SeaBacon, Fried Jalapeno's, and the Lamb Fat & Russet Potato Adventure...

Found a recipe for a french sauce, emulsion, of hard boiled egg yolk, olive oil, garlic and something else. Exciting stuff. I'll probably add some tarragon and call it a bearnaze. I am fascinated with mayonnaise alternatives, and this sounds like the replacement that I have been searching for. Put it on everything. It's off the bone.

Bringing two things for sharing tonight, both articles in appearing in today's Times online eating section:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/01/magazine/01food-t-000.html?_r=1&hpw

Interesting piece on a Northern California family, former restauranteurs, chutney enthusiasts, living together on a large apple orchard, and just doing amazing things with food. On the vanguard of organic certification after purchasing the place, the gentleman later began grafting heirloom varities of apples (over eighty resurrected varieties) to the trees he hadn't out right replaced. Had about 2,000 trees, mostly red delicious which are subject to the marketplace and widely consumed. Wisely developed and filled a market niche. I'd have to eat the apple.

And this one:

http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/11/01/travel/01journeys.html?hpw

The other is a story on a writers experience at the lone north american Cordon Bleu School, in Ottawa. If you've ever wondered about Cordon Bleu, this is some real shiz. It details her experience, and the draw for me was the writer's early mention of striding out of the school with a sizable portion of lobster and sauce, playing quite specifically to a reoccurring fantasy of mine. Let's about real shiz for minute. I've considered burgling lobster trucks and seafood shops, walking quickly away into the shadows doublefisting some fat fresh canadian superclawed steamers. Astonishingly, I had to defend killing them last night. No problem there, as there is no logical argument to be made, save for overfishing. Go local if you can. Put the meat in butter. It's off the bone. Lobster Lobbying.

But I want to talk about the squid I fried in a light crispy coating of flour (and nothing else, too easy. It's off the bone), and how I came upon it at sea. I was charter fishing for salmon, chasing the mighty Chinook. What happened was, the boat hit a cabal of renegade Humboldt squid, and we started hoisting them aboard studily for about five minutes, something that has never happened to any one on any boat that I have ever been on. They're legal. I couldn't believe my good fortune, to be rolling back home with and entire squid on ice. And they're almost easier to clean fish; the head is seperated from the tentacles and the propulsion cone head, and the flute is simply a tube that is gutted vertical. And then you have steaks about 3/4 inch thick. Too easy, right out of the ocean. And it was huge, probably 12 pounds of meat. They are aliens. When we got them aboard, it was sad for a split second, and it reminded me of E.T., because are unimaginably awesome. They gnash, writhe about, and change colors with a freaky alien skin. It is as if the skin is hypercolor tee-shirt that is hyperventilating. Astounding...Everyone aboard came over to examine the defeated sea monster. Make no mistake, they are extrordinarily adroit predeators, and after I encounterd this curious lifeform, I support harpooning the larger ones. I can't believe that giant squid exist, because maybe the pictures of them ensnaring large merchant ships with those spiked tentacles are arccurate depictions of eaarlier marit-times. I'm especially worried that they will continue to adapt to this planet and eventually establish a social hierarchy alongside of the sexual hierarchy. We should be as worried about this as we are about climate change. They are not from this planet. Which goes to show you, that I will eat everything in this dimension, and perhaps even other space demons. Because this was so delectable. Off the bone.

Seabacon. So, I smoked some of it. Brined some fillets with extra Old Bay seasoning. It was good and I made a marinated squid salad. But then I had the crazy epiphany over the stove when I was about the fry some other regular squid meat. So I added just a few strips of the smoked seabacon, in with the other stuff (fried rather quickly in vegetable oil, dusted only in flour). It immediately petitoned to have the flavor added to the periodic table of elements. Really rich, deep, unique. The crunchy, perectly cooked seabacon was born. No seasoning needed out of the pan, just let drain and momentarily cool. Probably the most intuitive and creative meal related improve I have ever attempted. Off the bone. This is some real shiz.

The other stuff that I caught when destiny attacked my line tasted great too. I got a good tip from Bittman, a video tip in the online Times. I never thought I could do it until that video demystified it for me. Easily far superior to any restaurant calamari I have ever had. The tender tentacles and portions off of the filet were both softer, less rubbery, than any $11 dollar appetizer prepared the same way. Just better, fresher quality product. I had several meals off of the seamonster, and a good amount of the seabacon, an excellent deal given market prices for this particuklar seafood.

The jalapenos get fried the same way. This pairing just makes incredible sense when you taste the flover togerther. The squid is sweet and the jalapeno's earthy complex flavor profile and heat (which cooks out, largly, especially if stripped of the seeds - big mistake though) are nicely juxtaposed, and inviting to the eye. I cannot see eating the same preparation without them. Of course lime, salt, and pepper are favored seasonings for this. I suspect that an overnight marination in tequila, along with these other flavors, would be an interesting take. It could also be terrifying.

About the potatos: the come from my home in the columbia basin, where potatos raise themselves, and the symbiotic miracles of the Columbia River and irrigation, open skies and heavy sun and heat, ensure prodigious growth. They can be found all over the state, as russets are known as bakers and mashers. When I think of potato, it is this variety that comes to mind, because it is the most potatoiest of them all, very starchy, even dry, unlike the yukons and the reds. So, they are local and quite familiar to me, and I always buy a bag to send the cash back home. The perfect potato for frying, as well.

The lamb fat was siphoned into a coffee mug and left in the fridge for two weeks or so. A cup of animal lard. On the blackmarket, lamb fat trades higher than ore, wood, wheat, an is required for settlement building and drawing of development cards. It was as though it belonged in the skillet, melting slowly, spiced with garem masala and rosemary, from a lamb kakob feast. Potatos in lamb fat.

Kimchee Sermon; Vol. 1 -- The Afterschool Special

Microphone check. I did that up there, did it big with the napa cabbage and the bok choy, and grated a Wall street bonus worth of carrot. Also used an obscene amount of ginger, and crab paste, which was not listed in the kimchee gospel sacred text. It suggested shrimp paste, which is purple. I'm fine with that, just sayin' that the stuff is actually purple. But yo check it out the crab paste was dope crizzle essence, and just as tangy as all that. Think about what crab paste is. Crab paste is a concentration of crab force. It is the flavor of that most revered ocean beast (apologies to the white whale) thrown over a cliff into more of itself, and then left to get awesome in the sun, and mixedtaped with spices. The flavor gods have forsaken all others. The rest are heretics, naysayers, soothsayers, false flavor prophets, harlequins, and those left behind when the flavor rapture happens. Don't let that happen to your kimchee.

Kimchee requires time and distance, like the exploratory career of Marcus Whitman, early northwestern pioneer. This makes it more of an activity. Rounding up the traditional ingredients across town, paying for them, and then having to roll an embarrassing six deep with napa cabbage heads back home, and then spending a small eternity shredding stuff, peeling and chopping other stuff, and then slicing and doing many other sharp sounding things. I thought it was a magic secret, something guarded culturally, forbidden flavor knowledge, not for outsiders. I've made many a pilgrimage to the Asian Deli, an inevitable journey of renewal and rejuvenation for the shelves in the refrigerator, a bevy of new conspirators in slow decay, personified whenever I close the door. Its a united nations of flavor in there. Speaking of which, I understand that Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon, while on his visit here recently, has been highlighting the worldwide human rights tragedy of the volume of incidences of maternal death, calling for greater awareness and response, and collaborating with the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. The secretary of the flavor united nations is Dill Clinton, and he's pontificating once again about how reduce our reliance on store bought kimchee. The ghetto dope of kimchee going wop-wop.

The draft resolution reads:

Be it resolved, that you first need to make, produce, or get to the store and buy the following ingredients: Crabpaste, freedom sauce (or fish sauce), baby bok choy, napa cabbage, cucumber (You know), carrot(s) to the 5th power, ginger, one vampire's quota of garlic, a quorum of Sgt. Peppers (red thai chiles, I used pickled ones that I did not pickle, regrettably), salt, and lemons.

Whereas, you first need to render these ingredients, proportionally. There should be considerably more cabbage & choy than anything else.

Whereas, you need to make a brine and and put all of the cabbage & choy into said brine, and leave over night, for whatever. Thenst, you hereby drain and thoroughly rinse the cabbage & choy, reserving some of the brine.

Whereas, if you skip the draining and rinsing step, your kimchee will be nearly inedible for most, nay, all palates. It gets crazy salty, like a spoonful of Morton's.

Whereas, you should respect the heat of the peppers, otherwise people will cry when they taste it. Yeah that really happened. The first response was muffled choke. The salt hijacks your taste buds like a somali pirate, holding them for ransom until you develop stockholm syndrome (like I did), or swill some anything in sight, and then the heat punches you in the throat, like Norris. The flavor secretary's mission is to promote harmony through properly seasoned cuisine. And he's into some other stuff too, like online poker. He's also in a fantasty football league too. But that's when he's not serving in his capacity as flavor delgate and diplomat, dining dignitary, cooker of things, eater of the night, extreme maker of hummus, freelance smoked salmon consultant, sultan of blue cheeses, one man taco testimonial.

Whereas, you combine the ingredients together while offering, softly, a tender memorial for Swayze, singin sweetly she's like the wind, as a blessing signifying the ceremonial commencement of kimchee construction. Proceed to coat everything evenly with the flavor thrillogy of all that spice. Put in a large jar for fermenting, this mixture and some brine, and some water. Taste the bok choy and the mix and make sure that this isn't a throat busting salt shot in every bite. add lemon juice and layer also, and continue mixing until everything is integrated. Make sure the mixture has a small level of holy fluid over it, and seal this hypothetical jar with its corresponding sealing device.

That's pretty much it. It turned out to be strong, but the flavors mellowed with age, and it was arguably consumed prematurely. Traditionally this jar of live culture goodness is thus buried in a yard with the spirits of beloved pets and reptiles, and allowed to ferment for months, or whenever. I'm not trying to google any specifics right now. The process was chopping intensive, and it wasn't that difficult wrangling ingredients. I enjoy the rhythm of chopping vegetables, almost as much as the smooth crooning of Swayze. I wanted to do this, it got done. No one was banished this time.

Aesthetically it is very pleasing. I enjoyed it mostly because I prepared it, because I learned by trial and error, kale and brimstone, that you have to must obey the legend of the salt and the heat. This is a religious flavor edict: just be patient and taste everything. A reoccurring theme in the gustatory gospels. When I bought from the convenience store shelf, I always liked what I was tasting, but it was bitter and not as good as I seemed to remember it tasting years ago (it had been awhile). I wanted to resurrect that mysticism, ascend to another realm of flavor, reach the dimension traveling back through time. Maybe I just wanted it to taste good again.

It was entirely worth the effort to make as much as I did. Tasty food on the cheap, and a good side dish for nearly anything with Asian spices. Dope money with chicken and rice. The longer it sits, the better it gets. Make a fine brine. The things are very comfortable after they have had time to get to know each other, relaxing and conversing in the wavy pale light of the bottom-lit fermentation hot tub. But for me, after eight weeks, it's just now getting to where I had wanted it to go. We learn from the gospel, written by The Rev. Luther Vandross of eating.