I have been unfair lately. While it’s been fun brewing feet in malt beverages and fashioning cakes into thinly-veiled approximations of lady bits, the authenticity that makes Salty Seattle Salty Seattle has been lacking. You see, I don’t really eat like that, I eat like the food in this post, and it’s not nice of me to keep it from you for so long. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the part of this site that brings you wildly-experimental yet lustily edible food, because it’s back with a vengeance herein.

goose in cranberry sassafras brine

I am a fortunate girl. Whenever a spate of emotions crescendoes, I’ve always known I could turn to the kitchen to assuage the overflow that threatens to seep out. The holidays are a naturally-stressful time, and that, coupled with the fact that my heart feels like it’s been pummeled by a lathe the past few months, have made for a season of jejune spirit.

There is a good chance many of you feel similar, while the sources of our angst may be different. We would all do well to take a moment and remember the things that add meaning to our lives, because it’s easy to forget. You are someone’s daughter or son, and they love you, no matter where they are. You are a mother, a lover, a trusted friend, or a resident nut job, and someone appreciates and admires you for it. There is a whole lotta unconditional love floating around this world, and whenever it fleets out of grasp, figure out a way to tap in- it will help immeasurably.

My tap-in is cooking, and I had forgotten that what with all the smoke and mirrors around lately. Thankfully I found this feast- its inspiration- somewhere inside myself, and I think smoke and mirrors is a very appropriate theme. Life can be smoke and mirrors- relationships, jobs, moments forced to crisis, the social milieu, a facebook status update that doesn’t tell the whole story, or a tweet that decocts a life-changing moment into 140 characters. It’s our job to extract truth and beauty from the surface and to distill the undercurrent of veracity beneath.

I want my food to speak to the world. I want to execute the perfect bite that not only causes a deluge of pleasure, but also changes the way we think about life. The relationship between food and life is intrinsic; as time passes, tastes change.

This meal reflects my soul laid bare of smoke and mirrors as a 33 year old woman who has made mistakes, caused pain, endured dissonance, birthed, married, cried, lied, told the difficult truth, and who welcomes the future- whatever it may bring.  I know I can handle it and I will do so with strength and grace, and maybe the occasional f-bomb thrown in to keep it real.

The basis of this meal is Stella the Goose, whom I bathed in cranberry sassafras brine then smoked using sassafras wood. I used elements of root beer because what roots in life surely roots in food, and also because it is the perfect liquid to toe the tightrope between sweet and savory.

smoked goose with mache

Root beer is an old-school beverage made from an amalgam of several roots- sassafras, sarsaparilla, and licorice along with wintergreen and birch bark. I also added star anise. It is so satisfying to make- I will go into greater detail in a later post. The roots infuse and ferment along with molasses and yeast over the course of several days to produce a rich, complex flavor profile that changes over time (much like the human palate-hence applicability to the crux of this meal).

parsnip gnocchi with root beer cranberries

Root beer and cranberries marry very well; in fact I made a cranberry glaze using root beer as the liquid and I’m not sure I’ll ever visit classic citrus-cran again. The cranberry glaze basted Stella as well as provided a tart counterpoint to the light-as-air parsnip gnocchi I paired with it.

smoked hay-infused parsnip gnocchi

In keeping with the smoky theme, I vacuum-packed parsnips with smoked organic hay and allowed them to cook slowly en sous vide so that the hay would impart a woodsy, austere aspect that balances the natural sweetness of the parsnips. The resulting gnocchi was texturally delicate yet robust flavor-wise with a heartiness that transcends potato gnocchi, perhaps due to the hay-infusion.

brioche rising

Because this was a holiday feast and I would be in the kitchen for days anyway, I baked brioche both so I could use it in the dressing- it is THE PERFECT stuffing bread- and so wayward starving souls could have something warm, buttery and gratifying to keep hunger at bay while I masterminded my meal.

goose organ stuffing

The dressing was simple, made by sautéing goose gizzard and neck, deglazing with vermouth, then tossing in brioche, goose heart and liver, and a classic mirepoix with thyme. A little smoky goose fat and duck stock pulled it all together in the oven, though it is largely a stovetop dressing if there ever was one, making it an easy dish to augment an oven-heavy meal.

brioche stuffing with cranberry root beer foam

I served the dressing in parfait layers with cranberry-rootbeer foam. This is a great example of something many consider to be firmly embedded in the realm of molecular gastronomy (foam) blending with traditional fare to create an amalgam that is transcendent of either style of cuisine.

parfait

The job of truly great food is not to make you wonder how it was done, but to be so good it doesn’t matter- all you can do is relish it. This is why many who practice modern cuisine object to the “molecular gastronomy” label. If you like it, just eat it- don’t be preoccupied with how it was made.

salsify root, unpeeled and peeled

With a further nod to roots, I treated salsify root like the bonnie prince it is and sous vided it then caramelized it in vanilla-laced fat. I cut it into matchsticks and served it “poutine-style” smothered in root beer gravy and goose fat pop rocks made to resemble cheese curds. I made the rootbeer gravy by sautéing mirepoix in goose fat, creating a roux, then adding my fresh-brewed rootbeer along with some duck stock until I’d reached the ideal viscosity and flavor tone.

"poutine" of salsify, root beer gravy and goose fat pop rocks as "curds"

Neutral pop rocks are available through willpowders.net and to make the goose fat pop rocks I just combined them with powdered goose fat, made by mixing maltodextrin with the fat. The pop rocks provided an effervescent antidote to the rich caramel muskiness of the salsify, not to mention adding an element of surprise. Life is full of surprises, curveballs- it’s an accomplishment if you can mirror that in a dish to great effect.

Losing myself in the kitchen is the transglutaminase that binds the mechanically-separated chicken nugget that is my life.

The success of the elements of root beer juxtaposed with smoke and mirrors has been an enlightening reaffirmation that cooking is my best therapy. Writing is a close second, so no matter how murky the waters, at least I know I’m doing what I love. Now let me show you how to brine and smoke a goose:

Sassafras-Cranberry-Brined Smoked Goose

• 1 young, organic, fresh goose (Stella was a 9 pounder- this is enough brine for a bigger bird too)

To brine:

• 6 liters water
• 400 grams Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt
• 1 pint cranberries
• 20 grams sassafras
• 3 lightly-crushed star anises
• 40 grams roughly chopped ginger with peep on
• 20 lightly-crushed black peppercorns
• 2 kilos ice (plus more for an ice bath)

1. Bring all ingredients but ice to a boil in a large pot with lid on. Remove lid and stir occasionally. Boil for approximately five minutes, or until the cranberries have popped.
2. Remove from heat and pour into a container large enough to hold the brine plus the ice. Set the container in an ice bath. Add the 2 kilos of ice to the brine and stir until dissolved and cooled. You may have to put in the refrigerator to cool completely, though I find that the ice bath works fine.
3. Either in a container large enough to hold the bird, or in a food-safe plastic bag, combine the goose and the brine. Allow to brine for 24 hours for a 9-12lb goose, slightly more if the bird is larger, slightly less if the bird is smaller.
4. Remove from brine, rinse, and let goose dry for 6-10 hours before smoking.

To smoke:

1. Stabilize smoker at a temperature of roughly 200°F. I used sassafras wood, but I imagine apple or cherry would work very well also. It is very important to place a grease catcher of some sort on a lower rack under the goose, since geese have so much fat.
2. Smoke the goose, maintaining 200°F for two hours, periodically re-stoking with wood. You don’t need to bother with an internal temperature thermometer with goose, since you will be finishing in the oven. After two hours, remove the goose from the smoker (be sure to keep all the lovely fat) and transfer to a 400°F oven to finish the bird. For a 9lb bird, one hour was sufficient, but basically finish until the bird is 165°F internally. Let rest for ½ hour before carving. This will give you time to do something lovely with all that goose fat.

When I decided to dive headlong into muffcakes I did so with some initial trepidation. You see, I am neither a cupcake nor a muffin lover. I thought perhaps it could be one of those rare cases when two un-scintillating things combine to make something borderline orgiastic- like when my parents made me, for example (smart, clever and humble too- watch out world!).

Nevertheless, when Angi from Rice and Wheat made up the word “muffcakes” during a twitter conversation with Mariko from The Little Foodie I couldn’t help but lick my lips in anticipation. I suggested we join forces and do a ménage a trois muffcakes post, of course it was such a winning word that two other lovelies (Jackie from I am a Feeder and Annelies from La Vie en Route)  decided to turn our ménage into a right orgy, so here we are, all munching muffcakes on the same day.

Since I am patently unable to smash-up a cupcake and a muffin with any authenticity, I knew another cake all together must form the base of my muffcakes. I didn’t have to think too long before brilliance struck- HOECAKES! A small part of me may have chosen them for their name, but a much more dignified part recognized the carnal appeal of hoecakes.

Dayum- those little pillows of yeasty cornmeal are revelatory in the way that Paula Deen revels in butter and bacon fat. I daresay she bathes in fat to achieve that Southern glow she sports, and that’s just what hoecakes do- I used Plugra butter, sheep’s lard and bacon fat to fry them up.

I hope the irony of using the hoecake as the base for a muffcake post is not lost on you for two reasons.

A. The name is apropos

B. They are yeasted. Figure that one out, smartie pantses.

I poured my hoecakes into the frying pan via a triangular mold. Why, Salty, did you use a triangle form? I will leave the illuminati amongst you to explain that to the innocenti.

All this talk about hoecakes, muffcakes and grease has worked me into a right frenzy. I mean, I’m kind of sweating a little bit from all the heavy-thinking, and it’s got me a bit sticky. I think I’d better go outside and suck on a candy cigarette to bestill my heart so I can nose into the flesh of this entry,  which is that this is actually a post about equality.

Every hoecake is created equal, whether she has blonde spun sugar, red spun sugar, brunette spun sugar, or even whether she’s decided to dye her spun sugar acid green in a temporary bout of rebellion. While each hoecake might not taste quite the same, every one of them is worthy of being eaten. In fact, hoecakes enjoy being eaten, as long as you take your time, savor the flavor, and are gentle with your teeth.

On the suggestion of a friend versed in the art of muffcake-eating, I’ve given the hoecakes a thong of fruit leather to contain their spun sugar. You’ll notice some fruit thongs contain the sugar better than others. That’s ok. Sometimes the spun sugar creeps out in a manicured fashion, like an airstrip in the jungle, and other spun sugar is disheveled like an overgrown secret garden. No matter how the fruit thong fits and the spun sugar splays, like I said earlier, hoecakes are created equal and should be heartily plundered as such, whether or not Edward Scissorhands has made a recent visit.

In order to add spice, I’ve outfitted each hoecake with a cherry. Think of this as a little love button. It’s the first point of contact for creating great amounts of pleasure when you put the hoecakes in your mouth, so enjoy it.

Some of the cherries are glistening, moist, almost nubile. Other cherries are dried; of course you can make them wet again if you suck on them a little bit. Sometimes when you first bite a nubile cherry it has quite a bit of liquid- you’ll want to be careful not to get this on your shirt, so it’s better to dive into the muffcakes with your shirt off. Or at least wear a bib. This isn’t as much of a concern with the dried cherries, so if you’re wearing a shirt you don’t want to part with because you’re in a hurry, a dried cherry hoecake might be your best bet.

There are other things that can enhance hoecake-eating that I did not include on the hoecakes themselves. For example, people often find that drinking a little champagne enhances the hoecake-eating experience. Others even go so far as to sling back a few oysters first, but I cannot verify that particular pairing. Some swear up and down that smoking a cigarette after eating a particularly robust hoecake really takes them over the edge, but since I don’t smoke I can’t vouch for that one either.

I heartily encourage you to plunge into hoecakes as muffcakes yourself; I think you’ll enjoy them no matter who you are (though some, admittedly more than others). Also, thank you for allowing me to pay lip-service to the issue of hoecake equality. It’s really a throbbing matter more people ought to insert themselves into caring about. Now get out there and put some muffcakes in your mouth, peeps. And remember, if my muffcakes left you thirsting for more, you can lap up the muffcakes of my homegirls too:

Rice and Wheat

The Little Foodie

I am a Feeder

La Vie en Route

Or add to the twitter conversation by using the hashtag #muffcakes

Hoe Cakes recipe here

Spun sugar technique here

*Don’t try this at home- since it’s my birthday, I have temporary immunity

Many people think 4Loko represents all that is wrong with the world.

Many others contest that.

Many people think that offal is also wrong.

Many others disagree.

I decided to put the two together in a highly-calculated scientific experiment to determine whether:

1. The world would be righted because I put two wrongs together
2. The world would be wronged because I put two rights together
3. The world would remain unchanged but I would have quite the meal to show for it
4. The world would applaud my efforts and crown me an honorary scientist, knight me, and force all you plebians to call me “sir” for the rest of my god-given days

Hmmm, what crazy concoction should I brew?

Shall we start with definitions of 4Loko and offal in case you’ve been living under a hummus-covered boulder? 4Loko is the highly contentious “malt-beverage” sold in 23.5 oz cans containing 12% alcohol plus caffeine, taurine, and guarana. It comes in an array of flavors best described as red, orange, green, purple, blue, et cetera since they bear no resemblance to actual natural tastes. It has recently been pulled from shelves across the country so that the company may remove the offending caffeine, taurine and guarana since apparently the danger of 4Loko is not that it contains the alcohol of an entire bottle of wine in one fruity-punchy can, but that these mood-enhancers provoke college kids to do stupid things.

Offal literally means “off fall” or the pieces which fall from an animal carcass when it is butchered. It loosely covers organ meats, feet, skin, tails, heads et cetera. It is experiencing a revival in our current culinary climate, and for good reason. If we’re going to eat the filets, shouldn’t we also find a use for the bung?

bung, chicken feet, pork trotters, beef tendons

I would say that the vast majority of you likely think 4Loko is awful. There is perhaps an equal contingency that feel awful about offal too. It is my goal to attempt to create a swan by smashing two ugly ducklings together, getting them all hot and off-gassy, then reducing them down to a gelatinous puddle of sticky limbs- literally. Let’s just call this molecular gastronomy at its finest, shall we?

The first scientific problem I faced with my experiment was procuring 4Loko. Because I was late to the party, the meanie-pants US government (heretoforth known as “the man”) banned 4Loko before I could get my thermo-plastic encapsulated hands on any. I am an industrious little scientistista, so I’ve managed to secure the secret formula for how to create 4Loko at home. It involves adding the offending energy-enhancers to existing cans of “Tilt” which is a 4Loko competitor. Through precision calculations and research-based theoretical equation-solving, I was able to create a credible facsimile of 4Loko.

I tested it on some 4Loko fans I met standing in front of the gas station and I could tell they approved of my formula because they lifted me on their shoulders and started chanting “Long live this crazy bitch, somebody get her a motherfucking crown, and where exactly is her laboratory because we gonna hit that place up tonight and steal all the counterfeit 4Loko we can fit in our baggy Sean Johns.”

Secure with the success of my imitation 4Loko, I set about to sous viding chicken feet, pork bung, beef tendons, and pig trotters (feet) in flavor-matched pouches of special loko sauce. I paired chicken feet with red, pork bung with blue, beef tendons with purple and pig trotters with green.

One thing I was surprised about is that 4Loko doesn’t freeze. I tried to freeze it since it’s easier to sous vide frozen liquid if you don’t have a cryovac to seal your bags since you are able to suck more air out if you don’t have pesky liquid to contend with. Why doesn’t it freeze? It’s supposedly only 12% alcohol which wouldn’t be enough to keep it liqueous, so there must be another reason? A better scientist than me should take up that particular challenge.

Secondarily, when I added the mood-enhancers to the base “Tilt” substance, they did not mix, but instead settled on top- ie the base is heavier than the enhancements. Imagine how swell that must all feel swirling around in an adolescent stomach.

I sous vided the offal for 72 hours to the point that the trotters were fall-off-the-bone as well as the tendons, and the cartilage in the chicken feet was like tender butter. I can’t fathom a metaphor to describe the bung. In fact, I’ve never seen anything quite so vile and bilious as the bung, but in the name of science, I am willing to cook assholes (any nominations?) and so the bung results must be shared!

Once I removed the offal from the bags, I reduced the remaining 4loko to make an elegant, caramelized sauce. I was struck by the fact that each 4loko flavor had lost its original vibrant color and all took on a brown/caramel hue. Does this mean that sous vide cooks away artificial color? Questions for further experimentation methinks.

I took meticulous tasting notes of the final dishes, starting with the chicken feet. I left the toes intact when normally I might have trimmed them- they added too much to the hedonistic bacchanalia of the post. I immediately thought of a lovely scene from the restaurant I’ll have in the future; picture it now: 4loko sous vide chicken feet as the backdrop to a romantic proposal story! Ring comes out on chicken toe (tinfoil or otherwise) boy goes down on knee, girl screams yes and a frenzy of chicken cartilage-sucking ensues! It’s possibly the greatest love story yet to be told, all of the elements of success are there: liquor, meat, stickiness and passion.

The chicken feet tasted like imitation grape-flavoring and lacked the initial maltiness the 4loko presented with pre-sous vide. The collagen in the feet reduced well with the 4loko, resulting in a thick, gelatinous sauce. The feet themselves melted in my mouth like grape bubblegum. I could easily have eaten more than the four tasting bites, but I wanted to save my palate.

bung

The bung is not surprisingly the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I have no intention of kissing my mother with said mouth for at least a month, and I’ve commenced a bleach-gargling routine twice a day in order to cleanse myself of the horrors of essentially eating asshole. Any fantasies you’ve ever had about me being a pristine fancy-dancer are surely irrevocably shattered now. Bung doesn’t have much fat, so the sauce was thinner, and not surprisingly, more brown than the other sauces. The one bite I was able to stomach (I swallowed, yes indeed!) tasted like grape-flavored wet manure.

beef tendon

Beef tendons were the sleeper-hit of the bunch. I knew I liked chicken feet, but who knew beef tendons could be so transcendent of their origins? In the future I will prepare these as I would short ribs. A different sauce would be advisable, however I really didn’t mind forking through the flaky, rib-like tendons. Oh, and guess what? They tasted like fake grapes too- what is it with the artificial flavor in 4loko that is so reminiscent of grape despite each color supposedly representing a different “taste”?

pig trotters

The trotters weren’t the best I’ve ever eaten, but they weren’t the worst, either. Despite them being so big, they were probably the only thing I felt cooked too long. they were so dismembered it was hard to discern bone from sinew and I kept putting all sorts of the wrong things in my mouth to the point that I gave up, closed my eyes, and sucked down a couple of bony bites. Grape again, oh, and nice sauce- the collagen factor helped set up the 4loko well.

The verdict? FourLoko (or its imposter) sucks, well and truly. Offal isn’t so awful at all, with the exception of bung, which just doesn’t belong in ANYONE’s mouth. If you can make a case for a well-prepared bung, I would be happy to try it, but in the meantime I have no intention of preparing it again to change my own mind. Thank you for indulging my madness, I hope this post was as big a gift to you as it was to me. Love, Linda