My First Cooking Lesson-"milk marinated shrimp thrown into scalding peanut oil"

I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, my Mom is a great cook, and had to be with three boys. But the first cooking lesson I really remember clearly came from my brother Mike. Mike is my older brother by eight years. Mark is another two years older than him. It was like growing up with two hormonal crazy teenage uncles. Mom and Dad expected them to watch out for me and to take care of me, and they did. Mark is a specialty butcher and can find his way around the kitchen. Mike is the seafood lover in the family and a wonderful preacher-man, not a cook, for good reason.

Mike was baby sitting me. Mom and Dad and Mark were out. Mike had a craving for shrimp, as he often did. So we hoped into his tricked out truck painted with green pinstripes and headed down to Race Street off Blossom Hill road for some shrimp. The smell of fresh seafood and a salty wooden floor still reminds me of that place. Mike showed me around, clear bulging eyes looking back at us from inside the case. A guy with a thick mustache trying to emulate Dennis Eckersley helping Mike from behind the counter, the Oakland A’s having probably just won their third Word Series in a row.
With tiger shrimp in butcher’s paper in my lap we headed home to the sounds of America, The Doobie Brothers and The Beach Boys.

Once home we got to work, bringing out the wok Mom had brought home from a trip to Hawaii. We put in about two cups of peanut oil and placed it over the heat, shimmering while the shrimp continued to marinate in nothing but milk. I was sure Mike knew what he was doing, I mean, he was the older brother and everything he did was godlike to me, still is. I remember the way people were always happy to see him, his tan, his puka shell necklace, his cool truck. I recall the way he stared out his window and watched cars drive by while listening to music, the way he could drop a 15 foot jump shoot with nothing but net, again and again, and again. But this warm summer night he almost burned the house down.

I remember the size of the shrimp, huge to me, dripping with milk through Mike’s hands and fingers. With a quick athletic jerk, he threw the shrimp straight into the smoking oil and while my short life on Hilow Court flashed before me. The oil ignited as it reacted to the milk and flames rose as if a bomb had gone off. I would like to give Mike complete credit for saving the house that day, not only was he responsible for starting the fire, but for extinguishing it as well. “OPEN THE FRONT DOOR, OPEN THE FRONT DOOR, OPEN THE FRONT DOOR, OPEN THE FRONT DOOR!!!!” I think he wants me to open the front door, I thought to myself, staring like a moth attracted to the flames. Mike successfully carried the walk the front porch while the black smoke brought involuntary tears to his eyes.

Ok, situation under control. Fire damage to house, no damage. Hot oil on our bodies, no scaring. Hot oil spilled on plastic linoleum floor, no melting. Fresh shrimp for dinner, well, no. Disaster averted, not yet. Yes, the fire was out and the incinerated shrimp boiling in hot lava was cooling on the front porch, but the kitchen was engulfed in smoke. Time for action, Mom and Dad could not find out what happened or we would never see the light of day again. Well, I would, but Mike would definitely not. We raced to open the house, windows, sliding glass doors, garage door, any thing we could open to get air flow. Once we felt safe the laughing started, for two hours as we tried to clear the house of smoke, the only evidence.

We actually thought we had pulled it off as we ate whatever leftovers Mom had provided for us that night. We giggled as we watched TV and ate, sure that we had pulled it off. If we could only compose ourselves, we were like criminals hoping to calm down before interrogation. I’m sure Mike was thinking that I was the only thing keeping him from getting into trouble. “I hope Paul can stand up against Mom’s cross examination.”

Nervously we heard the car drive up the driveway as the headlights shone across the kitchen table. Stay cool, no problem, this is it, keep a straight face, all we had to do was act like nothing happened. Steps clicking up the walkway, we did it, steady. Voices, the key in the lock, we were the smartest kids in the world, invincible.

Our eyes bulged as we stared at each other, our hopes crushed, our crime exposed as we heard Mom’ voice, “What is my wok doing on the front porch?!?!?!?”

BUSTED!!!

You're Chicken

Congratulations to our first questions sent in my Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous, I’m not sure which. I always like to have a sauce, or something to slather my chicken in, whether it is bbq, sweet and sour, a buerre blanc or something a little more out there. When I season my chicken for grilling, roasting, sautéing or baking I always use a little sea salt and cracked peppercorns. If I am going to rub my chicken down in spices I might use some dried mustard or dried chilies if I am going to finish it with a little sauce or salsa.
Purchase dark chili powder, which is ok. If you want to make your own I would buy a combination of ancho chili, chipotle, and pasilla peppers. Pick out the seeds, toast them in the oven to dry them out and increase the complexity of flavors and then grind them down with a food processor with a little garlic and cinnamon, put them in the oven to dry out and grind a second time. Repeat grinding and toasting until the chili mix becomes a powder and is dry. You can keep this in you pantry and bring it out later when you want to use it again. It’s got some heat, but it’s tasty with hints of leather and tobacco, also great for steaks, fish or lamb and will become even bolder when you grill with it. Rub this on prior to grilling, and serve it with some fresh pico de gallo, or grilled pineapple salsa, yum. Grill some pineapple, let it cool, dice it up and add diced jalapenos, fresh cilantro leaves, lime juice and diced red pepper, season with a little salt and pepper and chili flakes. Let me know what you think.

What do I do with all these herbs and spices?

Spices and herbs have always been used in cooking; the trick is to know how to use them. Herbs by definition are leaves of fresh or dried plants. Spices are the aromatic parts of plants; they can be buds, the fruit, berries, the roots or bark. Spices are usually dried and typically come from tropical regions, but not always. A plant can be used in the production of either herbs or spices, or both. For example; as with cilantro, the leaves, and coriander, the ground seeds, are from the same plant.
There are great books that are solely devoted to cooking herbs and spices too. My advice on using spices that you are unfamiliar with is to write me a note under comments on a specific herb or spice and I will research it for you. If you would like to know what to rub down on a steak or if you bought some great curry powder and aren’t sure what to do with it, let me know and I will help you work it out and we can share the information and outcome with the other readers.
So you have this “private” chef at your disposal, it’s your turn to let me know what your interested in and what you want to learn to do better in your kitchen.

You Asked For It

This week I've learned that most of the people who are interested in my blog are those who want me to post recipes, so my last title probably disappointed a couple of you, oops.
The hardest thing about giving out recipes is to assume that someone else knows what you are talking about whether it is ingredients or techniques. I will do my best, but it is your job to not be too uptight about food. That is one of my goals with this blog, getting people to relax and enjoy cooking and providing for their friends and family.
One of the most important things you can do for yourself to enjoy your experience at home is to set the mood. If your goal is just to be sure everyone gets some food in their stomach, that is probably all you are going to accomplish. For instance, if you are going for a romantic mood for two, you probably are going to put on some music to help you out. The same for cooking. Some of the best kitchen crews I worked with hardly spoke at all. Everyone just grooved to the music and kicked it out, like a dance.
So relax, put on some music, something you enjoy and is fun, Van Morrison will never let you down if you can't decide.
That's a start.

Recipes

I'm working on what seems like the impossible, getting all my recipes and menus into one format. What seems like an endless project has actually got me inspired again. I find myself saying, "what was I thinking", or "next time change this". I have collections on paper, on a palm pilot, two computers and a pile of papers and binders in the basement. I life long project really, too bad I'm starting twenty years too late.

Chef Symposium?

I got invited to go to what was called a "Chef Symposium" for Denver chef's last Friday.
Naturally, I was cynical. I didn't know anyone going in so I got there early in order to set up my own perimeter. I ended up meeting a guy from a restaurant company development division. We had heard of each other, we have a mutual chef friend so I hung out with him and his boss. Nice guys. The chef field trip was held at the Johnson and Wales campus here in Denver. Needless to say I wore my Culinary Institute of America Alumni pin on my chef coat collar.

We had some demos and spent a great deal of time talking about special requests, allergies, gluten-free celiac disease and sustainability. It was a relief to hear other chef's having the same challenges and the conversations were awesome.

It is always a blast to be around other chef's, especially strangers, who you can relate to and share info with.

What were you expecting from a chef's blog anyways?

Back on Track

Once I got this sblog business started I walked away from it, so I will try to get it going again.

I have spent the last month working on a secret project. More details as I get them.

I have been so blown away by Janet's blog that I have been inspired to move mine forward. Baby, yours is amazing. I am going to try to wade out of the shallow end.

My buddy Michael has a great one as well.

Hey

I'm a fortunate guy.

I have a great wife who loves me, a daughter who is terrific and a son who is awesome.

I have done the same job for over twenty years, cooking and taking care of my customers.

I'm told I'm lucky to do something that I love and that I'm good at.

The summer after high school graduation my buddies all got jobs at a hot local restaurant, California Cafe in Old town Los Gatos, our home town. I bussed tables for a short time and then asked Chef Dean if I could work in the kitchen. He snickered, "Sure pw, come in on Saturday at 6:00 am."

Cool.

Saturday morning I hoped on my mountain bike and rode into work, winded and on time. The back door was locked, no one answered.

6:15
6:30
6:45
6:50, chef Dean pulled up in his car and got out, expressionless.

He pulled his keys from his fadded checkered pants and put them into the lock, he didn't look up.

"How long have you been standing here?" he asked.

"Since 6:00 am Chef."

"Good. Come on in."

I swear he was laughing under his breath as he walked ahead into the dark kitchen.

The veal stock filled my nostrils and I have been home ever since.