrown in the middle to keep me from getting too sunburned. I read books, basked in the sun, lying supine upon a beach chair as much as possible. It was blissful.

Did I mention the incandescently glowing equatorial sunsets?

And the gaudily brilliant blue water?

But, back to that little flicker in the back of my brain.

I’m still in boxes here, those mysteriously labelled boxes of small paper-wrapped lumps that contain, somewhere in their depths, all of the tools I’ve collected over the years. I am reluctant to do a full-scale unpacking yet, since there really isn’t anywhere clean to put things away until the work in the kitchen is finished, so I’ve been digging through and trying to find the absolute necessities as much as I can. It was a tearful reunion when my two small cast iron skillets surfaced, but a sieve or strainer has remained resolutely beyond reach, so when I decided to blanch  broccoli raab to saute´ with a pork roast and sweet potatoes, red peppers, and pearl onions, I improvised with a little green strawberry basket to stand in for the strainer. It didn’t actually work that well. It was a little flimsy. We did, at the end of the day, have steamed broccoli raab, which was a deliciously peppery counterpoint to the sweet potatoes and bell peppers.

 

Simple and good, I give you-

Pork Roast

1 boneless pork loin roast

oil

salt

black pepper

sage

paprika

1 onion

 

Preheat the oven to a blistering 450 F.

Using paper towels, thoroughly dry the surface of the meat.

Drizzle a spoonful of oil and coat the surface lightly.

Liberally season with salt, pepper, sage and paprika.

Slice the onion into thick rings and make a “rack” in the bottom of a cast iron skillet

or whatever suitably oven-proof dish that will hold the pork roast. Put the pork roast on top, fat side up.

Place in the hot oven for about 15 minutes and then reduce the heat to 250 F and continue

to cook for about an hour to an hour and 20 minutes or until your thermometer reads about 150.

Allow the meat to sit, loosely covered for  10-15 minutes. Slice and serve.

Make a sandwich with the leftover pork and onions the next day.

 

I’m back in the saddle.

 

Start from the beginning- Roast Chicken 101

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had been doing some  cooking lessons with my sister and a friend back East. Joy and Elisa are interested but inexperienced cooks. Since I’m not there in person to explain things verbally I realized that writing these lesson means writing from scratch; I begin from the assumption that every step, from ingredients, to tools, to the actual cooking should be broken down and presented as simply and thoroughly as I can.  I try not to assume that the reader will necessarily know the difference between a simmer and a boil, a mixer and a blender, a chef’s knife and a paring knife so that I am sure to explain it clearly.

It’s a little different when my brother Peter calls me with a food question (I’ve gotten several calls that begin “Hey, I’m at Trader Joe’s and I was wondering….”). Peter is an experienced cook- he made the turkey last Thanksgiving- and when I tell him to “blanch” something, he doesn’t think I’m talking about A Streetcar Named Desire. So I start explaining a recipe or technique from a different place with him.

Most of what I’ve written about on this blog assumes some knowledge of cooking. However, in the posts tagged “101” or “how to cook,” I’ve tried to include a little more explanation of a foundational technique or recipe. Learning the techniques has been the most important part of learning to cook for me. It’s like having a map so that if there is horrible traffic on the freeway, you can still find a way to get to your destination because you can see the big picture of how things work instead of being completely dependent on a recipe.

I wrote a lesson for how to make roast chicken for my sister that I thought I’d share; let me know if you think it’s user-friendly for a new cook:

“Roast Chicken-

First thing you do is arrange the oven shelves and turn on the oven. You will probably want to have a lower shelf for vegetables and a middle shelf for the chicken. It should be about 425°. Ask Mama if the oven runs hot or cool- you may need to adjust it a little depending on the stove, but it should be close to 425°.

What you will need-

-One whole chicken, probably around 3 pounds

-Salt, pepper and paprika (paprika is optional but very nice). You will need enough to season both the inside and outside of the chicken. It’s good to have as much as you think you’ll need separated into little saucers or bowls so that if you touch it with chicken hands, you don’t contaminate the whole container or have to wash your hands every time you need more salt.

-Oil or melted butter (probably 2 or 3 tablespoons, enough to coat the outside of the chicken)

-Optional- you can use a couple of cloves of garlic, or a cut up onion, or a lemon half, or herbs like one of the following: sage leaves, tarragon, or rosemary,  inside the chicken cavity  for  flavor. All are optional. Probably best to stick with the basics until you get the hang of it.

-Paper towels

-A pan to hold it in the oven. This pan should be close to the size of the chicken. I often use a cast iron skillet to roast chicken. If the pan is too big, the juices that come out will spread out too much and burn. If it’s too tight, the liquid will steam the chicken too much.

-A small paring knife

– A cutting board or plate to set the chicken on while you prepare it

While the oven heats, take the chicken out of the wrapper in a clean sink. Reach inside the cavity to check if there is a package of giblets and necks inside and remove it. Wash the chicken inside and out in cold water. Shake off as much as you can or put it in a colander to drain. Dry the whole skin of the chicken off with paper towels. The wetter the skin, the more difficulty it will have in browning, and crisp brown skin is one of the best parts of a well-roasted chicken.

Look at the large cavity opening where the legs are. If there are any big pieces of yellow fat there, pull them out.  Generously salt, pepper and paprika the inside of the bird. Turn it around to the neck end. If you stick your fingers into that smaller opening and feel right under the breast meat, there is a bone there. It is the wishbone and if you remove it now, it makes carving the chicken breast easier after it is cooked. You may need to slit through the meat a little with the paring knife, but then you should be able to just pull it out with your fingers. This is not necessary, but try it sometime.

Place the chicken in the pan and flip the wingtips inward and tuck them behind the rest of the wing to hold it closer to the breast and keep the tips from burning. Take the oil or butter and pour it over the top of the chicken. Use your hands to rub it over the whole surface to coat the chicken. If you have a basting brush, you can use that to brush the butter over the chicken instead. Now salt, pepper, and paprika the whole outside of the chicken, trying to evenly coat the skin. If you are going to add any aromatics to the bird’s cavity, now is the time to stick that lemon or garlic inside. Now it is ready for the oven.

It should start making a fair amount of noise in 10- 15 minutes. If not, turn the heat up 10 degrees. If it’s going crazy and the juices or skin are starting to burn, turn it down a bit. But the sizzling noise is normal. Chickens usually take me between 45 minutes to an hour to cook depending on the weight. Check it at about 45 minutes. Wiggle the leg and see how loose it feels. If you have a meat thermometer, use it in the thigh meat, or, if the joint feels really loose, use the little knife to jab a little hole in the thigh meat. If the juice is still coming out really pink, give it 10-15 more minutes, if it comes out mostly clear with maybe a little drop of reddish, it is probably done. It just takes a little practice to be able to tell, but with the nice crisp skin preventing evaporation, it shouldn’t get dry. If you have a meat thermometer, slide the tip into the thickest part of the thigh meat. “Done” is about 165°.

When the chicken is done, take it out of the oven and set it aside for 10 minutes. This will let it settle a bit so less of the juice flows out when you carve it.

I’ll link a video for carving a turkey which is the same concept, just bigger.”