Last night I did not prepare dinner. Instead, we went to hear Howard Dean speak at the Saltillo Plaza in East Austin. I had been impressed the first time I heard him (on a teeeeeny little mpeg screen playing a portion of a California Democratic rally), and I hoped that my first impression was more than just a fluke. I was not disappointed. What a firebrand. Princess V also seemed to enjoy Governor Dean's speech.
I was impressed first by the fact that Howard Dean manages to make a complex problem (the need to repeal an outlandish tax cut in the face of an equally outlandish federal deficit) fairly simple to understand on a personal level. Even many of the pro-Bush halfwits understand that creating a huge federal deficit is a bad thing, but few voters of any political stamp seem to perceive deficit growth as an immediate (hey, interest rates are the lowest they've ever been) or personal (my salary isn't going down and inflation is nil) problem. They seem to buy the NeoCon argument that any portion of the deficit not overcome by the financial gains made possible by extra expendible income will be eliminated by the eventual, concomitant, and (they are certain) necessary reduction in social support programs. If you want to sell the country on the need to repeal a tax cut (which the Republican's will spin as "raising everyone's taxes"), you have to point out how the individual will gain from the repeal. I think Governor Dean struck the right chord last night in explaining that the Bush tax cut for the wealthy will mean higher property taxes (to say nothing of higher sales taxes and state taxes for everyone). The federal deficit has already reared its ugly head in 9 of 10 of the United States in the form of lost federal aid resulting in growing state budgetary deficits. The states have to make up this money somewhere.
Governor Dean's position is simple: you might see $500 dollars back in the form of a tax cut, but you'll lose that and more in other places.
I was further impressed to see that Howard Dean does not shy away from convictions that the NeoCon hacks have so frequently turned to slurs in the past: pacifist, liberal, social reformer. Dean unabashedly supports a woman's right to choose, argues for gay rights, and preaches a national health-care program. He projects a forceful, almost belligerent energy that almost dares any potential opponent to call him a liberal or socialist. His arguments are compelling and concise. His pronouncements are lucid and fiery.
Governor Dean stumbled a bit at the outset, trying to find something pleasant to say about the young state representative's admittedly unimpressive introduction. He recovered quickly, however, and had the crowd with him in short order. He also made good use of well-placed references to Truman, whom Governor Dean resembles in size, temperment, and politics.
I was surprised that Governor Dean managed, in Texas, to compare Texas—unfavorably— to Vermont without losing any of his audience. Texans tend to be a universally proud, self-righteous bunch (see also Statewide Inferiority Complex). Of course, considering recent disillusionment with Texas state legislation and administration, especially among Democrats, and considering this was an audience of Democrats hungry for solutions, I guess it shouldn't surprise me that this comparison worked. Instead of "Why should we give a rat's ass what a bunch of New Englanders do?" Dean managed to stir up a "Why don't we have what they have?" fervor.
He had the audience by the wrists. That audience.
Of course, there is that matter of audience.
We all—all the Democrats present at last night's rally—went to hear Howard Dean because we feel disenfranchised, trapped in a quasi-religious, quasi-police state of quasi-American ideals. We've watched in horror as our President declared war on another country based on something he thought we should fear that they might do—if they could. We have heard a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States shrug off civil and human rights violations as expedient. This is fast becoming a scary place to live. The NeoCons are on the verge of demolishing Roe vs. Wade, have begun pounding nails into the coffin of Affirmative Action, and are bankrupting the states in order to make rich scum richer. We went to the rally, last night, because we want a solid, reliable option for this next presidential election, and we hope that Governor Dean is that option.
We also went because, to some degree, we've all heard the pipes already. Most of the attendees already know of Howard Dean, primarily via the Internet. Our attendance was not motivated by a desire to hear yet another candidate speak; we did not go seeking options. We went to confirm our collective choice. We went to demonstrate to ourselves that we had made a good choice. Most of the attendees last night signed the petition to put Howard Dean on the Democratic ballot. Most. I don't know the numbers, but it was obvious that the majority were heading straight for the petition tables when they arrived.
Thus, most of us cheered when we heard Governor Dean championing the causes we expected to hear him champion. We laughed at his jokes at the expense of the Not-So-Loyal Opposition because we agree with the sentiment. We let his fire spark our own. We left in jubilance and walked off with a hopeful swing, smug in the knowledge of the rightness of our decision to support the man from Vermont.
I distrust smugness. Even my own.
Especially my own.
I don't want to become complacent and start praising this candidate simply because I chose to follow him. I don't want to blind myself to the possibility that he is not the right man for the job. Am I deluding myself? Is it simply impossible for anyone so liberal that he would sign the Civil Unions Act into law—is it impossible for so liberal a man to be elected to the highest office in this land? Is it possible, no matter how you word it, to win that election telling the American public up front that you want to repeal a huge tax cut? Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing or what I want to hear?
I see a Howard Dean who is forceful and persuasive, but he has openly—some would say ferociously—attacked the other politicians running against him for the Democratic nomination. Has he made too many enemies to make an effective run for President if he gets the nomination? If he defeats them, will the Kerrys and Grahams and Gephardts support him? Will that support be more than lukewarm? Am I seeing a junkyard dog and calling him a noble guardian?
As with smugness, I tend to distrust praise. Spin colors it, even unintentional, incidental, and habitual spin.
Especially unintentional, incidental, and habitual spin.
I am fortunate in having, for my cooking, a captive audience. Princess V does not care for cooking, and the Little Darlings are too young to fend for themselves. They're pretty much stuck with whatever Dad serves. For this reason, I tend to examine carefully the praise I receive— especially from loved ones.
I don't want anyone (especially my family) to think I don't appreciate the praise. I like my strokes as much as anyone else, and I have a big enough ego to nurture a fantasy that I deserve at least some of it. I also know that my family's praise for my cooking is not simply a matter of them being stuck with it and having to make the best of it. I know that I'm a better than average cook. Frankly, I'm damned proud of some of my culinary skills (tsk, there's that creeping smugness, again). I also know that I'm my own worst critic. Princess V still shakes her head and smiles when I start the nightly postprandial debriefing cum deconstruction.
Still, I think it's important to be able to tell the difference between light praise from the family ("That was good.") and effusive praise ("Wow! Can we have this all the time?"). I welcome the light praise, but I really strive for the other. A fine example is the main dishes from Saturday and Sunday of this weekend. Saturday, as I previously reported, I served twice-seared prime rib in red bean paste. Everyone said it was good. I was thoroughly unimpressed. I also didn't hear any requests to repeat the effort.
Sunday night's offering was seared halibut with blackberry-wasabi wine reduction. The thick halibut filet provided a fresh and beautiful beginning, and the sauce was nearly a home run hit. I served the halibut atop sautéed slices of 1015 onions (translation for non-Texans: 1015s are a seasonal Texas treasure, similar to Vidalia sweet onions), which was a minor mistake (only the girlchild and I ate the onion slices—nice flavor but the wrong texture—haricots verts would have made a better bed). I could also have improved the sauce slightly by straining out the blackberry seeds, but they were a minor inconvenience.
In addition to the flavor and the praise, I enjoy meals like this because they are both sumptuous and simple. Here, then, minus the bed, is my latest effusive-praiseworthy dinnertime creation:
Seared halibut with blackberry wasabi wine reduction
dramatis personae
- 1 lb halibut fillet
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 cup cabernet sauvignon
- two tablespoons blackberry jelly
- pinch of kosher salt
- two tablespoons butter
- one tablespoon wasabi paste
quality of ingredients
I discussed freshness of fish a few days ago (Friday, June 6). To my comments about salmon I will add two points about halibut: (1) the flesh should be nearly snow white (not quite as white as Chilean sea bass, but whiter than most cod) and (2) for searing or grilling, you want the fillets to be as thick as possible, at least an inch thick. An inch and a half is better.
For general purpose cooking, I use extra virgin olive oil. I prefer Colavita, but you should experiment with different olive oils and pick one that suits your taste. Olive oils vary widely in flavor and some do not hold up well to cooking. I have known cooks who stocked two olive oils: one for cooking, one for salads. Whatever olive oil you choose, be sure it is consistent from bottle to bottle. The trend of late among Food Network cooks has been to tout canola oil for cooking, based on the claim that it does not flavor the food. I have not found this to be correct. Canola oil, to me, imparts a plasticky taste to delicate foods. If I want something lighter in flavor than olive oil (or with a higher smoke point) I use peanut oil. Yes, I am aware that Andrew Weil thinks we should all live in terror of transfatty and cisfatty acids, but I've yet to see any research finding any actual danger from either substance. More to the point, I do not take dietary advice from fat guys.
The red wine is for cooking. It doesn't have to be expensive. On the other hand, if it's too sour or too thin, it will make a shitty sauce. So-called "cooking wine" is far too watered down. You'd have to reduce two bottles of that trash to get a decent sauce. Get a nice table-quality cabernet. Should cost less than seven bucks a bottle.
Blackberry jelly. Well, if you want to be hardcore about this, you could reduce a half pint of fresh berries and then separate the pulp from the seeds by pressing it through a strainer. I do this for blackberry soufflés. The process will add an hour to your cooking time, leave you with sore hands, and not make a noticeable difference in your sauce. Blackberry jelly works fine. Just be sure the jelly has a good, stout berry flavor and is not overly sweet.
I love real wasabi, but it's about as plentiful in the US as hens' teeth. The paste from powder works fine. Yeah, I know, it's actually just horseradish and spirulina, but it works. If you can find the real thing—I hate you.
I probably shouldn't have to say this, but butter means butter. There is no such thing as a butter-substitute or butter lite. This sauce, for flavor and consistency, requires two tablespoons of real, unapologetic, honest-to-arteriosclerotic-plaque butter.
notes on preparation
Nothing to it. Leaving the skin on and intact, carefully slice the filet into four approximately equal portions. Check to be sure the flesh is devoid of bones and scales.
Pour the wine and blackberry jelly into a small or sauce pan. Bring this concoction to a high simmer and reduce it, stirring occasionally, to a syrupy consistency (ten minutes? maybe twenty?).
When the sauce is nearly reduced, in a separate non-stick saucepan, preheat the olive oil. Place the fillet quarters in the hot oil, skin side down. Cook the fish on medium heat until the fish is done about a third of the way through. Turn one piece of the fish over very carefully (you want the pieces intact, and cooked halibut becomes increasingly flaky). Remove the skin by slipping a sharp knife between the skin and the flesh and working it gently from side to side. I suppose you can lift the skin with the knife or a pair of chopsticks or tongs. I use my fingers (yes, you can burn the hell out of yourself doing this, especially if you touch a particularly oily spot). Do this quickly. You want to cook the fleshy side a little but you don't want to brown it. Turn the piece back over to brown the skin side (the side that used to have skin). Repeat this step for the other three pieces. Once the skin side is nice and brown and just a tiny bit crunchy, remove the fish to a bowl and cover it. The fish will continue to cook a bit in the bowl, but you don't want it to cool (cooled fish oils taste and smell unpleasant).
Add the butter in to the reduced blackberry and wine concoction to mount the sauce. Once the butter is all mixed in, turn off the fire and stir in the wasabi.
Plate the fish pieces individually (as I said, next time, I plan to plate these guys on a bed of haricots verts) and pour a tablespoon or so of sauce over each slice. The sauce provides a good balance of sweet, tart, winy, and piquant, and the balance of browned and medium rare halibut is flavorful enough to assert itself through the sauce.
This dish gets rave reviews (yeah, I know, too easy).
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