Classics & Standards – Page 24

Sour cream by any other name…

OK, sooooo, got an email from follower Mari;
“I like your blog, but I have sort of a complaint; you always write about using crème fraîche or crèma instead of sour cream. Ours is a pretty small town, and we just don’t have that kind of stuff available. Does it make that much of a difference?”

Yes, Mari, there is a Santa Claus. Oops, wrong email, hang on. Ahem…. Great question, and actually, a major My Bad for not sharing on some post or another.

The short answer is yeah, it does make a difference. That said, there’s a real easy solution I failed to mention; make your own.

All three are fairly close cousins. Crèma and crème fraîche are closer to each other than either is to sour cream.

American sour cream is the thickest of the three, and the most acidic, but contains far less butterfat than its cousins. It’ll have 18% to 22% butter fat and not less than .5% acidity, per USDA specs. Genuine crèma and crème fraîche are more like 30% to 45% butter fat, notably less acidic, and thinner than sour cream, though many folks would call crèma thinner and crème fraîche lighter or fluffier.

Making very decent crèma and crème fraîche at home is simple; all you need is cream, buttermilk, and sour cream to make it happen. Obviously, the fresher your ingredients, the better your final product. Avoid ultra pasteurized anything, if at all possible. Here’s how it works.

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Crèma:
There are notable factions for sweeter Crèma and not so much Crèma, so here are recipes for both.

Crèma I
1 cup Heavy Cream
1/4 Cup Sour Cream
1 teaspoon powdered Sugar

Combine all in an airtight glass container and allow to rest at room temperature until the mixture has thickened to the consistency you like, (About 10-12 hours), stir gently once about half way through.

Store refrigerated in an airtight glass container for up to a week.

Now we’ll do the buttermilk powered version, which also happens to be the same gig for Crème Fraîche; the only diff will be the length of time you allow for thickening – A bit longer for Crème Fraîche than for Crèma. For my mind, the active culture from buttermilk and the slower culturing process produces a smoother, more complex crèma with an authentic nutty flavor.

Crèma II & Crème Fraîche
1 cup Heavy Cream
2 teaspoons Buttermilk

In a sauce pan over low flame, heat the cream just to take the refrigerated chill off; use a thermometer and don’t let the temp rise above 100° F.

Pull the cream off the heat and pour it into a clean glass jar with a tight fitting lid.

Gently stir in the buttermilk.

Put the lid on the jar but don’t tighten it down.

Place the jar in a nice, quiet warm spot in your kitchen and let it develop for 10 to 24 hours; Crèma will be ready to go in 10 to 12 hours, and Crème Fraîche in 18 to 24. Let it work until it has notably thickened. Keep in mind that you want You want Crèma thinner than either sour cream or crème fraîche; the beauty of crèma is the way it drizzles over killer Mexican food juuuust right.

Once you’re to the proper thickness, stir gently but thoroughly.

Refrigerate for at least 4 hours prior to using, to allow the thickening process to complete.

Either version will last about a week in the fridge.

When can use it straight, or try adding a little something to it if you like: Dried chile, ground annatto seed, lime, lemon, orange juice, or smoked paprika all go really nicely.

Salute!

Cream Biscuits

Crappy day?

Time for comfort food, yes? Whether your soup de jour is canned or homemade, these little puppies will make it shine. Now, listen up; do these with what I tell you to use, and make ’em like I tell y’all to make ’em, and they’ll be the lightest, fluffiest things you’ve ever had.

(I just did up a batch of minestrone, as it’s 35, windy, and raining sideways here…)

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2 Cups Whole Wheat Pastry Flour (Trust me; TRY THIS)
1-1.5 cups Heavy Cream (1/2 & 1/2 is fine, just not as much fun)
2 Tablespoons unsalted Butter
1 Tablespoon Baking Powder
2 teaspoons Agave Nectar or Honey
1 teaspoon Sea Salt

Preheat your oven to 425°F and set a rack right in the middle.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and salt. Blend with a fork to fully incorporate.

Combine 1 cup of cream with your agave nectar or honey. Stirring constantly, gradually add that to the dry mix in a thin stream.

As soon as the dough is holding together and feels moist but not too sticky, stop working it. If it feels dry, add more cream.

Transfer the dough to a clean, lightly floured surface and knead gently for one minute, and no mas; the key to light and fluffy is to not overwork the dough.

Form the dough into a square roughly 1/2″ thick. Cut into equal rounds or squares as you please, (this should make around 10).

Place the biscuits on something nice and heavy; stone baking sheet, pizza stone, or cast iron Dutch oven lid is perfect. Leave whatever you use ungreased and allow a couple of inches between each biscuit.

Melt the butter and brush tops and sides of each biscuit.

Bake for about 12 to 15 minutes, until nice and golden brown.

Serve nice and hot.

You’re welcome.

Latkes!

You say Latkes and I say… Well, latkes, Latkas, or Levitot, if you prefer the Hebrew. Any way you say it, a latke is a delicious little joy associated most often with Hanukkah, (Not the little dude from Taxi…) Fried foods are traditional during this celebration, commemorating the miracle of the oil that burned for 8 days when the Maccabees purified and rededicated the holy temple in Jerusalem. Not to be flippant, but any celebration featuring wonderful stuff like this is my kinda deal!

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These little gems are a breeze to make, and fit right in to the days after Thanksgiving for us Americans, as there is often a plethora of potatoes available. The best variety for latkes as far as I’m concerned is also the best fritte spud, the Russet. You can use a less starchy version like a Yukon Gold if you prefer, but stay away from the waxy reds and whites. While you can certainly make latkes with leftover mashed potatoes, there will a difference in the way they cook and the mouth feel that just isn’t quite right; best save those for turkey shepherds pie instead.

Now, the traditional accompaniment to latkes is applesauce. And since this is a special occasion, whip up a batch of housemade and let that marry flavors and cool while you’re building the latkes.

Use whatever apple you like best for eating, but please, please; no delicious, OK?

4 Apples of your choice
1/2 to 3/4 Cup Water
1/4 Cup Agave Nectar or Honey
1/4 teaspoon ground Cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground Nutmeg
Dash of Sea Salt

Peel, core and rough chop apples.

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine all ingredients and mix well.

When the mixture starts to simmer, cover and reduce heat to medium low. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until apples are very soft.

Remove from heat and hand mash with a fork or potato masher.

Pour into a glass bowl, cover and refrigerate.

Onto the latkes! First a few points of order…

For the flour, unbleached all purpose is fine, but try whole wheat pastry as well, it’s very nice indeed.

For the oil, stick to Sunflower, Canola, or Corn; they won’t add any heavy flavor notes to the latkes. And speaking of oil, oil temperature is critical to good results when frying; oil maintained at 350° F will ensure nice light, crispy results that don’t taste and feel soggy. Use a candy thermometer to track oil temperature, and always add foods to be fried sparingly to allow the temperature to stay where it needs to be.

5 medium Russet Potatoes
2 medium Sweet Onions
3 medium Eggs
1/4 to 3/4 Cup Flour
1 teaspoon Sea Salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground Black Pepper
1/2 to 3/4 Cup Oil

Peel your spuds and toss them into a large mixing bowl filled with enough ice water to completely submerge them.

Skin and trim ends from onions. Toss them into the ice water with the spuds.

Add oil to a frying pan over medium high heat; you’ll want about 1/4″ of oil or so. Have your thermometer handy for gauging oil temp.

Drain your spuds and onions and pat dry with a clean paper towel.

Grate the potatoes and onions with the finer side of a hand grater, or use a food processor or blender if you prefer. The hand method gives the best results for my mind. You want a nice, consistent size and blend of spuds and onions.

Check your oil and adjust heat so you’re sitting right at 350° F.

Place a platter lined with paper towels in your oven and preheat to Warm.

Toss the spud and onion blend into a colander lined with paper towels and gently squash the mix to remove excess water.

Dry off that large mixing bowl and toss your spud/onion blend in.

Lightly beat the eggs by hand and add them to the spuds and onions, then add the salt and pepper.

Add flour 1/4 cup at a time until the mixture holds together on its own, like a chunky pancake batter.

Fill a large soup spoon with a heaping hunk ‘o batter. Slip that puppy into the hot oil and gently squash it down into a cake. Fry one side for approximately 3-5 minutes, until golden brown, then and fry the other side for another 2 to 3 minutes. Look for that nice golden brown on both sides.

Now slide those little golden beauties onto the paper towel covered platter in the oven and keep fryin’. Add a little more oil if needed and watch that oil temp.

Serve nice and hot with the applesauce and a little dish of sour cream, crèma or crème fraîche.

Enjoy!

Eben’s Cranberry Sauce

Here’s my perennial holiday sauce that everybody seems to love; they always ask for it, so I must be doing something right. Give it a shot!

1 12-ounce bag fresh Cranberries
3/4 Cup Water
1/2 Cup Agave Nectar (Sub Honey, Maple Syrup, or light brown Sugar)
1 large Navel Orange
1 Lemon
1 lime
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon Nutmeg
Shake of Sea Salt

Grate zest from all citrus; get all the nice bright orange, yellow and green, (Stop before you get to the bitter white part.)

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Juice lemon and lime. Peel orange thoroughly and rough chop the meat from that; set aside.

Bring water to a boil in a saucepan over medium high heat.

When water is boiling, add cranberries and return to a boil.

Reduce heat to medium and add citrus zest, orange, and juice.

Allow sauce to continue to boil, stirring occasionally until about 3/4 of the cranberries have popped.

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Add cinnamon, nut get and salt, stir in thoroughly.

Remove from heat and transfer to a glass or ceramic bowl. Allow to cool completely at room temperature.

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Cover and refrigerate until serving time. Will last in the fridge for about 5 days or so, if it makes it that long…

Enjoy!

Cider Bird

Regardless of the bird you’re fixin’ to cook, trust me when I say it will benefit from a good brining; this is one of those restaurant secrets that answers the age old question, “Why is what they make always better than mine?”

Brining is easy, so there’s no reason not to do it, but naturally, you still wonder why you should, right? Good question! Brining makes things notably juicier in a couple of ways. First off, the mild salt solution that is a brine allows the flesh to absorb liquid during brining. Since we know for a fact that dang near any flesh we cook looses moisture during that process, anything we can do to counteract that will lead to juicier meat. So, really and truly, when you brine you’re starting out with flesh that is juicier from the get go, so it ends up juicier. Brined meats end up 6% to 8% heavier than they do if we don’t brine them; solid proof that they gained moisture from the process. Secondly, brining dissolves some proteins in muscle fibers, turning them from solid to liquid during the process. Softer equals tender and that’s what we want to eat, right?

Convinced on the science? Cool, lets get cooking!

I’ve taken to thawing our bird by brining, which kills two birds with one rock. If you buy fresh turkey, you don’t need to thaw of course, but the brining process remains the same. Many folks wonder at this point how long is too long for brining. The answer is a function of both brine strength and the weight of the flesh being brined. Standard brine ratio is 1 cup salt to 1 gallon liquid, (See salt note below). Most of us will buy whole turkeys in the range of 10 to 24 pounds; we will want to brine birds in that weight range for between 12 to 24 hours in a standard brine concentration, or roughly an hour per pound of whole turkey. As such, if you’re working with a 16 pound bird, plan on a brining period around 16 hours and you’re good to go. And FYI, A little leeway to either side ain’t gonna hurt a thing, either.

So, your basic brine ratio is 1 cup salt to 1 gallon of water. Trust me when I tell y’all that, weighed out, that’ll be 10 ounces of table salt for each gallon of nice, clean water. If you’re gonna use the kosher salts you’re likely to find at your local store, I’ll save you some weighing time there, too:
Morton Kosher salt = 7 ounces per cup
Diamond Kosher salt = 5 ounces per cup
Anything else you find or use, weigh it out and go from there.
Note: do not use iodized salt for brining; it can add a nasty off flavor you don’t want!

For this bird, we’re going to replace the water with apple cider, so our brine recipe per gallon will look like this:
1 Gallon Apple Cider
5 – 7 Ounces Kosher Salt
1 Tablespoon fresh ground Black Pepper
1-2 dashes Tabasco

I buy birds in the 15 to 18 pound range, and plan on 2 gallons of cider as the base for a bird this size, but of course that depends on what you’re brining in, right? Your best bet is a food grade plastic bucket, which are readily available in this day and age; just make sure you’re getting food grade, so you’re not introducing any plastic nastiness into your food, right? With that as your vessel, you’ll have some cider left over for a bird of anywhere from 12 to 20 pounds. Warm some up to enjoy while your bird cooks!

Plan ahead for this process. If you are going to be brining a whole bird, you will also want an additional 6 to 12 hours between the brining and the cooking; more on this in a bit. In other words, if you’re thawing and brining, your process needs to begin nice and early on the day before turkey day.

Start out by prepping your brine. Combine all brine ingredients and stir thoroughly until all your salt has dissolved.

Next comes unwrapping, unpacking and rinsing your bird. Make sure you find any little packets of giblets, neck, etc, (Don’t be that cook that misses those for somebody to discover deep in the bird on the festive day…)

Slip that bird into the bucket and gently pour in the brine. Make sure you’ve got enough in there to completely cover the bird. If you’re a bit short, make more, no big deal, no pressure! You may need to weigh your bird down to make sure it stays immersed. Just take care that whatever you use is sanitized and OK for being next to food. I use plates inverted and stacked until the bird sinks. Place your brine bucket in a clean, cool, dark corner.

Pay attention to the food safety temperature range during brining, without fail! Your brine and bird must remain under 40 F at all times, period; if you need to add a little ice, do so. If you need to add a lot, compensate with a bit more salt.

When your brining period is done, pour out the brine, (NEVER reuse brine!), gently rinse the bird in clean, cold water, then pat it dry with clean paper towels and then transfer to a roasting pan.

Now, If you want your bird to have a golden, crispy skin, (And you do, right?!), it needs to sit in the refrigerator, uncovered, for 4 to 6 hours after brining. This will allow moisture to evaporate from the skin, and also lets the meat reabsorb some moisture as well.

Preheat your oven to 350 F.

Keep your bread stuffing to a casserole dish and prepare a nice juicy cavity filler for the bird.
1-2 Oranges
1/2 Sweet Onion
1 stalk Celery
Tablespoon Canola Oil
1/2 teaspoon Sage
1/2 teaspoon Sea Salt
1/2 teaspoon ground Black Pepper

Rough chop the orange, onion, and celery, (and if you have celery leaves, use those!). Throw those in a mixing bowl, then add oil, Sage, salt and pepper, then combine thoroughly. Stuff your bird’s cavity thoroughly. Place the bird on a rack in a roasting pan, and add 2 cups of clean water to the pan. Insert an internal thermometer to the thickest part of the breast.

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Standard roasting times, stuffed, at 350 F follow; that said, the only real way to know when the bird is done is by internal temperature, and we’re looking for 165 F.

10 to 18 pounds 3-3/4 to 4-1/2 hours

18 to 22 pounds 4-1/2 to 5 hours

22 to 24 pounds. 5 to 5-1/2 hours

Start your roast with the bird uncovered, then cover loosely with foil for the last hour. Basting isn’t necessary, but it sure doesn’t hurt.

When the bird is done, remove it from the oven and let it rest for 20 minutes prior to carving; the rest is vital to allowing juices to equalize throughout the cooked bird, so don’t cheat!

Carve, admire, enjoy, and get ready for leftovers,

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Monica and I wish y’all a peaceful Thanksgiving with those you love.

Frijoles Mexicanos

Del sent a comment on the prior post, to whit;
“Maybe you’ll know the answer here but I’m wondering about the use of black beans in a dish referred to as Tex-mex. No bean of that sort has ever crossed the door of any cook on the Tejano side of my family. I’m wondering if it’s a difference of where in Mexico (ones) family originated or if pinto beans were all they found when they got to Texas so that’s what became traditional.
One side of the Mexican heritage in my family came from San Luis Potosi in 1917 and the other side varies from those who came to Texas direct from the Canary Islands in the 1500s to those with origins in all parts of northern Mexico.
No black beans anywhere there or in the family owned small restaurants that we favor. We do see them some in the upscale places (when I get forced into going to them) and in the ones that feature seafood from the central and south gulf coast.
Thoughts?”

(Slightly edited for content, because I can)

It’s an interesting question, indeed. And what a sad, sad thing, to be without frijoles negros in ones life…

First off, I’ll say without hesitation that we’ve had black beans in a bunch of Tex Mex joints in Texas, in the same neck of the woods as Del; what does that say, other than that we apparently don’t go to the same places? Not much.

Next, let’s look at the regions where Del’s people came from.

In the dominant cuisine of the central Mexican El Bajio region where San Luis Potosi is located, the pinto is and was more common than black beans, by far.

And those Canary Island roots are another great melting pot cuisine. Influences of the native Guanche people have blended with the ruling Spanish, as well as the cuisines of African and Latin American slaves and workers. There are beans and bean dishes there, but it’s as likely to be Ropa Vieja made with garbanzos as it is any other dish or variety. So, no big black bean influence there, either, (Albeit there are ‘native’ varieties in Spain and Portugal).

That said, my rather extensive studies of Mexican cuisine indicate that, in fact, black beans are quite common in Mexico, but more so by far in the south than the north and on the east coast more than the west. If you read Mexican regional cookbooks by genuine experts, you’ll find both black and reds in profusion. That said, the regional variations in Mexican cookery are easily as complex as Italian, Spanish, or French cuisines, and anyone who says otherwise is just plain wrong.

Black beans were indeed brought north and integrated into Tex Mex cooking from the get go to some degree, (They’re also common in New Mexican, Caribbean, and Cuban cooking). For my mind, the predominance of the pinto or chili bean en El Norte is likely more driven by gringo taste than by Tex Mex cook’s preferences; the black bean is a relative new comer as a commonly legume en Los Estados Unidos; the reds have been around far longer.

Regardless, cuisines including Tex Mex are rarely static; they evolve and that is a good thing. To some degree, I question the term “authentic” quite often; I mean, technically, ‘Confit’ means meat cooked in oil, and only meat. As such, when Daniel Boulud features a ‘tomato confit’ as part of a dish, is that not authentic?

So, where do Black Turtle beans, as they’re formally known, (as well as Black Magic, Blackhawk, Domino, Nighthawk, Valentine, and Zorro), come from? After all, that’s the real crux of the debate, isn’t it? According to El Universidad Autónoma Agraria Antonio Narroas in Saltillo, Mexico, and as fate would have it, Phaseolus vulgaris were first cultivated around 7,000 years ago in… Central America and Mexico.

The bottom line to me is this; if you make it and you like it, you can call it whatever you like, and use any color bean that floats your boat.

Adios.