The Cousin of Sleep

Now, I'm pretty sure I'm going to step on someone's toes with this statement, but toes be damned...

Nas' 1994 debut album, Illmatic, is in a word, perfect. From the first track to the last Illmatic is a narrative of literate, fluid rhymes with sophisticated, thoughtful beats rooted in some of the best and most esoteric of jazz and hip hop. It's both simple and ambitious with no extraneous elements. It's smart and it's fun as hell. Just you try not to move your body while you listen. And once the album is over, I am always left wanting more.

It's an especially great album to listen to in the car. And, of course, I'm listening to it while I write this.

But there is one line that always gives me pause. It's from the second track, N.Y. State of Mind, "I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.” It could be that I'm a really big fan of sleep, or that I also have no problem, in concept or practice, with sleeping say, twelve hours straight. My head hits the pillow, I close my eyes, and I'm out. I also feel that sleep is really healthy (maybe not the twelve hour variety). It's good for the mind and body. A person can go crazy, can die, without sleep.

So why is it the cousin of death? Because your eyes are closed and you're lying down? Our minds are in superdrive with dreams during sleep, so it can't be mental. And wait, what about the ancient belief that sneezing is a near-death experience, and that a blessing will prevent your soul or sneeze from escaping your body and will deter the devil from entering? Shouldn't the line then be, “I never sneeze, cause sneeze is the cousin of death"? It surely seems more literal. And why cousin? I suppose it sounds better than nephew... the nephew of death.

The things that keep me up at night... At least they keep me further from death's cousin.

I've been thinking about sleep (and hence, that line) a lot because I'm not getting much of it. I'm pregnant and getting pregnant-er by the day. If I'm not up every hour for the bathroom, then I'm struggling to use the proper sleeping positions (my favorite body placement is apparently not recommended for pregnancy). Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night famished. And I know that this part will only get worse as time moves forward, and then there will likely be no sleep at all after our baby girl is born.

I've always been aware of, but paid little attention to, a couple of food/sleep – related old wives tales. One is that warm, liquidy stuff, like heated milk, tea or soup can be a soothing, sleep inducing aid. Another is that spicy food causes fitful sleep, or plainly put, nightmares. Well, what about spicy soup? Would that make for an extremely solid, good, long sleep with tremendously complex and mysterious dreams? Is this what the likes of David Lynch or Francis Bacon would have before bed while conceiving of their films/paintings? It most certainly would explain that which is Salvador Dali and Luis Buñuel's surrealist extravaganza, Un Chien Andalou.

So I figured, not only will I get some sleep, but I'm going to get some wicked creative sleep. What do I have to lose, right? Heck, maybe just maybe my opus, my Illmatic, would result. And, upon more listening to N.Y. State of Mind - I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death. Beyond thewalls of intelligence, life is defined – I have to wonder if Nas himself tried this very same tactic. I'd like to think so. Maybe he'd like to try my racy-spicy pozole rojo one late night for the fuel to put him in the state of mind to put forth something as important and noteworthy as he did back in 1994.

Pozole Rojo
(recipe adapted from Emeril Lagasse)

Makes 4 quarts

Ingredients:

1 head garlic
3 1/2 to 4 pounds bone-in pork shoulder, cut into 3 or 4 pieces
3 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
14 cups water
4 cups chicken stock
1 onion, sliced and 1 onion, chopped
2 ounces ancho chiles, seeded and stemmed
1 -ounce guajillo chiles, seeded and stemmed
2 (30-ounce) cans white hominy plus 1 (15.5-ounce) can

2 tablespoons chili powder
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 tablespoons paprika
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon dried oregano

Accompaniments:
Diced avocado, for serving

Thinly sliced cabbage, for serving
Julienned radishes, for serving
Chopped scallions, for serving
Chopped cilantro, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Directions:

Season the pork with 1 teaspoon salt and 1 teaspoon black pepper.

In an 8 quart Dutch oven, over medium high heat, brown the pork on all sides. Add the sliced garlic, sliced onion, 10 cups of the water and chicken stock. Bring up to a boil. Skim off any foam that may rise to the surface. Turn the heat down and gently simmer the pork, covered, until very tender, 2 1/2 to 3 hours.

While pork is simmering, toast the ancho and guajillo chiles in a pan over medium-high heat. Turn the chiles several times, cooking until they are pliable and fragrant, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add 2 cups of the remaining water; bring to a boil, turn off and let stand covered for 20 to 25 minutes.

In a blender, combine the chiles, the soaking liquid, chopped onion, garlic, 1 teaspoon of the remaining salt, black pepper, chili powder, cumin, paprika, coriander, cayenne pepper, garlic powder, crushed red pepper, and oregano and puree until smooth. Strain through a sieve to remove any skins or seeds. Set aside.

Transfer the pork to a cutting board, discard the bones, and shred the meat.

Rinse and drain the hominy. Return the pork to the broth; add the hominy, 1/4 cup of the chile sauce (or more to taste), remaining teaspoon of salt, and remaining water if necessary. Simmer the pozole for 30 minutes longer. Adjust seasoning if necessary.

Any leftover chile sauce can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 weeks and may be stirred into marinades, sauces, soups, or stews, or used to flavor meats before grilling or sauteing.

The pozole should look hearty but be brothy enough to be thought of as a soup or brothy stew.

Serve the pozole buffet style with bowls of the accompaniments for guests to add to their taste.


Printable recipe.


One year ago: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Salami
Two years ago: Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic
Three years ago: Mercantile
Four years ago: Swiss Fondue with Truffle Essence
Six years ago: Roast Chicken with Meyer Lemons

Building a Fort

There has been a lot of stuff going on in the world of Fred and me. We are great, don't you worry. But the world around us has been a bit, shall we say, dicey. We have both been moving very fast, doing a lot of things, a lot of busy. Yet we have been ships in the night, hardly had a moment to really spend quality time with one another. In our house, the books and magazines have been piling up to resemble colorful totem poles, the garden is more like a graveyard, and as of last Friday, you could hear an echo in our refrigerator.

And so we decided to STOP. We decided to spend our weekend together, focused on the things we love to do together and the things we love about each other. We decided we were going to shut off the world, and concentrate on what home means to us. We decided to have vacation. Go camping. At home.

On Friday, while Fred was at work, I took off and stocked up on all of the provisions. Groceries, firewood, dog bones, you know, the usual stuff. Once I got home and put all of the groceries away (one of my very favorite things to do), I did laundry, so all of our cozies were clean and warm, cleaned the house and set some of our favorite old movies to record (and a Lakers game for Sunday). I then called Fred and told him we were ready: the house was clean and sparkly, and the kitchen stocked. Let the staycation commence.

Once Fred got home, we both changed into our cozies, put on some Otis Redding and poked and prodded about our stocked-for-the-apocalypse kitchen for a guiding light. Parsnips, savory, carrots, burrata, walnuts, blood oranges, Littleneck clams, duck breasts, Anson Mills grits, rapini, hominy, salted capers, bacon, okra(!), leeks, pasilla pepper, Pacific cod, a whole chicken, potatoes, fresh cream, and more – I was paralyzed with options. So I turned to Fred and asked him to just pick a protein, and I would run with it from there. Clams.

I can do that.

While in Inverness recently, we stopped at a little spot on Tomales Bay and had a bowl of clam chowder. It inspired me, which is why I had purchased the clams in the first place. I liked this direction. And as Fred built a fire in the fireplace, my plan evolved even more. On that brisk, drizzly evening, while in our cozies, we decided to cook the soup on the open fire. We were camping, after all.

And so we brought all of our provisions, our mise en place, into the living room, dimmed the lights and lit candles. And as Otis crooned in our ears, and the fire warmed our faces, and the dogs curled up close to us with their bones, I got started steaming the clams while Fred chopped potatoes, celery, onions and garlic on the cutting board by the hearth.

Though, admittedly, it was a challenge for the OCD part of me to relinquish control of the mess that was inevitable for this indoor camping night to be successful, it was so, so beautiful. So warm and intimate, so still. As we slurped our steamy chowder and messily brought dunked, torn chunks of baguette, dripping with creamy stew and pieces of potato and clam up to our faces, we hardly said a word. Instead we stared around the room, at the pups, at the fire, at each other, and smiled and giggled.

When we were full of clam chowder and bread, we left everything as it was. As the fire continued to flicker, and the music played on, we stayed and languished on the floor and did the crossword until the light was completely gone, but our smiles remained.

Sometimes it's important to close the door to the rest of the world and take stock on what's really important; love, warmth, smiles, giggles, and home – wherever you make it.

Classic New England Clam Chowder

Serves 6-8

Ingredients

4 pounds cherrystone clams, scrubbed

1/2 cup vermouth

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

4 ounces bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1 celery stalk, diced

1 large onion, diced

1 garlic clove, minced

1 Yukon Gold potato, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1/2 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

1 bay leaf

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1 cup heavy cream

Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper

Chopped fresh chives

Oyster crackers or Fresh Baguette

Directions

Bring clams, vermouth and 2 cups water to a boil in a large pot over high heat. Cook until clams just open, 8-10 minutes (discard any that do not open). Using a large slotted spoon, transfer clams to a large rimmed baking sheet; set broth aside. Let clams cool slightly, then pull meat from shells; discard shells.

Chop clams into bite-size pieces. Strain broth through a fine-mesh sieve set over a large bowl. Add water if needed to measure 4 cups. 

DO AHEAD Clams and broth can be made 1 day ahead. Cover separately and chill.

Melt butter in a large heavy pot over medium heat. Add bacon and cook, stirring occasionally, until fat is rendered and bacon begins to brown, about 8 minutes. Add celery, onion, and garlic and cook, stirring often, until onion is translucent, about 10 minutes. 

Add reserved broth (or 6 cups bottled clam juice), potatoes, thyme, and bay leaf. Bring chowder base to a simmer; cook until potatoes are tender, 20-25 minutes. 

Stir cornstarch and 2 tablespoons water in a small bowl to form a slurry. Stir slurry into chowder base; return to a boil to thicken. 

DO AHEAD Base can be made 1 day ahead. Let cool; cover and chill. Keep clams chilled. Bring base to a simmer before continuing.

Remove base from heat. Discard bay leaf. Stir in reserved clams and cream. Season with salt, if needed (clams' brininess varies), and pepper.

Divide chowder among bowls. Garnish with chives, and serve with bread or crackers.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Byrd's Fresh Apple Cake

Two Years ago: Creamy Roasted Parsnip-Carrot Soup with Crispy Bacon & Potatoes

Three years ago: Rosemary-Citrus Polenta Cake with a Rosemary-Citrus Syrup