Jonesing

Four days of veganism and things are going fine.  At the very least, wracking my brains for meal ideas has made me more conscious about what I eat.  I have to actually consider the entire contents of my fridge and think about what might sate me, whereas before I'd just grab the nearest block of cheese and build a meal around that because I knew that it would sate me.

I don't want to use fake cheese and meat products to fool myself that nothing's changed but I still have cravings for many of their taste constituencies, namely mouth feel and umami.  The two sort of go hand in hand in that glutamates stimulate our umami receptors which registers a savory, full taste in our brains.  These glutamates can be created when proteins break down through aging and fermentation.  Thus, aged cheeses, cured meats and fish sauce are excellent for satisfying umami cravings.

The Hunt
Since all three are off my current food list, I have to find my fix elsewhere.  Here's a fun source: Sauerkraut!  The basic idea is to take some shredded cabbage with some salt and put it in an oxygen-free environment for a few days so it can undergo lacto fermentation.  The preserving process makes it sour and umami-licious (a term that will henceforth never be used in this blog).

I actually have a big 8-gallon ceramic water-sealed fermenting pot which works great but it's hard for one person to eat gallons of sauerkraut.  I had this idea to use beer brewing air-locks with 1-quart Ball jars for smaller batches.  Sure enough, people on the web have already done this.  You can be up and running for under 20 bucks and it works like a charm - pickles, kraut, kimchi, etc.

This is the easiest way to get into DIY/homesteading/preserving.  Set it and forget it.  I highly recommend it.  My current favorite is sauerkraut with mustard seeds.

The Chinese Deliver
Asians know how to find their glutamates.  Fish sauce and dashi are classic sources as are many preserved soy products.  One of my favorites is preserved chili soy bean paste.  Small blocks are brined in glass jars.  It has the texture of smooth mascarpone but tastes like salty, aged gym socks.

But it's delicious on rice or added to a braise.  Today I had a sauteed vegetable and lentil wrap and where I would have put cheese and mayo, I put in a streak of bean paste on the tortilla and it was spectacular.  Suffice it to say, a little goes a long way.

Another product that I've been reading more and more about is mushroom powder.

It consists of mushroom extracts and salt and is used in place of MSG.  Mushrooms have a lot of glutamic acid so it's basically the same thing except it has a mushroomy flavor.  So while most vegetable stocks are pallid substitutes for chicken stock, vegetable stock with mushroom powder is a formidable player.  Soups, stews, popcorn, risotto, etc.

Only Temporary

Yes, it seems like vegan folly to compare salted cabbage to a slice of Parmesan Reggiano, but keep in mind, this is just a one-month experiment to broaden my palate.  Not shut off parts completely.  Look out, Prosciutto di Parma.  I'll be back.

A Philosophical Question

Is a pizza without cheese still a pizza?

A Month of Gustatory Austerity - Not an April Fool's Joke

A year and a half ago, or so, I made an informal pledge to not bring non-aquatic meat in my house.  It was not an easy choice as I love to eat and cook meat, but the reasons were too overwhelming: ecological, dietary, ethical, food costs, pigs are cute, etc.  But I'm also a hypocrite, since I will eat meat at restaurants or friends' houses.

Initially, I felt healthier and smugger as I lost a bit of weight.  But that trend sort of plateaued and reversed itself as I made excuses to eat out at pork dumpling restaurants and taquerias and developed a habit of adding molten chunks of cheese to everything I cook.  Combine that with a steady stream of booze and an aging metabolism and suddenly I'm back up to here:

This puts my Body Mass Index (BMI) at 27.2, i.e., "overweight."  In order to be of "normal weight," I should be around 15 pounds lighter, according to the National Institutes of Health.

The problem is that I don't really think about what I put in my mouth.  When I make a meal, I instinctively go for hearty things like pastas and stews and greasy fried things accompanied by fistfuls of cheese and glasses of wine.  Salads never even cross my mind.

I need to break the habit.

According to self-help lore, habits can be broken in around 30 days, so that's what I'm going to try: train my body to crave healthier foods.  Here are the rules:

• this applies only for the month of April
• a completely vegan diet
• nothing deep fried
• no added sugar
• no booze
• no sugar substitutes (I'm talking to you, Crystal Light)
• no meat analogs (texurized vegetable protein, faux ground meats, etc.)
• no fake cheese (easily done since they all suck)
• no fast food, vegan or not

I'm not expecting miracles, but we'll see what happens.  This past weekend, I tried to prime my body to make it ready for a healthy change.  This process consisted of eating four pizzas, cooking a fantastic grass-fed filet mignon that had been sitting in my freezer for two years (and thus grandfathered past my no-meat pledge) and downing a few bottles of wine.  My liver wasn't happy, but the rest of me enjoyed it.

Next, I'll talk cooking strategies.

What I Learned over Winter Break

Okay, it's been more than awhile since I posted, but it's not like anybody reads this.  Also, this post will be uncharacteristically devoid of photography as the meal to which it refers was too stupendous to waste time with snapping photos.

At a party this past fall, a friend - let's call him Bill as that's his name - and I were discussing our mutual love of raw oysters.  In a boozy, gregarious mood, I proposed that we have a night where we buy a few dozen oysters from the farmer's market and share them with a couple friends.  At the next get together a month later, I said, "We still have to do that oyster night," and offered to steam a couple crabs and make clam chowder.  Bill offered to make scampi.

At the next shindig, Michael and Cristina were included in the oyster-fest equation which now had a date, January 6.  They are germane to the discussion because they are restauranteurs - like badass restauranteurs.  They offered to buy the seafood for Crustacean Celebration (CC) through their wholesaler.  Seemed sensible until I called Michael to place the order, which went a little something like this:

Me: So, I was going to make clam chowder, steam some Dungeness crab and Bill's making scampi.

Michael: O.K.  So how about 15 pounds of cherrystone clams, 10 pounds of U12 shrimp, I'll bring some littlenecks to eat raw...how many crabs?  Eight?

Me: ...um...that seems like a lot of...

Michael: Fine, five pounds of shrimp.  Six crabs.

Me: ...Sure?

Michael: I'll bring over scallops, too.

Me: And I'll go to the Hollywood farmers' market to get the oysters.

Michael: O.K.  So I'll just bring over six dozen Kumamotos.

Me: There are only going to be 12 of us.

Michael: Look, Marty: You can eat a dozen oysters in your sleep.  Whatever we shuck will get eaten.  Trust me.

Lesson One: Trust the Master.
It was a little intimidating cooking clam chowder for the first time for a chef about to open his second restaurant, a high-end seafood shack serving three types of chowder, but I had committed to the dish before I knew that.  When I went to pick up the seafood from the restaurant the day before CC, Michael gave me the two-minute rundown:

• Put the clams in the freezer for an hour to kill them to make them easier to open
• Save the clam juice and store the shucked meat in the fridge
• Make the soup the night before so the flavor penetrates the (Idaho) potatoes
• Use bottled clam juice if you want - it's a good product
• Serve heavy cream (reduced by half) on the side so people can have creamy chowder if they want
• Just before service, chop the raw clams into the reheated soup so they don't get overcooked
• Don't add flour, the starch from the potatoes will thicken the soup

This technique is fantastic and works with about any recipe.  The fresh brininess of the clams shines through and even with cream, the soup stays light.  The only difference was I had already bought Yukon Golds as per the Bon Appetit recipe I was using, but taters are taters, right?

Lesson Two: Knife Skills
Apparently, it's not enough to stick a clam in the freezer for an hour to kill it.  Cherrystone clams are resilient creatures.  Even though they had reached 26 degrees, they still hadn't died.  They needed to freeze and thus refused to succumb to my pryings.  That I was using a butter knife might also have been a problem.  Thankfully, Bill and his wife brought a clam shucking knife which saved the chowder.

But I did feel like a badass with my bona fide oyster shucking knife.  You just pop the tip into the hinge of the shell, lean into it and pray it doesn't slip and sever an artery, which is why they make them dull.  Michael brought his own shucker, which was sharp enough to cut paper.  He was popping open oysters like a Frat brother opens beer cans.  It was a frightening blade, but really it makes sense since it gets into the gap so much more efficiently.  Just like with regular cutting, a sharper, more effective knife will reduce the incidence of injury.

Michael and I both brought mignonette sauce and I was humbled once more.  His shallots were chopped in perfect 1 mm x 1 mm squares while mine - which I had been proud of - looked they had been savaged by a cross-eyed psychopath.  The divide between the professional from the enthusiast is vast.

Lesson Three: Trade Secrets
Despite feeling hopelessly incompetent, I was still eager to learn:

A shrimp boil is a misnomer.  I tossed the giant shrimp into hot broth and turned off the heat.  They will cook at 140 degrees or so.  I sort of forgot about them but when I served them fifteen minutes later, they were perfectly cooked, moist and firm.

It was fine to store the crabs in the cooler overnight covered with wet newspaper and a couple ice cubes.  36 hours later, they were alive, albeit slow.

After you shuck an oyster, flip it with a cleaned knife so that the belly is on top.  It's purtier that way.

Fresh is better (duh). Michael brought these scallops attached to their shell that were so fresh, when you flicked them, the muscle contracted.  He painted them lightly with butter then grilled them face down.  He then flipped them finishing them with a bit of butter, lemon and pimenton.  The best scallop I've ever eaten.

A New Annual Tradition
Under the guidance of a master, CC was a massive success.  Everything was delicious and all the oysters were, indeed, consumed. Cristina suggested we do this every year and even proposed a springtime Fin Festival (FF) where we charter a fishing boat and only cook what fish we caught that day.  We shall see how that works out for a motion sickness-prone land lubber like me.

During post-feast poker, the one thing I lamented was that the chowder was on the thin side to which Michael responded, "I told you to use Idaho potatoes.  You should have listened to me."