Accidents of omission

Hot and spicy fare often passes through our kitchen. So ensuing, it's bound to happen that I often make fun of Pinky for his tendency to touch scalding hot things while cooking, as a lot of the times, he does this on purpose. No joke, to my utter astonishment, he'll try to bare-hand some meat out from under the broiler, and sometimes even touch pans straight out from the oven. And it's not just hot things temperature-wise that cause trouble for us, spicy things do as well. Dinners often end up far far too spicy for my buds and I'm constantly running to the kitchen to grab a glass of milk, and even more so, we've have more than our fair share of experiences with spicy things and remnant pepper oils ending up where they're not supposed to be. Really, you can imagine my absolute relief when we purchased some tongs from the thrift store and both learned to scrub our hands thoroughly after dicing hot peppers. Cook and learn, as the story goes, I suppose.

Accidents always happen when I'm around. It's one of the reasons my mother never really let me cook alone; she was scarred after the time I lit one of her dishtowels on fire by accident. You think I would've gotten better, but just couple of weeks ago, I lit a roll of paper towels on fire in Pinky's kitchen, and then ran around with the flaming torch in a panic...yes, that's how accident-prone I am. It's a wonder I haven't burned a house down yet.Well readers, let me tell you, last Friday was a day of accidents. As far as this post goes, it all culminated in a really terrible moment, after I had a brief conversation with my older brother in which I evaded a lot of questions. All my feelings of guilt and white-dishonesty overwhelmed me in regards to the way I handle my family, and I didn't really know what to do about it. As a long-term accident, I had (and have) really dug myself into a hole. 

I felt tremendously terrible.  But instead of drinking as I usually do, I decided to make a complicated dish that would occupy my hands and mind while watching the newest episode of Hannibal. Cooking is often times therapeutic, especially when minor bad things happen throughout the day. Here's what I came up with. 

Braised Beef and Homemade Gnocchi (on top of pesto)

Okay, okay, so it's not a great picture (as is my usual MO). Shadows and all, it was 4 AM in the morning (I really do have a tendency to cook at night). Minus the shadows and odd background though, I think it looks really nice, and it was pretty tasty too. To make an already long story short, this dish was truly a labor of...determination. In addition to cutting my thumb very deeply with the blade of a food processor, I also accidentally bare-handed the metal handle of a 300 degree pot while taking it out of the oven. I haven't been in so much burn-pain for a long time, and I spent the rest of the night alternating between holding a frozen container of shrimp stock and a bag of frozen dumplings. Karma from making fun of Pinky, no?

Braised Beef and Gnocchi (atop a bed of pesto)

Braised Beef

1 lb of beef (chuck, round roast, whatever's cheap)

1/2 C Korean coarse red pepper

salt and pepper to rub (any kind of rub you want)

4 tbsp butter

4 cloves of garlic, chopped

1/4 C soy sauce

1 large onion

2 tbsp of sugar

1 can beer (Yuengling, work with what you have)

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Rub the meat with salt and pepper (or any rub) and the coarse red pepper. I sliced my meat into two pieces so they were easier to handle and I could get more browning. On the stove, melt 2 tbps of the butter and toss in the chopped garlic for a couple of minutes, until the butter is sizzling and you the garlic is emitting its aroma. Then lay the beef pieces into the pan, and let sear until brown on one side, then flip and sear on the other side. 

While the beef is browning, melt the remaining butter in another saucepan, toss in the onions and sugar, and cook it all until softened. Then transfer the onions into the bottom of a large roasting pot (that will eventually go into the oven). At this point, the beef should be finished browning. Using tongs (heh heh), transfer the beef pieces to the roasting pot as well. Deglaze the pan (the one with the lovely crusted seared parts stuck to the pan and the garlic) with soy sauce and some beer, and then transfer this all to the pot. Pour the rest of the beer into the pot (meat should be mostly covered), cover with a lid, and then put into the oven. This will cook for 3-4 hours, until the meat can be pulled apart with a fork easily. Do not overcook, or the meat will be dry and you'll be scrambling for more beer (which could also be a good thing).

So, I'm going to have to try to make gnocchi again. What I ended up with, although aesthetically pleasing, was more like a potato cake than pasta, meaning I didn't knead the dough long enough for the potato to be incorporated into the flour...a.k.a. I didn't really make pasta. Woops. Based off my research though, here's what I did, and what needs to be perfected in the future. Choose russet potatoes. I used Yukon Gold because that's all they had at the supermarket, but Yukon Golds hold too much water, and apparently water is the she-devil of gnocchi. You want to make things as dry as possible, so your gnocchi doen't either fall apart or become too rubbery. Russets are the starchiest potatoes, so they do the best job. 

Gnocchi 

3 roasting potatoes (russets)

1 egg

pinch of salt

pinch of nutmeg

1/4 C flour

Fresh gnocchi

Roast the potatoes in the oven until you can insert a fork through them (couple of hours). After the potatoes cool, slice them in half and scoop out the insides. Now get this, you can turn the potato skins into twice-baked potatoes for another meal (see later in the post). Back to the gnocchi though, mash the innards or put them through a potato ricer, then set out to let cool to room temperature. After the potatoes have cooled, beat the egg and incorporate it into the mashed potatoes with the salt and nutmeg. At this point, start sprinkling in the flour until it all sticks together. It should still be tacky. Then transfer to a cutting board, or table (or kneading surface), and knead the dough until it becomes a pasta. Now, here's the rub. Over-kneading will give a super rubbery pasta (which we don't want; gnocchi should be light and fresh), while under-kneading it will get you what I ended up with, potato cakes. This probably takes a lot of practice, but practice makes perfect, and eventually, gnocchi dough will be made successfully. Roll the gnocchi dough into strips (I like fat gnocchi), and then slice into smaller pieces. Indent with a fork to get a nice traditional pattern, as seen in the first picture. I guess if you're pan-frying them, pattern doesn't matter.

In my case (this was my first try), after forming the dough, I realized that it wasn't really pasta-like, so I was terrified of the gnocchi falling apart. Usually, one boils the gnocchi for a few moments in salted boiling water until the pasta floats, but I was so worried about it not being able to stand up to the water, I straight-up seared the little nuggets (as was actually my first plan). So the first picture  is the gnocchi going into a butter laden fry pan, the second the gnocchi post-flip and searing on the other side. It's a pretty result. 

After making the braised beef and the gnocchi, and burning and cutting myself, and making twice-baked potatoes (soon to be mentioned briefly), I didn't have the energy to harvest the basil from the plant in the backyard...so I just bought some pesto. Then I assembled it all when it was time to serve, and voila, braised beef and gnocchi atop a bed of pesto. 

Twice-Baked Potatoes

6 large potato skins

1 C of mashed potatoes and carrots

3 tbsp mayonnaise

mozzarella or cheese curds, shredded

salt and pepper

olive oil

In a food processor, grind of 3 of the potato skins and mix with the mashed potatoes (these have carrots and chives in them, as they are from another recipe, but you can probably use any combo of mashed potatoes you want). Mix a liberal amount of the cheese into the mix. Toss the remaining 3 skins in olive oil, and then salt and pepper them. Scoop the mashed potato mix into the shells, then top with a tbsp of mayonnaise and the remaining cheese. Roast in a 300 to 350 degree oven until skins are crispy and mayonnaise has melted. 

So, while karma can be an ueber bitch, check this. Making braised beef and gnocchi not only gave me braised beef leftovers (we ate all the mini potato cakes), but it also gave me twice-baked potatoes for another meal. So, therapeutic cooking turned into a massive project? So it goes...