Rooftop Gourmet

Before I start, I just want to clarify that I will not be roasting any men from Poland in this blog. Pollock is actually a species of marine fish, local to New England and especially abundant this time of year. It looks like a sunburnt piece of cod, and maintains a similar texture, however the flavor is much stronger and oilier. When I spotted a mass of these pink beauties (ironically just in time for the tail end of Breast Cancer month) at the fish counter, I grabbed a bunch because they were on sale for only $4.49/pound!

Now typically whenever I see the words, “fish on sale”, I run in the opposite direction but in this case, the entire display window was bombarded with Pollock, meaning that there must have been a huge catch as opposed to a lack of sales. Just because the temperature is dropping and the days are getting shorter doesn’t mean that we stop eating fish in my house. Nothing compares to a light, simply prepared piece of seafood on the roofdeck under the steamy summer sun, washed down with a crisp, Sauvignon Blanc, but that doesn’t stop us from avoiding the ocean all together.

Pollock is the perfect fish to prepare with rich, hearty ingredients because it is much stronger in flavor than most white fish and it can certainly carry its own weight. I actually left the market with a handful of nutritious ingredients and a sub $20.00 receipt which was exciting for my stomach and my bank account. Who said eating healthy was so expensive? I got back to my kitchen and started braising some giant leaves of dark, dinosaur Kale in garlic, white wine, and vegetable broth. Kale is a leafy vegetable that is known to have powerful antioxidant properties.

It is full of vitamins and tastes great when it is slow cooked and tender. Halfway through my quick braise, I tossed in a can of black eyed peas, making my side dish quite Fergie-liscious. In fact, black eyed peas are not peas at all. Rather, they are a type of bean that has a distinct beauty mark with a taste and texture similar to a white bean. The BEP’s absorbed the flavors of the kale and broth, packing them with rich flavor.

 In the meantime, I started creating my own version of a classic Italian gremolata, intended to give this dull, wintery dish a little Boom-Shak-a-Laka. Traditional gremolata is a combination of garlic, anchovy, parsley, and lemon zest, ground together in a mortar and pestle and sprinkled on top of hearty braises such as Osso Bucco to give it some freshness and life.

The fresh herbs and essential oils in the citrus make your tastebuds pop and add a bigtime level of complexity to any dish. I made my spin on gremolata by mincing the garlic with white anchovies and tons of fresh tarragon.

I then sliced the skins off of a ripe tangerine, carefully removing the white pith with my knife.

The pith is bitter and needs to be removed, leaving you with a bright Crayola orange skin.

 You certainly don’t need to get a manicure before this step like I did.

Begin mincing the skins of the tangerine and blend the pieces into the gremolata. Add a few glugs of good extra virgin olive oil and season to taste.

The longer the gremolata sits on the counter, the more the fresh anise flavors of the tarragon, the spicy, pungent raw garlic, and zippy tangerine flavors meld together.

I patted one side of my fish bone dry with a paper towel to ensure a crispy, dark crust and seared it in a screaming hot pan. This is when I season my fish with sea salt and fresh cracked black pepper, listening to it sizzle in the lightly oiled skillet. After a few minutes, I throw the entire pan into a 350 degree oven to finish cooking throughout, without flipping it.

I don’t like to flip my fish. It ensures that one side is crispy, the middle is moist, and leaves no room for error when messing around with spatulas and tongs. I’ve ruined hundreds of presentations in the past trying to move my fish around too much, and leaving my pan scattered with flaky wafers of overcooked junk.

 I plated my Pollock atop the mound of braised Kale and scattered black eyed peas, topping it with a spoonful of the sassy gremolata. I opened a bottle of the 2009 Pieropan Soave from the Veneto region of Italy.

Years ago, Soave was one of the best, and highly acclaimed wines in all of Italy before the land in Verona was trampled and destroyed in battle. The crops were ruined, but over time have now made a comeback, producing some fantastic value whites in the market today. The wine has a beach blonde hue to it and aromas of lemon wedges, pineapple chunks, and surprisingly some extra virgin olive oil. It is quite fat and round on the palate, offering oily smooth texture, grapefruit and lemon flavors, and a toasted almond finish.

This full-bodied white is a perfect match for the dense Pollock and the striking acidity complimented the dark greens. Even though it was pitch black at dinner time, and the fireplace was roaring in the living room, this healthy seafood dish hit the spot on a bone chilling Autumn night.

Creating a new chicken dish seems as simple as placing the name of a specific liqueur, ingredient, or a fancy name for a country infront of the word, “chicken”. We have Chicken Marsala, Chicken Parmigiano, Chicken Francaise, Chicken Cacciatore, Chicken Kiev, Chicken Picatta, and the list goes on and on. Are chicken recipes really the most boring sounding recipes in the world of food? I fell into the repetitive trap and created a chicken roulade dish around the radioactive-looking Italian liqueur called Galliano.

Galliano is a sweet, herbal liqueur that was created in 1896 in Livorno, Tuscany. The bright, neon yellow spirit is named after Giuseppe Galliano, an Italian war hero, and the vibrant color represents the gold rushes of the 1890′s. This liqueur takes the typical anise flavored drink to the next level. It is created by blending over thirty different herbs and spices native to Italy and other parts of the world.

Anise, juniper, ginger, lavender, peppermint, cinnamon, and vanilla are just a few of the ingredients that compose this aromatic digestif. The most prominent flavors that I can detect are the anise and the vanilla which pose for great enhancements to a delicious sauce. I started off by pounding down some boneless, free-range chicken breasts into paper thin cutlets.

I softened some pungent goat cheese and infused it with a handful of freshly chopped herbs (rosemary, thyme, and oregano).

The herbed goat cheese mixture was then evenly spread on top of the chicken, followed by a slice of salty Prosciutto. It was a good thing that I bought some extra Prosciutto because a few of the slabs mysteriously melted away on my tongue as I was layering the roulades.

I rolled the cutlets into tight little cylinders and tied them off with some butcher’s twine. I dusted and seasoned the chicken before searing them on all sides in a large dutch oven. I was going for a dark, crispy exterior and a moist, succulent inside, where the chicken could cook quickly enough without allowing the goat cheese to melt and ooze.

I sauteed the roulades along with some sliced mini portobello mushrooms until the chicken was cooked through. I then removed the chicken from the pot and deglazed it with the bright yellow Galliano. As soon as the luminous liqueur hit the scalding pot the aromatics came to life. The alcohol quickly reduced as the flavors of herbs and spices intensified. I mixed in some chicken broth and a touch of butter to finish the sauce that was then spooned over the sliced spirals of chicken, Prosciutto, and herbed goat cheese.

Along side of the Chicken Galliano, I served a handful of sauteed baby arugula with toasted garlic. The garlicky, bitter greens were a great contrast to the sweet and silky sauce.

I opened a bottle of 2005 Le Piane Colline Novaresi which is a small production red from northern Italy, comprised of the long lost Bonarda grape. Bonarda is a varietal that was once exclusive to Piedmont but is now grown throughout South America.

The medium bodied wine is somewhat similar to a Barbera but has the distinctive earthy qualities that great Nebbiolo possesses. Low in alcohol, and high in acidity, this red has tons of character and components that make it a great food friendly wine. The dried cherries and tobacco nose followed by the crisp finish made this unique red a great match for the Chicken Galliano. The vanilla in the liqueur-laced sauce married with the richness in the wine.

As typical as this chicken dish turned out, the surprising twist of flavors by using Galliano instead of Marsala  was a supreme treat. Next time you time travel back to the 70′s, hold off on your third Golden Sombrero and use the leftover Galliano in your chicken dinner.

Unfortunately the judges didn’t select my pizza blog (challenge #5) as a winner, so my Project Food Blog adventure is officially over. Thank you everyone for voting and supporting me from 2,000 blogs down to only 72. If you guys know me and my competitive nature, you probably realize how hard this was to swallow. Oh well… life goes on and Rooftop Gourmet will continue to produce weekly recipes and wine pairings as it did before the contest. I had prepared my next challenge before I heard the bad news so I figured that I’d post it anyway.

Challenge #6: Road Trip

Challenge Prompt: For this challenge, you’re tasked with creating a delicious meal that will travel well and still look great. From picnics and school lunches to bento boxes, or any other meal on the go, you need to whip up a entree, side, drink, and dessert to enjoy after hitting the road. Be sure that your meal fits inside the Project Food Blog Road Trip Cooler.

Talk about throwing me head first back into my comfort zone! Mobile food is right up my alley, especially when served in a concrete jungle outside Foxboro Stadium. I feel as though I have perfected my parking lot etiquette and risen to the next level of tailgating. Unfortunately, my beloved Patriots were across country this weekend battling the San Diego Chargers, which forced me to move my pigskin picnic up to my spacious roofdeck.

I love tailgating because it serves as a male bonding, guilt-free, social event where guzzling beers, belching, and stuffing our faces is completely acceptable. Now that I’m twenty-eight years old, you would think that the dynamics would change quite a bit because my good friend Mark brought his five month old daughter Bria to the party, but trust me, we didn’t skip a beat. Bria was just hanging out like she was one of the guys. We did have to change a few diapers along the way, but if you knew my friends, this wasn’t too bad compared to our college tailgating festivities.

I was a little bummed out that Tom couldn’t make it to the picnic but I understood that he had work to do on the West coast.

Keeping with the football theme, I chose to create my entire portable menu around the pigskin, or the pig itself.

I have to admit that my swine worship has officially been taken to the next level, and I am banned from bringing home any more pig paraphernalia until said otherwise.

 My main course is a Tuscan, road-side treat that is traditionally sold out of a wagon, or throw-back food truck, deep in the heart of Italy. Porchetta is a culinary tradition of slow roasting a heavily seasoned, whole pig for hours and serving it sliced into savory sandwiches.

The juicy, slabs of pork melt in your mouth and appear frequently during holiday celebrations or outdoor festivals. Think of the porchetta man as the European version of an ice cream truck rolling into the parking lot, interrupting your child’s little league game, and selling thousands of Dora The Explorer Popsicles.

I threw a million cloves of garlic, rosemary, sage, fennel seed, salt and pepper into the food processor and pulsed together a paste in which I massaged thoroughly into my massive Berkshire pork loin.

 I let the flavors marinate overnight before I slow-roasted the loin in a two hundred degree oven. Once the internal temperature of the pork reached around 145 degrees, I pulled it and let it rest (continue cooking). One thing that I can’t stand is the phrase, “the other white meat”. Pork is not white and it has been humiliated in the past by comparing it to chicken. Especially when you know where your pig comes from, do not overcook it!

Americans don’t need to continue slathering Mott’s Applesauce all over their entrees in order to make it swallow-able.

I thinly sliced my pig and layered it on top of a chewy baguette, adorning it with a classic Tonnato sauce. Tonnato is a tuna flavored mayonnaise that usually compliments cold slices of veal in an antipasto setting.

I made mine by combining Italian tonno (preserved in olive oil), anchovies, capers, homemade mayonnaise, and a splash of Tabasco.

The “hoagie” was capitalized with some thinly sliced fennel, pickled red onion, and a handful of fresh watercress. The fresh, juicy apple flavors in the crisp watercress and the subtle licorice nuances in the fennel made the tender pork melt in your mouth.

The submarines quickly disappeared leaving our suds-soaked stomachs craving something salty. When I mentioned that this was going to be a pigskin picnic, I wasn’t lying. I made homemade, black pepper bombed, pork rinds by drying out the actual skin of the Berkshire pig.

I had to trim off most of the fat (which I saved for later use) and very slowly crisped up the skins in a 150 degree oven for three hours. Three magical hours of dancing around my condo with a pig’s snout, sniffing the magical aromas of melting pork fat to be exact.

Once the skins were dark and crunchy, I tossed them in sea salt and tons of cracked black pepper, preparing them for the picnic. A tailgate without beer is like a Bar Mitzvah without Manischewitz.

I loaded my Project Food Blog Cooler with multiple cans of Pork Slap Ale; a canned craft brew sporting two naked pigs, ceremoniously belly bumping in mid air on the label.

 I put the bacon-ized twist on my beverage by rimming my pint glass with a hickory-smoked sea salt. The smoky, salty flavor encouraged us to suck down a few extra Pork Slaps at a collegiate pace.

 The amber colored ale is perfumed with caramel and breakfast cereal, while the flavor is dense with yeasty vanilla notes. Needless to say, it got the job done to lubricate our football minds and excite us for the long anticipated dessert.

I have a hard time enjoying, and endorsing desserts due to my lack of sweet teeth, but when bacon is involved, it’s a different story. This one bite, taste of heaven was something that I could actually be proud of. A flourless, chocolate cake resembling a dense fudge, receiving a drooling of homemade caramel, and a sprinkle of crispy bacon bits. The combination of rich, creamy chocolate and salty bacon was something that we all weren’t prepared for. The duet was mind blowing like Brady & Moss before we traded the bacon for a third round draft pick. 

Challenge #5: Recipe Remix

Challenge Prompt: One recipe, 72 variations! We’re challenging each of you to put your own spin on the same recipe. How you do it is up to you. Will you try out some molecular gastronomy techniques? Share a super-secret trick? Or re-envision the dish from a different perspective? You’ll be asked to put your own spin on Pizza. For the purpose of this contest and challenge, we are defining pizza as having a solid base, a sauce and at least one topping.

Welcome to America; where fast food chains are searching for new ways to pump out larger portions at even faster rates. Grab-n-go meals cater to our fast-paced society, making it convenient for those who don’t have the time to wait for something to actually cook. Pizza chains compete with each other, seeing who can deliver your pie the quickest. They always forget my freakin’ pepperoni but who cares… 32 minutes and it’s FREE! What’s next… a SpeedPass for your local drive-thru window? 

In 1986, a man named Carlo Petrini founded the Slow Food Movement as a way to protest the opening of a McDonalds near the Spanish Steps in Rome.

This international organization not only begs us to turn down our ovens, but to also fully support local farmers, and promote nutrition. The impact that Slow Food has on the world is nutritional, economical, cultural and clearly monumental.

They are solving problems by raising taste awareness and stressing the importance of “field to fork” communities. By understanding where our food comes from, how it was produced, and by whom, people can appreciate the cultural and social importance of food.

When I discovered that pizza was going to be the common denominator in this challenge, I made an effort to take the fast food aspect out of the equation.

I’ve been known to inhale a few slices of late night Domino’s in my day, and if you asked me what it tasted like… I probably couldn’t tell you. For that very reason, I introduce to you the Patience Pizza! A culinary frisbee, loaded with local ingredients that were carefully and thoughtfully cooked at a tortoise’s pace in order maximize flavor.

I started off by making a homemade, whole wheat dough speckled with fresh herbs. The nutritional crust contains more valuable carbohydrates than regular pizza dough and the aromatics were snipped from my roof deck herb garden (it doesn’t get more local than that).

 The scent of the activated yeast reminded me of driving by the old Wonderbread factory in Natick, making dinner rolls in Home Ec. class, and the nose of a full bodied Champagne. I kneaded the dough until my forearms were mush and patiently waited while it doubled in size.

In the meantime, I prepared my local, grass-fed beef short ribs for braising. 

I seared off my meat and slowly layered my ingredients into a dutch oven. Classic mirepoix, tomato paste, and of course two bottles of hearty red glugged into the pot and sat there, simmering away for an hour to reduce and concentrate the flavors.

Once I was happy with the braising liquid, I reintroduced the short ribs to the pot and popped them into a 325 degree oven; the same oven that contained a vampires worst nightmare. Earlier, I decapitated a dozen heads of garlic, revealing a cross-section of the bulbous cloves and roasted them whole.

The once pungent garlic slowly caramelized and became sweet and mushy. On the stovetop, I casually sweated out some thinly sliced onions, watching them gradually darken with color.

At first they made me cry like I was watching an episode of Extreme Home Makeover, but after an hour they made my taste buds drool over the dark, candied appearance. When the short ribs were melt-in-your-mouth tender, it was time to assemble my Patience Pizza.

I rolled out my room temperature dough as thin as I possibly could and spread a layer of creamy Mascarpone cheese over the base.

I zested three whole lemons on top of the Italian cream cheese, which I feel was hands down the most important component of this dish.

With all of these rich, slow-cooked flavors melding together, the pizza desperately needed something to liven it up.

The fresh, zippy, lemon zest awakened each ingredient and brought the individual flavors to life. I then carefully placed the sliced short ribs, whole cloves of roasted garlic, and stringy, caramelized onions all over the disc. I chose a rather nontraditional pizza cheese that would compliment the slow cooked toppings by adding a funky aroma, but ceasing to overpower the flavors with its mild taste.

Robiola is a soft, creamy, Italian cheese that best resembles a French Brie.

The tame flavors melt extremely well, and present the picturesque stringy goo when two slices are separated from one another.

After only a few minutes on the red hot pizza stone, the crust was crispy and flaky. I drizzled the pizza with a reduction of the red wine braising liquid which seemed to rejuvenate the chunks of beefy, short ribs.

 A sprinkle of fresh parsley and this work of art was ready to be devoured. I uncorked a bottle of the 2006 Elio Grasso Vigna Martina Barbera d”Alba for both its striking acidity, and its concentrated fruit.

Barbera is the wine that Italians drink while they’re waiting for their Barolo to age. It is meant to be enjoyed young and fresh, because the tannins aren’t as gripping as its big brother, Nebbiolo-based, counterparts.

The Elio Grasso is perfumed with red licorice and spice, while the medium bodied wine, is full of cranberry and bing cherry gastrique flavors.

The youthfulness of the of the fruit and bright acidity was a great contrast to the slow-cooked, bulky flavors in the pizza. Each and every bite was greatly appreciated because it reminded me of the time and attentiveness that was spent creating this pizza.

Unlike its fast food competitors, the Patience Pizza was thoughtful, sustainable, and incredibly recession-friendly. By turning down your oven, and buying inexpensive cuts of meat, it’s a beneficial way to feed your family for a week, all for the price of two large pizzas. Items such as short ribs, pork shoulder, and brisket, can be slow cooked, to yield an insane amount of meat. Instead of wasting your money on cellulite-inducing value meals, put some effort into your dinner and teach your family how to eat slow food…. now that’s Amore!!!

 Gourmet Southern Surf & Turf: Blue Cornmeal Fried Oyster, White Truffle Aioli, Steak Tartare

Challenge #4: Picture Perfect

Challenge Prompt: Sure, you can take a pretty picture. But your task here is to go above and beyond and use photography to create a step-by-step, instructional photo tutorial. It could be anything from how to bone a chicken to how to make your favorite recipe, but your photos need to guide the reader through the steps.

If I was a betting man, I’d say that you’re more likely to find a pearl in an oyster than an oyster lover who shucks their own mollusks. These slurp-sized aphrodisiacs are enjoyed on the halfshell all over the globe but very rarely consumed in your own home. Whether it’s the intimidating, calcerious shell or the fear of losing a digit, oysters remain as the leading restaurant-only delicacy. For this photography challenge, I chose to exemplify how simple shucking an oyster can be. Purists believe that an oyster is best when eaten raw, and I wholeheartedly agree, but how creative is that? It was a cold and rainy day in Boston, so I put on my thinking cap and transported myself to the South. I envisioned a backwards Surf & Turf where the oyster is deep fried and the turf was served raw. Below is the step-by-step,  photo tutorial for how to pop those shells open.

Keep your oysters on a bed of ice at all times. Remember, they’re alive and they should be served that way. If a shell is cracked, opened, or will not open, that means that the oyster is dead and is not safe to eat.

You don’t know where your oysters have been! Scrub them with a wire brush or firm kitchen brush to remove dirt and scum that hides in the crevices.

Prepare your oyster to be shucked. Professionals only need 2.7 seconds on average but the rest of us need to take our time. Dry off the oyster and place it cup side down.

Have the right tools. An oyster knife and your favorite bottle of Champagne will do the trick.

Firmly grasp the oyster in your weak hand and hold on tight. I recommend holding it with a thick kitchen towel, glove, or anything else that will stop a blade from penetrating your palm.

Wedge the tip of your oyster knife into the natural hinge and apply force as needed.

Once you’ve broken the seal, turn the knife as though you were turning a key in a lock. This will prop open the shell and allow you to peel back the lid.

Using the knife, gently disconnect the abductor muscle on the top of the shell.

Slide the blade along the bottom of the shell and carefully free the oyster from the other side.

Without spilling the oyster “liquor”, clean out any chipped pieces of shell or dirt from the inside.

 A few drops of lemon and right down the hatch!

After sucking down about a dozen, I attempted to turn a traditional Po’ Boy ingredient wealthy in one succulent bite. I dried each oyster off with paper towels (because oil and water still aren’t friends) and dredged them in blue corn meal, egg wash, and another generous helping of blue cornmeal. 

The violet color of the flour was enhanced as the oysters got crispy. I served each fried oyster on top of a giant dollop of homemade white truffle aioli. My forearm was stiff from whisking but I still managed to pipe the creamy, aromatic sauce back into the natural shell. 

Since the surf was fried, I decided to serve the turf raw. I made a classic steak tartare with a beautiful piece of prime, top round.

This cut is flavorful, but not too lean or fatty, making it an ideal candidate for tartare. I diced it as small as I possibly could, quickly transferring the baby pieces to an iced down, metal bowl. To the bowl I added sliced chives, diced cornichons, Worchestire Sauce, Tabasco, Dijon mustard, and a squirt of the white truffle aioli.

This naked garnish adorned the crispy oyster and gave it an exciting contrast in texture.

It was a big mouthful but it was totally worth it. The nutty, blue cornmeal popped as the briny, oyster juice spread across your palate. The raw steak was delicate and rich, yet quite refreshing.

The culmination of the massive bite ended with a sensory orgasm per white truffle fumes jetting into your nostrils. The only proper beverage to cut through the creamy aioli and fried oysters was bubbles.

 I popped a bottle of NV Taittinger Champagne, which was lighter bodied yet complex. The nose was floral and had notes of buttered toast and white peach puree. Despite the deep, concentrated apple and orange blossom flavors, the finish was rather soft and delicate. Siobhan and I spent the night hunched over the kitchen counter, tossing back these amazing creations, and clinking our Champagne flutes together after each and every one. After a night of shucking, five fingers on each hand was definitely something to celebrate. Cheers!