Dear Amélie,

In daddy’s world there are many ingredients that cooks and chefs alike covet with outmost esteem.The woods of Alba come alive in the fall with foragers led by trained hogs to find these things called truffles. Knobs of dirt covered fungus, that unfortunately for their reputation are very expensive, yet a true wonder of the culinary world. Tiny purple flowers soak up the warm sun of the Mediterranean where they birth thin golden strands of a fragrant spice called saffron.

To me a new ingredient has come along that has replaced the importance and affection devoted to all these exotic items. Breast milk. The stuff that makes and keeps you happy. I know, it sounds totally weird but each sip of this stuff that you take in is a tiny little gift to me. With nervous hands I handle each bottle, attempting to avoid the heartbreak it would bring if something were to happen to it. But besides the obvious, what’s really in that bottle?

Your mother and I were very nervous of our first week home with you. In preparation we stocked each crevice of refrigeration with foods that would render a quick relief to our starved, sleep deprived minds. We batched out pots of soups and stews in chill bags, ready to be dropped in warm water for a no-brainer meal.  To our good fortune, you have thus far been a dream, and as a result I have done my best to make sure you get what you need to grow strong and healthy.

When you bring a newborn home for the first time you try to prepare for the worst. Your mind goes into survival and prevention mode, as if boarding up each window in preparation for a frightening hurricane. I could see making many exceptions and changes to our usual routine, but feeding you guys well I am not willing to compromise. One of the biggest things I was worried about was if there were any unknown allergies hiding in your fragile immune system.

I figured there was only one way to find out. In each meal I carefully and hopingly pushed you a bit further.

Nuts.

Gluten.

Dairy.

So far, so good.

You ate well. We all ate well. Which was quite the surprise compared to what we were ready to face.

Your very first “meal”, the one that was very important to all three of us, as the first meal we shared as a family was gumbo. Which made a very happy Cajun girl out of your mother.

We had crepes filled with apple, pecans and country ham. Dad’s pastrami on rye with spicy mustard and slaw. Roasted eggplant, and sweet peppers with corn chowchow. Chi teas with loads of cinnamon and spice. Charred salmon and quinoa tabouleh. Southern style pork chops with proper mash potatoes. Good cheese. And for the first time in 10 months your mother was finally able to enjoy some good charcuterie.

It must be incredibly frightening being an infant. No wonder that as we grow older our minds erase every memory of this first stage of life. Completely dependent on the people around you to survive, each time you wake is a new struggle to communicate to us your simple needs.

You’re at home here sweetheart. Home, to two very loving parents whom so far you know only as the splotches of color that constantly kiss your tiny nose. As you nap next to me I hope that you rest easy, knowing that you are very well taken care of.

Corn Chowchow

Chowchow is a relish used widely in southern cooking. Typically made from cabbage with chilies and other vegetables. The east coastal chowchow is sweeter than the stuff we use in the deep south.

Chowchow can be eaten by itself, or in most cases used in cooking to add flavor.

I made a batch of this a few weeks before Amélie was born and it has come to good use in stuffed peppers, sauces and as a condiment for home-made burgers and crispy hot dogs. Next time I make it, I plan to use it with some Indian or Korean style lamb ribs.

1 ½ pound fresh shucked corn

1 cup finely chopped red onion

1 tablespoon kosher salt

½ cup sugar

½ cup water

1 tablespoon mustard seed

1 tablespoon pickling spice

½ cup apple cider vinegar

½ cup seasoned rice vinegar

The hardest part about this recipe is shucking the corn. Peel the ears free from the husk. With a sharp knife, cut each ear of corn in half. Stand each half onto the cutting board and slice the kernels free as if you were trying to peel it.

If you are using pickling spice that is in whole spice form, give it a few zaps in the spice grinder. If you do not have a spice grinder, place the pickling spice in a small square of cheesecloth and tie it tightly with a string of kitchen twine.

Place the liquids in a non-reactive pot. Bring to a slight heat and dissolve the sugar and salt into the liquid. At this point, drop in pickling spice to infuse the liquid. If you are using the cheesecloth pouch, you will remove this when the chowchow has finished cooking. In the liquid add the corn, onion and the mustard seed. Bring to a simmer, turn to medium low heat and stir occasionally until most of the liquid has evaporated.

It has been a while. Again.

In fact it has been so long since I’ve posted that I was unsure whether my fingers could find their way around the keyboard.

The truth of it is, I’ve been swamped. Family, work, other work, foraging from farm to farm, more family, playing with meat, and that whole baby thing, which has really slowed me down. By the time I post this, my wife and I will be 3 days away from becoming first time parents.

Funny thing it is becoming a parent. Your entire life till that moment you are parented and suddenly one day you are entirely responsible for this one other person. Everything you do becomes important to the development of this one child.

To me, this undoubtedly extends to food as well. I now find myself scanning through the market shelves in total defense mode. “You will not come home with me!” I think, sometimes out loud, when contemplating what to bring home for dinner. I am sure by my newly acclimated shopping approach I have warded off many friendly fellow shoppers.

This is routine: I reach for the item. Read. Obscene language follows as I throw whatever it is back on to the shelf, 3 aisles away.

The search for wholesome food is frustrating. Add in the desire for that food to be grown close to home and the chance of you actually eating dinner is next to none.

A couple of weeks ago I embarked on a new journey to find grass fed, if not organic, beef grown here. By here I mean southwest Louisiana. The part of the state where pastures are at a plenty. I was captain Ahab, and the beef was my great white whale. Let it be known to you that these two stories share the same ending. Minus a couple details.

I woke up with high hopes. I thought for sure I would find a couple of butchers who would lead me to a secret cellar where there hung slabs of pristine grass fed beef. Unaltered by all that other shit the rest of the animals eat. I thought wrong.

I did find the butchers and what they showed me was box beef.

Beef out of a box.

This is a slaughterhouse, what the hell are they doing slaughtering boxes?

It did not get better from this point. I went on to another slaughterhouse with a bit of resentment from the first stop of the day.

Never had I been so disappointed in a butcher.

The man did not even know what grass fed beef was. “Why would we feed them grass when they grow “better” with corn?”

By this point I was beginning to realize one of two things. Either I was surrounded by a bunch of country ass meat packers who have never known good beef, or I was about to wake up for real and start this day over.

The later never happened.

I shouldn’t have made the last stop, but I did. I should have just gone back to the kitchen, but I didn’t.

Instead I visited one last place that morning, where I was laughed at when I asked about properly raised cattle. In fact I was told that there would be no way of knowing where the beef they wanted to sell me originated from. Which brings a question to mind, what the hell happens to all the cattle that graze in the pastures of south Louisiana?

The answer to that makes no sense to me. The big time meat packers buy the cattle and move it all to confinement feed lots. Where each head of cattle lives out the last six months of its life being force-fed corn and corn by-products till it reaches desired weight. Why six months? Because the cattle will not live past that without developing disease.

Say it aint so.

Can it get worst than this?  Why of course. The farmers who make a living by selling this cattle to the big companies gets paid less per head if they do not themselves feed it corn prior to the companies buying their animal.

At the end I, like many others searching for the same thing, had to put in requests with small independent farmers who raise a couple of cattle each year. Luckily they still give us some control over what we bring into our homes.

Disappointment does not even begin to express what I felt from this experience. But the lesson I learned will serve forever as a guide to my approach. I am a big supporter of local. Each week I travel the markets. I shop locally and I am very proud of our local products. But when it comes to the food I prepare whether for guest and especially for family, the quality is mostly important.

Local is secondary to good product. I will not be supportive of product that is not raised with integrity, just to say that it is “local”. As heroic as I like to think this is, I am just one chef. One chef, with the desire to use only what is good. One chef, some say, out of his mind.

I will never even make a dent in the system without help.

That’s where you come in.

I trust that you ask for what is good.

I trust that you believe that the system will change.

I trust that you think outside that box of meat.

Corned Beef Cheek Salad

A couple of weeks ago Brian gave me a pair of beef cheeks (somehow there are only two per animal). Great cut of meat, that lends itself best to long cooking techniques. I am a huge fan of corned beef, so I came up with this version of a chopped beef salad. It is time consuming, but I promise you that patience will pay off.

Pair of beef cheeks

1 gallon Water

16 oz Kosher Salt

4 oz Sugar

2 tablespoon Pickling Spice

3 Large Cloves Garlic

Six days later:

Head of chicory

Cipollini

Pear

Corned beef has actually nothing to do with corn. The name came from the salt-water mixture, which is also known as brine. The salt originally used to brine meats, was in large pebble form resembling corn kernels. Hence corned beef.

Inspect the beef cheeks, removing any sinew.  Carefully trim them as to get rid of hanging tissue. Place the beef cheeks in a plastic or glass container with a lid, large enough to submerse them in liquid.

In a pot, heat up water. Add spices and whisk often to dissolve. Chop the garlic and add it to the water. Once the salt and sugar have dissolved allow the liquid to cool to room temperature. This is now a brine.

Place the brine in the refrigerator and cool off completely. Add the brine to the beef cheeks and marinate for 6 days. Place a small plate on top of the cheeks, as to keep them completely submersed.

On day 6.

Remove the cheeks from the brine and allow them to rest in the refrigerator for 24 hours.

On day 7.

Place the cheeks in a large pot, with 2 tablespoons of pickling spice and cover with water. You may have to place another plate on top of the beef cheeks as they cook to keep them covered. Simmer for 4 hours. Add water as needed to keep them covered.

Remove the cheeks from the cooking liquid. Be careful as you move them, they’ll be falling apart by this time. Allow them to rest for a bit.

You now have made corned beef. Well, corned beef cheeks to be precise, but this method is also applied to brisket. The natural next step is for you to corn brisket, season it, smoke it and steam it for some badass pastrami. But that’s another post.

Whip up a quick mustard vinaigrette. Dress the chicory, or greens of choice. Just don’t go with a wimpy green like romaine. You want something robust. And don’t use frisse either. It’s considered the awkward lettuce. It’s like eating someone’s fro.

Dress the chicory with thinly sliced cipollini, and sliced pear. Shred the beef cheeks over the salad.

Where to find grass fed and organic local beef:

Gotreaux Family Farm

Brian and Dawn Gotreaux

Gofamilyfarms.com

337.273.0383

Gardner Ranch

Stuart Gardner

Stuartgardner65@gmail.com

337.945.7083

Each Saturday morning, my wife and I hold a special ritual. Some families wake up to a long breakfast, some cartoons with the kids, others just sleep in for a couple additional precious hours of rest. For us it’s an early morning at the markets. We wake up before the sun comes up and visit the two small markets in town. To me this commitment means more than supporting local crops and their growers, it’s about inspiration and respect.

I have always believed that in order to be a better cook, one must deeply and unpretentiously understand their ingredient and where it comes from. After all carrots don’t come out of he ground wrapped in cellophane with a barcode.

I grew up in a family where each meal was labored upon with much detail and attention. We lived off the land and you made everything that you could buy off a shelf. Things were not available year around. There were seasons to respect. And when those seasons came around their limited supply was reflected in our cooking. Nothing went to waste.  

Whatever you could not make yourself you bought it from your neighbor.

Need flour to make bread? Go down to the mill.

New broom? The man down the street makes them.

Need pots to cook with? Go see the blacksmith.

It was nine years after birth and a 3000 mile plane ride before I walked into my first supermarket.  This is the life I grew to love. This is the life I miss.

The few summers I remember were spent with my mother’s parents. Going to the farm with my grandfather each morning taught me the natural cycle of things. Everything made sense on the farm. Even as a child, one could relate that to make oil you need olives. To make cheese you need cows. It is no surprise now that the smell of manure brings a smile to my face.

Visiting the farmers each week brings me back to that childhood in a place where people’s connection to their food was integrated into every aspect of their daily life. Browsing through the stalls you can picture the face behind the counter pulling their crop out of the ground. The smell of dirt still lingering. Strike a conversation with these people and you can see the passion in their eyes.

Once they find out what I do for a living, they welcome me each week with their prized possessions. The really good stuff that is “just food” to most people. One of the farmers last week, inspired by my work handed me a jar of peach salsa he had made proudly with everything he had found at his farmer’s market. It was delicious.

Yesterday I met a group of six farmers not too far from were I live, who tend to 500 acres. On an old plantation they began planting crops a couple of years ago, leaving behind their former jobs where produce was planted for speed growth and volume rather than taste. I watched enchanted as they carefully picked and dug each crop from its resting place. Their hands, worn from years of laborious love for the land, brushed the dirt off each eggplant, pepper and okra. Hands wrinkled and soiled. The same hands I remembered watching as a child. Upon their face, the look of my grandfather as he offered from the tip of an old pocket knife a taste of plenty. A taste of real food.  

These are the brave men and women of the food industry. These are the people that allow me to dream and create. Their work and struggle has become my inspiration.  

Kyuri Zuke (quick pickled Japanese style cucumbers)

This Zuke traditionally is a mixture of cucumber, sea weed, rice vinegar and soy sauce. I find that the following recipe is much more flavorful, and a great way to use up farm stand produce.

2 Cucumber – shaved with a potato peeler, then cube the core.

Seaweed – reconstituted* in water and roughly chopped

Ginger – to taste, peeled and grated

Cilantro – cilantro and ginger are great friends

Scallion or green onion – sliced

Napa cabbage or regular red – finely sliced

Soy sauce

Rice wine

Sriracha

This is not so much a formula as it is a true home recipe. Use the ingredients to your liking.

A good ratio for the vinegar to soy sauce is 2 to 1. Be careful with the sriracha (also known in our kitchen as cock sauce. If you’ve seen it you know why) as it packs quite a punch of spicy.

If necessary season it to taste further with a pinch of kosher salt. A good drizzle of toasted sesame seed oil doesn’t hurt either if you find some tucked away in the back of your pantry.

Allow the zuke to sit for at least a couple of hours at room temperature or 24 hours in the fridge. I personally like it served with a spoon, but it’s a great topping on noodles, and hot dogs.

*to reconstitute is to rehydrate a dry ingredient in water. Normally takes a couple of minutes.

Almost a year ago we decided to hire an intern named Lottie, a former lawyer from Honduras who set out to follow her life long dream in the kitchen. A graduate of Le Cordon Bleu of Orlando, Lottie came to us with one request – teach me! 

It was not long after we took her in that she showed her natural ability to not only cook really good food but to put the highest level of focus into even the most miniscule task. Her work could be spotted sitting on the shelf of a crowded walk-in amongst dozens of the same thing.  Her discipline was like nothing I have ever seen in any cook I have ever had the privilege to work with. Her dice each cut to perfection not a hair different in symmetry from the one before it. It took a lot of pressure off knowing that as long as she was in the kitchen things were going to be done right.

Although it drove me absolutely nuts watching her doing the same task for hours at the time, it was clear she was obsessed with finding the patience to get as close to perfection as possible- a quality many good and seasoned cooks sadly never find.

As time went on I looked forward to mornings with Lottie prepping for the nightly onslaught to come. We talked about difference in cultures and how although geography affects food, we all share the same recipes with a variation in ingredients. She shared recipes from her childhood and opened our eyes to a cuisine we hardly knew anything about.

Friday is Lottie’s day to cook staff meal. We never know what the hell she going to make but I for one look forward to it every week. My favorite is a side dish she serves with every meal called encurtido, a concoction of quick pickled onions and carrots with hot chilies. Surprisingly not too different in concept than kimchi or sauerkraut, encurtido is South America’s addition to the relish family.

Ever since I discovered the stuff I put it on everything from grilled meat, burgers, fish tacos,  soups or munch on it alongside bread and goat cheese. I have even used its brine to marinate protein or to dress salads. Encurtido- my new best friend.

Encurtido – according to Lottie

2 cup water

½ cup vinegar – your choice

1-2 bay leaf

Carrots – not too big, not too small, sliced however you want as long as they all look the same

Onion – more onion than carrots, sliced

Jalapenos or any spicy peppers – sliced round, seeds attached

Dash kosher salt

Dash black pepper

Place water and vinegar in a pot along with the salt. Bring to a boil and add the onions, carrots and peppers. Simmer till the vegetables are wilted but still hold a nice crunch.

Remove from heat, add black pepper and allow to cool down to room temperature. Place in plastic or glass jar, refrigerate and use at will.

It will keep indefinitely, as long as you use a clean utensil to remove from jar. Be aware that the longer the encurtido marinates, the spicier it will become.

Continuing on the previous subject of Hunt 2 Table, it is time to explore the more delicate perhaps more intricate side of Charcuterie – condiments. This is the much less testosterone frenzied side of the platter and in my opinion includes everything that is not meat.

I have this consuming obsession (one of many) when I work with food to end up with as close to zero waste as possible while still producing an edible product. That to me is as near to cooking perfection as one can get. After all cooking is not only about applying heat, but also proper product usage and execution.

Not always is it a good thing, at times I should have stopped long before the no waste mark, hence- cider spiced frog legs. By far the most inedible dish I have ever concocted resulting from the cleaning out of an old spice rack. I urge you now, if you ever think of it a good idea to crust frog legs with allspice and cinnamon, you are better off eating fermented tofu. Strangely I am justly proud of that horrific dish as it taught me not to cook out of desperation.

Every once in a while there comes along a product that with a formula consisting of careful execution, purpose, and a touch of imagination proves to have no end in usage.

About six weeks ago I began to preserve some lemons, a process that usually takes about 3 weeks. Instead of the usual salt preservation I used sugar which resulted in an amazing delicate balance of sweet and that wonderful lemon sour. Honestly I forgot all about them, tucked in the back of the cooler they were lost amongst the other random culinary explorations. When I did finally remember about them, what I found set off a spark of imagination.

The water from the lemons had separated, mixing with the sugar and therefore dissolving some of it to create a syrupy sludge. I decided to strain the lemons out and allow this sugar sludge to sit in a coffee filter over the course of a day. Once all the liquid drained I found that the lemons had infused it in the preservation, resulting in lemon infused simple syrup. The sugar left over in the coffee filter also tasted of lemon. I spread the sugar out as thin as I could onto a baking pan and allowed it dry for a couple of days. Pleased that the lemon fragrance remained in the sugar crystals I placed them into a spice grinder producing what I called lemon infused caster sugar.

What to do with these separate components is now the next challenge. The lemons themselves can be used in spreads, baked goods or perhaps a fruit sauce. I find that they pair especially well with highly spiced pates, and are a great balance for savory cured meats. The syrup, maybe mixed with powder sugar could result into a lemon glaze. As far as the actual sugar, I have so far used it to rim cocktails and the crowd has found it quite pleasing.

Sugar Preserved Lemons

4 of the best lemons you can find
Sugar – enough to completely cover the lemons

Cut the lemon ends off and slice them in half so that they sit up. Place them in a container just big enough to hold them, and cover them completely in sugar. Place a piece of plastic wrap over the container and date them to help you keep track. Place them in the refrigerator.

Now literally forget about them, act as it they don’t even exist and in about 5 to 6 weeks you will find the same results with your lemons.

 Enjoy

I did not realize what I was getting myself into with this one. I might have been better off failing miserably at acquiring this week’s ingredient. It all makes perfect since now, no wonder that once they are in season these things come in through the store’s loading dock but never seem to make their way out the front door.

Obviously a tropical fruit, star fruits are grown in North America only in Florida, Hawaii and Puerto Rico. The ones from Florida are primarily the ones found in stores and in my opinion fully responsible for giving this fruit a bad reputation. Florida should stick to oranges and retirement communities.

I should have given up and scrapped the idea, but the quest for the fruit turned into a serious determination to find something about star fruits worth writing about. Once I actually found one, and I do mean just one (from Puerto Rico), that would be considered edible I was impressed.

Known as the Carambola in most parts of the world, the star fruit originates from Sri Lanka and Malaysia. With their crop season lasting only from late summer to early winter, star fruits are classified into two categories- tart and sweet. The tart ones are identified by their narrowly formatted ribs and the sweet variety has fleshy, thicker ribs. I found my selected fruit to hold quite a unique flavor combination of part pineapple with the fullness of a plum and a hint of citrus, making it in its complexity a very well balanced fruit.

So, will I return for more? Will I make a trip to the store with the sole purpose of buying a star fruit? Probably not. Considering I had to buy 7 to find a descent one there is more likely chance that I would sincerely write about tofu. But truth be told I enjoyed my one star fruit. Perhaps one day a better selection will make their way to our store shelves, I honestly believe it has potential for growth in our ever expending appetite.

Just don’t tell Florida, they might up production!

Star Fruit Sangria

1 bottle White Wine (Pinot Gris or Sauvignon Blanc)
2 cups Ginger Ale
2 Ripe Star Fruits
1/3 cup Sugar
Few Sprigs Basil

Great thing about this recipe is that not only is it light and refreshing for hot summer days but it gets better with time. Juice one star fruit, slice the other as you would for orange rounds. In a pitcher combine wine, sugar, basil and star fruit juice. Stir to dissolve sugar, add sliced star fruit and ginger ale. Finish off with ice.

Grilled Star Fruit with Balsamic Mascarpone

1 Ripe Star Fruit
½ cup Sugar
¾ cup Water
¼ cup Butter
3 tablespoon Balsamic Vinegar
1 cup Mascarpone Cheese

In a small saucepan combine water and half the sugar. Chop half the star fruit into cubes and simmer in sugar water till tender, about 10 minutes. Transfer to the bowl of a food processor, puree and set aside.
In a stand mixer, or food processor bowl (given that you have cleaned it after using it for your star fruit puree!) combine the mascarpone and balsamic vinegar. Blend on high speed till completely incorporated.
Combine melted butter with remaining sugar. Slice the other half of star fruit into ¼ – ½ inch slices and place on the grill, basting them with the sugar butter mixture. Once you have grilled the star fruit on both sides, transfer to plate and serve with a healthy dollop of balsamic mascarpone, finish with a drizzle of the pureed star fruit.