free variable

I had been interested in making Canadian bacon from a recipe in the brine chapter of Michael Ruhlman’s excellent Ratio, but I’d not been able to source the necessary sodium nitrite locally and was waiting to order it. I guess it’s a good thing I waited, because sodium nitrite is apparently staggeringly toxic: less than a teaspoon is enough to kill an adult, and even the small amounts that make it in to food are implicated in all sorts of other ugliness. It seems like a pretty dumb thing to keep in a house with little kids and a dog whose affinity for the inedible borders on caprine.

I’m far from a food-snob crusader, but I don’t really eat a lot of processed meat (by choice), and reading about one of the main preservatives in processed meats didn’t do much to make me feel bad about that.

You might assume that the brief Wikipedia article on sodium nitrite would be the most horrifying salt-related thing one could read today, but then you would be wrong. Reason editor Katherine Mangu-Ward points out that a bill currently before the New York state assembly would prohibit the use of good old NaCL (and possibly also baking soda — it’s not particularly specific) in food prepared by restaurants. The bill, summarized as “An act to amend the general business law, in relation to prohibiting the use of salt in the preparation of food by restaurants,” begins as follows (typewriter shouting in original):

NO OWNER OR OPERATOR OF A RESTAURANT IN THIS STATE SHALL USE SALT IN ANY FORM IN THE PREPARATION OF ANY FOOD FOR CONSUMPTION BY CUSTOMERS OF SUCH RESTAURANT, INCLUDING FOOD PREPARED TO BE CONSUMED ON THE PREMISES OF SUCH RESTAURANT OR OFF OF SUCH PREMISES.

It goes on to propose a $1000 fine for each violation, noting that “EACH USE OF SALT … SHALL CONSTITUTE A SEPARATE VIOLATION”¹ and that injunctions to prevent further violations would not “REQUIR[E] PROOF THAT ANY PERSON HAS, IN FACT, BEEN INJURED OR DAMAGED” by the addition of salt to their food. (Fictional New York resident Gene Hofstadt clearly disapproves of such a display of state-sanctioned violence to palates.)

Apparently, one can become a state lawmaker in New York without ever having prepared food. I will avoid the facile cliché of wondering aloud whether there are more pressing matters facing the New York State Assembly, or of whether legislators are capable of identifying limits to the scope of law. I do wonder, though, what foods Assemblypersons Ortiz and Perry eat on their own time, and whether or not either owns a substantial interest in Mrs. Dash.

¹ This language is a fine example of imprecise legislative nonsense. Surely it means “each act of applying salt…shall constitute a separate violation,” but I can’t help picturing the food crimes unit of the NYPD busting chefs once for separate uses of salt, e.g., to kosher meats, to increase the boiling point of water, and to take the edge off of spicy heat.

This post combines two vices for your convenience: posting photos, and posting about food. Here are two things I made (and, much to Andrea’s chagrin, shot) today. Click on the pictures for larger versions (and ultra-nerdy lighting details).

The pork has a dry rub and is smoked for two hours with cherry before finishing in the oven for about another two hours. I got the recipe from Best Grilling Recipes: More Than 100 Regional Favorites Tested and Perfected for the Outdoor Cook, a fascinating and rigorous cookbook that covers a spectrum of choices for most of the interesting variables in classic regional recipes, explaining what works and what doesn’t.

I hope all my compatriots have had a a very happy Independence Day.

In the past few weeks, Andrea and I have been ensnared by two furtive attempts to introduce natural-but-fake-tasting banana flavor into our yogurt: namely, the “Vanana” and “Banilla” flavors. (Blame Trader Joe for the former and Stonyfield for the latter.) Seriously, there should be a warning label on this kind of thing.

An infamous regular correspondent of this site has long advocated combining beer and cake. If you’re not already revolted by the very prospect, you may appreciate a new recipe I’ve devised for when one is interested in this combination but no cake is available:

A longtime gas grill advocate gets a charcoal smoker, and just look at that chicken. Yikes.

This pan-fried chicken recipe from Kevin Weeks is pretty close to the way I’ve made it in the past. It’s always turned out pretty well, but I haven’t tried making it since we switched from a gas stovetop to electric. As a consequence, I’m comfortable endorsing Weeks’ well-written piece even though I haven’t followed his instructions myself.

If I were making the rules, merely writing copy like “hearty nooks and tasty crannies” would be enough to disqualify one from ever working in marketing again. (Think about it for a second.) However, this packaging did make me think of This is Spinal Tap; in particular, the reviewer who indicated that the group “continue to fill a much needed void.”

Perhaps you’re familiar with the sort of “natural” or “organic” peanut butter that comes packaged as a brick of peanut paste with a layer of peanut oil on top. This stuff tastes great, but it can dry out by the time it’s about half-gone, especially if you don’t devote plenty of time to the initial stir. I’ve recently had good luck restoring organic peanut butter that has reached this state by stirring in about a tablespoon of sesame oil.

John Wiseman has a great post on egg grading that I’ve been meaning to link to. He quotes the USDA Egg-Grading Manual:

For many years, consumers in some areas of the country have preferred white eggs, believing, perhaps, that the quality is better than that of brown eggs. In other areas, consumers have preferred brown eggs, believing they have greater food value. These opinions do not have any basis in fact, but it is recognized that brown eggs are more difficult to classify as to interior quality than are white eggs.

Can you guess which “areas of the country” are which? I have a pretty good idea, I think. Personally, I prefer brown eggs, but not because of any perceived food value (although, perhaps notably, the grocery store brand cage-free eggs are only available in brown) — it’s just easier to see when you’ve dropped a piece of brown shell in the bowl.

I think that this speaks for itself.

Spotted at Copps Grocery, Madison, WI

File this one under “you know Coke™ With Lime is successful when….”

(To answer the inevitable questions: No, it’s not very good, and yes, it is a stretch to file this under “Food.”)

I’m currently listening to Cherry from the album “Ratatat” by Ratatat

If you have a Falstaffian appetite for pancakes, then you should eat some Falstaff pancakes; below please find a recipe in handy snip-and-save format. (Good things to add to this recipe include: pecans, mashed bananas, chocolate chips, and frozen blueberries)

I quietly posted my 500th blog entry last week, which was a b-side link to this absurd knife block. A more heartwarming blog-related milestone would relate to suppression — rather than propagation — of worthless content, and I’m happy to provide one of those as well: the spam-deletion plugin has nuked over 3700 spam comments since I installed it three weeks ago. Take that, “online texas holdem,” “milf viagra,” and “tramadol!” Now all I need is a decent way to rid the site of “referer” [sic] spam. (Honestly, I don’t even know what some of the words in these referring site addresses mean, but they can’t be good.)

I turned the annual odometer over this weekend, and we had a great party. I’ve been going “lower effort” on birthday food since the “individual pizza” fiasco of 2001, in which I was manning the grill until about 11 pm. This year, I sponsored a “brat fry” in an effort to capitalize on Wisconsin-kitsch local color and minimize the amount of time I would have to spend preparing food. (Thanks to Allison and Tiffany for each bringing delightful cakes!)

I remembered that I had planned to publish some burger recipes last year (when we threw a hamburger-themed party); since I didn’t do it then, a favorite is below, in handy snip-and-save format.

Awesome (or “awe-something”) knife block

Q. What’s the best part about being stuck in a building with 535 whores?

A. The soup is fantastic.

Although I hate legislators, I really love their signature food item, which I first ate in the Senate cafeteria as a kid shortly after my family moved to suburban D.C.

Senate Bean Soup is delicious and absurdly easy to prepare. Andrea and I made about ten quarts of it tonight; the total interaction time required was dominated by putting the soup in plastic containers after it was done.

We had Tiffany and Josh over for dinner last night. In keeping with resolution 4, I tried to prepare interesting food — and, to cast myself against type, I tried to have everything ready when they arrived. I think I succeeded on all counts.

I made one of my favorite all-Joy of Cooking menus: penne alla vodka, milk-braised pork, and sautéed broccoli with chile peppers and garlic. (Some readers will be happy to know that I managed to avoid the disaster that occurred the last time I prepared this menu.) This is a great menu of simple dishes with subtle flavors — the pork takes about three hours, but everything else cooks in under twenty minutes. If you don’t have the Joy of Cooking handy, try this pork recipe, this penne alla vodka recipe (perhaps add some diced onion or shredded basil), and use your imagination for the broccoli.

I had planned to post some food photos, but none of the shots I got last night turned out particularly well. If food photography is unappetizing, what good is it? Fortunately, Tiffany brought challah, which was tasty and photogenic. (They also brought, but did not photograph, tasty cookies.)

I made a German chocolate cake tonight for some shindig that Andrea is throwing down tomorrow; here’s a grainy picture:

Clearly, my icing skills still need some work. (The state of my icing/glazing ability is a particular thorn in my side when making Sachertorte.) The Joy of Cooking informs me that German chocolate cake has nothing to do with the much-maligned northern European nation; rather, it is an American dessert named after a confectioner named German. His primary claim to fame in his day was sweetened baking chocolate; now, I guess it would be that chocolate’s application in the eponymous cake.

The etymological trivia was news to me, but it wouldn’t have been had I found the recipe on the internet instead of using a physical cookbook like a Luddite. Googling for “german chocolate” will produce a massive queue of sites virtually tripping over each other to explain breathlessly that the German chocolate cake is not Teutonic in the least; some “German culture” sites even argue that the dessert should really be called “German’s chocolate cake.”

I wonder if you can order a slice of German chocolate cake in Berlin? (Almost certainly, one could do so at the Hard Rock Café — “when in Germany,” right?) I can only remember three meals from my weekend in Berlin some years ago: an utterly inferior Döner Kebab, a small ice-cream cake purchased from a grocery store, and an absurdly overpriced sandwich at some pseudo-Brazilian-steakhouse. I do remember that Andrea and I, while on our way to a performance of Götterdämmerung, witnessed a man on the U-Bahn snorting some powder from a cigarette paper and then obsessively licking it clean. (That’s not the end of that story, unfortunately, but that’s where it ends for now.)

I’m currently listening to Superstition from the album “Talking Book” by Stevie Wonder