What's left of the fudge

Yesterday the spirit moved me to make chocolate fudge. This is something I’ve never done before, so it was somewhat of an adventure, wedged between MoJo’s basketball game and the Ravens/Cowboys football game.

I found a recipe in old faithful – James Beard’s American Cookery. And, as luck would have it, we had all the necessary ingredients in the house, so it required no runs to the store. And while the recipe calls for nuts, we skipped those and went with only the bad-for-you stuff.

Now, me making fudge is akin to an arsonist making matches. In the end, it’s a dangerous proposition. But fortunately, with a house full of kids and a wife with a chocolate addiction, I was mercifully spared the possibility of eating the entire batch all by myself. I did, however, share in the indulgence.

Again, keep in mind this was my first effort. I’d welcome hearing from any of you black belt fudge makers with suggestions on how to improve on my next attempt.

Chocolate Fudge

2 cups sugar
2 Tbl corn syrup (light or dark)
2/3 cup rich milk or evaporated milk
2 to 4 Tbl butter
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup corsely broken or chopped, lightly toasted nutmeats
1 to 2 ounces of unsweetened chocolate

Combine the sugar, corn syrup, milk, butter, chocolate and salt in a 3 or 4 quart saucepan. Stir and bring to a boil. Cook to 234 to 236 degrees (use a candy thermometer).

When it hits the proper temperature, remove the saucepan from the heat and place on a rack to cool.

When the bottom of the pan is cool enough that you can put your hand on it without shrieking in pain, take a spatula and slowly work the fudge from the outside to the center of the pot. When it cools to a point that it starts to look dull instead of shiny, stir in the vanilla (and nuts if you’re using them).

Pour out the fudge onto a sheet of wax paper or aluminium foil and let cool. Cut into squares. Eat and enjoy!

Boog’s Hot Sauce
1 1/2 cups white vinegar
3/4 cup water
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 cups cayenne peppers, stemmed and chopped

Put all ingredients into a pot used solely for cooking peppers. Bring to boil, then cut back heat to just below boil and let mixture cook until peppers soften, about 30-45 minutes.

Drain cooked peppers and liquefy in blender, running at high speed for 1 to 2 minutes. Strain, pour into bottles.

Thanks, Boog!
]]> http://sullicom.wordpress.com/2008/10/12/boogs-hot-sauce/feed/ 0 sullicom pepperpot http://sullicom.wordpress.com/2008/10/12/burgoo/ http://sullicom.wordpress.com/2008/10/12/burgoo/#comments Sun, 12 Oct 2008 13:16:34 +0000 sullicom http://sullicom.wordpress.com/?p=34 Continue reading →]]> Fall seems to be in no hurry to get here this year. The days are still warm and the leaves are just starting to show some color. But a couple of mornings ago, it was foggy and dewy and for the first time this season the day evoked memories of burgoo.

When I was growing up in Kentucky, fall was the time for burgoo parties. They’d start early in the morning – often cool, foggy, dewy mornings that sparked the memory above. And, they’d go late.

The parties I most remember were hosted by Harry and Mada Lee Boyd. They lived on the outskirts of town in a house that had a long, gently sloping backyard segued into the woods. I recall that Harry had a .22 caliber rifle he kept by the back door for use when rabbits or squirrels dared trespass from the woods into his yard.

The burgoo events would start early on a Saturday. There was a wood fire over which was hung a big black kettle. The kettle was loaded with all sorts of ingredients – tomatoes, corn, lima beans, meats of all sorts – quite possibly including some of the trespassing rabbits and squirrels. The men took turns throughout the day stirring the kettle with a boat paddle.

By mid- to late-afternoon, the burgoo was ready. It was ladled into bowls, topped with a few shakes of Tabasco Sauce and served with crackers and cornbread. There was plenty of sweet tea, as well as bourbon and beer. The parties often outlasted me. My parents would tuck me into a bed in the Boyd’s guest room and I’d fall asleep listening to the comforting sound of voices and laughter.

I didn’t realize that burgoo was a regional dish until I moved away from Kentucky during my teens. It was years before I had it again, when I made it myself – sans party – from the following recipe in James Beard’s “American Cookery” book. You can see from the portions in the list of ingredients why there’s usually a party involved. There are no rabbits or squirrels in this recipe, which frankly was and still is okay by me.

Burgoo

7 pounds shin of beef or 4 pounds chuck
1 stewing hen, 5 to 6 pounds
Salt
6 medium potatoes cut into large cubes
8 carrots cut into thick slices
6 medium turnips cut into large cubes
1 large head celery cut into 1-inch pieces
4 medium onions, sliced
1 1/2 quarts canned tomatoes
2 pounds green beans cut into 1-inch pieces
3 pounds peas, shelled
2 pounds butter beans, shelled
12 ears corn, cut from the cob
1 head cabbage, shredded
1 pound okra cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup chopped parsley
10 small red peppers
1 bell pepper cut into strips
1 tablespoon thyme
Freshly ground pepper

Put the beef and fowl into enough cold water to more than cover them, and add one tablespoon salt for each quart of water. You will need a pot for all this that holds 12 to 15 quarts, or two 8-quart ones. Bring to a boil and cook 5 minutes, skimming off any scum that forms at the top. Cover and simmer until the beef and fowl are extremely tender. Remove them from the broth, and when cool enough to handle, cut into bite-size pieces. Return to the broth, bring to a boil, and add the vegetables in the order given. When the mixture comes to a full rolling boil, add the thyme and pepper, and simmer until the vegetables are cooked – about 45 minutes. Add salt if needed after tasting.

The Chef From Hell recently posted another recipe for burgoo on his site if you’d like an alternate, smaller-portioned version.

If you want to try some without going to the effort of making it yourself, the Moonlight Bar-B-Q Inn in Owensboro, Kentucky has it available on their site for shipping.

There’s also a great piece on NPR’s site about burgoo, authored by another native of the commonwealth offering his own memories. Good sound clips from him and others about this terrific regional dish.

Enjoy!

Mole

Last year about this time I held the first Sullicom Sauce Off.  The winning recipe in that competition came from Chef JP, proprietor of The Chef From Hell blog, my favorite food site on cyber-earth. The Chef dug into his ample recipe vault and produced a sauce with a Mexican spin.

This is one of many barbecue sauces I make from time to time. This particular one is perfect for chicken breasts on the grill or to use as a condiment on some fajita steak burritos.

Ingredients:

3 TBS Olive Oil

1 Spanish Onion, chopped small

4 cloves Garlic, diced

2 TBS fresh Cilantro, diced

1 1/4 cup Ketchup

1 1/4 cup Beef Stock or Broth

1 TBS Honey

2 TBS dark brown Mustard

1/2 cup dark Molasses

1/4 cup Cider Vinegar

1/2 cup Mole sauce

Note: You can find Mole sauce at most Spanish markets or on the Internet through some sort of specialty food site. The brand I like the best is Doria Maria.

Dry Spice Mix:

1/2 tsp Kosher Salt

1 TBS dark Chili Powder

1 tsp Thyme

1 tsp Crushed Red Pepper

1 tsp Ground Cumin

Cooking Procedure:

In a small bowl, combine the ingredients for the dry spice mix

Set this aside

In a medium sized pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat

Add the onions, garlic, fresh cilantro & the dry spice mix

Stir well & cook for 5 to 8 minutes; until the onions begin to turn clear

Add the ketchup, beef stock, diced cilantro, honey, mustard, molasses & vinegar

Bring this to a high simmer

Stir well

Cook this down for 20 minutes; stir from time to time

Stir in the Mole Poblano paste & reduce heat to low

Let the sauce simmer for another 30 minutes

Hoo Hah!

And “Hoo Hah!” back at ya, Chef. Thanks for a great recipe.

Homemade Refries

When we made Chef JP’s Mole BBQ Sauce recently, one of the side dishes we added was a staple of any Mexican or Tex-Mex meal – refried beans.

It’s not like it’s hard to find find ready-made refries in the store. They come in multiple varieties in cans or in dehydrated mixes. But homemade refries aren’t hard to make and, like everything else you make on your own, there’s a certain satisfaction, not to mention an authenticity, you just can’t get by dumping them from a can or box.

The recipe we use comes from Annemarie Colbin’s wonderful “The Natural Gourmet.” I didn’t realize how many of our favorites come from this great book until I started blogging, but it seems I turn to this valuable reference about once a week to share one of its nuggets with you.

Refried Beans

3 cups dried pinto beans, soaked 6 cups water 1 bay leaf 1 carrot 1 teaspoon sea salt 3 medium onions 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1 heaping teaspoon dried oregano 1 heaping teaspoon dried basil 1 tablespoon ground cumin Tabasco or hot sauce to taste (optional)

1. Drain the beans. Place them in a 4-quart pot. Add the 6 cups water or enough to cover by 1 inch. Add the bay leaf and carrot. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer, covered, for 45 minutes, or until the beans are soft. Add the salt and cook for 10 minutes more, then remove the carrot and bay leaf. Drain the beans, reserving the cooking liquid.
2. Chop the onions; you should have about 2 cups. In a large skillet, heat the oil, add the onions and saute over medium heat for about 6 to 8 minutes, or until soft. Add the oregano, basil, and cumin.
3. Continue to saute for 5 minutes more, adding about 1/4 cup of the bean liquid so that the onions do not burn. When the onions are sweet and soft, add the beans and mash to a thick paste. Cook over low heat, uncovered, for about 5 to 8 minutes, adding bean liquid to keep the beans from drying out and burning. If you wish, season with Tabasco or hot sauce to taste. Serve hot.

A couple of notes from our experiences with this recipe. It yields a LOT of refried beans. If you’re not committed to serving an army or eating them with every meal for a week, you might want to cut the recipe. Also, make sure you keep the bean liquid handy. The beans tend to dry out quickly and the liquid is important for keeping the beans from burning and thinning them to an appetizing consistency.

BBQ Tofu

Congratulations to those of you who weren’t scared off by the title of this post. Your reward for sticking around is a surprisingly tasty recipe.

Way back in the 1980s, when your blogger still had a full head of hair and before we had our three kids (maybe one has something to do with the other), the Remarkable Marcy and I had lots of time to experiment with a wide range of recipes. During one particular stretch of clean living, we were both hard-core vegetarians and tofu was a staple of our diet.

Tofu, by itself, looks and tastes a lot like a sponge. That’s because it is sort of like a sponge in that it absorbs the flavors of whatever you cook with it. To this day, one of our favorite recipes from that era was a Barbecued Tofu concoction that came in “The PETA Guide to Compassionate Living,” a publication we received when we were card-carrying members of the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. The PETA publication plucked the recipe from Louise Hagler’s ’80s classic, Tofu Cookery.

There were two parts to the recipe: a marinade and a sauce, each delicious enough on its own to have been used alone. But together, the end result was out of this world!

First, make sure you get the right sort of tofu. You need to get the firm tofu that comes packed in water in the plastic tubs you can usually find in your grocer’s produce section. Don’t get the squishy kind that comes in a box. And make sure to get the unflavored variety. You’ll have to squeeze the water out of the block of tofu. Remember, you’re basically dealing with a sponge. The easiest way to do this is to lay the block on a saucer, then put a plate, upside down, over the block and set a heavy book on top of the plate. Give it about 30 minutes, then drain off the water that’s been pressed out.

Here’s the recipe, in its two parts.

Barbecued Tofu

2 lbs. firm tofu. Freeze, thaw, squeeze out the water and cut into 1″ x 3″ strips.

Mix together:

3 tbsp. peanut butter (do yourself a favor and use a natural, smooth variety)
1/3 cup oil
1 tbsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
2 tsp. salt

Whip mixture until smooth. Pour over tofu strips and squeeze in as evenly as possible. Marinate 1 hour. While it is marinating prepare Barbecue Sauce.

Barbecue Sauce

1/2 cup oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced

Saute together until onions are transparent. Stir in:

2 1/2 cups tomato sauce
1/4 cup water
1 cup brown sugar
1 tbsp. molasses
1/2 cup salad mustard
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. allspice
1 tbsp. crushed red pepper or 3/4 tsp. cayenne pepper
1 1/2 tsp dried parsley or 1 tbsp. fresh parsley

Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for about 1 hour.

Add the following ingredients and simmer 10-15 minutes more:

1/2 cup lemon juice
2 tbsp. soy sauce

Now put it all together. Lay the marinated tofu (no sauce yet!) out on a cookie sheet which has been spread with 1/4 cup oil. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or until the bottoms are browned. Then turn the pieces and bake about 25 more minutes, or until the other sides are browned. Pour Barbecue Sauce over all the pieces and bake 15 more minutes.

Serve and enjoy!

At 6:30 in the morning I was out back, setting up the grill for indirect heating of two, 7-lb. pork shoulders. Because they took up so much space in the Weber, I had the coals and chips on only one side of the kettle, with a drip pan taking up the other half.

I used a recipe for the Lexington Pulled Pork Shoulder Rub out of Steven Raichlen’s BBQ USA, but doubled the batch because of the amount of meat I was preparing. Here’s the single-batch recipe from the book:

4 teaspoons sweet paprika
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon white pepper
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 to 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

By 7:15 a.m. I had the meat on the grill. I’m not sure how many neighbors awoke to the aroma of smoking pork, but I received no complaints.

While the meat was cooking, I mixed up the old family recipe for Kentucky BBQ Dip, a perfectly peppery vinegar-based sauce that my dad used to mop on ribs, chicken, pork and mutton when I was growing up.

I checked the kettle about once an hour, adding more charcoal and soaked wood chips as needed, then started checking the temperature of the meat at about four hours in.

The photos above show the shoulders at one and three hours in. And I’ve discovered that they also repulse the Remarkable Marcy, who is a great fan of pigs in any form but food.

At noon, the meat thermometer in one of the shoulders surpassed 190 degrees and I pulled it from the grill. I brought it inside, covered it with foil for about 30 minutes, then began to pull it apart. By 1 p.m., the second shoulder had cooked to the proper temperature and it also came inside for cooling and pulling. When both shoulders had been pulled, I put the meat on a cutting board and chopped it up.

The pulled, chopped pork went into a foil pan where it was topped and mixed with about two cups of the bbq dip.

A couple of hours later, with the pork, additional dip, buns and a couple of side dishes, we went to the party. There were the standard burgers, dogs and sausages, but the bbq added a bit of southern flavor and class to this bash.

Outhouse

Yep, that’s an outhouse. What an appetizing way to start a post about food!

This particular structure stood out behind my grandmother’s house in the little town of Beech Grove, Kentucky (pop. 150 at its peak).

My grandmother, Lemma Mitchell, lived in a house that sat in the center of town, right at the intersection of the two routes into Beech Grove. The prominent location was due to my grandfather being the town’s doctor for several years early in the last century. Elmore Flavius Mitchell (nice name, yes?) was a true country doctor. When people weren’t coming into town to visit him in his office in the house, he was out making house calls on horseback. In 1920, when my mother was three years old, Elmore’s appendix ruptured, he developed peritonitis and died. I suppose it was one of the serious drawbacks of being the only doctor in the county in that if you got sick you were on your own.

Aside from brief substitute teaching stints, Lemma never worked other than raising my mother and serving as a surrogate mother to a cousin. That left her with quite a bit of time on her hands in a town in which there wasn’t a whole lot to do. But grandmother came up with a few interesting, and often amusing, ways to spend her time. Mostly they involved screwing with other people. Among her favorite hobbies was eavesdropping on her neighbors’ party-line telephone conversations. And she liked to mess with the local teens who used to hang out at the gas station across from her house. The town phone booth was located in the station’s parking lot and when the kids became loud and rowdy, she would call the pay phone, wait for one of the kids to answer, then ask, “Is the sheriff there yet?” The result was an effective scattering of troublemakers.

But most of all, she liked to putter around the kitchen. And she could cook. I remember Sundays at her house where the table was crowded with fried chicken, pot roast, green beans, mashed potatoes and more. Then there were the desserts – German Chocolate Cake, cookies, something she called “Old Fashioned Cake”, and the Southern specialty, Chess Pie.

Grandmother died at the age of 96 on May 8, 1983. It’s easy for me to remember the date precisely because it was both Mother’s Day and the day following my wedding, which meant our honeymoon was spent attending the funeral. I guess it was her parting screw job.

When she died, she took her recipes to the grave. However, instructions for making Chess Pie abound. Most feature sugar, eggs, butter, a little flour and vary with additions of vinegar, vanilla, lemon juice, chocolate and other flavorings. The Remarkable Marcy found the following recipe a few years ago in the Columbus Dispatch.  It is very similar to the pie I so fondly remember.

Chess Pie

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 tbsp. flour
1 tbsp. cornmeal
2 eggs
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup melted butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. vinegar
1 unbaked pie shell

Combine sugars, flour and cornmeal. Beat eggs and add to sugar-flour mixture. Add other ingredients, mix, and pour into pie shell. Bake at 325 degrees for 45 minutes.