Sauteed fiddleheads

Ingredients:
1 lb fiddleheads
2 T butter
1 T chopped garlic
Kosher salt to taste

Method: Blanch unwashed fiddleheads 1 minute (drop into boiling water, return to boil, cook 1 minute), drain and cool with cold water. Cut off any brown ends. Saute garlic in butter till just beginning to color, add fiddleheads, cook until heated through, add salt to taste.

Comment: Fiddleheads are the tightly curled ends of ferns before they unfurl. You want heads that are tight with a minimum of brown stuff. Most recipes say they “taste like asparagus” which isn’t true. The texture is kind of like asparagus but the flavor is a simpler green chlorophyll taste which feels and looks like springtime.

The harvester advised me to boil them 10 minutes to get rid of unspecified bad chemicals. That’s way too long. If you’re going to use them in another prep, just bring them to the boil, blanch one minute, drain. To cook through, 5 minutes will do it.

Texas Style on the left, Animal Style on the right

As a native Texan, I believe two things about a burger. #1, it has to have mustard. #2, it’s all about the vegetables. A generous amount of properly prepped lettuce, tomato, onion and pickle will compensate for a thin leathery patty, but a juicy and oversize patty will never make up for measly condiments no matter how good the meat. And it does not have Thousand Island dressing which makes the burger a gooey mess.

I went to school in California’s San Gabriel Valley, near In-N-Out’s original location, so I was exposed to this now-iconic burger earlier than most folks. (A colleague had a meeting at In-N-Out’s corporate headquarters, in Azusa, and reported that their “that’s what a hamburger is all about” theme music was piped into the board room.) I found the burger was pretty good, but it needed some tweaks. The Thousand Island dressing had to be replaced with mustard, we needed pickles, and some extra onion wouldn’t hurt. Luckily, the In-N-Out folks are very tolerant of mods like this.

Well, the other day I mentioned to my friend and fellow blogger Daniel Berman that I was headed to San Francisco and my first gustatory stop would be the In-N-Out on Fisherman’s Wharf. He asked me if I would be ordering Animal Style and I explained my preference. But it occurred to me I really should do a taste test.

Animal Style, halfway eaten

Animal Style is one of those urban legends which really does exist… the not-so-secret “secret menu” which were requested by at least half the diners on this foggy night. You can’t find it on their website (the many food articles that give a link now come up with dead air) but it’s programmed into the cash registers. An Animal Style cheeseburger specifically has grilled onions, pickles, and a patty that’s been exposed to some mustard on the griddle. (They squirt it on top as it’s grilling.) It also has Thousand Island dressing.

Halfway through my Texas style, still crisp and good!

The result? Absolutely no question my version is better though I encourage you to do your own test. Putting the mustard right on the bun (which has been lightly toasted) allows the flavor to develop. And the onions have to be raw and plentiful. You need that crunch and that jolt of the sulfur compounds to set off the coolness of the tomato and the crisp of the lettuce. Sauteed/grilled onions lose their edge in taste and weigh down the burger; I want it light and crisp so I can eat several of them.

My “in progress” photographs say it all. Halfway through, the Animal has devolved into a mélange, its individual components no longer distinguishable. While the Texas style remains a symphony of tastes and components including crisp, spicy and fatty.

So order it this way: “extra onions, pickles, mustard instead”. You will thank me. Bonus tip: In-N-Out now has packets of hot pickled peppers under the counter. Ask them to toss in a couple with your order.

Peanut butter, cheese and onion sandwich

Ingredients:
2 slices whole grain bread
Peanut butter, good quality not Skippy
2 or 3 slices of sweet onion such as Vidalia
2 or 3 slices sharp cheddar cheese

Method: spread peanut butter thinly on both slices of bread, add cheese and onion, eat.

Patricia Fairhurst at her post

In a somewhat out-of-the-way location in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, Patricia Fairhurst scoops into a pickle barrel and comes up with as good a full sour as I’ve had in my lifetime. Clinton Hill Pickles is across the street from a housing project and a public park yet on this partly cloudy April afternoon the setting seems peaceful, even idyllic, albeit with some police action nearby. A row of pickle barrels is her storefront and neighbors stop by for their favorites on their way home, much as commuters in other areas might pause for a beer.

The previous location is now a cigar store.

Not that long ago, Ms. Fairhurst was the proprietor of the legendary Guss’ Pickles on the Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Some tour books still point to the iconic location near the Tenement Museum at 87 Orchard Street, which today houses a cigar store. What happened? And why does the website for Guss’ Pickles emphasize “Others claim to be Guss’ Pickles or affiliated with Guss Pickles but that is not true! Guss’ Pickles is a registered trademark of Crossing Delancey Pickle Enterprises CORP. West End, New Jersey 07740”?

Clinton Hill Pickles storefront

The roots of the story are not in dispute. In the early 1900s, a young Russian immigrant named Izzy Guss sold pickles from a pushcart, then opened a store on Hester Street. Eventually the shop ended up at the Orchard Street location, where it remained till after Izzy Guss died in 1975. According to a detailed article in a local blog, 4 years later the family sold the business to Harold Baker (not the ex-senator) whose son Tim eventually took over the store. And it’s about this time that the pickle brine begins to get murky.

Could it be that an interloper named Andrew Liebowitz saw the movie “Crossing Delancey”, fell in love with the idea of Lower East Side pickles, discovered that the original owners had never trademarked the name Guss’, and usurped it so successfully that the “real” Guss’ had to give up the name with the dispensation that they were allowed to continue operating as Guss’ but only from the Orchard Street location? An enthusiastic fan on Chowhound.com had me believing this version for awhile, pointing out that the home page copy at gusspickles.com never exactly says they are the same as the family that started Guss’. But it seemed strange that somebody could just hijack a recognized brand name like that, no?

Patricia Fairhurst told me she moved from the LES because of the changing nature of the neighborhood including a parking meter installed in front of her door; rents were rising, traffic enforcement was increasing, and patrons could no longer double park and dart in for a pickle. She initially relocated to 15th Ave and 39th in Brooklyn where she named the store Ess-A-Pickle; she had some “problems with neighbors” including a practice of parking on the sidewalk right in front of her store so one day she could not even open her gate; she’s moved again to Classen Avenue in Clinton Hill which is right up the street from her home.

I asked her why she isn’t called Guss’ Pickles and told her I knew about the controversy. I wasn’t taking notes, this was a casual conversation, so don’t quote us. She said Liebowitz was implying he owned her shop and she sued to retain her right to the name. But it wasn’t a big deal because her phone number (212) 334-3616 has remained the same through all her moves so her loyal customers know where to find her.

Fairhurst implies that the legal result ended the dispute but the big problem is that the original owners never trademarked the name. Being an ad guy, I noticed the pickles are dispensed into unlabeled containers; was it always that way? Yes. We agree that a label would have helped to establish ownership of the brand. However, she still has the original Guss’ sign, tucked away somewhere in her store, even though gusspickle.com features it on their website.

Full sours from Clinton Hill Pickles

I bought an assortment of her pickles and can tell you they are as good as a pure and simple kosher dill can get. This is like hitting a high note where you make it or you don’t. The balance of crunch, salt and garlic is just perfect and she sells at exactly the point where the pickle is ready to devour. My teenager bought some “spicy” dills and I’m sure you could do interesting things with smoked peppers, fennel and various herbs and seeds but that’s an embellishment, not the core product.

***

Armed with my tub of pickles and a fully charged laptop, I attempted to get to the bottom of this. Fairhurst’s attorney, Ronald Coleman (not the actor), presents the case as a success story on his website and includes the full text of the complaint, the adversaries wonderfully identified as “World Famous Pickle Corp. vs Crossing Delancey Pickle Enterprises”.

My pickle order (note absence of labels)

Coleman cites this story in the NY Times cityroom blog which is an excellent history and includes links to the complaint (same as above), a response by defendant, a counterclaim by plaintiff but unfortunately not the final settlement which was confidential.

The reader quickly discovers that Andrew Liebowitz was not an out-of-the-blue opportunist. His family had sold cucumbers to Guss’ for many years and continued to do so to Patricia Fairhust. The defendant’s response goes beyond this to allege that they actually made some or, at times, all of the pickles sold by Guss’. Under the name United Pickle they supplied up to 20% of the pickles sold by the original Izzy Guss when demand exceeded his ability to make his own pickles. After the sale to Harold Baker they “perfected the proprietary recipe” and the pickles sold as Guss’ were in fact Liebowitz pickles.

The Liebowitz response also alleges that Tim Baker had signed over any right to the Guss’ name as collateral for a loan; he did not repay the loan and the name became theirs. Baker, who departed to Florida after selling the shop, has said that “no money changed hands” when Liebowitz acquired the name which certainly sounds disingenuous if the above is true.

After she bought the store, Patricia Fairhurst switched to another cucumber supplier; this may have been the catalyst for Liebowitz allegations that she was not the real Guss’ and Fairhurst’s subsequent suit to protect her business. After the initial salvos, Liebowitz made a settlement offer that was reported in the Village Voice. Patricia Fairhurst would resume buying her pickles from Liebowitz and would not “interfere with or disparage the pickles” from United. She would withdraw her claim to the Guss’ trademark. Fairhurst’s response: “They have nerve to even show this to us.”

And then… the confidential settlement described as a victory by Fairhurst’s attorney. Did she agree that she could continue operating as Guss’ but only as long as she stayed at the Orchard Street location? Nobody’s saying. So where does this leave us?

Patricia Fairhurst refuses to present herself as a martyr, but it would appear that she got the short end of the stirring paddle. She purchased a business in 2004 whose trademark Tim Baker had apparently given up in 2002; it’s hard to believe she would have spent so much legal energy (and probably a good amount of money) asserting her right to the name if she did not believe it was legitimately hers.

I haven’t mentioned the reason I originally got curious about Guss’ pickles. Knowing none of this history, I wanted to order some from the gusspickles.com website but preferred to pick them up locally so I could see how they were made. The person on the other end of the line was very evasive, said he’d call me back but never did.

Even though he’s the scion of a cucumber dynasty, there’s no evidence that Andrew Leibowitz ever had his hand in a pickle barrel. Of Patricia Fairhurst at her old location, the New York Times said “she may be found there six days a week, wrapped in an apron, topped by a newsboy cap and spouting Brooklynese, selling the briny little cucumbers and other pickled delights from bright orange barrels that line the sidewalk and lace the air with salt.”

The bottom line is that Patricia Fairhurst was willing to dip me a pickle when Andrew Liebowitz wouldn’t. Legal schmegal aside, she’s paid her dues at the pickle barrel on the sidewalk. Patricia Fairhurst, you’ve got my business.

Clinton Hill Pickles is at 431 Dekalb Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11205. The actual storefront is around the corner on Classon–look for the pickle barrels out front. Closed Saturday.

Fried Chicken at Momofuku Noodle Bar (the Southern style is in front)

The Mrs. treated us to a Korean fried chicken meal at Momofuku Noodle Bar on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. You get two whole chickens for a Benjamin, one fried up Korean style and southern style, and assorted condiments. They can only prepare one chicken meal at a time so reservations must be made far in advance.

It was mighty good. David Chang has a unique way of cooking the chicken which would be difficult-to-impossible to duplicate at home. It’s brined, then sweated in a steam filled oven of the type used for bread baking until it reaches an intenal temperature of 160 degrees (I think… Chang says it is cooked at 160 degrees but that doesn’t make sense because it wouldn’t produce steam). Only then is it battered and fried. This process somehow makes the batter and skin adhere to the meat instead of peeling off like it usually does.

Condiments (what was left of them halfway through the meal) with scallion/ginger, my favorite, in front

The Korean style chicken had a glaze that was definitely gochugaru yet milder and less vinegary than my prep. It had cooked all the way through to the point that the smaller bones were crunchy and brittle and could be gobbled like sardine bones if one wished (I did) yet the meat was not overcooked. The southern style had a buttermilk batter with an unusual spice mix that we decided might be pumpkin pie spice but was later identified as Old Bay Seasoning.

Along with this came a big bowl of veggies for eating in a rolled up lettuce leaf, ssam-style and a container of crepes/pancakes that were like the ones you get for moo shu pork but thicker. And lots of condiments for dipping and pouring on. We tried all the combos and there was no way to avoid a gloriously messy eating experience. (Our table, unlike others, was covered in butcher paper in anticipation of our arrival.) These were proud, meaty birds, raised I am confident in a happy manner at one of the farms listed on a blackboard as you come in, and even the wings had plenty of meat.

The most distinctive part of the meal actually came at the end, when I was in a food coma so unable to photo it. Chang has acquired a soft serve machine and presents unusual combinations, consisting today of a beet/lime combo crossed with yogurt and served on a bed of pistachio crumble. Incredible.

Cajun Chef pepper sauce

That last would be nonsense to a northerner, but it’s music to our ears down south. Pepper sauce isn’t Tabasco (we call that “tabasco”) or a less legendary sauce like Crystal or Louisiana (we call that “hot sauce”). “Pepper sauce” is, specifically, green peppers that have been cured in vinegar and packed in a little bottle with a shaker top. The peppers never leave the bottle; you shake the flavored vinegar onto collards, turnip greens, blackeyed peas and, if you’re me, fried items like okra and chicken. The vinegar adds tanginess to a mild base flavor and the pepper gives just the right amount of heat.

In my family we would buy whatever brand was at Tom Thumb (usually Trappey’s) and refill it with white vinegar when the liquid ran out. After a few refills the peppers would look wan and shriveled and it would be time for a new bottle. When I sat down to write this post it occurred to me that probably isn’t a best practice; aren’t there other ingredients that add flavor complexity to a newly opened batch? Taste test time!

I compared a well-used bottle and brand new bottle of the same brand, Cajun Chef (that’s what they now serve at HPC) and there definitely is a difference. The newer pepper sauce is saltier and has a vegetal muskiness that’s missing from the well-used bottles. From now on my policy will be 2 refills then out.

Now as to sport peppers. The last time I was at HPC the sauce was actually “Sport Peppers” not “Tabasco Peppers” though it tasted the same. The chiles looked like tabascos but a bit bigger. Roadfood.com, not surprisingly, has a very long thread spanning many years on what sport peppers are and are not. It’s wonderful to see how passionate people can completely disregard solid botanical evidence in the post just above theirs.

Various folks allege that sport peppers are a/just bigger tabascos b/serranos c/pepperoncinis Italian style d/a specific variety called “capsicum annuum” or d/a cultivar of capsicum annuum. At least some of these folks are intentionally talking out their bunghole, and that’s when the sport comes in.

I am going to cast my vote for a/ and d/, and agree with the poster who says “sport” means they are a sport or offshoot of tabascos vs. a pepper served at a sporting event (yes, others say that). Anyone who has had a hot pepper lose its heat because it’s planted near a bell pepper plant in the garden knows how easily this can happen. And capsicum annuum turns out to be the entire happy family of capsicum peppers; they even have their own website.

Shmoos are imaginary, but cabbage is almost as good and it’s real.

Here is a vegetable that is cheap, available everywhere year round, and prevents cancer. What more could you want, for God’s sake? You don’t even have to wash it; just peel away the top layer and you’re good to go.

Cabbage can be sautéed as a satisfying side dish; it can be made into sauerkraut; the leaves can be steamed and filled with any number of things. Burnt My Fingers will examine all these preparations in due time. But the noblest preparation of cabbage by far is cole slaw, and that is why I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to make my slaw the best it can be.

I have three standard preps: sour slaw, creamy slaw and vinegar slaw. Follow my recipes and you will have an easy, refreshing and reliable side dish that’s especially well suited for BBQ, fish and deli sandwiches. But add your own tweaks and you will be amazed at how minor modifications make a major flavor difference.

The first thing to remember about cole slaw is that it contains cabbage juice: an earthy essence that will be released at a time of your choosing. For sour slaw, we sweat out the juice and then discard it so the other ingredients can shine through. For other preps, the cabbage juice leaches out into the dressing so it becomes noticeably more liquid and flavorful an hour or two after it’s made. This is why I say you should never taste-correct your slaw in less than 1 ½ hours after preparation and certainly should not serve sooner than that.

Similarly, the way you cut your cabbage can make a huge difference. Coarse chopping, shredding or slicing each yields a very different texture and I believe these different textures make a difference in the way the slaw tastes: the larger the morsels are, the more they will taste of cabbage vs. dressing.

I don’t want to close this post on a negative note but there is one more thing I want to mention about cole slaw: the tendency of certain establishments (usually fast food places) to serve their slaw in an approximately 1/4 cup measure that’s akin to the specimen cup you might find at the medical lab. These establishments regard their menu as a set of abstract commodities rather than food, and they equate cole slaw with condiments like catsup or cocktail sauce or tartar sauce, which can fit easily in these small containers. But don’t stand for it. Next time you are offered one of these cups, look your server in the eye and tell them you expect a full serving of cole slaw, then hold up the line until the problem is solved. If enough of us do this, soon there will be abundant cole slaw for all.

Creamy Cole Slaw

This is an intentionally mild recipe that plays well with others and fits most any desire for a creamy-style cole slaw. If you want to kick it up a notch, see suggestions at the end. Makes about 8 cups slaw (16 servings).

Ingredients:
1 medium head green cabbage, shredded
2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
4 T mayonnaise
2 T cider vinegar
3/4 t Kosher salt
¼ t pepper
½ t sugar

Method: Thoroughly mix all ingredients; don’t worry if the slaw seems a bit dry because the cabbage throws off liquid as it cures. Refrigerate 2 hours then correct the seasoning as desired. Add some chopped onion (red or green), garlic, green pepper or all of them before serving if you like.

A picnic-size bowl of vinegar cole slaw

This is a Greek-style slaw that goes particularly well with grilled meats, chicken or fish; the key ingredient is white vinegar.

Ingredients:
1 medium head green cabbage, sliced very thin
1/2 medium red onion, sliced very thin
1/4 c olive oil
1/4 c white vinegar
1 t Kosher salt
1/4 t ground black pepper

Method: Dump the cabbage into the bowl you will use for serving; mix salt and vinegar to dissolve in a jar, add oil to the jar and shake; pour over cabbage; mix well; add onion on top. Refrigerate at least 1 1/2 hours, taste and correct the seasoning if you like, then serve. The slaw will seem dry at first but will become more moist as the cabbage throws off its juice.

Variations: since this is a Greek-influenced slaw you could experiment with any of these Greek-style add-ins:
1/4 t ground cumin, or 1/2 t whole cumin seeds
2 T chopped fresh mint
1 t dried oregano

The frosting is the recipe on the tin of Hershey's Special Dark Cocoa... REALLY good.

Sarah Willis is a Niman Ranch pig farmer in Thornton, IA. She contributed this recipe for a farmers’ cookbook we were working on that hopefully will be published one day soon. Her grandmother first got it from the radio and it has been passed down through the family. Several family members have slightly different versions but it is agreed her version is the best.

Ingredients:
2 c all purpose flour (Sarah specifies organic)
2 c sugar
1/2 c cocoa powder
1 t baking soda
Pinch Kosher salt

2 eggs (Sarah specifies free range and organic)
½ cup cooking oil (she likes to use Smart Balance)
½ c cold water
1 t vanilla
1 c hot fresh brewed coffee

Method: Combine first four (dry) ingredients in one bowl. Beat the eggs in a second bowl and combine with oil, cold water and vanilla; add the contents of the second bowl to the first bowl and mix thoroughly. Pour in the coffee and mix again. Grease and flour a 9″ round or square cake pan and pour in the batter. Bake 30-40 minutes in a preheated 350 degree oven or until the cake passes the toothpick test (a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean because the wet ingredients have solidified). Turn out onto a serving plate; cool, then add frosting if desired. Sarah likes to serve this with a cream cheese frosting or, for a non-dairy alternative, she puts a pattern (doily) on top then sprinkles with powdered sugar. (For my prep, I used the recipe on the back of the Hershey’s Special Dark Cocoa tin.)

I cut the 9x9 cake in half then stacked the halves to make a really tall slice.

Tips for first time cake bakers (which would include me, since I forgot everything I used to know when I baked this today) on judging doneness: 1/do use a toothpick (or maybe a matchstick) for the test instead of a knife: when the toothpick test was clean my knife was still coming out covered with batter. 2/What you are doing is making sure the center is set (not jiggling like jell-o®) while the overall cake is still moist; you can also judge this by pressing the top of the cake to see if it springs back (if it does, it’s done). 3/Remember the cake will continue to set after you remove it from the oven. 4/Allow to cool thoroughly before removing from the pan; it will shrink and that makes removal easier.