Think of the smell of cheap rubber. The kind of smell you might encounter at the shoe section of your local department store. Now think about that same smell, only burnt — as if a fire had just torn through the department store and you were standing in the burnt remains of the shoe section. Got it? Well that is the best way I can describe the smell of Reblochon cheese — the main ingredient of Tartiflette. You may be thinking that I’m doing a bad job of selling this recipe, but bear with me.
As I’ve come to understand, in the cheese world, smell doesn’t equal taste. Take Époisses for example, which according to the New York Times, is “arguably the most deliciously pungent, the most highly regarded and — fairly or unfairly — most infamous raw-milk cheese in France, if not in the whole world”. It smells horrid. It’s been banned from public transport in France and I’ve been banned from leaving it in the fridge at home. But put it in your mouth and the experience changes completely. The smell disappears and you are left with a wonderfully creamy texture with subtle hints of earth and nuts. Reblochon is similar and the change is profound when it’s cooked. You get this uniquely complex flavour and the more familiar it becomes, the more you enjoy it. Continue reading
As a foodie and a fan of the Tim Ferriss Show, I was very excited when he interviewed accomplished chef Andrew Zimmern. I listened to this podcast in the car and when I got home I went to the show notes to follow up on a few things. I found the show notes to be more like an advertisement for the podcast episode and I had to re-listen to find out who makes that famous roast chicken that they talked about. There were so many gems in this podcast that I decided to take notes for a couple of reasons. Firstly, without reviewing something you tend to forget it pretty quickly, and secondly, I’m hoping to set the standard for future show notes on the Tim Ferriss Show. If you agree that this is how they should be, then send Ferriss a quick tweet. Continue reading
I first encountered pistou in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking Vol 2.
Pistou, a Provençal purée of fresh garlic and basil, is stirred into sautéed aubergines that have simmered with tomatoes, peppers, and onions, making a dish reminiscent of that famous Mediterranean medley, ratatouille, but much easier to produce.
It’s only easier to produce because Child’s recipe for ratatouille is so unnecessarily complicated and involved. Pistouille, for decent ordinary people, is simply ratatouille served with pistou sauce. Traditionally, pistou is made with olive oil and that recipe can be found with a simple Google search. This variation was taught to me by a Niçoise man by the name of JR who I met while traveling.
Just recently, a friend of mine asked for some pointers in regards to her new job teaching English. I obliged and quickly realised that I had a lot to say. I decided to outline my process for teaching English and give some of the resources that I use. My method is based on the writings of some of the world’s best polyglots, my experience learning French and Spanish, and my experience teaching English.
My method of teaching can be applied to any language with a few little tweaks, and it can be applied to teaching yourself. If you can find a teacher who is willing to follow instructions, you can direct your own classes. Before I get into the steps of the learning process, there are a few key principles that will make the difference between having a conversation with a native speaker in 2 months, and throwing in the towel. In my first session with a new student, I always explain my principles of language learning which you will find below.
“You learn languages in 3 places: the crib, the bed, and the street.”
“El pollo, not el polla! One minute of massage! La polla means something else by the way”1. It was my 3rd mistake in the last 10 minutes and now I owed my girlfriend a total of 10 minutes of massage. Time to switch back to English and get some massage time for myself.
For the last month we’ve been playing a game which has improved my Spanish speaking skills ten fold. The rules of the game are simple. Every time you are caught making an agreed upon mistake, you owe your partner 1 minute of massage. For example, my current challenge is about matching the gender of the article to the gender of the noun. If I say “una ejemplo” (instead of “un ejemplo”) then I owe my girlfriend a minute of massage. Her challenge is to make sure the grammatical number of the noun matches that of the article. So when she says “you owe me one minutes of massage!”, I smugly say, “don’t you mean one minute?”
Calm, yet powerful. Dark, yet uplifting and soul soothing. This song has great contrasting elements and puts me in a reminiscent mood. The perfect setting to listen would be in a beautiful place at a time of solitude.
For a year over 2011 and 2012 Mark Zuckerberg only ate meat from animals that he had personally killed in an attempt to remind himself what it means to eat meat. In the modern western world most people are completely disconnected from the food they eat. It’s so easy to get food that is ready made, or vegetables that have been picked, washed, peeled, chopped, and wrapped in plastic. If you’re a city dweller without connections, it’s very difficult to get your meat the old fashioned way. Meat bought from the supermarket or butcher is ready to go straight into the pan. If it wasn’t for the label, most people wouldn’t even know what they were eating. Actually, even with the label most people have no idea.
La matanza del cerdo – the killing of the pig – is an old tradition in Spain. But unfortunately, it’s not as common as it once was. In days gone by, it was common for small villages to get together once a year, kill a few pigs, and divide up the meat between the villagers. For one of my friends, this is still a family tradition in the mountainous country of northern Catalonia where her family lives. Earlier this year, Rob and I were lucky enough to be invited.
To impress your guests when hosting a dinner party, you need to either cook a familiar dish that is better than any they’ve tried, or cook something they’ve never had. The latter is much easier. Making your own haggis is something that almost no one does anymore, even in Scotland. But, provided you can get the ingredients, it’s easy.
Haggis is a savoury pudding containing sheep’s pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal’s stomach and simmered for approximately three hours. Most modern commercial haggis is prepared in a sausage casing rather than an actual stomach. As the 2001 English edition of the Larousse Gastronomique puts it, “Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent nutty texture and delicious savoury flavour”. Haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, considered the national dish of Scotland as a result of Robert Burns’ poem Address to a Haggis of 1787. Haggis is traditionally served with “neeps and tatties” (Scots for turnip and potato), boiled and mashed separately and a dram (a glass of Scotch whisky), especially as the main course of a Burns supper.
Most people enjoy even low quality haggis once they get over their mental hurdles.
This all started when I was standing on a street in Tollcross, soaking up a few golden sunrays. I was looking across at my favourite butcher, wondering if it was possible to make my own haggis if I could get the ingredients. I walked over with the intention of having a chat. I ended up leaving with 1 sheep’s pluck (heart and lungs attached to what appeared to be a central wind pipe), 1 sheep’s liver, several chunks of beef suet (the hard fat from around the heart or kidney), and a large natural ox bung casing. Suet has a higher melting point than other fats. It is used to add flavour and to help bind the haggis.
The butcher told me that I had everything in the right proportions. All I needed to add was onion, oatmeal, and spices. His instructions included giving the casing a good wash as it was covered in salt, and something about boiling the offal. In my excitement I wasn’t really listening. By the time I got home his vague method was even more hazy so I did some research. First thing I realised was that there was no consistency in directions. Cooking times between recipes varied by 500%. Some recipes talked about removing the windpipe, others talked about hanging it over the side to let the impurities fall out. Some recipes even used different combinations of offal. I can sum up my findings as follows:
Boil the offal until cooked through.
Cool the offal and mince it.
Combine the minced offal, minced suet, finely chopped onions, pinhead oatmeal, spices, and some stock (or the water you boiled the offal in).
Stuff into casing.
Cook casing until hot throughout.
I followed the above “recipe” guided the by phrase “If in doubt, leave it out”. I ended up with 2 large balls of haggis, one smaller ball, and a repetitive strain injury from untold minutes of chopping boiled offal. I put the large balls in the freezer and started to cook the smaller one for that night’s dinner.
There are a number of ways of cooking haggis, my prefered method up until this point being boiling. Within 5 minutes of submerging the haggis, it had split open and the stuffing had dispersed into the water. I strained the mixture, and tasted the boiled stuffing. All the flavour has escaped into the water and it tasted like what it was; insipid boiled meat. Horrible.
I’ve since discovered that pricking the haggis with a pin lets the air escape and reduces the risk of it splitting. I also believe that I used too many oats, which caused the haggis to expand excessively and split open.
Somewhat disheartened but still hopeful, I took one of the large ball of haggis and steamed it while preparing some vegetables. It steamed for around 90 minutes; long enough to become hot all the way through.
This time it was absolutely delicious. Easily the best haggis I’ve had, which isn’t saying too much as I’ve only ever tasted haggis from the supermarket and local pubs. This haggis had a different texture that I’d never experience before, probably due to the ingredients being chopped by hand. It was course and every now and then you would get a little piece of lung tubing or a chunk of suet that made for an interesting and enjoyable experience. The flavour was as it should be – strongly meaty with pepper and hints of other spices. I served it with some roasted vegetables and sauerkraut. Traditionally haggis is served with mashed turnips and mashed potatoes which, although delicious, is done ad nauseam in Scotland.
1 sheep’s pluck sheep’s heart, liver, and lungs
250g beef suet finely diced
1 ox bung thoroughly rinsed in several changes of water
2 large brown onions finely diced
3/4 cup steel cut oats also known as pinhead or Scottish oats (optionally toasted)
Various dried herbs and spices eg, paprika, cayenne pepper, oregano, thyme, etc
1-2 tablespoons of salt
1-2 tablespoons of pepper
Knife & chopping board
Large mixing bowl
Remove the heart, lungs, and liver from the windpipe and other miscellaneous tissue. Cut into large chunks.
Boil the chunks of heart, lung and liver for approximately 1 hour, or until cooked throughout. Remove from the water and leave until cool enough to handle. Reserve a cup of the cooking liquid.
Finely dice the onions and mix with the finely diced beef suet.
Finely chop the boiled offal (or use a mincer if you have one) and mix with the onions and suet.
Mix in the salt, pepper, and dried herbs and spices of your desire, for example, a tablespoon of mixed or provence herbs, a tablespoon of paprika, a teaspoon of cayenne pepper.
Stuff the mixture into the washed ox bung and tie off each ball to roughly the volume of an american football.
At this point each ball can be either cooked immediately, or refrigerated / frozen for further use. You may want to reserve some of the haggis stuffing for another delicious recipe – Balmoral chicken (sometimes called Highland chicken).
To cook the haggis, steam it until it’s hot all the way through. Timing depends on the size. Allow 1 hour for a small haggis.
Serve as you would any other meat – with a side of vegetables.
Alternatively, don your kilt, place the plattered haggis on the table with sides of mashed turnip and potato, address the haggis, then slice it open with a broadsword.
Suggested beverage accompaniment: Lagavulin 16 single malt scotch whisky.
Note: Unfortunately for Americans, lungs aren’t legally available. Apparently, tongue and kidneys are a decent substitute.
steaming the haggis
Haggis ready to cook
Cleaning the casing
Boiling the lungs
Top left: suet; bottom left: liver; right: sheeps pluck held by the heart
Leftover herbs. It’s hard to know what to do with them and I hate to see them go to waste. Parsley butter is a great way to use them and it gives an elegant twist to many simple dishes which can be served on the side, or as separate courses. For example:
Over lowish heat: sauté mushrooms in parsley butter until juices have been released and evaporated. Adjust seasoning and acidity (lemon, S&P). Serve.
An alternative to the above is to cook the mushrooms in extra virgin olive oil first and then add some parsley butter within the last couple of minutes of cooking. The flavour is quite different. The following can also be fried in parsley butter with good results: diced carrots (low heat for 30 or 40 minutes), potatoes (chopped to 1cm cubes, though in this case I would suggest cooking them in oil first), whole asparagus tips, or whole green beans.
Fideos a la cazuela con costilla de cerdo y salchichas
Since I’ve been so enthusigasmic about my new cazuela de barro, I’ve been on the lookout for new recipes to try. When I was in San Sebastián I bought myself Las Mejores Recetas De Mi Madre by Joan Roca. Or, The Best Recipes Of My Mother as the English title would be if there was one. Joan Roca is the head chef at the three Michelin star restaurant El Celler de Can Roca in Girona, Catalonia. He is quite famous in Spain and has a new book out called Cocina con Joan Roca.
The title of the recipe loosely translates to Casserole style spaghetti noodles with pork ribs and mini pork sausages. In Spain it’s quite common to cook with individual ribs chopped into 1-2″ chunks. The butcher prepares them this way when you buy them. If I wasn’t able to get ribs prepared like this, I probably would’ve substituted pork belly. Salchichas are small sausages about the size of a large man’s finger. You can substitute any good quality pork sausage, but if you buy large sausages, chop them into chunks and adjust cooking times accordingly. Fideos are basically 1″ segments of spaghetti. Substitute any small form of pasta if you can’t find them. This recipe also calls for vino rancio which I’ve referred to as “old wine”. It is a special type of wine from Catalonia which has been left out to age in the sun. I have no idea what it tastes like but I’m guessing it’s acidic so I substituted the juice of half a lemon. Don’t forget, when cooking from a cazuela, always bring it up to temperature slowly. The recipe says to keep simmering for about 10 minutes once the ribs have been reintroduced to soften them. I did this, but they were still quite tough. Next time I cook this, I will extend this cooking time to try and soften the meat more.
Here’s the recipe to serve 1 person:
In a cazuela de barro with extra virgin olive oil: brown 1 pork rib cut into 1-2″ chunks, remove. Brown 3 small sausages, remove. Add more olive oil if necessary, fry 1 diced onion ~ soft & golden, add one grated tomato (halve the tomato, grate the flesh and seeds, discard the skin), and cook over low heat ≈ 5-10mins. Add a dash of old wine, continue cooking until it has reduced to the consistency of jam. Return the ribs to the cazuela, add ≈ 1/2 a cup of stock, continue cooking ≈ 10mins to soften the rib meat. Return the sausages, add pasta to fill in the gaps between the chunks of meat. Cook ~ pasta is almost done (you may need to add more stock if it’s looking dry). Off heat, stir through 1 small clove of garlic and 2 or 3 sprigs of parsley (both finely chopped), then leave to rest a few minutes. Serve in the cazuela, along with a nice salad.
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