I actually received an out-of-the-blue recipe request from none other than Dr. McHappy.

For those with short memories and in need of a dose of omega-3 fatty acids (and perhaps a couple of rounds of bridge), Dr. McHappy was the one who asked for me to do a molecular gastronomy demo last XMas, which eventually resulted in the creation of the radish sandwich.

This time around, Dr. McHappy asked specifically for recipes but with the caveat that they be low-cost (hey! I can most certainly do low-cost; I just choose to add foie gras to everything) and easy/quick to prepare. And the magic ingredient for which she wants recipes? Those tasty members of the order Teuthida: Squid. Ika (actually that would be イカ). Calamari. 烏賊.

I know why: she’s  is currently walking about trying to transfer information but chances are excellent that she won’t see any demo I care to run this coming XMas period because there’s the little matter of the baby bump that will stop being a bump and shortly become a bundle well beforehand [aside: it's a really small bump - about the size of a small watermelon the last time I saw her]. So, recipes instead.

There is of course the somewhat sticky situation of not having actual recipes since squid to me is a great high quality protein that I can use pretty much anywhere. So rather than recipes, perhaps cooking methods and some ideas as to how to serve?

Eat it as sushi/sashimi

Excellent stuff as it has a slighly sticky yet crunchy consistency which tastes of the sea. Incredibly simple too since it boils down to a practice session for knife skills with one’s yanagi to place intermediate cuts into the piece of squid to make it easier to bite into.

My favorite is kanoko-giri (spotted-fawn cut) but matsukasa-giri (pine-cone cut) and naruto-giri (spiral cut) are equally applicable depending on visual and plating requirements.

An even simpler alternative is to just take that yanagi to make “squid noodles” to serve solo or perhaps with a steamed new potato. Mmm…

Oh wait – two problems here:

1. one needs *really* fresh squid, which is a perennial supply concern when it comes to the Big Croissant
2. Dr. McHappy’s baby bump means no raw seafood for her

Oops.

Boil/Steam

Yeah… that’s the ticket. Delicious, simply cooked squid that’s rapidly cooked under steam or at full rolling boil in salted water for a matter of seconds so that it’s still delicate. And the knife cuts really apply here (specifically matsukasa-giri). The squid can be served warm though it would still continue cooking so probably best to blanch in ice water to stop the cooking process and keep the squid tender. Once refreshed, it can be served:

• alone; with julienned fresh ginger, spring onions and a soy and sesame oil dipping sauce (great accompaniment to white rice)
• alone; drizzled with ponzu (nice clean app)
• as topping for cold noodles like hiyashi chūka (冷やし中華)
• as a component of a seafood salad (along with shrimp and scallop) and a nice light slightly citrus-y vinaigrette made with say Meyer lemons and a good-quality Spanish olive oil
• as the precursor for escabeche/ceviche/tiradito (see below)

I’ve also eaten squid prepared this way in a sandwich with a nice crusty roll, aioli and lightly-pickled cucumbers.

Since I didn’t have a nice crusty roll, aioli and lightly-pickled cucumbers handy for this particular post, I made an alternate squid sandwich with guacamole, tomatoes, red shallots and cilantro on a toasted mini-pita. Mmm… extra tentacle-y goodness.

Sauté the things

Another quickie since it doesn’t take a lot of time to cook (it takes more time to prep). Score the squid (matsukasa-giri is best if you can manage it) and cut into pieces. If heads are available, cut the heads in two.

Only a couple of ideas to start with, but the prepared squid can then be cooked in:

• vegetable oil with some minced grey shallots, and serve on arugula (the squid will wilt the leaves)
• vegetable oil (canola, sunflower) over high heat with fresh julienned ginger, garlic, spring onions and some chile peppers for an Asian style (add a touch of soy sauce for color if you want)
• butter over medium-high heat, adding fresh peas or fava beans right at the end of cooking and finishing off with a bit of soy sauce for color (this was a dish I had at a Japanese restaurant)

For a stir-fry that has a bit more to it, have a small bit of thinly-sliced pork (filet works well) and a selection of mixed vegetables which have been cut to the same size (e.g. ginger, garlic, green and red pepper, white onion, button mushroom, baby corn, water chestnut). Partially cook the squid, then remove from heat. Bring the same pan back up to heat and partly cook the pork, then remove from heat. Sauté the mixed vegetables (starting with aromatics then densest vegetables) until they are partially cooked, then return pork to the pan. Continue cooking until pork is almost completely cooked, then return squid to the pan. Adjust seasoning and serve immediately.

Grill!

Mmm… I love squidsickles. They were my favorite snack when cruising any of Taipei’s night markets because they were savory spicy chunks of protein goodness on a stick.

Grilling requires access to a very hot grill. A konro burning binchō-tan charcoal would be ideal because it produces an incredibly hot grilling environment, but good konro units start at a couple of hundred $ and binchō-tan sells for $50/bag. Propane grills with infrared burners are another alternative, but you can also get excellent results with a cast-iron grill pan that’s been given enough time to heat up (e.g. put the thing on an induction hob on “high” for 5 minutes and watch what happens).

Cut slashes through the squid hood without cutting through the hood. Pat the squid dry with paper towel. Grill until it is just cooked, remove and serve.

Japanese/Taiwanese grilling options could include shio-yaki (salt-grill; sprinkle with salt before grilling), or finishing with a glaze made of soy sauce, mirin and sake (watch for flames) or one of the special barbecue sauces.

There is of course absolutely nothing wrong with serving the grilled squid with a light sprinkly of salt, some Spanish olive oil and lemon. Café Ferreira used to serve grilled squid with tomato sauce (also nice, but the sauce has to be really good but not overpowering).

Plain-grilled squid also makes for a great sandwich or an interesting variant of the proverbial fish taco (you’ll need soft tortilla, a good salsa that’s preferably made from scratch and other toppings like lettuce and avocado).

Stuff the things with morcilla de Burgos

Did I ever mention that the Spanish are probably the best charcutiers in the world? While the French, Italians and Germans (among others) can make some fine product, the Spaniards’s charcuterie skills have them standing hoof and snout above all comers because they simply worship pork (one of my happy things to do is sit quietly and eat Jamón Ibérico de Bellota).

Anyway, everyone who does pork charcuterie makes a version of a blood sausage, whether it be called boudin noir, black pudding, blutwurst or mustamakkara. The best-known from Spain is morcilla de Burgos, and not only is it tasty in its own right, whether served in a bocadillo or as a tapa with pimientos, it’s great as a stuffing for squid hoods.

So here’s how you do it:

Get some sausage (if you can’t get morcilla de Burgos, try boudin noir but avoid British black pudding) and cook it. Once cooked, let cook and then dice into small pieces. Mix with a small amount of sautéed onions and breadcrumbs and then loosely fill the squid hoods with the mixture. Fasten the openings shut with a toothpick and either sauté them quickly in a pan or grill them until the squid is cooked through but still tender (this takes no more than a couple of minutes). Serve immediate with a small amount of a fresh tomato sauce.

Stuff the things with something else

Then again, North Americans as a whole are not exactly big fans of blood sausages, even if it were morcilla de Burgos. Squid hoods are squid hoods and they’re ideal for stuffing so long as they’re not overpacked (squid shrinks when cooked).

A sausage alternative is to use chorizo (either a Spanish or Portuguese one) in pretty much the same manner. A fancier way to do this version is to cook the chorizo, reserving the rendered oil. The squid is stuffed with a cooked rice and onion mixture (+ aromatics of your choice) and very finely-diced chorizo before cooking, but the finished squid is topped off with chorizo foam or air (you’ll need an immersion blender or an iSi whip and a little bit of soy lecithin to make this) .

A sausage-free version would be to stuff with a seafood rice mix (rice, onion/shallot, peas, the minced squid tentacles, some minced shrimp).

A very expensive version of this would be to stuff the hoods with shrimp paste: make some shrimp paste (whole shrimp and either a small food processor to pulse or a thick cutting board and a couple of cleavers) and mix with a brunoise of blanched vegetables of one’s choice (carrot, celery, water chestnut, jicama, pistachios, mushroom etc). Fill the squid hoods and seal with a toothpick and steam hoods until cooked (anywhere from 4-10 minutes depending on size and quantity of filling). Serve hot, or let cool and serve in slices. There is a variant of this which also adds salt duck eggs, but I generally don’t use them unless I know that the eggs aren’t from mainland China (I still have a phobia about their QC for food).

Make caldo de mariscos

Rick Bayless has a recipe for caldo de mariscos which he presented in his “Mexico One Plate at a Time” series on PBS. This is a freeform version I’ve made in the past which can be adjusted depending on the volume and available ingredients:

• 1 kg squid, cleaned and cut into pieces
• 500 g new potatoes (grelots), steamed
• 1 tin tomatoes, diced (I like using whole tomatoes)
• 1 onion, minced
• several cloves garlic, minced
• 1 kg mixed seafood (fish cut into cubes, shrimp)
• epazote (a Mexican herb, which can be omitted)
• oregano
• lime
• cilantro
• minced onion for garnish

Make a squid stock by simmering the squid in water until tender. Remove the squid from the stock (retain) and adjust to have approximately 3L final volume. Sauté the minced onion and garlic in a separate pot. Add the tomatoes, epazote (if using) and oregano; stir and continue cooking for a few minutes. Add the squid stock and bring to a simmer. Add the new potatoes, seafood (dense fish first) and the reserved squid. Continue cooking until seafood is cooked. Adjust for seasoning and serve with lime, cilantro and fresh onion.

Ceviche and escabeche

You can’t really make a squid ceviche or escabeche starting with raw squid but you can do it with cooked squid. I’m not a huge fan of escabeche but I do like Peruvian ceviche/tiradito and I am particularly fond of the purist version, which consists of only five ingredients: lime, salt, fish, chile and onion.

• Make the marinating fluid with lime juice (mix of green limes and key limes), minced chile (traditionally ají amarillo but Thai chile or cayenne chile can substitute), white or red onion (not sweet onions!), and salt to taste. The proportions depend on personal taste and the volume depends on the quantity of squid to be prepared.
• Boil/steam squid until it is almost cooked (this can take less than 1 minute), and shock with ice water to halt cooking. Mix the squid with the marinating fluid and let sit (the exact time depends on how “cooked” one wants the squid, but I’ve done 10-30 minutes)
• Remove the squid and serve immediately (e.g. a martini glass with some bibb lettuce). The marinade can be filtered and served alongside as a leche de tigre shot.

Eat it as hot pot

• I guess the only real challenge with this apart from doing all the prep that’s required is being able to survive the eating experience during the summer (Taiwanese hot pot restaurants are heavily air-conditioned). One needs a hot pot (an portable induction unit with a paella pan works great as does an electric skillet), chicken broth (or kombudashi), and well, stuff to eat including squid.

Other potential hot pot ingredients: squid (hoods and heads) whole shrimp whole scallop and clams fishballs ganmodoki thinly-sliced meats tofu in cubes shiitake and enoki mushrooms Chinese cabbage (e.g. napa) spinach glass noodles

This is pretty simple: while the broth in the hot pot simmers, add pieces of whatever one wants to cook in the broth. Once cooked, remove from the broth, dip and eat. Once finished, the glass noodles can be added to the remaining broth to finish the meal.

The classic dipping sauce is made with a raw egg and one’s taste with soy sauce, sesame oil and Bull Head-brand satay sauce (maybe some Lan Chi chili paste too) but that raw egg is a problem if one is preggers. It can be substituted for pretty much any kind of other dip that doesn’t involve “raw” (ponzu is nice with fish).

High-quality protein is always good, but when someone actually catches the fish and then delivers a cleaned fillet in pristine condition, it stops being ”good” and becomes “don’t screw up” because opportunities to play with such rarities are few and far between. It has been a while since I last had lake trout (like oh, 2+ decades) and its very delicate flavor and texture obviates a lot of cooking techniques and stongly-flavored ingredients.

Low temperature poaching in oil was a possibility, but temperatures were pushing 30 and I didn’t need to add to that by turning on an oven for the better part of an hour. Steam oven? Yeah! Oh wait – I don’t have one (boo…). Okay – back to multi-step preparations.

I actually developed this recipe as an offshoot of some fish discussions with my pal Amy, and while I never posted my interpretation of her recipe ideas, I did do some stuff with the arctic char I broke down for that development (see here, here and here).

Trout and char are both delicately-flavored salmonids so a little finessing of my omble chevalier dish begat the following:

Ingredients

• Trout fillet (preferably a lake trout or salmon trout for the size and special taste)
• mixed mushrooms (I had shiitake, shimeji and king oyster)
• new potatoes (grelots); approximately 3 per serving
• dashi (I was using shellfish dashi that I had made previously; standard katsuodashi would work very well too)
• small knob of fresh ginger, peeled and sliced thinly
• sweet white onion cut into brunoise for garnish (approximately 1 tablespoon)
• orange bell pepper, but into brunoise for garnish (approximately 1 tablespoon)

Preparation

Skin the fish and trim the fillet into an appropriate portion size (approximately 100-125 g). Salt and pepper both sides of the fillets and then carefully pan-roast in beurre noisette until just past medium. Remove from pan and tent with foil; fish will continue to cook while it rests.

Steam potatoes until tender.

Heat dashi until simmering, and add ginger slices. Allow to infuse for several minutes, then add mushrooms. Slowly poach mushrooms until just cooked. Adjust dashi broth for seasoning with salt, pepper and soy sauce (Japanese or Taiwanese for flavor profile and color).

Service

Cut the new potatoes in half on the bias and plate cut side down. Remove mushrooms from dashi and plate over the potato. Strew the onion and bell pepper brunoise around the potato and mushrooms. Blot the fish to remove excess oil and discharge. Top the potato and mushrooms with the fish. Strain the dashi and spoon the dashi over the fish.

Serve with a mid-weight Pinot Noir (I had a 2007 Oak Bay Family Reserve Pinot Noir from the Okanagan), a lighter Chardonnay that isn’t overly oaked, or a Tokaji .

Notes

And there you have it: la truite saumonée avec les champignons asiatiques, grelots et le dashi parfumé au gingembre (lake trout with mushrooms, new potato and ginger-scented dashi). Thanks Emmanuel!

As an unrelated aside, making this dish today is one prime example of why LED lighting and induction cooktops are the only way to go when designing any kitchen (new or reno). 28ºC with a humidex pushing things into the mid-30s and having to work with a stovetop that throws heat really made it a bit of a challenge.

I thought it was so-so, because I don’t particularly care for wet sandwiches and I thought that the excess of provolone detracted from the pork and the broccoli rabe (rapini).

So why bring it up? Because rapini was on sale and I just had to pick up a bale of the stuff before promptly forgetting to eat it.

I was also scribbling to my pal Amy about her constantly being busy and I couldn’t make comments about lack of blogposts without having some updated content of my own (pot calling kettle black etc etc).

So, rather than stuff ravioli or have a very large vegetable side, I decided to go get a pork roast and redo the sandwich which omitted the elements I didn’t like. And with nicer bread, ‘cos upon reflection I realize I don’t like the bread that the Philly pork sandwich and cheese steak use either. I don’t need blah bread (this isn’t the home turf of the Westons and I know James Maguire) and since I can get good bread without having to bake it myself or ensconce myself amongst the Plateau-ites, I may as well use good bread and save some of the anger management.

Ingredients

• 1 pork roast (classic roast pork sandwich uses leg/ham, I used loin roast), approx 2 kg/4.4 lbs
• onions
• herbes de provence
• rapini, cleaned, peeled and cut into shorter lengths
• 5 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 dried Thai chili peppers
• crusty bread (I used a Parisienne from Boulangerie Le Pain dans les voiles)
• glace de viande (approximately 30 mL / 2 oz)
• apple cider
• apple cider vinegar
• apricot jam

Preparation

Coat the top of the pork roast with herbes de provence, salt and cracked pepper. Let sit 2 hours at room temperature to bring up internal core temperature of pork. Slice onions and place in the middle of a roasting pan to make a cushion for the pork roast. Preheat oven to 177ºC / 350ºF. Add 100 mL / 3.5 oz each water and apple cider to bottom of roasting pan. Set up a probe thermometer and roast pork until internal temperature reads 66ºC / 150ºF (approximately 1.5 hours depending on oven; add small amounts of liquid to maintain a moist roasting environment). Remove roast from pan, tent with foil and leave in a warm spot. Remove onions from pan and reserve.

Add additional water to deglaze bottom of pan and transfer to a small pot. Add the glace de viande and reduce this liquid, adjusting with cider, cider vinegar, jam and seasonings to create a pan sauce to taste.

Near the end of the roasting time, sauté rapini with garlic and chili peppers.

Service

Open the bread loaf as desired (cut all the way through, make slices, open like a hot dog bun, whatever turns your crank).

Thinly slice the pork roast. Dip slices into the pan sauce to coat the slices and also to warm them up slightly. Place slices into bread.

Top with rapini as desired. Add reserved roasted onions as desired. Spoon over additional sauce and serve immediately.

Notes

The Parisienne from Le Pain dans les voiles is slight too wide a loaf to work well with this sandwich, and it’s far too large to make one sandwich. Then again, it’s not like I’m going to eat a giant sandwich at any one sitting, but cutting the Parisienne into more manageable pieces sort-of detracts from the experience and also loses the all-important end pieces. I think their batard would have been a better option as a single-portion size so I’ll have to get those for the next time.

As for the sandwich fillings themselves, I like this version better since I can control what the sauce tastes like and I can control what my rapini is going to be like as well. Hand-cutting the pork results in a more toothsome slice of oink thanks to the thicker slice and not using the leg/ham affords a less oinky flavor.

For those needing wanting to add cheese like DeNic’s sandwich, they hand-cut pieces of Provolone from a large block. Regular Provolone would be kinda “meh” but a Provolone piccante could be nice. I think this could also work pretty well with Tomme de Grosse Île, Comté, or even Jarlsberg for those wanting the mild route. At this point it no longer resembles an Italo-American sandwich but one doesn’t need to be a culinary Luddite who’s hidebound by tradition.

What’s different is the technique, as most French applications break the skin and lay the bird flat, while Chinese applications leave the bird whole, using a technique quaintly called “the glove method” (see my original eGullet post).

Why am I scribbling about an old post I did on a bulletin board? Lead-in: I need something to lead into the blah-blah about the anniversary of the Buttter Event and I’m already late on that one.

Anyway. Martin Yan can take the skeleton out of a duck with a cleaver in under one minute using this method. I don’t do this as often but I do know that I can generally debone a chicken in under five minutes and just over 20 if I have to stop and take photos.

The stuffing can be whatever is required for a particular dish; for this particular demo, I ground some pork loin and flavored the mince with mirepoix and lobster mushrooms that had been rehydrated in white port. Since the back of the bird generally doesn’t have any meat, the purchase and use of additional chicken breast gives a rounder overall shape.

Photos

[View with PicLens]

Notes

Deboning poultry is always a good way to test/demonstrate one’s knife skills, and I think mine are pretty good as I can zip through birds without too much difficulty. The glove method can be used on any bird, though it’s easier with medium-sized ones like chickens and ducks rather than something too small (quail are the worst) or too large.

The resulting bird is a different way to prep a showcase dish, and it’s always good for laughs at carving time, especially when you don’t tell anyone that you’re doing a homage to Mortal Kombat’s Sub-Zero.

And yes, I did burn the freaking roast.

Ah! I’ve made it to 100 posts and I’ve decided to put forward ikura and peas to commemorate the milestone. Besides, it’s almost spring.

Ingredients

• ikura (salmon roe)
• soy sauce
• mirin
• sake
• fresh fava beans
• fresh spring peas
• fresh snow peas
• wine salt

Preparation

Prepare marinade for salmon roe by combining three parts soy sauce, two parts mirin and one part sake. The flavor profile for this marinade is Japanese so use either a Japanese or Taiwanese soy sauce. Add the ikura to the marinade.

Shell the peas and the fava beans. De-string, cap and tail the snow peas. Bring a pot of salted water to a strong boil. Add the peas to the water and let cook no more than 15 seconds; remove with a spider and immediately place peas into ice water to halt cooking. Add the snow peas to the water and let cook up to two minutes, depending on the age of the peas (very young snow peas will require under one minute); remove with a spider and immediately place into ice water. Add the fava beans and let cook no more than 90 seconds; remove with a spider and immediately place into ice water.

Drain peas and beans, set aside spring peas. Slice snow peas into julienne. Peel fava beans, taking care not to split them in half.

Service

Carefully assemble julienned snow peas onto service plate. Place spring peas and fava beans onto plate alongside and atop snow peas. Top with marinated ikura, using a bit of the marinade to dress the vegetables. Sprinkle pinch of wine salt and serve immediately.

Notes

When I first made this dish, I was in experiment mode and wasn’t too thrilled that a salad was the best thing I could come up with when faced with really fresh spring vegetables.

After some reflection, this is actually one dish I am really happy with – it’s tasty, vibrant and visually appealing. One needs really good ingredients and really good soy sauce, mirin and sake to get it to be tasty and vibrant so no skimping. Since it’s so reliant on fava beans and peas, it’s highly seasonal and worth a revisit especially as spring is less than two calendar weeks away.

The only really negative about quinoa that I can think of is that the stuff is freaking expensive outside of the Andes. Oh – there’s that little issue with the saponin (high fibre + saponin = funzies all around), but proper rinsing of quinoa takes away its laxative surprise.

Risotto? Classic Italian rice dish originating from Piedmont that everyone knows and many know how to make badly. However, when it’s made well, it’s one of the best rice dishes that’s available in the West. The boundaries of what constitutes a risotto is being pushed forward by Carlo Cracco, Heston Blumenthal and others, but I suspect that Cracco’s having a bit of difficulty right now over the molecular gastronomy ban. I’ve given risotto a bit of a push myself, and at some point I’ll finish writing up that post.

I was playing around with quinoa to see what else could be done with it ouside of classical Peruvian applications and what the vegans are touting, and as it is rice-like in how it cooks, tried it out in a risotto application.

Ingredients

• quinoa
• white onion, finely minced to a near-purée (can be regular white or sweet onion)
• green onion, finely minced
• white wine
• littleneck clams, shucked, clam liquor retained
• chicken broth (broth should be hot)
• Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
• unsalted butter
• olive oil
• pepper

Preparation

Proportions are approximate.

Heat 5 mL / 1 teaspoon each olive oil and butter in  a saucier. When the foaming of the butter starts to subside, add the minced white onion (approximately 1/4 cup) and soften. Add 250 mL / 1 cup quinoa, and stir to coat the quinoa grains. Continue to cook until quinoa is slightly browned. Add 250 mL / 1 cup white wine (something with a bit of acidity). Stir and continue to simmer quinoa until liquid is almost evaporated. Add chicken broth a ladle at a time to quinoa and continue stirring. Add additional broth as liquid in saucier continues to evaporate until quinoa is almost completely cooked. Add clam liquor and ground pepper to taste, remove from heat and fold in small cubes of cold butter and grated cheese.

Sauté clams quickly with minced green onion.

Service

Plate quinoa into middle of service vessel. Top with sautéed clams and grate over additional cheese. Serve immediately.

Notes

I thought it then and I think it now, but this is a dish that is very “brown” – the quinoa is brown, the clams are brown, the Parmigiano-Reggiano is beige, which is a pale brown.

The quinoa offers us very fluffly grains when cooked this way, but it is not “soupy” as there is inadequate starch content to produce that texture. This dish works very well as an opener in a tasting menu, but I can’t see it being served as a primo primarily because of the cost.

If I had to do this again, I’d probably use dashi and sake rather than chicken stock and wine to better harmonize with the clams since both will play to the marine umami that the clams bring. if I wasn’t using the clams, the “classic” method works very nicely. Oh, and something with color to break up the brown.