Snacks

I remember the article that crushed my hopes of ever cooking decent Chinese food. The foundation of the Chinese restaurant, I learned, is the stove, a dragon-like box whose belly barely shackles a roaring flame. Unlike us with our namby-pamby Viking dial, the Chinese chef wrenches a steel lever akin to that on a rocket ship, unleashing enough fire to launch a cruise missile. Or obliterate Chinatown.

One of the great restaurant seductions is not the gorgeous food, but the confidence that what’s on your plate is easily transferred to your kitchen. Not only is it a breeze, but it’s cost-effective. I can beat these guys at their own game: recreate kung pao chicken, the smoky, yeasty crust of a Pulino pizza, or the unmatched crispiness of the bird at Peking Duck House.

But anyone who’s attempted to transfer such magic to the home kitchen has most likely spent the evening tearing his hair out, glumly staring at a wokful of dry meat, a soggy crust, or peeling off a sad layer of limp duck skin. Forget sushi. Having read two books on the subject, and the requisite three-year training in rice cookery, I’m happy to put myself in the capable hands of the local sushi guy.

Having once read that the duck chefs blow air into the ducks prior to hanging and roasting, in a fit of desperate inadequacy and self-loathing, I purchased an electric air pump the size of a large shoebox, and stuffed the nozzle underneath the skin. Unfortunately, like a beach ball pierced with a pinprick hole, air started hissing out of the sides. Shamed, I stored the thing in the closet, where it remained after we moved, for the next tenant who ever felt a similar urge to inflate a duck.

These days, every chef publishes a recipe for pizza dough. Some let it rise in a warm place for a few hours. Others prefer to retard the rising process and leave it in the refrigerator for a few days after which they knead or don’t knead (a heated debate among kneading purists), portion and let it rest a final time. Others prefer to let the yeast develop for days outside the fridge.

I’ve tested them all, and it seems a wash. Frankly, I’d be happy letting our cats make the dough if only the true test-the cooking-would work. This may be risking sacrilege, but in the end, the dough isn’t the issue. It’s the oven. Yes, we have a couple of great ovens guarded by a massive steel hood which shoots the fumes through a maze and out somewhere below the neighbors’ windows.

But we don’t stock wood or coal or enough gas to fill a Mobil. Yes, we heat the stones for hours in a 500 oven, and the product is crispy (if oblong), but it wouldn’t exactly draw customers. Neither would, I suspect, the whole hog barbecued by Brooklyn hipsters in their backyards. I’ve been all over the South, and…well, I doubt it.

I can make a decent Asian roast duck, letting it hang for days, but it ain’t the same. I could roast a naan or a spear-like skewer of roast tandoori lamb but I don’t own a tandoori oven, which is sort of an issue.

There is, however, one thing, which levels the playing field, a source frequented available to chef and cook alike: the grocery store. In New York, we have Kalustyan’s that marvelous market which stocks every spice, oil, paste, flavor concentrate, flour, scent, bean, leaf, powder, nut, dried fruit and pepper known to man. A dangerous place, you’ll enter in search of chickpea flour and perhaps a handful of spicy cashews and exit with sacks of star anise and mango powder.

Your pantry is your friend and your great equalizer. Great food begins with great dry goods: turmeric, mustard seeds, smoked paprika, cardamom, Chinese bean paste, sriracha, miso, and so on.

Dried chiles are among our favorites. They feel and smell authentic. They have a good shelf life, and when you toast them, the rich smoky flavor might make your house smell like a Mexican restaurant. Sort of.

We use the recipe from Mark Miller’s Tacos simply because it turns out the tastiest tacos we’ve ever tried. Since we have bags of chiles, we use a mixture of cascabel, guajillo, and pasilla, but any would work.

Skirt Steak Tacos (adapted from Mark Miller’s Tacos)

Makes 8 tacos

1 pound skirt steak

8-10 cloves roasted garlic chopped

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

1 tablespoon chile powder

salt and pepper

1 teaspoon cumin seed, toasted and ground to a powder

2 teaspoons onion powder

1 tablespoon fresh cilantro leaves, chopped

¼ cup corn or vegetable oil

2 tablespoons Red Chile Sauce (see below)

8 (5 ½ inch) soft yellow corn tortillas (flour work as well)

shredded lettuce

fresh salsa (a few chopped tomatoes, cilantro, red onion, salt and pepper, a bit of

lime juice all assembled at the last minute)

1. In a large bowl combine all the ingredients except for the steak, lettuce, salsa, and sour cream. Add the meat, coat well, refrigerate overnight.
2. Preheat your oven to 200, wrap the tortillas in foil and warm for half an hour. Remove and preheat the broiler. (If you have two ovens, obviously, you’re luckier.) Line a tray with foil, cover with a rack, and lay out the skirt steak on the rack. Preheat the broiler. Place the tray on the rack nearest the heat and sear for 3-4  minutes, until browned. Flip and repeat. Remove, tent loosely with foil to rest 5-10 minutes. (To grill, cook over a high flame about 6 minutes and rest.)
3. Get your condiments ready. Slice the steak thinly (1/8 inch). Serve in tortillas with condiments and eat hot.

Red Chile Sauce

Makes 2 cups ( you only need a few tablespoons for this recipe, but the sauce keeps and is a great marinade and freezes well.)

4 tablespoons vegetable oil

½ white onion, chopped

½ pound tomatoes

10 dried chiles soaked

2 cloves roasted garlic chopped

½ teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 tablespoon dried oregano

salt and pepper

1. In a pan, heat two tablespoons of the oil over medium heat and sauté until caramelized. Reserve.
2. Stem and seed the chiles. Add to a large pan over medium-low heat and toast until fragrant, about 8 minutes. Place in a large bowl and pour boiling water over. To ensure the chiles are submerged we like to set a bowl over them. Let soak at least 20 minutes. Drain, reserving the soaking liquid.
3. In a blender, add the onion, tomatoes, chiles, garlic, cumin, oregano, and salt. Puree with enough of the soaking liquid to get a smooth paste.
4. In a large pan, heat the remaining oil over high heat. When hot, pour in the chile paste and refry for 3-4 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent scorching. Don’t let it become too thick. Take off heat and let cool.