An Opportunity! ...As if.

Pete Wells is stepping down as the NYT Food Critic. This pleases and intrigues me, because that's a job *I* want. The relocation, I can handle. The requirements, I blow away. The expertise, I blow out of the water. The physical strain, I have no worry over. A lifetime of athletics and a thorough understanding of culinary nutrition and exercise science have left me more than prepared for fending off high blood pressure, diabetes, and gout.

Now, given the very predictable results I've seen when I put in for similar positions (Washington Post, Eater, etc), I'm not likely to get the call. But whoever they pick is almost inevitably going to crash and burn. It's all I've seen from every single not-me choice so far throughout the last several years, and I expect that to continue.

A dish I've been considering lately

No reason in particular. Certainly not a critically acclaimed expansion to Fantasy Meso/South America or anything.

'Cochinita Pibil'. It's delicious. One of a great many variations around the world of what one might call 'pulled pork' (and probably get smacked for calling it that, but it gets the gist across). It's not necessarily hard to make , but it definitely can be a bit tricky to get all of the commonly accepted essential components.

First and foremost, it's a pork dish. A slow-roasted pork dish, which means temperature control is more important than other slow cook methods like braising. Usually/traditionally it involves a whole or half pig, though for the home cooks, a sizable chunk of shoulder or butt will do nicely. If there's a fatcap or a slab of skin? Leave them on. Maybe score the fatcap with a nice crisscross to ensure faster and more even rendering, but you don't really need to play with it.

Next, the marinade. It's extremely vigorously acidic, so it shouldn't be done for too long before you get it cooking. The traditional method is heavy on the juice of the Bitter Orange / Marmalade Orange. I didn't have a lot of those, so I fine tuned with Cara Cara orange juice and Calamansi lime, both of which I happened to have on hand.

Other universal components are garlic (shocking, I know) and Achiote. The latter is a seed (looks rather like Fenugreek, actually), and when toasted/ground, provides a mild flavor and massive burst of color, somewhat akin to a red version of what you might get out of Turmeric. However much you're using is probably not enough.

One last necessary is the banana leaf. They become the vessel in which the marinated pork and other miscellany are wrapped to ensure the slow-roasting process doesn't dry it out. (I'm reminded of Beggar's Chicken there) You can usually find these frozen at Latin or Asian markets. They're pretty cheap and keep for ages.

The rest is other aromatics. You'll see varying quantities of things like Oregano, Allspice, Cinnamon (the real stuff), Peppercorns, and Bay Leaves. You'll also see additional water-heavy aromatics like onion, fresh chiles, and tomato for extra liquid generation (hedging one's bet- no way to tinker once this goes in the oven) and flavor development. I added smoked paprika to my marinade for additional color and smokiness since I didn't have access to the traditional cooking method.

My recent effort didn't use all of those spices I just listed in the marinade (a mistake, in retrospect). My concerns that the flavors would be too potent and throw off the balance of the finished dish led me to apply some of them in the preparation of the accompaniments instead. 

Most commonly this is served with a violently spicy salsa as well as pickled onion (wherein I used cinnamon, bay leaf, and smoked peppercorn to enhance my pickling liquid and apply those flavors from a different direction). I should have spiced up both. So don't be afraid to go hard.

Now, the cooking itself is interesting. The 'pibil' in the name denotes the usage of a pib, a sort of underground oven. Imagine doing this like you might a clambake, or on a campfire, covered and with coals. Since most of that's a little rough to manage in a home kitchen, I simply used the oven, and in case my banana leaves cracked open, I put everything in a lidded cast-iron pot. Wrap the pork package as airtight as you can in those banana leaves, then set it in the pot, clap the lid on, and away you go.

I mentioned temperature control. I meant it. When I say slow-roasted I mean s l o w. We're talking the 250-275F for four or five hours kind of slow. You've got to give it time for the collagen to convert to gelatin, and the tissues to break down / soften. Without the added liquid from, say, a braise, it can take longer and it's much easier to accidentally end up with a dried-out, sad result.

But that's the lot of it, really. Once it's tender, just shred it and make tacos. Meat, spicy salsa, aromatic pickled onions, maybe some cilantro. Can't beat it.

Ow!

Bit of an accident. Busted up my ribs. Spent the last couple weeks trying not to cough, sneeze, laugh, etc.

Catering gig went off without a hitch at least. Or as much as can be expected for a toddler's birthday outdoors on a 90 degree day. I hardly needed to light the chafing dishes!

New things, new gigs... and school's out!

 What a month.

New job- not a restaurant, at least not yet. I reloaded my first aid certs and got picked up as a lifeguard at the city pool, so that's a good bit of usefulness (and I didn't have to pay for the certifications, so double bonus). More work to come, I'm sure, but for now that stops the bleeding of my savings.

Catering has gone quite well too. After the last big one (which was apparently an offsite meetup for a bunch of Vtubers in the area for a convention) I'm hip deep in preparing for another big event in a couple of weeks. Summertime can mean a lot of outdoor events (Lots of summer birthday parties too! Hard to celebrate on a school night.), and not everyone wants to run a grill all afternoon or make the common backyard barbecue sides. A knack for the classics can potentially carry one quite a ways as long as they taste sufficiently better than the ones at the supermarket.

Short update- been busy!

Short version: Multiple interviews over the last week or so, things look good. I may have found a suitable position offered by staff that actually recognize what makes a perfect candidate. Shock!

Also booked a catering job near the end of the month, so that's been rather occupying as well. I realized that I hadn't updated my catering menu offerings (Or prices! Yikes!) since before the plague, so that's taken a fair bit of research and effort as well. I may do a writeup on that this week if I can squeeze it in.

Munchies: ViceTV Gives Retrospective Food-For-Thought

 

I've said this before- when you open a cookbook, you can gain an impression of the time, place, and circumstance from whence it came. Be it the photography (or lack thereof), the writing voice of the author, the people and establishments referenced, or any number of other things, almost any cookbook that's not actively trying to be a reference text (and most that are) can be dated to some greater or lesser degree. 

This is "Munchies:  Late-Night Meals From the World's Best Chefs". Sounds awesome, no? Now, this concept was a unexpectedly slow burn. Riffing on the rise of an open, honest, appreciative approach to food in entertainment media over the course of the mid-2000s, eventually VICE started leaning in with 'Chef's Night Out', a raucous mess following chefs and foodservice professionals of all sorts as they stumble through their after-work whatevers.  

It's full of the usual mix- people you might have heard of, people you'd rather never hear of again, rising stars, jaded pros, they're all here. But boy, does this incarnation read like they shanked it. Most of the stories and recipes in here are quite disjointed, as befits an attempt to turn a watched experience into a read one. They want to be interesting but often aren't articulated in ways that do them any favors. A fair number of the recipes are a long way from home kitchen friendly, and some of them seemed a rather far cry from delicious to boot. (Look. I'm not a serious cheese guy. But breading and deep-frying chunks of Camembert and drizzling them with maple syrup? I weep for that wasted syrup.)

But what Munchies does do, and rather well, is evoke a quite poignant and painful memory of a very specific period in the culinary industry's modern era- what it felt like to be a chef as the public was being made aware of / wrapping its head around the notion that working a blue-collar job might actually be okay. That it might not have to carry the social stigma that comes with long hours and inadequate pay. That maybe those things might even improve. An era of, if not comfort, at least confidence that the world might be willing to understand that the people who hold society up are the ones worth understanding and celebrating. A genuine time in food media where the concepts and attitudes that could have changed the world's perceptions of the industry essentially hit a concrete wall and vanished from the public eye what felt like overnight. 

Everything spoken of with such joy, such exuberance, is just... gone. That world has ended. Much of it died in 2016, not long before this book actually came out. It probably felt like an obituary on the New Releases shelf. What remained of the feeling this book fought for was dealt a crushing blow in 2018 with the death of Anthony Bourdain, and the plague cut down what felt like the last of it.

People are trying, here and there, but there really just isn't much to smile about in the world of food these days. Munchies tried to make it feel current with classic undertones, and frankly if the world weren't such a disaster it would be. As is though, it feels like a memorial to what could have been. A loss, and perhaps the end.

"Butter Pecan: Best Cookies in the Bay" - ? Let's See.

 

Any time I see an establishment "Best XYZ in (region)", I'm rightly skeptical. 

I've lived in Philly, and saw that claim argued between plenty of cheesesteak places- they've all got similar signs on their windows staking that claim, and will defend that honor with a brash and uncompromising fervor that does Gritty proud.

I've lived in New England, where chowdah, clam cakes, and fried calamari are the subjects of debate heated enough to make people forget about the reliably miserable winters.

I grew up in Jersey. I've literally seen (and been thrown into) fistfights over pizza opinions. And don't even ask me what my favorite diner is.

So yeah. I see 'the best' and my first reaction is to call BS.

Enter 'Butter Pecan'. I first saw this place driving home one day and had a few immediate thoughts: They're probably going to be expensive, fairly simple, and might have some sort of gimmick. But, if they can keep a storefront open on cookies alone, they've got to be pretty good. Or they do corporate catering. Or both.

So I went to find out more. The Hollis Street branch was empty at 2:30 on a Wednesday. Not necessarily a surprise, and a point that made me think they do a lot of catering. 

(Relatedly, most desserts are easy money when it comes to that. All sorts of handheld individual desserts are no trouble to batch, and many also freeze well in various states of readiness, so day to day it can be as easy as chiller, sheet tray, oven, box, done.)

I looked at the pricing and was immediately vindicated in my price worry. 3.75 a pop. Twenty-one dollars gets you six, and thirty-six dollars gets you a dozen. That sort of price point leads quite readily to catering being the backbone of the operation. Being sans a day job at the moment (though open for catering, consulting, and all manner of things), I went with the 6-pack to stay within reason (that's more than my entire weekly budget for food). They have ten varieties as their baseline offerings, and a couple more that change month to month. Some are classic combinations like 'Dark Chocolate Sea Salt', and most others are cookie incarnations of other desserts, like 'Strawberries and Cream' and 'Banana Pudding'.

Now I'll be the first to admit it- I do not like nuts or nut pieces in cookies. Or in my desserts at all, really. Ground up for almond or hazelnut 'flour'? Sure. Marzipan? Love it. But if you put peanuts in my peanut butter cookies, expect me to be a little grouchy.

But the place's name is Butter Pecan, so for integrity, and for science, I went for it anyway. Got one of those, plus two of the Dark Chocolate Sea Salt, a Birthday Cake, a Cookies and Cream, and an Oatmeal Raisin Pecan.

The cookies themselves are fairly large, between 90 and 110 grams each. Yes, I weighed them when I got home. I take my job seriously, thank you. Then I split most of them in half to share with my beau, and got to nibbling.

I'm not going to get into too much detail about the flavors, but they all do the things they say they'll do, and do them quite well. Their baking technique appears solid, they're all slightly underbaked to maximize gooiness, and while their butter tastes quite high quality (and quantity!), they don't brown the butter first except when it's listed (one of their staples is Brown Butter Pecan).

Butter Pecan says "Best cookies in the Bay", and after trying them, I can't immediately argue. They're pretty damn good cookies. Price-wise they're definitely the Five Dollar Shake of the cookie world so I'm not likely to make these regular purchases, but I'd readily and happily endorse it for people with the disposable income to go for it once in a while.

...Wait- crap! I can't even USE that reference any more, can I? A shake at any fast-casual chain is probably way more than five dollars now. Even a large at Jack In The Box is about that much. Oof!