There is a lot going on with this dish and yet each mouthful is pure, refreshing, almost crisp.  The multi-layered flavor profile of the Mangalitsa pig jowl probably has much to do with the fact that the rest of the dish unites so beautifully. There is a lot to cling onto in the jowl, and it helps each of the other ingredients to shine in a different way.  I had the great pleasure of meeting Heath Putnam recently, proprietor of Wooly Pigs. Heath is all about Mangalitsa pigs, which are a highly specialized breed of pig whose main distinguishing characteristic is that they are much fattier than typical American pigs, including most heritage breeds.  Since we all know that fat is flavor, you can imagine how creamy and succulent these babies taste. The Mangalitsa was first imported to the US by Wooly Pigs, and to date they remain the primary stateside supplier.  The company was founded a few short years ago, and has the noble distinction of selling their first pig to none other than The French Laundry.  I encourage you to learn more about this robustly flavored breed, as well as the European slaughtering techniques that produce more globally classic cuts of meat.

I picked up a jowl from Heath recently, and I gave it the true attention it deserved.  If you know me at all you know I can’t resist throwing things into the sous vide, but I wanted to add depth to the flavor, so I lightly smoked the jowl first.  It was a challenge keeping my smoker at 150°, so I only smoked it for an hour, but it was enough- the smoke clung to the brined jowl in just the right way.  After smoking, I tossed it in the sous vide bath at 150° for 36 hours. Once I removed it it was tender as filet mignon, lightly smoked, and ready to transform ordinary pasta dishes into otherworldly palatial experiences (yes, that’s a pun on palate- no, I don’t apologize for it).  I used the jowl in a typical ragu one evening, unfortunately it was dark, much wine was imbibed, and the camera sat languishing in the corner. Suffice to say that if you ever find yourself laden with smoked sous vide Mangalitsa jowl, you can’t go wrong replacing the pancetta portion of a typical Bolognese with it.  Remarkable.

From the success of the ragu I knew I wanted to spruce up another pasta with the jowl, and I’ve been on a bit of a gnocchi kick lately, hence these perfectly coddled gnocchi made from Okinawan purple sweet potatoes. The sweetness in the potato highlights the smokiness in the jowl and becomes richness personified.  I only added the favas and chickpeas because they were in season, startlingly fresh, and both provided two welcome textural additions to the otherwise relatively soft dish.  I will leave you with a quick warning about shelling the peas and beans of spring. BUY EXTRA!! Half inevitably meet their fate in your mouth before they ever see the inside of a frying pan.  They are worth the time it takes to shell them, since one secreted bite of raw chickpea or fava is like eating spring.

A great dish is more often than not comprised of three elements. This is no exception.  You have a healthy yet creamy vegetable in the asparagus puree. Mix in a staple starch but do it with a seasonal, unique base a la sunchokes. Finish the whole thing with a perfect protein (homemade bacon fits the bill, no?) and you have a plate fit for a prince, king and queen.  If you have your own little prince or princess at home you’ll probably agree that a meal that suits the tastes of a manly king, dainty queen and persnickety prince/princess is not exactly easy to come by. This one succeeds in full purple regalia. 

Sunchokes are underground tubers that form the base of our starch. They are underground in more ways than one, if you catch my drift. You won’t typically see them at the supermarket, instead you’ll have to journey to the farmer’s market.  They grow underground and are otherwise known as Jerusalem artichokes, a name that is completely nonsensical. This name came about because English speakers had a hard time pronouncing girasole, which means sunflower in Italian, and is how Italians refer to these electrifying tubers.  They are full of zingy flavor, so dumplings from them are perhaps a stretch of the imagination, but an elegant one at that. 

It is springtime and for many of us across the Northern Hemisphere that means the return of asparagus in all its splendor (morning after not withstanding).  I can think of no better way to appreciate the muskiness of asparagus than to pair it with smoky bacon and rich heavy cream.  I did just that with this puree, which gets smoky flavor from the bacon matchsticks that get fried first then removed to a towel-lined plate.  The bacon fat acts as the base in which everything else gets cooked, thereby rooting the soup in its rich, outstanding essence.  The cream and bacon matchsticks are icing on the cake as far as I’m concerned, but the good, buttercream kind, not the nasty fondant crap. 

I’ll share with you the recipe for the asparagus puree. The sunchoke gnocchi is more of a cook by feel rather than by rote kind of a thing, but if you’re desperate for that recipe as well, I can probably give you some estimation if you shoot over a comment or an email. 

Asparagus Puree

• 1 bunch asparagus, tips reserved for another use
• 4 oz bacon cut into matchsticks
• 1 large spring onion, roughly chopped
• Garlic powder to taste. 
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh Savory
• ½ tbsb chopped fresh Thyme
• 1 c chicken stock
• 1 c heavy cream
• Salt and pepper to taste

Fry the bacon matchsticks in a 12” nonstick skillet.  Remove to a towel-lined plate and reserve. 

Add the asparagus & onion to the skillet and fry for two minutes, stirring frequently.  Add the garlic powder (I use garlic powder that I smoke and make myself), savory, thyme and chicken stock, lid the frying pan, and simmer for 5 minutes or until the asparagus is tender. 

Add the cream, salt and pepper, heat just to the boiling point, and puree, either with a wand or in your blender or food processor.  Adjust seasonings and enjoy.

Best. Dinner. Ever.  When you challenge yourself to the limits of personal creativity, more often than not the result is an epic failure. I have had my fair share of those: popovers that didn’t “pop”, mousse that was more like sludge, pasta fit to line the rubbish bin, not the inside of a happy mouth.  That’s why I was so elated when I tasted the first bite of this bite-sized bliss.  Who knew Jerusalem artichokes would make such great gnocchi- certainly not me, though I thought I’d try because I had success with parsnip gnocchi recently, and what the hell, right?

Many of you may be asking yourself what in the god-damn is a Jerusalem artichoke aka sunchoke? It looks to me like a cross between ginger and galangal with a purplish skin if you are familiar with both of those roots, but it tastes like, well, an artichoke.  Sort of a really condensed artichoke with the minerally flavor many roots take on that is vaguely reminiscent of licking a D battery (in a good way!). 

I had a healthy handful so I baked them along with some purple potatoes and milled them into an even texture.  Then I added salt, a banty egg (but any egg would do) and enough flour to form a dough.  I rolled pieces of the dough into very thin tubes, maybe ½”.  Then I cut the tubes into ¾” lengths as you would gnocchi and placed them on a parchment-lined baking sheet.  I find that resting the gnocchetti (little gnocchi since they are so small) for up to an hour helps it to develop a nice solid exterior post-boil, but anything over an hour makes them too hard and dried out. 

This dinner in all actuality started three days before I served it, however, as I wanted medium-rare beef short ribs, and the only way to do that is in the sous vide machine.  It takes quite a bit of time for the collagen to break down and tenderize the meat at medium rare temperature (134°) so I planned ahead and gave myself 72 hours to tenderize the ribs.  I removed them at more like 60 hours and they were actually completely ideal, so in the future I’ll stick with that number.  Before I sealed them in the foodsafe bag I seasoned them with salt, pepper and smoked garlic powder (which you can learn to make here).  I tossed in a mango that I had sliced, since I wanted a sweet, tangy sauce made from mango and the sweetish effervescent Italian wine, Moscato.  Pan-global, I know, but it worked so well together I make no apologies. 

When I pulled the ribs from the sous vide bath (pictured above, before deep-frying), I added the juices from the bag to a shallot I had lightly sautéed in a saucepan.  I let the juices reduce a little, then added another chopped mango.  Finally I added a cup of Moscato and let the sauce reduce until slightly thickened and all the flavors came together.  I gave it a few whirrs with the immersion blender et voila.  I didn’t even add additional salt and pepper as the bag juices were already seasoned to the perfect level.  The smoked garlic powder came out stunningly in the sauce, and lent a subtle savory hint to the sweetness of the mango and Moscato. 

The final step in putting together this plate of scintillating savory seduction is to throw the sous vide short ribs in the deep fryer at 375° for 60 seconds.  This all came about because a few days ago I was excitedly tweeting (on twitter, for those of you wondering whether I regularly walk around the house acting like a bird-follow me @saltyseattle) about my new deep fryer.  One of my wonderful twitter follows/followers who is also sous vide-obsessed (@bamiyahara) suggested I deep fry sous vide short ribs a la Chang of Momofuku fame. 

still rare but so soft after three days

I couldn’t track down a recipe, but it’s not exactly rocket science, so I worked my own magic, and after one minute in the fryer I was very pleased with the nice caramelized crust that had developed on my short ribs.  Much more than a minute and I’d have worried too much about undoing all the great pains I took to keep the ribs at medium rare, but any less than a minute and not enough caramelization occurs.  I am very thrilled that this was the inaugural use for my deep fryer. It has convinced me unequivocally that there will be many more to come.

It’s springtime in Seattle and the land is engorged with possibility.  You don’t need to go farther than your own neighborhood to make a meal fit for royalty, let me show you.  I cook by feel rather than by rote more often than not, and it’s a good habit to be in if you want to focus on seasonality. Rather than go to the store armed with a nitpicking recipe and a fastidious commitment to detail, loosen up. Go with the flow.  Take a walk. That’s what I did, and two blocks from my house I ran across a patch of stinging nettle ripe for the taking.  There may have been a touch more planning involved as I was armed with gloves, shears and a bag for my bounty- all necessary for harvesting stinging nettle lest you desire prickly pain all day.  In fact if you’re not sure it’s stinging nettle there is one surefire way to check, though I don’t recommend it :)

I brought my nettle home and lightly steamed it to render it harmless, then plucked the leaves from the tougher stems.  Harvest younger, shorter nettle for best flavor and tenderness.  Once I had my nettles ready to go the rest of the meal fell into place readily.  I had a fresh fat duck sitting in the refrigerator waiting to be fabricated (broken down) and cooked sous vide, so I thought I’d make a pasta with the nettles and some kind of saucy meaty accompaniment with the duck. 

I fabricated the duck into four parts and seasoned each quarter with homemade salt, thyme, smoked garlic powder, bay leaves, and oregano.  I packed each quarter into food-safe bags and sous vided the legs and thighs for 15 hours at 180° and the breasts at the same temperature for five hours. Normally you can get by with cooking duck breast at 140°, but since I kept the bone-in I maintained a higher cooking temperature as I was looking for more of a fall-off-the-bone tenderness rather than a firm breast.  Funny, kind of the opposite as you’d want in a human, no? 

Initially I thought of making gnocchi with the nettles, but settled on its ricotta-based cousin called gnudi (which means nude in Italian and is short for gnocchi gnudi- aka gnocchi nude of the pasta itself).  Some folks refer to gnudi as malfatti, which means badly made, but I like gnudi better, plus I take time in forming each gnudo, so they’re not really as roughly made as some malfatti can be.  As I see it, a main difference between malfatti and gnudi (though this varies regionally and is hotly debated) is that malfatti can be made by simply dropping dollops of dough into boiling water (you can even plop them out using a pastry bag) whereas gnudi tends to be formed using spoons or hands.  I thought gnudi rather than gnocchi would bring out the flavor of the nettle as it wouldn’t be competing with potato. I thought correctly- who woulda known? 

Making gnudi is fun. That sentence wasn’t meant to sound sexual, I promise.  First you press out all the liquid from one tub of ricotta and the nettles, then whir them in a food processor with either two duck egg yolks or three chicken yolks.  Plop the goo into a mixing bowl and add salt, smoked garlic powder if you wish, and flour as needed to form a light dough.  A cup and a half of flour should more or less suffice.  (tip- the amount of flour needed in most recipes will vary with your humidity and altitude. Learn to adjust by feel rather than rely on a specific number). 

To form the gnudi roll a teaspoon of dough between your palms into a little oval. Place on a parchment-lined sheetpan and repeat with remaining dough. Cover while waiting for the water to boil and finishing the duck and sauce.  Cook gnudi as you would gnocchi- by dropping into salted boiling water and removing with a slotted spoon once they float to the top.  Keep in warming oven while boiling the remainder. 

Rhubarb became the base for the duck sauce because it is seasonal and growing like mad all around Seattle.  I chopped it into small pieces and reduced it in moscato wine, chicken stock and the juice of one orange. After ten minutes I strained it, tossing the rhubarb chunks.  I poured some duck fat and jus from one of the duck pouches into the saucepan and lightly sautéed a spring onion in it. Then I added the rhubarb sauce and reduced a bit further, adjusting seasoning as needed.  To finish the dish, I crisped up the skin on the duck by deep-frying them for two minutes. Then I plated the gnocchi, a quarter of duck, and drizzled rhubarb reduction over both. 

This dining experience is an example of how relatively simple it is to incorporate local, seasonal elements into cuisine.  Rhubarb and nettles were foraged and duck eggs come from a local farm as does the duck itself.  Herbs all came from my garden, salt I made from Washington waters, garlic powder was made and smoked at home.  While I buy my ricotta from DeLaurenti in Pike Place Market and they make it themselves, I easily could have made it too. It’s one of the quickest cheeses to make; in fact it’s a byproduct of many other cheeses.   I hope this post inspires you to take a walk and cook off the beaten path.  Your diners will thank you for it.

Last night’s dinner was really a mouthful. So many different elements played off eachother to compose each tasty bite it was hard to keep from shoving it all in at warp speed.  First let me talk about the mmmlicious Meyer lemons. The blogosphere is Meyer lemon-mad right now; everyone and their Nana is using them in everything from curds to pannacotta, limoncello to lemonade.  It’s easy to understand why, the little hybrid sweet tart buggers couldn’t be more delicious right now at this moment AKA go out and buy some Meyer lemons if you haven’t already.  I have purchased them to excess, so last night’s dinner was to be about combining elements in which a Meyer lemon cream sauce would work.  Making it was straightforward enough- sautee some shallots, oregano and zest in butter, add and reduce white wine, bring it on home with the addition of heavy cream, and adjust seasonings with lotsa Meyer lemon juice and a little salt and pepper.  Make the sauce last, it only takes ten minutes to come together. 

I set out for the market yesterday morning intending to buy chickens as I’m about outta chicken stock and need to make more.  I came home with game hens, though, because the little buggers looked up at me all cute-like and said “Buy me, Linda, we’ve never been frozen, ran free when we were alive and come from a farm not 20 minutes from here. Let us meet our fate in your tasty kitchen, pretty please?” They had me at hello, plus dinner was only for four, so why not salt-encrust some game hens?  Then I could use their little carcasses to make a rich stock, plus it’s kind of fun to serve guests an individual bird all to themselves. 

I had some salt that needed using too, we made quite a big batch of it last time we went out seawater collecting and we’re planning a new collection mission soon, so I used some homemade sea salt to form the base of the game hen crust.  I like to do salt crusts because I love salt, but also because believe it or not, the salt crust keeps the meat inside so nice and tender it just falls off the carcass like melted butter.  Making a salt crust is easy, I’ll give you the ratio for one game hen, obviously for four, or a chicken, you’ll want to increase accordingly.  Mix four beaten egg whites with one pound of salt and 1.5c flour.  Add water until a medium-tacky dough is formed.  (You can add herbs too- they infuse flavor. I used oregano since it’s taking over my garden right now and is so fresh)

To encrust the bird, first stuff ‘em and truss ‘em.  I stuff’ em with half a lemon, half a shallot and a bunch of oregano.   Truss so that no pointy wings or legs puncture your crust.  Lay a base of crust on a jellyroll pan lined with parchment. Be sure the base is slightly larger than the bird, then set the bird on the crust.  Pack the remaining dough all around the bird, taking care not to leave any holes where moisture can escape.  Immediately put the bird into a 400° oven and cook for 15 minutes for the crust to solidify, then reduce heat to 350° and bake until an internal thermometer probe reads 160°.  Remove the bird from the oven, but do not remove crust- bird will continue to cook for another half hour or so since the crust acts as an oven.  When you are ready to serve, either remove the crust yourself or let the guest do it himself at the table for a more dramatic presentation. 

I knew that my little game hens would do well with a lemon sauce, so I wanted a starch that could handle it as well since encrusting the bird means you get no gravy as the crust soaks up the cooking jus.  My mind often leans toward gnocchi; it’s one of nature’s perfect foods.  Because the Meyer lemons have a touch of sweetness, however, I wanted to soften the starchiness of typical potato gnocchi.  Parsnips proved the perfect addition since they are a touch sweet themselves.  I used a ratio of 1/3 parsnips to 2/3 potato and it was just right. I’m not sure I’ll make plane ol’ potato gnocchi again anytime soon- try it with parsnip and you’ll see why.   I cooked my potatoes and parsnips sous vide before milling them with my potato ricer. Sous vide is perfect for gnocchi as boiling potatoes leaves too much residual water and makes for a gloppy texture, whereas sous vide doesn’t add any water, but nor does it take any away like baking can, often resulting in overly dry gnocchi.  If I didn’t have a Sous Vide Supreme I would cook the potatoes and parsnips by first boiling, then baking them before ricing. 

After the potatoes are milled into even texture, I add a touch of salt, some microplaned Parmigiano Reggiano, and I start adding flour.  The general ratio of flour to potato matter is 1/3-2/3, but I do this by feel.  You know you have enough flour when the dough doesn’t stick to your hands any longer and you can break off clumps and roll it into tubes without it leaving goo all over the counter.  Once you roll the tubes ¾” thick, cut them into ¾” pieces. At this point you can brand them with the tines of a fork if you are using a thin sauce that you want to adhere to the noodle better, but in the case of my cream sauce I wasn’t worried, so I didn’t brand them since I think they look prettier unadorned.  Cook them in gently boiling salted water until they float to the top, then remove them with a slotted spoon and keep them in a pan in a warming oven with a little butter to prevent them from sticking to one another.  You can start the lemon cream sauce when you’re halfway through cooking the gnocchi and your timing should be right.  Serve both the game hens and the gnocchi with the cream sauce drizzled over the top.

I’m three days into the United Way Hunger Challenge and I have $59.83 left to spend.  Good thing too, since tonight is Jonas’ birthday, and I have to at least make it somewhat special, which led me down an entirely different train of thought.  We agreed to do this challenge despite having several events (like a birthday) this week that would be tricky to work around.  I recall feeling a bit miffed at the beginning of the week, thinking “couldn’t it have been a different week?” and oscillating over whether to actually go through with it. 

Well midway through the challenge I look back at my three-day-ago self with disdain.  There are people who have to scrape together for kids birthdays, spouses anniversaries, holidays and the like on the budget I was given for a week only they have to do it 365 days a year.  What kind of little princess bitch am I that I mumble and moan feeling sorry for my family when we only have to do this for five days? And we are doing it voluntarily at that? And I’m writing about it and documenting it for my blog, which is an even further luxury?  The bright side is that in three short days I’ve learned to be a humbler person, and to appreciate my lot in life.  In fact, if everyone like me were to live on slightly more moderate means there would surely be more to go around, but that’s a different matter entirely. 

Because I’ve come to this realization, a few other key points struck a chord with me.  Namely that in a way this challenge is an unfair game that’s a bit gauche in some respects.  It’s kind of like how un-PC it really is to play cowboys and Indians considering our nation’s history with Native Americans.  Is it really fair for us armchair enthusiasts to look at something like a limited food budget as a fun game to play for a week, throwing in personal challenges like “let’s make it organic,” and “I won’t support chains”? The fact is, I have nearly $60 left and I have 2.5 days to go, so I know I can do it.  The truth of the fact is that while I’ve managed to source many organic ingredients, I’ve deliberately chosen them based on their value, and for a week, sure it’s ok to eat carrots, onions and potatoes, but to do that every single day of every single week of every single year would really suck.  What if you notice a pastry in the window of a coffee shop that practically screams your name, but day after day you know you can’t go in and get it because it would mean forgoing dinner for your family that night?  Forget the pastry, on a budget like this you can’t even so much as afford a coffee at most retailers in Seattle! 

Another big factor that plays into how I can fairly easily conform to this challenge is time.  I certainly don’t come from an affluent family, but I have a baby at home and while he is young, we’ve decided that my day job can take the back burner to his rearing.  This affords me the luxury of time.  Yes, my bacon is cheaper than any you can buy in a store because I make it myself, but I spend hours curing pork belly then smoking it to produce said bacon. Many folks don’t have that kind of time.  Or an extra wine fridge in which to cure the pork belly.  Or a smoker in which to smoke it.  Sure, half my vegetables and all of my herbs come from my outdoor garden and indoor plant windows, but that again takes time, a green(ish) thumb, and space in which to garden.  Is it really fair of me to preach that I can easily feed my family on $90 a week and so everyone else should too when I know for a fact that most people on the planet don’t have the impetus or desire to roll out and cut their own pasta thus making it cheaper in raw materials, but more expensive when it comes to labor and knowledge? 

That being said, I’m going to stop with the item calculations.  Suffice it to say I’m sticking to the budget, eliminating luxuries like side salads, and focusing on one-dish wonders, namely this gnocchi.  It was delicious for all intents and purposes, and really couldn’t be easier.  I cooked my potatoes in the sous vide machine so they would retain their light texture, mixed with flour, parmigiano reggianno and salt.  I then rolled the potato mixture into tubes, cut into individual pieces of gnocchi, and boiled in salted water until risen, et voila.  I tossed together a makeshift sauce of cream, peas and bacon and there you go, all under budget, pretty enough for a birthday dish, and extremely satisfying.  The satisfaction was made even richer with the realization that our fortunate family has all the things that should really matter on a birthday in spades; namely the pleasure of togetherness, good food, a humble abode, and a sense of security. 

This entire exercise brings to mind the “teach a man to fish…” adage.  I have enough experience with food to recognize a good deal in shallots, chevre, or cannellini beans when I see one, and I know how to combine that screaming deal with pantry staples in order to make a cheap and tasty dinner.  It would be worthwhile to lead market walkthroughs for food stamp folk (yes, Seattle farmer’s markets take food stamps) pointing out great bulk buys that are money-saving measures in the end.  Discuss how to use both the beets and their greens, for instance.  This concept could be refined further by leading basic cooking classes to teach simple flavor combinations and hopefully inspire a love for quality food.  I appreciate the United Way for putting forth this challenge.  It’s opened my eyes to the idea that I can make a difference in the milieu I understand most: the world of food.