Out of the Frying Pan, and Into the Parchament

O.K. I have to confess that I did not have parchment paper last night when I prepared salmon en Papillote. I'm in P-town with a modestly equipped kitchen. But you can substitute aluminum foil and it only impacts the presentation. This was the first time I'd cooked salmon. Hell, this was the first time I'd eaten salmon. I was a bit nervous--last weekend I tried poaching cod with disastrous results.

First the good news; I finally found a good place to buy fresh fish. Townsend Seafood is at the end of Fisherman's Wharf and it's the kind of place where they know what the local fisherman are catching. You can ask what's fresh, and you get an answer. (Last weekend, we asked the clerk at Clem and Ursie's what was fresh, and he said, "It was all here when I got here." Infuriating!) I'm pretty sure the local fisherman weren't catching salmon, but the fish was indeed fresh.

Now for the complications. I didn't have a recipe. I found plenty of them online, but nothing struck my fancy. Either they were too basic (Lemon and Dill) or had ingredients I didn't have or didn't like. It was late--8 PM. I had fish but no other ingredients or sides. I was hungry, and a trip to the grocery was necessary. And I was paralyzed with indecision. It was a recipe for disaster (pun 100% intended.) But I felt I had a good grasp of the cooking technique and types of veggies and herbs that people put in the pouch along with the fish. So I tarried on to the grocery.

I had in my head that an aioli or flavored mayonnaise would go well with the fish. But neither of these could be incorporated into the pouch. I thought to myself, "Coleslaw. Coleslaw has mayonnaise in it." So I grabbed cabbage and carrot and onion. (Had mayo and vinegar at home.) I wanted a starch, but couldn't think of anything appropriate. I just took my cabbage to the checkout and was on my way.

Back home, I discovered a box of Uncle Ben's Wild Rice in the cupboard. I grabbed that and told Jess he was in charge of it. Meanwhile I made the coleslaw.

Just then, there was a knock at our door. It was a dear friend of ours whom we hadn't seen in forever. We welcomed him in, sat and had a nice, long conversation (and some wine.) By 10PM, our visitor was gone and we were starving.

Back in the kitchen, I sampled the coleslaw and it had way too much onion. So much so that it burned my mouth. Jess started the rice. He dumped the flavor packet into the boiling water, and a horrible smell began to waft through the kitchen. The packet of rice was not the traditional flavor, but some roasted garlic crap. It had a really fake garlic smell. It was disgusting. I was unable to consume any of the rice. I felt pretty sure this meal was going to suck.

But it didn't. The fish was really great. It had a perfect texture. And the lemon and fresh basil that I layered in worked really well with the flavor of the fish. (Having never had salmon, I wasn't sure if the basil was compatible.) The coleslaw was botched. The rice was inedible. But I had broken my bad fish streak. And I have another in a growing list of fish that I actually enjoy.

I'll get my sea legs, yet

Recipe: BASIL SALMON EN PAPILLOTE

salmon fillets, 6 oz. each
lemon slices
thinly sliced garlic
salt and pepper
fresh basil leaves
extra-virgin olive oil
French Dry Vermouth or other dry white wine

1.) Fold in-half and cut into a half-heart shape a piece of parchment paper. Each half of the heart should be able to hold one fillet, with about 2 inches to spare along all sides.

2.) In the center of each heart half, line an area the size of your fillets with thin lemon slices.

3.) Place each fillet, skin-side down, atop the lemons.

4.) Scatter garlic slices upon the fish to your taste (don't go overboard!) Salt and Pepper to taste.

5.) Top each fillet with a generous layer of basil. Drizzle with olive oil. Add just a splash of vermouth.

6.) Fold one half of the parchment over the other. Using small, overlapping folds, seal the pouch well around all edges. (Leave room for steam to form.)

7.) Place the pouches on a cookie sheet or shallow baking pan. Place into 450 degree oven in middle rack. Bake for 25 minutes.

8.) Carefully transfer the pouches to individual plates. Serve as is and cut pouches open at the table.

Sandwiches, No Mas!

Today, Jess and I finally grew tired of the sandwiches we’ve been diligently, frugally having for lunch. The weather here in Provincetown is gray and cool, so I decided to whip up a batch of linguini carbonara. You know, something light and summery.

I hadn’t made this dish in about seven years. I think it was actually the first home-cooked meal I made for Jess. Back then, I made it with normal American bacon. Heck, I had just graduated from the Kraft Parmesan cheese in the green boxes, to pre-grated stuff from the cheese counter at the grocery.

Times have changed. (Remember when salad meant Iceberg lettuce?) I’m older and wiser and have better taste. Today’s lunch was made with pancetta and a nice imported Pecorino Romano. On the side, I served sliced tomatoes (big, ripe “uglies”) unadorned, to cut the richness of the dish. It was delicious.

Recipe: PASTA CARBONARA

Pasta Carbonara

8 oz. pancetta
1 lb. linguini
3 eggs, room temperature
½ cup heavy cream, room temperature
1 cup grated Pecorino Romano
1 tbsp butter
¼ cup chopped parsley

1. Slice or chop the pancetta into small, bite-sized pieces. Cook until crispy in frying pan. Remove to paper towel to drain.
2. Combine the eggs and heavy cream in a bowl, beating just long enough to thoroughly combine.
3. Cook linguini in well-salted water according to package directions or your own good judgment. (Err on the side of al dente!)
4. Drain pasta and immediately return to hot pan.* Add butter and egg-cream mixture. Toss the pasta thoroughly, distributing the liquid well, using the heat of the pan and pasta to cook the egg.
5. When the sauce starts to thicken and cling to the pasta, toss in the cheese and pancetta. Then toss in the parsley. Add fresh-ground black pepper to taste. Serve immediately.

*A more elegant way to serve this is as follows. Heat an attractive, heavy serving platter in a warm oven (150-200 degrees F.) When the pasta is done, drain and turn into heated platter. Add butter, egg-cream mixture and proceed as described.

Lard Ass

A few weeks ago, I did a bad, bad thing.

It was a warm Summer Sunday. Because of the heat and a recent vacation, my partner Jess and I had been doing far too much eating out. We were determined to have a tasty, home-cooked meal. Sundays are typically my day to get creative or ambitious in the kitchen. Jess threw out a couple of suggestions, most of them healthy and all of them a bit upscale. But none of them struck a chord in me.

I had recently been flipping through my new copy of The Joy of Cooking and stumbled upon their recipe for fried chicken. Any good cook who is a native of the Deep South is expected to produce great fried chicken, but it's always been one of my weaknesses. I was curious to see if this Yankee book could improve my Southern culinary skills.

They had a lot of advice and several, slightly different approaches and recipes. But the thing I found most intriguing was their suggested medium for frying the chicken: shortening. My mama always fried chicken in corn oil. Anything she fried (and that was just about everything) she fried in corn oil. I had never questioned her wisdom on this matter, despite her mediocre results. Maybe the corn oil was the problem! I read everything that Joy had to say about fried chicken, and at the very end of the passage on fried chicken, was a footnote: "Also try frying in equal parts butter and lard."

My fate was sealed. In its own, down-home way, this was the most decadent thing I had ever heard of. Luxury for the common man.

I was pretty sure Jess would balk at the butter-lard combo. So in the grocery, I sent him on his way for the vegetables on our shopping list and surreptitiously sought out the lard. Interestingly, I found it in the dairy case, right next to the butter. I had never noticed it there. Shouldn't it be in the meat department? I grabbed the lard and buried it in my shopping basket.

Once back home I headed for the back porch. Our gas grill has a nice, powerful side burner that we sometimes use when we don't want to heat up or stink up the house. This made it easy for me to conceal my strategy. In a big, heavy dutch oven, I melted half a pound of butter and half a pound of lard. What an interesting aroma it had. Did the rich meatiness smell appealing, or disgusting? I actually became nervous. Was I putting our health at risk? Was I a bad person? Once the chicken started frying, my trepidation disappeared. The chicken cooked, releasing its fat into the pig fat and the cow fat (extracted from the lactose that was meant to nourish baby calves.) It was the most heavenly scent of animal carnage I had ever experienced.

The chicken was just as delicious as it smelled. Jess polished off five pieces, stripping every morsel of meat, skin and fat from the bone. When he was done, I told him what I had done. Initially, he expressed concern, but that vanished in a matter of moments. He went back to the kitchen and started picking at the remaining pieces.

It was as evident as the night we met that my man from Vermont could not resist my Southern charms.

Recipe: LARD ASS CHICKEN

Marinate for 30 min. to 2 hours:

1 Empire Kosher Chicken, Fryer Pieces*
(cut each breast half, diagonally, in-half again to even cooking times with other pieces)

in:

2 Cups Buttermilk
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Combine in a large, sturdy plastic bag:

2 Cups Flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper

A few pieces at a time, toss the chicken pieces in the flour to coat. Shake excess flour from chicken, and place on a wire rack to dry for 15-30 minutes. (This helps the coating set and prevents the crust from falling off--one of the biggest problems I had before this recipe.)

In a heavy, deep skillet (preferably cast iron, preferably enameled) melt over medium-high heat:

1/2 pound Lard
1/2 pound butter, unsalted
(Quantity is not as important as depth--fat should come half way up the chicken pieces.)

Get the fat as hot as you can without scorching and without too much smoke (the lard makes it possible to get this really hot, and the butter will not burn!) The chicken should instantly sizzle when placed in the fat. Touch a piece to the surface to check the temp.

Place the chicken in the skillet, skin/fat side down. Don't overcrowd the pan. Cook the pieces in batches. Cover with a heavy lid, and cook for 10 minutes. Check the chicken after 5 min. Move each piece slightly. If it is sticking, or cooking too fast reduce heat, but try to keep it covered.

Remove the lid, turn the chicken, and cook uncovered** for another 10-12 min. Remove to a baking sheet lined with lots of paper towel. Keep cooked chicken in barely warm oven while you cook subsequent batches. If necessary to maintain the depth of the fat, add more with subsequent batches.

Make an appointment with a cardiologist, and enjoy!

*In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a Jew. But this is the best chicken on the planet, regardless of how you prepare it. Seek it out--it is worth it.

**This is exactly opposite of what my mama taught me. She browned the first side, turned, then placed the lid on to tenderize the chicken. What this did, though, was steam the chicken, causing the crust to fall off.