go go godzilla!

pictures, respectively: jogger on the bridge at Point Park, giving love to the rosemary, truffle oil, what used to be a chocolate almond tart, vespas on the South Side.
















So, it's my other day off and I'm sincerely enjoying the lack of responsibility. It's a nice, rainy day outside, and I'm going to a party later where I will not consume alcoholic beverages, because, of course, I am a minor.



Anyway, things are well. Spring is here and means something in this part of the country. Yesterday I took a lot of time after school to wander around in the 70 degree, perfectly clear weather, and witnessed some truly magnificent things. Everything is coming to life at once, including the people here. Everyone seems depressed at the end of winter--in that slump everyone apparently goes into when it's still snowing in late March. Personally, I thought it was pretty sweet, which seemed to annoy people. They say I'm just not bitter enough about it yet. I say I'm awesome. Agree to disagree.


The other night I made some truly nice food. I was able to come across some Minor's Chicken Base, which is, if you're not familiar, really good. Think chicken bouillon cubes, but the main ingredient isn't salt. Bases are something Chef Hutchins taught us to take advantage of--making stock out of them alone is not that great, but you can supplement a weak stock with them, or use them to intensify the flavor of a soup or sauce. Unfortunately, I do not often have six-hour blocks of time to simmer twenty pounds of chicken carcasses with twenty pounds of mirepoix and a big sachet d`epices.











I was also able to procure some fresh rosemary and basil, some portobello caps, porcini mushrooms, dried shiitakes, shallots, leeks, some lovely white truffle oil, and some other odds and ends with which I made a very nice mushroom sautè and a leek rice pilaf. The pilaf is easy, and something I learned in school. But the mushroom sautè is a little something I've picked up from one of our dishes at work. To do it:

1. Get a whole bunch of mushrooms. All your favorites, and a large quantity. What looks like a lot now might just cook down into a few ounces of your main side dish--mushrooms have a high moisture content. Use portobellos (notice the spelling--this is a real eye-talian ingredient, people), porcinis (know that these are just baby portobellos and are considered a marketing scam by many chefs--I rather enjoy them due to the earthy flavor of the portobello in contrast with the smaller size and edibility of the stem, and they're cute as buttons), oysters, shiitakes, sheep's head, button, etc. If you're low on cash but feel like using something very nice, you can actually get very nice wild mushrooms in dried form. The other day I saw little dried up black trumpets (also called black chanterelles, or the trompete de mort in French cuisine) at the market. If you choose to use this product, all you must do is reconstitute them in enough warm water to cover for about twenty minutes. The drawback to this? Flavor seeps out into the liquid. Any chef mindful of conservation would save the rehydrating liquid, put it through a coffee filter, reduce it, and use it later as a deglazing liquid during the sautèeing process. If you were making some sort of mushroom sauce, you could even use a whole lot of this liquid as a stock, and supplement it with mushroom base.

2. Cut them up. Not too small--if you're fond of slices, don't make them any shorter than an inch in length. One of the nice things about very small mushrooms such as porcinis or sometimes shiitakes is that you can saute them whole, which makes a rather nice presentation. Don't scrape the gills out. I don't care what anyone says about the ugly color, the taste, the myth that they're indigestible. It's bullshit. Every single cell in that mushroom is the same, and it's a living thing. Eat it as such: respectfully and not wastefully. Even inedible mushroom stems can be made into soups if desired--the capacity of such things to give is endless. Anyway, set the mushrooms aside, and mince a generous amount of shallots, garlic, and whatever fresh herbs suit your fancy. If you use basil, chiffonade it. Put the garlic and herbs together but keep the shallots seperate.

3. Hot, slope-sided sautè pan, high-quality extra-virgin olive oil. Do not use the store brand, and do not use vegetable oil, for you will defeat the purpose entirely. Go to a local market and get something good. Olive oil is like wine--beautiful in color, aroma, and taste, and good for you in moderate amounts. If available, you should get something local. Always support local product. Right now I'm working on a bottle of some lovely stuff from a bread bakery in the Strip. Anyway, once you can see the oil shimmering under a bright light, you're ready. Dump the mushrooms in, all at once. If it looks like your pan's a little too small for the project, don't worry too much--remember that the shrooms will reduce greatly in size.

4. Stir the mushrooms around (don't flip them. there are some things you just cannot flip in a sautè pan for reason of sheer physics, and uncooked large pieces of mushroom are some of them.), and resist the temptation to add more oil. It will seem extremely dry for awhile because the flesh of the mushrooms soaks up fat. Once you get some heat into them, they will start to break down and release all that excess fat you poured in during your nervous cooking breakdown, and you will have deep-fried fungus crap. When you see the mushrooms getting darker and more moist, add all your shallots and continue to cook. It will likely take a little while, but eventually you will have evenly cooked product and translucent shallots, and you can add the garlic and herbs, and a good amount of salt and pepper; never be afraid to season, but always do so at the end. You can also deglaze anything that is stuck to your pan using your dry mushroom liquid, or if you opted not to use dry product, you can use some dry white wine. Adding the garlic and fresh herbs towards the end prevents the garlic from burning (becomes very bitter) and the herbs from losing their flavor. I see too often people buying a giant bunch of basil to put in tomato sauce, complaining that they taste no basil after they're done with their recipes. There is a point in time when cooking fresh herbs at which you have reached perfection, maximum flavor extraction, food nirvana, whatever--and after that, if you continue to cook them, they merely become black flavorless weeds. The taste is a living thing and will die if mistreated. Oh, and at the very end, put a nice pat of unsalted butter into the pan. Trust me.

5. If you're into this kind of thing, you can drizzle a little truffle oil--white or black, depending on preference--over your mixture before or after you plate it. Truffle oil is the nectar of the gods but it is potent, so don't use a tablespoon per portion. You'd go broke fast anyway at about nine dollars an ounce for cheap stuff. All you need is a drop or two to impart a wonderful aroma and flavor.