Articles of Mastication

Chicago Stuffed Pizza

John J. Goddard — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 09:15:25 +0000

I love introducing Chicago deep dish stuffed pizza to people who’ve never had, seen or heard of it. It never fails to please.

Roe, roe, roe…

John J. Goddard — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 15:03:32 +0000

I’ve arrived in Chicago and have begun planning food and wine events with a Balkan wine importer here. My approach to menu development has undergone some changes after checking out the Chicago dining scene and the proclivities of the locals. Let’s just say that if I’m going to make any kind of impression on this city, I’ll need to step up my game a few notches.

This has already entailed a full week of extensive research and dramatically altering my approach to cooking. In the past, my aim in presenting the cuisine of Croatia and the Balkans has been strictly traditional, but now I’m formulating dishes with an elemental, ingredient-driven approach, and incorporating a vast array of geographical and historical influences on the Adriatic and Balkan region. Seeing as there is quite a variety of fish to be had on the Adriatic coast, I’ve started thinking about fish roe as a candidate for a plate presentation or two, and I’ve found the guide to caviar at CaviarGalore.com to be a good jumping off point in my education. I’ve had a bit of contact with the site’s owners, and was pleased to learn that I’ll be able to source some rather interesting varieties of fish roe through them in the very near future.

Stay tuned for updates on the dining events I’m working on for Chicago. I look forward to bringing something new and different to the culinary landscape.

Casu Marzu of Sardinia

John J. Goddard — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 09:50:09 +0000

Image Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Isn’t that a lovely loaf of undercooked bread? No. It certainly the hell is not. It is a cheese, and not just any cheese. It is the infamous and loved, sought after and reviled casu marzu of Sardinia, Italy, which is not only the largest island in the Mediterranean Sea ruled by giant sardines, but also the home of sardonicism and its accompanying grin. If I may herd your fitful attentions away from the cheese for a moment…

There grows on the isle of Sardinia a species of hemlock water dropwort (Oenanthe crocata) which was known to ancient islanders as sardonion. This plant delivers, when ingested, a neurotoxin that causes the facial muscles to convulse into a smile. Being islanders, the ancient Sardinians were an odd sort, and given over to an odd manner. It is told and retold that the custom at one time was to intoxicate the elderly, useless island folk with this sardonion of which I speak, then hurl them into the sea from a high cliff or beat them un-alive in ritual extermination. Under the influence of the herb, these worthless, food leeching elders of ancient Sardinian society went to their deaths with smiles on their faces, which must have eased the consciences of those who would go on. I shit you not, this is the origin of the sardonic grin we know today as a smile in the face of certain death or imminent woe.

Cruel? Perhaps. But it was their way.

Well, kids, in the grand tradition of unsettling island customs, the Sardinians also have their casu marzu, which in Sardinian dialect means ‘rotten cheese’. To true connoisseurs of cheese, this doesn’t sound like a big deal, as all cheese begins as soured milk to which coagulating enzymes and, in some cases, various bacteria are added. Well, these islanders take it a step further. It begins innocently enough as a straight preparation of Pecorino Sardo, the rich, firm cheese of Sardinia from the milk of the island’s special breed of sheep. Then the cheesemaker enlists the aid of a creature normally hated by meat and cheese artisans. Of course, I am referring to the cheese fly, the little bastards who can ruin an entire prosciutto. Here’s where the laughs end, and end poorly.

Piophila casei, a winged insect affectionately known in some locales as the cheese fly or bacon fly, loves its precious babies so much that it lays its eggs in aging meats and cheeses. The hatched larvae, before burrowing into the nest of protein in question, has the ability to propel itself great distances when threatened – from ham to ham, cheese to cheese. It does so by bending in half, grabbing its ankles with its mouth, tensing every muscle in its body, then releasing its grip and springing into the air. It’s an amazing trick that I would love to learn to do myself.

And that, my friends, is how these talented maggots earned the names “cheese skipper” and “ham skipper”. Incidentally, I know a ham skipper of a sort in Croatia. He is not a fly larva, but rather a boat captain with the endearing tendency to sing arias while piloting his vessel. He does not burrow into the center of a wheel of Pecorino, leaving a trail of fecal matter in his wake and drastically enhancing the cheese’s sourness to the great delight of Sardinians.

I almost forgot: That’s how casu marzu comes about, and the Sardinians love the stuff so much that they’ve been encouraging cheese flies to spawn on their cheeses for centuries. The result is double fermented, spreadable cheese, filled with live maggots and in possession of a sourness that lingers on the palate for hours, if not days. Technically speaking, casu marzu is illegal in Sardinia (and nowhere else, because no one else makes it) but that’s never stopped the locals from producing and enjoying this potentially dangerous traditional food. Yes, dangerous. You must understand, maggots who are not killed by chewing can survive in stomach acid, pass into the intestinal tract, and attempt to burrow through the intestinal walls. This can lead to all sorts of problems, as you might imagine: intestinal lesions, nausea, pain, vomiting and bloody diarrhea. But I suppose the danger is half the fun. Some have their fast motorcycle riding and sky diving, others have their maggot ridden cheese.

Oh, fiddle! Again, I’ve bored you silly with paragraph upon paragraph of information. I can’t entertain anything right. Give your imagination a rest and glue your eyeballs onto this informative video, which illustrates the entire process of making casu marzu. Yes, it is nine minutes in length and girth, but your understanding of this very special regional food product will be complete after viewing, and the adorable animation near the end makes it all worth while.

Squid and Potatoes

John J. Goddard — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 05:22:13 +0000

Readers of this site have surmised by now that my love for squid and the eating of it has no visible ceiling. But, holy hell, I’ll be damned if fried calamari has not become the new chicken strip: a thinly veiled excuse to dip fried breading in some faux-Ranch glop labeled aioli. AIOLI! If I never hear that word again, it will be too soon.

And, speaking of too soon, it’s only been a couple of weeks since I told you to braid your squid (scroll down and witness). Editorially speaking, I am the editor of this site, and I helm an agenda. If you can tolerate the pharmaceutical industry’s male enhancement agenda and its incessant suggestions that all men are wee, underperforming fellas at every television commercial break, you can tolerate me telling you to eat more squid. You gentleman may wonder, “Could I stand to be larger in that certain area?” Enough. Stop it. I ask you to wonder how much larger your squid intake could be. It’s a nutritious, cheap, underutilized source of clean, low fat animal protein, and you should eat more of it. Who knows? It might make you larger and more powerful in that certain area.

I digress. Here’s a simple, relatively quick preparation for a Mediterranean styled squid and potato amassment for two. Or three, depending on the size of your appetite.

Ingredients

2 large potatoes, large diced, boiled to tenderness
1 very large, ripe tomato, diced
5 cloves of crushed garlic
2 tbsp chopped fresh oregano
1 lb cleaned squid tubes and tentacles
olive oil
salt and pepper

Procedure

1. Heat approximately 4 tbsp olive oil in a wide, hot skillet until nearly smoking.

2. Add garlic and oregano, saute until garlic begins to brown.

3. Add diced tomato, saute until it begins to break down and get saucy. Season with salt and pepper.

4. Add squid tubes and tentacles, reduce heat and simmer one minute.

5. Add potatoes and toss the mixture. Taste. Season as needed.

6. Plate it up, drizzle a little more olive oil and squeeze some lemon juice thereupon.

Brine #486

John J. Goddard — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 08:34:04 +0000

I’d imagine that many of you are considering the cooking of a turkey sometime in the near future. Well, good for you. Here is the brine recipe for the turkey I’m cooking this coming week. I’ve parted this particular bird out, as I plan to oven roast some of it and smoke the rest (Actually, I’ve rotisseried the wings and am nibbling them as I write this). Howsoever you plan to cook your turkey, chicken or other meat, brining for a good 24 hours or more beforehand imparts wonderful flavor and juiciness, and also reduces the cooking time. This recipe was concocted for turkey, but I imagine that it would work nicely for a chicken or beef brisket as well.

Brine #486

Water – 3 gallons
Poppyseed – 1 tbsp
Mustard seed – 3 tbsp
Celery – 4 center ribs with leaves
Rosemary – 1 small sprig
Bay leaf – 4 leaves
Caraway seed – 1 tbsp
Parsley – 1/4 cup roughly chopped
Garlic – 15 cloves, smashed
Onion – 1 large, cut in eighths
Kosher salt – 2/3 cup
Sugar – 1/2 cup

Mix all ingredients in a large stockpot. Bring to a boil, then immediately reduce heat and simmer for one hour. Remove from heat and chill before brining meat or poultry.