Marlene Parrish - What Einstein Told His Cook 2

In words, the number of slow-roasting hours that consumes the same amount of energy as fast roasting is equal to the number of fast-roasting hours times the number of degrees above room temperature in the fast method, divided by the number of degrees above room temperature in the slow method. It doesn’t matter whether the temperatures are in Fahrenheit or Celsius, because only differences in temperature are involved.

In Paula’s examples, if the fast method roasts for 3 hours ( h f = 3) at a temperature T f =375, the energy break-even point h s for slow roasting at temperature T s = 180 comes out to be 8.6 hours, and the energy break-even point for slow roasting at temperature T s = 250 comes out to be 5.1 hours.

I can’t understand why Paula decided not to put these calculations in her book.

Paula Wolfert’s Slow-Roasted Leg of Lamb with Pomegranate Glaze and Red Onion–Parsley Relish

Low-temperature cooking delivers meltingly tender, rare meat. The lamb is first browned in a hot oven, then the temperature is reduced to 225°F. Roasting continues until the internal temperature of the meat reaches 130 to 135°F. The roast must rest before carving. The temperature will slowly rise to 135 to 140°F for a rare and juicy roast.

When carving, start at the shank end and slice perpendicular to the main bone. To obtain tender meat, always slice across the grain. Serve this Turkish-style lamb with the traditional Red Onion–Parsley Relish.

1 bone-in leg of lamb, 5 to 6 pounds

2 tablespoons pomegranate concentrate or molasses

1/3 cup water

1½ tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

½ cup finely chopped onion

4 large cloves garlic, crushed

2 teaspoons tomato paste

1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, preferably

Aleppo or Turkish

Pinch of sugar

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 cup chicken or vegetable broth

1 to 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Red Onion–Parsley Relish (recipe follows)

1.Five to 6 hours before you plan to serve the lamb, trim off the excess fat, leaving about a ¼ -inch layer. In a large, deep bowl, dilute the pomegranate concentrate or molasses with the water. Stir in the olive oil, onion, garlic, tomato paste, red pepper, and sugar. Add the lamb and turn to coat. Let stand for no longer than 2 to 3 hours at room temperature, turning once or twice.

2.About 3 hours before serving, place a rack in the lower third of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450°F.

3.Set the lamb, fattiest side up, on a rack in an oiled shallow roasting pan. Season the lamb with plenty of salt and black pepper and set in the oven. Immediately reduce the oven temperature to 250°F. Roast the lamb, basting occasionally with the pan drippings, for 1¾ hours. Turn the roast over and continue roasting and basting for about 30 minutes longer, or until the lamb reaches an internal temperature of 130 to 135°F.

4.Remove the lamb to a carving board, cover loosely with foil, and let rest for 15 to 20 minutes. (During this time, the temperature will rise to 135 to 140°F.) Meanwhile, defat the pan juices. Add the broth, set the pan over medium heat, and stir to scrape up all the brown bits that cling to the bottom. Boil until reduced to napping consistency. Adjust the seasoning and keep hot.

5.Carve the lamb and serve with the sauce and the accompanying onion-parsley relish.

MAKES 6 TO 8 SERVINGS

Red Onion–Parsley Relish

2 red onions, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon coarse salt

½ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 teaspoon ground sumac *

Toss the red onions with the coarse salt. Rub the salt into the slices and let stand for 5 minutes. Rinse the onions under cold running water and drain thoroughly. Mix the onions with the parsley and sumac. Serve within 30 minutes.

MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP

Chapter Ten

A Few Lagniappes for the Insatiable Inquiring Mind

THE CUSTOM of giving someone “a little something extra” permeates all societies in one form or another.

In restaurants and taxis, we routinely pay, in the form of a tip, more than the bill requires. And for reasons I have never been able to fathom, employees of many corporations—but regretfully not of universities—are occasionally handed perks called bonuses. (“Oh, by the way, here’s some extra money.”)

In the days before supermarkets, a baker’s dozen meant thirteen rolls instead of twelve, an 8.33 percent increase in the amount of goods for what a cynic might suspect was covered by a hidden 8.33 percent increase in price. It was a brilliant way of selling more rolls by taking advantage of the customer’s ingrained concept of “a dozen” as a rigidly fixed unit. For if one bought a dozen and received thirteen, it was not just receiving thirteen instead of twelve; it was a dozen plus a “free” one. A faker’s dozen, I call it. But it sure made the customers feel good.

Also making customers feel good is the habit in some restaurants of presenting a lagniappe , a small, unexpected treat that appears neither on the menu nor on the bill. ( Lagniappe is the Creole spelling of the Spanish la ñapa , meaning…well, something extra.) Every time I am offered one in a restaurant, my cynicism vanishes in a flash and I think, “Oh, how nice!”

In that tradition (and because I couldn’t find a better place to put them), I offer in this final chapter a few lagniappes for your insatiable inquiring mind: sundry items about language, cookery, and science with which to cap off the information feast that I hope you have been enjoying.

To borrow a famously ungrammatical slogan from Sara Lee, nobody doesn’t like chocolate. So as we began our shared repast with something to drink, I will end it with two chocolate desserts that I hope will leave a pleasant, long-lasting aftertaste in your inquiring mind.

WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE

Dear Dr. Wolke: Can you please write something about the misuse of technical words in relation to foods? Your devoted reader, R. L. Wolke.

I’ll be glad to. Thanks for giving me an excuse to do so, because a discussion of language in a food-science book might otherwise appear to be out of place. But the English language is one of my most precious treasures, and I welcome the opportunity to reply to your request and set a few things straight.

I’m the kind of guy who upon being handed a menu in a restaurant scans it for spelling errors before beginning to think about the food. But even though the other day I actually saw “tuna tar tar” on a menu (honest!), this section won’t be about spelling. Anybody can slipp up on that once in a while.

Well, maybe just one gripe about spelling. The word restaurateur does not have an n in it. In eighteenth-century France, before the word came into general use for the operator of an eating establishment, it referred to the proprietor of a stopping place along the road at which a traveler could rest his horse and perhaps score a meal, which might include an energy restorative, or restaurant, such as a bowl of rich broth. The soup chef or proprietor, often the same person, was afforded the honor of being called the restaurateur , the restorer.