A Bolognese Composed of Watered Down Meat

My first forays into a Bolognese have not been without bumps in the road. Now, I've put ground beef in a sauce before, but during the past couple months it's been more of a theme. It all started when I brought that hamburg meat. If you make hamburgs, you're also gonna be prone to mix it up a little. I got this hamburg meat at the Key Food. The fattiest I could find, but probably not fatty enough, I think it was chuck. I forget the exact percentage. She was loosely packed, which I think helps make a good hamburg. I'm sure you'll all recall my dealings with the English Muffin. Well, instead of using the hamburg meat just for hamburgs, one night I made what I call a Bolognese. This was a bit ago, and though my memory is hazy, I'm sure I concluded that I hadn't put enough meat in it.

It happened that I had another opportunity to make a Bolognese upon the prompting of a dear critic of my cooking. She likes it alla casserole, that is baked. Though a new batch, the meat was of the same character as previously. A standing order when cooking for said La Exigente is not to burn it, have an inexhaustible supply of jalapenos, copious amounts of garlic, and a member of the onion family. Accordingly I brought myself some rigoatta cheese, copious amounts of fresh jalapenos, some medium quality parmesan, shallots, Polly-O brand whole milk mozzarella, and lots of garlic. I opted for the DeCecco rigatoni, which are almost large enough to fill with the rigoatta. I probably used the standard Classico brand tomato and basil as my base.

First I sauteed the hamburg meat, adding no oil. The ground was lose and it easily broke apart into finer pieces. I, personally, was happy with this. I added the garlic, shallots, jalapenos, and sauteed them too. I thought things were going fairly well. It was not lost on me that I had put what I deemed to be not enough of the hamburg meat in the last time. This time was different though, as there were 2 diners, and it was to be baked. Anyway, I certainly thought I was being generous with the hamburg meat. I have a tendency to over do it when I'm cooking for more than myself, and so, on the other side of checks and balances stood that awareness. I believe I cut up the shallots in the style of southern asia mentioned previously, not in a strictly western style. I think these were the french style shallots, not the ones I got at the dual specialty store, and herself expressed some interest in the new cutting technique.  After the saute-ing, which occurred in the cast iron skillet, which is rather large and suitable for oven use, I stopped the cooking by adding the tomato sauce and turning off the heat. As I was cooking the rigatoni, I added some pasta water into the mix. I didn't cook the rigatoni thoroughly as they'll be baked.

I am ever aware that rigoatta cheese is ruined by too much heat. A problem with a baked, dare I say it, Ziti-type dish is that in the baking the creaminess of the rigoatta is easily destroyed. And it's the creaminess that makes rigoatta rigoatta. So, in my mind most of the work will be done before the oven. When the rigatoni was deemed ready I added it to the skillet, mixed in some parmesan and rigoatta, and topped with a layer of sliced mozzarella, and into the oven it went (I later learned that shredded mozzarella is the right kind to use). I took it out of the oven as soon as I saw signs of browning of the mozzarella, and as a mixed blessing there was some bubbling too. Of course I have the prescription against burning, but also I don't want to cook the rigoatta.

The meal was served. Although she was happy with the al dente character of the rigatoni, it was determined that the meat was watered down, and there wasn't enough of it. The meal was "disgusting". She was perplexed how anybody could serve watered down meat and questioned me about if I broke up the meat when I sauteed it, and if I sauteed it by itself before I put the sauce in.  I admitted that I broke up the meat to some degree. She was quite taken aback by that, because it's supposed to be in chunks, like a particular chili we get. My defense was that it was a loose grind, and I wasn't aware that meat in Bolognese need come in chunks. I can understand how different people could like theirs in different ways, but not that it was wrong to not have chunks. The only thing that saved me was that as I was taking the plate away she discovered a small chunk on the plate. Otherwise, she said, it would have been all over for us.

Vagaries of the Frankfurt Sausage

For reasons I don't entirely understand sometimes I make myself a frank or two and they're great, and other times I do and they're just not that good. This morning I had a frank for breakfast, like the one I had last night. I did that because the one I had last night was really good. It happens that I usually put them under the broiler on a sheet of aluminum foil. But I'm all out of aluminum foil.

I think it was Wednesday when I last brought provisions at the Duane Reade in the center of town. Among other things, I picked up some franks. All they had was Reduced fat Hebrew national and skinless Nathan's. I like Hebrew National, but reduced fat? Forget it. I'm glad I didn't get them without noticing. I hate when that happens. One time I bought Smucker's Hot Fudge, and didn't realize until I ate it on my ice cream that it was sugar free. Let me tell you, not even sugar can help sugar free hot fudge. I threw it out. But I digress...

So, I bought the Nathan's franks. A decent frank, though I generally would have preferred the traditional  ones that have a proper casing. The ones that I bought also had the other kind of frank shape, the kind of shape that comes perhaps from maybe being formed not as links but through some other process. Anyway, they don't have the shape of the nominal Nathan's frank, but the other kind of shape that is out there. Not a big deal.

I also picked up what I thought were hot dog buns. There wasn't a selection, I got what they had. It wasn't until the next day, when I made myself a couple hot dogs for supper that I realized they weren't hot dog buns per se, they were Delish! brand Brat & Sausage rolls. A little taken aback, I proceeded to use them anyways. They are a bit more toothsome than a traditional soft hot dog bun, a little larger, and are cut open on the top, like Home Pride bread, wherein the commercial year's back they showed them slicing open the top of the loaf before baking and drizzling butter into it.

As I said, I was out of aluminum foil, so I couldn't use the normal method of broiling. I have a gas stove and oven. I opted to heat a couple up in my saute pan on high, turning the oven on high when I began the cooking in order to warm it up. I turned them a few times, and once they were starting to brown nicely, and the pan was plenty hot, I threw the pan in the oven. No oil added here. While they were in the oven I diced up a shallot, and selected my mustard.

I'm all out of Dijon, my go to mustard. I had some Thumann's horseradish mustard that I got for Christmas, maybe the year before last. It's Ok, but I like my Dijon. I had some other mustard choices, but this is what I went with, for various reasons, among which was that I didn't think enough of the other choices. No problem. I split open 2 of the 'buns' and put them under the broiler when the franks were nearly ready. One thing about franks: I like to make sure that they've been cooked through and I like a good deal of browning. I'm not averse to a frank that others might consider burnt. I would rather err on that side. I think that part of the reason some franks that should be good, but for some reason aren't, is because they're not cooked through and through. Of course, these comments mostly pertain to dry cooking methods.

I like to brown the buns under the broiler and I took them out from under it a little too late. One of them was borderline burnt. Not a big problem. Then I put the franks into the buns and put on the shallots and mustard. I found that although the flavor of the franks was pretty good, because they were cooked enough, and although I love raw diced shallots on a frank, the whole thing was a bit overpowering and yearned for a bit of sweetness. I realized before I sat down that some relish would've been nice, but I didn't have any. And the mustard was just too strong to complement the frank and I probably put too much on. Especially with that mustard I yearned for some sweetness. The buns were not bad. I was afraid that they would overshadow the frank and be too hard, but they really weren't. No complaints.

Last night I decided to give the franks another try. I had a bowl of crappy instant Thai Hot & Sour soup from a brand that shall remain nameless, that I also picked up at the Duane Reade the other night. I salvaged it by the use of copious quantities of a certain chinese hot oil product. But I digress, again...

Then I opted to have a sole frank. This time the process would be a little different. Two things occurred to me since the last effort. I put a little olive oil in the pan, and I wanted to find a different mustard, or something with a little sweetness. I found a very small, gift assortment size jar of Lost Acres Sweet and Hot mustard in the fridge. This was also a gift, I think for Christmas, but at least 3 years ago, I'd say. So, looking for something with a little sweetness, I tried that.

I went through the same process, but this time I made sure to check the buns. They take barely a minute. I took them out at the peak of brownness. I put some of this mustard on the frank and no shallots. This was one of the good franks. I did the same thing this morning and it came out just as good. Those buns are actually really good, the frank was cooked perfectly, and the mustard complemented the frank without overpowering it, and with a bit of sweetness. I guess I'm a bit of a minimalist when it comes to franks.

The finished product

An Open Letter to the Climatologists

Dear Climatologists,

What's all this about anthropogenic climate change? What? Not only are you forecasting 100 years into the future now, but the forecast for bad weather is our fault? Where did you get this idea from, a Christmas Carol? It reminds me of a visit from the ghost of Christmas future. I wonder what Dickens would think... And where's your track record, sir? My word, this is very disrespectful towards the weather. If I was the weather I would not be happy. As much as you try to control it, it cannot be tamed. Build houses out of trees, buildings out of stone, because you can't make yourself the master of the weather. Isn't that too bad? Well, evidently you'll stoop to anything to try, or at least to make people think you can. Perception is reality. Isn't that what they say in 'the biz'?

If you all are so certain of yourselves, then why don't you tell us how to behave so that we can get sunny days with a constant 72F outside? That would help with energy usage. Might it be that there are some folks who happen to like the weather the way it is, who happen to like that the climate always changes, even when it doesn't, sir?

I'm glad you like to think the earth's atmosphere is your laboratory. Maybe you'd like another where you can ban the use of cars so that you can study the effect. Or maybe another yet. I guess if you put them on the same orbit they won't hit each other. Any asteroids that might be lead astray from their original path by the other earths probably won't hit this earth anyway. Right?

Fame and the Chile Pepper Machine

Yes, I've had the ghost pepper, but only dried, though they were whole not powdered. I think they taste like habanero, which isn't a bad thing. I think they're about as hot as a habanero too. It would be hard for me to say that they're hotter, though admittedly I haven't had them fresh. It may be that the hottest ghost pepper is hotter than the hottest habanero, or that the ghost pepper is on average hotter than the habanero, but they're certainly in the same ballpark.

In a hundred years (or maybe a lot less) I fear though that the ghost pepper will be no more spicy than the bell pepper. I've watched this curious phenomenon before in horror, where a food becomes trendy and then is re-engineered so that it loses the properties that made it good in the first place. Presumably so that it can appeal to more people, because the properties that people initially liked in it are only appreciated by a relatively small number of people. It also gives the people who eat that food a feeling that they're eating something that reflects well upon them, but what they're appreciating has been dumbed down to make it more accessible to them. The process is like a machine designed to make cash by reducing a pepper's heat while keeping it's name. Eventually the name is all that's left. I wonder how many dollars there are in a scoville unit. Well, this is hardly earth shattering, and I can't fault anyone for trying to make a dolluh, but it's sad just the same.

I guess the same thing is prone to happen with people when they get famous, what made them notable was something about them that was unique, but when they hit the mainstream they are marketed to appeal to more people. This must be a rather agonizing experience for the person involved, and I never realized until now that Anthony Bourdain, the great crusader against the food network and it's icon of earlier days, Emeril, might have something in common with a Chipotle pepper. When I first had a chipotle, back in the mid 90s it was very hot, very smokey, and just delicious. Now they probably have chipotle lollipops for children. When I once walked into a Chipotle restaurant I expected more than a bottle of Chipotle tabasco sauce to greet me. And this is how those interesting people in society sometimes become the standard bearers of the people. Of course, I'm one of those people (not the interesting ones, the other ones), so I wonder where these sentiments fall within their plan for world domination because it affects me too. I'm certainly not advocating that No Reservations, or even his new show on CNN be cancelled, and I suppose this whole diatribe may be just what they want from me. They're not to be underestimated.

Someone in a bar once asked me if I had to be an herb which herb would I be? I chose Cilantro. I wonder what demographic that puts me in...

The Bialy, a Savory Answer to the Danish

In some sense, a bialy is like a cross between a bagel and a danish pastry because what distinguishes it from the bagel reminds me of the danish, but it is by no means sweet. My friend pointed out to me that it's also a little flatter than a bagel, and she should know because she's jewish. The thing is that though the bialy is very much like a bagel, it doesn't have a hole, it has a serious indentation instead. If a bialy had a hole then if you put some minced onions where the hole is they would fall right through. Since it's not a hole, you can put things, like minced onions, where the depression is. The depression acts like a bowl to contain them.

Some Bialys

Now this is the same thing they do with a danish, it's where they put the sweet "filling". Except I've never seen a sweet bialy, and I prefer savory things, so a bialy is right up my alley. In fact, I've been pegged as a bialy type. It's also a bit like an onion roll as it has the same type of minced onions as the good ones.

It takes a little practice to eat one because you have to ration the amount of the onion part you take with each mouthful. This takes a bit of skill, but I wouldn't say it detracts much from the experience. It's quite similar to how one might eat a danish, and that doesn't seem to stop people from eating them. I like bialys with cream cheese or butter. I don't know why, but maybe the bialy is helped more by butter than the bagel is, and maybe that's because it's more like an onion roll. Most people have heard of onion rolls, but it could be that fewer are familiar with the bialy. If you like onion rolls and onion bagels and have never had one you should check it out.