*Disclaimer - I'm borrowing pictures from other posts because I finally want to talk hamburgers since Shane and I have been eating enough of them over the summer.
Growing up, barbecue sauce was good for only two things: basting hamburger
meat pre-grilling and smothering pork chops (thank you mom!), the only way I'd "survive" pork chop and fried potato night.
On my own, and adult-enough to have my own tastes (notice I didn't mention the phrase "sophisticated enough"), bottled barbecue sauce never made its way into my refrigerator, much less onto my plate. In the rare instances I craved barbecue beef (I once planned my birthday meal around barbecue sandwiches), I experimented with making my own sauce: light on the sweetness and heavy on the tang.
However, the distinct flavor of smoke was missing, be it hickory, apple wood, or mesquite, and my sauces always lacked depth. Short of throwing pieces of wood into my sauce, and I'm not a big fan of liquid smoke (liquid gasses just do not make sense to me), I settled on using a slab of streaky bacon, smoked in a local deli. The meaty bacon rendered a silky texture, and sure enough, the smoke of the bacon paid its visit.
Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Adapted from Bon Appétit July 2003
3 oz of slab bacon, preferably an end with loads of fat, chopped into 1-in cubes
Olive oil (optional)
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, chopped, seeds removed if less heat is desired
1 cup red wine vinegar
2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup mild-flavored (light) molasses
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup Bourbon Whiskey
Salt and Pepper to taste
In a heavy-bottomed, large saucepan over medium heat, fry bacon slabs until a tablespoon or two of fat is rendered. If there is not enough fat, add a bit of olive oil to total two tablespoons of oil/fat. Add onion and jalapeno, and sauté until golden brown, about 6 minutes. Carefully add vinegar, step back from the fumes, and boil until mixture is reduced to 3/4 cup, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add ketchup, molasses, and 1/4 cup water, then whiskey; stir to blend. Bring sauce to simmer. Salt and pepper to taste. Let sauce simmer for 20 minutes, covering pot after 10 minutes.
I cannot talk about barbecue sauce without paying homage to Shane. The first time I made burgers for us, in the cast iron skillet, he is the one who suggested mixing barbecue sauce into the ground beef mixture, because, well, that's what he's always done. I must say, Shane does it again. Combining a few tablespoons of barbecue sauce with the meat brings out a smoky flavor that does not make me at all envious of grill-owning folks. My cast iron skillet sears a mighty nice burger, heavy on the juices.
Growing up, barbecue sauce was good for only two things: basting hamburger
meat pre-grilling and smothering pork chops (thank you mom!), the only way I'd "survive" pork chop and fried potato night.On my own, and adult-enough to have my own tastes (notice I didn't mention the phrase "sophisticated enough"), bottled barbecue sauce never made its way into my refrigerator, much less onto my plate. In the rare instances I craved barbecue beef (I once planned my birthday meal around barbecue sandwiches), I experimented with making my own sauce: light on the sweetness and heavy on the tang.
However, the distinct flavor of smoke was missing, be it hickory, apple wood, or mesquite, and my sauces always lacked depth. Short of throwing pieces of wood into my sauce, and I'm not a big fan of liquid smoke (liquid gasses just do not make sense to me), I settled on using a slab of streaky bacon, smoked in a local deli. The meaty bacon rendered a silky texture, and sure enough, the smoke of the bacon paid its visit.
Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Adapted from Bon Appétit July 2003
3 oz of slab bacon, preferably an end with loads of fat, chopped into 1-in cubes
Olive oil (optional)
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, chopped, seeds removed if less heat is desired
1 cup red wine vinegar
2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup mild-flavored (light) molasses
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup Bourbon Whiskey
Salt and Pepper to taste
In a heavy-bottomed, large saucepan over medium heat, fry bacon slabs until a tablespoon or two of fat is rendered. If there is not enough fat, add a bit of olive oil to total two tablespoons of oil/fat. Add onion and jalapeno, and sauté until golden brown, about 6 minutes. Carefully add vinegar, step back from the fumes, and boil until mixture is reduced to 3/4 cup, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add ketchup, molasses, and 1/4 cup water, then whiskey; stir to blend. Bring sauce to simmer. Salt and pepper to taste. Let sauce simmer for 20 minutes, covering pot after 10 minutes.
I cannot talk about barbecue sauce without paying homage to Shane. The first time I made burgers for us, in the cast iron skillet, he is the one who suggested mixing barbecue sauce into the ground beef mixture, because, well, that's what he's always done. I must say, Shane does it again. Combining a few tablespoons of barbecue sauce with the meat brings out a smoky flavor that does not make me at all envious of grill-owning folks. My cast iron skillet sears a mighty nice burger, heavy on the juices.
Smokey Shane Burgers
For 2 servings:
12 ounces ground chuck (nothing too lean)
1 medium shallot or 1/2 a small onion plus one clove garlic, minced
2-3 tablespoons of Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Salt and Pepper
With your hands, combine meat, shallots (or onion/garlic mixture) and barbecue sauce. Salt and pepper mixture and form into two patties, roughly 1/2 inch thick. Heat a dry cast iron skillet over medium heat for a few minutes. Sear burgers until they are done to your liking (for me, it's pink in the middle or nothing). If you fancy, alternatively, fire-up the charcoals and do it your [alternative] way.
For 2 servings:
12 ounces ground chuck (nothing too lean)
1 medium shallot or 1/2 a small onion plus one clove garlic, minced
2-3 tablespoons of Smokey and Tangy Barbecue Sauce
Salt and Pepper
With your hands, combine meat, shallots (or onion/garlic mixture) and barbecue sauce. Salt and pepper mixture and form into two patties, roughly 1/2 inch thick. Heat a dry cast iron skillet over medium heat for a few minutes. Sear burgers until they are done to your liking (for me, it's pink in the middle or nothing). If you fancy, alternatively, fire-up the charcoals and do it your [alternative] way.
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1 comments:
I thought I would only tie Dad to hamburger-making, but now there are two burger chefs in the family. (I remember making our own hamburger patties in day care -- why they let us handle raw meat, who knows -- and I was instructing the kids at my table in how big Dad made his burgers because you have to allow for shrinkage. I'm sure they thought I was a snot.)
Here's to Shane Burgers!
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