Ode to Spring

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco” Mark Twain

Apparently he never made it to the Central Coast in spring! The prevailing northwest winds create a chill that goes straight to the bone. Wind makes me cranky. Cold northwest winds make me really cranky! I love the way spring looks but loathe the way it feels – that is until I go to the local Farmers’ Market.



Suddenly, just like the rolling hills after Winter’s rains, the local Farmers’ Market turns green. Spring has arrived! No other season’s entrance is quite as dramatic as Spring’s debut at Farmers’ Market. Seemingly overnight, the availability at the market goes from winter squash, beets and citrus to a plethora of amazing produce. Green garlic, fava beans, pea shoots, English shelling peas and the list goes on. This happy sight is just what is needed to bring me out of my spring wind funk. With all that beautiful produce I’m inspired to spend more time in the kitchen where I know I’ll be safe and warm.

Devon prepared an “Ode to Spring” dinner in celebration of the season: Cucumber Mint cocktails, warm fava bean hummus with local Sheep’s milk feta and oil cured olives, puree of fennel soup, salmon with farro, black rice, green garlic, pea shoots and tangerine. All served with a gratitude for the bounty of Spring and enjoyed with good friends and lots of laughter.

In fact, I think it warmed my soul enough to allow me to tough it out until the spring winds die down.

Fava Bean Purée with Oil-Cured Olives, Feta, and Garlic Toasts adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques, by Suzanne Goin

1 Baguette
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic
2-1/2 pounds fava beans in the pod (or 2-1/2 cups shucked)
1 small sprig rosemary
1 chile de arbol, crumbled or crushed red chile flakes
1/2 lemon, for juicing
1/2 cup pitted oil-cured black olives sliced in half. If you can’t find these, substitute kalamatas
1/4 cup sliced flat-leaf parsley leaves
1/4 pound good quality feta cheese
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper


Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Cut baguette on the diagonal into twelve 1/4-inch-thick slices. Brush both sides of each slice generously with olive oil (about 1/4 cup in all). Arrange the slices on a baking sheet and toast them in the over 10 to 12 minutes, until golden crispy, but still tender in the center. While the toasts are warm, rub them with one of the garlic cloves.

Mince the remaining garlic clove.

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil over high heat.
Meanwhile, remove the beans from their pods.
Blanch the beans for about 2 minutes in the boiling water. Drain the beans in a colander, cool them in the ice water, and them slip them out of their pale green shells with your fingers.

Heat a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the remaining 3/4 cup olive oil, the rosemary sprig, and the chile. Let them sizzle in the oil a minute or two, then stir in the minced garlic. Let them sizzle in the oil a minute or two, then stir in the minced garlic. Let it sizzle for a minute and stir in the fava beans, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and some freshly ground pepper. Simmer the beans 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they're tender (the exact time will depend on the starchiness of the favas). Strain the beans, reserving the oil. Discard the rosemary and chile.

Transfer the beans into a food processor and purée them. With the motor running, pour in half the reserved oil to taste. Squeeze in some lemon juice, and taste for seasoning. (The amount of oil you will need depends on the starchiness of the beans.)

In a small bowl, toss the olives and parsley with a drizzle of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice. Crumble in the feta, tossing gently to combine.

Spoon the warm fava bean purée onto a platter. Place the grilled toasts off to one side, and scatter the feta-olive salad over the purée.

Fat, Glorious Fat

From: Chuck: Making it tonight. In the oven.
Received Wed. March 23 6:15 p.m.

From: Chuck: O.K. That was absurd. Though I fear I feel a stroke coming on….
Received: Wed. March 23 8:13 p.m.

To: Chuck: Like absurd good or absurd you hated it?
Sent: Wed. March 23 8:15 p.m.

From: Chuck: Good of course. How could you not like that?
Received: Wed. March 23 8:16 p.m.

To: Chuck: It’s probably not any worse than a ribeye.
Sent: Wed. March 23 8:16 p.m.

From: Chuck: I did not have the breast but will tomoro. I cannot imagine it will be as good as the dark meat though. I think next time I would just do thighs.
Received: Wed. March 23 8:17 p.m.

To: Chuck: Me too. No reason to do anything but thighs. Was the bread crispy on the bottom?
Sent: Wed. March 23 8:17 p.m.

From: Chuck: Totally. And this is waaaaay worse than a ribeye. With steak you don’t cook with a sponge to cook up all the rendered fat.
Received: Wed. March 23 8:27 p.m.

To: Chuck: LOL. Seriously, it’s the best thing I’ve eaten all week. My blog post will be all about fat!
Sent: Wed. March 23 8:27 p.m.

From: Chuck: We just realized: What this is, is a recipe for deep fat frying bread in chicken fat. I’ll let you ponder that for a minute.
Received: Wed. March 23 8:30 p.m

To: Chuck: Yeah....So? How is this any different than spreading schmaltz on bread….or Italian lardo? I know. It’s pretty decadent but you have to admit it’s really good.
Sent: Wed. March 23 8:31 p.m.

From: Chuck: I admit it. Totally. But certainly not a weekly dinner.
Received: Wed. March 23 8:31 p.m.

O.K. So I’ve managed to turn chicken into a guilty pleasure thanks to this recipe from Melissa Clark. So sue me. But I dare you to say this isn't the best thing you've eaten all week.



MY MOTHER'S GARLIC AND THYME-ROASTED CHICKEN PARTS
WITH MUSTARD CROUTONS
By Melissa Clark from In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite
Recipe adapted slightly.

You must use a shiny heavy metal roasting pan for this recipe, hopefully not too dark in color. I used a very heavy duty aluminum one and it worked great. Clark advises that the bread can burn if the pan is too dark.

Time: 1 hour and 10 minutes
Serves 4
One Loaf of Italian country bread, ciabatta, or other study bread, preferably stale and sliced ½ inch to ¾ inch thick. If the bread isn’t stale, bake the slices in a low oven (about 275) for about 15 minutes, flipping once, until it’s a bit dried out.

Dijon Mustard, as needed
Extra-virgin olive oil, as needed
1 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, more as needed
Fresh cracked black pepper.
6 skin on, bone in chicken thighs
2 skin on, bone in chicken breasts
1 head garlic, separated into cloves
1 bay leaf, torn into pieces
1/2 bunch thyme sprigs

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Lay the bread slices in the bottom of a heavy-duty roasting pan in one layer. Brush with mustard, drizzle liberally with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.



2. Season the chicken all over with salt and pepper and place the pieces on the bread, arranging the white meat in the center and the thighs around the sides. Scatter the garlic cloves, bay leaf, and thyme over the chicken and drizzle everything with more oil (take care to drizzle the garlic cloves with lots of oil).



3. Roast the chicken until it's lightly browned and the thigh juices run clear when pricked with a knife, about 50 minutes. If you like, you can crisp the skin by running the pan under the broiler for a minute, though you might want to rescue the garlic cloves before you do so they don't burn (if you don't plan to eat them, it doesn't matter so much). Serve the chicken with pieces of bread from the pan.

To serve, squeeze a garlic clove out on to a bread slice, spreading it over the crouton. Top the crouton with a chicken piece. Enjoy.

Trusting your taste buds

My father was an excellent cook and my siblings and I all owe our culinary prowess to him. He imbued us each with a deep appreciation for a good meal and to treasure time spent in the kitchen cooking side by side with loved ones.

That said, we were occasionally served up some pretty unappealing looking meals at our family dinner table. A few of the more memorable dishes include boiled tongue, creamed tuna on toast and stuffed sauerkraut. The latter is a bit of a misnomer as it’s impossible to stuff sauerkraut. Rather, it was a concoction my dad invented that involved cooking the fermented cabbage for hours and hours on the stovetop with white rice and ground pork. These meals, I now suspect, were an attempt to stretch the food budget. They had one other thing in common: they were colorless, drab and completely unexciting visually. Yet they suited my childish palate perfectly and I loved them all even if they did look like something you’d be forced to eat in a prison cafeteria.

Now, as an adult, my quest for great meals is driven by the need to satisfy multiple senses. On our annual trip to Santa Fe, for instance, we’re left breathless sometimes by the works of art on our plates. It’s as if the chefs have gathered every color of the New Mexico desert and sprinkled those hues like fairy dust over their creations. This dish, a quinoa stuffed relleno from santacafe, illustrates my point perfectly.



Recently, Kathy and I both test drove a recipe for another childhood favorite: Corned Beef. The recipe looked too good to be true. A simple brine, five days in the fridge, and voila! Corned beef sans chemicals. These days, we’re a bit more mindful of what we ingest so we both decided to forgo the pink salt, otherwise known as curing salt, because it contains sodium nitrite. Neither of us realized the consequence that would have on the look of the finished product.

Unfortunately the end result was about as visually stunning as the boiled tongue referenced above. I didn’t help matters by serving my dreary looking brown beef on a brown plate. However, comparing notes today, Kathy and I both agree that the taste won us over. This is delicious corned beef and as my 19 year old son remarked as he was gobbling it up, it doesn’t have that overwhelming processed taste that pre-brined ones can have.

We’ll leave it up to you as to whether to omit the pink salt or not. If you choose to make it without, just remind your guests that sometimes looks aren’t everything.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

Adapted from Saveur Magazine
SERVES 10



1 tbsp. allspice
1 tbsp. cloves
1 tbsp. coriander
1 tbsp. crushed red chile flakes
1 tbsp. mustard seeds
1 tbsp. whole black peppercorns
5 bay leaves, crumbled
1 1/4 cups kosher salt, plus more to taste
3/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp. pink salt (Curing salt)
1 5-lb. first-cut beef brisket
4 cloves garlic
1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
3 lbs. small new potatoes, peeled
1 head green or Savoy cabbage, cored and shredded
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice



Combine spices and 3 bay leaves in a 12″ skillet over medium heat. Cook, swirling pan constantly, until spices are toasted and fragrant, about 3 minutes. Transfer 3/4 of the mixture (reserving the rest in a covered jar) to a 5-qt. pot and add 8 cups water, kosher salt, sugar, and pink salt. Bring to a simmer; remove pot from heat and let cool to room temperature. Refrigerate brine until chilled. Add brisket and weigh it down with a plate so brisket is submerged. Refrigerate for 5 days.

Drain corned beef and rinse. Transfer beef to a 5-qt. pot along with the reserved pickling spices, garlic, and onion. Cover corned beef with cold water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and simmer until corned beef is tender, about 2 1/2 hours. Remove pot from heat and set aside.



Meanwhile, put potatoes into a 4-qt. pot of salted water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until potatoes are tender; drain. Put cabbage into a 3-qt. pot over medium-low heat, season with salt, add lemon juice and 1/2 cup water, cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and cook, stirring occasionally, until cabbage is tender, about 30 minutes. To serve, transfer potatoes and cabbage to a large serving platter. Transfer corned beef to a cutting board, thinly slice beef across the grain, and transfer to the platter. Spoon some of the cooking liquid over the beef and serve warm.

Drowning your Sorrows in Dulce de Leche

Ok, so while our daughter was running around Patagonia recently with our good friends Kelly and Arent, I was left behind to drown my sorrows. Rather than turn to Malbec at 10:00 in the morning, I turned to dulce de leche instead. Hayley had sent us a jar during her first months in Buenos Aires. I'd opened it, tasted it, and then set it aside for a special occasion. Well, being left behind on a blustery winter day while they enjoyed a beautiful South American summer day was occasion enough for me break out that creamy and delicious jar of "sweets made of milk".

I remembered seeing a recipe in the holiday issue of Saveur magazine. Thankfully I didn't even have to venture out of the house as I had all of the ingredients in the pantry. While I used my jar of dulce de leche, lots of people claim that you can boil a can of condensed milk for 3 or 4 hours and find dulce de leche inside when the can is opened. I have nightmares about the can exploding in my kitchen every time I consider trying it. If you want to try it, let me know how it goes…otherwise I think you can buy it in the Latin food section of your grocery store.

This recipe makes about 20 cookies. They were just complicated enough to take my mind off the wanderings of my loved ones but not so hard that they frustrated me. Thankfully I only needed one to mend my lonely soul. The rest were divided among other loved ones who have supported our family through the trauma of sending a child abroad for a year.

The only changes I made to the recipe were to roll the cookie edges in shredded unsweetened coconut after they were assembled and sprinkled them with a light dusting of powdered sugar. I'd seen another recipe that suggested it. Tasted good and helped manage the sticky dulce de leche when it seeps out from between the 2 cookies.

Alfajores

1 2/3 cups cornstarch
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
2/3 cup sugar
10 tbsp. unsalted butter,
softened
1 tbsp. cognac or brandy
1/2 tsp. lemon zest
4 egg yolks
Canned dulce de leche, for filling
cookies

Heat oven to 350°. In a bowl, sift together cornstarch, flour, and baking powder; set aside. In a mixer fitted with a paddle, beat together sugar and butter until fluffy. Add cognac and zest; beat. Add yolks one at a time; beat. Add dry ingredients; mix. Transfer dough to a floured surface, knead briefly; divide into 3 pieces. Working with 1 dough piece at a time, roll dough to 1/4" thickness. Using a 2 1/2" round cookie cutter, cut out cookies; transfer to parchment paper—lined baking sheets, spaced 1" apart. Reroll scraps and repeat. Bake until golden, 12–15 minutes. Let cool. Flip half the cookies over; top each with 1 heaping tsp. dulce de leche. Top with remaining cookies.

Back to Basics

“Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, game or any other dish? Who would not give all else for two pennyworth only of beautiful soup?”
Lewis Carroll (1832-1998)

“To cook is to lay hands on the body of the world.”
John Thorne


My adventures in the kitchen this past week are a riches to rags story.

Juan returned home on Monday from a weekend dive trip to Santa Rosa Island, one of the two northern-most Channel Islands. Unfortunately, he returned with barely half a limit of California Spiny Lobster, Panulirus interruptus.

I quickly decided it didn’t matter when he opened the ice chest to reveal a 6 ½ pound behemoth. It dwarfed the two smaller lobsters next to it.

It was Valentine’s Day and we’d been planning to cook some lobster for dinner, figuring he’d come home with at least one. The two small crustaceans would be more than enough for a meal, Juan insisted, adding that we should freeze the monster and serve him up at a dinner party. A debate ensued over which lobster to cook while Juan struggled to hold the squirming beast for a photo.

Killing one’s own food doesn’t happen much for suburban dwellers like me. I tend to catch and release when fly fishing and the closest I’d come lately to personally delivering a death sentence was plunging some Dungeness crabs into boiling water.

This guy definitely gave me pause. It was hard not to feel a bit of a pang knowing he’d escaped commercial traps for so many years. If we were going to eat him, it didn’t seem right to relegate him to the deep freeze. We needed to enjoy him fresh out of the sea.

I won the argument with that bit of reasoning and with that, the huge creature snapped its tail, arched its back and flew out of Juan’s hands onto the driveway with a loud smack. We quickly ushered him, only slightly subdued, into the kitchen.

We boiled him for a few minutes, split him open and rubbed the meat with olive oil, kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, then broiled both halves under the broiler until just barely done.

The tails were plated up with simple accompaniments: pinto beans, brown rice, grilled flour tortillas and limes. I was reminded of afternoons in Puerto Nuevo, Baja California, back when the restaurants there served real lobster. Tuesday night we had leftover lobster in an aromatic tomato sauce tossed with pasta.

Wednesday night we had lobster tacos, piled high with cilantro and avocado.

By Thursday night was I was wishing I’d lost the argument and we’d cooked the smaller lobster.

Friday night, I arrived home from work to find a box from Amazon on the doorstep. It turned out to be gift from my sister; Melissa Clark’s new cookbook In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite. I’ve long been a fan of Clark’s New York Times column and had given the book to my sister for Christmas, knowing she too is an admirer of her straightforward, unfussy recipes and inspiring narrative. Now my sister was returning the favor and after a week’s worth of lobster over-indulgence, her timing was perfect.

I opted for the restorative power of a great pot of soup and was happy to find, early Saturday morning, that I had all the ingredients on hand for this one. It was just what the doctor ordered: unpretentious, bright, meatless (except for the stock) and soothing. And, while it’s clearly good for you, it’s also very, very good.

Red Lentil Soup With Lemon

Very slightly adapted from Melissa Clark’s In The Kitchen With A Good Appetite

Time: 45 minutes
3 tablespoons olive oil, more for drizzling
2 large onions, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, more to taste
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon red Aleppo pepper (or a pinch of ancho chile powder)
2 quarts chicken or vegetable broth (I used homemade turkey stock)
2 cups red lentils
2 large carrots, peeled and diced
Juice of 1 lemon, more to taste
1/3 cup chopped fresh mint. Can substitute fresh cilantro or parsley.
1. In a large pot, heat oil over high heat until hot and shimmering. Add onion and garlic, and sauté until golden, about 4 minutes.
2. Stir in tomato paste, cumin, salt, black pepper and chili powder or cayenne, and sauté for 2 minutes longer.
3. Add broth, 2 cups water, lentils and carrot. Bring to a simmer, then partially cover pot and turn heat to medium-low. Simmer until lentils are soft, about 30 minutes. Taste and add salt if necessary.
4. Using an immersion or regular blender or a food processor, purée half the soup then add it back to pot. Soup should be somewhat chunky.
5. Reheat soup if necessary, then stir in lemon juice and mint. Serve soup drizzled with good olive oil and dusted lightly with Aleppo pepper if desired.
Yield: 6 servings.

Food lover’s guide to a weekend in San Francisco

If you’ve read this blog you’ve heard our complaints about the limited selection of certain ingredients available to us on the Central Coast. While we agree that it is the happiest place in America, we still feel the urge to spend a weekend every now and then in the foodiest place in America – San Francisco. Here we can find nearly any ingredient and a good dose of inspiration.

Here’s our basic plan step by step

Step 1. Find a place to stay. San Francisco has thousands of hotels. Everything from luxury rooms in touristy areas to motor inns in neighborhoods. What they don’t have is much in the way of parking. When you go online and get a killer deal you will most likely arrive to find that you’ll be charged $40 a night to park your car. On a recent trip we opted to stay at the Pacific Heights Inn which offered free parking, a reliable recommendation and a fairly decent rate by San Francisco standards. PHI is located in the Marina/Cow Hollow district of the city which has a nice selection of restaurants, bars and shops. It is a neighborhood full of young hip families. A nice respite from the tourist/homeless crowds found in Union Square. What PHI doesn’t offer is a swanky room that makes you want to hang out instead of hitting the streets to either shop, eat or drink.

Step 2.Make dinner reservations. San Francisco has dozens of great restaurants. If you want to dine at a restaurant of note be sure to make reservations well in advance. We read restaurant reviews and scan online menus for days trying to decide where to eat.

Step 3.Ditch work early enough on Friday to get to the city in time to check-in to a hotel (or in our case a motel), grab a cocktail and make a 7:30 dinner reservation. At night we leave the car and take taxis to and from our chosen restaurant. This eliminates the need to fight traffic, find parking and designate a driver. You can get almost anywhere in the city for less than $20 each way.

Step 4. Go to Farmer’s Market at the Ferry Building on Saturday morning…and go hungry! On a recent trip we headed to the market at a bit after 8, spent a few minutes shopping before we came upon the Roli Roti rotisserie truck.
One whiff of their porchetta sizzling on the rotisserie and we were hooked. Porchetta is rolled pork loin filled with a rosemary/lemon herb mix. Grilled on the rotisserie for 4 hours until crispy brown on the outside then sliced and placed on a fresh baked Acme Bread Company deli roll with a smear of onion marmalade and whatever greens are available (curly grass, baby arugula, baby Italian parsley) DELICIOUS!!! The other amazing thing they do is roast potatoes in the bottom of the rotisserie in all of the drippings from the racks of chickens they have roasting. So we split a sandwich and a side order of roasted potatoes and thought we’d died and gone to heaven. Of course it didn’t hurt that we had the good fortune of being in the city on a clear February morning where the temperature reach an amazing 75 degrees that day.

Next stop, Boccalone. We’ve written about their Tasty Salted Pig Parts in the past. Well somehow in the past we missed Nduja, a spicy spreadable salami. Wow! That right there is reason enough for us to get in the car and head north. It can be spread on a cracker, used to enhance sauces and surely other yet to be discovered uses.

I could go on about the joys of Farmer’s Market but those are the standouts from this particular trip. If you enjoy food, this market is a must do if you find yourself in San Francisco on a Saturday morning. And don’t forget your ice chest!

Step 5. Plan a trip to the Mission district if you are into Latin foods. I go for the empanada skins at Casa Lucas on 24th street. There’s a self-serve Mexican bakery just across the street which netted Juan a big bag of fresh baked cookies.
Between the amazing restaurants, Farmer’s Market and the Mission district you can’t help but return home with a new outlook on working in your kitchen (once you recover from the full feeling you’re bound to leave the city with).

I was recently given a set of pasta attachments for my Kitchen Aid mixer. Devon and I put it to work and paired it with our new buddy Nduja. This one’s a keeper!

Pasta with Nduja and Roasted Tomato Sauce
Adapted from The Zuni Café Cookbook

1 pound pasta (we used fresh fettuccine)
2 cans whole tomatoes, drained, juice reserved
½ cup olive oil
1 yellow onion sliced
6 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon cracked black pepper
1 bay leaf
Salt
Sugar (if needed)
½ Nduja salami
½ cup grated pecorino romano cheese
Cut tomatoes in half and place cut side down into a shallow roasting pan in one crowded layer. Add enough of the reserved tomato juice to come to a depth of ¼ inch. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and broil until tops are charred.




Sautee onions in 3 tablespoons olive oil until they begin to color then stir in the garlic, pepper, and bay leaf. Add warm tomatoes and a few more tablespoons of olive oil. Add the salami and simmer long enough to combine the elements. Season with salt and sugar if necessary.

Drain cooked pasta and fold into the tomato sauce. Serve sprinkled with grated pecorino romano to taste.

In Honor of Meat

Sometimes you just need a little red meat.

In the 60’s, when the craving hit my family we’d head to Lawry’s The Prime Rib on La Cienega Blvd. in Beverly Hills. My grandparents lived in Los Angeles and often when we’d visit from San Diego, they would treat our family to dinner at Lawry’s.

It was always a special occasion. The restaurant was expensive, even in those days, and for our family it felt like a big night out. My mom would doll up my sister and me in our best dresses, put my hair in a bun, which I hated, and remind us to be on our best behavior.

My grandparents were loving and wonderful people. As proper grandparents should, they showered their grandkids with presents. They took us on tons of outings --often to Kiddyland (also on La Cienega) and the La Brea Tar Pits. My grandmother baked cookies and made taffy. And they lived in a large house complete with a bar and a slot machine where my sister and I could pretend to be cowboys in an old time saloon.

In exchange for their largess they expected good behavior from us when out in public.

My most vivid memory of one of these meals at Lawry’s was of an elderly couple coming up to our table as we finished our meals. The husband leaned over conspiratorially to my dad and said, “Those are the most well behaved children we have ever seen in a restaurant. You have a lovely family.” My parents and my grandparents beamed with pride.

What the elderly couple didn’t know was that there was a secret behind our etiquette.

Much of the allure of Lawry’s, besides the beauty of a big red slab of prime rib on your plate, were the giant wheeled silver carts the chefs rolled over to your table that contained the standing rib roasts. The rolling doors on the carts would be dramatically opened to reveal the rib roasts and the chefs would carve them up tableside. It was quite an impressive sight befitting the over-the-top splendor of the restaurant.

And every time we went to Lawry’s, as we settled into our booth, my parents would point to one of the carts and remind my sister and I that that was were where they put the naughty children who didn’t behave at dinner. As absurd as that sounds, I believed it one hundred percent. And my parents, enjoying their martinis, never bothered to let me in on the joke.

Speaking of big metal contraptions that encase meaty delights, my new smoker from Weber arrived on Friday. The thing is enormous. It could fit two naughty children inside. It also has me thinking that I need to make some new meat eating friends as it seems fewer and fewer of my current pals are carnivorous.



I christened The Beast on Sunday and smoked up some baby back ribs. Kathy emailed me the next morning and claimed they were the best she’d ever had.



This spice rub is terrific on pork—baby back ribs in particular. Sprinkle both sides of the rib racks with the rub, then grill them over indirect heat on a charcoal grill for about 40 minutes. (These puppies took 4 ½ hours on my new smoker and they were worth every minute!)




Dry Rub

Adapted from Saveur Magazine

MAKES 3 CUPS
1 cup sugar
1⁄4 cup seasoned salt, such as Lawry's
1⁄4 cup garlic salt
1⁄4 cup celery salt
1⁄4 cup onion salt
1⁄2 cup paprika
3 tbsp. chili powder
2 tbsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 tbsp. lemon pepper
2 tsp. ground sage
1 tsp. dry mustard
1⁄2 tsp. ground thyme
1⁄2 tsp. cayenne
1. Sift together sugar, seasoned salt, garlic salt, celery salt, onion salt, paprika, chili powder, black pepper, lemon pepper, sage, mustard, thyme, and cayenne into a bowl. Store in a jar. (When using, sprinkle onto, don't rub into, meat.)