Indiana has good food.

I just had the most incredible croissant in the world. I know that it is the most incredible croissant in the world, because I am full. Let me repeat that; I had one croissant, and I'm full. I could not eat another bite, not even one wafer thin mint. I'm stuffed. And I am pretty sure that is how I am supposed to feel after eating a croissant, but no one ever told the bakers. For ages bakers have been baking croissants to be light, fluffy, airy and light. No one ever told them that what they should have been baking was chewy, dense, flavorful and, most surprisingly, crunchy. No one ever thought to have a croissant that went "crunch" when you bit into it... until Honey on the Table opened in Fort Wayne, Indian, on the corner of State and Hobson.
I've been to Paris, London, New York City, all over the US, Ireland, Germany and more, and I can say - with absolute certainty - that the best croissant in the world is right here in Indiana, and I'm not just saying that because I'm full and happy. Take the best croissant you've ever had, turn it up to eleven and you still wont be close to the flavor. I can still taste in on my lips and it brings me fond memories. It was so good that a light shone down from the heavens and the angels of mercy and baked goods came down from their lofty seats and sang to me, and the song they sang was of the wonderful food to be found all around me.

Ok, it might not have been that dramatic, but I did have an epiphany. For all the moaning and wailing I hear about the supposed lack of culture in the Midwest, we really do have some spectacular food. Off the top of my head I can think of half a dozen eateries that rival just about anything I've had abroad, but it isn't the restaurants that make our food great, its the ingredients.
For a city as small as Fort Wayne, we have an absurd number of specialty grocery stores. We have Indian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Burmese, Thai, Mexican, Caribbean, Croatian, Greek, and Halal grocery stores, not to mention Georges International Grocery, the co-op or the farmers markets. If you are a home chef, this is the place to be. You can find local produce for at least 6 months of the year, and we have bakeries, breweries, coffee roasters, tea importers, fish mongers, butchers (Jameson's Meats, I love you) and that's only the tip of the iceberg. Take a drive out in the country and you will find farm stands selling anything you want and more (more being zucchini. No matter how many ways you find to use zucchini, you will always have too much.), pick-your-own orchards, Amish stores, back-woods moonshine distilleries, amateur taxidermists, survivalist militia, men that think you have a pretty mouth... what was I talking about? Right, food. Well if you want to avoid all that; the ground is fertile and growing your own food is no problem at all.
So the next time I hear you say that there isn't anything good to eat in this town I will hit you repeatedly with a spoon until you realize that not having anything good to eat is nobody's fault but your own.

Make food that looks like food.

When I was a kid my parents took me to a seafood restaurant and ordered something called “calamari.” Knowing I would never eat it if I knew what calamari meant (“and an order of the fish-sticks for the little one,” oh my how things change) they simply dipped a deep fried chunk of calamari in marinara sauce and put it in the vicinity of my face. When I bit into that rubbery ring of awesome, my brain exploded. “What did you call this?” I asked, “calamari,” my mom said, but I was not to be fooled, “what IS calamari?” I asked “...” pause, “squid.”

I don't know when I learned the phrase “fuck it” but that's exactly the thought that went through my 8 year-old, cephalopod-addled mind, and I finished half the plate.

Fast forward seventeen years and there isn't much food I wont try - Offal? Been there, ate that. Escargot? One of my favorites. Snapping turtle? It ate one of my fingers, but I got my revenge. Goat anus? Can I get that with hot sauce? Fugu? Gimme! You know that's poison right? Stab the adrenalin needle into my heart and lets do this! - so it pisses me off when Michelin-bedazzled chefs serve things that look like this:

What are you trying to hide? Where is my food? Is this food? Out of all those dishes I can only definitively identify three things as edible. It all looks like modern art.

I hate modern art.

You can take this with a grain of salt. Maybe I'm just bitching because I'm poor and I doubt if I will ever get the chance to eat even one of those dishes, which I am sure are delicious beyond my reckoning. But I still cant help but wonder; how much of that Lego brick in the middle is actual food, and how much is just the chef's gentleman gravy? And the same goes for the pile of vomit in the bottom left corner. When I sit down to a plate of food I want a plate of food. I don't want this:

What the hell is that?

My point is this; I'm grateful to my parents for concealing the exact nature of a dish which has become one of my favorite comfort foods, but I trust my parents. I know my parents would never intentionally feed me something that would harm me in anyway. I'm not so trusting of everyone else. For all I know, that thing next to the Lego brick is made of people.

And another thing! Don't think that giving these dishes humble names makes them less pretentious. You could call it “pretty good fish on a plate” but if it came to me like that I would still call you an asshole. And while we're on the subject; Micro Gastronomy. Either make me a cheese burger or kill yourself. I am so not interested in a foam made from whale blubber adorning a sponge made from gunk you scraped off the bathroom floor. Get a real job. And speaking of people who need real jobs; sommeliers. Don't think you're a better person just because you get to look disapprovingly at me over a wine list. From where I'm sitting, your groin is at perfect punching height. And don't think I can be fooled into pretending I know anything about wine. I know your game, you manipulative little ferret. You get middle aged dentists to buy the third most expensive wine on your list when you say, conspiratorially, “honestly, sir, it is a seriously undervalued vintage.” And then smile inwardly when he sniffs the cork of your fetid grape rot and says “oh yes, very good.” And I bet you can barely contain your laughter after you pour the first glass, and he holds it up to his nose, and he breathes deep its noxious aroma. And I can see the malicious glint in your eye as he sips gingerly the pool of filth from the bowels of hell, and swirls it thoroughly around his flawless teeth. And I know you have to change your pants after the game is through, and your victory announced when he says “yes, we'll have this one.” Well I wont be fooled! I'm going to finish my beer and then I'm going to FEED YOU THE BOTTLE! AND I WILL LAUGH AS YOU CHOKE ON- HEY! WHATS GOING ON?! I'M NOT DONE YET! … aw... this is bullshit.

Image credit; I stole the top one from Wikipedia, the bottom one is from the brilliant Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Video (Second Attempt)

I would like to order the cock-meat sandwich... for the table next to me.

I love food. Obviously I do, I write a blog about it, but I hate restaurants. One of the biggest things I hate about restaurants is... everyone else in them. I've worked in restaurants - in the front and back of the house - for years, and the thing that finally drove me out was the customer. I'm not talking about bad tippers, or mildly rude jerkfaces. I'm talking about creatures that I can barely stand to call human. Women who toast their infidelities. Men who disdain the qualities of women in the company of men, but whisper sweet sugar in their ears in mixed company. People who tell the kind of racist jokes that make you ashamed just for hearing them.

I had an experience tonight that reminded me of those dark days behind the bar; listening to whatever opinion blew through the door, holding my tongue and drowning my hatred with strong drink nightly. some people have no concept of what appropriate conversation is, and the people sitting at the table next to me needed to be reminded. I am not, by nature, a violent man, but this individual was beginning to say things that were very offensive to myself and my friends, and just as I was going to unleash the anger - built up over years of impotently listening as people spouted the kind of hatred and bigotry that would make Adolf Hitler say "I think that may be going a bit far."  - and kick seven shades of shit out of him, my friend had an idea.

"there should be a sandwich..."

... A chicken sandwich that you can only order for the table adjacent to you. A dish that says in no uncertain terms - "you are a complete and utter dick-head." A Cock-Meat Sandwich. Nothing fancy, no sauces, no garnish - they don't deserve it - just cock meat in a bun. When the waiter or waitress serves it he or she should say politely "your Cock-Meat Sandwich, sir, complements of the house."

So the next time you are sitting in your favorite restaurant explaining how you are better than anyone of a different race, religion, gender, nationality or political party, you may receive, quite unexpectedly, a hot, steaming, juicy Cock-Meat Sandwich. If they don't serve that at your favorite restaurant; the Knuckle Sandwich is always on the menu.

Chicken part 2: Electric Coo-Coo-Katchoo

Last post I went on a bit of a rant about boneless skinless chicken breast, and had some very choice words for several daytime food network hosts. Well I am happy to say that the rant continues!

If you are buying boneless skinless chicken breasts then you are basically saying that you don't love your family, and rather than spend money on them you would like to flush it all down the toilet.

I buy whole chicken at 89 cents per pound at the grocery store. Even if you buy bone-in, skin on-thighs, it will cost you nearly twice as much, boneless skinless breasts cost over 3 times as much, and that's the store brand! The brand name “premium” chicken tenders cost $5.39 per pound, that's six times as much!

I cook an - approximately - 5lb chicken once a week. That works out to between $4 and $5 ever week, so lets say (for simplicity) $4.50 times 52 weeks in a year and that works out to an annual chicken budget of $234.00. If I was cooking the “premium” brand chicken tenders that works out to $1401.40 per year; and if I'm going to spend that much on meat, I'm going to upgrade to something that goes “moo.”

Maybe you don't want to cook your chicken whole, I don't blame you. Cooking a chicken whole does yield (in my opinion) the best flavor, however it does take a fairly long time and can be frustrating. You obviously want to save money, but you might want to save some time as well. Here is the solution; even if you don't cook whole, always buy whole.

And prepare to get your hands dirty.

To begin dismantling your chicken; grasp the drumstick firmly in your hand and begin to cut the skin connecting the thigh to the rest of the carcass. Once you have done this, put your hands underneath the hips and feel for the joint connecting the leg. Push upward on the joint while pulling downward on the leg until you hear a sickening “pop!” and then you may proceed to cut the leg away from the body. Repeat on the other side.

Once your bird looks like this, turn your attention to the wings. Similar procedure; just pop them out of joint and cut them away, no need to be super precise.

Now that the bird looks like this, turn your attention to a set of kitchen shears and – if you are disturbed by the sounds of bones cracking – some ear plugs, because this is the part where it goes a bit Dexter. Use your shears to cut from the back of the ribs, up to the wish-bone, underneath the wing-joint. Once the breasts are separated from the spine, use the shears again to cut down the keel bone and when you are done it should look like this:

Hungry yet?

Good. Because I want to take my money saving point even farther. I bought this chicken and enough vegetables to make a meal for just over $12, but I'm not going to make a meal out of it. I'm going to make 3.

First I seared and roasted the chicken, like this:

Or like this if you're not into food that looks like a spider:

And we ate both legs and half a breast. So the next day, I took the spine and both wings to make stock, which looks like this:

(Tip for making stock; you could make 2 quarts of stock out of one chicken spine and 2 wings and a handful of vegetables, OR you could walk away to go help a friend with a project, get horribly injured, pack your wound with cayenne pepper and go to Redimed; where you will spend several hours waiting to be treated in a supply closet by people who don't understand how health insurance works only to come home -hours later- to find 1 quart of perfect, clear, rich, beautifully reduced chicken stock. Either way, its cool.)

Finally, the day after that, I made soup using everything that was left of the chicken and vegetables I bought 3 days previously.

That soup will make 4 meals for me, but I didn't want to brag and say I could make 5 meals for $12, so I'll eat 2 servings and freeze the rest for a time when I'm hungry and lazy and not desperate to make content for my food blog.

Join us next week when we save even more money by slaughtering our own chicken!

TL;DNR? Have it shouted at you on Twitter.
Image Credit: good pictures by Thomas Seabold and Aisha Malik-Seabold, bad pictures by Colin Gray.

Chicken OR: why I hate the Food Network

If you watch cable in the middle of the day - and you've seen every episode of every Star Trek series on Spike TV, you know every answer on every rerun of Jeopardy and the soaps have strangled all but the last glimmer of hope from your life - you are probably going to find yourself watching the Food Network. And if you are watching the Food Network in the middle of the day, you are going to start getting some very bad ideas regarding chicken.

If you mixed yourself a strong cocktail, and took a drink every time some bleach-blond, suburbanite, wanna-be chef said “boneless, skinless chicken breast,” you would be dead from alcohol poisoning before Rachel Ray got the chance to smother you with American cheese and blandness. And that would still be better than getting off the couch, brushing the Cheeto dust from your bathrobe and actually cooking a boneless, skinless chicken breast in your non-stick pan with a tablespoon of E.V.O.O. With just a pinch of salt and a little freshly ground black pepper to make you go “hmm” and a pint of your own tears born from the pain and misery of your horrible, lonely existence.

 

“What's wrong with boneless skinless chicken breast?” You might ask, “chicken is chicken, right?” If you are asking questions like this, reading food blogs might not be for you. You may go back to enjoying your mechanically separated, extrusion-molded, deep-fried not-chicken snack from McDonald’s and let the grown-ups talk.

Chicken is not just chicken. What I mean to say is that each cut of chicken – the legs, the breasts, the wings and the offal – have a distinct, but harmonious flavor. The thighs and drumsticks, being the darkest pieces, have the strongest flavor. The wings are milder, but have an excellent flavor because of their higher fat content. Finally, the breast - the most fought-over cut in many families - is prized for it's moisture and subtle, delicate flavor, and therein lies the problem. The moment you overcook your chicken breast it's game over, you might as well make chicken jerky.

If you're one of those people who likes to eat “exotic” meat and then say “why, this tastes just like chicken!” Then chances are you have been eating over-cooked, bone-dry, skinless, boneless chicken breast for your entire life, and you don't actually know what chicken tastes like. Let me help you find out.

Most chefs will extoll the virtues of cooking your chicken whole, and I wouldn't dare to argue with them. Indeed, cooking a chicken whole requires almost as little thought and effort as buying a rotisserie chicken at the super market, and the result is infinitely better. Start by preheating your oven (almost any temperature between 350 and 450 will do). Next, tie the ends of the drumsticks together with cotton twine, and fold the tips of the wings under the breast (you can also tie the wings to the rest of the bird with a big loop of twine, but I've never seen the point). Last, put your bird in a heavy lidded roasting pan (or large casserole), surround it with aromatic vegetables (carrots, celery and onions spring to mind) season with salt, pepper, herbs and spices (there are about a billion ways to do this, I'll get to some of them later) and throw it in the oven. Cook until done. I'm not going to tell you when that is, but according to the USDA; chicken is safe to eat at 165 degrees F, and that wont be dry if your roasting pan has a nice, heavy lid. If you want an exact time when your chicken will be done, every cook book I own has a cooking time based on weight, and they are all wrong. Use some common sense; This isn't a 30 minute meal. Check the meat after an hour, it wont be done but it will tell you when you need to start working on your side-dishes.

Tune in next time and learn about the economics of buying whole chicken.

TL;DNR?Get the Readers Digest version at Twitter.

Soup of the Day: Whiskey.

What you need:
1 glass
1 hand-full ice
whiskey to taste.

A cold soup for any occasion, and it's practically made for you, this semi-homemade meal will pair with almost any entree.

Now that you've saved some effort on the appetizer, lets think about a main course that will really satisfy. A few months ago I had occasion to entertain, so I challenged my friends to feast upon the cute and fluffy and got my hands on two rabbits. if you cant find rabbit (or similar cute, fluffy mammal), or have some problem with eating something adorable (no one will blame you... probably) then the leg quarters of a roaster, or stewing chicken would substitute well.

If you want to eat soon (maybe you only want 2 second helpings of soup) then preheat your oven to 375F. If you want a more tender rabbit, or you want to take your time to enjoy your soup (or aren't interested in left-overs) then preheat to 275 and place your cast iron frying pan on a hot burner.

You don't have a cast  iron frying pan? Get out. No, seriously, I don't even want to look at you. Call your grandmother, tell her that you're sorry for studying fine art and being such a disappointment, and ask her if she has an old cast iron pan you could borrow.

Back yet? Okay, lets get started. Put your cast iron pan on the burner and pour in enough olive oil to coat the bottom. While it is heating, rub your rabbit quarters with good salt, pepper, garlic and herbs (any herbs that work well with poultry will do, try chives and rosemary). Once the pan is hot, sear your rabbit quarters on one side, then flip them over and deglaze the pan with one and a quarter cup good vinegar, and two cups water (I used a raspberry white balsamic, which is about 7% acidity, if you use a lower acid vinegar then adjust your ratio accordingly).

Cover your pan and chuck it in the oven. If you set your oven to 375, then check your rabbit after 20 minutes. If you set the oven to 275 then let it cook low and slow for a couple hours and enjoy your soup, but it should be good to eat after an hour and twenty minutes.

it should look something like this:

especially if you cooked it with carrots and celery... I told you to do that right?

This is some good soup.

anyway, it looks like this on a plate with rye bread:

Enjoy with soup.


This recipe was developed with the help of my friend, Executive Chef Will Passino, of J.K. O'Donnell's Irish Ale House, Fort Wayne, IN.