Misunderstood

It was bound to be noticed at some point. A cursory glance at something rumpled and starved within a plastic container on the middle shelf wayward towards the back. Out at last, of this less than air tight time capsule, are two packages with labels expertly torn and saved for now-once future reference: Guajillo and Pasilla Chili Pods, the remnants from a party long and in fact approximately two years ago. It matters not that it is days after the Vernal equinox and the outdoors have taken on the chirpy tones of a Lilly Pulitzer print. I am taken by the smooth mahogany contours, the resiny aroma, and the deep brittle contours of a landscape southward facing. Something more yet less tangible calls out to me: reminiscent of the paper thin etching of a moth wing under night light or the hollow feeling of neglect and wither. It is precisely the un-nameable loss of something available never used. It is of sudden paramount importance to give this food the proper attention, to allow its purpose to unfold to fulfillment.

With diligent efficiency water is boiled and the desiccated chilies are stemmed, split, and shaken before being plunged into a long overdue quench of moisture. Onions and garlic are systematically sautéed and pureed with the newly supple magenta flesh. A bit of soaking water, some salt, oregano, sugar and allspice. Easy magic. At once the sauce is deep and rich, assertive- coming from yesterday, from a forgotten place like a rabbit jumping out of a hat.

In this moment I actually have good intentions to bring some uncustomary precision to my sauce. I gather the names on the labels, sure to be helpful clues to pinpoint my next direction. Then a kerfuffle of sorts, inconveniently the names of some peppers transform when dried from fresh. Frankly this nonsensical change in title leaves me perplexed. But before I can balk too much, the confusion reaches a climax as I realize that the images on my computer screen don’t match the faces once in their labeled baggies. Are my Guajillos in fact, Anchos? Mine are admittedly ungainly giant raisins, not smooth as leather coronets. Several differing images leave me even more in doubt. And now, it seems rather pointless to make distinctions between types at all.

The irony here is the care with which I structure the physical artifacts of my life, with the sole aim that others might easily locate and retrieve objects from chili peppers to books for me. I memorize where objects are in relationship to another and keep items bundled together in the hopes that this intuitive organization will facilitate this process. Then there is the steady stream of details I am happy to dispense about where, when, how, and why. Still- this one got away, twice. First, by being overlooked and existing beyond its prime; and second, when inadvertently becoming a question. How many others are out there?

To recognize that this tight armature of existence has many black holes is a bit unsettling to consider, and that I do in small turns. Our slow warming weather gets broadsided by flurries and freezing cold. Maybe the newly dubbed Earth Magic Heat Sauce would be good with tamales or even a little ice cream. A corn pudding frittata fusion might be delightful. I can’t help thinking again about the delicious meanderings of a creative process which spills out well beyond form. It is spring again, which for many is welcomed reassurance. But it is also a time of new beginnings, a stroll through unchartered territory, a no man’s land yet to flourish. For those with a smidge of courage, not-to know is freedom from ordinary constraint and perhaps permission to dive into questionable puddles.

Earth Magic Heat Sauce-
Ingredients:
5 Dried Pasilla Chili, seeded and stemmed
3 Dried Guajillo Chili, seeded and stemmed
1 small onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, sliced
1 Tbsp. of brown sugar
½ tsp of salt (to taste)
½ tsp of allspice
½ tsp of oregano
soaking water

Directions: Place chilis in bowl and soak in hot water until supple. Meanwhile fry up your onions and garlic until there is a little color. Place the softened chilies and the remaining ingredient in a blender and whirl with some of the reserved soaking water until sauce is thinned to your preference. Taste and tweak. Then fire up the pan once again, adding a little oil and then "fry" up the sauce for a few more minutes to allow the flavors to deepen.

Corn Pud-ttata Fantastico:
Ingredients:
1 onion sliced and fried
1 C of rice milk
1 C of corn kernels
4 eggs
½ tsp of salt
½ tsp of ground cumin
4 Tbsp of amaranth flour
2 roasted poblano peppers, stemmed and seeded
½ C chopped cilantro
¾ c pinto beans
1/3 C feta cheese crumbled

Directions: Place milk, corn, eggs, salt, cumin, and amaranth flour in a blender and whirl until the corn is properly pulverized. Grease a 9" pie plate and place fried onions, poblano pepper strips, cilantro, beans, and feta into the bottom. Pour the corn filling over and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven until golden and set. I believe this was about 40 minutes. Cool and slice. Nice on a bed of watercress and some Earth Magic Heat Sauce tempered with plain yogurt/sour cream.

In which she sees pink

Shamefully my writing has withered on the vine of no inspiration with little done to resuscitate breath or form. My time has been spent in part, patiently waiting in mock scholarly fashion upon the odd laboratory set up in the recesses of my kitchen cupboard where lacto-fermentation experiments age to near perfection. In unison it would seem, I too slung slow in quiet invisible reverie, imitating the very manner of my closeted minuscular cohorts. After all who needs the fuss of too many singular ingredients chopped and cooked just so, added to the synchronization of each moving part into one harmonic whole? I’ve got kraut with pow, zip, and swing; and I don’t mind saying that it has become my “go to” accessory which enlivens and occasionally even rectifies just about every food scenario.

But months of crunching upon lactic acid soaked veggies has created a now gnawing need for an opulent, richly marbled counterpart, something perhaps- like a fatty pink patty. As it is a rare occasion when I purchase beef and though devilishly armed with my beloved Foreman Grill, something quite extraordinary must stroll my way in order to be steered in that direction. Something perhaps like a bejeweled burger richly anointed.

The first iteration of this beef motif showed up with the same friend who brought me the B-52’s and LOTR. Armed with sliced butter pickles and cheese, we formed hunks of ground chuck into lumpy softballs and wiggled our thumbs into the sides, meat doughnuts asking to be filled. Coins of pickles and wads of Kraft American were obligingly stuffed into their hidden caves. Pan fried and no nonsensically slapped onto a bun, this was a true gustatory revelation eaten in hungry silence. Years later I would upgrade to a slightly more refined version of the“secret” burger now containing a royal cache of blue cheese and chopped onion. However as delicious as it was, I couldn’t help feeling led astray by the name. The tell tale crumbles of Blue which should have hollered out “Ahoy!” instead melted down into an invisible nonexistent whimper, a mere whiff of eau d’bleu.

So rightfully pleased I was to discover this third and most charmed version in a recent Saveur perusal. In this Swede inspired dream, cubes of pickled beets make merry with chopped pickles, onions, and even chunks of dairy rich butter. Being ever so efficiently designed, the pickled bits and creamy counterparts are simply mixed into the venison/beef/reindeer rather than stuffed and sealed. Served in my mind on rye bread with a hearty back slap of stout mustard and blue cheese, this burger brings the best of all worlds seen and in between. To boot, the red cabbage kraut I have been nurturing these past months would make a most welcomed mouthwatering and visual partner.

In other terms this burger represents at least one of my favorite flavor profiles, the one that might wear a handmade fisherman sweater, smoke a pipe, and shout out, “Ahoy”. But then there is that confusing pink coloration which makes one fear the meat is far too rare, all the while flaunting a somewhat feminine lilt of allspice. In deep consideration of this little bit of heaven lovingly seared in butter with a barely sweet tender center; perhaps pink holds more complexity than previously assumed. No one liner relegated to bubble gum and soda fountain drinks, this intersection between red and white just might be where intensity and gentleness play. And that is absolutely worth writing about.

*Thank you to everyone who continues to read in spite of my travels to faraway places...

Biff à la Lindström: adapted from Saveur issue no. 117, serves 4
Ingredient:
1 lb. ground beef
½ C bread crumbs
5 tbsp. chopped pickled beets
2 tbsp. pickled beet juice
3 tbsp. chopped pickles
2 tbsp. dark beer
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp black pepper
2 eggs beaten
1 clove garlic chopped
½ onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp. butter diced
2 tbsp. parsley chopped

Directions: Combine all ingredients in a bowl until just mixed. Divide mixture into 8 patties, one inch thick. Heat butter in a nonstick pan over medium heat. Cook half of the burgers, approximately 5 minutes each side until browned. Repeat with remaining burgers. Enjoy with coarse mustard, blue cheese, rye bread, and kraut.