Dirty Paella in a Skillet

Now purists will tell you you need a fancy-dan double handled, golfball-dimpled implement called a paellera to make the most famous Spanish dish, a frankly grotesque menagerie of land and sea creatures and the occasional legume all laid to rest in a perfumed yellow grave. I guess I could have gone out and searched the gourmet shops and shelled out for such an item, only to stow it away and forget about it.  It's not every year the urge to cook a saffrony one-pot feast takes hold of me, and when it does it's just as likely to be a bone marrow-laden risotto.  I did actually consider looking for a paellera for about 3 minutes.  Then I glanced over at my trusty 12" skillet and saw that she was giving me the puppy dog look and I knew.  It was skillet paella or bust.

Some of the essentials

I'm not much into busting in the kitchen.  So I wrangled up the ingredients for a mixed paella: short grain Valencian rice (like the "bomba" variety), saffron, shrimp, clams, fish (wild King salmon, tradition be buggered), sausage (andouille standing in for chorizo), onion, garlic, paprika, red bell pepper, broth (turkey broth, the last traces of thanksgiving), thyme, marjoram, tomato puree, lemon.  And I saw that it was good.  Five kinds of critter and enough flavor to give a donkey pause.    





Truth be told I'd never made paella before and I was almost intimidated by the timing of all the pre-frying and removing and replacing of various meats and bivalves from said trusty skillet.  But take it one thing at a time and you can hardly go wrong, I told myself.  Do what you know how to do, namely sizzle things on a black cast iron surface until the grease oozes out and soothes your heart.  Stare into the rippling lipid currents and know your future.

Before we get to the frying, I want to introduce the unsung co-star of greezy skillet cookery, the humongous mortar and pestle.  Mine must weigh as much as three big skillets.  Grey granite, smooth as ice and twice as nasty.  In this Thai behemoth I reduced the garlic, thyme, marjoram, paprika, pepper, and for good measure some smoked salt to a quivering paste.

Lightly toast saffron, then powder it

So I fried up the sausage, then seared the shrimp and spice-paste-coated salmon in orange sausage fat so sexy and molten-looking.  Set aside all of the above.  Then it was time to saute the remaining pestled spice paste, infusing it into the leftover sausage fat supplemented with plenty of olive oil.  Gots to keep it greasy.  Then some more garlic and a minced onion.  Now a diced bell pepper, then tomato puree, and simmer a moment to complete the soffrito.  Then add the rice, a generous handful per person, and stir it around til it's well coated with the hot lava.  Well and good.  Finally the hot broth, which in your infinite foresight you have infused with the powdered saffron threads.  Just a little more than twice as much broth as rice ought to do nicely.  And salt.  Never skimp on the salt.

Penultimate stage

That's pretty much it.  Let it simmer for about fifteen minutes, then tuck the clams and sausage slices and the partially cooked shrimp and fish back into the skillet.  Cover for the last 5-10 minutes of cooking.  Serve with lemon wedges and bibs and finest booze, everyone gathered around the skillet.  

Carnage

Burger Double Feature

Grilled, broiled, blah blah blah.  Ain't no better way to make a burger than in a cast-iron skillet.  All the precious fatty juices get preserved instead of dripping onto the coals and causing scorching grease flames to assault your tender ground bovine.  Black iron gives a perfect crust on the outside, keeps it pink and juicy within, and the process leaves your skillet greezier than ever.  Full power.

Taking a couple of cues from the pinnacle of over-the-top burgerdom from chef-turned-emcee Action Bronson, for this ultimate skillet burger we decided to go big.  Many steps, many layers, many beautiful calories, one absurd, towering end product.

Unlike Bronsonelli, we decided to forego the double deep-fried chicken cutlet.  Can you really call it a burger what with all that?  We also left pork products out (Action's beloved gabagool; he ain't fucking wit no regular bacon), but only because we forgot to start the bacon cooking in time.  We thought better of an over-easy egg, but only due to a failure of moral certainty.  And we rejected avocado--that's some silly California shit.  The result is a stripped down New York fucking City double deluxe burger extra plus.

The full run-down:

a fatty patty of 20% fat pastured ground beef, salted and peppered but otherwise left alone
kaiser roll bun, toasted
raw cows' milk aged cheddar
tomato slices, salted and vinegared
romaine lettuce
fresh red onion slices
sliced pickles (Bubbie's)
sauteed red onion and chanterelles
ketchup (Heinz, the original and still the best for this purpose)
sauce: mayo, stone-ground mustard and pickled green peppercorns

Don't forget to salt everything.  Always salt everything.  (The lettuce and buns can be exempted.)

Construction: special sauce on both bun halves.  Lettuce, tomato, pickles and raw onion below the patty, cheese melted on top of patty, then sauteed onions and mushrooms, ketchup, and the upper bun.

All that remains is to christen the beast.  Ah yes: the fortress of solitude.  Selah.














But that's not all.  One good skillet burger deserves another, and we your faithful greezers are here to remind you that any animal whatsoever can make a delicious burger.  Aardvark, crocodile, jellyfish, zebra--these are as yet unexplored territory.  But I can now cross Snapper off the list.

Fish burger:

snapper fillet (or other sweet, firm-fleshed fishy), diced into ~1/2" cubes
sourdough bread crumbs, about as much by volume as the fish
diced onion and celery, sauteed
enough beaten egg to bind, about 1 egg per burger
a fat dollop of tomatillo salsa
salt, pepper, fresh herbs as desired

Form into patties and saute in butter in your beautiful cast iron skillet.  Top with sweet chili sauce.

Getting Orientated

If you can't cook it in a skillet, it ain't worth cookin.
-unknown

You know, come to think of it, you can't get there from here.
-unknown

Get your skillet good and hot--wait til it starts to smoke--then throw the steak on, open the windows, and pray...
-anonymous

Steak, cornbread, flapjacks, omelettes, grilled sandwiches, gravy, potatoes au gratin, pie...you kin cook most anything in a greezy black skillet.  I'll show you how on this brand spanking new web log.  Just don't say I didn't warn ya.

First things first: this ain't to be no kind of electric cookbook, cause cast iron cookery and recipes don't get along too good.  All you'll need in the way of measurement is your two hands: a knuckle of fat, a handful of salt pork bits, a heaping double handful of cornmeal.

But seeing as most everyone these days is a victim of the teflon revolution, I figger I'd best say a word or two about seasoning.  Seasoning is what turns your skillet from a hunk of dead gray iron to a living, breathing, shiny frying surface from hell.  More nonstick than any teflon, too.  So if you've got a brand new skillet--and fool if you do, cause there's always a good old black one to be found down at the goodwill--or an old one in need of some TLC, here's what you do.  Wash it with soap and water and scrub all the rust off.  (This is the only time you will ever offend your skillet with soap, mind you.) Dry it with a rag, and coat it inside and out with fat.  Suet, bacon drippings, natural lard, even clarified butter will do.  It's gotta be good, old-fashioned animal fat, from critters.  No soybean oil, no crisco, or just quit right now and go home.  Now take your newly lubricated skillet and stick it in a hot oven (350 ought to be about right) and forget about it for a while.  An hour, maybe.  Or two.  That's it.  I never did claim to be much of a philosophizer, but there's something mystical in the union between metal and fat. I daresay you'll know when you've achieved it.  And when you have, that incipient nonstick patina is something sacred.  Cleave to it like the gospel and you shan't go astray.