mrjeffmccarthy.com

A week or so ago I woke up to several voice mails, text messages, and emails from loved friends and loved ones wondering how I ended up in the UK, and why they should send me money.  Somebody had gotten a hold of my password and was using my personal information against me to try and make a quick buck.  As if facebook wasn’t annoying enough, now it’s literally fucking with my life.  My poor friend Meghan was on her way to Western Union to send me money from Malaysia, the perps had instant messaged her that my wife Kate was in the hospital.  What the flying fuck?!  I immediately logged on and posted a message on my wall: I am safe and sound in Oregon, don’t send me money!!  Later that day the facebook team shut down my account because I violated the terms of use.  I violated? The level that these fuckers will stoop to is so low, they have given new meaning to the word “scumbag.“  I swear I must have a sign on my internet forehead that says: Hey everybody, exploit me!! Luckily Meghan thought better of it at the last minute and emailed me directly to find out what was up.  Thankfully ALL of my friends were smart enough to avoid sending me money before talking with me, but the whole situation made me feel dirty.  It really made me think about why I need this silly service in my life, if the pros actually outweigh the cons.  Sure, I’ve “met up” with some people I haven’t seen in some years, I’ve enjoyed some of the shared videos and pictures.  I finally figured out how to shut off the email alerts for everything, so I’m not immediately notified when John from eighth grade social studies “achieves” in Mafia Wars.  As if I fucking care about your rabbit in Farmville.  Get a life “friends.”  If they ever unlock my account the first thing I’m going to do is log on and delete a bunch of “friends.”  If I haven’t talked to you or received a personal email from you in the past ten years, or ever; sayonara.  I just don’t care that much.  I don’t need a website to validate me as popular or friendly, faithful readers know I’m neither.  This has all been so bitchy and depressing.  I will attempt to cheer the internet up now with this video I took of a man in a carriage being pulled by a shetland pony.  Enjoy!

A fucking bomb went off! Chocolate flourless cake, salty caramel core,  milk chocolate shell and blood orange ice cream.  The dessert is inspired by a pastry I had in Paris, from the shop of the revered pastry Chef Pierre Herme.  It was a bombe, tempered shell and caramel core, I enjoyed it on a park bench in Luxembourg gardens. Mr. Herme ingeniously used a macaron base, his desserts were all marked by inventive skill and imagination.  I employ a compressed devil’s food cake sealed with icing to seal in the oozing salty caramel, just a candle held towards Chef Pierre’s brilliance. The milk chocolate shell is just that, tempered 38% milk chocolate.  Here’s a recipe for my faithful readers.

Blood Orange Ice Cream

2 cups milk

2 cups blood orange puree

1 1/2 cups sugar

4 oz butter

pinch o’ salt

2 cups heavy cream

3/4 cup egg yolks

P.S.  See this in the Willamette Week?

Two thousand and motherfucking TEN?!? The future is now my faithful readers. I command the powers of the internet in my pants. I make ice cream base in an immersion circulator. As a race we fringe on symbiosis with technology; and I can’t wait to realize this next phase of evolution. Anyway, I been busy as shit.  The holidays kicked my ass; and with in-laws in town and hell of prep, plating and me plowing through it all it went by in a pop!  Shit 2009 was a pop, a bang, a blast, dice cast and rolled and truth be told past year was fucking fast. I turned thirty, I got married, I’ve become a half way decent pastry chef and an annoying blogger.  I’ve made some bad-assed desserts and also learned some killer savory food. Pretty standard actually.  Looking to the new year, I’m hoping to step up my game.  Turn it up to eleven so to speak.  I just need to work harder, cleaner.  The desserts will be smaller, more precise.  Flavors? Louder.  Here’s a recipe bitches.  I adapted it from one of the best recipes I’ve learned in a long time.

Graham Cracker Sponge Cake

250 g soft butter

375 g sugar

5 g salt

6 eggs

375 g fine ground graham cracker crumbs.

7.5 g baking powder

100 g A.P. flour

1.  Preheat your convection oven to 300 F.  Spray and line with parchment one half sheet pan.

2.  Cream the butter, sugar and salt light and fluffy in the bowl of a stand mixer.

3.  Weigh the crumbs, baking powder, and flour into a bowl and whisk them together well.

4.  Add the eggs 2 at a time, allowing the batter to fully absorb each addition of eggs.  Scrape the bowl twice during this step.

5.  Scape the bowl again and add the dry ingredients all at once.  Mix the batter on low speed until homogeneous.

6.  Transfer the batter to the prepared pan and bake 12 minutes, rotate the pans, and bake an additional 6 to 8 minutes, or until golden brown and springy.  Use as a base for a no bake cheesecake or serve it warm with a cream cheese ice cream.

My good friend and fellow Chef Arturo Lopez was quite suddenly and shamefully deported back to Mexico over a year ago.  It was so sad the way it went down; one day he was there, the life of our kitchen, the backbone of it’s mise en place, the next he was gone.  It was hard to shake the bottomless pit feeling of this for some time, hard to come to terms with an inconsiderate and fucked up system.  In my mind it was the beginning of the end for my friend and mentor Jack Yoss at ten01.  I know it just wasn’t the same for him anymore; this place that he and Arturo built together.  Fortunately however, Arturo and Jack both still prosper on.  Pictured below is some proof that my good Latino buddy is doing well.  He sent me these pictures a few weeks ago and I just had to get them up here.  This is him baking a cake for his new girlfriend.  We miss you Arturo!!

It’s funny how one idea leads to another and sometimes the most obvious idea is the best one.  Looking at my Fat Spouse dessert, it was good; hell it was great even.  What it lacked however was a warm element.  Something to start melting that malted milk ice cream and pretzel bark.  Something rich and fatty.  Like pootang…BREAD pootang. All peanut butter chips and compressed devil’s food cake stratifying a rich brioche custard.  There’s been some discussion of pootang technique in the kitchen as of late, and one thing again leading to another, I’m now pureeing my base.  It creates an even, dense, almost cakey texture.  The chunks of devils food are compressed in the vacuum sealer then diced.  Finally a good use for that bomber technique.  You can get cool potions this way, but a realized dessert was tricky. Now how about that fancy cruise ship garnish?  I got the idea from a dish wifey had dining when we dined at Spago Beaver Creek.  A simple piped lattice of tempered chocolate onto acetate, scored and bent in a PVC half pipe.  The other tile of tempered chocolate underneath the ice cream is a buffer between the cold scream and the warm pootang.  Cocoa nibs help it grip.  I brought back the dulce dessert Watchmen blood drip plate saucing technique for good measure.  This fucker gets oohed and ahhed every time it hits the table. Here’s the recipe for enjoyment of my faithful readers.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Bread Pudding

6 oz butter at room temperature

6 oz sugar

2 oz dark chocolate

4 oz peanut butter

5 eggs

3 cups heavy cream

12 -15 brioche buns

2 cups diced compressed devils food cake that has been diced

1 bag Reeses peanut butter chips

1.  Cream the butter and the sugar with the paddle.  While they are achieving light and fluffy in your stand mixer, melt the chocolate and peanut butter over a double boiler.

2.  When the sugar and butter are light and fluffy, add the melted chocolate and peanut butter.  Mix until well incorporated, scraping the bowl as necessary.

3.  Add the eggs one by one, scraping and incorporating.

4.  Switch to the whisk and add the heavy cream on low speed.  Keep the machine going while you prep the bread.

5.  Cut the bread into large chunks.  Take the custard off the machine, add the bread and mix thoroughly.  You need enough bread to make a messy paste.  Too much and your pootang will be dry, to little and it will be a custardy mess. Cover the mix and let it soak over night.  This is essential to chingon pootang.

6.  Next day pull the base and puree it in the food processor. Transfer to a large bowl and mix in the chunks and chips.

7.  Prepare one half sheet tray with sprayed parchment.  Pour and spread the base into an even layer.  It should ride the rim of the pan.  Cover with plastic wrap, then cover with aluminum foil.  This will create a nice even top.

8.  Bake in a 300 degree convection oven for about 25 minutes, rotating once. It is normal for the pootang to souffle a bit while baking.  When it is done it should be dry (baked looking.)

9.  Cool completely before slicing to de-molding desired shape.  Reheat portions in the microwave for 20 seconds.

Just something I threw together for me and wifey on a Monday night.  I’ve been cooking for her when I can, usually Mondays, and usually chicken.  My lovely better half has a very refined palate; that is to say she won’t eat shit.  So it’s normally chicken I cook, I’ve perfected my fabrication, brining and crispy skin.  This Monday, however, I had breasts. In an attempt to church them up with limited resources, we’ve got this little dish here.  I worked my way through a handful of recipes in J.O.C., and what I realized I wanted was a gratin. Saucy, cheesey crusty, etc.  It’s was a rainy northwest winter day and after a haircut and a Fremer run I was drinking beers and cooking.  My other big goals for the day involved blogging, flogging, and not jogging.

Bacon Fat Biscuits adapted from J.O.C recipe

1 3/4 cups flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

5 bacon fat

1 tbslp butter

3/4 cup half & half

flour for dusting

1. Pre heat oven to 450.  Sift the dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer.

2. Measure and freeze the bacon fat and butter. Micro plane it into the dry ingredients.

3. Mix the dough with the paddle attachment on low speed just into a loose wad begins to form.

4. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and pat into a disk with floured hands.

5. Cut desired shapes and bake 12-15 minutes, again G.B.D.

Serve with:

Chicken & Broccoli Gratin

2 brined chicken breasts

2 cups blanched Broccoli

2 oz parmesan

2 oz cheddar grated

1 oz dolloped buitter

1 slice oven dried bread of your choice

1/2 cup candied walnuts

2 tblsp flour, plus more for dredging

1 cup chicken stock

1 tsp chicken demi

2 tsp sherry vinegar

salt and pepper to taste

1. Brine the chicken breast and blanch the broccoli if you haven’t already.  Drain and dry the chicken. Hold in the fridge with the blanched broccoli.

2. Pulverize the parm, bread, and walnuts in a food processor, reserve.

3. Dust the chicken with flour and sear it in a hot pan, finish in a 400 degree oven.

4. Remove the chicken from the pan and hold at room temp.  Add the flour to the pan and it’s drippings, cook for two minutes.  Add the stock stock and demi whisk smooth.

5.  Cook the gravy for 5 minutes.

6. Slice the chicken and arrange it and the broccoli in the desired pan.  Spoon on the gravy.  Cover it with the crumbs, grated cheddar and dolloped butter

7. Bake for 10 minutes, then turn on the broiler.  Broil until crust is G.B.D.

homeless observation

A crushing glow, a heavy wet light, I sheild my eyes in the sudden
bright.  As fast as it came it’s goes, now a thundering hiss of
blades, a chopper cruising bent low with speed.  It’s passing  marked
by a thin loudness, a recorded whisper in full volume.  Silent now
save the sound of voices, beneath the darkness.  Why the light combed
here, at the edge, escapes me.  Here there is nothing, here life sits
crowded and alone.  This black corner is crowded with half smoked
cigarettes, sick smelling boots, human effluence submerged in mud.
Viewed with a disquieting double-take, perceived in guilty shrug, most
shuffle quickly on, back towards the light.

plane waiting

Grabbed the tab and fled from the muted cacophony; the combined noise
of low voice, clinking glass, tv and commerce.  Decently buzzed I find
the gate; a silence now, a pressing tension of expectation and fidgety
anxiety.  I fish out my ear buds, casting deep into cargo pockets to
reel in the one device.  Soon I find music pounding my ears; calm
inside, attention distracted just enough.  Beats loud enough to quell
the squirming squeal of a surly babe, the inane conversation of
scowling elders, announcements overhead; a metallic quack, all gone.
Flipping the glossy pages of comics, pulsing beat in ears dead to the
world.

This here dessert is like a bong hit.  It’s all “Dude, It’ll be all hazelnut, banana and mascarpone, man!”  I based it on an excellent brunch item I had over at Belly Timber, a Stuffed French Toast. It combined house made Nutella, mascarpone, hazelnuts, and a specially made brioche.  It was the first time I ate with David and didn’t have the Chicken Waffle.  Anyway, I make a hazelnut sponge cake, the same recipe I used for the Grilled Almond Cake, I just switched the nuts.  This formula is moist and buttery; and works with any nut.  This dessert is selling well so far, no surprise considering the banana factor.   Maybe a certain Chef will see fit to add her recipe in the comments!  Thanks for your patience with this blog everybody who is still reading.  The web is bloated with food blogs, everybody’s cooking!! The ice cream recipe is one from one of my favorite Chefs, David Lebovitz; author of The Perfect Scoop.

‘

Why do you lose, ladies; you might be asking?  Well that’s because my skinny ass is officially off the market.  The love of my life said “I do, ” and I said it back in a dream-like setting.  We danced our asses off with friends and family, there were over a million pictures taken and I was in some of them.  All kidding aside; my wedding day was surreal, like a fantasy.  My Dad officiated, making it both special and intimate.  I also knew any promise I made in front of him, I’d better mean it.  I can’t recall all the best things that were said this once-in-a-life-time day, all the special moments that transpired.  I did walk away with a beautiful wife, and I did fart on the wedding cake.  My best men gave heart-warming speeches to which I could only reply with silly tears, my friends and family showed such generosity in the giving of gifts that I can hardly stand it.  At one point during the night, I looked around at all the faces, the people.  Suddenly the air rushed out of my lungs, my vision blurred at the edges (more tears,) and I was amazed.  Simply amazed at the gathering of awesomeness that had rallied to celebrate the union of me and my best good friend.  After all the build up and anticipation and nervousness, it was a no-brainer.  When I saw my long time girlfriend then fiancee almost wife walking down the isle with her dad, I knew I was set for life.  From here on out, it was all just details.