(CavemanCircus.com)
Showing posts with label sauce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sauce. Show all posts
Friday, July 14, 2017
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
I Prefer These BBQ Style Sauces
Regional Barbecue Sauce Styles, Explained
From Carolina Gold to Alabama white, the country's principle sauce styles
Texas-Style Mop or Basting Sauce
From Carolina Gold to Alabama white, the country's principle sauce styles
Texas-Style Mop or Basting Sauce
- Seeing as Texas likes to be different, it seems only appropriate that it developed its own saucy barbecue tradition. Texas's beefy barbecue cuts are often cooked with savory "mop sauce" or "basting sauce" — so called because it's applied with a mop. Steven Raichlen, author of The Barbecue Bible, describes the sauces as more of a thin "glaze" that moistens the meat and adds flavor as it smokes. Mop sauces may include beef stock, vinegar, Worcestershire, and spices like salt, pepper, and garlic.
- Kansas City, Missouri's thick, sweet, and tangy sauces dominate the collective consciousness when it comes to American barbecue traditions. Widely distributed on supermarket shelves, slathered on ribs at chain restaurants, and used to dip McNuggets and fries at McDonald's, it's the thick and gloppy baseline that unites a nation of barbecue novices. Ketchup and molasses give it a sweeter, heavier consistency while additives like liquid smoke impart a barbecue flavor in lieu of coals, fire, or a smoker. Worcestershire, brown sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, and other spice may also find their way into the recipe. Despite the style's critics, the barbecue restaurants of Kansas City often defy this reputation by creating a remarkable variety of house sauces with profiles from peppery and spicy to extra vinegary.
Friday, May 13, 2016
I Like This Sauce Brand
Which BBQ Sauce Is Right for You?
For the music fan: Stubb's Original
For the music fan: Stubb's Original
- Located in the heart of Austin's Red River Cultural District, Stubb's Barbecue is more synonymous these days with smoking riffs than smoked meats, with some of the nation’s top talent gracing its two stages. What hasn’t changed is their sauce, which can still seriously level up brisket and sausage thanks to a classic Texas flavor profile driven by molasses, tomato, and black pepper.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Steak Sauce, The Lost Sauce Of The 70's & 80's
Why Doesn't Anyone Use Steak Sauce Anymore?
Meat quality has improved dramatically, says meat guy
Naturally the folks from Certified Angus Beef have an interest in claiming that today's beef is of higher quality than yesteryear, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. When chatting with corporate chef Michael Ollier, he stressed that what was on the table at steakhouses in the '70s doesn't hold a romantic votive candle to what's being served today.
“More ranchers are raising higher-quality beef, which we can tell because Certified Angus Beef has a much higher acceptance rate of cattle today.”
When CAB launched in 1978, it was the first branded beef company in the world, but it's now joined by over 100 others who all set distinct quality benchmarks on their products that simply didn't exist for older generations of cattle. He thinks that the more heavily marbled meat has shifted diners' tastes.
“Before, you were masking something that was inferior, but as people gain a palate for higher-quality beef, they're more hands off and letting the flavors of the beef sing,” says Michael. “Or, they're finding more adventurous ways to balance a fatty cut like a ribeye,” he says, citing the popularity of sauces like chimichurri.
It's even out of fashion at chain steakhouses
As a child I was a picky eater, but loved dangerously rare steaks. At Outback, my dad would jokingly ask the waiter to just wave the steak over the flames, then I'd make a little puddle of A.1. in the corner of my plate and dunk the barely cooked filet into that sickly sour well. To find out if the mainstream had really turned on A.1., I hit up a local chain steakhouse to relive my youth with a filet mignon lunch special.
When I arrived there was no steak sauce on the table, but with the type of hospitality that only comes from people who serve overpriced tenderloins to businessmen, my waiter happily obliged my request. He even brought out a gallon-sized container for photo purposes. But despite all the accommodating, he quickly threw A.1. under the bus. In his two months at the restaurant, only one other customer had asked for it, and even that was more than he'd seen at his previous steakhouse gig.
Just asking for steak sauce was already embarrassing, and using it was even more so. I felt like everyone was watching me, as I ruined 6oz of presumably Select beef by dunking bites into a ramekin of sauce that black-holed all the beef flavor and replaced it with an encompassing sourness that actually made me physically pucker.
The manager, who'd obviously been alerted to my mission, did a polite table-touch to ask me how I liked the steak. I thanked him and said that everything was great. He smiled and smugly added, “Even without the sauce?”
(Thrillist.com)
Meat quality has improved dramatically, says meat guy
Naturally the folks from Certified Angus Beef have an interest in claiming that today's beef is of higher quality than yesteryear, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. When chatting with corporate chef Michael Ollier, he stressed that what was on the table at steakhouses in the '70s doesn't hold a romantic votive candle to what's being served today.
“More ranchers are raising higher-quality beef, which we can tell because Certified Angus Beef has a much higher acceptance rate of cattle today.”
When CAB launched in 1978, it was the first branded beef company in the world, but it's now joined by over 100 others who all set distinct quality benchmarks on their products that simply didn't exist for older generations of cattle. He thinks that the more heavily marbled meat has shifted diners' tastes.
“Before, you were masking something that was inferior, but as people gain a palate for higher-quality beef, they're more hands off and letting the flavors of the beef sing,” says Michael. “Or, they're finding more adventurous ways to balance a fatty cut like a ribeye,” he says, citing the popularity of sauces like chimichurri.
It's even out of fashion at chain steakhouses
As a child I was a picky eater, but loved dangerously rare steaks. At Outback, my dad would jokingly ask the waiter to just wave the steak over the flames, then I'd make a little puddle of A.1. in the corner of my plate and dunk the barely cooked filet into that sickly sour well. To find out if the mainstream had really turned on A.1., I hit up a local chain steakhouse to relive my youth with a filet mignon lunch special.
When I arrived there was no steak sauce on the table, but with the type of hospitality that only comes from people who serve overpriced tenderloins to businessmen, my waiter happily obliged my request. He even brought out a gallon-sized container for photo purposes. But despite all the accommodating, he quickly threw A.1. under the bus. In his two months at the restaurant, only one other customer had asked for it, and even that was more than he'd seen at his previous steakhouse gig.
Just asking for steak sauce was already embarrassing, and using it was even more so. I felt like everyone was watching me, as I ruined 6oz of presumably Select beef by dunking bites into a ramekin of sauce that black-holed all the beef flavor and replaced it with an encompassing sourness that actually made me physically pucker.
The manager, who'd obviously been alerted to my mission, did a polite table-touch to ask me how I liked the steak. I thanked him and said that everything was great. He smiled and smugly added, “Even without the sauce?”
(Thrillist.com)
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