Benito vs. the 烏骨鷂: Silkie Chicken Soup

Since this has inadvertently turned into "Week of the Weird" here at BWR, I thought I'd wrap things up with one of the most unusual looking animals I've ever cooked.

This is not a crow. This is not a baby dragon, or a demon, or some sort of burned lizard. This is a silkie chicken that has a number of unique features: feathers that turn into fine, silk-like fur; black skin, bones, and dark meat; and five toes instead of the customary four. When unfolding the bird out of its plastic package, I wasn't expecting the feet, and one of the claws gripped my finger. The dogs, alas, are not used to me yelling expletives at food, and were perplexed.

They're popular as pets and show chickens, have an interesting history, and are useful to poultry enthusiasts for the fact that the hens will happily sit on any eggs that need hatching, regardless of origin. Because there's very little meat or fat, these aren't eaten often in the West but are popular as the main ingredient of medicinal soups in China. Some modern research has been done in regards to these health claims.

There's no one recipe for such soups, in fact there are hundreds. Most of them read like something out of a Harry Potter novel, and the list of ailments that can allegedly be cured by this chicken is huge and often embarrassing. My favorite is "inducing labor".

Without a standard recipe, I followed the only common theme (put a whole silkie in a pot of water) and added a few traditional ingredients that sounded good. A whole head of garlic, a cubic inch of shredded ginger, peppercorns, salt, and a little sliced green onion for garnish. Let everything simmer for a few hours, strain if you want but be sure to return some of the flesh, skin, and bones back to the bowl. You don't want anyone to think you're serving fake silkie soup, do you?

The meat is a little dry and not particularly flavorful--think about a cross between the breast meat of turkey and something like pheasant. It's not something I'd really recommend unless you're into Traditional Chinese Medicine, or like me, you treat your kitchen as a sort of culinary Noah's Ark. There might be other uses... Do you have a picky child at home? Throw down two plates, one with a whole silkie on it and load up the other with vegetables. Suddenly broccoli never looked so good.

Benito vs. the Cocktail: Monkey Gland

I was looking for a new, yet old cocktail. I thumbed through through my lovely wire-bound copy of Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails: From the Alamagoozlum to the Zombie 100 Rediscovered Recipes and the Stories Behind Them by Ted Haigh, a.k.a. Dr. Cocktail.

My love of classic cocktails and early 1900s science met at the Monkey Gland, a fun cocktail named after a procedure invented by Dr. Serge Voronoff that involved grafting part of a monkey testicle onto a human one. The desired result was increased virility, potency, manliness, etc. I haven't read any of the peer-reviewed journals on this subject, but I've always felt a great first date is taking a dame out to Primate Canyon at the Memphis Zoo to hear a bunch of screaming apes. Your mileage may vary if you don't often date primatologists.

The Monkey Gland
1½ oz. gin
1½ fresh squeezed orange juice (please don't cheat here)
1 tsp. grenadine (I used fresh pomegranate juice)
1 tsp. absinthe or pastis

Throw everything in a shaker with ice, shake to hell, and strain into desired glass. I'm really enjoying these little squat stemless glasses. I thought they would tip over easily, but they're more stable than regular cocktail glasses.

I liked the cocktail--it's got a fun punch-like quality, but even the tiniest bit of anise-flavored liquor can turn off those with an aversion to licorice. While I didn't feel any crazy monkey passion after having one, it was a relaxing way to end the day.

Benito vs. the Cactus: Nopalitos + Wines of Lander-Jenkins

An old acquaintance recently moved to Arizona and expressed an interest in cooking cactus. Since I'm always looking for an excuse to go to Mercado Latino, I swung by and grabbed a few paddles of the prickly pear cactus, known as nopales or nopalitos in Spanish.

Here's step by step instructions for preparing them before cooking (as always, click the thumbnails for full-sized images):

1) Rinse off the paddles, being careful not to stick yourself. Yes, there will be spines, it's cactus.

2) Using a long sharp knife, slice from the base of the paddle to the tip, just taking off the little bumps that contain spines. (This will take some practice, and obviously my technique is not perfect here. Trim around the edges and take off the top and bottom after the shaving.

3) Once you've got the paddle naked, give it another rinse and then slice up into whatever size you want: small strips for tacos or salad, bigger chunks for stews. (Note that in stews, the cactus juice acts as a natural thickening agent, similar to okra. Bear in mind that some of the slimy texture remains through the cooking process, so if you have a problem with okra, this might not be for you.) For most preparations, you'll now want to dunk all the pieces in boiling, salted water for five minutes and then rinse and drain. Or you can buy pre-prepared nopalitos like in the little baggie I have here. The whole paddles have a fresher flavor, but it is a lot of work. The third option is canned, but those are often packed with peppers and onions to boost up the flavor after processing. Texture-wise they're going to be limp. Think about the difference between fresh whole mushrooms, pre-washed and sliced mushrooms, and canned mushrooms.

I took the chopped cactus and cooked it in just a dab of bacon grease until nice and soft. They taste kind of like green beans, and are used in lots of traditional dishes. Here I stewed up some pork with tomatoes and onions, and made little tacos with the shredded meat, nopalitos, fresh cilantro, and some crumbly queso fresco. (If anyone else attempts this recipe, get the most acidic tomatillo-based salsa verde you can find--it needs the additional tartness.)

I had two wines from the "Spirit Hawk" series of Lander-Jenkins Vineyards, a 100% sustainably grown operation involving winemaker Steve Rued of the Rutherford Wine Company and a family of Welsh immigrants (Iechyd da!) that have been involved in winemaking since the 1880s. With this meal and the heat outside, a chilled white was the obvious choice. The 2008 Chardonnay ($14, 13.5% abv) is sourced from various California regions and is 97% Chardonnay with 3% Muscat Canelli. Two thirds in stainless steel with the last third in French oak, leading to a balanced wood profile. Big apricot and honey aromas, firm acidity, and a lovely full fruit flavor of apricot nectar without being sweet or cloying. Little vanilla and floral aroma after it's rested for a bit.

Later, when things had cooled off and it was time for a contemplative glass of red wine, I opened the 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon ($14, 13.5% abv). 92% Cabernet Sauvignon, 3% Malbec, 2% Merlot, 2% Zinfandel, and 1% Petite Verdot, fully fermented in French oak. Deep plum and blackberry aroma, touch of wild blueberries. Surprisingly light mouthfeel with tannins that firm up on the finish. This is liable to give you a strong craving for blackberry pie.

The Lander-Jenkins wines are new to the marketplace (this is the inaugural release), and with 3,000 cases of each, they may not be available everywhere this year. But they're both excellent bargains with great performance, and definitely worth checking out.

Benito vs. the MRE

This 4th of July, when many were enjoying the bounty of cookouts and family dinners, I took the opportunity to honor those in uniform by eating a Meal Ready to Eat, commonly called an MRE. I also did it in the interest of kitchen science, to test one of my long held beliefs: that a dry rosé will pair with nearly any food.

A recent reflection on this theory coincided with the availability of some vintage MREs (circa 1999, civilian packaging without the heater, same supplier as military MREs) that were being cycled out of an emergency kit. I asked my brother to bring me one without telling me what it was, and I'd try it with a dry rosé to see how it worked. Note there is a long history of durable, portable military rations. I remember eating panforte in Siena. It's a sort of indestructible fruitcake that was carried by the Crusaders.

I've never been in the military, but I've eaten MREs in the past and have a lot of experience with dehydrated rations from my backpacking days. MREs are generally better than freeze-dried stuff, but there are funny things in common between the two. For instance, in this MRE I got a packet of grape jelly, which I had no desire to eat with lunch. But out of habit I put it in my pocket, knowing that someone would want to trade me for it. No matter how revolting some individual item is, there is a person you'll meet that stays up at night craving that item. For me it was freeze-dried green beans--sweet, crunchy, and satisfying the inevitable desire for fruits and vegetables you get away from civilization. On the trail the items I couldn't stand were the various meat spreads (tuna, chicken, or ham salad). Eating warm canned meat premixed with warm mayo when it's 100°F in the shade can try even the emptiest stomach.

My MRE surprise contained the following:

Accessories: Salt, pepper, coffee, creamer, sugar, moist towelette, spoon, napkin.

Grape Jelly: Still untried, waiting until I meet someone who wants it.

Crackers: Awesome. These need to be sold in stores. Much better than saltines and somehow have the flavor of good French bread. Plus, they'd stayed intact for years without breakage.

Beef Ravioli in Meat Sauce: Think Chef Boyardee mini ravioli, but with less flavor (it has been ten years, after all). Kind of disappointing, but I know there were times when I would have wolfed this down and licked the plate.

Fig Bar: A generic version of the Fig Newton. Pretty good, actually, even if some of the sugar had crystallized over time. This, combined with the fig seeds, provided a pleasing crunch.

For I wine I grabbed the nearest chilled rosé: the 2006 Red Guitar Old Vine Rosé from the Navarra region of Spain near the French border. Pure Grenache (Garnacha), $12, 13.5% abv.Light sweetness, rich and slightly smoky aroma. Wild strawberry flavors and firm acidity. Full-bodied with that slight orange tint you see in Spanish rosés.

How did it pair up with the food? It went great with the crackers and fig bar, but with the ravioli it helped immensely by providing enough acidity and flavor to balance out the bland main course. Also note that I'm serving the wine out of a Riedel glass, which might be the first time that an MRE and Riedel have shared space on a dinner table.

I considered trying to doll this up to look more "gourmet" for the photo but there's just not a lot to work with. The sad part was that I'd just returned from the Downtown Farmers Market and had a pile of fresh vegetables and bread staring at me. But I slogged through it for science and for the amusement of you, the readers, who seem to delight in some of my more bizarre culinary adventures. This is also proof that such a pairing is possible, should you find yourself in the unique position of having access to wine and having to eat emergency rations.

Blackened Grouper and an Oregon Pinot Gris

Yankees (a group that, due to my Southern upbringing, includes everyone north of Kentucky and west of Arkansas) typically don't understand that there are lots of different kinds of Southern cooking. For instance, I love Louisiana cuisine, but I've never been there, and it's not a strong part of my local culinary tradition. I appreciate the difference between Cajun and Creole even if I don't often cook much of either style. But I got a hankerin'* the other day for blackened fish...

I took things back to basics with the original Paul Prudhomme recipe. I consulted the 1982 New York Times article, as this was faster than digging up the family's first edition of Prudhomme's cookbook. Again, I feel the need to clarify for the sake of Yankee readers: blackened ain't burnt, it's merely seared at high heat.

The cooking method is pretty simple: heat a cast iron skillet to hellish temperatures, slop the filets through some melted butter, coat with spice mix, and throw in the skillet. Flip once, pull out before it's burned. If you're using filets that are thicker in the middle (like the grouper I had), you may want to transfer them to a warming sheet in the oven for ten minutes or so. For the sides I prepared some speckled butter beans and turnip greens, the latter of which benefitted from some pepper vinegar.

This is the kind of meal that would traditionally be paired with sweet tea or a really cold beer, but I felt it was appropriate to slingshot over to the other end of the country and pick an Oregon white. The 2007 King Estate Signature Pinot Gris is $17, 13% abv. Overall profile of Golden Delicious apples, with hints of lime and a full body. Stronger acidity than one would expect from a Pinot Gris. Wines like this are making me want to move to Oregon, home of a few of my ancestors.

The crisp acidity of the wine matched up beautifully with the buttery flavors of the wine and fish, and the Pinot Gris was strong enough to stand up to the peppers in the blackening spice and the vinegar. Oregon Pinot Gris might not work with every N'Awlins recipe, but I was quite happy with the experiment.

*hankerin': abbreviation of HANK•er•ing, colloquial term for craving or longing from the Dutch hankeren. My own favorite usage is related to someone or something that inspires such a craving. For instance, reading Peter Mayle's A Year In Provence could trigger a desire for roast lamb. I might then remark, "That book done flung a hankerin' on me for some gigot d'agneau."

2008 Coppola Diamond Collection Sauvignon Blanc

There's nothing in the world quite like a friend that loves good food. And I know that when I get a craving for crab, I can call up Grace and she'll join me. Live blue crab? Snow crab? Dungeness crab? Jonah crab claws? It's all good. She's not a big fan of the King crab legs, but I enjoy them when I've got the proper cracking tools.

Newspapers on the table, ramekins of clarified butter, and a few pounds of crab legs. What more could anyone want? Well, I generally need something to cleanse the palate... I find that a crisp white or sparkler works well, but in this instance I chose something softer: the 2008 Coppola Diamond Collection Sauvignon Blanc. $15, 13.5% abv. Grapefruit and peach nose, light lemon flavors. The most striking thing about this particular Sauvignon Blanc is how smooth it is--and this has been consistent through the years. It's got an almost creamy quality to it with low acidity. The versatility of this grape never ceases to amaze me.

I've enjoyed tasting my way through the Diamond Collection product line--I haven't tried the Petite Sirah or Malbec yet, but I'm sure I'll get around to them eventually. These wines are widely available and consistent in quality, and if you don't have a lot of storage space but wanted to keep a few wines on standby, I'd suggest a bottle or two each of the Claret, the Sauvignon Blanc, and the Syrah. If you're a wine fanatic chasing odd grapes, be sure to try the bizarre Alicante Bouschet and tap into the pre-Prohibition wine mindset.

June Dinner Party

I had a bunch of wines that needed tasting, and felt it was time for a big dinner party. On this occasion I had the pleasure of dining with fellow Memphis blogger Michelle who writes about life downtown in her "Notes from Memphis". I think it's a good idea to cycle some fresh blood through the dinner party crowd, and I also am a strong believer in cross-subject blogger gatherings. No need to cluster together in little cliques, this isn't the 10th grade lunchroom.

We kicked off the event with a tray of appetizers and a bottle of the Mumm Napa Blanc de Noirs (now renamed the Brut Rosé). Made from Pinot Noir, it's a lovely pink sparkler with wonderful raspberry and floral aromas. Crisp raspberry flavors with bright acidity. Beautiful summer bubbly.

So what's on the tray? Clockwise from top left: olives, marinated mushrooms, Edam, Tomme Des Pyrenees, Cahill's Irish Porter Cheddar, Saint-Nectaire, Humboldt Fog. The Humdboldt Fog was runny, stinky, and bold-flavored, but was a huge hit at the party.

The slightly granular soup you see here is homemade cream of asparagus soup, made with just leeks, asparagus, chicken broth, and cream. What it lacks in Cambpell's consistency it more than makes up for in fresh vegetable flavor. I served it with the first of three wines from Viña Carmen in Chile. This is the 2007 Chardonnay from various valleys, 14% abv, $10. Green apples, wildflowers, honey, and a nice round mouthfeel. Only 20% was fermented in barrels, leading to a balanced oak presence.

Carmen is an organic winery, and with this line they are using bottles that weigh 15% less than their standard counterparts. Lighter and more environmentally friendly packaging is a growing concern among wine marketers, and the thickness of the glass is a change that doesn't spark the kind of debate like corks versus screwcaps.

Fish course! Mahi-mahi cooked with olive oil, white vermouth, a splash of orange juice, and sliced fennel. Served with fresh sliced Crenshaw melon and garnished with some of the raw chopped fennel fronds. I personally thought the fish was a little on the dry side, but it might have just been my piece. The melon helped balance out the flavors well, providing a nice touch of sweet to contrast against the fennel.

I thought a pink wine would be fun here, so I picked the 2008 Carmen Rosé, 13.1% abv, $10. Half Shiraz and half Cabernet Sauvignon from the Maipo Valley. Lemon and cranberry flavors, with a full fruit approach and a short finish. Lightly sweet, but still fully on the dry side.

I love a good salad, and try to change up the ingredients to keep things interesting. Here I've got bitter Italian greens with diced pears, soft goat cheese, and a little vinaigrette. I drizzled each salad with a bit of honey that came by way of another new dinner guest, Grace's neighbor Bob. He raises bees in his backyard and jars his own honey. You may think you're eating local with your farmer's market honey, but mine came from less than 3 miles away. The salad was a big hit of the evening, one of those combos that seemed to make everyone happy.

What better choice than a lightly dry German grape? The 2008 Carmen Gewürztraminer, 13.5% abv, $10. A curious blend of 87% Gewürztraminer and 13% Semillon from the Curico Valley. Green apples and spice (nutmeg and pepper), light and refreshing and drier than a lot of the inexpensive bottlings of this grape.

Paul, who once again graciously permitted the use of his house for this dinner party, also contributed the ribeye roast. Very simple here, served with some lightly boiled cream peas from the Farmer's Market and a little fresh horseradish sauce.

We were privileged to enjoy a spectacular red with this course, the 2005 Château Lanessan from Haut-Médoc. Thanks to Dave R, who sent along the wine but was unable to join us. 60% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot, 5% Cabernet Franc and 5% Petit Verdot, and from an historic vintage. Hints of tobacco, green bell pepper, with an underlying flavor of black cherry and plum. There's nothing quite like a good Bordeaux, and towards the end of the evening as my cooking duties come to a close I can sit back, relax, and get lost in the glass.

With a half hour spent playing Apples to Apples, we were recovered enough to finally sample dessert. My brother and his wife brought along a gigantic and delicious apple pie from Costco.

I felt it was a great time to have another gift wine, this one from wine researcher Tracy Rickman. Months ago she gave me a bottle of the 2006 Tobin James "Liquid Love" Late Harvest Zinfandel. This is a beautiful dessert wine for people that don't want to drink something with the consistency of pancake syrup. The Zinfandel grape is fully present and discernable, and the wine is sweet but not overly so. There is a solid strawberry/raspberry profile here, but I love the fact that it contains that depth of flavor that you get from crunching down on raspberry seeds.

The general jollity went on for another hour or so, with everyone slowly slipping into the contented calm provided by a four hour long meal with six courses. Thanks to all those who participated, and I look forward to more fun this summer as various fruits and vegetables come into season. Who knows? I might even do a completely vegetarian dinner party one of these days...