Some food questions…

This past week I made a random trip into NW Portland to check out Ted Allen doing some cooking demos at a Williams Sonoma (I know, I know.)

I like Ted Allen. He’s been a judge on Iron Chef and hosts a Food Network show. He’s funny, smart and a super nice guy, from what I’ve seen of him. He was a the food and wine guy on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy — a show my wife and I watch when we’re emotionally exhausted from the day. God, those men do amazing things.

He was taking food related questions from the crowd and I realized that I know a lot. Granted, it was me in the room with mostly women in their 40′s and 50′s, but their questions seemed pretty obvious. Then I realized we’ve all been there. Food rules change a lot over the years. Like, should you wash your chicken before you cook it? Can you use goose fat like duck fat? (And I question, who can find goose fat in the grocery store??)

I asked some folks on Facebook if they had any questions, considering I have tons of useless knowledge of food ways and technique in my head. Here are a few I believe I can answer.

How do people eat okra? I just can’t like it. 

-Totally understandable. The only okra I grew up eating was from my great grandma. She fried it really dark and crispy with a thick cornmeal crust. The slimy texture is the hardest part. I think if you want to try to like okra, cut it into small pieces, batter and fry it. One reason I love okra is how beautiful it is. Not only is it in southern cooking, but is huge in Asian, African and Indian dishes. Okra pickled is delicious. Especially with a salad or in a sandwich. I love using okra in gumbo because it adds thickness. Also, flash frying okra (meaning, cooking it in a pan over HIGH heat for a short amount of time) is good in stir fries and the like.

What are some other ways to cook catfish besides frying?

THERE IS NO OTHER WAAAAY!!!
I’m kidding. Catfish is interesting. A lot folks don’t like it because it tastes too muddy. But, as you can imagine, Southerners are blessed with this fish in abundance. It’s also not a fish that is over-fished, which is important any time you’re talking about catching and eating fish. I will say though, catfish is probably my favorite fish to eat.
One of my favorite ways to eat it is just blackened. I think this is pretty common most places. I would coat the catfish filet in sea salt, pepper, cayenne and some thyme. Toss a little canola oil in hot pan, enough to coat the bottom, and cook for about 2-3 minutes on each side. When the fish is almost done, toss in a tablespoon of butter and a squeeze of lemon juice to finish it off. Catfish is forgiving if you over-cook it. In fact, I used to under-cook it a lot for fear of over-doing it. When the meat flakes apart, it’s done.
I think fish tacos are brilliant too. Cut fish into little bites, saute in some butter and fix as though you were making a taco. (Salsa, cilantro, crema, etc.)

What are some ways to use flax seed?

I can go on and on about the goodness of flax seed. It’s such a good source of fiber and well, you can google it to see all it has to offer. As for ways to ingest it? That’s a little more interesting.
Mostly, I eat it via smoothie. This is always after grinding it up. Remember to grind your flax seed! Otherwise, you’ll totally see it in your bowels and realize that it doesn’t digest very well unless it’s ground.

With that being said, using ground flax in muffins/baked goods is a great use. I think if you can get used to the consistency, eating it in yogurt with fruit is a way I’ve done it before. Flax doesn’t taste bad to me, so you don’t really need to hide it that much. Also, I’ve sprinkled some in granola before I bake it.

What about quinoa?

I can’t say that I cook quinoa a bunch. I should. I know it’s really good for you as a source of fiber and whole grain. Definitely a healthier option as a starch. I like to eat it with tomato, olive oil and lemon juice. I also think cooking it in chicken stock is a good idea. It will add so much more flavor.

I’m always open for more questions — especially about southern food. That seems to be what I’m tagged with these days, and I can’t say that I’ll complain about that. It’s the food I enjoy cooking and eating more than anything.

Thanks for the questions, to those who asked! This was fun!

Restaurant Depot (We’re All in this Together)

Life in the industry is another world where one must learn the language…

…the head nods
…the attitude
…the solidarity.

Since working at Woodlawn C&P, I make runs to Restaurant Depot once a week or so to pick up supplies. Cups, napkins, etc.

You can only shop at RD if you have a membership. You can only have a membership if you have a licensed business. This cuts out the Costco crowd. Yes, it’s all bulk, but less buggies full of flat screen TVs and cigarettes.

Restaurant Depot does not have the best ingredients. They’re decent, at best, which is why we only grab paper goods and the occasional block of cheese or frozen fruit. The refrigerated section in this place is massively rad. It’s a little scary to imagine myself stuck in there without a way to leave. Slowly freezing to death at Restaurant Depot is not how I want to die.

But, there are the folks who own little restaurants and food trucks. In fact, on any given Friday (which is a dangerous day to go), you will find carts loaded to max capacity with giant pork shoulders, Mexican Coca-Cola bottles, onions, potatoes, etc.

My best advice when shopping at RD — Get in, get out. As fast as you can.

As I pass the vats of sambal oelek and plastic bags holding (it seems) an endless supply of dried porcini mushrooms, I happen upon one of those sweet moments.

When you witness an interaction that makes you glad to be doing what you do. Like the woman tossing a 40lb bag of AP flour on her cart as she adjusts it to fit beside her 30lb bag of C&H sugar.  A man and woman walk up beside her, pulling their own heavy load saying, “There’s some more flour down that way…$10 bucks cheaper…on sale.” The woman replies, “OH! Thankyou…wow, you’re my new best friend…”

As the other man and woman walk on, he yells back, “I hear that…hey…we’re all in this together, ya know?”

And it hit me. Sort of got me a little teary eyed. In the middle of Restaurant Depot, an act of solidarity. Where the industry defends and supports each other knowing deep down that they will never make it rich like the TV folks do.

All they can do is buy flour on sale…and hope that it makes another person’s day a little easier. Because the work they do…is not easy. When you have glorious ideas of opening up your own bakery to sell cupcakes, you’ll probably want out right about year two — when you realize the amount of work you put in is not equal to the money you get to pull out. (If any..)

But don’t let that discourage you.

These people work hard because deep down, they love doing it. And if they do it well enough, they can actually make a living and have a life — although maybe a year or two after the restaurant opens.

I love these people. Genuine. Hard working hospitality workers fighting to make a small living in a world where so much is fake and lacks the genuine community they aim to build.

Things tend to move when you realize that we all are in this together. It takes away the sting and we become better people for it.

And we could always use a little more of that.

When it Tastes Good…

There’s this saying, “Eat what’s good, when it’s good.”

I like this. Especially as we’re entering into the best growing seasons. Spring to Summer and to Fall again, some of us are gettin’ a little antsy. Granted, we buy salad greens in the winter, but we know… we know…

There’s the overwhelming sense of goodness when eating in tune to a season. You can bet that in late Spring into Summer, those bright colors you see in the local grocery stores and markets are at the peak of their lifespan. That is, before hitting your tongue and nourishing your belly.

Asparagus. Artichokes. Fava beans and collards. Strawberries and rhubarb. Lovely greens and reds are peaking up above the soil. Pretty cool when food comes out of the ground. Somehow that helps me to figure out why this life makes sense sometimes. Some things…just work.

Also, what grows together goes together. (A quote, I think, attributed to Tom Colicchio.)
Strawberry and rhubarb is a perfect example of this.  Also a summer gratin or ratatouille using those gorgeous little summer squash.

Not to beat a dead horse, but this stuff is important! The seasons teach us so much. Like how tomatoes need pretty hot temperatures to be lovely and red and green and orange. And how wine grapes do best during those hot summers. The grapes become sweeter and so much more complex. It’s important to see what the sun and heat do to make things taste good.

And that’s what this is all about. Eat it when it tastes good. Eat a lot of it. You’ll probably get sick of it…but then again, you probably won’t touch the vegetable again until it’s in season. (Or if you can, you’ve already found your way around this.)

Our kitchen has been getting warm the past couple of weeks. The sun has been out and into the 80s and I already feel it in my bones. When roasts tend to lose against the cooler counterpart. Then again, maybe we’re supposed to eat lighter in the Summer.

So in a last ditch of encouragement…when it tastes good, eat it!

Let the sweetness of these fruits fill us up;

and then let the warm sun heat our skin;

because when it’s good, it’s so, so good.

On Being Healthy

I think about all the food I’ve consumed throughout my life — the fast food, soda, chips, home-cooked and sit down meals — and realize that we do, inevitably, become what we eat.

I realize that even in my head, my best memories are of good food. I don’t think I’ll ever sit down and say, “You know, that time I (almost literally) forced my Mom to get me McDonalds?” Sorry mom. I know I was stubborn for beans and rice. Look at me now, though, eh??

Part of my journey to becoming a healthier person is to realize where I’ve come from.

I think food is emotional. Actually, I don’t think it is.

I know it is.

I also know people emotionally eat. (Which is usually not a good thing.) Mostly, food reminds us most of our childhoods. Maybe even more so than the smell of cut grass or the inside of a baseball glove.

In a sense, I’m creating something new within myself. Like the way tomatoes taste in the summer time. Or eating outside with the sun upon our faces. That will remind me of Oregon. I know this deep down.

Or when I visit home and sip my Mom’s tea out of my favorite pitcher and eat her sweets that line the counter. It’s like slipping into a warm bed. (A place where sweets are usually NOT to be consumed…though we’ve found evidence as of late!)

I’m creating a healthier me. Correlating healthy food experiences to my healthier being. Remembering how good those vegetables tasted and why losing weight is so fulfilling. I feel as though I’m slipping into the body I’m supposed to be. I don’t think I was built to be skinny. I’m a big guy and will always carry that with me. But I can change and adapt to what my body needs.

And right now, that’s good emotions. Good relationships. That with people and food. And it just so happens I’m working on both of those things daily…which given an entire lifetime just might be enough time to pass it along to others.

Happiness is most real when it is shared.
It is given to our children and at some point, their own.

What we eat passes on through our bones and throughout eternity.

It’s time to make that choice.

To be better.

One day at a time.

the table

Generally it’s a place we put mail, old magazines and jackets that come off our backs sooner and sooner these days.

Right now, there’s a sewing machine, some pretty out-of-season flowers and a wine glass with a few sips left from last night.
I’m talking about that holy surface — where all things are laid out — where food enters our bodies and where we sit too long some times, debating, laughing, sorting through life’s crap and usually, enjoying food of some sort.

Our table is intimate.

I’d say most tables are.

Where food is raised right above the belly and where it ends up on the other side; give or take a few minutes or a few hours. But we’ve all been there. Those dinners that last two or three hours. Some of the best times ever. Too much wine — or when the conversation is as sweet as the bites. Getting up is sometimes saying, “Well, it’s time to move on.” Sometimes, you don’t want it to.

All is equal on that table.

I can’t say that we always eat there. Usually we catch up on TV shows or watch a movie. Sometimes it’s fun to zone out.

I am learning though, the intimacy that takes place when everything is off and you’re concentrating on others and how they feel about the food you’ve cooked. It’s a bit more honest.

I think if cooks (hosts, restaurants) do their jobs right, they help to create these moments. When a need is fulfilled, when glasses are full, when palettes are blissed out. God, I do love that.

I’d like to be in the business of facilitating memory. That rich stuff that doesn’t leave our brains. When I look back at some of the best meals I have, I see a table. Covered in plates and empty glasses and that one dish that’s leftover everyone keeps nibbling at.

Granted, in the restaurant world, you want to turn tables as much as possible, but at home, you can stay as long as you want.

Sometimes, that’s all I really want. To sit at my table and stay for a while.

Meat on Flame

As I say, when you have a hankerin’ for grilled meat, it’s best to just let it happen.

This is what I did yesterday because the sun was hot and I needed to smell like mesquite.

There are good and bad things about both gas and charcoal (or wood charcoal). Over the years, I’ve used gas because “technically” our landlords don’t want us using charcoal near the apartments we live in. But…we’re good people. We know not to pour hot coals into the trash and to keep a close eye on the flame. I broke down a bought a little baby charcoal grill.

I bought some good Lazarri Mesquite Charcoal. Hands down some of the best coals you’ll ever get. The smell is unlike anything. You also really don’t want to use lighter fluid if possible. Buy one of those charcoal chimney things to start your coal and let it rip.

In proper grilling, it’s actually good to have a really hot spot and some not so hot spots. This is the same with both gas and charcoal. Especially for the food I’m gonna share with you today.

Not my picture, but they looked pretty damn close to this. Mmm.

I reckon’ it’s more like Yakitori – or meat grilled on skewers over high heat. Usually this meat’s been marinated in something, but not always.

My favorite is country pork shoulder ribs and chicken thighs (skin on, deboned). I season them both a little differently.

Garlic Chili Pork Shoulder Rib (Yakitori/Skewer)
(This is an awesome cut of meat. Usually pretty cheap. Has good fat and lean consistency)
1lb country pork shoulder rib, diced for skewers
3T Garlic Chili Sauce (Huey Fong – You can find it easily at any grocery shop. Probably where they keep the soy sauce)
2t light soy sauce
pinch of kosher salt
pinch of freshly ground pepper
Toss with about a tablespoon of canola or vegetable oil – let sit overnight or for a couple of hours. Stick on skewers and cook over high heat for a few minutes on each side.

Chicken thighs (Yakitori/Skewer)
1lb boneless/skin on chicken thighs, cubed for skewers
2T canola/vegetable oil
1t garlic powder (or minced garlic)
1 three-finger pinch of kosher salt
1 two finger pinch of freshly ground black pepper
1T Worcestershire Sauce
That’s it! Toss, marinate, and cook the same as you would the pork.

Seriously, this stuff is so good to me right now.

Hit. It. Up.

Cheese, Seafood and Coasties (Joyeux Anniversaire!)

Hello Southern Belly readers!

This week, I was out of town enjoying some time off with my wife Hannah.

It was our 3-year anniversary so we decided to take a trip to the Oregon Coast. One of the things I love about living in Portland, Oregon is our ability to change scenery. We can travel an hour in any direction and things can be drastically different. An hour south and we’re in wine country — west and we’re at some of the country’s most beautiful beaches.

I can’t say the food is that great on the coast. It’s usually pretty expensive and of lower quality than what we get in Portland. Well, there are a lot of seafood joints that cook ‘okay’ seafood, at least in my experience with eating it in Oregon. And let’s be honest, good seafood should be expensive, especially if it’s done right. (Oh Portland, you have us so, so spoiled.)

But, regardless, the best way my wife and I celebrate is through eating.

Coasties are interesting. They are an entirely different breed. As I watch kids walk home from school in a town that is mostly catering to tourists, I wonder what life is like. Your parents might own an Italian joint that suffers eight months out of the year, but makes a ton of money for those crucial four months. They are proud though. Proud of their home, even when it is invaded by the inevitable.

The night of our anniversary, we grabbed a bite at a local spot in Seaside, OR that offered a pretty wide range of items. We usually stray away from restaurants that serve too much. Such as dishes ranging from spaghetti, pizza, and teriyaki chicken to burgers, crabs and steak. (But this place had good reviews, so we were down. Just make sure you eat before 7pm on the coast or you’ll be at the Wendy’s drive-thru. Places close early on the coast. Especially during the off season.)

In any place, you should probably order what is popular because it will most likely always be fresh. I ordered a half chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and broccolini and it was actually REALLY good. I’m such a sucker for roast chicken. It might be becoming a problem. Plus, you can’t really fake a roast chicken. Either it’s just been roasted, or you don’t serve it. At least that’s how my brain works.

My wife ordered a big ole’ King Crab. They made her pick it out of the tank, though we didn’t know that rule. All of a sudden the chef comes walking out with an old Kikkoman soy sauce bucket and grabs the crab my wife wants. This was of course after the table next to us yelled, “HEY! HE’S WAITIN’ ON YOU TO PICK YER’ CRAB!” I giggled the whole time. Time to meet your maker, Mr. Crab.

My chicken was excellent. Hannah’s crab was lovely. We’re getting better at this whole coastie thing.

We also stopped at the Tillamook Cheese Factory. Holy smokes. I love stuff like that. It reminds me of going on field trips. I felt a little weird watching the cheese assembly line. Doing one thing over and over and over again. Not sure if I could manage that. Though I suppose for some people, it works. I really like Tillamook. They do good stuff. And at the end of the tour, you can buy specially aged cheese and sample curds and what not. The look on my wife’s face as she approached the ‘squeaky’ cheese curds was hilarious. Never have I met someone who goes nuts for cheese curds. But, I do love that about her.

She’s awfully cute, ya know.

As a place where I generally come to talk about food, I will from time to time dive in my life with the person I live with. The person I get to feed most of the time and who cares deeply, the way food is made and consumed. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have gotten into cooking.

They say food is the best way to a woman’s heart…but I’ll take it a step further and say food is the way to anyone’s heart.

Happy Anniversary, love.

Always thankful to have two plates on our table.

to defend and serve (…hospitably)

Okay, let me explain the title to this piece.

I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time about the relationship I have with co-workers behind that invisible “customer/server” line. I use the word “server” loosely, because it’s not always divided by a bar or kitchen. I use it in a way where one person serves another, either by cooking, waiting, or making.

The bonds formed “on the line”, in the trenches, and behind the bar can be sacred.

When a new person is hired, there is a time where we are unsure. Can this person be trusted to defend me? Will they put me in the weeds? Will they make our tips suffer?

These are things to look for in a person. Someone you can trust and work through a huge line with. Someone who knows the ebb and flow of customer service and beverage/food production. The flow is so very important. Say I get backed up making drinks, you chat with the people in line a little. Create a little space to finish orders. If people are ordering too much of one thing and someone asks you what you like, give them the other option because most likely, the people in the back are slammed with six of the same plates.

Most importantly, you have to listen. At least in my position, where you are balancing several things at once. For example, on a busy day this is what I have to keep in mind:

There’s a big line out the door. You have six drinks in line. Two of which are triple shots, one person, for their peace of mind, orders a “wet cappuccino” in a 12oz. size, which is a little ridiculous because that’s basically a latte in my eyes. So now I worry that the dude will want more foam, which would cause a hiccup in my flow.

There are two drinks sitting on the bar that no one will claim because they are chatting. Which is okay, but they’re going to mess things up once more drinks hit the bar. People will grab the wrong cup and I’ll have to remake something. Listen for your drink. We don’t mind if you ask us before grabbing.

In the midst of making drinks, I listen to the person at the register taking orders so I can hear it in my brain. Sometimes we miss things. If I hear an order as well as see it, there’s very little possibility of me messing up, which I rarely do at this point.

While making drinks (meaning: pulling shots, steaming milk, rinsing pitchers, and repeat), people are asking me for extra forks or a napkin or that we’re out of water. In between making drinks, I refill the water pitcher only to be met with a question about the color paint on the walls of which I say, “uhhh…get back at me in juuuust a minute”.

Buh.

Then I hear the inevitable last splurts of coffee coming out of an empty airpot. “HEY! It’s empty!” — “I-I-I gotcha”  There is a fresh, full pot behind, ready to go, but not everyone picks up on it. So again, I have to step away, change it out, and if I have time, grind coffee and refill the empty. This is my job…I don’t mind it. Just the sequence in which they happen can be rushed.

“Do you have any clean spoons?”

I rush to the dishwasher and throw some in, tell them it’ll be a minute before they’re done. The customer usually uses a plastic straw by then, therefore making their suggestion for a clean spoon invalid.

All the while, keeping your co-workers in check. Are they okay? Do they need a break? How’s their blood sugar? Do we need to jam something in our face before crashing into the auto-chlor that nips on my heels?

Cool. The rush dies down.
We empty the OVERFLOWING bin of dirty dishes that people stack so cautiously high, that as I pick it up, one loose spoon causes the dishes to collapse into a loud clatter. Thanks. That’s gonna be a bad Yelp review from someone saying, “I wish they were quieter with their dishwashing…”

But probably not. I make this stuff sound bigger than it probably is, though Yelpers are becoming the thorn in the side of the restaurant biz. Complaining about bad service when they’ve only been to a place once and are probably themselves, thorny assholes.

It is a process of defending and serving. Making yourself confident while smiling and being hospitable.

The relationships you make with people behind the bar or on the line are solid. You determine that you’ll probably do anything for them at some point and fight for and with them if something happens. You become a tight knit group — knowing how to work well in a small space — covering where the other falls behind or misses inevitably at some point during the day.

It is, at times, fast and demanding work. But it is rewarding. Instant gratification. Day in and day out, you perform and go home finished, leaving what you did for the past 6-8 hours behind the dark wood and steam and heat.

It’s intense, but I do love the work. I like being tired.

Even when I do find myself scrubbing off dried egg yolk from a plate…

..because as we all know, it can be kind of a pain in the ass.

Mardi Gras 2012 (A Year in Review)

I realized that I didn’t share the Mardi Gras party we threw back in February! At least for those of you who aren’t Facebook friends.

I wanted to break it down a little. Post a few pictures. Explain why these parties are milestones for me. Cooking and relationship-wise, they are a testament to what I’ve learned as a cook and a lover of food and story.

Let’s get this started:

Shuckin’ some oysters. Shigoku and Fanny Bay. Delicious. Briney. Tasted like cold ocean.

Can’t say that I’ve always been a fan of oysters, but these days, I can’t get enough.

Fresh horseradish. Mignonette. Lemon. Perfect.

Black eyed pea salad.

And…we boiled some crawfish straight from Natchitoches, Louisiana! (I really like the crawfish tail sticking up in the air front and center. Awesome crawfish from Louisiana Crawfish Co.)

“Takin’ it in the face” my boss would say.

Poor little guy. Your death was not in vain. You were insanely delicious. It was also really cold outside. Made hot crawfish juice taste even better.

The unveiling with Ben. There’s always something exciting about crawfish being dumped on a table covered in newspaper.

Daang yo.

You know it.

Went quick! (Doesn’t it always?)

beauty.

Suck dat’ head!

You don’t wanna know what that mirror had to do for them beads.

Me…in my happy place.

The first night I moved to Oregon, I met this guy, whom I lived with in a big house full of dudes. He had just found 5 packs of Ramen on the sidewalk and was so excited about it. Huss…thanks for being you.

My favorite view of the night. Makes it all worth it.

Not pictured was some duck, chicken, and andouille gumbo.
Debris Poboys.
And copious amounts of beer.

Excited to do it all over again.

Allan Benton (And his glorious Hams)

This is Allan Benton, y’all.

He ages, cures, and smokes ham and bacon.

The man is a legend. I’ve tried his ham and it was the most intensely salty and smokey pork product I’ve ever had.

I watched a video on Allan (posted below) and fell in love with this guys vision. He’s a dude who aims to keep it small and always prefers quality over quantity.

I mean, he ages hams for a year. It takes the man 33 days to cure, hang, and (most likely) smoke a pork belly for bacon. It’s all he does and he’s damn good at it.

I love the way he talks about “his people”. Something I’ve come to notice about southern folks, especially Appalachian area folks, is how they say, “My mom’s people cured their hams this way…” We don’t really talk like that anymore. But it rings true, especially when referring to heirloom recipes and foodways. It is important to differentiate between both Mother and Father’s ‘peoples’, because once you are born, you are practicing both families way of life. Such a fascinating thing, really.

Anyways, I wanted to show y’all Allan because I think he embodies the spirit of someone I’d love to turn into someday. As I told my wife after watching the video with her, “I want to BE HIM SOMEDAY!”

Plus, he reminds me of my people.

And that always hits home, doesn’t it?