im high on cooking

you can get a good look at a bull’s ass by sticking your head up there, but…

the new space is awesome, and they know it.  tom, brent and ben—draped in blood stained whites and knives tied with chain links around their wastes—have a renewed swagger in their steps, and for good reason.

the meat hook’s home:  old factory, natural light, dark wood ceilings, and massively tall brick walls.  the building resembles an old european church more than it does a butcher shop.

highlights: very tasty collection of old cookbooks, beer making supplies, and of course, a jam packed chest high display case of locally sourced and beautifully hued pasture raised meats.

i joined them last night for the new location’s inaugural pig butchering class.  besides the obvious components—sawing it apart and slicing it into all the recognizable cuts—a sleep deprived (opening week) tom mylan dropped a handful of knowledge bombs on the pork loving crowd (and a few well timed man on man jokes for good measure).  while pin pointing the ham (basically the upper thigh/butt) he explained that the way we cut animals reflects our cultural identity.  the jamon craving spaniards, for example, call most of the rear end of the pig the ham simply because that’s what they want most.  bacon biting brits, therefore, can be expected to cut the stomach much longer, allowing for more of their top choice.  us americans?  in typical melting pot fashion, we cut ‘em somewhere down the middle.

the new brooklyn kitchen labs/meat hook is gonna blow up.  it is, in short, the shit.  sign up for a class, or stop by to buy some of the choicest meat this side of anywhere. i recommend the mailing list so u know when new classes are released (email patrolling foodies fill up the slots with an aggressive quickness).

on the docket for us?  sausage making class for me and candy making for her.

roberta’s

located firmly between nowhere and bushwick, brooklyn’s roberta’s is something special. the first thing you see upon entering is the wood, glowing red, billowing flames over thin crust pies.  the smells are intoxicating.

her and i joined our good friend uncle nick for some grub and vino.  we started off with a meat and cheese plate, which among other things, showcased some salt cured pig jowl, or guanciale.  generally a good opener for any joint that takes Italian meats seriously, but especially if curing is done in house.

round two began with an always welcome nod to fergus henderson:  roasted veal bones with parsley and toast.  scoop out the marrow, spread it like the meaty knob of butter it is, drop some parsley, and administer sea salt tableside.  lick the fat off the sides of your lips now, before you embarrass me.

round three, two pizzas for the table.  a good pizza shop must first master the classics before branching out so i think that’s always the right place to start.  cheese, sauce and basil.

next, the crispy glover pizza, featuring pork jowl and pepperoncini oil.  while it tasted great on paper it was sub perfect in mouth.  the breadcrumbs on top seemed unnecessary, and if i’m not mistaken, somebody had an epileptic cinnamon sprinkle over the top of it.  opinions aside, i ate three slices none the less.

the finale was what really made the experience special.  a walk out back to their courtyard revealed a greek column studded tiki bar, a bonfire surrounded by four singing musicians (patrons, not performers), an off the grid radio station inside a metal bunker-like building whose roof is an organic garden, and a half dozen drinking smokers.

if you still have any reservations that this isn’t your regular pizza joint, you require more help than i can offer.

thanksgiving dress rehearsal

wanting to try out one of the finalists for next week’s greatest day of the year holiday menu i put my comrade uncle grandpa’s feelings aside and reached for some brussels.

in addition to a bountiful stalk of brussels i sauted two chopped apples, toasted pine nuts and a large handful of raisins in some hot oil and raw honey.

the slightly crisped outer leaves of the liberally salted brussels provide a bitterness that is perfectly balanced by the warm, soft apples.  hot oil and hot honey coat the dish and your mouth.

like a good boy band each member shares the spotlight, and the honey-kissed final product far outweighs the sum of its parts.  bucking the trend and lacking the token joey fatone component, each ingredient succeeds in whack-a-moleing a different taste bud, resulting in empty plates and happy faces.

the inspiration came from one-o-one cookbooks but i added raisins and she used maple syrup instead of raw honey.  on the upcoming turkey day i plan to serve this as a side, but she added tofu to make it an entrée.  above, i served mine with scallops seared in oil and raw honey.

this week is more exciting than this post

tonight i’ve been putting some final touches on the thanksgiving menu and trying to produce a shopping list.  it’s an exciting week indeed with my pig butchering class over at the opened-today brooklyn kitchen/meat hook on wednesday and this here blog going under the knife for some good old fashioned cosmetic surgery by the week’s end.

and yes, that’s cauliflower.