Food Chemistry – Page 2

Why do we rest meats?

Great question came in today, too; this one from Rob in New Zealand, “Just read your Southwest Pepper Steak recipe, and I saw where you wrote, ‘do NOT cut any flesh for at least 10 minutes after it’s off the heat.’ I see that a lot, so what’s the big deal?”

Great question, Rob. I’m guessing, since you ask, that you’ve never committed the sin itself! Meats need that rest to allow their juices to redistribute evenly throughout the meat after cooking, as the protein gradually cools. This happens because the relatively long fibers of muscle that make up the meat we eat are constricted as we cook them. Those fibers are filled with juices, mostly water. As they’re cooked, the fluids get pushed toward the outside of the meat, predominately because that liquid just doesn’t compress, so it’s gotta go somewhere, and out is where it’s got to go. The post cooking rest lets all that liquid come back to relative equilibrium. If you don’t wait and cut too quickly, most of those juices are gonna wind up on the plate, leaving you with a tough and not very tasty hunk of meat.

Rests for steaks, chops, chicken, and like relatively smaller cuts should be 10 to 15 minutes. Large roasts should get 20 to 30 minutes.

Just for the record, the only method I can think of that doesn’t require a rest is sous vide – cooking a protein in a vacuum sealed package immersed in water that is circulated at a precisely controlled temperature. 99.9% of us home cooks won’t ever try that, but you sure can if you’d like to – It’s easier than it sounds and doesn’t require fancy equipment.

Sous Vide Steak

2 steaks, about 6 ounces each.

Sea Salt

Fresh ground Pepper
Have the steaks at room temperature, and season with salt and pepper about 30 minutes before cooking.

Fill a stock pot with water and put it over a large burner on medium heat. Have an instant read thermometer close at hand and monitor the water temperature. When it hits 135° F, reduce the heat until it’s holding that temperature quite closely – Maintaining that temp is key to the success of the process.

Prepare a cast iron skillet over a large burner on high heat, and have 2 heavy zip lock type bags big enough to each fit a steak.

When the skillet is smoking hot, sear each steak thoroughly on all sides, and make sure the biggest surfaces are well caramelized – This helps seal in flavor, and also kills bacteria before the proteins are immersed.

Remove the steaks and allow them to cool enough to handle briefly.

Slip a steak into a bag, seal 90% of the zip, and then suck the last air out, (try using a straw as my Sis advises. You can also immerse the bag in water, leaving just the unsealed corner above the surface, and let the water pressure do the job for you, but make sure no water gets in the bag.)

Slip the sealed bags gently into the hot water bath and allow them to cook, covered, for 60 minutes, (although up to 90 minutes won’t hurt anything at all.

Slide the bags out of the water, plates the steaks, add a little unsalted butter to each and serve right away.

Here’s a great sous vide time and temp guide from Chef Steps as well, including all sorts of veggies.

And for everything else, like I said – before you slice, give it a rest.

La Réaction de Maillard

The reaction discovered by Louis Maillard explains a great deal about the appeal of cooked foods.

If I told you that a French scientist working in the early twentieth century was responsible for the understanding of how a whole bunch of things you like to eat get the way they do when we cook them, would you be surprised? Louis Camille Maillard, (May-yard), was his name, and his work resonates throughout the kitchens of the world to this very day. What Maillard did was to explain why many foods turn brown, and why we like it when they do – La Réaction de Maillard.

For a guy who did such seminal work in the science of food, very little seems to be know about the man. He was born in 1878, in Pont-à-Mousson, a little town on the river Moselle, between Metz and Nancy, about 200 miles due east of Paris. Pont-à- Mousson was a village of roughly 8,000 souls in Maillard’s day. Since the late sixteenth century, there had been a Jesuit university there, with studies in theology, law, medicine, and the arts. The area was predominantly German speaking, and part of the Holy Roman Empire until 1766, when France claimed it and King Louie the Beloved moved the university to Nancy.
The town remained a center for the arts, sporting a bustling papier mâché factory. Located on a strategically important river crossing, Mousson was torn by war throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. For such a tiny place, it sports more than its share of celebrity. In addition to Maillard, a saint, (Guarinus of Sitten), a Queen (Margaret of Anjou), a General (Geraud Duroc), and the inventor of the modern bicycle, (Pierre Lallement), all hailed from there.

Louie’s father was a medical doctor, his mother, a housewife. While there were professional bakers in the extended family, (who all hailed from the Lorraine region), nothing in the sparse information available regarding Maillard’s upbringing points to food. He began university studies at the tender age of 16, and excelled in mathematics and chemistry. He married in 1909 and divorced four years later, without producing any progeny. He never remarried; he was clearly bound to his work. I’ve never found anything to indicate if Maillard cooked, was particularly fond of eating, or ever realized that his work would so deeply affect food science. Look at the few photographs taken of him throughout his life, and you see a guy who looks like he ate because he had to, (although he did have a fabulous mustache).

His work was predominantly medical and physiological in nature. He studied the metabolism of urea and kidney function, and this research was fruitful toward better understanding and treatment of kidney diseases. In 1912, pursuant to this line of research, he began studying the reaction between amino acids and sugars. This work lead to his discovery of certain reactions, and was quantified as the Maillard reaction was named after him. He received a variety of scientific accolades, including the French Academy of Medicine award in 1914.

Maillard’s seminal work toward the discovery of the reaction that bears his name was focused on kidney function, specifically, the reasons why and how us humans pee in a variety of shades of yellow. He was curious about processes that would lead relatively clear substances to change color and produce CO2 when heated. His gut told him this would be important knowledge toward a better understanding of diabetes. Nothing he found initially would necessarily have lead him to a realization that his work would have bearing on food science for decades to come. After discovering his namesake reaction, he went on to other work, sometimes making rather sudden and pronounced changes in area and venue of study. One of these jumps occurred post WWI, when he left France altogether and began studying pharmacology. For all practical purposes, he gave up the life of research he’d been pursuing for a couple of decades. Maillard died in Paris in 1934, at the age of 56.

The heady scent of freshly baked bread owes its allure to the Maillard Reaction.

How does Maillard’s discovery segue to food? In more ways than you might imagine. Everything from the browning of meat to toasted bread, and much more – biscuits, frittes, roux, pretzels and crackers, dried and condensed milk, crusty bread, maple syrup, roasted coffee, dull de leche, and barley malted for beer or booze all speak to the human appetite largely because of the Maillard’s Reaction. Some of these specifically address color, but the lions share are tied to our senses of smell and taste.

Roasting coffee beans owe their allure to Maillard as well.

And what of that science? Browning of food happens, in big picture form, one of two ways – one is enzymatic and the other, well, isn’t. The non-enzymatic branch narrows into three shoots, one of which is the Maillard Reaction. This occurs when a compound known as a carbonyl, (a functional group composed of a carbon atom double bonded to an oxygen atom, like for instance, sugar), reacts with an amino acid, peptide (AKA two or more linked amino acids), or a protein. The reaction process is rather complex, but in essence, heat is the catalyst that causes changes in those constituents, leading to browning and associated flavor and smells. Relatively high heat in cooking terms is usually required, although the reaction can occur at lower temperatures when concentrations of amino acids and sugars are high.

While browning tells us that many foods are cooked to a satisfactory level, it’s the smell of seared steak, freshly baked bread, roasting peanuts, or a dumpling being pan fried that really illustrates the power of Maillard’s discovery. Over the millennia that humans have cooked food, the process has gone from arcane knowledge to quite common, and yet the why behind the process remained hidden until the early 20th century – pretty fascinating, if you ask me.

Seared steak, it's all in the smell... — Seared steak, it’s all in the smell…

Yet it was the desire to better understand physiological processes within the human body that drove Maillard’s discovery, and his reaction does indeed occur within us. Studies have shown correlation between the reaction and degenerative eye diseases, diabetes, pulmonary fibrosis, and neuro-degenerative disorders.

I’m probably just being a romantic, but for some reason, I get a visual of Maillard, sitting at a little table is his lab, absently munching on a chunk of baguette, pondering his research, without realizing that his answer was literally in the palm of his hand, all along.

Go To Seasoned Salt

Everybody has a go-to seasoning or two in their kitchen. My Sis, Ann Lovejoy, is a great finder and sharer of such things. The back of our stove is where our collection lies. There, you’ll find a couple of ground chiles, naturally – our homegrown Texas Tabascos and a smoked blend. There are three different peppers, a four berry blend (red, white, green, and black), Grains of Paradise, and smoked black. Far and away, the most common thing you’ll find are salts. There are two Annie found, from a cottage maker in Oregon, a fennel flower, and a basil variety. There’s also flaked, and kosher, Himalayan pink, house made celery, and our own take on Jane’s Krazy Salt.

There really was a Jane behind this cottage industry turned international food producer. Jane Semans, a “tiny white-haired, delightfully wacky grandmother,” mixed seasoning blends in her Overbrook, Pennsylvania kitchen, and began sharing the goods with friends and neighbors. In 1962, she trademarked Jane’s Krazy Mixed Up Salt, and the rest is history.
The company that bears her name now makes a myriad of seasoning blends that sell well all over the world. I like supporting good companies, and we’ve done so with Jane’s for years. Her Krazy salt has been our go-to blend, used every day, from breakfast through dinner. Why is it that salt, in some form, is far and away the most used seasoning?

Sodium Chloride, AKA, table salt, does far more than simply make food taste salty. Adding salt suppresses some tastes as well. It’s generally agreed that humans perceive five tastes, sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and umami. Salt acts to suppress bitter in many food combinations, making things palatable that might not be otherwise. Some have argued that salt also enhances other favors, but this is somewhat of a misnomer. Scientists who study such things have determined that salt does not chemically enhance anything – that said, it is known that adding salt reduces the activity of water within the ingredients we add it to, which allows us humans greater perception of various volatile aromatics – in other words, salt enhances by suppression, once again.

Here’s a practical example of this trait – Check out just about any jar of lemon pepper seasoning you can find – chances are good that the first ingredient in most of them is salt – that’s done not only because salt is tasty, but because lemon pepper is made with lemon peel, and if you’re not über careful about harvesting peel and not pith, (the yellow as opposed to the white), what you get is in fact quite bitter. Salt tames the potentially off putting bitter notes and generates a harmonious blend.
And then there are the health benefits – Yes, health benefits, of ingesting salt. Humans need water to survive, more than any other element. Salt plays a crucial role in distributing water throughout our bodies. Proper sodium content in our bods, (and potassium too), is critical to everything from digestion to brain function. Go a bit overboard, and your kidneys will excrete excess sodium for you.

On top of that little scientific aside, the profusion of natural salts for cooking available nowadays brings a wealth of trace flavor notes from the various minerals attached thereto. That is the root of why salts mixed with other things we like are so prominent on the back ledge of my stove.

As for that Jane’s, well, I like it a lot, so naturally, I poured a bunch of it into a glass bowl and poked around to see what made it tick. Once I knew what was inside, my gears started turning toward the thought of improvement. There are other analyses and recipes of Jane’s out there, for the record; I read none of them, preferring to let my eyes, fingers, and taste buds do the work. Here’s what I discovered.
Jane’s is, of course, first and foremost salt. What they use appears to me to be coarse kosher, which is perfect for herbed salt blends like this. The larger, jagged grains capture ground or crunched herbs and spices well, making for a blend that remains homogeneous in a shaker. The other ingredients are granulated garlic and onion, ground black pepper, celery salt, crushed red chiles, and sage. Knowing the proper percentages of each ingredient are of course vital to recreating a blend – you’ll see below, both what strikes us as a spot on duplicate of the real McCoy, and our preferred version.

While it might seem like plagiarism to copy such a thing, it’s really not. Sure, it’s somebody’s baby as it stands, but it’s also kinda like a guitar lick – Les Paul’s son Gene related his father’s love of all things Django Reinhardt. He tells of his father sitting at the kitchen table, practicing Django’s licks over and over again. One night, during a performance, the son heard the father unravel that lick in the middle of soloing for another song. When he asked about it afterwards, Les smiled and said, “It’s my lick now.” As a guitar player and chef, I know this to be true. It’s how things work. The fact is that the number of folks who can accurately play that lick, or dissect that recipe faithfully is relatively small. It’s a tribute, a nod, a starting point for other things – I’m sure Jane wouldn’t mind.

Before we build the full meal deal, let’s address the celery salt that goes into it. You can buy this stuff, of course, but small batches of home made are far superior, and fun to make. Any herb(s), fresh or dried, can be mixed with salt to provide a nice, fresh, custom blend. How much you use depends on your preferred taste. In general, a ratio of salt to dried herb anywhere from 1:1 to 4:1 will work – that ratio depends on the potency of your herbs – for celery salt, you want quite a bit more than you would for, say, Rosemary. You’ll want to experiment a bit to determine the mix that best highlights the herb. If you’re using fresh, as with this celery salt, you’ll need to thoroughly dry the herbs before blending. Depending on what you’re using, you’ll want to prepare quite a bit more of the final volume you’re after – for the celery salt, you’ll see that I used about a lightly packed cup of fresh leaves in order to get an appropriate amount of dried.

House Made Celery Salt
1 Cup fresh Celery Leaf
1/4 Cup coarse Kosher Salt

Preheat oven to warm.
Trim celery leaves from stalks and excess stems.
Spread leaf on a dry baking sheet.
Allow leaves to dry thoroughly, about 15 to 20 minutes.
Remove from oven and allow to cool.
Hand crush leaves, then run them through a single layer mesh strainer. Discard the stuff that doesn’t make it through.
Blend leaves and salt in a small mixing bowl, transfer to a glass jar.
If the blend gets a bit sticky, gently tap the jar to loosen things up.

Very Jane-Like Salt Blend
This is, for our taste, about as close to the original as you can get.
1/4 Cup coarse Kosher Salt
1 Tablespoon granulated Garlic
2 teaspoons ground Black Pepper
2 teaspoons granulated Onion
1 teaspoon Celery Salt
1/2 teaspoon crushed Cayenne Chile
1/4 teaspoon crushed Sage

Blend all, and transfer to a glass jar for storage.

UrbanMonique’s Wacky Salt
This is our spin on the original – peppery, smoky, and bold.
2 Tablespoons coarse Kosher Salt
1 Tablespoon Alderwood Smoked Salt
1 Tablespoon Four Pepper Blend, (black, white, green, red)
1 Tablespoon Granulated Garlic
2 teaspoons granulated Onion
2 teaspoons Celery Salt
1 teaspoon Smoked Paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground Smoked Chiles
1/2 teaspoon crushed Sage

Blend all, and transfer to a glass jar for storage.

Meatloaf 101

John Bowman, a musician friend and lover of good food, recently posted on FB asking for best meatloaf recipes. I confidently pulled up the blog and found… Nada. Hard to believe, but true. Then my friend Tracy, who writes for her blog, The Culinary Jumble, recently posted a great recipe, noting that meatloaf just isn’t made much in the U.K. We traded some tips, but I didn’t have a posted recipe to share, so I’m going to send this one to her without a doubt, (And do check out her blog!) in any case, it’s time to correct that omission. We love meatloaf, even though 5 year old Monica locked herself in the bathroom and had to be extricated by the landlord because mom was making meatloaf again, (True story; it was the cook’s fault, not the meal’s).

Meatloaf is a perfect example of the adage, ‘great cooking is almost always simple, but not always easy.’ There’s a bad meatloaf story in every kitchen. While simple it may be, it’s also a dish rife with opportunities to screw up. So today we’ll explore a little history, a little science, some technique, and finally, a great recipe.

In plainest terms, meatloaf is just that – seasoned ground meat, most commonly beef in this country, though pork, lamb, game, poultry, and even seafood are also used – what is a crab cake, other than meatloaf? Combinations of meats are quite common as well. The loaf is formed in various shapes and cooked; usually baked, but sometimes smoked. There are schools of thought for cooking in a loaf pan, and also on a baking sheet.

While notably popular in North America, meatloaf isn’t a native per se. The earliest published variant I’m aware of came from a 4th or 5th Century AD Roman cookbook. There are modern versions from Ireland to Russia, Norway to Portugal, Greece to the Middle East, as well as Northern Africa, the Philippines, and South America. Immigrants to the U.S. brought all these here, and we’ve heartily adopted it. The first American recipes showed up in the late 1800s.

Now, before we talk ingredients, a bit of the science behind the dish. Because we’re dealing with ground meat, quite a bit of the natural connectivity present in whole cuts is lost; as such, cooks rely on binders to keep a meatloaf together, but that’s really only half the equation. What happens to meat when it’s cooked is equally important to the success or failure of a meatloaf. Let’s assume we’re baking at 350° F. When the internal temperature of our meatloaf hits 120° F, proteins in the meat begin to coagulate, making it firm up. When that temperature rises to around 140° F, coagulation becomes more pronounced, and notable separation of solids and liquids commences. At around 150° F, a fairly catastrophic breakdown of collagen occurs, and our meatloaf releases a whole lot of moisture while becoming distinctly chewier. Some of that is good, too much is bad; so this is where a stabilizer comes in handy, helping retain some of that cast off moisture. At 160° F, collagen begins to convert into gelatin. The fairly firm mass of solid meat relaxes a bit, and even though things are technically drier than they were twenty degrees ago, those changes make our meatloaf tender and juicy – The sweet spot, if you will, but also, the root of a couple of potential problems.

First problem – Most recipes don’t list a suggested final internal temperature, so most cooks don’t cook to one – They use time alone, and as an old boss of mine was fond of saying, “Hope is a poor formula for success.” Secondd problem – A whole lot of meatloaf recipes I found that bothered to mention a final internal temperature for meatloaf cited 165° F as the cook-to temp to reach before you pull it out of the oven to rest.

Overcooking is easily the number one cause of meatloaf failure, and almost all cooked meats need a post-cooking rest. Meatloaf is no exception, and many a fine effort has been ruined by the lack thereof. Resting achieves several things, one of which is the completion of cooking. Think of your meatloaf as a heat sink, and you get the picture; if you’ve baked a meatloaf made with 2 pounds of flesh at 350° F, it will take a good 50 to 60 minutes for the internal temperature to reach 155° F. Pull it out of the oven, set it on top, and the heat built up does not dissipate quickly. Ten minutes later, the internal temperature will read right around 165° F; leave it for 15 minutes and it’ll be higher yet. A big roast of beef or pork wants a good 30 minute rest before carving – With that in mind, ask yourself this: How often do you wait that long, and how often has a big roast like that not turned out as you wished, if your answer was, “Not often?” The other important aspect of a rest is that it allows the meat to cool down. While that may seem counterintuitive, it’s absolutely necessary. We don’t eat meatloaf at 160° F, unless we want second degree burns. An internal temperature of around 120° F is ideal; this cooling time allows your meatloaf to firm up and recover some of its moisture retaining capability. The moral of this story is that, regardless of what you put in your recipe, improper cooking and resting will certainly ruin it, while proper technique will make the best of any reasonable effort.

Onward to content; what should go into the perfect meatloaf? At your local supermarket, they probably offer a pre-made meatloaf grind. My advice is to avoid that; we’re making this at home, from scratch; we don’t want somebody else’s idea of ideal. That ubiquitous grind, by the way, is often comprised of beef, pork, and veal. That mix, while great for meatballs, just doesn’t hold up that well in a notably larger meatloaf. I’ll state without reservation that the best mix is beef with a bit of pork, in the form of bacon. We grind our own here, using our trusty Kitchenaid mixer attachment. If you have one of these mixers, I strongly urge you to snag the grinder attachment; this allows you to custom mix absolutely fresh grinds for anything you like – The difference between that and store ground is night and day; (Just like coffee, meat starts to degrade notably as soon as it is ground). For home grinders, consider that meatloaf is supposed to be a fairly economical meal, so avoid expensive cuts; they’re unnecessary for this application, and the fact that you threw Wagyu in is likely to be lost in the melange anyway. Our formula is 50% – 50% Chuck to Round, (I like Top Round best). Chuck is inexpensive, has the fat content you’re after, and great flavor when used right. Round has great density, decent flavor, relatively low fat content, and is usually cheap. This combination, twice ground, (course plate, then fine plate), yields a beautiful meatloaf base. We’ve often ground the bacon in as well, which is very nice; if you do, use a tablespoon of Avocado oil for sautéing your veggies. I’m also a fan of adding your dry spices to the mix just prior to second grind; it yields great dispersion of those additional flavor notes.

If you don’t own that grinder toy, ask your store’s on duty meat person to grind a couple of cuts that you select; any decent outfit with a sense of customer service will do this for you. Unless you really know and trust your meat folks, don’t believe a package that says ‘Fresh Ground,’ especially in a large chain supermarket – I’ll guarantee you that stuff is bulk grind from God-knows-where that they’ve re-ground in the store. It’s not fresh, and it’s likely not all that good.

Now we come to the mix – what else should or should not be in there. The most common additives, eggs and bread crumbs, are really a stabilizer and an extender, respectively. I agree wholeheartedly with the use of both, and here’s why. As mentioned above, the meat for this dish has lost significant connectivity due to being ground; eggs help to stabilize some of that lost structure. Bread crumbs help by absorbing some of the moisture shed by the meat during cooking, as well as providing a subtle, smoother mouth feel without compromising flavor.

There is one more critical additive, and that’s a moisturizer. Eggs are often thought of as performing this function in meatloaf, but in fact they don’t. Many recipes use some form of dairy, but I’m not a fan of that, because it adds too strong a flavor note. While tasty, that dairy note bring stroganoff to mind, and that’s just not what we’re after. What you want is stock, which will add ample moisture and compliment the flavor of the meat. What kind is up to you, though I strongly encourage it to be homemade. Store bought will work in a pinch, but it lacks the fat and gelatin content of homemade, with its wonderful richness and enhanced mouth feel. Beef, chicken, or vegetable will do; all add certain notes to the final product, so use what you wish to emphasize. Beef stock will deepen the meatiness of your loaf, and some folks find that overkill. Veggie stock adds moisture with the least flavor. Chicken stock will add subtle richness without too many major notes. In any case, stock, eggs, and bread crumbs provide the perfect matrix to keep your meatloaf juicy and flavorful – try it, you’ll like it.

Next, we have seasoning. This should be comprised of flavor notes you really like, that are complimentary to beef. Some of these need to go into the mix, naturally, and some need to go on top, (Some form of glaze is a must). We’re of the opinion that certain veggies absolutely belong in great meatloaf, because without them, you’re simply making seasoned burger. The recipe that follows is our go-to combination, but I encourage you to alter, add, or delete as you see fit. As Bob Ross would say, “That’s your meatloaf…”

Finally, le coupe de grâce – The glaze. In keeping with the simple is best principle, this is where certain prepared sauces get used a lot. We’ve tried straight ketchup, Heinz 57, A-1, Pickapeppa, Tiger sauce, Thai sweet pepper sauce, seasoned tomato sauce, seasoned tomato purée, and even fruit purées. All of these were good, but if I had to pick a top three, I’d vote Pickapeppa, Tiger sauce, and Thai sweet chili sauce, (Thai Kitchen makes a decent bought sauce, but you can make your own – Hit me up if you’d like a recipe.) As for what goes into this version, we’ll stick with a classic doctored ketchup; while you can make your own ketchup, it’s incredibly tomato intensive, far more than you’d imagine, so buying something decent is much more practical for the majority of us. Muir Glen and Annie’s make decent organic versions, and even Heinz and Hunts make no HFCS or preservative versions now. While lots of folks add more sugar to their ketchup based glaze, we don’t – that noble condiment has more than enough already, and it’s the tangy end we’re looking to bolster with our sauce.

So, here you go, our guaranteed spectacular recipe.

Build Notes: We don’t put cheese in ours; it’s meatloaf we’re making here, not cheeseburgers, (But if you like it, do it – sometimes I just like being snarky.) We bake on a rimmed baking sheet, not in a loaf pan; you get a nice caramelized crust this way, which helps seal in moisture a bit, and contributes a textural element to the dish.

Urb&Monique’s Meatloaf

2 Pounds 85%-15% Ground Beef

1/4 Pound thick cut Bacon

2 large Eggs

1 small sweet Onion

1/2 small Carrot

1/2 stalk fresh Celery

3/4 Cup Stock, (Beef, chicken, or veggie)

1/2 Cup plain Bread Crumbs

1 teaspoon Sea Salt

1 teaspoon Smoked Sweet Paprika

4-5 sprigs fresh Cilantro

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground Pepper

4-5 shakes Hot Sauce, (Tabasco, Franks, Cholula, etc)

For the Glaze

¾ Cup Ketchup

¼ Cup Malt Vinegar

2-3 dashes Worcestershire Sauce

2-3 dashes of Hot Sauce

Prepare glaze; in a small bowl, combine ketchup, vinegar, Worcestershire, and hot sauce and whisk to incorporate. Set aside, uncovered, at room temperature.

If you’re grinding your own, grind beef and set aside in the fridge.

Preheat oven to 350° F

Heat a sauté pan over medium heat.

Cut bacon into lardons, roughly 1/4″ square pieces.

Add the minced bacon and sauté, stirring steadily, until most of the fat has rendered out and the bacon is nice and crisp, about 3-4 minutes.

With a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon onto several layers of clean paper towel. Leave the bacon fat in the pan and return it to the burner.

Rinse, peel and trim onion, garlic, cilantro, carrot and celery. Fine dice onion, carrot, and celery, mince the garlic, and chiffonade the cilantro.

Add onion and carrot to the hot fat and sauté until onions begin to turn translucent, about 2 minutes. Add celery and sauté for another minute or so, then add garlic, incorporate, and sauté for another minute. Lightly season this blend with sea salt and a few twists of pepper. Remove from heat and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, crack eggs and whisk lightly to a uniform blend. Add broth and bread crumbs, and whisk to incorporate. Add the sautéed veggies and combine.

Add measured quantities of sea salt, pepper, paprika, pepper sauce, and cilantro. Whisk all to thoroughly incorporate.

Now add the ground beef and bacon, and combine by hand until well incorporated.

Line a heavy baking sheet with parchment.

Carefully empty the mix from your bowl onto the sheet pan.

Form a uniform loaf shape, roughly 10″ x 6″. Slightly flatten the top of the loaf, and make all exposed surfaces as smooth and even as possible.

Bake loaf at 350° F for 40 minutes.

With a basting brush, apply a nice thick layer of baste to the entire loaf, and return to heated oven – Because the baste is rather sugar intensive, adding it now helps to keep it from burning, and allows the added flavor notes to be more pronounced in the final product. Set any remaining baste aside to use as a table condiment for service.

Bake for 10 minutes more and check internal temperature with a quick read thermometer, (You can also use a probe thermometer, as we do, which allows you to leave it in while baking.)

When temp reads 155° F, remove meatloaf from oven, turn off heat and slide plates into oven to warm.

Allow loaf to rest for 15 minutes.

Slice roughly 1″ thick, and serve with roasted potatoes and a crisp, green salad.

No Wonder We Love a Cuppa!

If you missed our recent Magnum Opus on coffee, check it out here. It's a great read, if I do say so myself…

And then, read this piece from RT News, sent to us by Sister Ann, (My Sis that is, not a woman of Orders…), it's fascinating stuff. Being an inveterate coffee snob, it does worry me somewhat as to what such a discovery might do to an already stressed worldwide crop. Certainly, it could cause an emphasis on monoculture of strains, with all the inherent environmental concerns. Food for thought and further study, no doubt.

Posted with Blogsy