I decided to try again, using what I had learned from my first try. This time, I bought the much cheaper tilapia (and it seemed quite fresh). I cut it large, but I used an equal mixture of lemon and lime juices. The bitterness was gone. I also salted it much more. Half an onion and the other half of the jalapeño, though this time I didn't completely de-seed it.
Also, I didn't have any cilantro as what was left over smelled, strangely enough, fishy. I threw it out.
I mixed it up and let it sit for only about twenty minutes this time before starting to eat. I ate it while I drank an all right Czech beer and watched a Fire game. Here's what I noticed:
The fish started out stringy, but after it had been sitting in the acid for the better part of a half, it was perfectly tender. Definitely, letting the fish steep for maybe an hour would make the ceviche just about perfect (as would letting it sit overnight).
It's very rich. I ate nearly a pound of ceviche and felt rather ill afterwards. I'm sure it was the large amount of acid I consumed (that's citrate, not LSD). It really does need to be drained.
It needed chips or tortillas or tostadas or something.
Cilantro, though a very nice flavor, is not necessary and, at $0.99 a bunch, maybe a luxury I can't afford right now (of course, I paid something like $5.50 for the fish).
The Fire are good, but not great, and they seem to lake the cut-throat mentality of the perennial powers of Houston and DC.
Czech lager is still not as good as English ale, but it does go better with ceviche than the former.
Muhalo.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Siwichi
Supposedly, the Quechua word for that wonderful dish of citrus juice and raw fish is siwichi, and that became ceviche in Spanish. Others suggest that it comes from the word escabeche. Either way, this South American dish is one of my favorite things in this world, as is anything that involves seafood, especially when it does not involve the application heat (uh, oyster and wine, hello?).
So, I decided to make some this past week. It's a simple preparation. I bought a half pound of halibut, which was actually the most expensive fish I could buy. I really should have gone with the tilapia, which was half the price, but I didn't see it until the fishmonger was already cutting off my piece.
I diced the fish in fairly large pieces, then I juiced two limes and a lemon and poured the juice over the fish. I also finely diced half an onion and half a jalapeño (minus the seeds). I put those in with the fish, along with a fair amount of salt, and put the whole thing in the frigo overnight.
The next day, for lunch, I heated up some tortillas, chopped a large amount of cilantro (probably three tablespoons), poured off the juice into another container, and served up some ceviche tacos.
Criticisms:
I think I used to much lime juice, because it was very bitter. Salting more helped. Maybe ceviche has to be a salty dish, or maybe it needs lemon. I would also like to try out sour oranges.
The fish flavor was also lost in the midst of all the other ingredients. I think, if I make it again, I'll either use a stronger-flavored fish or else cut the pieces to be larger (closer to the size of a gumball).
The tortillas got water-logged almost instantly, and a water-logged tortilla resembles masa more than a tortilla. Also, they cooled off almost instantly, which was kind of disappointing. I think tostadas or just in a bowl are the ways forward from here.
There was no spice from the chiles. I'm not sure if the dish is supposed to be about the flavor of the chiles, rather than their spice, or if I made it wrong, but I definitely got no capsaicin whatsoever. Maybe I should crush some seeds next time (but just a few, I don't want it to be overwhelmingly spicy).
Mahalo.
So, I decided to make some this past week. It's a simple preparation. I bought a half pound of halibut, which was actually the most expensive fish I could buy. I really should have gone with the tilapia, which was half the price, but I didn't see it until the fishmonger was already cutting off my piece.
I diced the fish in fairly large pieces, then I juiced two limes and a lemon and poured the juice over the fish. I also finely diced half an onion and half a jalapeño (minus the seeds). I put those in with the fish, along with a fair amount of salt, and put the whole thing in the frigo overnight.
The next day, for lunch, I heated up some tortillas, chopped a large amount of cilantro (probably three tablespoons), poured off the juice into another container, and served up some ceviche tacos.
Criticisms:
I think I used to much lime juice, because it was very bitter. Salting more helped. Maybe ceviche has to be a salty dish, or maybe it needs lemon. I would also like to try out sour oranges.
The fish flavor was also lost in the midst of all the other ingredients. I think, if I make it again, I'll either use a stronger-flavored fish or else cut the pieces to be larger (closer to the size of a gumball).
The tortillas got water-logged almost instantly, and a water-logged tortilla resembles masa more than a tortilla. Also, they cooled off almost instantly, which was kind of disappointing. I think tostadas or just in a bowl are the ways forward from here.
There was no spice from the chiles. I'm not sure if the dish is supposed to be about the flavor of the chiles, rather than their spice, or if I made it wrong, but I definitely got no capsaicin whatsoever. Maybe I should crush some seeds next time (but just a few, I don't want it to be overwhelmingly spicy).
Mahalo.
Monday, September 24, 2007
That Other Old Familiar
I finally found time to write a new post, but only because I have fallen ill. It's a shame, because I was so healthy up until I got sick, and now this sets me back to square one. I had actually hoped to avoid getting this bug which seems to be going around, but my luck evidently is focused on other things.
Unfortunately, making good food is not one of those things. I made a pot of beans last week. It's a simple recipe and one which I love to make: one pound of pinto beans (soaked overnight), add to that one sweated onion, a few rashers of browned bacon, cumin and chili powder to taste (and salt). The final addition, which I don't always add, is a browned chicken cut into pieces. It makes the final product more of a stew, rather than just a pot of beans.
It's been a while since I cooked, so that probably explains why I left the skin on the chicken. Here's a tip: if you're going to stew a chicken, don't leave the skin on. It was a little disgusting to have chicken covered in gummy skin.
Other than that, the dish was great.
I like to serve it with an equal portion of brown rice and freshly made tortillas, while sitting on the veranda, watching the hacienda workers harvest the yucca.
Unfortunately, making good food is not one of those things. I made a pot of beans last week. It's a simple recipe and one which I love to make: one pound of pinto beans (soaked overnight), add to that one sweated onion, a few rashers of browned bacon, cumin and chili powder to taste (and salt). The final addition, which I don't always add, is a browned chicken cut into pieces. It makes the final product more of a stew, rather than just a pot of beans.
It's been a while since I cooked, so that probably explains why I left the skin on the chicken. Here's a tip: if you're going to stew a chicken, don't leave the skin on. It was a little disgusting to have chicken covered in gummy skin.
Other than that, the dish was great.
I like to serve it with an equal portion of brown rice and freshly made tortillas, while sitting on the veranda, watching the hacienda workers harvest the yucca.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
That Old Familiar Feeling
When I told Becky that I was going to post on this blog, I had a very clear idea of what I was going to write. I have, from extreme fatigue, completely forgotten in the few minutes since making the promise. Sorry, dear. I'll write something soon.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Un Platillo de Plátanos
I think I should get at least one post a month on this thing, so here goes.
I haven't cooked or baked very much since getting back to Illinois. I vaguely remember doing something with the oven, but I haven't got a clue what it was (I just remembered, I made my excellent scones, although the batter was too wet). I made tortillas a few times, but without a press, they were thick, though still good. ANd that's about it.
This last week, I finally got the things I've been wanting since leaving St. Peter: a Turkish coffee grinder (with birthday money) and a tortilladora. Good stuff. My coffee finally tastes good and the tortillas are thing again.
Anyway, the reason I write is that I find I'm suddenly intrigued to use ingredients I've never used, never even had before. Last week, I made mustard greens, which were good, although underseasoned. It was simple: simmer some water, add some bacon and softened onion, then put in the greens, washed and torn into small pieces. Simmer for twenty minutes or so and then serve. Good, but, like I said, missing something (I used too much water, for one, and they were undersalted).
Another thing I've been excited about are plantains, the starchy bananas. I sliced up a plantain, then fried the discs in bacon grease, serving them slightly salted with the bacon. Excellent! They're really quite different from anything I've ever had before. The peel is incredibly thick, and the texture is more like a stiff potato than a banana. The flavor is somewhere between the potato and the banana, but very starchy (at least for the very green one I used). I have another one ripening in the kitchen so that I can see what they are like when ripe.
One last thing and then I'm done with this post. About a month ago (it was the weekend before the Gold Cup final, if that helps), a friend and I went to a taquería in Waukegan on a Friday afternoon. Now, for those of you not from Lake County, Waukegan has the largest Hispanic population north of Chicago. It's a great place.* But, it is a little intimidating, given the lack of English (all the billboards are in Spanish, and most of the shops obviously cater to an Hispanic majority). Still, after working there for a summer, I knew that there had to be some great restaurants and I was just waiting for the opportunity to go there with another person.
Thus, we went to a place that I'd never been before and it was, simply stated, one of the best meals I've ever had. For those of you who got my Top Meals list two years ago, I'd say it would displace at least number four. I got a bowl of menudo, the slow-cooked tripe soup served on the weekends, and a tamal con frijoles topped with molé. Amazingly good. So good, in fact, that I have vowed never to bring anyone there from this area. Orgasmically good. Without a doubt, the best tripe I've ever had (it was no repeat of that pho meal in the Cities). Everything was homemade: the tortillas, the salsas, the molé, the delicious agua fresca (I got tamarind, of course). So good.
Muhalo.
*On a side note, I'm always amazed by the rampant racism of my friends from this area. There was one shooting in Waukegan in 1999 and they all think of it as some ghetto, simply because of the race of people who live there. In truth, Waukegan is a nicer place than Fox Lake, where I grew up, and everyone overlooks the fact that there was a murder in Fox Lake as recently as 2004. There are no places in Fox Lake that I would say are a nice neighborhood. However, Waukegan is replete with beautiful brick houses, parks, great restaurants, and it's a mixed place. Truly, I can think of few places I'd rather live. It's a shame we whites are so rabidly racist, because the town seems to be dying. Despite efforts to attract businesses to the county's largest city (and seat of government), the downtown feels empty. Fortunately, there are strides being made, but they aren't easy: the Genesee theater is open and seems to be running well, the places around the county government complex seem to have business, and the holes-in-the-wall in the poorer neighborhoods have a booming business (and for good reason: the best barbecue in the county can be had in a black neighborhood, and there are two excellent taquerías besides the one I went to). But that doesn't change the fact that even my most liberal of friends has openly scoffed at the idea of moving to Waukegan. It just goes to show you that as much as things have changed since 1964, they've stayed frustratingly the same.
I haven't cooked or baked very much since getting back to Illinois. I vaguely remember doing something with the oven, but I haven't got a clue what it was (I just remembered, I made my excellent scones, although the batter was too wet). I made tortillas a few times, but without a press, they were thick, though still good. ANd that's about it.
This last week, I finally got the things I've been wanting since leaving St. Peter: a Turkish coffee grinder (with birthday money) and a tortilladora. Good stuff. My coffee finally tastes good and the tortillas are thing again.
Anyway, the reason I write is that I find I'm suddenly intrigued to use ingredients I've never used, never even had before. Last week, I made mustard greens, which were good, although underseasoned. It was simple: simmer some water, add some bacon and softened onion, then put in the greens, washed and torn into small pieces. Simmer for twenty minutes or so and then serve. Good, but, like I said, missing something (I used too much water, for one, and they were undersalted).
Another thing I've been excited about are plantains, the starchy bananas. I sliced up a plantain, then fried the discs in bacon grease, serving them slightly salted with the bacon. Excellent! They're really quite different from anything I've ever had before. The peel is incredibly thick, and the texture is more like a stiff potato than a banana. The flavor is somewhere between the potato and the banana, but very starchy (at least for the very green one I used). I have another one ripening in the kitchen so that I can see what they are like when ripe.
One last thing and then I'm done with this post. About a month ago (it was the weekend before the Gold Cup final, if that helps), a friend and I went to a taquería in Waukegan on a Friday afternoon. Now, for those of you not from Lake County, Waukegan has the largest Hispanic population north of Chicago. It's a great place.* But, it is a little intimidating, given the lack of English (all the billboards are in Spanish, and most of the shops obviously cater to an Hispanic majority). Still, after working there for a summer, I knew that there had to be some great restaurants and I was just waiting for the opportunity to go there with another person.
Thus, we went to a place that I'd never been before and it was, simply stated, one of the best meals I've ever had. For those of you who got my Top Meals list two years ago, I'd say it would displace at least number four. I got a bowl of menudo, the slow-cooked tripe soup served on the weekends, and a tamal con frijoles topped with molé. Amazingly good. So good, in fact, that I have vowed never to bring anyone there from this area. Orgasmically good. Without a doubt, the best tripe I've ever had (it was no repeat of that pho meal in the Cities). Everything was homemade: the tortillas, the salsas, the molé, the delicious agua fresca (I got tamarind, of course). So good.
Muhalo.
*On a side note, I'm always amazed by the rampant racism of my friends from this area. There was one shooting in Waukegan in 1999 and they all think of it as some ghetto, simply because of the race of people who live there. In truth, Waukegan is a nicer place than Fox Lake, where I grew up, and everyone overlooks the fact that there was a murder in Fox Lake as recently as 2004. There are no places in Fox Lake that I would say are a nice neighborhood. However, Waukegan is replete with beautiful brick houses, parks, great restaurants, and it's a mixed place. Truly, I can think of few places I'd rather live. It's a shame we whites are so rabidly racist, because the town seems to be dying. Despite efforts to attract businesses to the county's largest city (and seat of government), the downtown feels empty. Fortunately, there are strides being made, but they aren't easy: the Genesee theater is open and seems to be running well, the places around the county government complex seem to have business, and the holes-in-the-wall in the poorer neighborhoods have a booming business (and for good reason: the best barbecue in the county can be had in a black neighborhood, and there are two excellent taquerías besides the one I went to). But that doesn't change the fact that even my most liberal of friends has openly scoffed at the idea of moving to Waukegan. It just goes to show you that as much as things have changed since 1964, they've stayed frustratingly the same.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Pesto all'Argentina
Ciao, tutti,
I've been meaning to post this for a few days, but I keep forgetting. I made a pesto last weekend that was quite good. A little background, however, is necessary.
The sauce comes from Genoa, in northern Italy and is properly called pesto alla genovese, which , as nearly everyone is aware, is made of basil, pine nuts, and garlic (often with a hard Italian cheese, too) minced together and suspended in olive oil. One usually finds these ingredients combined in a food processor in the States, forming a paste which is then spread on bread or mixed in with pasta. However, pesto properly is hand-minced, so the ingredients are coarser and the texture is much more pleasant on the tongue to my mind. I wanted to make a hand-minced pesto for a number of reasons, but this superb mouthfeel was one big motivation.
On to the recipe. It's a little known fact, but Argentina has strong ethnic ties to Italy. In Buenos Aires, much of the local culture is inherited directly from Italy, and Italian food is common in the River Plate region. Always wanting to be odd, I got my recipe for pesto from Argentina and it has a few interesting differences from the usual American recipe. First off, besides the basil, the recipe calls for an equal amount of parsley (Italian or leaf, I know not). Since Argentina is not known for its olive trees, corn oil is called for, which gives it a decidedly American feel. Finally, and this is the change I find most interesting, walnuts are subsituted for the pine nuts, which changes the flavor of the sauce in amazing ways.
Unfortunately for me, I have no basil, and I don't like corn oil when I have a very good olive oil on hand, so my final recipe looked something like this hybridization: A lot of parsley, minced with three cloves of garlic, mixed with a handful of walnuts chopped coarsely, and then I poured on enough olive oil to bring it all together. I then let it sit for a number of hours so the flavors could meld. It was served with angel hair pasta, thus making capellini con pesto all'argentina.
The first thing I have to say is that one should never make pesto without basil. The core of the dish is that wonderful aromatic and, without it, I may as well have been eating iceberg lettuce covered with a Miracle Whip ranch. That's of course a bit extreme, but parsley alone was just too much.
Secondly, it takes a long time to mince by hand. I'm rather proud of this, but I had to hold my knife so long that I developed a blister at the base of my index finger.
Third, I needed to add more oil. The sauce was not moist enough.
Finally, it paired perfectly with the angel hair. Pesto is such a dainty sauce that it needs a dainty pasta to go with it. Or, one could replace "dainty" with "delicate." However, I was still hungry after eating my rather hefty portion and if I had to do it all again, I think I'd make more pasta. Or maybe serve some soup with it. Still, it was a perfect dish for a late spring day.
Muhalo.
I've been meaning to post this for a few days, but I keep forgetting. I made a pesto last weekend that was quite good. A little background, however, is necessary.
The sauce comes from Genoa, in northern Italy and is properly called pesto alla genovese, which , as nearly everyone is aware, is made of basil, pine nuts, and garlic (often with a hard Italian cheese, too) minced together and suspended in olive oil. One usually finds these ingredients combined in a food processor in the States, forming a paste which is then spread on bread or mixed in with pasta. However, pesto properly is hand-minced, so the ingredients are coarser and the texture is much more pleasant on the tongue to my mind. I wanted to make a hand-minced pesto for a number of reasons, but this superb mouthfeel was one big motivation.
On to the recipe. It's a little known fact, but Argentina has strong ethnic ties to Italy. In Buenos Aires, much of the local culture is inherited directly from Italy, and Italian food is common in the River Plate region. Always wanting to be odd, I got my recipe for pesto from Argentina and it has a few interesting differences from the usual American recipe. First off, besides the basil, the recipe calls for an equal amount of parsley (Italian or leaf, I know not). Since Argentina is not known for its olive trees, corn oil is called for, which gives it a decidedly American feel. Finally, and this is the change I find most interesting, walnuts are subsituted for the pine nuts, which changes the flavor of the sauce in amazing ways.
Unfortunately for me, I have no basil, and I don't like corn oil when I have a very good olive oil on hand, so my final recipe looked something like this hybridization: A lot of parsley, minced with three cloves of garlic, mixed with a handful of walnuts chopped coarsely, and then I poured on enough olive oil to bring it all together. I then let it sit for a number of hours so the flavors could meld. It was served with angel hair pasta, thus making capellini con pesto all'argentina.
The first thing I have to say is that one should never make pesto without basil. The core of the dish is that wonderful aromatic and, without it, I may as well have been eating iceberg lettuce covered with a Miracle Whip ranch. That's of course a bit extreme, but parsley alone was just too much.
Secondly, it takes a long time to mince by hand. I'm rather proud of this, but I had to hold my knife so long that I developed a blister at the base of my index finger.
Third, I needed to add more oil. The sauce was not moist enough.
Finally, it paired perfectly with the angel hair. Pesto is such a dainty sauce that it needs a dainty pasta to go with it. Or, one could replace "dainty" with "delicate." However, I was still hungry after eating my rather hefty portion and if I had to do it all again, I think I'd make more pasta. Or maybe serve some soup with it. Still, it was a perfect dish for a late spring day.
Muhalo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)