… to make it tasty, but worthwhile. As an example, pretty much everyone familiar with electricity, fire, fat and sugar knows that if you deep-fat fry, it’s going to taste good. It has been said that you can deep-fat fry an old sneaker and it will be tasty. This isn’t something I’ve tried, and given the cost of a pair of decent sneakers this isn’t something I’m going to attempt, but it does get the idea across. And while the flavor may be good (think beer-battered sneakers) the nutritional content is drek, and in the meantime if you don’t thoroughly chew those insoles, your plumbing could get clogged.
So on a recent weekend I didn’t deep-fat fry, but I did make Devils on Horseback, a grilled pesto-stuffed turkey breast with plenty of smoke, and Sup Kraduuk Muu (no, not a Klingon stew, but a Thai broth).
The Devils on Horseback actually started the weekend before, when I had my little cabinet smoker fired up and smoking. I’d been out of smoked salt for a while, and wanted to try smoking some garlic, too. The smoker holds 3 trays: 1 for a shallow pan of kosher salt, the 2nd with the peeled cloves of three garlic heads, and for the 3rd I fashioned a tray out of aluminum foil, lined it with parchment paper, and plopped in two tubs of chicken livers.
This all got apple smoke for about 4 hours. The garlic and salt are all together, now, in an open container tucked away in a corner of the kitchen. In a week or two I should have the garlic thoroughly desiccated, and I’ll figure out at that time if I want to just grind it up and mix it with the smoked salt, or rehydrate it for some strange bits of something unforeseen, of just to snack on.
As for the chicken livers… (what follows was inspired by “Two Fat Ladies”, one of the better cooking shows to come from Britain).
Into my medium cast-iron pan I melted a stick of unsalted butter, and sweat a Walla Walla sweet that I’d diced pretty finely. The chicken livers went in, and at a low simmer I let everything melt together with some encouragement from a potato masher. A little of the smoked salt, a shot of brandy, and an hour later it was a very flavorful pate.
Fast forward a week, and for something to nosh on as a preliminary for dinner, I stuffed some pitted prunes with maybe a ½ teaspoon of cold pate, wrapped each with a piece of bacon that I’d nuked but was still pliant, and ran a toothpick through each to hold them together. These went into a 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes. Delectable, but in hindsight a single pistachio stuffed into the prune with the pate would have made them magnificent.
The same day I made a turkey breast slathered with pesto, and that gastronome journey also started a few weeks earlier when Susan brought home a half-turkey breast that was on sale. She unwrapped it and put it in a gallon zip-lock bag before chucking it into the freezer. Unfortunately, the zip didn’t stay locked, and the meat grew some really gnarly ice crystals – the dreaded freezer burn!
So two days before cook-off time I dissolved 1 cup of kosher salt and a ½ cup of brown sugar into several gallons of cold water, added a tablespoon of black peppercorns, a good shake of allspice powder and a bay leaf. This went into an ice cooler that over the years has become dedicated to brining. Into the brine went the frozen, ice-furry turkey, and a block of ice. That was on a Friday.
Sunday morning I drained the turkey breast, and using my sharpest paring knife separated the meat from the breast bone, and the skin from the meat. On the kitchen counter I laid out a couple of overlapping sheets of plastic wrap, set the breast on it, covered with a couple more sheets, and then pounded.
*A word about my favorite meat pounder. I’ve tried those stupid little hammers, wood and metal, that are sold specifically for this. Did I mention they’re stupid? Not like a Clackamas county Republican summing up the depth of their intellect with a two-word phrase on a bumbersticker. More like a silly tool that doesn’t nearly do the job (this time, just like a certain Clackamas County Commission chair). I’ve also tried using a small saucepan, a roller pin, and I think one time I set a thin plastic cutting board over the meat and hammered on that trying to get uniformity. No, my preferred utensil, the one that does a fine job, is a black rubber mallet, the very same tool that you see in automotive body repair shops. The trick is to not take out your aggressions. Just let the weight of the mallet head do the work, and keep it moving.
Once the breast was more or less uniform to maybe a half-inch thick, I spread a decent store-bought pesto to within a half-inch from the borders, and lifting with the plastic sheet beneath, rolled. I laid the skin out at the end, sprinkled it with smoked salt, and then continued rolling the breast, wrapping it with the skin.
Now at this point I was rather glad not to have an audience. Sure, with heat, smoke and time it was going to look good. At that moment, though, I was table-top wrestling with a loaf of pale meat, wrapped in an even paler cape of washed-out skin, and with green, viscous stuff oozing out. Regardless, I secured the messy thing with butcher’s twine, and took it out to the Weber.
The lump charcoal was well underway, and banked to the side. The grill itself had been sitting over the coals for 5 minutes or so, and the residue of last efforts scraped off easily with a wad of clean, crumpled aluminum foil. Before I set the turkey grub-looking thing on the grill opposite of the coals, I swabbed it down with a paper towel soaked in cooking oil. Last, before putting on the cover, I sprinkled soaked apple chips directly onto the coals. Twice over the next hour I sprinkled on more wood, because I really like the flavor of smoke.
The turkey turned out well. It took a little over an hour to get to within 150-degrees (and to 160 after resting for 10 minutes, as it was a half, not a whole breast, and because I’d pounded it with my mighty mallet). The brine worked well. I was especially worried because it was so thoroughly freezer-burned, but no, it was pretty moist. Confession, though: about halfway through the cooking I got nervous, and laid some thin strips of salt pork across the ridge top of the roll. That probably helped, at least in flavor if not to keep it from drying out. Never mind that I had a few crisp, smoky bits of pork to reward my efforts.
The Sup Kraduuk Muu I’d wanted to make for some time as part of my “Small Things” project, wherein I make something up in advance of needing it, or even knowing for sure what I’ll use it on. Herbed butter, caramelized onions, that sort of thing.
Sup Kraduuk Muu is essentially a Thai pork stock, which can be used for a myriad of things. A larger quantity can be used as a soup base. A smaller quantity can be used as the liquid instead of using a spoonful of water when stir-frying veggies. To thin a marinade.
The way I went about it was to get 1-1/2 pounds of pork neck bones, which you first rinse off, being rough-and-tumble under the faucet. Next, drop them in a stock pot and cover by a couple of inches with cold water, and then heat to a very low simmer for twenty or thirty minutes, after which turn off the heat and let it all cool. Skim off the stuff that floats (and do not forget to give that to the dogs with their evening meal, otherwise lock them in their crates for your own safety). Drain the neck bones, and again, be rough with them under cold running water.
All of this is just to rinse out as much blood as you can, which will provide for a much more clear stock.
Wash out the stock pot, return the bones, and once again cover with water by a couple of inches, and just like before, bring to a bare minimum simmer. While that’s getting there, take a stalk of lemongrass, peel off the tough outer layers, and then cut lengthwise and into 3- or 4-inch lengths. In a granite mortar and pestle whack them several times to bruise, but don’t bother crushing or grinding. Same with the cloves from a whole head of garlic, removing the paper first (it just gets in the way later). Do the same with a chunk of ginger – bruise, don’t crush. Add these to the stock pot, along with several stems of cilantro -roots and all- and a teaspoon of black peppercorns.
Now let it do that slow, bare-simmer thing for several hours. I let mine go for maybe four hours. When you and the stock are ready, strain out the solids. Pick the meat from the bones (and set aside for future treats for the aforementioned dogs and dog food).
Freeze the stock as you see fit, but I suggest something along the lines of ice cube trays. This way you’ll have small amounts available for the proverbial “whatever”, and if you need more stock, thaw more cubes.
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