All the years I’ve been making hashbrowns I’ve used baked russets, and over the past week I’ve finally tried boiled yukon golds. And I don’t know if I’ll go back.
Well of course, whenever we have baked potatoes I’ll reserve some for frying up, but yukon golds are nice! I boiled mine whole for maybe 15 minutes, enough to soften a little, and then when they cool I peel them. They’re easier to peel when they’re fresh, and even when they’ve been in the fridge for a couple days I think they’re easier to peel than raw. I’ve seen recipes that call for shredding them raw, but haven’t yet dared try that yet. That’s next on the list, because if I want to simplify the process of making these in order to use a simpler stove, that would be the obvious way. I use medium-high heat on a conventional stove, so I expect that using one of my wood stoves should work ok. But time will tell.
Anyway, this morning I seasoned them with savory, rosemary and marjoram – again, I ground the tough herbs with salt and then rubbed the marjoram. I think I’ve found a winner.
As I mentioned before, I buy my spices from Penzeys, and I cannot recommend them highly enough. Not only are their spices top-notch but they have a very friendly and loving attitude and atmosphere that pervades their catalogs.
(By the way, that link is not an affiliate link: I won’t get paid anything if you buy from Penzeys.)
We have a turkey recipe we do every other Thanksgiving – when we’re with my side of the family. It’s a Martha Stewart recipe, pretty simple really: rub the bird down with salt and crushed bay leaf a day or two before, let it sit in the fridge, then baste it with white wine, butter and more bay leaf. It gets consistent raves and we’re proud of it. One day I’d like to do it in a wood-burning oven – or, better yet, a biomass-burning oven.
So, to feed my fantasies, I did a bit of searching, and I found some articles. I’m putting them here for my benefit as well as yours.
Thanksgiving Turkey recipe from Mugnaini wood fired ovens. These are gorgeous Italian ovens and the site is a joy to look at. I’m not sure how well these would take alternative solid fuels other than wood, but it looks like they make efficient use of the wood.
Here’s a Traditional Turkey recipe from Traeger Grills. I really want to learn more about these grills: the idea of using wood pellets for a barbecue grill is nifty. They make their pellets out of selected hardwoods for the smoke flavor, but it seems to me this also holds great potential for fuel efficient, maybe carbon neutral roasting and baking.
Speaking of efficient use of minimal fuel: last, but not least, here’s a video of someone roasting a turkey in a Cobb Grill:
For my hashbrowns this morning I went back to basics: Penzeys Northwoods seasoning. I discovered this a few years ago: a blend of thyme, rosemary, garlic, paprika and chipotle. To be honest, I have yet to use it on anything other than potatoes yet, it suits them that well.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that hashbrowns are one of my favorite foods. I have fond memories of eating them as a child at my mother’s table: the golden crispiness side by side with the soft whiteness (she always used leftover baked russets and so do I).
Hashbrowns, fried onions, beans . . . these are a few of my favorite things. To me they are ideal camp foods, not necessarily because I think they would be that easy to cook in camp but because I want to eat them outdoors surrounded by trees. They also seem to me like very manly foods: flannel and beard kinds of foods. I am not a conventionally masculine man, and so maybe eating these kinds of foods – and growing my beard – is a way to hold on to my gender identity.
During my adult life I’ve tried different ways of seasoning hashbrowns, since I love herbs and spices. Our kitchen cupboards are full of jars from Penzeys, which we discovered in 2004 and of which we have been loyal customers ever since. One of my favorite ways to flavor hashbrowns is with Penzeys’ Northwoods Seasoning, but I like to experiment. This morning I cooked my hashbrowns on a normal electric stove. But I’ll tell you what I put in ’em.
I started out with a little pinch of savory (for two medium russets) and ground it with some kosher salt. Savory has a very distinct and assertive flavor, the kind of taste that threatened to give me a headache as a child, but which I’ve wanted to explore as an adult. The leaves are tough and hurt my fingers when I try to rub them as I would sage or thyme, but ground with salt, they break down pretty nicely.
I added a bigger pinch of thyme and ground that in with the savory and salt.
I sprinkled this on the shredded spuds, along with a few dashes of powdered galangal – another flavor I might not have liked when younger, but lately I’ve been fascinated with it.
I grated some nutmeg over everything (a few rotations of the crank)
and sprinkled some powdered toasted onion. I mixed it all up and fried them in butter as usual.
It was good: as I had hoped, the savory and galangal agreed nicely, and I couldn’t really distinguish the nutmeg, but it sure didn’t hurt. The whole thing had an aroma that reminded me of pot roast, a dinner-y sort of smell with some sophistication.
A couple of days ago I set out to cook dinner on two of my stoves: the larger woodgas one, and the rocket, also homemade. Both of them are made out of #10 cans, with the fire hole from the rocket stove slightly smaller. I’ve cooked over the rocket stove and found it both powerful and easy to control. The downsides to the rocket stove are that it blasts the heat in a small area and leaves thick soft black soot on the bottom of the pot or pan. I’ve contemplated scraping that soot off and collecting it to make ink – I don’t know how much I’d have to collect or where I’d have to store it, so I haven’t worked up the gumption to do that.
I cook over these stoves with pots and pans made for camping or bought from the local thrift store, so I don’t worry about them too much, but I do fear that having so much heat concentrated in the center will wreck a pan after a while, and I really would like to find a way to use these stoves that would spread the heat more evenly over the bottom.
In the two occasions when I’ve cooked rice over the rocket stove (maybe not very imaginative, but it’s easy), the rice has cooked up uniformly enough even though the heat was blasting in the center. So that’s encouraging. And on this occasion, when I did a simple stew in a pan . . . but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Since I had had success cooking rice on my rocket stove, I decided I’d do a simple sort of Indian-style dinner: jasmine rice and stewed garbanzos. I’d cook it on two stoves. After my previous attempt to cook over the large gasfier using pellets, I thought I knew how to make it run properly. So I set up the stoves and gathered my ingredients.
From the start, this was beset with problems: my quest puts me to the test. I had to set up utensils and ingredients in a less than ideal space (on the driveway) and deal with the “help” of neighbor children and the wanderlust of a child who keeps running off into neighbors’ yards down the street out of my voice range. At least they went and got a bunch of fresh Roma tomatoes from the garden as I asked. I put the rice on the rocket stove to give it a head start and melted the butter in the frying pan over the gasifier . . .
which went out again.
Later I figured out that I’ve made the holes too small in this bigger gasifier to work with pellets, but at the time I was very, very annoyed: why wouldn’t the thing work?! This is the kind of thing that you have to go through when you’re on a Quest.
I got the rice cooked over the rocket stove then (with a couple of green cardamom pods in), and then put the frying pan back on. To the melted butter I added some garlic and ginger paste, then my spices: black cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, chili and lots of cumin. Then – calling for my child – I cut up the tomatoes from the garden and fried them in that fragrant mix for a while.
After that I dumped in the can of garbanzos – nothing fancy. I didn’t cook them from scratch this time.
I let that simmer/almost boil for the next while, as I continued to call for my wayward child and stave off the usual parental panic. I live in a safe neighborhood, and she has a history of blithely running off to play with friends at its edges, but I had told her not to go far, and I was annoyed at my gasifier not working, so I was on edge . . .
I brought in the food and then my daughter appeared, safe and sound, of course. And I tasted the food and it was nothing fancy, but it was good. I had cooked another meal over an efficient fire. Despite the setbacks, I had achieved another feat of voluntary simplicity. It didn’t feel simple at the time! Juggling all of the components while sitting on a driveway, rather than in a furnished modern kitchen. But I did it. And having read and thought and reached conclusions about voluntary simplicity, I stuck with a frustrating and difficult experience in putting them into practice.
That is always the key to making real changes: staying with a course of action after the initial motivating emotion has evaporated.
I’ve been trying to make my homemade woodgas stoves work with pellets. I’m still figuring it out. People like this guy are able to produce flames of 1500 degrees F with pellets in small can-built stoves. My stoves haven’t been so carefully made, but they’ve performed well enough with sticks and chips and chunks. Pellets, though: I keep having them go out less than halfway through.
This morning, since I don’t have to be at work until noon, I decided to try my little stove with another load of pellets to cook porridge, a favorite of mine for breakfast.
First, something about this porridge: I ate conventional oatmeal made from rolled oats when I was younger, but I never was fully converted to the texture, and after a while I decided I didn’t like it much. Then I tried Scottish oats, and I fell in love with them. I’ve had steel-cut too, which are nice, but I most definitely favor the texture of the coarse-ground groats when they’re cooked thoroughly. I like to buy the groats whole and then run them through a hand-cranked auger grinder at a loose setting.
There’s something else I do: I add plenty of salt to them near the end of cooking, and I season them with herbs. My standard recipe is a bit of ground rosemary and sage, and then maybe some pepper and butter in the bowl when I eat them. Sometimes I’ll add nutmeg too, though I find I like that best with thyme.
Well, after getting the pellets started, I put the water on, in one of my outside pots. It’s shallower than I like to use for porridge: I stir with a spurtle and I like to get it poked way down in. But this was what I had.
The gas jets flickered faintly and fitfully: it was hard to get a picture of them. Their insubstantial blue color seemed like a good sign, but they were destined to disappoint today.
In went the oats, and they simmered away happily for a while.
By the way, this was about three parts water to one part oatmeal: in this case 2 1/4 cups to 3/4. While this was cooking I prepared the seasoning: a few rosemary leaves,
ground up with some salt
and a couple of sage leaves.
I took that out to where I thought my porridge was simmering, to find that the dang stove had gone out. This has not happened when I’ve used other fuel, so I’m not sure what I should be doing different with the pellets. I like the idea of using pellets. I like being able to burn scavenged and salvaged chunks and sticks too, but pellets are so convenient and compact. I like their smell, I like paying five dollars for a forty pound bag. I wonder if I need more or bigger intake holes.
Somehow, Lucia stoves manage to burn for up to 6 hours on a load of pellets. So it can’t be only a matter of the fuel being packed too tightly: those stoves are much larger than mine.
I’ll keep posting about my experiments with them. Meanwhile, here’s what I did with my porridge. I stirred in my seasoning
and then I ate it.
People are often surprised when I tell them how I season my porridge: Americans aren’t used to having savory oatmeal. I’ve been eating it this way for years and I won’t go back. Try sage and rosemary in yours, it’s delicious.
I’ve built three wood gas stoves so far, and this evening I cooked on one of them. Having cooked rice on my rocket stove before, I decided that a simple rice pilaf should work for testing out this new gasifier.
In a later post I’ll write more about wood gas stoves and my experiments with building them. Suffice to say for now that the stove I used this evening I made from a #10 can and another large can whose exact volume I forget – it was a family size chili can, almost as tall as the #10 and quite noticeably narrower. I wasn’t sure how well it would work to have so much space between the two, but today at least it put out a very impressive flame, for long enough not only to cook my rice but . . . we’ll get to that.
This is the recipe that I improvised:
3 cups jasmine rice
4 cups water
butter (maybe 3 Tb?)
1 cube vegetable buillion
1 tsp cumin
dash of cinnamon
a bit of salt – not quite enough
some leftover fried red onions
I put everything together except for the onions in my wide shallow pot and let it soak while I fired up the stove. I loaded the stove with fruit wood chunks – plum and apple, I think (salvaged from a neighbor’s pruning). I brought the pot to a boil and stirred in the onions.
Then I put on the lid.
I was afraid that it might boil over, but it didn’t. I did wish I had made a taller pot stand, because the flames often licked around the sides and up to the lid. Fruit tree prunings are good fuel! I cook pilafs on low heat on a conventional stove, so I was a bit nervous as to how this would turn out. But I kept it on the flame until the pyrolisis phase stopped, and then, when the only flames were those nearly invisible ones coming up from the coals, I took out the pot stand (had to use two layers of leather gloves) and sat the pot right on the stove opening – partly to help smother the char, partly to make the best use of the heat from the coals.
I think that was my mistake: upon serving out the pilaf (after letting it sit for about 20 minutes), I found a burnt spot on the bottom, about the diameter of the stove opening.
Despite that, the rest of the pilaf turned out wonderfully. The rice grains were cooked through, separate, and had that certain chewiness that I personally prefer. So I call this a success. The family thought so too. It went wonderfully well with pan-fried chicken and a yogurt-cucumber sauce.
Things to do next time:
Time the cooking! I was too lazy to go and get my phone to keep my eye on the clock today: I set up the stove at the back of the back yard.
Take the rice off the stove when the gas jets stop, or after 15 minutes of cooking time if that comes first.
Maybe try making that taller pot stand.
My confidence in cooking with my stoves has grown another step with tonight’s success. I noted that although the pot was coated with soot, it’s the shiny, enamel-like soot, of which very little rubs off. After washing, the pot is still black, but I can touch it without getting my fingers blackened. It’s different from the matte black soot from the rocket stove (which I think would make a good ink base). I personally don’t mind having a separate set of cookware with a permanent black sheen; I think it looks rather spiffy.