Archive

Monthly Archives: October 2011

It’s a thing I crave so badly once the seasons change, I suspect my body is deficient in it during the warmer months. I’m talking about beef short ribs.

Short ribs beg to be braised, and you should take heed. Make a day out of it: Open a couple of bottles of wine and spend the day indoors, getting a little buzzed, watching silly movies, and smelling beef as it conquers the kitchen. If company allows, take off the pants and snuggle under a fuzzy blanket while the meat renders slowly in the oven.

This is what you’ll get, if you take the time:

And the rewards are paramount.

It was a rainy fall evening and, after an unseasonable dinner of takeout sushi, my sweet tooth started acting up. It happens every night, but I was in a desperate situation: there was nothing sweet in the apartment, save the brown sugar that had cemented itself against a supposedly air-tight glass jar.

After some investigating, I spotted a half-empty box of prepared puff pastry in the freezer. And I had plenty of pumpkin pie spice that I had used to make sweet potato custard. With these two findings, it was essential I dislodge enough of the brown sugar from the bottom of the jar to muster up a decent dessert. And that’s exactly what I did.

Here are the ingeniously named, Puff Pastry Snakes:

Okay, so they look pretty strange now that I’m seeing them again. But they’re damn good. Simply unfold a sheet of thawed puff pastry, work it with a rolling pin (or, if you’re me, a wine bottle) to seal the seams, sprinkle generously with brown sugar and pumpkin spice (or cinnamon, or whatever), roll tightly, cut into one-inch segments and bake in a 350-degree Fahrenheit oven for 20 minutes on each side.

They become crispy and flaky and, if you’re lucky, the brown sugar oozes onto the tops and bottoms of the snakes, creating a caramel coating. They go perfectly with a cup of tea.

One of the most essential concepts I’ve been studying in culinary school is the art of sauce making. Jax Past would scorn at the very idea of a sauce, believing that taking short cuts would yield just as good a product. Jax Present knows better. Jax Present understands that a sauce deserves as much attention–or perhaps more–than the thing with which it will be paired. Many sauces require time to develop each layer of flavor that will eventually come together as something else entirely.

I recently prepared pork loin with a grainy mustard sauce. Unfortunately, the pork was too dry for my taste, but thankfully I had lovingly nurtured several raw ingredients into a sauce that made up for the protein failure.

In a large saucepan, brown roughly chopped carrots, celery and onions over high heat, stirring occasionally. Once the vegetables have caramelized, pour stock (homemade is preferred, but in this instance I was only able to use store-bought, low-sodium chicken broth) into the pan and reduce over medium heat. (At this point, you can add any herbs you’d like, as well as crushed garlic.)

Once the sauce has reduced by about half, strain through a fine-mesh strainer (or a colander lined with paper towels or cheese cloth). Wipe down the sauce pan and add a pat of butter. Sprinkle in finely minced shallots and cook gently to avoid any color development. Add a generous splash of white wine and reduce until it has almost completely evaporated. Pour the reduced stock into the pan, stir in grainy mustard and a touch of heavy cream and reduce further, until the sauce coats the back of a spoon. Season with S & P to taste.

Jax Future will absolutely make this sauce, and so should you. Serve over any protein you’d like (but I think pork works particularly well, so long as it’s not mutilated), preferably without pants.

Or does it?

I headed to the suburbs of Connecticut this past weekend to relax, cook and enjoy the foliage that Brooklyn generally lacks. I stopped here for some BBQ after a stint at a local farm and a trip to a restaurant supply store:

It’s a food truck of sorts, located on the edge of a parking lot, equipped with a smoker and everything. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich, brought it home, stripped off my clothes, got down to my underwear…and headed straight into the comfiest pajama ensemble available. Scarfed down the sandwich faster than I would have liked, but, as they say, it was good while it lasted.

Who knew Connecticut offered good BBQ? Not me. And I’m not really sure it does. But Big Country’s Hickory Pit BBQis worth checking out if you find yourself in Wallingford, CT.