Two Classic Summer Sandwiches

 

Hi folks, Chef G. here.  As you may have noticed, I've been on a long hiatus from my famous cooking blog.  But just because I've been gone for what seems like ages, don't start thinking that I'm a no-good lazy bum of a chef.  Ohhhh no!  No, no, no!  Quite the contrary, actually.  I bought an expensive new chef's hat, I've been busy researching high quality food products, I've been working on my chefological skills, and I've been creating delicious dishes like a madman.  I hope you'll agree that there is no madman like Chef G. on a cooking mission.  Anyway, I'm happier than heck to be back so that I can fulfill all of your foodie dreams.

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Here's the deal about today's episode: It's all about sandwiches.  Nice, cool, summery sandwiches.  Classic sandwiches done Chef G. style.  I'm just in time too.  There is still a glimmer of summer left before the snow and ice of autumn return to frigid Minnesota.  If you live in areas further north than Minnesota and winter has already arrived, you can save these fine recipes for next year.  And if you are one of my five or six fans in the southern hemisphere, summer is just around the corner and you'll be basking in warm sunshine & cool sandwiches in no time. 

PART ONE:  The LTB

Perhaps you've heard of a "BLT."  I don't like that name.  It brings images of a belt, or a bullet, or a blot.  Who would want to eat one of those things?  Not me.  That's why I refer to my sandwich as an "LTB." By rearranging the first letters of the ingredients--lettuce, tomatoes and bacon--I miraculously invented an all-new classic sandwich.  Pretty clever on my part, I must say.

Here is how you can make an LTB of your own:

It all starts with good bacon--thick-cut bacon that has at least as much meat as fat.  (It's nice if you have a next-door neighbor who buys half a pig at a time from a reputable butcher and shares some of it with you.)

Broil the bacon until it's crispy, but not TOO crispy.  The goal should be a nice mix of chewy and crispy.  (Frying the bacon in a cast iron pan is even better, but Mrs. Chef G. doesn't like me to do that because she claims I don't do a good enough job cleaning up the bacon grease that splatters all over the stove and countertops.)

 

While broiling your bacon to chewy/crispy excellence, cut a fresh garden tomato into thin slices.
Again, it helps to have a neighbor across the street who invites you to pick as many of her tomatoes as you can. 

The advantages of leafy green lettuce from the local food co-op cannot be overestimated.

Pretty much any good bread will do, but I like sourdough from the bakery.

After the bacon is removed from the oven, let the grease drain onto paper towels.

At this point, put a couple pieces of sourdough bread in the toaster, take a break, and relax with a nice IPA.  (That will help you resist scarfing down all the bacon before lunch time.)  Then you can start assembling the LTB in the following order:

Smear some mayonnaise onto the toasted bread.

Next comes a big chunk of green-leaf lettuce . . .

 . . . followed by a few strips of the meaty bacon . . .

. . . followed by a couple slices of sweet, garden-fresh tomatoes . . .

. . . then another big leaf of lettuce.  Slap the other slice of toasted sourdough bread on top of it all and chow down.  It doesn't get much better than that on a hot summer day.

Mmmmm

Part Two:  The Chicken Salad Sandwich

In case you've forgotten, I have featured sandwiches here on the Chef G. Cooking Channel before.  But they've always been hot sandwiches like a grilled cheese, a reuben, a burger, a bratwurst, a hotdog, etc.  I'm here to tell you that cold sandwiches like the LTB can be equally delicious.  Here comes another one!

Most people call it a Chicken Salad Sandwich.  I do too, though I was tempted to change the name to "Chef G's Celery-Onion-Mayo-Salt-Pepper-Mustard-Sandwich-With Heaps of Chicken."

My recipe says it all, but I'll show some pictures anyway.

The ingredients for a scrumptious summer sandwich.  The chicken is what sets my recipe apart from other chicken salad sandwich recipes.  I grilled chicken thighs yesterday and chopped up the leftovers today.  The smoky flavor from the grill adds a lot of special specialness.

Pour them all together in a bowl and stir.

Then it will look like this.

Smear some of the mixture onto a slice of toasted sourdough bread.  (Yup, sourdough is my favorite for summer sandwiches.) Eat like there is no tomorrow.

Thank you for tuning in to the Chef G. Channel and enduring my shenanigans once again.  See you next time?

PHO FOR Y'ALL

Hi folks,

Chef G. is back.  I haven't produced a new episode in several months, and I bet you thought I'd never have the gall to show my face here again.  Well, you're wrong.  I have no shame when it comes to posting ridiculous food articles on The Chef G. Cooking Channel.  In fact, the idiocy that results from my lack of shame is what makes this blog famous all over the world.

Anyway, the dish I have in store for you today will absolutely blow your mind--assuming everything goes according to plan.  It's a Vietnamese soup called "Pho."  Perhaps you've heard of it?

My first experience with Pho occurred in the city of Seattle about 15 years ago.  That's when I still thought it was pronounced "foe."  Thank goodness the menu informed me the correct pronunciation is "fuh" before I embarrassed myself by ordering a bowl of "foe" when the restaurant owner took my order.   

That batch of Pho was unbelievably delicious, and, in my opinion, it was all about the broth.  I'm no rookie when it comes to soup broth, I might add.  I've slurped homemade soups all across the country.  Heck, I've even had canned Campbell's and Progresso soups.  None of those fine products were any match for the authentic Vietnamese Pho broth I had on that day in Seattle.

I've had Pho several times since then, and EVERY SINGLE TIME I've been amazed by the flavor of the broth.  It was imperative that I try to make it on my own one day.

That day has come.

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Every year, I like to prepare something special on Super Bowl Sunday.  I don't know why, but American football's biggest day goes hand-in-hand with food.  I also don't know why I thought of going with Pho this year, but it probably had something to do with some kind of psychedelic broth flashback.

Look, I've made homemade broth before.  All you have to do is throw a bunch of bones, meat fat, onions, celery and carrots in water, and boil it together for a few hours.  It's easy.

Yesterday, I looked up some Pho recipes on-line, expecting them to be similarly simple.  Um, NO!  Not even close.  It might be the most complicated thing I've ever made, and there were a ton of ingredients.  Some of them were things I have never heard of before.  WTF is a star anise, for example?  Or a daikon radish? 

I came up with a composite of all the recipes I found and created my own personal recipe.  Then I went out to buy the most essential ingredients . . . even cloves, which I hate.  I sure hope this experiment works out.  Usually I test out my recipes before I put my reputation on the line.  Not this time.  I'm venturing blindly into the Vietnamese culinary night, hoping for the best Pho ever.  Good luck to ME!

It starts with 5 pounds of beef shanks and neck bones added to 3 quarts of water.

The second step is to char a large, sliced onion and a fresh, halved ginger root under the broiler.  The charring releases the sugars contained within.

Next, toast peppercorns, cloves, 6 smooshed cloves of garlic, and 4 star anise pods on a skillet. 

  

The star anise not only LOOKS cool, but it also produces a strong scent of black licorice.

Then there is the daikon.  It's like no other radish I've ever known.  It looks weird and it's kind of rubbery.  That's okay, I'm adventurous and I'm not gonna question Pho genius-ness. 

Three chunks of skinned Daikon, cinnamon sticks, shallots

So, you'll want to throw all of the stuff in the previous pictures into the pot with the meat bones and water.  Boil it all for AT LEAST three hours.  Longer than that is even better.  In my case, I could only take five hours of that incredible aroma wafting through my house before I gave in.

It looks almost as good as it smells.

Then I poured the brown liquid through a fine meshed strainer into another soup pot.  The strained broth was clear, aromatic and beautiful.  I brought it back to a hard boil.

In the meantime, I prepared some toppings for the soup:  sliced green onion, cilantro leaves, bean sprouts, and limes.

And I filled the bowls with thinly-sliced top sirloin steak, thinly sliced yellow onion, and ramen noodles.  (Rice noodles are the preferred noodles for Pho, but I went with ramen because, to me, they taste a hell of a lot better.)

Perhaps the coolest thing about Pho is how you cook the raw steak, onions and noodles by pouring the boiling broth over them and let the concoction rest for a minute or two.  Incredibly, they cook to perfection.

Then I sprinkled the bean sprouts, green onions, cilantro and lime juice over the whole shebang.

The finished product.

My soup was delicious, but very expensive to buy all the ingredients myself.  Honestly, I think it's more cost effective, and just as tasty, to buy your Pho from a Vietnamese restaurant.

Your favorite chef with a bowl of hot soup on a chilly Minnesota Superbowl Sunday.  Bon Apetit!

THANKS FOR TUNA-ING IN TO A NEW SEASON OF THE CHEF G. COOKING CHANNEL

Hi folks, it's me, Chef G.  All you fans of my cooking channel probably noticed I took the whole summer off.  Big stars like Jimmy Kimmel and me can do that.  Unlike Jimmy, however, I wasn't comfortable leaving my wildly popular blog in the hands of guest hosts, so I shut down the entire operation.

The good news is that I'm back in a big way.  I've got some new & exciting recipes, some new & exciting food related anecdotes, some new & exciting food facts, and a new & exciting moniker.  That's right, I'm no longer known simply as "Chef G."  I've upgraded myself to "The Unbelievable Chef G."

I even have a new and exciting chef's hat.

(Don't be thinking "unbelievable" means my brilliant cooking & writing can't be believed.  No, in this case, it means most people cannot believe how much of a cooking genius I am.)

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Most of my previous episodes have concentrated on pig meat, cow meat, and poultry meat.  My only foray into the world of fish meat on this blog was a delicious salmon fillet.  That was over a year ago.  I think it's about time I revisit the world of fish. 

I do so with some trepidation though.  Fish is the most difficult meat to cook properly.  Undercooked fish is slimy; overcooked fish is dry and flavorless.  Therefore, temperature control, timing, and technique are of the utmost importance.  There is very little room for error, and it would be extremely embarrassing for a celebrity chef like me to screw up a nice piece of fish on a worldwide cooking network.  I am motivated to try for perfection.

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I like a wide variety of fish from rivers and freshwater lakes, but today I am going to prepare some meat from the Atlantic Ocean--a fresh, ruby red, wild-caught chunk of yellowfin (Ahi) tuna.  I hope I don't fail.

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Did you know that most of the tuna eaten worldwide comes in tin cans--especially in Europe, Japan, and Australia?  And 88% of Americans eat canned tuna on a regular basis?  And canned tuna is not necessarily 100% tuna?  And a ridiculously small number of us buy fresh, hand-caught tuna?  And real tuna is far from "chicken of the sea," but more like "steak of the sea?"

It's true.  When you grill a nice slab of tuna, you come to realize it really is more like a nice chunk of beefsteak than like a canister of minced chicken.

Like steak tartare, real good tuna can be eaten raw.  Tuna is my favorite sushi!  Mmmm.  I would never eat raw chicken!  Would you?

Most people buy their tuna in this grocery store aisle.

Sometimes that tuna will be eaten straight out of the can.  More commonly it will be mixed with mayonnaise and spread between two slices of bread as a tuna salad sandwich.  Another popular dish is mixing a can of tuna with a box of ingredients called "Tuna Helper."

I must admit, Mrs. Chef G. and I used to eat Hamburger Helper on occasion when we were a young couple without a lot of money, but Tuna Helper was too much for us to handle.

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I seasoned my piece of fresh tuna with paprika, salt and pepper before putting it over hot coals.  I'll grill it on each side for about five minutes, which should be perfect.  My mouth was watering.

It looks like a human heart.  NICE!

Following my instincts as a professional chef, I turned the tuna steak over at the five minute mark.

I'm not going to gloss this over.  I went back inside my house to watch the last few minutes of an episode of The Office on TV.  I lost track of time, and my worst nightmare came true:  I overcooked the tuna steak.  The insides should be red, not gray.  There is no way you could chastise me as much as I chastised myself.  Still, it turned out OK, but OK is NOT what I was striving for.

Luckily, I was able to redeem myself with the presentation.  The salad greens improved the plate considerably.  (So did the fallen leaves in the background.)

I also appreciated that a red maple leaf fell onto the plate just before I snapped this photo.  I think I'll eat it.

  

Raspberry vinegarette added a little color, and Diggity forgave me for overcooking the tuna.  He got a few pieces as reward.

A STEAK? OR A DEADLY WEAPON?

Hi folks, Chef G. here.  Today's offering is easily the most dangerous dish ever prepared on The Chef G. Cooking Channel, so I don't have time for the tomfoolery that usually goes on in my introductory segments.  Let's get right down to business, shall we?

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Yesterday, I went to a place that I find quite fascinating.  The place is called "Cossetta's" and it's an Italian food complex that takes up about half of a city block in downtown St. Paul.  It includes a pizzeria, an antipasto bar, a full-fledged Italian restaurant, great crusty breads from the in-house bakery, and a little alimentari (market).  Is it any wonder that an ersatz celebrity chef like me would be attracted to such a place?

The alimentari was the focus of today's visit.  When not dealing with customers, many of the employees speak Italian to each other.  It has some really cool stuff.  My favorite section was the olive oil aisle.  It has something like 100 varieties of imported olive oil, some of which are over $100 dollars a bottle.  Some of the olive oils are sold in gallon-sized tins that resemble the gallon-sized containers of highly flammable, highly toxic solvents I used to sell before I retired from the world's largest paint company. 

The alimentari also has a small, but very enticing, butcher shop.  I perused the fine looking meats, doing my best to control my drooling.  After much hesitation, I finally decided to splurge on a $60 chunk of meat.

That was very uncharacteristic of me.  After all, I pride myself on being a Chef of the Common Man.  But, damn, it was so well-marbled, so exotic, so beautiful . . . and so DANGEROUS!

It's a bone-in ribeye--sometimes called a Tomahawk Steak.  I call it a Three-Pound Sledge Hammer.  You could crack a skull with this thing.

I took great care while handling the steak, lest I crack my own skull.  My greater fear, however, was having such an expensive steak and not cooking it to perfection.  I shouldn't have worried.  Not even I could ruin a 3-inch thick chunk of prime beef. 

Here's how I did it:

I carefully unwrapped the bludgeon and put it on a broiler pan.  

 

I let it warm to room temperature.  Then I seasoned it liberally with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper while waiting for the oven to heat up to "broil."

Sear the steak under direct heat for 3 minutes on each side.  They say that will lock in the delicious juices.  Sounds good to me.

After the searing, turn the oven down to 275-degrees and cook for another 20-minutes.  When you pull it out, the billyclub should look something like this.

It looks good enough to dig in right now.  But DON'T DO IT!

You must--YOU MUST--cover your giant caveman steak under an aluminum foil tent.  The meat will continue to cook in there and distribute its juices for another ten minutes.

Then you can start slicing up your tomahawk to serve your guests.  In this case, my guests were me and Mrs. Chef G.  We barely ate half of that monstrosity.  Luckily, we both love cold steak the next day.

Steak and a tossed salad with green stuff, cucumbers, carrots, and dressing.  That's all you need.

I know there are a lot of pictures of meat here.  I also know I have legions of vegetarian fans.  To you folks, I apologize.  I'm a vegetarian in spirit, but a carnivore by nature.  For more on that, you can go back and read about my meat-atarianism. https://chefgcooks.blogspot.com/2021/04/confessions-of-meat-eater.html