Tom Sawyer and the Tenderloin

LTH,

Over the years I've noticed there are a great many good cooks on LTHForum, professional, talented amateurs, enthusiasts, all stripes of handy in the kitchen. I'm wondering how many of you get Tom Sawyered* when you go to someone house for a party, dinner or cookout.

The following exchange, as we were leaving the house for a family party, prompted this post.

Bride: "why don't you put on nicer pants"

Me: "Because the odds are good I will be standing outside over a grill within 20-minutes of arrival'

Sure enough, not one drink in and my nephew says "having a little trouble with the fire, would you mind taking a look-see" Three gorgeous beef tenderloins on a mismanaged dieing fire, I was hooked for the duration. Not that I minded (much), but it was such a clear call I would be cooking I even dressed for the occasion.

Terrific party, lots of good food, beef tenderloin turned out tasty and my sister in-law Rita's Won Ton salad was sheer perfection, as always.

Be fun to hear stories of LTHers being Tom Sawyered.

Enjoy,
Gary

*Tom Sawyer, fence, whitewash.......

I'm usually called in to action as The Troubleshooter. "Something doesn't taste right", or "does this have enough seasoning?" are usual clues for me to jump in to my superhero costume and rescue the cook in distress. It's a thankless job.

I've taken to packing a sharp knife and my thermapen when I go to family parties.

Went to a party a few years ago (about 24 people) and got roped into cooking all the steaks and chicken on three different grills that I'd never used before. One of the grill was all funny looking gas burners (IR or some such....) very hard to use and I ended up just coloring up the meat on the grill and finished it all in the ovens.

I'm the Closer at my aunt's house for all the holiday meals. I usually like it but last night I was admonished that the tenderloin was undercooked when I pulled it out at 135 and let it rest. Le sigh...I tossed it back in for a bit and sure enough , no one ate the well done stuff, picking out the rare pieces only.

Today I'm making the boneless prime rib to bring to mom's and I'm cooking it my way or the highway darn it! There's not a chance that you can get me to cook prime rib over medium rare.

G Wiv wrote:LTH,

Over the years I've noticed there are a great many good cooks on LTHForum, professional, talented amateurs, enthusiasts, all stripes of handy in the kitchen. I'm wondering how many of you get Tom Sawyered* when you go to someone house for a party, dinner or cookout.

The following exchange, as we were leaving the house for a family party, prompted this post.

Bride: "why don't you put on nicer pants"

Me: "Because the odds are good I will be standing outside over a grill within 20-minutes of arrival'

Sure enough, not one drink in and my nephew says "having a little trouble with the fire, would you mind taking a look-see" Three gorgeous beef tenderloins on a mismanaged dieing fire, I was hooked for the duration. Not that I minded (much), but it was such a clear call I would be cooking I even dressed for the occasion.

It happened in June this year. My wife wanted me to wear my good suit to the wedding of a friend's daughter. I said no way because I am going to be working the entire reception. I told her I was going to wear my uniform - khaki pants and a sports coat that could be ripped off if necessary.

I get to the church the night before to have my friend assure me that the ONLY thing that I had to do was to pick up the buns for the two pigs they were roasting. When I got the buns back, I noticed that they were UNSLICED. While slicing them, I realized that the guys doing the beverages were, well, challenged by measurements. Before long, the wife was setting up the buffet line and I was trying to keep everything flowing out of the kitchen.

I really wish he had talked to me ahead of time as I could have made the whole process a lot easier.

I do give my friend the pastor credit. The day I got back from Nebraska, I got a thank you note for all the work we got done in a short period.

Hopefully, I am back into retirement.

I wound up cutting and serving the cake at a nephew's wedding a few years ago. It was held in a VFW hall, and nobody else there knew how to disassemble a multi-tiered cake.

A few years ago, I went to my brother’s house in Texas for Thanksgiving. When I arrived on Wednesday, I was informed that I’d be responsible for two turkeys and a number of side dishes for the gathering of 24 the next day.

Most of it wasn’t too bad – prep the turkey in the morning, unstuffed except for a lemon or two in the cavity, and a bit of herb butter that was easy to whip up and stuff under the skin. But I was asked to do a fennel salad. That involved a trip to the local Kroger to find fennel. I looked up and down the vegetable aisle – nothing vaguely resembling fennel. So I asked a staffer. “Sure, we have fennel.” He directed me to the spice aisle, and proudly pointed to the bottle of fennel seeds. “Uh, do you seriously think these will sprout and grow into full size fennel before dinner late this afternoon?” No response.

On to plan B. Waldorf Salad. Got apple, walnuts and celery. Back to the house, chopped ‘em up. “Got any mayonnaise?” No. “How about any sour cream?”

Bottom line, we were surprised that you can actually make a reasonable version of Waldorf Salad with Cool Whip, if you use enough vinegar to balance the sweetness.

A few years ago I went to a picnic at the home of someone I knew from work. I had never met her husband and it wound up only one other work person showed up, the rest were the couples friends. The husband got very drunk pretty quickly so I stepped in and grilled the wonderful pork chops that she bought at Headon's Market in Creston Illinois. I couldn't stand to see the husband keep throwing booze on the fire and laughing at the flames. Why burn up good pork.

http://www.headons.com/

Several years ago, after dating my girlfriend for about 3 months, we were invited to her parents' house for a New Year's Eve dinner in a mid-sized town in northern Indiana. This is typically a pretty marquis meal for this family and its' relatives - king crab, chicken, and bacon-wrapped filets. I wasn't nervous, as I had met the parents twice before (very nice people) although none of the extended relatives. I was surprised, though, when I was asked if I'd help with the grill duties while the family steamed the crab inside.

"Sure!" I replied, although my brain was processing the fact that a) it was pitch black and about 10 degrees outside before wind chill, b) I had never seen this grill before, c) I didn't have a coat or shoes to negotiate my way to a gas grill on an ice-covered deck 30 feet from the house and d) I did not have my knife roll which I always pack with an instant-read, kosher salt, a vial of peppercorns, and extra tongs.

I was presented with the filets - very nice cuts of beef butcher wrapped with bacon and tied appropriately. Then I was handed a zip bag of chicken breasts that had been sulking in a store-bought teryaki marinade overnight and a box of matches. I was also offered the father's oversized coat and boots to temper the elements. He's a 5X. I'm a 44 regular.

The grill was a disaster. After I finally got it lit, a good 60% of the burners were so caked in crud I knew they'd never produce enough heat to sear any protein. I scrubbed the grates as best I could with a metal handled brush until I could almost see metal. I stumbled inside in size 15 boots and cranked up the oven, because there was no way there was going to be enough room on the grill to finish 8 filets and 10 white meat chicken breasts. The propane tank snugged up to the underside of the grill was about the size of a Foster's Lager can - its' combustible volume a complete mystery.

I marked the filets and moved them outside the roughly 6 X 6 area of the grill that was "hot". I marked the chicken, flipping with a not-so-trusty metal spatula, and got those inside to the oven. I finished the filets by feel and when I felt I had gotten them to what I thought was about 125/130 or so I pulled them and clumsily skated my way to the inside door to cover and rest them. I left the grill on to possibly burn off the charred years (?) of misery clinging to the grates. Out came the chicken.

When we all sat down and I scanned the table, trying desperately to remember the names of the relatives I had met very briefly with next to no success, I still felt pretty good about the steaks and chicken. I was nearly clicking my heels under the table proudly. The platter was passed and everyone tucked into their meals after grace.

"This isn't done enough" quipped my girlfriend's brother after his first cut into the filet. Horrified, I craned my neck over others' plates to get a glimpse of what was sure to be a beet red rare inside of a 7 or 8oz filet. Instead, what I saw was a perfectly crusted and grilled hunk of tender meat, slightly pink and not a bullseye in sight. "Mine either", said the Dad.

I was crushed. I wanted to blurt out that they were perfectly done, but I knew I didn't stand a chance against a roomful of near-strangers. As it turns out, the whole family minus my girlfriend eats beef medium well, a detail I probably should have inquired about before I plowed out into the snow. Shamefully, I donned the enormous coat and boat-sized boots and headed back out into the cold to refire the steaks while the rest of the family inhaled the crab legs. It was cold and dark. Fuck. I threw them back on the grates, not without a little bit of malice in my heart, until they were cooked almost grey through and portions of the the bacon was ready to disintegrate into black powder. "Here's your medium-well - you can't bitch about this", I thought.

The good news is that the girl and I will celebrate our 7th wedding anniversary in May, and maybe just as importantly, her loving and wonderful family is learning to eat beef off my (meticulously clean) grills at a perfect medium rare. Buncha' heathens. I love'em.

My friends ask me which pizza place we should order from.

Arrived at some friends' New Year's Eve party to effusive and touching welcome. Faces lighting up. Big smiles.

"We're so happy to see you!"

Very gratifying.

Then comes the kicker:

"Can you carve a turkey?"

LAZ wrote:Arrived at some friends' New Year's Eve party to effusive and touching welcome. Faces lighting up. Big smiles.

"We're so happy to see you!"

Very gratifying.

Then comes the kicker:

"Can you carve a turkey?"

Been there often. Then you're handed a knife that has never been anywhere near a sharpener.

Depending on the gathering, having to man the grill or the kitchen can be a huge perk. I've been to a few parties where I was much happier to cook than socialize. It all depends on the crowd.

On another note, this past summer I went to a cookout at which I was 'helping out' around the grill. When the chicken came off, the host was about to dunk it back in its raw marinade before serving it to us. Good thing I was there or it could have been a disaster.

=R=

I was once asked to go outside and help the host grill some inch and a half pork chops. I was turning and moving them in and out of the hot fire so that they would cook through without burning and then when they seemed nicely done, my cooking partner put BBQ sauce on them and I went back inside to sit down to eat, After I had left the grill, he put all of the chops back over the direct fire and burnt the sauce and cooked the chops to hardened burnt bricks. They liked them that way. I can just picture him saying after I left, "That Scott knows nothing about cooking pork chops."

Another time I left a friend to finish off some burgers he was grilling, assuming he would keep them on until cooked internally. He brought them in right away, raw and still frozen in the middle. I guess I need to stay to the finish from now on, and bring my Thermopen!

I like the idea of having a travel pack as suggested earlier. Chef's knife, thermometer, decent tongs, salt and pepper (I can't believe how many people don't have salt and pepper in their house!) I already bring ice to parties since I can't stand drinking martinis with those shrunken white half-moons that taste like a smelly refrigerator.

imsscott wrote:I already bring ice to parties since I can't stand drinking martinis with those shrunken white half-moons that taste like a smelly refrigerator.

Hear, hear! After an incident at a friend's place many, many years ago involving raised hopes (he had us over for mojitos...both of our girlfriends were pumped) and smelly ice (half-moons so old they had sublimated to less than half their size), I've made it a habit to bring ice or stick to beer. The only time I don't bring ice is when I call the host up beforehand and say, "hey, I'm on my way, want me to pick up some ice?" and they say, "nah, we're cool, I just bought two bags".

I am WITH you on the crappy ice problem

Last year, I popped for a countertop ice maker (it was on deep discount at Sam's) and now I make my own ice for cocktail purposes/party drinks only. Bottled water goes in and :15 later I have a one gallon storage bag or ice bucket full. Crystal clear, no off-smells - nothing to interfere with the flavor of my gin Martinis, Manhattans, Negronis, Sazeracs and - for Mrs. Davooda - Cosmopolitans.

And I always have a bag or two in the freezer "to-go" when a party calls at another location.

Davooda

Davooda wrote:Last year, I popped for a countertop ice maker (it was on deep discount at Sam's) and now I make my own ice for cocktail purposes/party drinks only. Bottled water goes in and :15 later I have a one gallon storage bag or ice bucket full. Crystal clear, no off-smells - nothing to interfere with the flavor of my gin Martinis, Manhattans, Negronis, Sazeracs and - for Mrs. Davooda - Cosmopolitans.

Your idea hadn't occurred to me, but when I have a bigger kitchen I'm definitely going to look into one of these. Right now, we keep a couple of these Orka ice cube trays in the freezer - the lid seals shut nicely thanks to a rubber gasket on the tray itself, so mineral water can be poured in and counted on to stay clear & smell-free. It works for the two of us, but comes up short when it's time to make drinks when we have people over.

HI,

When you read tips for parties in magazines, they will sometimes suggest dumping the ice in the automatic ice maker to avoid stale ice a few days in advance.

I was at a party when an ice maker ran out. The host opened a cooler to collect a bag of ice, then refilled his automatic ice maker. I never before saw anyone refill their refrigerator ice maker.

Regards,

Both sides of the family know that I cook, and so do our closest friends' families. On my side, my brother is as good a cook as I am, but we have different specialities—I know that I will have to do my famous potato salad at least once during a visit, and probably lamb shanks. But he has a fine kitchen, with good knives. We're expected to cook together throughout the visit. Great good fun.

On The Other Dr. Gale's side, the pots are horrible, just horrible, but there's a nice set of Henkel's that I sharpen (I carry a stone in my Dopp kit : ) and carry on from there.

At our best friends' place, where we spend a week each year, I'm expected to do a couple of slabs, and probably a half-shoulder of pulled. I bought them the basics of knives—they already had good pots.

Plus I know a lot about wine, so everywhere we go, I get to make a wine run with the Chief Male in Charge of Beverages.

It would probably be a good idea, as noted above, to start travelling with an instant-read thermometer. Somebody stuck me last Fall with the final decision on a 5-rib beef roast, and no thermometer within miles... luckily, it worked out, no disaster.

And I must admit that I agree with Ronnie: sometimes it's better—waaay better!—to be in the kitchen, alone with the stove and a nice glass of wine, rather than in the front room, bored to tears.

Geo

Geo wrote:On The Other Dr. Gale's side, the pots are horrible, just horrible, but there's a nice set of Henkel's that I sharpen (I carry a stone in my Dopp kit : ) and carry on from there.

The worst past about "helping out" is when you get to a kitchen and there is not the proper equipment. No one on my wife's side of the family had even a decent knife in the whole place. Now, I do not expect a Henckel set but egads, when you have to pare with a dinner knife you are at a disadvantage,

BTW, now they all have an inexpensive Henckels International set as Christmas presents, usually the year before we plan to visit.

Geo wrote: Somebody stuck me last Fall with the final decision on a 5-rib beef roast, and no thermometer within miles... luckily, it worked out, no disaster.
Geo

Any metal probe ( long thin knife, metal skewer etc...) inserted into the meat and left for 30 seconds and then placed just above your lip will warm but not burning hot when the meat is about medium rare.

Well, duh! That's a smart idea. I just poked and squeezed—a poor substitute.

Geo