Love the Okra, Respect the Jalepeño

Few things get you amped up for eating some old-fashioned southern coastal cuisine like spending a weekend in historic, romantic, beautiful Charleston, SC. Combine the experiences of eating at a few delectable restaurants and the purchase of a particularly well-written cookbook on southern cooking, and you've got one foodie who's ready to make some real low country grub.

Instantly my mind turned to two things - shellfish (of course) and okra. For those of you in the North, this humble vegetable is an essential element for establishing cooking cred here in the South. I've impressed more than one old southern lady in the supermarket by reaching past the instant grits (horrible) and snagging a handful of okra. A quick bit of research unearthed the fact that chopped okra exudes a substance that thickens liquids like a roux or starch. Liquids like, say, gumbo.

Little did I know that my simple basket of okra would soon snowball into a flurry of chopping, sweating and cursing. In the end I managed to wrangle a couple chunks of chicken, several lonely shrimp and a heaping cooker-full of white rice into something passing for a decent gumbo.
I didn't have any source for the recipe, just instinct and dumb luck.

The sensation I was after is that sort of hot, humid, nose-running experience that comes from eating spicy food in the heat of summer. You know - the kind of meal that clears up sinuses and makes you break into a sweat for no good reason. A solid hour of boiling gumbo provided the heat and humidity, and a solitary jalepeño provided the rest - in more ways than one.

I've been seriously digging Guy Fieri's show on the Food Network, and his take no prisoners approach to cooking has inspired me to experiment with the otherwise innocent looking pepper bomb. Yesterday I learned an important culinary lesson. Jalepeño burns...bad.

In my zeal to incorporate some heat, I removed the evil seeds by hand, which promptly got jalepeño juice all over my fingers. Add an itchy nose and a few stupid eye-rubs and I instantly realized why pepper spray is so effective. Ouchie.

I managed to make it through the ordeal and complete my experiment with okra. It was worth it in the end, because the result was an awesome meal. Well seasoned and flavorful, with an underlying, but not totally overwhelming heat. The vegetables formed a satisfying medley all working together to compliment the shrimp and chicken.

A few notes: This recipe makes a LOT of gumbo, so if you don't want breakfast, lunch and dinner for two, half the recipe. I used whole unpeeled shrimp in the recipe because I was a bit lazy and didn't bother to defrost them. I'd use peeled shrimp in the future to avoid having to peel them on your plate. Out respect for my sensitive wife, I reduced the jalepeño to half, but I think that braver souls should use the whole stinking thing. Hoo-ah!

Flaming Eyeball Gumbo with Shrimp and Chicken

20 oz. Boneless Skinless Chicken Breasts, cubed
1 lb. Shrimp (31-40 per pound)
2 small Onion, finely chopped
1 large Green Pepper, finely chopped
1 large Zucchini, cubed
1 lb. Fresh Okra, sliced
1/2 Jalepeño, seeds removed and finely minced
6 cloves Garlic, finely minced
2 cans Diced Tomatoes, Italian style with juice
3 cans Chicken Broth
1.5 tablespoons Old Bay Seasoning
1.5 tablespoons Cajun Seasoning
2 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Chopped parsley to garnish
Cooked White Rice (1/2 to 1 cup per serving)

In a large heavy pot or Dutch oven, heat the oil and add peppers, onions and 1 teaspoon salt. Sweat, stirring frequently, until onions are translucent. Add tomatoes and broth and bring to a simmer. Add chicken and simmer for 10 minutes. Add remaining ingredients and simmer for 10-20 minutes until shrimp and vegetables are cooked through.

Serve over rice. Add a healthy jolt of parsley on top.

Serves 8-10, 4 points per serving, not including the rice.

Happy National Hot Dog Day 2k6!

I don't know how things are out where you are, but in my world we celebrate National Hot Dog Day. Strangely, this holiday has failed to generate parades, festivals or any kind of media attention (despite a rather impressive planning guide (pdf file)). Sure NHDD is completely manufactured by Big Sausage, but so are hot dogs and that doesn't stop me from eating them like Kobayashi (at a much slower pace).

I'd intended to celebrate in style by using my new-in-box meat grinder to produce a batch of authentic made-from-scratch frankfurters, but alas I simply ran out of time. NHDD waits for no man. In lieu of said celebration, I'm taking time to reflect on a summer spent as a grilling hobo.

You know, for someone who whines incessantly about how he can't own a grill, I sure have done a lot of grilling and smoking this summer. By my count, I've cooked on four different grills or smokers (Weber Genesis B, Aussie Bushman, Aussie Adventurer, LBE) while amassing an impressive count of meats grilled for my family and friends (including more than 60 brats and the equivalent of 6 whole chickens).

To me, grilling is a complete sensory experience. The sizzle of the meat hitting the grates, the singed arm hairs from tongs that are way too short, the pleasing progression from red to deep brown - all these things and more make summer the best time to cook. And let's not forget the intoxicating smell of fat and smoke and the unbeatable, unreproducible flavor that you can only get over wood, charcoal and gas.

But it's healthy too. Using the miraculous Malliard reaction to get extra flavor into ordinary food means that you can achieve great flavor with little extra fat or calories.

Here you can see yours truly working a prototype Adventurer for my buddies before this year's All-Star game. This grill has a special place in my heart because it was engineered by my company, Enginuity Works for Meco.

The legs and shelf fold into the body, so it fits perfectly in the trunk of my car. In that photo, I'm cooking out next to my friend Robert's condo. Portable grills are especially great for this situation in case the fire department rolls through we can pick it up and high-tail it out of site. In my opinion it's the best of the portables, but I could be a little biased.

Yeah, I'll be sad when summer wanes (which is around mid-November in Atlanta) and prime grilling season rolls to a close. At least I've made the best of it this year. Oh, and remember you only have 365 days left to prepare for National Hot Dog Day 2k7.

Two Berry and Walnut Salad

I've been cooking quite a few heavier dishes as of late, and I feel like it's time to lighten things up a bit. Enter my awesome wife Jenny. Last week she surprised me with this amazing salad in my lunch box.

It's not too fancy or too complicated. She started with a bed of organic spring mix, topped it with incredibly delicious strawberries (which were actually about as good as the ones we pick ourselves), fresh-picked blueberries and a few chopped walnuts. Rounding out the dish is a low-fat poppyseed dressing. That's it.

It's ironic that with all the complicated ingredients and intricate steps I so often find piled into my cooking that Jenny can trump me with a careful selection of flavors and textures. The fruit was exactly in season, extremely fresh and very sweet, and the walnuts added a delicious crunch to the mix. I think the poppyseed dressing was an inspired choice, as it bridged the gap between the sweet fruit and the more earthy flavors of the nuts and salad mix.

I mentioned to her that Alanna over at Kitchen Parade recently made a similar salad with strawberries marinated in balsamic vinager, and we both vowed to use similar methods in our next round of salads. The salad is approximately 5 points. You'll of course have to calculate it out for yourself.

Update 8/3/06 - This photo was entered in this month's Does My Blog Look Good in This photography contest!

Shootout at the Krispy Kreme Corral

Not many people know this, but I love a good western. I especially love the classic showdown where the hero goes riding toward the band of bad guys, gun in each hand and reins in his mouth. Good stuff!

I had my own personal shootout courtesy of Chef Anne from Chef on Call. I was just casually hanging around her internet saloon when what should come through the doors but this infernal recipe. I could smell the stench of that Krispy Kreme bread pudding already. I slowly turned around, swallowing my last drop of whiskey. My gun hand creeped toward the holster.

"You've either got a lot of guts coming in here," I said,"Or a distinct lack of brains."

"I got enough of the first, and a message from Paula." He said. "She says you're too yeller to make this dessert and feature it on your blog."

"I don't take kindly to insults. Don't make me head butt yer pansy ass into tomorrow." I came closer, within spitting distance. "I'll see you in the kitchen, punk."

I mean, I was challenged. What was I supposed to do?

In any case, I knew that I couldn't resist the opportunity to make, from what I can gather, the most point-filled dessert ever. Heck, I wasn't just going to make it, I was going to eat a bite or two and even go through the horrific math of figuring out how many points were in each serving. I've had 3 years of calculus, so I should be up to it.

At first glance, the recipe seems rather daunting. Any dessert that measures sugar in boxes, butter in sticks and doughnuts by the dozen has got to be evil. Truth is that it was extremely easy to put together. Mostly the recipe consisted of opening boxes and dumping the ingredients into a bowl. Letting the pudding sit in the fridge covered for 30 minutes allowed everything to gel together.

I'd read in the reviews section that the pudding tended to dry out over cooking, so I took out some insurance and covered the dish with foil for the first 45 minutes. I didn't have the rum for the butter rum sauce, so I improvised and used some OJ and vanilla extract. I just kept adding both until I had the consistency and flavor down.

The bread pudding came roaring out of the oven with a rush of cinnamon-spiked hot air, and I quickly poured the molten fat and sugar sauce over the top. My arteries tightened in horror.

I wasn't about to eat this monstrosity by myself, so I chose my fantasy league's All Star game party as a venue. That way I could feed it to all my skinny friends with enough left over for a bite and a picture or two. Everyone thought it was awesome, especially my Sox-loving friend Victor.

I compare the experience of eating this dish to, surprisingly enough, eating a dozen hot glazed Krispy Kremes (which I've actually done in an eating contest back in my ultra-fat days). The first one or two hot bites go down easy, but once it starts to cool it congeals into a sweet fatty mess. Moral of the story, eat it hot out of the oven and quickly.

Taste wise, it's like getting a kick to the crotch by Captain Sweetness. It was almost overwhelming enough to mask the pain of the NL blowing it in the ninth (stupid power-hitting American Leaguers). The raisins, fruit cocktail and the cinnamon all amplify the KK core and the butter sauce pushes it way over the edge. The first bites were awesome, but by number five or six I didn't want anymore. Ever.

That brings us to counting time. The recipe supposedly serves 12, but I think that's totally insane. If someone can eat a twelfth of this recipe, they should get a free t-shirt. And a stomach pump. By my calculation, the recipe has a staggering total of 242 gut-expanding points. If you're looney enough to split it 12 ways (you can double that for normal humans), that comes to a whopping 20 points per serving. To put things in perspective, I get 24 points per day on Weight Watchers.

Well now I can finally say that I took this cardiovascular bull by the horns and lived to write about it. Only time (and next week's weigh-in) will be able to tell if it stays down.

I'll have 4 whole chickens, and some plain toast for my friend.

This is a story of 4 whole chickens and two distinct cooking methods. I was tasked with providing the meat for my wife's family's 4th of July celebration (after rocking my family's gathering with a slew of brats). I could have just provided a few stock smoked chickens, but this time I was determined to try something new.

Enter beer can chicken. Now I know that my last two recipes have featured beer in a culinary application, but I couldn't help myself. Just bear with me this one last time and I promise I'll drink my beer for the rest of the summer and leave it out of my food!

Step one, brine. I've found that for highly seasoned birds (like my rubbed chickies), it's not worth it to go nuts with the brine. I keep it simple by adapting the Good Eats BBQ brine with a little kicked up seasoning. Brine for 1 hour per pound, turning once or twice to keep everything submerged. My chickens were about 3 1/4 pounds each.

Basic Brine
Adapted from the Good Eats BBQ Brine

2 quarts Water, very cold
6 oz. (by weight) Pickling Salt
4 oz. (by weight) Molasses
1.5 tablespoons BBQ Rub

Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Submerge chickens in brine and refrigerate. Makes enough brine for two birds.

Rinse the birds after their brine bath and pat dry with some paper towels.

Step two, rub. Once again I used Wild Willy's Number Onederful Rub from the excellent Smoke and Spice. Be sure to get it all over and especially under the skin. Following a tip from Cook's Country, I pierced the skin all over with a skewer to help the fat run out all over the skin. Let the rubbed chickens sit at room temperature for half an hour.

Step three, prep the brew. I opened the tops with a bottle opener (the pointy end) and poured one whole beer into a glass for future consumption. Then I split the remaining beer between the two cans and added a tablespoon of rub to each.

Step four, stuff the birds. Jam that can up into the bird and place on the grill.

I'd seen a tip to place the chickens on their perches on a pan or tin to keep them from burning during cooking. In retrospect this was a mistake since the pan prevented them from cooking evenly. Without the heat from the grill, the bottoms weren't as done as the tops, and the skin didn't crisp like I wished. Next time, skip the pan and put them directly on the grill.

Step five, cook the birds. As far as heat is concerned, I started the grill on high until it got nice and heated up, then switched off the rear two burners and left the front on high. This kept the grill at a consistent 350° during cooking. To add a little flavor, I soaked a handful of hickory chips and threw them on an aluminum foil tray directly on the lit burner. The birds cooked on the burner over indirect heat for about an hour.

Step six, glaze. After the allotted hour, I glazed the birds with the glaze recipe from the afore-mentioned Cook's Country article. Don't be stingy.

Beer Can Chicken Glaze
From the Sept. 2005 issue of Cook's Country Magazine

2 tablespoons Ketchup
2 tablespoons Beer
2 tablespoons White Vinegar
2 tablespoons Brown Sugar
2 teaspoons Hot Sauce

Combine all ingredients thoroughly.

Step seven, finish cooking. Let the birds rest for 5-10 minutes, then carve and serve.

My inlaws absolutely loved the chicken, which was moist and uberflavorful. I didn't get much help from the beer. The infernal pan prevented the cans from getting hot enough to boil the beer, so I don't think that process added much to the flavor. I think the brining and rubbing saved the day for this one. I'm definitely trying this recipe again to get it down perfect.

Is there any more American way to celebrate the fourth?

So that's two chickens down, two to go. I'll be covering round two of the ultimate chicken cookoff soon...

Update 7/13/06 - In my zeal to post I neglected to mention points. It's really hard to say because I'm not sure how the brine affects the points value for the chicken, so I just tacked on a point or two to each serving for safety's sake. I think that's pretty conservative.

A Better Way to Harvest Blueberries

We try to foster a spirit of constant innovation here at NTSCBlog.com. Take for example our newest creation, the TG-2000 double-tiered blueberry picking machine, shown here in it's first run last weekend.

It's only got two parts - one reasonably strong man and a somewhat light boy. This machine allows you to harvest berries from the seldom-picked tops of the blueberry bushes while still maintaining the traditional eye-level harvest. The best part is that the critical parts of the machine run on chocolate ice cream, thus reducing our dependence on fossil fuels.

In all seriousness, picking blueberries isn't nearly as productive as picking strawberries, but it was still a lot of fun. As an added bonus, the farm we visited doesn't spray their crops, so we could eat the berries straight off the bush. This significantly reduced the actual cost per pound.

This time we brought our nephews Thomas and Grant, who are built for blueberry picking. We set a heady goal of picking 14 pounds of berries, but the scorching Georgia sun only allowed us to pick 7 before we cried uncle and headed home. This is probably a good thing, since we grossly underestimated how much 7 pounds of blueberries is.

Unlike the entirety of our strawberry harvest, which met a quick and decisive end at the hands of my beautiful wife, some of our blueberries were reserved for future cooking projects. I foresee some homemade preserves or muffins in the future.

I think there's a little more at stake picking blueberries than with strawberries. The odds of a random tart berry making it's way into the bucket is significantly higher, especially when the slave-driving Aunt and Uncle demand more production and the less enthusiastic children start tossing anything round into the bucket to fill 'er up.

That's fine with me. Just like homemade bread, herbs, BBQ or other labors of love, the hand made stuff tastes way better than the mass produced factory food that most people shovel into their mouths. I'm frequently guilty of food ambivalence, but when I can I'll gladly take the time to get one step closer to culinary harmony. It's good for me.