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Friday, July 19, 2013

Saveur.com: Daily Fare

Saveur.com: Daily Fare


Friday Cocktails: Le Mexique

Posted: 19 Jul 2013 01:00 AM PDT

Le Mexique Cocktail-photo
by Kellie Evans
One recent evening during the Manhattan Cocktail Classic, I took in a high-wire act of a dinner at Le Bernadin: 6 gracefully-executed courses by Chef Eric Ripert, each featuring Domaine de Canton, the aromatic, small-batch ginger liqueur made in France. It was emulsified into a silken vinaigrette paired with slivers of fluke and added to a rich river of red wine sauce that accompanied wild striped bass, toothsome green papaya salad, and Bhutanese red rice. Each dish was paired with an artfully mixed drink also featuring the spicy apéritif. What really took my breath away, however, was when the menu turned sweet. Normally, dessert is where my dining enthusiasm wanes; that evening, though, I fell hard for the first dessert pairing. An unusually-hued black sesame meringue dripping with macerated mango and Domaine de Canton sorbet was complemented by the best drink of the evening-a subtly-sweet, silky smooth mango and ginger margarita garnished with thin shavings of deep, dark chocolate. I was transformed.

See the recipe for Le Mexique »
    


Building Marinades

Posted: 18 Jul 2013 10:40 PM PDT

building marinades enzymes-photo
by Sara Cann
Marinades keep grilled foods juicy, tender, and flavorful, but in order to do their job, they must include a few key components. Acidic ingredients, such as vinegar or citrus juice, break down proteins, allowing marinades to penetrate meats. Enzymes found in certain fresh fruits, such as pineapple, also break down proteins, but they only act on the surface. Marinades made with such fruits help a tasty crust form when you're grilling thick steaks or other hefty cuts of meat. Since acids alone can toughen meat, marinades also need fat. Olive oil and other fats help seal in moisture and season foods. Once an acid or enzyme and a fat are in place, the other seasonings are up to you.

In general, you'll want to use one part acid or enzyme-rich fruit juice to two parts fat, with other seasonings to taste. (Denser cuts of meat, like flank steak, can withstand more acid for longer times, while fish and thinner, more tender cuts should get milder, quicker soaks.) Keep balance in mind: Salty ingredients bring out the savory depth in meats while helping them stay juicy; offset these with fiery or sweet ingredients. Sugars, which caramelize in the heat of the grill, pair well with tart flavors. Herbs, spices, and other aromatic flavorings can be added in infinite combinations.

See a gallery of ingredients for building marinades »
    


Hungarian Sour Cherry Cake Recipe

Posted: 18 Jul 2013 12:30 AM PDT

Hungarian Sour Cherry Cake-photo SERVES 12

INGREDIENTS

2 lbs. pitted fresh sour cherries or frozen and thawed sour cherries
1⁄4 cup flour, plus more for pan
16 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened, plus more for pan
1 1⁄2 cups sugar
3 tbsp. kirsch or brandy
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 egg
2 1⁄4 cups whole wheat flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
3⁄4 tsp. kosher salt
1 cup milk

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Heat oven to 400°. Toss cherries with 1⁄4 cup flour in a bowl; set aside.

2. Grease a 13" x 18" x 1" baking sheet with butter and dust with flour; set aside. In a large bowl, beat together butter, sugar, kirsch, and vanilla with a hand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy. Add egg; beat until incorporated.

3. In a medium bowl, whisk together whole wheat flour, baking powder, and salt. With the mixer running on low speed, alternately add flour mixture and milk in 3 batches to make a batter. Spoon batter onto reserved baking sheet and smooth evenly. Sprinkle cherries over the top. Bake until cake is golden brown, 45-50 minutes. Let cake cool 30 minutes, then cut into 12 squares.
    

The Grills Are Alive

Posted: 17 Jul 2013 11:30 PM PDT

korean barbecue-photo
by Francis Lam
This is what happened the night I fell in love with my Korean barbecue waitress. Admittedly, things got off to a rocky start. The tabletop grill had fired up gamely, searing meat like a cattle brand, but then began losing its will. When our server arrived with a platter of raw garlic-studded pork belly, I began to worry. I pictured her laying that marbled meat onto the lukewarm surface, where the slab would settle into a deflated burble of steaming pork. I have, I'm sorry to say, seen it happen before.

This is not how it's supposed to be. The primal pleasure I crave from Korean barbecue comes from searing and charring. Warmish grills are an affront to every cook and eater. Going out for Korean barbecue should mean sitting before a grate that's grown brutally hot over a bed of glowing coals. (Or, okay, fine, gas flames, but plenty of them, please.) Servers bring platters of sliced meat-old school places usually specialize in just a few cuts, such as beef short ribs or pork belly-sometimes covered in a marinade of soy sauce, garlic, and sugar. But marinated or not, the meat should hit the metal like a judgment, throwing smoke, before you wrap it in pieces of lettuce, swiping on salty bean paste and spiking it with spicy kimchi.

Some cultures celebrate grilled meat in its naked, unadorned state, but Korean barbecue is all about harmonizing it with strong elements so that each little parcel of lettuce can be a different experience from the one that came before. This is its beauty: the interplay of sizzling just-cooked pork belly and cool sweet-sour cured daikon. The chew of beef, the crispness of pickles, the tenderness of greens. The bite of raw garlic, the trailing depth of sauces made from fermented beans, maybe a little dip in nutty sesame oil. And all bound together by the bitter savor of char.

So what about my char? Would I not get my char tonight? Would the server throw our belly on to steam, rushing off to deal with her other tables? But then she shook her head and waved her hand, dispelling my worries in an instant. "I have another grill, hot, in the other room. Okay if I cook it there?" she asked. When she came back, smiling, she showed us the seared pork, its aromatic, sputteringly hot fat showering us in a fine mist. I had never felt more cared for, more understood. We picked up our lettuce leaves, ready to make magic.

See the recipe for Kalbi (Korean Grilled Beef Ribs) »
    

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