Saveur.com: Daily Fare

Secrets of the Grill: Chicken
Smoke and Glory: Behind the Scenes at Benton's Country Hams
Friday Cocktails: Refajo
Preserve the Season: Piquant Pickled Pineapple
6 Simple Ice Cream Sundaes

Posted: 15 Jul 2013 12:30 AM PDT

by Maricel E. Presilla
I always do two things when grilling chicken: I flatten the bird, which helps it cook evenly, and marinate it. Marinating is a technique Latin American cooks inherited from medieval Spain. In Cuba, where I'm from, we marinate everything under the sun in an aromatic paste called adobo that combines garlic, cumin, oregano, and lots of fresh citrus. For even more punch, I add ground ají molido chiles, paprika, and lemon; a bath in this mouth-puckering concoction provides a basic underpinning of flavor that blossoms and evolves while the bird cooks.

Get Under Its Skin

Rubbing marinade or seasonings under the chicken's skin helps keep the meat succulent and flavorful as it cooks.

Flat Top

Cooking on a plancha, a flat grill-top griddle, gives an even sear, perfect for delicate or quick-cooking foods like fish. Here it prevents the chicken's skin from tearing while it crisps.

Weigh It Down

Removing the backbone and flattening the bird under preheated foil-wrapped bricks helps the legs, thighs, and breasts cook at the same rate, yielding uniformly juicy meat.

Liquid Gold

After searing the chicken, baste it with the marinade while it cooks. As the liquid combines with the meat's juices, the bird's exterior becomes beautifully lacquered and caramelized.

Maricel E. Presilla is the author of Gran Cocina Latina (W.W. Norton, 2012).

See the recipe for Adobo Chicken Under a Brick »

Smoke and Glory: Behind the Scenes at Benton's Country Hams

Posted: 14 Jul 2013 11:00 PM PDT

by Helen Rosner
I've eaten Allan Benton's extraordinary pork products before-it's hard to eat dinner at a certain type of restaurant in New York (not to mention Chicago, San Francisco, Charleston, or New Orleans) without ordering something deepened by his smoky, silky, funky bacon. Nevertheless, it wasn't until I paid a visit to Benton's smokehouse, aging facility, and storefront in Madisonville, Tennessee-not too far of a drive from Knoxville, southwest on Highway 411-that the character of this meat really worked its way under my skin. I mean that figuratively as well as literally: for days afterward, my skin and hair bore the lingering aroma of the rich, beautifully greasy smoke that permeates this small operation.

The experience was overwhelmingly olfactory, but the visual compoment of a visit to Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams is no less remarkable: I'd never seen so much pork in one place. But what seemed to my eyes to be an endless array of hams and bellies dry-aging and maturing (the hams age for twelve or twenty-four months; the bacon for three) is, by meat-processing standards, quite small. These are exceptional pieces of meat, salty and unctuous, made great both through Benton's exacting curing and aging, and by virtue of their provenance: Benton is so particular about the quality of the pork he buys that the scope of the operation is contained simply by the limits of his supply.

These are exceptional pieces of meat, salty and unctuous, made great both through Benton's exacting curing and aging, and by virtue of their provenance.

Demand, on the other hand, is seemingly without end: Benton, a man so utterly nice that it is not inaccurate to describe him as the Mother Teresa of meat, is genuinely delighted when recounting how his business has grown in the decade or so since his country ham was first embraced by chefs like David Chang and Damon Wise. Virtually every leg and belly in the place is promised to one chef or another; home cooks who'd like to incorporate a few pounds of bacon into their pantry frequently face down a weeks-long wait, and those who want a whole country ham of their own have to plan months ahead of time.

Of course, you can skip the line-for bacon, at least-if you make the trek down to Madisonville yourself: At the tiny storefront that heads the aging rooms, a freezer bin of vacuum-packed cured belly beckons to all comers for just $6 a package (that's the wholesale rate; at specialty grocers, a pound of Benton's can go for fifteen dollars or more). And so it was that I found myself, eight pounds and a few hours later, dumping cookbooks from my luggage to make room for all my newly-acquired, dry-cured treasure. It's been more than a month since then, the bacon's long been doled out to worthy friends and eaten, but my suitcase still smells sweet and smoky, and I couldn't be happier with that.

Take a tour of Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams in the gallery »

Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams
2603 Highway 411
Madisonville, Tennessee 37354
423/442-5003

Friday Cocktails: Refajo

Posted: 12 Jul 2013 01:00 AM PDT

by Dominique Lemoine
Whenever there is an asado in Colombia-a great social gathering around the grill-you'll find pitchers of refajo, a crisp bittersweet cocktail made with beer, Colombiana (a smooth, tangy soft drink similar to cream soda), and aguardiente, an anise-flavored liqueur made from sugarcane. From the moment we start marinating the meat to the last bite at the end of the day, everyone has a glass of refajo in hand, cooling us against the midday sun and the grill's heat. Wherever you find someone drinking refajo, you're sure to find someone talking about the best way to make it: Some like it light and sweet, with more Colombiana, while others prefer it heavy with beer. Some love a strong taste of aguardiente, while others dislike the licorice note it adds to the drink.

As for me, I like my refajo with just a hint of aguardiente, and plenty of creamy bubbles-equal parts Colombiana and beer produce a thick, sweet, and slightly tart head that reminds me of my childhood. Like many Colombian kids, my parents would let me lick the foam-and nothing but the foam-off their glasses as a treat before devouring copious amounts of steak, grilled corn, potatoes, and sausage.

See the recipe for Refajo »

Preserve the Season: Piquant Pickled Pineapple

Posted: 12 Jul 2013 12:15 AM PDT

by Karen Solomon
When it comes to suitable fodder for pickles, fruits give vegetables a run for their money-and bright, sunny pineapple is one of the best for the brine. The fruit is perfect for preserving: It's both sweet and acidic, so heightening either of those attributes brings out great flavor. Its cheery yellow color stays true for the long haul (take that, cucumbers!) and while many fruits can easily lose their identity in too much acid-think pickled blueberries, grapes, or cherries-pineapple's flavor can stand up to a strong, piquant brine, while retaining its textural integrity over time. But above all, pineapples provide pickly abundance: a single fruit easily yields plenty to enjoy both now and later.

When making refrigerator pickles, citrus juice is an exquisite and flavorful alternative to vinegar. Lemon or lime juice (though not from Meyer lemons-their juice is too sweet) has enough sourness and acidity to make great, crisp pickles, and they lend a whole lot more flavor than old, reliable distilled white vinegar. I like to pickle chunks of pineapple with lime juice, adding a splash of fish sauce for a robust savory edge, and garlic and Sriracha to balance out the sweetness and acidity. The result is a winning, Southeast Asian-inspired pickle, delicious with seared or roasted pork, alongside fried spring rolls or chicken wings, or simply as a toothpick snack with an ice cold beer in your other hand.

See the recipe for Piquant Pickled Pineapple »

6 Simple Ice Cream Sundaes

Posted: 11 Jul 2013 11:33 PM PDT

These six sundaes (in unexpected combinations like vanilla topped with olive oil and fresh figs, or coffee draped with sweetened condensed milk and cocoa nibs) have all the satisfaction-and sophistication-of a homemade treat, but they're dead-simple to put together.

See 6 simple sundaes in the gallery »

Today Recipe

Pages

Monday, July 15, 2013