Last time I served raw scallops, everyone sat around in the kitchen waiting for each preparation, gobbling it up as soon as it was ready. That was delicious, but it didn't make for great presentation and photo opportunities.

This time, I took it a bit more slowly, since it was just for Jeanette and I, and plated it up. I took raw Hokkaido scallops and pounded them out between two sheets of plastic wrap, until they were uniformly thin and translucent. Then, with a very sharp knife, I trimmed the scallop sheets into rectangles (while still between pastic wrap). Then I peeled the plastic wrap off the top of each sheet, and picked a sheet up, holding it by the plastic underneath. Then I laid it onto a clear plate, with the side that still had plastic wrap facing up. I peeled off the last layer of plastic wrap, pushed it around a bit to get it more square again, and then proceeded with the garnishes.

I garnished two ways. For the first one, I used chives, extra virgin olive oil, French breakfast radish, Maldon salt, and nigella seeds (for crunch). For the second, I used smoked andouille oil (rendered while browning andouille sausage), lemon zest, hyssop, Fresno chili, and Hawaiian black salt. Both were extremely delicious.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/06/28 @ 21:54 | Comments (2) | Seafood, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

• Peach-Coffee Glaze - So fucking delicious. For once, I kept great notes.

  150g Smith's Super Store Carolina Peach Syrup (pictures below)
  130g strongly brewed black coffee
  100g bottled peach juice
  20g Uncle Steve's Ribbon Cane Blend Syrup
  10g sherry vinegar
  5g soy sauce
  1g Worcestershire sauce
  .5g Tabasco

  Combine all ingredients and reduce slowly over medium heat until it thickens to a glaze. Reserve.

• 

  Fresh peach - I lucked out with some delicious peaches from the little organic produce market by my house. Fantastic flavor and the perfect texture; I don't like runny, squishy stone fruit! So many people are enamored of stonefruit when it gets to the point it's so juicy you can barely pick it up without your fingers digging deep ruts into its flesh. Not me. I like my stonefruit firm but still juicy. Those qualities can co-exist, they just only do so for a very short window in the season. I managed to hit it. I just peeled the peach with a paring knife (didn't want to bother blanching and shocking for a single peach), then sliced it.

• 

  Cylindrical Hushpuppy - This component was tasty, but not perfect, for one or more of the following reasons: 1) The hush puppy recipe I based mine on was not perfect; 2) by combining the ingredients and then setting the batter into cylinders, I wasted the initial lightening action of the "double-acting" baking powder (which, according to McGee, likely had at least four different "actions" of leavening, which activate at different temperatures; 3) the overnight period of chilling and resting mine went through made the gluten develop in the flour, making the hushpuppies a bit tough. Still, they were pretty tasty despite them not being as light as I'd hoped. Everyone finished theirs. Here's how I did it:

  150g cornmeal (1 cup)
  80g AP flour (1/2 cup)
  10g scallion
  25g crispy, rendered, finely chopped bacon
  5g kosher salt
  1g ground black pepper
  .4g cayenne pepper
  1/2 tsp baking powder
  1/3 tsp baking soda
  47g whole egg (i.e., one large egg)
  1/2 cup buttermilk
  1/16 cup bacon grease, heated just enough to liquefy

  Combine the dry ingredients and whisk to disperse. Add the wet ingredients and stir briefly to mostly combine. Transfer to a piping bag and pipe into prepared cylinder molds (I use cannoli molds with a sheet of oil-wiped acetate rolled up inside). Chill until ready to use. When ready, remove acetate and unroll gently. With a palette knife or spatula, divide each cylinder in half, and drop each half into frying oil at 350F (177C). The hushpuppy is done very quickly, around a minute. Transfer to paper towel to drain. Salt while it is still warm. Trim off ends before serving to expose the innards of the hushpuppy.

• Hushpuppy crumbs - Leftover hushpuppy batter as described above, piped onto baking sheet in little mounds like gougeres. Baked at 400F (204C) until crust formed on the outside, then broked apart and dehydrated at 170F for around 2 hours. Then pulsed to grind up in a food processor.

• Collard greens - I didn't want to include these, because it was just too obvious a reference, but in the end, it just went well. Collard greens, chiffonade, pan-fried in a very hot pan with a bit of bacon grease.

• 

  Pork Belly - Brined and then cooked sous vide for 24 hours @ 160F (71.1C), as described below. After cooking sous vide, while it's cooling in the fridge, weight it down with something heavy and flat, such as a sheet pan with heavy stuff on it. This compresses and flattens the belly, and makes it looker better and crisp up evenly. At service, score the fat side and crisp it up in a saute pan while weighted down, again, with something flat and heavy (I put a cast iron pan directly on top of the crisping pork belly, and then sometimes put something heavy in the cast iron pan). This weighting also keeps the belly from curling up and helps the fat to render. Once the belly was crisp, I poured the fat out of the pan and added the glaze. Just roll the belly around in the glaze to coat (or if the glaze is too watery to coat, let it cook down for a while in the pan with the pork belly--it won't hurt the pork belly). Transfer the belly to a cutting board and trim it on at least one side to expose the nice pink meat for presentation. That way, you also get to eat the scraps.

  In my attempts to find the best combination of temperature and time for sous vide pork belly, I have tried all the way from 36 hours @ 142F (61.1C) to 12 hours @ 182F (83.3C). I've settled for now on 24 hours @ 160F (71.1C) because I think it provides the right combination of tender moistness but still holds together like a single piece of meat. Pork belly, cooked at higher temperatures, tends to fall apart along the fat seams. On the other hand, at lower temperatures, the fat seems to stay more firm and doesn't render as much while cooking sous vide. This can lead to the finished product seeming very, well, fatty, because the fat seems to contain more of the liquid fat until you bite into it. At this middle temperature, the pork belly is perfectly tender, but can still be sliced, and the fat does not feel so fatty in the mouth. My pork belly brine recipe is as follows:

  Pork Belly Brine
  950g water
  50g kosher salt
  4g pink curing salt
  50g dark brown sugar
  1g bird's eye chilis (about 10 of the little guys)
  1g bay leaves (about 4 whole)
  .5g dried thyme leaves

  Heat all ingredients together until salt and sugar have dissolved completely, then let cool to refrigerator temperature. Submerse pork belly in brine (this amount of brine is appropriate for about a 6"x6" piece of belly) for at least 24 hours (the brine doesn't take quite this long to do its work, but the nitrates in the sel rose take time to do their work, giving the finished product a nice, pink color, instead of the grayish brown it would otherwise turn.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/06/10 @ 2:01 | Comments (3) | Baking, Meat, Sauces, Condiments, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

• Sablefish - A fatty, white-fleshed fish that is exceedingly flaky. Sauteed.
• Grapefruit - Segments of citrus for the acid and sweetness. I marinated them in beet juice, mostly because I wasn't happy with the color of the grapefruit. It turned out that the beet actually came through in the flavor (at least for me, because I knew it was there--otherwise I wouldn't have noticed--it was very subtle) and added an earthy deliciousness.
• Creme fraiche, whipped with minced chive (and salt, of course). My one-spoon quenelles are getting better. I somehow photographed the plate where they just looked okay.
• Fennel, caramelized very slowly with a bit of olive oil and some added sugar, then drained on paper towels, chopped, and plated using a ring mold.
• Olive Oil Cracker - I made them as described in the previous post, but I set up a sort of mold on my baking sheet to give them a rolling landscape kind of shape. I taped paper towel rolls to the baking sheet, several inches apart, pressed down on one of them to compress it halfway, then draped aluminum foil over the whole thing and taped it down as well. When I went to bake the olive oil crackers, I simply draped them over the shape I'd created, baked them otherwise normally, and let them cool slightly before removing them from the baking sheet.

For some reason, Jeanette and I have been loving chive and creme fraiche lately. It's a very common combination, but I'd never used it until I put it on scallop sashimi a couple months ago. It worked really well here with the fish, and really well with the grapefruit, and, more obviously, really well with the cracker. In fact, the leftover crackers were all quickly consumed the next day with the leftover chive-creme fraiche. The caramelized fennel was easy to overlook because the way I plated it (under the cracker) hid it. However, I think that the earthy sweetness of the fennel really brought the dish together, grounded it, and balanced the flavors.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/06/08 @ 23:48 | Comments (2) | Baking, Seafood, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

I had seen these on 101 Cookbooks a year or so ago, and had filed them away in my mind and my computer without ever even reading the recipe. Then I felt like baking something snacky yesterday. Somehow I ran across this recipe again. This time, I actually read through it. When I did, I realized that this is just baked pasta! It's eggless dough, and has more olive oil than would ordinarily be included in pasta, but the method is identical, even down to rolling out the pasta.

Salty crackers sounded pretty delicious to me, and I knew Jeanette would love them. She loves all salty snacks. So I set about making them. I used weight to measure the ingredients, as I nearly always do, because it is vastly more accurate than volume. Everyone should own a kitchen scale.

The crackers were very easy, and very familiar if you've ever made pasta, only these are far less temperamental. If ever there were a recipe on EatFoo that everyone ought to try, regardless of skill level, it's this. It doesn't require any special equipment or ingredients, it doesn't take too long, it's very forgiving, and it's delicious. I ended up making some of them into shapes to use in a dish that night (picture at right). I'll post that one later. For now, here's my recipe for these guys. You can actually flavor them with pretty much any dry spice or other dry ingredient, just by adding it along with the flours, or, alternately, by sprinkling it on just before baking.

Olive Oil Crackers

• 75g AP flour (1/2 cup plus 1 1/2 tsp, but you should really have a kitchen scale by now)
• 75g semolina flour (roughly 1/2 cup, but again, get a scale), can substitute another 75g AP flour if you can't find semolina
• 30g extra virgin olive oil (around 2 tbsp plus 1 tsp)
• 55g warm water (around 1/4 cup)
• 3g salt (a thimble full, or whatever ridiculous measure you insist on using instead of buying a scale)

Combine the ingredients using the standard pasta method (there are a million videos on YouTube for this--just search for homemade fresh pasta dough):

In a large mixing bowl, add all the dry ingredients and whisk them briefly to mix. Make a little fist-sized indentation in the center of the flours, and the water and the olive oil to that "well." With a fork, stir the wet ingredients in a circle, taking a bit of flour into the circle with each turn. Eventually, when the flours are all incorporated, begin kneading the dough in the bowl, adding a bit of flour as necessary to keep the dough from sticking. Eventually, when the dough has fully come together, transfer it to a lightly floured work surface (such as a clean kitchen counter) and continue kneading for ten minutes or so. Shape into a ball, cover with plastic wrap, and let it rest on the counter for half an hour.

Unwrap the ball of dough and cut it into four equal pieces (each will weigh around 65g). Return three pieces to the plastic wrap to keep them from drying out. Roll one piece out until is very thin, using a pasta rolling machine if you have one (I rolled it to setting 5 on my KitchenAid attachment). If you don't have a rolling machine, simply roll it out between two sheet of plastic wrap until it is very thin, around 1/16 of an inch. Cut the rolled out dough into any shapes you want and put them on a baking sheet that has been sprinkled with flour, preferably semolina. Pierce each piece every inch or so in order to keep it from puffing up. Sprinkle each piece with large-grained salt. I used Maldon sea salt. Then press gently to press the salt grains into the dough to ensure they stay on after baking.

Bake at 450F until golden. Don't bake until they're uniformly golden, or else they'll taste overly toasty. You want the edges to be quite golden, and the center to have hardened and perhaps darkened barely perceptibly. I determined that, in my oven, using the baking sheets I was using and the pieces sitting on a thin layer of semolina in the baking sheet, that it took 8-9 minutes to achieve the desired doneness. The crackers should be allowed to cool a bit before eating. It makes them crunchier.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/06/06 @ 5:23 | Comments (0) | Baking, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

I took Ryan Farr's whole-pig butchering class at La Cocina (because Ryan Farr is a minority woman?) a couple weeks ago, and it was awesome. The class was $70 (cheap compared to the competition), you get fed as part of the class (some delicious Mexican treats, and Ryan's chicharrones), and you get to take home some meat and bits. Nevertheless, since I got laid off last month from my day job (along with half the other lawyers in the country), I had to convince my sugar mama to let me go. It was definitely worth it.

I got there and signed in, finished off my cappucino from Haus (great new coffee shop on 24th Street with WiFi), put on an apron (provided) and took out my knives (they also provided knives, if you need them). A bunch of cutting boards were set all around a big stainless steel work surface. The pig was already out on the boards. I chose a place at a cutting board, and started chatting with the other people there.

When the class started, everyone introduced himself (and herself) while we all snapped cell phone pictures of Ryan hoisting the pig around. He explained that it was in the neighborhood of 85 pounds (a pretty small pig, as pigs go). It was about the size you'd want for whole-roasting--much smaller than the pigs that provide the meat you see in the grocery store.

The first thing we did was take off the head. Ryan asked if anyone had their heart set on taking it home. No one did, so he offered to roast it for us to eat later in the class. A couple women set about skinning it and taking off the jowels, and then Ryan put it in the oven (I think he said 375F, and it was in for a little over two hours). Then he showed us how to break the pig into the primal cuts, first by counting down the ribs and cutting, and then below the belly, cutting around the ball and socket joints of the hips.

Once we had the pig in several pieces, the people taking the class got to work breaking it down further. Ryan worked the room, walking around to each place and demonstrating what to do next. Then he moved on while someone else finished that task. It was easy to see everything being done while working on whatever hunk of pig you had in front of you. He was great about answering questions, and was just a really friendly guy the whole time. He didn't make anyone feel like an idiot when they asked dumb questions (and there were definitely some dumb questions), or when they screwed up some piece of meat (and there were a lot of ugly pieces that people turned out).

Also, the whole thing was peppered with general butchery tips and standard practices. For instance, he explained that when you are cutting a roast or rack into ribs or chops, you always cut with the knife tight against the right side of the bones (with the concave side of the bones toward you, if applicable). In other words, you push the knife left until you're up against the right side of the bone, then cut down through the roast. That way, all the chops are consistent, and if you get interrupted and have to come back, you never forget where you're at. He also showed us a great way to french racks that I'd never seen (and neither had some of the trained cooks in the class). It was vastly preferable to the scrape-the-bones-like-hell-until-they're-mostly-clean method that I previously understood to be the state of the art. It involved mostly finger work, rather than knife work, and it was much quicker and left the chops much cleaner than the method I've always seen.

As we finished various cuts, he'd show how to trim them up, tie them, or otherwise finish them, and then we'd toss them onto some sheet pans that were set out. We took off the skin and kept that separate, and kept one pan for scraps for stock.

By the end, the whole thing was broken down. Ryan and some of his helpers wrapped everything up in neat little packs while we ate some tasty Mexican food that was apparently from one of the other La Cocina businesses. The salsa rojo was amazing. We also ate chunks off the roasted whole pig's head. That was some tasty stuff, but it was in dire need of salt. However, it was a good thing it wasn't salted, since I ended up taking it home and mostly using it for stock.

Finally, we all gathered our spoils. Some of us wanted roasts rather than chops, and so we got certain packs. For the most part, though, we each just grabbed one of each type of pack: one pack containing some kind of chop and a couple pieces of leg or shoulder, one pack with pieces of belly, one pack of skin, one pack of scraps... two of us took home a pair of feet as well. Finally, Ryan asked if anyone wanted the remains of the head. There was still a bit of meat on it, and there was obviously a ton of cartilage and bone. All of it had some nice browning. No one else wanted it, so of course I took it home. I ended up picking off pieces of meat to munch on for the rest of the evening, and then made a ridiculous pork stock from the whole head (which I eventually used for many dishes, including this one of pork crepinettes, morels, peas, and carrots). I vacuum-sealed most of the other stuff I got and cooked the various parts sous vide for various times and temperatures in order to pasteurize. That way I could hold them in my fridge for up to a month or so. Now I've still got some nice pig dinners to go from this class.

Overall, the meat I took home was definitely not worth $70, but the experience was great, and I'd recommend it to any serious home cook or pro cook. My one complaint is that I would have preferred if we left some of the cuts more complete, instead of portioning them all out. The reason is that we were left taking home, for instance, one pork chop, one piece of this, one piece of that. I would have preferred the whole roasts (or roasts with a couple bones, or larger tied pieces), or at least a few of the same thing, even if it meant I got fewer different cuts. That would have been better for the later cooking. The way it was, we got to learn how to portion everything out, which is probably the right thing for the class, it's just not ideal for actually cooking what we bring home. Still, that's pretty minor. I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/06/06 @ 0:50 | Comments (0) | Meat

From the leftovers of this dish, I made this soup. I already had a nice, colorful, tasty spring pea puree that was strained through a chinois, making it velvety and luscious. I just added water to make it the consistency of a soup. I used the crunchy carrot "soil" as a garnish. It stayed crunchy/chewy even once the soup was poured in. I also added whole peas and chives, and a nice squirt of olive oil before the soup was poured into the bowl (which would have happened tableside in the the imaginary world where people actually accept my many invitations to come over and eat). The olive oil really brought all the flavors together and made this absolutely delicious and satisfying.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/05/28 @ 2:24 | Comments (8) | Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

This was really delicious. Nice contrasts of flavor and texture. I highy recommend all things from Fatted Calf.

• Pork crepinettes from Fatted Calf - Basically, these are delicious sausage patties, studded with chunks of morel mushroom, wrapped in caul fat.
• Spring pea puree - Spring peas, shelled, blanched, shocked, pureed with water, nothing added but salt, passed through a chinois.
• Glazed baby carrots - Blanched (it only took six minutes for these tiny carrots--bigger carrots generally take more like 8 to 10 minutes, but the only way to tell is to feel and taste), then shocked, then the skins rub right off. Then glazed in a pan with butter and agave nectar for service.
• Carrot "soil" - A crunchy, chewy, caramelized, savory element to offset some of the sweeter flavors, and to contrast the luscious texture of the pea puree (and the crepinette, for that matter). Some black garlic powder included in the recipe helped boost the umami and the deep flavors. Recipe here.
• Chives and chive flowers
• Morels - cleaned half-assedly, cut in half, sauteed in butter until softened.
• Pork jus - Ridiculously rich pork stock made from whole roasted pig's head I took home from a Ryan Farr whole-pig butchering demo, reduced but not mounted with anything.

The leftovers later became this soup.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/05/28 @ 2:21 | Comments (1) | Meat, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

These so-called "soil" elements (or crumbles, or whatever you want to call them) are all variations on a similar formula. You're basically baking a crispy cookie, then crumbling it up somehow. I've previously posted a coffee-cocoa soil that was for use in desserts. In this case, I wanted one for a savory application.

Carrots were already one element of the dish, and I'd seen them done with other root vegetables (notably, beets), so I figured it ought to work. I played with some other recipes I had on hand, and came up with the following:

• 100g carrot, peeled and cut
• 70g unsalted butter
• 50g AP flour
• 40g dark brown sugar
• 30g egg white (the white of one large egg)
• 2g salt
• 5g black garlic powder, just to boost the savoriness.

I processed all those ingredients in a food processor until it was a relatively smooth batter, then I spread it out on a silpat and baked it at 400F. I decided to let it caramelize and get hard and crispy, since those deep, almost-burned flavors would be a good counterpoint to the sweetness of the other elements in the dish. The picture to the right shows the point at which I took it out (and yes, I intentionally cooked it to that point). Then I let it cool, and finally ground it up a bit in the mini-chopper bowl of a food processor, letting it stay crumbly, as opposed to powdered.

For purposes of modifying this recipe, I should note that the starch content of the carrots is high, otherwise I would have used more flour. However, if I were to make this again, I would definitely use less better. I would probably cut the butter in half. Even so, it turned out savory and delicious, and functioned very well in the dish. I ended up using it in another dish (leftovers) as well.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/05/28 @ 2:15 | Comments (0) | Baking, Veggies, Fruit, Grain, Cheese

While in Beijing, we managed to hit up a few of the widely-agreed-upon culinary highlights, while missing out on some others. Da Dong was rated the best restaurant in Beijing last year according to some organization, and The Gourmet Pig seemed to like it quite a bit, so it was at the top of my list. Luckily, my best friend from college, Chris, who has lived in China now for three years and hosted us in Beijing, agreed, and had it on the itinerary for our very first night.

We got in a cab and my friend told the driver to take us to Da Dong. We had forgotten that there are now several Da Dong locations around Beijing. This is quite common with even the very fancy restaurants in Beijing. The location to which our cab driver drove us was apparently the original location, next to a hospital of traditional Chinese medicine. When we arrived, my friend was disappointed, and kept apologizing, explaining that the newer locations are much nicer and more hip. This place was decorated kind of like a random Chinese restaurant might be in the states, if it occupied multiple floors of a massive building, sat maybe 600 people at once, and had been open for a long time. But we met Chris's boyfriend outside and went in.

The hostess told us we'd have to wait twenty minutes, despite our reservation, but the actual wait was closer to 10. Plus, we were given our choice of several complimentary boxed wines while we waited (imported all the way from California!), which were not great, but were much better than any boxed wine I've tried in the states. Bonus. When we went inside, we were initially going to be seated at a random booth in the center of a side room--perfectly adequate by my standards, but apparently seating location is a big deal in other cities? After some banter back and forth between my friends and the hostess, we were led instead to a private dining room, given gigantic pictographic menus, and we were on our way.

The restaurant is known to Westerners for its roast duck, but its specialty, advertised prominently and merchandised to hell, is its braised sea cucumber. We ended up trying both, as well as some other items.

The roast duck? Meh. Before the duck came out, we were presented with trays with various accoutrements: radish, cucumber, hoisin, scallion, sugar, garlic, with all the veg expertly julienned. Then the duck was brought out, smelled good, and looked great. A man in a dust mask carved it with amazing precision, laying out the meat then topping it with rectangles of the crisp duck skin. We were given the choice to eat the duck in either little flour tortilla-like things, or steamed buns. I tried both. In both cases, I found them far too doughy, as if undercooked (and yes, I know the usual texture of steamed buns, but this was more flour-y). The effect of these duck transport methods was to dull the flavors of the duck. I skipped them for the rest of the duck and simply ate the duck with chopsticks, building accoutrements directly on it. However, even without the buns or tortilla things, it was still all about texture. The duck skin was perfectly crisp. Otherwise, the whole thing was unremarkable. The duck (skin included) was not much better than can be had at several Chinatown places in SF, or for that matter, at Yank Sing. I guess it's just not my thing, and perhaps I lack the experience to discern what amazing roast duck this supposedly was. That said, it was also a hell of a lot cheaper than what you'd get here. A whole roast duck was only about US$25.

The braised sea cucumber? Amazing. I made sure we ordered this, even though it sounded gross to everyone I was dining with. But I reassured them by reminding them that, should it make them sick, a hospital of traditional Chinese medicine is conveniently located right next door. Duly reassured, everyone tried it, and everyone loved it. It was really quite remarkable. Not only was it the best thing I ate in China, but it was one of the best things I've ever eaten. The texture was slippery and gelatinous but firm, kind of like a hollow cylinder made of braised pig's ear but somehow less offensive to unadventurous eaters. The flavor was actually quite beefy, like an oxtail braise without tomato, only tasting of the sea, and kinda sweet. It was deeply satisfying, familiar but unique. If you have the opportunity, you should definitely try this dish.

The other stuff we had was all pretty tasty. We got a braised halibut dish which was swimming in oil and topped with about 2 entire heads of minced garlic. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it. There was a cabbage dish, with two different kinds of cabbage, rolled up and slow-cooked with various flavors. There was a dish with squat little discs of custard, and a spiced-meat filling. Someone also ordered the ubiquitous Gong Bao Ji Ding (Kung Pao chicken). And we were given some decoratively carved fruit for dessert. Had I done the ordering, we'd have gotten about nine other things and spent way more than we needed to. But everything we got was good.

Prices on wine were extremely high, the beer selection was cheap and very limited (I think they had one thing other than Tsingtao), and when one in our party tried to get a gin and tonic, hilarity ensued. First, there was a back and forth between our hosts (both of whom speak fairly good Mandarin) and three different waiters that closely resembled an Abbot and Costello sketch. Finally, after we thought all was resolved, they brought an entire bottle of gin. Then another Abbot and Costello sketch played, and all seemed resolved again. The bottle was withdrawn, and out came a glass: straight gin. We laughed and laughed, which puzzled the waiters. Finally, after another round of explaining, a bottle of tonic water appeared. Then, later, a plate containing about three entire lemons sliced into wedges, for garnish. Someone started to explain the difference between lemon and lime, but someone else wisely cut them off and advised the individual in question to settle for what they had. Our first night in China was the last time we attempted to order a mixed drink from a restaurant.

Overall, Da Dong was a great meal. There was a lot of technique, experience, and craftsmanship in the food. The atmosphere was terrible, but the service was great. If you go, don't miss the braised sea cucumber.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/05/24 @ 23:08 | Comments (3) | Restaurants

I got these pipettes a while ago intending to use them for presentations where someone can sauce their own plate. You might have seen such presentations around, they're pretty common. I have yet to serve anything with them, but they have nevertheless become indispensable.

They're perfect for using very small quantities of liquids in a preparation or presentation. If you want only a few drops of some liquid, or only a couple grams, these are great. For instance, I used them for saucing the scallops I recently posted about.

Unlike, say, an eyedropper, you don't have to clean these out after using them for some weird gel or tough to clean ingredient. They're disposable, and super cheap, so you just throw them away. You can trim the stem end to make it shorter or longer if you want to. I highly recommend them. The ones I got were 114mm x 3mm.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/04/30 @ 23:59 | Comments (5) | Equipment

Awesome seasoning. Aged black garlic, sliced, dehydrated, ground in a spice grinder.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/04/30 @ 23:51 | Comments (2) | Sauces, Condiments

I leave tomorrow for Beijing. I'll be there for a week!

Jeanette had to go for two days for work, and I suggested that she extend her trip by a day or two to see the city and to hang out with my best friend from college, who has lived in China for three years. She said, "No, it would be weird. I've never even met him. It would be different if you were there." So I said, "Hmmm... why can't I be there?" We looked up flights, and found a roundtrip direct SFO->Beijing for $800! So she extended her stay, and I managed to extract myself from various work projects for that week.

Because my friend has lived in China for three years, language barriers may be less of a problem than they otherwise would be. We're all up for anything, food-wise and I'd love to try crazy stuff not available in the U.S. What unique culinary experiences can we have?

Also, from all my research, many sources I've consulted it seemsed that there is basically no haute cuisine in Beijing. Can anyone state otherwise? But others have said differently. The best restaurants appear to be places like Da Dong, or Made In China, which I'm sure are delicious, but seem basically like the equivalent of Bobby Flay or Wolfgang Puck's nth restaurant in America.

Anyway, I'm very, very excited.

Posted by Barzelay on 2009/04/19 @ 23:50 | Comments (10) | Food Politics and Culture