Serve Yourself.

My roommate, the awesomely awesome Roxy is headed off to Europe soon for 6-12 months so we had a going away dinner for her at the crib last night.
We decided that a self-serve buffet style dinner would be best, considering the numbers. Alesha made amazing Jerk Chicken. Fulvia hooked up penne with chorizo, broccoli rabe & cherry tomatoes. Leila made stir fried pork, empenadas, mini-sandwiches & baked a wicked cheese cake. I made a simple salad, couscous salad (I bit Grant's style & added tomatoes & mozzarella) & beef meatballs (these were meant to be lamb, see my butcher rant below). 15 or so people turned up & we rocked out till the wee hours. With bellies full & livers groaning we were treated to an impromptu jam session from Roxy & Mitch.

The death of the family butcher.

Prepare yourself for a profanity-filled post from an extremely angry black man. I spent about an hour yesterday trolling the East Village for some ground lamb, but came home empty-handed. I headed straight for Kurowycky Meat Products (see piccie) on 1st Avenue, the 52-year-old Ukrainian East Village butcher that made peerless sausage and ham only to find that the place has closed down due to rising rents. WTF!?!

Dejected, I head to the East Village Meat Market (139 2nd Ave). I have never before in my life seen such a sad collection of meats in my entire life. The 'butcher' (I use the term loosely) there was the rudest person I've ever met in my entire life. He snorted 'What do you want?' as I walked up to the counter, then proceeded to tell me that he had no ground lamb. I asked him if he had any lamb & he showed me three hunks of disgusting looking meat. Short on time & in a bind I asked him if he could grind some for me... Guess what - 'No, we just cleaned the grinder & are about to close'. I did a double-take & asked him if he was serious, 'As a heart attack' he says.

I live in the East Village, one of the 'cooler' neighborhoods in NYC, how hard should it be to get some fucking ground lamb? Obviously, I could have just gone to Whole Foods, but fuck that; I'd rather support smaller shops than give a penny to them. In a time of Happy Meal-filled obese children, KFC 'family' dinners, etc. it disgusts me how an institution like Kurowycky can go under while other, far inferior, butchers stay open to serve up horrible meat.

What ever happened to the family butcher? That nice old guy you saw once a week to pick up meat for your family meal. He would let you know what was fresh, special order items for you & was skilled in his craft. My dad told me stories of his time as an NYC bachelor. He had his local butcher & a locker there. He would buy a side of dry aged meat & go in from time to time to have the butcher carve it up, as & when needed. Those days are long gone & that pisses me off to no end.

André-Pascal throws down.

To most families, Father's Day means taking Dad out & pampering him, but in the Casséus household, in means Dad in the kitchen, feeding the flock. Sous Chef Stef & I made the lengthy trip to the upper east side for some awesome food yesterday.

When we were growing up & still living with the 'rents, we were pretty much the only people among our circle of friends who HAD to be home for dinner. No matter where we were or what we were doing, everything stopped around dinner time & we would be home, on time, for the family meal. Meals were normally very formal, very European & very good. André switched the game up a bit by serving up an informal Mediterranean buffet of sorts, hold your breath, there are a lot of dishes here...

- Grape leaves filled with spicy rice and pinola
- Hummus twice mixed with tahini plus a touch of paprika
- Egg plant caviar with suptle dashes of crushed dried mint
- Confit of eggplant with capers and dried tomatoes blended with a touch of harisa
- A thick offering of greek yogurt topped with crushed garlic, lime juice (a competitor to hummus)
- A beautifully arranged plate of crisp leaves and legumes
- A "white and black plate" of demi sel feta and oil cured black olives.
- An offering of falafel and kibbe.

We ate for hours, talked about old times & told dirty jokes. A great night.

Grant pops his cherry.

So, it was time to 'break in' the new boy, so Adam, Teddy & myself ran a 'culinary train' on Grant last night...

- Cappuccino of Green Pea Soup.

- Pan Fried Sea Scallops & Goose Liver with Amaretto Sauce and Balsamic Vinegar.

- Pan Fried Black Cod with Tomato & Mozzarella Cous Cous.

- Dark Chocolate Pudding with Praline Semifreddo.

If the first course was any indication of the things to come, I knew we were in for a great night. Topped with a dollop of frothed milk & tasting of bacon & liver, the soup was an awesome mix of flavors. All 4 of us eagerly dispatched our mugs.



We all pranced around like ravenous wild dogs as Grant constructed the next course. Buttery scallops topped with delicious goose liver. The Amaretto sauce w/balsamic was an amazing pairing & really enhanced the flavor of the dish.




The main course did not disappoint. Pan fried to perfection, the black cod was delightfully crispy on the outside & flaky on the inside - this dish was a real treat. The couscous, with nuggets of tomato/mozzarella goodness was damn tasty as well.



Just when I think I can't fit any more food into my ever-expanding tummy, Grant whips out this little jewel of 'chocolaty insanity'. Moister than the sun, the chocolate literally oozed out of this bad boy like lava at the touch of the spoon. How'd he do it? Fuck if I know, but I did enjoy stuffing my face with it! We retired to his garden afterwards for more booze & merriment.

Grant - Welcome to Thursday Club!!!

Prep pics:

A Closing Act To Be Remembered

Now that we're getting along a bit in the Club's history (13 rounds.....or is it 14?), it's getting to the point where certain dishes are etched on your brain for one reason or another. With the exception of a few disastrous results, more times then not it's because of exceptional taste. Jason spun up one of those golden Thursday Club moments last Thursday. Here's the menu:

- Portobello and Bleu Cheese Salad
- Beer Braised Bratwurst with Caramelized Gala Apples
- Roasted Rack of Lamb with Wild Mushroom Risotto*

* denotes the particular ass-kicking dish mentioned earlier

Things got started with a super rich, appetite-enhancing salad. The earthy sliced mushrooms and the crumbled cheese soaked up all the dressing like a sponge. It went really nicely with the hearty red that was selected (I can't recall the name of the wine.......but it was definitely red). Even though it showcased non-meat items, this flavor packed course definitely got me looking forward to what was left to come.


The second course is one of my favorite combinations. Absolutely one if the best examples of when savory and sweet just click on a different level. Mild sausages worked really nicely with the sweet and sometimes tart apples, and the crisp outer casing also blended with the softened fruit. Amazing, right? That's the way meals are supposed to be set up I guess. I've seen alot of sausages in butchers or grocery stores that combine the 2 flavors in the same casing, but I think alot of the texture that is present in the deconstructed form is lost. I'll eat them though......I'll eat most things.



When we finished up the last bite course two, the big guns were unleashed. Two sizely racks of lamb covered in a mustard-herb paste were on display for us all while the oven was fired up. As you could see through the oven window (you could sell tickets to that shit), the high temperature was going to crust up the outside while keeping the meat moist and juicy.



The smell filled up the apartment, the thermometer hit 143 degrees, they rested (for what seemed like for-friggin-ever), and we dug in. Medium rare and delicious, like lamb has to be. The outer flavoring in no way took away the natural taste of the meat, it actually seemed to enhance the lambiness (wow, don't know where I pulled that one from, but you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about).



Definitely one of those courses to remember.....as long as I don't forget something of importance in it's place, like how to write or chew or something.

I'm going to have to borrow this recipe for certain, and claim it as my own.........just try and stop me.

J Boogie's Lamb

...I ate possibly the best lamb I've ever had. Streuth. I'm a bit annoyed I don't have a picture of it to frame with love and stick on my desk at work. I'm sure somebody will pipe up soon and tell me they took a shot. After Boogie's 'Japanese Simplicity' evening, he was determined to make amends. And he did so. I'm sure Adam will reveal all about the menu and it's complexities in due course, but I couldn't help but sing loud praises about one course in particular.

Rack of lamb. Quite possibly the sexiest (and most expensive) cut of lamb. A great thick pink succulent chunk of loin smothered in oozing milky white fat. It needs simple seasoning and a hot oven for a short amount of time, some rest and a quick carving.

Boogie bought two, thank Goodness, and after a quick roast, he carved them up into individual meat lollipops with ease. Four each. That interior was so pink and juicy I don't think I made it back to the table from the kitchen before I was tearing and sucking at them. The pink loin offered no resistance and fell apart as I pushed the meat against the roof of my mouth, each morsel releasing it's bloody goodness and salty syrupy fat into my bulging cheeks. The protruding bone proved to be the perfect lollipop handle and with grease-slicked hands I was molesting the bones, pulling off all those crispy baked-on brown bits with my teeth and chewing chewing chewing, hoping the taste would never fade and praying that this lamby climax would never come to an end...

Woo Chon (8-10 W. 36th St.)

Nestled in the heart of Korea Town is a pure gem. It doesn't look like much from the outside & the decor is spartan, but don't let that fool you. I met up with Adam & some other hungry individuals on Saturday for some primo Korean BBQ. While downing Shochu & hurling abuse at each other we ate some pretty excellent food.

We started with a few appetizers; Mandoo Gui (meat dumplings), Seafood Pajun (an insanely excellent seafood & scallion pancake), among others. The wait staff fired up the hibachi grill & it was onto the good stuff - MEAT!

That table was covered with all manner of side dishes to go along with the impending meat feast. Kimchi, vegetables, lettuce (for wrapping), a delicious hoisin variation & spicy blue crab legs (YUM!). As far as the BBQ went, we got pork, chicken & beef, but the real show stopper was the squid. Cooked in an excellent, spicy sauce, it was simply amazing. & the group atmosphere of cooking your own food en masse made the meal very enjoyable.

We took our sweet time eating & we never rushed. The service was excellent & I really liked how they changed the hibachi grill-top after every meat course which prevented sticking/burning. The meal was a little on the expensive side for Korean BBQ, but I think it was worth every penny All in all an excellent time, I recommend you check it out if you get a chance.

Viva Brazil!

I had the opportunity to check out Circus (132 East 61st St.) for some Brazilian fare. Now, normally, I wouldn't been seen dead in this neck of the woods, but it was my Dad's birthday, so I made the trip.

The decor is swanky yet cool & the staff were very friendly & attentive (it wasn't that busy by the time I arrived, an hour late). We popped a bottle of bubbly in celebration & prepared to order. We shared the snapper ceviche to start. It was served up in a martini glass (which I thought was cool), but I found it to be far too spicy. Luckily I had plenty of Verve Cliquot to wash it down.

Mom ordered the Churrasco, a tasy Brazilian mixed grill (Sirloin, Picanha and Linguica). The birthday boy had the Feijoada, a black bean stew with pork, beef & sausage - it was delicious. The real star of the night was my dish, Bacalhau. I've never seen (or tasted!) cod cooked to such a high level of perfection. Glazed to capacity with Miso & Cachaca, the fish was so fresh, that you would think it was caught today.

I really had a good time with the 'rents & the food was excellent. The dinner was reasonably priced considering the quality of the food & service... I might have to make another trip to midtown soon.

A spontaneous 'Brandade'

I was lazing around on my big sofa earlier, scratching my balls and drinking vodka as I am known to do occasionally. I was flicking idly though some copies of 'Gourmet' and came across some fish recipes. I'm not sure where my inspiration came from, but I thought about making brandade, a French fish dish. (I doubt it has a French origin to be honest. Iberian most likely.) The recipe uses salt cod or bacalao whipped up with some spuds, scalded cream and garlic-laden olive oil. I was feeling peckish, and I decided making it would be my drunken task for the night. I found countless recipes and variations and after peering into the darkness of my fridge, I realised I did indeed have some salt cod, but didn't have 3 days to soak the salt out. So I couldn't follow the original recipe according to the omnipotent Larousse, rather I'd have to use my noodle a bit and do the best I could under the circumstances.

I had a can of Albacore. I had olive oil and garlic. I didn't have any spuds, unusually, or cream, but I had some leftover Dauphinois potatoes in a baking dish in the fridge. That was fucking lucky. It contains spud and cream and garlic so I thought this would make a fine base for the fish. So I had my prerequisites.

I heated a small pan of olive oil with 2 cloves of garlic over a medium heat. I didn't want to burn or colour the garlic, so I took it straight off when it looked like it might start sizzling. I put the tuna into the Cuisinart and gave it a whizz. I added the creamy spud and whizzed that in. I slowly dribbled in the warm garlic flavoured oil and kept my finger on the trigger until it was an amorphous violet goop. I wiped a finger around in the bowl and decided it was brilliant. I grabbed a couple of ramekins, spooned some of those salt-cured capers in the bottom, slopped a great big dollop of the pink paste on top, covered it with some breadcrumbs I made in the blender from old bread in the fridge, sprinkled them with oil and popped them under a hot grill for 3 minutes. I knocked up a tomato, artichoke and fennel seed salad to accompany it and plated it up. I dipped a warm spoon into the ramekin for a second taste. Crunchy on top, followed by fishy slickness then a good kick of salt from the capers at the bottom. I have eaten great brandade before in restaurants, and my spontaneous version fell way short of the brilliant white maritime cream good chefs turn out. Not bad for 15 minutes work though. I felt rather smug as I fed my face.

Beer Can Chicken Avec Chef Jason

Inspired by the chicken at Man Camp & Gustad Mody's post, I hatched a diabolical plan to hook up some beer can chicken for a few friends. This was actually a dry run for tomorrows TC meal, so I didn't invite the boys, or take pictures (except for the one above, d'oh!). Having decided that the meal was suitably awesome, but not awesome enough to eat twice in 3 days, I changed tomorrows menu, so I'm safe to blog. I'll have to make this for the TC crew on another occasion.

So I'm texting away like a madman on Monday & I soon realize that 'a few friends' has ballooned into 14 people. I've never cooked for that many people before, or ever thought about it, so I was somewhat daunted.

Needless to say, I got a bit of a late start on Tuesday after a late night of poker & sake. I had already marinated the chicken though, thankfully. I started cooking in earnest around 3pm & dinner was set for 6, so I needed to hurry. I started by baking a 9" banana cake. I must have had a hole in my measuring cup as it came out less spongy than desired & took much longer to cook, but was still very tasty when paired with Vanilla Bean ice cream. I was forced to put in my 2 loaves of Cranberry Walnut bread into the oven with the cake due to time constraints. It gave the bread a 'banana tinge' which actually was very pleasant.

Now onto the good stuff. There's something life changing about putting a can of beer up a chicken's ass. Sort of like getting chosen last in gym class or your first kiss - you'll never forget it. I bought a massive 33oz can of this wacky Danish Ale from the supermarket, but was forced to pour it into 2 Bud cans so it could fit in the chickens. Pepper corns, garlic rosemary & thyme went in there as well. I propped the little suckers up in a baking dish & voila!

The recipe said 1 hour at 350, but stupid me; that's for 1 chicken! They took a lot longer to cook, but I plied the ravenous horde with a green salad with almonds, cherry tomatoes & my trademark mustard honey dressing. By the time the chicken was done my yam & garlic mash was done too.

So there we were, huddled around my table, coffee table & any other flat surface we could get our hands on. We ate, drank & talked late into the night & nary a bone was left. Good times!

The many meats of Man Camp.

So, it's Memorial Day weekend & what better to do than spend some time in the Rockies drinking beer, eating deep fried meats, shooting guns & burning shit. Myself, my brother-in-law Josh, brother (Sous Chef Stef) & 18 other degenerates headed to the mountains for 5 days of utter fucking madness. 5 kegs, an additional 7 pounds added to my gut & god knows how much cholesterol later, we emerged from the wilderness, no doubt smelling like hammered shit & looking about the same.

Our resident cook, Farley (known lovingly as Cookie) & his 'culinarily-gifted' sidekick, Sean, spun up the deep fat fryer pretty much as soon as they rolled into the camp site, our hearts have never been the same - between the fried meats, firearms, chainsaws, booze & exploding cans of Aquanet, it's a small miracle that no one had died. By day 2, one guy was already on a saline drip (we have 2 EMS techs on hand), passed the hell out in one of the pop-ups (I'm not naming any names Chris).

Josh hooked up an insano 18 pounds of pork shoulder. Smoked for 12 hours & monitored closely by his wacky remote controlled thermometer, this stuff was worth it's weight in gold. We stuffed our faces with it on the first day & afterwards it made it's way into our triple meat breakfast burritos. Pulled pork, deep-fried bacon, pork patties, eggs, veggies & green chili. The EMS boys had no stints or defibrillators - we were on our own...














Chicken fried steak & country gravy (thicker than heck) followed as well.



Breakie was a Cardiologist's nightmare - Just look at the picture - I rest my case! All in all, a wicked trip. Good food - good company & a welcome break from the humdrum of NYC.



Beer with dirt 'floater' (or sinker?)

Stef goes hunting.

Medicine

The jockey box, 4 years in the making...

Brazil v England....And some bitchin' food

By the time I arrived at Adam's house, it was 8 o'clock and I had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol. The lacklustre English managed to wangle a draw at the new Wembley against a (depleted) Brazil and after supporting them for 2 hours, it was nearly cause for muted celebration. So, a few pints later, I found myself stumbling over to Adam's place on 19th St in Park Slope for some solid nutrition. The man like Grant has been my accomplice that afternoon, and it was by following his heels I was able to find my way to venue for this week's TC.

I was all fired up despite being half cut, as Adam had posted his menu a mouthwatering 3 days before the actual event and it looked fucking good. Roasted garlic and yellow pepper soup, beef carpaccio with wasabi cream cheese and black bread crostini, Poblano peppers stuffed with catfish, mango with cilantro sauce, pork tenderloin with onion jam and Rioja and citrus reduction, and a dessert that was supposed to be peach and vanilla mousse with cashew nuts.

I have to say, that first mouthful of soup really brought me around. It had a wonderful creamy depth and a sweet Scoville goodness to it, I felt like pouring the whole damn thing down my throat in one. Medicinal for sure. It has a great colour too, very appetizing. Miraculously, I suddenly found myself in a state of near-sobriety and it opened up my palate - I was hungry for the next dish.


I think Adam bought the carpaccio in from Fresh Direct, a bit of a cheat no doubt, but it was the pairing with black bread and wasabi cream cheese his imagination conjured up that impressed me most. The lightest sprinkling of salt on the meat, loaded up on the warm bread, and seasoned again with a peppery and unctuous cream cheese made for an incredible first mouthful. And a second one. And a third. My companions must have been relishing the same high I was as we ploughed through the rest of our Asiatic cheesesteak. No words were uttered, jut nodding of heads and brief smiling murmurs of appreciation.


The broiled peppers were overstuffed with a finely chopped mixture of grilled catfish, mango and cheese and they were delicious too. A melting capsicum case and sweet syrupy mango provided a good counterpoint to the spicy cilantro coulis (or should that be the other way around??) and I these were a hit with the chaps too, although I secretly longed to put life in rewind and go back for another round of course # 2.


Adam knoweth the correct way to cook meat to perfection and he made no mistake with the pork tenderloin. A salty crisp and blackened outer, making way to a moist and dribbling core under the slightest pressure from the knife. And those onions were tremendous too. A wonderful accompaniment.


I think the less said about the dessert the better. Without knowing the full story, I think he didn't allow a warm egg mixture to cool sufficiently to avoid curdling a cream mixture. Or some old bollocks like that. He did offer an ice-crusted plastic tub of something around towards the end of the evening, but I turned my nose up at it and didn't even attempt to try. It produced a similar response from my fellow diners when it was waved under their noses.

It was fairly difficult to remember anything else. It had been a long night for this old boy and I wobbled home to bed, with Mike to prop me up, while we picked up random bits of discarded furniture and other bobbins along the way.

Ding Hai (Year of the Pig)

In search of our next culinary fix, the 3 original members of the Thursday Club went separate ways for Memorial Day weekend. Jason headed west to the Rocky Mountains for Man Camp (21 guys, 5 kegs of beer, and enough meat, firearms and explosives to raise Government suspicion), Teddy stayed close and explored the wonders of shopping in Chinatown (see Pudding, Black below), and I returned to my hometown of Buffalo to partake in one of my family's most honored traditions.....the pig roast. This is the 5th consecutive Memorial Day Pig Roast we have hosted and 7th in total.

The formula is simple and unchanged:
- invite all of your closest swine-happy friends (no children allowed.....they just get in the way and risk getting sworn at, thrown for the purpose of sport, or being deep fried)
- buy enough alcohol to keep your guests happy (in this case, one keg of Guinness, Molson Canadian, and Canadian Light)
- cook any animal you can get your hands on.

A twelve pound turkey and six pound chicken were also on the menu, but the guest of honor without a doubt was the pig. This year it weighed in at a whopping 150 pounds, far bigger than any previous oinker. The collective anticipation and appetite of the party grew every time the cover of the smoker was lifted as an intoxicating, fragrant smoke floated above. I'm certain everyone within a two block radius cooking hot dogs and burgers on their backyard grills were insanely jealous, if not damn near suicidal.

Once the finished pig was pulled off the spit, a small group of us huddled around it to get pictures, gaze at it's awesomeness and to be the first ones to taste it. Since the slow cooking process (8+ hours total) made the outermost parts of the pig nearly fall off of the the carcass, those were the first parts to sampled. In the hoofs, we found the perfect combination of crispy skin, a thin layer of fat, and melt-away flesh. The pig's head was next to picked apart by the lucky few who circled around the butchers table like buzzards. After tasting the surprisingly salty and wonderfully moist cheek meat, I inquired about the preparation and cooking technique of the beast. The couple who prepare the pig for us every year let me in on a little secret.......there is no secret. No seasoning? Nope. No coating of oil? Not at all. The only outside ingredient other than fire was oak barrel wood chips that smoked during the 8+ hours of cooking and permeated the entire pig. How can such a simple cooking process yield this kind of result? I couldn't quite wrap my brain around this exactly, but I was too occupied with food and drink to think any further about it. Perhaps the diet of the pig has something to do with it? Maybe the constant smoking at a low temperature? I'm afraid a simple shoulder shrug will have to do for now.



After the head and trotters were removed, the skin was removed in shingle-like portions and put back on the smoking grill to crisp up. The layers of fat which kept all of the meat moist were scraped off and discarded leaving gigantic slabs of tenderloin to be smoked for another hour or so. The ribs that came off of this animal were almost comical in size, comparable to the Brontosaurus ribs which topple Fred's car in the opening of the Flintstones'. We easily had more than hundred pounds of assorted pork to gorge ourselves on throughout the night.

Although taste ultimately rules when considering the world's most perfect food, whole roasted pig makes a claim for this title in my book because of it's simplicity and communal nature. There is just something special about a large group of people sharing one main dish that comes from one whole animal. It isn't exactly practical or cheap to enjoy this experience too often, which also adds to it's allure. As I said though, at the end of the day, you'll never find a more succulent and tasty piece of meat then from a fresh roasted pig......and that's good enough for me.