Perfectly Thin, Duck Fat-Fried Potato Crisps

Oh, dear readers. So much to write about but so little time. This summer has been flying by. It's been a hot one, too, which doesn't seem to jibe. Doesn't heat usually seem to make things drag? Well, not here. Between doing lots of work (I published my second book! Go grab a copy of Reading Toward Success on Amazon!), doing a good bit of travel, and having lots of guests, I feel like I've barely been able to keep up—in a good way. Chef Reiton and I love to entertain, which goes hand-in-hand with having lots of guests. Whether it's for one friend, two friends or 30 friends, we've been cooking up a storm this summer.

One of the things that I've gotten really into making is potato chips. I found a recipe in one of my Alton Brown cookbooks, I believe, and I made them on a whim one night. After our friend Mario's "Dear God!" exclamation after his first bite, I haven't been able to stop making them.

The first time I made them, I cut them with a standard vegetable peeler, per Alton's instructions. These chips were delightfully thin, but they were a pain-in-the-butt to cut. Careful, even pressure needs to be applied to get a whole slice of potato and not a wonky sliver, and for those who know me and my hand-eye coordination, that didn't work so well.

The next time I made them, I hand-sliced them. Using a beautifully sharp chef's knife, this worked out just fine. Except the anal side of me was upset at the lack of perfect uniformity in slice-thickness.

I finally came to a decision: it was time to visit Amazon.

For a long time, I have been wanting to replace my mandoline. No, I do not play a stringed instrument. I'm speaking of a kitchen tool that makes insanely thin slices of just about anything you want. The Norpro version that I have just hasn't held up. The blade has become dull, which means the mandoline has become dangerous to operate, and, frankly, I don't want to be losing any parts of my fingers or hand, no matter how tiny a slice. Bon Appetit magazine has highly recommended the Benriner Old Version Vegetable Slicer, and so that was the one I bought.

Baby, is that thing awesome! When I took my first swipe, the slicing was so smoothly done I had to check to make sure that it had actually sliced (unlike my Norpro that gave my veggie a tug every time I swiped downward. Yikes!). And for about the same price as a Norpro—AND the ability to change blades—I'm never going back.

Another thing I'm not going back on? Duck fat.

Yes, my friends—duck fat. After having a couple jars for a stupidly long time and "being afraid to use them" (MAJOR eye-roll here...), we let our friend, Chef Wilkinson, use them when he came over and made us a French meal the other night that included pomme frites: French fries fried in duck fat.

Potatoes fried in duck fat, once tasted, will change yet another aspect of your kitchen life. Trust me. The taste is full and deep, unlike vegetable fats. It's not a cheap fat, but it is an insanely delicious and healthy one that can be reused over and over again. Just strain it after it cools down and store it in the fridge.

So. Now for another test: I sliced my exquisitely even potato chips using my beautiful Benriner mandoline, gave the slices a good 20-minute soak in some hot water, rinsed them, and patted them dry. Meanwhile I heated about 3 cups of duck fat in a medium saucepan to 355°F. Once the fat was hot, I slipped four or five slices of potato into the fat one at a time, held them under the surface with a spider strainer and flipped them occasionally. When they were a lovely golden brown, I pulled them out, immediately sprinkled them with kosher salt, and drained them in a paper-towel lined bowl.

How did those duck-fat potato chips turn out?

Perfect.

Paleo Plantain French Fries

When you are limited on where your starches come from in a paleo diet, you get creative.

Ladies and Gentleman, the plantain french fry!

NO, they don't taste exactly like a potato french fry. Of course they don't. They are made from a plantain, not a potato, so don't sit and whine that they aren't the same. They aren't gonna be the same, whiner.

But I'd rather have a salty, crispy-tender plantain fry to munch on than NONE at all.

And I'll leave off the six pounds I've lost in the past two weeks, too.

Thank you, meat and veggies.

Want to make them? We used three plantains for two of us.

Ingredients:

• green plantains with no yellowing
• coconut oil
• kosher salt

Special Tools:

• a bowl or colander
• paper towel
• paring knife
• skimmer or slotted metal spatula

Directions:

1. Place the paper towel in the bowl or colander. It will absorb some of the oil from the fries.
2. Using a paring knife, cut off the tops and bottoms of the plantains. Score through the skin along the natural ridges of the plantain. Slide your thumb under the end of one of the strips and pop the skin up. Slide your thumb up the plantain to remove the strip. Peel all of the plantains completely. 
3. Start heating the coconut oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. You want a depth that will more than coat the french fry, about 1/2 an inch. (And don't worry about waste. You can reuse this oil to make more fries another time.)
4. Meanwhile, cut a plantain in half crosswise. Now cut the halves in half lengthwise. Cut the four pieces in half lengthwise again. Turn those pieces on their sides and cut them in half. You may have a few pieces that need turning and cutting in half one more time, depending on the size of your plantains. You should have square-ish fries. Repeat for all of the plantains.
5. Look back to the oil. You want it hot but not smoking. Test it by tossing in a scrap of plantain. If it immediately bubbles rapidly, it's ready.
6. Carefully drop in a small handful of fries. Stir gently to move the fries around a bit so they don't stick together. Fry until the plantains are a nice golden brown, stirring occasionally. Remove them from the oil with the skimmer or spatula, tapping the skimmer on the side of the saucepan to allow excess oil to drip back into the saucepan. Dump the fries into the paper towel-lined bowl and immediately sprinkle with kosher salt. 
7. Repeat until all the fries are done. If you want to keep the fries warm in the oven, you can do so, but I liked snacking while I fried...

Enjoy!

A Paleo Puerto Rican Dinner Menu

What a week. In our second snow bomb storm of the season, the power in our block where "the power never goes out"—went out. Not for thirty minutes. Or an hour. Or the evening.

No, it went out for 24 hours.

Thank goodness it went out after I had pulled the steak tips we were having for dinner from the fridge. AND our stove is gas, so we could light her up and keep cooking. By candlelight.

So, despite the awkwardness of cooking without really being able to clearly see our food, Chef Reiton and I still forged ahead to start our month of going paleo to get these two bodies back on track.

So, here you go, folks: a paleo Puerto Rican dinner, prepared and eaten by candlelight:

• Pan-Seared Cumin-Lime Steak Tips
• Simple Avocado Salad
• Tostones

Recipes:

For the steak tips:

1. Rinse and pat dry the steak. Sprinkle generously with kosher salt, ground cumin, garlic powder, freshly squeezed lime juice and freshly ground black pepper. Rub it all in. Let meat rest for 15 minutes (while you prep the rest of the dinner).
2. Cut off the top and bottom of one onion, halve it lengthwise, remove the peel, then slice the onion halves lengthwise into slivers.
3. Sear meat in a tablespoon or so of coconut oil in a skillet until starting to char. Add onion slivers, and continue cooking steak, turning tips to sear all sides. Toss the onions occasionally.
4. You want medium-rare to medium in doneness on the steak. Rest under foil on a plate for 10 minutes with the onions. Garnish with cilantro and serve.

For the avocado salad:

1. Wash and halve avocado(s). Whack into the seed with a chef's knife blade, then twist the blade gently to pop out the seed.
2. Hold a half in your palm. With a paring knife, CAREFULLY slice through the avocado flesh but NOT the skin, cutting it into cubes.
3. Take a silverware tablespoon and, sliding the edge of it between the avocado skin and the flesh, scoop the chunks out into a bowl.
4. Repeat as necessary on additional avocados.
5. Salt and pepper the avocado chunks, squirt with some fresh lime juice, and toss gently. Garnish with chopped cilantro and serve.

For the tostones:

1. Heat coconut oil in a small skillet or saucepan to a depth of about 1/2-inch. You can save and reuse this oil several times for this.
2. Meanwhile, with a paring knife, cut the top and bottom tips off a very green plantain.
3. Score through the skin of the plantain, following along the natural ridges of the skin.
4. Take your thumbnail and wedge it under one of the skin strips. Pop up the skin, then slide your thumb up the plantain, peeling off the strip. Repeat the whole way around. Repeat on additional plantains as necessary.
5. Slice the plantains into 1- to 1 1/2-inch chunks.
6. Fry the plantain slices in batches to a golden brown, turning once to get both sides. Drain on paper towels.
7. Smash the fried plantain chunks to about 1/4-inch thick with a plate, tostone smasher, or what have you.
8. Refry the smashed chunks (tostones) in the hot oil. Remove to a paper towel to drain and immediately sprinkle with adobo seasoning (you can readily find this in your grocery store in the ethnic aisle). Serve.

And there you have it, folks. A paleo Puerto Rican dinner—by candlelight.

The Anatomy of a Patty Melt—and Its Recipe

It hit hard.

Really hard.

It started so innocently.  I was putzing around the kitchen, doing this, doing that, when I opened up the fridge and saw a package of raw hamburger sitting there, staring at me—hamburger meant for, well, hamburgers.  I closed the fridge door, and suddenly I saw in my mind's eye:

A patty melt... Ohhhhhh, a patty melt!!!

I desperately tried to shake the image from my mind.  Your guts don't like grain, I told myself.  Just—eat the meat.

Nope.

I went for a run.

The craving followed.

You don't really have anything else in the fridge to cook, anyway, my craving reminded me.

Oh, good grief.

And I caved.

To assuage my guilt, I hereby give you the four components that make up the patty melt of my dreams.  Now you, too, can taste and see...

You will need:

• raw hamburger (however much poundage you want to eat is up to you)
• 2 slices of melty cheese (I love Muenster)
• 2 soft, thick slices of white bread
• lots of butter

The only other requirements? A skillet, a metal spatula, a small piece of parchment, and ketchup, for serving.

Heat that skillet over medium heat until it is hot but not blazing. While it is heating, shape your hamburger into a large rectangle that is the shape of your bread but slightly larger (meat shrinks as it cooks, and you want the cooked patty to be the size of your bread).  Salt and pepper both sides of the patty, then cook it in the skillet until brown and crusty on both sides.  (I did about 1/3 lb., and mine took about 4 minutes per side.  Keep an eye on yours.  Different amounts of meat and different stoves make for different cooking times.)

Remove the patty from the skillet and drain it on a paper towel-lined plate.  Pour off the meat fat, wipe out (scrub, if necessary) the skillet, then reheat it on the stove until hot.  Add a tablespoon of butter to the skillet and push it around to thoroughly and heavily coat the bottom of the skillet, focusing on the center where the bread will be placed. You want a good pool of butter for that bread to fry in.

Add a slice of bread to the skillet, sopping up the melted butter with the bread before placing it in the center of the skillet.  Lay one slice of cheese on top of the bread, then top the cheese with the beef patty.  Give the sandwich about 2 minutes to brown, then, using a metal spatula, start peeking under the bottom slice of bread periodically.  You want a nice golden crust to your sandwich, not a burnt one (and all that butter can burn quickly, if you aren't careful).

Once your bottom crust is golden, momentarily remove the half-sandwich from the skillet with the spatula and add another tablespoon of butter to the skillet.  Do the same swirling technique as before, then place your second piece of bread in the butter pool, sopping as before.  Lay down your second slice of cheese, then carefully flip the first half of the sandwich on top.

Lay the piece of parchment over the top crusty piece of bread and press down HARD with the metal spatula.  Do this frequently for a few minutes, smashing the whole pile down and making the melty cheese glue all the sandwich parts together into a deliciously compressed mess.

When the bottom crust is browned how you like it, cut the patty melt in half diagonally and plate it.  Squirt a crap-ton of ketchup onto your plate, and get ready to dip and bite away.

Making Homemade Ghee (and Making Butter Dairy-Free!)

I am grateful for you, readers, all puns aside.  I started this blog how many years ago having no idea that people from around the world would be reading my cooking and eating thoughts and adventures. And now when I write, instead of thinking I am writing to my mom and sisters as I did in the beginning, I find myself imagining who some of you may be, and I write to you.  And my mom and siblings.  Ye all have made my world expand, and it's wonderful.  Thank you.

Speaking of ghee, Chef Reiton has been yearning to make ghee (pronounced "gee" like "ye" hence my horrible puns) for an eternity.  Ever since he bought his cookbook titled "Oriental Step-by-Step Cookbook" (seriously), he has wanted to make this high heat-tolerant oil used in pan frying, sautéing, etc.  When he found out a few months ago that ghee is also paleo, he had a batch made within the week.

Having used up that batch a few weeks ago, I made another batch the other day.  I tried to document the melting process as best I could for you.  Here's the step-by-step process for making about 1 2/3 cups of oil from one pound of organic unsalted butter.  (This process takes awhile, so it's a good project to do while you are making something else in the kitchen.)

Unwrap four sticks or one 1-pound block of unsalted organic butter in a 2-quart saucepan. Set the pot on a burner set to the lowest heat setting.  As the butter begins to melt, you will see the whitish milk solids separate from the clear, yellow oil.  DO NOT STIR.

Soon the milk solids will rise to the surface, and the oil will begin to simmer.

As the oil simmers, the milk solids will begin to brown.  Some of them will settle to the bottom of the pot.  This is okay; the oil will be strained at the end.  

When the solids are a nice nutty color, strain the oil through a mesh strainer lined with several layers of cheesecloth.

The result? An oil that is extremely heat tolerant and free of milk solids that tastes deliciously of butter.  

Pour your ghee into a jar, let it cool, then cap it and store it in the fridge.

Now, for my veteran ghee makers out there: did I overdo my browning? I don't remember my husband's being as dark... It tastes good; I just want it to be "right."  Let me know if a comment if you have the answer.

Good luck to "ghee" all!

The Primal Eggplant: Tweaking Eggplant Rollatini

If you are a vegetable lover like me, you probably are pretty open to trying mostly any vegetable out there.

If you continue to be like me in such matters, you are still--no matter your openness--wary of the eggplant.

In defense of myself, I am (mostly) a believer in the food adage: "In-order-to-know-if-you-really-like-something-you-have-to-try-it-10-times." So, eggplant and I keep trying.  Yes, I discovered the amazing coal-roasted eggplant this summer, which I truly did love.  But, if you've been watching the news as of late, it's not necessarily grilling season up here in Wisconsin.

In perusing my David Rocco cookbook, Made in Italy, the other day, I came across this winner of a recipe (approved by two teenage boys--and I didn't even lie about what it was!): Involtini di Melanzane e Provola.  I adapted it for my primal husband, which is the version I've posted below, but you can use flour instead of the almond meal if you wish.  I do encourage you to give it a try the primal way, though.  I think you'll be happy you did.  The slightly nutty flavor was one of the things the boys liked about it.

Ingredients:
1 medium eggplant
Kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper
1 cup almond meal (I used Trader Joe's) in a pie plate
1 egg, beaten in a pie plate
Extra virgin olive oil for frying (amount will depend on the size of your skillet; you want it a good 1/4 inch deep)
12 slices of smoked provolone

As thinly as you can, slice the eggplant lengthwise.  I got about 12 slices, and that includes discarding some that were just wonky (I'm not very good at slicing thinly and evenly).  Salt the slices heavily and let rest for half an hour to draw out the water.  Pat dry.

Get a plate and a pile of paper towels ready.  Heat the oil in a skillet until it is almost smoking.

Dip a slice of eggplant in the almond meal, coating both sides, then dip it in the egg, coating both sides.  Let the excess egg drip off, then lay the eggplant in the hot oil and fry for about a minute until golden brown.  Flip and get the other side golden.  Remove to a paper towel to absorb excess oil.  Repeat for the rest of the eggplant slices.

When you are done frying, lay a slice of smoked provolone on each slice of eggplant and roll up, lining the rolls up on a warm platter.  Season with fresh cracked pepper.  If you wish, spoon some of Beppe's tomato sauce over the top.

Delizioso! I promise!

Perfectly Crispy Sweet Potato Fries

My first sweet potato fry tasting was a number of years ago, and if yours was like mine, it was an experience never forgotten.  It was a moment where I was holding in my mind what I thought to be an accurate expectation of what a sweet potato fry would taste like—then took a bite and realized that my expectation was delightfully, horribly wrong.

The shape is about all there is that is similar between regular and sweet potato fries.  The differences, on the other hand, are numerous: the texture is crispy yet smooth; the taste is salty then sweet; the color is flat out beautiful.

Despite my love for these fries, for years I've avoided making them because every time I tried, the result was mediocre at best.

Until the other night...

Once again, Bittman helped out.  I didn't use his recipe, but I did use an element of a recipe of his that I had made a week ago.  In How to Cook Everything he has a recipe for Crispy Chicken Cutlets with something or other.  The "crispy" comes from a very basic batter of 1 cup of flour blended with 1/2 cup water.  I decided to use that batter to coat some sweet potato fries to see if I could get that same wonderful crisp that accompanies only the best s.p. fries.

So, I washed two large sweet potatoes, cut them in half crosswise, then cut those halves into 1/4-inch sticks.  Any really small leftover bits I tossed.  I let the sticks sit on the counter for a good hour to dry out some.  (I'm not sure if it really did anything or not.  Maybe next time I won't let them dry out to see if it changes the result.)

When I was ready to fry I whisked up the batter of 1 cup flour and 1/2 cup water with a few heavy dashes of cayenne pepper, divided the sticks into 4 batches, then tossed the sticks in the batter and quickly dropped them one fry at a time (to keep them from sticking together) into a deep fryer at 350 degrees for 4 1/2 minutes.  Each batch was salted with coarse salt immediately after coming out of the fryer and kept hot in the oven.

A word about deep frying: I have found from personal experience that using a deep fryer provides much, MUCH better results than frying in a pot of oil on the stove.  I've had experience with using multiple stoves and found that, with all of them, the oil just doesn't get hot enough, or it takes too long to get hot again after a batch is done frying.  The whole point of deep frying is to get the oil super hot so that when you drop your food into the oil, the water in your food immediately starts to steam, pushing OUT of the food, and creating a type of barrier that keeps the oil from soaking IN. This produces food that is 1) deliciously crisp and 2) not greasy, i.e. the best of fried food.  It is necessary to use a deep-fat/candy thermometer, so be sure to have one on-hand.

The result? OMG.  They were restaurant-quality, not meaning to brag.  The flesh was tender, the batter crispy and golden.  Holy cow, I need to do that again, for SURE.