Fish and Chips... and neighbors

We are really lucky people. We get to share meals from time to time with some of our fabulous neighbors, and tonight was one of those nights. I couldn't resist picking up some Atlantic cod this weekend when shopping, and knew exactly who I wanted to share it with; our neighbors Ami and Craig (and their 2 sons). I felt a little guilty popping it in the freezer on Saturday, but we knew we wouldn't be able to get it cooked before tonight, so that eased some of my guilt. And since I knew it was going to become part of a fish and chips dinner, well, that pushed all my guilt aside. Some careful defrosting can actually help keep the fish moist when it gets cooked in such high heat, I find.


I found myself on the hot seat tonight, because one of our neighbors has strong roots in the Boston area, a real New England-er who loves quality seafood, and is not afraid to wax passionately about the dearth of good seafood out here in the Midwest.  As an east coast guy, I can relate. I'm not a huge seafood fan, but when I do indulge, I'm pretty particular myself. And fish and chips is pretty often poorly done, quite frankly. As finicky as I can be about the quality of the fish, I am even more of a snob about a good batter. I pride myself on having learned some great secrets from a host of great chefs/cooks over the years, and think I do a better than average job batter-dipping a good dinner.


I had a bit of a scare early on in the cooking tonight. I try to keep folks out of the kitchen as much as possible when I deep fry, even more so now that we have a young daughter in the house (and the next one coming soon...). Unfortunately, I was less prudent with my pug, and as I did the first fry on the first batch of fries, there was a bit of a spatter that bubbled up just as he was passing under foot. I was able to get him scooped up, rinsed off, and noted no harm, although I think he thought I was a bit nuts for my dramatic reaction. After a good long "oh-my-G-d-I'm-glad-you're-OK" hug, I got back to work. Knowing that I'd be holding the fries in the oven for a few minutes while I cooked the fish, I wanted to be sure they would be as crispy as possible, so I did the twice-fried method, partially cooking them the first time at a lower temperature, draining them, cooling them, and setting them aside to finish them up later.


After the second trip to the fryer, the potatoes were seasoned and kept warm, and I turned my attention to the main attraction. I like to keep things on the simple side with my batter, and for fish and chips, I'm a big fan of using beer. In general, carbonated liquid is my rule of thumb, as I find the batter that results is substantially lighter and "puffier" than with a non-carbonated liquid. And since the beer packs a whole lot of flavor-punch on its own, I tend not to add much more to the mix. For my flour dredge, I did add a bit of a slightly-sharp Hungarian paprika, something with the slightest bit of zip right up next to the fish itself. The batter was simply flour, salt, pepper, and a nice wheat ale that had a slightly sweet flavor. Sadly, I can't seem to recall what I used, and the bottle is down in the recycle bin now. No matter; just as long as you cook with something you'd actually drink, it works out just fine. It's mostly important to avoid overpowering the food with something too strong; Guinness would be a deal-breaker on this one, for sure.


I asked that the neighbors bring some malt vinegar (something I was surprised to discover was absent from our collection of vinegars) and some cole slaw (I just love a nice cole slaw with fried fish), and they obliged my request, rounding out the meal.


The verdict

I got a pic before my wife could dig in ...
Wish the fish was in the foreground. Oh well.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how disconnected folks often are from their neighbors, from their extended families, and sometimes even from immediate family. As a nation, we have spread out, and more than ever, I think, we could do with a good dose of re-connection, finding points of commonality with those who are around us and building on them to strengthen our roots where we live in the face of such distances. Sure, we get to connect up in virtual spaces easily, and we do build and strengthen relationships in them, but there is something special about the day-in, day-out bond shared with the people who live in the neighborhood. I suppose I've ranted about this before, but it bears repeating.


So for those of you who live far from family and haven't connected up with someone in the neighborhood, I urge you to reach out and share a meal together. Share your stories, find the things that you have in common, and build some kind of relationship with them. Food is a great way to start a rich dialog about your pasts, your upbringing, your families, and the things you value and cherish. We shared some great stories tonight about "house rules" for mealtimes growing up, and that led to some great laughs, sure, but more importantly it let us know a little more about what shaped us into who we are now. As much as I like to preach about having family mealtime, it is also important to open that up once in a while and invite in the people you like. For us, living in a city, that means people we share the sidewalk with, gripe about parking and transit with, and in our case, share a deck space with, back doors just inches apart. Having had the great fortune of getting to know them over the past few years, I knew they would appreciate my effort at good seafood, and they did.


The verdict is simple; the fish was moist and tasty, and the beer added just enough flavor to make things interesting. I don't think the neighbors were at all disappointed. The fries held up great, and I managed to avoid over-salting them for a change (I've had some heavy-handed moments on that front recently). The slaw was a nice, cool, crispy addition, and the malt vinegar was spot-on.  I would love to have a kitchen where deep frying was a simpler option. Deep frying gets a bad rap; it can be done sensibly, and if you do it right, you shouldn't be eating a ton of the oil anyway. But since it is an ordeal to set up the fryer, and even bigger ordeal to tear it down, clean it up, and contend with the oil, I'll probably keep it in the "sometimes food" category for now (it certainly isn't a half-hour-to-the-table meal making fish and chips). Well, at least as long as we live here, with our reasonable but modest-sized kitchen, alongside some of the best neighbors we could ever want, I'll keep it that way.

The comfort of duck fat

The house next to ours burned today. The family lost a pet. The smell of smoke is heavy in our building, maybe less perceptibly so for others who live here, but I'm particularly sensitive to the smell of a burned home. When I was in high school, the house I lived in (with my aunt, uncle, and cousins), burned. We all survived, we rebuilt, we moved forward. But fires change you when they hit you so directly, or at least I believe they do. 


I was planning on using the duck fat from the duck I made a few days ago as part of a "breakfast for dinner" this week already, and tonight was probably the perfect night to do so. I needed something comforting, and I was also hoping for some aromas that would help mask the smoke smell. The hash browns I made certainly helped, and the loose homemade sausage pretty well sealed the deal. Scrambled eggs - purely incidental. This was no fancy meal, no gourmet effort. It was about as pedestrian a cooking session as I ever have; I can cook breakfast blindfolded (or at least I'd like to believe I can). The duck fat was pure luxury, however; simply heavenly. It's amazing how a single ingredient can so easily transform a dish.


Right now, the smells of dinner are beginning to fade, and the smells from next door starting to reemerge. I have no problem saying that I'm glad it wasn't our home, because I know perfectly well what it means for the family/families enduring the pain and shock right now. I wish I could have brought them some comfort tonight. Sadly, I don't even know them. We do know many of our neighbors, which I understand is increasingly unusual in America. That's too bad for most of us, and I consider myself lucky to have such great folks living in our condo building. Just as the comfort of a good meal can help us deal with life's difficulties, the comfort of a rich social network can ease or pain or bring us relief us when we need it most (a real network - a local fabric of ties to others; I love me some Facebook, but it is no substitute for conversation in person).


The verdict


For the food, well, the sausage was tasty, but not especially great. The eggs were hardly worth mentioning (I make a nice, fluffy scrambled egg, and I'm fussy about them, but still, it's just a scrambled egg). The hash browns were heavenly, velvety, a bit smoky and certainly rich, with just enough kick from the cayenne and sharp paprika to make us take notice. 


But tonight, it was the comfort of a family I love, and a special appreciation for my aging, deaf, rather dense, but always lovable pug that made the meal meaningful. My thoughts are with those who lost so much today, and my thanks are with the Chicago Fire Department for keeping our home safe today. I would love to go and cook for one of the stations someday, just as a small token of gratitude. 


Love your family, love your pets, know your neighbors as much as you can, stay safe, and appreciate what you have, folks.

Neighbors

It is never a bad thing when you have neighbors over for dinner. Of course, it is better when grilling is involved. When they bring margaritas, it is hard to imagine a bad time.

Last night I grilled some steak for fajitas. I also grilled onions and peppers. The steak marinaded over night, and I prepped the veggies early in the morning. No sense in working too hard late in the day if you don't have to.

I also made some "Spanish" rice. I've learned that what we Americans call Spanish rice is mostly a Tex-Mex concoction. I also have decided that the food I cook, eat, and enjoy need not have a pedigree, just good flavor, texture, aroma - the important stuff.

The gem in this meal was the refried beans. I used kidneys and pintos with a dash of cayenne. I have no problems using beans from a can (not pre-mashed, but whole beans). They taste just fine when smashed up and sauteed in butter. I also know that lard is the traditional fat, but it's just hard to feel right about buying a tub of the stuff, especially since my middle is not as middle-sized as I'd like it to be. I like to keep the beans on the coarse side when I mash them. There is a certain satisfaction in the rustic look of beans that have not been completely macerated.

The Verdict

The steak was ok, not stellar. I found the marinade I'd concocted to be a bit too bright and acidic. While I like the lime, the vinegar I used was a bit heavy. I also could have used more salt and cilantro to fill out the flavor. The peppers and onions were good, just a bit crisp but with a light grill-char. The rice was quite good, although not quite "authentic."

The beans were awesome, and any excuse to eat queso fresco is a good thing if you ask me.

More than anything, it was great to share some time with some fantastic neighbors, trade some stories, and enjoy each other's company. As much as I love the simplicity of dinner with just my wife and daughter, it is a treat to open up our home when we can and break bread - or tortillas - with another family.