Smoked Tomato and Fennel Cocktail Sauce & Totally Naked

This weekend was kind of a bummer.  The glorious Fall that Chicago had just started to enjoy took a hit with some temperatures in the lower forties.  Like 42 degrees.  Yeah.  In case you're keeping track, that's only 10 degrees above freezing and it's the first week of October.  My reaction was to complain (A LOT) and then, as I do every year at the first sign of cold, go into complete panic mode and barbecue and smoke every possible item in our fridge and freezer because I know the days of outdoor cooking are quickly dwindling.   Sarah (the Californian aka the person who grew up with the ability to barbecue year round) always laughs at me and equates my behavior to a squirrel storing nuts.  Not the manliest of comparisons but if it means she'll cheerfully eat smoked apples in a pie (as she gamely did last year), I'll take the hit.  

Smoked Brisket Benedict & White Oak Jai Alai

Two very exciting things happened this week.  The first was that I had some distinguished beer guests visit from Denmark.  I'll keep their identities under wraps for now but if you know anything about the craft beer world, you probably guessed at the mention of "distinguished" and "beer" and "Denmark" … and you're probably damned impressed!  I know I was!  I'd promised them a barbecue feast and in my unbridled enthusiasm procured a slightly enormous, fifteen pound brisket.  Of course fifteen pounds is far more than any four men could consume in one sitting (even hungry ones and even those of hearty viking descent) but I was excited and thus went a tad overboard.  So, home came the mighty piece of meat were it smoked for a solid twelve hours and was shared with my new friends alongside baked beans, good camaraderie and whiskey sours.  It was a terrific afternoon that I felt truly privileged to host and though we got through a respectable amount of the meat, at meal's end there was plenty left over.

Beer Pickles: A Bonus Post

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I'm a big fan of fat.  Fat from meat, that is.  It's the stuff that makes a sausage a sausage and it's what distinguishes a 'meh' steak from one that is extraordinary.  Fans of the boneless, skinless chicken breast irk me and frankly I think they're kidding themselves when they allege that their fatless, boring breasts have as much flavor as those with the skin intact.  And I would argue that across the board discerning carnivores agree.  There's a reason bacon holds strong as one of America's favorite foods and that delicacies like patés and terrines are so beloved … it's because fat is amazing!

The Purist's Burger & Anchor Steam

And so we've arrived … the first burger post!  If you take burgers as seriously as I do, this is kind of a big deal.  What can one say about the burger?  They are beloved in America and perhaps one of the few foods we can rightfully claim as our own.  They aren't the fanciest of foods but they are inarguably some of the most satisfying.  Their ingredients are humble - meat, cheese, bread - but somehow together these modest components equate to a kind of culinary magic.  Biting into a good burger is quite literally food for the soul. 

Texas Cherry Sour, Kansas City Belgian Quad and Farmhouse Ale Alabama White: An Ode to Barbecue Sauce

Back in the early 2000s I was a young (ish) chef touring with Hell's Kitchen, a catering company that cooked for bands and musical acts on their road tours.  It was a rowdy time defined by extreme hours, crazy cooking conditions - and even crazier musicians - great music and a general sense of wildness.  What can I say … it was rock and roll!  Tours typically involved coast-to-coast travel which meant I had the unique opportunity to see and experience most of the USA by tour bus.  In 2005 I was out with the heavy metal band Slipknot who had a show booked in Kansas City.  We had already been through much of the South including Oklahoma and Texas where I'd become pretty much obsessed with barbecue so anticipating the famous sweet and tangy slow smoked meats of Kansas City had me pretty excited.

Some of the more seasoned roadies had raved about Arthur Bryant's so at precisely 10am that's where I found myself (*note: generally the thought of barbecue as breakfast isn't so appealing but when you're cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for a bunch of musicians with erratic eating schedules, you eat when you can).   How can I describe Arthur Bryant's?  Brick facade, a rusty awning and signage that looks original.  It is a humble establishment with a simple, no nonsense ordering counter, artificial lighting and well worn formica tables.   It has the assured attitude I have since witnessed in many of the other great barbecue joints … we don't have to be pretty because our meat is AMAZING!  This is true and frankly I find something comforting about a restaurant who has eschewed aesthetics in favor of the devotion to making great food.

I ordered the largest portion of burt ends they offered and sat for over an hour, leisurely enjoying the perfect bark (the char) and the thick, sweet molasses, tomato-y sauce they are so famous for.  It was a meal to remember and an experience all carnivores should have at least once in their lifetimes.  To this day, I count that sauce as some of the best I've ever had.

Roasted Artichoke Hearts and Fingerling Potatoes with Oregano Pistou & Eliot Ness

Almost 10 years ago I made my very first trip out to the wilds of Redwood Valley, California to meet Sarah's family.  Our relationship was in its fledgling stages and I was determined to make a good - no great - first impression!  Two days in things were going well and I, buoyed by this success, volunteered to make dinner.  Steve, Sarah's Dad, has an incredible heirloom vegetable garden that I had been itching to cook from and so I proposed a meal centered around what we could abundantly harvest from it.  "Do you like artichokes? I have lots of beautiful artichokes!" Steve offered cheerfully.  Sure!  I loved artichokes.   The only problematic part was that I had zero clue as to what an artichoke plant looked like.  Yep, embarrassing as it may be, after nearly a decade spent cooking in professional kitchens, I had yet to encounter an artichoke in its natural habitat.  So is the fate of some young city chefs.  I certainly wasn't going to let Steve know that, though!  So, eager to impress and with vegetable clippers in hand, I marched out to the garden hell bent on returning with artichokes.

Vanilla Bean and Sea Salt Beignets with Ginger Peach Compote & Cross of Gold Golden Ale

Last week I bought a crate - yes, an entire crate - of peaches from the farmers market.  It was an impulse buy ignited by the fact that we arrived late to the market and all I could seem to notice were other market goers happily strolling by, their fine peaches already claimed and brimming over the tops of their shopping bags.    Also, because Sarah had just purchased a beautiful looking peach and brown butter crepe, which she refused to share (but let me smell) and then proceeded to sit and leisurely eat while I sweated it out in the peach stand line alone.  So much for farmer's market solidarity.

So, determined to make my own, better, more delicious peach crepe (take that Sarah) we ended up wrestling an entire crate of plump Red Havens home on the El.  I ate one en route and we donated two to the homeless and very boisterous gentlewoman who frequents our block.  Still there wasn't enough room in the fridge to house them all.  We had peach smoothies for breakfast three days in a row, grilled a bunch with pork chops, tossed them in arugula salads and froze some more for future smoothies.  By Monday there were, amazingly, only five left and I had them slated for a dessert.