Reading, Writing, and Using Recipes - Part 2: Grab a Pencil

This installment is extremely overdue, but I promise it'll get you thinking.

Last time, I talked about what a recipe is, and I concluded that it is primarily a guide, a set of assembly instructions.  I also concluded that recipes don't really teach the user how to cook, but one could use them as teaching supplemental material and rewriting a recipe can certainly help with this.

For those that already know how to cook and are looking to become more efficient when following a recipe, a rewrite can be a great boon.

Whatever the case, what rewriting a recipe does is help to ensure that you, the cook, know exactly what you're supposed to do, that you understand what to do with the ingredients both in the preparation stage and the cooking stage.

Rewriting does not mean simply copying the recipe verbatim, however.  While this might help you to memorize a recipe, it may not necessarily help you to understand how to execute a recipe.

Let's use a recipe for the Tunisian spice paste, harissa, as an example:

• 1 tbsp whole caraway seeds
• 2 tbsp whole coriander seeds
• 2 tsp whole cardamom seeds
• 1 tsp whole black peppercorns
• 2 oz small dried chiles, such as Chili de Arbol, Thai chilies, etc.
• 1 tbsp salt
• 1 oz garlic cloves, chopped
• 4-6 oz olive oil

Toast caraway, coriander, cardamom, peppercorns in saute pan over med. heat.  Allow them to cool, then grind together.  Toast the chiles over low heat, then add them to the spices and grind together.  Grind the salt and garlic into a paste using a mortar and pestle, add to the spice/chile mix, and grind together.  Drizzle in the oil while still grinding until thick paste is formed.

When I began rewriting recipes, I started by simply writing down the ingredients and then the instructions in my own shorthand.  

Toast caraway, coriander, cardamom, peppercorns in saute pan, med. heat.  Cool.  Grind together.  Toast the chiles, low heat.  Add to spices, grind together.  Grind salt and garlic into a paste, add to spice/chile mix, grind together.  Drizzle in the oil while still grinding until thick paste is formed.

By writing down the ingredients, you can become familiar with what ingredients you'll need to use and what you'll need to buy if you don't have them.  This means you'll also be less likely to forget ingredients while in the middle of cooking.

As for the instructional part, most everyone has seen recipes that have paragraphs written in nice, complete sentences that are, more or less, grammatically correct.  Sometimes there is more than one paragraph, and sometimes the paragraphs have several sentences.  And sometimes those sentences are long, as they often add details like what tools to use and about how long to cook something.

Now, there's nothing wrong with this.  Instructions of this ilk are pleasant to read and rather complete.  The point of these instructions is to let you, the cook, know what you'll be doing with what and when, so the more information the better, right?  But I have found that using these recipes during the actual act of cooking is difficult because finding the next step requires scanning these paragraphs to find where I've left off, meaning I had to quickly weed through what I'd already read.

By writing the recipe in your own shorthand, you can accomplish at least three things.  First, the act of writing will, again, allow you to become familiar with the instructions.  Second, by using your own shorthand, you show that you have an understanding of the original instructions.  Third, you increase the chances of more easily being able to find your place in the instructions while cooking.

All of this is very important because understanding what you're supposed to be doing in order to execute a specific dish will allow you an easier time during cooking.  An easier time during cooking means you'll more easily become familiar with some of the methods and techniques which you'll find used in many, many other recipes.

All of this is, of course, assuming that you, the one doing the rewrite, will be the one to use the recipe.  Your shorthand should reflect just how much detail you'll need to know.  If you know how to execute the risotto method, then there's no need to write out all of the steps to making a risotto if part of your recipe involves a risotto, right?  After all, it would be just more text to wade through.  The same goes for anything you already know how to do, and know how to do it well.  The less text you have to read during cooking, the better.

However, if you're writing for someone else, you may want to be more detailed in your rewrite.  Let's use the risotto example.  If you know how to execute the risotto method, you might write your instructions down for a mushroom risotto as follows:

Add butter and olive oil, med.-med.high heat.  Add mushrooms.  Saute until browned.  Remove half, add onions, sweat.  Add rice, stir to coat.  Risotto method.  After last turn, add remaining mushrooms.  Add salt and Parmesan to taste.

Now, this might be your version of a few different recipes that you've borrowed from in order to produce a mushroom risotto that you really like.  And your friend likes it, too, and wants the recipe.  He or she has never made a risotto before.  They may not know what a "turn" is.  They may not know what to look for during cooking.  So, as you write out the recipe for them, their lack of risotto experience is something to keep in mind, and thusly you give them instructions that perhaps read like this:

Bring chicken stock to a boil in a separate pot, then simmer.  In another pan, add olive oil and butter over med.-med.high heat until butter is melted but not brown.  Add mushrooms.  Saute until browned, tossing occasionally to prevent burning, but not too often to prevent searing.  Remove half, reduce to med. heat, add onions, sweat until translucent.  Add rice, stir to coat.  Add 1/3 of chicken stock, stirring frequently until absorbed.  Repeat with another 1/3 of stock.  Repeat, adding most of the last 1/3.  Check texture, making sure rice is al dente.  Add remaining mushrooms, stir in.  Add salt and Parmesan to taste.

That's a pretty basic example of how to construct a risotto, modified to include sauteed mushrooms.  An attempt was made to keep it simple and easy to understand while providing enough detail to give the inexperienced cook clues to look for so they can, hopefully, reproduce the dish.  Experience will hone the cook's skills but the recipe is a good starting point.

Knowing your audience, whether it's you or someone else, will determine how you write or rewrite your recipes.  Once you've determined how to write something, you can either leave it at that or you can take it one step further and play with the format of your recipe.

But that's a subject for next time.

Reading, Writing, and Using Recipes - Part 1: What The Heck Is A Recipe?

One of the things I hate most about recipes is reading them.

You read that right. I hate reading recipes. Well, most recipes. They're generally a list of ingredients with amounts, sometimes with minor instructions (eg. 2 cloves garlic, minced), underneath of which are further instructions, sometimes written in paragraph form, and sometimes the steps are numbered.

In some of the books I have, the ingredient list and instructions are side by side and sectioned off so that a batch of ingredients correlate with a set of instructions, then the next section will have another batch of ingredients correlating with their instructions.

And it's all so... wordy.

Before I started culinary school, I learned to rewrite recipes before cooking them so that a) I could understand, in my own way, what needed to be done, and b) I could format them in a manner that was easy to follow during the chaos that could ensue during cooking.  This is important because before you cook you have to understand what you're doing.  Unfortunately, recipes often tell you what to do but not necessarily how to do it.

What does that mean?  Well, when a recipe tells you to saute mushrooms on medium high heat for two minutes, do you know what saute means?  Let's get rid of the word saute and place it with cook.  Okay, now we have a more generic term.  We'll cook the mushrooms on medium high heat for 2 minutes... except the mushrooms are burning and they've only been cooking for a minute-and-a-half!  So, let's change for two minutes to until brown.  Well, not all mushrooms brown, are they?  That's just a generic term cooks use to describe caramelization and the Maillard reaction (another post, another day, folks).  So let's change that to until dark.  How dark?  Um... twice as dark?  Really dark?  And what if it takes a really long time?  Perhaps the burner you're using doesn't have high enough heat, even though it's on medium high.  Can you bump up the heat?  Or is it supposed to take a long time?  Well, it's supposed to take two minutes, right?  Oh, wait, we changed that...

Yes, that's kind of a worse-care scenario.  Not everyone gets that confused while following a recipe, but then again, some people do.  I have met people that are learning how to cook but following a recipe is still confusing to them; I met two girls who went shopping for a casserole recipe that stated six stalks of celery were needed.  Not being cooks, and therefore not necessarily being familiar with cooking or food terminology (or plant terminology, for that matter), they didn't know what stalks were... so they bought six bunches of celery instead of one bunch with six stalks.  That is a lot of celery left over!

Following a recipe can be difficult for people learning how to cook, or inexperienced cooks.  Even experienced cooks can probably have a difficult time following a recipe if it is written in a complicated manner, and yes... I've seen some complicated recipes.

The thing is, a recipe can't necessarily teach a person how to cook.  They're not technical manuals; they can't - or rather, don't - teach technique.  It can state what to do with food in order to cook it, which should result in a specific dish, but it doesn't explain the subtleties of a saute and how to make adjustments.  It doesn't explain what a braise is and why you need to do it for a particular piece of meat and why you shouldn't substitute another particular type of meat.  There are technical things that are left out of a recipe that help keep the text of a recipe shorter than it otherwise could be.

So... um... what is a recipe then?

A recipe is, quite simply, a set of instructions designed to instruct the user how to assemble a dish.

Think of a recipe like a map or GPS.  If you have your driver's license, you know how to drive, right?  (We're not going to debate the quality of your driving here...)  But, just because you know how to drive, doesn't mean you don't necessarily know how to get to every destination you need to drive to.  Thus, a map or a GPS can provide some sort of guide or instruction designed to provide you a route from where you are to your destination.  This is a recipe.

There are two words of note: assemble and guide.  Just because you're told or shown how to assemble something, doesn't mean you have the technique behind the methods to assemble the dish that will result in awesome, blow-your-mind food.  Or even to assemble it well.  Or, in some cases, assemble it so that the outcome remotely looks like edible food.  The recipe also acts as a guide because recipes are generally written in a step-by-step manner where the the steps are (hopefully) arranged in a chronological manner so that each task is presented in an order that allows efficient assembly.  For example, if making pizza, you wouldn't necessarily want to prep all your toppings and then start your dough, because the dough needs time to rise and rest.  Prepping beforehand would just make the entire process longer.  A good recipe will have you make the dough first, then prep your toppings, then instruct you to stretch the dough, assemble the pizza, then bake.  Think of it like this: You wouldn't want to be lead around in circles all over town by a GPS when you could have made a right, two lefts, and a final right, would you?

So, whether you're an experienced or inexperienced cook, it's a great idea to rewrite recipes before using them.  And, if you're intent on teaching yourself to how cook using recipes, one of the best ways to start is to rewrite them.  We'll get into how and why next time.

Fake Claypot Rice?

I watched an older episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations last night. In 2007 he went (back) to Hong Kong. At the time of watching, I'd had two slices of leftover pizza to eat that day... about noon. That was it. No other form of sustenance except for a bit of water entered my body. The time of viewing? Oh, about 10:00 PM. I was pretty hungry but had little to cook in the house and little money to justify getting take out that late.

So perhaps my state of hunger had something to do with how big of an impression this particular episode had on me.

(In contrast, the night before I'd watched the Shanghai episode and, though everything looked spectacularly delicious, I was so not hungry that the episode was hard to watch)

One dish in particular reminded me of a few things I did have in the house to eat and would have cooked if it wasn't so late. Claypot Rice. Basically, a steamed rice dish in a small claypot that was accompanied by various "toppings", such as Chinese sausage ("lop chang", or however you want to spell it), duck, salted fish, chicken... basically a one-bowl rice dish. It's something they apparently eat in the winter.

I knew I'd be making some version of that today for lunch.

I had leftover rainbow chard (about 12 days old, but still a lot of healthy-looking leaves), eggs, leftover rice, and lop chang. A bit of canola oil, soy sauce, water, and crushed red peppers and I was ready to go.

Oh, but wait. I don't have a claypot. What to do?!

1. Canola oil went into a medium-medium high heated nonstick pan. After it was hot, I threw in the lop chang, which I'd cut into medium-sized pieces (for its size).
2. Once the sausage had browned, I threw in the chard until it wilted. Then, in went the rice. I tossed it with some crushed red pepper. Then, about a 1/4 cup of water to help steam the leftover rice.
3. After most of the water had been absorbed/turned to steam, I cracked an egg over the top. I drizzled soy sauce over everything and put a lid on it. After a few minutes, once the egg had cooked through, it was ready to go. The results?

Excuse my funky mug, but the webcam was the only thing available. Pretty obvious that I'm happy though, yeah?

It was pretty damn good, cheap to make, and didn't take long at all. Usually I make fried rice with my leftovers, but this was a bit different. Fluffier, really, and the dish overall seemed to be a bit more incorporated whereas fried rice is usually a mish-mash of ingredients that still seemed separated in the dish. This could've been more incorporated had I used more liquid, but it was good the way it was. The bottom of the rice dish was crispy because it had fried while the rest did not. This led to some pretty intense flavors.

A small variation on a one-bowl rice dish, to be sure, but one worth exploring with your leftovers.

Fresh pasta

I've been away from the blogosphere for a little while. I've been pretty busy with a couple projects that have taken up a lot of free time here at home. That doesn't mean I haven't participated in the act of food eating and making; I've gotta eat, you know. But these projects have actually taken up so much time that my routine for the past month (yeesh!) has been project, work, eat, wife-time.

So, a couple weeks ago, when I spent a 3-hour-plus stretch in the kitchen making fresh pasta for the first time, it was a nice break that resulted in something simple yet incredibly satisfying.

My wife and I have tried to find ways to cut back on the amount we spend on food, including making larger meals so that they can be eaten throughout the week (which reminds me that I have slow cooker on the counter keeping me waiting). I'm hoping that one day she'll start making bread at home. We're trying to find ways to grow certain things here at the condo so that we don't have to buy them. So the act of making fresh pasta made sense economically, as well.

Oh, and I did it all without a pasta machine.

The pasta was quite satisfying, both to make and eat. I did some research on pasta recipes and found 3 basic ones:

flour, egg, extra-virgin olive oil, and salt

flour and eggs

flour and water

I tried the first. I wanted something flavorful and knew that the first had the potential to deliver more flavor. In the interest of time, I used a food processor to make the dough. Provided I make the time, I'd like to try everything by hand next time (using the flour "volcano" method). In any case, once the dough was kneaded, I let it rest for 30 minutes.

Upon my return, I cut the ball of dough into quarters and proceeded to roll out some pasta. With a rolling pin. For the next hour.

I know a pasta machine would make things much easier. But I don't want to buy a pasta machine. We already have a rolling pin at home and don't have that much counter space. A pasta machine would be an unnecessary expense and then I'd have to figure out where I'd use it. So, the rolling pin it was, and though my time in the kitchen was longer than the time it took to eat the pasta, I did it anyway.

I was excited. I was excited that the pasta we were going to eat that night - the pasta that we would have otherwise purchased from the supermarket, the pasta that would almost certainly taste and feel different from what we were used to - was going to come from my hands, from ingredients that were cheap to purchase and could be stocked in our home for a long time without the need to replenish.

And I was excited just to be in the kitchen making something from scratch, making something that I knew would satisfy both our bellies and our taste buds. Excited to do something I love while getting away from what had become my new daily grind.

I ended up making wide-noodle pasta, about half the length of fettucini. I made a pan sauce with butter, extra-virgin olive oil, minced onions and garlic, and crushed red peppers. I served this with a side of sauteed asparagus with salt, black pepper, and minced onions and garlic.

Unfortunately, kitchen time is something I have to make time for, but as the project comes to a close and I can return to my more regular daily routine, and as my schedule changes for the summer, hopefully my presence in the kitchen will be more frequent.

I poached my first...

...egg.

I poached my first egg.

Sadly, I had not eaten a poached egg until fairly recently. The first time being a few months ago, in fact, and I had more just last week for brunch. I like them very much. They're delicate, creamy, and are great with toast... which is why I guess toast is such a popular accompaniment with poached eggs.

So, I wanted to try poaching an egg at home. My thoughts drifted back to the movie Julie and Julia (a wonderful movie), in particular the scene where Julie was about to poach her first eggs.

And she failed. And failed. And failed. Until finally, she got it right.

It's actually not that difficult, at least it wasn't for me. Granted, I only poached a single egg, but as long as I'm able to recreate the same conditions and use the same approach, there's no reason why I would fail in my future endeavors.

First, I referred to Jacques Pepin's Complete Techniques. About 2-3 quarts of water. Check. White vinegar. Check. Fresh egg. Check. Bowl of ice water. Check.

Time to go in.

The result? Brunch at home: a leftover chicken salad made with mixed spring greens and tomatoes, a simple Dijon vinaigrette, and a poached egg.

Ingredient

Prep/Use

---

MEAT AND PROTEINS

Chicken, roasted or rotisseried	shredded or chopped into small strips. Mix with the salad
1 large fresh egg

PRODUCE

Mixed spring greens	for the salad, of course
1 tomato	chopped, for the salad

SEASONINGS

pinch of kosher salt

black pepper

LIQUIDS
*Note that I did not measure the liquids and the amounts listed below are approximations. You should use the amounts desired.

extra virgin olive oil (approx. 1/4 cup or amount desired)	for the vinaigrette
white wine vinegar (approx. 2 tbsp or amount desired)	for the vinaigrette
2 tbsp Dijon mustard	for the vinaigrette
white vinegar	for the egg (helps firm the egg white)
water	for the egg (see hardware)

HARDWARE

saucepan or small pot	for poaching the egg
2 bowls	1 with ice water, the with clean water for washing the vinegar off the egg
1 small prep bowl	for the egg
slotted spoon	for the egg

For the vinaigrette, whisk the white wine vinegar (not the white vinegar!), the Dijon, salt, black pepper, and olive oil together until smooth.

For the poaching of the egg:

1. Bring 2-3 quarts of water and the white vinegar to a boil in the saucepan or small pot.
   
2. Once the water comes to a boil, reduce to a simmer.
• A simmer, by the way, is the state of a liquid that is just under a boil. It is sometimes referred to as a "gentle boil", and small bubbles will rise to the surface as opposed to the large bubbles you'll find in a rolling boil.
3. Break an egg open into the small prep bowl.
   
4. As close to the water's surface as possible, slide the egg into the water. Use the slotted spoon to gently lift the egg from the bottom of the pan.
5. Let the egg simmer for about 3-4 minutes, depending on how firm you want the egg.
6. With the slotted spoon, remove the egg and place in the ice water to stop the cooking. Then, move the egg to the bowl of clean water to wash off the rest of the vinegar.
• If you don't want to serve cold, then don't leave the egg in the ice water too long.
  
7. Drain the water from the egg (using a separate rack or carefully with the spoon) and place atop the salad.
   

If you want a hot poached egg, Pepin says to place the finished poached egg in boiling water for about a minute to reheat, then drain and serve.