MITCH IN THE KITCHEN

sausage and potato pizza

More pizza! An article in the newest Cook’s Illustrated nudged me to make this. (Side note: this issue also has a bunch of tips for perfect cookies, which I will hopefully be baking later tonight.) Recently, my pizzas have been more puffy and focaccia-like than intended. The article tells you how to get thin, flavorful pizza dough: let it rise/ferment in the refrigerator for 24 to 72 hours. This slows down carbon dioxide production but keeps all the flavorful sugars, acids, and alcohols forming.

As for the toppings, I’ve been kind of infatuated with potatoes on pizza ever since Little Luzzo’s started serving potato and gorgonzola slices. I have no problem with starch-on-starch combinations and pairing something salty with low-intensity potatoes seems like a good fit. Here’s a rough guide:

Crank your oven all the way up (not to broil); mine goes up to 500 degrees. If you don’t have a pizza stone (like I don’t), keep an overturned baking sheet in there. If you don’t have a pizza peel (like I also don’t), flatten and shape the dough on another baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Top pizza dough with mozzarella, then sliced cooked potatoes (boil them whole in salted water, then cool and slice. If you want crispier potatoes, pan fry them a little bit first). Brush potatoes with garlic-rosemary oil (olive oil gently heated with sliced garlic and a few sprigs’ worth of rosemary leaves). Sprinkle a bit of salt on the potatoes. Add sliced sweet Italian sausage to the pizza. Transfer pizza, with parchment paper, to overturned baking sheet in the oven (just slide it off carefully). Bake in oven for about 15 minutes, or until crust is golden and cheese is bubbly. Top with grated hard cheese (Parmigiano, pecorino Romano, and the like) and black pepper.

brussels sprout and pancetta pizza

It’s time for another cured-pork-and-greens pizza (previously: kale and bacon pizza). Slice has a guide for how to make the highly praised brussels sprout and pancetta pizza from Motorino. A New York Times review likened it to “a dog speaking BBC English” (this is a good thing). The restaurant version is delicious as hell, but the homemade version is pretty straightforward to make (though the crust won’t be all 900-degree-oven quality and the cheese may not be totally right). After all, you can’t go wrong combining brussels sprouts with salty pig things.

modified salade lyonnaise

This elegant salad hails from Lyon, France, and I’m a little surprised you don’t find it in more restaurants here on this continent. It’s a salad, but come on, it has bacon AND an egg in it. If this can’t get Americans to eat their vegetables, I’m giving up hope. (Please note that I am not actually advocating eating bacon and eggs with every serving of vegetables. Also I’m not actually giving up hope.) The traditional version uses frisée, which is a frizzy bitter green from the chicory genus that you’ve probably seen somewhere in a mesclun salad mix. But you could use any kind of bitter salad green, including escarole and arugula, as Mark Bittman advises. Lardons (little French cross-section batons of thick-sliced bacon) are also traditionally used, but I went with pancetta since there was some sitting around in the freezer. Finally, I find poaching eggs to be an unnecessarily fussy way to spend my time, so I went with sunny-side-up and only used one frying pan for everything.

To make the dressing, combine a little bit of Dijon mustard with a little bit of sherry vinegar, salt, pepper, and oil. Fry bacon pieces in a pan until crisp. Remove. To make croutons, add a clove or two of chopped garlic to the bacon fat and push it around to infuse the grease. Remove garlic from the pan. Add stale bread cubes (I had some leftover from Thanksgiving stuffing-making) and cook, tossing occasionally, until crisp and golden. Season with a little bit of salt and pepper. Wipe crumbs from the pan and add a little butter or oil. Cook an egg in it, but not too much because you want to smother this whole salad in hot runny yolk. Of course, you can also just go ahead and poach the egg like you’re supposed to. Toss dressing with frisée, bacon pieces, and croutons. Top with egg. Devour.

spaghetti + meatballs

Let me start by saying that this Sunday supper took forever to prepare and should not be attempted unless you have time and patience (and a lot of wine). The most recent issue of Cook’s Illustrated points out that meatballs are a lot of work, so you should make a whole bunch all at once. Their recipe swaps out veal for gelatin and prosciutto, and milk-soaked bread for panko (flaky Japanese breadcrumbs) and buttermilk. We roughly halved the recipe. Instead of baking the meatballs, I insisted on frying them in batches in a pan and making a simple tomato sauce in that same pan. During a moment of good judgment, I ditched the original plan to make the pasta ourselves and pulled out a package of some fancy dry spaghetti we’d been gifted awhile back. We went back and forth between the living room (homework and televised sports) and the kitchen (frying meat, simmering sauce) to divvy up all the steps. Several dropped meatballs, sauce splatters, and glasses of wine later, we sat down to (wolfed down) a satisfying meal that tucked us quietly into bed. Even better, we have two batches’ worth of leftovers that will probably come out of the freezer during study-freak finals season or in November if we completely mess up Thanksgiving dinner.

homemade char siu

I’ve been meaning to do something neat with pork shoulder for awhile now. My Cantonese roots beckoned me to try my hand at char siu, that beautiful, glossy red specimen of pork seen hanging in a Chinatown restaurant window near you. (I don’t actually speak Cantonese beyond the names of my favorite foods, so I call it “cha shao” in passable Mandarin.)

After scouring the internets for an idea of what exactly goes in the marinade, I came across unusual-sounding variations (from Hawaii and beyond) that included ketchup, sherry, and apricot jam. Mmm… no. And then I found this gem of a post on Chowhound telling me that the “richest flavoured sauce comes from generations of boiling down and adding to the original marinade.” Amazing. Just like yogurt cultures or sourdough starters that get passed on, batch after batch. Also note that my char siu is not really red because I didn’t use any food coloring.

(photo of yours truly by Jocelyn)

I also took the extra “Mitch you are crazy” step of using s-hooks from the hardware store and rearranging the racks in my oven to simulate the old-school way of getting a nice sticky (not soggy) glaze on the entire surface of the pork slabs. But you can also use a roasting rack or a regular baking pan and not be concerned with my unusual habits.

This is also an inspiring beginning to a tour of pork shoulders around the world. Next stop: carnitas? Bo ssäm? Pulled pork? Pernil?

Char siu recipe:

2 1/2 to 3 pound boneless pork shoulder
3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
3 tablespoons dark soy sauce
3 tablespoons light soy sauce
1/4 cup rice wine
lots of ginger, grated (I did about a 2-inch segment)
2 teaspoons Chinese five-spice powder
honey for basting (about 1/2 cup)

Cut the pork shoulder into 5-inch long strips (they should be about an inch thick and 1 1/2 to 2 inches wide). Combine hoisin sauce, soy sauces, rice wine, ginger, and five-spice. Marinate pork in this mixture for 8 hours or overnight (throwing it all in a gallon-size zip-top plastic bag is the easiest way to go about it).

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Place pork pieces on hooks (or on a roasting rack or roasting pan). Place a foil-lined sheet pan on a rack placed at the bottom of the oven (you know, the lowest part it can slide in and out of). Place another rack at the top of the oven. Carefully hang pork on the top rack, making sure the pieces don’t touch each other. Roast for 15 to 20 minutes, then baste with honey. The honey can be warmed up a little if it’s too thick, or you can thin it out with some of the reserved marinade. I think I combined a little too much of the marinade with the honey for this basting part and the end result wasn’t as caramelized and sticky as I would’ve liked it to be. I am one of those people who will fight you for the burnt end pieces.

Lower temperature to 325 degrees and roast for another 40 minutes, or until pork is cooked through, basting every 10 minutes or so. You can check the meat with an instant-read thermometer (160 degrees F) or try the finger test (or stop stressing about slightly pink pork… nice restaurants out there do it on purpose). If you’re using the hooks, carefully remove pork using a sturdy pair of tongs and be careful about the drippy juices.

zha jiang mian (noodles with pork sauce)

I’ve been having about one wedding-related nightmare each week. In the most recent one, I was at a Chinese restaurant ordering lunch with my friend Jeanice. After mulling over my options, I decided to get a basket of xiao long bao (soup dumplings). When the gruff, middle-aged manager-cum-waiter came to take our order, I asked him if he also had zha jiang mian (炸酱面). As he walked back to the kitchen to check, Jeanice asked me if my flowers were ready. I dashed out of the restaurant to arrange for flower arrangements, two days before the big day, leaving the possibility of zha jiang mian for lunch behind.

A few days later, I decided this was inspiration enough to make zha jiang mian, possibly the only Chinese dish I’ve come anywhere close to “mastering” (yes, it’s that easy). You can also find versions of zha jiang mian at Korean restaurants (jajangmyeon) and Japanese restaurants. The noodles should be wheat noodles (made from wheat flour), and the sauce should be pretty salty thanks to all the fermented bean products that go into it. Zha jiang mian is usually served with crunchy vegetables on top, typically bean sprouts, cucumbers, and shredded carrots. I like to cook diced carrots in the sauce (what my mom does) and top it with matchstick-sized strips of cucumbers and blanched bean sprouts. It’s a nice contrast of hot and cold, salty and cucumber-y, and soft and crunchy.

vegetable oil
1/2 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 medium carrot, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound ground pork
1 teaspoon corn starch
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
3 ounces pressed five-spice tofu (looks like this)
1 tablespoon broad bean paste
1 tablespoon hot broad bean paste (or substitute with more regular broad bean paste)
1 tablespoon sweet bean sauce (or hoisin sauce)
3/4 cup water
sesame oil

thick wheat noodles, cooked according to package directions

Heat vegetable oil in a large pan or wok over medium heat. Add onion and carrot. Cook until onion is translucent.

Combine pork with corn starch, garlic, and soy sauce. Add to pan and cook until pork is browned. Add tofu, bean paste, and bean sauce. Toss to coat everything evenly. Add water and bring sauce to a simmer. Turn heat to low and continue to simmer until sauce has thickened. Add a tiny bit of sesame oil at the end. Serve over noodles with blanched bean sprouts and julienne cucumbers.

kale and bacon pizza

Between November and—oh, I dunno—April, I eat a lot of kale. It’s a fall/winter vegetable that is readily available, that isn’t a potato. I put kale in fried rice, in soups, tossed with pasta, mixed into mashed potatoes, and I’ve even tried my hand at making kale chips. But the pizza, my friends, was a first. As much as I love bacon, this thick-cut kind I picked up rendered a LOT of fat, which became a little overwhelming for me and John. You can’t really tell by looking at the photo above (or even the actual pizza), but I turned what was meant to be a healthy dinner into a sneaky lard bomb. If I could do it all over again (and I probably will), I would either use less bacon, thinner sliced bacon, a less fatty cured pork product (ham? prosciutto?), or something salty that isn’t made from pigs (anchovies? olives?).

pizza dough

5 or 6 medium kale leaves, stems removed, then chopped
6 oz provolone cheese, sliced 1/8-inch thick or shredded
little bit of thinly sliced red onion
4 or 5 sundried tomato halves, cut into thin strips
3 slices bacon, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch wide pieces
a few tablespoons of grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Line a half sheet pan (about 18 by 13 inches) with parchment paper.

Sprinkle some corn meal on the baking sheet. Place the dough on the baking sheet and drizzle a little olive oil on top. Shape dough to fit pan. If it won’t stretch, let it rest a bit before handling it.

Heat a bit of olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add kale (in batches if necessary) and saute until it begins to soften and turn bright green. Season with salt and pepper, and a little bit of crushed red pepper if you’re into that sort of thing. Add a splash of water and cook until kale is completely softened. Set aside.

Spread provolone evenly over pizza dough. Top with sauteed kale, then onions, sundried tomatoes, and uncooked bacon pieces. Top with additional Parmesan cheese. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until crust is golden and bacon is slightly crisp, rotating halfway through.

ham and cheddar drop biscuits

I meant to post this from home (The Nut, CA), but realized too late that my parents do not have photo software that can convert raw image files. For me, the holidays are a chance to escape to blindingly sunny southern California, say hi to my very large extended family, and drink beer in a high school friend’s garage. Every year, my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc. (and this year, future in-laws!) all come over on Christmas Eve. It’s a pot luck, more or less, with everything from Chinese noodle dishes to pastries from a local Cuban bakery to yellow chicken curry. My mom always makes her famous spare ribs, and I usually pull something together at the last minute (while causing my mom to fret that her only child, now 27, still has no grasp of time management). Along with fresh guacamole, I whipped up some bite-sized savory biscuits. They taste excellent fresh out of the oven (but that didn’t stop me from eating all the stale leftovers for breakfast the next day).

makes about 60 (if I remember correctly)

1 cup butter (2 sticks), very cold
3 1/2 cups flour
1 tablespoon + 2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cups milk
4 oz ham, diced
8 oz cheddar cheese, shredded or diced

Combine flour with baking powder, salt, and pepper. Cut butter into the dry ingredients with a pastry blender until the granules are the size of small peas. Add milk and stir just until combined. Gently fold in ham and cheese.

Scoop by the tablespoon-ful onto a parchment or foil-lined baking sheet. Bake at 425 degrees for 12 to 15 minutes, or until biscuits turn lightly golden.