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  1. [Moderator's note: Welcome to the first "Charcuterie" topic, devoted to Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn's book of the same name. This massive topic ran from Dec 2005 until July 2008, at which point the topic was closed and carefully indexed by host Chris Hennes. Click here for that index, in which you'll find all of the information our members have contributed over the years. We've also started this topic for new discussions of the recipes in Polcyn's and Ruhlman's book. -- Chris Amirault] Thread in FM&N discussing the release of Charcuterie eGullet friendly link to buy the book Alright, everyone should be familiar with these types of threads by now. So here’s what I’ve tried from this fun book so far. Cured salmon. I used half a recipe and did not have any fresh fennel on hand so I did not use it, but I did use the roasted fennel seeds. Here are some pics finished curing Served on a homemade salt and sesame bagel. It really was exceptional with a perfect texture and amazing taste. It was not at all too salty or too sweet and the fennel was a perfect addition to the salmon. I’ve always heard cured salmon is easy to make but this was really easy and I will be making it again. The bagel was smeared with cream cheese and also topped with shallots and capers. Currently I also have a 3 pound beef eye of round curing (1st cure) to make Bresaola. I forgot to take a picture of this one but I will when I add the rest of the cure a couple of days from now and will report on the final product. For Xmas, I am planning on making a couple of different sausages and probably the duck roulade. So, come on. Share your Charcuterie.
  2. I attempted to make boudin sausages last night even though I have neither seen nor eaten them before... The intro to the recipe just sounded so good! However they exploded on me, into a huge puffy mass. They still tasted quite good but what did I do wrong? Should I have stuffed them into the casings a little bit looser? Did I steam them over two high a heat? I used medium and cooked them on metal steamer with many small holes. Is the pork mixture always cooked before stuffing? I used quite a bit of fat, actually more than the recipe called for but they were still on the dry side.... The recipe called for the cooked meat to be ground with the attachment with 1/4 inch holes, but it turned out quite smooth like cheap tuna fish. Are there supposed to be no chunks in it?
  3. Abra

    Tuna Confit

    I've lucked into a bunch of fresh-caught albacore (thanks, DRColby!), and I want to make it last. I've been thinking of tuna confit, but all the recipes I've found say to use it, even though it's in the fridge, within 3-10 days of preparation. Here's one recipe, edited to meet guidelines. Incanto's Tuna Confit 2 pounds albacore or yellowfin (ahi) tuna, in one piece 1 tablespoon kosher salt 1 1/2 teaspoons ground black pepper 1 1/2 teaspoons ground fennel seed 1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander seed 1/2 teaspoon sugar 1/2 teaspoon red chile flakes 2 sprigs each fresh thyme, parsley and basil 2 bay leaves 2 cloves garlic, crushed and peeled Zest of 1/2 lemon, removed with a vegetable peeler Extra virgin olive oil to cover, approximately 11/2 quarts Basically you marinate the tuna in the herbs and spices, then cover it with oil and oven-poach for half an hour. I'm wondering how to make it last for a couple of months. If I leave out the garlic (and possibly the fresh herbs) and put it in the fridge completely covered by the oil, do I need to worry about spoilage? Should I freeze it in the oil? Should I give up on this idea?
  4. The thread on puff pastry, along with Jackal10's pork pie in the pie crust thread, has brought out a craving for sausage rolls. I searched the web for recipes, and settled on this one (which is actually a Delia Smith recipe but her site is down right now, so I can't link to her page directly). I have them in the oven as I type, but now am curious. I've never worked with puff pastry before, and I think I may have made some grave errors, so allow me to ask a few questions. Firstly, it's very hot here and as I was forming the rolls, I noticed that my puff pastry (store-bought, Bellamy brand from New Zealand, I think) became very very soft in just a short time. I put the pastry in the freezer for about 5 minutes (with the sausage meat already on it, but not yet rolled) to make it easier to work with, but even then, by the time the rolls got into the oven (a mere 5 minutes, I would guess), it was quite soft, again. Should I have refrigerated the rolls before baking? Or does the temperature of the pastry prior to baking make a difference in the final product? I forgot to snip the rolls before putting them in the oven. Is that step really necessary? I guess I'll find out shortly, but as a general rule, does one have to vent puff pastry? And if one does, should the slits be deep (down to the meat) or just superficial? During my search I found that some recipes called for raw sausage meat, but some required cooked meat. Which is preferable? I used a combination of ground pork and beef, both about 80% lean, and put it in raw. I noticed after 10 minutes of baking that there was a pool of grease around each roll, but I don't know if that's from the meat or the puff pastry. Lastly, if I want to freeze the rolls, is it better to bake and then freeze, or should I freeze and then bake? If the latter, do I defrost and bake or bake from frozen? Any suggestions for my next attempt?
  5. New menu items at the Broadway Noahs Bagels include bagel dough baked around various Anhuls sausages including pork andouille. Considering their theme marketing of the products should one be offended at the insensitivity, could it possibly be extreme ignorance?
  6. Woods

    duck confit

    Hello, does anyone know where I can find the nutritional values for some of these supposedly high fat dishes? I ask because Paula Wolfert says, in her newest edition of "The Cooking of Southwest France", that properly made cofit is not as fatty as one would think. Any ideas? Thanks, Woods
  7. Alright. I'm not going to be the only one making sausages, so I'm going to invite you to join me to have some fun. It all started with Aprilmei asking for a fresh pork sausage recipe.. Along the way we picked up a few recipes for dried sausages too...result of HKDave's search, trillium's search, jackal10's search (look under 'l' for lop cheong), I dug up a video on making lup cheong, and our very own muichoi's recipe: The way I see it, making the fresh sausages is much like making lup cheong but without the cure powder, and one is grilled while the other is hung to dry. Today, I made some Msian pork rolls...much like fresh sausages but wrapped in fu chook(soya bean sheets). I've more or less busted my gallery space, so here's my version of making lobak. I will not post the finished picture of the succulent lobak until I get at least one person who's game to make sausages. If anyone's interested in the lobak, I'll post the recipe later....I need a rest.
  8. Just spotted a leg of duck confit in the butcher's display case in Meinhardt's. Seven to nine dollars each. (Attractively packaged in individual vacuum-sealed plastic bags.) Last week I saw that Oyama had duck leg confit for about four bucks each. (Not individually packaged and kept in a bowl in the display case.) Anyone tried either of them? Any other places to get good store-bought duck confit? Many Thanks for your help.
  9. I managed to save enough duck fat from two ducks to make my first duck confits a few weeks ago. After finishing up the duck legs, i was wondering if it's still okay to reuse the fat after I strained out all unwanted bits for next time? Are there microbial concerns or would the fat break down and taste a bit off? Just curious...
  10. <img align="left" src="http://forums.egullet.org/uploads/1124243374/gallery_29805_1195_3626.jpg">by Margaret McArthur I’m old enough that the words “open bar” shouldn’t sing that siren song. I should be smart enough not to strap on three-inch heels, but I’m not. And I shouldn’t have danced that crazy tango with my sister, but, well, I did. I teetered at the podium, a tousled, tipsy toastmistress. For a woman who hadn’t delivered an important address since her high school valedelictory, I was damned confident. I beheld my audience, a beaming roomful of pilgrims who’d gathered at the Ottawa Westin on September 23, 2000, to celebrate fifty years of perfect romantic married love: half-century of wedded -- no other word for it -- bliss. My parents’ golden anniversary. I’m not waxing poetic, gilding the lily, or slopping the truffle oil. Despite a breadbasket brimming with health problems, frequent relocations, and four children whose combined escapades present the best possible case for free universal vasectomy, my parents’ marriage has that fairytale ending: they live happily ever after. A cousin held her girlfriend’s hand and sighed. “Gee, it’s tough being around Auntie and Uncle, knowing that no matter how hard you try, your relationship is never going to be as good as theirs.” Another cousin looked grim despite our frequent meetings at the bar. It’s hard not to be wistful at the shores of the sea of love when your marital lifeboat is about to ram the iceberg and sink without a trace. And I’d held the hair of an old family friend as she knelt on the marble floor of the ladies' room barfing beaujolais, and wondering, “Why can’t I feel married the way they feel married?” My parents’ passionate paradigm intimidates us lesser lovers, who can’t see the billets-doux for the bills. By the time I tinkled my glass with a fork still sticky with raspberry coulis, the room was mellow. The trio was on a between-set break, and all eyes were fixed on the septuagenarian lovers -- not, thank God, on the splat of sauce that accessorized the bodice of the frivolous purple frock I’d snatched from the sale rack at Banana Republic. They’re a handsome couple: a tall blonde in a Marlene Dietrich-style black evening suit and a fuchsia silk blouse and scarf she’d picked up at Holt Renfrew the same weekend I bought my second fridge. (The blouse rang up at six bucks more than the Kenmore, and it didn’t feature an icemaker.) If Harrison Ford is lucky, he’ll resemble Daddy when he’s seventy-three. But no matter how often Harrison struts the red carpet, he’ll never wear a tux with the insouciance of Ian McArthur. A series of preprandial Glenfiddiches guaranteed I wouldn’t remember much of the speech I’d composed on my pillow the night before while digesting the feast my mother had provided for the welcome of the Oldest Child, and metabolizing Daddy’s killer Old Fashioneds. I’m sure I was fulsome, sentimental and over-the-top -- no snide daughterly jabs or Viagra jokes. I recounted their first date, engineered by my Aunt Char who thought her brother might take a shine to her leggy classmate. (That game at Mimico High was also the last time either of my parents has willingly sat through four quarters of basketball.) The courtship followed, featuring shameless necking in the stands of Varsity Stadium. I wended my way down Lover’s Lane, hitting all the romantic highlights: the wedding (my only quip: I noted that it was dry, to the general hilarity and disbelief of the audience), the honeymoon in Montreal, the move to Trois-Rivieres, the eager embrace of all the things that French-speaking people do better than we do. Summer holidays in the Pontiac station wagon, the trips to Europe, the time my nine-year-old-daughter caught them in flagrante delicto . . . I was rolling, peeps, more flowery than the chintz curtains in the guest bedroom or the Ontario ice wine in my glass. Like the silly endearments lovers whisper, nothing I said could sound sappy, because it was all true. I quoted The Rubaiyat, which my father had memorized to recite to his bride. I hit Sonnet Twenty-Nine, the mere mention of which makes their eyes well. I didn’t neglect to recite the wedding vows, explaining how my parents understand and honor them at a level most of us never approach. Daddy brushed away a tear with the knuckle of his right forefinger, and his wasn’t the only leaky eye in the room. It was time to ask the company to stand, and raise a glass. “To Marilyn and Ian, a couple that can swap spit with the big time: Antony and Cleopatra, Fred and Ginger, Pepe and Petunia . . .” “Bacon and eggs!” No one has better timing than my mother. To her, Romeo and Juliet were just a couple of rich teenagers who’d have eventually moved on to Tomasso, Ricardo or Lola. Bacon and eggs, now -- they’ll sizzle until the end of time. Unlike many of my girlfriends, I abandoned the struggle early and acknowledged that eternal truth: my mother is always right. Sure, we have differences about minor matters like religion, politics and football (Mummy loves it), but she is infallible on everything worth knowing, like why bacon and eggs belong in the pantheon of passion. I could wake up every morning with a plate of bacon and eggs. And toast. Let me explain what I’m describing here. “Bacon and eggs” means eggs sunny side up, fried in bacon fat. Scrambled eggs, poached eggs, eggs fried in butter -- even the delightfully smutty-sounding eggs over easy -- are pretenders on the plate. Bacon means streaky bacon, although we could work up a threesome if good back bacon is present, eager and willing. But lean Canadian bacon doesn’t sweat the sizzling puddle of hot grease required for cooking the eggs, so my guy on the side is American. The toast? A long thick slice of day old artisan boule makes the best toast on earth, but in a pinch I’ve substituted English Muffins, Wonder Bread and a two week old, soft-as-the-day-I-bought-it hamburger bun (after checking for blue fuzz). Rye bread, crumpets, bagels seven-grain loaf from the bread machine -- choose your carb -- anything that slides into the toaster slot. But know this: toast is essential. The saddest thing about the Atkins Diet is its cruel eagerness to let bacon and eggs lie naked and slippery on the plate. They need their crusty chaise longue. My parents eat B and E for lunch, their reward for the Puritan yogurt and shredded wheat with which they break their fast. I yearn for a bacon and eggs dinner at least once a week, but I’ve never broken sentimental tradition and given in to mere ease, economy and pleasure. I know, I know -- the matins of lapsed Episcopalians who observe the secular Sunday ritual of the New York Times must play out in a few hundred thousand kitchens every Sunday. But I won’t bother with self-examination, the meaning of ritual or spiritual sublimation. Week after week, year after year, I count on Sunday-morning bacon and eggs as the most reliably happy twenty minutes of the previous seven days. And much of the charm is that it’s the only day I luxuriate in breakfast. Winnie the Pooh had it right: <blockquote>'When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,' said Piglet at last, 'what's the first thing you say to yourself?' 'What's for breakfast?' said Pooh. 'What do you say, Piglet?' 'I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?' said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. 'It's the same thing,' he said. (A. A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner)</blockquote>And it is exciting to wake up on a Sunday and know you have eight ounces of bacon and an egg or two -- and seven pounds of newsprint lolling on the driveway. The stagger downstairs to turn on the coffee is less tortuous on Sunday. Still, retrieving the paper requires clothing, so I beat a retreat to the bathroom for a quick encounter with the toothbrush, soap and water, and whatever emollient has most recently suckered me into believing that it reduces the visible signs of aging. Besides, clothing isn’t optional when dealing with splattering bacon grease. (Gentlemen, don’t preen at the stove in your sixteen-year-old son’s drawstring pajama pants: graying chest hair is a brush fire waiting to happen. Ladies, the weekly cleaning bill for a splattered Victoria’s Secret teddy, prorated over twelve months, could better be spent on pedicures, a Le Creuset casserole or an orgy with a garden catalogue.) Sure, sweats are adequate, but admit it: you aren’t about to fish out a pair of pantyhose, tell him which tie to wear, then whistle up the kids for church. Would it kill you to pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt? Start with the bacon. A perfect world would provide a cast-iron skillet with a diameter that accommodates six strips of bacon, but even my twelve-inch Lodge flunks the test; half the strips are forced into nervous smiles, and their apprehension prevents them from cooking evenly. My alternative lets the bacon stretch out straight, and requires less attention. It also ensures that splattering is contained to my self-cleaning oven, and I don’t have to spend five minutes with a scrubbie and a bottle of 409, swabbing the walls, the stovetop and the back of the coffee grinder. Pull out your most disreputable sheet pan and deal those strips of bacon like the flop in a hand of Texas Hold ’Em. Put it in a cold oven, crank the heat up to 450, then fan the Sunday paper out on the table. Wait for the beep, which indicates the oven is up to temperature. This is very suspect science, but zero to 450 takes seventeen minutes in my gas oven: I have time to wish to that I could write like Maureen Dowd and memorize the salient portions of Sunday Styles before I tear myself away from the Vows story and heed the chime of the oven. I might have to turn a slice or three, but the bacon is usually flat, crispy and two minutes from incineration: -porky perfection. I drain it on three layers of paper towel -- on those rare Sundays it isn’t upstairs with the Windex it the bathroom -- otherwise, the business section does the job. The kitchen’s heating up. Pour the fat from the sheet pan into an eight-inch cast iron skillet, and fire up the flame -- make that fat sizzle! You have time to pull out a plate: a dinner plate. For years I squeezed and shimmied this feast onto a salad plate, a Calvinist crime; this spread needs to loll and languish, and the dishwasher doesn’t care what size the mattress is. Check for soft butter, and a spreader. Slice the bread, pop it into the toaster, and nudge the fridge door open with the left knee. Fumble for an egg. A kind foodie friend from cyberspace once shipped me two dozen eggs warm from her henhouse. In the hissing fat, the yolks stood up stiff, hard and perky as a starlet’s silicone, and they ran the orange of a Cadbury Crème Egg. The flavor was so intense and eggy that I moaned at the breakfast table. But I can’t hold to that ovoid standard every week. The egg from the Styrofoam carton is probably a week from its sell-by date, but the titty analogy wouldn’t be stretched to mention the considerable charms of a natural breast bestowed with the character that a few years rack up. Dude. It’s still sexy. Pick up a tablespoon and dip it into the fat. Baste the egg, with special attention to the white, so you firm what my brother called the “egg snot.” Ten passes with the spoon will firm the albumen and veil the yolk, as tenderly as tulle over the face of a dewy bride. God, the toast! It’s easy to forget when you’re trying to coax perfection from an egg sunny side up. Although cooking the egg is a matter of seconds, you must remember the raft, the couch, the mattress. Pull the toast from its slot, butter it, and spread it like a book on the plate. Plunk the egg on one page, the bacon on the other. Dust the egg with salt -- I love the crunch of fleur de sel -- and rub out three grinds of your Peugeot’s coarsest. Dip the knife into the yolk and watch it spurt, half onto the plate, half lapping the bread. Cut a cube of toast, dip it into the golden mess on the plate, and spear an inch of bacon. Close your eyes and savor the crisp and the soft, the salt and the suave. It’s not transubstantiation, conversion or orgasm: it’s yin and yang on your tongue. It’s holding hands across the real estate section, it’s kissing while you do the dishes. It’s hearing him whistle I’m in the Mood for Love through the window of your Florentine hotel room when he returns from the farmacia with your corn plasters in his pocket. It’s sustaining, it’s easy, it’s slippery and luscious and crunchy, as ageless and reliable as lazy love on a Sunday morning. Long ago I bowed to the likelihood that few will ever know more than a few moments of the sweet shared bliss that my parents seem to conjure every moment of the day. But a newspaper, a lover, and a plate of bacon and eggs? I might settle for that. It’s certainly worth a toast. <i>Margaret McArthur, aka maggiethecat, is host and Dark Lady of the Daily Gullet Competition Forum. She writes, cooks and tends her garden near Chicago. Art by Dave Scantland, aka Dave the Cook.</i>
  11. Inspired by the thread on Montreal's best confit de canard, I headed off to Anjou Quebec yesterday and picked up one of their duck confit legs. I'm lucky enough to live within walking distance. I'd never had it before, and now I'm lamenting a life spent without this amazingly flavourful treat! Taking a cue from carswell, i also picked up some small potatoes, walnut oil, fresh chives, and parsley, which were duly chopped up, covered in garlic, and oven roasted at 400c for ~40 minutes. They turned out VERY nicely! But the real star of the evening was the duck. Rich, succulent, and JUST the right amount of saltiness. The skin was crispy and delicious, and the fragrance was indescribable. I can still feel the melty texture of the meat, and taste the delicious flavour in my mouth. I'll be heading back next weekend to pick up another leg, because well, you can't make a judgement on just ONE tasting after all! *makes a note to get back to the gym ASAP*
  12. A friend made a lentil stew with onions, peppercorns, and smoked belly pork chunks. It was simple and tasty beyond belief. He also spiked it with a German herb, starting with 'S'?? Now, I'd usually go dig around The Book first, but it's been packed as we're moving house later this week. Anyone got any good ideas as to how to accomplish the above?? Thanks in advance.
  13. NOTE: This topic is part of the Eating New Orleans series. We wanted some andouille and tasso to bring home, so Louisiana forum host and site manager Brooks Hamaker (Mayhaw Man) suggested we try "Jacob's in La Place". La Place is pretty much considered to be one of the key centers of Cajun specialty meat production in the state. For an interesting article on andouille and La Place, read this peice by Pableaux Johnson. We looked it up in our GPS, and that yeilded Wayne Jacob's Smokehouse 769 W 5th St # A, La Place, LA 70068. Main Phone: 985-652-9990 Fax: 985-652-0999. We arrived to a somewhat ramshackle-looking building that included a small restaurant, and a small counter and fridge where you can buy Andouille, Smoked Sausage, Tasso, and Beef Jerky. Brooks made the place sound like it was a big operation like Poche's, but it wasn't. As it turns out, after discussing all things Andouille with David, the smokemaster and butcher at Wayne Jacob's, that we came to the "wrong" Jacob's, and he was glad that we did. Wayne Jacob's Smokehouse is the genuine heir to the original Jacob's Andouille recipe, and they've been producing it for many years. The OTHER Jacob's Andouille, also located in La Place, which is much more well known and is a much larger operation, uses preservatives and heavy nitrates in order to make their product shippable and thus has a USDA certification. Wayne Jacob's Smokehouse, on the other hand, only can sell locally, because its goods are highly perishable, even though they are salted and smoked. David encouraged me to compare his product to Jacob's Andouille, and he invited me to watch him make the product to show me how superior it was. I took him up on it. Here is finished andouille, after smoking in one of the 4 smokehouses for 10-12 hours. This is a cross section of a smoked andouille sausage. This is finished tasso. Tasso is kind of like a beef jerky but it is make with pork. Tasso is smoked longer than andouille, for close to 12 hours. This is one of the smokehouses where the prepped meat products are hung to cure and smoke using oak and pecan wood. This is David, the master butcher and smoker at Wayne Jacob's. A side view of some of the smokers. This is pork shoulder --"boston butt" , which has been fully cleaned of all sinews and veins, and has been salted with cayenne, garlic, and black pepper added. This is the starting point for both tasso and andouille -- in the case of tasso, the meat is cut into large slices and brought directly to the smoker for smoking. For andouille, the process continues. The pork butt is then put thru the meat grinder, and it comes out in smaller chunks. The chunks of pork butt are then stuffed into the hopper of an old hand-cranked stuffing machine made of cast iron which is about 80 years old. They have an electric stainless steel unit, but David prefers the older one because its easier to clean and much more simple to use. Beef intestine casings are washed and prepared for stuffing. The beef casings are hooked up to the stuffer, and you crank away! The first two links. Makin' sausage. A whole bunch of andouille, ready for the smoker. While at Wayne Jacob's, you can have a few po boys or some jambalaya or gumbo featuring their meat products. They also have a fully working, functional antique coca cola cooler stocked full of Coke and Barq's in old fashioned glass bottles. I highly encourage you if you are in the La Place area to buy some smoked meat products from Wayne Jacob's. If you have to, go to the nearby Wall Mart, pick up a cheap styrofoam cooler, and then have David fill it with ice to keep your vacuum-packed meat cool while you bring it back to your hotel -- in our case, we had a freezer/refrigerator in our timeshare, and we were able to keep the stuff cold. Then when you are going home, pack the meat in the cooler with frozen gel-packs (you can get them at local shipping supply stores), put the cooler in a cardboard box, and bring your stuff back home. The vacuum-sealed meat packed in that manner was easily able to survive a 6 hour trip back from New Orleans to New Jersey. Now that I have shown you Wayne Jacob's, here is their competitor, Jacob's Andouille: This is Jacob's Andouille, which claims to be the original. Andouille, tasso, and fresh sausage at Jacob's Andouille. The freezer case at Jacob's Andouille. They have a much wider variety of products than Wayne Jacob's, and of course they can ship throughout the US. Its a pretty good product, but its no comparison for something that is artisanally made. We did buy and taste products from both places, and we both agreed Wayne Jacobs has the better andouille. However, if you can't go to Wayne Jacob's Smokehouse in person, this is probably your best bet if you want good Andouille and tasso shipped to you. Here is their website: http://www.cajunsausage.com/
  14. Just tried my hand for the first time last weekend at home sausage making. I made a recipe from Paul Kirk's "Championship Barbecue" book. It's called Beginners Chilli Sausage, and it's basically ground pork shoulder seasoned with chilli powders and other spices. I started with 3.5 lbs of pork shoulder that was quite fatty as I cubed it and ground it. However the resulting sausage after cooking was rather dry. I grilled the sausage no differently than I've ever grilled any purchased sausages so I think I can safely rule out the cooking process as causing the dryness. I know there are a lot of guidelines about the proper fat content for making proper sausage (about one-third), but I've read a number of recipes like Paul Kirk's and others that use just pork butt (as I did) with no additional fat. How do you know if the pork you are using is fatty enough to produce the right moisture and texture? Does the amount of mixing/kneading you do to the meat prior to stuffing it affect the final moisture? Because I donned a pair of rubber gloves and really mixed it well. Thanks for any tips.
  15. So who went to this Mario cookfest/book signing today? Fiance and I head over for the 4:00 slot with a couple of friends. The cramped quarters of Salumi didn't exactly work for how they had it set up -- which was a standing room only grazing arrangement -- but the food was darn good. Highlights included bruchetta with goat cheese, basil, and salumi; turkey meatballs in ragu; this fava bean and chicory side dish that was both light and savory; a very flavorful sausage and broccoli rabe dish; and finally, this moist anise biscotti-like cookie that was both light and decadent at the same time. All washed down with some lovely Masi. I wish we'd brought the camera, because this food was beautiful. As part of the event everyone received Mario's new cookbook autographed, which he was willing to personalize for anyone interested. I chatted with him for a few minutes about the question I asked him when he did his online chat on egullet a few months back about where besides Salumi he likes to eat when he visits his family in Seattle. He looked wiped out -- book tours and cooking nonstop must take their toll -- but he was very gracious and friendly and willing to chat about his food. All in all it was a wonderful event even given the cramped quarters, well worth the price of admission. For the two friends that went with us it was their first visit to Salumi, and they'll definitely be back. Did anyone else go? What did you think?
  16. I purchased the food grinder that attaches to my KitchenAid. I am looking forward to making some sausages. Although my knowledge is limited, I have some books with recipes. I do know that I need casings Any sources of casings in the Twin Cities? I believe they could be both natural and synthetic. At this point, either option would be good to start with. Thanks in advance for any replies. Alex
  17. After a few years making fresh sausages and occasional dry-cured whole cuts (e.g. pancetta, guanciale), I finally have the space to do some dry-cured sausages, so I hung my first ones up in my basement on Monday. I did a split batch of two recipes from Ruhlman/Polcyn's Charcuterie, the tuscan salami and a variation on the spanish chorizo. The sausages looked good, I pricked them with a needle to get rid of air bubbles, and I placed them into a warm spot overnight to incubate the lactic acid starter. Unfortunately, it got a bit warmer than I expected in there - about 95 degrees F - but that still seemed to be within the starter culture's acceptable range (up to 100). The sausages looked fine, but had wept a small amount of liquid fat, which surprised and slightly concerned me. Since then I've had them hanging in a basement at about 60-65 F and 60% RH. They continue to drip fat consistently, the chorizo a bit more than the salumi. Any thoughts? I'm obviously going to let them dry and see how it goes, but I'm curious what's going on here, and whether it's normal or not. I haven't really found any references to this in any text or on the internet. Many thanks in advance.
  18. We recently moved to rural Virginia, and have found a local farmer selling whole pastured hogs and we are buying one, about 400# on the hoof. They will deliver to a closely USDA approved butcher, and I could use some suggestions as to how to instruct the butcher, and any good resources online, so I can get the most out of the pig. In addition to the major cuts, I'm planning to ask for the extra fat, the caul fat, soup bones, probably some skin, and for all the scraps to be packaged in pieces rather than ground, so I can grind it myself for sausage. Any other tips? And good ideas for things to do with pig organ meats? Is it worth taking the head or should I just stick with the jowls (hubby is a bit squeamish about the head)? Thanks!
  19. This sandwich took me a few days to make but it was well worth it. Plus I have enough lamb bacon left to make another 8 or 10 of these. And plenty of lamb bacon fat for whatever tickles my fancy. Raw, bone in lamb breast, halved, for $.99/lb. Lamb Breast - Raw (Forgive me, I don't know how to intersperse photos and text and this site so I used links) This was cured in the "basic cure" using the salt-box method with a head of fresh-pressed garlic for 2 days in the fridge. Then wiped down and smoked over pecan for 3 hours at about 165F. Lamb Breast - Smoked The lamb was then deboned, sliced, and cooked in the oven at 250F for about 30 minutes (that's about 1/3rd of a boned slab's worth of lamb bacon you see here). Lamb bacon can be tough and rubbery but slow cooking in the oven on a half sheet pan solves that. Lamb Bacon - Cooked Then assembled into a Lamb BLT with thin sliced red onion, cucumber, cheese, and mayo (as well as the lettuce and campari tomatoes). Served with garlic olives and peperoncini. Lamb BLT It's going to be hard to top this at dinner time. -sw
  20. Hi all, Inspired by the chapter about confits in Ruhlman & Polcyn's "Charcuterie", I've prepared confits of both duck legs, lamb shoulder and pork belly a couple of times at home. Results have been great, and the confits have never had the chance to hang around in the fridge for very long before it's all eaten up. I have a question regarding the confit jelly, the dark juices that collect on the bottom of the pan after cooking. Ruhlman & Polcyn, and also Robuchon in "The Complete Robuchon", write that care should be taken not get any of these juices into your storage jar if you want to store the confit for any length of time. Ruhlman & Polcyn write that the jelly can go sour over time. I've consulted some other cookbooks, including Fearnley-Whittingstall's "River Cottage Meat Book" and Henderson's "Nose to tail eating", and they don't make any particular mention of the jelly and the need for removing it. The jelly is amazing in sauces and stocks, but how important is it really to get it out of the confit storage container? And, what's the easiest way of separating the jelly from the duck fat before pouring the fat over the cooked meat? I made some rillons this weekend, and I would like to have them around for a couple of weeks at least, to see if I can pick up "aging"/ripening qualities in the confit. I ladled fat over the cooked belly, trying not to get any of the jelly juices into the storage container, but I'm pretty sure some jelly snook it's way in there.
  21. Hi, I've looked around for an answer for this question and I can't seem to find one. It's my first post in this forum, having hovered around for a while, so please be gentle with me I've finally started making my own pancetta recently, with inspiration from here. I've been using a pre-blended curing mix that I bought online at sausage making.org. The result tastes just fine but I need to work on my meat trussing skills ! I now have a reasonable supply in my fridge and freezer so won't be making any more for a few months at least. I was wondering what to do with the rest of the cure blend I have sitting in my cupboard. Could I use my cure mixture to corn some beef brisket that I have in the freezer, or should I simply buy a bespoke cure for my brisket and save the other mix for when I finally run out of pancetta? If it's ok to go with the the mix can I just add the other ingredients like coriander and the like?
  22. I have a bunch of carbon steel meat grinder plates, which I despise: I have no idea how one can actually keep the damned things rust-free, they seem to oxidize in the time it takes me to dry them. I just got a catalog from sausagemaker.com in the mail, and it seems they sell a wide range of stainless steel grinder plates. Has anyone tried them, and are there other sources out there I don't know about?
  23. Having spent a good bit of the last year learning to make sausages, I have some questions about how things were done before modern conveniences were available. 1) I've had a few broken forcemeats because my ingredients got too hot. How did people avoid this problem before the ubiquity of ice and refrigeration? 2) Since curing requires fairly narrow bands of humidity and temp, how did people control these variables before electricity? I understand that basements and caves were employed but I've found that a basement is often insufficient (at least mine is). With the broad occurence of sausage production across vastly different climates, it would seem that in some places basements wouldn't be enough.
  24. Welcome back to our popular eGullet Cook-Off Series. Our last Cook-Off, Hash, took us into a heated discussion of the meat of the matter--should it be chopped, hashed, sliced, diced, or chunked. Click here, for our Hash discussion, and the answers to all of your questions about this beloved diner staple. The complete eG Cook-Off Index can be found here. Today we’re launching eGullet Cook-Off 59: Cured, Brined, Smoked and Salted Fish. Drying fish is a method of preservation that dates back to Ancient times, but more recently, (let’s say a mere 500 years ago or so), salt mining became a major industry in Europe and salt was a fast and economical way of preserving fish. Curing agents like nitrates were introduced in the 19th century, furthering the safety and taste of preserved fish. Where I live in the Pacific Northwest, Native Americans have been preserving fish and seafood for millennia. While we are best known for our ruby-red, oily-rich, smoked salmon, other species of fish found in the Pacific and in our streams are delicious when cured and smoked including Halibut, Sablefish and Idaho Rainbow Trout. And don’t think that you can’t smoke shellfish, alder-smoked Dungeness Crab is a wondrous Pacific Northwest delicacy that evokes memories of crab roasting over a driftwood fire on the beach. Another method of preserving fish is to bath the beauties in a brine—a combination of water, sugar, salt and spices that adds flavor and moisture to fish before it is dried or smoked. And speaking of smoked fish, you can do it in a small pan on top of the stove, in a cast iron drum, a barbecue pit, an old woodshed or a fancy digital smoker. The methods and flavors produced by smoking fish are endless. Old-fashioned ways of preserving fish, (while adequate at the time), aren't always the best method today. Today's technology provides us with the tools to create cured fish that is moist, succulent, tender and with a hint of smoke. The Modernist movement has certainly played a role in bringing this age-old craft into the 21st century, so for the avant-garde in the crowd, show us your creative wizardry for preserving fish the "modern" way. Cured, Brined, Smoked or Salted, the art of preserving fish opens us up to limitless possibilities that transcend the boundaries of cuisine and culture. So let’s sew-up the holes in our fishnets, scrub the barnacles off the rowboat and set out to sea in search of some delectable fish to cure, brine, smoke and salt.
  25. I've started to try and work out a good recipe for my own breakfast sausage but so far I've had some problems. First, my sausage always seems to come out rubbery. I am achieving primary bind with a paddle in my KA. I am fanatical about keeping everything cold and generally follow the steps in Ruhlman's breakfast sausage. I understand the importance of this step in forming a cohesive sausage but it seems to run counter to the process for forming non-rubbery patties (i.e. minimal working to maintain space within the patty). Is this just a matter of finding the right balance in the primary bind step or are there other things I should do? Would finding a larger die so that I can chop the meat coarser help? Would adding more water during the primary bind step help promote tenderness? Secondly, I am finding that most breakfast sausages contain a lot of ingredients. Is there a better way to work through a lot of permutations than just making a lot of microbatches and changing one ingredient at a time? I was thinking maybe cooking up some completely unseasoned (except for salt) pork stock and then adding different ratios of ingredients until I found a good mix. If I found the right ratio between the ingredients, then it would just be a matter of finding the right ratio of ingredient mix to ground pork.
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