Berries with whipped cream



My grandmother's English has always amazed me. She would say something like, "It tis a nice day to be out and about, isn't it?' I'd look at my brother and go, "Man, she says every single consonant, dun'nshe?"  He'd go, "Yup." 

But her non-rhotic absent Rs combined with arbitrary intrusive Rs, stuck in places where they do not belong, created altogether confusing R-displacement situations so that I couldn't discern what she was talking about in spite of her insane consonant precision. Honestly, I never knew if she was talking about the Democratic potty or the Imperial gods, or what. Every single place name without exception that ends with an A, and they are legion, in her mouth ends with an R. So you'll have Americer, Canader, Australier, Africer, Indier, and so forth.  She mangles the word for Korea so magnificently that it sounds like career. What is the deal with those Rs anyway? I've concluded that along with all of the silent letters one encounters in the French language they are accounted for by laziness on a national scale.  

Blueberries are blue breeze.

Strawberries are straw breeze.

My mother is the opposite. My brother's name is Barry and that is how mum pronounces these things. Blue Barrys and Straw Barrys. 

Imagine the confusion sorting this language as a tot when the adults around me kept messing with my tender impressionable mind. Oh, berries! Now I get it. Wow. What an epiphany.  Shouldn't they be called redberries, or seeds-on-the-outsideberries? What in the world do they have to do with straw? These puzzling questions confounded me tremendously, and the adults were little to no help or worse. Apparently they found it  just so adorable for tots to exist in an alternate universe of massive bewilderment for as long as possible. Most everything I managed about languages comes from other helpful children.

[I brought my kindergarden minder a handful of pussy willows  that I somehow snagged without the benefit of a knife. "Here's some pussy willows wot I found. " 
"Say that word again." 
"Found." 
"The other word. The word for these sticks."
"Puthy Willoth" 
"Say it again."
"Puthy Willoth" 
"Say it again."
"Puthy Willoth"
"Ha ha ha ha ha."  Bitch. 
Five years later I found myself in speech therapy class with a guy who couldn't speak properly, of all things, his Rs. Sent there by my French national teacher in a school in Tokyo for American Air Force brats. Now, why oh why didn't somebody point that out before it got that far? ]







ARTS !

Not shown, one teaspoon refined sugar. The volatile hydroxyl compound added to the cream needn't be vanilla. I considered some of the banana liqueur I recently picked up from the bottle shop next door, but pretty much anything will do as well as vanilla extract if not better.  

Apple and cheese




Ambrosia apple. Ambrosia, food of the gods, so this apple had better be divine or I'm telling Zeus. 

Fish and chips


Goujons, by another name, 'pins' in French if you like, which I do not like so 'fish and chips' it is. 

When my father brought us to Denver the first place we stopped was a fish and chips shop on Colfax. Served on newspaper, the whole bit. The place is no longer there, but my brother and I thought at the time, "What is it about fish and chips with this guy anyway?" We'd rather have a burger. 

A while back, at his house, Dad said to me, "Hey, get that malt vinegar over here, will ya?" Always with the imperatives formulated as interrogative, as if he is giving me a choice in the matter, which never fails to piss me right off because I haven't the choice implied by a question. I must obey. [Hey, dewyawanna mow the lawn? Yawanna wash the car? Yawanna clear the leaves out of the gutters? Wanna shine my shoes? Hey, yawanna trim that 300 foot row of Russian Olives and mulch the branches? Yawanna yank that engine block and clean them pistons? "But, Daddy, I'm only in the second grade."  "Quit your whining!" Fuck.] At any rate, he has at least half a dozen bottles of malt vinegar among other types all crammed together in a cabinet stored improperly above a stove. Apparently he picks up a new bottle every time he gets the impulse to make fish and chips at home, which is another thing that is ridiculous. The boxes of mix that he buys with the malt vinegar for the specific purpose of fish and chips are nothing more than flour with bicarbonate of soda and regular salt. If he would only read a cookbook, look online, or read the contents of the box, he'd see for himself that it's all a sham. 

Fish filets are cut to size and dusted with seasoned flour. That same seasoned flour is used for a batter to coat the fish. The fish is dropped into hot oil and cooked. 

Potato wedges are cooked in oil on relatively low heat to cook through but short of browning. The potatoes are removed from the oil and cooled to room temperature. Later, the temperature of the oil is increased for the fish and to finish the potatoes. The potatoes are fried again to crisp their outer surfaces. This is termed the 'dehydration fry' but the wedges are not actually completely dehydrated. The wedges are soft and fluffy and wonderful on the inside, and crispy on the outside. They must be consumed immediately. No messing around getting people to the table and such because it's all downhill for the wonderful crispy VS fluffy textural combination from the moment the fries are removed from the oil. 

This will be the most amazing delicately cooked fish that you will ever have. The thing that is different here is this fish is still mostly frozen. As the batter begins to cook, the fish protected by the batter begins to thaw completely by suddenly being submerged in hot oil. As the batter becomes half-way cooked, the fish is just then completely thawed. As the batter finishes, }}} zing  {{{  so does the fish.

}}} ding {{{ Just like that, delicate as a butterfly landing on a flower petal, timed perfectly, finished together at precisely the same moment.  

Now I ask you, where are you going to see this daring approach?  You will see it among fish-lovers, I suppose. Everybody else are fish-abusers. But it is all that they know, these fish abusers, so they don't know that the thing they are knowing is overcooked fish. And if you disagree with me then you are probably a fish abuser too without knowing it. I imagine people live their whole life proclaiming "I really do not much care for fish," without ever realizing that they've only ever known abused fish.  

Today's batter is an experiment to demonstrate that using two forms of batter-lightening techniques together is not better than using just one. 

Beer is carbonated so adding it to batter in un-flattened form will lighten the batter considerably with the tiny carbon dioxide bubbles it imparts. 

Bicarbonate of soda (baking soda) in conjunction with an acid will also lighten the batter with tiny carbon dioxide bubbles. 

Using both of these together, beer and baking soda with an acid,  will produce a batter foam that will fry so lightly as to exceed optimum batter lightness, although not altogether repugnant. So let's see. 


I consider these potatoes small. But potatoes do come a lot smaller than this. 



The potatoes are rinsed to rid them of surface starch.


They are dried thoroughly to prepare them for submersion into hot oil.




The potatoes shown down there ↓and down there ↓↓ are completely cooked but they are not browned. They can be eaten, and they are fine, but they are not crisp.

They can be frozen at this point and they will keep perfectly well. They are fried again at higher temperature to partially dehydrate and to crisp the exterior surfaces. 



When I have fish like this in vacuum-packages, I get ideas. They can be cooked boiled-in-a-bag style just like this. This is the perfect situation for sous vide. If only they were marinated. But then if they were marinated I wouldn't buy them because I'd be denied the opportunity to make my own flavorings and I'd be stuck with something that somebody else did and with all their unknowable chemicals. 



A seasoned flour dredge is prepared with our own seasonings. Most of this will be wasted so season the flour heavily, but do watch the salt. The dredge will be used twice; first to prepare the surface of the fish  to hold onto the batter, and second for the batter itself. So double-duty here. If the fish were battered directly it would tend to slide right off once it is cooked, and we do not want that. 




I measured 1 + 1/2 cups of flour and realized that was waaaaaaaaa ---> a10y too much. It would have taken up the whole Newcastle and I had to save some, just had to, you see. So I scooped out about half of the seasoned flour, and I don't know what I will do with it. Probably waste it, and let that be a lesson. Maybe I'll save it. 




ARTS !



Look at the texture and moisture of that fish filet ↑.  LOOK AT IT !, I said.  

It's right at the edge of not being cooked. You never see that. Thirty more seconds and the fish would be overcooked. Just ever so slightly overcooked and still edible, of course,  not actually bad at all, but not perfect. This is perfection. And if you disagree with me then you're a h8r. 

The coating, however, is slightly overcooked and that is because the thermometer I rely upon is presently out of commission. The coating is also overly foamy. Too light. So, this shows, either use flat beer and baking soda with an acid, or use carbonated beer alone, but not both. 


Thermometer. 

The battery inside the indispensable Thermapen gave up the ghost today and now I am Thermapenless, and lost, cast upon a sea of wildly varying oil temperatures with nothing to guide me. 

That's a lie.  There are ways to gauge the oil temperature to a good degree of accuracy but I am too impetuous and impatient and boyish to use them. That is to say, stupid. 


One can insert a wooden chopstick and observe the bubbles. One can drop a bit of batter into the oil and note how it cooks. Toss in a crouton and look! There are workarounds to not having an accurate thermometer but I was too distraught over the stupid little battery to bother with them, and this fish here suffered for it. 

The battery is the tiniest little thing I ever saw apart from those hearing-aid disc batteries. It's named A23 12V and it's shaped like a normal battery except it is half the size of a AAA. And now I must locate a replacement. 


I have these ↑, but they're next to useless. They only go up to 220℉ / 105℃.  At one time I owned five of these pocket thermometers and they never once agreed. One time I used all five simultaneously to carefully monitor a proofing box for sourdough sponge and one of them was so far off the average of the other four that in a pique of anger I hurled the offending thermometer against the wall which did insufficient damage so I stomped it to bits. That was in my 'acting out' days. But I've been totally over these pocket instant-reads ever since. They're hardly instant besides. They should be called 'eventual-reads' or 'approximate-reads' or 'I'll-give-you-a-guess-when-I-get-around-to-it-reads.'  They do make decent paper-creasers if you cannot find the one made of bone, very useful in the production of pop-up cards. 

Green salad with red bell pepper, green beans, mushroom, homemade dressing


The dressing is prepared is a separate bowl, because there is nothing, and I mean nothing worse than an overdressed salad. Except the tsunami in Japan was pretty bad so that was worse. And today the tornado sirens went off and it looked like it was going to hail when I was out in my truck and that would have been pretty bad. Okay, come to think of it there are a lot of things worse than an overdressed salad but the point is that it's easily avoided by preparing it in a separate bowl. That way you can adjust your heart out without the risk of going overboard. 

*  Olive oil poured into a bowl. Enough you imagine would cover the entire salad plus a little extra to stick to the bowl.

*  Rice vinegar. Slightly sweet, not quite as acidic as most. Sufficient to acidify the oil that was poured. 

*  Mustard of any type. This is not necessary, but mustard is already an emulsion so on the molecular level it behaves naturally as a polarity agreement enabler. But so what? Isn't it nice sometimes to have a separated dressing? There is no problem at all with that. But there you go, in this case a combined whole-grain mustard that contains horseradish was used.

*  Any seasoning of your desire that you would like to see carried throughout the entire salad in the specific instance of this meal in this moment in time during this unique mood. Or else whatever you happen to have on hand, or nothing at all. Tonight: garlic powder and ginger powder.

*  Salt / Pepper

Whisked. Too little dressing, too thick a mixture. Adjusted with more oil. Then the thought occurred, it should have something sweet! Mirin? Honey? Apple? Oranges? Maple syrup? Corn syrup? Molasses? Splenda? Into the mixture went 1/4 teaspoon refined sugar. 

I didn't taste-test it because I knew that combination of things in those trifling amounts would be good no matter what. It turned out to be the perfect amount. And that type of judgement comes with, I don't even know what, it's like experience or something. 


Chocolate nib cookies with dried fruit and nuts



SoIwaseatingthesecookieswhileIwasbakingthemsothatturnedouttobeonecookie
pertraysometimestwocookiespertrayandthenwhenIwasdoneIateanothersixorso
cookiesandthatwasoveradozencookiesthatturnedouttobelunch,andfrankly,I
don'tthinkthatwasaverygoodideabecausethisbatchofcookieshastwocupsofsugar
initandthat'salotofsugarforonesinglebatch.Iwasthinkingaboutcuttingbackonthe
sugaralittlebitbutIthoughtitmightthrowoffthechemistryandIdidn'tknowhowto
counteracttheeffectofreducingthesugar,besides,Ilikesugaranyway.AndIhonestly
don'tseetheproblemwithhavingabunchofsugarycookiesforlunchandbesidesyou're
notmymotherandyou'renothtebossofme.

Uh oh.

I   n e e d  a  n a p .      T h e  s u g a r  i s  n o w   s  t  a  r  t  i  n  g  t  o   w  e  a  r      o  f  f  
a   n  d      n   o     w     I      t   h    i    n    k     I ' m   s t   a   r    i   n   g         t  o       g      e     t    
v      e     r         y      s    l    e       e         p        y   .        

z z z z z z z z * sput * z z z z z z z z














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* 2 sticks of softened butter. Mine was frozen so I zapped it which caused some of it to melt and other portions to remain hard, but not too hard. The bowl of the mixer I use sits atop its motor which heats up as it goes along. This changes the consistency of the butter as it processes.

*  1 cup white refined sugar
*  1 cup brown sugar

The two cups of sugar are whipped into the two sticks (8 oz.) of butter. 

* two large eggs 

*  two teaspoons vanilla extract (I used three because I'm a vanilla maniac. I considered substituting banana liqueur but dismissed the idea.)

The eggs and vanilla are blended into the whipped butter/sugar

*  2 cups flour is sifted into a bowl

So far, everything has been in sets of 2.

*  1 teaspoon of baking soda. There goes the sets of two thing I just mentioned. The baking soda is sifted in with the flour along with the salt. Usually, baking soda is used to react with something acid to behave as a chemical leaven, but here it is used to help keep the cookies soft rather than becoming brittle. If you want brittle cookies then omit the baking soda.

*  1/2 teaspoon salt. (I used 3/4 teaspoon because I had on hand flaky kosher salt) 

*  1 cup chocolate nibs. I used less than 1/2 cup but I also included a bunch of other things. 

If you chill the dough then it flattens out less when baked than if you have the dough at room temperature, especially so if your room is warmed by a heated oven. This dough was spooned out onto the baking sheet and then slightly pressed down because the dough was actually cold and the butter inside the dough returned to a hardened state so they needed a little help flattening out. 

375℉  for 9 minutes.

No cinnamon, no ginger, no clove powder, no allspice, no curry, no cayenne, no cardamon, none of that fancy stuff that's guaranteed to turn off little children, not in these cookies here, Buddy, no Siree. 

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