Can you learn to cook from a cookbook?

An interesting discussion at Serious Eats about whether you can learn to cook from books... apparently all spawned by an article in the New Yorker back in November claiming you can't. As you can imagine, this produced some reaction among people who write cookbooks for a living... so much so that they're still talking about it three months later.

As someone who has learned most of what he knows about cooking from cookbooks and food blogs, you'd probably assume I'd be 100% on the side of cookbooks... but I can't say that I am. Certainly I think if you buy the right cookbooks... New Best Recipe, Alton Brown, etc... you can be pretty effective in the kitchen, even starting from virtually no knowledge(ME!). However, I do feel like there's only so far you can get that way... that really what I've become is someone who is good at executing recipes, and that there are certain things about flavors and seasoning that I just don't understand... because, well, I just haven't spent my life tasting and thinking about food from a chef's perspective. I don't want to oversell that, but I think there's a reason you don't see self taught home cooks on Top Chef, and it's not a selection bias... it's just that working on a line devoting your entire existence to cooking food imparts something we can't get in a home kitchen with no guidance. Now, presumably most of us don't aspire to that level of cooking... I have no dreams of opening a restaurant... but what I'd like to be able to do someday is to make wonderful food without needing recipes. Can a cookbook teach you that? Maybe, I don't know... certainly a book like Ratio or a show like Good Eats tries to show you more about how cooking works than explicit recipes.

What I think more home cooks should consider doing is taking the occasional cooking class, where you can ask questions and see techniques demonstrated. The knife skills class I took last year was immensely valuable to me, even if it didn't make me much faster. Learning how to use a knife correctly can probably be taught by diagrams and videos, but having someone there to demonstrate and correct you it seems like a big advantage to me. I keep meaning to sign up for more, but they're on the expensive side... somewhere in the $75-150 range, depending on the length of the class. I've got my eyes on a Sourdough and French Bread class, but have yet to pull the trigger.

photo by flickr user chotda used under a Creative Commmon license

Heirloom Chickens

An Atlantic writer tastes four nearly extinct chicken breeds:

I took my first bite of a breed called the Ameraucana and tasted it as I'd been taught to sample cheese and wine, breathing the flavors into my mouth, paying attention to what part of my tongue responded. The meat was chewy, its personality direct yet smooth, and there were definite notes of liver and blood. Next was the Barred Plymouth Rock, a black-and-white-striped bird that was tough to chew but had a long-lasting taste with hints of corn and caramel. The Buff Orpington (what a name!) reminded me of buttered popcorn with a hint of grass. I tried the skin. It had the most buttery chicken flavor that has ever crossed my lips. Finally, I understood what people mean when they say "chickeny."

The last bird was the Jersey Giant, a genetic cross between several Asian birds that was created in New Jersey in the 1870s in an attempt to breed a large chicken to compete with the turkey. Not surprisingly, the Jersey Giant tasted like its competition, with a nice bite and a lingering flavor.

All of these birds were unlike any chicken I'd ever eaten. Or seen: the dark meat of each breed was brown like chocolate.

I'm not sure how appealing "notes of liver and blood" sounds, but maybe that's just me. Honestly, I have to admit I'm a bit of a heirloom animal skeptic... I'm just not sure I see how the it can be anything other than a curiosity or a niche market. I know part of the philosophy is that we should be willing to pay a lot more than we currently are for food, but to charitably assume that a chicken that takes "more than twice as long to fatten up" is only going to double the price... is that really workable on a large scale? Though I imagine the overall consumption of heirloom vegetables isn't really all that large either... maybe just raising awareness at the margins is enough to make a significant difference in people's eating habits?

photo by flickr user Gabriel Kamener used under a Creative Commons license

Was there some sort of sporting contest last evening?

Gratz to the Saints!

This might it as far as blogging today goes... as my boss's boss just handed me something that needs to be done before I leave today.

Snow Jealous

I imagine this is a post I'll karmically regret, but I think it sucks that all the snow is bypassing us. To entertain your crazy uncle who thinks local snow accumulations are a good substitute for the climate modeling, it has been an extraordinarily light year here in Cambridge. I should be thankful, but I'm not.... I love to wakeup to a big snowfall. even though it means tons of shoveling.

Coq au Vin

For anyone who's familiar with this blog, my deep abiding love for cassoulet probably makes clear that I have some affection for French food. However, that affection is accompanied by very little experience with the cuisine. I don't live in France after all (nor even visited)... and, in America anyway, while classical French cooking was insanely popular in the 60's and 70's (presumably due in large part to the efforts of Julia Child), it had fallen pretty far from fashion by my youth and through most of my adulthood. Indeed, I grew up thinking of French food as either heavy with cream sauces or full of snails (or both!). But most of all, I thought of it as overrated... i.e. that you spent a lot of money at a French restaurant solely for the experience of high class dining, not specifically for the food. To some extent that's obviously true... there are innumerable 4 star restaurants around the world that don't serve French food; you can have an incredible meal in any cuisine. Regardless of this truth, my first real "fine dining experience" was French (L'Espalier - back when they were in the brownstone), and it totally blew my mind... I reevaluated my stance on French cooking immediately on the spot. While certainly the artifice of the occasion was exceptional (maître d', sommelier, etc), it was much more the fact that I had just never eaten food like that. Even to this day, it's probably the best dining experience of my life (from a food and service perspective I mean, there are other... ahem... elements best forgotten).

Even as I've broadened my palate, French food has continued to fascinate me... especially as I've learned to cook. For whatever reason, no other cuisine has really caught my imagination. Nothing thrills and terrifies me as much as... say... making a hollandaise... or even a roux, let alone cassoulet. I just really like making French food, be it peasant style or haute cuisine... but generally the more traditional the better.

Enter Coq au Vin. As evidence of my minimal experience with French food: never had it. I have made beef bourguignon (as well as the Italian Brasato Al Barolo), so I'm not unfamiliar with braising meat in wine. Now, I have to admit I didn't do a whole lot of research... going straight to Cook's Illustrated, as I often do, when I'm trying something for the first time. The following text is mainly a 1999 Cook's Illustrated recipe (subscription required) that I've adapted in a few ways (chicken thighs instead of leg quarters, 10 ounces of mushrooms instead of 8, etc.). I used fresh pearl onions, but you could omit the blanching/peeling step if you use thawed frozen ones.

• 8 chicken thighs (about 3 pounds), trimmed of excess fat, cleaned, and dried
• 1 bottle of Red Zinfandel
• 2 1/2 cups homemade chicken stock
• 6 ounces bacon (preferably thick-cut), cut crosswise into 1/4-inch pieces
• 6 - 7 tablespoons unsalted butter , at room temperature
• 1 large carrot , roughly chopped
• 1 large onion , roughly chopped
• 2 medium shallots , peeled and quartered
• 2 medium cloves garlic , skin on and smashed
• 4 sprigs thyme
• 10 parsley stems
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste
• 1 lb of fresh pearl onions
• 10 oz package of white mushrooms (small), quartered
• 2 - 3 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves

To peel the (fresh) pearl onions: Cut an “x” in the root end, blanch them in boiling water for 30 seconds, remove them with a slotted spoon, and refresh them in a bowl of ice water. Then slice off the very tip of the roots with a paring knife and squeeze the onions gently from the blossom end. Worked like a charm. You could possibly get this done while the chicken is simmering, but I did it ahead of time.

Season your chicken with salt and pepper and set aside.

Bring red wine and chicken stock to boil in large, heavy saucepan; reduce heat to medium-high and simmer until reduced to about 4 cups, about 20 minutes.

While that's going on, fry your chopped up bacon in large Dutch oven or deep, heavy-bottomed sauté pan (if you use a sauté pan, know that you'll need a lid later in the recipe) over medium heat until fat has rendered and bacon is golden brown, about 5 minutes.

Remove bacon with slotted spoon to paper towel-lined plate to drain; set aside. Heat 1 tablespoon butter with rendered bacon fat; add carrot, onion, shallots, and garlic and sauté until lightly browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Cook's says to "press vegetables against side of pan with slotted spoon to squeeze out as much fat as possible," but I used the slotted spoon to scoop 'em up and then used another spoon to squeeze out the excess fat back into the pan, before transferring the vegetables to the pan with reduced wine mixture. Whatever works: the point is to keep as much fat as possible out of your reduced wine. Discard all but 1 tablespoon fat from your Dutch oven or sauté pan.

Return Dutch oven or sauté pan to burner over medium-high heat and add another 1 tablespoon butter. When butter is melted, add chicken (in two batches to avoid overcrowding) and cook until well browned all over, turning once during cooking, 12 to 16 minutes. Remove chicken to a plate; set aside.


Pour off all fat from Dutch oven or sauté pan; return to heat and add wine-vegetable mixture. Bring to boil, scraping up browned bits from bottom of pan with wooden spoon. Add browned chicken, bouquet garni (thyme, parsley, and bay leaf tied together), and tomato paste to boiling wine mixture; return to boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer gently, partially covered. Turn chicken once during cooking, until tender and infused with wine flavor, 45 to 60 minutes.


While chicken and sauce are cooking, heat another 2 tablespoons butter in medium skillet over medium-low heat. Add pearl onions and cook, stirring occasionally and reducing heat if butter starts to brown too fast, until lightly browned and almost cooked through, 5 to 8 minutes. Add mushrooms, season with salt, cover, increase heat to medium, and cook until mushrooms release their liquid, about 5 minutes. Remove cover, increase heat to high, and boil until liquid evaporates and onions and mushrooms are golden brown, 2 to 3 minutes more. Transfer onions and mushrooms to plate with bacon; set aside.


When the chicken is cooked, transfer to serving bowl or platter; cover with aluminum foil to keep warm. Strain sauce through fine mesh sieve set into a fat separator, pressing on solids with wooden spoon to release as much liquid as possible; sauce should measure 2 to 3 cups. Return sauce to pan; leaving the fat behind in the fat separator. Counting 1 tablespoon each of butter and flour for each cup of sauce, mash 2 to 3 tablespoons each butter and flour in small bowl or plate to make a beurre manié, as shown above. Bring sauce to boil and whisk in beurre manié until smooth. Add reserved chicken, bacon, onions and mushrooms; adjust seasoning with salt and ground black pepper to taste, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer very gently to warm through and blend flavors, about 5 minutes. Check seasoning one more time and adjust with additional salt and ground black pepper if necessary; add parsley. Transfer chicken to serving platter; pour sauce over chicken. Serve immediately.

Took about 3 hours, so only stay at home parents or freaks like me would make it on a weeknight... but definitely a worthy Sunday dinner, fo' sho'. While the inclusion of a full bottle of wine means it's not super cheap, the use of chicken thighs ameliorates that, and none of the ingredients are particularly hard to find. There's no fine chopping or fancy prep work, and you don't ever have more than two things to monitor at once. I found it to be a pretty leisurely paced dish to make.

Oh... and it's delicious. Highly recommended.

Chicken and Root Vegetable Hash: A Semi-FAIL Story

Trying to use up the leftovers from Thomas Keller's Roast Chicken and Root Vegetables, I decided to make some chicken hash. I've not actually had much experience with chicken hash... or really, any kind of meat hash... and I'm not entirely certain why. Certainly, over the years, I've had tons of leftovers and the idea of tossing them in a pan with some onions, potatoes, and spices to make another meal isn't rocket science... but my mom would use the chicken from the night before in a stir-fry or soup, but not in hash, so it's really never occurred to me.

I noticed a recipe for it, however, when I was paging through Barbra Kafka's roasting book. I didn't have any trouble using up my leftovers when I made her chicken, but Keller's had significantly more in the way of roast veggies that were getting a bit intimidating... so a little chicken hash to spice up the 3rd day leftovers seemed like a solid plan.

I had already shredded my chicken to separate out the bones for stock, so I just chopped up my veggies a bit more (a little messy) and diced and onion and I was ready to go. Unfortunately it took ages to get to the table because Kafka's recipe is pretty involved... and in retrospect I think that's because her recipe was for the case where you have only the chicken as a leftover... and need to cook the veggies (parsnips in her case) while imbuing them with chicken flavor. My veggies had already been roasting in chicken fat and juices for an hour, were already well browned, and really developed no additional benefit from the the long stages on the stove top. I thought the idea of pouring in chicken stock and then simmering it off sounded like a great idea, but it really seemed to have little effect with my ingredients.

In retrospect, I'd just wanted to caramelize some onions and then work to heat through the chicken and root vegetables, while introducing some spices to make it a little more interesting. All I used was salt, pepper, and a dash of allspice, and found myself reaching for the Sriracha immediately. In figuring out how I could improve the spicing is where I feel the most like a novice cook... and where my underdeveloped palate seems like the largest handicap. I'm forced to look around for recipes to get ideas, and have yet to find one that I think would be a vast improvement.

Now, I found it fairly decent, and certainly better than just reheating in the microwave, but it was still disappointing. Tonight is Coq au Vin so hopefully that will lift my cooking spirits.

picture of chicken hash I had absolutely no role in making (or consuming) by flickr user calamity_hane used under a Creative Commons license

Gumbo for the Super Bowl?

Mark Bittman has a Minimalist column this week for a pretty solid looking gumbo with scallops... which reminds me! It's been Maine shrimp season for several weeks now, and I have yet to screw up a a gumbo... something I'll have to rectify ASAP, since it's been almost a year since my last attempt screw-up. Even though I haven't ever made a gumbo I think is spectacular (I'm sort of obsessively critical about it), I still think gumbo is a solid idea for a Super Bowl party... especially for those of us in the Northeast, as it's both scallop and shrimp season up in Maine, so you should have plenty of fresh options at your fishmonger... even if they aren't exactly the traditional Cajun or Creole ones. Being from Maryland, winter seafood seasons are still pretty weird to me... but what's essentially a mildly spiced seafood stew served over rice seems a perfect winter dish... if I ever find my ideal "New England Gumbo" recipe, that is. No luck yet, but no reason to stop trying.

As for my eternal bane, the dark Louisiana roux? Here's a post from Chow that has the color progression mapped out with some tips that might help you out if you're following Bittman's recipe. I'm obviously no expert, but from my limited experience and faulty memory, I'd say that 15-20 minutes on medium low heat will probably get you firmly into the "peanut butter" stage... and thus isn't likely to be too problematic... it's the dark ones that are always on the edge of burning.

Maine shrimp photo by flickr user looseends used under a Creative Commons license

Molto Mario on Hulu

Via Serious Eats, I see that full episodes of Molto Mario are on Hulu now... looks like the entire first season. I didn't know how to cook at all when that stuff first aired... but still loved watching Mario for the cooking as a spectator sport angle, I guess... so I'm curious as to what Mario Batali had to teach when he was just starting out on a nascent Food Network. Certainly of the "dump and stir" of the early Food Network days, Mario's is considered one of the best.

Smartphones and Cooking Shopping

Sarah Dickerman has an article about the impact of her iPhone on her cooking with a fairly obvious conclusion, but it's one still worth noting:

Having tried a few cooking applications, it seems to me that the only undisputed advantage of cooking from a smartphone is the ability to fold shopping into the process of making a meal. I mentioned Epicurious' handy shopping list. Grocery Zen is even better. The app downloads recipes from Amanda Hesser's Food52 site—like, say the couscous, fennel, and almond salad I tried out—and breaks the ingredients into a shopping list. You can add non-recipe items like Bon Ami or Cheerios and cross off items as you fill your cart, or, if you like, send the list to your sweetheart to pick things up after work. This fluidity between procuring and preparing also allows you to respond to the market: If you see a nice stash of mackerel at the fish counter, you can find a recipe online and purchase the other ingredients on the way home, without a second trip. Shopping applications (there are others, too, like Grocery IQ) combined with recipe apps take full advantage of the iPhone's mobility. Back home in the kitchen, though, mobility isn't really what you're seeking: You just want something easy to read and able to survive a splattering of Sriracha. (That's why, when I do work from Web recipes, I generally print them out—backward as that may be.)

Neither Epicurious or Grocery Zen apps are available on Android, so I have no personal experience with either... but grocery shopping is definitely the area of my cooking life where having a constant connection to the internet is the most beneficial. The absolute ideal thing would to have digital access to all my cookbooks via my phone while I'm at the store or farmer's market... but baring that, being able to search Epicurious or Cook's Illustrated while looking at the produce is pretty handy. Being able to make a shopping list on my phone is more of a novelty I'd say... but whatever.

For those writing NIH grants to adhere to the new guidelines...

I pity you. 25 pages to 12? Yikes. Our lab has found the slides here (PDF) to be extrodinarily helpful. The blog itself is generally quite useful.

Thomas Keller's Roast Chicken with Root Vegetables

I did this one straight off of Amateur Gourmet... and Adam Roberts has a fine enough description of it that I won't blather on about the dish too much. One thing I'll note is that a rutabaga is a yellow turnip, so when the recipe calls for rutabagas and turnips I assumed it meant yellow and purple turnips, since that's what Shaw's called what they carried... but here's the disambiguation page if you are as clueless about gardening as I am. Jicama is a kind of turnip? Who knew?


I actually overcooked it a bit... not pulling it out of the oven until the thickest part of the breast was cresting 165, but it was not dry and chalky at all and was still quite juicy. Not sure why that was... the chicken perhaps? I buy air chilled (e.g. Bell Evans) or kosher (e.g. Empire) chickens exclusively now and have generally found I have more leeway and don't need to brine. That makes sense for kosher chickens (which are salted), but I'm not sure it does for air chilled (which is what I used here)... but I'm pretty sure it wasn't my imagination.

I also threw the veggies back into the oven while the chicken rested for its 20 minutes... because I wanted a little more roasting action. Seemed kind of silly not to, but YMMV. Anyway, it came out great and I was thoroughly pleased.

P.S. Don't forget to make chicken stock from the carcass! I basically follow Ruhlman's advice from his oven turkey stock. Long slow simmering overnight is easiest in the oven (assuming your oven goes to 200 or below).

Truffle Hunting

David Lebovitz has a fascinating post up about truffle hunting in Southern France. It even has an adorable pig, so you know you have to read it... unless you don't like pigs, or mushrooms, which means there is probably something wrong with you.

My only experience with truffles... beyond truffle oil... was seeing a sign at Savenor's that they were available a couple of weeks ago. I was getting my duck legs for confit, and was on the phone with Anna asking her if she wanted anything when I read the price as $60 a pound. Of course, if you know anything about truffles, that's either the steal of the century or grievous pricing error. I had read the wrong sign, and the cheapest white truffles they had were actually 3 times that price... per ounce. The black truffles that Mr. Lebovitz is hunting, being an additional doubling beyond that. Yowsa.

It's sort of hard to imagine anything could really be that good... to be worth hundreds of dollars per ounce to shave onto your risotto... but obviously there are more than a few people who think it is so. This may be one of those things that it's just better to be ignorant about.