Thanksgiving Edition - Peking Duck

This Thanksgiving was the first C and I have ever spent away from our families. I took this opportunity to challenge myself and cook an entire Thanksgiving meal. For the main dish, I wanted to do something different—something that was traditional, but with a nod to my Asian heritage. After a lot of thought, I decided to make an at home version of a Peking duck. Traditional Peking duck is very labor intensive, and takes at least 3 days to prepare. It involves hanging a duck to dry for a day, then blowing air into the duck to separate the skin from the meat (this is done usually by mouth), scalding the duck with boiling water to tighten the skin, hanging to dry for another day, and careful roasting in a stone oven with various exotic woods from trees I’m sure aren’t found in North America. After some careful research, I thought up a way to recreate the traditional method without all the fuss. Of course, the process does take some time, maybe 3 hours start to finish, but at least it doesn’t take days!

Ingredients:

5 lb. Whole Duck

Soy Sauce

2 Oranges

1 Bulb of Garlic

Chili Powder

Garlic Powder

Ginger Powder

Paprika Powder

Cumin

Salt

Pepper

Sugar

Performance:

I began by absolutely freaking out. When I unwrapped my duck, I found it was almost completely covered in tiny pinfeathers. Pinfeathers and I had never crossed paths until Thanksgiving morning, 4 hours before our guest would arrive. After some frantic phone calls and desperate Googling, I found I had essentially no choice but to carefully pluck out as many of the pinfeathers as possible and then rely on the oven to burn away the bits sticking out and soften the rest remaining under the skin. C and I took turns plucking pinfeathers out of the duck with my Revlon tweezers for about 30 minutes. This would have been humorous if I weren’t level 10 stressed out about the situation. After this, I very carefully pricked and slightly lifted the duck skin with a fork, to simulate the whole blowing-in-the-duck process to separate the skin from the fat—because quite frankly, hell would freeze over before I would blow into Mr. Quack Quack. I then brought a large pot of water to a boil with about a cup of sugar and a cup of salt stirred in. I lowered the duck into the water and turned off the burner. I left the duck in his little bath for about 5 minutes until his skin turned a light tan color. When I brought the duck out of the water, the skin had tightened around the body; this step apparently is what gives it a crispy skin. After the duck had cooled down enough to touch, I donned some nitrile gloves, cut an orange into quarters, and stuffed it in the cavity. I also cut the top off a large bulb of garlic and stuffed that into the duck as well. I then placed the duck onto a roasting rack pan, cut another orange into quarters and had C squeeze the juice all over the duck while I rubbed the skin. I then had C pour a cup of soy sauce over the duck, and I rubbed that into the skin as well. C sprinkled chili powder, garlic powder, ginger powder, paprika powder, cumin, salt, and pepper on the duck and I evenly dispersed the spices on the skin. I added about 2 cups of water to the bottom of the roasting pan so the water would steam up and keep the duck moist. I tossed out my gloves, donned some oven mitts, and placed Mr. Quack Quack into a 425 degree oven for 15 minutes. After that, I lowered the heat to 350 degrees and roasted the duck for 45 minutes. I then flipped the duck, basted with the juices from the bottom of the pan, and roasted for 35 minutes. After this time, I flipped the duck again, basted, and roasted for 15 more minutes. Once the time was up, I removed the duck from the oven, and checked the temperature; it registered at 175 degrees, which is the ideal internal temperature. When our friend arrived, he came bearing brandy, which I of course sipped on in a ladylike glass and poured about half a shot glass over the steaming bird.

When we sat down to the table, I was still a little bit nervous about the pinfeathers. The duck smelled heavenly, and I silently hoped my efforts had brought me success. To my delight and surprise, all the leftover pinfeathers had burned off and disappeared into the duck skin, and we were left with a perfect roasted duck that reminded me of my Grandma Trina’s Peking duck. It was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. The skin was crispy and flavorful and the meat was juicy. C and our friend agreed.

*Bonus: To make a gravy, simply tip the juices collected at the bottom of your roasting pan to a small saucepan. Add about 2 tablespoons of cream (add more of you like a creamier gravy) and about a teaspoon of flour. Stir on low heat until velvety, and pour over your duck. It’s practically sinful over mashed potatoes as well.

Halloween Edition- Filipino Recipe: Dinuguan

Halloween, my favorite holiday, is upon us. It signals the beginning of autumn and all the pleasures that come with it. There’s something about the season that makes me want to cozy up on the couch with a (don’t laugh) pumpkin spice chai latte and watch "Hocus Pocus" and "Harry Potter." The spooky mood of this time of year brings out my not so secret love of dark, romantic authors and poets. I can’t get enough of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (“Carmilla” is the most underrated vampire novel of all time) Anne Rice, and Edgar Allen Poe when the leaves seem to begin to rust on the trees.

I also crave hearty stews when the weather turns cool, and while I love making my Venison Bourginon, I just wasn’t in the mood for it. I was in a dark mood, craving a flavor that was deep, exotic, and mysterious, like one of the characters in the books I’ve been reading. Then I recalled a dish my Grandma Trina made for me when I was a child called Dinuguan, an intensely flavored (don’t freak out) pork blood stew. The name actually comes from the Tagalog word dugo which means “blood.”

…Are you still reading? Hear me out folks, I did not like this as a child, and as a matter of fact it was the only dish I have ever disliked. The flavor was too complex for me as a little girl, and as an adult I wanted to revisit it. I wanted to push the limits of my palate, and be able to say with confidence that there is not a single thing I do not like to eat. Spoiler Alert: I slightly tweaked the traditional recipe, and to my surprise, I LOVED it.

Honestly, if you get past the idea of pork blood as an ingredient, you wouldn’t even know it was included. Remember, it’s an ingredient that’s used almost like a spice to add flavor, and is not wholly representative of the majority of the dish. Besides, plenty of cultures have blood recipes. The Spanish make a blood sausage, the British make blood pudding, and the Polish make a blood stew as well. See, it’s really not that scary. Read on if you dare!

Ingredients:

*Note: Use a trusted source of pig blood, and by “trusted” I mean a brand name. I use a brand called “Martin” that can be found easily at any Filipino grocery store. I get mine from Nora’s Filipino Market in Clarksville, Tennessee. Do not buy from a source that does not look legitimate. For example, if a sketchy dude hanging out behind a gas station says, “Hey, you gotta try this pork blood” JUST SAY “NO,” kids! *

Pork Blood (10 FL OZ)

Pork loin chop (2 packages, boneless, thinly sliced into 1 inch cubes)

Beef Stock (16 FL OZ)

Palm vinegar (1 cup)

1 Onion

4 Garlic cloves

1 Habanero pepper

1 Red bell pepper

1 Green bell pepper

2 Bay leaves

Salt (1 tablespoon)

Pepper (1 tablespoon)

Sugar (1 tablespoon)

Performance:

I began by cutting up and sautéing the onion and garlic until translucent in my cauldron pot. I then added the pork that I had cut into 1-inch cubes and browned gently along with some salt and pepper. I tumbled in the red and green bell peppers, as well as the habanero, and allowed everything to soften. I poured in the beef stock, vinegar, and pork blood then let my cauldron pot bubble. I added the sugar and bay leaves, and stirred continuously, (this is must be done or the bottom will scorch) until the sauce thickened (about 15 minutes) and the contents were a deep brown color.

I plated the dish, sat down at the dinner table with C, and tasted… I loved it. It was like a traditional stew but had an added complexity that made it fascinating. Even more surprising, C, who had watched on curiously (and I daresay a bit dubiously) while I cooked, announced that it was the best thing I’d ever made. He said, “It doesn’t taste very exotic. If you didn’t know there was blood in it, you wouldn’t be able to tell. It tastes like chili without the beans. It’s very accessible.” Needless to say, we were more than pleasantly surprised, and I can now say that there is not a single dish I do not like.

P.S. Be careful stirring when you cook with pork blood, or your kitchen could end up looking like a crime scene, and you’ll end up screaming for your law school boyfriend to stop reading for 5 minutes and come clean up the kitchen. Like this:

Egg Salad: The Taste of Happiness

The other day I got an intense hankering for egg salad. The need was real, and I had to have it for lunch. In all honesty I didn’t feel like making it, but then I thought about the deli case at my local grocery store, where I saw in my mind’s eye an aluminum tray of mush that did not come anywhere close to what I desired. I wanted golden, fluffy peaks of egg and dill, to dollop lovingly onto some mixed greens. I knew this specific desire could not be found at my grocery store, so I decided to make it myself. I padded over to my fridge and found, to my surprise, that I had all the ingredients. It was meant to be.

Ingredients:

Eight hard-boiled eggs

Jalapeno mustard

Mayonnaise

Greek yogurt

Green onions

Dill

Salt

Pepper

Performance:

I began by hard boiling 8 eggs. I placed the eggs in a pot and poured cool water over them to cover the tops by 1 inch. I then brought the pot to a boil, removed the pot from the heat, clamped a lid over it, and let the eggs stand for 12 minutes. After the time was up, I transferred the eggs to a cold-water bath to halt the cooking process. I found this method of hard-boiling eggs yields perfect results every time, and honestly I’m kind of smug about that. Then I peeled the eggs, placed them in a bowl, and squashed them gently with a fork until they were in small, fluffy chunks, because quite frankly I dislike smooth textured egg salad. I then added jalapeno mustard, mayonnaise, and Greek yogurt to my taste. I sprinkled in some salt and pepper, and tore up (chopping is overrated) some dill and green onion. I stirred everything together and tasted…

I was instantly transported to a summer picnic with my mother when I was about 4, the day I took my first bite of an egg salad sandwich she made me. I was wearing a white sundress with red converse high tops and a matching red hat. My mother was barefoot on our picnic blanket, wearing a multicolored halter dress and a large tan sunhat. I remembered thinking she was the most beautiful woman in existence, and wished that one day I would grow up to be like her. We giggled, talked, and munched on our sandwiches. It was the taste of happiness, the smell of sunshine on a cotton dress, and the feeling of love.

Southern Fruit Salad with an Asian Twist

I love fruit. What’s not to like? Fruit is delicious, healthy, and even beautiful to behold. My only problem is if I deem the fruit too much of a trouble to prepare, I’ll choose something else to munch on. For example, you can’t just bite into a strawberry. You have to wash them, and cut the stem off each one before you consume it. I know it’s just unadulterated laziness, but when I’m peckish I don’t want to be bothered with things like that. Lately, I’ve taken to tricking myself and making a fruit salad the moment I get home from the grocery store, that way there’s no excuse for C and I to not munch on a healthy snack, or even have it for dessert.

When I made my fruit salad today, I thought of the simple fruit salads served in the south, and added a little Asian twist of ginger. My Filipino grandmother loves putting ginger in most everything, and claims it helps to keep colds at bay.

Ingredients:

1 Granny Smith apple

Package of blueberries

Package of strawberries

Cubed pineapple

1 Clementine

Juice of 2 limes

1 teaspoon of finely sliced ginger

Truvia

Performance:

I began by washing the strawberries thoroughly, and cutting off their leafy tufts. I then cut up the apple into 1-inch cubes. I tossed the strawberries and apple into a bowl, and tumbled in the blueberries and cubed pineapple. I also peeled and separated a clementine and added that too. For flavor, and also to keep the fruit from turning brown, I cut and squeezed the juice of 2 limes into the fruit salad. As a finishing touch, I finely sliced up a bit of ginger and added it to the bowl. Knowing the lime juice probably made everything a bit tart, I shimmied some Truvia atop the fruity peaks. I tossed everything triumphantly, and couldn’t resist having some for a snack right then and there.