Going Dutch - Recap
Alton's on the phone, and though the conversation is one-sided, it becomes clear he is speaking to his electric provider, trying to learn when they will restore his power. Sadly, there are many lines down and he comes away from the conversation no more informed than when he started it. But that's okay – he's been meaning to speak about the traditional baking process, which did not involve electricity. Indeed, the hearth was the first oven.
The hearth, which derives its name from a Latin word for focus, was once the center of the house, and until relatively recently (in history) it was where all the cooking happened. And in Alton's electricity-deprived house, it's where the cooking will happen again.
Alton has grilled directly over a fire, but most hearth-based cooking tasks require a vessel of some sort. The Dutch oven and the camp stove fill this role nicely. These vessels work well on a cooktop or in an oven, but it is in the coal pit that they come into their own.
A Dutch oven is typically made of heavy cast iron and has a tight fitting lid. It usually features a pair of ears for lifting, and sometimes a wire bail spanning these serves as a convenient means of suspending the vessel from a suitable hook. A camp stove has a similar construction, but usually features legs (often numbering three) and a lip around the lid. The legs and the lid both help with the placement of the hot coals often used with such a stove. Aluminum models exist, chiefly preferred because they are relatively light weight. But they react chemically with many foods (anything containing acid) and they can soften and melt at temperatures as low as 900° F, a temperature very possible in a fire pit. Denser iron vessels hold heat well, do not react with food and melt at much higher temperatures. It's also far cheaper.
So why is a pot called an oven? Consider what an oven actually is: a vessel used to apply heat to food. In most ovens the heat is inside with the food; here, the heat comes from outside. But otherwise, this vessel may be used to bake, broil, simmer – any type of cooking process. As to the “Dutch” part of the name. That may be due to a man named Abraham Darby. Darby studied the Dutch method of casting iron using molds made of sand, then returned to England and used the technique to produce iron cookware for use in England's various colonies, including its American colony. But why would he call them Dutch ovens and not English ovens? Alton's theory is that the Dutch, operating from their colony New Amsterdam (later New York) with the Dutch East India company, actually undercut the English and supplied similar cookware. However it got its name, this sort of cookware was essential to the early settlement of America.
The big problem with iron is that it reacts with oxygen and water, eventually turning into rust. Given enough time, rust will eventually reduce the stoutest pot to a handful of reddish flakes. Coating iron protects it from this process; paint is a common coating. So is a thin layer of another metal that does not react, like zinc. But paint and zinc make poor cooking surfaces. Carbon, on the other hand, makes an excellent cooking surface.
A fatty acid is mostly a long chain of carbon atoms, bound to hydrogen atoms. If one bakes such a compound, the hydrogen (and eventually any other compounds present) will break away and vanish, leaving behind the carbon. If the fat is applied to an iron surface, the carbon coats the iron, protecting it. All it needs is a little occasional help from some cooking oil, a hydrophobic (water-repelling) substance.
Alton takes his dutch oven to the sink for a wash in soapy water. This removes any foreign matter from an older piece, and the food grade wax used to coat new pieces for shipping (this wax is why ironware arrives at the store free of rust). Once cleaned and thoroughly dried, Alton coats his oven with a very thin layer of fat. Vegetable oil will work, but Alton finds shortening easier to work with. For good results, he spends the time to make sure the coating is very thin and very even, and he coats all of the cast iron surfaces, inside and outside, and the lid. The only part he leaves free of fat is the wire bail, which is made of a different kind of steel. Then it's over to the oven, which... has no power.
Well, since this process makes a certain amount of smoke, Alton concludes that the grill might be the best choice, anyway. In an oven he'd shoot for 350° F, but on the grill he'll take anything between 325° F and 375° F. He sets the oven, upside down, on the grate, then uses an old can as a spacer (he has removed the top and bottom) and sets the lid on that. Indirect heat works best here, so Alton turns the front and rear burners on, but not the middle element. Then he closes the lid. In an hour, he'll cut off the heat and allow the oven to cool in place.
Back at the hearth, Alton has a cured dutch oven and he's ready to go. He can cook a simmered dish like beans directly on the fire, but for baking, that can be a problem – a fully loaded oven can weigh as much as fifteen pounds. For that, he'll just bring some coals out onto the hearth, which is after all fireproof, and... suddenly, lawyers Itchy and Twitchy appear. They have briefcases full of paperwork and strange sounding electronic boxes, and they are concerned about carbon monoxide. Forced to concede that, yes, carbon monoxide is a hazard (albeit not a serious one) of this cooking method, Alton relocates out of doors where the chemical will dissipate without harming the cook. There he uses a metal table (fireproof and easy to transport) and all natural charcoal briquettes. The all natural sort contain only partially carbonized wood and a little starch to bind it, whereas the more conventional type of briquettes contain boric acid, petroleum products, and other nasty chemicals. Sometimes these chemicals are present to help ignite the briquettes, but Alton has a better plan: a chimney. This is a cylinder of sheet metal with a simple perforated divider. He loads bottom with newspaper (spritzed with a little vegetable oil to help it burn slowly) and the top with briquettes.
Alton cannot contemplate cooking in his dutch over without also thinking about the old miners and prospectors who, it is said, never traveled without a dutch oven strapped to their mule somewhere. They made a particular sort of bread which they started using an evil smelling mix they kept in a pouch hung round their neck. These breads eventually became known as sourdough breads, and they are still baked today.
Alton plans to substitute commercial yeast, as this is more reliable. To a quantity of flour (measured by weight), he adds a small amount of active dry yeast and some kosher salt, mixing this with his fingers. He adds to that some filtered water – filtered to remove the chlorine found in municipal water systems, and which will kill the yeast. Bottled water will also work for those who do not have a filtered source available. He kneads that until the dough comes together and most of the flour is incorporated. Because the dough is very sticky, he uses a plastic glove to do this. Then, he leaves it to sit for awhile – a long while. Nineteen hours, to be precise.
Why so long? Normally, one kneads bread for quite awhile so the proteins form gluten, a mesh-like structure that holds the bread together and permits rising. But kneading isn't the only way to get there. Time will also work.
The power is still not on, so Alton works quickly inside his chill chest. A modern refrigerator will keep food fresh for several hours, longer if it is full. Keeping the door open as little as possible, Alton grabs milk, eggs and butter. From the freezer, he fetches frozen cherries, to make a French dish called clafoutis.
Alton thaws his frozen cherries, allowing them to drain at the same time to keep excess fluid out of the dish. Fresh cherries need to be rinsed and have their stems removed, and perhaps pitted (in France, Alton understands, they sometimes spit the pits out as they eat the dish). He next butters the inside of a five quart dutch oven. The preparation complete, he turns his attention to the batter.
The batter starts with eggs, which Alton whisks together with some sugar until the mixture becomes frothy and the eggs lighten. At that point Alton adds milk and vanilla extract, thoroughly integrated. Then he adds flour, and when that's mixed, he's ready. He adds the cherries to the dutch oven and spreads them evenly, then covers them with the batter.
Outside, he spreads out coals on a metal table (a grill would work). Since he's using a dutch oven which has no legs, he uses bricks and a grilling grate to suspend the oven over the coals, then puts a piece of foil on top and seals that with the lid. The foil keeps ash from getting into the clafoutis, because Alton next adds coals to the top of the dutch oven (his has a lid with a nice lip for this purpose). He lets that cook for twenty five minutes before removing the lid and setting it aside. A few more minutes of uncovered cooking, and the clafoutis is cooked. He lets the cooked dish rest for another half hour or so right in the oven and serves it with a sprinkle of confectioner's sugar. For those without cherries, Alton advises that apricots and figs make good substitutes.
The power is still out, but the coals are still a-glow, so Alton turns his attention to hoecakes, cakes made from cornmeal. Narragansett Indians taught the early settlers how to make these cakes, but the use of cornmeal confused the settlers, since it has no gluten and cannot rise as flour based breads can.
Cornmeal, baking powder, kosher salt, water and an egg come together in a bowl with the help of a whisk, until it looks like pancake batter. To that he adds fresh corn (frozen corn, thawed first, will also work). Batter in hand, he heads outside to contemplate cooking surfaces. For this, he turns a camp stove (he needs the legs) over and sets coals on the bottom of it. Then he puts the lid on the top; it rests on the legs. He gives that some time to heat to around 425° F to 450° F before cooking each cake for two or three minutes per side (a skillet works well inside). These are delicious enjoyed as Alton enjoys his: with some maple syrup.
Nineteen television hours have passed and still no sign of power. Alton's bread dough has finally risen, though. With a little flour on top, he pulls the sticky mass away from the sides of the bowl as he folds it in on itself to produce a ball. He covers that with a tea towel and lets it sit for another fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes, he turns the dough onto a floured counter and forms it into a ball, and then into a loaf. He dusts a tea towel with cornmeal and rests this loaf on one end, then dusts the loaf with more cornmeal before covering it with the towel and setting the timer again – this time for two hours.
Half an hour before the timer expires, Alton builds another fire on his metal table, using the bricks and grill to suspend his dutch over over ashy briquettes. He lets the oven heat for the remaining half hour. Flipping the loaf over so the “seam” is on top, he bundles it into the cloth and carries it to the oven, where he flips it in. More coals go on the lid, and he bakes this until the internal temperature reaches 210° F or thereabouts. He lifts that onto a cooling rack where it rests until the insides set firmly.
Cakes, desserts, or breads – dutch oven has a lot to offer, and all of it is Good Eats. That's good for Alton, since he still doesn't have any... as he gazes at the lights, they flicker and come on at last, and Alton bids his viewers farewell until next time.
Share this article with your friends
The hearth, which derives its name from a Latin word for focus, was once the center of the house, and until relatively recently (in history) it was where all the cooking happened. And in Alton's electricity-deprived house, it's where the cooking will happen again.
Alton has grilled directly over a fire, but most hearth-based cooking tasks require a vessel of some sort. The Dutch oven and the camp stove fill this role nicely. These vessels work well on a cooktop or in an oven, but it is in the coal pit that they come into their own.
A Dutch oven is typically made of heavy cast iron and has a tight fitting lid. It usually features a pair of ears for lifting, and sometimes a wire bail spanning these serves as a convenient means of suspending the vessel from a suitable hook. A camp stove has a similar construction, but usually features legs (often numbering three) and a lip around the lid. The legs and the lid both help with the placement of the hot coals often used with such a stove. Aluminum models exist, chiefly preferred because they are relatively light weight. But they react chemically with many foods (anything containing acid) and they can soften and melt at temperatures as low as 900° F, a temperature very possible in a fire pit. Denser iron vessels hold heat well, do not react with food and melt at much higher temperatures. It's also far cheaper.
So why is a pot called an oven? Consider what an oven actually is: a vessel used to apply heat to food. In most ovens the heat is inside with the food; here, the heat comes from outside. But otherwise, this vessel may be used to bake, broil, simmer – any type of cooking process. As to the “Dutch” part of the name. That may be due to a man named Abraham Darby. Darby studied the Dutch method of casting iron using molds made of sand, then returned to England and used the technique to produce iron cookware for use in England's various colonies, including its American colony. But why would he call them Dutch ovens and not English ovens? Alton's theory is that the Dutch, operating from their colony New Amsterdam (later New York) with the Dutch East India company, actually undercut the English and supplied similar cookware. However it got its name, this sort of cookware was essential to the early settlement of America.
The big problem with iron is that it reacts with oxygen and water, eventually turning into rust. Given enough time, rust will eventually reduce the stoutest pot to a handful of reddish flakes. Coating iron protects it from this process; paint is a common coating. So is a thin layer of another metal that does not react, like zinc. But paint and zinc make poor cooking surfaces. Carbon, on the other hand, makes an excellent cooking surface.
A fatty acid is mostly a long chain of carbon atoms, bound to hydrogen atoms. If one bakes such a compound, the hydrogen (and eventually any other compounds present) will break away and vanish, leaving behind the carbon. If the fat is applied to an iron surface, the carbon coats the iron, protecting it. All it needs is a little occasional help from some cooking oil, a hydrophobic (water-repelling) substance.
Alton takes his dutch oven to the sink for a wash in soapy water. This removes any foreign matter from an older piece, and the food grade wax used to coat new pieces for shipping (this wax is why ironware arrives at the store free of rust). Once cleaned and thoroughly dried, Alton coats his oven with a very thin layer of fat. Vegetable oil will work, but Alton finds shortening easier to work with. For good results, he spends the time to make sure the coating is very thin and very even, and he coats all of the cast iron surfaces, inside and outside, and the lid. The only part he leaves free of fat is the wire bail, which is made of a different kind of steel. Then it's over to the oven, which... has no power.
Well, since this process makes a certain amount of smoke, Alton concludes that the grill might be the best choice, anyway. In an oven he'd shoot for 350° F, but on the grill he'll take anything between 325° F and 375° F. He sets the oven, upside down, on the grate, then uses an old can as a spacer (he has removed the top and bottom) and sets the lid on that. Indirect heat works best here, so Alton turns the front and rear burners on, but not the middle element. Then he closes the lid. In an hour, he'll cut off the heat and allow the oven to cool in place.
Back at the hearth, Alton has a cured dutch oven and he's ready to go. He can cook a simmered dish like beans directly on the fire, but for baking, that can be a problem – a fully loaded oven can weigh as much as fifteen pounds. For that, he'll just bring some coals out onto the hearth, which is after all fireproof, and... suddenly, lawyers Itchy and Twitchy appear. They have briefcases full of paperwork and strange sounding electronic boxes, and they are concerned about carbon monoxide. Forced to concede that, yes, carbon monoxide is a hazard (albeit not a serious one) of this cooking method, Alton relocates out of doors where the chemical will dissipate without harming the cook. There he uses a metal table (fireproof and easy to transport) and all natural charcoal briquettes. The all natural sort contain only partially carbonized wood and a little starch to bind it, whereas the more conventional type of briquettes contain boric acid, petroleum products, and other nasty chemicals. Sometimes these chemicals are present to help ignite the briquettes, but Alton has a better plan: a chimney. This is a cylinder of sheet metal with a simple perforated divider. He loads bottom with newspaper (spritzed with a little vegetable oil to help it burn slowly) and the top with briquettes.
Alton cannot contemplate cooking in his dutch over without also thinking about the old miners and prospectors who, it is said, never traveled without a dutch oven strapped to their mule somewhere. They made a particular sort of bread which they started using an evil smelling mix they kept in a pouch hung round their neck. These breads eventually became known as sourdough breads, and they are still baked today.
Alton plans to substitute commercial yeast, as this is more reliable. To a quantity of flour (measured by weight), he adds a small amount of active dry yeast and some kosher salt, mixing this with his fingers. He adds to that some filtered water – filtered to remove the chlorine found in municipal water systems, and which will kill the yeast. Bottled water will also work for those who do not have a filtered source available. He kneads that until the dough comes together and most of the flour is incorporated. Because the dough is very sticky, he uses a plastic glove to do this. Then, he leaves it to sit for awhile – a long while. Nineteen hours, to be precise.
Why so long? Normally, one kneads bread for quite awhile so the proteins form gluten, a mesh-like structure that holds the bread together and permits rising. But kneading isn't the only way to get there. Time will also work.
The power is still not on, so Alton works quickly inside his chill chest. A modern refrigerator will keep food fresh for several hours, longer if it is full. Keeping the door open as little as possible, Alton grabs milk, eggs and butter. From the freezer, he fetches frozen cherries, to make a French dish called clafoutis.
Alton thaws his frozen cherries, allowing them to drain at the same time to keep excess fluid out of the dish. Fresh cherries need to be rinsed and have their stems removed, and perhaps pitted (in France, Alton understands, they sometimes spit the pits out as they eat the dish). He next butters the inside of a five quart dutch oven. The preparation complete, he turns his attention to the batter.
The batter starts with eggs, which Alton whisks together with some sugar until the mixture becomes frothy and the eggs lighten. At that point Alton adds milk and vanilla extract, thoroughly integrated. Then he adds flour, and when that's mixed, he's ready. He adds the cherries to the dutch oven and spreads them evenly, then covers them with the batter.
Outside, he spreads out coals on a metal table (a grill would work). Since he's using a dutch oven which has no legs, he uses bricks and a grilling grate to suspend the oven over the coals, then puts a piece of foil on top and seals that with the lid. The foil keeps ash from getting into the clafoutis, because Alton next adds coals to the top of the dutch oven (his has a lid with a nice lip for this purpose). He lets that cook for twenty five minutes before removing the lid and setting it aside. A few more minutes of uncovered cooking, and the clafoutis is cooked. He lets the cooked dish rest for another half hour or so right in the oven and serves it with a sprinkle of confectioner's sugar. For those without cherries, Alton advises that apricots and figs make good substitutes.
The power is still out, but the coals are still a-glow, so Alton turns his attention to hoecakes, cakes made from cornmeal. Narragansett Indians taught the early settlers how to make these cakes, but the use of cornmeal confused the settlers, since it has no gluten and cannot rise as flour based breads can.
Cornmeal, baking powder, kosher salt, water and an egg come together in a bowl with the help of a whisk, until it looks like pancake batter. To that he adds fresh corn (frozen corn, thawed first, will also work). Batter in hand, he heads outside to contemplate cooking surfaces. For this, he turns a camp stove (he needs the legs) over and sets coals on the bottom of it. Then he puts the lid on the top; it rests on the legs. He gives that some time to heat to around 425° F to 450° F before cooking each cake for two or three minutes per side (a skillet works well inside). These are delicious enjoyed as Alton enjoys his: with some maple syrup.
Nineteen television hours have passed and still no sign of power. Alton's bread dough has finally risen, though. With a little flour on top, he pulls the sticky mass away from the sides of the bowl as he folds it in on itself to produce a ball. He covers that with a tea towel and lets it sit for another fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes, he turns the dough onto a floured counter and forms it into a ball, and then into a loaf. He dusts a tea towel with cornmeal and rests this loaf on one end, then dusts the loaf with more cornmeal before covering it with the towel and setting the timer again – this time for two hours.
Half an hour before the timer expires, Alton builds another fire on his metal table, using the bricks and grill to suspend his dutch over over ashy briquettes. He lets the oven heat for the remaining half hour. Flipping the loaf over so the “seam” is on top, he bundles it into the cloth and carries it to the oven, where he flips it in. More coals go on the lid, and he bakes this until the internal temperature reaches 210° F or thereabouts. He lifts that onto a cooling rack where it rests until the insides set firmly.
Cakes, desserts, or breads – dutch oven has a lot to offer, and all of it is Good Eats. That's good for Alton, since he still doesn't have any... as he gazes at the lights, they flicker and come on at last, and Alton bids his viewers farewell until next time.
Share this article with your friends
CBS Renews Rules Of Engagement For A Seventh Season
Talk about a straggler. Roughly 95% of broadcast network had its cancel or renew..
An Unlikely Pairing in the American Idol Finale Tonight
After tens of thousands of Idol hopefuls auditioned and competed, America has..
Pan Am To Continue On Amazon Streaming?
A couple weeks back, ABC officially canceled the freshman drama Pan Am after a short run of..
Info Center | Contact | Advertise | TOS |
Privacy | Copyright | RSS | Banners | Writers Wanted