The rededication of the altar of fire
Dec. 22nd, 2006 02:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bnewmanOil. Lots of oil. The oil lasted for eight days, so we celebrate with oil — latkes, sufganiyot, you name it. In this season, we recall the saving power of our G!d by deep-frying.
The altar of fire in our home is the gas stove, of course, and its most sacred implement the cast-iron wok, seasoned with care and renowned for its power and versatility — it can braise, boil, and, of course, stir-fry, and it's perfect for deep-frying.
Deep-frying is easy. Most of the cost is in setup, cleanup, and the large amount of oil that must be committed to the purpose. Nevertheless, I consider it important to be a skilled deep-fryer, and not because I plan to deep-fry often — quite the contrary, the economy of scale of deep-frying makes it a great idea to get all of my deep-frying for the year in at one go. Rather, one should never, ever eat poorly deep-fried food, so one should make sure that all of the deep-fried food that one makes is perfect. Properly deep-fried food is not greasy. Indeed, it is not even oily — oil cannot soak into the food because all the capacity for transport through its surface is taken up by steam leaving. However, if the oil is not hot enough, this will not work — the food will become oil-logged and be utterly ruined. If the oil is too hot, on the other hand, or the food runs out of steam, it will burn.
To deep-fry in a wok, you will need a wok, of course. You should have a wire strainer of the traditional Chinese kind, with a coarse mesh and a bamboo handle. A pair of tongs is handy for turning or removing larger items. A half-moon draining rack that fits onto the rim of the wok is handy, but the usual plate covered with paper towels will do. And you must have a thermometer — mine is an electronic probe thermometer, which can be set to beep when the temperature is above a set level. For most foods, the oil should be between 350 and 375 °F.
And now for the food. At the supermarket, I found a product identifying itself as a vegetarian version of the filling for this recipe. We mixed it with one egg and some minced Chinese cabbage and crimped spoonfulls of it into dumpling wrappers. Boiled for four minutes and deep-fried for about two, they were light, crispy, and delicious.
Pappadums are wide, thin wafers made from seasoned bean flour. They are available ready-to-fry from Indian markets. Frying a pappadum takes about ten seconds, and the lightness, crunch and fragility of a freshly prepared one will make clear why they are available only ready-to-fry, never ready-to-eat (except at Indian restaurants, of course).
Maine shrimp are harvested during a short season in December and January. Cold-water shrimp like these and the spot prawns available on the west coast are sweet, succulent and rich in flavor — these are the shrimp used to make ama-ebi, the sweet, raw shrimp sushi. The Maine shrimpery was once overshrimped, but now appears to be effectively managed. And they were cheap &mdash just $3.99/lb. According to a Cantonese recipe called "salt-baked prawns" (although no baking is involved), I marinaded the shrimp in a mixture of rice wine, soy sauce, white pepper, and garlic, then dredged them in corn starch and deep fried them for about two minutes. They were tender, juicy, and exquisitely flavorful. This is with the skins on, by the way — deep-frying makes the shells tender enough to eat, and leaving them on helps seal in flavor.
I am going to make this an annual tradition — one or two nights of spectacular deep-frying in a year, during Hanukkah, to commemorate the miracle of the oil, to rededicate the altar, to celebrate the shrimp season, and to warm the apartment in the darkest days of winter. And, since deep-frying is a very efficient way to produce a greater quantity of delicious food than![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fiddledragon and I can eat, next year, you may be invited.
The altar of fire in our home is the gas stove, of course, and its most sacred implement the cast-iron wok, seasoned with care and renowned for its power and versatility — it can braise, boil, and, of course, stir-fry, and it's perfect for deep-frying.
Deep-frying is easy. Most of the cost is in setup, cleanup, and the large amount of oil that must be committed to the purpose. Nevertheless, I consider it important to be a skilled deep-fryer, and not because I plan to deep-fry often — quite the contrary, the economy of scale of deep-frying makes it a great idea to get all of my deep-frying for the year in at one go. Rather, one should never, ever eat poorly deep-fried food, so one should make sure that all of the deep-fried food that one makes is perfect. Properly deep-fried food is not greasy. Indeed, it is not even oily — oil cannot soak into the food because all the capacity for transport through its surface is taken up by steam leaving. However, if the oil is not hot enough, this will not work — the food will become oil-logged and be utterly ruined. If the oil is too hot, on the other hand, or the food runs out of steam, it will burn.
To deep-fry in a wok, you will need a wok, of course. You should have a wire strainer of the traditional Chinese kind, with a coarse mesh and a bamboo handle. A pair of tongs is handy for turning or removing larger items. A half-moon draining rack that fits onto the rim of the wok is handy, but the usual plate covered with paper towels will do. And you must have a thermometer — mine is an electronic probe thermometer, which can be set to beep when the temperature is above a set level. For most foods, the oil should be between 350 and 375 °F.
And now for the food. At the supermarket, I found a product identifying itself as a vegetarian version of the filling for this recipe. We mixed it with one egg and some minced Chinese cabbage and crimped spoonfulls of it into dumpling wrappers. Boiled for four minutes and deep-fried for about two, they were light, crispy, and delicious.
Pappadums are wide, thin wafers made from seasoned bean flour. They are available ready-to-fry from Indian markets. Frying a pappadum takes about ten seconds, and the lightness, crunch and fragility of a freshly prepared one will make clear why they are available only ready-to-fry, never ready-to-eat (except at Indian restaurants, of course).
Maine shrimp are harvested during a short season in December and January. Cold-water shrimp like these and the spot prawns available on the west coast are sweet, succulent and rich in flavor — these are the shrimp used to make ama-ebi, the sweet, raw shrimp sushi. The Maine shrimpery was once overshrimped, but now appears to be effectively managed. And they were cheap &mdash just $3.99/lb. According to a Cantonese recipe called "salt-baked prawns" (although no baking is involved), I marinaded the shrimp in a mixture of rice wine, soy sauce, white pepper, and garlic, then dredged them in corn starch and deep fried them for about two minutes. They were tender, juicy, and exquisitely flavorful. This is with the skins on, by the way — deep-frying makes the shells tender enough to eat, and leaving them on helps seal in flavor.
I am going to make this an annual tradition — one or two nights of spectacular deep-frying in a year, during Hanukkah, to commemorate the miracle of the oil, to rededicate the altar, to celebrate the shrimp season, and to warm the apartment in the darkest days of winter. And, since deep-frying is a very efficient way to produce a greater quantity of delicious food than
fiddledragon and I can eat, next year, you may be invited.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-22 02:36 pm (UTC)(Also, this reminds me: I wrote a meditation of sorts on the miracle/s of Chanukah for a spirituality comm I belong to, and I was wondering if you'd like to see it.)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-23 11:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-22 05:49 pm (UTC)