It's Skyline Time

Growing up in the suburbs of Cincinnati, Skyline Chili was more than just a rite of passage. In a town wedded to its local dining traditions, it was simply What You Ate. You ate there after Reds games and before Bengals games (mostly to soften the blow of the inevitable loss), after school and on a date. You ate there late at night to settle the alcohol in your stomach, or early in the morning before a flight out of town.

I probably ate at Skyline once a week for almost 20 years. Not only did I never eat at another chili parlor, despite the many throughout town (and a fact that I should be embarrassed to admit in my willingness to try everything else), it never even occurred to me that I should.

An important note: people expecting a "real" chili are unfailingly disappointed. Think of it as a soft ragu or meat sauce. The spicing is also radically different, with an aroma of clove, cinnamon and chocolate dominating. Authentic recipes call for the beef to be boiled rather than browned and tenderized in vinegar for a characteristically mushy texture. I know, it's difficult to imagine how this could taste good, but stick with me. The chili is but one component of the whole, which works far better than it has any right to taste.

To be sure, this is not just a hard chili recipe to get exactly correct, the other ingredients are almost as tough, with the cheese being nearly impossible to replicate. A fluffy tangle of Big Bird yellow cheese forms a mountain over the chili and thoroughly cooked spaghetti, never clumping and only barely melting on the lowest layer touching the chili.

Finally, the proper dish is needed. See my picture below. The proper dish collects the copious chili juice, which provides a secondary yet crucial lubrication to the spaghetti. But the dish is also shaped so as to spread the juices and not concentrate them, like at the bottom of a bowl. I had no such dish.

Crash course: a 3 Way is spaghetti, chili and cheese. A 4 Way adds onions or beans and a 5 Way contains both. Top with liberal amounts of hot sauce and oyster crackers to achieve synergy.

A Long Weekend of Excess

Maybe it won't compare to Steve's weekend of similar excess in Chicago, but while we're measuring I'll line up my Memorial Day weekend with anyone. I'm sure everyone has eagerly anticipated hearing about it...

It started on Thursday morning. I was in court in Staten Island, a much easier, and far more relaxing environment than my usual spot in the hellhole of Kings court. I finished before 11 AM, grabbing an early beer and slice with a colleague at Pier 76 on Bay Street, only a five minute walk from the courthouse in Richmond Terrace.

Although Pier 76 was opened by the progeny of Joe & Pat's, the pizza was disappointing. I got two of the freshest slices from the first pizzas of the day: pepperoni and a Sicilian. Both slices were heavy on the cheese, with a thin, chunky tomato sauce. The crust was fine, but could barely hold the torrents of grease from the cheese and sauce. I'm glad to have tried it, but I'm doing a Staten Island Pizza tour this weekend and am preparing to have my mind blown. The best part of the meal was hearing the bartenders share their Fleet Week stories.

Pier 76
76 Bay Street
Staten Island, NY 10301
(718) 447-7434

A Rosh Hashanah Interlude: Making Gefilte Fish

My grandma has long wanted to show me the art of making gefilte fish, with multiple calls at random times absolutely insisting that we set a date. (Or else she would withhold honey cake and mandel bread.) Since it's so labor intensive, she and my mother will make one giant batch for the High Holidays and hope it lasts. Luckily for me, I just happened to be home this past Labor Day weekend for Gefilte Fish-athon 2010. (This also presented a perfect opportunity for a Rosh Hasahanah post in order to make me feel better for being the non-observant that Jew I am.)

We were unable to convince my grandma to relax and let us all do the work and have her supervise-- she apparently woke up at 6 AM the day before to grind the fish-- not something my mother and I were willing to do (generational thing, I guess). Even still I "sacrificed" by getting up at 9AM after a long night of partying to help make the gefilte.

This is a lot more fish than it looks-- around 8 pounds of walleye and whitefish. With so much, everything needed to be done in three batches, and we were constantly dividing all the instructions by a third-- something neither myself nor my grandma and mother are particularly good at-- so things mostly end up being eyeballed. This also conveniently allows me to get away with not giving a specific recipe, which I feel would be a breach of my grandma's trust, though I doubt she would really care.

Across the Burger Spectrum

Before getting to the good stuff, I'm going to tell you about a bad burger I ate recently. In my zeal to try all the burgers in Midtown East, I had my first really awful burger from a Greek diner called Townhouse-something-or-other in the East 30's (I really don't even care about this place enough to look up the real name).

Seeing that the only two options for cheese were cheddar or feta should have been my first red flag, but I rolled with it and decided for feta. It was a Greek diner so it seemed right (and I've never liked cheddar on burgers). When the burger arrived at my apartment in little over 30 minutes, I immediately noticed the soggy, grease flavored fries and all around sad appearance.

The burger itself was an overly charred, preformed patty with a melted spitball of feta placed between the limp bun and soggy, browning lettuce and tomatoes. Yet, having spent twelve bucks, this was my dinner whether I liked it or not. I picked off the rabbit food and went for the burger. All I tasted was charred beef and salty feta... maybe not the worst burger but absolutely not something I would spend money on again.

I got through about three quarters of the burger before deciding I'd had enough. I started to feel slightly sick to my stomach almost immediately (although it could have been psychosomatic). A fruit cup also came with the burger and I stupidly figured it would be palatable (and healthy). I had four pieces of bland, wet fruit before seeing a crushed mosquito chilling on a grape. A second wave of disgust hit me, and my stomach felt even worse. At this point, I was determined to not let this burger pass through my system, so I decided to do the unthinkable.

I've never actually "made" myself throw up. Admittedly while lying in bed, curled up a fetal position and clutching my stomach after a long night of drinking-- I've given up the struggle and dragged myself into the bathroom. But sticking-fingers-into-throat to make myself throw up-- never.

Hell, I'm an adventurous guy who is willing to try new things, so I might as well make the attempt. A few tentative pokes activated my gag reflex, but nothing happened besides some weak spit. Now I was pissed. If a college Freshman girl can do this, surely I can make it happen? I jammed two fingers into the back of my throat, sending a shock of pain down to my Adam's apple, but now all that came out was acidic stomach juice. I tried in vain a few more times, but my stomach only got angrier and  my throat throbbed harder. I finally gave up, collapsing onto my couch with an overwhelming feeling of failure.

So now that I've disgusted everyone with my tale of burger and personal failure (and if you're still reading), let me describe a far better burger experience last week on a return trip to The Breslin. My first meal was a letdown, but I had not tried the burger, one of the most popular options on the menu.

Dinner Tonight: Garlic Scapes

Wandering through Union Square Greenmarket this past weekend it seemed as if every stall was selling the hyper-seasonal ingredient of the moment: garlic scapes (screw you ramps, you're so three weeks ago). Having never tried them, I picked up a pound-- intent on making garlic scape pesto.

Photo courtesy of gongar

Once I figured out the best way to prep the scapes, the pesto was really easy (as pesto tends to be). The further down the stem, the more fibrous the scapes get, so break them off while they're still soft then chop them up. I also toasted some pine nuts and added them to the food processor. After tasting a piece of the scape, I knew I would need to add something else to mellow it out a bit. Luckily I had some flat-leaf parsley in the fridge. With some harissa, lemon zest and juice (and s&p) the pesto was bracing and slightly spicy.

For my next two meals I ate the pesto with linguine and bacon then spread on a toasted baguette and topped with roast beef. Both were awesome.

However, tonight I wanted to make something slightly more refined.

Triple Bone Marrow: Double Crown, Fergus Henderson and Croquettes

If anyone follows my Twitter feed (like you care), you might know that I was really really craving bone marrow all last week. By Friday, my hunger had reached the breaking point. So before seeing a midnight showing of "The Room" with a bunch of friends in the East Village, my buddy and I went downtown in search of bone marrow. I looked on Menupages for bone marrow dishes, and noticed that Double Crown served a miso glazed marrow with orange marmalade and toast. It was also conveniently located across the street from DBGB, which serves a fantastic marrow dish with mustard seeds and Katz's pastrami.

Reaching the Bowery Restaurant District (or you could call the area around East Houston and Bowery E-HoBo), we found that DBGB was packed (as expected). So was Double Crown, and we were quoted an hour-long wait. Luckily, we slid into two open seats at the corner of the bar. My buddy volunteered that he'd been drinking since 3pm to every gorgeous girl within earshot while I desperately tried to get the bartender's attention. I ordered almost immediately after getting the menu-- bone marrow and... chicken wings?

Served "Szechuan style" ($10) on the snacks menu, the chicken wings were the surprise of the night. I was skeptical, but intrigued (and needed something substantial + cheap to go with the marrow).  I do not exaggerate when I say that these were in the top 3 best wings I have ever eaten. Completely unexpected. We were served 8 wings that looked like Korean fried chicken wings, with their telltale crispy shells. Coating the wings was essentially the common Szechuan sauce containing chile oil, Szechuan peppercorn, soy, sugar and sometimes ginger. It was awesome.... I could have eaten about 50. Are these a secret? I can't believe I haven't heard anyone else rave about them, but I would definitely go back to Double Crown for the wings alone.

My only complaint is the side of celery and carrots with... nothing. What the hell? Don't give me celery and carrots if you aren't going to serve me a delicious blue cheese dressing to dip it in. My buddy gave the bartender a crazy look as he tried to pass by, blurting out "WHERE'S DA BLUE CHEESE?" The bartender shook his head no and ran off.

My lips were still tingling from the Szechuan peppercorns when the miso glazed bone marrow arrived. It was good, but a letdown compared to the wings. The miso glaze added a nice salty richness, and the orange marmalade had a complex taste.  Eaten all together, it tasted like orange duck, especially with the five spice in the marmalade.  Unfortunately, the brioche was too sweet for the rest of the ingredients (I already have the marmalade, I want a neutral bread dammit!).

Pickles!

I've been looking for the right Kirby cucumbers to make pickles for awhile now. Every week I would scour the Union Square Greenmarket in search of these elusive cucumbers. Finally, last week I found a stall with a huge pile of fresh, bright green cucumbers.

I've always used my great-grandfather's recipe, which was passed down to my grandfather, skipped a generation, and finally reached my brothers, cousins and myself. They are easily the best pickles I've ever eaten, with a wonderful nuance that's missing from store-bought brands.

So, Sunday night my cousin stopped by and helped me put up a batch. We only did 5 jars, but there will be more to come. Surprisingly, the ghost chile in the front right jar is not traditional.

After about a week they go in the fridge, then I can either open them or let them age for much, much longer. I've eaten ones that have been pickled for over two years. I probably won't let the ghost chile jar sit that long, as it might kill me.

Check back when I open them for my pickle "tasting notes."

Dinner Tonight: Messing With Leftovers

I had some goodies left over from my parents' visit last weekend: pastrami lox from Russ & Daughters,  'nduja from Boccalone and fresh ricotta from Murray's. Having eaten all of my bread, I whipped up a batch of Mark Bittman's olive oil matzoh recipe, rolled out a couple of pieces and threw them under the broiler.

I had no cream cheese to eat with the pastrami lox, so I just laid it on the matzoh and sprinkled the oily slices with chives, sesame seeds and salt. Pretty tasty, but next time I'll add some type of creamy lubricant.

Returning to the Land of Plenty

All last week, my focus was on Law rather than Food. So it was really nice to finally get back in the kitchen to cook and relax a little bit this past weekend.

On Saturday I made a trip to Chinatown, where I picked up a whole chicken, some chicken bones and a bunch of mustard greens. For a quick lunch, I grabbed a half roast duck and roast pork from Hop Won on Mott and a couple of baked pork buns from Me Lei Wah on Bayard (and made duck fried rice for lunch today too).

I hadn't made a single chicken dish out of Fuschia Dunlop's Land of Plenty yet, so for my next dish I made one of my favorites: Chicken with Chiles (or Chongqing Chicken). Though it's covered in chiles, it has a pleasant, but not overwhelming spiciness with a low and slow burn.

Today, I spent the day catching up on work while slowly assembling the dish. I also wanted chicken stock, so I roasted the bones in the oven for 30 minutes, then threw everything in a pot around noon. After 6 hours of simmering, my stock looked and smelled delicious. Once I cleared the stockpot and remains out of the way, I broke down the chicken and prepared my mise like so:

The chicken is marinated simply with some light and dark soy sauce, Shaoxing wine and salt (Dunlop recommends at least 30 minutes in the marinade, I left it in for about 2 1/2 hours). The rest of the ingredients were simple: a pile of seeded chiles, green onions, Sichuan pepper, ginger, garlic and sesame oil. My only audible was adding roasted sesame seeds and using 1 teaspoon of sesame oil instead of two (sesame oil is cloying when you use too much, and I like sesame seeds better anyway).

Soft-Shell Crab Sandwich Bliss

The fish section was the first thing I saw when entering the Great Wall Supermarket in Flushing. A smiling man stood in front of a wall of tanks filled with gigantic crabs, trout and other edible aquatic creatures. In front of the smiling man were more boxes of gorgeous crustaceans. These were immediately ignored once I saw the box filled with plump, live soft-shell crabs. A sign read, "Special $30/dozen, $16/6." I looked at Steve, then back at the gorgeous crabs sitting in the box.

"Are you serious?" I pointed at six of the best looking crabs and the smiling man gently placed them in a paper bag. Visions of soft shell crabs swimming in lemon juice and butter flooded my imagination, but the craving for a soft-shell crab sandwich floated to the top.

 I can't bury the lead, so here's the finished product.

We rode back into Manhattan on the 7 into Grand Central. Before returning home, I swung through Grand Central Market and picked up some excellent bacon from Murray's, Boston lettuce, and a Pullman loaf from Corrado Bread. Total cost of all the ingredients: slightly over $20. As I usually do when I find a nice piece of fish in Chinatown, I also check the price at Wild Edibles in Grand Central. The result: $8.99 per soft-shell crab. You can also order two for $30 dollars at Grand Central Oyster Bar if you're interested...

Running the Sichuan Marathon

I've eaten a lot of Sichuan food in the past week. By Saturday I had started to feel Sichuan overload, my mouth constantly buzzing, and my lips cracked and raw. Yet I bravely pressed on and cooked a full dinner from Land of Plenty that night. It was not the most daring of meals, but it was definitely one of the most satisfying.

Fish fragrant eggplant, one of my go-to orders at Sichuan restaurants, was simple and delicious (p. 285). You can see the classic extra slick of oil on the dish, which added even more richness. I didn't want to fry the eggplant, so I cut them up and threw them in a 375 degree oven with some oil and salt for 20 minutes. They had lost their deep purple color in the oven, so I may just fry them straight next time. In any event, I ended up browning them in oil anyway.

That one piece up front looks disgusting right? I probably should have made it look better for the camera, but I'm usually too eager to eat by the time I start taking pictures. Next time I'll be sure to make the eggplant look more palatable.