Kentucky Derby Trifecta: Hot Browns, Mint Juleps, and My Old Kentucky Home

If you're not from Kentucky and/or don't give a damn about horse racing, the first Saturday in May probably means nothing to you. However, for Kentuckians, this day marks a time-honored event more sacred than holy communion, more celebrated than Christmas, and more anticipated than your 21st birthday:

Derby.

This is a special time of year when Louisvillians set aside their differences and come together in a collective consciousness of gut-splitting, joyful debauchery that can only be achieved via the delicate balance of horse race handicapping, gaudy hats, and bourbon-induced headaches. As I've mentioned before, I'm from Louisville, and so am one of the blessed ones who knows the true level of exorbitant bliss spewing from all corners of the city during Derby. And I get to scoff at the rest of the quiet, unknowing world for missing out. Sad for you.

This can actually be seen in billboard form around Louisville during Derby season.

Anyway, onto gastronomy. Derby Day is one of the only times, like ever, I wish I was somewhere other than Portland, so I (obviously) start to seep nostalgia from my pores when it comes around and I force my friends to choke down as much bourbon as possible and eat my Kentucky food. When I start to wax philosophic about the sacrosanctity of true Kentucky cuisine, the obvious thing that comes to mind is the Hot Brown. If you don't know what I'm talking about, the Hot Brown is a dish created by the chef at the famous Brown Hotel in Louisville back in the 1920s. It's called an open-faced turkey sandwich, but most Hot Browns you come across in Louisville are more of a bubbly, cheesy explosion than anything resembling a sandwich. The true origin and recipe can be found on the Brown Hotel's website. The other thing about the Hot Brown is that, save for the Brown Hotel's original recipe, everyone has their own version of it. So, being from Louisville, I say that a true Kentucky Hot Brown is the one you decide to make yourself after having sampled them in at least 5 different Louisville eateries. Oh, and it has to have criss-crossed bacon strips on top.

OK, so that's a little bit lax. To be a Hot Brown, you must have bread, turkey, Mornay sauce, bacon, and a broiler. Then you can get creative. My recipe was a combination of the Brown, another legendary Louisville hot spot called Lynn's Paradise Cafe, and my own personal Kentucky elitism. Lynn's is known for it's exorbitant portions and over-the-top, well, everything, so of course they make a good, gut-busting Hot Brown.

Here's my recipe:
-thick slices of sourdough bread
-sliced roast turkey (or deli turkey, if that's all you can get)
-sharp cheddar Mornay sauce (recipe below)
-peppered bacon strips
-grated Parm
-sliced tomatoes

Sharp Cheddar Mornay Sauce:
A Mornay sauce is essentially a classic béchamel with melted cheese in it. So, make a roux of equal parts flour and butter, then add 3 cups of 2% milk and stir to thicken. To that, add a large handful of grated sharp white cheddar cheese and a smaller handful of grated Parm. (I can't remember the exact measurements of the cheese, so just keep tasting it.) Season with S&P, a pinch of nutmeg, and cayenne pepper to taste.

Assembly:
Place slices of bread on a baking sheet or in a baking dish, top with a hefty portion of turkey, then completely smother it with Mornay sauce. Place a few tomato slices in the dish/pan as well. Top "sandwich" with some more grated Parm and place under a broiler until the sauce is slightly browned and bubbling over with gooey, oily extravagance. Remove from broiler and top with crossed slices of crisp bacon, sprinkle with more Parm and chopped parsley, and serve with tomatoes on the side.

This is a knife-and-fork sangwich, y'all.

Now, drinks! You can't experience Derby without a mint julep, so I'm here to tell you how to make it the right way.

Derby Mint Julep:
-Early Times Kentucky bourbon (the official bourbon of the Kentucky Derby)
-mint-infused simple syrup
-crushed ice
-tall, thin glasses
-fresh mint sprigs

Make your simple syrup (boil 1.5-2 parts sugar to 1 part water until sugar dissolves), then add mint leaves and allow to cool for at least an hour or overnight. Fill your glass with crushed ice, pretty much to the top. Cubed will not do. Pour in about a shot of bourbon, top with mint syrup, and throw in some mint leaves. Now...this part is important...vigorously stir and rile up the entire cocktail until the outside of the glass gets icy from the condensation. Add a nice, big mint sprig and serve immediately. This is exactly how they're served at the Derby, so you know it's the right way.

Now you can have a kick ass Derby party and your friends will think you're authentic. And if you want to be like a real Louisvillian, try to be pretty drunk by the actual running of the Derby so you can stand in your living room and sing "My Old Kentucky Home" without feeling self-conscious. Other things you can say/yell to appear authentic:

-I think I left my hat at the Oaks.
-My exacta box was off by one damn horse!
-Did we make out at O'Shea's last night?
-Man, now Derby is so far away...
-Go baby go!!!!!

Complete the trifecta with Jerry Garcia Band's "Run for the Roses."

P.S. I apologize that there are no real Ameliorated health properties to these recipes, but I might remind you that the endorphins released during times of pleasure contribute to mental and physical well-being, and so, it's important to let loose every now and then. So go and ahead and do it up for Derby. For your health.

Pulled Pork with a Side of Whoop Ass

Did you know that pork butt is not really from the hind region of the pig? It's actually the shoulder. I hope that brings some happiness to your life.

We were on our third 80 degree day in a row, Game 2 of the playoffs was on that evening, and it was Earth Day Eve. Basically, it was a Tuesday just begging for a party, and I got the urge to make pulled pork sandwiches. I've never done this before either. (I know, first the biscuits, now this.) So, instead of trying it once just in case it was a dry mess, I decided to invite a bunch of people over for the game. Nice. I was nervous all f-ing day.

I picked up a nice 5.5 lb boneless pork butt from Gartner's Meat Market, which I highly recommend for all of your Portland area meat needs. My dry rub was something like this:

1 1/2 - 2 tbsp paprika
1 tbsp garlic powder
1/2 tbsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tbsp dry mustard
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp kosher salt

I cut some slits into the meat and then I really rubbed it to let the flavors permeate.

I only let it marinate for 2 hours because I wanted to make sure it was done by half-time, or at least in time to call for Thai takeout (in the event of a disaster), but I would have liked to let it go for longer. People say that overnight is best. I baked it in a 275-300ish degree oven, covered, on a roasting pan for about 4 hours. I was expecting it to take at least 5 or 6 hours, but the internal temperature had surpassed 190 F after 4 hours, which is plenty of cooking. Any longer and I think it would have been dry. I was really anxious to assess my success or failure and start pulling it right away, but it must rest for a while. If you cut it right away, all the juices will run out and you'll loose all that good moisture and flavor.

In the mean time, make a barbeque sauce. Mine is a mess of things that I can't begin to address in true recipe form, but I'll just say that it starts with sweet onions that get softened in bourbon. Then there is ketchup, cider vinegar, soy sauce, cumin, paprika, garlic powder, brown sugar, fresh ginger, Worcestershire sauce, Sriracha...yeah, I think that might be it. I'm not telling my secret ingredient. From there I just let it simmer away until it reduced to sticky saucy goodness.

Things were looking good. The Blazers were heading into Game 2 with a new vengeance after the ass-kicking they got last weekend, cornhole was in session in the driveway, and yes, the pork pulled appropriately. Thank God. I didn't get to any of the sides I had in mind, but I did manage to throw together a salad and open some jars of pickled okra and Wickles. I was a few drinks deep by the time the plates were piling, so I only got a couple mediocre photos, but you can at least kind of get the idea.

Overall, I'd say it was a success, but here are my exact notes that I took at the time of consumption:

"Pretty good, marinate longer, more salt."

My friends seemed pretty happy about the whole thing, but that could have just been because Rip City decided to show up that night. Well, and because of the Wickles.

Buttermilk Biscuits to Save My Reputation

I'm embarrassed to say that this was my first attempt at homemade buttermilk biscuits. I come from a long line of feisty Southern belles, so actually this is more than embarrassment. It's like...sacrilege. Even worse is that the only reason I made them was because of a carton of buttermilk in the fridge that was about to turn. Or at least, about to expire. Buttermilk is kind of already "turned," isn't it? I'm a little confused by this.

Anyway, I did some research, made some modifications, and decided on this recipe:

2 cups self-rising flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
a good pinch of salt
6 tbsp cold butter, cut into small cubes
3/4 cup buttermilk

I discovered some great advice in my research that suggested doing this in the food processor. Pulse dry ingredients in the FP, then add butter and pulse again until the mixture looks like the topping for an apple crisp. Note: make sure the butter is cold when you do this. Little bits of butter in the dough equal unsucky biscuits. Next, pour in the buttermilk and pulse just until it becomes dough. (This will happen very quickly, and impressively easily. God bless the FP.) Once this happens, turn the dough out onto a floured surface and press out to about 1/2" thickness. Fold it over on top of itself like twice, but don't mess with it too much. Cut it into 12 pieces with a pastry cutter, or if you aren't that cool, just use a pizza cutter like me. The idea is to handle the dough as little as possible.

Since I'm trying to regain some respect from my Southern ancestors, I baked these in a cast iron skillet. I don't really see why you would do it in anything else, actually. Just like I don't see why you would drink out of a regular glass when you have the option of drinking out of a mason jar or a copper mug. But I digress.

We had to taste one to make sure it was biscuits. It was.

Jesse also loves things in cast iron skillets. Yes, he is always that happy.

We ate them straight up with butter and honey and jam, but I'm looking forward to making them into a slutty breakfast sandwich one morning after a hootenanny, as my friend Brandon would say. Get some Grisman/Garcia on the speakers when you're eating these.