Doug Sohn, owner of Hot Doug's. Photo: William Couch/ Flickr.
Frankfurter maestro Doug Sohn, the man behind the beloved Chicago eatery Hot Doug's, is a stickler for putting the same care into his hot dog toppings that a top chef would a béarnaise sauce.
Sohn is a trained chef who bypassed life in a haute restaurant to grill haute dogs. He's been on the wiener beat for nearly a decade, and remains an undeterred champion of foie gras in the wake of a since-overturned Chicago-wide ban. His sought-after pups feature tantalizing names like the "mighty hot" Keira Knightley and the "mighty, might, mighty hot!" Salma Hayek andouille sausage.
As summer kicks into high gear, roadside stands and greenmarkets are bustling with fresh produce.
Fresh herbs, cut just that morning, perfume the air: sultry thyme, sprightly parsley and rosemary for remembrance. Sweet onions tumble out of bushel baskets and into burlap bags. Piles of peppers fight for your attention in red, green, orange, yellow and even black. And who can resist fresh ears of satiny corn?
As you lug all of your fresh produce home, don't worry -- as always, we've got your back. Beyond the jump is an original recipe to use that corn, those peppers and those onions to make a quick, fresh corn relish.
This relish has a Southwestern twang, but it can accompany virtually anything coming off of your grill for Fourth of July barbecues, from juicy burgers and seared steaks to perfectly smoked chicken. And if the summer corn is too irresistible to resist buying a bushel, you can double the recipe and send some home with your guests.
While the recently announced Tabasco Brand Hottest Chef competition is open only to food service professionals and culinary students, many home cooks have already mastered the contest's implicit theme: Use hot sauce to make cheap food taste better.
Contest entrants are being asked to create a "budget-friendly" entrée incorporating one of Tabasco's signature pepper sauces. The winning recipe is worth $10,000, which means this will likely be the last time the winning chef will have to resort to finding flavor in a $3.99 bottle.
For recession-struck eaters, however, hot sauces like Tabasco have become indispensable for enlivening otherwise dreary meals of Ramen noodles, beans and rice and boxed macaroni and cheese.
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
Beets are funny: while they are among the hardiest of winter root vegetables, their gorgeous color brings to mind the energy and exuberance of early summer.
In our family cookbook, my Aunt Evie tipped her hat to this weird dual nature with her recipe for pickled beet dip. Filled with the earthy flavors of winter vegetables, the dip's brilliant pink color suggests the joy of Easter eggs, cotton candy and sunsets. Pairing the coarseness of winter with the energy of summer, it's the perfect spring food!
While most dips tend toward blandness, this one has a nice kick. It goes well with crackers, but really shines as the centerpiece on a tray of crudite. Although the ingredients may sound odd, they blend nicely and the finished product is one of those rare beet dishes that even avowed enemies of the dark red vegetables will love. One warning, though: be sure to let everyone know that it's beet dip. Given the color, some people will assume that it is a cherry or raspberry dish!
Barbecue sauce intrigues me. It's rich, thick, delicious and a healthy homemade version can add lots of flavor to healthy eats like grilled or steamed veggies and chicken dishes. There are thousands of recipes and versions, and I think the real reason that I'm so in love with barbecue sauce is that it can pose a challenge for a professional recipe developer.
Almost any fruit, seasoning or condiment can be made into a barbecue sauce and I'm curious to hear about the "secret" unusual ingredient Slashfoodies use in their favorite versions. I've made barbecue sauces with grapefruit, blueberry and chocolate, but I've heard of many other renditions that sound tasty and fun -- like mango, orange, pomegranate honey, dried cherry and a white variety, just to name a few.
Get Jennifer's Spicy Apricot Barbecue Sauce recipe after the jump.
Normally, macarons are like the one above, colorful, light, and full of sweetness. But what if it wasn't?
The world has seen chocolate on chicken and bacon cookies, so why not Ketchup Macarons? It's almost natural -- tomatoes are fruit too, yet they never get the cookie love. Just replace that center above with the spice of ketchup.
David Lebovitz recently whipped up a batch of Pierre Hermé's ketchup macarons, noting the perception in Europe that Americans put ketchup on everything. I can't say I blame them for that assessment (sandwiches, eggs, fries, meat, you name it). But making it into a cookie... That's something I want to taste for myself.
And speaking of unique cookie flavors: What's the most unique cookie flavor you've ever tasted?
While on weekend food safari (scored: manchego, kraeme kase, smoked mozzarella, soppresata, genoa salami and muffaletta for Oscars antipasti), I was reminded that there is nothing like a Manhattan supermarket. If you only experience the city through media, you might never think that urban superpeople on the move need to buy groceries, so somehow it's touching to be among us when we do. For those who've never had the pleasure: picture a supermarket where there's barely room to maneuver yourself, let alone a cart, and then picture that space full of lifers piloting push-carts filled with whatever can be stored in tiny kitchenettes.
Another secret of urban foraging is the Roland Corporation, a New York City-based food importer whose offerings grace my cupboards in every format from tinned anchovies for Caesar salad to fragrant pumpkinseed oil for the accompanying pasta. Someone at Roland knows me and my kind: we orthodox mustardphiliacs cannot enter a space where condiments are vended without investigating what treats the mustard aisle is offering. And that's how, in a Chelsea Gristedes, I discovered Roland Tarragon Mustard.
Ah, the rich velvety taste of hazelnuts and chocolate! What started as a small Italian company, from the 1940s, has become a world sensation. Indeed, yesterday blogs around the world celebrated World Nutella Day. Based on Piedmontese Gianduja, a chocolate containing about 50 percent almond and hazelnut paste, Nutella was created by Pietro Ferrero in his small patisserie in Alba.
World Nutella Day falls just before Valentine's Day, just in time for people to purchase a bottle and concoct a delicious Nutella-based cake. In fact, World Nutella Day even has it's own website with recipes that range from breads, cakes, and ice creams to savory dishes, like pizza. It turns out that you can have a three course meal with nutella! Check out some of our favorite recipes below:
Nutella Champagne Shooter - Okay, the title of this recipe is misleading. This is an exquisite cocktail made with chocolate and hazelnut liqueurs, and a sparkle of Champagne (no Nutella). It's more of a tribute to Nutella worthy of making the list.
Yes, you read that right. Thanks to the modern phenomenon of solutions to problems no one has, there exists concept design for a device which, depending on your viewpoint, is genius, preposterous, useless, or somewhere between the three. Please meet the CHOMPr hamburger grasper, which according to the copy is "a conceptual hamburger grasping device for high-end restaurants." Looking like two coffee tables from a dollhouse from the Eames era held together by those pins Ikea gives you to keep your bookshelf from collapsing, the CHOMPr seeks to ameliorate the conflict between the informal process of eating a hamburger and formal surroundings.
To some, whether you need a hamburger grasping device beyond those at the ends of your arms is sort of, well, silly. But it is very interesting as an etiquette question, because it raises the related issues of utensils as a dimension of table manners and hands as a dimension of utensils. For the former, utensils are a mark of civilization precisely because they aren't your hands, and the development of utensils has followed a trajectory more or less complimentary to the Industrial Revolution, culminating in the Victorian era, when a fully outfitted silver trousseau could top out at 500 pieces and counting.
Quick: what field crop comes to mind of when you think of the Napa Valley? If you immediately thought "mustard," you're not wrong, and you're not alone. In the right circles, the Napa Valley is as well known for its mustard as it is for that other crop which does well there. Those fields of endless yellow are celebrated in festivals, are a staple of local cuisines both formal and informal, and are a welcome sight in the great client-relations tradition of the Napa Valley gift basket.
What do you do when times are tough? Reinvention! Tropicana (and Pepsi) have already done it, and now Heinz is getting in on the action.
Gone are the days when the tasty gherkin graced the label. Did you ever notice it? The gherkin has shrunk over the years, once looking quite hefty (look to the right), and now an almost-forgotten blip at the bottom of the label. Blip or not, it's been on the bottles for over 100 years, and now Heinz Ketchup is trading it in for a "vine-ripened tomato" and a new tagline: "Grown not made."
I get the switch, since nothing about a gherkin makes you think of ketchup, but does it really matter? Does putting a vine-ripened tomato on the label make a difference? I guess I'm just crusty about everything continually changing to look modern. Old isn't necessarily bad. Remember the wave of nostalgia that came with those old Coke bottles? Poor gherkin. Couldn't the pickle and tomato just share?
When it comes to figuring out who created various condiments, history tends to be amazingly vague. For example, although we know that mustard was developed by the ancient Romans, we have no idea about the identity of the unknown chef who first combined wine vinegar and ground mustard seeds. Similarly, history records that ketchup originally came from China, where it was a form of fish sauce; however, there is no record of the person who made this great leap forward. Similarly, the sands of time have swallowed the name of the great pioneer who first drizzled the magic ingredient on french fries.
So it goes: from relish to chutney, jelly to ice cream, history may occasionally honor a key innovator or entrepreneur, but all too often neglects the silent inventor who toils in obscurity. With that in mind, it seems particularly vital that we honor those few, rare pioneers whose names have not been lost to history. One such man was Alan S. Geisler, who died last week at the age of 78. Geisler, an MIT-trained food technologist, developed the iconic red onion sauce that is a standard condiment on New York City hot dogs. Comprised of vinegar, onion, tomato paste and other ingredients (including corn syrup), Geisler's concoction is better know as Sabrett onion sauce, for the company that markets it.
While hot dog cuisine can be fiercely regional, Sabrett sauce is a vital ingredient for New York dogs. Transplanted New Yorkers (or those who are curious about this distinctive condiment) can order it here or follow this recipe to make it at home. It is best served atop either a dirty water or freshly grilled dog, along with sauerkraut and spicy mustard. Enjoy!
For as long as I can remember, it's been conventional wisdom that honey is a more healthful source of sweetness than table sugar (I used it in place of brown sugar last night in a batch of rice pudding, in an attempt to make it more virtuous). It is said to have antibiotic properties and has even been found to just as effect in suppressing a cough as over-the-counter medication. However, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer has recently done a special investigation into the world of honey production and importation and has found that honey, at the least the stuff produced on a large scale, has a seedy underbelly.
Here's some of what the Seattle P-I has found in their honey investigation:
It's impossible to tell via laboratory testing where honey comes from, and so while much of the honey on store shelves is labeled, that information is unverifiable and thus suspect.
First things first: no, the title is not an exaggeration, unless you're a literalist, as the book's full title is 400 Sauces: Dips, Dressings, Salsas, Jams, Jellies & Pickles., but, second things second, I didn't actually count them. Third things third: beyond the recipes for sauces et cetera, this book offers great primer teaching on this fundamental of cooking, courtesy of authors Catherine Atkinson, Christine France and Maggie Mayhew.
400 Sauces is a a British publication (Hermes House) so some yankee readers will have to adjust to a terminology in which a rocket is not a spaceship but a leaf (arugula, if you didn't know) and measurements are given in metrics as well as ounces. There are some distinctly British offerings that may disorient stateside users: where, outside of a hunting lodge, have you last encountered Cumberland sauce (pages 66, 343); where (perhaps The Inn at Little Washington?) would you find not just a recipe for watercress cream (page 58) but the correct dishes with which to serve it (salmon or sea trout, if you're wondering). Begin by mastering sauce basics (ingredients, measures, prep) and continue by mastering basic sauces (beurre blanc, veloute, bechamel, et cetera). The book moves on to great sections on chutneys, salsas, pickles and relishes, dessert sauces, salad dressings, jams and jellies, marinades and dozens of additional sauces, condiments and virtually every other thing you can serve alongside, atop, or surrounding another food.
Scanned from Time to Entertain by Charlotte Turgeon (1954)
Fifty-four years after this printing, I'm hard-pressed to argue with Ms Turgeon on the import of having a few staple schmancy things tucked around the house, should mid-week meal boredom encroach or a party break out. Can't say I'm especially aligned with her specifics, but that could easily be a function of the 5+ decade divide.
I pride myself on being able to entertain at a moment's notice, due to the presence of these just-slightly-left of my central (olive oil, stock, Parmesan, fish sauce, double-black soy, tomato paste, rice/red wine/balsamic vinegars, fresh herbs) everyday ingredients.
We can change the way we make eggs -- scrambled, poached, fried -- but what about changing the eggs themselves? Mix up your scrambling routine with quail eggs.