The making — and Instagramming — of giant fried oyster and bacon sandwiches, inspired by a knockout dish at Cochon. (He made the Modernist Cuisine mayo…. I mean. Of course he did.)
Sorcerer’s Apprentice Hosts a Dinner
Melissa Clark adapts Modernist Cuisine recipes for the typical home chef — one who doesn’t have a professional vacuum sealer, sous vide machine (DIY or otherwise), and full-fledged chemistry set.
I’m intrigued by the recipes for bloody mary-infused celery sticks, caramelized delicata squash purée with buckwheat honey and lemon grass, and hazelnut and coriander faux sous-vide salmon (which sounds a lot like the vanilla bean salmon M. served our pescetarians on Christmas).
In related news, M. keeps a little book light on whatever volume of MC he’s currently reading, and reads himself to sleep with it every night. It’s super cute.
I’d melt a bunch of interesting fats, like foie gras and cheeses and pork belly fat, and make a block using sodium citrate. Slice it like American cheese. Then I’d liquid nitro freeze meat and Paco-tize it to grind it. Pat loosely together, sous vide for 10 minutes, dip in liquid nitro, drop in the deep fryer, put on a bun, and top with the “cheese.” … Actually now that I think about it I wouldn’t use a bun, I’d take a bunch of eggs and butter and use maltodextrin to make a powder out of it and toss that with some breadcrumbs and bed that under the meat to create a quote, bun.
I’d melt a bunch of interesting fats, like foie gras and cheeses and pork belly fat, and make a block using sodium citrate. Slice it like American cheese. Then I’d liquid nitro freeze meat and Paco-tize it to grind it. Pat loosely together, sous vide for 10 minutes, dip in liquid nitro, drop in the deep fryer, put on a bun, and top with the “cheese.” … Actually now that I think about it I wouldn’t use a bun, I’d take a bunch of eggs and butter and use maltodextrin to make a powder out of it and toss that with some breadcrumbs and bed that under the meat to create a quote, bun.Shit my boyfriend says while watching the Top Chef Modernist Cuisine challenge. And in case you missed it, that’s a burger.
Christmas dinner: my plate, Nancy’s plate. David Chang’s 48-hour short ribs and roast côte de boeuf for me, salmon cooked sous-vide in vanilla bean olive oil for her (inspired by Modernist Cuisine). Cumin-orange-braised carrots, Dijon Brussels sprouts, Pommes Anna, potato gratin, and cornbread stuffing for us both. (Yes! We accept all comers. Even those poor, misguided vegans. :)
Christmas dinner: foie gras and Gewürztraminer gelee on blinis. Y’know, just your run-of-the-mill ore-derve.
I thought things were serious when the massive restaurant-caliber VacMaster appeared in our dining room (‘cause it sure as hell doesn’t fit in our kitchen). But ever since Modernist Cuisine and The Fat Duck Cookbook moved in, things have gotten extra intense around here.
(No complaints, of course … he’s got some crazy foie gras preparation up his sleeve for Christmas dinner.)
Treat yo self: M. shows us how it’s done.
(Hint: you get 50% off of any hardcover when you like Barnes & Noble on Facebook.)
Are you ready for the snobbiest sentence you’ve ever heard me say (with the note that I mean it with humbleness and sincerity?) … this is exactly the problem I had with the meat courses at the French Laundry! They were too refined, too perfect. They lost the sexiness, the unexpectedness, of really good meat. I’m glad to learn I’m not alone in my wariness of the overuse/abuse of ultra-refined sous vide cooking….*
From The New Yorker’s fascinating review of the multi-volume tome, Modernist Cuisine:
The most instructive dish, however, was one of the failures, a slow-and-low chicken, cooked for several hours and served when its internal temperature had hit 149 degrees Fahrenheit. The problem was that, with all its juices still inside, it tasted far too chickeny. If you oven-roast chicken the regular way, you get used to the drying effect of the heat, and to the fact that some juices go into the pan and are recycled as gravy. With this version, the bird was so moist that its texture was almost jellied, the flesh was a faint pink, and the chicken-explosion of flavor was overwhelming. In a sense, it was too good. My roast-chicken-obsessed children threw down their cutlery in protest after a single mouthful.
* To be clear: I most certainly did NOT throw down my cutlery in protest. Let’s not kid ourselves, ‘twas still effing amazing.
The Great American Cooking Project