As the sun sets behind the Tennessee hills

as the motor purrs

reminisce: how days must end

on asphalt ribbons

Taken from a speeding car because God knows we don't walk anywhere in Tennessee

Nicolas Maillart Marie Hanze Brut Elegance

When I was looking for a nice bottle of champagne with which to ring in the new year, I stumbled across this bottle of Nicolas Maillart Marie Hanze Brut Elegance NV in the Dekalb Farmers Market. While I knew nothing of this particular vigneron, I noticed that it was imported by Weygandt, a name I have heard before in connection with interesting French wines. In the end, it turned out to be the most interesting option, although I also bought a bottle of Mumm just in case.

After I got home, I tried to find some information about this particular bottle, but there does not seem to be much about it on the internet. While I initially thought it was a grower champagne based on this one article, a closer inspection of the label showed an "NM", or négotiant-manipulant designation, instead of the RM designation that I associate with grower champagnes.  All my research seems to indicate that Nicolas Maillart is certainly a small producer, but perhaps the vigneron must buy more grapes than is allowed under RM.  In any case, this particular champagne is certainly not widely available and made by a smaller, up-and-coming vigneron with a record of making respectable champagne.

My tasting notes focus on two main points: nuttiness and citrus.  Of the former, I found a strong presence of toasted hazelnuts and marzipan, while of the latter, I noted lemons supported by a bracing and lingering acidity.  This champagne also has a very fine bead: sea-foam rollicking amidst the breaking surf, though not an aggressive carbonation that attacks the tongue.  As a result, this champagne would be fantastic as an aperitif, a quaff to start the night, rather than one to end it.  Although I would have preferred a champagne with more body for the occasion, it was a lovely champagne to share with family that night.

Eating over the Winter Holidays

Holidays, family, and celebratory meals are all rather interlinked, and I would have it no other way.  Not only do I get to indulge the selfish joy of being able to cook a large spread, but I also get to do so in my parents' large, renovated kitchen.  Thinking about and preparing a meal all day, which then culminates in such a satisfying way, really is one of my most favorite activities.

Christmas Eve Dinner
In the past couple years, I've been able to convince my family that a prime rib roast is the way to go for Christmas eve.  This centerpiece was accompanied by sautéed chard, oven-roasted potatoes, stir-fried baby bok choy, and of course, Yorkshire pudding.  My father picked a 2002 merlot from the Pays d'Oc, but I don't have a record anywhere of what exactly it was.

Christmas Eve Dinner

Christmas Day Brunch
This is perhaps one of only two occasions throughout the year (the other being Mother's Day) where I have a memory of my father cooking anything.  For as long as I can remember, his specialty on Christmas morning was to make one giant omelette.  True to form, this year's omelette contained ham, cheese, onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms.  In addition, I helped out this year by making blueberry pancakes, as well as frying up some bacon.  Of course, no brunch would be complete without mimosas.

Christmas Morning Brunch

Christmas Dinner
It was decided this year that since we spent Thanksgiving in DC, where turkey-frying was not a possibility, that we would fry a turkey for Christmas instead once we were all back in Tennessee.  My mother dry brined the turkey with a combination of Chinese spices for a couple days before frying, so even though the turkey ended up staying in the fryer for too long, the meat was still quite moist and certainly flavorful.  Therefore, it also logically followed that the fixings alongside would be in a rather similar Thanksgiving vein.  Of course, I always enjoy the likes of stir-fried green beans, candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts and glutinous rice stuffing.  One new trick I tried out this year was to cook the sweet potatoes in a pressure cooker with butter, bourbon, salt and a pinch of baking soda, along the logic of Myhrvold's carrot soup, and it worked out quite well.  Not even much sugar was needed except for a couple of tablespoons which I used to turn the cooking liquid into a glaze to pour over top.

Fried Turkey before carving

Christmas Dinner

New Year's Eve Dinner
New Year's Eve is always a rather Chinese affair for my family, especially since we can no longer celebrate the Lunar New Year together anymore.  Most of the dishes are eaten because of the symbolism involved, but these foods have nonetheless become some of my favorites over the years.  Absolute necessities for this dinner include the whole fish, which cannot be flipped over at any point during this meal, dumplings, stir-fried sticky rice cakes, and hair moss soup.  Sugar snap peas and garlic scapes were added for a good dose of vegetables.

New Year's Eve Dinner

One aspect of my upbringing that I rather treasure is multiculturalism, and I think our annual eating habits over the holidays really reflects it.  The mixture of both Western and Chinese traditions that appear  on the table is a personal tradition that I certainly intend on continuing.  Not to mention, its delicious!

Repeal Day

A few days ago, this country celebrated the 78th anniversary of the Repeal of Prohibition.  The Nobel Experiment engendered by the 18th Amendment came to an inglorious end with the ratification of the 21st Amendment.  The effects of Prohibition would be felt for decades as it had a predictably negative effect on alcohol production in this country.  It would take decades for the beer-brewing and winemaking to recover.  Not to mention, the detrimental effect that Prohibition had on the way the American public drank, most notably the fondness of tasteless, high-volume beer and sweet, overly alcoholic wine.  On the other hand, Prohibition had the effect of promoting cocktails, after all, the only sources of alcohol were generally poor quality distilled spirits: bathtub gin, smuggled rum, moonshine and Canadian whiskey.  Moreover, barmen like Harry Craddock, plied their trade in Europe and became exposed to an even wider variety of cocktail ingredients.  Not to mention, we still have a strong fascination for speakeasies and a gilded memory of that era.  In any case, Prohibition ended, thankfully, and cocktails experienced a short boom.

In my annual celebration of the end of Prohibition (really, what is better than a holiday celebrating the fact that you are allowed to drink), I had a bit of a bash, managing to fit some 30 or so people in my apartment.  Given my experience in past years, bartending all night and shaking up a storm, I decided that I wanted to give myself to enjoy the soirée and be a better host to my guests this year.  The solution? Punch, in abundant quantities.

My first instinct was to go in a very classical direction, and this idea led to the first punch being the ever so popular Chatham Artillery Punch.  This punch was one of the first I remember reading about before the more recent punch resurgence in the past year or so, especially following the publication of David Wondrich's Punch: The Delights and Dangers of the Flowing Bowl.  Moreover, having made this particular punch before to a favorable reception, I thought it a safe starting point.  The recipe I used was from the NYTimes adaptation of Wondrich's recipe, which I've found primarily deviates in the amount of lemon peel (12 in the book to the 8 here).

Chatham Artillery Punch
Peel 8 lemons
1 lb sugar
16 oz lemon juice
1 bottle bourbon
1 bottle cognac
1 bottle dark rum
3 bottles champagne
*Muddle peels with sugar and let the oleo-saccharum rest for at least an hour, then add the rest of the liquid ingredients

The second punch for the evening was the Golden Fleece Punch, which has appeared with variations on a theme under a couple of other names, including the Gowanus Club Punch and the Plymouth Pilgrims' Punch.  The underlying theme uniting these punches is the use of a gin-base, along with the inclusion of green tea, pineapple and a touch of some herbal liqueur.  The recipe is again from David Wondrich (is it really any surprise that his name comes up repeatedly when talking of punch?).  I had to make a few tweaks from the original recipe as I couldn't find a ripe pineapple at the local store and lacked Drambuie.  Thus, I made a pineapple syrup using pineapple juice and sugar at a 1:1 ratio, and I substituted Licor 43 and yellow Chartreuse for the Drambuie.

Golden Fleece Punch
Peel 3 lemons
1/4 c sugar
1 c lemon juice
1L gin
1 q weak green tea (I used Longjing)
1/2c pineapple rich syrup
2.5T Drambuie
1 L soda
*Muddle peels with sugar and let the oleo-saccharum rest for at least an hour, then add the rest of the liquid ingredients

Lastly, I had a third punch waiting in the wings, a Xalapa Punch recommended to me by Fred from Cocktail Virgin Slut, but there really was no need by the time the two previous punches were running low.  I should also add that I did end up making a very short menu for people to order off of should neither punch strike their fancy.  I do enjoy dabbling in bartending too, so I could not give up mixing entirely.  In the end, the punch route did allow me to mix less and mingle more.

Happy Repeal Day to all!

Small luxuries

Domaine Huet Vouvray Pétillant Brut

With its subtle perfume, refreshing acidity and delicate carbonation, a truly mirthful quaff best enjoyed amongst the most charming of friends.

Scotch Roundup: October

Last month, I was lucky enough to attend a Bruichladdich tasting arranged by Joe at Federal W&S.  This tasting was an especially memorable treat as we were led by Jim McEwan, the noted master distiller of Bruichladdich.  Formerly of Bowmore, Jim partnered with some investors a little over ten years ago to buy the defunct Bruichladdich distillery and restore its antique stills to functional form.  Ever since then, he has been meticulously producing small-batch scotches that have garnered significant acclaim.  As he spoke about the whiskies, his passion for the art was absolutely evident, and this passion was apparent in the glass as well.

Bruichladdich Laddie Ten

Tasting notes:

• Laddie Ten
  N: Honey, ocean breeze, lemon taffy
  P: Peaches, Midori, oaky vanilla, honey on light toast
  All the barley that goes into this whisky comes from Islay itself, and the spirit is aged in bourbon and sherry casks
• Bruichladdich 21
  N: Dried figs, candied orange peels, dates, pralines
  P: Raisins in abundance, honey nut cheerios, walnuts
  Aged in oloroso sherry casks, recommended without water
• Black Art 2
  N: Black cherry, pomegranate, drying paint
  P: Cherries, amaretto, malted grains, kirsch, strawberries
  Jim would not share how this whisky was aged, but I would venture to guess Bordeaux wine casks
• Port Charlotte PC6
  N: Throwing wet hay on a fire, drying herbs in a farmhouse, jamon, vanilla, toffee, sweet cream
  P: Burnt toast, vanilla creme wafers, tart apples, sichuan peppercorn, salted preserved lemon
  Second in the PC series, aged in madeira casks, worth comparing to the PC8

Bruichladdich 21

Additionally, the Organic 2003 was tasted by the group, but I did not get any.  I definitely do feel fortunate that we were among the first people in the US to get a taste of the new Laddie Ten, which is the bottling of scotch under the Bruichladdich name made entirely by the new owners.  My understanding is that the majority of the Bruichladdich on the market now is spirit distilled by the old owners, such as the 21 year.  For some hyperbolic and imaginative prose, it is worth checking out Jim's tasting notes, available on the Bruichladdich website.

Black Art 2

Refining Protocol

As a Southern in such Northern climes, I occasionally have gustatory cravings that are hard to satisfy.  Sweet tea, biscuits and gravy, barbecue, fried chicken.  Granted, a few restaurants here and there are satisfactory, but they are certainly few and far between (emphasis on "far").  Thereupon, I resolved to find a remedy in my own kitchen.  I have long made sweet tea at home, but the other items would prove more challenging.  Alas, barbecue requires an outdoor space wherein a smoker can be utilized for hours at a time, and I have no such space.  Thankfully, my friend Dan would rig up his charcoal grill as a smoker for barbecuing purposes every now and again to excellent effect.  Thus, as I was recently struck by a rather powerful yen for fried chicken, I decided to embark upon this new project.

Understand, Southern though I may be, I have never needed to fry chicken at home, nor did I have a grandmother who could teach me the secrets of frying chicken (albeit, I am indebted to my grandmother for other such culinary arcana).  On the other hand, it has become a family tradition of frying a turkey at least once a year for Thanksgiving, and often once over the Christmas holiday as well.  Therefore, frying fowl was nothing new to me, but I did want to try and refine my chicken frying methods as much as possible.

Having brined the family fried turkey on many occasions, I knew that brining was important in producing a succulent end product.  I read on a couple of occasions that the chicken should be brined for no more than 12 hours or else the meat would become too salty.  However, practically speaking, if I wanted fried chicken for dinner, then I would have to wake up at 4 am or so to start the brining.  Simply put, an incredible inconvenience.  On the other hand, other recipes have suggested using salted buttermilk to brine, and yet others describe a method of brining first in salted water, then transferring to buttermilk.  Additionally, the importance of having dry chicken to fry became apparent as all recipes either suggested air drying or patting dry with paper towels.  Having only so much space in my fridge and a desire for only so much chicken, I decided to pick 3 methods to test.

1) Brine for 20 hours, then air dry for 2 hours;
2) Brine for 12 hours, rest for 8 hours in buttermilk, then air dry for 2 hours;
3) Brine for 12 hours, pour over boiling water*, and then air dry for 10 hours;

[*The method of pouring boiling water over the chicken before air drying comes from the traditional method of making Peking duck whereby the whole duck is submerged in a pot of boiling water for a mere moment for a day of air drying.  The logic behind this treatment is that the boiling water will tighten the skin and quickly render some of the subcutaneous fat to allow for a crispier skin.]

Clockwise from right: (2), (1), (3)

For now, there are several variables that I decided to keep constant.  I used only chicken thighs with bone in and skin on.  The last 2 hours of air drying was done as room temperature to allow the cold chicken to warm up before frying.  The oil temperature was to be kept as close to 330˚F as possible, and the frying oil used was corn oil.  The frying was done in a cast iron dutch oven that contained oil about 2 inches deep.  I could fry 3 pieces at a time with my setup.  For my first experiment, the brine was closely mimicking the brine recipe from Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home cookbook.

Frying chicken

The one that immediately stood out was condition (3), which was a bit drier than the other two.  Conditions (1) and (2) seemed to me to be equally moist.  However, condition (1) was certainly saltier and had taken on more of the flavors of the herbs and spices present in the brine.  There may have been a slight glimmer that (2) had a bit more of a buttermilk tang.  To me, though, the brine I used was almost too fragrant compared the the fried chicken to which I am accustomed.  I saved one piece of each to be eaten several hours later after the chicken had cooled down to room temperature.  My observations were largely the same.

The last variable before frying was how to dredge: 1) No dredging; 2) Buttermilk, then flour; 3) Flour, buttermilk, flour.

No dredging

Buttermilk, then flour

Flour, buttermilk, flour

The results of the three dredging treatments came out thus.  Visually, there was a quite noticeable difference in the three methods.  The first yielded crackling skin much like what I am used to on a fried turkey or a Peking duck; it was delicious when eaten immediately, but became more leathery as the chicken cooled.  The second method yielded an extremely thin and crispy coating that almost had a texture of very thin potato crisps, but it also did not stay this way by the next day.  The last method resulted in a noticeably thicker, audibly crunchy crust, which did stay crunchy through the next day.  Thus, I decided to stick with the latter method of coating the dried chicken in flour, then dipping in buttermilk before flouring again.

As a result, I decided to go with the method of brining first, then transferring to buttermilk with the double flour dredge.  A human trial of a second batch of chicken made with this preferred method was brought to a potluck where it was well-received.  Notably, I did not try the salted buttermilk method, and there is certainly room for more tinkering.

The Aftermath

My recipe follows below: