Showing posts with label Spain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spain. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Why My Food Always Tastes Good: Foundations Matter

My birthday was earlier this month, and my parents got me a couple of cooking classes at Central Market as presents. I was able to choose the classes I wanted to attend, and being that it was Passport Spain (a 2 week extravaganza dedicated all things Spanish), I was able to pick classes with my two favorite winemakers on the planet, Alvaro Palacios (of Alvaro Palacios in Priorat, and Palacios Remondo in Rioja) and Albert Costa (of Vall Llach also in Priorat).

The classes were great for two reasons. First and foremost, I was able to taste a variety of their wines. They are sinfully good, every last one of them; and reasonably affordable considering the quality. Secondly - I was able to personally meet the winemakers, and got a verbal promise from each to give me a personal tour of their vineyards the next time I am in Priorat. I have both of their business cards and soon won't forget this promise...so I fully expect to hold them to it.

One of the best wines I've ever tasted


The classes weren't so great for a number of reasons. Mainly it was my utter shock over the number of people who were totally clueless: “Food bloggers” in the class who were constantly stirring the shit out of everything that hit a pan. People “pressing” meat into a pan like that jackass trying to squeeze the juices out of a burger at a 4th of July cookout. Young professionals, many of those who were on dates, that were trying to sear/brown meat in pans that were barely on medium. Folks throwing things into pans that weren’t hot yet. People freaking out about a “recipe” and exact measurements and order of operations to a nearly OCD level.

These are the reasons folks should be attending cooking class, not to learn how to make “Spanish food”, or learn a new recipe/style. Cooking shows, youtube, and recipes found in magazines or online could do basically the exact same thing for you at a fraction of the cost. For better or worse the instructors were primarily tasked with instilling wisdom where possible, and getting the meals finished so we could eat the final product and drink some fantastic wines.

But it got me thinking: How many people don’t know the essentials? The things that aren’t even tips or tricks really, but just instinctual cooking basics. The equivalent of me breathing while I’m in the kitchen – I never think about it, my body does it automatically, and if it didn’t I would be dead by now.

Build Blocks...


Fellow food blogger and good family friend Angie at Food Muses had a similar thought last week – what are my limitations and where do I have my fundamentals down pat? I’ve been all about fundamentals in cooking for the past 18 months or so. After a number of botched attempts at new flavor combinations, or preparations of cooking food that were entirely unconventional, I realized there was absolutely no shame in learning the most authentic, and truest form of a recipe or preparation. That’s why everyone loves Grandma’s cooking so much, and people make boastful claims about “the recipe hasn’t changed in decades”: the foundation is there, and the art becomes faithful replication of perfect technique. It’s become like breathing.

So where does that lead me, and you, my faithful readers? Another list of bullets, commentary, and future posts about my fundamentals, tips, and tricks. Another chance for me to rant, and a few more chances to completely contradict myself by telling you something that defies conventional wisdom but just works.

Foundation to Great Cooking:

·         Don’t Cut Corners – This is probably where I lose half of the readers, if they even made it this far. And I don’t care. If you make it past that simple statement your food will taste infinitely better. When you have the chance to peel your own fresh garlic, squeeze your own lime juice (looking at you, Seth), make your own chicken stock, roast your own peppers, etc – DO IT! It may cost a bit more, or take a bit more time, but the results will carry some serious ROI. I spent two.fucking.hours. making a roux for gumbo. It consisted of stirring oil and flour over medium heat. That’s it. For two hours. The end product was a gumbo worthy of Creole praise – a nearly perfect end product that didn’t take much more than stirring and patience. And for the love of God, at least own one good chef’s knife (and spend no less than $50-$60 on that one knife), and at least one good pot. The next time I’m in your kitchen and see that fake metal BS, I’ll stab you with your shitty 17 knife set that cost you $20 and barely be able to break skin with any of them. The one that finally cuts through will break off it’s poorly made handle and not even the doctors will be able to get it out. How the hell do you expect to cook with that?

·         Stop Being Fearful of Your Food – It doesn’t want to burn. It doesn’t want to stick to the pan. It doesn’t want to boil over. It doesn’t want to crack, or dry out, or jump out of the oven. So please, for the love of God, stop feeling the need to always peak into a covered pot, open a hot oven, constantly stir everything in a pan, or flip/poke/prod your food. There are exactly three things on this planet that I can think of that require that kind of constant attention: the aforementioned dark roux, risotto, and polenta. You must stir constantly, or it burns, or it sucks as an end product, or it doesn’t retain proper texture. The rest? Learn what the maximum amount of stirring/attention that item needs and ONLY pay it that. As the saying goes - [it] already died, you don't need to kill it again.
o   When you’re grilling, sautéing, roasting, frying, etc you probably only need to turn/move your meat 2 times, maybe 4-5 depending on what you’re cooking and how many sides. Long story short, when you cook something, anything, the more you move it, the less it caramelizes. Caramelization is good, it draws out the natural sweetness and flavor of your food. It’s the reason the only foods you ever crave boiled are shellfish.
o   Whenever you turn things too many times it causes the juices to run from the hot side (that used to be on the heat) to the cool side. Turning meats only as many times as you absolutely need to cooks the meat faster, promotes better browning/caramelization, and juicier meat. If you see me turn a steak/chicken breast/pork chop more than twice it’s an exceptionally large cut of meat and needs to cook on another end to promote even doneness. It’s not me fidgeting.
o   If you are one of those people who constantly stirs a pot, put your spoon down and walk away. Just do it. You will get no flavor out of your ingredients by constantly fiddling with them. They won’t burn – just keep an eye on it.
o   Intentionally (or unintentionally) screw some stuff up. Figure out what you screwed up, and more importantly what you didn’t like about it when it was screwed up. It’ll teach you a lesson, and the next time you’re instinctually going to do it better. Just don’t be afraid – it’s a learning process. A delicious learning process. Be as critical of yourself as you need to improve, but not to discourage yourself.

·         Use All of Your Senses: You have 5 senses. Use all of them while cooking. It takes a bit of training, but each of them has their own role. Learn what each dish needs to taste, smell, look, feel, and sound like along each step of the process. You’d be amazed what each sense can tell you separately. You’d also be amazed how inaccurate all of them all on their own. Ever seen a chef/critic do a blind taste test, or have someone cook without their sense of smell? Again – you may not catch on immediately, but there are always warnings that something needs to be stirred, that a pan is on too hot (or not hot enough), that the dish is done, or even though the recipe called for 40 minutes, it may need another 5/10/15.


o   Taste Your Food: Sounds OBVIOUS right? Then why on earth don’t you do it while you’re cooking? Taste your sauces, marinades, salads, soups, mashed potatoes, etc during the process. Check for salt, spice, acidity. Adjust when you know it needs more or less of something, counterbalance with flavors. Rescue a dish that’s gone overboard. Taste tells you as much as you could possibly ask – so ask.
o   Smell Your Food: Taste is 70% smell. Seriously. It’s the reason why nothing tastes worth a damn when you’re sick, and why you should never, under any circumstances, light scented candles during a good meal. It’s the sense that can tell you the most about your food independent of the other senses, including taste. Get your nose in there and start to smell everything: marinades, soups, spices, dry rubs, meats, veggies. Does your nose want spice? Acidity? Does it smell like it’s burning? It’s caramelized? Does this smell remind of you of that time you unintentionally fucked up the roux and everything tasted burnt? Once you become a ninja master you can start experimenting based on smell. I “make up” spice blends, marinades, and salad dressings all the time based on complimentary smells.
o   Listen to Your Food: You can hear a pan that’s dry and hot without even trying. You can hear food about to burn, slightly burning, and too burnt, without even trying. Sizzles, snaps, hisses, boil, crunch, mush…all useful, all can be used to your advantage. If it sounds like nothing is going on, there’s a good chance you might be right – and it’s time to turn up the heat. The snap and crunch of your veggies as you cut them is a good indicator of how fresh they are. As important as sound is in cooking, silence makes me crazy in a kitchen and I need some good, loud music, to accompany me, and I suggest you do the same. If you’re enjoying the whole experience the food will taste better. I guarantee it.
o   Touch Your Food: And I don’t mean play with it. Youtube a video showing you how to test the doneness of a piece of meat just by touching it. No meat thermometers required. Use your hands to mix when appropriate. So long as your hands are washed it shouldn’t gross you or your guests out – so get in there! Picking out the best, freshest, most desirable groceries has a huge impact on your final product. Knock on a loaf of bread, bend and poke and prod your produce to make sure it’s up to standard. Squeeze all your lemons and limes to make sure they aren’t hard as a rock. If they are, they won’t give you any juice, and are essentially worthless. Learn what the correct thickness of a sauce or a soup or a dressing is as you stir it, and use that to determine doneness.
o   Look at Your Food: With experience you’ll know it’s time to flip a steak or fish by seeing how far the heat has penetrated the sides of the meat. You’ll notice when a pan is looking a little dry and could use a splash of water/stock/etc. Oil smoking in a pan might mean that it’s just the right time to add your food to a pan, or that it’s entirely too hot, depending on what you are trying to accomplish. This is one of the more reactionary senses, as you are either modifying or correcting something in progress. Sight may be the sense that is the least useful on it’s own, so pay respect to what your nose, mouth, and ears are telling you before trusting sight and sight alone.

·         Properly Salt Your Food: This means before, during, and after you cook, but not on the table with a shaker in your hand. Just about everything on this planet needs salt. It’s a scientific fact that salt makes foods taste more like themselves, alters the texture, and changes the aroma of everything it touches. Desserts need Salt. Steak needs salt. Veggies need salt. Potatoes, more than anything on this planet need salt. Use the right kind of salt (aka keep your Morton’s salt for baking, and buy kosher or sea salt for EVERYTHING else). Salt in layers. That means different ingredients may need salt at different stages in the cooking process. Meats almost always need salting before hitting the heat, veggies need it shortly after being introduced to heat, and some dishes need it in the dish and on top as well. Learn these things, and if you are ever confused – ask someone who might know, aka me. Salt meats well in advance of grilling (like 15-30 minutes). Salt veggies once you’ve started cooking them or very close to serving – the salt leaches out the water from the veggies and makes them soft and wilted. If you’re cooking the veggies, this speeds up the process and helps the veggies sweat.


·         Heat Your Cooking Surface Before Using It: Don’t start anything in a cold oven, cold pan, cold grill, cold oil. Ok, maybe a few things like chicken stock, but that’s beside the point. It won’t caramelize, will likely turn out soggy, and will take a lifetime to cook. Turn on your heat, wait for the pan/surface to get to the right temp, and then add your food. I saw someone just throw shit into a mostly cold plan at the Central Market cooking class and damn near slapped them. This is the reason mom would always make those tiny “test” pancakes on Saturday morning before making a real batch. She was testing the heat. Using your sense of touch, you can always put your hand over a pan or pot or fire (not actually touching it, mind you) and get the relative heat of the surface before ever adding a thing to it. My dad taught me this trick, and I’ve used it any time I’ve sautéed, browned meat, or started a charcoal grill.

I feel like I’ve published a short novel at this point. I’m going to be surprised if anyone has read this far, and I commend you for sticking with it. There’s so much more, tips that are geared towards specific dishes and techniques, but this is the foundation, and without it you’re stuck trying to build the Taj Mahal when you haven’t mastered building a treehouse.

Comments are always greatly appreciated. Happy cooking, y’all.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Calçotada: Spain's Answer to Hill Country BBQ

Welcome back to the Field Trip folks. After about a month without a fresh post, I present you one of the greatest culinary experiences imaginable, and a true field trip, as the only place on earth where I know this feast occurs is Catalonia (Spain). It's also the longest thing I may ever write on this blog, but well worth it.

Let me begin by talking about what I talk about best: Things Dutchie Likes. If you've ever met me, or spent time around me, or overheard a conversation where I was deeply engrossed in the subject matter, there's a really good chance it was about how much I love Spain, and especially Barcelona and the Catalan people. My first trip to Barcelona was 2.5 years ago, which was likely the 8 best consecutive days I have ever had in my life; I have been back a few more times since, and vow to make it back as often as possible. My friends from their foreign exchange in Austin, Toni, Manu, Xavi, and David (and later Nacho) have shown me the best parts of their city (which is the Greatest City on Earth, mind you), and allowed me to meet a number of their friends, see hidden spots, and eat only the best.

Bar Tomas - A hidden gem in Barcelona you won't find in tour guides

After my first trip to BCN and watching Tony Bourdain's trip to Spain on No Reservations (my favorite episode of TV's best show), I was dead set that I must try calçots, as quickly as possible. Fellow Fat Kid and Barcelona enthusiast, Leach, described the first time he tried a calçot while he was living in Barcelona as a food revelation. To steal again from Bourdain, every person who becomes seriously hooked on food will always remember their "first" time food became something more than simply enjoyment and turned into an obsession. For Bourdain it was eating an oyster as a boy, plucked from the sea in southern France. For Leach, it was a calçotada, in the same city (Valls) as I just had my first calçotada. For me, it was my first risotto, which to this day is still my absolute favorite food when prepared correctly.



I alerted Toni and Manu in January that I would be in London working for a week in February, flying to Barcelona at the end of the work week, and spending 36 hours there before flying back to Austin. As usual, I get a quick response welcoming me to their homes, and saying they have a few things planned for me. I don't really find out the agenda until a few days before I arrive in Barca, but when I do I couldn't be happier: Arrive in BCN at 10pm > Party @ Opium or Sutton > Sleep > Calçotada > Poker > Party in Sant Cugat > Airport > Back to Austin.

36 hours could not be better spent. So I arrive, we party, we sleep, we get up, and we are on our way to Valls, Catalonia for a calçotada. There are 10 of us on this excursion: Dutchie, Toni, Alex, Manu, Nacho, Albert, Jordi, Nacho2, David, and Xavi. In 4 separate cars we speed to Valls, the supposed birthplace of the calçotada.

Oh, it seems I got a bit excited and forgot to explain: What exactly is a calçotada/calçot?

 Calçots awaiting their ultimate fiery fate

A calçot is a cultivated onion that looks much like an oversided green onion or a leek, but tastes something like a cross between a cipollini onion and a leek. They have large, green, inedible, leafy portions at the top that look like the tops of a green onion/leek, but with a much larger "root" area at the bottom that is downright delicious. They are only available about half of the year (late November through April), so people tend to obsess about them when in season. The most famous way of eating a Calçot is roasted and dunked in romesco, although I have also had a preparation that was sauteed with Cepes (Spanish porcini mushrooms) that was excellent as well. Calçotadas are giant feasts solely focused around the calçot, with a bunch of traditional Catalan goodies thrown in for good measure.


Our restaurant and Valls itself are where the similarities between a life changing Texas BBQ excursion and a calçotada begin. Valls is a small town of about 2000 people, located along a scenic and hilly 60-90 minute drive from Barcelona. The locals are very Catalan, with a few of the guys in our crew joking that even though they live in Spain, there may be a few residents of this area that only speak the Catalan language. When calçots are in season, thousands flock upon the city every weekend to enjoy a world-class calçotada. They stuff their face on endless supplies of heavily smoke infused products, almost to the point of sickness. Although just about anyone in Catalonia can burn the main course (calçots) on a grill and serve it with the traditional sauce (romesco), people drive to great distances to have their burnt offerings and their sauce. Starting to see the similarities between this and Texas BBQ?

Xavi, our resident from Valls recommended Cal Ganxo as the best place to have a calçotada. I couldn't argue. We find out later that the family who owns and operates Cal Ganxo only works 6 months a year (calçot season), and vacations the other 6 months a year. Remember when I said there were thousands of people who come to Valls for calçotadas every weekend? There must have been 200 cars in the parking lot at 3pm, and they do multiple seatings every day they are open.

One of the many quaint, family style dining halls at Cal Ganxo. They have a few just like this or larger on each of the restaurant's stories

Leading up to the restaurant you actually get to see the calçots roasting. It's quite a sight, similar to the open pits at Smitty's Market as you walk in. Tremendous heat, open, roaring flames, and your lunch sitting right in front of you, charring away. The stacks of grape vines lie meters high and meters wide, again reminding me of the thousands of pounds of wood sitting alongside Kruez market's walls, waiting to imbibe smokey goodness into your food.


After a beer or two waiting outside, our group of 10 was finally seated inside. As we sit down the table is garnished only with a few plates for every 2 to 3 people (to place the inedible parts of the calçot), bowls filled with Romesco, some freshly baked bread, a few porrons (more on this later) filled with red wine, and a plastic bib for each person at the table. The bibs are a must, as I couldn't imagine what we would all look like without them. Nearly everyone managed to spill romesco/char/red wine/grease on themselves at some point. Like good Texas BBQ, a fork and knife would be more of a hassle than an advantage, so you just go in face first.

At Cal Ganxo it is an all you can eat affair - as much as you want of anything they have to offer for the set price of 40 euros a head. The first round is dedicated solely to calçots, the second to some meat and sides, the third to Crema Catalana. The calçots are presented to the table in upside down wood shingles, unwrapped from their newspaper shield in front of your eyes, and steaming hot. As with many of nature's greatest creations, the smaller calçots were sweeter, more tender, and more desirable, while the larger ones were more fibrous, less sweet, and less flavorful.

Bundles of 20-30 calçots at a time were dispensed every 10 minutes or so until our eyes were about to bulge. Jordi (the bastard) continued ordering more to be placed in front of us, long after I waived the white flag, and being the guest I had the honor of devouring the final 3 calçots before the second course started. To give you perspective, our table of 10 must have had each of our three baskets/shingles refilled 5-8 times before moving on to the next course. We're talking 30-40 calçots a person - before we get to grilled meats and dessert.

Eating a calçot comes in 4 steps:

1) Hold on to the green leafy end, and peel the burnt ends off from the bottom. I could make a few lewd/phallic comments here, but you all get the idea.




2) Thoroughly dunk the newly cleaned bottom portion of the calçot in romesco
3) Devour, biting down below the green portion and ripping away the soft and sweet flesh in one bite




4) Moan in ecstasy. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And so we went along steps 1-4, for what seemed to be both an instant and an eternity. Conversation ceased (or carried on in Catalan only, so I focused only on the food), wine was drank, romesco was devoured, bellies were stuffed.

Let's take a minute to appreciate romseco, the Catalan sauce of the gods. To continue the Texas BBQ metaphor, romesco is the perfect BBQ sauce. Carrying on the meal without sauce is risking a one-note dining experience, while the perfect sauce is complementary to whatever you are eating in every way without taking over. Romesco is a blended sauce made of roasted peppers, roasted onions, garlic, vinegar, almonds/hazelnuts, toasted bread, and good olive oil. Some recipes (such as the one I fancy) also add roasted tomatoes for sweetness, vinegar, and pimenton (Spanish smoked paprika), amongst other things. A truly divine romesco is smokey, sweet, tangy, and chunky - balancing each of the sensations to create a sauce I could eat on just about anything.


Between gorging ourselves on calçots and romesco, we all had a few passes of the porrons. Essentially a wine decanter with a spout and handle, these little bastards were an effective way of serving red table wine and a lot of fun. The further you could pull the porro away from your mouth, the more wine you could drink (and the bigger badass you were). After a few tries you really think you have got the hold of it until someone steps in and shows you how the pros do it. Thanks, Nacho.

Once we finally surrendered to the calçots, we still had two more courses to go. The first, grilled meats, veggies, and sides, all prepared with the (now cooled) coals that cooked the calçots. Steak, lamb, morcilla (a tremendous blood sausage), botifarra (traditional Catalan sausages), grilled artichokes, and Catalan white beans all showed up in an instant. Along with them, a few bottles of Cava (Catalan Champagne) were opened, and a few ramekins of Alioli (Catalan Aioli that is more garlic than mayonnaise, and sometimes contains no egg at all). The morcilla was the real standout of the group, perfectly plump, charred, and rich. It was amazing to see anyone eating after the mountain of calçots we finished, but somehow we all managed to power through. Unsurprisingly, there were no additional orders of meat delivered to our table - one round was more than enough.

Grilled Artichokes and Morcilla surrounding a bed of Catalan White Beans

Botifarra and a few different types of grilled lamb, set over the remaining charcoals from the calçots

Finally came the Crema Catalana, a bit more Cava, and a plate of oranges to finish off the meal. Crema Catalana is a variation of crème brûlée, but slightly more eggy and loose. An excellent cap to an overindulgent meal, the family style servings remained about half finished on both sides of the table as total and complete lethargy began to set in. The oranges and cava, however, were polished off rather quickly.

The final point of comparison with Texas BBQ came within seconds of leaving the restaurant. Our clothes stank of smoke and onions, our bellies resembled women 7 months pregnant, our minds and bodies exhausted. It was like some of the worst meat coma I've ever experienced. We lethargically got back into the cars, and drove back home; only the driver managing to stay awake for the entire duration of the trip.


And so, dear readers, there is the entirely too lengthy and methodical description of one of the best, and certainly the most unique meals I have ever had in my life. Texans have their BBQ, Catalans have their calçotadas. This never would have been possible if not for my unbelievable friends, so a huge thank you to the Spaniards: Toni, Manu, Nacho, Albert, Jordi, David, Xavi, and Alex. Let me know how I can ever repay the favor and I'll be sure to make it happen.

Adeu

-Dutch