Friday, May 22, 2009

Hello Horseradish, My Old Vodka - Part I


Those of you that know me, or maybe I should say those of you that knew me, know that I am a fan of vodka. In college, I used to pray to the vodka gods; but that usually left me praying to the porcelain god later, so I put a stop to that. Even though I’ve curtailed my vodka intake, I’m still fascinated by flavoured vodka. Not Absolut Apeach or Stoli Blueberi, but slowly infusing the flavours of real fruits and vegetables and spices into vodka create something entirely different. A few years ago, I made Apple-Cinnamon vodka during the cold Winter months and thought it would be a great sipping drink, or something you could use like Spiced Rum. I didn’t know what I was doing and the Cinnamon sticks turned my vodka a deep red colour and made it pretty damn spicy. Tasty too, but spicy.
Well, last weekend I was out with a lady friend of mine when the mood for Bloody Mary’s struck us. Seeing as procrastination was the Secret Word of the Day, it took us a while to reach cruising altitude and by the time we went in search of a liquor store able to supply us with vodka for some Bloody merry Mary making we were out of luck. Strolling down the street, we happened upon a bar, walked in and inquired as to the Bloody Mary situation…they had them. The bartender was training and the tomato juice in the bars lowboy (it’s the refrigerator near the bartenders feet) resembled Campbell’s Think-n-Chunky, so she had to go run to the kitchen to get more. Then she had to learn how to make a Bloody Mary (I know). The she had to find a spoon to add the bottled horseradish. The she had to figure out how many dashes of Tabasco did they get, “was it three or was it six?” Then she had to let our drinks sit under the Guinness tap for another minute while she confirmed that she should add a hint of Guinness to the Bloody Mary (“I asked you to give me a refreshing drink…you could fall in love with an Orangutan in that!”), which she was in fact supposed to add. We finally got our drinks; which the girl, who had been working at the bar about an hour longer than we’d been inside it, had already proclaimed to be very good; so apparently there was little reason for us to confirm that fact?!?!? We toasted and sipped. My first thought, as a half-dozen little pieces of minced bottled horseradish shot up my straw and into my mouth, was there’s got to be an easier way.
We left the bar and by this point, my wheels which had been turning were starting to burn rubber. My thinking was: instead of adding Tabasco and grated horseradish root to a Bloody Mary, couldn’t you just infuse the essence of those things into vodka? Granted, it would be a more time consuming process, but wouldn’t the end product be better? And if you know anything about me, you know I’m the king of the time consuming process. Why roast the pork butt for five hours when we can slow roast it for twelve…? I just think some things taste better with time and care.
The next morning, I woke up and went to my local liquor store. Incidentally, I’m sure I’m just the kind of guy they want in there, first thing in the morning…unshaven, hair a mess and inquiring as to the price of vodka. With my vodka in hand and a shify parting look from the guy behind the counter, I went to the food co-op and bought four of the fattest, Camryn Manheim off-the-wagon, Mexican jalapeno peppers I could find and went back home grinning like a mad scientist. Then I went about the rest of my day before finally coming back home with some horseradish root in hand. Working quickly, I washed and halved the jalapenos and cut a five inch section of horseradish from the root. Then I peeled it and sliced it into quarter-inch pieces. I dropped everything in the large glass pickling/infusing jar I have and poured the bottle of vodka over the top. I sealed the lid and went to bed.
Over the course of the next couple days, I kept half an eye on the jar and the colour of the vodka; which remained fairly clear…up until day four, when my vodka began to take on a greenish tint. Then on Saturday morning, I tasted and strained my vodka. The initial punch from the jalapeno, or what I thought was jalapeno, was quite startling; but I felt the flavours to still be not quite complex enough and decided to add more horseradish and let it infuse some more. I saved my jalapeno halves, put the old horseradish, as well as another six fresh slices in the jar and topped it once again with vodka. By the time Tuesday rolled around, it was ready. The vodka has a spicy quality from it that, in my estimation, is more from the horseradish, than the jalapeno. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t spicy, it just means there are two distinct kicks and I see how someone could just taste spice and declare the vodka undrinkable. So what now, you ask? Now I put my plan into action: making Bloody Mary’s, hoping that all I need to add to my drink (besides the tomato juice) will be some Lime Juice, Worcestershire Sauce and some Celery Salt.


Next time, Part Two.

Update (8/20/09):
Thanks to the Infusions of Grandeur guys for help with the vodka.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Yankee Stadium…Tastiness?


I love going to Yankee games. I especially like getting free tickets to Yankee games. But I feel like every time someone gives me a ticket to a game what they’re really giving me is a bill for about $50 bucks. The reason behind this is that once I’m at the Stadium, I’m a sucker for a fat guy in a blue polo shirt toting a bag full of beer. Not to mention, what would an ice cold beer at the ballpark be without a hot dog (and a couple more beers) to go with it? Since the beginning of this new season I’ve had the opportunity to go to two Yankee games and have started to eat my way around the Stadium. I also figured that with all the options available, I’d be doing myself a disservice if I simply settled on a hot dog (which are Nathan’s now) and a Pepsi (no longer Coke). Speaking of the changes, I got into it with one of the vendors on my second trip when he tried to tell me that they’ve “always” had Pepsi at Yankee Stadium. To which I responded, “no, not this brand new stadium, the old one.”

Anyway, on my first visit, I made my way down to the area behind home plate and watched one of the butchers from Lobel’s slice up from flank steak. Actually, I bought a beer from one of the beer men, then tried to find my seat…then went to Lobel’s, beer still in hand. I handed a Twenty to the cashier, waited for my five dollars change, and watched a man I will call a demi-butcher, slice prime rib and place the slices into a jus. My eyes grew wide as I watched him slice and then I must’ve forgotten where I was for a moment; because I asked him, “could you cut me some pieces from the end please?” Then I turned to the guys behind me and said, “fat is flavour.” The demi-butcher looked at me like he was dismissing a crack addict who’s stumbled into a vegan restaurant asking for a ham sandwich, and said, “yeah, they’re in there.”
Despite his lies, the woman assembling the sandwiches was very nice and hooked me up with some extra meat. I hightailed it back to my seat; just in time to see Joba serve up a tater ball which sailed past me and into right field; sat down and dug in. Imagine my surprise when my first bite of this sandwich I’d heard so much about was rather dry. And I was further surprised when I opened the two little condiment containers and found horseradish in one, and chopped olives in the other…can a brother get some spicy mustard? Damn! I ate my dry sandwich anyway, dumping the olives and horseradish on it so it could taste like something. I wasn’t particularly happy but in all likelihood I’d order it again.

My second trip to 161st Street and River Ave, I wised up. I’d seen the long lines for the Carl’s Steaks stand on the main level and decided that my belly was already full of Lobel’s beef and I wasn’t going to drop $11 bucks on a cheesesteak I knew wasn’t going to be as good as Philly. Wait, did I say “wised up”? I meant drank more. Because I realized you can buy souvenir cups that hold 24 ounces for $10 bucks at the concessions, as opposed to 16 ounce beers in the stands for $9, I happily shelled out the extra buck for 8 extra ounces of lukewarm liquid gold. Perhaps my judgment was a bit impaired, but I got my wander on and found another Carl’s Steaks on the third level, this one with a much shorter line. I ordered my steak the only way anyone who’s ever been to Philly orders a steak: Whiz-wit (Cheez Whiz and sautéed onions), but sadly they were out of onions. Still, I settled back into my seat and enjoyed some artificial cheese soaked goodness. At $10.75, a cheesesteak from Carl’s might give you the most bang for your buck. The next time I come to the stadium, I’m going to find the Boar’s Head Deli people are raving about and spend $12 bucks on a sandwich I could get for half that two blocks from the stadium.
All in all, the new Yankee Stadium might get its ass kicked by the old Stadium when it comes to character, but the new one’s got a leg up when it comes to food…but you still won’t catch me eating any sushi there!


Next time, I sacrifice four jalapenos and some horseradish to the vodka gods…

Friday, May 8, 2009

Cold Tomato Soup...? Not Exactly


When I was living in Spain, I spent my entire Summer exposing myself to foods I’d never heard of and pointing to things I couldn’t understand on Salamancan menus. You didn’t know that, did you? Yeah, I lived in Spain for an entire Summer when I was sixteen years old…probably the best thing I could’ve done from a growth perspective. Granted, I’d already spent two years away from home learning the ways of the WASP in Eastern Massachusetts; but even then my parents were relatively close-by…not an ocean away. I got over it, I enjoyed the hell out of Spain and ate some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.
Most of my stories about Spain, or at least the one’s I tell my friends, focus on the drinking side of things. When you’re sixteen years old and you’ve grown up in the contradictorily Puritanical United States, being in a place where you can legally buy alcohol and cigarettes is kind of a big deal. But pouring booze down my throat wasn’t the only thing I did that summer, I also ate a lot. I tried to sample everything, but I sustained myself on a handful of items: toasted jamon y queso sandwiches from the corner shop near my school; late-night churros from a roadside stand, with the most amazing chocolate dipping sauce; Long Island Iced Teas and white sangria from the Litro Bar; and Paella from a little restaurant off the Plaza Mayor. The Litro Bar was probably my favourite. Hidden on a narrow street, they served litre’s of just about anything that could get you drunk…for cheap! My girlfriend at the time, was fond of their Long Island Ice Tea, while I preferred their White Sangria or gin and tonic. Inevitably, I would finish my drink and then have to drink half of hers because, well, girls who weigh 100 pounds aren’t really big drinkers. That meant that after my 10 o’clock dinner, with my belly full; by midnight or one I was feeling no pain and had my dancing shoes on.
The two things that stand out from Spain…besides those churros…are carafe’s of white sangria and chilly bowls of gazpacho. When I lived with my host family, Monday’s were Gazpacho night. My host mom basically ran a rooming house with her apartment and her sister’s apartment a block away; that meant about seven or eight students sitting down to dinner…Gazpacho is cheap to make and when paired with some crusty bread can be pretty filling. The other thing that stands out is walking into a restaurant and ordering a sangria. I think I’d been in Spain for maybe a day or two and at the time knew virtually nothing about food. So when the waiter returned with some golden coloured liquid in a glass with fruit and ice floating in it; I was confused and called our waiter over to the table. I asked him, “I ordered a sangria, why isn’t it red?” He barely broke stride as he passed by and gave me a quizzical look, “es verano,” translation: it’s Summer, stupid. Since then, I’ve tried to approximate that sangria, that same crisp sweetness I first tasted sitting outside that little café with my bowl of paella.

A couple weeks ago I had Spain on the brain and made gazpacho and white sangria for some friends. My white sangria recipe is a variation of Rosa Mexicano’s with some elements of what I remember from Salamanca thrown in as well; but sadly, it’s a secret. My advice would be to start going to Rosa Mexicano, befriend the bartender and ask him nicely to give you the recipe…being able to speak Spanish helps. I will, however; give up my gazpacho recipe. It’s slightly spicy, and crisp, with a flavour that builds over time. Heirloom tomatoes are tasty and everything, but there’s a time and a place for everything and that place is not in gazpacho. I prefer plum tomatoes for their sweetness and general taste; I also don’t use as much water in mine as most recipes call for, because I don’t want my soup diluted and feel that the extra water doesn’t allow for the same change in terms of complexity of flavour. I think a little tomato juice or V8 is a better way to go, as are the addition of cucumber and jalapeno.

Gazpacho

6 Plum Tomatoes, peeled, but not seeded
1 Cucumber, seeded, but not peeled
1 Red Onion, diced
1 Jalapeno, halved and seeded
2 Cloves Garlic, peeled
½ Cup Crusty Bread, small dice
12 oz – Tomato Juice
4 oz – White Vinegar
Juice of 1 Lemon & 1 Lime
2 Tbsp Cayenne Pepper
Salt & Black Pepper, to taste
¼ Cup Cilantro, minced

Chop all vegetables into medium pieces and combine in a blender, food processor or soup pot. Blend vegetables, or puree with an immersion blender; then add bread, tomato juice, vinegar, cayenne and continue to blend. Season with salt and pepper to taste (Initially, the soup should be not overly spicy, and crisp from the cucumber and maybe a little salty. As the soup sits, the flavours should begin to change and the soup should begin to get more spicy.).
Pour gazpacho into a serving bowl, garnish with cilantro (if using) and serve with more bread.
Serves 4-to-6.

Next up: How to most effectively waste your money at the New Yankee Stadium.

* Those of you with an Eagle Eye might notice diced orange bell pepper in the picture. That's because its an old picture, and I didn't take a picture of the gazpacho from the other day.