When I first heard about this scary Scottish treat a few years ago, I was hesitant yet curious. (Then I heard about the Scottish deep-frying pizza and decided they're mad geniuses.) Recently, these coated candy bars have gained minor popularity--they're even served at the Chip Shop near my apartment. They've fancied theirs up, plating them drizzled with raspberry sauce and sprinkled powdered sugar. In fact Chip Shop's gone as far as including deep-fried Twixs, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Twinkies (good, but the cake shrinks into near nothingness), among others. I even saw Nigella Lawson deep-fying Bounty bars with pineapple on the side the other night. I was wowed. One could deep-fry any sweet, for sure, this recipe is only a base. Any fish batter would work as well, but some people like things spelled out. 4 Milky Ways (which
is the same as a UK Mars Bar) Chill the candy. Meanwhile, mix the flour, cornstarch and baking soda. Add your chosen liquid until you have pancake batter consistency. Heat oil to around 365 degrees, same as if you were making french fries (yes, I know purists fry fries twice at two different temperatures). Dip the candy in the batter, then fry away. The coating should turn golden brown, give it a couple minutes. Serves 4 good sports or 8 pantywaists
The idea of a B.Y.O.C. Party was born. Everyone was encouraged to bring their own candy to be deep-fried, and bring they did. The massive pile of Oreos, Twinkies, Mallomars, Almond Joys, Cadbury Eggs, Reese's and assorted sweet treats was unofficially dubbed "Deep-Fried Candy Mountain" (if such a locale actually existed, I'd be packing my bags posthaste). It was beyond a bonanza. The thing with fried candy is that you can't eat a ton of it, and it's not the speediest way to feed a group. Only a couple items can really be fried at once, so satiating twenty or so guests must be done in shifts. It worked out well, though, and everyone was able to put in requests for their fried goodie of choice. Good things come to those who wait. So, the supply ended up being higher than demand. Our downstairs refrigerator (never mock a two-fridge household) still has crisper bins full of sugary souvenirs in their wrappers, and two months have passed since this unhealthy little experiment. I'm sure this problem will soon be rectified, since I'm a sweet tooth utterly lacking in self-control. (7/2/04)
Yesterday I was looking for Christmas cookie recipes and checked the usual places like Epicurious. I found some solid stuff, but craved something a little more lowbrow. I figured mommy-ish sites that let any yahoo submit recipes like iVillage and AllRecipes, would provide a wealth of suggestions. I wasn't disappointed and didn't have to dig very deep before I came up with this gem using saltines. I'm a sucker for mock-style recipes that put crackers where they don't belong. And the novelty-factor aside, these "cookies" are really good. The only pitfall I faced was the lack of a cookie sheet. All the neighborhood stores had been ransacked, nary a sheet in sight. You get what you deserve when shopping on Christams Eve, I suppose. A pizza pan sufficed, though it made the cracker layout a bit awkward. 4 ounces saltine crackers Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (205 degrees C). Line cookie sheet with saltine crackers in single layer. In a saucepan combine the sugar and the butter. Bring to a boil and boil for 3 minutes. Immediately pour over saltines and spread to cover crackers completely. Bake at 400 degrees F (205 degrees C) for 5 to 6 minutes. Remove from oven and sprinkle chocolate chips over the top. Let sit for 5 minutes. Spread melted chocolate and top with chopped nuts. Cool completely and break into pieces. * * * This Thanksgiving monstrosity was recently brought to my attention, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since. The idea of stuffing a turkey with a duck stuffed with a chicken stuffed with dressing is borderline obscene. Variations abound, though Paul Prudhomme has been credited as the mad scientist who first created this beast. What follows is an extremely simplified recipe. 1 chicken - deboned Fill the chicken with one of the dressings, put some more dressing on the duck, wrap the duck around the chicken. Put some dressing on the turkey, wrap the turkey around the duck. Put stuffing in the turkey where the legs and wings were, sew the turkey closed. Put it in the oven at 190 degrees for 12 hours. *Some random guy's experience preparing a turducken, complete with photos. * * *
1 pound boneless lean beef (like tenderloin, flank steak or center round) Marinade Peanut oil (or other oil) for deep-frying Slice the beef into very thin strips and set aside in a shallow bowl. Using a large mortar with a pestle, pound the coriander seeds to a coarse powder, then add the lemongrass and pound until well broken down. Add the salt and coriander roots and pound to a coarse paste, then add the garlic, peppercorns and sugar and pound to a paste. Stir in the fish sauce, then pound a little to make a smooth paste. If it seems very dry, add a little more fish sauce or a little water. You want the paste to be moist and smooth enough to coat the meat. You’ll have about 3 tablespoons marinade. Alternatively, you can use a blender to make the paste. You may need to use a spice grinder to grind the coriander seeds and pepper first, then add the ground spices to the other marinade ingredients in the blender and reduce to a paste. Add the marinade to the meat and toss and turn to coat the meat thoroughly. If you have time, cover the meat and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight. Preheat the oven to 150°F. Drain off any liquid that has been drawn out of the meat. Place a rack over a baking sheet (to catch any drips), arrange the pieces on the rack, laying them down as flat as possible and place in the upper third of the oven. Let dry for 6 hours, leaving the oven door propped open several inches to let moisture escape. After 6 hours, the meat will have changed color right through and it will be drier, but not completely dried out. This is the idea texture for making fried jerky. You can fry it immediately or cool it and store it in the freezer in a well-sealed bag or container until ready to use. Bring the jerky back to room temperature before frying. Place several plates lined with paper towels near your stovetop and have tongs or chopsticks handy. Place the oil in a well-balanced wok or large heavy skillet. You want the oil to be about ½ inch deep in a skillet or slightly more at the deepest point of the wok. Heat the oil until it’s just starting to smoke. Gently slide about one quarter of the meat into the pan and fry for about 30 seconds, turning and moving it constantly with your tongs. Lift the meat out onto a paper towel-lined plate. Bring the oil back to almost-smoking hot and cook the remaining meat in batches. Serve hot or at room temperature as a snack or as part of a rice meal.
Serves 6 From Hot Sour Salty Sweet: A Culinary Journey Through Southeast Asia by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. Artisan.
In composing a menu for a "Weed and Feed" party (that had nothing to do with smoking pot--I'm so not a stoner that I didn't even consider the connotation) which involved luring acquaintances to my apartment with the promise of fabulous food in exchange for pulling the orchard of shoulder-high brambles that had consumed my backyard, careful consideration was needed. Burgers and hot dogs would be a tough sell. A Thai spread seemed like better bait and if you're going to do Thai food in the midst of sweltering summer heat, a light, green papaya salad almost goes without saying. Som Tam, a spicy salad consisting of shredded unripe, green papaya dressed with the salty (fish sauce), sweet (palm sugar), hot (bird chilies) and sour (lime juice, sometimes tamarind) foursome, is a northern Thai dish eaten for its cooling effect. Green papayas literally grow on trees in Thailand. It's not quite so in the United States. Living in Sunset Park, a Mexican neighborhood touching Chinatown, I didn't think procuring papaya would be difficult and put off buying it until the day of the party. Faith in local produce was my first mistake. My confidence was shaken by both Asian and Hispanic grocers who each had a box of forest green, football-shaped behemoths in the back. The fruit wasn't only freakishly large and pock marked, but outrageously priced. This wasn't promising. Sunflower-gold, ripe papaya taunted me at every corner. I skimmed sidewalk crates on the off chance a green one would jump out. The sugar cane and tropical fruit van around my corner was my last hope. I spied two greenish, mottled specimens on the verge of turning. Wishing I had x-ray vision to examine their interior, I desperately grabbed them anyway, despite the purveyor protesting, "They're not ripe!" Figuring she knew what she was talking about, I felt relieved rushing home. Panic set in as I cut into the papayas, revealing soft peachy flesh. Guests were to arrive in less than an hour, and the star ingredient was nowhere to be found. This was no time to be my usual slave to authenticity. (You wouldn't guess it from my fascination with trashy food, but when it comes to replicating ethnic dishes I am a stickler for proper ingredients. Substituting soy sauce for fish sauce or ginger for galangal will throw me into seizures.) Quick, what could stand in? Green mango might work, but wouldn't be any easier to score than green papaya. Cabbage seemed a pathetic substitute--this wasn't a slaw. What else is tart, crisp, juicy and available anywhere any time of year? Granny Smith apples, I guessed. It pained me at first, but I got over the trauma of deviating from the recipe. Besides, it's not like my friends are food snobs--they'd be happy with nachos and frozen ravioli. Don't bother with peeling, simply give them a spin through the grating disk of a food processor (grating by hand is a tedious nightmare), place into a colander and toss with fresh lime juice (the apples brown almost as fast as you can shred them). The excess liquid will leech while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. You can tweak the hot-sour-salty-sweet dynamic to your liking, I prefer an incendiary version, but whatever you do, allow for apple's natural fruitiness. Less sugar is needed than in the traditional preparation. While not an exact match, green apples are an apt understudy, the result being a simple refreshing dish in its own right. Green apple salad tastes nothing like a compromise. In a frenzied moment of forced improvisation, I discovered that it's all right to tamper with tradition. I gained a new dish, and for the first time in a year, a clear view of my back fence. 8-10 Thai bird chilies Using a large mortal and pestle, smash the garlic and chilies into a paste. Add dried shrimp and green beans and lightly bruise. Stir in the green apple. Toss with fish sauce, lime juice and palm sugar, then mix in tomatoes. Adjust seasonings to taste. Mound on serving plate and top with peanuts. Serves 4-6 This appeared in The New York Times mere weeks after I wrote the above. I'm no Mark Bittman, but heck...(oh, it's archived now, but it entailed a green papaya recipe that used green apple). * * *
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Ok,
I've since gone nuts with this theme. A few years back, I bought James
a deep fryer as a gut-busting birthday gift. Up until recently, it had
primarily been put to savory uses. But after moving in together, I thought
a housewarming parting was in order. And what better way to warm a house
than with piping hot oil?
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