Things My Son Mostly Refused To Eat Or Drink Tonight
1. A peanut butter sandwich
2. A banana
3. A hot dog
4. Whole wheat pasta
5. A sloppy joe (he refused to believe that it was food; he thought it was a TV show. He threw the TV remote at me after I refused to let him watch sloppy joe.)
6. A slice of leftover mushroom pizza
7. Milk
8. Fruit Punch
9. A chocolate chip cookie (Seriously! A chocolate chip cookie! He said that he couldn't eat it because "it has brown in it." What?)
10. Green beans (this did not surprise me; he always refuses green beans, but I still offer them)
What he asked me for for dinner:
1. "Fackers." If anybody knows what a "facker" is, besides what my kid was acting like tonight, please tell me. He also refuses to go to sleep. Oh, this kid. There are nights when I consider medicating him, and settle for medicating myself. With wine.
I haven't wrapped a tortilla around anything in awhile, which is unusual for me. When I went to San Diego for the first time, my freshman year of high school, before my mother and stepfather were married and while he was finishing out his last year as a high school, we ate a lot of what I think of as "San Diego Mexican" food: queso fundido with fried and crumbled chorizo, chips with lots of cilantro-laden salsa, huevos rancheros with truly great ranchero sauce, everything served with freshly-made tortillas.
San Diego is famous for fish tacos as well, not a delicacy I have much of an appreciation for. I do, however, acknowledge their popularity, both in California and out of it. I also acknowledge the zen beauty of simple, fresh, beautiful food, and the joy in preparing and serving it.
My husband, a solidly midwestern boy, loves fish tacos, and despite the fact that they make my house smell like fish, I love making them. Fish chunks are generally cheaper than filets or steaks, as they're generally the trimmed parts, but if you can't find them, you can cut them from bigger pieces. Pick a good, oily, strong-tasting fish, like swordfish, shark, salmon, or tuna.
California-Style Fish Chunks in a Dipped Tortilla
2 1/4 pounds fish in 1-inch chunks
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 jalapeno peppers, stemmed and minced
1/2 a medium Napa cabbage, thinly shredded
Olive oil
18 corn or 12 flour tortillas
Tomato salsa of your choice
Thinly sliced red onion
Farmers cheese or queso asidero, crumbled
In a large bowl, mix together the lemon juice, soy sauce, and chili peppers. Add the fish chunks and turn to coal all over. Set aside to marinade for 20 minutes to an hour.
Coat the bottom of a large frying pan with olive oil. Set over high heat until the oil begins to smoke. Add as many fish chunks as will fit in one uncrowded layer. Fry for 3 minutes, then turn andfry until flaky but still moist in the centers, 3 to 5 minutes more. Remove to a platter and keep warm. Continue cooking until all of the fish is cooked.
Add more oil to the pan. Add the cabbage and stir-fry until the cabbage is barely wilted, about 2 minutes.
Just before serving, dip the tortills in 1/2 cup of the salsa. Heat in a frying pan or the oven.
To assemble, spread about 1/3 cup of the fish chunks in the middle of a tortilla. Top with some cabbage, salsa, and cheese. Fold and serve.
Showing posts with label Regional Specialties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Regional Specialties. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
April 20: Chinese Glazed Spareribs
It is perfectly lovely to be back in the ample and disorganized bosom of my family after an equally-lovely weekend with The Cutest Little Pregnant Woman On Earth and her hilariously doting husband. I am endlessly amused by his obsessive need to register for every single baby first aid and safety thing on this earth, like every first-time father I've ever met. I didn't have the heart to tell him that we did the same thing, never used anything in those kits even once, and have now lost pretty much every single object in all of them, except the rubber bulb nose-sucker, which Max uses in the bathtub.
We ate some delicious food at the baby shower as well, including four kinds of cheese that The Cutest Little Pregnant Woman On Earth claims that none of her relatives have heard of, let alone tasted. She claimed that pre-cubed cheddar-jack cheese would have been more than sufficient; I claimed that I had a reputation to uphold and bought a bunch of stuff that I didn't think of as particularly exotic, like smoked gouda and roasted garlic cheddar. That cheddar, by the way, was so stinking delicious, I almost wish that T.C.L.P.W.O.E. had been serious about putting cheese in my suitcase. Not only did I broaden a bunch of Kentuckians' food horizons, I had mine broadened by T.C.L.P.W.O.E.'s mother-in-law, who makes this perfectly insane dessert called pave, pronounced pahv-AY, which is apparently graham crackers dipped in milk, some other stuff, and the key to everything: two cans of sweetened condensed milk, boiled for two hours--what I mean is, you boil the actual cans, with the milk still in them, and they turn into this incredibly rich, delicious caramel that would have been a fairly amazing ice cream topping, or drizzled over a poached pear or a baked apple...oh baby.
And now I am home, with my boys, who I've missed so much this weekend. Boy did it feel great to have Max jump into my arms in the airport, especially after sitting next to a girl who I am not certain wasn't completely strung out on drugs, whose panic attack started before we even pulled away from the gate and never really stopped until I flagged down a flight attendant, brought the puking, sobbing, hyperventilating girl to her attention, and offered to trade seats with, well, pretty much anybody on earth at that point, but her boyfriend specifically, who was a couple rows behind us, wearing a t-shirt that said "bang this" on the front of it, fast asleep, and totally unaware until that point that his poopsie was moments away from totally dissolving into acute hysteria. I'm sure that flying Southwest is fine for normal people, but as I am a certified freak-magnet, I don't think it was the best choice for me.
I am not a huge fan of Chinese food, especially restaurant Chinese food, as you probably have heard me say before. I love some of the better flavors in Asian food, though: Thai basil, lemongrass, ginger, soy, five spice, Szechuan peppercorns, Thai bird chiles.
One of the things that I think could be so good is those spareribs from Chinese restaurants. Talk about great potential--sticky, chewy, flavorful, sweet, spicy, moist, and tender. Really, though, way too often, they're just insipid.
Almost everything is better at home than it is in a restaurant. You've got control over what goes in; which changes the tenor of a dish from being, you know, whatever shows up at your table to something that's really yours.
I am really kind of looking forward to trying this, although, yet again, it's from Cook's Country. If I'm going to keep complaining about Cook's Country, I'm really going to have to stop liking their food so much.
Glazed Chinese Spareribs
2 racks pork ribs (2 1/2 to 3 1/2 pounds each), preferably St. Louis cut or baby back ribs
1 cup hoisin sauce
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup dry sherry
1 (6-inch) piece ginger , peeled and sliced into rounds
6 garlic cloves, smashed
strips of orange peel from 1 orange
1 1/2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
30 sprigs fresh cilantro leaves, stems chopped coarse (reserve leaves for glaze)
8 scallions , white parts cut into 1-inch pieces (reserve green parts for garnish)
Glaze
1 (10-ounce) jar hot red pepper jelly
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup minced fresh cilantro leaves
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Minced scallion greens greens
1. For the ribs: Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. With tip of paring knife, loosen membrane on underside of each rack of ribs. Grab membrane with paper towel and pull it off slowly in single piece. Combine remaining ingredients in large roasting pan. Add spareribs to pan, turning to coat both sides, and arrange meaty side down. Cover pan tightly with foil and cook until just tender, 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Transfer ribs to large plate.
2. For the glaze: Strain 3 cups cooking liquid from roasting pan into large nonstick skillet (do not wash roasting pan) and discard solids and remaining liquid. Using wide spoon, skim fat from liquid. Stir in jelly and vinegar. Bring to simmer over medium-high heat and cook until syrupy and reduced to 2 cups, 15 to 20 minutes. Off heat, stir in cilantro and cayenne.
3. Heat broiler (do not raise oven rack). Pour enough water into roasting pan to cover bottom and fit pan with flat roasting rack. Reserve 1/2 cup glaze for serving. Arrange ribs on rack meaty side down and brush with glaze. Place roasting pan back on middle rack in oven and broil until beginning to brown, 2 to 4 minutes. Flip ribs over, brush with more glaze, then broil, brushing ribs with glaze every 2 to 4 minutes, until ribs are deep mahogany color, 9 to 12 minutes (watch broiler carefully). Transfer ribs to cutting board, tent with foil, and let rest 10 minutes. Slice between bones, transfer ribs to platter, and brush with reserved glaze. Sprinkle with scallions.
Serve.
Make Ahead: The ribs and glaze can be prepared through step 2 up to 2 days in advance. Wrap the ribs tightly in foil and refrigerate. Transfer glaze to microwave-safe bowl, cover, and refrigerate. Before serving, allow ribs to stand at room temperature for 1 hour. Heat glaze in microwave on high power until warm, about 1 minute. Proceed with step 3 as directed.
We ate some delicious food at the baby shower as well, including four kinds of cheese that The Cutest Little Pregnant Woman On Earth claims that none of her relatives have heard of, let alone tasted. She claimed that pre-cubed cheddar-jack cheese would have been more than sufficient; I claimed that I had a reputation to uphold and bought a bunch of stuff that I didn't think of as particularly exotic, like smoked gouda and roasted garlic cheddar. That cheddar, by the way, was so stinking delicious, I almost wish that T.C.L.P.W.O.E. had been serious about putting cheese in my suitcase. Not only did I broaden a bunch of Kentuckians' food horizons, I had mine broadened by T.C.L.P.W.O.E.'s mother-in-law, who makes this perfectly insane dessert called pave, pronounced pahv-AY, which is apparently graham crackers dipped in milk, some other stuff, and the key to everything: two cans of sweetened condensed milk, boiled for two hours--what I mean is, you boil the actual cans, with the milk still in them, and they turn into this incredibly rich, delicious caramel that would have been a fairly amazing ice cream topping, or drizzled over a poached pear or a baked apple...oh baby.
And now I am home, with my boys, who I've missed so much this weekend. Boy did it feel great to have Max jump into my arms in the airport, especially after sitting next to a girl who I am not certain wasn't completely strung out on drugs, whose panic attack started before we even pulled away from the gate and never really stopped until I flagged down a flight attendant, brought the puking, sobbing, hyperventilating girl to her attention, and offered to trade seats with, well, pretty much anybody on earth at that point, but her boyfriend specifically, who was a couple rows behind us, wearing a t-shirt that said "bang this" on the front of it, fast asleep, and totally unaware until that point that his poopsie was moments away from totally dissolving into acute hysteria. I'm sure that flying Southwest is fine for normal people, but as I am a certified freak-magnet, I don't think it was the best choice for me.
I am not a huge fan of Chinese food, especially restaurant Chinese food, as you probably have heard me say before. I love some of the better flavors in Asian food, though: Thai basil, lemongrass, ginger, soy, five spice, Szechuan peppercorns, Thai bird chiles.
One of the things that I think could be so good is those spareribs from Chinese restaurants. Talk about great potential--sticky, chewy, flavorful, sweet, spicy, moist, and tender. Really, though, way too often, they're just insipid.
Almost everything is better at home than it is in a restaurant. You've got control over what goes in; which changes the tenor of a dish from being, you know, whatever shows up at your table to something that's really yours.
I am really kind of looking forward to trying this, although, yet again, it's from Cook's Country. If I'm going to keep complaining about Cook's Country, I'm really going to have to stop liking their food so much.
Glazed Chinese Spareribs
2 racks pork ribs (2 1/2 to 3 1/2 pounds each), preferably St. Louis cut or baby back ribs
1 cup hoisin sauce
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup dry sherry
1 (6-inch) piece ginger , peeled and sliced into rounds
6 garlic cloves, smashed
strips of orange peel from 1 orange
1 1/2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
30 sprigs fresh cilantro leaves, stems chopped coarse (reserve leaves for glaze)
8 scallions , white parts cut into 1-inch pieces (reserve green parts for garnish)
Glaze
1 (10-ounce) jar hot red pepper jelly
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup minced fresh cilantro leaves
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Minced scallion greens greens
1. For the ribs: Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. With tip of paring knife, loosen membrane on underside of each rack of ribs. Grab membrane with paper towel and pull it off slowly in single piece. Combine remaining ingredients in large roasting pan. Add spareribs to pan, turning to coat both sides, and arrange meaty side down. Cover pan tightly with foil and cook until just tender, 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Transfer ribs to large plate.
2. For the glaze: Strain 3 cups cooking liquid from roasting pan into large nonstick skillet (do not wash roasting pan) and discard solids and remaining liquid. Using wide spoon, skim fat from liquid. Stir in jelly and vinegar. Bring to simmer over medium-high heat and cook until syrupy and reduced to 2 cups, 15 to 20 minutes. Off heat, stir in cilantro and cayenne.
3. Heat broiler (do not raise oven rack). Pour enough water into roasting pan to cover bottom and fit pan with flat roasting rack. Reserve 1/2 cup glaze for serving. Arrange ribs on rack meaty side down and brush with glaze. Place roasting pan back on middle rack in oven and broil until beginning to brown, 2 to 4 minutes. Flip ribs over, brush with more glaze, then broil, brushing ribs with glaze every 2 to 4 minutes, until ribs are deep mahogany color, 9 to 12 minutes (watch broiler carefully). Transfer ribs to cutting board, tent with foil, and let rest 10 minutes. Slice between bones, transfer ribs to platter, and brush with reserved glaze. Sprinkle with scallions.
Serve.
Make Ahead: The ribs and glaze can be prepared through step 2 up to 2 days in advance. Wrap the ribs tightly in foil and refrigerate. Transfer glaze to microwave-safe bowl, cover, and refrigerate. Before serving, allow ribs to stand at room temperature for 1 hour. Heat glaze in microwave on high power until warm, about 1 minute. Proceed with step 3 as directed.
Friday, April 18, 2008
April 17: Kentucky Hot Brown
Here I am in Kentucky, where I went to college, with my best friend, who is the cutest little pregnant person I've ever seen in my life. She barely even looks pregnant, and after spending the day with her, I am totally jealous that she's gained a total of about six pounds in seven months, because I just watched her wolf down a bowl of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie ice cream with blackberries, as well as a bowl of lasagna at dinner and an order of onion rings at lunch.
I seriously love food here. We had Zaxby's for lunch, which, if you've never had it, has the best chicken fingers on earth. Kimberly and I have been looking forward to eating a whole bunch of fattening crap while I'm here, and today at Sam's Club we bought a chunk of smoked gouda that Kimberly argued with me bitterly about. She claims it's too much; I am not convinced that it is even enough. That is clearly the difference between her and me.
Kentucky has this sandwich. It's sort of a sandwich, I guess, it's more like a slice of bread with some stuff on it and what Kimberly and her husband describe as a "cheese gravy." That's pretty accurate. It's a local specialty, and I found the following recipe on the website for Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell. Kimberly agreed that this recipe was the accurate one, but insisted that I say bad things about Mitch McConnell. I seriously just had this conversation with her:
Molly: I don't know anything about him.
Kimberly: Well, everybody knows, Molly.
Molly: I don't.
Kimberly: Well, he's just...he's one of the leading...He's bad!
Mitch McConnell, you may be just bad, but your recipe looks delicious. You forgot the tomato slice on top, though; Kimberly claims that it's essential.
KENTUCKY HOT BROWN
1/2 Stick Butter
6 Tablespoon Flour
3 Cups Warm Milk
6 Tablespoon Grated Parmesan Cheese
1 Beaten Egg
1 oz Cream, Whipped, Optional
Salt and White Pepper, to taste
Slices of Roast Turkey
8 - 12 Slices Trimmed Toast
Extra Parmesan Cheese, for topping
8 - 12 Strips Fried Bacon
Melt the butter and add enough flour to make a reasonable thick roux, enough to absorb all of the butter. Add milk and Parmesan. Add egg to thicken sauce, but do not boil. Remove from heat. Fold in whipped cream. Add salt and pepper. For each Hot Brown. Place two slices toast on a metal or flame-proof dish. Cover the toast with a liberal amount of turkey. Pour a generous amount of sauce over the turkey and toast. Sprinkle with additional Parmesan. Place entire dish under a broiler until the sauce is speckled brown and bubbly. Remove from broiler, cross two pieces of bacon on top and serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6.
I seriously love food here. We had Zaxby's for lunch, which, if you've never had it, has the best chicken fingers on earth. Kimberly and I have been looking forward to eating a whole bunch of fattening crap while I'm here, and today at Sam's Club we bought a chunk of smoked gouda that Kimberly argued with me bitterly about. She claims it's too much; I am not convinced that it is even enough. That is clearly the difference between her and me.
Kentucky has this sandwich. It's sort of a sandwich, I guess, it's more like a slice of bread with some stuff on it and what Kimberly and her husband describe as a "cheese gravy." That's pretty accurate. It's a local specialty, and I found the following recipe on the website for Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell. Kimberly agreed that this recipe was the accurate one, but insisted that I say bad things about Mitch McConnell. I seriously just had this conversation with her:
Molly: I don't know anything about him.
Kimberly: Well, everybody knows, Molly.
Molly: I don't.
Kimberly: Well, he's just...he's one of the leading...He's bad!
Mitch McConnell, you may be just bad, but your recipe looks delicious. You forgot the tomato slice on top, though; Kimberly claims that it's essential.
KENTUCKY HOT BROWN
1/2 Stick Butter
6 Tablespoon Flour
3 Cups Warm Milk
6 Tablespoon Grated Parmesan Cheese
1 Beaten Egg
1 oz Cream, Whipped, Optional
Salt and White Pepper, to taste
Slices of Roast Turkey
8 - 12 Slices Trimmed Toast
Extra Parmesan Cheese, for topping
8 - 12 Strips Fried Bacon
Melt the butter and add enough flour to make a reasonable thick roux, enough to absorb all of the butter. Add milk and Parmesan. Add egg to thicken sauce, but do not boil. Remove from heat. Fold in whipped cream. Add salt and pepper. For each Hot Brown. Place two slices toast on a metal or flame-proof dish. Cover the toast with a liberal amount of turkey. Pour a generous amount of sauce over the turkey and toast. Sprinkle with additional Parmesan. Place entire dish under a broiler until the sauce is speckled brown and bubbly. Remove from broiler, cross two pieces of bacon on top and serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
April 8: The Homesick Texan's Nachos
I am feeling quite a bit better than I was last night, but still rather anxious. I did have a teensy panic attack on the way home at the intersection of East-West Highway and Belcrest Road, where we were sitting when we heard the gunshots, and I am sure that by tomorrow I will have gathered up the courage to ride the Metro to work. Or maybe Thursday. Whatever.
Stressful. Yeah, I'm stress-eating, I'll admit it. Tonight, it's barely even a recipe: it's the Homesick Texan's nachos. She is totally right about nachos, by the way: a nacho is an individually-dressed, thick, freshly-fried chip, with melted cheddar cheese and a slice of jalapeno pepper. The end. Meat, beans, olives, lettuce--everything else is gilding a lily. I happen to like my nachos with guacamole. I like my lily very slightly gilded, as it turns out.
If you never make your own chips again in your life, it is worth doing for this recipe. A great tortilla chip is thick and unctuous, a tiny bit chewy, toasty, with big crunch. It will never be equalled by anything that comes out of a big plastic bag with a name that ends in -itos. The notes at the end are The Homesick Texan's.
At any rate, Tex-Mex nachos are just the thing for the night after a Wild West shootout at the O.K. Corral.
Homesick Texan's Nachos
6 corn tortillas
1 1/2 cups of grated Longhorn cheddar cheese
24 pickled jalapeno slices
1/2 cup of refried beans (optional)
Peanut oil
Salt
1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
2. Cut the tortillas into quarters.
3. Pour enough oil in an iron skillet to come up 1/2 inch up the sides and heat to 375 degrees.
4. In batches, fry the quartered tortillas for 1 to 2 minutes on each side (until golden brown) and then remove. Drain on a paper towel and sprinkle lightly with salt.
5. Once chips have been made, spread each with 1 teaspoon of refried beans (if you so desire), 1 tablespoon of cheddar cheese and 1 pickled jalapeno.
6. Bake in oven for five minutes or until cheese is melted.
Serve with guacamole, sour cream and/or salsa. Makes 24 nachos.
Notes: You can also top these anything else you can imagine. But use restraint and taste—nachos should be elegant and refined, not an exercise in excess. Also, if you don't feel like making your own chips (though you should as they taste better) tortilla chips from a bag work, too.
Stressful. Yeah, I'm stress-eating, I'll admit it. Tonight, it's barely even a recipe: it's the Homesick Texan's nachos. She is totally right about nachos, by the way: a nacho is an individually-dressed, thick, freshly-fried chip, with melted cheddar cheese and a slice of jalapeno pepper. The end. Meat, beans, olives, lettuce--everything else is gilding a lily. I happen to like my nachos with guacamole. I like my lily very slightly gilded, as it turns out.
If you never make your own chips again in your life, it is worth doing for this recipe. A great tortilla chip is thick and unctuous, a tiny bit chewy, toasty, with big crunch. It will never be equalled by anything that comes out of a big plastic bag with a name that ends in -itos. The notes at the end are The Homesick Texan's.
At any rate, Tex-Mex nachos are just the thing for the night after a Wild West shootout at the O.K. Corral.
Homesick Texan's Nachos
6 corn tortillas
1 1/2 cups of grated Longhorn cheddar cheese
24 pickled jalapeno slices
1/2 cup of refried beans (optional)
Peanut oil
Salt
1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
2. Cut the tortillas into quarters.
3. Pour enough oil in an iron skillet to come up 1/2 inch up the sides and heat to 375 degrees.
4. In batches, fry the quartered tortillas for 1 to 2 minutes on each side (until golden brown) and then remove. Drain on a paper towel and sprinkle lightly with salt.
5. Once chips have been made, spread each with 1 teaspoon of refried beans (if you so desire), 1 tablespoon of cheddar cheese and 1 pickled jalapeno.
6. Bake in oven for five minutes or until cheese is melted.
Serve with guacamole, sour cream and/or salsa. Makes 24 nachos.
Notes: You can also top these anything else you can imagine. But use restraint and taste—nachos should be elegant and refined, not an exercise in excess. Also, if you don't feel like making your own chips (though you should as they taste better) tortilla chips from a bag work, too.
Friday, March 7, 2008
March 7: California Barbecued Tri-Tip
The tri-tip roast is sort of part steak, part roast, and it's not always easy to find, but it's worth it. It's a big, sort of U-shaped piece of meat from the sirloin, near the bottom of it. It's actually kind of delicious--lean, a little chewy, with great big flavor, and it's a relative bargain when it comes to beef.
Californians know the value of a tri-tip roast: it's a Santa Maria Valley specialty, barbecued tri-tip, sliced thin and served with barbecue beans and buttered French bread. I don't get out to California a great deal, and so I've only tasted tri-tip barbecue once, but yowza. Talk about big, well-rounded, balanced, classic flavors.
Cook's Illustrated has their Best Of America's Test Kitchen issue out right now, and there's a recipe for California Barbecued Tri-Tip. This particular cut of meat is worth seeking out for this great regional specialty, but if you can't find it, they suggest bottom round steak. Put on your coat and fire up your grill; you can stand in the cold for a few minutes for this bad boy.
This calls for the fairly common practice of using water-soaked wood chips on a charcoal fire for smoky flavor. In this case, the chips go on after the meat sears over the hot side of the fire, to keep it from tasting like an ashtray.
California-Style Barbecued Tri-Tip
1 2-pound tri-tip roast
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups wood chips, preferably oak
1 teaspoon pepper
3/4 teaspoon garlic salt
Pat the roast dry with paper towels. Using a fork, prick the raost about 20 times on each side. Combine the garlic, oil, and salt and rub over the roast. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour.
Soak the wood chips in cold water to cover for 15 minutes, drain. Open the bottom grill vents. Light a large chimney filled with charcoal bricquets and allow it to burn until the charcoal is covered in a layer of fine ash. Spread the coals over over half the grill bottom, leaving the other half with no coals. Set the cooking grate in place, cover, open the lid vents and heat 5 minutes, until hot.
Using paper towels, wipe the garlic off the roast. Grill directly over the coals until browned, about 5 minutes per side. Carefully remove the roast and grate from the grill. Scatter the soaked wood chips over the coals. Replace the grate and place the roast on the cooler side of the grill. Cover, positioning the lid vents directly over the meat, and cook until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the roast registers about 130 degrees for medium-rare, about 20 minutes. Transfer the meat to a cutting board, tent loosely with foil, and rest for 20 minutes. Slice thinly across the grain. Serve.
Californians know the value of a tri-tip roast: it's a Santa Maria Valley specialty, barbecued tri-tip, sliced thin and served with barbecue beans and buttered French bread. I don't get out to California a great deal, and so I've only tasted tri-tip barbecue once, but yowza. Talk about big, well-rounded, balanced, classic flavors.
Cook's Illustrated has their Best Of America's Test Kitchen issue out right now, and there's a recipe for California Barbecued Tri-Tip. This particular cut of meat is worth seeking out for this great regional specialty, but if you can't find it, they suggest bottom round steak. Put on your coat and fire up your grill; you can stand in the cold for a few minutes for this bad boy.
This calls for the fairly common practice of using water-soaked wood chips on a charcoal fire for smoky flavor. In this case, the chips go on after the meat sears over the hot side of the fire, to keep it from tasting like an ashtray.
California-Style Barbecued Tri-Tip
1 2-pound tri-tip roast
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups wood chips, preferably oak
1 teaspoon pepper
3/4 teaspoon garlic salt
Pat the roast dry with paper towels. Using a fork, prick the raost about 20 times on each side. Combine the garlic, oil, and salt and rub over the roast. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour.
Soak the wood chips in cold water to cover for 15 minutes, drain. Open the bottom grill vents. Light a large chimney filled with charcoal bricquets and allow it to burn until the charcoal is covered in a layer of fine ash. Spread the coals over over half the grill bottom, leaving the other half with no coals. Set the cooking grate in place, cover, open the lid vents and heat 5 minutes, until hot.
Using paper towels, wipe the garlic off the roast. Grill directly over the coals until browned, about 5 minutes per side. Carefully remove the roast and grate from the grill. Scatter the soaked wood chips over the coals. Replace the grate and place the roast on the cooler side of the grill. Cover, positioning the lid vents directly over the meat, and cook until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the roast registers about 130 degrees for medium-rare, about 20 minutes. Transfer the meat to a cutting board, tent loosely with foil, and rest for 20 minutes. Slice thinly across the grain. Serve.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
February 27: Lobster Rolls
That thing? The thing I wrote yesterday and a little bit today and posted right below here? Yeah, I still really, really mean it. Scroll down, read it, leave me a comment, and then come back. I'll wait.
Back? Great. Let's talk about lobster.
There are places I've not spent a great deal of time in my life and one of them is New England. Dan and I were talking, while we were on vacation, about places that we could retire to where we could live next to the ocean, have real winters, and not die from the humidity and heat in the summer. Maine came up, and Dan said "We could eat lobster all the time."
I understand (mostly from reading Stephen King novels) that people from Maine sort of poke fun at the tourists who come there to eat lobsters. Let me just say that Baltimore and points east don't have that problem with the tourists who come there to eat crab.
I could definitely live in a place where lobster is a staple of my diet, but it's mostly a delicacy now, and one I don't take advantage of, because mostly it's boiled to a rubbery fare-thee-well and totally inedible, or frozen so long it tastes mostly like iodine, and served in a restaurant that has the audacity to charge $24.99 for it. Lobster should be sweet, tender, briny, or I'll pass.
I can't remember where or when I saw this (probably on the Food Network, and years ago), but I once saw a chef preparing lobster rolls. A lobster roll is a New England regional specialty which consists of a plain white hot dog bun (chosen for its lack of anything to distract from the filling) stuffed full of lobster salad. Simple as can be. It looked amazing. Perfect.
This would be great, I think, for a casual get-together, especially as (knock on wood) the weather gets warmer. Serve it with coleslaw, chips, and cold beer.
Oh, and let me just say this about lobster: suck it up, okay? It's an ocean cockroach, it eats sea junk, it's the scourge of its own microcosm. Throw it in the pot and boil it, don't stand over the pot listening for it to scream. All current research says that they're not capable of feeling pain, so don't go and buy frozen lobster meat or any other ridiculous thing because you're squeamish; it's not the same. In looking at recipes for this, I found a site that illustrated how to keep a lobster's tail straight when cooking it, and it involved inserting a wooden skewer in a spot that...let's just say you wouldn't want a wooden skewer inserted in a corresponding place on your own person, but I'm not asking you to do that. Don't yell at me: I'm not all about the animal cruelty. But this is one time that I'm going to say that I'm at the top of the food chain and lobster tastes delicious, and my karma will just have to take the hit. This serves 4, maybe with a little salad left over to eat on a bed of greens the next day. Mmmmmmmm.
Lobster Rolls
4 Split top white hot dog rolls
4 large (1 1/2 lb.) live lobsters
1/2-2/3 cup mayonnaise, or to taste
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
4 scallions, white and about half of the green part, sliced thin
1 stalk celery, diced fine
Bring a large pot of water to a full rolling boil over high heat. Drop in the lobsters, lower heat to medium, and cover. Cook 8-9 minutes. Remove from pot and chill completely.
Remove meat from lobster: using a gentle twisting motion, separate the tail section from the body section. Break the claws away from the body. Use a sharp, very clean pair of kitchen shears to cut a slit down the tail section, and remove the meat. Use whatever means works best for you for removing the claw meat as well (I use a wooden skewer; those tiny forks just make a mess for me.)
Chop the meat into not-too-small chunks (maybe 1-inch chunks or so, maybe a little smaller.) Mix with mayo, salt, pepper, scallions and celery. This salad should be not too mayonnaise-y, but a little wet. Rely on your judgement and taste.
Pile lobster mixture into rolls. Serve.
Back? Great. Let's talk about lobster.
There are places I've not spent a great deal of time in my life and one of them is New England. Dan and I were talking, while we were on vacation, about places that we could retire to where we could live next to the ocean, have real winters, and not die from the humidity and heat in the summer. Maine came up, and Dan said "We could eat lobster all the time."
I understand (mostly from reading Stephen King novels) that people from Maine sort of poke fun at the tourists who come there to eat lobsters. Let me just say that Baltimore and points east don't have that problem with the tourists who come there to eat crab.
I could definitely live in a place where lobster is a staple of my diet, but it's mostly a delicacy now, and one I don't take advantage of, because mostly it's boiled to a rubbery fare-thee-well and totally inedible, or frozen so long it tastes mostly like iodine, and served in a restaurant that has the audacity to charge $24.99 for it. Lobster should be sweet, tender, briny, or I'll pass.
I can't remember where or when I saw this (probably on the Food Network, and years ago), but I once saw a chef preparing lobster rolls. A lobster roll is a New England regional specialty which consists of a plain white hot dog bun (chosen for its lack of anything to distract from the filling) stuffed full of lobster salad. Simple as can be. It looked amazing. Perfect.
This would be great, I think, for a casual get-together, especially as (knock on wood) the weather gets warmer. Serve it with coleslaw, chips, and cold beer.
Oh, and let me just say this about lobster: suck it up, okay? It's an ocean cockroach, it eats sea junk, it's the scourge of its own microcosm. Throw it in the pot and boil it, don't stand over the pot listening for it to scream. All current research says that they're not capable of feeling pain, so don't go and buy frozen lobster meat or any other ridiculous thing because you're squeamish; it's not the same. In looking at recipes for this, I found a site that illustrated how to keep a lobster's tail straight when cooking it, and it involved inserting a wooden skewer in a spot that...let's just say you wouldn't want a wooden skewer inserted in a corresponding place on your own person, but I'm not asking you to do that. Don't yell at me: I'm not all about the animal cruelty. But this is one time that I'm going to say that I'm at the top of the food chain and lobster tastes delicious, and my karma will just have to take the hit. This serves 4, maybe with a little salad left over to eat on a bed of greens the next day. Mmmmmmmm.
Lobster Rolls
4 Split top white hot dog rolls
4 large (1 1/2 lb.) live lobsters
1/2-2/3 cup mayonnaise, or to taste
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
4 scallions, white and about half of the green part, sliced thin
1 stalk celery, diced fine
Bring a large pot of water to a full rolling boil over high heat. Drop in the lobsters, lower heat to medium, and cover. Cook 8-9 minutes. Remove from pot and chill completely.
Remove meat from lobster: using a gentle twisting motion, separate the tail section from the body section. Break the claws away from the body. Use a sharp, very clean pair of kitchen shears to cut a slit down the tail section, and remove the meat. Use whatever means works best for you for removing the claw meat as well (I use a wooden skewer; those tiny forks just make a mess for me.)
Chop the meat into not-too-small chunks (maybe 1-inch chunks or so, maybe a little smaller.) Mix with mayo, salt, pepper, scallions and celery. This salad should be not too mayonnaise-y, but a little wet. Rely on your judgement and taste.
Pile lobster mixture into rolls. Serve.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
February 17: Chicago Dogs
I've never understood that person that wants nothing but ketchup and mustard on their hot dog. A hot dog, to me, is a perfect blank canvas, the best possible receptacle for almost any kind of savory thing you can think of.
Hot dogs are to Chicago what cheesesteaks are to Philadelphia. Ask a Chicagoan, and they'll probably tell you that there is exactly one way to eat a hot dog. Same thing in New York, Boston, Dallas, and Portland. I've been served something called an "Atlanta dog" smothered in creamy coleslaw. I've also heard of a "Memphis dog" with bacon, barbecue sauce, and grilled onions, and a San Antonio dog with taco meat, salsa, lettuce, and cheddar cheese. I'm not sure I approve, but it's like any regional specialty: everybody's sure that their variation is the best.
As a midwesterner by birth, I am a big fan of a true Chicago dog, and it is really rare to find one outside of Cook County, Illinois. Surprisingly enough, we encountered one today here in Virginia Beach, at a hot dog restaurant where the proprieter is serious enough about authenticity to have the traditional neon-green sweet cucumber relish flown in from Chicago, and I cannot fathom what goes into creating this not-found-in-nature shade of green. It was good enough that I am already thinking about getting another one before leaving town tomorrow.
A Chicago dog is a very specific thing; there is no chili, no cheese, no ketchup involved. It is both science and art. Let me emphasize the following: dill pickle spear, sweet pickle relish. Kosher beef dog, natural casing, steamed or boiled, not grilled or fried.
This is more construction blueprint than recipe; I could make a hot dog at the age of eight without any real trouble. But if you've never had a Chicago dog and you won't be in Chicago any time soon, then it's worth doing. Seek out great hot dogs, poppy-seeded rolls, and the small, pickled hot peppers called sport peppers. They are spicy, but not uncomfortably so. Maybe banana peppers would stand in in a pinch, but the real thing is worth finding.
If you are like us, plan on eating two hot dogs apiece. This will serve two.
Chicago Dogs
4 good-quality, natural casing all-beef hot dogs like Vienna Beef, Nathan's, or Hebrew National
4 poppy seeded hot dog buns
1/4 cup diced white onion
1/3 cup sweet pickle relish
2 small tomatoes, sliced into six wedges each
1 large kosher dill pickle, quartered lengthwise
Yellow mustard
12 small whole pickled sport peppers
Celery salt
In a medium skillet over high heat, boil the hot dogs in one cup of water until water has evaporated. Turn off heat.
Assemble dogs as follows:
Bun
Hot dog
Mustard
Onions
Three tomato wedges on one side
One dill pickle wedge on opposite side
Sweet relish over everything
Three peppers on top of relish
Sprinkle of celery salt over top
Serve immediately.
Hot dogs are to Chicago what cheesesteaks are to Philadelphia. Ask a Chicagoan, and they'll probably tell you that there is exactly one way to eat a hot dog. Same thing in New York, Boston, Dallas, and Portland. I've been served something called an "Atlanta dog" smothered in creamy coleslaw. I've also heard of a "Memphis dog" with bacon, barbecue sauce, and grilled onions, and a San Antonio dog with taco meat, salsa, lettuce, and cheddar cheese. I'm not sure I approve, but it's like any regional specialty: everybody's sure that their variation is the best.
As a midwesterner by birth, I am a big fan of a true Chicago dog, and it is really rare to find one outside of Cook County, Illinois. Surprisingly enough, we encountered one today here in Virginia Beach, at a hot dog restaurant where the proprieter is serious enough about authenticity to have the traditional neon-green sweet cucumber relish flown in from Chicago, and I cannot fathom what goes into creating this not-found-in-nature shade of green. It was good enough that I am already thinking about getting another one before leaving town tomorrow.
A Chicago dog is a very specific thing; there is no chili, no cheese, no ketchup involved. It is both science and art. Let me emphasize the following: dill pickle spear, sweet pickle relish. Kosher beef dog, natural casing, steamed or boiled, not grilled or fried.
This is more construction blueprint than recipe; I could make a hot dog at the age of eight without any real trouble. But if you've never had a Chicago dog and you won't be in Chicago any time soon, then it's worth doing. Seek out great hot dogs, poppy-seeded rolls, and the small, pickled hot peppers called sport peppers. They are spicy, but not uncomfortably so. Maybe banana peppers would stand in in a pinch, but the real thing is worth finding.
If you are like us, plan on eating two hot dogs apiece. This will serve two.
Chicago Dogs
4 good-quality, natural casing all-beef hot dogs like Vienna Beef, Nathan's, or Hebrew National
4 poppy seeded hot dog buns
1/4 cup diced white onion
1/3 cup sweet pickle relish
2 small tomatoes, sliced into six wedges each
1 large kosher dill pickle, quartered lengthwise
Yellow mustard
12 small whole pickled sport peppers
Celery salt
In a medium skillet over high heat, boil the hot dogs in one cup of water until water has evaporated. Turn off heat.
Assemble dogs as follows:
Bun
Hot dog
Mustard
Onions
Three tomato wedges on one side
One dill pickle wedge on opposite side
Sweet relish over everything
Three peppers on top of relish
Sprinkle of celery salt over top
Serve immediately.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
February 9: Totally Inauthentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches
Regional specialties ignite a firestorm of contempt in purists when they encounter someone who doesn't adhere to their strict standards. Want to infuriate a Texan? Serve them chili made with ground beef, tomatoes, and, worst of all, beans. Loathing in a Kentuckian? Screw up a Kentucky Hot Brown.
Philadelphians can be a little touchy about their local specialty, the Philly Cheesesteak. Did I say a little? Let me rephrase that. I'm guessing that homicides have been committed over less than this sandwich.
A true Philly consists of the following: thinly sliced ribeye steak and onions grilled on a griddle and served on a soft white roll with a glob of Cheez Whiz. Let me say that I have never tasted this exact concoction outside of the city limits of Philadelphia. Mostly what I've had is some kind of chopped, formed meat pressed into slices and fried with onions, sometimes peppers, and cheese, usually provolone.
I like something somewhere in between. Ribeye is expensive, somewhere in the neighborhood of $14 a pound, and it's too good to waste, in my opinion. Eye of round roast is economically feasable. Also, it's a lean, somewhat tough roast, well-suited to being thinly sliced and quickly fried, but still with good meaty flavor and texture.
And even for the sake of authenticity, I can barely stomach Cheez Whiz. One bite, and I'm eating my grandmother's boiled broccoli, drenched in the stuff. Blah. I like a good, strong, serious cheese, like aged provolone if you can find it, or smoked provolone, which is available almost everywhere now.
A Philadelphian would probably take a baseball bat to my car for serving this sandwich. I think it's so good it's almost worth it. It does require a food processor and a little prep time, but nothing outrageous. Forgive me, Philadelphia: I think this is even better than the real thing. This makes enough for six.
Totally Inauthentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches
Ingredients
1 2-pound eye of round roast
1 white onion, peeled, both ends trimmed, cut in half through the ends, and sliced into 1/4-inch thick half-rounds
salt and pepper to taste
6 slices cheese (cheddar, provolone, or American)
6 hoagie rolls or 6-inch lengths of French bread
1 tbsp vegetable oil
Cut the roast into pieces that will fit in the feed tube of your food processor. Put on a plate and place in the freezer until the roast is partially frozen, about 1 hour.
Fit the food processor with the slicing disk and process the meat.
Heat 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onions and cook until softened and beginning to brown, about six minutes. Add the sliced beef to the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally with tongs, until completely browned. Add salt and pepper to taste. Lower heat to low, put the slices of cheese over the meat and cover the pan until cheese is melted, about 3 minutes.
Divide the meat between the rolls. Serve immediately.
Philadelphians can be a little touchy about their local specialty, the Philly Cheesesteak. Did I say a little? Let me rephrase that. I'm guessing that homicides have been committed over less than this sandwich.
A true Philly consists of the following: thinly sliced ribeye steak and onions grilled on a griddle and served on a soft white roll with a glob of Cheez Whiz. Let me say that I have never tasted this exact concoction outside of the city limits of Philadelphia. Mostly what I've had is some kind of chopped, formed meat pressed into slices and fried with onions, sometimes peppers, and cheese, usually provolone.
I like something somewhere in between. Ribeye is expensive, somewhere in the neighborhood of $14 a pound, and it's too good to waste, in my opinion. Eye of round roast is economically feasable. Also, it's a lean, somewhat tough roast, well-suited to being thinly sliced and quickly fried, but still with good meaty flavor and texture.
And even for the sake of authenticity, I can barely stomach Cheez Whiz. One bite, and I'm eating my grandmother's boiled broccoli, drenched in the stuff. Blah. I like a good, strong, serious cheese, like aged provolone if you can find it, or smoked provolone, which is available almost everywhere now.
A Philadelphian would probably take a baseball bat to my car for serving this sandwich. I think it's so good it's almost worth it. It does require a food processor and a little prep time, but nothing outrageous. Forgive me, Philadelphia: I think this is even better than the real thing. This makes enough for six.
Totally Inauthentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches
Ingredients
1 2-pound eye of round roast
1 white onion, peeled, both ends trimmed, cut in half through the ends, and sliced into 1/4-inch thick half-rounds
salt and pepper to taste
6 slices cheese (cheddar, provolone, or American)
6 hoagie rolls or 6-inch lengths of French bread
1 tbsp vegetable oil
Cut the roast into pieces that will fit in the feed tube of your food processor. Put on a plate and place in the freezer until the roast is partially frozen, about 1 hour.
Fit the food processor with the slicing disk and process the meat.
Heat 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onions and cook until softened and beginning to brown, about six minutes. Add the sliced beef to the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally with tongs, until completely browned. Add salt and pepper to taste. Lower heat to low, put the slices of cheese over the meat and cover the pan until cheese is melted, about 3 minutes.
Divide the meat between the rolls. Serve immediately.
Friday, February 8, 2008
February 8: Spiedies
My cousin Don used to work for IBM in Endicott, New York, on the Western side of the state. (He still works for IBM, but he lives in North Carolina now. This is in no way germaine to this story, but just for the sake of accuracy...you know.) One summer, when I was maybe 8 or 9 -- Don is maybe 15 or so years older than I -- he came home for a visit and announced that we were all having Spiedies.
Spiedies (pronounced spee-dees) are chunks of skewered chicken, although I guess a variety of meats are commonly used. They're marinated, grilled over charcoal, drizzled with fresh marinade, and served on a slice of Italian bread--the grocery store kind, with sesame seeds on top.
I can't explain to you how glorious this was. They were amazing, crusty, with a deep complexity, beautifully textured, served with a big bowl of my grandmother's cabbage salad--a recipe I'd love to give you, except that nobody in family seems to be able to reproduce it and she died four years ago--and my mother's exceptionally boring potato salad. I call it exceptionally boring because it is, and she even says so.
I forgot all about spiedies until ten years later, when I went away to college and my friend Ryan turned out to be from Westfield, NY, not terribly far from Endicott. Not only was Ryan familiar with this regional delicacy, he is almost as big a food nerd as I am. I don't know many 18-year-olds that served Sunday brunch to their friends in their college dorm rooms, but he did. And when I say brunch, I mean brunch: quiche lorraine, broiled grapefruit with brown sugar, vanilla french toast, country ham. That kid could throw down in the kitchen.
I seem to have forgotten about spiedies again until I heard some mention of them on NPR recently. Spiedies! Of course! Mmmmm, spiedies.
The recipe that I found for them uses beef, although you could really probably use chicken, or pork, or whatever else floats your boat. Not having tried this recipe, I have to say that I have serious reservations about the length of time that is called for in marinating, and the amount of acid in the marinade. At the risk of sounding like Alton Brown, acid turns meat fibers into mush. A mushy surface on your meat tastes...mushy. Consider reducing the marinating time, or not, as you see fit. I am not sure how many this would serve, the recipes that I found were all frustratingly non-specific. This seemed to be the simplest, most pure incarnation of a spiedie.
Spiedies
3 pounds boneless beef; cubed
1 cup olive or vegetable oil
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons lemon juice
4 tablespoons worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup fresh sweet basil; chopped
4 cloves fresh garlic; chopped
3/4 cup italian parsley; chopped
3 tablespoons fresh mint; chopped
salt to taste
pepper to taste
Sliced loaf of Italian bread
Combine marinade ingredients. Reserve 1/2 cup of marinade.
Let meat marinate in refrigerator for three days in a non-reactive plastic, ceramic, or non-aluminum metal bowl.
Skewer; grill over hot coals. (A note: as it is currently winter, I would consider another medium. Like maybe your broiler, or a grill pan.) Using a slice of bread as an oven mitt, grasp the meat with one hand and remove the skewer with the other.
Drizzle the sandwiches with the reserved marinade. Serve immediately.
Spiedies (pronounced spee-dees) are chunks of skewered chicken, although I guess a variety of meats are commonly used. They're marinated, grilled over charcoal, drizzled with fresh marinade, and served on a slice of Italian bread--the grocery store kind, with sesame seeds on top.
I can't explain to you how glorious this was. They were amazing, crusty, with a deep complexity, beautifully textured, served with a big bowl of my grandmother's cabbage salad--a recipe I'd love to give you, except that nobody in family seems to be able to reproduce it and she died four years ago--and my mother's exceptionally boring potato salad. I call it exceptionally boring because it is, and she even says so.
I forgot all about spiedies until ten years later, when I went away to college and my friend Ryan turned out to be from Westfield, NY, not terribly far from Endicott. Not only was Ryan familiar with this regional delicacy, he is almost as big a food nerd as I am. I don't know many 18-year-olds that served Sunday brunch to their friends in their college dorm rooms, but he did. And when I say brunch, I mean brunch: quiche lorraine, broiled grapefruit with brown sugar, vanilla french toast, country ham. That kid could throw down in the kitchen.
I seem to have forgotten about spiedies again until I heard some mention of them on NPR recently. Spiedies! Of course! Mmmmm, spiedies.
The recipe that I found for them uses beef, although you could really probably use chicken, or pork, or whatever else floats your boat. Not having tried this recipe, I have to say that I have serious reservations about the length of time that is called for in marinating, and the amount of acid in the marinade. At the risk of sounding like Alton Brown, acid turns meat fibers into mush. A mushy surface on your meat tastes...mushy. Consider reducing the marinating time, or not, as you see fit. I am not sure how many this would serve, the recipes that I found were all frustratingly non-specific. This seemed to be the simplest, most pure incarnation of a spiedie.
Spiedies
3 pounds boneless beef; cubed
1 cup olive or vegetable oil
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons lemon juice
4 tablespoons worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup fresh sweet basil; chopped
4 cloves fresh garlic; chopped
3/4 cup italian parsley; chopped
3 tablespoons fresh mint; chopped
salt to taste
pepper to taste
Sliced loaf of Italian bread
Combine marinade ingredients. Reserve 1/2 cup of marinade.
Let meat marinate in refrigerator for three days in a non-reactive plastic, ceramic, or non-aluminum metal bowl.
Skewer; grill over hot coals. (A note: as it is currently winter, I would consider another medium. Like maybe your broiler, or a grill pan.) Using a slice of bread as an oven mitt, grasp the meat with one hand and remove the skewer with the other.
Drizzle the sandwiches with the reserved marinade. Serve immediately.
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