Blue Crabs and Beer -- A Perfect Summer Day

A bright and sunny summer day calls for blue crabs. It is reminiscent of a balmy day at the beach, chilly Heineken in hand and Old–Bay-spiced blue crabs spread out over a checkered red-and-white picnic blanket on the sand. Seeking to recreate these comforting memories, I ventured out of my house to Chinatown, which is both the most economical and has the widest selection of blue crabs in terms of size and maturation.

Seafood markets dot Grand Street between Bowery and Allen Street. Each vendor seems to be a clone of the next, dizzying even the self-proclaimed savvy shopper. Luckily, having grown up in the Lower East Side, I was familiar with the markets and quickly ventured to the best of them.

Aqua Best, Inc., located at 276 Grand Street (btwn. Eldridge and Forsyth Sts.), has an expansive selection of blue crabs, ranging from the very small (and similarly priced), to the over-sized. I opted for the crabs in the upper range because I like my crabs to be meaty and rich. If you don't mind the price, you should too.

I purchased a dozen of the best-looking blue crabs along with a large Dungeness crab. I figured, since I was doing a crab-themed feast, I might as well bring to the table a varied selection.

Once home, I unloaded the crabs in my kitchen sink. They were alive indeed, as evidenced by their crazed attacks on their crustacean brethren. Below, a blue crab triumphs over his brother; he ripped the unfortunate sap's leg off:


Initially, I felt discomfort by placing the larger Dungeness in the same sink as the small blue crabs, for fear that they would duke it out and harm each other. However, the sagely Dungeness commanded the respect of his smaller and more youthful counterparts, siring over the others like a lord would over his serfs.

I gave the blue crabs a good rinse to get rid of any vestiges of their previous home: seaweed, sand, and ocean bits.

The next step involved prepping the steamer. Like me, you probably don't own a steamer. Fear not! A steamer is one of the easiest things to MacGyver. My parents taught me a trick that I've other chefs and cooks have repeatedly reinforced. Take a large pot and place a few flat items on the bottom. Good candidates: ramekins (what I used), a colander, a few forks and a large plate, the possibilities go on. It's best to stick with something flat and high so you have a level steaming surface that can hold a lot of weight.

Once I put a few ramekins down, I put a round metal disc with lots of holes to allow the steam to come through. I'm lucky to have one of these. You can use a plate without much loss in integrity.

I decided to steam the crabs with a mixture of beer, apple cider, and vinegar. I initially wanted to use a cider vinegar but alas, I couldn't find it. Also, I wanted to enjoy the summer day more than walking the aisles of an overcrowded Whole Foods, so I decided to try the mixture.

Any beer will do; I settled for a chilly Heineken, bringing to mind a relaxing day at the beach, lazing in plastic chairs with gulls circling overhead, sand dollars and sea stars afoot, the rhythmic waves pounding the shore. It is like therapeutic nature music. I settled on classic tunes by the Beach Boys to cook to.

I poured twelve ounces of Heineken, half a cup of white vinegar, and half a cup of apple cider into my makeshift steamer.

I covered and brought this mixture to a rapid boil. The crabs, sensing their doom, were extremely feisty to the end. I sustained an injury while handling one. Use tongs! Even with tongs, they were extremely scary -- very fast on foot and very sharp claws ready to snap.

Each layer of shellfish I put down, I sprinkled a healthy amount of Old Bay seasoning, a blend from Maryland consisting of mustard, paprika, celery seed, bay leaf, cracked black and red pepper, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, nutmeg, cardamom, salt, and ginger.

They initially resisted and shifted around in the pot, but eventually the steam rendered them slow and comatose, descending slowly into the realm of eternal slumber.

I steamed the critters for 25 minutes. When I raised the lid, a heavenly scent of spice and crab meat entered my nostrils, exciting me for the feast that was to come. A frigid Budweiser or Heineken served in an icy glass is a perfect accompaniment.

The Dungeness crab was easier to prepare. I brought a large pot of water seasoned heavily with salt and Old Bay to a boil, and boiled the crustacean for 12 minutes.

Summer days are truly glorious.

Source: Sam Sifton of the NYTimes

RECIPE: STEAMED BLUE CRABS
12 ounces beer

1 cup apple-cider vinegar

1 dozen large blue crabs

½ cup Chesapeake-style crab seasoning, preferably Old Bay.

1. Place a steamer pot or any large, heavy pot with a tight-fitting lid on the stove. (In the latter case, improvise a rack on the bottom of the pot that will keep crabs a few inches from the bottom.) Add the beer, vinegar and 1 cup water. Bring to a boil over high heat.

2. Put a layer of crabs on the rack in the pot. Sprinkle with a generous amount of seasoning, then repeat with another layer, and another, until all 12 crabs are in pot (and well seasoned). Cover and steam over medium-high heat until the crabs are bright red, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove the crabs with tongs. Serve over newspaper, with mallets and picks. Serves 4.

RECIPE: SIMPLY BOILED DUNGENESS CRAB

1 large dungeness crab (you can do two or even three without modifying the recipe)

water to fill a large pot

1 cup Old Bay seasoning

salt

white wine vinegar (optional)

1. Bring a large pot filled with water to a boil. Season with enough salt to make the water taste of seawater and optionally add white wine vinegar. Also add 1 cup Old Bay seasoning.

2. Meanwhile, scrub the Dungeness crab carefully with a seafood brush under cold water, removing all ocean bits, seaweed, and sand.

3. Place Dungeness crab (if rubber-banded, leave it on still) into boiling mixture and cover. Lower heat to medium-high.

4. Boil for 10-12 minutes and drain. Serve optionally with butter. Serves 2.

Staff Lasagna

I'm starting to get emails complaining about the dearth of posts this week. Let me explain. Two weekends ago, while prepping some blue crabs for an upcoming article, I sustained a finger injury that got infected. My left hand has been out of commission since then, at first painful and now only inconvenient to cook.

Fortunately, it's been healing speedily and is finally to the state where it's no longer greenish purply and looks somewhat healthy. So a valuable lesson learned -- crustaceans contain a lot of weird bacteria and parasites, so wash your hands carefully if any of them get into your bloodstream. Now, on to the cooking!

I decided this week to make Staff Lasagna, the post-lunch, pre-dinner meal they serve to the staff at Per Se. It's not particularly exciting or expensive, i.e. there is no caviar, truffles, lobster, foie gras, or other delicacies in this. It was simple to make, but the yield was delicious. In fact, I've received so many compliments on the sauce that I am thinking of rotating this into the permanent collection.

What piques my interest is that this recipe contains no bells-and-whistles, no expensive ingredient that requires intense preparation and brings fervid flavor to the dish. It is merely a tomato-based sauce, a cheese mixture, and pasta noodles. There isn't even any meat in it!

I started by preparing the sauce. I heated up some oil and added finely minced garlic and onions to it.


Once they were tender, I added the tomato paste and cooked it for about ten minutes. The oil became a bright orange color, which is exactly what I wanted.

Lastly, I added the fresh tomatoes -- all eight (!) cups of them.


The recipe then says you can cook it two different ways -- either in the oven with a parchment lid, which is what they do in the Per Se kitchen, as it requires less oversight and heats more evenly, or on the stove, where it takes less time and requires some monitoring. I chose to cook it on the stove for time reasons -- I wanted to go to bed before 4am.

I simmered it for about two hours, where it thickened more and more. I also deviated from the recipe by adding a few tablespoons of butter, which was a very wise decision as I later assessed.

Here's what the sauce looked like after two hours:


I turned off the heat, letting it cool, and added freshly chopped oregano (from my garden!).

Meanwhile, I prepared the ricotta cheese mixture that would function as a filling for the lasagna. I cracked opened three eggs, whisking in ricotta, salt, black pepper, and some other stuff...


Lastly, I cooked the lasagna noodles. I bought some homemade noodles from Whole Foods (a less than perfect choice, as I later thought). But, it sufficed and it was easier than making my own homemade dough and noodles.

I assembled the lasagna by getting a large baking pan, adding a layer of sauce on the bottom, then noodles, then ricotta mixture, then repeating until the top. I sprinkled a layer of shredded mozzarella on the top and put it in the oven.

I baked this and tada! here's what it looked like when I took it out:

A lovely golden color, tomato and cheesy aroma, and saucy interior.


Wow! I know it's just lasagna, but this is one of the best lasagnas I've had ever. And it doesn't even have meat. But the sauce was absolutely terrific and I'm not the only one who thinks that. Two people who also tried this lasagna told me the same thing. For future iterations of this recipe, I can think of a lot of easy and interesting changes to make it even better.

1) Homemade lasagna noodles or maybe a different source at least. I know a lot of great homemade fresh pasta stores in the city if I decide to be lazy again.
2) Assembling it better -- Calling me an amateur at lasagna assembly would be a compliment if you had had the chance to see me putting this together. I had overlapping noodles, broken noodles, sauce and cheese mixing together, and every other conceivable disaster known to man while attempting to build the dish.
3) Adding meat -- I am a dedicated lifelong carnivore and I can think of meat-a-plenty I'd love to add to this dish. Veal, turkey, (maybe lobster?). The possibilities are endless.

Sources:
Produce and lasagna from Whole Foods

Bachelorhood and Its Discontents

Leibniz never married. He had considered it at the age of fifty; but the person he had in mind asked for time to reflect. This gave Leibniz time to reflect, too, and so he never married. — Bernard Fontenelle

Last Sunday, my friend Max Boswell asked Jorge and I if we were interested in doing brunch. We countered with an even better idea: we offered to cook brunch for the three of us at his place and eat in his garden. He thought it was a great idea.

To fully understand the implications of such an offer, I must tell you how Mr. Boswell lives. Max lives in a studio in Gramercy, a subterranean living space of 200 ft²- 300 ft². He does not cook ever -- the kitchen is there merely for decorative purposes. Today we will explore what it truly means to be a bachelor by doing a case study in the life of Max. We will finally understand all that bachelorhood has to offer -- as well as its discontents.

Let's start with the contents of his refrigerator:

Dismally empty shelves greet us when we open the door. I see a bag of flour, several diet Cokes, two moldy/rotten oranges, a TV dinner, and some unidentifiable masses. After mustering up sufficient courage, I picked up an item only to realize it was cheese expired by almost an entire year. In fright, I dropped the substance and photographed the putrid-smelling, fungal mass:

Parmigiano -- Reggiano Cheese: Best Used by 11/09/09.

The door of the refrigerator conveys an equally morose existence:

"How embarrassing -- a house full of condiments but no food." -- Tyler Durden

I carefully stepped over the rotten funkinations and examined the contents of the dry cabinets. I discovered classic foods that all bachelors should have fully stocked in their apartment.

Scores of packages of Top Ramen, Hunt's Manwich Original Sloppy Joe Sauce, cans of black beans, and other sundries greeted me contently when I uncovered their dark hiding place above the refrigerator. The cabinet creaked under the enormous weight of the dry goods.

My investigative team also dared to explore the depths of The Bachelor's freezer. We discovered a veritable cornucopia -- no wait, a treasure trove -- of frozen TV dinners enough to feed whole armies of hungry single men incapable of cooking for themselves. Bagel Bites, McCain's Hash Browns, Celeste instant pizzas, Crispy N Tasty, Gorton's Fish Fillets, and Steam Fresh! It was like unearthing an ancient pharaoh's tomb with all the gold and jewels that adorned it in afterlife. Never mind the unidentifiable red substance leaking on the bottom left of the freezer -- these glorious frozen foods were enough to make any lazy couch potato salivate.

I thought I had uncovered all the riches and heavenly pleasures of The Bachelor's food cache when I carefully examined the cabinet further and discovered another bounty of ready-to-eat foods that promoted torpidity and sloth.

Boil-in-Bag White Rice, Instant Mashed Potatoes, and more.


Rice-A-Roni and Hamburger Helper.

Cooking oil was discovered, to our investigative team's surprise. It was like uncovering a bookshelf of diet books inside a fat kid's room. Of course, the oil appeared to not have been used in over a year, as evidenced by the thick oily crust at the top of the plastic bottle. Any label appears to have decayed or decomposed back into nature. We can only speculate.


Of course, all the literature was present as well. Here we can see a required reading for any good bachelor: Rachael Ray's Top 30 Guy Food.



A greasy and stained oven was the only evidence for some early attempts at cooking. With my basic archeological skills, I deduced that The Bachelor had at one point attempted real cooking, but neglected to ever clean the mess that evolved from his failed enterprises.

Finally, a mountain of cat food greeted us from inside the largest cabinet. It was like uncovering Scrooge McDuck's money bin, except filled with Fancy Feast instead of cash.


This rare look at the living styles and consumption habits of The Bachelor have greatly enhanced our limited knowledge of this creature. The bonanza of new information will rewrite basic anthropological texts for decades to come. We are only so lucky that we had access to this sacred shrine of lazy consumption and absolute sloth and filth.

Stay tuned next time, when we uncover the eating and living habits of the rare and exotic creatures of the Upper East Side!

Leg of Lamb in Pink Yogurt and Allspice Sauce

Hey folks. Sorry I haven't updated in a while. The weekend before last, I went to the beach on Long Island and got a nice tan. Met up with some friends there. Starved myself so I wouldn't look like a bloated whale. I did allow myself some raw oysters and clams... and gallons of margaritas. Woo! Life is good.

Disaster befell "The Lab" this past weekend when my careless ogre of a roommate left the freezer door open. After two days of not being home, I found the kitchen in a messy state with a frantically beeping freezer. The temperature inside was above 30 degrees. A melted puddle of sludge and bloody liquid surrounded packages of overly soft pieces of meat. The stench conjured memories of dumpsters and rotten meat covered in maggots and garbage that has been left out too long.

I ended up throwing almost everything out -- there were a few exceptions: tightly sealed jars and vacuum-packed bags of non-meat entities. I hate throwing out food so I tried to save as much as possible.

The casualties:
Baby back ribs
Two whole chickens
One whole pork loin
Sweetbreads
Two pig's feet
Package of rib-eye steaks
One filet mignon
Package of tilapia
Package of tuna steaks
Two cartons of ice cream
Four fresh sea bass
Three lobster bodies
Four king salmon from Alaska
Tons of shrimp
Packages of raviolis and wontons

Ugh. When he comes home (estimated two months from now), I am going to demand reparations. Or something. I'm really not sure. What do you guys suggest?

Anyway, on to the meal. Last night, I prepared a variation of a recipe I've seen on fxcuisine.com, a site that hasn't posted an update since late 2009. I like the blogger's high-quality photography and interesting take on Mediterranean and European cuisine, so I have read most of his articles and cooked (at least twice!) a lot of his dishes.

The first step of this recipe calls for making stabilized yogurt. This is prepared with one egg white, one tablespoon of corn starch, and a liter/quart of white yogurt. I have always used plain yogurt in the past but I mistakenly purchased vanilla yogurt this time. Oops.

I whisked and simmered this in a sauce pan for five minutes until well-incorporated. At this point, I decided that the vanilla wasn't so bad an idea.

Next, I prepared the lamb. I found this leg of lamb from Whole Foods. It is a magnificent three-pound deboned leg of lamb. The butcher went to the back to retrieve it from whatever mysterious source he procures meat from. He cut it fresh right in front of me, accurate to the hundredth of a pound (I asked for 3.00 lbs, and he gave me 2.99).

I tied the leg with some of my own string to maintain its shape and used the point of a sharp knife to make incisions inside the lamb. Then, I stuffed it with delicious delicious garlic. All around, all around.

I heated some oil in a large heavy pot and seared the lamb all over. It was a beautiful golden brown color on all sides.

I then added one cup of tomato puree (sauce) and one cup of yogurt. You can add the tomato puree first and let it caramelize or add the yogurt immediately if you don't really care.

Mix it together, and it becomes a dazzling pink/orange color.



In the above photo, you can also see I added some crushed allspice berries.

I fluted the pot with tin foil on all edges and then put the lid on. The point is to created a sealed chamber in which the lamb cooks slowly. I lowered the heat until it was at a bare simmer, with the tin foil providing the tightly sealed space in which to cook evenly.

I cooked it 2 or 3 hours...

...and sliced it open. It was medium rare inside. Pink and tender.


The final plating.


Great dish to prepare for a large group of friends. It serves about ten people. You can cook the lamb as long as you would like as long as the pot is sealed well and the heat is low. Sometimes the pressure of the steam will pop the lid off if well-sealed enough. You just have to lower the temperature some more.

Had there been a bone, the meat would've fallen off from being so tender. The sauce was sweet and tangy and light. Mmm.

Sources:
Leg of lamb from Whole Foods
Tomatoes and Yogurt from Whole Foods