Lost? About a year ago, I would have been. But thanks to the brilliance of Alton Brown, I understand thermo dynamics–and you can, too!

Thermo-wha?

Here’s the deal: If you’re looking to thaw/defrost something and a microwave is either unavailable or, well it pretty much ruins your food so I wouldn’t bother, what would you do? I won’t try to explain it because I can’t do a better job than Mr. Brown himself.

This is a snippet of the Good Eats episode, “What’s Up, Duck?” but I’m not interested in the duck part–today. Fast forward to 5:00 into the video for the most important cooking lesson every amateur chef needs to know. You can stop at 9:35 if you’re too aren’t into duck for the time being.

I will only add that at this very minute, I’m trying this technique by myself for the first time, and it’s working like a charm. (I’ve seen Frank, who introduced me to this, do this over and over again, but I wanted to give this a shot on my own.)

No related posts.

There are plenty of critics of St. Patrick’s Day. Some say that its not really Irish, others bemoan the fact that corned beef and cabbage is about as Irish as lasagna. To those people I say this: get over yourselves. Corned beef is delicious, and St. Patrick’s Day is an opportunity to celebrate the Irish in America, Katie and myself included (25% each).

Like I said, to justify breaking our Lenten commitment, the St. Patrick’s Day meat Foodventure had to be pretty over the top. Corned beef was obviously going to be on the menu, but that somehow seemed too easy. For those who have never cooked it, corned beef is the easiest thing on earth: put it in a pot, cover it with water, and boil slowly for a few hours until it falls apart. In our minds, this was selling out, plain and simple.

But what if we took it a step farther? What if we did our homework, steeled our resolve, and BRINED OUR OWN CORNED BEEF? It required lots of effort, it had uncertain probability of success, and it would have impressed the heck out of our friends. In short, it was a perfect Foodventure!

The March 2008 issue of Bon Appetit magazine featured a recipe for home-brined corned beef that had a lot of potential, in part because it called for a pint of lager beer. However, it also required an insidiously named ingredient, Instacure No. 1, which while promising that rosy hue that is synonymous with corned beef, was only available by online order. Since this was a Foodventure in the truest, most spontaneous sense, there was no time to order Instacure in time for the eight day brining period the recipe called for.

Undeterred, we turned where we always do when the going gets complicated: Alton Brown. Alton has devoted an entire episode of Good Eats to the brining of corned beef, with the promise of perfectly pickled pink beef without Instacure. Alton says that the same effect can be achieved with saltpetre (potasium nitrate), and he promises that it is available in pharmacies nationwide. Elated with this discovery, I prepared to conquer corned beef, ensuring a St. Patrick’s Day celebration worth cheating on Lent for.

Last Saturday morning I strolled into my neighborhood CVS (the ubiquitous pharmacy chain in the Washington area) and asked the friendly pharmacist for some saltpeter. She first adopted a quizzical stare, then became alarmingly inquisitive. What was I using it for, she asked. Taken aback, I stammered that it was for a food preservation project, which I recognize is lame, and frankly, very suspicious. But I had good reason to be guarded about my ambition.

You see, saltpeter is not only a first-class preservative (and carcinogen, apparently), it is also one of the main ingredients in gunpowder. I knew this going in, but I had placed my trust in Alton, and I naively believed that any suspicion about high explosives could be overcome with the promise of corned beef.

I was wrong.

The pharmacist dismissed me with suspicion, but I was undeterred. I went home, gathered up a list of phone numbers, and began dialing. I called every CVS in a ten mile radius. I called a medical supply company that specialized in obscure prescriptions. I called a laboratory supply store. Every one of my calls proved fruitless, save for the information that I could get potassium nitrate, but I would have to wait three days. But because my corned beef needed at least eight days in the brine, three days was not good enough. I gave up, dejected.

I share all of this with you for two reasons. First, the more ambitious the Foodventure, the higher the probability of failure. We hardly ever fail, but when we do, we fail hard. Second, I am concerned that the authorities will not look kindly on a) many Google searches about saltpetre, and b) many phone calls about where I can purchase some of it. Remember, we’re talking about homecooked gunpowder, and one can never be too careful. Please, dear reader, if the black helicopters come for me, tell the world my story.

The long and the short of it is that there will be no home-brined corned beef this year, and Katie and I haven’t decided if we’re going to break our meat-fast under these circumstances. I want to leave that question open to our readers, so leave a comment below. Also, if you have any good stories about your own Foodventures that have failed spectacularly, let us know. A little group therapy never hurt anybody.

Related posts:

1. Foodventure Fail: Shrimp Fried Rice and Veggie Egg Rolls

His recipe is titled simply “Pan Fried Fish,” and simple it was. He calls for trout, which is nearly the opposite of the cod I had in the fridge, but I decided it couldn’t be too bad; it did call for three full tablespoons of butter after all.

Salt and pepper the cod fillets and roll them in flour. Meanwhile, heat a skillet over medium heat and add some vegetable oil and butter. When the butter stops foaming, or in my case, you get nervous and think its burning, add the fish and cook until golden brown on all sides.

Move the fish to a plate and drain the oil from the pan. Rinse the pan, then return to the heat with two more tablespoons of butter. As the butter melts, throw in a tablespoon or two of drained capers (also leftover from yesterday, score!), and the juice of one lemon. Stir until the sauce thickens a bit.

This was a qualified success. The texture and the taste of the fish was just as good as yesterday, and the sauce had a lot of potential. I would scale back the lemon by half and at a few shakes of Tabasco, but on the whole, I was very happy. The whole recipe took 10 minutes, which I can’t argue with.

Related posts:

1. Leftover Monday: Mussels Mariniere
2. Favazza’s Inspired Sunday Dinner