Grilling: Hawaiian Chicken and Shrimp Skewers (8/16/10)

Grilling. This culinary technique has become synonymous with classic Americana cuisine, especially for men. Each of us likes to think that we've earned the title of "Grillmaster" after a youth chock full of backyard barbecues and watching our old man nearly burn his eyebrows off. There's something about making a fire and cooking a huge slab of ribs over it that takes us back to our caveman origins.

No one can argue the unmistakable flavors imparted on meat, vegetables, fish and all foods that are grilled. There's even an age-old debate over charcoal versus gas grilling. Charcoal grilling undoubtedly yields its own unique profiles, but who's to say that the many accumulated pieces of burnt food particles in a gas grill doesn't do the same? It's all elemental carbon anyway right? But, we're not here to debate. We're here to celebrate the oldest and, not to mention, my personal favorite culinary technique with a recipe that is sure to knock your tongs out of your hand. But first, let's get educational.

Grilling is a dry heat application that uses thermal radiation to transfer heat to the surface of the food. It is not to be mistaken with broiling which uses the same method except that the heating source is above the food not below. The most common forms of grilling uses charcoal, wood briquettes, or propane gas to cook meat, fish, or vegetables on a suspended wire grate. The two words "barbecuing" and "grilling" are used interchangeably nowadays but, in reality, they mean totally different things. Barbecuing is characterized by long cooking times, low heat, and plenty of smoke.

The recipe I chose for this week was purely developed by my love for skewered meats. For a long time now, I have exploited a family recipe for an Asian pork skewer. I get rave reviews at every party or barbecue I bring them to. "Mike, I loved those shish kebabs!" It's such a simple recipe but the flavors compliment each other extremely well. I've always wondered why so many people use the term "shish kebab" for my skewers. The term shish kebab originates in the Middle East dating all the way back to Persian times. Different cultures have developed similar renditions of skewered meats. The Japanese have yakitori, the Thai have satay, the Portuguese have espetadas. I guess when a magnificent culinary invention is spawned it spreads like wildfire.

In order to influence my creativity, I decided to brainstorm and create a new skewer recipe in my head and just go for it. I knew I wanted to do a combo of shrimp and chicken for the meat, and the sounds of a sweet and sour, Hawaiian glaze also kept resonating in my head. The distinct flavor of a fresh herb would need to be injected throughout the dish and so I decided to use cilantro which went well with both shrimp and chicken. Appropriate levels of acidity would come from freshly squeezed lime juice, and the glaze would have a hint of ginger in it. I also decided that the skewer would have vegetables on it. Specifically, I would use red and green peppers, red onions, some of the pineapple chunks, and mushrooms. This would give it a nice balance of flavors, textures, and colors. At this point, adding anything else would be borderline overkill so I began working out the details of my recipe.

The sweet and sour glaze started with pineapple juice, chunks of pineapple, chicken broth, and brown sugar. I then added ginger and let the whole mixture reduce by half. To thicken it into a glaze, I used a water-cornstarch mixture. There's a dual purpose to the cornstarch, besides thickening it also gives the glaze a hint of shine. Once the consistency was to my liking, I turned off the heat and let it cool.

I cut up chicken breast into 1" cubes and washed and cleaned black tiger shrimp. The shrimp were rather large, somewhere in the realm of a 16-20 count per pound.

Side note: Shrimp sizes are expressed by "count per pound". For example, a 16-20 count shrimp means an average of 18 of these shrimp will yield a pound. This infers the size of the shrimp. The smaller the count per pound the bigger the shrimp.

The art of skewering and grilling a meat and vegetable combination is an art in itself. To get the proper doneness on both ingredients each has to be cut to a certain size with the cooking temperature in mind. If this isn't done correctly, the meats could be under/overcooked and/or the vegetables could still have that unappetizing raw taste. No one likes to bite into a salad on a stick.

From my grilling research, I learned the lesson of the week - It is important to preheat your grill 15 to 30 minutes prior to cooking. I preheated the grill's front burner to low and made sure to oil it so sticking didn't become a problem. With every flip of a skewer, I immediately followed with a healthy brushing of the sweet and sour glaze. After about 25 minutes, the vegetables were tender and the chicken and shrimp looked nearly perfect.

I created a cream drizzle for the skewers by adding a half cup of heavy cream to the leftover glaze and pineapple chunks with a quarter cup of chicken broth. After 10 minutes over low heat, I seasoned it with paprika, salt and pepper and drizzled it over the skewers hot off the grill.

Overall, I'd give myself an A- for this week's dish. The execution could have been better because the shrimp's were slightly overcooked. I think in the future I will keep the shrimp and chicken separate to improve on this. The flavors were top-notch. I don't think I would change much in that respect. Grilling creates unmatched flavors in any dish making it one of my favorite cooking techniques. Since the dawn of humanity, it has been practiced and perfected by millions of people and cultures. A secondary technique I used this week was the art of skewering meat. I have never known a person to turn down a culinary treat of this nature and I would venture to say that I never will. Meat on a stick has its own history and I would not dare attempt to do it justice in this blog entry. But rest assured, skewered meats will have its time. Until next time, I wish you good eats!

Steaming: Chinese Dumplings (8/8/2010)

Steaming is a culinary technique that is great for delicate foods. It maintains the nutrients and moisture of the food making it a healthy way to prepare a variety of dishes. Steaming is usually performed by placing a steel or bamboo perforated container over a pot of boiling water. Care must be taken to ensure that all the water does not evaporate or else the cooking process will be interrupted and the food will become dry. Steaming has been proven to better retain the valuable nutrients and antioxidants in vegetables than the boiling process.

Because steaming is so prevalent in Asian cuisine, I decided that the recipe of the week should be Chinese dumplings. The recipe allowed me to not only practice the steaming technique, but to refine my skills in dumpling folding, a task which I have much respect for after this week.

My favorite place for this mouthwatering treat was the Chinatown restaurant on White Horse Pike in Berlin, NJ. On those special nights when my dad or mom didn't feel like cooking, we called in a large order to satisfy the whole family. This usually included at least two orders of their steamed dumplings with the amazing soy-vinegar dipping sauce. Absolutely DELICIOUS! I was sad to see that place switch owners after Elaine retired. Yes, we knew the owner by name. The dumplings (and the rest of the food for that matter) weren't the same after she left. Now, all that remains is the memory or should I say, the legend.

In my college years, I found a replacement dumpling addiction - David's Mai Lah Wah in Chinatown, Philadelphia. This time, however, they were the pan-fried dumplings in a slightly thicker wrapper called gyoza. On a college student's budget, there's nothing more cherished than a $6 plate of dumplings with a side of white rice after a late night of partying.
Whether they're pan-fried, deep-fried, or steamed, dumplings are a staple in Chinese cooking and thoroughly enjoyed by billions around the world, including me. The recipe I chose was published on the web by a woman named Jennifer Yu. Jennifer has been eating and making dumplings for, what I can assume is, a long time. The reason I feel I can safely assume this is from the detail of the instructions and the quality of the dumplings seen in her online pictures. She walks you through just about every step from selecting raw ingredients to preparation of the filling to folding and cooking techniques. Furthermore, I felt like she was reading my mind while I read the article. Each time I thought of a shortcut or another way to do something, she mentioned it in the next sentence. For example, the recipe called for the mincing of each ingredient. Naturally, I thought to myself, "I can use the food processor to do that." In the very next sentence, Jennifer writes, "I don't doubt people have tried and will continue to try using a food processor. I've done that before and I think it leads to inferior texture in your filling."

The hardest part with this recipe was rolling the dough into a circular shape. The second hardest part was the folding. Out of the first three recipes on this blog, this one was the most challenging. Time-wise, the whole process took about 2 hours - chopping ingredients, making the dough, folding the dumplings, steaming them, making the dipping sauce, and plating. The experience was education though. First lesson learned of the week, do not rush dumplings.

The filling was a combination of minced mushrooms, scallions, ginger, bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, ground pork, ground shrimp, sesame oil, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, oyster sauce, and black pepper to taste. After assembling it, I put it in the fridge while I made the dough. The dough was a mixture of two cups of all-purpose flour and a half cup of water. It was on the dry side after the mixing and kneading so I added another quarter cup of water throughout the process. Lesson two, use a cooking cutter to make circular pieces of dough. Just a rolling pin is not enough for the job. If you take the time to perfect the shape of the wrappers, the dumplings will be easier to fold and come out much prettier.

Finally, after I finished about 8 dumplings, I put them all in the steam over a leaf of cabbage to keep it from sticking. But a non-stick or greased steamer should do just fine also. It's a bit ironic that the steaming portion of the recipe was actually the easiest part. I steamed the dumplings for about 10 minutes and removed them with my hands or a spatula to maintain the integrity. For the dipping sauce, I mixed a 2 to 1 ratio of soy sauce and rice vinegar with chopped garlic.

Overall, I would grade myself a little lower on this week's recipe. Taste-wise, I would say they were wonderful, but not "Chinatown" or "Mai Lai Wah wonderful". The two lessons I highlighted above ended up being pretty crucial to the outcome of final product. I rushed the whole process on a week night, and it showed. The dumplings weren't uniform in shape. It is a delicate and slow technique that can only be sped up with enough practice. But now, I can take this new-found knowledge and learn from it so that next time they turn out even better. On a different note, steamed dumplings was an insightful way to illustrate the benefits of this week's cooking technique. The flavors were vibrant and true to the ingredients. Any dish thats cooked without oil or fat has an inherent satisfaction associated with it. At least that's the way I feel. Steaming is the perfect method for a nutritious yet palate-pleasing meal. Until next time, happy eating.

Braising: Ossobuco (8/1/10)

Technique of the Week

For this week, I chose braising as my technique. Braising is a cooking method that utilizes both dry and moist heat on meat, fish, seafood, or vegetables. Inexpensive, tougher cuts of meat are typically braised. First, the dry heat is applied by searing all sides of the main dish in some form of fat whether it is olive oil, butter, or sometimes flavorful fat cooked out of prosciutto. This gives the final dish an additional layer of tastiness which could not be achieved by just the moist heat application. After searing, the moist heat is applied by adding a small amount of cooking liquid and placing it at low, simmering temperatures. Cooking times are dependent on the size and food being cooked. Meat dishes will typically take between 2-3 hours. When braising meat, this slow process allows enough time for the tough connective tissue or "collogen" to break down. As the collogen breaks down, it melts into gelatin. This adds flavor and also serves as a thickening agent for the cooking liquid. The liquid is then usually made into a sauce for the final dish. Braising is typically done in a Dutch oven on the stove top and then finished in the oven, but it can also be accomplished using a slow cooker or a pressure cooker.


Recipe of the Week

The recipe I chose for the technique of week was ossobuco. Ossobuco is a traditional Italian dish that involves the braising of veal shanks. After doing a little research, I quickly realized just how many variations of "ossobuco" there are. It sparked an interest in me to find out a little more about the origins of the dish. A few more clicks of the mouse brought me to a website by Clifford A. Wright, winner of the James Beard award in 2000 for his literary work on a book called A Mediterranean Feast (note to self: add this to my book list). As it turns out, ossobuco, meaning "hollowed bone", is originally a Milanese dish that was cooked very differently then it is today. The original dish probably did not use tomatoes which is a "New World" fruit and was mainly cooked with white wine. It contained spices including cinammon and allspice. The dish was traditionally served with a "gremolada", a condiment consisting of lemon zest, parsley, and garlic. I can only speak for myself, but I've always thought of ossobuco as a red wine dish and never imagined it without tomatoes. Researching the origin made me appreciate the dish a little bit more. Still when I was putting together my recipe for the week, I ironically went ahead and chose a New World version of the dish. There just seemed like a lot more going on in the modern version, and complexity is something that attracts me.


Prep Work and Execution

All things aside, ossobuco is actually really easy to cook. Getting all the ingredients together is the hardest part, and this brings me to the first lesson learned this week. Improvisation is your culinary friend. Finding veal shanks in Saint Croix was about as easy as finding my eyeglasses after taking out my contacts -- they're never in the first couple places you look. But luckily, I ended up finding some really fresh beef shanks to substitute.

I began by searing two large beef shanks that measured about 5 inches across and 2 inches thick in olive oil and butter. After browning all sides, I removed the shanks and added garlic, parsley, lemon zest, two bay leaves, and a "mirepoix" to the pan. Mirepoix is a French term for a combination of diced onions, carrots, and celery. It is the base for many stews and soups. After letting these render down, I added a touch of wine and made sure to scrap all the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Those brown bits are like little tiny flavor crystals so be sure to get them all.

At this point, your about halfway done -- no joke.

Next, I added a the rest of a bottle of a dry Argentinian Cabernet Sauvignon. I think this was a good choice. It wasn't too sweet or overpowering and it had hints of plum and cherries. In hindsight, a second lesson learned was that, volume-wise, a whole bottle may have been slightly excessive. In the future, a half bottle should do just fine. Continuing, once the wine reduced by half I added crushed tomatoes and organic beef stock. I let those ingredients mingle for a quick minute and threw the whole thing in the oven for 2 hours and 45 minutes at 325 degrees. For the final dish, I paired it with a mushroom risotto. Thanks to Rose for helping with the continuous stirring for 30 minutes. Risotto's no cakewalk either.

Conclusions

Preparation and execution of the ossobuco was very straightforward and the taste was out of this world. The meat came out falling off the bone but not too dry. The amount of flavor that braising imparts on meat is exceptional. I tasted the wine, celery, carrots, lemon, bay leaf flavors in each bite I took. Overall, it was another huge success. I'm two for two and feeling confident for week three. If you have the time and the patience to try braising or even ossobuco, then please do so. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. Until next time, happy eating!

A Call from the Art Institute

My interest in the Art Institute of California: San Diego really started back in October of 2009. There was an ad on foodnetwork.com to win a full scholarship. All I had to do to enter was write (in 150 words or less) how an education from the Institute would allow me to accomplish my life goals in culinary arts. So I took some time and answered the question as honestly as I could. Of course, such an ad required me to yield my personal email and telephone number and asked if i'd like to receive more info, so I obliged.

Well as non-luck would have it, I didn't get the scholarship. However, the real reason for any ad - to get your info - came through in the following weeks. The first call from the Institute came on a day not so different from most. I must have been doing something important because I missed it. The Institute left a voice mail which I listened to but didn't bother to call them back. I knew they were just going to spoon-feed me info about the program and persuade me to apply. So I left it to them to call back again. They called a couple more times and coincidently I kept missing the calls. I listened to each messages, but strangely enough I never mustered up the effort to return a call. Now, looking back, I ask myself why and I come up with only one answer - I just wasn't ready for the questions it would lead to.

During my latest trip to California, I just so happened to spend a couple days in San Diego. It's quite an amazing place. People have told me this before, but it's something you need to see for yourself. There were spectacular views everywhere I looked - nice beaches, clean streets, and comfortable weather. Being there got me thinking back to the calls from the Institute. When I got back to the island, I decided to fill out a request for info on their website (second time's a charm?), and as luck would now have it, I answered on their first try. It's destiny.

So there I am on the phone with the admissions office of the Art Institute of California: San Diego busting at the seams with all the added motivation from having just read The Alchemist (a great book to read for life inspiration). The admissions officer was a very nice lady named Staci. I could tell she had been doing the job for a while because she rattled off all the info at will. She was like a blazing gun of factoids. The conversation was not what I had expected though. Instead of just listening to a sales pitch, she asked me questions too. Like, "do you consider yourself a creative person?" and "What do you expect out of the Institute that you can't get from a cooking class?" It was very interview-ish. I guess her job is two-fold - to give you the info but also see if you're the right type of person for the Institute.

What most surprised me about the whole phone call was how enthusiastically I answered the questions. I poured out past experiences from cooking with my dad to FISDU cook-off victories and my desires for hands-on experience with foie gras, kobe beef, truffles, and bluefin toro. I even described to here what my future restaurant would look like. I told her about my reluctance to leave a comfortable, well-paying industry to explore a different, lower-paying lifestyle. It was like that, "I wanna be an astronaut" conversation you might have with a five- year-old that thinks anything in life is achievable.

After about an hour on the phone, we finally began wrapping things up. She finished by saying, "you would be perfect for the program and I hope you would apply at the very least. You said it yourself. You don't see yourself retiring at 65 years old from refining. Your degree in chemical engineering isn't going anywhere and neither is that industry. Your in a great position in life. Why stay in something you're not passionate about. Cooking is clearly where your passions lie."

It was great to hear those from someone else.

On a totally separate note: The technique of the week is braising. Stay tuned for the post. I'm waiting for a propane gas delivery tomorrow so I can execute it. Turns out I'm cooking too much. Go figure.

Poaching - Eggs Benedict

This weekend I selected the technique of poaching. Mostly because a friend of mine asked if I had ever poached an egg before and surprisingly I had to say no (thanks to Jess for the motivation).

Poaching is a cooking technique used for foods that are delicate and easily dried out. Some examples of food traditionally poached are eggs, chicken, fish, and fruits. The cooking liquid is normally maintained at temperatures just below the boiling point for gentle, non-destructive heating of the food (165-180F). It is also used to impart flavor and therefore can be made of water, white wine, red wine, or a broth depending on the food being cooked. Usually for meats and poultry, fresh herbs and an acid such as vinegar or citrus juice are added to the broth. This mixture is called a "court bouillon." Cooking times are minimized to preserve the flavors of the food.

I selected Eggs Benedict for this weekend's recipe. Eggs Benedict is a breakfast meal consisting of Canadian bacon and a poached egg resting on top of a toasted English muffin with a generous drizzle of warm Hollandaise sauce. The poaching liquid for the egg is simply water with white vinegar and a pinch or two of salt. The vinegar helps with the coagulation of the egg whites to keep them from dispersing. I poached 4 fresh, jumbo eggs altogether. At first, they look like little ghosts as you pour each into the saucepan. After about 30 seconds, they transform from a clear, milky haziness surrounding the yolk to ivory white clouds wrapping a "yellow sun." It is truly a culinary sight to see. Despite not having a thermometer (it's on my list of cooking instrument to add to the repertoire), I was able to maintain the liquid just below boiling by watching for bubbles at the bottom of the saucepan. After about 2.5 minutes, I took the first one out. The yolk was runny just the way I liked it. I'd suggest for those that are not too fond of runniness, to leave them in for about 4 minutes (which is what I did for Rose, my girlfriend). Overall, each was a tremendous success.

The side bonus of this recipe was learning how to make a Hollandaise sauce. Two techniques for the price of one! A Hollandaise sauce is one of the 5 French Mother Sauces. The remaining four are Sauce Tomat, Bechamel, Veloute and Espagnole which are actually the original of the five sauces set forth by Antonin Carême. Hollandaise is an emulsion of egg yolk and butter with seasonings of salt, lemon juice, and cayenne or white pepper.

Now this task required some stamina. Two words, "continuous whisking." But don't be intimidated because the taste is worth it. Imagine a creamy but light textured sauce with soothing hints of lemon and a spark of cayenne pepper. Totally worth a tired arm in my book. Since temperature is key to the sauce, this more than doubled my desire to buy a cooking thermometer. Too hot and you'll scramble the eggs. Too cold and you'll be there forever trying to melt each tbsp of butter. I began with a whisk and a double boiler setup over medium heat and combined three fresh jumbo egg yolks, water, cayenne, and salt. After a good whisking, I heated the mixture by putting it on and off the heat 15 seconds at a time. Once the sauce was warm to the touch, I slowly added a tbsp of butter each 30 seconds while still alternating on and off the heat. Eight minutes and 8 ounces of unsalted butter later, voilà! Hollandaise! Halfway through the butter additions, I added the lemon juice. After a final tasting, a tad bit more cayenne was needed. Key learning, the speed and intensity of the whisking will change the frothiness of your sauce. Be careful.

Overall, I think its safe to say that my first time cooking Eggs Benedict was a landslide success. Everything came out as I hoped it would and no disappoints. Yes I admit, this recipe was on the safe side, but I think it has definitely gotten the ball rolling and my confidence up. More good eats to come! Caio.

The Deal

What is a good way to measure your passion for something?

Cooking is my release. During times when life is hectic, stressful, and unforgiving, I can turn to my kitchen for comfort and solace. The sounds of sizzling Chinese vegetables are my ocean tide at sunset. The smell of fresh basil is my lavender-scented oil. The feeling of a knife in my hand is a session of reflexology massage. Eating and sleeping are probably the only things that beat a good cooking affair. Well there is the one other thing, but I'll keep this blog PG-13.

This blog is going to be my way of measuring my passion for cooking. I've made a deal with myself to master the general techniques of cooking each weekend for the next 6 months. I want these to be techniques that every chef should know how to do at his or her will. For the first several weekends, I will pick a technique along with a dish that incorporates the use of it. When I run out of cooking techniques, I will randomly choose well-known dishes from around the world that I have yet to attempt as a way of forcing myself outside of my comfort zone.

My hope is that by the end of six months, I will feel my passion for cooking burning stronger than ever. This will be my measuring tool. If I waiver, then cooking is nothing but a mere hobby. But if I succeed, then its on to Culinary School to become the best chef that I can be.