Make it in the Pan Pie Crust

Pie crusts can be so intimidating.  Lard, shortening, butter which fat is best?  There are tomes of books written on the subject.  Then there is the mess of rolling it out and getting it in the pan.  I have to admit, one of my proudest moments in culinary school was turning out a truly flaky pie crust which should ideally be done with every pie that comes out of your kitchen.  In the real world, sometimes I want a shortcut that does not shortcut on flavor.  Store bought is NOT an option.  Especially when homemade is this easy.

  • 1 1/2 c. flour
  • 1 tbsp. sugar
  • 1 tsp. salt
  • 1/2 c. oil
  • 2 tbsp. milk

Mix dry ingredients in bottom of 9 inch pie pan.  Make a well in the center and add milk and oil.  Use a fork to mix and spread pie crust into bottom of tin and up the sides.  Bake in 375 degree oven for 12-15 minutes until golden brown if recipe calls for baked pie crust.

That flaky culinary school pie?  The secrets were BIG chunks of COLD butter.  When you rolled out the crust, you could literally see the chunks, which create pockets of steamy butter and flakes in the crust.  Wet fillings, like berry pies, tend to turn flaky crusts into a soggy mess.  The oil crust is actually ideal for this kind of pie and gives a tender, crispy, crumbly crust.

He’s Back! David Bull Returns to the Austin Dining Scene

One of my biggest culinary crushes is David Bull.  James Beard Best Chef Southwest nominee, Food and Wine Best New Chef, Iron Chef competitor, and a genuinely nice guy, former Driskill executive chef David Bull will be returning to Austin in Fall 2010 with a trio of restaurants at the Austonian on 2nd and Congress.  Congress will be the name of the formal dining room, 2nd will be a more casual bistro, and Bar Congress will round things out with the cocktail crowd. 

Chef Bull recently conducted a vegetarian cooking class at Central Market.  Do not worry, he has not gone vegetarian on us.  Just showing off his creativity in a healthy way. 

Black garlic is a hot ticket item right now.  It becomes black through a fermentation process and the flavor mellows and becomes sweet.  You can find it at gourmet and Asian markets.

Black Garlic Miso Dressing 

  • 1/2 cup black garlic, peeled and finely chopped
  • 1/2 cup yellow miso paste
  • 2 teaspoons green onion, chopped
  • 2 teaspoons ginger
  • 1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon soy sauce
  • 2 teaspoons sesame oil
  • 1/2 cup water

Place all ingredients into a high speed blender and puree until smooth.  Store covered in refrigerator until ready for use. 

First course was a lovely little bite of avocado mousse with sunflower sprouts, jicama, jalapeno, and grapefruit.

Second was white gazpacho with red grapes, soy milk, and toasted almonds. White gazpacho is the lesser known cousin to the red version both of which are served cold and an excellent summer soup. Those are red grapes in the soup but chef Bull serves them peeled. Glad I was not working the kitchen during this class!

 

The next dish brought a surprising combination in tomato and watermelon tartatare. Before you scrunch up your nose, imagine how similar the texture is between the two. The sweetness of a garden fresh heirloom tomato is enhanced by the juicy watermelon. Speaking of gazpachos, the two would make a wonderful red version as well.

 

A bumper crop of Texas peaches this year inspired this watercress salad with Texas peaches on buttered brioche.

Daikon "noodles" with green beans and coriander were good but the dressing, Black Garlic Miso, was a flavor bomb of deliciousness.

Gnocchi with oven roasted tomatoes and black olive oil brought a delicious conclusion to the all veggie feast.

 

To Cook Well

Here is the essay I recently entered at  http://bourdainmediumraw.com  If you like it, please take a minute to vote for me.  Thanks!

     UPDATE!  I am hoping this link works to take you straight to my essay.       http://bourdainmediumraw.com/essays/view/1031       

   To Cook Well

   To cook well is to know the “blub, blub, blub” sound coming from the pot means the polenta is almost done.  It is to know by a whiff of still raw bacon that you have four minutes to go versus the slightly acrid smell that comes from pork gone one minute too long. It is the slapping sound of the bread dough coming from the stand mixer that tells you the gluten is ready.  It is the sense of karmic timing that allows you to go deeper and darker into that caramel color and then stop all cooking with a cool liquid only a split second before brown turns to burned.  It is the shake of a fry pan that tells you there is a proper sear.  It is the ability to reach into your mental rolodex of flavors and pull tarragon out as the right one to finish a sauce.  Now try doing all of that while in a  complex ballet done with three tatted up foul mouthed alcoholics, two cousins from Guatemala that have more kitchen experience than the manager but speak little English, and the green kid from culinary school who is still learning the steps in a space roughly equivalent to a walk in closet.

To cook well is a mandate that some feel in their soul.  Anyone can flip a burger.  But to flip a burger with pride, to want to serve the best damn burger not just to one customer but to everyone that comes through your establishment turns the cook into a chef, the restaurant worker into an artist.  It gives you the fortitude to soldier on through your third double shift, to work through the holidays of normals, to survive a night of too much tequila after an especially busy Tuesday left you pumped up with adrenalin making sleep all but impossible.

Cooking well demands that you supreme the orange, not just cut it into pithy slices.  Drives you to carefully sort through a pallet of lettuce for only the freshest bits.  Compels you to spend your rare days off looking for inspiration in farmers’ markets and competitors menus.  It is the animated expression that comes across your face as you talk about your latest version of sweetbread stuffed tortellini.

To cook well is a madness that takes hold of your soul.  Madness that turns scarred flesh into badges of honor.  Madness that turns transitory nourishment into memories of relatives long gone.  A madness that inspires dreams of a delicious future.

5 minute Chocolate Pudding

  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 1/4 cup cornstarch
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 2 3/4 cups milk
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 2 ounces 70% chocolate

In a saucepan, stir together sugar, cocoa, cornstarch and salt. Place over medium heat, and stir in milk. Bring to a boil, and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a metal spoon. Remove from heat, and stir in butter, chocolate and vanilla. Let cool briefly, and serve warm, or chill in refrigerator until serving.

This recipe is so much easier and better than pudding from a box.  I like the depth of flavor that the brown sugar gives as well as the addition of dark chocolate at the end which also serves to thicken the pudding.  Pour it into a baked pie crust for a delicious chocolate pie.

Textile Closing

Scott Tycer opened his first restaurant Aries in Houston in November 2000 with much acclaim including “Best New American Chefs 2003″ by Food and Wine Magazine.  His latest restaurant Textile was a brave experiment but the decline in the economy combined with the size and location of the restaurant proved insurmountable as Textile closed it doors on June 26, 2010.  I was proud to be part of the last Chef’s Table to document the event.

Textile was in a former textile mill in a neighborhood full of older houses and the occasional industrial warehouse in north Houston well off the beaten path.  With a maximum of 11 tables and 30 guests, reservations were all but impossible to get when the restaurant first opened in 2008.  I met Lindsey, one of the chefs at Textile, through the Le Cordon Bleu alumni association.  She invited me to visit the restaurant if I was ever in Houston.  A few weeks later when the opportunity for a road trip came, I called and made arrangements to dine on a Saturday evening.    She mentioned she might invite a friend of hers if he was available.  I was a little surprised but pleasantly so when we actually became a table of six including Lindsey’s husband.  There is nothing like good food and wine to inspire new friendships.  

We were warned the air conditioning was on the fritz and the chefs table in the kitchen might be a little warm.  Several of the guests were also chefs and all agreed that the kitchen was the best spot to be.  The wine began to flow as the table became acquainted.  Lindsey worked diligently to entertain us as well as serve a full dining room.

The amuse bouche was a tasty little shot of crawfish chowder.  The smooth puree was ripe with cajun spice and reminded me of an etouffee sauce.

The salad course brought an heirloom tomato with a whisper thin slice of crisped

baguette and fried basil.  Dressed with olive oil and a splash of balsamic vinegar, the plate was light, clean, and refreshing.

Next came another soup of corn puree and onion stock with a mini grilled cheese and tomato sponge.  The soup sung summer praise to fresh sweet corn.  The mini grilled cheese served as a delicious crouton but I was intrigued with the tomato sponge.  The round bread was used as a sponge to soak up a fresh tomato sauce.  No, it did not taste like soggy bread, more like a savory version of a cake soaked in syrup to moisten.

When I called to confirm reservations with Lindsey the week before, she had excitedly told me about the pasta dish she was working on.  Spinach pasta with a sweetbread filling turned into tortellini, topped with dehydrated carrots, and served with a spoon of the onion broth.  When she brought her proud new creation to the table with tears in her eyes she gave us the sad news of Textiles closing.  Restaurants, it seems are almost as perishable as fresh produce.  It is so sad to see the dedicated staff proudly working their last service here.  Some will move to Gravitas, Textiles sister restaurant and eventually on to Tycer’s new gastropub which is in the works.  I even heard a rumor that some may be coming to Austin to work at the Austonian with David Bull.  The sweetbread tortellini were just as delicious as they sound, the rich filling wrapped in a feather light pasta.  They tasted even richer as we realized that we were the last that would have them in that space.

Next course brought seared ahi with 3 kinds of caviar and a salad with haricot vert and ribbons of fruit.  The ribbons were a cross between a gelee and a fruit leather, not too sweet and an interesting addition to the side.  The ahi was perfectly seared and the fish eggs brought a pop of flavor as well as a beautiful garnish.

One more savory course of pork served with an apple puree and onion straws.  The pork was moist and flavorful but quite honestly the details as well as the photography are getting a little fuzzy as the free flowing wine began to catch up to me.  I wish I had the fortitude to soldier on with the staff to a final night out but the wine along with the finale of 4 dessert bites put the velvet hammer on me that sent me to bed soon after.

Plinio Sandalio is the creative genius behind the desserts at Textile.  Because pastry is my background, I was excited to get a taste of his work.  Perhaps because it was closing night, the desserts were more mainstream than the corndog dessert with mustard ice cream I had heard about but perhaps if he comes to Austin with David Bull to the Austonian as rumored, we will get to try his more playful side.  First bite was a donut hole with a spoon of fresh berry jam, next a crisped square of pound cake with a refreshingly tart grapefruit campari granita, then a smoked chocolate brownie with spicy peanuts and decadent bacon ice cream, finally a truffle and in house made marshmallow.  A fabulous end to a one of  kind meal.  

Beer Dinner at Parkside 7/18

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