When I was growing up, if you needed a solution to a problem, you pretty much had to—gasp!—ask someone. It didn’t matter how detailed, trivial, or awkward the question was. You had to involve another party. The only alternative was to decode the antiquated Dewey Decimal System at your local library (or the library in the next town, if your question was embarrassing) and thumb through several books in the hope that at least one paragraph among hundreds would reference whatever problem you were working on.

I’m in my mid-30s, so we’re talking about a seismic shift in information gathering, problem-solving, and human relations, all in the span of one generation. That’s nothing short of miraculous. The internet has made it all possible, search has made it all navigable, and social media has made it all personal.

I recently wrote on my professional blog that, “in a way, the shift toward social media is like a shift back to a sort of Rockwellian community where everyone shares everything.” That kind of sharing is evident in the wisdom of crowds phenomenon, or, as Glenn Reynolds termed it, an “Army of Davids.” We’ve reached a point where the power of brands and the testimonials of friends pale in comparison to the aggregate reviews of strangers. We use their ratings to inform our decisions on which products to buy, which hotel rooms to book, and which restaurants to patronize. Industry now follows the herd instead of leading of it. This is a bold, new reality, and it’s truly empowering.

We’ve ingratiated this new phenomenon into all aspects of our lives. I’ve come to rely on it so much that I get really annoyed when the crowd abandons the unwritten rules of the herd and fails to properly assign value to things. This usually happens when passion, arrogance, and tribalism enter the equation. I want to keep this rant above the fray, so I won’t get into examples of ‘crowd fail’ in particularly polarizing arenas. The one area I will reference is a personal pet-peeve of mine; online recipes.

When people rate a product on Amazon or a service on Angie’s List, they issue a quick judgement and visualize that judgement with a rating of some sort. The gold star rating is commonly accepted and is usually very easily understood. Five stars is great. Four stars is good. Three stars is okay, with room for improvement. Two stars is poor. One star is as bad as it gets. This isn’t difficult stuff. So why is it that with online recipes, people rate something as five-star and then go on to list all of the changes they made? If they didn’t make the recipe, then why are they rating the recipe? Moreover, why are they rating an obviously deficient recipe as great?

Let’s say you’re looking for a recipe for chicken enchiladas. This is a typical rating and comment from AllRecipes:

And here’s an example from Epicurious, where they use a fork rating system instead of stars:



These are not outliers. Scroll through the comments and you’ll see that almost all of them are like this. Click on any other recipe and you’ll see the same pattern. It’s a systemic problem.

What is going on here?

Why is this commonly practiced by individual commenters? Why is it accepted by the crowd? Are these people just flaunting their own creativity? If so, why are they rating an imperfect recipe as perfect? Why not rate it three stars and then list the steps they think are necessary to elevate it?

This doesn’t make any sense to me. I can understand substituting one or two ingredients out of convenience or necessity and then being surprisingly pleased with the dish. But if you fundamentally rework the dish and then go on to give it five stars, you’re rating the wrong recipe, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you enter your variation of the dish as a new recipe and let the crowd determine its value?

You don’t really see this anywhere else.

Imagine if you were checking out an HDTV on Amazon and all of the commenters rated it as great. Must be a good TV, right? And then you read through the reviews and see that everyone had to jury rig it to make it work. You’d think, “well, this TV obviously sucks.” Why is it different with cooking?

Everyone is entitled to their own personal taste, but a dish either works or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t work, then don’t rate it five stars. All that I come away with after reading these kinds of reviews is that a particular recipe is “SUPERB!!!,” but only if you don’t actually follow the recipe.

The cost of prized beef like tenderloin/filet, ribeye/prime rib, and top loin/strip has always been high. As peasants found ways to make the cheaper cuts taste deliciously tender, increased demand inflated the cost of those cuts as well. I’ve been trying to find the sweet spot between price and popularity. I eventually settled on what I think are the six most economical steaks that don’t sacrifice high quality for low cost. Buying these cuts will allow you to keep steaks in the weekly rotation without breaking the bank.

1. Shoulder Tender (a.k.a. Petite Roast)
This is a 2-3 pound muscle from the chuck area of the cow. It’s about the same size, shape, and cost as a pork tenderloin. It’s basically a poor man’s filet mignon. If you’re just feeding 4-6 people, you can actually use it to make a miniature version of beef wellington. You’ll probably have to call ahead to tell the butcher you want a whole shoulder tender. They usually slice it into butterflied steaks to increase their surface area. It’s very lean, so it will dry out and lose flavor the longer it cooks. Of all the steaks on this list, this one can be cooked the closest to well-done without becoming tough. Not that I’m advocating that, but it is possible.

2. Top Sirloin Cap Steak (a.k.a. Picanha)
This is a flat, triangular-shaped cut of meat from the top sirloin area of the cow. It’s the signature steak that’s served on long skewers at Brazilian churrascarias with a little of the cap (fat) left on. It looks kind of like a miniature brisket that weighs between 1½-2½ pounds. The fat in the cap crisps up like bacon and marinates the meat as it melts. You’ll probably have to call ahead to tell the butcher to separate it for you. Don’t cook it past medium.

3. Tri-Tip Steak (a.k.a. Triangle Roast)
This big, triangular muscle is usually sold intact as a roast or pre-cut into steaks. Top sirloin cap steak and tri-tip are often confused, so I should point out that true tri-tip steak comes from the bottom sirloin area of the cow. Untrimmed, it weighs around 5 pounds. It’s relatively lean, but it’s tough enough that you’re better off cutting against the grain, which can be difficult because of the odd shape. Don’t cook it past medium.

4. Flat Iron Steak (a.k.a. Top Blade Steak)
This is a flat steak cut from the shoulder/chuck area of the cow. The whole thing usually weighs between 2-3 pounds, but it’s often cut into two thinner steaks (bisected by a layer of gristle) that make for faster cooking. This is basically a three-minute steak. Don’t cook it past medium-rare and it helps to cut it against the grain.

5. Flank Steak (a.k.a. London Broil)
This is a flat cut that comes from the abdominal muscles of the cow below the bottom sirloin. It’s a relatively tough cut of meat that is often tenderized physically or with acidic marinades. The average steak weighs between 1-1½ pounds. Don’t just buy a “London Broil” and think you’re getting flank steak. It’s often mislabeled as a London Broil, but so are many other, tougher cuts of meat (usually top round). London Broil mainly refers to a generic braising roast. While true flank steak can be braised, I cook mine quickly over direct heat with a rub and sauce. Don’t cook it past medium-rare and be sure to cut against the grain. This steak (as well as skirt steak below) really shrinks when cooking, so be aware of that before you try to feed four people with one steak.

6. Skirt Steak (a.k.a. Fajita Steak)
This is a series of steaks cut from the plate area below the cow’s ribs. There are inside and outside cuts, but the main difference seems to be that the inside steaks are better trimmed. I think they taste the same. You can usually buy them in pre-cut steaks that each weigh around 1 pound. Demand for skirt and flank steak has risen with the popularity of Latin cuisine. If you’ve ever had really tender fajitas, they were probably made with one of these steaks. As a result, the price has been inching up. Still, it’s a good amount of beef for the money and it can be cooked in a flash. This cut really should be marinaded with some mixture of salt and citric acid to break down the fibers before cooking. As with flank steak above, don’t cook it past medium-rare and be sure to slice against the grain.
 

My no-fail cooking method

I’ve developed my own way of cooking steaks over the years. I can get a bit methodical when trying to improve a project or a process. Split-testing is part of my day job, so I guess it’s only natural that those techniques have migrated into my cooking as well. The steps listed below arose from my desire to prepare different steaks to the exact same doneness with consistent reliability.

1. I first trim and salt my steaks with a few pinches of kosher salt. The salt extracts moisture out of the meat, which dissolves the salt. Then the salty water is absorbed back into the meat. This is essential for enhancing flavor and tenderness.
2. If I buy my steaks early, I might ‘dry age’ them in the fridge for a few days in loose-fitting foil packets with air holes poked all around. This allows a small percentage of the moisture to evaporate out of the steaks, thereby enhancing flavor and tenderizing the meat even more. This step is entirely optional.
3. About an hour before the meal, I take the steaks out of the fridge and allow them to come to room temperature. Even if I had just bought the steaks at the store, I’d still salt them for an hour at room temperature and then pat them dry if necessary.
4. When I’m ready to cook the steaks, I press some more kosher salt and coarse-ground black pepper into the meat and coat with a tiny bit of oil (canola, peanut, sunflower, olive, etc.).
5. No matter how I cook my steaks, I first sear both sides with high, direct heat for a few minutes to develop a crust. After that, I move them to indirect heat.
6. While the steaks are cooking over indirect heat, I–and this might sound a little weird–fill the bottom of a dinner plate with water and microwave it for 1 minute. I just want the ceramic to heat up and retain a little warmth.
7. When the steaks hit the proper internal temperature (measured to the exact degree with an electric thermometer), I wipe the heated plate dry and set the steaks on it. I top each one with a little pat of butter and cover the plate with foil. Then I let the meat rest for 10 minutes. During this time, the steaks continue to cook and the blood redistributes evenly.

I know this sounds like an overly-complicated process to char a piece of meat, but it’s not really a lot of work. These little extra steps make a big difference. The reward is perfectly cooked steaks that have a large, pink center and a robust beef flavor.

I wanted to prepare a traditional Brazilian meal that would rival the experience we had in the Brazilian restaurant. I knew I was successful when the wife cleaned her plate and asked that picanha be added to the standard rotation.

The hardest part about making picanha (pronounced peeCONNya) with farofa is getting the picanha and the farofa. The internet is full of misinformation when it comes to pinpointing exactly which muscle constitutes the South American staple. After a long talk with my butcher, I discovered that to get authentic picanha, you have to ask for a top sirloin cap steak with a thin layer of the cap (fat) left on for flavoring. Americans’ aversion to gristle can make this cut hard to find if you’re buying it on an impulse, so it’s a good idea to call ahead. The whole cap steak is triangular in shape and usually weighs between 2-2½ pounds and costs around $20. I didn’t need that much meat, so I had the butcher cut me a rectangular portion that weighed about 1½ pounds and cost around $14.

This is succulent cut of beef that tastes like a cross between hanger steak and a NY strip. And at a fraction of the cost of NY strip, it’s a great bargain. Like so many traditional meals, picanha is a peasant dish. It was the select cut for the gauchos who herded cows in Brazil’s pastureland. It was cooked churrasco-style over an open flame and was prized for the way the melting fat marinaded the meat as it cooked. In the old days, the gauchos would skewer the steaks on their swords, coat them in salt, and cook them over the smoldering campfire coals. Since I’m not a gaucho and I don’t carry a sword, I cooked them over the ubiquitous red and black grill that speckles the suburban American landscape.

You can see the steak here. I carefully scored the fat in a ¼-inch crosshatch and rubbed about a tablespoon of kosher salt into the surface of the beef.

Next, I cut the meat into individual steaks and threaded them onto metal skewers. It’s important to use two skewers, or else the meat would be impossible to flip.

I used a chimney starter to get some charcoal red-hot and raked the coals into the center of the grill. Picanha is flavorful because of the fat that renders out, but that same fat causes frequent flare-ups. So it’s important to allow for indirect heat or else you’ll burn the meat.

Like always, I left nothing to chance. I used a digital thermometer to monitor the temperature. I intentionally under-cooked the meat a little and let it rest on a covered, heated plate until it reached rare/medium-rare.

Farofa is a popular Brazilian condiment. Every culture seems to have its own condiments. In the USA, we have ketchup. Belgians have aioli. Mexicans have pico de gallo. Argentines have chimichurri. Brazilians use farofa as the go-to condiment to season beans, meats, anything else that could use a boost in texture and taste. Farofa is seasoned flour made from dried and ground yuca and/or cassava. It’s grainy like uncooked grits and is a little salty and savory. It can be hard to find, so I ordered a bag of pre-seasoned farofa online. This brand pretty good, but it needs to be toasted in a warm pan with a little butter to really bring out the flavor.

The meal came out great. It was cheap, easy, and there were plenty of leftovers. Look at how succulent this steak looks. It had a genuinely beefy flavor and the fat was salty and stiff like bacon.

I’ve been craving veal lately, so I decided to make some wiener schnitzel. It’s basically just breaded, pan-fried veal scallopini. Both of the wife’s grandmothers spent time in Germany, so this dish isn’t exotic to her at all. Her Croatian grandmother always pairs schnitzel with spaetzle. It makes sense. What better complements fried meat than fried carbs? The more butter, the better. To balance out the meal, I made some sweet and sour red cabbage.

I’ve blogged these recipes before, but I thought I’d put them together in one place since they go together so well.

• Wiener Schnitzel With Spaetzle
• Sweet & Sour Red Cabbage

This batch resulted in the best schnitzel I’ve ever eaten anywhere. The secret is in the eggwash.

In the time since I last posted about this dish, the wife and I bought a $10 spaetzle-maker. It’s a cheap little kitchen gadget that takes up more space than it’s worth, but it earns its keep when we have four pots and pans on the stove. It sits on top of the pot of water and one person pours the batter into the gadget and swipes it back and forth like a manual credit card reader, forcing the mixture through the holes and into the water below. This is a huge improvement over the old two-man system of suspending a colander over scalding water while the other person pressed down on the batter.

I meant to get a picture of the little gadget in action, but it was over as soon as it began. I’ll update the next time we make it.

I should add that this is a cumbersome process that results in a lot of dirty dishes. If you’re going to cook four cutlets, you may as well cook twelve. The prep and clean-up is the same. Plus, you end up with enough cabbage for twelve, so go big or go home.

There’s nothing complex about poppy seed chicken. If you’ve made it once, you’ve probably memorized the recipe. The only reason I’m blogging it is because a lot of people think it’s labor-intensive. It doesn’t have to be. As long as you have a stand mixer and a little time, it’s one of the easiest meals you can make, even if it’s not one of the healthiest. This version is based on my mother-in-law’s recipe.

Stand Mixer Poppy Seed Chicken

• 3-4 chicken breasts (depending on the size)
• 1 can chicken stock
• 1 can cream of chicken soup
• 1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, divided
• 1 sleeve Ritz crackers, crushed
• 8 oz sour cream
• 1 tablespoon poppy seeds
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

This is one of the wife’s favorite casseroles. It’s more like and upside-down chicken dip than anything else. What usually makes it labor-intensive is the shredding of the chicken. But, as I discussed in my chicken pot pie post, that’s an unnecessary step. If you have a stand mixer, it’ll do all of the work for you.

Preheat the oven to 400&dreg;. Place the chicken breasts in a 9 x 9 baking dish and just cover with chicken stock. Back uncovered for 40 minutes, turning once. You could do this in water, but I think the stock adds a little flavor. When the chicken goes into the oven, put the stick of butter out on the kitchen counter to soften.

When the chicken is finished cooking, drop the breasts into the stand mixer bowl with the paddle attachment. Do this while they’re hot. Lock the hinge and set the mixer to 2. It’ll jostle for a while and then settle down. It may splatter a little bit at first, so hold a kitchen towel up to the top of the bowl for a few seconds.

While the mixer is shredding your chicken, turn the oven down to 350°. Put the remaining butter in a 10 inch pan over medium-high heat. While it’s melting, crumble the Ritz crackers. I usually drop the whole sleeve on the ground and crush gently it with my heel. You have to be very careful not to burst the envelope or cracker crumbs will spill all over the place. Add the crumbs to the pan with the butter and shake until all of the crumbs are wet.

Add the rest of the butter (4 tablespoons), cream of chicken soup, sour cream, salt, pepper, and a couple of tablespoons of the chicken stock to the mixer bowl and increase the speed to 4. Meanwhile, shake your pan of cracker crumbs to make sure they’re toasting evenly. Pour the stock out of the baking pan, but you don’t need to wash it. When the chicken and sauce is incorporated evenly, pour the mixture into the still-warm baking dish. Top with the toasted cracker crumbs and sprinkle the poppy seeds evenly over the crackers.

Bake, covered, in a 350° oven for at least 30 minutes. Remove the foil for the last few minutes to crisp the top. If you do this right, you’ll only be actively preparing the dish for maybe four minutes. You’ll have a pan and a mixing bowl to clean, and that’s it. How easy is that? Serve alone or with salad and bread.

If you don’t have a stand mixer, then use a large food processor. In a worst-case scenario, you can shred the chicken with two forks. Hot, creamy, homemade poppy seed chicken will go a long way toward soothing the cramps that’ll plague your hands.

Once you realize how easy it is to shred meats in the stand mixer, you’ll feel like a fool for ever doing it the hard way. My BBQ pulled pork goes straight from the smoker to the stand mixer for shredding, Carolina-style, and then onto the serving tray with a little mustard-based sauce.

I don’t eat raw vegetables. It sounds weird, but I’m allergic and I get itchy and blotchy all over. It happens with red wine sometimes too. It’s more annoying than dangerous, but I stay away from them whenever I can. One of the problems with cooking a lot is that it’s only economical to buy raw vegetables in bulk. I’ve recently made gumbo and meatloaf for Sunday meals. Each time, I had half a bag of carrots and celery left over. Since crudités is off the table, so to speak, I usually just make a chicken pot pie to get rid of the leftovers.

Chicken pot pie sounds intimidating, but it’s really not. It’s especially easy if you have a food processor or a stand mixer. Think of it as a super-thick version of chicken soup. Who’s afraid of making chicken soup? This is another Sunday recipe of mine, meaning it’s good to throw on the stove before church and then plan on finishing it a few hours later for lunch.

Chad Chandler’s Chicken Pot Pie

Crust

• 3 cups all-purpose flour (plus more for dusting)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 cup (2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2″ cubes
• 1/4 cup vegetable shortening (or lard)
• 2 eggs, beaten, divided

Filling

• 3 chicken breasts, poached and shredded
• 3½ cups low sodium chicken stock, divided
• 3/4 cup flour
• 3/4 cup (1½sticks) butter
• 1 cup diced carrots (about 1 lb)
• 1 cup diced celery (about 1 lb)
• 1 cup diced russet potato (about 1 lb)
• 1 large onion, diced
• 2 leeks, cleaned and diced (light green parts only)
• ½ cup frozen peas
• 1 teaspoon fresh (or ½ teaspoon dried) sage
• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3/4 teaspoon pepper
• additional salt and pepper to taste

I think I learned how to make the crust from this recipe at Epicurious. Ideally, the crust should be made at least a few hours before baking the pie. If you can do it the night before, then that’s even better. I’ve made it two hours before baking (without refrigerating it at all) and no one was the wiser, so don’t stress too much over it.

If you have a stand mixer, pour the dry ingredients into the bowl and stir everything slowly (on 2) with the paddle attachment. Next, add the butter (a little at a time), the egg, and the shortening. Mix (on 4) until the dough comes together. Then use your hands to form it into a tight ball and smash it into a one-inch-thick disc. Wrap the disc tightly in plastic wrap and toss it into the fridge. If the dough looks mealy and doesn’t really come together, add cold water a tablespoon at a time until it does. Leave the mixer out on the counter.

If you don’t have a stand mixer, just pulse the dough with a food processor. If you don’t have a food processor, then buy some pre-made dough from the freezer section of your grocery store. I’ve kneaded the dough by hand before, but it’s pretty labor-intensive and I don’t recommend it.

Put the chicken breasts in a casserole dish, pour in 1½ cups of chicken stock into the pan, and slide it uncovered into a 375° oven. It’s the same thing we do when we make creamy chicken salad. Flip them after about 20 minutes and take them out after around 40 minutes when cooked through. I used to shred boneless meat with two forks, but it’s painful and takes forever. Now I just toss all of the chicken into the stand mixer and let the paddle (on 2 at first and then I turn up to 4) shred it for me.

Peel and chop all of the vegetables into 1/4 inch cubes (ignore the peas until later). You want the pieces to be about the same size. Leeks are notoriously dirty, so you need to follow the directions here to clean them.

To make the roux, melt the butter over medium heat. Once it’s foaming, slowly add the flour and whisk constantly. You’ll need to cook the roux until it’s the color of light peanut butter. It’ll only take 5-10 minutes and then you add the remaining two cups of chicken stock as you continue to whisk. This is the base for the chicken pot pie. When the mixture comes to a boil, it’ll thicken up nicely.

Once it’s bubbling, add the chicken (and the leftover poaching stock), vegetables, peas, sage, salt, pepper, and stir. Turn the heat down to very low and cover. Simmer for at least one hour and up to four, stirring occasionally. I like to cook the pie filling until the potato is starting to fall apart, about three hours.

Let the dough come to room temperature before rolling (at least 30 minutes). Preheat the oven to 400°. Season the filling to taste with salt and pepper before pouring as much as you can into a 9 x 13 (4 quart) baking dish. Lightly flour a work surface and take the dough out of the plastic wrap. Roll the dough as uniformly as you can until it’s the size of the dish. Roll the dough over the roller and unroll it onto the casserole dish.

If you’re like me, you’ll tear it in a dozen places and it’ll be shaped like a salamander. Just pick up the flattened, deformed dough and lay it over the top of the casserole dish as best you can. Use scraps to fill any holes. It doesn’t matter how patchwork it looks. The dough pieces will meld together as they cook. Cut off the excess dough and brush the top of the dough with the other beaten egg.

Poke a few slits around the top of the crust to allow the steam to vent. There’s a good chance the pie will rise and boil over, so place the casserole dish onto a rimmed baking sheet. Gently slide it into the oven and bake uncovered for 45 minutes to an hour. Take it out when it looks like the crust is about to burn, if that makes sense. Let it rest for at least 15 minutes before serving.

I should note that this recipe makes more crust than you need, but you need a lot of crust to be able to roll it big enough to cover a rectangular dish. So be aware that you’ll waste a good 25¢ of all-purpose flour. Tragic, I know.

Some people find it annoying that I’m not specific about the amount of vegetables, but it doesn’t really matter. You can load it up or skimp and the dish will come out the same as long as you make the roux correctly. So if you don’t want to add leeks, then leave them out. If you like mushrooms, add them in. I usually throw whatever I have in the “crisper” drawer into the pot.

On a side not, why do they call it a “crisper?” Have you ever put anything in there that didn’t come out more limp than it was going in? If there was truth in advertising, wouldn’t it be called the “rotter?”

It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally perfected gumbo. I’ve gone through countless over-complicated recipes over the years and have systematically thrown out the steps and ingredients that were superfluous. This recipe is what remained. It’s the best gumbo I’ve ever had.

I usually do a shrimp and sausage gumbo, but you could add crab, fish, chicken thighs, smoked turkey, or anything else you like. But you have to use one pound of hot andouille sausage or it won’t come out the same. That’s where the spices come from in this version.

Here’s pretty much everything you need:

Chad Chandler’s Perfect Gumbo

• 1 lb jumbo shrimp, halved (shells reserved)
• 1 lb hot andouille sausage, sliced
• 1 lb smoked sausage, sliced
• 2 large (or 3 medium) onions, diced
• 4 large bell peppers, chopped
• 5 stalks celery, chopped
• 1 lb fresh okra, sliced, divided
• 8 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 14.5 oz cans stewed tomatoes, crushed
• 7 cups water
• 1 14.5 oz can chicken stock (1 3/4 cups)
• 14 tablespoons butter (just get two sticks), divided
• 3/4 cup flour
• 1/3 cup worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon dried thyme

It’s easy to look at this lengthy ingredient list and get intimidated, but it’s not really as complicated as it seems. There’s a lot of chopping and stirring at first, but once the gumbo is on the stove, you can walk away. Plus, you end up with six quarts of gourmet food for around $25.

You’re going to need a dutch oven or a large pan for the roux, a large pan for the sausage, and a small pot for the shrimp stock. So make room on the stove. I usually pour everything into a stock pot after it’s all mixed together and clean the other pots and pans.

To begin, slice the andouille sausage into 1/4 inch rounds and cut the smoked sausage into 1/4 inch half-moons. I do that so the wife knows which sausage is spicy and which is not. I throw the sausage into a large pan over medium heat while I’m chopping all of the onions, peppers, celery (known as the Holy Trinity in Cajun cooking) and garlic. You want to render the fat and let it crisp around the edges.

Once the veggies are all chopped (but not the okra), I pour the water and the chicken stock into a small pot and put it on the back burner. I bring out the shrimp and leave them on the counter by the stove.

Next, it’s time to make the roux. A roux isn’t difficult, but it is labor-intensive. And since gumbo gets its taste, color and texture from the roux, you can’t cheat. You melt a stick and half (12 tablespoons) of butter over medium heat until it foams. Then you gradually mix in 3/4 cups of flour. This process takes about twenty minutes, so be prepared to whisk almost constantly the entire time.

If the roux burns, it’s ruined; you have to start all over. So stir it constantly until it darkens to the color of peanut butter. Then it should get a little more watery and you can go about 20 seconds between stirring sessions. This is when I take the opportunity to peel the shrimp. I peel one, toss the peel into the pot of water, put the shrimp in a bowl, and then whisk the roux. Then another shrimp in hand, peel into the water, shrimp into a bowl, and whisk the roux. Over and over again until they’re all peeled and the shrimp are back in the fridge.

It can be a little daunting managing all of these pans at the same time, but you’ll get the hang of it eventually. Or better yet, get a helper. The wife was busy making new pillows for our den furniture, so I was on my own as usual.

Turn the heat up to medium-high on the shrimp stock. You want it to simmer (so turn it to low once it’s boiling) until the roux is finished cooking. If it starts to foam on top, slide it off the heat and blow on it or it’ll spill over and your house will smell like burnt marine exoskeleton for a few days.

Meanwhile, you should still be stirring the roux and shaking the sausage pan to make sure it’s not burning. If the suasage does start to stick to the bottom, just pour a little water into the pan to deglaze it.

When the roux gets to be the color of a Hershey’s chocolate bar, you’re done.

Place a colander over your roux pot and slowly pour in the stock. Once it’s all incorporated, whisk vigorously to combine. This is the base of your gumbo. Most of the work is done.

Turn the heat to medium-low and turn your focus to the sausage. By now, the sausage should have rendered a lot of orange-colored fat. You want to remove the sausage with a slotted spoon and toss it into the gumbo pot. Pour out all of the fat except for about three tablespoons. Add a couple of tablespoons of butter and pour in as much of the Trinity as you can get into the pan. Sprinkle a big pinch of salt over the vegetables. This will purge the water into the pan. If you can’t fit all of the Trinity into the pan, then just toss the rest into the gumbo pot.

You’re really just using the Trinity to deglaze the sausage pan and absorb all of the sausage flavor. While the vegetables render and eventually cook off their water, open the cans of tomatoes. Shake out the excess liquid over the sink, but it’s not a big deal if some remains. Pour the stewed tomatoes into a bowl and squeeze the chunks through your fingers until it’s all crushed uniformly. Then pour it into the gumbo pot.

When the trinity is starting to sizzle and brown, toss in the minced garlic, stir well, and let it all cook for a few more minutes. Then toss it all into the gumbo pot. You might have to use a bigger pot, and you might not.

Cut half of the okra into 1/2 inch rounds and toss it into the gumbo pot with the worcestershire, thyme, salt, and pepper. You’ll add the rest later. Bring the gumbo to a boil and then reduce the heat to low. If you taste the gumbo now, it’ll seem watery and off-tasting because of the worcestershire. That’s normal. Just trust me. Don’t add any more seasonings. Cover and simmer for at least four hours and up to six and it’ll turn out great.

After a few hours, slice and add the remaining okra. When there’s an hour left until you’re planning to serve the gumbo, take the lid off the pot and turn up the heat a little. You want to evaporate about a half-inch of the liquid. Just stir it occasionally so it doesn’t stick to the bottom and look at the waterline in the pot. When you’re fifteen minutes away from serving, cut the shrimp in half with some kitchen shears and add them to the gumbo. They’ll cook almost instantly.

Season to taste with a little salt, pepper, and hot sauce. Serve with white rice, hot sauce, and filé powder if you like it. I love filé in dark stews. It’s just dried and pounded sassafras leaves. But you should know that it gets gummy if it boils, so you never add it to the pot. Just sprinkle 1/4 teaspoon over your bowl.

This gumbo demands a good amount of prep work, but the payout is huge. The taste should be amazing, the texture should be thick and smooth, and you should have meat in every bite.

Spectators of such southern treasures might remark, “oh, look what they did,” but what they really mean is, “look what they did considering…” I’ve seen this with crafts like The Quilts of Gee’s Bend, with paintings like those of Andrew Wyeth, and with Appalachian mountain music in general. This mindset is annoying at best and bigoted at worst.

This issue of Bon Appétit is not like that at all. It maintains a sincere appreciation for southerners’ contributions to culinary Americana and to the region’s leading role in the preservation of heritage techniques and community-centric commerce.

But some southern cooking secrets are only passed onto the initiated, which is in and of itself a southern tradition of exclusivity that northerners probably perceive as southern arrogance. They’re probably right. One trick of the trade didn’t seem to get passed on to the test cooks at Bon Appétit, and it’s apparent in the picture below.

When you’re making deviled eggs, you need to turn the egg carton on its side for at least four hours before hard-boiling them. That makes the yolks rest in the center of the eggs. If you don’t do this, you end up with an egg yolk that is off-balance to the thicker end. You can see many instances here where they did it wrong.

It’s not a big deal, and I’m sure these eggs tasted great, but it’s one of those things southern cooks notice that reveals the imposters.

I have a bunch of recipes that I’ve been meaning to blog for a while, and this is one of the better ones. I can’t remember where I originally got this idea; I think it was from some blogger’s variation that was a few degrees removed from an Ina Garten concoction. I’ve been roasting cauliflower for years, and I grill a lot of vegetables, but I think the best way to cook broccoli (and keep the meal healthy) is under the broiler.

Here’s everything you need:

Roasted Broccoli

• 4 crowns of broccoli, chopped
• 3 cloves of garlic, sliced
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• ½ lemon, zested and juiced
• 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese
• salt and pepper

This is a simple recipe. Start by preheating the oven to 425° (broil) and placing the rack in the second-highest position. Cut the florets into manageable-sized chunks. The broccoli caramelizes where it sticks to the roasting pan, so you want relatively small chunks that have a lot of surface area. I save the woodier parts of the stems for stock, but sometimes I slice the more tender parts near the top into thin rounds and roast them along with the florets.

Slice a few cloves of garlic. The thinner they are, the more likely they are to dry out and burn, so leave them a little thick. While you have the cutting board out, use a grater or a microprobe to zest half of a lemon.

Drizzle a few tablespoons of olive oil over the florets and season with salt and pepper. Maybe 1/2 teaspoon each of kosher salt and freshly ground pepper? Next, place the sliced garlic on top of the florets.

Place the pan under the broiler for about 20-25 minutes until the stalks soften and the florets darken at the edge. Rotate the pan 180° halfway through the cooking process. When the broccoli is finished cooking, sprinkle the lemon zest over the broccoli and squeeze half of the juice from half of the lemon over everything. Does that make sense? You want 1/4 of the lemon’s juice in all. Finally, taste the broccoli. Feel free to season with more salt and pepper and add a little more olive oil if you think it needs it. Serve the broccoli with a little grated Parmesan cheese on top.

The wife loves this dish. It’s really more of a cooking method than a recipe, and I rarely make it the exact same way twice. You just need raw vegetables, oil, seasonings, and direct heat. Whenever we have a homemade vinaigrette languishing in the fridge, I’ll drizzle it over broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus, peppers, mushrooms, etc and cook them this way. You can even cook whole carrots like this with a little butter, honey and lemon and it comes out great.

I should point out that this will not work with frozen, chopped vegetables. I don’t know how the science works, but once the vegetables have been frozen, they never roast or saute properly. They just seem to steam and wilt in their own water. I’m not knocking the convenience and nutritional value in the frozen stuff, I’m just pointing out that it doesn’t mesh well with this kind of preparation. Save that stuff for casseroles.

If you’re wondering what else is on the plate in the picture above, it’s one of my rosemary grilled pork chops.

Most people think that DIY is always cheaper. It’s been my experience that the reverse is usually true. Almost all of the furniture I make costs double what I’d pay at a big box store. The same holds true for most of the clothes the wife makes at home. The only way DIY saves money is in bulk production. When you make a dozen or more of the same gift, the per-item cost is usually lower than anything you’d pay at a store.

We made a dozen of these chalkboards (click here to learn more):

And we made a dozen of these spice rub jars (click here to learn more):

I also made this guitar stand for my brother-in-law:

Oh, and the wife made this sock animal dinosaur for our youngest nephew. She got the pattern from a book called Stray Sock Sewing, Too: More Super-Cute Sock Softies To Make & Love.

And she made a bunch of these Christmas tree ornaments for family and friends. The pottery kiln can churn out cheap and easy gifts.

I should also mention that we buried a cat (Jasmine) over Thanksgiving and the wife didn’t want to look at my old cat food station for two anymore. So I made this smaller cat food station for Crew, the wife’s 12 year old cat who got grandfathered into our marriage:

This spice rub is a based on a recipe developed by America’s Test Kitchen/Cooks Illustrated to mimic the taste of the ribs at Charlie Vergos’ Rendezvous in Memphis, TN.

The label on top of the jars is a custom QR code. When you scan the code with your smartphone, it links to this post of mine explaining the easiest way I know to cook ribs. The webpage is optimized for mobile devices, so you can take the recipe and instructions out to the grill with you.

For the best deal on spices, look in the Hispanic section of your grocery store. Just mix everything together in the biggest bowl you have. This rub recipe will fill 12 pint jars. Each jar is enough to coat four slabs of ribs. Of course, you can put the rub on anything you like. I sometimes mix a little canola oil with some rub and use it to marinate grilled chicken.

Here’s what you need:

• 3 cups paprika (24 oz)
• 3 cups brown sugar (24 oz)
• 1 1/2 cups table salt (12 oz)
• 1 1/4 cups chili powder (10 oz)
• 1 cup garlic powder (8 oz)
• 1 cup onion powder (8 oz)
• 1 cup black pepper (8 oz)
• 1/2 cup cayenne (4 oz)
• 1/4 cup dried thyme (2 oz)
• 12 (pint-sized) mason jars

I paid $37 for the spices and $11 for the jars.

Cost breakdown: $48/12 = $4 per jar

Not bad, right? If you’d like to make this yourself to give as gifts, you can copy the scan code above and print it onto labels for your own jars.

The wife also made a couple of aprons to go with the spice rub for two guys on her side of the family.

When I was right out of college and teaching myself to cook, I tried to reverse-engineer Ruby Tuesday’s Sonora Chicken Pasta. I hate to date myself, but this was back in the days of Web 1.0 before seemingly everything was posted online. I didn’t want to literally recreate the dish, as I found the sauce too rich. I just wanted to perfect that creamy taste and texture that coated the noodles and tickled the back of your throat with a slight hint of spiciness. I never wrote down the recipe I eventually worked out, and it’s been at least five years since I last made it. The wife has been requesting it for months, so I thought I’d finally perfect the dish and record the recipe for posterity.

If you search for the Sonoroa Chicken Pasta recipe now, it’s easy to find. After reading a few versions, it’s apparent why I thought the sauce was too rich. It calls for so much Velveeta Cheese that it’s halfway to being Rotel Dip. My version of the dish is creamier, easier to make, and, frankly, I think it tastes better.

Here’s pretty much everything you need:

Spicy Chicken Pasta

• 1 pound penne pasta
• 2 chicken breasts, sliced
• 1 small onion, diced
• 1 red pepper, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 jalapeno pepper, diced
• 1-2 roma tomatoes, diced
• 6 tablespoons butter, divided
• 2 cups heavy cream or half and half
• 4 oz (half a brick) of Philadelphia Cream Cheese
• 2 tablespoons flour
• 1½ teaspoons hot sauce
• 2½ teaspoons Old Bay Seasoning
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Parmesan cheese for garnish

There’s nothing complicated here. Just dice all of the vegetables and set aside. Next, season the chicken with salt and pepper and saute over medium-high heat in two tablespoons of butter. You can slice the chicken, dice it, or cook the breasts whole and slice them later; whichever you prefer. After the chicken is cooked, remove it to a plate and cover with foil.

If there’s a lot of fond on the bottom of the saute pan, add a little water to deglaze it. Next, melt another two tablespoons of butter and toss in the diced vegetables (but not the tomato). Sprinkle a big pinch of salt over everything so the vegetables will release their water. Saute until softened, about ten minutes. While the vegetables are cooking, put your pasta pot over high heat. When the vegetables are softened, remove them to a plate and set aside. Toss the dry pasta into the pot of boiling, salted water. It should take around ten minutes to cook, which is about how long it will take to make the sauce.

Reduce the heat on the saute pan to medium and add the remaining two tablespoons of butter. Once it’s melted, add the flour and stir with a whisk to make a basic roux. Once it’s pulled together, add the cream off the heat and whisk like crazy until the lumps are gone. Next, add the cream cheese, hot sauce, Old Bay, salt and pepper, and stir until everything is incorporated. The sauce will thicken up when it reaches a simmer.

Once it’s bubbling, add the sauteed vegetables (and the tomato) to the sauce and simmer on medium-low to cook off the starchy taste of the flour. When the noodles are about done, taste the sauce and season with extra salt, pepper and Old Bay if you think it needs it. You want sauces like this to be a little over-seasoned. When you eat it, each bite will consist of 90% bland noodles, so the sauce will need to have a little extra oomph.

The spicy cream sauce should be finished at the same time as the noodles. You want the noodles to be a little more al dente than usual since they’ll continue to cook in the hot cream sauce for a few minutes. Just strain the noodles, pour them back into the pasta pot, add the sauce, and stir to coat evenly. You want the sauce to ooze into all of the holes in the pasta (if you’re smart, you made sure to buy penne noodles that have ridges on the outside so the sauce has something to cling to). You can add the chicken now, or plate it on top of the creamy and mildly spicy pasta. Just make sure you pour any chicken juices from the plate into the sauce at some point.

Garnish with freshly grated Parmesan cheese and enjoy. Look how well the sauce coats the penne.

This recipe sounds complicated, but it’s really not. It’s thirty minutes with a pot and a pan and you end up with tons of delicious leftovers. You can also use this recipe as a base and create all kinds of variations with asiago cheese and roasted garlic, broccoli and cauliflower, shrimp and bacon, etc. It’s not really all that different from my Rich & Creamy Cheese Grits recipe, which makes the best damn grits you’ve ever had.

With traditional burgers, very loosely formed patties break apart too easily on the grill. Plus, the porous nature results in lots of flare-ups that can carbonize the meat. I’m all for keeping the meat relatively loose (the opposite of those pre-pressed, frozen patties you buy in the freezer section), but store-bought ground beef works just fine for that.

Griddle burgers are different. If the meat is pressed too tightly, the underside of the patties char and the rest of the meat steams in its own juices. The looser the meat, the more surface area comes in contact with the griddle, and the more the fat flavors the patty. If you let the meat sizzle until it forms a golden-brown crust, it’ll hold together nicely for the flip.

I loosely followed the “The Fake Shack (Or The Shack Burger At Home)” recipe by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. He explains the science behind different burger-making methods at The Burger Lab.

To make proper griddle burgers, you need to grind a mixture of 75% chuck to 25% sirloin (about 1.3 pounds in total to make four burger patties). That will give you the fat you need to keep the patties moist and the meaty taste that comes from leaner beef. Others recommend using oxtail, brisket, and other flavorful cuts, but I think you should get the base recipe and cooking technique down before experimenting with taste.

Cut the meat into 1-2 inch cubes, season it with a little kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, and then freeze it for 30 minutes until the cubes firm up a bit. Then grind them through 1/4 inch holes onto some lightly oiled parchment paper.

Next, gently separate the ground beef into four equal-sized patties. Be careful not to press them together too much.

Get a griddle going over medium-high heat. I have an electric one, but you can use a cast-iron pan or a lightly-oiled skillet. When it’s starting to smoke, use an oiled spatula to move the patties to the griddle and very gently press them into the cooking surface. If you want to grill your onions, then throw them on there as well. When the meat looks browned all the way up the sides, it’s time to flip.

These burgers don’t take too long to cook and should be swimming in their own fat. While they’re cooking, toast some buns, slice a good tomato, and wash some lettuce. You can serve the burgers with any condiment you like, but the aforementioned burger recipe lists the ingredients for a hamburger sauce that’s like what you get on a Big Mac.

Hamburger Sauce

• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon ketchup
• 1 tablespoon yellow mustard
• 4 slices kosher dill pickle
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• Pinch cayenne pepper

When the burger patties are almost finished cooking, lay a slice of cheese directly on the meat so it can ooze into all the nooks and crannies in the hot patties. When the cheese is amply melted, place the juicy, crispy patties onto the toasted hamburger buns and serve.

How perfect does this look? I can’t even begin to describe how sweet the crust on the patties tastes.