The Perfect Pantry

Tequila (Recipe: tequila-lime flank steak, grilled cherry tomato salsa, and a classic margarita)

Please welcome Bryan, who with this post joins The Perfect Pantry as a guest blogger. By day, he's an experience design consultant; he's also a former bartender who studied at the Boston University Wine Resource Center. Bryan is passionate about local and sustainable food, dabbles in photography, and makes a mean mojito. He’s here to to raid that other kitchen cubbyhole most of us have: the liquor cabinet. You'll find more of Bryan's recipes at Vinilicious, which he vows to start up again.

Guest post and photos by Bryan in Boston.

I used to bartend some years back at a jazz club, and at the end of my shift it was a habit of mine to mix up a tall, classic margarita.

I’m not talking about what passes for a marg at the neighborhood Chili’s, made with dash of Jose Cuervo, a bit of triple sec, and two or three glugs of sugary sour mix. This was the real deal: 100% blue agave tequila, Cointreau, topped up with freshly squeezed lime juice, rimmed with salt crystals the size of small stones.

The jazz club doubled as a restaurant. Nothing fancy, really -- steak tips, buffalo wings, and the sort -- but after an eight-hour shift standing behind a counter and slinging cocktails to parched salsa dancers, an order of overcooked steak tips tasted like just the closest thing to heaven.

After one particularly busy night, I accidentally spilled my margarita into my steak tips. I don’t remember what I was thinking -- perhaps I was just way too hungry to pick up takeout on the way home -- but I ate them anyway. What I do remember was that they tasted better than they did when they'd come out of the kitchen. (The soaked fries, not so much.)

Beer (Recipe: oven-barbecued brisket)

For a few years around the very early 1980s, Ted and I became inadvertent landlords when the person with whom we'd bought our Boston house went bankrupt, leaving us with an empty apartment and a large mortgage to manage on our small salaries.

Our first tenants were not so great (one was a weekend DJ, and it was the '80s), but then the fates smiled upon us, and sent us for many years a series of tenants who worked for one company.

A microbrewery.

Our home was home to the brewer, the graphic artist, the bookkeeper, and the administrative assistant. They all had one thing in common, in those early days of the company: access to free beer. All the beer they wanted, for friends (and landlords), too.

Cayenne pepper (Recipe: Bob's smoky beef ribs)

Twenty-five years ago, the City of Boston planted a tree in a hole in the brick sidewalk in front of our house.

Every dog in the neighborhood loved, and I do mean loved, that little sapling.

To discourage the gifts those dogs left us (in the days before pooper-scooping was mandatory), we sprinkled cayenne pepper on the ground at the base of the tree. Every so often we'd hear a little sneeze... and we'd watch a very surprised puppy move along, to find a kinder and gentler tree hole.

Aphrodisiacs in the Pantry (Recipe: beef stew)

Two years ago, in February, I discovered bookworms in my pantry.

This year, the pantry is filled with aphrodisiac foods.

What's a girl to do when she finds foods of love hiding on her spice rack, in the cupboards, even in the fridge and freezer? 

Annatto/achiote (Recipe: vaca atolada, or "cow stuck in the mud")

Guest post and photos by Peter in Brazil, chef and co-owner of Pousada do Capão

I mentioned urucum (which means "red" in the Tupi language) in my very first guest post on The Perfect Pantry as one of the 21 essential and ever-present items in any Brazilian pantry. When Lydia told me she had some urucum (achiote in Spanish, annatto in English) in her pantry just begging to be used, I figured it was time to get to work.

Annatto (the English name that might be more familiar to you), though very subtle in flavor, is huge on color. Some people swear it lends depth to food, tasting a bit of nutmeg and black pepper, but more importantly it gives that gorgeous, appetizing, mouth-watering red glow to so many Brazilian dishes: fish moquecas, chicken ensopadas, braised meats, rice and beans. The Indians loved red. The Portuguese loved red. So when the two met in the 1500s…

Diced tomatoes with green chile (Recipe: Mexicali meatloaf)

With the election behind us and unity on everyone's mind, what I'm about to say might come as a shock.

We are still a country divided.

Divided not by politics or preferences, but by Ro*Tel®. Either you live in a Ro*Tel state, or you live somewhere else.

I live somewhere else, and until last week I had no hope of ever finding Ro*Tel in my local Rhode Island supermarket.

And then, last week, I found diced tomatoes with green chiles, made by our local Italian-products company whose yellow/red/green labels are familiar to any shopper in the Northeast, at the market in my little town!

It's not Ro*Tel, exactly, but it is, give or take a spice or two.

Salsa (Recipe: ropa vieja)

Ten things I know about salsa (you'll be glad to know them, too):

Dill seed, dill weed (Recipe: stuffed cabbage)

Guest post and photo above by Peter in Brazil, chef and co-owner of Pousada do Capão

Dill is one of the few herbs that I've had success with here in São Gonçalo, ever since I put up a bamboo fence to keep out the rabbits. The very picky bunnies would single out the tender seedlings and nibble them right down to the ground. (I'll bet dill-fed rabbit would be delicious.)

Many of the other culinary herbs I've tried to grow here just don’t seem to have much flavor. It must be something about the climate, the sandy soil, the extremes of wet and dry, the seasons that I don’t yet understand.

The tarragon I planted is thriving -- in fact it’s invasive -- but it's tasteless. Time to pull it out. My garlic chives, oregano and marjoram have fared reasonably well until now, but six months of daytime heat without a drop of rain have begun to take their toll.

And then there's the dill that keeps coming and reseeding itself and coming again. 

Ground beef, and a summer cookout giveaway (Recipe: burgers)

If there's really a hamburger heaven, please save a seat for me.

I'm an unapologetic burger lover.

I love them all: the fat ones and the flat ones, sit-down or drive-through, blue cheese or Swiss cheese, buns with seeds or no buns at all. Slather on some ketchup -- that's all I ask.

Ground beef always has a home in The Perfect Pantry, not just for burgers, but for stuffed zucchini with brown rice, beef enchiladas, horseradish meatloaf, puffy tacos, Persian meat patties, Argentinean empanadas, Beijing sauce noodles, Thai meatballs and Greek meatballs and spaghetti and meatballs.

Did you know that there's a difference between ground beef and hamburger? According to the US Department of Agriculture, beef fat may be added to hamburger, but not to ground beef, whether the meat is ground and packaged at a USDA-inspected plant or in your local market (as is often the case). A maximum of 30 percent fat by weight is allowed in either hamburger or ground beef. Both can have seasonings, but no added water, phosphates, extenders, or binders.

For most cooking, like stews and stuffings, I buy the leanest ground beef I can find, as lean as 93/7 (which has 7 percent fat). For burgers, a fattier mix like 80/20 will produce a juicier burger. Follow your heart, or your cardiologist's dictates, to decide how much fat is fine for you.

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Roseda Farm in Monkton, Maryland, wants to send some all-natural burger love into the universe, and they have a wonderful Summer Cookout Kit giveaway for one lucky reader of The Perfect Pantry:

• 20 six-ounce steakburgers, and delicious potato buns.
• A nifty grill spatula.
• A Meat 101 kit, with information, cooking tips, and a handy meat grilling timetable.

Roseda raises Black Angus cattle on a diet of corn, hay, soybean meal, vitamins, minerals and fresh water. No growth hormones, no artificial coloring, no fillers. The beef is dry-aged for up to 21 days, and then flash-frozen.

When the Roseda folks kindly sent a few steakburger patties for us to test, Ted and I wondered -- would our grandsons love these burgers? Would we? Oh yes, we did. And so did our friends Bob and Charlotte. In fact, we're looking forward to trying several of the more than 25 cuts of beef, steaks and roasts, that Roseda sells on their web site.

All you need to do to be eligible to win the free Summer Cookout Kit is leave a comment on any post on this site between now and 11:00 p.m. Eastern US Time on Friday, August 15. 

Next Saturday, one of the young "random generators" pictured above will pull one comment out of a hat, or maybe a bowl, or a pillowcase. The kit will be shipped to you (or as a gift to anyone you designate) directly from Roseda Beef, by overnight mail, absolutely free. Note: they can only ship meat to addresses within the US.

So, go ahead, leave a comment -- why not share your favorite way to dress your burgers?

I'll save a seat for you, right next to me, in hamburger heaven.

 

HOW TO COOK A BURGER, THE ROSEDA WAY
I was too embarrassed to write a recipe for how to cook a burger. Really, you know how, don't you? Then I decided to follow the instructions that came with my Roseda Steakburgers. I was skeptical; I'd never grilled burgers straight from the freezer before. I'd never gone flip, flip, flip before. But the burgers we made were so delicious that I had to share the instructions with you (notes in parentheses indicate where we deviated a bit, as you knew we would).

Take the burgers straight from your freezer to the grill. (Note: the burgers were a generous half-inch thick.)

Preheat your grill (gas or charcoal) on a medium heat for 5-10 minutes.

3,3,3,2,2,1: Cook your burger for three minutes, flip, and cook for another three minutes, and then flip and cook for another three. Flip two more times, cooking for two minutes on each side. And then finish it off by cooking for one more minute. This should give you a medium-well to well-done burger. (After following those directions on the first batch, and coming up with a very well-done burger, we tried 3,3,3,2, and achieved medium-rare to medium. If you're making a cheeseburger, add your cheese in the last 30-45 seconds.)

Hold the ketchup: There's no reason to add anything but salt and pepper. (I wouldn't think of holding the ketchup, or the cheese. We didn't salt and pepper the burgers, either; they were quite flavorful as is, and we're not really big on salting our food. And there's salt in the ketchup.)

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Rotini with spicy meat sauce
Lydia's own meat sauce
Chipotle meatloaf
Beef stir fry with bitter melon
Peruvian spicy string beans
Tex-Mex penne

Star anise (Recipe: Vietnamese pho bo)

What's the difference between star anise and aniseed?

Are they two parts of the same plant?

Is one the seed of the other?

Do they taste alike?

And are they equally effective against the Evil Eye?

Inquiring minds want to know.

First, star anise and aniseed (or anise) are not related botanically. Well, they are, but only very far back in the gene pool; both are in the magnolia class. Star anise (which is, confusingly, sometimes called star aniseed) is the fruit of Illicium verum, native to China. Aniseed (or anise) is the fruit of Pimpinella anisum, native to the eastern Mediterranean.

Second, star anise and aniseed both contain anethole, a chemical compound that accounts for their licorice flavor, but star anise has a stronger and more pungent taste.

In my Asian market, star anise is sold in bags ($1.85 for 12 ounces, last week), so you can see exactly what you're getting. The pod itself is more flavorful and aromatic than the seeds, so don't worry if you open the bag and find many seeds that have been set free from their pods. It's the pods (called schizocarps) you're after.

One of the fundamental components of Chinese five-spice powder, star anise is popular in Chinese "red cooking", where meat (often beef or pork) is turned a deep red-brown color by being braised in a dark soy sauce flavored broth. It's equally delicious in roasted duck or risotto, peach crumble or pea soup, iced tea or ice cream, cookies or chai.

Most often, star anise is added to a recipe whole, to be steeped in liquids and then removed before the conclusion of the recipe. If a recipe calls for ground star anise (and few do, except in baking), grind only what you need. As with most spices, once you grind it, the potency begins to degrade immediately. Stored whole, in a glass jar with a tight-fitting lid, star anise will keep in your pantry for two years.

And while I don't know for sure about the Evil Eye, I do know that in China some people chew a whole star anise after a meal as a breath sweetener. That doesn't sound evil to me!

VIETNAMESE PHO BO (Beef noodle soup)
Nothing reminds me more of our visit to Vietnam than pho (pronounced FUH). On our very first morning in Hanoi, we found a pho stand on the street. Sitting on very tiny plastic stools, we were served a bowl of rice noodles. Then the server poured hot soup over the noodles, and topped it with slices of raw beef. Stirring the beef into the hot broth cooked the beef and sterilized the chopsticks! Each diner then garnished at will from a platter piled high with fresh mung bean sprouts, cilantro, mint and basil. This recipe, inspired by one in The World of Street Food by Troth Wells, serves 6-8.

1-1/2 lbs beef brisket, point cut
2 quarts water
1-inch piece of ginger, sliced
3 whole star anise
3 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
2 Tbsp fish sauce (I use Three Crabs brand)
Kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste
1/2 lb flank steak
2 cups pad Thai rice noodles
2-3 scallions, finely sliced
2 limes, cut into wedges

1/2 cup nuoc cham, for dipping

Garnishes:
1 cup fresh mung bean sprouts
1/2 cup fresh spearmint leaves
1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves
1 cup fresh basil leaves, torn into large shreds (if you have lime basil in your herb garden, use that to add extra lime flavor to your soup)

To a large stockpot, add the brisket and water. Bring to a boil, then add the ginger, star anise, cloves and cinnamon. Reduce heat to simmer, partially cover the pot, and cook for 1-1/2 to 2 hours, until the meat is quite tender. Remove the meat and set aside to cool. Skim the top of the beef stock, then strain the stock into a large bowl, and return it to the stockpot. Add the fish sauce, salt and black pepper to taste, stir, and set on the stove on lowest heat. When the meat is cool enough to handle, slice thinly, and set aside.

In the meantime, place the flank steak in the freezer.

In another pot, bring 3 quarts of water to a boil. Blanch the rice noodles for 2-3 minutes to soften. Drain, and divide among 6 or 8 individual bowls. Top with some of the sliced cooked brisket.

Remove the flank steak from the freezer (it should be cold, but not frozen solid), and slice into paper-thin slices. Bring the beef stock to a boil, and fill each soup bowl. Divide the flank steak among the individual soup bowls. Sprinkle with chopped scallions, and add a squeeze of lime. Pass the platter with garnishes, so each diner can add his or her own herbs to the soup. Place nuoc cham in small bowls for dipping the meat.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Thai iced tea
Vegetable medley with five-spice dip
Faux pho