Malts, Frappes, Shakes - and now a scary one

We've been making a lot of malted shakes around here lately. Secondo - approaching 7 requests them after dinner most nights. And why not - they're so good. I remember malts from my childhood and - as Noshstalgia demands - we've been working to recapture the magic here. Secondo has, perhaps, appreciated this particular aspect of our culinary archeology more than some others. Forays into pickling tongues, for example don't so immediately elicit such enthusiasm as our walk down malt-shop lane.

So much for the preliminaries - If you're going to make a malted, you've got to have malt. Many people use the supermarket distributed malted milk products out there such as those from Carnation, but we begin with a visit to the brewing supply store. There you can find actual malted barley, concentrated malt syrup or powdered dry malt extract - all in various shades of toast. Some sources I've seen on-line suggest that only the lightest of malts are appropriate to use in shakes - but we've tried various types with fine results.

Tonight, Secondo requested that we create a shake that "tastes scary" - when you're 6, almost 7, scary is cool. But how to make a scary shake - and one that actually ends up being enjoyed rather than thrown away? Working with available ingredients, here's where we ended up:

3 parts vanilla ice-cream
3 parts whole milk
1 part espresso ice-cream (Double Rainbow Coffee Blast)
2 tablespoons Munton's Extra-Light Dried Malt Extract
1 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
Be patient with the blender - Blend to thick-smooth consistency

So, was it scary? Did anyone drink it?
It was, slightly. And absolutely - It was delicious.

The white pepper contributes a slightly dank and mysterious note in addition to the obvious slightly winy heat. The espresso (in low proportion as used here) created a sort of edge and shadow. The malt a viscosity, depth and dwell. All together a slightly creepy complexity and intrigue.

Flanken and musings on exercise, values, and food prices

With all the attention I've been giving to brisket, corned beef, pastrami, and now flanken it would be understandable if readers supposed we eat nothing but the heaviest of meats around here. Not so, we actually include lots of lighter fare in the mix - but these items have been the topic of study around here for the past few months. And I admit it's a lot of heavy meat.

So that got me thinking about a piece I saw on tv a while back - I think it was on PBS. They were profiling a guy who had set up his office so he could do all his work while walking on a treadmill. He had no desk or chair. His phone and workstation were mounted for use while walking on the treadmill. Throughout the day, as he did his work, he was walking continuously. He seemed happy. And healthy. I bet he could eat whatever he wanted with impunity.

So now I'm wondering (if only half seriously) how I could install a section of moving sidewalk in my kitchen work area. A challenge to be sure. The way my kitchen is set up, I have a number of workstations. While working at any one of these, the treadmill set-up could work. It's the moving from one to the other that's going to be hard. Hmmm.

Well anyway, until such time as I figure that out, let's talk flanken. Now flanken is a great cut of meat for braising.

But wait - first, stream of impending unconsciousness-wise - I've got to tell you, I just stepped over to my (still stationary) kitchen and sampled some experimental corned beef that's been steaming most of the afternoon. This steaming was actually the second phase of a multi-step cooking process that began early this morning. Wow! This is the tenderest piece of corned beef I think I've ever had. Not falling apart. Not dried out. But buttery soft. And I have to tell you there were times earlier in the day when I was sure this piece of meat would never be any good. Long, complicated procedure but a startlingly good result. Have to try this again tomorrow and see if it comes out the same. And then of course there's the question of economics. Will anyone be willing to pay a fair price for all the time, handling, and energy necessary to this process?

Ok, back to flanken. Talk about stick to your ribs. So I'm working with this stuff because I recently showed a customer a braised kobe brisket product that they went crazy over - except for the price. So now I'm trying to come up with something more affordable for them and that brings us back to flanken. This is a value cut with which you can obtain luxury results. I've prepared it many ways over the years, and it's pretty hard to go wrong as long as you go low and slow. Braised with some wine and aromatics, deviled, tagine with prunes or olives, whatever. Great stuff. I recommend you play with some this winter. There's plenty of good recipes available online.

So before I go, let me pose this question. Where chief-value meat ingredients and prepared foods are concerned, why is the variation in pricing allocable to quality (worst to best) so comparatively small? Certainly where some other kinds of products are concerned the spread is wide. Consider cheese. I can easily find domestic cheese offerings ranging from $2.00 to $32.00 per pound (16X). How about domestic wine? $2 to $200 per bottle is not a stretch (100X). In neither case are these fashion items or branded goods with large marketing budgets. They're just products that vary in quality and price where connoisseurs are willing to pay for what they like.

What about meat (or fish)? If you've been shopping in mainstream supermarkets lately, you must have noticed that run-of-the-mill steaks might cost you around $7 a pound. And, in many stores are likely to be graded "select" (feh). Not a high-quality piece of meat there. In a specialty butcher shop carrying high-quality commercial beef, and perhaps even dry-aging it, you might expect to pay 4 or perhaps 5 times that. Never mind the mail-order guys asking still more - that's a topic for another day. But the bricks-and-mortar retail spread from low to high for a given nominally identical cut of beef spans perhaps a multiple of 5 times. Why not more? I'm not arguing that we should all happily pay more - I'm just wondering why we do it for cheese and wine, but not for meat.

Any thoughts?

Thanksgiving Variations

The Boston Globe food section a few days back did a story on chef's improvisations on Thanksgiving themes. Here, some further, Noshstalgic thoughts on this topic -

For many families, Thanksgiving dinner is a more than a Noshstalgic tradition - it has become a ritual or even a fetish. No variation is permitted. The list of compulsory elements turkey, stuffing, potatoes (often more than one kind), cranberry sauce, a family heirloom recipe or two that makes their Thanksgiving theirs alone, etc. can be long. And, sometimes - at least for the cook - the joy of the holiday and gathering can become mired in the inevitability of the proceedings.

At Chez Noshstalgia - here in the home of someone who's seriously dedicated to preserving culinary tradition - we try hard to approach Thanksgiving as a fresh opportunity for invention every time. We have tended to view the rigorous form of holidays like Thanksgiving as a platform for a special kind of variation. The trick is to somehow hit the compulsories with just the right degree of imagination and flair to satisfy traditional expectations and excite people with something new, delicious, broadening, and (though novel) profoundly comfortable all the same time.

The other thing about Thanksgiving here, is that while we always have family about, we often include others as well. And even within the family, our ethnic diversity gives rise to a big range of traditions and tastes. There may be no other occasion where thoughtful consideration of ones guests is more important in composing a menu.

On a number of occasions over the past few years, our guests at Thanksgiving have presented a challenging array of allergies or other dietary restrictions. Celiac - no wheat, no gluten from any source. Eggs - allergic. Nuts and nut oils of any kind - lethally allergic. Chestnuts - not sure they say, but the word nut sounds possibly lethal, so no thanks.

Here's where the turkey ended up on a couple of such occasions:

Tuscan Roast Turkey with Polenta, Sausage, and Mushroom Stuffing
and
Roast Turkey with Cornbread, Butifarras and PX Sherry Macerated Figs Stuffing


I confess, those butifarras with figs went on to become something of a fetish around here. Making those sausages and soaking those figs really gets me going.
Same thing has happened with a mango/cranberry chutney side that started out as a response to some menu exigence or other. Funny how invention is the mother of tradition.

What to do this year? Feeding about 20 this year - and about the most traditional 20 I know. Hmmm -

If you're from New York...

...and you're not in New York. What NY foods do you miss most? I'm taking a poll. Please let me know.

Oh yes, and if you're from New York, and you are in New York - are there still NY foods you miss because they seem to have disappeared - and if so, what are they, please?

I am noshstalgic. Are you?

You say tomato

At lunch today, I had a quite good salad. Except the tomatoes were not what I'd imagined they would be. You see, I was in a place where things are good. And it's tomato season so I just assumed that they'd use some ripe, flavorful, locally grown tomatoes. After all, they're only around for a short while - why wouldn't you? Naturally, I realized, they cost quite a bit more; and it was a simple as that.

Or was it?

I was thinking about the modern commercial history of the tomato. At one time, when they were in season, they were plentiful and inexpensive. At other times of year, it was understood that there essentially were no tomatoes. One could, if they insisted, purchase some relatively expensive, flavorless, cell0-packed product in the off season. But it was understood that this was a tomato in name only. Most of the time you'd simply do without. In those days, local, seasonal, flavorful tomatoes were understood to be TOMATOES. The other kind were understood to be tomato substitutes.

But with the passage of time, something pernicious has happened. It's not just that we've become accustomed to inferior products - it's that we've come to regard such product as TOMATOES. Worse, we've come to regard the local, seasonal, vine-ripened tomato as an exotic foodstuff. It's not just a tomato any more - it's something more. It's vine-ripened, or it's an Heirloom, or it's whatever it is. But it is not just a tomato any more. Our language has changed. Our mental model of tomatoes has changed. We have been reprogrammed.

And now, even at the height of the season when they're plentiful, these exotic fruits sell for high prices and the flavorless alternative (once only sold in the off-season) remains the default expected tomato - and for all but the well-off it is the only economically feasible possibility.

Who stole our language? Why did we let them?
I am noshstalgic.

The Endangered Specialty Food Retailer

Supermarkets are selling more specialty foods than ever before. Supermarkets - especially up-market stores - are encroaching on the traditional turf of the small, independent specialty foods retailer.

Of course there are flourishing specialty retailers, but the general trend for the industry is to sell more through supermarkets over time. Even in perishables like fine cheese - up-market supermarkets are coming on strong. Coffees, teas, spices, preserves, pasta, cheeses - you name it. Connoisseurs may be less than completely satisfied when shopping there - but still, more of our specialty food dollars are siphoned off in the supermarket over time. You're there, you need it, you buy it.

Convenience is extremely important to shoppers today, so specialty retailers must offer something compelling to draw customers. They are under great and constant pressure to stock unique offerings people want to maintain their differentiation. But inevitably if people want these products they will find their way into the supermarket sooner or later. And increasingly it's sooner.

Certainly the supermarket cannot compete where personal touch and "neighborhood feel" are concerned, but will that be enough? Ask the butcher, the baker, the produce man and fruiterer. Where have they gone? Outside the city - they have mostly gone the way of the dodo. And this, despite the fact that where meat, baked goods, produce and fruit are concerned - the categories involved were daily necessities and the quality and variety advantages of specialists were dramatic.

So, what's to become of specialty retail outside of urban centers? If it's true that their appeal requires an ongoing supply of distinctive (and non-trivial) products - how are they to sustain that advantage? After all, if you were a manufacturer of some wonderful new product, while you would no doubt be delighted to sell to specialty retailers, I doubt you'd be inclined to turn down a deal to sell, for example, to Whole Foods. That one deal with Whole Foods could (likely would) mean more business to you than any specialty store you serve - and perhaps more than all your other customers put together. It would be unnatural to pass on the supermarket deal.

So, there goes one more product the specialty store can't call unique in his trading zone. And so it goes. Breaking into Whole Foods - or into brokers who merchandise specialty departments in many supermarkets - has practically become synonymous with success for new specialty product companies.

Now, to be fair, the market on the whole may, in some important respects, be better served as more diverse and interesting products gain improved distribution and exposure to wider audiences through supermarkets. The old pattern in which supermarkets didn't have any of these products, and specialty retailers enjoyed a relatively safe niche, was by no means ideal. The world is better now that buying a piece of Parmesan to grate over your pasta doesn't absolutely require a special trip. And not every specialty retailer should survive. I have no problem waving goodbye to poseurs who have never provided great service to their customers or great leadership by seeking out and evangelizing wonderful new products.

But what of the good-guys (and gals) - People who really contribute to the market, their communities, and to our quality of life. How can they survive? What can we do to preserve them? I so miss the butcher, the baker, the fruit man. I am noshstalgic.

I wish there were a diner

Growing up in New York, we would occasionally visit a diner. There were several within striking distance of home and innumerable others by the road if you traveled farther afield. Many of these still exist today - in New York.

I confess I haven't been lately, but back in the day these were simply remarkable places. They somehow managed to bake (at least many of) their own pastries, cookies, and pies - generally at a high level of quality. These baked goods were real treats. I knew people who would travel to their favorite diner just for a cookie and a cup of coffee. And, believe me, it wasn't the coffee they were drawn to.

These diners tended to have remarkably, improbably, outlandishly broad menus and yet somehow, against all odds - the quality was generally good. And they did breakfast food worth paying for. French toast - thick eggy challah triangles. Hash - once upon a time even this was real. Pancakes with homemade and sometimes even interestingly distinctive batters. The people who owned and operated these temples of simple food done right were people of integrity and spirit. They delivered miracles at all hours for a few bucks.

As I said earlier, I haven't been back lately - and maybe things are as they were - albeit certainly more expensive. But who cares - if they're still turning out the real thing I salute them.

But outside New York - at least here in Massachusetts - I've never seen anything even approximately like the diners I remember. There are places that make a point of styling themselves as New York Diners, but - in my reliably traumatic experience - where food is concerned they have always failed in every respect.

I am noshstalgic - I wish there were a diner.

Pastrami again - Sam La Grassa this time

The folks over at Chowhound (and elsewhere) have discussed the relative merits of various Boston area pastrami offerings. Here, for instance is one thread on "romanian pastrami" in and around Boston: http://www.chowhound.com/topics/403683
That discussion and other references left me curious about Sam LaGrassa's pastrami, so when a friend told me she wanted to take me to SLG for a pastrami I jumped at the opportunity. There were three of us in the party so we tried three different pastrami sandwich offerings and shared them around - A basic hot pastrami on (light) rye with mustard, a pastrami ruben, and another grilled sandwich they call a Traveler.
I may have missed something , but it seemed that at SLG, pastrami is exclusively "romanian". In my previous Brookline pastrami post I spoke to what makes pastrami "Romanian" at least here in Boston. The short version is that Romanian around here is distinguished by the addition of a heavy sugar rub in the final cooking. Other spices may be involved - as with the cinnamon used on the "Romanian" at Rubin's in Brookline. The pastrami at SLG is decidedly sweet. The meat in all three of our sandwiches was sweet. It was also tender, lean, and mildly spiced.
Now of course there's an element of the subjective about such matters - but for me, and for both of my companions today, the sweetness was off-putting. Insipid, actually. And the relative lack of spice didn't help there either. If you like sweet pastrami, then I suppose the basic sandwich could be to your liking. But in the two other cases, even if your preference runs to the sweet, the combinations did not benefit from this treatment. For example, the combination of sweet meat, Dijon mustard, and tomato - panini grilled on dark rye in the Traveler - not good. The sweet meat on the Rubin likewise. Of course in fairness to SLG, their Rubin standardly includes the canonical corned beef and not pastrami so one can not hold them responsible for the recipe there. We requested the offending sandwich specifically.

Other notes - the pastrami seemed to have been thoroughly cooked, but on the sandwich line it was not held in a steam cabinet. Of course, they're going through the stuff pretty fast in there, so maybe it doesn't spend long out of the steam before it's used up. They're slicing the meat to order on a rotary slicer - very thin. It was quite lean. I regret to say that I'm not sure whether they were slicing brisket or plate - but if pressed to guess without a return visit, I'd say brisket.
We also got a side of potato salad. It was a bit sweet too.
I came away from the visit feeling that SLG may be a better than average sandwich shop, but it is neither a pastrami destination of importance nor even a proper deli. Sweetness aside, the composition of their signature sandwich - the Traveler - for me constituted irrefutable evidence that they simply don't understand the ingredients they are working with.

Alas, I'm still noshstalgic. Next outing, I have to make my way over to Michael's in Brookline - I've heard good things about the place and I'm looking forward to it. I sincerely hope it will be great. To this point, the best publicly available pastrami experience I've had in Boston has been the regular (not Romanian) at Rubin's - if requested hand sliced, not lean. And they're very nice people over there.

Breadcrumbs

The breadcrumb business fascinates me. People buy these round cartons of plain and seasoned breadcrumbs in supermarkets. You know - not Whole Foods - regular supermarkets. Price points run a couple of dollars or more. Depends on location and brand. At Whole Foods, they buy plastic clamshell containers of bread crumbs - various textures like Panko or plain. Prices here probably vary too, but it's in the $5 ballpark. For a pretty small quantity, mind you - probably one or two uses. Panko aside, I'm tempted to suppose that the breadcrumbs must come from processing leftover breads in the bakery department. I don't know this - but it's tempting to think so. Actually let me confess that I haven't even tried the products in question so I can't even offer an educated guess. But, if they were using up their unsold bakery breads, this would be a good thing, not a bad one.

But back to the main point. People pay money for these breadcrumb offerings in supermarkets. This is a powerful demonstration of the state we've come to. Who needs breadcrumbs? People who cook. If you're not cooking - what possible use for breadcrumbs? You must be frying fish or making meatloaf or something. You're cooking. You're in the select minority - people who still cook.

And you're eating food that includes breadcrumbs. You aren't gluten averse. You eat wheat based bread products. So (I've got them on the run here....) AHA! You must buy bread from time to time. Do you always eat it all up before it goes stale? That would be a remarkable feat. In the alternative, are you always throwing out any bread that isn't perfectly fresh any more? Why not make breadcrumbs with these bits of leftover bread?

Fresh breadcrumbs, made at home, as needed. So easy. And the difference in quality is remarkable. You can save money, waste less food, and have a better outcome so easily.

Here's a quick Italian style mix we make up:

Grate leftover bread into crumbs. (I sometimes use a grater disk in my Cuisinart food processor).
Grate Parmesan cheese (or substitute hard cheese of your choice) and mix in with bread crumbs.
Add grated bread and cheese to food processor bowl fitted with regular blade.
Add a clove of garlic, some flat parsley. These fresh items should be used no matter what you do in the optional herb category below. I also regard the addition of some fresh ground pepper as essential here.
Add any other fresh or dried herbs you like. If you want an easy dried mix that works well for Italian, try Penzey's "Pasta Sprinkle".
Pulse in the processor to get the garlic broken down and then process to the not quite the desired consistency. NOW TASTE AND CORRECT SEASONING. BE CAREFUL WITH SALT - THE CHEESE IS ALREADY CONTRIBUTING THERE. Finally, depending upon the use for which the crumbs are intended, you may want to moisten the mixture with a little good EVOO in the last moments of processing.

This whole project takes about 2 minutes and will yield a life altering improvement over anything you can buy at the supermarket. Life Altering.
I don't care if it's fried fish, meatloaf or whatever. You will be amazed at the difference.

Summary:
2 minutes - using up leftovers. Saving non-trivial money. Profoundly improved results.

bialy report and I am given a clue by Rick

So as to the Brookline bialy (sic) - need I say more? A good piece of bread with onions. Not a bialy. Still searching. Please - send leads. Truly noshstalgic.

Speaking of which - my friend Rick, when trying to find this site, used what seemed to him the obvious spelling and found his way not here - but to another blog - noshtalgia.blogspot.com. Their blog has been going for years, and there's lots of great content there. I honestly never thought to spell it that way and so this came as a welcome surprise to me. The sentiments they cite in their introductory comments are very close to my own. I'm excited to find others working this beat. Their editorial emphasis is very different from my own and I hope that they'll find my jottings as interesting as I've found theirs.

cruisin' Pastrami - in Brookline

It's 94 degrees out, so of course today was the day to head for Harvard St. in Brookline and sample 3 different pastrami sandwiches for lunch. In case my doctor is reading this, I want to make clear that I didn't actually eat 3 sandwiches - I "sampled". OK - disclaimer firmly in place here's what I found:
Rubin's Deli, barely into Brookline from Allston offers by far the best I saw today. They offer two varieties - one called simply pastrami and the other they call Roumanian.

I've seen posts on other blogs and boards trying to clarify what's meant by Roumanian pastrami in the Brookline micro-culture - but both taste and the help at Rubin's made it clear enough today. In their case at least, both products start out the same. They buy their pastrami from a source in New York.

The regular pastrami is received from NY, steamed, sliced, and served. It seems their general approach is to put the product on the slicer, and slice it thin, but they will happily hand carve it at proper thickness upon request. The machine cut sample they first offered me, by the way, was quite lean. When I asked if they could cut by hand and find some with some fat on it they were pleased to comply - and the result was very good. Their regular pastrami product, like all they sell at Rubin's is Kosher, seems relatively minimally processed and mildly spiced. Not too aggressive a cure, not too much smoke, spice, or salt. The texture - at least in the fattier product they supplied upon request - was very good. The bread was indifferent plastic bag rye. Never mind the bread, though - the meat was good.

The Roumanian pastrami at Rubin's, as I said above, comes to them as the same product discussed above. The only difference is that before they steam it, they rub it with brown sugar and ground cinnamon. The effect is not subtle. Either you'll like it or not. Personally - Next time I'm at Rubin's, I'll order the regular pastrami. But that's just one man's reaction.

While on the topic of Rubin's let me say that the service was gracious. The waitress was friendly. The counter man who offered me a slice was happy to do so. The other counter man came out to see how I liked it and engaged me in discussion. When we got to talking about pastrami manufacture, preparation, their process for "Roumanian-izing" and so forth, he volunteered to bring me a 1/2 sandwich of the Roumanian - and followed up afterward to see what I thought. The manager at the register was proud of his people. In every way, a delightful experience. And Doctor, I left with what amounted to a whole sandwich wrapped and packed on ice.

Now down the way toward Beacon St. I stopped in at Zaftig's Delicatessen (sic). It was busy. This proves the importance of location. Rubin's was not busy when I was there. Zaftig's was busy.

How 'bout the pastrami? Since nobody at Zaftig's was interested in talking about it, I don't know for sure where they're buying their product. But if pressed to guess, I'd say probably Pearl. Not a bad product for supermarket pastrami - but not in a league with what Rubin's had to work with. And handled the way they did it today at Zaftig's - well read on. As at Rubin's, I asked if they'd be willing to hand cut. Answer - NO (and seeming annoyance). OK, I asked if the product was steamed. Yes, they said (and definitely annoyance). And they went on to inform me that "We sell a ton of it" (which seemed to come with some derision in addition to the aforementioned annoyance). OK says I - bring it on. I was seated at the counter and so watched as their sandwich guy took an absolutely lean piece of meat out of a warm, moist holding cabinet - not to say a really steamy one - and put it on the slicer. He cut very thin slices of product that appeared to be pastrami single brisket, not double, not plate. He cut until his scale demonstrated that he'd cut whatever their portion control called for. Not a small quantity - not Carnegie or Katz's - but a good count for a sandwich in Boston. Then he put the meat on a plate and covered it over with plastic wrap. Then he popped the plate of meat into a microwave and nuked it. When the bell went off, he slid the meat onto the waiting (plastic bag) rye and sent it my way. Disgraceful. No pride. No knowledge. No hospitality. No pastrami deserving of the title. No deli. And the fries were lousy too. I am embarrassed by their mere presence in our fair city. And the many patrons they somehow attract and seemingly satisfy.

Shame...
But I'm still noshstalgic. I'll get back to you all later on the bialys I picked up down the street. Although if you've seen my previous post on that topic, you know I'm not optimistic.
Later -

Hash

Corned beef hash and the closely related hash-browned potatoes are two of the most maligned great traditional foods in the land. These popular items can be seen on menus all over the country. Hash-browns are so ubiquitous as to be included even at the likes of McDonald's. At least nominally. Corned beef hash is sold in cans in most every supermarket. And served from cans in most every diner. There are exceptions of course - but they are just that. Exceptions.

I can think of some places I've had actual hash. Some more traditional than others.

Many years ago, one could get a terrific hash - either corned beef or (get this) roast beef - at the dining room of the Ritz Carlton in Boston. You'd have to wear a tie to breakfast to partake. But it was worth it. Every morning, they'd use up the corned beef and roast beef they had left from the previous evening's dinner service to perpare quite good hash. And they would poach your egg properly. Needless to say, being the Ritz, and being in Boston, they didn't have proper rye bread for toast - but that's just quibbling. The meat was fresh, and the food was prepared with earnest respect for a deservedly great tradition.

Today, at the Carnegie Deil in Manhattan, you can get corned beef or pastrami hash of a sort. I regard their offering as a food of interest, but do not find it satisfying of my expectations of a proper hash. I could go into what's amiss there, but I'd rather first recognize them for trying. It's an honest product - and if you like it, you'll be delighted with the portion. As with the fabled sandwiches there - it is huge.

About a year back, I had a really good, albeit non-traditional, corned beef hash at The Davenport Hotel in Spokane, Washington. The Davenport is a remarkable place for many reasons. Actually it's a sufficient reason to visit Spokane all on its own. The hash is a bonus.

Probably there are dozens of places doing creditable work in the hash department across the country. But how do we account for the tens of thousands of other places serving something barely distinguishable from canned dog-food as hash? How do we account for the continuing popularity of hash despite the abuse heaped upon this once great food and its fans.

And as for "hash-browns" - although the standard expected quality of product offered in this category is not so patently offensive as with the meat-containing ersatz hash preparations above -- Still, have people lost their minds?
How does a deep fried, processed, formed potato-food thing get to be "hash-browns"?
Perhaps this is modern day hash-brown haiku. It's the irreducible essence -
"There's potato and there's crunch. (sneeringly) What more do you want, Mr. Noshstalgia?"

Somebody has to set the record straight. And as it will soon be Sunday morning in America, the proper time and place for hash-browns and perhaps even hash - Here are the facts:

Hash was (as at the Ritz) originally a means to use up first-rate dinner service leftovers.

* So if you don't have first rate meat to work with, have something else for breakfast. A nice omelet maybe.

The potatoes also are best if left over. You can of course start from scratch, but it's a long, slow process.

* Boiled potatoes are used most frequently, but I love to use up baked potatoes in this way. Personal preference. The important point is that they have been cooked before and allowed to cool so the starch has rectified. You don't want to start in trying to work with still-hot just cooked potatoes.

Potatoes for hash-browns should be cut into large enough pieces to retain a distinct potato presence in the final dish.

* No riced potatoes here. No mashed potatoes here. You want distinct pieces of potato with planar sufaces and angular edges. When you're done making your hash-browns they should exhibit a broad variation of texture - from crunch, through integral but fluffy interiors to the soft, rich, griddle-grease infused mash that binds it all together.

There should (make that must) be onions in the mix.

* The onions should acually be the first thing onto the griddle. There's a lot of latitude about how these are to be cut, but one thing is essential. Whether in whole or in part, there must be fines - that is there must be at least some onions that are small enough to take on a deeply cooked, carmelized color and flavor and a properly softened consistency. This is essential. In the creative realm certainly one could pursue substitutions - but classically, it's onions.

* Additional vegetables are welcome - especially peppers. These don't have to be pre-cooked, although if you have left-overs - hey, it's hash. I like them best if they're not overcooked in the final product. Best if they're well carmelized around the edges though.

Salt, pepper, paprika - and optionally herbs such as parsley, thyme or others are included

* Can't stress the paprika strongly enough here - it will both accelerate and materially contribute to quality results.

You need proper equipment. A griddle or heavy cast iron pan is best. NO NON-STICK!

* We're shooting for hash-browns. That means you need a cooking vessel that's good at browning things.
* And actually, for those of you who don't already know this, a well-seasoned cast iron pan is a great non-stick a surface.


Now if you adhere to those principles, you're in for some fine hash-browns. You can either go on to final prep (as discussed below) and serve, or reserve your hash-browns for later use. For example, it's great if you can mix the meat in and hold in refrigeration overnight for use in the morning. The flavors will only develop further if given such resting time.

Now about the meat - Couldn't be simpler. Recalling that we're using up leftovers here, the meat is already cooked. All we're really trying to do at this point is to chop it up, heat it through and incorporate the meat with the potatoes and blend the flavors.

Do not grind the meat. Chop it by hand.

* As with the potatoes, a broad variation in texture assuring preservation of discernable meat-structure is what you're shooting for. The precise treatment appropriate to a given piece of meat will depend upon its texture, degree of doneness, intensity of spice, and so on. You'll have to feel your way here. All I can tell you is that you should be able to tell what you're eating.
* If you make the right choices here, you will express the best this meat has to offer. If you're fortunate enough to have a really good piece of corned-beef, roast beef, or pastrami to work with, this hash can be among the world's great pleasures. I promise I'll get back to the topic of really good corned beef and other deli meats in subsequent posts.

Once you've prepared the meat for incorporation, fold it into the potato & onion mixture on the grill.

* Add oil or butter if necessary, heat, press into a patty and crisp as desired. I make the patty thick enough to go really crisp but retain softer textures in the interior.

Food like this will not be found in most breakfast joints. The ingredients and time involved are prohibitively expensive for the average greasy spoon. Mostly, you'll have to make it yourself. No better fate for your left-over roast-beef and baked potatoes.