Tony's Food 101: Asparagus is in Season

That's right, everyone's favorite tender, spear shaped veggie is back on the markets again.

It seems like a paradox to me how vegetables can be unhealthy, but the recent bacon craze is aparently trying to bring asparagus down too. Restaurants across the U.S. will be wrapping asparagus spears in all sorts of cured pork products, making them more like cholesterol rockets aimed right at your arteries. I'm not saying that it's not a brilliant combination, as far as taste goes, I'm just proposing a healthier, markedly lighter alternative for this veggie. Bacon wrapped asparagus just reminds me too much of Paula Deen ruining ears of corn (As a physician, I'm always puzzled as to how her heart is still beating. This is the woman who made a hamburger and used krispy kreme donuts as buns).

Likewise, a slightly more healthy way to cook this spring favorite is grilling, which is also delicious, but cannot get around the universal 120-calories-per-tablespoon-of-oil necessary to keep them from turning into carbon tubes over those charcoals. It's waaaaay better for you then wrapping them in prosciutto, but those of us still trying to shed some winter weight may want an alternative.

Enter steamed asparagus. I know, I know: Just like a doctor to tell you to steam vegetables and take away everyone's fun. These are different, and they use a little trick I figured out to add extra flavor without altering the nutritional value of the asparagus: Lemon Steaming. And, I am a cook too... this recipe needs a little salt added.

Lemon Steamed Asparagus

• One bunch of asparagus. Take your pick whether you get the pencil thin or big fat ones, just know it will affect your cooking time. Wider asparagus = longer cooking. Wash them, then snap them about two thirds from the head. This gets rid of the woody, impossible to actually eat stems. If you just bend the asparagus in this region, it will naturally snap where the stem gets too tough.


• One lemon, sliced into disks.


• Black pepper and salt to taste.

Pre-heat your oven to Bake 350. Line the bottom of a glass 8x8 or 9x9 square dish with lemon slices. Arrange the asparagus in as close to a single layer over the lemons as possible. Season with salt and pepper. Cover the whole thing tightly with tin foil, and put in the oven. Leave in for about 20-25 minutes if you like your aspargus crisp, or 30-35 minutes if you like it "well done." You should be able to smell the asparagus and lemons around your oven. Discard the lemons and eat.

So. You're done with dinner. A commercial comes on during your favorite show. You trot over to the bathroom, unzip and let g.... wait a minute? What the heck is that smell?

Congratulations. You've discovered the downside to eating asparagus, and you're also sort of genetically special. Sort of. There are two different genes floating around in your cells: one to excrete an unidentified compound from asparagus into your urine, and another to be able to detect the smell. So you're in a group of 20-40% of people with this combination. It won't get you into the X-Men or Heroes, but hey, it's something.

Be back next week with some Reconstructionist cuisine... yes I am that nerdy. Sorry about the lack of real pictures, my digital camera bit the proverbial dust. I'll try to con my girlfriend into letting me borrow her's.

Other People's Food 101: The Bread that Changed Everything

Remember how in my first few posts, I pretty much said I hate baking.


I still do. I just hate it a lot less, and it's fully because of this book:

Figure 17.B-2 If I had a summer reading list for you guys, this would be on it... that gives me an idea for a post!

I've been churning out loaf upon loaf of crusty, flavorful bread with a soft, tender crumb that would impress even the octogenarian Italian bakers back home. I'm happy to provide you guys with the formula and technique for this little food revolution, courtesy of the man who wrote the book:

Sullivan St. Bakery Bread Recipe - This is a little bit modified than the original technique in My Bread, but it's the same principle. Plus, I'm not breaking any copyright laws by posting this link.

A couple caveats: 1) although it may look cumbersome and drawn out (particuarly the 18 hour rising time), this recipe is stunningly easy. You mostly ignore the bowl of dough on the counter and go about your normal life while it does it's own thing, then chuck it in the oven for less than an hour. 2) I use a plain, seasoned cast iron pot like is shown on the cover of My Bread, primarily because I can't afford the Le Crueset he recommends. Plain cast iron, well cared for, works fine.

Tony's Food 201: Epic Ribs

I love everything about ribs.

I love the tenderness of the slow cooked, marbled meat. I love the smoky-grilly flavor. I love the satisfaction felt by tearing meat from the bone with the incisors and canines we evolved for that express purpose.

So of course, I had to tackle making them myself. This particular series of experiments started in medical school, and I've repeated it four or five times since, under varying conditions and sometimes with varying out comes. I made them once at my girlfriend's father's 60th birthday cook out, on his smoker. Little did I know, the birthday boy over did it on the charcoal and the grill heated to 600 degrees, during the "slow cooking" phase of the recipe. Apparently it was better than the last time he used the smoker, as one party-goer told me, when he got it up to temperature that actually made the paint on outside of it boil.

The biggest set back in creating this recipe was moving to place where state law doesn't allow gas or electric grills on balconies. I've since successfully modified the overall technique to take advantage of ovens. They come out almost as good as on the grill. I'm proud to say I figured out this whole recipe on my own, with out looking at any references for ideas. Also posted is my recipe for barbecue sauce, which co-developed with the rib recipe. Feel free to use regular old barbecue sauce from a bottle, though. Trader Joe's makes a good Kansas City style sauce.

Tony's Epic Ribs, On the Grill

• Enough hickory or mesquite wood chunks to cover the bottom of either a charcoal or gas grill. Soak them in water for an hour or two before putting them on the grill. The chips will burn up too quickly, the chunks will last long enough to smoke your ribs.
• 3-4 bone-in beef ribs per person you want to feed. I have yet to use pork ribs, but I guess you could substitute those if you can't find beef. This recipe probably won't work with boneless ribs, by the way, although feel free to try.
• 1/2 cup of barbecue sauce per serving of ribs, plus extra to serve the ribs with after they're done cooking. My personal, homemade sauce recipe to follow.

For gas grills, arrange the soaked wood chunks along the bottom of the grill, and turn all burners on to low heat. Since this technique requires a drastic temperature change to finish the ribs, it's a little bit trickier for charcoal grills. You want to set it up so that your coals are only on one side of the grill. This will give you a "hot zone" and a "cool zone," arrange your wood chunks over the embers one one side. Place the ribs on the one the grill (over the "cool zone" on charcoal grills) and allow them to slowly smoke for over 2 hours. The longer you let this process go, the more tender your ribs will be. After they're cooked through and tender, either turn up the heat on the gas grill or transfer them to the "hot zone" of your charcoal grill. Slather them with barbecue sauce and let it bake/glaze on, about 20-30 minutes. Serve them with extra sauce and let your inner carnivore loose.

Oven Variant

This variation involves the same principle as above: slow cooking the meat to tenderness, then adding sauce and turning the heat way up. You won't have the advantage of adding extra flavor from hickory or mesquite wood though, so make sure you choose a sauce with enough smoke to make up for it. Use the same ingredients as above (minus the wood, of course). Place the ribs into a 250 degree oven for two hours. At this point, you can even take the pan out, cover it, and finish them later in the day if you're crunching on time, or traveling for a cookout. Once they're tender and cooked through, add your sauce and turn up the heat to 475. Let the sauce glaze on for 20-30 minutes. Again, you could potentially slow cook these bad boys in the oven first, then bring them to some one's house for a cookout and impress your friends after finishing them off on the grill.

The Barbecue Sauce Formula

I don't know that my barbecue sauce mimics a certain "style." There are tomato elements in there, so I guess if anything it would be a Western or Southwestern style of sauce.

• 1/2 can of chipotles in adobo (use about 1/2 of the chilies in the can and 1/2 of the adobo sauce).
• One large raw yellow or white onion, chopped.
• 1/3 cup of molasses, preferably blackstrap.
• 3 tbs. olive oil
• 3 tbs. tomato ketchup
• 2 tbs. Worcestershire sauce
• 1 tsp. smoked paprika
• black pepper and salt to taste.

Blend these all together. I use my immersion blender, less cleanup. Feel free to adjust any of the individual ingredients for individual taste, or to balance the tastes in the sauce. You ultimately want a sauce that is sweetand smoky, and just a little bit tangy. The olive oil will give it a good, rich mouthfeel, but won't majorly contribute to the flavor.

Tony's Drink 101: The Legend of the Beer Margarita

It all started in fourth year medical school. Some of you may be (or have been) fourth year medical students, so you know that much like during your senior years of high school and/or college, you're sitting pretty. Well, I happened to be sitting pretty in my apartment, flipping through the channels, when I started watching Knocked Up. Not realizing that this is the second worst movie ever (the worst being one I was forced to sit through by my high school friends), I quickly turned it off and went down by the apartment complex pool. A friend and fellow medical student was there, so we shot the shit for the rest of the afternoon. Later, he and his girlfriend (yet another medical student) invited me over for pulled pork and margaritas.

This is where the revelation of the Beer Margarita began.

That's right. A margarita that contains beer. It may sound disgusting, but trust me on this one: As long as you use the right beer (certainly no porters or stouts), these are crisp, refreshing and lack the sticky-sweetness that you get with most commercial mixes. I have been making them regularly for a variety of events, not limited to nights when my girlfriend and I make burritos, or my residency program's "Annual International Guacamole Competition," and they are always wildly popular.

Beer Margaritas

• One can of frozen Limeade concentrate
• Tequila
• Triple Sec (or Grand Marnier)
• One 12 oz. bottle of beer. I usually use Corona, Coronal Light or Bud Light with Lime. Any lightly colored beer is great in this mix, but feel free to experiment. A few microbreweries make raspberry or blueberry lagers that I can imagine would taste pretty good.
  

Dump the frozen concentrate into a pitcher. Fill the empty can all the way with tequila, and add it into the pitcher. Fill the empty can half way with triple sec and pour it on in. Finally, pour in your beer and give it a gentle stir to make sure the concentrate is dissolved - don't stir too much or you'll flatten the carbonation added by the beer. Pour over ice and enjoy!

Support for Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution

You may have seen Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution - a new show where the celebrity chef takes on America's "Unhealthiest City." Turns out that this is more than just a TV show. The British Celebrity Chef is compiling a poll to be sent to President Obama to show that Americans want healthier food, both at home and in their schools. Here's the link to sign his petition, or even donate to the campaign if you'd like to:

Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution Petition

And for those of you practicing evidence-based medici...er... support, here's an article from a British News site outlining Jamie's success in his homeland, specifically boosting grades and decreasing abseteeism in the schools he worked with.

Jamie Oliver's school dinners shown to have improved academic results

Next article is actually going to be a recipe for something markedly less healthy than Mr. Oliver is suggesting.

Tony's Food 101: Basic Technique for Leafy Greens

Maybe you belong to a community supported agriculture (CSA) farm, and just got a bushell of big, tough green leaves. Maybe your next door neighbor is an organic gardening enthusiast with a little too much yield this season. Maybe you read the latest Jamie Oliver book, went out and bought 5 heads of Italian Black Kale and you have no idea what to do with the remaining three or four. There is a simple answer to each of these questions, and it's right on the other side of a pot of boiling water.

Yup. Boil 'em... just not for British amounts of time. Quickly boiling any leafy green vegetable is an easy and healthy way to serve this particular class of food. Now, I'm not disregarding some tried and true recipes involving leafy greens - I am a New Englander, after all (just like this guy). Some of them aren't necessarily the fastest.... and some of them involve large amounts of salted animal fats. The best part about this way of cooking leafy greens is that the actual cooking process is fast and doesn't leave much time for the nutrients these bad boys contain to leech into the water they're cooked in. It also leaves (bu-dum-shinnnng) alot of flavor behind, too.

Flash-boiled greens

• One head of leafy greens for every two people you want to serve. Swiss chard, mustard greens, beet tops, non-baby spinach, kale, dinosaur kale, or any others are perfectly acceptable. Being largely a purist, I leave collard greens and cabbage to the professionals. Wash them well, as sometimes they're a little too farm fresh.
• Good, pungent extra-virgin olive oil. You're not cooking it, per se, so haul out the first-press, unfiltered Italian import you've been keeping in a cool, dark place for just such an occasion.
• A pinch of salt. You don't really need more than this. Don't salt the water either. I don't think I need to go on that tangent again, after the recent national media frenzy.
• Fresh ground black pepper, to taste.
• Either one of three things - A lemon, a pinch of nutmeg, or a whole garlic clove. More on this later.

Fill a stock pot or kettle with water and bring it to a boil (keeping it covered really does make it go faster). Make sure it's at a full, rolling boil. Put the water on as the very very first step of making dinner. As it's heating up, do all the other stuff you need to do, the water will take a little while.

If you picked garlic from the above list, find whatever bowl you're going to serve your greens in. Cut your garlic clove in half and rub the inside of the bowl with the cut half of the garlic. This will scent the greens, but not make you the least popular person at work the next day.

Dunk your leaves in and give them a swirl with a pair of tongs. Watch them closely. They will start to become limp, you don't want them too soft. When they're cooked to a tenderness you happen to like (I tend on the undercooked side out of personal preference), tong them out of the pot and into a collander. Shake them a few times to drain some of the excess water. Put them in a bowl (again, if you picked garlic, into your pre-garlic'd bowl). Toss them with a drizzle of olive oil, a pinch of salt, black pepper and either a squeeze of fresh lemon or some nutmeg. The nutmeg works especially well with spinach.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle Vol 1: Bread

Wait!

Don't throw out that week old (maybe two-week old...) half loaf of artisan whole grain organic spelt flour rosemary peasant bread you bought at Whole Foods for $12.65. Just because it's hard enough to be used as an ad hoc construction tool doesn't mean it's not still good.... for something. And by no means should you feed it to geese, pigeons, sparrows or any other variety of hollow-boned pest.

Okay, so what should you do with it? The answer is simple: croutons. You know those crunchy bits of bread you put on salads, right? Well, send the people from Pepperidge Farm packing. Why spend an extra few bucks on a bag of those oily cardbord cubes when you've already spent it on bread you're about to chuck? The only thing standing between old bread and croutons is your oven. Bread also lasts almost indefinitely in crouton form.

The best part of croutons-from-scratch is that you can choose what ever flavors you want. You're not limited to "extra garlic" or "zesty italian." And this choice of flavor is in addition to what ever stale bread you decide to use as a base. Living (mostly) alone, I usually can't go through a loaf of bread before it gets stale, so I do this alot. I've tried a wide variety of herbs, spices, herb-and-spice mixtures*, and a variety of oils against a backdrop of any kind of bread you can imagine. It's next to impossible to screw this up. So, let's get started. Too use a more food-snob-approved term:

House-made Croutons

• What ever old, stale bread you have lying around. Just make sure it's not moldy. Mold may improve some cheeses, but it tends to ruin your croutons (and gross out your friends/family). Good, crusty breads you buy in unsliced loaves work best, but you can do this with odds and ends of the sliced stuff, too. Cut it into cubes of what ever size you want. Mine tend to be on the bigger size.
• Enough olive oil to just coat the bread.
• Salt, black pepper, and what ever other flavorings you want to use. I've had alot of success with dried Herbs de Provence. I've also recently used truffle oil, and that batch came out amazing. Garlic, chili pepper.... really what ever you want is fine.

Figure 35.q - Everything old is new again" - Peter Allen

Preheat your oven to the universal temperature - Bake 350. Toss the bread cubes with enough oil oil to lightly coat them and with any seasonings you want to use. Spread out in a single layer on a cookie sheet. You can put down a layer of foil first, if you're lazy like I am, but I understand it sort of spoils the whole "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" theme. Bake the little bastards until you can smell what ever flavorings you've used emanating from your oven. A half-hour is generally safe for big cubes, 20 minutes for smaller ones. Take them out, let them cool. They will harden into perfect, crunchy little bites. Store them in an airtight container in a cabinet or shelf and use whenever you have a salad. Or soup. Or any other use you could think of for a crouton.

Figure 36.z - Airtight.

Until next week, loyal readers.

*If you happen to be near the place featured in the link - try their Cajun seasoning. It's one of the best I've tried.