jamidwyer/Flickr

Next Friday my wife and I will hop on the Blue Line, head north to O’Hare, and then take a plane halfway across North America to Mexico City for one of the most intense eating experiences of my life. As you may have noticed over the four years or so that I’ve been writing, I adore Mexican cuisine all out of proportion. It’s my favorite cuisine--from complex and elegant moles to simple fish tacos and everything else in between. It’s an infatuation that will not end. I love it like Woody Allen loves New York. When I go more than a few days without it (be that a simple spoonful of refried beans, crispy carnitas, or a rustic chipotle and tomatillo salsa) I start to get weak. I’ve had flings with other cuisines, but if you’re at my house, more likely than not you're sitting down to a Mexican feast. I have no excuse other than it just tastes like home to me.

So I need to go to Mexico, and not just to the beach (which is where I went on my lovely honeymoon). My wife and I decided to really go for it, and head to Oaxaca, which is home to my favorite regional cuisine and where we’ll take language classes for two weeks. I’m not worried about eating in Oaxaca. I’ll have enough time to sort of get the lay of the land, and more than a few locals to help me with recommendations. It will be relaxing and therapeutic. The mezcal will help.

But I’m planning my flight into Mexico with the precision of the D-Day landing. I’ll only have 36 hours in the capital to eat as much as I possibly can, which is completely overwhelming when you’re flying into one of the largest and most confusing cities in the whole world. This means no wasted steps and no wasted bites.

I need your help. Does anyone have any must bites in Mexico City? I will eat al pastor. I will visit the central market. We’re planning a nice meal out, based on recs from Rick Bayless’s Twitter guide. But I want to eat as much as I can. I want to roll out of town without an ounce of hunger left. We’ll be staying in the neighborhood of Condesa, so we’ll be able to get around fairly quickly.

Can anyone help me out?

Through a heavy, metal door with "Brewery Employees Only" slapped on the front, I was led into a warm, steamy room where Goose Island beer is made. I side-stepped hoses and puddles of water and found a capacious space filled with slanted light; up above, at the top of a skinny ladder, great tanks of beer were lined up at various stages of aging and fermentation on a platform, were Goose Island's brewmaster Jared was talking to Chicago chef Graham Elliot.

Graham Elliot is one of a series of restaurants that have participated in Goose Island's chef brewing program (Others have included Mindy Segal of Hot Chocolate, Rick Bayless of Frontera Grill, Topolobampo and XOCO, and Paul Kahan of the Publican). In each case, a chef will meet with brewmaster Jared Rouben and decide on the kind of beer they'd like to make.

Graham Elliot takes an unusual approach to beverage pairing--”You're as likely to find us pairing something with chocolate milk"--so even though it’s a beer, that doesn’t mean it has to taste like anything you’ve had before.

The start of their collaboration began with Jared: in two heroic sessions, he ate the entire menu at Graham Elliot in order to get a sense of what kind of beer they would make. Then Graham came to Goose Island and tasted different kinds of beer. Together, they settled on a lighter style--a Kristal Wit Belgian ale--that would appear early on in the tasting menu, as a kind of alternative to champagne to pair with lighter courses like fish or herbs, or as an apertif. The beer was to be light, floral, and very aromatic.

Brewmaster Jared inspecting the brew

To create the flavor profile Jared and Graham are after, the ale is steeped in aromatic fruits and spices at a very low temperature (45 degrees F) for a significant amount of time, just long enough so that the flavor is prominent, “but not so long that it's over-extracted or tannic,” as Jared explained. Cardamom, chile, pineapple, lychee, and lemongrass are all apart of the mix process.

When I got an email invitation to hang out at Goose Island with Graham and learn about the beer he was brewing, I leapt at the chance. I don't know a lot about beer making, and, it turns out, neither does Graham. (I asked Graham if he has ever brewed beer at home, and the answer was no.) In fact, he was learning as much about the process by which beer is brewed as I was. From the grain mash to the first taste of the unfermented product, it was all pretty fascinating.

The first stage of the process is to take the grains and steep them in hot water, which happens in one tank.  This will create a very sweet liquid, known as "wort," and all that sugar will eventually convert to alcohol.

graham elliot at goose island 6

Here's an example of what a beer grain will look like before steeping with water.  We munched on some of this -- tasted like of malty and nutty.  Though it's pretty tough stuff, I could see enjoying this in a bowl with milk, or cooked down as oatmeal!

graham elliot at goose island 7

And here is what hops looks like -- Jared gave us all a handful to inspect.  Luckily, before I tossed them in my mouth, he warned us not to eat them.  "It would basically wreck your palate," he said, due to the incredible bitterness.

graham elliot at goose island 8

Once the sugary mixture is extracted from the grains, Chef Graham brought a bowl of it into an ice bath to cool down--both so that it would be easier to taste, and also to get an accurate reading of the sugar content.  It is cooled down just like you would cool a hot stock, in a metal bowl (which conducts temperature well), stirring often.

Jared then transferred the brew to a device that measures the sugar levels, a hydrometer, ensuring that they are in the range he wants.  Too much sugar, and the brew will be too alcoholic.  Once the yeast is added for the fermentation process--about two weeks in this case--it will quickly eat all the sugar to produce the alcohol.  Then the steeping process will happen with the aromatics that Jared and Graham have chosen.

Graham Elliot gesticulates wildly about his beer

Graham and Jared's beer is almost done now -- fermentation is soon, if not already, over, and it is steeping with the aromatics.  It will be available shortly at Goose Island Cybourn as well as Graham Elliot.  Personally, I can't wait to try a glass.

Our weekly roundup of what the two of us have written over on Serious Eats.

"Dinner Tonight" Column

QUICK MEALS TO YOUR TABLE FIVE DAYS A WEEK.

Shrimp Quesadilla with Kale
Stuffed with poached shrimp marinated in lime juice, this comes out like a cross with ceviche.

Scallops with Corn and Fava Bean Succotash
A trip to the markets of Montreal yield this simple recipe inspired by a Southern dish.

Apple, Arugula, and Pancetta Salad with Quail Eggs
Nick makes the case for hard-boiled eggs over poached in salads--and uses the very "cute" quail egg to gussy it up.

Summer Squash and Ricotta Galette
Wrapping them up in a pie crust is another good way to simply showcase summer vegetables.

Chicken with Roasted Peppers and Salsa Verde
An update to an older recipe Nick loves with tomatillos, this cooked-down version is more elegant and rounded.

Our weekly roundup of what the two of us have written over on Serious Eats.

"Dinner Tonight" Column

QUICK MEALS TO YOUR TABLE FIVE DAYS A WEEK.

Curried Udon Noodle Stir-Fry
This Japanese curry dish mixes flavorful spices with udon noodles and broccoli.

Roasted Beet Salad with Guajilo Chile Dressing
This unique take on beets looks to Mexico instead of France.

Packets of Cod with Zucchini, Tomatoes, and Parsley Pesto
Cod is wrapped up with fresh vegetables and pesto, and comes out full flavored and perfectly cooked.

Dandelion Salad with Poached Eggs and Bacon
Dandelion greens can make for a surprisingly filling dinner salad, provided you top it with an egg.

Merguez Sausage with Fennel and Couscous
This sausage dish comes off light and fragrant thanks to the fennel and dried cranberries.

My fridge lately has been so full of food I can hardly see what’s inside of it. Since joining a CSA, I am completely overwhelmed with the amount of food I have, and how to cook it all quickly enough. The other day I realized that I had, like, 2 or 3 pounds of green onions--and not wispy little ones, big, fat ones, the white roots thick and juicy, the green shoots long and vibrant. I’d been using them as quickly as I could, mincing them into salads and topping scrambled eggs. But it was a losing battle: I would need to find a way to cook them.

A quick tweet asking for ideas brought a handful of suggestions, from braising them to pickling. Since my solution last time I was faced with too many vegetables was to pickle--which allowed me to put away a head of kohlrabi and a bunch of beets--I was on the lookout for something else. By chance, two people recommended not only the same cooking method, which was to char them on the grills until smoky and tender, but also the same sauce. Which: was weird. And, I decided, some kind of fate.

Romesco sauce is Spanish in origin, essentially a blend of peppers, tomato, nuts, bread, olive oil, and vinegar. The method was actually very similar to another Spanish recipe I cooked recently--white gazpacho. The shared elements are bread, garlic, olive oil, and nuts, as well as the procedure: mashing the heck out of them until a smooth. Traditionally this would be done in a mortar and pestle by hand; modern convenience is the food processor. But compared to the light, garlicky gazpacho, this romesco sauce is much richer and denser--no added water--and also spicy, pungent, and smoky. Which is why it seems like it’s made for anything that comes off the grill.

I made about 18 times as much as I needed--realizing later that this is potent stuff--but having it in the fridge is no burden. It keeps for weeks and can be spooned on anything grilled, spread onto toasted bread with a little crumbled goat cheese, used to dip tortilla chips, or in a sandwich.

The green onions grilling method comes from my friend Art Jackson over at Pleasant House. He recommends allowing the onions to cook quickly over coals scatted with wood chips (to generate some smoke), then finish elsewhere on the grill in a little foil pouch, which allows them to smoke and steam and get melty, and which keeps all the aromatic flavor trapped in the package and absorbing into the onions. Marvelous.

Romesco Sauce

Adapted from Sunday Supper at Lucques

• 5 ancho chiles
• 2 tablespoons raw almonds
• 2 tablespoons blanched and skinned hazelnuts
• 1 1/4 cups olive oil
• 1 slice thick country bread, 1 inch thick
• 1/3 cup whole canned tomatoes
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Juice of half a lemon
• kosher salt to taste

First, prepare the chiles by removing and discarding the stems and seeds, then covering with boiling water. Allow them to soak for 15 minutes until soft.

In the meantime, toast the nuts to bring out their flavor: Suzanne Goin recommends using the oven, but I went with a large skillet because my apartment has no central A/C and turning on the oven is avoided at all costs. Toss in a dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant, or toast for 8-10 minutes on a baking sheet in a 375 degree oven.

In a second skillet, heat 2 tablespoon of the olive oil over medium-hight heat and add the bread. Toast on both sides until golden and set aside, then cut into chunks once cooled.

Add another 2 tablespoons of oil to the same skillet and heat on high. Add the softened chiles and saute for a couple minutes, then add the tomatoes, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, and a little of the tomato juice or water. Cook until the juice has evaporated and the color starts to deepen. Remove from heat and allow to cool in the pan.

In a food processor, pulse the bread chunks, nuts, and garlic until everything is coarsely ground.

Add the tomato-chile mixture and process for an additional minute. While the machine is running, add the remaining cup of oil in a slow stream as it forms a sauce; add a little water if the sauce is too thick once the oil is all added.

Add the parsley, lemon juice, and a little salt. Season to taste with more lemon juice and salt as needed.

You know how you see scallops at the fish market and think to yourself, I could sauté those with?...When I’m at the farmers’ market, I see bushels and baskets of potential pickles...
- David Chang, Momofuku

It's been over three years, and yet I can still vividly remember an appetizer I ate at Momofuku Ssäm Bar. In a meal filled with gloriously fatty meat laced with spice, this small plate of cucumber and radish seemed to lighten the load, and allow me to eat far more than was normal or right. But that's kind of selling them short. Because however much I'd like to deny it, they may have been my favorite bite of the whole meal. Naturally I wondered what went into them, but it wasn't until I picked up David Chang's cookbook that I found the recipe. This is what I saw:

Combine the vegetable with the sugar and salt in a small mixing bowl and toss to coat with the sugar and salt. Let sit for 5 to 10 minutes.

5 to 10 minutes! Last time I made pickles I stuffed cucumbers into a jar and sat them in the fridge for three weeks. They came out crunchy and tangy, but they took THREE WEEKS! By then the growing season for cucumbers was nearly over, and I didn’t have any time to adjust and tweak. How about some immediate satisfaction?

I thinly sliced some cucumbers and then combined them with one tablespoon of sugar and one teaspoon of salt. They hung out for 10 minutes, before I gave them a taste. They were slightly sweet, still crunchy, but a touch salty.

So I followed Chang’s directions and rinsed them off in a colander, dried them on a kitchen towel, and then added a bit more sugar. Five minutes later I had little crunchy quick pickles which I ate next to a huge plate of spicy Asian noodles. How fun is that?

But complex pickles don’t need to take long, and they don’t need to be held back by what is traditionally thought of as a pickle. I’ve been obsessed with these zucchini pickles I had a Mado a few weeks ago. They were so simple --the best things at Mado always are-- and they perfectly balanced a heavy plate of pâté. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Zucchini and squash are busting out at the farmers’ market, and here was something new to do with them besides making ratatouille (which is an admittedly delicious dish). Plus, they were pickles that weren’t cucumbers.

I found this stunning recipe from the L.A. Times for Zuni Cafe’s zucchini pickles. It takes a day to make, which compared to three weeks is like a blip. Just make them the night before and enjoy them for a week in the fridge.

It’s telling that Blake just wrote about pickles last week, because I’ve seriously caught the bug, too. So many vegetables have a new life when pickled, fresh and addicting. And they don’t even need to take long.

Zuni Cafe's Zucchini Pickles

• 1 pound mixed zuchini and sqush (I used two small zucchinis and one squash)
• 1 small onion
• 2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 2 cups cider vinegar
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons dry mustard
• 1 1/2 teaspoons yellow mustard seeds, crushed
• 1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Remove the stems from the zucchini and squash, and then slice them one-eighth-inch thick on a mandoline. Hopefully you have a mandoline. Then remove the skin from the onion, and thinly slice it on the mandoline, too.

Combine them in a large bowl and toss with the salt.

Cover with cold water, and place a few ice cubes in. Stir to dissolve the salt. Let everything hang out for an hour.

Then drain and pat dry on some paper towels.

Meanwhile, add the vinegar, sugar, dry mustard, mustard seeds, and turmeric in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for three minutes. Turn off the heat and let it cool.

Transfer the zucchini and squash to ball jars and pour over the brine. Seal the top and set in the fridge for a day.

Our weekly roundup of what the two of us have written over on Serious Eats.

"Dinner Tonight" Column

QUICK MEALS TO YOUR TABLE FIVE DAYS A WEEK.

Pasta with Salmon, Peas, and Pesto
Yogurt and pesto combine to dress this light, simple summer pasta.

Spaghetti with Crab, Chile, and Mint
Nick recreates a dish from Chicago's Cibo Matto

Summer Squash Risotto
The flavor of zuchini and yellow squash are central in this risotto.

Steamed Tofu with Shrimp and Black Bean Sauce
Steamed tofu might sound boring--but add in fermented black beans, ginger and garlic, and things start looking up.

As far as I know there are only two kinds of ways to make carne asada. The first method is to take thinly sliced flank or skirt steak, sear it over mad charcoal fire, chop it up, and then stuff it into warm corn tortillas. It's almost always great. The second method is the kind that most taquerias use, which is to scoop some bits of raw steak, plop it on a grill, and sauté until it is cooked. This one is almost always bad. The meat is too greasy, or it's too chewy. I've always just assumed that grilled was superior to griddled, especially because I loved that smokey characteristic from the charcoal. Plus it also meant that everything was freshly prepared.

But now I’m not so sure. I had a taco last weekend that might have changed my mind.

The taco held stunningly crisp shards of caramelized meat, nearly jet black, which punctuated each bite with this intense beefiness. It would have almost been too much, had they not been cut by the spicy salsa an agree squeeze of lime. These tacos made 99% of the carne asada I’ve ever had look weak.

Could griddled carne asada be the best method?

I was a doubter of this method until I saw it all in action over the July 4th weekend on the rooftop deck of Joe (you all should remember him). I’m not convinced it’s the superior method, but damn if it wasn’t one of the best carne asada tacos I’ve ever had. It helps if you have your own striking black griddle, which is staffed by someone handy with the spatulas. All he was missing was the stained white shirt and a cigarette. Of course, it helped to have some fine pickled red onion, and both red and green salsas.

In actuality, this is kind of a combination of the two methods. The steak is seared off on a grill until medium-rare or so. Then it is chopped, mixed with lime juice, and then left to hang out all night. Only then is it griddled. I couldn't detect much smokiness, but it certainly didn't taste like most griddled carne asada I've had before. 

The one main advantage the sautéed kind has is that the little hunks of meat seared on a griddle into little browned nuggets of crispy beef. If crunch is what you’re after, you’ll never get close to this with a grill.

Here’s the method:

Griddled Carne Asada Tacos

Meat is cooked over a grill until medium-rare, and then chopped into a about 1/2 inch squares. These are marinated in lime juice over night.

A griddle is preheated until very hot, and then meat is sautéed with clarified butter.

They are cooked until perfectly caramelized.

Finally, they are doused with beer, because...well, why not?

A bit of cilantro and onion wouldn't be out of place...

...neither would a helping of pickled red onions.

And while we are at it, some salsa and a squeeze of lime is great, too.

Pickling vegetables is something that I’ve yet to get real excited about. Of all the "DIY" food movements, it’s one of the last to catch on. Why, I don’t know. Probably because a slab of homemade bacon is a lot more exciting than a jar of tangy vegetables. Which is no mark against the vegetables. Most anything next to a slab of bacon is bound to lose terribly.

But actually, pickling is rather easy when it comes down to it, even when you make the variety that naturally ferment (some “pickling” techniques are hardly more than packing the vegetables with a hot vinegar solution and calling it a day). It takes about a week. That week is about coaxing the vegetables to ferment (remember our kimchi-making sessions? Same idea). Lactic acid fermentation is the name of the game; by using a pickling liquid with a high amount of salt, other harmful bacteria is prevented from multiplying, while the lactic stuff dominates and prevents other cultures from thriving. It’s rather imperialist, to be honest. But it adds that wonderful tang to the proceedings.

Using this recipe, I had zero problems succeeding.

For some reason, when I pulled out a head of kohlrabi from my CSA box last week (the first time I’d ever seen or heard of this vegetable, true story) my mind wandered to pickling and a recipe I tucked away a long time ago from David Tanis’ book A Platter of Figs. The original recipe called for turnips, another firm, white, bulbous root sort of vegetable that nobody really wants to eat raw. Kohlrabi smells a little like broccoli stems.

Since I had a few beets as well, I added them in, resulting in the shocking pink before you.

The brine, besides being salty, is flavored with garlic, thyme, oregano, bay leaf, fennel seeds, coriander, a crushed red chiles. It’s never boiled, and in fact nothing here is ever raised above room temperature, preserving all the flavor and nutrients. A small amount of cider vinegar is also added, which punches up the acidity and I think helps ensure nothing spoils while the natural lactic fermentation kicks in. Once the vegetables are packed into jars with the brine, you leave them at room temperature for 5-7 days (depending on how warm your particular room temperature actually is), which allows the fermentation to happen. Tiny bubbles form--an excellent sign--and pressure builds inside the jar. You turn it over once a day to make sure everything distributes, and once they’re through pickling, you stick them in the fridge and eat at will.

Natural-Fermented Kohlrabi and Beet Pickles

The kohlrabi in question

This brine would work for any number of vegetables. The principle is all that’s necessary.

Adapted from  A Platter of Figs by David Tanis

• For the brine
• 2 garlic cloves, sliced
• 1 sprig thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon dried Greek or regular oregano
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 teaspoons coriander seeds
• 2 teaspoons turmeric (omit if using beets)
• 1 teaspoon fennel seeds
• 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 2 cups water
• 1/2 cup cider vinegar
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
•  
• 1 pound peeled root vegetables such as kohlrabi, beets, turnip, cut into matchsticks or small wedges

Combine the brine ingredients in a bowl and stir to dissolve. Pack the vegetables into a jar and cover completely with the brine mixture. Put in a plate on a shelf in the kitchen (in case it leaks while upside down) and turn over once a day for a week.

Refrigerate the pickles. They will keep for a month. Serve with charcuterie, in a sandwich, or all on their own.

Our weekly roundup of what the two of us have written over on Serious Eats.

"Dinner Tonight" Column

QUICK MEALS TO YOUR TABLE FIVE DAYS A WEEK.

Steak and Eggs with Smoked Paprika
A sprinkle of smoked paprika helps wake up this breakfast classic.

Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato Salad with Aioli Dressing
This dish reinterprets the ingredients of a BLT as a refreshing summer salad.

Flounder Sandwich Marinated in Fish Sauce, with Sriracha Mayonnaise and Pickled Red Onions
This complex fish sandwich was picked up from Top Chef.

Meatballs with Ricotta in Milk
This seemingly odd dish replaces tomato sauce with a luxurious combination milk and chicken broth.