Sandwiches!
I’m a sucker for bread, and all things layered inside bread.
The last two months I tried some seriously good sandwiches. I’m still of the opinion that Chilean sandwiches come out on top, but there’s some good contenders.
From top to bottom: Thinly sliced pork loin with tomato, mayonnaise and saurkraut (Chile); Dinamica hot-dog — avocado, tomato, mayo, relish and chilies (Chile); Cubano sandwich in Miami with lots of pork.
My brother’s dream sandwich in Chile — thinly sliced beef, cheese, eggs and bacon…a heart attack between bread; Chacarero — beef with tomato, green beans and chily (chile); and a churrasco italiano — beef, tomato, avocado and mayo. In Chile, ordering an Italian sandwich means you’ll get the colors of the flag — tomato, avocado and mayo.
I went to Carnegie deli in New York to attempt one of the huge sandwiches they serve. You can tell the tourists from the regulars right away. Us, tourists, laugh when the load of meat shows up and take pictures, whereas regulars get right down to business. Some guy in front of me managed to finish the thing in under 15 minutes. This is the “Woody Allen” sandwich, with loads of pastrami and corned beef. While the meat was excellent, I didn’t enjoy it — it’s just way too much meat and no balance. The homemade pickles are great.
The bottom sandwich is a pork belly concoction I ate at Momofuku’s noodle bar in the East village. There was something about the ueber-cool atmosphere of Momofuku that made me uncomfortable, but the sandwich is gorgeous. Crispy and juicy pork belly, some kind of sweet sauce, cucumbers and scallions….ah…this is the closest contender to a Chilean moster sandwich!
Tastes like ass
“Excuse me waiter, what is in the special bbq set?”
“A mix of pork, beef, sausage and organ meat”
“Such as…?”
“Blood sausage, cow utters, tripe, etc.”
“We’ll have one of those.”
Thirty minutes later I’m munching on some mystery piece of meat that was not in the original list. I already ate the utter and the tripe, while my mom’s partner is happily munching on a blood sausage.
“Excuse me waiter, what is this cut of meat? I’ve never seen it before.”
“That is the rear end of the cow.”
“…”
“…”
“You mean, the cow’s ass?”
“Well, not the outside.”
“I’m eating the colon and the anus?”
The waiter looked uncomfortable that I was speaking too loud and might scare other customers.
“It’s perfectly clean, and tasty. Wouldn’t you agree?”
During my time as a restaurant critic in Tokyo I ate a fair amount of strange cuts, the weirdest of which was beef “throat” or whatever you call the meat that hangs underneath a cow’s jaw. But charcoal-roasted cow anus is a first for me.
The ass was hidden underneath the mountain of meat
Besieged by Choice
Madagascar Vanilla extract, Mexican, Tahitian, Sri Lankan, fair trade, with no alcohol, real vanilla beans…
One thing I know for sure — real cooks don’t buy artificial vanilla, even though it costs five times less.
Next to the vanilla was the salt.
Kosher, table salt, Himalayan rock salt, truffled, sea salt, smoked, black salt, red Hawaiian salt, fleur de sel…
I am besieged by choice.
Tuscan olive oil, light olive oil, Kalamata olive oil, Spanish, Greek, wrapped in golden foil…
I am tempted to blame the food network, but that would be an easy way out. Part of me must like having this vocabulary at my disposal.
French Roast, Viennese Roast, Colombian, Mocha Java, Arabica, Robusta, Kenyan, Blue Mountain…
As I stood at whole foods contemplating my vanilla choices and whether they would make a difference once I added one of ten available salts, I started thinking about graduate school and how it is flooding my brain with vocabulary.
Functionalism, Structural Functionalism, Structuralism, post-structuralism, post-modernism, semiotics…
I am tempted to blame my teachers, but that would be an easy way out. Part of me must like having this vocabulary at my disposal.
Moiety, hegemonic blocs, commodity fetishism, deconstruction…
As I read through my books and try to decide which words from the endless list of academic jargon I find most useful, I am mentally transported back to whole foods and the vanilla counter.
Only that, at the end of most days, all I want is a simple slice of bread and butter.
Obama and the republic
Johan Galtung argues that there are two faces to the United States — there’s the empire, and there’s the republic.
As a Latin American, I grew up listening to tales of the empire. The US government conspired to topple democratically-elected presidents, supported dictators, extracted resources and treated the region as its backyard. I was hardly impressed.
At the same time, the ideals on which the US was founded are noble. The right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are at the core of US idealism, and it is an amazing set of beliefs.
George W. Bush brought out some of the nastier elements of the US empire. It reminded us that after the cold war, the US could act unilaterally, that it would behave in its own interest, and the rest of the world would have to adapt. It didn’t sound so different from tales of US interference in Latin America. No wonder we hesitated.
Obama stands as a reminder that there is more to the US than its imperial face. The republic lives on, and he’s proof of the best side of this country, its virtues and merits.
It’s impossible to expect Obama to govern without having to run the empire. He will certainly get his hands dirty, and engage with the less-appealing aspects of ruling the only super-power in the world.
But, yes, you did. You reminded the rest of us that the United States has multiple faces. Those of us who are used to seeing the empire saw the United States in this election for its humanity.
Tofu histories
“How long have you had this shop?”
“Before the war”
I’m not surprised by the answer. She looks like she’ll be checking out anytime soon.
“Do you still make tofu the same way?”
“Some little changes here and there, but basically the same. What can you change about it? It’s tofu.”
I arrived at this shop by chance. I would have never found the neighborhood unless my cellphone told me to go this way. I was on my way to get my hair cut, and decided to go by bike. Tokyo streets are notorious for never going straight, so I input the hairstylist’s address in my cellphone’s GPS and followed the instructions.
I eventually drove into a shopping arcade that seemed stuck in time. Small stores dotted the sideways, and mothers with children on their bikes were the queens of the road.
After driving past the main buzz of the arcade, and having already loaded on fruits and vegetables from the local peddler, I saw tofu from the corner of my eye.
“Can I have a block of soft tofu, and a couple of fried tofu cakes?” “One more thing…would you mind if I take a picture of your store?”
“Go ahead.”
The shop had a couple of big pots, boilers, deep friers and refrigerators. At the back you could see their home with a five year old watching TV. Small businesses are on their way out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if keeping the old lady busy was the only reason the family still ran a tofu shop.
“Would you like to be in the picture?”
“Bad luck.”
When your business survived more than 60 years, who am I to argue against her superstitions. I hopped on my bike, and drove home to make miso soup with a piece of tofu history.
Michael Pollan is at it again
Michael Pollan had to throw his two cents, again, on food politics. After his book “The Omnivore’s dilemma” became a best-seller, he’s become the de facto spokesperson for a loosely-tied movement we may call “political foodies.”
This time he wrote an op-ed letter in the New York Times outlining his vision for the United State’s agricultural policy in years to come.
Some of the proposals are sound and sensible. They include a revamp of school lunches, subsidies that encourage farmers to rely less on oil-based fertilizers, an organic garden at the white house, support for regional food markets, etc.
He missed one point though that is huge. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t aware of it, but Americans need to scale back their consumption. No matter what type of agricultural system, the fact remains that Americans eat a bigger of world resources than they would be proportionally allocated. His solution is to promote local slaughter houses and foods that don’t travel 1,500 miles to get to your plate (the average for the US), but at heart this country needs to scale back its consumption of animal protein dramatically.
Better than sex
“Out of control”
“Orgasm in my mouth”
“Better than sex”
“I’m done for the day”
For the first time, people thought my food was as good, if not better, than sex. I wish I could take credit for the recipe, but I followed step by step a recipe by Pierre Herme. I’m pasting the recipe with my comments so you can start a culinary orgy of your own.
Mozart
Cinnamon dough
[This is the most frustrating dough I've ever made...it's fragile to the point of ridiculous, and at room temperature it has the consistency of peanut butter, which makes it hard to roll...good thing the recipe yields enough to screw up several times and still get the cake done]
2 sticks plus 5 tablespoons softened unsalted butter (10.5 oz)
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons icing sugar
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon finely ground blanched almonds
3 hard-boiled large egg yolks at room temperature and pushed through a fine strainer
2 teaspoons cinnamon
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon dark rum
pinch of baking powder
2.25 cups all-purpose flour.
Beat the butter in a processor until creamy (or by hand). Add the sugar, almonds, egg yolks, cinnamon and salt. Mix until incorporated. Add the rum. Mix the flour and baking powder together and add it slowly. Mix until everything comes together. It will be soft and similar to peanut butter cookie dough.
Divide into three portions. Wrap each portion in plastic and press them down to a disc shape. Cool in the refrigerator at least 4 hours and up to 2 days.
Flour your work area and roll the dough to about 1/8 inch thick. Cut it like a cookie with a 22cm dessert ring (or something else if you don’t have one — but they’re cheap and handy to put the cake togther). Prick it all over with a fork. Transfer it to a piece of parchment paper
[The dough is extremely fragile. The best way to transfer it is with the removable bottom of a tart pan. Do not try to pick up the parchment paper from the sides after baking it...it will break!]
Bake it for 18-20 minutes in a 350F oven until honey brown. Let it cook on a rack, parchment paper and all. Make three discs. If you have leftovers, you can make cookies.
[Either my oven is hot or the recipe needs to be calibrated...I burnt two discs by baking them 18 minutes. Mine were done in 12 mins].
The Mousse
1 large Granny Smith or another tart apple
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp unsalted butter (0.5oz)
2 tbsp dark rum
1/3 cup heavy cream
1 cinnamon stick, broken
8oz bittersweet chocolate, 66% cacao
6 large eggwhites
Peel and core the apple. Cut it into small cubes (1/4 inch per side) and toss them with 1 tbsp of the sugar and the cinnamon. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Let the butter turn light brown and add the apples. Cook them fast. You want them to caramelize, but not to turn into apple sauce. At the end, flambee everything with the rum. Set aside and cool to room temperature.
Pour the cream into a small saucepan and add the cinnamon stick. Bring to boil. Remove from heat, cover and let it infuse for 10 minutes.
Melt the chocolate over simmering water. Strain the cream and mix it with the chocolate, making ganache.
Whip the egg whites. When they start to grow, slowly add the sugar and continue beating untl they form glossy stiff peaks.
Wait until the chocolate cools to 104F. This is important…if you mix the chocolate while it’s too hot or too cold, the mousse won’t work. Fold 1/4 of the meringue into the chocolate. Fold the rest together with the apples. Once you make the mousse, you need to assemble the cake immediately.
To assemble
Put a 22cm dessert ring on a serving platter. Put one disk of the cinnamon dough and cover with 1/2 the mousse. Put another disk and add the rest of the mousse. Finish with a last disk of dough (hopefully the one that is still complete). Press it down to set and chill for at least 30 minutes or up to eight hours.
To decorate
Remove the dessert ring by running a warm sponge on the outside to loosen it up or blowing with a hair dryer. Pierre Herme recommends that you add chocolate curls to the outside, arrange apple slices on top coated with apple jelly, dust cocoa powder and put a couple of cinnamon sticks on top. In my case, I ran out of time, so I dusted the whole cake with cocoa powder and put some gold leaf on top. The result? My cake looked like I picked it up from a swamp, so nobody expected the explosion of flavors.
There you have it, orgasm a la Mozart.
The bread quest continues
I’m a sucker for bread, but never gave much thought to baking my own.
Since I decided to remedy that, I got “Crust & Crumbs” by Peter Reinhart, and I’m never going back. The book is unlike any other bread recipes I’ve seen. First off, you need to be patient because most recipes take anywhere between 1-5 days to make. The book is also full of tidbits, detailed recipes and all sorts of tricks I’d never heard of before.
I tried the basic French recipe to begin with. You could make baguettes with this, but I don’t like them. They’re too chewy, and by the time I’m through with breafast, my jaw hurts. So, I shaped the dough into a ball.
Results? Unbelievable. I never thought I’d be able to churn out a crust like that in my oven. I’m a convert.
Before the oven
Brown crust!
The final stuff
Bread and butter
Grad school has taken over my life. I spend most of my days on my ass reading non-stop, trying to get through the diabolical reading lists our professors put together.
I did find that spending long stretches at home reading lends itself to baking bread. It works perfectly, because I need to take a break every so often, which coincides with the ebbs and flows of making bread.
I made ciabatta, pullman loafs, baking soda biscuits and naan. So far I’m the happiest with the ciabatta because it had the most robust flavor. I’ll post back on my bread adventures once I get my own starter going.
Instead of buying the books I should be buying (and reading), I gave in to temptation at amazon and ordered myself these two books…but, but…Pierre Herme didn’t include a recipe for macaroons! Luckily Thomas Keller did. ufff…now I need to go buy almond meal.
Sell me that belly
“How much do you sell the belly for?”
“The belly? Hei, Tommy, how much for the belly?”
Tommy was busy cleaning a mackerel for an old lady.
“Maybe 1.99 per pound…I don’t know.”
“6.99 a pound will do,” said a voice from the back. I tried to keep my face straight, but I couldn’t believe my luck.
“What do you do with the belly anyway?”
“Tastes pretty good in ceviche…you can pan-fry it as well.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Say, when are you going to cut it?”
“As soon as Tommy is done with the lady.”
“Do you mind if I stick around?”
Paolo shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
I walked to the back where Tommy was honing a chef’s knife. The blade couldn’t have been more than 30 cm long. Before him was a small yellowfin tuna. Small that is for a tuna, because the monster was about a meter and a half long.
“Have you been to Fulton in New York?”
“The fish market? No.”
“That thing is huge, several blocks” said Tommy. “Over there, they take a chainsaw and cut one of these between two or three guys.”
“I saw something like that at Tsukiji.”
“Tsuki-what?” He cut me off before I could explain. “You should see those guys breaking them down.
As Tommy explained, he ran the knife along the spine of the yellowfin. I could hear the damage on the blade every time he broke a fishbone to expose the purple flesh. I had seen this done at Tsukiji in Tokyo before, but they used electric saws or meter-long blades to cut the meat in one clean swoop. Tommy was working a sweat with his tiny chef’s knife.
After 30 minutes, four “tubes” of sashimi-grade tuna lay on the cutting board while a huge carcass and quite a bit of skin was on the floor.
“Don’t you want some of this as well?” Tommy pointed at the lean cuts of red flesh close to the neck. They sold for 22.99 a pound.
“Nah, just the belly.” He shrugged and cut it for me. “Can you use that knife again?”
“It’s as good as garbage. I have to get a new one each time a tuna comes in.”
“How often do you buy one?”
“Whenever we run out…hard to say.”
I walked over to the register. My piece of tuna belly was 1.5 pounds, or ten dollars.
To them, I bought garbage. To me, I bought the cheapest piece of toro — the holy grail of sushi — I will ever find.
