Here's one food that may or may not get your seal of approval.
Seals -- the same lovable, clapping sea creatures that are a favorite zoo attraction and poster child for animal activism -- are being served for dinner by our neighbors to the north.
The New York Times reports a small number of fine dining institutions in Canada are incorporating seal meat into their menus.
Combine the unusual nature of the meat (the taste has been described anywhere from gamey to beefy to fishy) with the fact that the European Union recently banned imports of Canadian seal products, and suddenly the seal-serving restaurants have become both a target for hate mail and unforeseen hungry tourists.
NYU chemistry professor Kent Kirshenbaum. Photo: Jeff Potter
Like many inquisitive scientists, Kent Kirshenbaum regularly scans the ingredient list of prepared foods to uncover the chemical composites lurking within. The substance that most recently piqued the New York University chemistry professor's curiosity is liquid smoke. "My immediate thought was that it was a horrible mix of chemicals," he told us.
After distilling the concentrated smoke and liquid mix (often sold at the grocery store by the bottle to enhance barbecue) down to its roots of water and more than 400 chemical compounds, the scientist (who in person comes across as one part Einstein, one part Malcolm Gladwell) learned that liquid smoke is actually "safer [for human ingestion] than untreated wood smoke."
Kirshenbaum discussed his discovery last week during a monthly gathering of the Experimental Cuisine Collective -- food nerds who love to make things like edible foam. We caught up with him to chat smoke, bongs and homemade liquid smoke. What is liquid smoke? Liquid smoke is very simply smoke in water. Smoke usually comes as a vapor, but there are ways to condense it and turn it into liquid and that liquid can then be carried in water.
As promised, we're beginning our recap of the Big Apple Barbecue Block Party this past weekend, featuring 15 of the best pitmasters from around the USA. After you take a dip in the barbecue sauce fountain, courtesy of Mike Mills and Amy Mills of 17th Street Bar & Grill, click on the post to see our photos. "Peace, Love & Barbecue," everyone!
Meat. It's what's for ... wearing? If you've got a ton of salami and bacon, some clear vinyl and about six hours to kill, then yes. The lovely ladies of Craftzine stumbled across this creation, crafted by one Jia Jem for her "Aqua Teen Hunger Force"-themed birthday party (she dressed up as Meatwad, the show's cartoon meatball). While the dress proved to be a hit with just about everyone but vegetarians, it was a one-wear affair, and no, she didn't eat it after she wore it.
Raw meat apparel isn't exactly new: The Canadian artist Jana Sterbak once made a gown using 50 pounds of raw flank steak, and the folks behind Hats of Meat have been crafting their eponymous chapeaus for a few years now. But this meat dress appears to be the most wearable, if only because it has a zipper and vinyl strips around the hem to catch all of the drippings (oh, the glamour).
Regardless of whether or not you yourself are tempted to don, say, prosciutto pants, this dress is bound to inspire some strong reactions. What do you think: Is the meat dress an inspired creation? A greasy abomination? Or the perfect answer to the perpetual conundrum of what to wear?
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
Over the last few years, Korean barbecue has gained fresh relevance in the United States. Whether served on hot dog buns in Manhattan, tortillas in Los Angeles or rice in Korean restaurants around the country, the sweet, oniony flavors of bulgoki, japchae and galbi are incredibly delicious and increasingly popular.
When I was a kid, bulgoki (also spelled bulgogi, pulgoki, pulgogi and any number of other ways) was a staple in my house. My parents, who lived in Korea before I was born, loved the stuff and would cook it on an electric griddle at our dinner table. As my sisters and I got older, we got involved in the fun; some of my first cooking experiences involved flipping bulgoki with a pair of bamboo tongs.
I've played with amounts and ingredients, but my mother's basic bulgoki recipe is fantastic. In fact, my only major change is in the dipping sauce: while my parents used light soy sauce with a sprinkle of pepper, I prefer a more traditional garlic/vinegar sauce, which I've included below. Get the recipe for bulgoki after the jump.
Is lamb replacing bacon as the go-to fetish object for meat lovers? Recipes for the succulent spring meat have recently popped up on Seriously Good, Bitten and Market Manila, but lamb is also making an appearance on the competitive cook-off circuit.
This weekend, lamb was the star of New York City's Taste of Tribeca food festival, featured in an "Iron Chef"-style showdown between two well-known toques, "Top Chef" Season Five alum Leah Cohen (remembered not just for her cooking skills, but also for her scandalous make-out session with winner Hosea Rosenberg) and Austrian wunderkind Kurt Gutenbrunner of New Yorks Wallsé. Read more about the heated competition after the jump.
Pay no heed to those who thoughtlessly proclaim bacon-inflected desserts "so over," or "so December 2008."
Pictured is one of the reasons why. This delicacy, known as Pig Candy, is the genius of one Rhonda Kave of Roni-Sue's Chocolates. What Kave has done is create a union as holy as that of peanut butter and chocolate or vodka and tonic: fried bacon, dipped in chocolate. And that's it.
It's a marriage that is astoundingly pure yet diabolically addictive and, thanks to the beauty of online retail, has inspired slavish devotion far beyond the Roni-Sue headquarters on New York City's Lower East Side. This photo hints at the promise and madness contained in each salty-sweet nugget. While the shutterbug's ability to restrain herself long enough to take the pic is admirable, the subject likely met its demise shortly after being immortalized for the enjoyment of drooling procrastinators everywhere.
One of the simplest French dishes is also among the most surefire crowd-pleasers -- the croque monsieur. At a holiday dinner last year a room erupted into moans of pleasure when these were served. All for a ham and cheese sandwich!
The name of this crisp and creamy treat derives from the French verb "croquer," which means "to crunch," and the word "monsieur," for "mister." Together they make "Mr. Crunch," which doesn't sound nearly as appetizing as en Francais, in which seems an elegant name worthy of its flavor and Proustian roots. (The meal first popped up in literature in Marcel Proust's "In Search of Lost Time.")
In the 1970s the handy little ovens we now use to reheat leftovers and frozen dinners experienced a brief golden age, with folks employing them for cooking everything from turkeys to cheesecake. This recipe dates from the glorious reign of microwaves.
Like many of Aunt Evie's recipes, her microwaved sweet-and-sour chicken is easy, convenient and surprisingly flavorful. However, it relies on hard-to-find, annoyingly coarse-textured pickling spice and employs an unnecessary amount of margarine. For the modern incarnation we selected only certain pickling spices and ground them up, resulting in a far more evenly flavored and pleasantly textured dish.
This was an interesting experiment with the tiny oven: Microwaving, which essentially cooks meat from the inside out, didn't really yield chicken that has fully absorbed its sauce (or its savory flavor). Consequently, this recipe yields meat that is tender but bland. With that in mind, stove-top directions are at the end of the recipe. Regardless of which cooking method you use, this is a fun, easy and surprisingly tasty dish. Go, Aunt Evie!
Fresh pasta: Every time we see it, it stops us short. Maybe it's the familiar sight of noodles after a long haul of a day. Maybe it's the swirl of tomatoes and poppy fresh fava beans, or the thought of irresistibly salty chopped sausage. Regardless, something about this Smitten Kitchen photo made us pause, mid-Web-surf, and for good reason: A quick investigation reveals that the smitten couple is actually moving and this is the last meal in their beloved old 80-square-foot kitchen. So click on over, bid them adieu as they settle into their new digs, or just sort of hang out and ponder the beauty of fresh pasta and tomatoes for a while. We won't judge.
Eating pork buns (cha siu baau) is an excellent way to get a taste of New York's Chinatown. These warm buns -- either steamed or baked -- are full of savory barbecue meats, sometimes with scallions.
Last weekend, a friend and I decided we would eat our way through Chinatown by trying pork buns at various bakeries. And, what started out as a "pork bun journey" turned into an exploration of both savory and sweet buns, ranging from pork to red bean.
Fay Da Bakery, at 83 Mott St., has a variety of buns that you can select yourself with tongs when you enter the shop. While being underwhelmed by their pork buns, we were blown away with their sweet topping red-bean bun. The outside of the red-bean bun is coated in a flaky layer of sugar that balances marvelously with the doughy bun and the creamy red-bean paste.
Head directly to the Golden Fung Wong Bakery, at 41 Mott St., to try some of the best pork buns in Manhattan's Chinatown. Chunks of pork are flavored with a delicious mix of soy and oyster sauce. This bakery also sells an assortment of rice cakes and melon cakes that are worth trying.
For those who love feeling April fresh and ever so slightly like hassenpfeffer, Archie McPhee debuts their savory new suite of Gravy Bath Salts.
"The only lump in this gravy is you! Rip open the package of Gravy Bath Salts and stir in the seasoning and it will turn your bath into a warm, thick, savory smelling pool of gravy and soap. You've never been this clean or felt this much like mashed potatoes."
After your soak, towel (or ladle) off, and grab a loved one for a rousing round of Hot Dog Hideaway. Oh, we're such fools for your meat-based antics, Archie. And yours, too, purveyors of Bacon Lube.
WC Fields once said "I love children ... if they're cooked properly." As a dedicated meat eater, I tend to have similar feelings about vegans.
While some of my best friends deny themselves the joy of animal products, I simply can't imagine completely divorcing myself from cheese, honey, milk and all the wonderful foods that come from animals. On some level, the idea of approaching life from a tofu haze seems almost suicidally self-abnegating.
In fact, while I have occasionally practiced vegetarianism, I am, at heart, a true carnivore. For health reasons, I try to limit my consumption, but I believe, both philosophically and sensually, that meat is an important part of my diet, if not everyone else's.
But which meat is the best? For health reasons, I'd probably go with chicken or turkey, but if it came to richness, my answer might be duck or veal. In terms of flavor, the answer could be lamb or beef, but for extravagance, it's hard to top a nice big buffalo filet mignon. Then again, in the summer, nothing beats a good grilled swordfish steak ... except for maybe a piece of lightly seared tuna.
The day of all things green was upon us this week, so in celebration of St. Patrick's Day, I wanted to give you some Corned Beef Brisket foodie flick goodness, courtesy of Pioneer Living.
Corned beef is a brisket or similar cut of beef cured or pickled in brine before it is cooked. The "corn" title comes from the corn-sized salt that is used to cure it.
Unfortunately, there is no instant satisfaction for this recipe. The long, 3-week curing process means you might want to tackle it next year. But there is just enough time to whip this up for Easter, or any time you're jonesing for beef prepared in a different way. The recipe requires minimum effort on your part, and even better, as Sarah points out, two briskets mean you can cure one for corn beef and one for pastrami (if you have the means to smoke it) at the same time.
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.
Second Helping of Slashfood - June 19
Competitive-Eating Contest to Pit Humans Against Elephants
The Backyard Boom - The Hungry Bride
