Dave the Cook

When did we decide that soap couldn't smell like soap and instead had to smell like lemons, oranges or cherry blossoms? What's up with furniture polish (I know, Lemon Pledge has been around for a while, but still)? Who said it was okay to fill my (or anyone's) car with the scent of a fresh-cut Granny Smith? For a while there, I couldn't face a fresh lemon -- all it brought to mind was dishwashing detergent. These days, thanks to an immersion program comprising gin, Maraschino liqueur and lemon juice, in conjunction with a thorough sequestration of cleaning supplies, I'm on my way to recovery. But I'm very careful about what comes into the house now -- things need to smell like what they are, and not like fruit salad or a central Flroida orchard. Unless, of course, they are fruit salad or citrus. No one should have to face this olfactory tyranny. Ammonia is strong and sharp, and swears that things have been scoured. Bleach tweaks the nose with the hopeful sanitation of hospitals, and memories that recall the nurseries of the (thankfully) obsessive and compulsive. These are the smells of clean. You can't steal my food to appease your noses. If, one day, I pass a shelf bearing "SOS Pads with New Pan-Roasted Ribeye Scent," I'm hunting you down. And you'll know what scouring means.

This is what I do -- or try to do -- as victims of a number of my previous posts will attest. But thanks! I'm lost. Are you saying the difference between the whole pink salt number and the pink salt minus regular salt number is inconsequential? If so, I agree. It's pretty much within the margin of error. I was just being faithful to my source! The pink salt that has all of us statesiders excited is this. It's uniodized sodium chloride mixed with sodium nitrite, along with a couple of other things that keep it well-mixed and -- not to be dismissed -- identify it as something other than regular salt (that's why it's pink). I suspect that what you're seeing from India and elsewhere (Hawaii, for instance) is not this but "sea" salt that's been colored by small amounts of minerals that survive the evaporative process and get swept up in the cultivation. I agree with you about the color -- what's the point? But there are two other issues that nitrite/nitrate addresses: preservation and taste. On the first count: if you're smoking uncooked pork (or any protein) for long periods of time, you're subjecting it to the 40 F to 140 F danger zone, where bacteria thrive. Nitrites are effective at preventing the growth of botulinum bacteria (among other lesser nasties). Since, if I recall correctly, you're not smoking but rather roasting your bacon, this isn't a significant issue. But the taste might be. Certainly Americans, anyway, associate the tang of nitrite (whether they know it or not) with "cured meat." Leave it out, and you're missing something, I think.

I admit to lingering doubts about the value of a second, dry cure, but I'm willing to wait for Chris's no-doubt tasty results. However, I believe in the brine. It yields more uniform flavor than the rub recommended in the Polcyn-Ruhlman book. For guidance, I consulted Paul Bertolli's excellent Cooking by Hand, where he uses some fairly precise calculations (and some elaborate justifications, most of which I find convincing) to arrive at a brine recipe. Since I was going to go through it for the belly I scored last night, I figured I might as well show my work. (I should add that Bertolli doesn't specifically recommend brining as a step in making American-style bacon. In fact, the only bacon recipe in the book is for tesa, flat version of pancetta, and it's dry-cured.) Bertolli starts with the assumption that meat is 60 to 70% water, noting that the brine can actually be diluted by the water in the meat. To prevent bacterial growth, he recommends a brine strength of three to five percent, and opts for the lower amount, since he prefers more lightly salted meats. Sugar is added to balance the salt. (Bertolli uses two percent.) On top of this, he calculates nitrite strength using the federal guideline of 200 ppm for immersion-cured meats, and helpfully reminds you that this concentration must be figured for the entire contents of the vessel: meat and brine. All of this sounds horribly complicated at first, but it breaks down into a series of arithmetical steps, none of which is difficult. To see a real-world example, read on. 1. Weigh the meat. The belly I've got is 11.7 pounds. 2. Figure out how much brine you're going to need to cover it. I guess there are a couple of ways to do this, but the easiest is to put the meat in the container you'll be using, fill the container with water, take out the meat, and measure. I just did this, and found that two gallons would work (barely). 3. Calculate the water weights. Using 65% as the water component of the meat, that's 7.61 pounds. Water itself is 8.33 pounds per gallon, so that's 16.66 pounds. Total water weight: 24.27 pounds. 4. Calculate the salt content. For a 3% brine: 24.27 x 0.03 = 0.728 pounds 5. Calculate the sugar content. For 2%: 24.27 x 0.02 = 0.485 pounds 6. Calculate the nitrite. Here's where it gets a little tricky, mainly because pink salt isn't entirely nitrite (it's usually 6.25%; check your package), and because of that, we're dealing with pretty small amounts. a. Add up the weight of everything -- water, meat, salt and sugar: 24.27 + 0.728 + 0.485 = 25.483. b. Remembering the 200 ppm guideline, multiply your total weight by 200, and divide that sum by 1,000,000. So: 200 x 25.843 = 5096.60. 5096.60/1,000,000 = 0.0050966. That's how much nitrite, in pounds, we need. But -- c. Remember, pink salt is only 6.25% nitrite. So divide 0.0050966 by 0.0625. That comes to lessee . . . 0.08155 pounds of pink salt. But -- d. Yikes. Really teeny number. So we convert to grams. 454 grams to the pound: 0.08155 x 455 = 37 grams, more or less. 7. For the sake of convenience, convert your other additions to grams: 0.728 x 454 = 330 g salt; 0.485 x 454 = 220 g sugar. 8. This is where Bertolli gets really picky, but in for a penny -- in for a pound. He calculates the regular salt in the pink component and subtracts it from the total salt. Since pink salt is 93.75% plain salt (100 - 6.25), multiply 0.9375 x 37 = 35 g (rounded). Okay, that's more than an ounce -- more than 10% of the salt component -- not so picky after all. Subtract that from your salt addition, and you get (330 - 35 =) 295 grams. 9. Now you can assemble your recipe: 2 gallons water 295 g salt 220 g sugar 37 g pink salt 10. Add to this whatever other seasonings you wish; these are the essential components. And of course, you can vary the concentrations of salt and sugar just by using different percentages in the calculations. I'm not suggesting that everyone convert to this method. It's tedious, and I'm not sure it's a responsible for improvement in my bacon so much as the simple switch from a straight dry cure to brining. What it does do is ensure a proper concentration of nitrite, as well as allow you to replicate (or modify) a brine precisely, even if you have different cuts of meat and different quantities of brine.

Having just had to toss out a pound of precious home-made bacon, I've decided I need one of these. Any new information or insights before I go shopping? I'm particularly interested in the cost of comsumables, as well as how people are deploying their devices. Do they live on the counter? In a cabinet?

Here's the link takomabaker was pointing out: Low acid foods, step by step.

As Susan points out, the serve-the-second-day strategy opens the door to a number of refinements -- the new vegetables can be shaped in more sophisticated ways, they can be caramelized or even served crispy; the liquid can be rebalanced (a little acid -- sherry vinegar is great for this -- can really brighten up a braise) and adjusted for thickness and viscosity. Because you've separated the meat, all of this can be accomplished without overcooking. (A variation on straining the vegetables and seasongs is to use a cheesecloth bag to contain it all. Just remove it after the initial braise.)

In addition to focusing on larcenous fringe benefits of grocery bags, maybe it's worth expanding a bit to discuss other aspects of this most basic container. A few things come to mind: Several learned institutions (the University of Kentucky, the University of Florida, Penn State) identify the paper grocery bag as a significant vector in home cockroach infestation. Plastic bags possess what I would call apparent abundance. They're lightweight, they come by the millions on a roll that's easily replaced; compare this with the drudgery of hauling a bale of heavy, dusty (need I add, cockroach-infested) paper bags, and maybe you'll see what I'm describing. This has led to astonishing profligacy with respect to their dispensation. This doesn't just come in the form of new rules for how bags get filled (poultry, leaky and presumably salmonella-laden, is now sequestered in its own filmy quarantine; gallon jugs of milk, detergent containers and eight-pound bags of dog food, all easily manipulated on their own, get bagged), it results in me somehow leaving the store with six items packed in nine bags. The craft of packing has all but disappeared. I lament this not just as a former bag boy and someone who appreciates craft in an absolute way, but as a consumer. There's a reason to pack things so that weight is well-distributed, so like items go with like items, and so that bags can stand up on their own: it makes the rest of the grocery-shopping experience (getting the bags into the vehicle; arriving home without the contents being redistibuted across an expanse of cargo area; getting them into the kitchen and onto the counter without spillage; and being able to put things away in an orderly manner) not just easier, but nearly pleasurable, in the way that any well-executed plan can be. Grocery stores have let down their end, and I feel betrayed. What are your grocery-bag issues? Paper or plastic, and why? String bags (how do you handle a week's worth of supplies)? Do you pack you own with pride (I'm secretly thrilled at the absence of a bagger when it's my turn to check out)? Are you running off to set roach traps before posting?

The Reuters piece doesn't do a good job of explaining what's actually going on. A NY Times article from 20 April (now behind the paywall) takes it a step further: Deeper, a secondary impetus is described: We don't buy much milk -- about a half-gallon a week -- but there's no doubt in my mind that there are repercussions beyond just the supply of organic milk. A few weeks ago, for example, the Publix chain announced that henceforth, all of its milk would be free of rbST. Of course, relevant to Fat Guy's point that the health and flavor claims are sketchy at best, the Publix news release ends with the statement, "The FDA has stated that no significant difference has been shown between milk derived from rbST-treated and non-rbST-treated cows."

I'm in woodburner's camp -- I would add unlit charcoal. Adding coals that are already smoldering will cause a temperature spike. Conversely, I wouldn't worry about a drop in temperature. It's not like you're adding a pound of frozen peas to the fire. Just opening the lid will cause more of a dip than the slight bit of energy expended to ignite the new fuel, and it will all stay inside the dome, anyway. As for acrid smoke, I don't believe that's a concern unless you're using one of the quick-light briquette brands (and I think we're all hoping you're not).

Not to be ebullient over such a sobering issue, but our own Shaun Chavis gave early warning on this issue way back in January. Shaun's piece in the Daily Gullet is well worth reading -- or reading again.

The chipper that Pam linked to is how I learned, but I have a suggestion: 1) Wrap the block in a layer of parchment, then seal it in two freezer bags. 2) Lay the carefully wrapped block crosswise on a 2x4. 3) Drive a mini-van over the block. 4) Back up, returning the mini-van to its starting position. 5) Remove from packaging. Enjoy.

Great attribute for a destination restaurant! ← . . . . So the restaurants enjoy a certain amount of "drive by" custom. And well-heeled custom at that, as this sort of airport serves charters and private owners. The restaurant's located in the metro Atlanta area, in Kennesaw, so not an unreasonable drive for those of us who live way, way in town. And it would be even faster by helicopter. ← Good call, therese. There actually is talk of a midtown helicopter shuttle! Start saving up -- the fare is likely to be about $250, round-trip (no in-flight meal). Yes, this will be the only restaurant at McCollum Field, unless you count the vending machines in the Northside Aviation building, which seem to be empty a great deal of the time. As a result, part of the restaurant's business plan includes packaging in-flight meals for general aviation customers (the industry term for charter and private flying). From what I've been able to glean, this is a desperately underserved market, at least at this airport. But that brings up the whole set of economics that drive general aviation. As therese has alluded, this is an economic and culinary sector that flies (sorry) under the radar. I'll be happy to expound more, if anyone is interested. Blais and his investors seem to be interested in more than just the traffic that plane owners can provide, though. They're trying to create a destination restaurant (thanks, Doc!) in the thriving area that surrounds the place. It's a high-income region that -- right now -- is served mostly by chain dining options, though nearby Marietta offers some interesting fare. And as we've seen, suburbanites will drive into town for great food. The question is, will city-dwellers do the opposite?

A bit more on Blais's current project: At the moment, it's just a box, empty except for the hoods, which were installed before he signed on (the ductwork went in last week). This is the view from the eventual greeting stand, looking back toward the kitchen, which will be open: That's intern Jeff Sigler standing off to the left, about where the aforementioned eating bar will be. When I say open, I mean open -- the pass will be halfway between Jeff and the hood. Here's the view from the eating bar. The runway is about 50 yards in the distance (those with really sharp eyes will recognize Creflo A. Dollar's Gulfstream in the hangar on the other side of the field). The guy kneeling in the foreground is welding the risers for the interior staircase. Back corner opposite the entry, to give you an idea of the space. From here, you can see that the restaurant is two stories with an atrium that will open over the downstairs cocktail bar. The upstairs will have its own bar, and will be available for events: And for those of you who've never seen one, here's a casket for a Transformer -- I mean, a virgin grease trap: I picked up a couple of other interesting tidbits. The kitchen will be all-electric. This is due to some airport/electric company arithmetic that I'm still trying to decipher, coupled with an inability to bring in a natural gas line, which would have meant an ugly and energy-deficient propane tank. The bottom line is that going electric saves tens of thousands of dollars in up-front costs. A probable menu item, the restaurant's signature burger: eight ounces of freshly-ground 75/25 beef, seasoned and slow-cooked for a few hours, then finished on a sizzle plate or in a small pan over a wood fire. It will be served on a soft bun (think steamed Chinese-style) with homemade pickles (including plenty of fresh onion in the mix), mayonnaise made with rendered chorizo oil, and hand-cut fries tossed in chopped dill. To go with it: a seasonal milkshake (peach-white truffle malt was mentioned) flash blended with liquid nitrogen.

Lipper makes Martha Stewart's cast-iron cookware, which is carried in-store and on-line by Kmart.

That Red and Red is brilliant, John. I don't have Red Hook, so I used Michter's Single Barrel, and added a barspoon of coffee-infused Carpano Antica for extra punch and balance. Cheers!

Bryan's right about Chef Blais. There's a recent article in the Atlanta paper (here, free registration required) that gives a few details. And if you can make your way through Steven's recount of a very long day, you'll be rewarded with a report from what he calls Ferran Adria's bar mitzvah, where Blais set up temporary shop, producing a number of LN2 dishes.

I imagine a lot of bacon, ham and sausage goes out on those breakfast biscuits and Croissan'wiches, not to mention the Enormous Omelet Sandwich.

It's no less horrid for you than Blais/Bazaar/O.MK were for us OTPers -- nevertheless we comprise a significant portion of One's clientele. Of course, you can get a good artisanal cheese course at Aqua Terra in Buford; in Norcross, Grace 17.20 is totally committed to local sourcing and seasonality; 5 Seasons North (Alpharetta) is a hybrid of brewpub and organic restaurant that's a little startling outside of Virginia Highlands or Little Five Points. So why not a subversively molecular bistro in Kennesaw? To answer Voodoo's questions (I can't speak for the Chef, though obviously I've spoken to him): yes, Blais will be cooking at Elevation, at least when it opens. But let's not forget that he subscribes to the executive model: a good head chef installs systems and trains people to ensure consistency and quality regardless of who's tending the stove -- or the LN2 tank. I don't think you'll see a reprise of the One tasting menu scenario. What seems more likely is a menu of small dishes at a dining bar, available to all comers. Presumably the menu would change with availability and seasonality of ingredients, not to mention whim and invention.

Chef Blais is working on Elevation, a new restaurant adjacent to McCollum Field in Kennesaw, scheduled to open in June or July. Expect an open kitchen with a seasoned crew and a bistro-oriented menu designed by Blais from the ground up, incorporating his characteristic style: expert execution, technology in the service of flavor, and always some wit.

I tried a salted Aviation: 2 oz. gin 1/2 oz. lemon juice 1/2 oz. maraschino pinch (maybe 15 grains) Diamond Crystal kosher salt It seemed slightly sweeter than usual, and a bit less complex. Of course, that could have been due to any number of variables, but I'm a pretty careful measurer, for what that's worth, and I did this as the first cocktail of the day.

I think Janet's right about salt and bitter, but I'm not sure that's what's going on in Chris's drink (though I'm sure he'll be quick to correct me if I'm wrong). It seems to me that a few flakes of fleur de sel in a cocktail are doing what salt is usually supposed to do: heighten flavors. If that's the case, maybe we have two classes of salted cocktails: those that are frankly salty (I think salted rims go here, as well as drinks like the Dirty Martini), and those where salt plays an important role, but doesn't put salt directly in flavor profile -- much like the salt that's added to chocolate to make it taste more, um, like chocolate.

A couple of questions for the group: - Is Sam correct that the V-edge is most common for western knives? I thought that the double bevel was used more often, since though it's less sharp than the V, it maintains a given level of sharpness longer. - Can someone explain why ridged steels are deleterious to the knife? And if they are, why do Henckels and Wusthof, among many others, include them in their sets?

Could someone explain to an innocent bystander what a candy pad is?

In fact-checking and researching for the illustration, I came across this summary, from the USDA: But I also found mentions of loquat production in agricultural extension bulletins as far north as West Lafayette, Indiana (aka, in this context, Purdue University).

It's this recipe, adapted for a smaller amount of vegetable, and substituting shallots for the onion. I cut the cooking time a bit, too, lest I end up with objectionably wimpy spears.