ginger dog

Enough with the globetrotting and history lessons. Let's eat!

ginger dog

sweet pickle powder

whipped chili

mustard creme

ginger mustard crisp

Hot dogs have been on my to-do list for a long time. Every now and then I would spot the bookmark signaling to me from between the pages of Michael Ruhlman's "Charcuterie" but for one reason or another, I've never gotten around to them. I think that they were waiting for ginger bread and ginger beer to draw them out. Some things are worth the wait.

ginger dogs

beef hot dog nuggets

Traditional hot dogs can be made by forcing the paste into sheep casings, which are then smoked, grilled, or roasted. Here, they are formed into bite-sized nuggets.

2 1/2 lbs meat and fat from about 5 lbs of beef short ribs

1 Tblsp salt

1 tsp pink curing salt

1 cup cold water

1 Tblsp dry mustard

2 tsp ground ginger

2 tsp paprika

1 tsp ground coriander

1 tsp black pepper

1 Tblsp finely minced garlic

2 Tblsp light corn syrup

Cut meat into 1" cubes and grind through the small holes of a meat grinder. Add salt, pink salt, and water. Mix thoroughly, cover, and chill for at least 24 and up to 48 hours to cure.

After curing, add the remaining ingredients and toss. Regrind the meat through the small holes of a meat grinder. In 3 batches, process the meat in a food processor until it is reduced to a fine paste. To make nuggets, place a heaping Tablespoon of paste in the center of a square of plastic wrap. Gather up the ends and twist to form a ball. Tie with twine. Sous-vide at 65C for 30 minutes.

ginger batter

Finely ground (in a spice grinder) and toasted (300F oven for 8-10 minutes) ginger bread stands in for traditional cornmeal, lending the batter an alluring aroma. The yeast in the ginger beer, along with the baking powder transforms the thick batter into a light and crisp crust.

1/2 cup toasted ginger bread crumbs

1/2 cup flour

1 Tblsp sugar

1 tsp dry mustard

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 egg, lightly beaten

1 Tblsp melted butter

1/2 cup ginger beer

Stir together dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together egg, butter, and ginger beer and add to dry ingredients. Stir until well incorporated.

To make ginger dogs, impale each pre-cooked hot dog nugget onto the tip of a skewer. Dip in the batter, twirling to form an even coat. Deep-fry in 375F vegetable oil.

ginger bread bourbon cocktails

"She who wakes to play with cocktails goes to bed with hangover"

– Ancient Chinese proverb

Red Hot

Is it just me or do red hots and fireballs taste more like ginger than cinnamon?

Rub rim of shot glass with a cut piece of ginger root. Dip in pulverized red hot candies. Gently warm ginger bread bourbon. Pour into shot glass. Ignite. Don't do anything silly like try to drink it while its on fire.

Spice Island

This is the kind of cocktail that I could drink all day (if I were inclined to drink all day)…light, bright and well balanced.

Place 180ml (6 oz) ginger beer, 60ml (2 oz) ginger bread bourbon, 30ml (1 oz) kaffir lime juice, and 15ml (1/2 oz) agave nectar in a cocktail shaker. Fill with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled highball glass.

For spice-ice stirrer: Plug one end of a wide straw with softened beeswax. Pack with alternating layers of whole cloves, shards of cinnamon stick, diced fresh ginger root and pieces of kaffir lime leaf. Slowly fill with water, tapping lightly to eliminate air bubbles. Plug top of straw with more beeswax. Freeze until solid. Remove plugs and unmold by quickly dipping in warm water. Use immediately.

Bourbon Ball

In the Alinea book, the liquid-filled spheres are made by dipping molded frozen apple juice in horseradish-infused cocoa butter to form a shell. Here, because alcohol does not freeze solid, the shell is made first in silicone molds with an opening and then filled.

For the spice shells: Place molds in freezer. Melt cocoa butter with ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Fill the chilled molds to the top and let the cocoa butter set up for a few minutes. Invert the molds, letting the excess cocoa butter run out. Place in freezer until frozen solid.

To fill the shells. Blend together 4 parts ginger bread bourbon, 2 parts creme de cacao and 1 part frangelico. Fill the shells, then seal the opening with cocoa butter.

For the nutella powder: blend together 2 parts tapioca maltodextrin with 1 part nutella until it is absorbed.

smoked eggnog

Infusing with Lapsang Souchong tea is a quick and effective way to impart smoky flavor. That little trick is courtesy of Dave Arnold and Nils Noren.

Place 228g (8oz) whole milk in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Stir in 28.5g (1 oz) Lapsang Souchong. Cover and let infuse for 10 minutes. Strain and chill. In a bowl, whisk together the chilled milk, 285g (10 oz) heavy cream, 114g (4 oz) ginger bread bourbon, 85g (3 oz) sugar and 3 eggs. Strain into a whipped cream charger, filling halfway. Charge with 1 N2O cartridge. Chill for an hour. Shake well and discharge into cup.

For ginger bread croquant: Grind 60g of ginger bread in a spice grinder into a powder. Spread out on a baking sheet and bake in a 300F oven until toasted and dry. Heat 40g isomalt until fluid and bubbly. Pour out on a silpat. Let harden, then break into pieces and grind in a spice grinder into a powder. Combine with the cooled ginger bread powder. Spread out on a silpat into desired shape and bake in 300F oven for 8-10 minutes or until fused.

ginger bread bourbon

Its hard to believe that nearly four months have passed since the Starchefs International Chefs Congress and I am just beginning to assimilate the plethora of ideas and information that I gathered there. Over the course of three days, a large group of food professionals witnessed demonstrations by some of the most creative chefs on the planet: Heston Blumenthal, Jordi Butron, Masaharu Morimoto, Joan Roca, Carlo Cracco, Rene Redzepi and Grant Achatz, to name a few. And that was just on the main stage.

In addition to these demonstrations, there were optional hands-on workshops and seminars that catered to smaller groups. I wished that I could have attended all of them, but time and money forced me to choose the ones that I felt were relevant to my interests. In the end, these were the ones that I chose:

Wylie Dufresne of WD-50–what was supposed to be a demonstration of his re-interpretation of the classic Eggs Benedict turned into an invaluable discussion of the evolution of the dish and his unique process of creativity.

Michael Laiskonis of Le Bernadin–a thoughtful and meticulous approach to creating petit-fours using classic flavors and modern techniques.

Blogging with Andrea Strong, Traci Des Jardins, Aki Kamozawa, Alex Talbot and Michael Laiskonis–lots of good information and insight from a panel of chef-bloggers.

Eben Freeman of Tailor–this one proved to be the sleeper of the bunch. I was hesitant about this workshop that was geared for mixologists and controlling costs in a recession, but I've been an ardent fan of his innovative cocktails and hoped there would be some creative content. I wasn't disappointed–his sound economic strategy could be applied to all aspects of operating a restaurant and his discussion of infused spirits and flavored sodas broadened my horizon of perceived liquid flavor. In retrospect, this workshop was confirmation that a modern mixologists approach is the same as a chefs and that a well conceived and executed cocktail lifts the craft beyond the formulaic blending of beverages and into an artform. Did I mention that the 9:00 AM workshop started out with a sample of Eben's popular cocktail: the Waylon, a blend of bourbon and smoked coca-cola? Amazing depth and complexity of flavor.

As it turned out, the day ended with more Waylons at a cocktail party where Eben Freeman, along with other master mixologists, offered up some of the most deliciously creative potions that I had the good fortune to sample. Among these were: Junior Merino's Ginger Julep, Hibiscus Cocktail with rose-aloe foam, and a savory fennel potion; Simon Difford 's In-Seine–an evocative blend of cognac, St. Germaine and absinthe; and Audrey Saunder's refreshing and beautifully balanced Gin Mule.

Modern cocktails–its a Brave New World.

ginger bread-infused bourbon

The yeasty, fermented aromas of brioche reinforce those that are already present in bourbon. The spices add an evocative complexity. I leave the quantities up to you and your personal taste.

bourbon

thick slices of spice brioche

whole cloves

cinnamon sticks

chunks of nutmeg

slices of fresh ginger root

Place the brioche and spices in the bottom of a glass jar. Cover with bourbon. Seal and set aside for at least 3 days. If you have access to a chamber vacuum sealer the process is instantaneous. Strain through a very fine mesh.

ginger bread

I'll be the first to admit that I am easily distracted. This trait sometimes frustrates those around me when they require my attention. Oh, I recognize when it's necessary to focus on a task at hand–lest the cookies burn and the cakes turn out dry, but there are times when doing menial things (like separating eggs or sifting flour) that I allow my attention to wander and ask questions.

For instance: Why do we call it gingerbread, when it's actually cake?

The answer can be found in the rhizome ginger root, and its introduction to Europe.

Medieval Europeans quickly developed a passion for ginger and other spices when they proved to mask the odor and flavor of meat that was preserved without the benefit of refrigeration. Fortunes were made and lost as spice merchants, spurred by the frenzy for spice, charged exorbitant prices. Ginger was highly prized and commanded the highest price, second only to black pepper. But, as with all financial markets, what goes up, must come down.

When spices became accessible to the lower classes, cooks became more creative. The early forms of gingerbread were unbaked confections consisting of ground almonds, honey, ginger root and spices that were pressed and molded. These were called gingerbread by the English, after the Latin zingebar, meaning preserved ginger. Eventually, stale breadcrumbs were added to bind the mixture. Later, the additions of flour, eggs, and butter transformed the dense paste into the lighter and refined versions that we now know and love as lebkuchen (from Germany), pain d'epices (from France), and panforte (from Italy).

Today, in North America, gingerbread is commonly known in two forms: cookies and cake. Though both honor their origins with a blend of spices: ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, neither contain yeast or can be classified as bread.

Which leads me to ask: Why do we not flavor bread with this evocative blend of spices?

This question never crossed my mind until it first crossed my nostrils. This is what happens when you bake brioche alongside of gingerbread cookies and you allow yourself to be distracted.

ginger bread

(spice brioche)

makes 1 loaf

starter

30g (2 T) lukewarm water

39g (3 T) molasses

70g (2.5 oz) unbleached AP flour

.8g (1/4 t) dry yeast

1 egg

Blend all ingredients together in the bowl of a stand mixer until the consistency of a thick batter. In a separate bowl, mix together:

180g (6.4 oz) unbleached AP flour

4g (1 1/4 t) dry yeast

3.5g (1/2 t) salt

38g (3 T) microplaned fresh ginger root

7g (2 t) ground cinnamon

5g (1 1/2 t) freshly ground nutmeg

2g (1/2 t) ground cloves

Sprinkle this mixture on top of the sponge. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let stand at warm room temperature for 2 hours.

With the dough hook, mix the dough briefly, then add 2 eggs, one at a time, while beating at low speed until they are incorporated. Raise the speed to medium and beat for about 5 minutes, or until the dough is smooth and shiny, but soft and sticky.

With the mixer turned back to low speed, add 113g (4 oz) unsalted, soft butter, bit by bit, waiting until each addition is incorporated into the dough, until all of the butter is added. Cover tightly and let dough rise at warm room temperature for 2 hours.

Deflate risen dough by rapping sharply against the counter. Transfer dough, tightly wrapped in the bowl to the refrigerator. Let chill for at least 6 hours or overnight.

Prepare an 8 1/2"x4 1/2" loaf pan by lightly greasing. Scrape the chilled dough out onto a floured surface and deflate by pressing with hands, while forming a rough square. Fold the dough in thirds, like an envelope, rolling into a cylinder that is about the same length as the loaf pan. Tuck the ends under and transfer the dough into the loaf pan. Grease the underside of a sheet of plastic wrap and cover the loaf pan. Set aside at warm room temperature to rise for 1 1/2-2 hours, or until it has risen to the top of the pan. Preheat the oven to 425F. Whisk together 1 egg with 1 t milk to make an egg wash and brush it lightly over the top of loaf. Place in preheated oven and bake for 30-40 minutes or until a digital thermometer, inserted into its center, reads 190F.

ras el hanout montenebro date

Deep in the Sahara, a dry, desert wind blows, picking up speed as it travels north. By the time that it reaches North Africa, it collides with a cool, humid air mass that blows off the Mediterranean, forming the formidable ill wind known as the sirocco.

The chergui, as it is called in Morocco, wreaks havoc at the marketplace in Marrakesh, disrupting displays and covering wares with dust and sand. The spice merchants watch helplessly as the carefully formed cones of their finest spice are sent swirling into the air, caught by the chergui and carried off like loot as it makes its way east.

In Tunisia, it blows through plantations of date palms. The tall, slender trunks bow in its wake, mercilessly shaking the fronds and dislodging the drupes. These, too, are caught in the wind and carried north.

It makes its way across Malta, where it plunders a lemon grove, then up the coast to Naples, where it leaves the maccheronaros enraged as it makes off with sheets of pasta.

From there, it travels due west, across the Mediterranean, picking up speed and humidity. When it reaches Spain, it glides over ancient landscapes and makes its way to the elevated plains of Castilla y Leon. Approaching the fortified city of Avila, it sweeps over Romanesque walls, topples herds of goats, then takes off with their prized Montenebro cheese.

Turning south, it heads back towards the Mediterranean to Jerez de la Frontera. It rushes through a vineyard, uprooting vines of Pedro Ximenez and swipes multiple bottles of Fino off a shelf at a bodega. It hightails itself out of town, but not before ruffling the skirts of a group of flamenco dancers.

Propelled by a low pressure system on its tail, it makes its way across the Atlantic. Laden with mischief and loot, the wind tires and loses momentum. When it reaches the New World, it has barely enough energy to make its way through an open door, seeking a safe spot to deposit its spoils before going off to expire.

An unsuspecting resident enters the room and stares in disbelief at the scene before her. Every surface in the kitchen is covered with piles of fragrant spice, sheets of pasta, logs of cheese, lemons, dates, and bottles of sherry. She shudders as a cold breeze brushes past her and she closes the door.

ras el hanout raviolo filled with Montenebro

dried date and fino sherry puree

spruce powder

yogurt with sumac

puffed ras el hanout pasta

fresh date

preserved lemon

spruce

ras el hanout pasta

ras el hanout

Nothing puts me in a holiday mood faster than the warm and sweet aroma of spice. A batch of spice-scented cookies–be they gingerbread, speculas, bizcochos, lebkuchen, pepparkakor, or melomakarona–baking in the oven sets off visions of sugarplums dancing through my head.

Today, spices are so readily available that we forget the blood, sweat, and tears that have made them a common staple in our cupboards. Spices were once more valuable than gold and their procurement the most dangerous and competitive game in the world, impelling unprecedented explorations and discoveries. The scent of spice is a wormhole into history.

Around the world, spice is the common thread that weaves together culinary traditions. Each culture has their own magical blend to offer: garam masala of India, five spice of China, mole of Mexico, baharat of the Middle East, and ras el hanout of North Africa. These blends are a syntheses of flavor and aroma–warm, complex, and elusive.

Ras el hanout, in Arabic, is top (or head) of the shop, referring to the Moroccan souks, where each merchant offers a house blend of his finest spices. These nuanced blends can include at least a dozen–and up to a hundred different spices, both common (nutmeg, mace, ginger, black pepper) and exotic (chufa nuts, ash berries, orisroot, cantharides–the now banned beetle spanish fly). The best blends are those in which the individual spices are not easy to decipher and where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

clockwise from top left: nutmeg, saffron, anardana (ground pomegranate seeds), mace, grains of paradise, cardamom, cinnamon, black pepper, turmeric, allspice, and ginger (center)

This year, my food-centric friends will be receiving the "top of my shop". This, along with a free range chicken or leg of lamb, makes a welcome gift, one that I would be delighted to receive…especially if it came with this to cook it in. Just sayin'.