Archives for December 2008
FUCK!! part II: Snowboarding, Boredom, and Leftovers.
30 December 2008 | Ten 01, blog, cook, delicious, eating, real | 2 Responses
We lived in limbo for a few days, concerned about our kitchen. The broken water pipe had been connected to the restaurants heat system, which we really needed to open. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and would soon prove to be one of Portland history’s most devastating storms. On Thursday around noon, after a morning of nail biting and pacing, my buddy Nate called me; “Let’s go night riding at Ski Bowl!” I had no excuse, he was offering me a free lift ticket. I called Perez to see if he wanted in, I knew he was going just as stir crazy as I was. The city of Portland had shut down; chain-slapping buses spun sporadicly in the falling fluff. We knew the mountain had been dumped on. We rallied around 4 pm to embark on a two and a half hour journey in Nate’s 78 VW Bus. We chained up around Rhododendron; the roads were getting nastier the higer up we got. Perez was periodically recieving phone calls from our bosses, keeping us posted about the restaurant. After much back and forth, we learned that we’d be closed until next week. Our concerns lifted, an icy updraft, when we saw the lights of Ski Bowl. Heavy snowfall blanketed the mountain, and we were soon strapped in and smiling. We drank PBRs as we ascended the lift, smiling and swinging. We raged the gnar for three hours or so, carving powder and bally-hooing to each other as we mached by. I missed the mountain life. Everything makes sense when you can carve powder turns. We finished our beers in the parking lot and headed home. The weekend went by slowly. The skies were gray the roads were gray and the snow that covered everything was gray. I felt the walls closing in; I lost myself in the web. I annoyed my dogs with guitar and no walks. I happily braved Tri-met to meet Chef and Perez on Sunday at the restaurant. I was prepping Tabla desserts and they were cleaning out the walk-in. We crammed all we could into our freezers, but a good amount of food was about to spoil. Not surprisingly, Perez and I immediately volunteered to cook and eat the food. It would be a crime of the highest order not to. A damn shame. We packed up what we could, and grabbing beer near 4th, caught a bus to my place. We hit the grocery to augment our booty. We drank and cooked and cranked music. We thrashed my little kitchen and dirtied every pot, pan and dish. We even fired up Old Blue. My fiancee was out of town so it seemed the thing to do. We cooked and ate, carrying on and finally enjoying a bit of this down time…by cooking. It made life feel semi-normal. Through all the bedlam, the food was there for us. We got back into the restaurant early in the week and re-prepped everything we had lost. Teddy put our kitchen back together. Christmas day came and went. The rains finally came and washed away the slush and snow, the city awoke. People mingled in the streets, then filled the seats in the dining room. Smiling servers ferried food to grinning guests. A storm had come, and in it’s wake a sharper image, clarity. I felt as if the people around me were looking at each other a bit different, feeling a warmer glow. I felt an in-the-trenches level oneness, a communal happiness to be back at work. Sometimes shit happens, and all you can do is dive in and swim.
FUCK!! part I.
28 December 2008 | Ten 01, cook, real | 5 Responses
It was about 11 am and the day was Just getting rolling. Perez was dicing onions for soup, Niell was setting the line up. Carlito had had just swept and mopped out front and was putting up the deliveries. I was bitching at somebody to make me a lumberjack special. Verging on hangry, I had to eat. Out of nowhere, water strarted dribbling on Perez’s cutting board. A brief exchange of glances, and we had our phones out-snapping pictures and smiling. It was then that I noticed Teddy, not smiling, working on the hand sink by the walk-in. His eyes were wide, he frantically screwed the thing back together, thinking his tinkering had caused some cataclysmic plumbing catastrope. It hadn’t. A water pipe above us had frozen and burst. I yelled to our manager Damien at the host post. His eyes bulged as he came into the kitchen, spinning and sprinting to lock the front doors and no doubt alert our owner Adam. The restaurant was about to open. Tuna sandos were about to start flying. We had to do something! We threw down some 22 qts and watched them fill alarmingly fast. The small trickling stream became a hammering downpour. Water gushed from a ten foot long section of the ceiling, soaking us and everything in sight. The fluorescents filled with water and flickered out. My six pans started filling with water, so I slammed the lid of my fridge. Immediately my mind raced to my chocolate, cookies, machines. I had just pulled Brulees out of the oven and they steamed on the speed rack as they topped off with ice cold water. The next few minutes were a flash. A snatch and grab, sloshing in an inch of water in bullet time; a fast moving object in slow motion. FUCK!! My cookbooks!! We scrambled to save our shit and then started snatching equipment. Chocovision, GelatooD2, KitchenAid, my knives. Everything was piled on the pass. Sheet pans cross-stacked on piles of books, ingredients, lexans of cookies. I then noticed that it wasn’t raining in the dining room, or even on the front line. The back kitchen was a nightmare; a torrential storm pounding on the ocean. Our stockpot of demi sizzled, filling with dirty icy water, piss on hours of anticipation. My cordial filling on the stove was near the corner of the stove, filled and splashing over the sides. The servers were pitching in by now, packing and wrapping the line and piling it in the walk in. In spite of everything, I felt family gather around me, warm me. Neill was icing down fish and Carlito was squeegeing the water back into the kitchen, keeping it from soaking out into the dining room. Survival mode was in full swing as we got all the perishables locked down and away. The ice machine was empty. I wondered about my freezer and lowboy. Soaked to the bone and dripping, we stood at the pass, watching. It rained of an hour before a plumber got it turned off. I was near tears. This is my home. I’m here more than I’m anywhere else. My chocolate was wet. Adam, in a flurry of phone calls had people in there, killing the power and shining around flashlights. I thought of a recent post by linecook, and shook my head at the coincidence. Adam had us writing down what happened while it was fresh in our minds. I sat at the bar writing, utterly crestfallen. Perez argued with the electrician about turning the power back on with our hood lights full of water. Before long Damien was calling all our reservations and sending them to Pigeon, Clyde Common, Blue Hour. A clean up crew arrived with a huge industrial vacuum, heavy weight garbage bags, and surly determined looks. They went at the back kitchen with extreme prejudice, pulling ruined ceiling tiles and pitching anything wet. Perez and I bailed to close-by Riley’s, waiting to see what would happen next. 
Nomnomnomnom: Pork Belly Benedict.
18 December 2008 | creative presentation of the week, delicious, eating, food porn, nomnomnomnom, pig | No Responses
In an outstanding feat of restaurant leftovers I created a delicious brunch this past Sunday. Anyone in Portland could tell you how cold it was this day, and a how a lavish, greasy breakfast was in order. At the restaurant we serve pork belly, naturally. It’s one of Chef’s greatest dishes. The precise bacon wrapped portions create a bit of side product, which we sometimes use for sliders or staff meal. Sometimes I take home a little package for the freezer; a lazy Sunday. I rendered off about 4 ounces of meat. Combined with a bit of fat I had reserved from another project, I had about 3 ounces. Emulisfing it into one egg yolk, It was just enough for one portion of silky sauce. Snow drifted down outside, and the smell of fat filled the house, warming us. I toasted the leftover brioche and poached the eggs. Spinning the water and dropping the eggs, they simmered lightly just below the boiling point. I usually use vinegar in this situation but not using any had a pleasant result. Unseemly as they cooked, most of the whites dispersed into the water. I ended up with perfectly cooked yolks however, and it’s all about the yolks right? I loose chopped the pork belly and warmed it in a pan with butter. Everything came together on a warmed plate and smoked black sea salt. A most satisfying of meals, I felt it filled me up nicely. I wasn’t even hungry until I saw the pulled pork that night at Jaybill’s. 
Herb Ice Cream: make it like a Dick.
13 December 2008 | Ten 01, custard, delicious, food, recipe | 7 Responses
Mark Dunleavy showed me this process. He’s kind of a dick. Since he created the Chorizo Burger however, I’ve paid attention when he talks about food. Except for that one time with the Consomme, when I wasn’t paying attention at all. Anyway, he’s a keeper. He told me he learned the following technique from the pastry chef at Blue Hour, where he worked as a pastry cook. I respect Mark’s resume. I mean here he was, grinding herbs for ice cream down the street, making desserts, then he simply wheels around the block, and starts working saute at the restaurant. Y’know…cooking happy hour and shit.
So here’s what you do weigh the sugar and the herb you want to use into the Robo-Coupe and grind it into a paste. Place this paste in your sauce pot and add the dairy product. Bring to a boil and cover the pot, killing the heat. Steep for thirty minutes. Temper in your yolks cook to nape, stirring, scraping often with a spat. Pour the base into a hotel pan to cool in the fridge. I usually ripen the base overnight in a cambro. It’s not imperative but does increase the flavor. Next day strain that shit into your Gelatoo-D2 unit and spin to a stiff sour cream consistency. The base recipe was adapted from AB’s, but Mark taught me the herb-paste bit. I imagine it works so well because it really opens up the herbs, and prepares to steep. You also achieve a bright, herby color this way. I want to say something about surface area but I don’t know if that’s right. It works great for Mint Chip and any other herb you might like to try. I’ve also used this herb grinding to make a Rosemary Pine Nut Tart for TXGV, but that’s another story.
Herb Ice Cream
yields 2 qts.
6 cups half & half
2 cups heavy cream
18 oz sugar
2-3 bunches herbs (sage, mint, basil, etc.)
16 egg yolks
1. Grind the sugar and herbs to a paste, and place them in a sauce pot with the dairy products. Bring to a boil and cover, kill the heat and steep for thirty minutes.
3. Seperate the eggs into a bowl, whisk vigorously.**
4. Temper the hot liquid into the yolks. Cook over medium heat unit it thickens up, or about 165 F, if you want to get fancy. Scrape and stir often with a rubber spatula. It should coat the back of a spoon when its ready.
5. Pour the base out into a shallow pan to cool rapidly under refrigeration.
6. Once thoroghly chilled, trasfer to a storage vessel for overnite ripening.
7. Next day strain into your ice cream machine and spin accordingly. Serve with a famous dessert.
**In the original AB recipe, he whisks the sugar with the yolks, thick and pale. This created a really good texture in the finished ice cream. I remember that Good Eats episode now, and it was something about protein. Next time I make this, I think I’ll use a portion of the sugar to do this.
Text Message Rap Battle: MC-Carthy vs. The Perezident
3 December 2008 | photoshop | 24 Responses
Technology these days has afforded me the luxury of enjoying myself in ways that I never imagined as a kid. Gone are the days of swinging sticks or throwing apples at my siblings. Gone even the days of listening to music or watching television like I used to, or even going outside at all. I get all the entertainment I need from a little 13 inch screen that opens into a vast world of endless data. When I’m away from Lappy, I can still gaze into the infinite, via a tiny, hand held computer, myPhone. The union of these two devices, the symbiosis, has given rise to a new genre of boredom killing pastime, the text message rap battle. Through myPhone’s screen shot feature and the boundless possibilites of Photoshop, mrjeffmccarthy.com brings you the not quite first ever text message rap battle. Think you got flow faithful reader? Drop a rhyme in the comments and start it up, pup…put down ya coffee cup an’ see wassup.
