Dave the Cook

Truly massive Dutch ovens present their own problems, not the least of which is burner space. I've used the broiler method, most significantly when making cassoulet for about 30 people. I don't remember how many lamb shanks it called for, but browning them off on the stove would have taken forever. I'm not convinced that the lack of fond doesn't make a subtle difference in the finished dish, though. It wouldn't matter so much in cassoulet, where there's so much other stuff going on, but I'm not so sure a relatively simple pot roast. I'm on record elsewhere as being in favor of the baking-dish braise, the oven bag and the ad hoc foil-pouch braise. But all of these techniques have their advantages and drawbacks. Of special concern is the level of liquid, and the ability to turn. Otherwise, what's the difference between a braise and boiled beef?

(The less said about eye round roast the better.) I'm having trouble visualizing how you're going to sear a flat roast, or even a decently-sized chuck eye in that All-Clad. There's just not enough flat surface. That means you need a back-up for it, too -- a good-sized saute pan in which to do your browning. You do have one of those, don't you Marlene?

The seven-bone roast, which many consider to be the best cut for pot roast, is rarely more than two-inches thick. A three-inch seven-bone would be in the range of five-to-six pounds. This is a piece of meat for eight to ten people, or for significant leftovers (neither is a consideration in Marlene's case). If it's not a roast (and a number of other perfectly acceptable pot roast candidates, including brisket are of similar shape), what is it? On the other hand, if it does qualify as a roast, this is a perfect pot for it -- a wide, flat bottom of sufficient depth, with a domed lid for circulation. Another benefit of this design is the ease with which you can brown the roast. The lower profile is much easier to negotiate than the tall sides of a Dutch oven when flipping a three-pound piece of meat.

I won't argue against the notion that meat brought to temperature and held there (though a 140F holding temp is pretty difficult for most home cooks) will result in a juicy roast. But at that temperature, collagen has nothing to do with it. Collagen doesn't start to melt until a little over 150F. It seems more likely that the 140F scenario results from one of two sets of circumstances: - a slow technique that allows the proteins to contract slowly, thus minimizing exudation of moisture, or - in the case of a roast brought to 140F under higher-heat conditions (say 350F), time to rest and redistribute juices under controlled conditions before serving.

I have one of these, and it is among my favorite pans. It does seem shallow, but the pan itself is pretty close to two inches deep. Since you don't add liquid to cover more than half the meat, it's actually perfectly adequate for most braises. It's also shallow enough to serve as a frittatta pan, wide enough for paella (if you aren't too extravagant), and, with a strong wrist and a good glove, a back-up saute. The lid is high enough to collect steam and condense it, for good convection action in the braising liquid. Sorry, Maggie, it does have a phenolic handle on the lid. It's just as breakable as the rest of them (mine is missing a third). P.S. You can fry chicken in it, too.

Finally an update for all you patient peeps. I'd estimate that I'm at 85%, and at least 50% of that is cosmetic. I have an almost fully functional kitchen. Everything except the toe boards (which aren't even installed) and one cabinet handle is painted and assembled, or reassembled. Just to provide a quick comparison, here's the original view: Here's how it looks now: In addition to the range (with which I am extremely happy, but that's for another thread), I've installed the sideboard and made it more or less compatible with its new purpose. I ruminated over catalogs from Hold Everything and the Container Store, pored through pages of sites like Big Tray and Stacks and Stacks. Finally, I went to Michael's, where they were having a $5 basket sale: A couple of other things since I last reported: here's the Metro (truth be told, it's Tabco) shelving in pot-rack configuration: Note the sheet pan rack at the bottom, courtesy of Staples (and andiesenji's recommendation). Also on a tip from andie, a nifty knife rack, tucked conveniently into a corner of the sideboard: I'll update the budget tomorrow, but I think I'm still under (not counting the range!)

Not only is it worth the extra money, the extra money isn't worth thinking about. Although Logic is 50% more than standard finish, that 50% comes to all of $5 on a 12-inch skillet (through Amazon, where both are discounted. You couldn't pay me five bucks to season one of those.

Sorry, jayhay, it was a shorthand reference to babka's original post that made note of the Zuni Cafe Cookbook thread. In summary, it's Judy Rodger's condensed reworking of the classic Italian porchetta, where a whole pig is stuffed with herbs, garlic, salt, lemon and capers, then slowly roasted. The Zuni recipe uses a pork shoulder roast. You "unroll" the roast along its natural muscle seams and press the seasonings into the resulting crevasses. Then you roll it back up, tie it and roast. Judy recommends 325 or 350; I can't remember which. My experience is that a lower temperature gives you a juicier result -- the one drawback of which is that you get very little in the way of fond, so you have to compensate by using richer stock when you're making up the jus that Rodgers specifies as an accompaniment.

All of us at the eGullet Society for Culinary Arts & Letters are very pleased to announce the impending start of the eGullet Culinary Institute (eGCI) winter semester on Valentine's Day, Monday, 14 February 2005. We’re also excited to announce that Janet Zimmerman (“JAZ”) will be our new eGCI dean, the latest in a short but distinguished lineage of deans. Janet, a former eGCI instructor and long-time eGullet Society member and volunteer, has been working hard to plan the new semester, bringing the same energy and dedication to her new role that she has shown as host of the Fine Spirits and Cocktail forum, and as an eG Forums manager. Under Janet’s leadership, the eGCI will continue to promote the distribution and enhancement of culinary knowledge through explicitly educational means. This undertaking, open to all, seeks to serve two audiences that have been neglected by commercial media and instruction: advanced amateur food enthusiasts, and the disadvantaged. Upcoming classes for the eGCI will be a mix of technique-, equipment-, and ingredient-driven classes, along with more general topics and instruction for the disadvantaged. We'll begin the new semester with a clinic on braising, followed by: a multi-part course on roasting, including explorations of high-temperature, low-temperature and convection techniques using multiple cuts; basic and advanced nutrition; cooking for special dietary needs such as diabetes; healthful and tasty cooking on a tight budget; and an intensive immersion in authentic Coq au Vin. You can also look forward to improved organization of new and existing classes -- soon, you’ll be able to select the courses according to your skills and interest, without having to wade through the chronological catalog. Finally, the eGCI's long-term plans include more community outreach, bringing important information and instruction to those in need. Interactivity is the hallmark of the eGCI. This underscores the way the Society fulfills its mission, as well as the unprecedented nature of its educational undertaking. Unlike textbooks, extension courses or self-paced curricula, eGCI classes are in session 24/7/365, until the students themselves decide they’ve learned enough. Although the eGCI publishes a schedule, the reality is that, once it’s commenced, an eGCI course never ends. Courses from the first term of the eGCI, a year and a half ago, still draw questions from an ever-chaging class roster, and answers from the instructors. None of this takes place without substantial assistance, and of course, without the foundation built by previous staff and faculty (our many thanks to them). Organization, editing, layout and instruction are all handled by volunteers. If you’d like to help, use the personal messenger (PM) system to contact Janet (JAZ) or Marlene Newell (Marlene). Alternatively, if there’s a course you’d like to see, please let us know -- interactivity works in more than one direction. The eGullet Society, the eGCI and eG Forums are member-supported. Your generous donations allow the Society to improve its infrastructure and services and to pursue new directions. Becoming a Society Donor is as simple as clicking "Upgrade" at the top left of your screen. See you in the classroom in a few weeks.

Alton who? Here's a progress report: I put the roast in at 2:30, at 255 F, having miskeyed the temperature. I reset it to 225 F at the one-hour point, when I went to check on it. I put a probe thermometer in it at 2-1/2 hours, and it went immediately to 130 F. At 3-1/4 hours, it hit 170, then crept up to 172, and it's been there for the last 25 minutes.

I have exactly the same cut ready to go in the oven (using the Zuni mock porchetta recipe). I'm going to put it in now at 225 (convection). I figure I've got a huge margin of error -- if it takes longer than a few hours, I've still got a while before I need to worry, and I can always crank up the temperature if necessary. If it's done in four hours, there's very little risk in letting it sit a while, then gently reheating. Just to clarify a bit on fifi's point about temperature stall: what you look for is for the temperature to quit rising. Once it starts going up again, you're done. But every butt is different -- the amount of collagen and the size and shape of the roast mean that the stall point will never be perfectly consistent in its onset or its conclusion. Roasting to a specific internal temperature that is higher than the collagen conversion temperature ensures that you've achieved complete conversion, but it's possible to go too far and end up with all that succulence draining out. If it's at all possible, the best strategy is to monitor temperature closely, so you know what's happening inside the meat. It means you give up the ability to set a perfect schedule, but at least you do what's right by the main course.

A veloute is a sauce made by thickening stock with a white roux. A white roux is equal parts (by volume) of fat (classically butter, but any just about any fat can be used) and flour. The typical proportions are 2T each fat and flour for each cup of stock. Heat the fat, then stir in the flour all at once and whisk to combine. Cook briefly, but do not allow it to brown. Whisk in the stock, a few tablespoons at a time to start, then in greater amounts as the mixture combines. Once you've added all the stock, let it simmer for ten minutes or so to let the flour lose its raw taste. Adjust your seasonings and you're done. As for the stock itself, here's what I do: go heavy on the aromatics (onion, leeks, celery, carrots and garlic, in proportions of one onion to one well-trimmed leek to one celery stalk to one carrot to one garlic clove), then add mushroom stems, tomato cores, turnips, rutabagas -- as the class says, just about anything but cruciferous vegetables. Quarter the onions and smash the garlic, but don't peel; trim the root and most of the green from the leek and wuarter lengthwise (you might have to rinse it); chop everything else roughly. Smear some tomato paste on anything chunky, but don't go overboard (no, it won't taste like tomatoes). Roast in a 375 F oven until things are browning and the edges are about to singe. Dump everyting into your stock pot, and deglaze the roasting pan with white vermouth or water, and dump that in the pot as well. Cover everything with water and bring to a simmer. It's done when the carrots are about to disintegrate.

How? ← It was my very first real job: receiving clerk at the Sonesta Atlanta. The hotel wasn't open yet; we were laying in the opening stock for the bar. The liquor stores were in the basement, and the bar was on the first floor. It was a long, tedious trip going through two doors, past the steamy, hellish laundry room and boiler, up an elevator, through another door, then across a huge stretch of textured carpet in the lobby. Consquently, I wanted to make as few trips as possible, so I loaded up the float (a flat rolling platform about 3 x 6 feet with a wide, tall handle at one end) with two layers of four cases each of the house burgundy. I made it past the maids' linen storage (staffed by a hellion as big as the float), the steam room and the mangle, onto the staff elevator, and hit the button for 1. When I arrived at the first floor, I pushed the float hard to get it past the gap between the elevator and the hallway floor. Unfortunately, the elevator hadn't been properly adjusted yet, and the front wheels caught. What followed as one of those events characterized by a phenomenon that seems to be pretty common on this thread: my Tower O' Wine tumbled over with excruciating but relentless indolence, heedless of my cries or attempts to stop it. The two stacks parted like the Red Sea, and then made one.

It certainly doesn't qualify on a per-bottle basis, but I once broke every bottle in eight cases of one-gallon jugs of California Cellars. Thirty-two gallons, nearly every drop of which disappeared down an elevator shaft.

On the pinkness: I'm not certain, but my guess is that submersion in liquid prevents oxidation, even though the meat temperature rises far above well-done temperatures. Color isn't always a reliable indicator -- think of cured meats and how they maintain their pink color, even through long cooking times. I've also seen rack of lamb seared, then put in a vacuum pouch with a marinade for a day. Even though it was cooked to only 130 F, it was uniformly gray inside.

Ed, this is from the user agreement: Does that help?

To get back to Maggie's original lentil soup, here's my report. I had a half-rack of roasted baby-back ribs, so pork it was. I also had some pork fat that I had rendered from something else, so I used it to sweat onion, carrot and garlic. I added fennel seed, bay, oregano, a touch of thyme, and lots of black pepper. Three cups of chicken stock, a cup of beef broth, two cups of water, and the lentils. I simmered it until the lentils were soft almost all the way through, then added some chopped red and yellow tomato to warm while I fished out the bones and stripped the meat to put back in the pot. I bypassed the vinegar, or any other finish, and this was a mistake. Despite the stock, the aromatics and the seasoning, it was bland. More salt helped, but the broth lacked depth. I'm open to suggestions, but I'm beginning to think that dried beans really need some smoke -- sausage, ham, bacon, smoked shoulder. Am I right, or have I been spoiled by the richness of red beans and rice, split pea and Navy bean soup?

You're about as likely to find pig's feet in Oakville as I am to find peameal bacon in a suburban Atlanta Publix. I'd do three things: 1) if the hocks you saw are unsmoked, load up; 2) buy a pork butt. Find the one with the largest proportion of bone to meat that you can find, if you can make that determination. Give it a spicy rub and cook it for 24 hours at 200 F. With three of you, you'll get at least one two good meals, probably three. (If you can't eat that much in a few days, freeze some of it in the biggest chunks you can manage.) Strip most of the meat off the bone. 3) Buy some pork neck slices, if you can find them, bone-in country style ribs if you can't. Again, go for a high proportion of bone to meat. If you can find ears, grab a couple. If you've done spare ribs recently, I hope you saved the bones (you should, for just this occasion, though spare ribs, and especially baby backs, don't, by themselves, have the cartilage you need). Of course, with some notice, your butcher might be able to get you feet, so you really should ask. Substitute them pound for pound for the country-style ribs. Roast (no tomato paste) the shoulder bones and the ribs, and proceed as with beef stock. I'll stand by my "celery is useless" proclamation and I agree with others regarding carrots. I'd use onion (including the ends and skins), and maybe a small amount of garlic (whole, unpeeled cloves).

Very nice, Marlene. It looks great. Now, was that so hard?

Two teaspoons or tablespoons? ← Tablespoons! (Thanks, Rachel.) I second Steven's admonition to taste frequently. Stock doesn't taste exactly like soup, which might be what you're expecting.

Not that it's a recognized standard or anything, but here's what I do for basic beef stock: - Two pounds of meaty bones (veal or beef, or a combination) makes one quart of flavorful stock with good mouthfeel. So I weigh the bones (or tote up the butcher's labels) to find out how many pounds I've got. Of course, I try to do it in two pound increments, so as not to challenge my mental faculties unreasonably. - You started with eight pounds of bones, so, assuming you got more or less full extraction, you should finish with four quarts of stock. This may or may not be what you actually have, however. Still, it's the starting point. - To get down to the "one cube/one cup" ratio, which is also my method, you need to reduce your stock to the number of cubes that is equal to the number of cups in four quarts: 16. One ice cube -- at least, in the trays I have -- turns out to be one ounce. So you need to reduce to 16 ounces, or two cups. - The easiest way I've found to track a reduction is to pour two cups of stock into the pot you'll be using for your final stage. Use a ruler (or mark the point on the handle of a wooden spoon) to note the depth. Then pour in the rest of your stock and simmer away. Check the level periodically, and stop when you get to the right measurement, or a little under. You can always add a little water if you overreduce. - Let cool, pour two tablespoons into each cube compartment and freeze. When frozen, pop out of the trays and into a heavy-duty ziplock bag. - Reconstitute by dropping a cube into a measuring cup and adding water to make one cup. The cubes, being a glace of some sort, are also great for finishing sauces or soups straight from the freezer. (Edited to correct measurement error noted in subsequent post.)

Finally, out of the closet: Gallo Hearty Burgundy is my standard red wine for cooking.

I'm in for beef and barley, Lily. But I'm confused. What is "au maigre"? And how can you do beef with such wonderful porcine inspiration as smoked pork chops?

I would bet Ontario streams are full of crawfish -- in the Spring. Ryan can probably fill his pockets with them. But in the market, it's probably Chinese bugs, the use of which I think none of us would condone. But there's always shrimp etouffee! Thanks for a wonderful blog, Marlene. I hope you had as much fun as we did.

Somewhat off-topic, but here's a report on the roast I mentioned up-thread. A 10.4 pound USDA Choice five-rib roast ($5.99 per pound), after six days au naturel in the bottom of my refrigerator (36 F): Pretty gnarly-looking, but there was no foul aroma, and no sign of mold. It trimmed out to two roasts, one two-bone (3.3 pounds), one three-bone (5.6 pounds), with 0.6 pounds of scrap: Yield: moisture loss -- 8.7% (0.9 pounds); scrap -- 5.8%; usable meat -- 83% (8.9 pounds); net cost per pound -- $7.22. Stupid me, I didn't get any shots of the finished roast (we did the smaller one, and stuck the other in the freezer). It wasn't Prime quality, by any stretch; it lacked the buttery texture and complex flavor of really great beef. But it was it was a huge improvement over a watery, unfocused supermarket roast taken straight from the cooler to the oven without ever leaving the shrink-wrap: slightly dense; pleasantly chewy; more than sufficiently moist; and wonderfully beefy.