Mr. Boy (Pink Version)
Grapefruit is the dominant flavor of this aromatic drink, while the rosé gives it soft berry notes and Campari adds a slightly bitter undertone.
This recipe calls for a porron, which is a communal glass drinking vessel native to Spain. You can order it online via www.latienda.com or buy it locally at Salt & Sundry in Union Market.
4 servings
Ingredients:
8 ounces chilled rosé cava
5 ounces fresh grapefruit juice
5 ounces Kas limon soda (may substitute San Pellegrino lemon)
2 1/2 ounces Campari
3/4 ounce chilled honey syrup (optional; see NOTE)
1 ounce fresh lemon juice (optional; add if honey syrup is used)
Directions:
Pour the cava, grapefruit juice, limon soda, Campari, and the honey syrup and lemon juice, if using, into the porron. Mix by holding the porron by the handle and swishing (rotating at a steady, not-too-fast pace) for 1 minute. Drink right away.
NOTE: To make honey syrup, combine 2 tablespoons of honey and 1 tablespoon of very warm water in a liquid measuring cup, stirring until the honey has dissolved. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours before using.
Recipe Source:
From Max Kuller of Proof and Estadio in Northwest Washington.
Simple Clara
This refreshing and crisp drink, reminiscent of a summer shandy, is well balanced, with a hint of acidity from the lemon soda and body from the Estrella Damm lager. It's perfect on a hot day.
This recipe calls for a porron, which is a communal glass drinking vessel native to Spain. You can order it online via www.latienda.com or buy it locally at Salt & Sundry in Union Market. If you can’t find Estrella Damm, substitute one of two other Spanish lagers, Moritz or Mahou.
4 servings
Ingredients:
12 ounces chilled Estrella Damm lager (may substitute Moritz or Mahou lager)
6 ounces Kas limon soda (may substitute San Pellegrino lemon)
Dash orange bitters (optional)
Directions:
Pour the lager, limon soda and bitters into the porron. Mix by holding the porron by the handle and swishing (rotating at a steady, not-too-fast pace) for 1 minute. Drink right away.
Recipe Source:
From Max Kuller of Proof and Estadio in Northwest Washington.
Tested by Kate Parham for The Washington Post.
Catalan Spring Onion Feast
If you don't know calçots, you don't know your onions
Colman Andrews
The calçotada is a late winter and early spring ritual in Catalonia, and especially around the town of Valls, about 10 miles north of the old Roman Iberian capital of Tarragona. A calçotada is a feast built around calçots, which in turn are green onions that are as long and fat as leeks.
To grow this unique form of Allium, large garden onions are harvested when they begin to push out green shoots, then stored in a dark, dry place for about two months. They are then trimmed of their original shoots and small slices are removed from their top half in several places. Then the onions are replanted to sprout anew. This time, earth is packed around them as they begin to protrude — this is the same process used with Belgian endive and white asparagus to keep them from turning chlorophyll-green — so that when they are full-grown, thick, and sweet, at least half of their flesh is white. (The term "calçot" probably derives from "calça," meaning "stocking," a reference to the way the earth covers the onion shoots.)
Nobody knows for sure who first developed this rather complicated process for growing calçots, though local tradition in Valls assigns it to a turn-of-the-century farmer named Xat de Benaiges.
Calçotadas are big communal events, frequently organized by organizations like companies, labor unions, social clubs, and the like, and held at restaurants, social halls, and other public venues. The format is always more or less the same: Calçots are grilled over embers — traditionally, old iron bedsprings were used as grills, and some restaurants still trot these out for the purpose — and then wrapped tightly in newspapers to steam. They're brought to the table in the hollows of terra-cotta roofing tiles (this helps keep them warm) and eaten thus: A calçot is grasped in one hand by its blackened base and in the other by its green top, then the black part is slipped off and discarded. The white end of the calçot is then dipped into a bowl of romesco sauce (sometimes just called salsa per calçots).
The diner tips his or her head back and bites off the sauce-cloaked portion. This is messy work, obviously, and participants in a real calçotada usually wear napkins tucked into their collars — and there is usually a sink or wash basin nearby. Calçot lovers typically consume at least 20 or 25 of the things at one of these events, and competitive calçot eaters (only in Catalonia!) sometimes manage 200 or so in a half-hour's time.
The calçots are just the beginning of a calçotada, though. After the onions come an assortment of meats grilled on the same embers, usually including botifarra (mild pork sausage) and lamb chops with white beans and allioli. Sometimes roast chicken is added to the meal. All this is washed down by plenty of wine, theoretically poured straight into the mouth from a porró, the glass pitcher with a needle-nose spout that Catalans use instead of the leather bota bag utilized for communal wine-drinking elsewhere in Spain.
If a trip to Catalonia isn't on your schedule, the good news is that the Spanish specialty food retailer La Tienda is now selling authentic calçots grown in Oregon, through the end of May. Char them on your grill, then slip off the charred part, and dip them in this classic Tarragona-region romesco sauce.
Read more
Colman Andrews
The calçotada is a late winter and early spring ritual in Catalonia, and especially around the town of Valls, about 10 miles north of the old Roman Iberian capital of Tarragona. A calçotada is a feast built around calçots, which in turn are green onions that are as long and fat as leeks.
To grow this unique form of Allium, large garden onions are harvested when they begin to push out green shoots, then stored in a dark, dry place for about two months. They are then trimmed of their original shoots and small slices are removed from their top half in several places. Then the onions are replanted to sprout anew. This time, earth is packed around them as they begin to protrude — this is the same process used with Belgian endive and white asparagus to keep them from turning chlorophyll-green — so that when they are full-grown, thick, and sweet, at least half of their flesh is white. (The term "calçot" probably derives from "calça," meaning "stocking," a reference to the way the earth covers the onion shoots.)
Nobody knows for sure who first developed this rather complicated process for growing calçots, though local tradition in Valls assigns it to a turn-of-the-century farmer named Xat de Benaiges.
Calçotadas are big communal events, frequently organized by organizations like companies, labor unions, social clubs, and the like, and held at restaurants, social halls, and other public venues. The format is always more or less the same: Calçots are grilled over embers — traditionally, old iron bedsprings were used as grills, and some restaurants still trot these out for the purpose — and then wrapped tightly in newspapers to steam. They're brought to the table in the hollows of terra-cotta roofing tiles (this helps keep them warm) and eaten thus: A calçot is grasped in one hand by its blackened base and in the other by its green top, then the black part is slipped off and discarded. The white end of the calçot is then dipped into a bowl of romesco sauce (sometimes just called salsa per calçots).
The diner tips his or her head back and bites off the sauce-cloaked portion. This is messy work, obviously, and participants in a real calçotada usually wear napkins tucked into their collars — and there is usually a sink or wash basin nearby. Calçot lovers typically consume at least 20 or 25 of the things at one of these events, and competitive calçot eaters (only in Catalonia!) sometimes manage 200 or so in a half-hour's time.
The calçots are just the beginning of a calçotada, though. After the onions come an assortment of meats grilled on the same embers, usually including botifarra (mild pork sausage) and lamb chops with white beans and allioli. Sometimes roast chicken is added to the meal. All this is washed down by plenty of wine, theoretically poured straight into the mouth from a porró, the glass pitcher with a needle-nose spout that Catalans use instead of the leather bota bag utilized for communal wine-drinking elsewhere in Spain.
If a trip to Catalonia isn't on your schedule, the good news is that the Spanish specialty food retailer La Tienda is now selling authentic calçots grown in Oregon, through the end of May. Char them on your grill, then slip off the charred part, and dip them in this classic Tarragona-region romesco sauce.
Jamón It Up, Legitimately
Now we can get Spain's most swooned-over pork stateside—and know it's the real thing
Katy McLaughlin
WHEN SPAIN'S MYTHICAL Iberian ham—aka jamón ibérico—was first imported to the U.S., in 2007, it was heralded as the best in the world. Turns out, in spite of the fanfare and sky-high prices, much of what was then labeled ibérico wasn't…entirely. Now, more and better hams are coming to the U.S. market, prices have dropped and companies are specifying pedigree in preparation for upcoming legislation in Spain that will require them to do so. The world's best pork is finally getting a stateside debut we can applaud unreservedly.
Ibérico is a stupendously umami-rich, silken ham that leaves Italian prosciutto and Spain's equivalent, jamón serrano, in the dust; fresh meat from ibérico pigs is juicy as rib eye and tender as filet mignon. In Spain, an acorn-fed ibérico ham on the table is the ultimate status symbol.
But for all its exquisiteness, the ibérico tradition has been beset by the same boom-and-bust syndrome, and accusations of fraud, that have plagued Spain recently. To understand, one must first go back thousands of years to Phoenician times, when black-hooved pigs (another name for the breed is pata negra, or black hoof) were introduced to an oak-grove ecosystem in southwestern Spain known as the dehesa. Pigs thrived there, gorging on acorns for months prior to slaughter. Cured hams and fresh meat from these pigs, at first a regional specialty, became, over the centuries, Spain's most prized national delicacy.
Around the turn of the millennium, Spain experienced an economic boom and an unparalleled rise in the global reputation of its cuisine. Both trends set off a revolution in the artisanal ibérico sector. A 2001 law allowed producers to crossbreed ibéricos with heartier, more productive Duroc pigs and still label the result "ibérico." This led to intensive farming in which crossbred pigs live in confinement, eating grain, and a huge increase in "ibérico" populations since 2000.
Soon, ibérico became akin to caviar, sold internationally with a mind-boggling array of quality classifications and plenty of temptation to fudge the provenance. Today, just 6% of Iberian pigs are purebreds, according to Spanish government figures. The vast majority of what is sold as ibérico in Spain comes from crossbreeds raised in confinement, a fact that has prompted outrage there. Though U.S. retailers have focused on high-end, ostensibly pure product, they say the murkiness of the Spanish market has meant they haven't always been sure ibéricos are what they claim to be.
Charles Passy joins Lunch Break with a look at Iberico ham from Spain. The top of the line ham costs around $1,200, but with all the special carving utensils it can add up to $3,000 from a company such as LaTienda.
Oversupply—due to increase in production and low consumer demand amid Spain's economic crisis—has brought several new brands to the U.S. and pushed prices down by 20% to 30% since last year, said Tim Harris, CEO of Tienda.com, an online retailer of Spanish foods. To secure authentic purebred ibéricos "and because there is so much confusion and misinformation," Mr. Harris said, Tienda just launched its own brand, Peregrino.
Lighthouse Trade began importing fresh meat from purebred ibéricos, under the brand Ibérico Fresco, two years ago, and plans to import cured meats by the end of the month. "We are trying to get people to think of ibérico as what it really is," said Lighthouse president José Ignacio Martínez-Valero, "one of the jewels of Spanish cuisine." High-end chefs across the U.S. have already begun to embrace it as such.
The Off Duty Spring 50
Off Duty's spring issue features 50 fresh ideas to kick-start the season, from bright, slim-cut suits and luxe laptop totes to zesty radish recipes and a five-step plan to unlock the power of your fitness-tracking gadgets.
Brands like Peregrino, Cinco Jotas and Ibérico Fresco are ahead of the curve, but soon all companies will have to be equally clear about their pigs' provenance. Spain's new regulations, expected to pass by June, will require labels to list percentage of ibérico genetics in the breed. Imagery of the dehesa can't appear on the package if the pig wasn't raised there.
Experts quibble over how big a part pedigree plays. For Mr. Martínez-Valero, it's a "night-and-day" difference; Mr. Harris says other factors, like feed and curing, are key. Aaron Fuchs, an importer of fresh ibérico meat from Fermín, a producer that uses purebreds and 75% ibérico crosses, said that "both types have a role in the market," because crossbred, grain-fed meat can cost significantly less. More ibérico genetics, however, mean more nutty, meltable fat in the result, Mr. Fuchs said.
Steve Benjamin, executive chef at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon at MGM Grand in Las Vegas, said he recently switched from crossbred ibérico ham to purebred. He finds it softer, less salty, with a distinctive acorn flavor. "It's the best ham in the U.S.," he said.
UNDERSTANDING IBÉRICO
Labels are increasingly specifying how pure the pigs are, in advance of laws that will require them to do so. The pig's diet, where it was raised, the cut and the cure also significantly impact flavor.
100% Ibérico de Bellota
(Acorn-Fed)
The king of Iberian pork, from a purebred pig that lives its entire life in the oak groves of the dehesa, in southwestern Spain. In the last three months of its life, it grazes almost exclusively on foraged acorns. Its silky fat is full of omega-3s; it is umami-rich and deeply flavorful. About $85 per pound for whole ham (Cinco Jotas brand), laespanolameats.com
Ibérico de Cebo de Campo
(Free-Range and Grain-Fed)
From a crossbreed, usually 75% ibérico. This pig ranges freely, feeds on grain and may also do some grazing, including on acorns. When the new labeling laws take effect, producers will have to specify the ibérico percentage in the breed. About $37 per pound for whole ham, tienda.com
Fresh Ibérico
(Acorn-Fed and Grain-Fed)
Fresh, uncured meat from ibérico pigs is also exquisite: extremely flavorful and tender, with luscious, meltable fat. Add salt and pepper, sear quickly and serve fairly rare. From $6 per pound for pork belly to $26 per pound for acorn-fed hanger steak, wagshalsimports.com
Paleta Ibérica
Hams made from the front legs of the pig, which are smaller and slightly stronger in flavor. About $68 per pound (acorn-fed), tienda.com
Other Cured Ibérico
Ibérico meat, both acorn- and grain-fed, is made into a variety of cold cuts, such as lomo, which is cured loin; chorizo, a paprika sausage; and salchichon, similar to salami. From $25 per pound for chorizo (grain-fed) to $80 per pound for lomo (acorn-fed), laespanolameats.com
A version of this article appeared April 6, 2013, on page D11 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: JamónItUp,Legitimately.
Read more
Katy McLaughlin
WHEN SPAIN'S MYTHICAL Iberian ham—aka jamón ibérico—was first imported to the U.S., in 2007, it was heralded as the best in the world. Turns out, in spite of the fanfare and sky-high prices, much of what was then labeled ibérico wasn't…entirely. Now, more and better hams are coming to the U.S. market, prices have dropped and companies are specifying pedigree in preparation for upcoming legislation in Spain that will require them to do so. The world's best pork is finally getting a stateside debut we can applaud unreservedly.
Ibérico is a stupendously umami-rich, silken ham that leaves Italian prosciutto and Spain's equivalent, jamón serrano, in the dust; fresh meat from ibérico pigs is juicy as rib eye and tender as filet mignon. In Spain, an acorn-fed ibérico ham on the table is the ultimate status symbol.
But for all its exquisiteness, the ibérico tradition has been beset by the same boom-and-bust syndrome, and accusations of fraud, that have plagued Spain recently. To understand, one must first go back thousands of years to Phoenician times, when black-hooved pigs (another name for the breed is pata negra, or black hoof) were introduced to an oak-grove ecosystem in southwestern Spain known as the dehesa. Pigs thrived there, gorging on acorns for months prior to slaughter. Cured hams and fresh meat from these pigs, at first a regional specialty, became, over the centuries, Spain's most prized national delicacy.
Around the turn of the millennium, Spain experienced an economic boom and an unparalleled rise in the global reputation of its cuisine. Both trends set off a revolution in the artisanal ibérico sector. A 2001 law allowed producers to crossbreed ibéricos with heartier, more productive Duroc pigs and still label the result "ibérico." This led to intensive farming in which crossbred pigs live in confinement, eating grain, and a huge increase in "ibérico" populations since 2000.
Soon, ibérico became akin to caviar, sold internationally with a mind-boggling array of quality classifications and plenty of temptation to fudge the provenance. Today, just 6% of Iberian pigs are purebreds, according to Spanish government figures. The vast majority of what is sold as ibérico in Spain comes from crossbreeds raised in confinement, a fact that has prompted outrage there. Though U.S. retailers have focused on high-end, ostensibly pure product, they say the murkiness of the Spanish market has meant they haven't always been sure ibéricos are what they claim to be.
Charles Passy joins Lunch Break with a look at Iberico ham from Spain. The top of the line ham costs around $1,200, but with all the special carving utensils it can add up to $3,000 from a company such as LaTienda.
Oversupply—due to increase in production and low consumer demand amid Spain's economic crisis—has brought several new brands to the U.S. and pushed prices down by 20% to 30% since last year, said Tim Harris, CEO of Tienda.com, an online retailer of Spanish foods. To secure authentic purebred ibéricos "and because there is so much confusion and misinformation," Mr. Harris said, Tienda just launched its own brand, Peregrino.
Lighthouse Trade began importing fresh meat from purebred ibéricos, under the brand Ibérico Fresco, two years ago, and plans to import cured meats by the end of the month. "We are trying to get people to think of ibérico as what it really is," said Lighthouse president José Ignacio Martínez-Valero, "one of the jewels of Spanish cuisine." High-end chefs across the U.S. have already begun to embrace it as such.
The Off Duty Spring 50
Off Duty's spring issue features 50 fresh ideas to kick-start the season, from bright, slim-cut suits and luxe laptop totes to zesty radish recipes and a five-step plan to unlock the power of your fitness-tracking gadgets.
Brands like Peregrino, Cinco Jotas and Ibérico Fresco are ahead of the curve, but soon all companies will have to be equally clear about their pigs' provenance. Spain's new regulations, expected to pass by June, will require labels to list percentage of ibérico genetics in the breed. Imagery of the dehesa can't appear on the package if the pig wasn't raised there.
Experts quibble over how big a part pedigree plays. For Mr. Martínez-Valero, it's a "night-and-day" difference; Mr. Harris says other factors, like feed and curing, are key. Aaron Fuchs, an importer of fresh ibérico meat from Fermín, a producer that uses purebreds and 75% ibérico crosses, said that "both types have a role in the market," because crossbred, grain-fed meat can cost significantly less. More ibérico genetics, however, mean more nutty, meltable fat in the result, Mr. Fuchs said.
Steve Benjamin, executive chef at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon at MGM Grand in Las Vegas, said he recently switched from crossbred ibérico ham to purebred. He finds it softer, less salty, with a distinctive acorn flavor. "It's the best ham in the U.S.," he said.
UNDERSTANDING IBÉRICO
Labels are increasingly specifying how pure the pigs are, in advance of laws that will require them to do so. The pig's diet, where it was raised, the cut and the cure also significantly impact flavor.
100% Ibérico de Bellota
(Acorn-Fed)
The king of Iberian pork, from a purebred pig that lives its entire life in the oak groves of the dehesa, in southwestern Spain. In the last three months of its life, it grazes almost exclusively on foraged acorns. Its silky fat is full of omega-3s; it is umami-rich and deeply flavorful. About $85 per pound for whole ham (Cinco Jotas brand), laespanolameats.com
Ibérico de Cebo de Campo
(Free-Range and Grain-Fed)
From a crossbreed, usually 75% ibérico. This pig ranges freely, feeds on grain and may also do some grazing, including on acorns. When the new labeling laws take effect, producers will have to specify the ibérico percentage in the breed. About $37 per pound for whole ham, tienda.com
Fresh Ibérico
(Acorn-Fed and Grain-Fed)
Fresh, uncured meat from ibérico pigs is also exquisite: extremely flavorful and tender, with luscious, meltable fat. Add salt and pepper, sear quickly and serve fairly rare. From $6 per pound for pork belly to $26 per pound for acorn-fed hanger steak, wagshalsimports.com
Paleta Ibérica
Hams made from the front legs of the pig, which are smaller and slightly stronger in flavor. About $68 per pound (acorn-fed), tienda.com
Other Cured Ibérico
Ibérico meat, both acorn- and grain-fed, is made into a variety of cold cuts, such as lomo, which is cured loin; chorizo, a paprika sausage; and salchichon, similar to salami. From $25 per pound for chorizo (grain-fed) to $80 per pound for lomo (acorn-fed), laespanolameats.com
A version of this article appeared April 6, 2013, on page D11 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: JamónItUp,Legitimately.
The $1,300 Easter ham
Big Spender: Meet the jamon that’s “marbled beyond all others”
Charles Passy
The pitch
Talk about splurging on an Easter feast. At La Tienda, a Virginia-based online purveyor of products from Spain, the holiday ham is taken to new heights. That’s because the retailer offers one of the widest selections of Ibérico hams — the special and superexpensive variety that is sourced from a unique, black-colored breed of pig that roams the south and southwest regions of Spain and is then dry-cured for up to four years.
La Tienda’s priciest Ibérico is the Bellota one, made from free-range, acorn-fed pork; a bone-in, 15-pound ham runs $1,290. “It’s on par with caviar or truffles,” says La Tienda CEO Tim Harris.
The $3,300 Easter ham with a Spanish accent
Charles Passy joins Lunch Break with a look at Ibérico ham from Spain. The top of the line ham costs around $1,200, but with all the special carving utensils it can add up to $3,000. Photo: Getty
But you can’t truly enjoy a ham — or a Jamón, to be more precise — without the proper accessories, adds Harris. Start with the Jamónero, the Spanish-style ham holder that keeps the meat in place while you slice. At La Tienda, the top-of-the-line version — made from a hardwood sourced “from the forests of the Ivory Coast and Nigeria” and complemented with “a stainless-steel cradle clamp” and silicone cutting board — costs $1,260.
Add to that a “professional” Jamón carving set ($697) with four forged knives (“each with a different purpose”) and a chain mail glove (to “protect your hand while it grips and steadies the ham”). Oh, and don’t forget the Jamón serving pincers ($47.50) — essentially, tongs that help you avoid “grasping at the ham with your bare hands.”
Add it all up and you’ve got a pricey package of pork and accessories that totals nearly $3,300. And that’s not including bread, wine or cheese — all typical accompaniments for the proper Spanish spread.
The reality
Ask any gourmet or culinary professional and they’ll tell you that Ibérico is indeed the ham of kings. “I have tasted innumerable types of ham, from every corner of the globe, and Ibérico stands out as my favorite, a ham that is marbled beyond all others — and as we know, fat equals flavor,” says Paul Anders, executive chef at Sweet Basil and Mountain Standard, two acclaimed eateries in Vail, Colo.
But those same folks will also tell you that there are plenty of lower-cost alternatives that come close to the mark, including dry-cured hams from Italy (prosciutto di Parma), France (Jambon de Bayonne) and even Spain (Serrano). In other words, Ibérico may be great, but for many ham shoppers, it’s as much about the status as the taste — and the pricey accessories play into that idea. “If you’re one of those types of people who fixate on a name, Ibérico is what you’re going to pay for,” says Rolf Baumann, the chef at Lobel’s Kitchen, a gourmet New York emporium. (Baumann’s favorite reasonably priced ham? The European variety known as speck, which can easily be found for around $20 per lb.)
Just as important: Even if you love Ibérico ham, you’re probably not going to make it the centerpiece of your Easter meal. European-style dry-cured hams are more typically served as appetizers — or as a small bite (they’re typically sliced very thin) to enjoy with a good glass of vino.
None of these points are necessarily disputed by La Tienda. Which is why the retailer offers much cheaper ham options, including Serrano ones (a 16- to 18-pound, bone-in version runs $325). And if you still insist on Ibérico, there’s no reason to go for the whole hog — La Tienda sells packages of presliced Ibérico for as little as $25 (three ounces). As for those accessories, La Tienda offers ham-cutting knives starting at $42 (chain mail glove not included) and ham holders starting at $56.50. And for a ham that’s better suited for the traditional holiday table, the company has introduced a different style of Ibérico — one that’s not been dry cured over a period of years, but that’s been smoked (La Tienda has partnership with Virginia’s famed Edwards smokehouse). A ready-to-bake one, weighing 4.5 pounds, sells for $249.
Read more
Charles Passy
The pitch
Talk about splurging on an Easter feast. At La Tienda, a Virginia-based online purveyor of products from Spain, the holiday ham is taken to new heights. That’s because the retailer offers one of the widest selections of Ibérico hams — the special and superexpensive variety that is sourced from a unique, black-colored breed of pig that roams the south and southwest regions of Spain and is then dry-cured for up to four years.
La Tienda’s priciest Ibérico is the Bellota one, made from free-range, acorn-fed pork; a bone-in, 15-pound ham runs $1,290. “It’s on par with caviar or truffles,” says La Tienda CEO Tim Harris.
The $3,300 Easter ham with a Spanish accent
Charles Passy joins Lunch Break with a look at Ibérico ham from Spain. The top of the line ham costs around $1,200, but with all the special carving utensils it can add up to $3,000. Photo: Getty
But you can’t truly enjoy a ham — or a Jamón, to be more precise — without the proper accessories, adds Harris. Start with the Jamónero, the Spanish-style ham holder that keeps the meat in place while you slice. At La Tienda, the top-of-the-line version — made from a hardwood sourced “from the forests of the Ivory Coast and Nigeria” and complemented with “a stainless-steel cradle clamp” and silicone cutting board — costs $1,260.
Add to that a “professional” Jamón carving set ($697) with four forged knives (“each with a different purpose”) and a chain mail glove (to “protect your hand while it grips and steadies the ham”). Oh, and don’t forget the Jamón serving pincers ($47.50) — essentially, tongs that help you avoid “grasping at the ham with your bare hands.”
Add it all up and you’ve got a pricey package of pork and accessories that totals nearly $3,300. And that’s not including bread, wine or cheese — all typical accompaniments for the proper Spanish spread.
The reality
Ask any gourmet or culinary professional and they’ll tell you that Ibérico is indeed the ham of kings. “I have tasted innumerable types of ham, from every corner of the globe, and Ibérico stands out as my favorite, a ham that is marbled beyond all others — and as we know, fat equals flavor,” says Paul Anders, executive chef at Sweet Basil and Mountain Standard, two acclaimed eateries in Vail, Colo.
But those same folks will also tell you that there are plenty of lower-cost alternatives that come close to the mark, including dry-cured hams from Italy (prosciutto di Parma), France (Jambon de Bayonne) and even Spain (Serrano). In other words, Ibérico may be great, but for many ham shoppers, it’s as much about the status as the taste — and the pricey accessories play into that idea. “If you’re one of those types of people who fixate on a name, Ibérico is what you’re going to pay for,” says Rolf Baumann, the chef at Lobel’s Kitchen, a gourmet New York emporium. (Baumann’s favorite reasonably priced ham? The European variety known as speck, which can easily be found for around $20 per lb.)
Just as important: Even if you love Ibérico ham, you’re probably not going to make it the centerpiece of your Easter meal. European-style dry-cured hams are more typically served as appetizers — or as a small bite (they’re typically sliced very thin) to enjoy with a good glass of vino.
None of these points are necessarily disputed by La Tienda. Which is why the retailer offers much cheaper ham options, including Serrano ones (a 16- to 18-pound, bone-in version runs $325). And if you still insist on Ibérico, there’s no reason to go for the whole hog — La Tienda sells packages of presliced Ibérico for as little as $25 (three ounces). As for those accessories, La Tienda offers ham-cutting knives starting at $42 (chain mail glove not included) and ham holders starting at $56.50. And for a ham that’s better suited for the traditional holiday table, the company has introduced a different style of Ibérico — one that’s not been dry cured over a period of years, but that’s been smoked (La Tienda has partnership with Virginia’s famed Edwards smokehouse). A ready-to-bake one, weighing 4.5 pounds, sells for $249.
Pairings: chicken, shrimp and mussel paella with white Rioja
By S. Irene Virbila
I’m convinced you have to make paella a dozen or more times before you can get it right every time. I’m just about there and last week it all came together with a chicken, shrimp and mussel paella for eight.
The secret is a good stock, using La Bomba paella rice and the best saffron you can find. This time the rice was perfect — not too wet, not too dry, every grain suffused with that rich shellfish stock. Practice makes perfect.
The wine that worked beautifully with it was the 2003 Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia "Viña Gravonia." It’s not something I’ve had languishing in my cellar for years: 2003 is the latest release of this white Rioja. Golden straw in color, the wine (made from the Viura grape) is so rich and complex it needs something like paella, where every bite is different, to play against.
Now if I could just find a rabbit for the rabbit rice with almonds and rosemary I’m itching to make from "Casa Moro" (Ebury Press), the second cookbook from London chefs Sam and Sam Clark (Moro restaurant and Morito tapas bar).
Read more
I’m convinced you have to make paella a dozen or more times before you can get it right every time. I’m just about there and last week it all came together with a chicken, shrimp and mussel paella for eight.
The secret is a good stock, using La Bomba paella rice and the best saffron you can find. This time the rice was perfect — not too wet, not too dry, every grain suffused with that rich shellfish stock. Practice makes perfect.
The wine that worked beautifully with it was the 2003 Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia "Viña Gravonia." It’s not something I’ve had languishing in my cellar for years: 2003 is the latest release of this white Rioja. Golden straw in color, the wine (made from the Viura grape) is so rich and complex it needs something like paella, where every bite is different, to play against.
Now if I could just find a rabbit for the rabbit rice with almonds and rosemary I’m itching to make from "Casa Moro" (Ebury Press), the second cookbook from London chefs Sam and Sam Clark (Moro restaurant and Morito tapas bar).
It’s Not About Me. Really.
Picking a Flavorful Easter Ham
Julia Moskin
I do not come from ham-eating people.
Bacon, of course. Pepperoni, sure.
But the occasion for a roast ham did not arrive until last Christmas, when I volunteered to make the festive meal for friends — excellent cooks and ham lovers, all.
I roped in my mother, a veteran of beef Wellington and roast goose. I assured her that there was nothing more to it than sticking the ham in a hot oven and glazing it with some happy combination of sugar, spice, fruit and liquor.
But when we wrestled it onto the counter, even the ham’s size seemed daunting. “Which side is the top?” my mother asked.
I suspect we are not the first cooks to find a whole ham bewildering. What with air-drying and hickory-smoking, wet-curing and salt-rubbing, maple-glazing and honey-baking, it takes many steps to turn pork into ham. And within the ham family, there are innumerable combinations and variations from which to choose.
What most American cooks procure for Easter dinner is a wet-cured, lightly smoked, prebaked ham, what neighborhood butchers called a city ham, when there were still neighborhood butchers.
There is nothing particularly urban about city ham, the meat expert Bruce Aidells said, but the name took hold as shorthand. “It tells you what these are not, which is country ham,” he said.
Country hams are one of the oldest American food traditions and are still produced by a few smokehouses, like Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Hams in Tennessee, and Col. Bill Newsom’s Aged Kentucky Country Ham in Kentucky. They undergo a long, slow, air-drying process, along the same lines as Italian prosciutto and Spanish jamón.
Country hams have become a cult item for food lovers, even as city hams have languished. Except for holidays, baked ham is now seen rarely on American tables at dinner, only occasionally at breakfast and almost never in restaurants, even as bacon has become as ubiquitous as butter.
“It’s a dying product,” said Tim Harris, who imports jamón and meat from acorn-fed pigs in Spain for his family’s food company in Williamsburg, Va., La Tienda.
This is partly because the salt and nitrates in commercial hams have become less appealing to consumers, even as the hams themselves have become less succulent. It is boring to keep pointing out that most pigs today are bred to be lean, but it remains true. The hams that come from these pigs, although plump and pink, are no exception. (The pink color comes from nitrates used in curing.) The thigh is a working muscle, not very marbled with fat, and modern hams tend to be dry, not juicy.
To combat dryness and add flavor, producers inject hams with salt brine, along with other, less innocuous, liquids. The brine provides the characteristic quick cure, sweet flavor and long shelf life of city hams. It may contain sugar, syrup or honey; sodium nitrite and nitrates; or “cure accelerators” like sodium ascorbate and preservatives like sodium erythorbate.
Sara Bigelow, who is in charge of ham at the Meat Hook, a butcher shop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, said that not all additives are problematic. “You have to use some nitrites or it won’t have that ham taste,” she said. “The question is how much you use, and what else you do.”
Depending on what is in the brine and how much of it is added, the Food and Drug Administration has developed intricate rules for labeling ham, some of them helpful in unearthing the ham you want for your holiday table. In commercial production, the smoke flavor of a ham can be injected in a brine; massaged in by “tumbling” the ham in a machine; or even sprayed on. Such a ham may list “hickory smoke” as one of its ingredients, but may not be labeled “hickory smoked.”
Hams labeled “ham and water products” or “ham — water added” are brined to the point that the natural pork flavor is compromised, and the texture becomes spongy. A “ham with natural juices” has less liquid added to it and more pork flavor; this is the category that most baked hams belong in.
If it all sounds unappetizing, be assured that the country’s best hams — from producers committed to real wood smoke, pure maple syrup and pasture-raised pigs — are worth seeking out. Going through a trusted butcher is one way to get your hands on them, but with e-commerce, anyone can order from top producers like Snake River Farms and Flying Pigs Farm, the upstate farm that provides ham for the chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten.
To sort through the options, I assembled a panel at The Times to taste a range of baked hams, all nationally available. The group included my colleagues Melissa Clark and Jeff Gordinier; Robert Newton, the chef and an owner at Seersucker in Brooklyn, where ham finds its way into almost every dish; and Sara, who brought along one of her own excellent hams, smoked one day earlier over cherry and apple wood.
Baked hams have a basic flavor profile of sweet, salt and smoke, but there are some regional variations, like maple syrup cures in the Northeast and smoking over hickory wood in the South. Our quest was a ham that would “hit all the ham notes,” Robert said. I bought only hams that were on the bone (which ensures that the ham is a single joint, not a mash-up), were smoked over wood and contained minimal added liquid. Many came from second- and third-generation smokehouses like Burgers’ in Missouri, Nueske’s in Wisconsin and Harrington’s of Vermont; they cost from $2 a pound to $12.
Since most smokehouses do not raise their own pigs, animal welfare was not one of the criteria for this tasting, but more and more farmers provide information about the living conditions of their animals. (My ham from Flying Pigs arrived with a postcard of the farmers Jen Small and Michael Yezzi, sitting on the grass surrounded by their pasture-raised Tamworth hogs.)
Although we liked all of the hams, there was a surprising range of tastes and textures. The hams fell into two groups: those that Melissa termed “child-friendly” hams, with a softness and mild sweetness, and those that Jeff described as “elevated,” with emphatic smoke and a robust, meaty texture. The former is the type sold across the country at places like HoneyBaked Ham. Founded in 1962 by the inventor of spiral slicing, the company now has more than 400 franchise stores. “My parents still get one of those every Easter,” said Sara, who was raised in Los Angeles. “Even the year I carried one of my hams all the way across the country for them to taste.”
The overall favorite, from Harrington’s, was in the latter group. Its smoke was forceful, but didn’t devour the meat; it had a nice chew; and its sweetness was pronounced, a component that was lacking in the more “adult” hams. (We tasted all of them without any glaze or sauce.)
Each ham had little or no fat on the outside, a visual clue that the meat inside would tend toward dry. That was the principal disappointment of the tasting; no ham was juicy and moist after being heated through, and it was hard to imagine eating a steak sliced off any of them.
There are at least two ways to combat the dryness of modern hams. One is with money; as of this month, you can buy an exquisitely juicy ham made from imported Ibérico pork and smoked by the venerable Virginia firm S. Wallace Edwards & Sons. Available from La Tienda, a boneless ham weighing about five pounds costs $249.
Or you can combat dryness in the cooking pot, as my mother and I ultimately did. Baked hams are precooked, but most recipes call for baking them again for two to three hours. This seemed like a recipe for fatally dried-out meat.
In the absence of a family ham tradition, we followed our own tradition: we consulted Julia Child’s books. Her prescription seemed sensible: braise the ham in wine and water to finish the cooking, then roast it in a hot oven to crisp the surface. The end result was glazed with mustard and brown sugar and crusted with golden bread crumbs. Having spent two hours underwater, the meat was tender, juicy and much less salty than the hams I’ve tasted on other people’s tables.
I’m a convert.
Read more
Julia Moskin
I do not come from ham-eating people.
Bacon, of course. Pepperoni, sure.
But the occasion for a roast ham did not arrive until last Christmas, when I volunteered to make the festive meal for friends — excellent cooks and ham lovers, all.
I roped in my mother, a veteran of beef Wellington and roast goose. I assured her that there was nothing more to it than sticking the ham in a hot oven and glazing it with some happy combination of sugar, spice, fruit and liquor.
But when we wrestled it onto the counter, even the ham’s size seemed daunting. “Which side is the top?” my mother asked.
I suspect we are not the first cooks to find a whole ham bewildering. What with air-drying and hickory-smoking, wet-curing and salt-rubbing, maple-glazing and honey-baking, it takes many steps to turn pork into ham. And within the ham family, there are innumerable combinations and variations from which to choose.
What most American cooks procure for Easter dinner is a wet-cured, lightly smoked, prebaked ham, what neighborhood butchers called a city ham, when there were still neighborhood butchers.
There is nothing particularly urban about city ham, the meat expert Bruce Aidells said, but the name took hold as shorthand. “It tells you what these are not, which is country ham,” he said.
Country hams are one of the oldest American food traditions and are still produced by a few smokehouses, like Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Hams in Tennessee, and Col. Bill Newsom’s Aged Kentucky Country Ham in Kentucky. They undergo a long, slow, air-drying process, along the same lines as Italian prosciutto and Spanish jamón.
Country hams have become a cult item for food lovers, even as city hams have languished. Except for holidays, baked ham is now seen rarely on American tables at dinner, only occasionally at breakfast and almost never in restaurants, even as bacon has become as ubiquitous as butter.
“It’s a dying product,” said Tim Harris, who imports jamón and meat from acorn-fed pigs in Spain for his family’s food company in Williamsburg, Va., La Tienda.
This is partly because the salt and nitrates in commercial hams have become less appealing to consumers, even as the hams themselves have become less succulent. It is boring to keep pointing out that most pigs today are bred to be lean, but it remains true. The hams that come from these pigs, although plump and pink, are no exception. (The pink color comes from nitrates used in curing.) The thigh is a working muscle, not very marbled with fat, and modern hams tend to be dry, not juicy.
To combat dryness and add flavor, producers inject hams with salt brine, along with other, less innocuous, liquids. The brine provides the characteristic quick cure, sweet flavor and long shelf life of city hams. It may contain sugar, syrup or honey; sodium nitrite and nitrates; or “cure accelerators” like sodium ascorbate and preservatives like sodium erythorbate.
Sara Bigelow, who is in charge of ham at the Meat Hook, a butcher shop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, said that not all additives are problematic. “You have to use some nitrites or it won’t have that ham taste,” she said. “The question is how much you use, and what else you do.”
Depending on what is in the brine and how much of it is added, the Food and Drug Administration has developed intricate rules for labeling ham, some of them helpful in unearthing the ham you want for your holiday table. In commercial production, the smoke flavor of a ham can be injected in a brine; massaged in by “tumbling” the ham in a machine; or even sprayed on. Such a ham may list “hickory smoke” as one of its ingredients, but may not be labeled “hickory smoked.”
Hams labeled “ham and water products” or “ham — water added” are brined to the point that the natural pork flavor is compromised, and the texture becomes spongy. A “ham with natural juices” has less liquid added to it and more pork flavor; this is the category that most baked hams belong in.
If it all sounds unappetizing, be assured that the country’s best hams — from producers committed to real wood smoke, pure maple syrup and pasture-raised pigs — are worth seeking out. Going through a trusted butcher is one way to get your hands on them, but with e-commerce, anyone can order from top producers like Snake River Farms and Flying Pigs Farm, the upstate farm that provides ham for the chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten.
To sort through the options, I assembled a panel at The Times to taste a range of baked hams, all nationally available. The group included my colleagues Melissa Clark and Jeff Gordinier; Robert Newton, the chef and an owner at Seersucker in Brooklyn, where ham finds its way into almost every dish; and Sara, who brought along one of her own excellent hams, smoked one day earlier over cherry and apple wood.
Baked hams have a basic flavor profile of sweet, salt and smoke, but there are some regional variations, like maple syrup cures in the Northeast and smoking over hickory wood in the South. Our quest was a ham that would “hit all the ham notes,” Robert said. I bought only hams that were on the bone (which ensures that the ham is a single joint, not a mash-up), were smoked over wood and contained minimal added liquid. Many came from second- and third-generation smokehouses like Burgers’ in Missouri, Nueske’s in Wisconsin and Harrington’s of Vermont; they cost from $2 a pound to $12.
Since most smokehouses do not raise their own pigs, animal welfare was not one of the criteria for this tasting, but more and more farmers provide information about the living conditions of their animals. (My ham from Flying Pigs arrived with a postcard of the farmers Jen Small and Michael Yezzi, sitting on the grass surrounded by their pasture-raised Tamworth hogs.)
Although we liked all of the hams, there was a surprising range of tastes and textures. The hams fell into two groups: those that Melissa termed “child-friendly” hams, with a softness and mild sweetness, and those that Jeff described as “elevated,” with emphatic smoke and a robust, meaty texture. The former is the type sold across the country at places like HoneyBaked Ham. Founded in 1962 by the inventor of spiral slicing, the company now has more than 400 franchise stores. “My parents still get one of those every Easter,” said Sara, who was raised in Los Angeles. “Even the year I carried one of my hams all the way across the country for them to taste.”
The overall favorite, from Harrington’s, was in the latter group. Its smoke was forceful, but didn’t devour the meat; it had a nice chew; and its sweetness was pronounced, a component that was lacking in the more “adult” hams. (We tasted all of them without any glaze or sauce.)
Each ham had little or no fat on the outside, a visual clue that the meat inside would tend toward dry. That was the principal disappointment of the tasting; no ham was juicy and moist after being heated through, and it was hard to imagine eating a steak sliced off any of them.
There are at least two ways to combat the dryness of modern hams. One is with money; as of this month, you can buy an exquisitely juicy ham made from imported Ibérico pork and smoked by the venerable Virginia firm S. Wallace Edwards & Sons. Available from La Tienda, a boneless ham weighing about five pounds costs $249.
Or you can combat dryness in the cooking pot, as my mother and I ultimately did. Baked hams are precooked, but most recipes call for baking them again for two to three hours. This seemed like a recipe for fatally dried-out meat.
In the absence of a family ham tradition, we followed our own tradition: we consulted Julia Child’s books. Her prescription seemed sensible: braise the ham in wine and water to finish the cooking, then roast it in a hot oven to crisp the surface. The end result was glazed with mustard and brown sugar and crusted with golden bread crumbs. Having spent two hours underwater, the meat was tender, juicy and much less salty than the hams I’ve tasted on other people’s tables.
I’m a convert.
WHAT'S THE HEALTHIEST CHOICE IN THE CANNED TUNA AISLE?
The diversity in tuna options is enough to make your head swim. There's 'chunk, solid, pouch, can... heck, even subtle details, like light versus white, can be nutritionally significant, says Brian St. Pierre, C.S.C.S., a sports nutrition consultant based in Maine. Albacore, or white tuna, delivers more than three times the omega-3s of skipjack, or light tuna. But because albacore are typically larger, they also have higher mercury levels. So balance risk and reward, and eat only one 6-ounce serving of albacore a week. (You can have 12 ounces of skipjack a week.) To limit your exposure to BPA, a harmful chemical in the linings of cans, check the label for the words "BPA-free" or opt for plastic pouches. See our favorite catches.
BEST IN WATER AND BEST IN OIL
Wild Planet Wild Albacore
This albacore packed in its own natural juices delivers 1,340 milligrams of DHA/EPA omega-3s in a 2-ounce serving. The oil version has a less intense taste, and the extra-virgin olive oil from Spain adds a dose of heart-healthy monoun-saturated fats. Because Wild Planet catches small albacore, it says its tuna has less than half the mercury of other albacore brands, so you can eat it more often.
120 calories in water, 190 in oil; $30 for six cons, wildplanetfoods.com
BEST GOURMET
Ortiz Bonito del Norte tuna in olive oil
Cooked once instead of twice like most brands, this Spanish albacore has a mellow taste. Add it to pasta with a little of its oil.
160 calories, $17, latienda.com
BEST FLAVOR
Island Trailers Albacore with jalapeno
Caught off the coast of Washington and packed in BPA-free cans, it has a clean taste with a fiery kick.
110 calories, $75 for 12 cans, islandtrollers.com
BEST ON-THE-GO
StarKist Flavor Fresh chunk light in water
A three-time MH 125 Best Foods taste-test winner, this tuna comes in an easy-open, no mess, BPA-free pouch.
80 calories per 2.6 ounces. $1.50, starkist.com
All nutritional data is for 2 ounces unless noted.
Marcona Almonds with Smoked Paprika
Trasierra
Marcona Almonds with Smoked Paprika
If your Marcona almonds haven't already been oiled and salted, add another 1 tablespoon oil when toasting.
6-8 servings
Recipe by Trasierra in Seville, Spain
Photograph by Ditte Isager
March 2013
Ingredients
2 cups Marcona almonds
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
Flaky sea salt (such as Maldon)
Ingredient Info
Marcona almonds can be found at natural and specialty foods stores and at latienda.com. Smoked paprika is available at most supermarkets.
Preparation
Preheat oven to 350°. Toss almonds, oil, and paprika on a rimmed baking sheet to coat; spread out in a single layer and toast, tossing occasionally, until dark golden brown, 8-10 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, sprinkle with salt, and toss to coat. Let cool. DO AHEAD: Nuts can be toasted 1 week ahead. Store airtight at room temperature.
Hungry for More? If you have a question about this recipe, contact our Test Kitchen at askba@bonappetit.com. To see more recipes like this one, check out our Winter Party Appetizers.
Nutritional Information
8 servings, 1 serving contains:
Calories (kcal) 250
Fat (g) 22
Saturated Fat (g) 2
Cholesterol (mg) 0
Carbohydrates (g) 9
Dietary Fiber (g) 5
Total Sugars (g) 2
Protein (g) 9
Sodium (mg) 65
Read More http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2013/03/marcona-almonds-with-smoked-paprika#ixzz2LY8rwTQZ
Read more
Marcona Almonds with Smoked Paprika
If your Marcona almonds haven't already been oiled and salted, add another 1 tablespoon oil when toasting.
6-8 servings
Recipe by Trasierra in Seville, Spain
Photograph by Ditte Isager
March 2013
Ingredients
2 cups Marcona almonds
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
Flaky sea salt (such as Maldon)
Ingredient Info
Marcona almonds can be found at natural and specialty foods stores and at latienda.com. Smoked paprika is available at most supermarkets.
Preparation
Preheat oven to 350°. Toss almonds, oil, and paprika on a rimmed baking sheet to coat; spread out in a single layer and toast, tossing occasionally, until dark golden brown, 8-10 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, sprinkle with salt, and toss to coat. Let cool. DO AHEAD: Nuts can be toasted 1 week ahead. Store airtight at room temperature.
Hungry for More? If you have a question about this recipe, contact our Test Kitchen at askba@bonappetit.com. To see more recipes like this one, check out our Winter Party Appetizers.
Nutritional Information
8 servings, 1 serving contains:
Calories (kcal) 250
Fat (g) 22
Saturated Fat (g) 2
Cholesterol (mg) 0
Carbohydrates (g) 9
Dietary Fiber (g) 5
Total Sugars (g) 2
Protein (g) 9
Sodium (mg) 65
Read More http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2013/03/marcona-almonds-with-smoked-paprika#ixzz2LY8rwTQZ
LaTienda raises over $50,000 for Spanish Federation of Food Banks
JAMES CITY - LaTienda.com has matched a holiday campaign fund with a $25,000 donation that will provide $50,000 to benefit the Spanish Federation of Food Banks.
A press release issued Wednesday, La Tienda credited actress and Madrid native Penelope Cruz, and Annie Sibboney, host of "From Spain With Love" with giving the campaign momentum.
“Even more than the funds raised, we've been reminded of the unbelievable capacity of Americans to help those in need, even while they are also facing hardships at home,” noted La Tienda CEO Tim Harris in an Op/Ed in the Huffington Post included inthe release. “When we launched the campaign, we all sat and waited for the first Facebook responses to come in, our eyes glued to the monitors and iPhone screens. Our community of Spain enthusiasts rallied and our website donations began to flow immediately, quickly raising $10,000 in just over a week.”
Front Burner
In a weekly column, Florence Fabricant recommends things to read, taste, covet, order, cook, give and more.
Florence Fabricant
To Consult: A Scale Measures, Then Folds Away
Weighing ingredients, instead of measuring with less accurate cups and spoons, is standard practice in the professional kitchen. American home cooks have yet to make it a habit. This sleek, compact Joseph Joseph TriScale, a mere two by six inches when closed, should help. Open the arms to form a wide base on which you place something to weigh, then set the scale to give the measurement in ounces and pounds or in metric units. It’s $34.95 at Sur La Table stores, and $30 from josephjoseph.com.
To Read: From Cook’s Illustrated, a Side Dish of Science
There are no color photos to drool over in “The Science of Good Cooking,” by Guy Crosby and the editors of Cook’s Illustrated (America’s Test Kitchen, $40). But the 400 recipes and 50 in-depth techniques are enough to grab the interest of even the most experienced cook.
The team at Cook’s Illustrated tests and retests recipes the way a pianist practices scales, and some of its conclusions seem counterintuitive. When you soak beans overnight, do it in brine. Cook steak in a slow oven, then sear it for an appealing finish. Blanch basil before you turn it into pesto. Really? Yes. Having always heard (but not quite believed) that salt was the enemy of dried beans, I was delighted to find that brining kept them from splitting as they cooked. Roasting and then searing a thick steak resulted in a tender grass-fed strip loin. And blanched basil kept the sauce bright. The book also proves that the green shoot, or germ, inside a garlic clove can make a dish bitter. So take the time to pick it out.
To Take Out: From Taste of Ethiopia, Two New Chicken Dishes
Using his mother’s recipes, Hiyaw Gebreyohannes started Taste of Ethiopia about a year ago, making a few vegetarian dishes in a space at La Marqueta in Harlem. Two chicken dishes are next: loze wet, a mellow, boneless stew rich with peanuts; and doro wet, which is ruddy and hotly fueled with berbere, the Ethiopian spice blend. Containers of the chicken cost about $8 for 16 ounces at local Whole Foods stores and will be $7 at Union Market later in the week.
To Consider: Seeking Better Conditions For Restaurant Employees
Shortly after 9/11, an organization called the Restaurant Opportunities Centers United was founded to help restaurant workers who subsequently lost their jobs. It has now become a national group, and its primary mission is improving conditions for restaurant workers. On Monday, the Ford Foundation held a half-day forum about how to persuade the restaurant industry to change the way it treats its workers, which is explained in a new book, “Behind the Kitchen Door,” by Saru Jayaraman, one of the founders of the organization.
One of the panelists at the event was Andy Shallal, a restaurant owner in the Washington area who offers overtime pay, health insurance and paid sick leave for his employees, unlike the vast majority of the nation’s restaurateurs, according to the Restaurant Opportunities Centers. He made an original suggestion: “When I got to New York today, I noticed how restaurants post letter grades from the Health Department. What if they also had to post letter grades indicating the quality of the conditions for their workers?”
To Serve: The Year of the Snake Begins With Churros
The Year of the Snake starts on Sunday, and Anita Lo, the chef and owner of Annisa, is marking the occasion with a six-course tasting menu. The meal will culminate with churros, the long, snakelike Spanish doughnuts, with a black sesame dipping sauce that’s easily done at home. Mix 1/2 cup of black sesame paste (sold in Japanese and Korean markets) with 2 tablespoons sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt and about 1/2 cup water. And if making churros is not for you, places to buy them include the Doughnut Plant shops, in Chelsea and on the Lower East Side, or online at tienda.com. Ms. Lo’s dinner, $105, plus tax, tip and drinks, will be served Sunday and Monday: 13 Barrow Street (Seventh Avenue South), (212) 741-6699.
To Taste: A Surprise From the Bar: Jars of Pickled Vegetables
The name Boulton & Watt pays homage to the developers of the steam engine and the early days of the Industrial Revolution. Yet one of the attractions at this new restaurant, at 5 Avenue A (Houston Street), (646) 490-6004, is decidedly preindustrial. David Rotter, the chef and an owner, makes pickles ($5 a jar) at a small counter at the end of the bar. Okra with garlic and caraway; crunchy brussels sprouts; curried cauliflower; and pineapple chunks with habaneros, mint and basil are among the choices. They also turn up in unexpected places, like a drink that adds the pineapple to bourbon, beer and lemon.
A version of this article appeared in print on 02/06/2013, on page D3 of the New York edition with the headline: Front Burner.
Read more
Florence Fabricant
To Consult: A Scale Measures, Then Folds Away
Weighing ingredients, instead of measuring with less accurate cups and spoons, is standard practice in the professional kitchen. American home cooks have yet to make it a habit. This sleek, compact Joseph Joseph TriScale, a mere two by six inches when closed, should help. Open the arms to form a wide base on which you place something to weigh, then set the scale to give the measurement in ounces and pounds or in metric units. It’s $34.95 at Sur La Table stores, and $30 from josephjoseph.com.
To Read: From Cook’s Illustrated, a Side Dish of Science
There are no color photos to drool over in “The Science of Good Cooking,” by Guy Crosby and the editors of Cook’s Illustrated (America’s Test Kitchen, $40). But the 400 recipes and 50 in-depth techniques are enough to grab the interest of even the most experienced cook.
The team at Cook’s Illustrated tests and retests recipes the way a pianist practices scales, and some of its conclusions seem counterintuitive. When you soak beans overnight, do it in brine. Cook steak in a slow oven, then sear it for an appealing finish. Blanch basil before you turn it into pesto. Really? Yes. Having always heard (but not quite believed) that salt was the enemy of dried beans, I was delighted to find that brining kept them from splitting as they cooked. Roasting and then searing a thick steak resulted in a tender grass-fed strip loin. And blanched basil kept the sauce bright. The book also proves that the green shoot, or germ, inside a garlic clove can make a dish bitter. So take the time to pick it out.
To Take Out: From Taste of Ethiopia, Two New Chicken Dishes
Using his mother’s recipes, Hiyaw Gebreyohannes started Taste of Ethiopia about a year ago, making a few vegetarian dishes in a space at La Marqueta in Harlem. Two chicken dishes are next: loze wet, a mellow, boneless stew rich with peanuts; and doro wet, which is ruddy and hotly fueled with berbere, the Ethiopian spice blend. Containers of the chicken cost about $8 for 16 ounces at local Whole Foods stores and will be $7 at Union Market later in the week.
To Consider: Seeking Better Conditions For Restaurant Employees
Shortly after 9/11, an organization called the Restaurant Opportunities Centers United was founded to help restaurant workers who subsequently lost their jobs. It has now become a national group, and its primary mission is improving conditions for restaurant workers. On Monday, the Ford Foundation held a half-day forum about how to persuade the restaurant industry to change the way it treats its workers, which is explained in a new book, “Behind the Kitchen Door,” by Saru Jayaraman, one of the founders of the organization.
One of the panelists at the event was Andy Shallal, a restaurant owner in the Washington area who offers overtime pay, health insurance and paid sick leave for his employees, unlike the vast majority of the nation’s restaurateurs, according to the Restaurant Opportunities Centers. He made an original suggestion: “When I got to New York today, I noticed how restaurants post letter grades from the Health Department. What if they also had to post letter grades indicating the quality of the conditions for their workers?”
To Serve: The Year of the Snake Begins With Churros
The Year of the Snake starts on Sunday, and Anita Lo, the chef and owner of Annisa, is marking the occasion with a six-course tasting menu. The meal will culminate with churros, the long, snakelike Spanish doughnuts, with a black sesame dipping sauce that’s easily done at home. Mix 1/2 cup of black sesame paste (sold in Japanese and Korean markets) with 2 tablespoons sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt and about 1/2 cup water. And if making churros is not for you, places to buy them include the Doughnut Plant shops, in Chelsea and on the Lower East Side, or online at tienda.com. Ms. Lo’s dinner, $105, plus tax, tip and drinks, will be served Sunday and Monday: 13 Barrow Street (Seventh Avenue South), (212) 741-6699.
To Taste: A Surprise From the Bar: Jars of Pickled Vegetables
The name Boulton & Watt pays homage to the developers of the steam engine and the early days of the Industrial Revolution. Yet one of the attractions at this new restaurant, at 5 Avenue A (Houston Street), (646) 490-6004, is decidedly preindustrial. David Rotter, the chef and an owner, makes pickles ($5 a jar) at a small counter at the end of the bar. Okra with garlic and caraway; crunchy brussels sprouts; curried cauliflower; and pineapple chunks with habaneros, mint and basil are among the choices. They also turn up in unexpected places, like a drink that adds the pineapple to bourbon, beer and lemon.
A version of this article appeared in print on 02/06/2013, on page D3 of the New York edition with the headline: Front Burner.
Romesco Sauce
Try this Spanish sauce, made with roasted red peppers and almonds, on turkey sandwiches.
Soa Davies
MAKES 1 1/2 CUPS
INGREDIENTS
1 large roasted red bell pepper from a jar
1 garlic clove, smashed
1/2 cup slivered almonds, toasted
1/4 cup tomato purée
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons Sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
INGREDIENT INFO
Smoked paprika is available at most supermarkets. The Spanish type, sometimes labeled Pimentón Dulce or Pimentón de La Vera, is sold at specialty foods stores and latienda.com.
PREPARATION
Pulse first 8 ingredients in a food processor until very finely chopped. With motor running, slowly add oil; process until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. DO AHEAD: Romesco can be made 1 week ahead. Cover and chill.
Hungry for More? If you have a question about this recipe, contact our Test Kitchen at askba@bonappetit.com. To see more recipes like this one, check out our Marinades Recipes.
NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION
1 tablespoon per serving, 1 serving contains:
Calories (kcal) 50
Fat (g) 6
Saturated Fat (g) .5
Cholesterol (mg) 0
Carbohydrates (g) 1
Dietary Fiber (g) 0
Total Sugars (g) 0
Protein (g) 1
Sodium (mg) 40
Read More http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2013/01/romesco-sauce#ixzz2IjhLjLyn
Read more
Soa Davies
MAKES 1 1/2 CUPS
INGREDIENTS
1 large roasted red bell pepper from a jar
1 garlic clove, smashed
1/2 cup slivered almonds, toasted
1/4 cup tomato purée
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons Sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
INGREDIENT INFO
Smoked paprika is available at most supermarkets. The Spanish type, sometimes labeled Pimentón Dulce or Pimentón de La Vera, is sold at specialty foods stores and latienda.com.
PREPARATION
Pulse first 8 ingredients in a food processor until very finely chopped. With motor running, slowly add oil; process until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. DO AHEAD: Romesco can be made 1 week ahead. Cover and chill.
Hungry for More? If you have a question about this recipe, contact our Test Kitchen at askba@bonappetit.com. To see more recipes like this one, check out our Marinades Recipes.
NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION
1 tablespoon per serving, 1 serving contains:
Calories (kcal) 50
Fat (g) 6
Saturated Fat (g) .5
Cholesterol (mg) 0
Carbohydrates (g) 1
Dietary Fiber (g) 0
Total Sugars (g) 0
Protein (g) 1
Sodium (mg) 40
Read More http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2013/01/romesco-sauce#ixzz2IjhLjLyn
