food – SAL DeTRAGLIA's VIRTUAL TAPAS BAR

TORTILLA ESPANOLA: THE “NOT YOUR GRANDMA’S” EDITION.

May 16, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

The word “tortilla” in Spanish of the Americas means a thin, starchy, floppy disc that keeps the contents of a 950 calorie burrito from exploding onto your lap. In Spain, however, it means something entirely different.

“Tortilla,” in the land of Cervantes, means a thick, Frittata-like, potato and egg omelette. It is, quite arguably, the greatest coupling of protein and carbohydrates since Five Guys’ bacon double cheeseburger with fries.

More so than Paella—which, although sophisticated and widely known, is really a regional (i.e., Valencian) dish—Tortilla Espanola is *the* national dish of Spain. Nearly every bar throughout the country will have a Tortilla Espanola sitting at room temperature on the counter—a hunk of which will likely be served as a tapa to accompany your glass of beer or wine.

But making Tortilla Espanola at home poses two challenges: (a) peeling, cutting, and frying the potatoes is tedious, messy, and time-consuming; and (b) getting the Tortilla’s center to cook through without scorching the surface is tricky.

But I’ve cracked both codes through research, trial, and error. Lots of error. And my now-perfected method is so quick and effortless that we often make Tortilla Espanola as a weeknight dinner—much to the delight of our children, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian…Spanish and non-Spanish.

So…what are the keys to my easy and fool-proof Tortilla? There are two: (a) use frozen French fries; and (b) start the Tortilla on the stovetop, but finish it in the oven.

Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know. No Spanish grandmother would ever, in a million years, use frozen French fries to make a Tortilla Espanola. Then, again…no Spanish grandmother understands the difference between a private message and a Facebook post. Just sayin’.

Progress waits for no granny. So…vamos, chicos! Let’s make…

NOT YOUR GRANDMA’S TORTILLA ESPANOLA!
(As bastardized by a lazy-yet-talented, US-born, former expat)

Ingredients:
1 lbs. Frozen French fries
10 Eggs
1 Onion (sliced thinly)
2 Garlic cloves (minced)
Shredded cheese (Cheddar, Monterrey Jack, Queso Cotija, or whatever the hell you like)
Kosher Salt
Extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
10″ non-stick, oven-safe skillet

Step 1: Spread frozen fries in a single layer across cookie sheet and bake in oven til crisp and golden brown. 20-25 minutes (flipping once) at 450F usually does the trick, but check the baking instructions on the back of the bag. Sprinkle with salt and set aside.

Step 2: Crack eggs into a large bowl, sprinkle with salt, and whisk until combined and smooth.

Step 3: Add EVOO to skillet on stovetop at medium heat. When EVOO shimmers, add onions to skillet, sprinkle with salt, and saute til soft.

Step 4: Add garlic to softened onions and saute for thirty seconds more. Don’t burn the garlic. Burnt garlic tastes like mierda.

Step 5: Add the onions, garlic, fries, and a big handful of shredded cheese to the bowl with beaten eggs. Mix with a wooden spoon to combine evenly, hacking at the fries to break them up a bit.

Step 6: Add more EVOO to skillet on stovetop at medium heat. When EVOO shimmers, add egg mixture. Shake skillet briefly to even out egg mixture, and cook until bottom and sides just begin to set (perhaps 30-45 seconds).

Step 7: Transfer skillet into 450F oven. Bake on middle rack for 15 minutes.

Step 8: Remove skillet from oven. Don’t forget to wear an oven mitt, or you will experience Raiders of the Lost Ark déjà vu. Put a large plate on top of the skillet, flip, and lift skillet so that Tortilla sits on plate.

Step 9: Slide Tortilla onto a cooling rack. Let cool to room temperature. Some uncooked egg may drip to the countertop, but don’t worry. The center of the Tortilla will continue to cook and solidify as it rests.

Step 10: When cooled to room temperature-ish, cut Tortilla into wedges or squares (depending on your aesthetic sensibilities).

Just to make this bastardization of a classic even more blasphemous, I like to eat it with a Salsa Brava dipping sauce made by mixing ketchup, mayo, and Sriracha sauce.

Grandma wouldn’t approve of that, either.

HITTING THE SAUCE.

November 11, 2024March 14, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

My uncle vacationed in Italy a few years ago, and was disappointed with the food. He considered it bland compared to the “Italian” food to which he was accustomed in the US.

I wasn’t surprised by his conclusion. In fact, I think that the reasons behind it are pretty simple. My uncle is Italian-American, and he was eating in the land of Italian-Italians.

Contrary to what many in the US believe, Italian-Italians and Italian-Americans are different beasts. And it’s not just because the latter has a propensity to scratch their crotches in public venues. The differences go right down to the food.

Italian-Italians like their sauces to have clean, fresh flavors. Italian-Americans like them to have intense, meaty (and especially, porky) flavors. Admittedly, I’m generalizing–but this has been my observation.

I’ve eaten in Italy many times, and I never encountered a sauce laden with meatballs, pork ribs, sausage, and beef hunks—in other words, the sauce on which my uncle and I were raised in Utica, NY.

No…nearly every tomato-based sauce that I’ve eaten in Italy tasted mainly of—hold onto your hats—TOMATO!

Sure, you can find sauces with additional flavorings tossed in (e.g., Bolognese with its ground beef, Puttanesca with its capers and spicy peppers, etc.), but these seem to be the exceptions rather than the norm.

So it’s a matter of apples and oranges. Personally, I’d be happy to eat a big bowl of either. But since not everyone is as flexible and open-minded as I am, I feel compelled to provide these folk with some sort of public service.

As such…I list below the recipe for my mother’s (and grandmother’s) classic, meat-heavy, Italian-American “Macaroni Sauce.” “Sunday Gravy,” if you’re from Chicago.

If you are Italian-American, planning a trip to Italy, and fear that your palate might be repulsed by the taste of an unadorned tomato, then you should pack a tub of this sauce in dry ice and wedge it into your suitcase.

Just don’t be scratching your crotch while standing in the TSA line.

OLIVA FAMILY’S MACARONI SAUCE

56 oz. Crushed Tomato
56 oz. Tomato Puree
24 oz. Tomato Paste
Salt & Pepper (to taste)
3-4 cloves of Garlic (crushed with side of knife and skins removed)
Water (no more than 28 oz.)
Olive oil
Red wine for deglazing (if needed)
1 lbs. Italian Sausage (recipe below, or store bought if you have a life outside the kitchen)
1 lbs. Pork “Country Ribs” or Pork Butt
1 lbs. Beef Chuck
1 lbs. Meatballs (recipe below, or store bought if you’re as lazy as I am)
1 lbs. Skirt Steak or Bracciole (optional, but it’s great if you aren’t a cheapskate like me)
Fresh Parsley and/or Basil (chopped)

Step 1: Cut meat and sausage into chunks. Combine meats and garlic cloves in large bowl or hotel pan. Salt, pepper, and toss.

Step 2: In a large sauté pan, fry meats and garlic (in batches) in olive oil at medium-high heat until browned on all sides. Transfer browned batches of all meats and garlic into large kettle (off heat).

Step 3: Add tomato paste to rendered fats and (stirring frequently) fry on medium heat until darkened, but not burned. Transfer fried tomato paste into the kettle with the meat and garlic. If any browned bits cling to the bottom of the sauté pan, then deglaze with red wine, reduce, and transfer to the kettle.

Step 4: Add crushed tomato, tomato puree, and water to kettle. Cook on low heat until the sauce gets hot, then simmer on lowest heat possible. Stir frequently, being very careful not to allow the sauce on the bottom of the pot to scorch or the meatballs to disintegrate.

Step 5: Continue to simmer. Read a book. Hell, write a book. Talk to your spouse. Just don’t forget to stir frequently. Your goal is to babysit that pot of sauce until all the meat to be tender and nearly falling apart. It sounds torturous, but the house will smell so good…you won’t want to leave. Total simmering time (from start to finish) can be anywhere from 8 to 12 hours. As my grandmother would say, “Just taste it.”

Step 6: When sauce is done, stir in the parsley (and/or basil). Top with freshly grated Pecorino Romano or Parmeggiano Reggiano cheese when served. Buy the good Italian stuff, not an ugly step-child from Wisconsin. I also like a good sprinkling of red pepper flakes or a drizzle of chile-infused EVOO, because I am a spicy dude.

Note: If making sauce on the stovetop, my preference is to double this recipe Seriously…if you’re going to trash an entire weekend making sauce, you might as well make a ton and freeze it in batches. It freezes very well, thank god. Also, I place a diffuser under the pot while simmering to lessen the odds of scorching the sauce.

Note 2 and Life-changing #ProTip: Did you know that you can skip 8-12 hours of babysitting a stovetop kettle by making this recipe in a slow cooker? Yeah, it’s true. You don’t even need to stir. I can’t believe it took me this long to think of it. Follow steps 1-4 as described above, BUT…instead of transferring the ingredients to a pot, transfer them to two (2) 6 quart slow cookers (or cut the recipe in half if using only one slow cooker…but seriously, just spend the extra $30 and buy a second slow cooker). Set the slow cooker(s) to “Low,” then come back in 8 hours to finish the job at Step 6.

Note 3: I tried to make this recipe (again, cutting it in half) in an Instant Pot–believing that 8 hours of simmering could be reduced to a mere 20 minutes under high pressure. And it would have worked, if it weren’t for that meddling “Burn” warning. Yes, sadly…the Instant Pot “Burn” function kept triggering before the sauce reached high pressure. If anybody can figure out how to get the sauce to high pressure without triggering “Burn,” you’ll likely find a Nobel Prize under the tree next Christmas. That said, if you have an old school/low-tech stovetop pressure cooker, give it a try and let me know if my hypothesis holds [pasta] water. I’ll betcha it does.

NONNIE’S MEATBALLS

¾ lbs. Ground Beef
¾ lbs. Ground Pork
3-4 slices of Bread (soaked in water and squeezed)
1 Egg
Garlic (minced)
Fresh Parsley
Fresh Basil
Salt & Pepper
¼ cup Grated Cheese

Step 1: Mix ingredients.

Step 2: Roll into balls.

Step 3: Fry in olive oil until browned. Let cool on cooling rack or paper towel-lined plate.

Disclaimer: I haven’t made homemade meatballs in years, much to my mother’s chagrin. It’s just too much trouble. I buy froze meatballs from the grocery store and fry them along with the other meats. Honestly, I can’t tell the difference in the finished product and it saves me at least an hour’s worth of labor.

NONNIE’S ITALIAN SAUSAGE

4 lbs. Coarsely-ground pork butt (i.e., pork shoulder)
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons paprika
2 teaspoons fennel seed
2 tablespoons hot red pepper flakes (optional)
Sausage casings, soaked in water to soften and remove salt (optional)

Step 1. Mix pork and spices in a bowl.

Step 2. Cover and let sit overnight in the fridge.

Step 3. Stuff into casings. How do you do that? Look it up on YouTube.

Another Disclaimer: Steps 1 and 2 are pieces of cake. Step 3 is a bit of a pain. Plus, it requires special equipment. To be honest, I almost always just buy a good quality Italian sausage from the market when making sauce.

BRACCIOLE

1-1.5 lbs. Round Steak (sliced thinly)
Fresh Parsley
Salt & Pepper
Garlic (minced and sautéed) or Garlic Powder
Grated Cheese
Kitchen Twine or Toothpicks

Step 1: Pound steak with mallet.

Step 2: Slice steak into strips (i.e., wider/longer strips for big bracciole; narrower/shorter strips for small bracciole).

Step 3: Sprinkle steak strips with salt, pepper, garlic (or garlic powder), parsley and cheese.

Step 4: Roll strips like a jelly roll, so that the seasonings are inside the roll. Tie with twine or spear with toothpicks, so that they won’t unroll.

Step 5: Fry in olive oil until browned.

Yet Another Disclaimer: I rarely make bracciole. Honestly, the above combo of ribs, chuck, meatballs, and (most importantly) sausage is more than sufficient.

PERFECTING PUSTIES: UTICA’S MOST FRUSTRATING (YET WORTHWHILE) DESSERT.

August 1, 2024March 7, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

If Tomate Pie is Utica, NY’s favorite entrée, then pusties are its superstar dessert.

Pusties (aka, pasticciotti) are little pastry tarts filled with custard and baked in a unique fluted tin. It’s a culinary jewel that is maddeningly difficult to find outside of upstate New York. It’s also maddeningly difficult to make at home—which may explain why 87% of all outbound flights from Syracuse Airport contain at least one box of pusties in the overhead bin.

I made up that last statistic, but wouldn’t be shocked if it were true.

You’re probably asking yourself, “What could be so hard about making a custard-filled pastry tart?” Well…several things.

First, the equipment. To make pusties, you need pustie tins. And you won’t find pustie tins in any Walmart.

Then, you need a good recipe. This is no small task. Most people that live in Utica don’t make pusties, because it’s easier to buy them at a local bakery. And most people outside of Utica don’t make pusties because…well, they’ve never heard of them. Much like the Amish, pustie culture tends not to venture far from the ol’ homestead. So finding a decent recipe (i.e., one whose dough doesn’t crumble like a sand castle when touched with a rolling pin) involves either raiding somebody’s grandma’s file cabinet or playing Internet Russian Roulette.

Even with a good recipe in hand, the pustie-making process is laborious, time-consuming, and temperamental. Making the dough, making the custard, lining each tin with dough, filling each tin with custard, capping each tin with another layer of dough—it’s a multi-hour marathon, and that’s *with* helpers.

Then there’s the baking. This is the most frustrating part. Why? Because the top of the pusty is exposed to the oven’s heat…whereas the bottom and sides are shielded by the tin. This means, all too often, that your beautiful pustie—whose top looked so crisp and golden brown when you pulled it from the oven—emerges from the tin a doughy, undercooked tragedy.

Yet all these downsides pale in comparison to a pustie-celibate life. So my wife and I sacrificed many hours and hundreds of calories on a Quixotic quest to crack the pustie code.

And we think we’ve finally cracked it. The recipe is set forth below. If it kills your entire weekend, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

THE DOUGH

6 c All Purpose Flour
1 t Baking Powder
1 c Lard (broken, cut, or shaved into small pieces)
1 stick (i.e., ½ c) Unsalted Butter (broken, cut, or shaved into small pieces)
2/3 c Light or Dark Brown Sugar
2/3 cup Sugar
¼ c Honey
2 Eggs
½ c Water

STEP 1: In a large bowl, add baking powder, lard, butter, and 3 cups flour.

STEP 2: Mix together with your hands, as you would a pie crust.

STEP 3: Add sugars and mix further.

STEP 4: In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, water, and honey. Beat well.

STEP 5: Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients (i.e., the bowl containing the flour, baking powder, lard, and butter). Pour the egg mixture into the center and mix well with hands.

STEP 6: Continue adding flour ½ cup at a time and mix well until your reach the perfect consistency (i.e., not to sticky, yet not too dry/crumbly). You may or may not need all 6 cups of flour.

STEP 7: Knead for a few minutes, cover bowl with plastic wrap, and let rest in refrigerator for a few hours or overnight.

NOTE: This makes enough dough for forty (40) pusties (assuming 3.5 inch diameter pusty tin).

THE CUSTARD
(IN THIS CASE, VANILLA)
2 c Whole Milk
1 c Heavy Cream
3 Large Eggs
2/3 c Sugar
3 T Cornstarch
2 t Vanilla Extract
¼ t Nutmeg (freshly grated)
⅛ t Table Salt

STEP 1: Heat milk and cream in medium saucepan over medium-low heat until steaming. Be careful not to let it boil, or you’ll have a mess on your hands.

STEP 2: Whisk together eggs, sugar, cornstarch, vanilla, nutmeg, and salt in bowl.

STEP 3: Whisk steaming milk and cream into egg and cornstarch mixture in slow, steady stream.

STEP 4: Return egg and milk mixture to saucepan and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with wooden spoon and scraping bottom of pan.

STEP 5: When custard begins to thicken and clump at the bottom of the saucepan, toss aside the wooden spoon and grab a whisk. Continue whisking the custard (breaking up the clumps at the bottom of the pan) until it thickens to the point that the whisk leaves a “trail” in the custard. Or, stated another way, keep whisking until the custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon and you can draw a line through it with your finger. Be careful not to over-thicken.

STEP 6: Remove from heat, pour into a bowl or Cambro, and cool to room temperature.

NOTE: This will make enough custard for ten (10) pusties.

CUSTARD VARIATIONS

For chocolate custard, add ½ c cocao powder at Step 2 and omit nutmeg. Full disclosure: My father commented that he would like a bit more sugar in the chocolate custard.

For dark chocolate custard, add ½ c dark cocao powder at Step 2 and omit nutmeg.

For coconut pusties, just stir in a generous hand full of coconut at Step 6. Duh!

For almond custard, add 2 t almond extract at Step 2 and omit vanilla extract.

For lemon custard, add 1.5 T fresh lemon juice and 1.5 T grated lemon zest at Step 2 and omit nutmeg.

For orange custard, add 1.5 T fresh orange juice and 1.5 T grated orange zest at Step 2 and omit nutmeg.

For ketchup custard, add ½ c ketchup at Step 2 and omit nutmeg. Just kidding, sort of. Don’t be afraid to let your creativity fly. The pustie possibilities are endless…and man does not live on vanilla alone!

THE ASSEMBLY
Pustie Tins (you can buy these online from Flihan’s)
Pizza or Baking Stone
Rolling pin
Nonstick Spray (e.g., Pam)
Flour (for dusting work surface)
Egg yolks (beaten)
Pastry brush
Sugar (for sprinkling)

STEP 1: Place pizza stone on middle rack. Heat oven (and stone) at 500F for one hour. Seriously, let that stone heat for the full hour.

STEP 2: Meanwhile (as oven and stone are heating), spray pusty tins with non-stick spray. Do not flour the pustie tin, or my Uncle Sammy will kill you.

STEP 3: Break off little “meatball” of dough. On a lightly floured surface, use rolling pin to roll out dough into a thin round of 1/4 inch thickness. #ProTip: Alternatively, you can roll out a larger sheet of dough and cut out circles using a glass or bowl of the correct diameter (this method is faster than the meatball method, FWIW).

STEP 4: Place rolled-out dough round into pusty tin. Use thumbs to press dough into bottom and sides of the tin. Remove excess, overhanging dough.

STEP 5: Fill pustie with custard of choice. #ProTip: Don’t overfill it! Leave a half inch or so of breathing room. Both the custard and the dough will plump in the oven, so overfilling will cause the lid (described in Step 6 below) to crack and/or separate from the base. That said…#ProTip: Don’t underfill it either–or your guests will feel cheated. (This is a persnickety recipe. This is one of a thousand ways to screw it up.)

STEP 6: Roll out another little “meatball” of dough into a thin round. This will be the pustie’s “lid.” Cover pustie top with lid of dough, crimp with fingers to seal, and remove excess, overhanging dough. #ProTip: Brush the rim of the pastie with water before topping with and crimping the lid. This will help keep the lid from blowing open–yet another way to screw up this persnickety recipe. My grandmother (i.e., “Nonnie“) would place a little “button” of dough in the center of each vanilla pustie’s lid, so that we could distinguish the vanilla ones from the chocolate. Kids today would call that a “life hack.”

STEP 7: Brush top of pustie with beaten egg and sprinkle lightly with sugar. Then, using a paring knife, poke a couple small slashes into the pustie’s lid so that steam can escape during baking.

STEP 8: Repeat Steps 3 through 7 until you’ve prepared enough pusties to fill a baking pan.

STEP 9: When you’re ready to rock, lower the oven temperature to 450F and turn on the convection fan (assuming you have a convection oven).

STEP 10: Cover baking pan full of pusties with aluminum foil and place directly onto heated baking stone. #ProTip: Spray the underside of the foil with Pam before covering pusties, otherwise it may stick to the lids–another of the thousand ways to screw up this persnickety recipe. Bake for approximately 5 minutes. Remove foil and bake for another 20 minutes (#ProTip: Rotate the sheet 180 degrees after 10 minutes to ensure even browning), until the sides and bottoms of the pusties are golden brown. Listen to me, people! There’s nothing worse than a doughy, undercooked pustie. Well, actually…a hot dog baked into a chocolate brownie is worse. But you catch my drift. A lot of people screw up perfectly good pusties by removing them from the oven too soon. We know this from experience. You can’t judge a pustie’s doneness by the color of the lid. The lid will brown well before the bottom and sides, so don’t freak out. Those pusties need to stay in the oven until the bottom and sides are browned.

STEP 11: Let cool and remove from tins. Because, you know…you can’t eat the tins.

As with all recipes on this website, this one will be subject to a continuous improvement process. We’ll continue tinkering with this recipe until it becomes 100% idiot-proof. Updates to the original post will be identified below.

We’d welcome critiques or suggestions for improvement from you, as well.

#CrowdSourcing Question (December 23, 2021): Is the singular form of pusties (a) “pustie,” or (b) “pusty?” Any Utica grandmothers out there with an opinion on this life or death question? I hope the answer is (a), or I’ll have a lot of editing to do here.

UTICA TOMATO PIE: IT’S NOT JUST FOR UTICANS ANY MORE.

December 27, 2022February 26, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

The city of Utica may be the Rodney Dangerfield of New York State, but make no mistake…its regional, Italian-American cuisine gets *plenty* of respect.

Think Fucazzo. Mushroom Stew. Chicken Riggies. Utica Greens. Half-Moons. And those ridiculously awesome Pusties.

But amongst all of Utica’s culinary jewels, my favorite—by far—is Tomato Pie.

What’s Utica Tomato Pie? Well, it’s not a pie—at least, not in the “post-Thanksgiving dinner” sense. It’s not a quiche. And, as any Utican will insist, it’s not a freakin’ pizza!!!

Arguably, it’s “pizza-like”—in the same way that, arguably, a chimpanzee is “human-like.” But Tomato Pie, like humans, is definitely the superior species.

The base of Utica Tomato Pie is a thick, soft, savory-cakey crust. Some compare it to focaccia. Others, to Sicilian pizza. But it bears no resemblance to the chewy, bread-like crust of a Neopolitan pizza, or the crispy cracker of a US thin-crust pizza.

Tomato Pie is topped with a thick, sweet, slightly chunky, slightly acidic tomato sauce. The sauce is dusted with grated Pecorino Romano cheese and a light sprinkling of dried oregano. It’s then baked in a shallow rectangular pan, cut into squares, and served at room temperature—preferably, with a pint of Saranac on the side.

That’s it! No mozzarella. No pepperoni. And, definitely…no triangles!

If you live in (or visit) Utica, make a bee-line to Roma Sausage & Deli, Holland Farms, O’Scugnizzo’s, or Daniele’s for a box of the real thing. But if you’re not in Utica, then life gets complicated.

Why? Because Tomato Pie is difficult to find outside of Utica. It’s even more difficult to find outside of upstate New York. And many a home cook has cried a river trying to replicate the beast at home.

But alas, Gentle Eater, your long, nasty nightmare of frustration and deprivation is over—because I have perfected the recipe for making a spot-on Utica Tomato Pie at home.

The recipe is listed below. I hope youse freakin’ like it.

THE DOUGH
2.25 cups all-purpose flour (I use King Arthur unbleached)
2 cups semolina flour (I use Bob’s Red Mill)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon yeast (I use Fleischmann’s ActiveDry Original)
1.50 – 1.75 cups ice water
3 tablespoons EVOO
2.25 teaspoons salt

STEP 1: Using Kitchen-Aid mixer fitted with dough hook, mix all-purpose flour, semolina flour, sugar, and yeast on low speed until combined.

STEP 2: With machine running on low speed, slowly add oil and enough ice water until dough forms and no dry flour remains, approximately 1 to 2 minutes.

STEP 3: Cover mixer bowl with plastic wrap and let dough stand for 10 minutes.

STEP 4: Add salt to dough and mix on medium speed until dough forms satiny, sticky ball that clears sides of bowl, approximately 6 to 8 minutes.

STEP 5: Remove dough from bowl and knead briefly on lightly floured counter until smooth, about 1 minute.

STEP 6: Shape dough into tight ball and place in large, lightly oiled bowl. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 48 hours.

THE SAUCE
6 fresh Roma or Plum tomatoes
28 oz can of Crushed Tomato
6 oz can of Tomato Paste
3 garlic cloves (put through a garlic press)
0.25 teaspoon oregano
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
3.5 tablespoons sugar
Salt to taste

STEP 1: Pre-heat oven to 425F.

STEP 2: Place fresh tomatoes on baking pan. Drizzle with EVOO, salt and pepper. Roast for 30 minutes.

STEP 3: While tomatoes are roasting, combine other ingredients in a sauce pan and let simmer on stove top until thickened.

STEP 4: Coarsely chop the roasted tomatoes (so that no large pieces remain) and add to sauce pan.

NOTE: I typically make the sauce in advance, and let it sit covered in the fridge for a day or two. I don’t know if this improves the sauce, but why tamper with greatness?

THE ASSEMBLY
17 x 11 inch rectangular baking sheet
Baking stone
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Pecorino Romano Cheese
Dried Oregano

STEP 1: Spray baking sheet (including rim) with vegetable oil spray, then coat bottom of baking sheet with EVOO.

STEP 2: Remove dough from fridge and transfer to lightly floured counter. Lightly flour top of dough and gently press into rectangle.

STEP 3: Using rolling pin, gently roll dough into 17 x 11 inch rectangle. Transfer dough to baking sheet, gently stretching dough into corners as needed.

STEP 4: Rub top of dough with EVOO and cover with sheet of plastic wrap. Let stand in a warm place for 90 minutes. I typically place the pan on the stovetop while the oven is heating (see Step 5 below).

STEP 5: One hour before baking, place baking stone on middle rack and heat oven to 500F.

STEP 6: Remove plastic wrap. Ladle sauce onto the Pie, then use the back of the ladle to spread it evenly.

STEP 7: Grate Pecorino Romano evenly over the sauce.

STEP 8: Using fingers, lightly sprinkle oregano over the sauce. Don’t go crazy with the oregano, or you’ll taste it until Tuesday.

STEP 9: Reduce oven temperature to 450F. Place baking sheet onto the stone. Bake 10 minutes, rotate baking sheet 180 degrees, then bake another 10 minutes (until bottom crust is evenly browned).

STEP 10: Remove baking sheet from oven. Transfer Tomato Pie to wire cooling rack.

STEP 11: When cooled, cut Tomato Pie into squares.

STEP 12: Post on Facebook, and place bets on which relative arrives at your doorstep first. Pity the fools that arrive too late.

**************************************************************

UPDATE: Step 4 of “The Sauce” originally read as follows: “Cut the roasted tomatoes in half, add to sauce pan, and mash tomatoes with wooden spoon until no large pieces remain.” The revision above works just as well, with less effort.

EXIT THE NONNIE.

February 14, 2016February 14, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

After a giggly, gourmet, ninety-six-ish year journey, my grandmother (“Nonnie”) has taken a seat at that great macaroni house in the sky.

When a family member dies, I’m usually asked to write a eulogy. It’s a task that, quite frankly, I’d be happy to do without.

But in Nonnie’s case, the eulogy was easy. I’ve been writing it for the past decade.

You’ll find it HERE.

Buon appetito, and save room for the pusties.

THE PASSION OF THE ALDI.

February 14, 2016February 13, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

There are two kinds of people in this world: (a) Those that know and understand Aldi, and (b) Those that don’t, but make assumptions about it.

Aldi, of course, is the German-based, low-cost, low-frills supermarket chain that has been expanding like a late July brush fire around the world and across the US. It stokes passionate feelings on both sides of the spectrum.

People that have never set foot inside an Aldi tend to make bold assumptions—the most prevalent of which is that each Aldi resembles the East Berlin supermarket that I visited in 1988.

That pre-unification, East Berlin supermarket epitomized the term “Fifty Shades of Gray”—but with none of its sexiness. The supermarket had gray walls. Gray floors. A gray ceiling. On its gray shelves were gray cans sporting gray labels. Those labels said things like “Meat,” “Gruel,” or “Arguably, a Vegetable.” The store had no natural light. No color. No joy. The only fresh products I recall seeing were the ones scurrying underfoot across the floor.

This bold assumption, Comrades, is wrong. Aldi provides a bright, attractive, exceedingly pleasant, uber-efficient supermarket experience. I know this, because I’ve been shopping there for years. So let me provide some “Aldi Truths” to bring the naysayers out of the Cold War.

GIVE THEM NO QUARTER! No, wait! Actually, you’ll need a quarter. Aldi shopping carts are chained together in a corral. To take a cart, you must first insert a quarter in order to unlock it. But don’t worry, because you’ll get your damn quarter back when you return the cart. And you WILL return the cart. Why? Because—odd as it may seem—the prospect of forfeiting 25 cents provides enough motivation to dissuade even the most lazy Aldi shopper from abandoning his cart in the parking lot…within striking distance of my new Volvo. And in the unlikely event that a cart is abandoned, another Aldi shopper will pounce immediately and pocket a two-bits windfall. No abandoned carts means there’s no need for Aldi to hire extra staff to retrieve them. This keeps Aldi’s staffing needs lean and its overhead costs low.

YOU’LL SAVE A BUNDLE. According to a 2011 New York Times article, analysts estimate that Aldi prices are 20 percent lower than those of competitors like Wal-Mart. Aldi officials claim that the savings are closer to 45 percent. I don’t know which figure is correct, but I do know this. Before becoming an Aldi convert, I did my grocery shopping at Sam’s Club—where I would typically spend $240 per week to feed my family of six. My grocery bills at Aldi now range from $100 to $140 per week. You do the math. You just might save enough money to buy a new Volvo.

THE SELECTION IS SMALL, BUT IT’S BIG ENOUGH. A typical Aldi carries approximately 1,500 popular, high-turnover items. Competing large supermarkets may carry 25,000 items. A superstore, 100,000! So…you won’t find 16 different brands of peanut butter at Aldi, or 46 colors and textures of toilet paper. But who needs a smorgasbord of toilet paper?! You may think that you do, but you don’t. You really don’t. I distinctly remember the first time I entered an Aldi. I looked around and thought, “Jesus! This joint will barely make a dent in my shopping list.” But by the time I rolled into the check-out register, I had knocked-off 90% of my list. Aldi also carries a nice selection of organic products, gluten-free items, and fresh meats and produce. You’ll often find a smattering of interesting German imports, like krauts, marzipan cakes, and funky sausages. And as if that weren’t enough, Aldi frequently surprises (and delights!) by offering limited term specialty items. Last week, two lobster tails (for $12!) appeared in the freezer aisle. The week before, I noticed the debut of vegetarian samosas. So, fear not, Gentle Eater…for shopping at Aldi will not result in death from either malnutrition or boredom.

THE PRODUCTS TRULY ARE GOOD QUALITY. 95% of the products that Aldi offers are private labelled. This, admittedly, takes some getting used to. But the quality of those products is top-notch. I’ve eaten my way across the store and back, and (quite honestly) have found only one product that I didn’t like—the organic peanut butter…it needs more salt! And, again, private-labelling means that low-to-no marketing costs are passed-on to the consumer. Aldi is a super-secretive organization, but I suspect that many of their products are contract manufactured by the same companies that make the major, highly-marketed brands that we know and love. Why do I think this? Because my kids never complain that they are eating private labelled Aldi products. To be honest, I don’t think they even notice.

WHAT’S WITH ALL THE BAR CODES? Aldi’s product packaging is peppered with multiple, long bar codes. I’m talking obnoxiously long bar codes on all (or nearly all) sides. This is to increase check-out speed. These bar codes on growth hormones allow Aldi cashiers to whiz product off the belt, past the scanner, and into the cart at Mach 3 without ever missing a beat. Which leads us to…

THE CHECK-OUT PROTOCOL. There is a check-out protocol at Aldi. And while it’s not as intimidating as ordering a bowl of Mulligatawny from the Soup Nazi, it is taken seriously by employees and customers alike. First, you don’t dally while placing the contents of your cart onto the check-out conveyer belt. Why? Because once the Aldi cashier grabs the first of your items from the belt, you will enter a time warp. An Aldi cashier will grab, swipe, and dump $100 worth of groceries into your cart faster than it takes you to pull the debit card (Note: Aldi doesn’t take credit cards) from your wallet. Notice that I said he will dump the groceries into *your* cart. This, also, is part of the check-out protocol. Once you’ve unloaded your items onto the belt, you’ll push your empty cart to the end of the counter—where the cashier will either maneuver it around to abut the end of the counter, or he will move it aside because he has already grabbed and positioned the last customer’s cart. He does this because…

THERE IS NO BAGGING AT THE REGISTER! No, no, no! The cashier won’t bag your groceries at the register. A pimply-faced, 17 year old clerk won’t bag your groceries at the register. And you won’t bag your groceries at the register. What you *will* do, however, is take your receipt and proceed to “The Shelf!”

ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY SHELF! As you leave the check-out lane, you will encounter a deep, waist-high shelf running the length of the wall leading to the exit door. This is where you will bag your cart full of disheveled, freshly paid-for groceries. Again, this is done for purposes of efficiency. Bagging groceries at the register is a common (and annoying!) bottleneck in the typical supermarket machine. Aldi doesn’t do bottlenecks. Plus, you probably needed the exercise. There’s one more thing that you need to know about bagging groceries at Aldi…

BRING YOUR OWN BAGS! That’s right. Aldi doesn’t give out bags. You’re free to grab an empty box or carton if you find one lying around, but most Aldi shoppers come armed with a stack of eco-friendly, re-usable nylon bags for this purpose. Those bags often sport a Trader Joe’s logo, which is a bit ironic—since Trader Joe’s was founded by the brother of Aldi’s founder.

[Authors Note: Despite my clear passion for Aldi (and the fact that I live in the town where it is headquartered), please be advised that I don’t work for Aldi. Although…that’s certainly not for lack of trying. 😉 ]

MOTHERS’ LITTLE HELPERS: COCKTAILS DE-MYSTIFIED FOR THE HOME BARTENDER.

April 25, 2016January 21, 2016 by Sal DeTraglia

You’ll find a copy of Mr. Boston Official Bartending Guide behind nearly every bar in the US. This Holy Bible of imbibing has more than 1,400 cocktail recipes. 1,400! That’s more than the number of hairs on the average middle-aged American male’s head.

It wasn’t always this way. In bygone years, one would simply order “strong drinks for men who wanna get drunk fast.” Today, however, it seems that most cocktails have 78 or 79 ingredients and are garnished with a sous vide-simmered Birch tree twig imported from the northernmost province of Finland.

It’s confusing. It’s intimidating. It’s enough to make a person just crack open a Heineken.

But is it really? Is mastering the art of the cocktail as complex as it’s now perceived?

The answer, in fact, is “No.” Like most unnecessarily complex things in life, cocktails can be broken into little pieces and re-assembled into a simplified, understandable system. And that’s what this post is all about.

In the paragraphs below, I’ll give you a template for creating both a solid foundation of classic cocktails and your own improvised riffs on those classics.

PART I: THE HOLY TRINITY OF COCKTAIL FLAVORS.

At its most basic level, cocktails are simply a mixture of whiskey, sugar, and bitters. Sure, many cocktails employ other elements. But whiskey, sugar, and bitters form the skeleton upon which the creature is built.

And when all is said and done, creating a cocktail—whether via a recipe or improvisation—is a matter of balancing three flavors: sweet, sour, and bitter. We’ll call these flavors the “Holy Trinity.”

As you’re adding an ingredient into the shaker, think about whether that ingredient will lend a sweet, sour, or bitter flavor to the cocktail. Then, think about how that flavor will be balanced against the others.

Maybe you want a balanced drink, in which all components of the Holy Trinity are in perfect harmony. Or maybe you want a cocktail that leans toward the sweet side. Or the bitter side. Keeping the Holy Trinity firmly in mind (and believe me, not everybody does) will raise the quality bar on whatever cocktail you’re building. By the way…this technique also works when cooking.

So…by now you’re thinking, “Yeah, I guess that all makes sense…conceptually. But I still don’t know how to make a damn cocktail!”

No. No you don’t. So, let me give you a template.

PART II: THE FOUR “MOTHER COCKTAILS”

A great home bartender needs a strong foundation upon which to create his liquid masterpieces. You will have that foundation if you master the four “Mother Cocktails.” They are the (a) Old Fashioned, (b) Whiskey Sour, (c) Negroni, and (d) Vodka Martini.

Master these Mother Cocktails, and you’ll have the power to create a whole slew of “Child Cocktails” by simply tweaking an ingredient here, swapping an ingredient there, and/or adding a little of this, that, or the other.

MOTHER COCKTAIL #1 (SWEET CATEGORY): THE OLD FASHIONED

The Old Fashioned is one of the oldest, simplest, and most elegant of cocktails. It’s also one of the most abused—often looking like a fruit cocktail dumped into an ice-filled glass of brown sludge. Order one in Wisconsin, and they’ll further ruin it with Sprite and Sour Mix.

Stop the insanity! A proper Old Fashioned is (surprise, surprise) nothing more than a beautiful balance of whiskey, sugar, and bitters.

OLD FASHIONED (i.e, the Sweet Mother)
4-8 parts Rye or Bourbon Whiskey
1 part Simple Syrup
2-4 dashes Angostura or Fee Brothers Old Fashioned Bitters
Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail or rocks glass, and garnish with lemon peel

There you go! The classic Old Fashioned! Now, you can spread your wings and create some sweet (in both senses of the word) “Child Cocktails.” Here’s how:

Replace the Rye/Bourbon with Brandy, and you’ve got yourself a Brandy Old Fashioned!
Use Peychaud’s Bitters (rather than Angostura or Fee Brothers) and strain into an Absinthe– or Pernod-coated glass. You’ve just made a Sazerac…the official cocktail of New Orleans!
Replace the Simple Syrup with Sweet Vermouth and swap the lemon peel for a Maraschino cherry. You hold in your hand a Manhattan!
Add 1 part Fernet Branca to the mix, and you’ll have a pleasingly bitter Toronto cocktail to keep you warm on a cold Winter night!
Feeling a bit like a lumberjack? Well, then…replace that Simple Syrup with maple syrup and add a few dashes of Black Walnut Bitters. Your Canadian friends will weep with joy…politely, of course.
Feeling really cocky? Good! Go into your liquor cabinet. Way in the back, where those dusty, untapped bottles of strange stuff have been banished. What do you have there? Some funky Italian Amaro? A bottle of Nocino, Frangelico, or Amaretto? Some crazy German liquor that you can neither read nor pronounce? A collection of unconventionally-flavored Bitters, like Aztec Chocolate, Rhubarb, or Cherry? Pull them out, take a sniff, have a taste…and think. Would a spoonful of one or a dash of the other lift Mother to an even higher plateau? If you think so, then give it go.

MOTHER COCKTAIL #2 (SOUR CATEGORY): THE WHISKEY SOUR

Whiskey Sour is that cocktail that your grandfather let you sip on the sly during some family function in 1975. You were only eight years old, but you liked it.

When made correctly, a Whiskey Sour tastes great on a hot day and—as with the Old Fashioned—is the Mother Cocktail from whose loins a number of sour Children may spring.

WHISKEY SOUR (i.e, the Sour Mother)
4-8 parts Rye or Bourbon Whiskey
2 parts freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 part Simple Syrup
Shake with ice, strain into a cocktail or rocks glass.

That’s the Mother. Here are her Children:

Vigorously dry shake 1 egg white before adding the other ingredients, and you’ll have a thicker, creamier, frothy Whiskey Sour.
Replace the Rye/Bourbon with Brandy, replace the Simple Syrup with Cointreau or Triple Sec, serve in a sugar-rimmed glass, and garnish with lemon peel. You’ve just made a Sidecar!
Replace the Whiskey with Tequila, the lemon juice with lime juice, the Simple Syrup with Cointreau or Triple Sec, and serve in a salt-rimmed glass. Guess what? Tu tienes una Margarita!
Replace the Whiskey with White Rum and the lemon with lime juice. You be drinkin’ a Daquiri, mahn! No blender required…or welcomed!

Do you see how easy this is? Let’s continue!

MOTHER COCKTAIL #3 (BITTER CATEGORY): THE NEGRONI

I was sitting in a bar in southern Italy around noontime in 2003, and noticed that most of the men were sipping a very pretty, intensely red drink. I asked the bartender what it was. He proudly informed, “Il Negroni!”

Negroni is a bracingly bitter cocktail that’s often drunk as an aperitif. It’s not always love at first sip. Acquiring the taste may take a few tries. But once you’ve acquired it, you’ll be in love forever.

And man-oh-man, is it easy to make!

NEGRONI (i.e, the Bitter Mother)
1 part Campari
1 part Sweet Vermouth
1 part Gin
Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail or rocks glass, and garnish with orange peel.

Mother, meet your Children:

Replace Campari with Aperol, and you’ll have a lighter, more citrusy, less bitter riff on the Negroni.
Replace the Gin with Rye Whiskey or Bourbon, and you’ll have a Boulevardier—Negroni’s tastier, more rugged offspring.
Replace the Gin with Spiced Rum, and you’ll be sipping a Kingston.

MOTHER COCKTAIL #4 (NEUTRAL CATEGORY): THE VODKA MARTINI

And then there are those times—or those guests—that are just not up for adventure. You’re feeling bland….non-committal…neutral. And you want a cocktail that will taste great, but won’t challenge you. Who you gonna call?

“Martini. Vodka Martini.”

VODKA MARTINI (i.e, the Neutral Mother)
2-4 parts Vodka
1 part Dry Vermouth
Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with three green olives.

Even the Plain Jane Vodka Martini got knocked-up:

For a Dry Martini, change the Vodka to Vermouth ratio to 6:1. Or, in more extreme cases, simply coat your glass with Vermouth and fill it with ice cold Vodka. Worst case scenario: Just pour a friggin’ glass of cold Vodka.
Prefer a brighter, less pungent Martini? Skip the olives and instead garnish with lemon peel.
Feeling grown-up? Replace Vodka with Gin for a more complex, herbacious Martini.
Swap the olives for cocktail onions, and your Martini will become a Gibson. A couple dashes of Celery Bitters will make it better still.
Swap green olives for black olives, and your Martini is now called a Buckeye.
Change the proportions to 6 parts Gin, 2 parts Vodka, 1 part Lillet Blanc, and then garnish with lemon peel. You’ve just made a Vesper.

PART III: PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

You now have the tools to be a fisherman, rather than a fish eater. Congratulations.

But your newly acquired, mad mixology skills cannot be kept quiet. They must be shared with—and shown off to—friends and family. At least, to those friends and family that agree to use Uber.

So, throw a party. Host a get-together. And when an indecisive guest hems and haws over what to order, try the following line of questioning:

Q1: Do you want something sweet, sour, bitter, or neutral?

Q2: Do you tend to prefer brown liquors or white liquors?

Q3: Do you like drinks with simple flavors, or complex?

Q4: Which type of complexity do you like most? Citrusy? Fruity? Winey? Herbacious? Nutty? Spicy? Salty? Smoky?

If (for example) the guest answers, “I want a neutral, white cocktail with simple, citrusy flavors,” then you’ll want to make a Vodka Martini with a twist of lemon peel.

If she answers, “I want a bitter, brown cocktail with complex, spicy flavors,” then she’d probably appreciate a well-made Kingston.

If he answers, “Gimme a sweet, brown cocktail that’s complex and winey,” then that dude needs a Manhattan.

If she gushes, “I’d love a sour, white cocktail that’s salty and smokey,” then duuuuuh! Hola, Margarita!

PART IV: FINAL THOUGHTS

In the end, the precise recipe for a cocktail isn’t the most important thing. It’s the care that you use when making the cocktail itself. Listed below are some nuggets of wisdom that I’ve amassed during years of research, self-destruction, and tinkering at my kitchen island:

The simpler the cocktail, the more important the quality of your base liquor. An expensive Rye Whiskey works wonders in an Old Fashioned, but would be wasted in a Boulevardier.
Fill your cocktail or rocks glass with ice water before you start mixing the cocktail. That glass will be good and cold by the time you are ready to pour.
A cocktail has two mortal enemies: (a) warmth, and (b) water. So, add your ingredients to the shaker first. Add the ice last. Once you are done shaking or stirring, don’t let it sit on the counter while the ice continues to melt. Immediately strain that drink into your chilled cocktail or rocks glass.
If your cocktail contains fruit juice, then it should be shaken. If it doesn’t, then it should be stirred. Sorry, 007…but you’ve been doing all wrong. Stirring assures a crystal clear, ice shard-free cocktail. The only exception is the Bloody Mary (which should be “rolled”), but that’s a topic for another day.
Wisconsin, take note! Fruit juices should be freshly squeezed to order. Never use bottled juices or (god forbid) “Sour Mix.”
Don’t ever buy Simple Syrup! It’s a waste of money. You can make it yourself for mere pennies in five minutes. Just bring one cup of water to a boil, dissolve one cup of sugar into it, let it cool, and you’ve got Simple Syrup.
I prefer cocktails served up, rather than on the rocks. But if you take a cocktail on the rocks, then you want just one, very large ice cube or sphere—not a glass full of small ice cubes that will start melting before your first sip.
When garnishing with lemon, lime, or orange peel, express the oils over the surface of the cocktail, rub the peel two revolutions around the rim of the glass, then drop it into the drink. That peel should have no pith or pulp on the underside.
Not all cherries are created equal. Avoid those nuclear red sugar bombs found on supermarket shelves, and shell out the cash for a jar of Luxardo Maraschino or Griottines Morello cherries (i.e., the real thing!). The difference will be both mind-blowing and life-changing.
Rather than dealing with jiggers and ponies, buy an OXO Good Grips Mini Angled Measuring Cup. Measuring out liquors is faster, easier, and more precise with one of these. And they’re cheap!
A great source of quality, reasonably price bar ware is Cocktail Kingdom.
I recommend the following four books for your home cocktail library: Mr. Boston; The Bar Book: Elements of Cocktail Technique by Jeffrey Morgenthaler; The PDT Cocktail Book by Jim Meehan; and Bitters by Brad Thomas Parsons.
To stay on the cutting edge of cocktail culture, a subscription to Imbibe Magazine is a must.
The recipes above that I give for Mother Cocktails are written in proportions. Converting these to ounces or milliliters is easy, even for a math-phobe like me. The formula is as follows:

(# of parts liquor at issue/Total # of parts all liquors) * Total size of the cocktail (in either ounces or milliliters) = Amount of the liquor at issue (in ounces or milliliters) that you’ll need to add

Example:
If a Whiskey Sour is 4:2:1 parts Whiskey to Lemon Juice to Simple Syrup and you want to make a 4 ounce drink, then you would add:
(4/(4+2+1) = .57*4oz = 2.28 oz Whiskey
(2/(4+2+1) = .29*4oz = 1.16 oz Lemon Juice
(1/(4+2+1) = .14*4oz + .56 oz Simple Syrup

Feel free to round up or down. Even the OXO Measuring Cup isn’t that precise.

There are bars and restaurants that pride themselves on serving cocktails as big as a human head. This is unconscionable…and it hurts. A cocktail should not exceed 4 ounces in total. Or, as the kids say, #NoMoreThan4! Your cocktail will remain chilled to the last sip, you’ll have a realistic possibility of having a second one, and most importantly…you’ll thank me in the morning.

In the end, cocktailing isn’t rocket science. Hell, it isn’t even science. It’s art. No cocktail recipe—regardless of how long-standing or generally accepted—is gospel. If you have a cocktail recipe that you like, keep tweaking it until it becomes one that you love.

Then, share the love. You now have the skills to do it, and do it well.

THE JERK.

October 30, 2016November 12, 2008 by Sal DeTraglia

When I was completing my MBA at the University of Illinois more than a decade ago, I had a classmate named Bigby.

Bigby was from Jamaica . He was in his late 40’s to early 50’s. He had a house with sound/light system, dance floor and disco ball in the basement. And he LOVED to throw parties.

At one of Bigby’s parties, his wife (also Jamaican) walked in carrying a silver platter piled high with Jerk Pork.

Now…I had eaten Jerk Pork many times beforehand—including at a roadside stand in Ocho Rios , Jamaica —and liked it. But Bigby’s Jerk Pork was on a whole ‘nuther level. It was thick, dark and heavy with spice. It had a pungency that would send your nostrils into spasm. And it was hot enough to melt your contact lenses.

In short, it was a Jerk Pork that I’d remember on my death bed.

And like a complete moron, I FORGOT TO ASK FOR THE FRIGGIN’ RECIPE!!!

This unforgivable, life-ruining, lapse of reason has haunted me ever since. In short, it was a screw-up that I’d remember on my death bed.

But alas…teeter-totter of life has a miraculous way of leveling itself. “Spoon”—the woman at Acme Low Carb Tongue Depressors, Inc. whose office is next door to mine—recently emailed me a recipe for Jerk Pork that she claimed was barn-burner.

Last weekend, Agatha and I made the recipe. I still can’t believe it. It’s as good as Bigby’s.

Sing with me, bruhdahs!

Won’t you help to sing
These songs of freedom
Cause all I ever have
Redemption songs
Redemption songs.

JERK [FILL IN THE BLANK]

The Marinade:

4 Habanero or Scotch Bonnet chiles—do NOT remove seeds or ribs
4 cloves garlic
4 scallions
1-2 inch ginger
1 sprig thyme
¼ c. packed brown sugar
4 t. ground allspice
4 t. chile powder
2 t. cinnamon
2 t. nutmeg
¾ c. vegetable oil
¼ c. lime juice (fresh)
2/3 c. soy sauce
Black pepper

Step 1: Puree the above ingredients in a blender until smooth.
Step 2: Reserve ¼ c. of marinade for the Dipping Sauce (see below)

The Meat:

If grilling: Pork tenderloin; Pork chops; Chicken parts; and/or Skirt steak.
If smoking: Pork Boston Butt; Pork spare ribs; Pork baby back ribs; Beef brisket; Chicken (whole, split vertically).

Step 1: If you haven’t already, reserve ¼ c. of the marinade for Dipping Sauce.
Step 2: Marinade meat for 24 hours in the fridge.
Step 3: Grill or smoke the marinated meat.

The Dipping Sauce:

¼ c. of reserved Jerk Marinade
1 c. chicken stock or broth

Step 1: Whisk together ingredients in a sauce pan.
Step 2: Reduce on stovetop until thickened.

Update (October 30, 2016) — Slow Cooked Jerk Goat Stew:

The Chicago Cubs are in the World Series, and not doing very well. So, in a civic-minded effort to break the Curse of the Billy Goat, we invited some Cubs fans/friends over for a lunch of Jerk Goat. The butcher at the halal meat market (where I bought the goat) recommended braising the meat in a sauce, rather than grilling or roasting. So I adapted the recipe above as follows:

Step 1: Buy two goat legs (approximately 7 lbs total), each cut into three large hunks.

Step 2: Triple the Jerk Marinade recipe above.

Step 3: Marinade the goat for 24 hours as described above, and reserve the rest of the Jerk Marinade (which will be a lot) in the fridge.

Step 4: Place goat hunks in large slow cooker.

Step 5: Dilute the reserved Jerk Marinade with chicken broth and beer. You will want the proportions to be 2 parts Jerk Marinade, 1 part chicken broth, and 1 part beer.

Step 6: Pour the Marinade/broth/beer mixture into slow cooker until it covers the goat. I also added chopped kale and peas, because my wife demands vegetables with her meal.

Step 7: Set slow cooker to “low,” and cook for 12 hours.

Step 8: Remove goat hunks from slow cooker, pull meat from the bones, and return meat to the slow cooker.

We served the Jerk Goat with basmati rice and a creamy cole slaw (to reset your tongue when the habanero burn encroaches).