Mojito

With classes starting soon, summer in Vermillion is drawing to a symbolic close. It's an appropriate time to celebrate one of the most emblematic drinks of the season, the mojito. Like its cousin, the daiquiri, the mojito originates in Cuba. While everything that's in the daiquiri as also in the mojito, they are quite different in character. Where the daiquiri is an exercise in simplicity and balance, the mojito goes all in on the mint, with a hint of effervescence from the soda. This makes it a terrifically refreshing cocktail for the hot weather. It's a classic for good reason. I enjoyed mine while grilling brats for dinner.

In my opinion, a good mojito should be a showcase for the mint. Otherwise, you may as well have a Tom Collins. As such, I recommend going for a clean, Spanish-style rum. I used the same Flor de Caña Extra Seco from the daiquiri recipe. I've also liked it with Don Q Cristal, which is an even more unobtrusive Puerto Rican rum, similar to Bacardi, but a a little less harsh. Want to go with Jamaican? I'm sure that would be delicious, but it would be a different drink. There seems to be some debate on whether a mojito should be shaken (similar to a Collins) or built in the glass and swizzled. I shake and strain (based on the "Modern Mojito" from Cocktail Chemistry), as I don't care to have a lot of extra vegetation in the glass, which tends to get stuck in the straw. You can even double strain if you want it extra clean. However, I do add some lime rind to the shaker when muddling to get a little extra lime juice and oils in there. 

Crab Pasta

With the start of the academic year quickly approaching, this highly productive period of blogs will likely slow down. I still hope to keep it up as much as I can, and make 2020 the biggest year in the history of No Free Lunch. I am especially glad to feature today's dish, which has been a staple in our house for the last few years. I've been making what we simply call "crab pasta" for a while, but held off on posting a recipe because it's something I generally make by feel with no measuring. Previous attempts to codify it resulted in me overthinking it and producing a substandard result. After a few tries, I've finally dialed it in. Crab pasta is a quick and easy meal that can easily slot in as a weeknight dinner. All the ingredients hold up well in the refrigerator or pantry, so it's also good food for our strange times.

Crab pasta is entirely my own invention, but it was loosely inspired by the classic Neapolitan dish pasta aglio e olio. This is a simple pasta consisting of spaghetti in a sauce made with garlic, olive oil, and the starchy water from the pasta. It was famously featured in the 2014 film Chef, which I heartily recommend for anyone interested in cooking. In Italy, many traditional pasta dishes are meatless, intended to be served separately to a meat course. For me, at home, I usually only want to make one thing, so I added imitation crab to the mix to have the pasta stand on its own as a main dish.

Imitation crab (also known as "krab") is a highly underrated ingredient, and is used in another one of my favorites, crab salad. This pasta also works fine with shrimp and would probably work with real crab, as well, though I haven't tried that myself. You could get away without the fresh herbs, but I think they are important for the color contrast and adding another flavor dimension. Chives are a great choice, as are Chinese chives, if you can get them. Since our Italian parsley plants are thriving, while our chives aren't (possibly due to being covered up by a huge squash plant), I used that this time. This recipe is designed to use a full box (1 lb.) of pasta, and makes enough for us to have dinner and then lunch the next day with the leftovers. This does require quite a large pan to make, but it's easily scaled down to use half a box, if desired.

Egg Drop Soup (木樨湯/蛋花湯)

Egg drop soup seems to be one of the few dishes that made it from actual Chinese food into American Chinese restaurant fare largely intact. This recipe is an adaptation of Joyce Chen's recipe from the Joyce Chen Cook Book. It is a very simple soup that can be thought of as a base to add other ingredients, if you so choose. The most common Chinese name I've found is danhuatang (蛋花湯), which means "egg flower soup." It's one of the many Chinese food names that describes the appearance of the food, since the egg strands are supposed to resemble flower petals. Joyce Chen uses the name muxitang (木樨湯). The word muxi refers to the sweet osmanthus, a plant with small yellow flowers which bear some resemblance to scrambled eggs. Definitely one of the more interesting translations we've had lately!

In her book, Joyce Chen precedes egg drop soup with a recipe for a classic Chinese-style chicken stock, which involves a whole chicken. Instead, I made mine with some thigh bones I saved from the chicken and mushroom sandwiches and wing tips I saved from noble consort chicken. I simmered these with some ginger and scallion for about 2 hours. This can be done well ahead of time, and as with shrimp stock, it can be frozen. As usual, I recommend not salting the stock. If working with salted stock, you'll need to cut back the salt in this recipe. As I did not add any wine to my stock, I added a bit more than Chen recommends in the final soup. 

We had some soup left over, which held up just fine after a few days in the refrigerator and reheated in a saucepan. I assume a microwave would also work, but ours finally died about two years after we discovered it in our basement when we bought the house. Soup is easy, but other leftovers have presented a bit of a challenge!

Daiquiri

It's been an enjoyable summer of learning to make classic cocktails, and the daiquiri has been my drink of the summer. Of everything I've made, it's the one I keep going back to. As cocktails go, it couldn't be simpler: rum, lime, and sugar. It's all about balancing these three ingredients into a tart, boozy, and refreshing drink. The recipe dates back to the Spanish-American War, but has roots much further back in history. It was a favorite of such figures as Ernest Hemingway and John F. Kennedy. Although the drink is traditionally served straight up in a cocktail glass, I prefer sipping it on the rocks, which is perfect for enjoying outdoors.

Rum is the central ingredient in the daiquiri. Of all base spirits, rum has the greatest variance in styles. I've recently enjoyed trying and learning about some of these styles, which vary according to distillation method (column or pot still, or a blend), aging, filtration, coloring, and place of origin. Being a Cuban drink, the classic rum for a daiquiri is a Spanish-style white rum. Since we can't get Cuban rum in the United States, a Puerto Rican or Central American rum is the closest. I used Flor de Caña Extra Seco from Nicaragua. 

That being said, any rum can make a delicious, if unorthodox, daiquiri. The idea of mixing rum with lime and sugar dates back to at least 1740, when "grog," a mixture of rum and water, was introduced in the Royal Navy. Admiral Vernon allowed sailors to purchase lime and sugar to mix into their grog ration. In the spirit of grog, a British-style rum from Jamaica or Guyana also makes for a great daiquiri. I like using a darker simple syrup made with demerara sugar to match the more robust flavors. Pusser's Royal Navy Rum (made in Guyana) is a nice choice, as it is supposedly made according to the Admiralty's recipe. 

Shrimp Toast (麵包蝦仁)

Today, I'm pleased to present another creation from the Joyce Chen Cook Book. Shrimp toast is a Cantonese dim sum item I've had a few times in restaurants, but never thought about making at home until now. Like most of Chen's recipes, it's quite simple, but satisfying, and uses ingredients easily found in American supermarkets. Everything in the recipe stores well, so it's another good "Corona Cuisine" option. The Chinese name mianbao xiaren translates to "bread shrimp meat." Once such a thing is possible again, I think these would be great party food to pass around with some cold beers.

The texture of the cooked shrimp mixture is best described as "springy." It's quite unique to and common in Chinese food. Western recipes for ground meat dishes, like hamburgers or meatballs, often warn against overmixing to maintain a loose texture. Chinese meatballs, on the other hand, are dense and springy. The bacon is a clever shortcut to incorporating some fat into the mixture, while also adding flavor. The minced water chestnuts are a great addition, as you get little pockets of crunchiness every now and then. My only real complaint about the dish is that the bread absorbed too much oil and got a little soggy on the bottom. This could be a combination of the very basic supermarket white bread I used and my decision to rest them on paper towels instead of a rack. As such, I'd recommend the latter.

I have basically reproduced Chen's recipe, but with more detailed instructions. She only says to grind the meat with no technique mentioned. The food processor got this done efficiently. Mincing very aggressively with a knife would probably work, as well. As usual, Chen adds some MSG here, which I don't have on hand. Also notable from the book is that there is a companion recipe for shrimp balls, which use the same shrimp mixture, but formed into balls and deep fried. I didn't try that, but it would provide a gluten-free option, if you're into that kind of thing.

The Breakfast Klub

The best part about making klub is eating the leftovers the next day. The soft, pillow-like dumplings firm up in the refrigerator, making them easy to slice. They can then be fried crispy, and are absolutely delicious. When I was a kid, we always looked forward to breakfast klub. Although we had them for lunch this time, they are equally great.

As part of my usual strategy of "using every part of the buffalo," I fried the klub slices in the rendered bacon fat I saved from the bacon cooked with the initial meal the day before. Any kind of fat, such as lard, bacon, or vegetable oil could be used. There's not much else to say other than to give this simple comfort food a try!

Klub

My grandmother, Irene Storey, was well-known in our family and her community for making a variety of Midwestern treats, including caramel rolls, buns, and lots of different cookies and bars. I've written about a few of her dishes before (red hotdish and party salad), but the most iconic one by far is klub. We only saw them a few times a year, when she visited, and they were always greatly anticipated. Klub is a Norwegian word, which we always pronounced something like "kroob." An article I found suggests this pronunciation is from a regional dialect of Norwegian. Klub are potato dumplings, and are cousins of the various Central European knödel including the famous matzo balls. Perhaps it's no wonder Ariel has quickly become a fan.

As with a lot of traditional foods, there is great variety in how people make klub. The basic formula involves potato, some kind of flour, and some kind of pork. Many recipes involve graham flour or incorporating the pork into the dumplings, such as with a small cube inside. My family's recipe is comparatively simple. The dumplings use only all-purpose flour, and the pork is served on the side. We always had side pork, which as I understand it is essentially unsmoked bacon. I used thick-cut bacon instead. I'm told the potatoes are traditionally processed through a meat grinder, but a food processor is much easier.

Research for this post involved diving into old community cookbooks, including the First Lutheran and Polaris cookbooks from Roseau, Minnesota. This particular recipe is adapted from the 50th Anniversary Polaris cookbook, credited only to "Janet Hetteen's Mom," who a quick Google revealed was Arlene Mekash of Roseau. Her recipe is very close to what I remember eating as a kid. I made a few changes to suit my own style. The original recipe calls for 4 cups of grated potato. I prefer to give this in pounds so that you don't have to guess how many potatoes makes a certain volume. 3 pounds made a little more than 4 cups. We ended up using quite a bit more flour than the original, but this should be done by feel. Once the dumplings can be formed, stop adding flour.

If I were to give one piece of advice when making klub, it is to make more than you intend to eat. The leftovers are even better, so stay tuned for a quick post on that tomorrow.

Guacamole

I love guacamole (who doesn't, really?), and we've made it occasionally over the years, mostly using Alton Brown's recipe. I had been mostly satisfied with that and grocery store offerings, but a video by Kenji Lopez-Alt recently put me onto using a mortar and pestle to make guacamole the traditional Mexican way. Kenji is a big proponent of the mortar and pestle, and explains that it can extract more flavor from the aromatics by crushing them. Ariel got me one for our anniversary, so guacamole was a natural first experiment. There was part of me that wondered how much of a difference it would make, but when I tasted this guacamole, I was blown away by how delicious it was. 

In preparation, I did some research on what should go into a guacamole. Rick Bayless has a good discussion of how he makes it in his restaurant. Douglas Cullen's article on Mexican Food Journal was also helpful. The traditional Mexican style is quite simple, with just onion, hot peppers (serranos seem to be the classic choice), cilantro, and lime being the common additions to the avocado. As far as I can tell, the other typical additions made their way into guacamole north of the border.

My version here is definitely not traditional, but it's still very tasty. I didn't have any cilantro or hot peppers, so I used parsley (from the garden) and garlic instead. This would also be a good route for people who don't like it as spicy or are averse to cilantro. I also added in some diced tomato, which is definitely optional. Tomato adds some texture and color contrast, but doesn't make or break the guacamole. We used the guacamole as an accompaniment to mahi-mahi tacos.