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Use what yields the best results. It tastes funny in my humble opinion, it has a chemical like aftertaste. Make your own lard. Use it for special occasions, or for your favorite dishes where it applies. The dinner table is really our only place to relax when we can even make it there , so when you sit down at the dinner table, relax! Free your mind and indulge in GOOD cooking and good company! Stepping off of my soapbox.
If the fat has an off flavor, your lard will have an off flavor. The fresher the better! I get my pork fat from a polish butcher here in Michigan where I live, who, by the way, also has a ton of house made rendered lard for sale! This keeps the fat from burning or browning in the pot, before the fat starts rendering. The water will evaporate away. Cook the fat and water at medium-high heat until you start to see the fat really start to liquify in the pot, turn the heat to low. Your lard is ready when the remnants in the pot, now called cracklings are golden brown.
Strain the cracklings in a fine mesh strainer, obviously reserving your beautiful golden homemade lard. Drain the cracklings on paper towels season them with salt and snack on them, or use them to make Crackling Corn Bread! Place into a clean, dry container, I use a French Market Coffee can, and store in the refrigerator for at least six months. Use to make Fried Chicken that looks like this and tastes even better!
Buttermilk Fried Chicken Recipe. My copy of Real Cajun: Real Cajun, rustic, simple, home cooked meals. I have my fingers crossed for a follow up book surrounding Louisiana Charcuterie, or a Cochon cookbook. What comes through in both books is a love of Louisiana, real Cajun cuisine, family, and tradition. Including Catfish Fried in Bacon Fat. The bacon fat adds an incredible richness to the crisp and moist catfish without taking over the flavor.
I also made my own Tartar sauce as an accompaniment with crumbled Bacon added to it; what the hell right, the cholesterol meter is already broken. The stew is very similar to my recent Chicken Fricassee recipe , but the real magic happens when the dumpling batter is added and the whole pan is popped into the oven. Awesome flavor with the addition of dried Oregano and raw minced onion.
What are your hopes for the kitchen in the new Obama White House? I have several hopes. Second, I hope the Obamas recognize the power of food to bridge the artificial divides we have in our society. I mean, look at all of the attention paid to their choice of a puppy! The first time I tried an oyster I was probably about 7 years old.
I was with my brother, Ethan and my mom at the Roadhouse. My brother had already had an oyster before and liked it. He was probably about 4 at the time. But I thought, as we were leaving, if a 4 year old can eat one, so can I. The next time we came here, my brother ordered some oysters and I asked him if I could have one.
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He said he would give me one but only one. I was nervous and excited at the same time. When the oysters were served I was taught how to eat them. I saw my brother slurp the oyster down with no problem and then I nervously picked one up and slurped it down slowly. I closed my eyes and then, surprised, I opened them again. In fact I loved them!
I asked my brother for another one and he said no but my mom made him give me another one.
The next time we came here, I ordered a big plate of oysters and I slurped down every last one of them —no problem! Ever since then, I have a plate of oysters almost every time I come here. When I eat oysters some of the words that come to my mind are: My favorite kind of oyster is probably Menemnsha.
I like Menemnsha oysters because I love meat and their taste reminds me of meat. They are meaty and chewy and the after taste is kind of salty. Some of my other favorites are: I think each oyster is different in one way or another some are thin and sour, yet others are meaty and salty.
But they all have one thing in common. They are all delicious! So, give me liberty or give me oysters! Check out the article , then enjoy the recipe included below:. The creaminess of the goat cheese is set off beautifully by the spiciness of the peppercorns. I like the diversity of peppercorns in color and in flavor. The quality of the macaroni you use is critical to the quality of the dish. Industrially-made pasta never has the full flavor or sturdy texture that you get in a well-made artisanal offering.
You really can taste the difference and as a result I really recommend using the macaroni from the Martelli family in Tuscany. For the Aged Chelsea: Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add 1 to 2 tablespoons salt and the pasta and stir well. Cook for about 13 minutes if using Martelli or until the pasta is done. Drain it and set it aside. Meanwhile, melt the butter for the sauce in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat be careful not to scorch the butter.
Slowly add the milk, a little at a time, stirring constantly to avoid lumping. When the flour and milk have been completely combined, stir in the cream. Keep the mixture at a gentle simmer not at a high boil until it thickens, 2 to 3 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium. Stir in the mustard, goat cheese, red peppers, peppercorns, and salt. Stir the drained pasta into the cheese sauce. Taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Cover and remove from heat. To fry the aged Chelsea goat cheese slices, melt the butter over moderately high heat in a heavy-bottomed skillet.
Coat each round with the egg wash then completely coat in breadcrumbs. Fry the cheese, about one minute each side, until golden. This has been a steady core menu dish at the Roadhouse since we opened. That said, we knew too that it could be better, so I started asking around about it. Unrelated—or at least not directly related—to catfish, she runs a cooking school in Tuscany and food tours in Italy and Morocco. See her website for more on her work— www. And, it turned out that her Dad, Joe Burroughs, has cooked catfish almost every Friday night in the small town of Albertville where Peggy grew up.
My dad had a barbecue pit in the back yard that he rigged a gas line to. He would heat a deep, oblong cast iron skillet full of Mazola oil. And, lo and behold, Alex and I tested it and it really does liven up the flavor of the fish. And in honor of Joe, my friendship with Peggy, and his long-standing if unfulfilled desire to open his own restaurant, we named the dish on the menu after him. As I said, above, Uncle Joe passed away this past summer. I hear the gentle voices calling…old.. When I got old enough to understand the words, I registered then and there how sad I would be when that time came around.
Life without daddy Joe would be real sad. That time came Saturday, July the 12th, , when at 90 he took his last breath. It is as sad as I always imagined it to be. But I feel better about it than I ever thought I would. That and the taste of this not particularly fancy, but nevertheless darned good fried whole catfish. I do every time one of great looking hush puppy and cole slaw laden catfish platters goes out to a table. I think the already really good American brunch at the Roadhouse got one step better when this one went on the menu.
You really did read that right—bacon and cocoa combined into one seriously good sauce ladled over those very nice homemade biscuits. I know this is one of the strangest sounding but, for me, most exciting things on our new food front. It was one of those culinary footnotes that, when I first heard about it, I thought people were probably playing with me. Turns out though that chocolate gravy made with bacon fat has been around in Appalachia for a long time. The quick story of its origin is that it likely dates back about hundred years.
So, back in the beginning of the 20th century when cocoa powder first started to work its way into the American interior it made the otherwise little experienced taste of chocolate accessible in the Appalachians. And in the process, chocolate gravy was born. Hard to ask for more!
The Roadhouse will open again for regular business at 11am on Wednesday, November 5. The Roadshow staff will be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6am to serve our drive-up guests espressos, lattes and breakfast bagels. Her recent article details the ways that the Roadhouse and James Beard-nominated Chef Alex Young are breaking new ground by serving regional American cuisine, traditionally prepared ingredients and locally grown produce. Check out her article online! Halloween is hardly a new thing. Candy corn, caramel apples, pumpkins, witches, bonfires, devils, costumes.
But while everyone knows the holiday, hardly anyone here knows where it started. In fact, Halloween has its roots in ancient Ireland. And yet, when you look at the history, there it is, plain as plain can be. In Ireland the calendar could, I think, be effectively divided into two, rather than four, seasons. Despite the fame of those old soap commercials, you could probably get by just fine with nothing more on your planner than winter and summer.
From a spiritual standpoint Samhain was a time of great significance, a day when charms and spirits were out in abundance. The souls of the dead were said to come back, and there were all sorts of divining activities taking place. Rings in cakes, apple peels, and cabbage heads all were used to foretell the future. A lot about who would marry whom, who would live another year, who would be dead twelve months down the road.
Sounds like Halloween, heh? Having deviously deceived both the Devil and God, Jack was denied access to both heaven and hell. Instead he was condemned to an eternity of wandering the world. He asked the Devil for a bit of light to help him see where he was going, and was given a burning ember which he could carry around to light his way.
The ember was inside a good sized, gouged out turnip, which he could carry to light his way. As the tradition grew, people would typically take a turnip and do the same, putting it in their window on display each year at Halloween. When Irish folks got to North America, the turnip turned out to be harder to get hold of but pumpkins—bigger and more easily available—worked out beautifully.
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And, as every American knows, we still use them today. Still the intensity of the Famine is hard to imagine today in the relatively prosperous 21st century western world in which we live. Just the numbers alone start to get the point across. The rough data is overwhelming—over the five years of potato blight, somewhere between a half a million and a million people—out of a population of roughly 6,,—died.
About a million more emigrated in order to be able to find food and escape the poverty. And, in fact, Halloween was actually brought to prominence in the US, primarily by Irish immigrants fleeing the Great Famine in the middle of the 19the century. But I can certainly start to imagine it. Every little bit helps to make a positive and needed difference.
One theme that comes up over and over again in Irish lore is that Halloween was a day when the fairies and ghosts of the dead were active. In most settings these visits have been perceived as something to flee from. I mean more people than not are good, and live positive lives. So if the ghosts of the dead are active at Halloween, then maybe more good things than usual could happen at that time of the year. The tie between the Irish and fighting hunger is, to me, all the more appropriate because, having come to know Ireland and its people fairly well over the last twenty years or so, as much as the Irish suffered from the fallout of the Famine that struggle has never led them to abandon their spirit of generosity.
But in this case, butter has historical significance and a very appropriate role to play. What makes it so meaningful? It really is the iconic food of Ireland. But butter predates potatoes by a long historical mile—spuds came in only long after Columbus, while the prestige of dairy products dates back to the ancient Celts. While Samhain marks the end of summer, Beltane brings its start. As with Samhain, superstitions abound—again, fairies are out and about and one needs to take care what one does and where one goes lest one run afoul of them.
The economy is good, the country is doing well, and for the first time in years there is positive population growth. Ireland has survived the poverty and hunger through which I t struggled and come out the other side. Even the poorest household must have something special for supper in honour of the night, and here, as on other festivals, more prosperous neighbours ensured that a present of milk, butter, vegetables and other ingredients of the feast, passed to their poorer friends as well as to their workpeople.
The sad reality is that there have always been people in need. In the spirit of all the generous souls of centuries past—Irish and otherwise—thank you for helping to feed those in need and house the homeless.
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I went over, on my own and knowing no one there, in June of But in truth, at the time butter was barely even on my list. It is on there now though; as can happen with any long time lover, the initial thrill of the first encounter has long since passed but you continue to find small, significant stuff you love about your love. Sometimes the things you come upon later on actually turn out to be more meaningful than what got you going so good in the first place. I barely thought anything of it when I first got to the island. By contrast, butter here in the States seems to make a lot of people nervous; we hide the fact that we like it, or ask for more almost apologetically.
I should have known that butter in Ireland was a different thing when, on my first visit to Ballymaloe House, the late Ivan Allen shared an Irish saying with me. Start with blue, white, and yellow corn and add intensive use of red and green chiles. Tandy Lucero, who has four centuries of family in New Mexico, told me. Even visually, coming in from by air, the state strikes me as something special.
Very brown, very flat surfaces that almost instantaneously erupt into big, barren rock-strewn mountains, capped with snow covered white peaks. One branch of the family—the Ortiz—has been in New Mexico since the s. But like I said, New Mexico is an exceptional place. Arranged in no particular order I can ascertain, they remind me of the sort of random placement of familial images my grandmother used to have in her apartment.
But while the arrangement is casual, the content is not. And, of course, he talks with a solid New Mexican accent, which unnervingly reminds me of that of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I ended up in Puerto Rico for awhile. That was twenty years ago. I was gonna supply New Mexico specialties.
But at the time they nobody knew them around here. Peppers probably came up to what is now New Mexico from the Central America in the pockets and packs of Spanish settlers. In the form of an expedition led by Francisco Vasquez de Coronado the conquest reached what is now New Mexico in ; Spanish historians believe the mission brought chile seeds up from Mexico and gave to the Pueblos. The native Pueblos, however, claim that they were growing and eating chiles long before the Spaniards showed up.
The northern half of the state is known for producing particularly flavorful peppers. Most are smaller, well-wrinkled varieties; their yields are typically way too low to make them viable options for anyone seeking meaningful commercial results. In more modern times, saw the opening Santa Fe Trail opened and New Mexican farmers started to be ship chiles back east. The school quickly became a center for chile development. In more detailed discussions chiles are known both by seed source and by growing location.
These days there are dozens of varieties, each with its own slightly different spin on the typical New Mexico green chile flavor. Some of the other ones, you only have heat no flavor but the Sandia is the favorite of the New Mexico people. The red chile is harvested in October, after the chiles have had time to turn from green to reddish orange all the way through to the deep red color of full ripeness. Most all of the red chiles are dried in the early autumn; most these days are done in commercial dryers. Many though are still strung up to dry naturally.
The New Mexico chile is pretty moderate the heat standards south of the border—hot, but no so hot that it overwhelms other flavors. The main thing about it is its flavor, which is, indeed, very rich and very good. Aside from the above mentioned ristras, you can find red chile for sale as whole pods on their own, or, quite commonly, in the form of chile molido, or ground chile.
He cuts open a box, unwraps the plastic bag in which the chile has been sealed. Again, the aroma is truly pretty amazing. But the guy who does this for me, his seed is so popular that everybody wants that—he takes all the seed out first to sell by itself so his chile is very pure. All you need to make a New Mexico red chile sauce is a good bit of chile molido, some cold water, a little bit of salt, and maybe some garlic, cumin and Mexican oregano. Because the chile loses water very quickly after picking, it has to be processed within a few days of leaving the fields.
In the southern part of the state the harvest starts in late August; in the north not until early September. Personally though I stumbled into chile season unknowingly. I went to Santa Fe for vacation; I came back with a green chile obsession. The smell is the first thing that got my attention. It caught my unsuspecting tourist nose completely by surprise, creeping over walls and around soft adobe corners. The aroma of roasting chiles is as much a part of the end of the New Mexican summer as the smell of burning leaves would be in the Midwest. When the season starts, fresh green chiles come in from the countryside in most every kind of container you can imagine; weathered bushel baskets, heavy burlap bags, split wood crates, and beat up cardboard boxes, all filled with freshly picked, smooth, skinned, Kelly-green dappled with an occasional red or orange streak crunchy peppers.
Maybe two inches across at the stem end, with gently sloping shoulders, and six, seven inches long, about as long as a small banana. They taper down towards their tips, slightly curled like the toes of pointed Arabian sandals. The roasting is done using a contraption that, as far as I know, is unique to New Mexico. Cylindrical wire cages that are, oh, about five or six feet-long, and about two to three feet across that sit on simple metal frames, just within the reach of a half a dozen gas jets.
A small motor mounted on the end turns the cage. Simple, ingenious, practical, and easy to use, they look a bit like giant bingo hoppers. The metal of the cages turns black from regular exposure to the flames. In the old days this roasting was done in an outdoor oven, an horno, but this old technique is almost extinct these days. You have to really tend to it. The chile would have to be hand turned four times. And since the invention of those roasters the home roasting is almost nonexistent.
These days, what used to take two days now takes no more than about ten minutes. To roast, a case of crisp, freshly picked peppers is unpacked into the cage. The door is latched shut and the gas jets are lit. The cage rotates slowly, gently tossing the chiles around as it goes. A few peppers cling to the cage by their stems, and travel up, over and around like riders on a giant chile Ferris wheel.
The chile is roasted when the skins are charred fairly evenly. A forty-pound sack of fresh chiles comes out at about 15 pounds. During the season New Mexicans go after roasted green chiles like 19th century pioneers racing to make claims in a land rush. Meanwhile her husband and father-in-law were sweating away at the roaster trying desperately to keep up. At a little after 8: Well, not right out of the freezer—they do thaw them first. When they come out of the roasters, the skin of the chiles is a pale, almost luminescent green with lots black-brown blisters.
The skin is left on after roasting to protect the flesh, the part of the pepper that counts the most. Just grasp the thick, stem end of the pepper and gently slide the charred skin off with your other hand. Damn, it was good. At first you taste the smokiness, then a hint of warmth, then gradually, like the sun coming over the mountains, you start to feel the heat. All but the most heat sensitive will likely find it a modest spiciness, a pleasant warmth that melts softly in your mouth, and slowly but surely sets your tongue to tingling.
To me, the jewel in the New Mexican chile crown is dried green chile. Of course like dried mushrooms and saffron, the most any of us are buying is an ounce or two at a time so, fortunately, the cost is a lot less foreboding than it sounds. For hundreds of years dried green was the norm in New Mexico. But when I was growing up everybody dried it.
But, then, I grew up on the dried green. It sure brings back the memories. It takes a day or so to complete the process. Of course I already knew that finance was not what makes Tandy tick. And the more he talked about dried green chile the more excited he got. Add an ounce or so of dried green chile. Bring it to a boil for a minute, and then take it off the heat.
Then you just let the chile sit in the water for about five minutes. Cut it into modestly sized strips. And then spoon the mixture onto warm corn tortillas. Simple as can be. Hot but not too hot, the flavor lingers and lasts. This truly is great American fast food. Interestingly, not only is New Mexico chile unique in flavor but also in linguistic application.
But here we make chile the main item in the dish. The best thing to do with a roasted green chile is quite simply, to eat it.
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So go to it. Chop green chile and toss on pasta or put it on pizza. Stuff roasted green chiles with cheese and bake for incredible chiles rellenos. Put green chile and goat cheese in an omelet. Cook up a green chile and cheddar cheese soup. At our bakery we make a very good green chile and cheddar cheese bread. But for the moment you have a few days to get over there and take a taste of two of the lesser known American barbecue traditions.
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She lives now in Birmingham Michigan, not Alabama and had only been up to the Deli once before. For the people who grew up with it, barbecue is a big deal! I guess this is not much different from all the work to familiarize folks with better bread, real bagels, artisan cheese and all the other good stuff we produce and sell.
Heather Showman, who just started serving at the RH and who grew up in Columbia, SC, was very happy to see it on the specials list. For her mustard sauce was just the way it was. If you go to http: Mustard, like I said, is mainly in the middle. In the northeastern part of the state they seem to eat mostly vinegar sauce akin to the Eastern North Carolina style we already do.
In the south down by the Georgia border they opt for a thicker tomato-ketchup type sauce. Some of the biggest names in South Carolina mustard barbecue are of German origin—Bessinger, Sweatman, etc. Edge pointed out that there are also pockets of mustard sauce served in Georgia and Alabama as well. The main thing here is that the mustard sauce is really good. But you can basically order it up anyway you want — South Carolina bbq sandwiches, South Carolina bbq platter for a main meal, South Carolina bbq on some sort of sampler you create for yourself.
Plus I have to say that it looks really great on the plate because of the mustard. One way or another give it a try this week and see what you think. Whether on a plate with a few wedges of lemon and cocktail sauce, or better still being the sandwich lover that I am in the form of a clam roll. Dexter and his wife Bessie opened up their roadside stop a few years before that. You have to have 52, oysters to provide the nutritional value of one red deer.
In the mean time though you might want to stop over at the RH because Alex and the crew are doing a great version of this fried clam sandwich. But given that a trip over to Jackson and Maple is a lot quicker and less costly than making your way out to Massachusetts, stop by and give this one a try. This is fried chicken for seafood lovers. His eyes lit up and he smiled big when we started talking about our serving them on the half shell. Then he shared memories of digging clams with his feet back when he was a kid.