January 2008 Archives

After many successes and failures in beer cookery; we've determined what might just be the perfect cooking beer. Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier is a rustic brew with a long history of intensity. It's one of the few remaining breweries to exclusively utilize open flame drying techniques for roasting malts. For us, this technique poduces a beer that we enjoy reduced to sauce, instead of a means to getting sauced. In the past, we've worked our way through bottles almost grudgingly; not because the beer is bad but because the specificity and intensity of the flavors can verge on cloying.

The smokiness of Rauchbeer comes from the ancient technique of drying malts over open flames. While according to wikki, this technique used to be utilized by most brewers, its largely been replaced by kiln drying techniques which don’t require actual fire, thus no smoke. American versions have been made all across the states and taste more like a black lager with a little bit of smoke...Schlenkerla's brew tastes more like a stack of sourdough pancakes fried in butter on an ancient cast iron surface doused in tree blood from Vermont.

We'll be posting some recipes in the coming weeks with the 'ol Rauch, but we encourage you to hunt it down and play with it yourself. Because the bulk of the flavor in this beer resides in its maltiness, it won't turn bitter when subjected to prolonged cooking, and the smoke flavor really works wonders with just about any application you can think of.

Our Uses Thus Far

1. Baked Goods: substitute Rauchbeer for any liquid called for in any recipe. Use instead of water for breads, or sub out half your oil in a pancake recipe.

2. Cooking Greens: throw a 1/4 cup of smoke beer in with any sautéed kale, collards or chard after the pan gets hot. Cover the pan and the beer will steam the greens: it rules.

3. Starting soups: cover the browned beginnings of any soup, stew, or stock with Rauchbeer and reduce before you add water or veggie broth. This technique works wonders for beans.

Soundtrack: Dre, Snoop, Nate "Next Episode"
Diary Pairy: Idiazabal, a smoked raw sheep’s milk cheese from Navarra, Spain.

“Pop, phisss… utter vacuumed silence.” That is, essentially, the sound a bottle of Older Viscosity makes when you (finally) open it for a drinking. We like to think we could place it a line-up of recorded bottle-openings — much the same way those grating, accented halfwits from “Car Talk” would have you imitate the sound your engine is making it so they can diagnose it. In this case, the utter silence is not a symptom of something being wrong with your $20 bottle of premium, aged dark beer, however. It’s the sound of something horribly right.

This slim, beaker-shaped bottle from Port Brewing is their super-aged version of Old Viscosity — a champion all its own. The San Marcos brewers take different batches of the stuff and blend them in oak bourbon barrels, where it’s aged for a year, according to the brewery. The limited edition brew, released late last year, will likely disappear soon and (with luck) reappear later again this year. We recommend popping one of these bottles every 3,000 miles rather than servicing your car.

The pour comes out a velvety, black desert liquid, more like fossil fuel with a bubbly film than any dark beer we’ve seen. There’s almost no carbonation, few bubbles, negligible head: hence the utter silence. The sight kinda put fear in us, expecting a diesel-strength cask beer. But we were pleasantly surprised by how gentle and refined the 12% ABV beer tasted. Sipping it post-dinner, out of wine goblets in a sepia-toned living room, gave the concoction even more of a digestive vibe. Smelling, we imagined caramel apples, vanilla beans — real dangly ones, not a flavoring — and sweet tawny port. On our tongues, there was a milky, creamy, toffee taste that spread slowly, like dulce de leche spiked with whisky. And when we say milky, we mean like lactic acid, that comforting sticky build-up feel that makes milk and cookies good. Expecting motor oil, we got the chamomile tea of beers.

Dairy Pairy: Quenby Hall Stilton
Soundtrack: Nine Inch Nails’ Further Down the Spiral

Quick preface: We bow low before the soup kitchen altar of our friend Astara, soup wizard-ess and ancient soul, who throws together far superior carrot creations than we by the mere flick of her pinky finger — her curry carrot soup and her herbed carrot puree are both criminally delicious. If we could join a white-robed,Nike-wearing cult to follow her soup into future worlds, we would. Instead, we attempted merging those two soups for a rosemary roasted carrot curry soup. It was great, an absolute success, but some how we doubt it will gain us any suicidal hippie followers any time soon.

Curry Carrot Soup

(Serves 6)

1 1/2 lbs. white carrots (with stems!)
1/2 white onion
3 cloves garlic, peeled
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/8 cup fresh rosemary
4 cups vegetable stock
2 Tbs. curry powder of choice
kosher salt and fresh black pepper to taste
2 Tbs. fresh ginger
2-4 whole heirloom carrots for garnish

1. Pre-heat your oven on 350 degrees and get a large, shallow roasting pan. Cut your carrots into 2-inch pieces (save 4 stems for garnish) and your onion into rough half moons. Toss with oil in the pan. Add whole garlic cloves, rosemary and leftover carrot stems on top. Roast in the oven until crackly and slightly browning, about 30 minutes. Stir once halfway through.

2. While carrots are roasting bring 4 cups of stock to a gentle boil and keep on a simmer until you’re ready to use it. Take your four whole carrots you’ll use for garnish and stick them in stock for 1-2 minutes to slow blanche. Remove and rinse under cool water.

3. Once carrots are done, remove and let sit for a few minutes. Save the oil for drizzling later. Now add carrots, onion and garlic to stock and pulse with either a hand-held blender (get one!) or in a food processor by pulsing in two or three installments, as much as your blender will hold without scorching you. The consistency should be thoroughly smooth puree, with no chunks. Keep on a low heat.

4. Season with curry powder, salt and pepper. Rosemary should still be noticeable, which shouldn’t battle too strongly with the curry. Taste as you go.

5. In a small saute pan, toast the chopped ginger on high heat with little to no oil. Remove once brown and crunchy.

5. Serve in a shallow plate. To garnish, cut whole carrots in half lengthwise and again widthwise, place carrots of different color consecutively for contrast. Add stem tip for touch of green. Drizzle leftover olive oil and another kiss of curry powder on top. Lastly, a flick of toasted ginger.

Beverage: Avery’s Maharaja Double IPA
Soundtrack: Pavement’s “Carrot Rope”

Lately you’re favorite kitchen hood-rats have been slammed to the gills with the rigmarole of our non-hyperspace rat races. We’ve been slumping into beers and books a little too quickly in these first weeks of January, and our innate drive to spend three hours cooking after eight hours working has been a little stunted. We’ve been making lots of quick fix meals of late and this one was at the top of the list.

This recipe was inspired by the spoils of Lake’s recent conquest of a Korean market in Torrance, the dregs of a jar of Kimchee on the verge of spoilage, and an elemental desire for Umami. The dish requires little prep time and can be made a la minute for three or thirteen in less than 20. The two more obscure items, Shisho leaves and Simeji/beech mushrooms can be found in most Japanese and or Korean Grocers.

One Pan, Two Plates

8 oz Simeji Mushrooms
2 Leeks sliced
10 baby green or black tomatoes, quartered
4 cloves of garlic diced
½ Tsp. Sesame Oil
¼ cup Napa Cabbage Kimchee,
¼ cup Kimchee brine
2 Tbs. soy sauce
8 Shisho leaves

1. Heat a medium sauté pan on high heat while you clean your leek. Start by slicing off the roots at the end and the millimeter of white stalk they are attached to. Also, chop off the last 2-3" of the greens at the end of the stalk (if you make your own stock, keep these in your stockpile). Now slice the leek in half from top to bottom and rinse with cold water. When you've washed out all the dirt and sand, make one incision from top to bottom of each 1/2 stalk and then slice horizontally as thin as you can.

2. Throw the leeks in the pan.

3. Snip the ends off of your Shimejis using kitchen shears or a paring knife, and rinse them under cold water. Pat them dry with towels and throw them in the dry pan with the leeks. Dry sauté until the mushrooms are browning and releasing their juices.

4. Quarter all your little tomatoes, and slice your garlic. Add them to the mix, with the sesame oil and the minced kimchee and toss.

5. After all the contents of the pan are nice and hot, about three minutes, add the kimchee juice and cook until the juice is almost completely gone, about three more minutes.

6. Fan out the Shisho leaves on the plates you plan on using, and make a concise pile of the contents of your pan on each set of leaves. The heat from the sautéed veggies will cause the leaves to release some of their wonderful perfume.

7. Return the pan to the flame and keep cooking until the pan is virtually dry, then add the soy sauce and cook until a viscous sludge remains.

8. Garnish your meal with the aforementioned sludge.

Beverage: Hitachino's Red Rice Ale
Soundtrack: Boris' Vein

There have been days when we’ve cursed the Rocky Mountains for keeping the Colorado beers we love (and those we think we could love, if that love were only given a chance) from reaching our beer dealers in Los Angeles — silver bullet indeed. We’re used to getting pretty much whichever beer we want, when we want it. So knowing that Avery withholds some of its seasonals and six-packs from reaching us in Los Angeles, well, it stings. And staring at pictures of Great Divide beers online and not being able to find them anywhere? Quite simply it’s torture. Of course, we know it’s not Great Divide or Avery or any other brewery’s fault we can’t drink their beer. It’s just economics and geography. Still, it makes us sad.

So, when on a recent trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico, we ran headfirst into the Great Divide section of a local liquor emporium, it was like a screechy “Oh my god, look at you!” family reunion. We introduced ourselves first to Old Ruffian, their barleywine-style ale. We got to know each other in a garage on a snowy Christmas morning. Filled to the brim from New Mexico veggie breakfast burritos, feeling awesome about wearing motorcycle gloves, we popped the top of this bad boy, literally, inside the engine of a 1957 Chevy. Albuquerque is hardcore.

And this beer is hardcore. Poured like a handshake into a frosty pint glass, Old Ruffian froths with a wavy head of hop-scented foam — like a mane of skunky hair on a Hells Angels biker. The rest of the glass shimmers like a molasses soda. Old Ruffian is the kind of badass brew that balances sugar, sweet and sour notes diplomatically without wussing out on any of them. There’s the piney hop sting at first taste, and a maple syrup throat itch while gulping. It’s a little juicy, a little boozy, and totally thirst quenching despite it’s dangerous ABV. If you’re east of the Rockies, and you can get it, don’t be afraid of this beer, deep down it’s not so rough: like a biker with a mom tattoo.

Dairy Pairy: Barbeillon
Soundtrack: George Thorogood’s “I Drink Alone”

In Lieu of super traditional New Year dishes like Tamales or Posole we opted for nothing but booze this year. In the bleary eyed aftermath (the last two weeks) we've all been craving a little something from the solid southwestern repertoire of beans, squash and corn, known historically as the horticultural triumvirate of The Three Sisters. What to do with the top three vegan gifts from the ancients? Roasted chili rellenos.

Out of regional necessity, and in hopes of stoking the inherent human inclination towards the miniature and cute, we subbed the glorious New Mexican green chili for the lesser known White Chili, known in L.A. as Gueritos (little whities). Vibe with these little guys the next time you have taco night with your roommates and step up the revelry.

Roasted Gueros

9 Guero Chilies

1. Crank your over to 450 degrees.

2. Roast the whities for about 15 minutes, or until they have browned considerably. Remove them with tongs, brush them with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and wait for your fillings to be completed. Stab each pepper at the base of its stem with a sharp knife while they are still hot to keep them from deflating. (Leave one unpoked and watch...its kinda cool)

Anasazi Beans

1 cup Anasazi beans, soaked overnight
1 yellow onion, diced
6 cloves of garlic, minced
2 Tbs. olive oil
2 Cups vegetable stock
2 Cups water
2 Bay leaves
2 Tsp. smoked salt

3. Saute the garlic and onion in the olive oil in a larger pot until both begin to brown. Strain the soaked beans and add to the pot; stir until the beans are at the same temperature as the aromatics (three minutes.)

4. Add the vegetable stock and bring to a boil, then add the water, the bay leaves and the smoked salt. Continue to cook until the beans are tender, around 45 minutes.

Maize Misto

2 ears of corn, shucked and kerneled
...or, 1 can of corn that you like
1 cup picked and chopped cilantro
2 cups grape tomatoes, quartered
1/2 Tsp. ground cumin
1 Tbs. rice vinegar
The juice of two limes

5. Combine all ingredients in a bowl and let sit to marry until you are done with everything else. Easy right?

Chimayo Chayote

1 Chayote squash, diced
4 scallions, sliced
1 Tbs. of olive oil
1 Tsp. of salt
2 Tsp. Chimayo red chile flakes
2 Tsp. diced fresh sage

6. Heat a large cast iron skillet or non stick pan on medium heat and add the Chayote. Cook it dry for ten to fifteen minutes, its liquid will steam the vegetable.

7. Add all other ingredients and continue to saute for another five minutes. Hit the squash with some balsamic vinegar to briefly deglaze.

To Serve

Carefully cut around the base of each Guero's stem with a sharp knife and gently remove the stem and the seeds. Stuff one chili per person with each of the fillings and serve with veganaise, herbs, and your favorite hot sauces.

Beverage: Stone's Ruination IPA
Soundtrack: The Byrd's Sweetheart of the Rodeo

Though we’re more than happy to sling out menu ideas to restaurateur friends when asked, we also have a secret game we play whereby every dish we cook up gets graded for whether it could one day occupy the menu of a Hot Knives restaurant. This is one of those dishes: a winter harvest hash that dresses up potatoes like a hot salad.

Obviously, hash browns are the undisputed make-or-break side of any brekky or brunch. But a good hash can be the main attraction, especially if it’s not brown at all, but rather colored with other veggies and speckled with garnishes that elevate it from cheap filler to decorative entrée. Here, we worked with what’s in season, strong green leafies, blanched to retain color, and slow cooked with awesome pee wee banana fingerlings. Plus, it's a seasonal special that could change weekly or monthly" in spring, try pea shoots and asparagus, etc. With some artful squirts of catsup, this breakfast even looks more like an expensive dinner plate.

Winter Harvest Hash

4 cups water
4 Tbs. kosher salt
1 cup kale
1 cup rainbow Swiss chard
4 medium fingerling potatoes
3 Tbs. olive oil
2 Tbs. vegan margarine
1/2 red onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 medium-sized carrots, chopped
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. fresh black pepper

1. Bring 4 cups of heavily salted water to boil in a medium-sized pot. Meanwhile prepare an ice bath in a large bowl and have ready a pair of tongs or salad spoons. Roughly chop the kale and chard, saving the colorful stems for later. Dunk the greens in the boiling water for no longer than 10 seconds and swiftly plop in ice bath to cool immediately. This’ll make your greens… green. Set them aside as well.

2. Get the water back to a hearty boil and drop in the potatoes. Cook for about 5 minutes and remove from water.

3. In a cast iron skillet with a lid, or similar large pan, heat oil and margarine on high heat. Add onions and garlic, followed by celery and carrots. Cook for 5 minutes. Meanwhile slice your hot potatoes into scalloped spheres and add to the pan. Stir thoroughly and season with salt and pepper.

4. Cook for another five minutes and then add greens to the top. Dice the colorful chard stems and add half of them as well, saving the last for garnish. Cover and cook for 10-20 minutes.

5. Once the greens are wilty and potatoes and thoroughly cooked, stir thoroughly, cook off any excess liquid from greens and plate.

Garnish

ketchup (generous amount)
hot sauce
veganaise
diced purple onion
diced chard stems

6. To garnish: squirt decorative ketchup and hot sauce on plate, add dollop of veganaise and dice the chard stems for a sprinkling on the plate. Then put hash in the middle of the plate and serve.

Beverage: Lagunita’s Sirius Cream Ale
Soundtrack: Beta Band’s “Push It Out”