February 2008 Archives

At its inception, Imperial Stout was a savage concoction. The Russian Czars’ thirst for stouts could not be quenched and English and Irish producers couldn’t produce beer that would survive the brutal cold of a month long trip to St. Petersburg. Their answer was a beer that could withstand any voyage; a brew so high in alcohol that it would not spoil, and so flavorful from roasted malts that it would still taste amazing in the event that it did. Imagine bulging barrels of viscous beer the color of crude oil hefted deftly one after another by British maritime brutes. Cargo hulls full of alcoholic ballast destined for the dead city of the Eastern Lords…

Black Flag Imperial Stout evokes the evil spirit of its English ancestor. The head churns in your glass like the dark version of the foam from which Aphrodite emerged; it’s fluffy and thick, but has a caramel tint that precludes something less than loving. Your tongue, relieved of saliva, almost ventures down your gullet with the black torrent leaving a long finish that starts by coating your uvula with hooch molasses. The generous hops quickly segue way into lasting coffee notes that are more fruity than chocolaty, almost behaving like a lighter roasted coffee with the viscosity and kick of a super short shot of espresso The boozy flavors linger in-between your teeth so vividly that chewing seems more than reasonable. Don’t bite your tongue.

Yeah, all Imperial stouts exhibit these flavors and feelings, but whereas Stone’s or Avery’s (both of which we revere) are like a charged Black Metal Ballad brutalizing your mouth in quick jolting blows, Black Flag inverts the temporal field of your palate. The sound of steeling a knife goes from a quick Shikkk to a long lulling sine wave of metal on metal. The Brewers of Black flag emerge from the New Mexican desert like skeletal Bedouin, hauling earthen kegs northwest to an undead sock hop at some brew-court in Portland where zombie hipsters wink sunken eyes and sip frothy mugs of fuckyeah.

Black Flag is the session stout for stout fiends. This bottle could easily find a permanent place in your fridge or in your burgeoning beer cellar for beginners. You might find yourself drinking way too much, turning your teeth black and making you talk like some kind of scurvy ridden ex-member of Christian death. But would that really be so bad?

Dairy Pairy: Ditcheat Cheddar
Soundtrack: Danzig III
Find it: Red Carpet

Forget to make that reservation at the new organic small-plate izikaya cocktail raw food bistro for Valentine’s Day? Get stuck with a 4:45 seating time? You know, there’s no shame in cooking, for one another. Like Adam and Eve sharing the apple tarte tatin of knowledge, or whatever.

For this V-Day — and the two-year anniversary of this blog! — we wanted to dip our dirty fingers into a dessert menu by doing something both savory and sweet, romantic and rowdy, something indulgent enough that we would make it for sweeties as a St. V present (naked) but something simple enough that you could it eat by yourself, (also naked). We set upon a wacky take on “sticky rice”: sticky rice with sweet, tempura-fried baby beets. The recipe is a little time consuming, not a lot, so you can spend most of your time cuddling.

Sticky Sweet Baby Fried Beets

2-3 Red baby beets
1 cup tempura flour
3 dried vanilla beans (or 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract, if you must)
1/2 cup white sushi rice
1/2 cup warm water
1 1/2 cup coconut milk
1/2 tsp. cardamom
3 Tbs. sugar
2 pinches salt
2 cups vegetable oil

1. Bring a small saucepan of water to boil for the beets. Chop their leaves off at the stem and snip off any tails so that the beet as close to heart shaped as possible.

2. Once water is boiling, drop them in for about 8 minutes or until slightly tender to a fork jab. Remove and cool under water or in an ice bath.

3. Skin the beets by running the edge of a spoon gently along the rough skin. The beets will naturally look a little like hearts, embellish by cutting a “V” in the flat top. Then place beet down on cutting board and make 4 or 5 slices, about 1 centimeter thick. If needed, chip away to make top curved and heart-like.

4. Fix sticky rice. We used a super easy microwave method repped by a Thai convenience website. Start by soaking your rice in warm water for at least 10 minutes. Then simply cover bowl with a plate and nuke for 2 1/2 minutes. Remove, stir, and repeat. Rice should be translucent and, um, sticky. But fully cooked. Let sit while you prepare the coconut milk.

5. Bring c-milk to medium temp in a small sauté pan. Add cardamom and stir well. Once nearing a boil remove from heat and add sugar and salt. Stir. Mix 3/4 cup of the coconut milk into sticky rice and stir thoroughly, setting aside the rest for the tempura mixture and a sauce garnish.

6. Mix tempura batter: add tempura flour to large mixing bowl, and scoop out vanilla bean using a spoon. (If using vanilla extract wait until you add your liquid, then add extract.) Combine 1/2 cup of the coconut milk to make a thick slurry of a batter. Vanilla beans should be visible.

7. Bring about 2 cups of canola oil up to high, fryin’ temperature in a small or medium wok — high heat for close to ten minutes. Once dangerously hot, batter the baby beets, letting excess batter drip off, and quickly fry them, about 1-2 minutes each. Remove, blot gently and rest on paper towels. Sprinkle with a pinch of sugar while still hot.

8. Garnish using two sauces using the remainder of the coconut milk: mix half of the cream with finely diced beets to make a pink sauce and keep half plain white.

9. To garnish: Use a 1 or 2-inch biscuit or cookie cutter, or similarly shaped circular item and stuff it tightly with the sticky rice forming a rice cake; top with a Tbs. of pink sauce. Place 2 beet hearts on top of that. Add a splash of white coconut sauce with the remainder of diced beets for contrast.

10. Serve and kiss.

Beverage: De Proef’s Primitive Ale
Soundtrack: Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together”

A few years ago we witnessed a close friend be deeply moved by fresh cheese. We had recently visited one of our favorite sandwich stops, Mario’s in Glendale, and happened to have perused their deli case. Along with innumerable cured beef and pork products from and inspired by Italy, there were literally six kinds of feta in huge buckets of brine. We settled on the one from Bulgaria. When we got back to the giant and grimy communal kitchen of college years she took a bite, knowing immediately it was from where she was born. While our eyes rolled in the backs of our heads, tasting the seriousness of a cheese our minds equated with superficial salty crumbles in pre-packed salads, Yoanna cried.

Following on the heels of another bright bite from earlier this week, we present another stupefying hors d'oevre. We wanted to have something to play on the same high beam color-Field with our last post while utilizing the other end of the flavor spectrum. These little tidbits are piquant and snippy. At first your mouth feels slightly shocked, then all the sweet and sour of brined cheese, strong citrus and flowers make your feet move. Party food at its best: it just might make you tear up.

Ingrediants

8 oz ewe's milk feta (Bulgarian is best)
1 Tbs. Super Blue Lavender
1 Tbs. Extra Virgin olive oil
10-15 kumquats
1/2 Tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 Korean Cucumber

1. Cube the feta, as best you can. If the cheese allows it, cut it into 1/4" cubes.

2. In a mixing bowl, gently toss the cheese with the Lavender, the oil, and the Pepper, let stand for at least 45 mintes.

3. Slice the Kumquats along their horizontal axis; one of the fruit should yield around five slices. Add the fruit to the mixing bowl and gently toss to combine with the cheese.

4. Serve two to three slices of kumquat on 1/4" thick slice of cucumber.

Beverage: Koshihikari Echigo
Soundtrack: Al Campbell and Lone Ranger "Take a Ride/Automatic"

On the eve of Super Bowl Sunday, we threw a Hot Knives dinner party. Jokes were made about making “nachos” out of Portuguese thistle rennet cheese and Egyptian fava beans, or terriyaki tofu burrito bites (shudder, barf). But without thinking about it, we really did stumble upon our own kind of couch-potato small plates menu of wintery finger foods. Football worthy, even Oscars material!

First up, a cold platter of thinly sliced “watermelon radishes” (named for their starbust pink coloration) topped with a dollop of turnip-horseradish mash and a small square of French butter and sea salt. Best of all, both this dish (below) and the second one (which is on the way) require next to no cooking, mostly just prep time and decoration geekiness. So you can spend quality time with your guests. Maybe even just turn the TV off.

Watermelon Radish Bites

1 turnip
1 small potato (a purple Peruvian would work awesomely)
3 Tbs. butter (or olive oil)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp. horseradish (fresh, grated or even horseradish mustard works)
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup vegetable stock
salt and white pepper to taste
1 watermelon radish
2 Tbs. French butter (optional)

1. Bring a small saucepan to a rolling boil. De-stem your fugly turnip and and toss it in your water. Add potato and let both cook until just tender to a knife blade, about 7-8 minutes. Remove, rinse with cool water and set aside.

2. In the same saucepan, heat your butter or oil. Add garlic and horseradish for a quick sauté on medium heat. Add the potato and turnip and cook for five minutes while attempting to mash with a wooden spoon. Finish the job with a handheld mixer (seriously, buy one!).

3. Slice the radish into paper thin spheres or semi-circles and arrange on a platter to serve. Top with a dollop, about 1 tsp. of turnip mash, and a small chunk of fresh butter. Sprinkle each piece with a couple coarse grains of sea salt.

Beverage: Dogfish Head’s 120 Minute IPA
Soundtrack: Miles’ Davis, Sketches of Spain