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Yes, I know it has been a while. But I’m really still here.

See!

The post I’m Still Here. Really! appeared first on the Alcoholian.

UPDATE: January 11, 2012.  After a month long exchange with the folks at Google, we’ve finally come to the point that they’ve lifted that “this site may be compromised” thing from search results. Now all I have to do is recapture the 20,000 people that drove off. Yippee!

Thanks again for your patience!

< end update >

So, the other morning I was rather shocked to find that Google has put a “this site may be compromised” tag on some search results. I assure you, it is not. Even Google’s own Webmaster Tools confirm this saying:

Malware

Google has not detected any malware on this site.

Anyway, I’ve asked that the The Google review Alcoholian again and remove the “compromised” tag.

Apparently, that can take weeks for Google to discover what their left hand might be doing that their right hand doesn’t know about. In the meantime, I’m still here. The site isn’t compromised. And I’ll be back with posts once our lives settle down a bit.

I appreciate your patience!

The post UPDATED: Concerned that Alcoholian is “compromised”? appeared first on the Alcoholian.

On this date in history quite a number of important life events — for me anyway — occurred:

• 21 years ago, Most Glorious Spousal Unit and I became a legally sanctioned Mrs & Mr Most Glorious Spousal Units
• 8 years ago, I began work in the MMORPG world which changed my career path completely
• 5 years ago, my Russian (now American) friend Maksim and I launched the Alcoholian
• 1 year ago, most glorious spousal unit and I celebrated 20 years of shared life experiences and I finally completed my life-long quest to visit all 50 States of the USA (Hawaii)

September 13 appears to be a great day!

The post Happy Anniversary to Us! appeared first on the Alcoholian.

I was all comfy in my bed, the idiot box tuned to H2, a channel specifically designed to prep one’s brain for sleepy-time. Hearing Peter Weller’s voice, I thought I was dreaming. The lid of one of my freshly-diagnosed astigmatic and presbyopic eyes opened a bit; this wasn’t showing 5342 of RoboCop or Buckaroo Bonsai, Weller standing on the side of what he said was a dam in Egypt built thousands of years ago. At least that is what I thought he said. No water — liquid, frozen, or vapor — was within miles of this Martian landscape.

I would have killed to have Weller as a history instructor in college.

Interrupting my thoughts of higher education, my Samsung Galaxy S3 issued a soft ting ting, the “Temple Bell” ringtone that indicates I have a text message. I look at my phone in utter disbelief:

Cooked a pork tenderloin tonight, marinated for an hour and a half, very well cooked (white but juicy), but it seemed like the flavor didn’t take, and it was kinda bland. Used an Ina Garten recipe, but just didn’t get the deep flavor like you got. Thoughts on where I might have gone wrong?

“Where did you go wrong? Where do I start? And why do you feel you need this information at 11:10pm on a Sunday night?” I ask myself rhetorically. “What am I, the food emergency hotline?”

Even at this hour, or perhaps because of the hour, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida runs through my sleepy head. It happens every time I hear the words Ina Garten. Weller, unabated, continued his monologue about Menes and the 49 foot tall dam he built around Memphis.

Ina Garten’s  gotta dam in Memphis, bay-bee. Why not 50 feet? Helluva dam, regardless.

Enough of the bedtime stories.

This, dear reader (I assume there is only one of you at this point), is a properly cooked pork tenderloin. It isn’t white. It’s pink-ish.

How does it get this way?

Well, a Big Green Egg (BGE) helps. A lot.

I start the BGE with a 50/50 mix of competition briquettes and natural lump charcoal, dumping and spreading the coals after about 15 minutes. Closing the lid, I tune the vents so the Egg is at 215°F.

After scraping the grill surface, I apply the pork tenderloins and forget about them for about a half hour.

Let’s back up a few steps.

Preparing the pork tenderloins properly leads to that “deep flavor” to which that late-night texter alluded.

The flavoring started about 24 hours earlier when, after removing the silver skin and some errant sinew, the tenderloins got a good dose of kosher salt. That’s it. No kidding.

Getting that out of the way makes me feel much better.

I put those pork tenderloins back in the fridge until about an hour before they were to hit the Big Green Egg. At that time, I added a touch more salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Impressive, no?

Wandering back to the Egg, all that we do is flip those tenderloins and walk away for another half hour.

If you are going to do a side dish, now’s the time.

This one is Pork Tenderloin with Quinoa, Sauce Marsala, and finished with Hawaiian salt.

This is Big Green Egg Pork Tenderloin with cheesy pasta. Below is the same dish with a cream sauce over the pork.

And below, one of my most favorite dishes…

Sliced pork tenderloin, corkscrew pasta, smothered with a cream and butter sauce infused with Parmesan cheese, garlic, basil, and oregano.

And, if you’re truly inspired, a stove-top pork tenderloin paella:

The socarrat was perfect.

11:15pm: Trying my ribs again tomorrow, do they need a day, too? Some people boil them for ten minutes before they marinade them. Do you do that?

Read the f’ing blog [St. Louis Style Ribs] and your [rib] cooking problems shall go away.

Ina Garten indeed, ah baby!

The post 500th Post: Pork Tenderloin on the Big Green Egg appeared first on the Alcoholian.

At the tender age of twenty-four, Nanami’s freshly-minted cocky, impatient, and highly opinionated Executive Chef Jason Liao wants to be on TV, wants to be famous in the vein of Austin’s other top sushi chefs Tyson Cole and Paul Qui, and wants to compete against Iron Chef Masaharu Moritmoto. He’s also developing concepts for a couple of new restaurants; there’s no lack of ambition, that is for certain.

Given the opportunity, he’ll even levitate a plate. His creative spirit is quite magical.

Yeah, well JohnGL, that’s all well and good, but how does his food measure up?

Chef Liao had the good sense to want to run some of his new creations by me. I, after all, knew both Tyson Cole and Paul Qui before they were famous. I’m sure they’d never admit it, but I’m their lucky charm. Their skills have absolutely nothing to do with their rise to fame and fortune.

Getting back to reality for a minute or two, most glorious spousal unit and I sidled up to the Nanami Sushi Bar (located in the enviable SoBro district) and plunked our butts down directly in front of Chef Liao. I could tell he was thrilled. Nonetheless, he put on his happy face and got to work.

I’ll walk you through a plate:

He got started working his magic by making his hands translucent, carefully placing each of these spoons into a dollop of wasabi.

With hands moving wicked-fast, Chef Liao deftly developed the plate.

Carefully, yet quickly, Chef Liao topped the Golden Snapper with some fried shiso.

And voilà!

Most glorious spousal unit commented that the fried shiso looked like Easter basket grass which earned her a straight face from the Chef. I’d hoped that she hadn’t blown the experience for us. Jason took things in stride and simply moved on to the next plate.

We, on the other hand, got to savor these spoonsful of flavor: A hint of sweetness, light acidity from the citrus, exquisitely textured fish, and a hint of crunch from the Easter Basket Grass, all combined to make this succinctly-named opening salvo, Golden Snapper Crudo, a magnificent wake-up call. This kid’s got something.

This one’s called “Pachi Berry”. The fish is Almaco Jack, farmed near Hawaii’s Big Island and marketed under the brand name Kona Kampachi. Very tuna-like in texture, the fish is firm, fleshy, and fatty enough to stand up to the crunchiness of ultra-thin slice of jalapeno. Where the jalapeno adds a bit of zest, the genius of this plate comes from a sweet slice of dehydrated strawberry (visible just beneath the jalapeno).

As Chef Liao finished up the next plate, he told of a fairly rare fish, the Ivory King Salmon. Roughly one in every hundred King salmon has white flesh. Some think it is genetics and others think it is diet. The geneticists are winning. The main thing is the two fish look identical until you cut them open. Chef got his hands on 50 pounds of the stuff and we’ve vowed to eat our share (as did the two lovely ladies that were sitting immediately to our left). I’ve eaten Ivory King only once in my life.

Okay, so twice at this point.

We argued about whether or not I should even post about this dish, so pay attention. The fish is presented over top of a layer of blueberry gastrique. I think there’s some icewine in here somewhere (that’s what my notes say anyway). Obviously, there are some halved blueberries and shallot greens, too. Chef calls this dish Blue Ivory and it is, without a doubt, stellar. Stellar!

My inner plumber comes to life every time I hear a blowtorch ignite. These are slices of diver scallops getting a quick sear for the upcoming dish.

This is the completed dish: Silk Ceviche. According to Chef, the components of this dish came together after reading Morimoto. Besides the scallops, we’ve got small chunks of tuna and “snapper chips” that not only look cool, but double as scoops. Load up one of these crispy-fried fish crisps with a scallop and a dollop of tuna ceviche and you’ve got yourself a mouthful of joy.

Four courses in, and Chef decided to present us with some traditional nigiri sushi: amberjack, Big Eye tuna, and escolar.

I watched Chef with envy at the ease in which he not only slices the fish, but also in the way he assembles these “simple” nigiri. With just a few years of constant practice, anyone can do it.

This toro, or fatty tuna, is combined with roasted almonds and candied lemon rind to make up a dish called Maggie Toro, ostensibly named for Chef’s “sometimes” significant other. The scent of amazingly powerful mint leaves hits you full in the face, and if care is not taken with the amount you ingest with each bite of tuna, it may overpower the flavor of the fish.  The toro combined with the almonds somehow make things taste meatier and the candied rinds adds just a hint of sweetness making this a great dish upon which to end the seafood extravaganza.

Speaking (vaguely) of sweetness, throughout the evening we were sipping Momokawa Pearl, a nigori (white, unfiltered) sake while we were devouring Chef Liao’s offerings with gusto. Mucho gusto!  Consumed in moderation, it wonderfully compliments sushi plates of all kinds, from spicy to fatty.

Do you ever stop talking? What about Chef?

Yeah. I get that a lot. It’s my blog and I’ll type whatever the heck I want. But thanks for reeling me back in.

And while I’m (sorta) on the subject of attitude, Executive Chef Jason Liao has it in spades, though if you read his blog, you’ll also find that he also cares very deeply about his work, his adopted family, as well as many others in his industry. He’s become well-grounded. Focused. He’s matured in a way that only grows from love of craft, hard work, ambition, and just a little bit of magic.

The post Nanami Executive Chef Jason Liao appeared first on the Alcoholian.

We were taking a cruise through the Costco Isles this morning and noticed some freshly packed, wild-caught halibut. Since I’ve been wanting to try out that fried chicken batter on some fish, this presented the perfect opportunity.

I wasn’t at all disappointed. The halibut came out moist, flaky, and not a bit over-cooked. This is a batter that will be used on all kinds of things, perhaps even beef tenderloin (as in chicken fried steak). Stay tuned.

If you missed what’s in the batter in the chicken post, I’ll reprise it here:

This dry mix is a half-cup of all-purpose flour, a half-cup of corn starch, two teaspoons of black pepper, a half-teaspoon of kosher salt, a half-teaspoon of hot paprika, a half-teaspoon of sweet paprika, a half-teaspoon of baking powder, and a quarter-teaspoon of pequin powder. Whisk this all together.

Then there’s the beer. Can’t forget the beer.

Believe it or not, I only had two bottles of beer in the house: a Dos Equis Amber and a Dos Equis Lager Especial. I chose the latter for the batter. It takes just under a cup.

I don’t always drink beer; sometimes, I use it in my food.

When it came to seasoning and cutting the fish, I used a lime-pepper seasoning, salt, and a bit of lime juice.

I decided to go with a cross-cut on the halibut, mostly because it rhymed.

With the batter fixings all whisked together with the beer, the next step is to get the fish evenly coated.

The batter is thin, so it’s pretty easy to get an even coating.

Carefully place the battered fish into 350°F oil.

Three taters, earmarked for chipdom, were nuked on high for five minutes, sliced into quarters, and embedded with salt prior to frying. The salt embedding is performed by sprinkling kosher salt onto a cutting board and the halved potatoes are pressed onto the salt. I wanted to ensure that that salt got embedded into the surface, otherwise it might come off during the frying process.

How do you know when the fish and potatoes are done?

Thanks for asking. Cook’em ’til they float. It makes it really easy.

The chips are crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside and fish is moist, tender, and delicious.

Top it all off with some regional libations, and you’ve got yourself a winning combination.

Raise your glass to another successful cruise!

The post Wild Caught Halibut: Fish & Chips appeared first on the Alcoholian.

Better late than never.

This was our fourth annual “Fourth of July Fire-Pit Paella” get together. It’s also known as Paella Fest in certain circles.

On the left is a more traditional inland paella with mushrooms, peas, chorizo, and chicken (on the sheet pan). On the right is a coastal paella, decorated with a pound of shrimp. Oysters and clams were added later.

Part of the festivities include wine drinking.

That there device is called a porró, porrón, or porron and is a traditional glass wine pitcher typically deployed during festive gatherings in certain regions of Spain, especially Castilla and Aragón. Read all about it at Wikipedia. It’s a fun device as long as you don’t mind wearing some of wine.

I’ve done a lot of posts on paella in recent years, but one of the more informative ones on the entire process is our First Annual Fourth of July Paella Fest. Our methods have evolved and become more refined as evidenced by BigDMcC’s observations on our current cooking processes:

[A] really exciting thing about this one [2012] was figuring out that our formula for stock was off by a factor of two and we need to round down the rice calculation:  r^2/42, for our 18″ pans, 81/42 ~ 2, I rounded down to 1.5 and you split the difference at 1.75 cups of rice.  Our old formula was cups of rice x pi, I think cups of rice x 2pi is more accurate.

We used 9 cups of stock and didn’t add any more, so 1.5 x 2pi ~ 9.4, awesome, it was cooler and humid and we used less heat so less liquid was required.  It did take much longer to cook all the water off and then we wait for the soccarat but I think 9-11 cups will probably be good for most combinations of heat and humidity.

The key is to get the simmer looking like a light rain and cook it to the point that there is no liquid on the bottom. The one thing we weren’t able to do is crank the heat at that point, not too much because, as you know, different parts of the pan start to form soccarat at different times. I’m thinking small branches of a wood that burns really hot so you can get a short duration (and prolong it easily) burn.

Anyway, I’m excited by what we learned yesterday. I also really like the tame fire and building a base with charcoal, we can come up this ideal volumes of charcoal for different size paella pans and types of paella, one with meats including chicken thighs will require more heat up front and a longer burn than an all seafood.

Did you get all that?

We’re not some Podunk-chicken-shit-psuedo-paella-spewing outfit. We take our shit seriously.

I’d never done a “coastal” paella of this nature, especially using clams and oysters. It adds an element of complexity because the shrimp take longer to cook than the clams and oysters and the clams and oysters themselves have different cooking times. I pulled this off the fire pit a bit too soon. While the shrimp were done nicely, the clams and oysters would have benefited — as would the all-important socarrat — from about another minute or so over a slightly hotter fire. I had a decent socarrat near the center of the pan, but BigD’s turned out nicer.

The socarrat is the dark, crusty looking stuff on the left. That’s crispy chicken skin on the right. Both provide the same type of benefit: added flavor. I have to admit, BigD is much better at getting his socarrat right than I am. Don’t tell him I said that or I’ll never hear the end of  it.

It was a little weird being out in “cool” weather, too. Cool is relative in Texas in July. Past Fests have all been on days with temps over 102°F. Yesterday was a balmy 93°F. Weirder still, as BigD and James were finishing up their paella, it started to rain. Hard. They covered their paella with foil and still managed to develop a nice socarrat. That’s dedication.

Luckily, the umbrella not only provided shelter from the sun, when it suddenly clouded-over and rained, we were able to stay (mostly) dry. The foil-tented paella pan is clearly seen out on the fire pit. I snapped this shot from the back porch just after I quickly carried my paella into the house.

I’m really happy that the tradition has endured over the past four years. Each Fest provides more insights into the wonders of paella, but more importantly, it allows us an excuse to get together with good friends.

Thanks to BigD and James for their parts in making this another truly memorable experience.

The post Fire Pit Paella: The July Tradition Continues appeared first on the Alcoholian.

It’s my favorite “holiday” and for it, I cooked up an all-American meal: Prime-grade American farm-raised ribeyes, American farm-raised sweet corn, American-grown bing cherries, all topped off by a premium-grade American red wine. A few of you might even think I’m sounding a bit like a patriot…and you’d be right.

Speaking of patriots, back in the late 1700′s a rather small group of folks took it upon themselves to substantially alter the course of history by telling a King to shove it. Things have never been quite the same since. I admire people with, well, balls.

All American Prime-Grade Dry-Aged Ribeye Steaks — seasoned with salt and pepper

Don’t let this apparent flag-waving lead you to believe that I will blindly play follow the leader or go all xenophobic; I’m an Independent thinker and there is no collective mind-set here. In my time on this planet, my life has been greatly enriched by the diversity of those I’ve known and who have left their homelands to come here for work and to find a better life. This includes my parents (from Croatia), and a list of people from over 30 different countries including, but not limited to: Japan, China, Australia, Austria, Korea, Jamaica, Colombia, Nigeria, India, Pakistan, Lebanon, Russia, Bahamas, Hungary, Israel, Germany, Greece, Mexico, France, England, Ireland, Iceland, Scotland, Iran, Argentina, Thailand, Vietnam, Philippines, Spain, Poland, Sweden, Italy, South Africa, and (dare I say) Canada. I’ve probably missed a few.

Fine American-raised Sweet Corn and American Farm-Raised Prime-Grade Ribeye

Think about it: Some people I know complain of hardship if they feel they have to move across Austin even if moving brings with it a new job and a 50% pay increase.  Many of the folks I’ve known have left nearly everything behind — less a few personal possessions — and moved to a new country with a new language just for a shot at something better. There were no promises of success.

What’s really cool is these folks have brought their native cultures (and cuisines) with them. We’ve worked together, we’ve laughed together, we’ve learned from each other along the way.

The Great American Pink

To me, being a patriot means to promote the well-being of the area in which you live; your “country” or community. Our Founding Fathers, in spite of their flaws, had this in mind and stated it clearly in their Declaration of Independence. They established rules for our new government in the Constitution. A patriot was one who stood for the rights of self government and opposition to tyranny.

This all means that the “we”, the “us” have the power to fix things, to right injustices when we find them, to become the super heroes that we flock to see at our local theaters. It doesn’t matter if you’re socialist, capitalist, gay, straight, male, female, short, or tall. It does matter if don’t do anything to stop the bigotry, hate, and intolerance of our differences. We can make things better.

Rasa Vineyard’s 2007 Principia (Syrah from Walla Walla, Washington)

So, on this day of flag-waving, parades, fireworks, hotdogs, and beer, let’s not forget who we really are and how we got here. We’re in this together and we can all be patriots, shunning the rabid xenophobes who are opposed to or afraid of change, different lifestyles, or different cultures.

After all, that’s how this whole thing got started.

All American Bing Cherries from Washington

The post Fourth of July Prime Grade Grilled Ribeye appeared first on the Alcoholian.

I admit it, I’ve been struggling with my (fried) chicken for years … (I’ll let that image soak in for a sec): Batter is either too thick or too thin, tastes too eggy, separates from the flesh, burns too quickly, or never gets crunchy. But finally, salvation is at hand. Let us give thanks.

Actually, I have the folks at Cook’s Country to thank for this one as it was they who inspired this particular adventure.

The first thing you will need to do is select and prep your chicken parts. I selected boneless breasts. I mean really, who likes boney breasts?

Next, figure out your brine. Mine are soaked in fajita chicken seasoning, salt, and a bit of water. Soak them for a couple of hours or a couple of days; whatever you have time for. If you are really lazy, go down to your local grocer and pick out some plump, juicy, pre-soaked breasts. Almost all grocers have these now. Pick out whatever flavor you’d like. If they don’t have fajita, go with Italian.

This is the important part: the batter. This was easily enough to cover six breasts and probably would have been just right for eight. This dry mix is a half-cup of all-purpose flour, a half-cup of corn starch, two teaspoons of black pepper, a half-teaspoon of kosher salt, a half-teaspoon of hot paprika, a half-teaspoon of sweet paprika, a half-teaspoon of baking powder, and a quarter-teaspoon of pequin powder. Whisk this all together. Note: if you are using pre-soaked (marinated) chicken parts, you may want to cut back on the salt in the batter mix.

Time for beer!

I poured off just under a cup of beer. I poured the rest into my mouth.

Put the beer in the batter mix and whisk it all up. Put the beer in the batter mix and mix ‘em both up. Put the beer in the batter mix, then you feel better. I say Doc-tor!  < come on now, let’s move those hips a little! >

Sorry, I think this Casa Noble Reposado tequila I’m sipping is causing me to channel Harry Nilsson. Give me a sec.

Where was I…oh, yes, beer batter.

When you pour the beer into the batter blend, it foams up a bit. Roll with it and whisk it until it is smooth.

Enter, chicken. The batter is a little thin, so don’t go tossing the bird parts in there. Carefully, lay in the pieces, making sure you get them fully engulfed in that flavorful batter.

Make sure you allow the excess batter to run off the chicken. Give it a shake or two (the chicken, I mean) to help this along.

I’m using my Lodge cast iron Dutch oven as a friar. I worship it.

This is a blend of peanut, vegetable, and olive oils. Why? Cuz it is what I had on hand. I didn’t have enough of any one of the lubricants, but combined, I was able to get the Dutch oven about half full. Get the oil to 350°F and keep it there.

Do not overfill your fryer with chicken (or oil for that matter) ! I can’t stress this enough. I have just two breasts in there. They stay in there until they float, about 12 minutes. If you didn’t allow your chicken to get to about 60°F prior to dipping in the batter, it will take longer. Cold chicken right out of the fridge will cool the oil significantly. If the food police has you all paranoid about leaving chicken out for even an hour to warm up a bit, you are beyond salvage.

Note that delicious golden-brown color?

The inside was beautifully done and still juicy. Note also how that crispy crust actually adheres to the chicken? Positively brilliant! Crunchy, juicy, salty, peppery. Oh. My. Dog!

I noticed a bag of Russet potatoes on the counter.

Four minutes later, one of them looked like this:

Nuked on High (amen), the skin was a little wrinkly.

Quartered, with steam still rolling off of it…

Two of the quarters went into the batter first, then into the fryer. The other two quarters went directly into the fryer.

That beautiful color came after a mere four minutes in the fryer.

These are the battered ones. Both came out crisp on the outside and moist and fluffy on the inside. The battered ones also came with a resounding crunch.

Let’s not forget some crumblies.

I took a couple of tablespoons of the left-over batter and drizzled it into the still-hot oil. I scooped them out about two to three minutes later.

This batter is it. After years of playing around, listening to a bunch of church elders, trying to use eggs, milk, buttermilk, corn flakes, Special K, rice flour, etc, etc, this one sticks, has great color, great flavor, and great Crunch! It’s a batter with some real soul.

The post Fourth of July Fried Chicken appeared first on the Alcoholian.

I don’t  understand it: how can people not like tomatoes? Even an Iowa farm girl like the most glorious spousal unit doesn’t like them. My step-brother doesn’t like them. One of my best friends doesn’t like them. They all consume pasta sauce, catchup, ketchup, pizza sauce, even Bloody Marys with great zeal. What’s up with all the tomato hate?

I mean really, how could you not like these cute little micro-sized ‘maters? About the same size as a good-sized pea, these little jewels grow wild here in Texas. I have them all over the yard thanks to hungry birds who eat them and redeposit the seeds along with a bit of fertilizer. If you start with one plant, you’ll have ten the following year.

Local legend has it that all tomato varieties stem from these little wonders. This is counter to what our friends at Wikipedia have to say, but there are some parallels to the story. Beginning in the central part of South America, they spread to the diet of the Mesoamerican civilizations in what is now Mexico. From there, accounts vary wildly on how they got to Europe. Some say it was Cortés — others Columbus – who toted some seeds back home. In reality, it was probably some Egyptian dude in a reed boat that planted the seeds of pyramid power in the minds of the early Americans and took these tangy treats back home with him.

However they got started, there’s over 7000 varieties of them now.

These (above) grew in my garden in spite of the best efforts of a local raccoon to eliminate them from my diet and make them a major part of his own.

I’m happy to see a resurgence in heirloom tomato varieties these days. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and the seeds can be saved and grown in our backyard gardens. I do have to keep that raccoon fed you know.

This tomato medley, made up of micros, Campari, and yellow grape varieties, was wonderful in a salad.

I call this dish Insulata Caprese Plus. It takes the tomato, buffalo mozzarella, and basil thing to a whole new level with the addition of avocado, roasted chicken, cauliflower, peppadews, and blue cheese dressing. There are some salad greens somewhere in there, too.

So be it. People are of two varieties: those who eat tomatoes and those who don’t. Being a member of the former category, I celebrate their goodness and variety (the people as well as the tomatoes). To the rest of you, I hope you enjoy your broccoli.

The post Tomatoes appeared first on the Alcoholian.

There we were, most glorious spousal unit and I, ready to have some small three-day dry-aged ribeye steaks when BigDMcC called me about those Tomahawk Ribeyes last weekend. What’s a guy to do?

The small ribeyes went back into the dry-aging fridge for another week.

Here they are again after trimming the dried dry-aged bits off. While parts looks rather browny-black in the photo, they are actually deep, dark purple-colored.

Here they are yet again, seasoned with salt and pepper and ready to cook.

Since these were a little thinner now that they’d been trimmed, I augmented the eight minute cooking time, revising it down to six minutes as not to over-cook. The grill was super-hot (like 950°F or so).

Once I pulled the steaks, I tented them in aluminum foil and allowed them to rest for around seven minutes. How do I know it was seven minutes? It’s just a guess. It felt like more than five and less than ten.

Most glorious spousal unit did an impressive job with the quinoa…adding some petite-something or other cheese (Cantal?) at the very end of the cooking process. It was simply stellar.

The steaks came out the usual dead-on medium-rare and the Shiraz mgsu plucked from the wine cellar was, quite simply, a perfect match with my blue cheese ribeye. She doesn’t like blue cheese, so she missed out on this out-of-the-park combination. Oh woe is she!

If you find yourself getting derailed by some impromptu dinner arrangements, just go with it; it’ll probably just turn out better in the end!

The post 10-Day Dry-Aged Ribeye with Blue Cheese appeared first on the Alcoholian.

I was poring over a cooking magazine the other day and noticed a recipe for Watermelon Soup that gave me the idea for what I’ll call the Melonka Mary (in honor of all my Russian friends).

If you haven’t figured it out by now, Melonka is watermelon and vodka. The Mary part is just there for the spicy aspects of the drink.

The real reason I came up with this is so that I could actually use xanthan gum in something. Why not a drink?

I used some seedless watermelon…

The green stuff is a few leaves of cilantro.

Digression: A couple of years ago, I was in the Costco checkout line and this woman came up behind me with a watermelon in each hand supported on her upper chest. Her melons looked precariously perched, so I made some room on the conveyor belt and told her, while patting the belt, “You can put your melons right here.” Her mom (or someone I assumed was her mom) burst out laughing and the guy in front of us turned to most glorious spousal unit and said “Did he just say that? You need to get him home right away” (or some other such nonsense). And here I thought I was just being helpful.

Anyway, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I can get back to the Melonka Mary.

Give the watermelon a whirl or two in the food processor or blender (I used half a melon for two drinks). It turns to liquid in about 10 seconds. Add a few splashes of some hot sauce and a pinch of salt. Give it a few more pulses. Run that through a course strainer to get any immature seeds out of there. Rinse out the food processor, dump the melon juice back into the processor, then add a half teaspoon of the xanthan gum. Spin it up for 15 seconds, add the juice of half a lime. Spin it some more. It thickens a tad (to emulate the texture of tomato juice).

Add about 1-1/2 oz of your favorite vodka over ice. Throw in a thin slice of fresh lime, and add a cilantro sprig for no apparent reason.

The lime juice adds a bit of acidity to counter the sweetness of the watermelon. I probably should have saved the salt for the rim of the glass, but it works with the melon well enough. Take the cilantro out of the glass prior to consumption as it’s aroma is a bit overpowering. Don’t go too heavy on the hot sauce.

I don’t usually make drinks in honor of anyone, so I hope my Russian friends are suitably wowed.

The post Introducing the Melonka Mary appeared first on the Alcoholian.

As I was navigating through traffic Friday evening, my phone emitted it’s text message tone. Rolling up to a long queue at the stop light at Ben White and Brodie, I gave my phone a look-see.

BigDMcC: I’ve got two two-pound Niman Ranch Tomahawk Ribeyes. What are you doing for dinner this weekend?
JohnGL: Going to your house?

Thus began the impromptu odyssey of the mega-steak. If it seems like I’ve been eating a lot of red meat lately, you wouldn’t be far off.

We rearranged things a bit and Big D made the trek south to our place and James, another friend of ours, joined in the fun a few minutes later. I love it when a plan comes together.

Knowing our combined appetites as well as I do, I set to laying out some munchies. From left: Capocollo, Bresaola, Prosciutto di San Daniele, and Insalata Caprese.

For the uninitiated, capocollo is a traditional Calabrian Italian cold cut made from pork shoulder or neck, and dry-cured whole. It’s got a nice, spicy flair to it. Bresaola is salted and air-dried beef. This just happens to be tenderloin. I’m hoping you know that Prosciutto is what ham should be.

The Insulata Caprese hails from the Italian region of Campania and is made of sliced fresh (water) buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil then seasoned with salt and drizzled with olive oil. I’m glad I don’t have to milk the buffalo.

Looks pretty, no?

We rounded out the appetizers with some prosciutto wrapped watermelon, olives, several kinds of pâté, and cheese (double-cream brie, black truffle, blue, and some petit something-or-other).

I also sous-vide some Copper River sockeye salmon and served that with a sauce made up of crème fraîche, dill, and a spritz of lime juice. I didn’t get a picture, but it was pretty darn tasty and went fast.

Now that the four of us had consumed two bottles of wine, opened two more, and were sated for the moment, it was time to get rolling on  steaks. Remember those?

You can’t really see how big and thick they are…here’s a little size comparator.

These puppies were a full 2″ thick, exceptionally well-marbled, and dry-aged.

The steak preparation went two ways. I will call method one: Big D’s Half-Baked Steak and method two: Big John’s Grilled-to-Perfection Steak. I’m not prejudicing my readers, am I?

Here, Big D is searing off his steak in a screaming hot pan (around 500°F). The sear lasted a few minutes per side, then the pan and steak went into a pre-heated 350° oven to finish out (hence being half-baked). Big D’s hatchet handle is wrapped in a wet paper towel and foil, presumably to keep the bone a more pristine white.

On the other hand, the beef chop James and I were dealing with was destined for a hot grill.

I took the grill’s temp a few minutes prior to plunking down the steak: a rockin’ 975°F. There is nothing half-baked going on here!

The usual 2-2-2-2 method applied here for a total of eight minutes.

Above, ribeye steak as it is meant to be. Below is the half-baked version.

The half-baked version was finished with butter, French thyme, and fresh garlic cloves. Very cheffy.

Here, we’re giving things a rest (literally and metaphorically):

While the steaks were resting, I put some corn and a large tomato on the grill.

I picked up a good tip from James (who claims to have cooked a million steaks): Soak the corn in salted water prior to grilling. It made perfect sense so I added a tablespoon of salt to the soaking liquid.  Why soak at all?  Well, it keeps the husks moist so the corn steams very nicely. It took 8 minutes on the grill.  Just enough time to rest the steaks before plating.

Roasting tomatoes on the grill is not only fast, but it imparts some really great smokiness and concentrates the flavors. I really need to make some roasted tomato pizza sauce using this heirloom variety!

A brownish-purple color on the outside, these are exceptionally fleshy inside.

Peeling back the crispy corn husks revealed a moist and steamy cob.

Assembling a quick sampler platter, I got down to some serious tasting.

The steak sample on the left (half-baked) is medium rare leaning toward medium. The steak on the right (grilled) is medium-rare, leaning toward rare. Both were really quite tasty…as were the bones.

The impromptu odyssey of the big Niman Ranch steaks may be over, but the memory of fine wine and fun-filled food fanaticism remain intact.

We don’t do this nearly often enough!

The post Tomahawk Ribeyes. Dueling Chops! appeared first on the Alcoholian.

We were tripping the rift inside of Costco yesterday and developed a hankerin’  for some red meat somewhere along the way. But this post isn’t really about steak — though you will see steak posted — it’s about the potatoes.

These may well be the best roasted potatoes I’ve come up with in a while and I’d thought I’d share the secret formula. Well, that’s a bit of stretch. I do this blogging thing to keep track of my own cooking adventures, but if you feel like coming along for the ride, I don’t mind.

So, potatoes. I’ve developed a real fondness for Russet Burbanks and they work really well for this preparation. They are also my go-to tater for fries. They are particularly good when they’ve been around for a while and skin becomes a bit wrinkly. This is the “secret” behind golden arches supper club fries…and it is fries, not burgers, that actually made them famous.

Digression: Way back when, the potatoes were stored “out back” in a very dry climate for over a month. The fries from the older potatoes actually tasted better than those from “fresh” potatoes. It took a while to figure out why the particular taste couldn’t be reproduced properly at other locations. Someone finally figured it out: the older potatoes contained less moisture and therefore cooked up crispier on the outside and remained fluffy on the inside. The rest is history.

Anyway, I keep my taters stored in my wine cellar.  They keep nearly forever, but do lose some moisture over time, which is perfect for this application. You can use “fresher” potatoes, but it will take longer to get the proper exterior crispiness going.

A few years back, most glorious spousal unit declared that our toaster oven “sucked ass” and proceeded to strong-arm me into buying a $250 Breville unit at Williams-Sonoma. I have to say this oven is a dream and to call it a “toaster oven” is doing it an injustice. It will handle a 13″ pizza like it was made for it, and, in fact, was. The reason I’m telling you all of this is because if your toaster oven “sucks ass” then your results will be different.

For the potatoes, I used the pizza pan that comes with the Breville Countertop Oven. A trick I learned is to pre-heat the pan (or tray) you’re going to be using for the potatoes; it keeps sticking to a minimum. In the shot above, the potatoes have been lightly coated with olive oil (not extra virgin) and salted. The oven was set at 390°F and I allowed it time to preheat (the Breville beeps at you when it’s ready).

A half hour in, which, coincidentally, is the same amount of time I allow my steak-grilling charcoal to heat up properly, the potatoes look like those in the photo above. Slightly browned and way hot, I apply some additional herbs and spices (fresh sage, onion powder, garlic powder, chili powder, and a tad bit of Parmesan cheese). After tossing the potatoes with another tablespoon of olive oil and the herb/spice/cheese blend, I pop them back into the oven, resetting the temp at about 425°F. This accomplishes two things. It quickly gets the potatoes back up to temp and browns things up right quick.

About now, I get ready to haul my steaks out to the grill.

These have been sitting out on the counter for at least an hour in order to take the chill off. I like my steaks at 60°F (or slightly warmer) before they hit the grill. I also make sure they are salted when I set them out. If I have the opportunity, I’ll salt the steaks as much as 24 hours in advance (and store them in the fridge, of course).

Before heading to the grill, the steaks get a light coating of olive oil on both sides and a goodly amount of fresh ground pepper gets applied.

About seven minutes elapsed on the potato clock, so I dropped the temp down to 400°F before I headed to the great outdoors with the steaks.

This is right at four minutes into the grilling process. I love those grill marks!

After another four minutes, the steaks were ready to plate.

The fries came out crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. The seasonings were spot on.

The steak was good, too.

A perfect medium rare!

This meal really hit the spot and satisfied that hankerin’ for meat. And those Russet “home fries” were some of the best I’ve ever made.

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