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Thrill of the Grill + Smoked Bacon Burger

@datz, Datz Daily, Recipes | Tuesday, July 5th, 2011 | 1 Comment

There are few foods as compelling as a piece of meat or fish charred over open flames. The skin contracts and crisps, turning crackling and brown, the juices drip and run; the flesh becomes sweet and intense. Strong, robust, heavy, flavors that, along with the heat and smoke from the grill, give food an unmistakeable sense of high summer. In the latest edition of the duPont Registry, Heather Stalker sat down with three local chefs—Tom Pritchard of Salt Rock Grill, Gary Moran of Datz Tampa and Mark Heimann of Marchand’s Bar & Grill at The Vinoy—share their savvy summer secrets. You can find that story here.

As an added bonus, however, Chef Gary shares this recipe for Datz’s Smoked Bacon Burger.

Smoked Bacon Burger with smoked tomato mayonnaise and jalapeno relish
(makes 10 burgers)
4 lbs ground lean chuck
1 lb  nueske’s applewood smoked slab bacon, pulsed in food processor to coarse grind
2 T garlic powder
2 T onion powder
2 TWorcestershire
White Cheddar Cheese
Smoked Tomato Mayo, recipe follows
Jalapeno Relish, recipe follows

Mix together garlic powder, onion powder and worcestershire and fold into the combined ground chuck and ground bacon. Form into 8-ounce patties and place into the freezer for one hour, to set.

While the patties rest, prepare your favorite smoker and bring to 130-140 degrees. You will want to smoke the burger low and slow under the 140 degrees mark until the internal temperature is 110 degrees. This will give you a smoked rare burger which you can either pan fry or grill to desired temperature. Serve with smoked tomato mayonnaise, jalapeno relish and white cheddar cheese.

Smoked tomato mayonnaise
This smoked tomato mayo is good on virtually any sandwich, although we’re partial to grilled summer vegetables on toasted country bread with fresh mozzarella, basil and smoked tomato mayo. It also makes a great dipping sauce for grilled artichokes.
1 lb summer tomatoes, peeled and deseeded
1/2 C mayonnaise
1 T sherry vinegar
Sea Salt and Black Pepper to taste

While the smoker is going, add the peeled tomatoes and smoke for 30 minutes. Remove from the smoker and combine the tomato with the remaining ingredients in a food processor. Puree until smooth. Taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary. Be sure to while you have the smoker going throw in a few peeled tomatoes. combine with a good quality mayo. Throw into food processor and season with salt, pepper and sherry vinegar. Taste and adjust seasoning as desired.

Jalapeno Relish
10 jalapeños

Toss the jalapeños in olive oil and place on a hot grill (or under the broiler)  and char till black on all sides. Put in a paper bag until cool, then peel the skins under running water*. Remove stems and chop, seeds and all.

*Note: Peeling the skins under running water does dilute the flavor a little bit, but with so much heat in the jalapeno, we’ve found that it works best in this application.

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Pea is for Prosperity…

Foodimentary, Recipes | Friday, December 31st, 2010 | No Comments

Around the globe different cultures have  unique New Year’s food traditions thought to ensure good luck. Spaniards eat grapes as the clock strikes midnight to predict whether the year will be sweet or sour. Austrians decorate their table with marzipan pigs to celebrate progress and  Germans place a few fish scales scraped from the prosperous carp in their wallets for luck. And in the South, it’s all about Hoppin’ John, a steaming bowl of beans, rice and pork. There are a number of seemingly-valid explanations for why beans symbolize good luck: Some attribute their magical properties to childhood lore a la Jack And the Beanstalk; others call it a fertility symbol; and still others say the black-eyed pea saved the South from starvation during the Civil War. No matter what you believe, one thing is true: it’s darn good eating. Happy New Year!

Hoppin’ John Recipe
1 # blackeyed peas, rinsed and picked through
2 large Spanish onions, one peeled and halved through the root, one medium diced
2 carrots, roughly chopped
4 bay leaves
kosher salt to taste
8 oz. bacon, cut into 1/4-inch strips
5 cloves of garlic, or more, minced
2 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp red pepper flakes
1 tsp finely ground black pepper
One 28-ounce can chopped tomatoes

Put the black eyed peas, the halved onion, the carrots and 3 bay leaves in a large pot.  Cover it all with about three inches of water (you’ll need about 2 quarts). Put the pot over high heat, bring it to a simmer, then turn the burner to medium low and continue to cook until the beans are tender, about 60 to 90 minutes. Add two or three teaspoons of salt midway through the cooking. Strain the peas (reserving two cups of the cooking liquid); discard the onion, carrots and bay leaves.

While the peas are cooking: in a pot big enough to hold the beans cook the bacon over medium low heat  until the fat is rendered and the bacon is browned. Add the diced onion and a pinch of salt. Cook over until the onion is softened and translucent and beginning to brown, five or ten minutes. Add the cumin, pepper flakes and black pepper, turn the burner to medium and stir to combine the seasonings with the onion.  Add the tomatoes and all the juices from the can. Add the last bay leaf.  Bring this to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes or so to thicken the sauce.

Stir in the black eyed-peas, and cook to heat through. Add some or all of the reserved bean liquid to make it as soupy or stewy as you would like. Then taste and season, whether that be more salt, pepper, or around here, more red pepper flakes and hot sauce. Maybe even siracha. Serve immediately with rice and cornbread.

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Fiddleheads for you and for me!

Datz Daily, Foodimentary | Thursday, April 8th, 2010 | No Comments

When I was small, maybe 7 or 8, my mother instituted the rule that every Friday night was New Vegetable Night. The childhood burden of new and strange vegetables did not fare well in our household.

Unfairly blamed on my mother’s cooking, my brother and I took to pouting and temper tantrums to avoid eating anything green. It wasn’t long before New Vegetable Night became Pizza Night instead, and peace was restored in the Lee household.

Twenty years later, no longer so closed-minded, a new vegetable appeared on my plate on Friday night. And strangely, I ate it with wonder and abandon. Well… perhaps not so strangely. This was culinary school, and the lesson at hand was fiddleheads.

Fiddleheads, the tightly furled shoot of the Ostrich Fern first discovered by the Maliseet and Mi’kMaq tribes in Eastern Canada, are a springtime delicacy all the way up the East Coast. Until that night, I don’t recall ever having seen them, but they tasted like I imagined they would – like asparagus. (They smell and taste of the earth in the same way that fresh scallops taste of the ocean.) They were crunchy and earthy and green tasting and paired well with the pappardelle, crispy prosciutto and salty Parmigiano-Reggiano also on my plate.

It’s one of the few things I miss about living in the northeast – these succulent signs of spring. Asparagus. Ramps. Fiddleheads. <sigh> Desperate for a harbinger, Chef Jason Dame and I ordered them from Sid Wainer, but just the other day, I found them at The Fresh Market. (You’ll have to wait for a new shipment because I bought them all.) Jason and I served them alongside wild mushrooms in a ragout topped with a mammoth diver scallops. Oh! And finger limes. Today, I’m using up what’s left in a spring risotto – asparagus, fiddleheads, meyer lemon and creamy cana de cabra (because that’s what in the fridge). And I’m thinking that maybe my mother was on to something after all.


FIDDLEHEAD FAQ000171-foodimentarypic.jpg


Want to know more about fiddleheads? Here are the basics on stalking, preparation and storage:


What do they taste like? They taste like asparagus.

How can I tell if a fiddlehead is ready to eat? In the field, you can tell the fiddlehead is still young by how tightly it is furled. If the furl is loosening into a fern, it’s gone by.

How long will a fiddlehead stay fresh? Most chefs like to use them the same day, but you can blanch or steam them for less than a minute, lay them on a cookie sheet and freeze them solid. Then you can keep them in a bag in your freezer.

What’s a simple way to eat a fiddlehead? Steam or blanche the fiddlehead for three minutes, douse them with butter and lemon, and serve as a side dish.

How long is fiddlehead season? Fiddlehead season lasts about three weeks. Since the timing varies from Virginia to Canada, you can usually order them for about six weeks from somewhere.

NOTE: Not all ferns are edible, so stalkers should arm themselves with information or get a knowledgeable partner to go out with. Also, don’t be too greedy. Stalkers ask that people take no more than a third of an outcropping so the crop can be sustained

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I can no longer resist this sauce

Foodimentary | Wednesday, January 27th, 2010 | No Comments

I can no longer resist this sauce, and frankly, I don’t know why I even try. When Chef Francesco Tonelli first showed me ten years ago, it was one of many culinary school revelations. (Bested only by the brown butter sage sauce spooned over pillows of airy gnocchi. aahhh…) So, I wasn’t surprised when I found Molly at Orangette raving about it. Or when Rachel Eats (who lives in Rome and can get authentic, perfect tomato sauce every single day) fawned over it too.
So what is it with this sauce that it moves people to essays, “something almost magical happens”, and adjectives like “va-va-voom”? Is it a sliver of garlic, red pepper flakes, a glug of olive oil or, dare I suggest, pancetta?
No, my dear friend, it’s none of those. It is butter. And a yellow onion. Cooked slowly, ever so slowly, as the sauce gurgles and plops. Two humble pantry staples that transform a 28-ounce can of San Marzano tomatoes into something lush and velvety. Reminding you how fresh and sweet summer can be. Even when its 30-degrees in Tampa. So, well, yes: Va-va-voom.

Tomato Sauce
Adapted from Marcela Hazan’s Essentials of Italian Cooking and Francesco Tonelli’s Skills II class
28 oz. whole peeled tomatoes from a can (San Marzano, if you can find them)*
5 T unsalted butter
1 medium-sized yellow onion, peeled and halved
Salt to taste
Put the tomatoes, onion and butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Bring the sauce to a simmer then lower the heat to keep the sauce at a slow, steady simmer for about 45 minutes, or until droplets of fat float free of the tomatoes. Stir occasionally, crushing the tomatoes against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Remove from heat, discard the onion, add salt to taste and keep warm while you prepare your pasta.

QUESTION:
What is your revelatory food moment?

EAT THIS POST:
Join Chef Heather February 3 @ 11 am for a Lunch n’ Learn inspired by this post. Take an hour and a half…have lunch and learn a skill at the same time. We’ll sample this simple sauce, done three ways, (served over Rustichella d’Abruzzo pasta – see below) and you can decide for yourself if its truly magical or not. $15 includes instruction, lunch and beverage of your choice. Register at datzdeli.com/events

RUSTICHELLA d’ABRUZZO PASTA
Out of lush green hills and golden swaying wheat of Abruzzo comes the finest artisanal pasta made by Gianluigi Piaduzzi. Using traditional techniques perfected by his grandfather in the early 1900s, Piaduzzi lovingly handcrafts his pastas with two secret ingredients: stone ground durum wheat flour from hard winter wheat and pure spring water from the Abruzzo mountains. He also extrudes the pasta through a bronze dye giving the pasta a rough texture to better hold the sauce. The use of this kind of dye works in conjunction with the drying method to yield a pasta that swells up to amazing side and have its own unique flavor. Mangia!

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