You've Got To Taste This

    If you’re looking to fry a delicious turkey for Thanksgiving without using a lot of messy oil then I have an idea for you. With The Big Easy turkey fryer, which uses infrared heating, it’s possible to get a lighter, fried turkey for your Thanksgiving feast. Although, I don’t think I took the fat free way “per se” in my kitchen. I went a little “Paula Dean” on my bird for a pre-Thanksgiving get together with friends, and it truly wowed a crowd. Two days before our gathering I bought a 19.97 lb turkey before reading the instructions in The Big Easy handbook that stated “will hold up to 16 lbs of turkey.”  Under my stubborn disregard for instructions I proceeded to prep the turkey for excellence. It began with a brine....

We recently got a package of these mysterious cloves in the mail and the office. I have to admit, the product description had me a little bit scared: Garlic fermented for 30 days until it turns the color of rotten, burnt things? And the hilariously mistranslated English on the package (it's made in Korea) counseled wariness as well: "It's a natural food! Eat it as many as you want!"

But it turns out black garlic, which has been getting lots of coverage in the restaurant and consumer press and in the blogosphere, is quite delicious. Its flavor and texture are like a mix of roasted garlic and a raisin--mild but still garlicky, with lots of sweet and caramel overtones and a chewy texture. It's kind of like what happens to onion when you caramelize it deeply; it's still onion, but it's soft, chewy, and as sweet as candy.

The stuff's also really good for you. According to the official Web site, black garlic has almost twice the antioxidants of raw garlic and contains high amounts of a cancer-fighting compound called S-Allycysteine. They also claim it won't give you garlic breath.

Blackgarlic.com (which also gives sources to buy the stuff) offers several recipes for black garlic, but I think you could use it anywhere you'd use roasted garlic--it's even milder and sweeter, with the same spreadable texture. When I tasted a clove, the first pairing I thought of was burgers--they'd make a great topping either by themselves or maybe mashed into black-garlic mayonnaise. Anybody else out there try this stuff? Got any recipe suggestions?

Now that the weather's turned hot, I've got a big craving for really spicy food. Sadly, authentic Szechuan food (like at this place in San Francsico--spiciest food I've ever had) and vindaloo aren't too readily available in Birmingham (if anyone knows a place, please share), so I have to cook my own. The best and easiest way to add lots of heat to any dish? Canned chipotle peppers in adobo sauce.

Chipotles are simply smoked jalapeño peppers, and when they're canned, it's almost always in adobo sauce, a mixture of tomatoes, garlic, and vinegar. Chipotles measure up to about 50,000 Scoville units, which is hot but not astronomically so--habaneros can get up to 200,000. The great thing about the adobo sauce is that it picks up the heat from the peppers and disperses it very evenly throughout the dish. Instead of fiery chunks of pepper in an otherwise not-so-hot dish, there's an even heat level in every bite.

Two of my favorite chipotle recipes are Chipotle-Bacon Corn Bread and Honey-Chipotle Grilled Corn (apparently I like my chipotles with corn), but we've got hundreds to choose from.
Read recipes closely though: "1 canned chipotle pepper in adobo sauce" means one individual pepper, not one whole can of peppers. I've gotten several e-mails from readers who've made that mistake, and it's a pretty unpleasant one to make.

So what do you do with the rest of the can after you've opened it to use a pepper or two? If you're gonna use it within a week, cover the can with foil or plastic wrap and refrigerate. Otherwise, freeze the leftovers. You've got two options: Pour the peppers and sauce into a bag and freeze to thaw and use later, or make spice cubes (ha!) by pureeing everything together and freezing in an ice cube tray. One regular cube is between one and two tablespoons, or about half a pepper.

Being a foodie, I often receive food-themed gifts. Some are busts--Baconnaise was not nearly as delicious as I hoped and a tiny, heart-shaped frying pan for Valentine's Day from my mom has yet to see any use--but some friends got me a mortar and pestle a few years ago, and it's now an indispensable kitchen tool.

When I first got the thing, I had no idea how I would ever use it--I'm no medieval herbalist. But I've found that a mortar and pestle is the best way to get great spice flavor in any dish.

Ground spices lose their flavor much more quickly than whole ones; think of coffee made from ground beans that have been in the cabinet for weeks versus whole beans you grind right before brewing. Hand-grind a handful of whole cumin seeds to flavor beans or tacos and you'll get all kinds of tastes the jar of ground cumin you bought two years ago just doesn't contain. Ground mustard from a canister tastes like nothing, but smash a few mustard seeds in a mortar and pestle and you'll be greeted with wonderful smells and flavors for a vinaigrette or spice rub.

And what's more, whole spices, especially from the bulk bins at your local natural food store, are super cheap. I bought a tub of whole cumin for about $3 that's still three-quarters full after a year of weekly (or more) use. This doesn't involve very much time or effort, either. Grinding a tablespoon of spices takes maybe a minute and you don't need to be a bodybuilder, I promise.

My project for the summer? Grinding fresh pesto in my mortar and pestle, as in Chow.com's The Perfect Pesto video. It looks creamy and wonderful.

I cook a lot of Asian food, and my pantry is full of "secret" ingredients for authentic flavor, such as mirin, fish sauce, dark sesame oil, furikake, and this humble spice, which wields mysterious powers. Szechuan peppercorns are the dried husks that surround the seeds of the Chinese prickly ash tree. They're a key ingredient in (big surprise) Szechuan cooking, which is known for intensely spicy and garlicky flavors.

Szechuan peppercorns aren't spicy in and of themselves, though; they have a faint lemony flavor. What makes them special is a chemical they contain that causes a slight numbing of the lips and tongue. It sounds scary, but it's not like getting Novocaine at the dentist. It's a subtle tingle that intensifies the spicy sensations of hot peppers. I inherited a big bag when a Filipino friend moved away and left me a treasure trove of ingredients from her pantry. Previously, I'd only encountered Szechuan peppercorns as a component of five-spice powder, a mixture including anise that's excellent in Chinese sauces and stir-fries.

I've been using Szechuan peppercorns in non-Asian dishes recently, and they add a whole new dimension. If you're a spicy-food lover, toss a few in with the vegetables when making chicken soup (strain them out before serving, or lightly crush before adding and leave them in). The tingling sensation makes the soup feel spicy, but none of its delicate flavor is overpowered. If you add Szechuan peppercorns to spicy dishes like puttanesca or salsa, it'll make them seem even hotter without covering up the other tastes like extra peppers can.

Look for Szechuan peppercorns at Asian markets or spice stores, or online. Use sparingly; a little goes a long way. Szechuan peppercorn fun fact: The USDA banned the importation of Szechuan peppercorns until 2005 because they carried a plant disease that harms citrus trees. They now must be heated to kill this disease before they can enter the US.

When I step into a Japanese hibachi grill, a deliciously enticing aroma surrounds me.  Waiting for a table feels like waiting to bust out of timeout when I was 4 years-old. It's way too long and tormenting. Usually I grab a sake whatchama-call-it at the bar which is basically anything that consist of sake and a mixer. I try to be authentic with my specialty fruit sake cocktail and flamboyant ornaments hanging off the glass. Alright I know it doesn’t count, but a girl needs a cute cocktail.

Lets be honest the real reason I find myself in any hibachi grill is for that rich creamy special sauce, also known as shrimp sauce. I dip my fork in the mystery condiment before stabbing a tender piece of meat, but it’s not enough.  I try to submerge a fork full of crunchy vegetables into the small ramekin, but it still doesn’t satisfy. So before I drink it, I drench my whole plate in that perfect white sauce. Wow, it's soooo good.

The recipe varies from cook to cook but some basic ingredients are mayonnaise, butter, paprika, garlic powder, sugar, and rice-wine vinegar. When I ordered the take-out you see above at a local hibachi grill in Birmingham, I asked what the secret was. The sweet lady said, "too many ingredients to tell you.  I will bottle it up and sell it to Walmart so you can buy." It's highly confidential.

Whether it is an authentic Japanese recipe or not, I’m still in love. Here's a whole website dedicated to this superb Japanese Steak House White Sauce. Also check out The Best of Japan

What are some restaurant staples you want to get your hands on? Maybe I can help you search for them.

This is going to sound extremely food-snobby of me, but preshredded "Mexican" cheese has no place in Mexican food. There are a wide variety of real Mexican cheeses that are useful in all kinds of ways, and they're worth trying out. Here are a few of my favorites; you can find these at many supermarkets and nearly all hispanic/Mexican grocery stores.

Queso fresco: This is a crumbly, unaged cheese, very similar in texture to feta, but with a much milder flavor. It's great crumbled over tacos or scrambled eggs, but it doesn't melt well, so it's a bad choice for quesadillas or enchiladas. Queso fresco's creaminess counters spicy flavors well; one of my favorite snacks lately is a toasted tortilla with queso fresco and hot pepper jelly (call it Southern meets South of the Border). Larger Mexican markets often make their own. If you're lucky enough to live near one of them, fresh queso fresco is fantastic. Aged queso fresco is called queso añejo and has the same crumbly texture but stronger flavor.

Queso oaxaca: Oaxaca cheese is almost identical to mozzarella. It's made by stretching and kneading the curds, and is usually shaped into balls or knots. Grate or shred and use in quesadillas, on enchiladas, or over beans. Oaxaca cheese can also substitute for mozzarella in lasagna or anywhere else--the flavor is extremely close, with a bit more tanginess.

Queso chihuahua: A firmer cheese than either of the above, chihuahua is made to melt smoothly and evenly. Pale yellow in color, its flavor can range from very mild, in between mozzarella and jack, to stronger, like a medium cheddar, depending on how long it's been aged. Use chihuahua in chiles rellenos or queso fundido, a zesty cheese dip. It also makes for super-flavorful quesadillas if you're a cheese lover.

Queso para freir: Literally meaning "cheese for frying," this is a dry, harder cheese that doesn't melt well. It's cut into slabs, breaded, and fried, similar to Greek saganaki, for a great snack or hors d'oeuvre.

I love Asian food. When I moved to Birmingham, my first weekend was spent driving around looking for a good Asian grocery to stock my pantry. (To my surprise, I managed to find five.) But I only recently discovered furikake, a Japanese rice seasoning that's become a staple for an easy dinner for really busy nights.

Furikake is a mix of salt, sugar, spices, sesame seeds, dried seaweed, and ground dried fish that's meant to flavor rice. It comes in dozens of flavors, including salmon, shrimp, kimchi, wasabi, and egg. And it turns a plain bowl of rice into a satisfying meal that takes no work and hardly any time. I like to turn on my rice cooker, and just when it finishes, crack an egg on top of the rice and cover. After two or three minutes, when the white just turns opaque, I stir the egg into the rice and top with furikake. A bowl of this makes for a filling and reasonably healthful dinner when I'm too busy or tired to cook. Furikake's also a great rub for seared tuna. I've tried it atop scrambled eggs as well, and it would probably be pretty tasty on French fries.

I've tried bonito, shrimp, and kimchi furikakes, and so far shrimp is my favorite: It adds a sweet and briny flavor that's really nice. You can find furikake at most Asian markets, especially ones that specialize in Japanese products, or online. Since the the English on many labels isn't very well translated, a little sushi vocabulary helps: nori means seaweed, sake means salmon, ebi means shrimp, and tamago means egg.

My 11 year old loves various name brand, Ranch and cheese flavored corn chips and crackers, but he does not get to eat them very often. The problem is, he is very sensitive to artificial colors that are so common in store-bought snacks. I found a great solution. One day while shopping on the snack aisle, I noticed a line of popcorn seasonings from Kernel Season's that looked very useful since they have no artificial colorings, no MSG, and all natural flavors. Fourteen flavors are available on their website. My store only carries White Cheddar (my favorite), Parmesan & Garlic, Ranch, and Butter. They taste great on popcorn, but one day I decided to try making homemade Ranch corn chips to give my son a rare treat.

I put a big handful of chips in a large zipper bag, sprinkled between 1/2 and 1 teaspoon of the Ranch powder over them, sealed the bag then shook for 5-10 seconds to coat. They were a hit! You can use the powder on just about any chips, crackers or even cooked vegetables. This can save money, too; plain corn chips are usually much cheaper than the flavored variety, and one 2.85 oz container of powder should go a long way.

Bonus tip: Sometimes it helps to shake the bag around before adding the spices. This builds up a static charge that causes the powder to stick more evenly.

Anne, Holley, and I are at the Fancy Food Show in NYC today. There are about 1 jillion specialy foods to taste. Seriously, there are more than 6,000 booths with everything from Eqyptian fruit drinks to Sponge Bob Square Pants edamame snacks. It's a food lover's dream.

One of the first finds of yesterday was found at a Chilean cooking seminar hosted by Michael Gordon and Pilar Rodriguez. We tasted 15 foods indigenous to the region...which means I drank 2 glasses of wine, tasted 4 olive oils, vinegars, king crab, fruits, honey, and Dulce de Leche all by 10:30 am. Yikes!

One of the hits was Merquen (or Merken) from the producer Etnia. It’s a native spice blend made of Cacho de Cabra "horn of the goat" chiles, Coriander, salt, and cumin that I could--and did--eat by the teaspoon. It has a smoky yet ubiquitous flavor that could go on pork, chicken, corn … pretty much everything. Think of it as a mild, all-natural liquid smoke with a kick. I found it on LaTienda.com and plan on ordering some when I get home.

Now, I’ve gotta get back to the show. More news and photos to come ...