Saltie

I WISH IT WERE ENOUGH

Sentiments are gifts from our good friend Walter Sipser!

Any Given Sunday

“ A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over… It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves… It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. -James Joyce

James Joyce

And finally by the Elizabeth Schula.

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More from the master Elizabeth Schula.
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Day One. Recipe Writing:

Corn Washington
Gizzards
Bastille Day

Almost everyday, save for the days I don’t, I write a menu. Some new items appear, some have been languishing around for a week or so. At the bottom of each menu there is a countdown which is rarely accurate. How many “Days Until Bastille Day.” Today it is two hundred and seventy seven. I would be too bold as to say it is the only thing permanent on the menu. Most days the menu is taped to a few walls around the kitchen. I grab it and start circling and drawing arrows. The daily playbook. Circles are what need to be prepped. The arrows up and down show which ingredient will move to another place on the menu. Most of the time it is not a wild choice. Last night we ran out of the protein that was the base that the olives sat on. And we still have the olives and we still have the corn that ran across the top of the fish. Olives and corn. Let’s get rid of the olives. They are not about to turn. We forget about them until later.

Corn Washington

If memory serves me right, this is the only recipe for anything related to corn in Larousse Gastronomique. I like to imagine it was named for George at some fabulous state dinner. I am not sure George or Mr. Larousse would have liked this recipe. It’s a little fussy.

What to have on hand and how to cook it:

Corn stock made from a few cobs of corn with the kernels removed and reserved for later: Put the cobs in water and boil until the water has turned corny yellow and tastes like corn when you add salt. About an hour with a good simmer going.
A pot of Sauce Meurette (see recipe) for poaching an egg
Basic Béchamel (see recipe )
Stock made from Pigs feet (Trotter Gear)
Corn kernels cooked for 4 minutes in boiling salted water drained and pureed in a food processor or blender until ultra smooth
A good egg for poaching
A fine strainer or chinoise and a bowl

When you feel fit for service, start a pan on low heat with the béchamel, trying not to let it get stuck to the pan which it will want to do. When the sauce is warm to the touch add the corn stock and the puree, constantly stirring. When you see steam breaking through the top, it will seem very thick at this point, begin to add the gear in a stream like your making mayonaise, again whisking all along the way. Let the pot or pan come to a boil. It should have the consistency of heavy cream at this point. Check that it is properly salted. Pour through the strainer as to catch any of the lumps that may have formed from the béchamel. Once the soup is firmly in place, add the egg you poached in Sauce Meurette. Finish with butter you also made that day.

The Gizzard

The perfect little gizzard should taste like a tiny pastrami. Carelessly researched on my behalf, we had made them on the previous year’s Bastille Day, only to be told they tasted like little “roast beefs.” A seemingly mild observation and perhaps insult, but compelling enough. We never really eat a lot of gizzards, I suppose. Classically gizzards are a very real threat.

The gizzards should be cleaned, butterflied and dropped into a cast iron dutch oven filled with duck fat sitting at around 200 degrees. Let them cook, maintaining that crucial 200 degree temperature until a semi sharp knife slides through them, but they still have a little bounce. Reserve the duck fat for later use. In another dutch oven which is filled with thick cut very smokey bacon cubes, onions and thyme which you have been slowly cooking down in more duck fat to a good hard sweat. Add your confit of gizzards. Cover with broth made from trotters of a pig or bones of a duck. Add a two seconds worth of red wine and let the ingredients simmer until the gizzards have the texture of pastrami. Remove the gizzards and bacon from the dutch oven and set aside. Strain the cooking liquid and pour over the gizzards. Serve these gizzards and bacon cubes warm with a lot of salad dressing made with Dijon, some sliced potatoes cooked in more fat and some romaine or other sturdy, mild green.

the Gam: introducing Dennis Spina

November

The light is becoming brighter. But there is less of it. Thus begins the slow creep toward those short months in which the ground, tired and hard, is toed in gleams of frost. It’s the time of year I wish my dogs knew how to read. They pace and sleep and chew but the hours must pass so slow after the first snow. No grass to muzzle. Too cold for the ball, their bellies fat for warmth, slowly sleeping and moving with the sun’s daily migration across the living room rug. I went up to the farm on Sunday and sat with the gourds, the squash and mossy kale. The smell of the fire and the feel of the air in the green house tricked me into feeling ready for the seasons to change. It feels like time for restoration, meditation and work. And with this spirit we are beginning anew. A Gam is when two whaler ships meet and board each others boat. We had considered Salite one ship, sandwiches another, illustration one more in the fleet. And now we will begin to truly open up. Over this winter we will start inviting more voices to stay warm upon our decks, to transport us, to ferry away our imaginations. This week I would like to introduce you all to Dennis Spina, Roebling Tearoom’s own benevolent Ahab, following, recreating and inspiring recipes and traditions of the great french women who came before him. With the thunder of the North Atlantic and the E Street Band at his back Dennis pounds, chops and braises his way through the year, leaning forever toward Bastille Day. Dennis is my great friend. I am so exited for you to meet him. -AD

”How much more natural, I say, that under such circumstances these ships should not only interchange hails, but come into still closer, more friendly and sociable contact…. For not only would they meet with all the sympathies of sailors, but likewise with all the peculiar congenialities arising from a common pursuit and mutually shared privations and perils.” - Herman Melville