Dave the Cook

We’re pleased and excited to announce a new eG Feature: the Klatsch. The eGullet Society and eG Forums thrive because we converse, chat and connect about food and drink, cooking and eating. We want a conversation with our writers, and the Society as one: engaging the writer and engaging in the topic with other members. We're seeking members with something new or exciting to discuss in their culinary lives: Something as huge as starting a new restaurant, or as "simple" as cooking a big meal for a few friends. A culinary student or professional cook doing a stage. Remodeling a kitchen or a wet bar. Going on the attack against an invasion of pantry moths. A culinary tour to a new destination. Designing the winter menu for a restaurant or bar. These are just a few of the possibilities. Klatsch is open not just to folks cooking a week's worth of meals, but to anyone with an interesting culinary adventure, a unique viewpoint and the desire to lead a vibrant discussion. At its heart, a Klatsch is about conversation—something beyond answering questions about your daily culinary routine. What are you doing or where are you going that will make for a good dialog with other Society members? A Klatsch is not required to last a full week: three days of detailed and interesting discussion is certainly welcome, as is, say, ten. To volunteer, start by re-reading the explanation and guidelines above. Then, shoot an email to klatsch@eGstaff.org, and a member of the Klatsch team will be in touch to discuss your proposal. Please feel free to ask any questions here.

What is "Arkansas bacon"?

Patty melts!

It makes perfect sense; I just never thought about it. The fact is that I can't remember the last time I froze a whole chicken, but pre-spatchcocking is a great idea.

Like most frozen vegetables, they've been blanched, which is to say "partially cooked." Then they're individually quick-frozen, so they do retain most of their structure. As for why (and this, I suspect, is why they're a seasonal item in some areas): many's the Thanksgiving table that would be incomplete without creamed onions. The pre-peeling represents a significant savings in time, and the soft texture of frozen onions is not much of an issue. Having said that, this year we used larger fresh boiling onions (ping-pong ball sized), and cooked them a bit before adding the sauce and topping. I have to say that they were better than past versions using frozen pearls, and little extra trouble. Oh, and I agree with jayhay -- they're nice as a late addition to soups and stews. Just don't try them in a traditional coq au vin.

I did not know this. Thanks.

If it was well-wrapped, four months isn't a problem. Since you say there's no evidence of freezer burn, you're good to go. Just thaw it as slowly as possible (usually, that means the bottom shelf of the fridge) to minimize juice loss.

Further to Janet's experience, in Atlanta they seem to be a seasonal thing -- they show up in mid-November; by the end of January, they're gone.

To answer your main question, a pan constructed with recent PTFE (Teflon) formulation and application techniques -- pretty much anything made by a reputable manufacturer in the last five or six years -- is oven-safe to at least 450F. The coating itself is good for higher temperatures, but it's best not to push it. Caramelization is simply a matter of temperature, isn't it? If that's correct, then you shouldn't have a problem. From what I know about carbon steel pans (which isn't much), I think they would work, too.

An excerpt from this excellent book appears today in the Daily Gullet.

I notice that all of these are "double beveled." Two questions: 1) Does that mean beveled on both sides of the blade, or does it indicate a back bevel supporting a primary bevel, but on only one side of the blade? 2) If the former, what's the performance going to be like compared to the Shun, which has a beveled edge on one side, with a hollow-ground back?

I don't disagree with Hazan's contention that the term chef is often misapplied, and I won't quibble with her definition ("a chef is someone who cooks professionally, usually in command of a restaurant’s kitchen brigade"), though it's a bit restrictive. I will, however, argue that Hazan is just using this linguistic slackery as a way to complain about something else: that people eat out too much, and when they do, they don't do it right, and they often do it for the wrong reasons. Along the way, she makes assertions that are at the least, arguable, if not outright wrong: If Marcella's standard for restaurant fare is home cooking, that's her choice. That doesn't make the only correct choice. More often than not, I go to restaurants to find something that I can't or won't make at home, whether it's a matter of technique or ingredient. She digs an artificial divide between a chef who works at "entertainment, spectacle, news, fashion, science" and the "old world of Mediterranean . . . cooking." Of course there's a difference, but to put it in Manichean terms insults all those working in the continuum that links the two poles. Besides, what's wrong with a surprise -- even if it's nothing more that a perfect hamburger? Hazan says "A caring family cook is just as capable as a skilled chef at turning that first bite into a blissful moment." Really? All you need is love? "A restaurant will never strengthen familial bonds." I can't count the number of examples from my own life that say otherwise, starting with the diner lunches my brothers and I enjoyed with our mother while waiting two weeks for our misplaced furniture to arrive after a cross-country move; to a birthday dinner with a menu designed just for me; and ending with the meals I share with my children, who live an hour or more away. Finally, to back up a bit, I'll pick my own battle with loose language: "gourmet cook" is at least as misused as "chef," and Hazan is guilty; how does she know that her hairdresser's husband is any good? It reminds me of a passage in one of Robert B. Parker's Spenser novels. When the titular detective is referred to as a "gourmet cook," he points out that "When a man takes an interest in preparing food well, he's called a 'gourmet cook.' When a woman does it, we call her a 'housewife.'" Like Hazan, I wish people would be more heedful of what they eat, where it comes from and how it's prepared. It's unfortunate that she derides so many who do pay attention on her way to making that point.

Unless you brine a lot, you'll get more predictable results by using a consistent formula (weigh it -- 70 g salt per quart -- and you won't have to worry about what kind of salt you're using) and varying the brine time according to target shape, size and density.

= Old Fourth Ward

A couple of definitions might help: in the McGee passage, what exactly do "surface" and "wet" mean?

On page 78 of Polcyn and Ruhlman's Chacuterie, in a short section entitled "The All-Important Pellicle," the authors say: In the more clinical Professional Charcuterie, John Kinsella and David T. Harvey aver (pp 57-58): Unless I've been in a terrible hurry, I've adhered devoutly to this advice, never mind the ambiguity that the two passages introduce: what's the difference between "pick up smoke . . . effectively" and "proper smoke finish"? It didn't matter: both sounded like good things. However. The other day, I was leafing through the second edition of McGee's On Food and Cooking. (Yes, I am underemployed.) On page 176, I came across this: So now I'm confused. Besides tradition, what's the basis for encouraging the pellicle? Is there proof that it indeed has the intended effect(s)? Has anyone done side-by-side comparisons?

I haven't been to JCT, but's gotten good press and it's on my list. I love Scott Peacock's books and respect his accomplishments, but I find Watershed underwhelming. In fairness, I should say that that's a minority opinion.

Aren't wet scallops required by law to be labeled as such?

I was trying to combine the flavor of smoked brisket with the lushness of a braise. I trimmed a think slice when I divided the meat. It wasn't quite as smoky as I wanted, but it was tasty, if by tasty you mean chilly, raw, smoked beef. Worth a try. I'm familiar with the foil method, though photos would be helpful.

Worth a shot, I thought, and a fitting maiden braise for the latest addition to the batterie: I've got my own version of the Blais glaze, so it seemed like all I needed to do was assemble the ingredients and just not reduce them. Here they are: By proportion: 14 oz Malta Goya 1/4 C soy sauce 1/4 strong coffee (for this, I used 1 T crushed beans) 4 cloves garlic, smashed 1 T ground ancho (4 whole dried chiles, toasted and torn up) 1 small onion, sliced (I don't know why I added this; it's not in the glaze.) 0 cumin (also not in the recipe; what was I thinking) The brisket went eight hours over cold hickory smoke. Then I divided it in two and stashed half in the freezer. I gave the other half a hard sear without additional fat. By searing fat-side down, I got enough fat for the onions to brown. I dumped everything else in (adding a cup or so of water to bring the liquid level up), added the meat back, and put it in a 275 oven. At two hours, it was still pretty stiff, so I gave it another half hour, which seemed to make no difference at all. At three hours I figured it had to come out, done or not. I can't remember the last time I turned out a piece of beef this dry and flavorless. Most of the smoke transferred to the liquid -- it was great after a slight reduction, and together, the components were palatable (barely). At least I have the reserved piece. Perhaps I can redeem myself.

Um. It works just fine.

Where are you staying? Or does transportation not concern you?

I've got lots of hickory, cherry and apple. I'm open to suggestions.

I picked up a five-pound flat at Costco the other day ($3.49/lb). I'm thinking of a six- or eight-hour cold smoke to start, followed by a braise. Any ideas for the liquid and seasoning components? I've got a bunch of cheap beer I'd be happy to use, but I'm also thinking that the Chris A-Mia's recipe might be effective, too.

I think there's a very good reason to add salt. Way back when, I did a little experiment: That's 1/4 teaspoon per finished quart, so Steven's seven-quart batch would benefit from just less than two teaspoons of salt without adversely affecting the ability to reduce for concentrated flavor, until you get down to a glaze consistency.