Not Too Local

"Most of my mother's family came from way out in west Texas in a little town called Lockney, which is somewhere close to Lubbock, but not too close to Lubbock--nobody likes to be too close to Lubbock."

Nanci Griffith, in between-song patter on her live album, One Fair Summer Evening
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One key to making it through the winter, eating local here in The Frozen North, is not trying to eat too local. Though we may have our principles, this is not a contest, nor should we turn the celebration of local foods into a hair shirt of grim obligation and deprivation. While a hair shirt might provide welcome warmth, it's likely to be itchy. Pull on a nice cozy sweater, instead.



It's still the first week of the new year, but winter has been with us a fair while, already. Time for a little vacation to warm, exotic climes; spicy grill-smoked chicken wings can take us there. And we're not abandoning our principles, entirely: though the flavorings are foreign--lime juice, fish sauce, Sichuan pepper, non-local chilies--the chicken wings are local (Kadejan, in this case), and the carrots, too, and the leek is from our garden. You could make your own noodles, if you like, but we find it convenient to keep a few packages of Chinese egg noodles, thin and thick, in the pantry.

This was a treat on a cold, snowy evening. The wings are well and truly smoked--"Chicken bacon!", Mary exclaimed--as they are tossed with salt hours ahead of cooking. That cure allows the flavors of fish sauce, lime, chili, garlic, Sichuan pepper, etc., to penetrate the meat. Then add the applewood smoke, the char from the grill...oh, my.... I'm glad we made extra.

My sambal carrot salad, the carrots grated coarsely rather than shaved, made a crisp, sweet contrast. New Glarus bock, a fine Wisconsin brew, brought east and west together ably.

A bowl of extremely non-local guacamole whetted our appetites very nicely. No regrets.

Oh, and ma la, that's Chinese for numbing (from the Sichuan pepper) and hot (from the chilies), a classic Sichuanese formulation. This dish is not especially ma la. If you want it moreso, toss the wings with ground roasted Sichuan pepper and chili oil after grilling. We enjoyed the mild heat and spice, and interplay of flavors.



Smoke-Grilled Ma La Chicken Wings

3 pounds chicken wings, separated at the joints (save wing tips for stock)
¾ tsp salt
2 tsp fish sauce
1 ½ tsp sugar
Juice of ¼ juicy lime
½ tsp crushed black peppercorns
1 tsp whole Sichuan peppercorns
2 large cloves garlic, sliced
2 scallions, chopped
2 medium hot red chilies (jalapeno or Fresno), seeded, cut into quarters the long way
2 small hot green or red chilies, Serrano or cayenne, sliced

Mix all the above ingredients in a large bowl, and let sit several hours or overnight.


Natural chunk charcoal
Apple wood or other smoking wood of your choice
2 small leeks, cleaned and sliced in half lengthwise, or 4 scallions
Thin Chinese egg noodles, a bundle-and-a-half per person (sesame oil, toasted sesame seeds, salt)

Light a fire of natural charcoal in your barbeque grill. Have another, smaller grill on hand to keep hot coals going. When the coals are hot, move 2/3 of them to the smaller grill. Move the remaining coals to one side of the grill (the front in a clamshell-Meco-type grill). Add some wood chips to the coals. Arrange the chicken wings on the grill away from direct heat. Close the lid and smoke for 45 to 60 minutes, maintaining a temperature of at least 200 degrees—I keep an instant-read meat thermometer in the top vent of my grill to monitor temperature. Check a couple of times to make sure the grill is maintaining heat, especially in cold weather. Turn the wings over halfway through. Add hot coals from the smaller grill as needed, and add charcoal to the smaller grill to keep a good supply.



Once the wings are smoked, carefully transfer coals from the smaller grill to the larger, so as to have a hot fire for browning the wings. Now grill the wings over direct heat, turning often. Cook until they are very well browned and crisped. Remove them to a warm oven as they are done. When you have room on the grill, add the quartered medium-hot chilies, and the leeks or scallions. Grill until they are browned and tender. Chop the leeks for easier eating after they are grilled.

Serve over Chinese noodles tossed with sesame oil, toasted sesame seeds, and a bit of salt, and sambal carrots (but shred or coarsely grate the carrots rather than shaving them thin). Place bed of noodles in a large shallow bowl, top with some of the carrots, then wings on top of that. Drape a few shreds of leek over the top, and the chopped leeks around the edges, and the grilled chilies around the edges, as well. Serve with cold beer and paper towels to wipe your hands and greasy chin. Pretend you are at a street stall in some steamy south Asian city. Forget the hell about winter.




Text and photos copyright 2011 by Brett Laidlaw

Hen of the Woods, Marieke Gouda, Red Onion, Fettucine

Complicated cooking isn't necessarily better than simple food, nor is the reverse always the case. A mackerel grilled over Nova Scotia driftwood, a sweet potato hot from the clay charcoal roaster of a Chengdu street vendor, a Breton oyster slurped down within view of the briny beds where it was born--these are some of my favorite memories of perfect, simple food.

But I also recall with extreme tenderness the first dinner I ever ate in France, a composition of salmon and red mullet napped about with a sort of foamy sauce made from jerusalem artichokes and certain magically delicious things, with perfectly cooked coco de paimpol beans, at the Hotel Pen' Roc in Brittany. And on that same trip, a seared duck breast served with sautéed champagne grapes and a peach galette.

So there are dishes that are worth the effort--especially when it's someone else's effort--but when you can hew to simplicity and achieve extraordinary results, I say, so much the better. One case in point that springs right to mind was another dish from Pen' Roc, on a subsequent visit: a local duckling--Paul Renaud's duckling, to be exact--roasted, the roasting pan deglazed with walnut wine, served that simply: duckling, jus. Amazing, unforgettable.

A great simple dish requires great ingredients, and the good sense to get out of their way. I think we came up with such a dish last week, practically by accident, just trying to get something tasty on the table after a long day. I had something more elaborate in mind to make with those hen of the woods mushrooms; I'm glad I pooped out.



You could try another wild mushroom in this preparation, but I think the chewy, crunchy texture of the hens makes it. That and the wonderful gouda, Marieke, produced at Holland's Family Cheese in Thorp, Wisconsin, out highway 29 between Chippewa Falls and Wausau (I visited the farm and had a nice chat with the on-farm store manager Christine Anderson; expect a field trip/tasting report soon). We made this once with their smoked gouda, a second time with aged gouda (12-months-plus); one time with Sunrise pasta (made in Hibbing, MN), and the second time with homemade.

Well, I'll not go on in rapturous detail. Just, from practically the first bite, I knew this would become a standard at our house, to be anticipated each fall as September rolls around, and the first autumn rains soak the woods, coaxing those remarkable fungi out into the chill air. As for superb "minimalist" cooking, well, Mr Mark Bittman can just...have a real nice day.

A plate of sliced garden tomatoes and a piece of bread are fine accompaniments.

Fettucine with Hen of the Woods, Gouda, Red Onion
serves two

6 ounces hen of the woods mushrooms, pulled into shreds roughly 1/2-inch by 2 inches, about 2 cups
1/2 of a medium red onion, sliced against the rings 1/4-inch thick
1 1/2 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 Tbsp olive oil
3 ounces grated good gouda, aged or smoked, a generous cup
salt & fresh ground black pepper
5 to 6 ounces fettucine, or pasta of your choice--I particularly like the wide noodles in this preparation

Heat a 10-inch skillet and add the butter and oil. Add the mushrooms and a pinch of salt. The mushrooms will start to give off liquid right away. In a couple of minutes, when some of the liquid has evaporated, add the sliced onions. Sauté over medium-low for 8 to 10 minutes, until the onions and mushrooms are lightly browned.

Have the pasta cooking in the meantime. When the pasta is done to your taste, drain it briefly and add it to the mushrooms and onions in the pan. Add about 2/3 of the grated cheese and a good pinch of salt, grind of pepper, and mix it all up well with tongs. Serve with the additional cheese to sprinkle on top at the table.



Text and photos copyright 2010 by Brett Laidlaw

Bide-A-Wee Noodle Bowl ("The Cheat")

A tasty cheat. Yes, I said cheat, not treat. Though it's both, really. The cheat part is that the basis of the dish is none other than a package of pickled vegetable flavor Doll brand instant ramen. The treat part is the addition of snap peas, green garlic, spring onions, garden greens, home-smoked bacon, and drop an egg in the middle. And the secret ingredients, a couple of teaspoons of our cider vinegar, about half a teaspoon of espelette pepper. Couple good dashes of soy sauce to round it out.

I make no apologies, and I ate it right out of the pan I cooked it in. Drank a Bell's Oberon, the only wheat beer I really like. And I do really like this one. Of course, this was another Bide-A-Wee bachelor supper.

I'd love to hear about your favorite kitchen cheats, whether they involve the versatile rotisserie chicken, frozen dough, a doctored Totino's, whatever. I used to get a lot of mileage out of Campbell's chicken broth diluted to about one-third suggested strength, three cans water to one of broth. Come on, folks, give it up. We know everyone cheats once in a while.... *

Bide-A-Wee Noodle Bowl
serves one

In a saucepan or small skillet with highish sides, cook a couple of slices of good bacon gently, until just crisp and most of the fat is rendered. Remove the bacon from the pan, and toss in a handful of snap peas, stringed and sliced in half on a diagonal (or sub other veg, green beans, sliced turnip, carrot, whatever you have or like). Add also one bulb of green garlic, sliced, or a good clove of regular garlic. Now add the water, however much it asks for on the ramen package, or just wing it, enough to cover the noodles. And add the noodles, and a couple of handfuls of greens. Simmer for three or four minutes. Add the ramen flavorings, a couple glugs of soy sauce, some espelette or cayenne or sambal if you like it a bit hot. At the very end add two teaspoons of good cider or rice wine vinegar.

Crack an egg and drop it right into the middle of the noodles. Leave the pan on low heat for about a minute, place the bacon slices on top, then whisk it away to a hot pad on the table.

Eat out of the pan with chopsticks, and drink a good beer, or beverage of your choice.


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* The 1979 film Breaking Away is one of my favorite movies of all time. Ostensibly about a bike race, it is in fact a compendium of poignant wisdom pertinent to just about every important aspect of life on earth. In this case, it's Dave Stoller's heartbreaking realization after being disillusioned by the visting Italian cyclists he has idolized: "Everybody cheats. I just didn't know."

Oh, and it's really funny, too.

Text and photo copyright 2010 by Brett Laidlaw