En Español
Although T and I usually travel to celebrate Christmas and New Year with our families, last year we decided to stay. For this reason, and because it was J's first Christmas, my parents-in-law came to spend the holidays with us. This unwittingly turned them into eyewitnesses -and in some cases victims- of my culinary-learning process.
One of the afternoons that I produced food for the troops, I "dared" to cook a vegetarian meal for my father-in-law; I gave him pasta with eggplant. When I asked him for his opinion and if the pasta was missing something, he said "... tomato sauce and meat." The concept of a vegetarian dish is not part of what he considers a full meal. For him, a vegetarian recipe reaches perfection only when an animal protein is added, preferably beef. Having learned my lesson, I decided to cook a recipe that was satisfaction guaranteed. Once again, the marinated flank steak cooked on the grill came to my mind.
I was sure this time the meat was going to be perfect, not undercooked, just perfect. I had all the knowledge and vast experience from the first time I prepared the recipe and, most importantly, I was armed with my thermometer.
What other result could I get? Besides, I followed the instructions to the letter and marinated the steak for two hours. So, good flavor was assured.
My goal was to avoid at all costs giving my guest - i.e. father-in-law - raw meat, so I planned to cook each side for at least 10 minutes. When it came to it, I heated the pan over high heat, poured the oil and when ready, put the meat.
Approximately seven minutes later, and through a lot of smoke, my meat looked suspiciously charred, which suggested that that side did not need anymore cooking. I turned the meat over to cook on the other side. After five minutes, that side was ready but I knew that the inside was raw, as raw as last time. As if this was not enough and to make matters worse, T came in and said: "You know my dad HATES undercooked meat, right? He doesn't eat it even if it's just a little bit pink "... At that moment I really felt mad at my own lack of skills; I was in front of another recipe that would not have good reviews. My solution, not so obvious to me at the time, was to turn down the fire and monitor the inside temperature - a.k.a keep stabbing the meat with the thermometer. Despite my efforts, the inside was not cooking fast enough, while the outside was already becoming inedible. The last straw before I called it a failure was when the smoke activated the fire alarm in the corridor and T went to turn it off with the attitude of someone who is used to doing something that is not expected to change any time soon.
In the end, I took drastic measures. After scraping the black crust from the surface with a serrated knife, I cut the meat to gill the pieces. I cut against the grain as the recipe says to do.
My father-in-law seemed pleased with my production, it seems a little coal is not enough to deter him from eating meat.
How hard can it be to grill a piece of meat, using an appropriate technique to reach 140-150 ˚F inside, and not burn on the surface?
To be continued, answer yet to be found...
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Marinated flank steak
En Español
T and I have very different ways of planning events in our home. While it seems to me that involving our friends in my cooking experiments the most natural thing to do, for T using people as "Guinea pigs" and giving them something that is not 100% success guaranteed is unthinkable. It becomes an endless source of anguish and shame for him.
He recites the list of multiple disaster meals that I imposed on unsuspecting guests; unfortunately there is much evidence against my case. He very rarely fails to mention the time I made a lasagna without tomato paste that someone very kindly ate; or the night my friends fell into a lethargic stupor (almost coma) because I gave them an unmanageable burden of carbohydrates and starches, together with hot chocolate; or the time –early in our marrage- when his love for me was tested by my lack of culinary skills and knowledge of biology. I gave him an unidentified item from the ocean, which I didn't thaw well and didn't cook enough in the oven. We ended up eating white, thick, chewy medallions, which gave us a brain freeze every time we bit them because the center was completely frozen.
Despite all these examples to show that cooking is not one of my natural talents, I still think that including people in my culinary adventures is the way to go ... if I wait for my skills to improve, I won’t have guests ever again.
Under the precepts of this philosophy, and T's anguish, we invited H, E and C to dinner. It was the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. That night, I prepared marinated Flank steak. I found the original recipe on the web page of Ree Drumon, "The Pioneer Woman". That day I followed the instructions to the letter. The ingredients I used to make the marinara sauce were:
1/2 cup soy sauce,
1/2 cup cooking sherry,
3 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons sesame oil,
2 tablespoons minced ginger,
3 to 5 cloves garlic, minced and
1/2 teaspoons crushed red pepper.
I mixed them together in a container in which I could fit the piece of meat and let it marinate for 3 hours. That piece of meat was uneven, thick in some areas and thin in others - this is a crucial detail to understand the outcome I got cooking this recipe. I borrowed a grill from a friend, warmed it up, and then cooked each side for five minutes. When the meat was ready, I let it stand for 10 minutes, and cut it against the grain. I did everything the recipe called for. That day I also cooked baked potatoes and a salad as side dishes. At that moment, T came into the kitchen, examined the piece of meat and said: "It's a very small piece, we’ll be hungry." I looked at him with my there-is-nothing-to-do face, I asked my guests to pass to the table, and served.
The conversation was so interesting that nobody, except T, complained how raw the meat was ... it was purple! To maintain the flow of the evening and trying to be good hosts, we gave the more cooked pieces to the guests, while we eat, without intending to, an improvised carpaccio. No one talked about the state of the meat, all pretended as if I was the best cook on the planet. I am convinced, though, that everyone was immensely grateful that it was small piece of meat.
Everyone left after much talk and a nice evening, and T and I were left rubbing a sponge against the grill, trying to get off the burned crusts...and starving!
What went wrong? I think the grill pan I borrowed was not appropriate.
T and I have very different ways of planning events in our home. While it seems to me that involving our friends in my cooking experiments the most natural thing to do, for T using people as "Guinea pigs" and giving them something that is not 100% success guaranteed is unthinkable. It becomes an endless source of anguish and shame for him.
He recites the list of multiple disaster meals that I imposed on unsuspecting guests; unfortunately there is much evidence against my case. He very rarely fails to mention the time I made a lasagna without tomato paste that someone very kindly ate; or the night my friends fell into a lethargic stupor (almost coma) because I gave them an unmanageable burden of carbohydrates and starches, together with hot chocolate; or the time –early in our marrage- when his love for me was tested by my lack of culinary skills and knowledge of biology. I gave him an unidentified item from the ocean, which I didn't thaw well and didn't cook enough in the oven. We ended up eating white, thick, chewy medallions, which gave us a brain freeze every time we bit them because the center was completely frozen.
Despite all these examples to show that cooking is not one of my natural talents, I still think that including people in my culinary adventures is the way to go ... if I wait for my skills to improve, I won’t have guests ever again.
Under the precepts of this philosophy, and T's anguish, we invited H, E and C to dinner. It was the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. That night, I prepared marinated Flank steak. I found the original recipe on the web page of Ree Drumon, "The Pioneer Woman". That day I followed the instructions to the letter. The ingredients I used to make the marinara sauce were:
1/2 cup soy sauce,
1/2 cup cooking sherry,
3 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons sesame oil,
2 tablespoons minced ginger,
3 to 5 cloves garlic, minced and
1/2 teaspoons crushed red pepper.
I mixed them together in a container in which I could fit the piece of meat and let it marinate for 3 hours. That piece of meat was uneven, thick in some areas and thin in others - this is a crucial detail to understand the outcome I got cooking this recipe. I borrowed a grill from a friend, warmed it up, and then cooked each side for five minutes. When the meat was ready, I let it stand for 10 minutes, and cut it against the grain. I did everything the recipe called for. That day I also cooked baked potatoes and a salad as side dishes. At that moment, T came into the kitchen, examined the piece of meat and said: "It's a very small piece, we’ll be hungry." I looked at him with my there-is-nothing-to-do face, I asked my guests to pass to the table, and served.
The conversation was so interesting that nobody, except T, complained how raw the meat was ... it was purple! To maintain the flow of the evening and trying to be good hosts, we gave the more cooked pieces to the guests, while we eat, without intending to, an improvised carpaccio. No one talked about the state of the meat, all pretended as if I was the best cook on the planet. I am convinced, though, that everyone was immensely grateful that it was small piece of meat.
Everyone left after much talk and a nice evening, and T and I were left rubbing a sponge against the grill, trying to get off the burned crusts...and starving!
What went wrong? I think the grill pan I borrowed was not appropriate.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Yogurt with bananas
In Spanish
J tried yogurt for the first time this week. Like everything in his diet, choosing the right yogurt for him was not as simple as going to a supermarket and buying a fruit-flavored, sweetened, and ready-to-eat yogurt. The instructions I gave my husband were "buy plain, whole-milk yogurt” and preferably organic -this last part I kept to myself for fear he would give me “the look”. It is because of things like this that he calls me a "granola girl". Being a working-mom, it would be better if I made more simple decisions about my baby's food and used the available resources that modern life offers ... but no, that’s not me. My motto is: why make it easy if you can make it complicated!
Obviously, J doesn’t always accept my decisions without putting up a fight, after being accustomed to breast milk, which is very sweet, it seemed that the plain yogurt was not worth the effort of getting the second spoonful. So, I had to produce one of my brightest ideas ... yogurt with bananas.
Ingredients:
2 or 3 tablespoons plain and whole milk yogurt
1 / 2 banana
Instructions,
Puree the banana with a fork, throw in the yogurt and mix together.
This very "sophisticated" recipe has several advantages, it controls the amount of sugar, is very easy to prepare, bananas may be replaced with other fruit, and it’s not only tasty for him, it was delicious also for me. But the best of all is that you can prepare it with just one hand. I have realized since my baby was born that part of a mom’s description is ... creature that doesn’t have a sufficient number of hands.
J tried yogurt for the first time this week. Like everything in his diet, choosing the right yogurt for him was not as simple as going to a supermarket and buying a fruit-flavored, sweetened, and ready-to-eat yogurt. The instructions I gave my husband were "buy plain, whole-milk yogurt” and preferably organic -this last part I kept to myself for fear he would give me “the look”. It is because of things like this that he calls me a "granola girl". Being a working-mom, it would be better if I made more simple decisions about my baby's food and used the available resources that modern life offers ... but no, that’s not me. My motto is: why make it easy if you can make it complicated!
Obviously, J doesn’t always accept my decisions without putting up a fight, after being accustomed to breast milk, which is very sweet, it seemed that the plain yogurt was not worth the effort of getting the second spoonful. So, I had to produce one of my brightest ideas ... yogurt with bananas.
Ingredients:
2 or 3 tablespoons plain and whole milk yogurt
1 / 2 banana
Instructions,
Puree the banana with a fork, throw in the yogurt and mix together.
This very "sophisticated" recipe has several advantages, it controls the amount of sugar, is very easy to prepare, bananas may be replaced with other fruit, and it’s not only tasty for him, it was delicious also for me. But the best of all is that you can prepare it with just one hand. I have realized since my baby was born that part of a mom’s description is ... creature that doesn’t have a sufficient number of hands.
Chili con Carne
This recipe is as easy and as fast as you want to make it. We originally got it from a magazine, but forgot the original instructions before we finished reading them. Where we are from you eat rice with beans, but other places seem to conceive of bread or crackers as the adequate companion to chili. Here is what you need for the basic recipe and then what we do.
1 lb ground lean beef (96/4 is the best)
1 can diced tomatoes
1 bell pepper
1 medium size onion (or assortment of various onions)
1 (more or less) chile (manzano, roccotto, habanero, you choose) (optional)
1 or 2 garlic cloves
½ lb black or pinto beans (or a can or two if you are a wimp)
Salt, Pepper, Worcester sauce, Soy sauce, vinegar of any type (although balsamic is good because it is sweet), and, most importantly, cumin.
In a large sauté pan brown the ground beef. If you are using really lean beef it will look quite dry, but if your beef has a lot of fat you might want to strain it from the pan. As you are cooking the meat take a large bowl and start mixing in the liquids. We have not set proportion here, but we always start with Worcester sauce (I’ll try to measure next time) then we add a little soy sauce, vinegar, and if we have it some red wine. Once you have about a third of the bowl full stop and add the cumin. Start with only a teaspoon and see if you need more later. You can also add black pepper. Balsamic vinegar is sweet and will give your Chili a nice contrasting taste.
Once the meet is brown, put it in the bowl with the liquid, mix it around and then forget about it for a while.
Dice onion and bell pepper. Some people like them diced small, but we prefer big chunky pieces. Garlic we chop into oblivion. Clean the sauté pan and then put it back on the burner with some canola oil. Once it’s hot, sauté the onions and peppers for a few minutes, then put in the garlic and chili. Two or three more minutes and you can add the tomatoes and beans. We sometimes include frozen or canned corn just for color. Simmer at medium low for ten to twenty minutes and you’re done!
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