Cooking Underground

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It all started in a backyard in Bernal Heights about three years ago. A friend invited me to dinner at a secret, unlicensed backyard restaurant that only operated on Monday nights in the summer. The menu was a simple three-course pre-set meal, the guests were anyone who showed up hungry with five to ten dollars, and the ambience was laid-back (more often than not, a spliff made its way around the table at some point of the meal).

It was like being at a friend's house for dinner, where you might not know all of the guests at the beginning of the evening, but found yourself with a couple of new friends by night's end. The chef never joined us during the meal, but we were always sure to peek our heads in the kitchen to say hello, thank you, and goodbye before leaving.

What does an underground dinner sound like? Listen to The Bold Italic's very first podcast by Drew Himmelstein .

I fantasized about running my own underground eatery. I liked the idea of having an outdoor set-up, but the lack of a yard at my apartment prevented that. I wasn't into setting up shop inside my apartment because the kitchen was the only common space; I liked how the chef at the Bernal Heights pirate restaurant was able to keep her workspace separate from the dining area and guests. So I decided to abandon the idea of running my own speakeasy restaurant.

But a couple of months ago, my friend Saskia reignited the flame. She
told me about The Ghetto Gourmet, a social networking website that connects people who want to host, eat at, or help at underground dinner parties. I created a profile on the site, and within a few days, I found
myself inviting six strangers into my current apartment for a five-course Korean-fusion dinner.

I had a few weeks to prepare for the event. Since I had absolutely no food industry experience and it would be the first time inviting strangers to my home to pay for a meal, my first step was to contact the people behind The Ghetto Gourmet to see if they could offer me any tips on holding a successful underground dinner event.

I got in touch with Vera Devera, The Ghetto Gourmet's marketing consultant and local SF coordinator. She explained that events typically have entertainment to help round out the festivities. She suggested using a site like Eventbrite for pre-selling tickets to deter no-shows and flakey guests from canceling last minute. Vera also recommended I make my event BYOB, to prevent getting in trouble for serving alcohol without a license.

I decided to take my chances and rely solely on posting my event on The Ghetto Gourmet's forum and word-of-mouth to find my six guests. I tapped Rob and Cristelle, a couple of musically-talented friends, to perform a 15 minute lo-fi performance in my living room. And mostly, I fretted over the menu.

I'm the kind of chef that doesn't like to make tried and true recipes for dinner parties. If I'm going to make the effort to throw a party, it had better be interesting. So the dishes at my event were going to be new to me, or at least new twists on recipes I've tried. Inspired by my cousin's wacky kimchi and sweet potato pie, I decided on a Korean-fusion menu that would include the following items:

Pollack roe seasoned with sesame oil on a fried wonton cracker topped with Greek yogurt, black sesame seeds, and green onions.

Pizza topped with a hot red pepper sauce, mozzarella cheese, kimchi, bacon, corn, and fresh sliced green onions.

Kalkooksoo, or handcut noodles in a chicken/anchovy broth topped with julienned nori, carrots, zucchini, potato, a fried egg, and a garlicky sesame soy sauce.

Kalbi jjim stew, made with oxtails instead of short ribs, and served with potatoes, carrots, daikon, and jujubes over a pearl barley, rice, and chestnut pilaf.

Red bean puff pastry drizzled with Greek yogurt and persimmon preserves.

I hosted a dry-run dinner for my five friends' co-members of the Monthly Meat Club that I'm part of—to make sure that this menu was even do-able. For several days I shopped, prepped, and cooked. On the night of the test dinner, I was frazzled. Even though I had prepped as much as I could, the timing of each course was what got me. I ended up shooing all my friends out of the kitchen, lest I ended up cursing at them like that demonic chef on "Hell's Kitchen." Luckily my friends excused my mood and gave me some excellent feedback on the dishes. Two of the Meat Club members, Evelyn and Phil, also volunteered to help me as sous chefs on the night of the dinner.

A few days before show time, I prepared notes for the dinner: I wrote recipes for all the dishes, created shopping lists that I checked and double-checked, and wrote myself schedules for when food should be prepped. I visited multiple stores that were spread over the city for the dinner: Rainbow Grocery in the Mission for produce and bulk items, Woori Market, a little Korean market near my apartment in Western Addition, for the kimchi, hot pepper paste and Korean daikon radish; Golden Natural Foods in the Castro for the meat items; and Nijiya Market, a Japanese store in Japantown where I'd get the pollack roe.

I even came up with a food-themed soundtrack to play as a background to the meal.A day before the dinner, I prepped elements like the soup stock for the noodles, readied the oxtails, and chopped all the veggies that wouldn't wilt.

On the day of the meal, I cleaned the house and my friends came over early to set the table, make the pizza and noodle dough, and tie up loose ends. Perhaps because of all this prep, and knowing that I'd have two reliable and kitchen-savvy friends with me, when the night of the dinner came along, I wasn't that nervous. We were as ready as we'd ever be.

At about six o'clock, Rob and Cristelle arrived with an arsenal of musical instruments, including a couple of guitars, a vibraphone, and a drum machine. I fired up the oven, heated up the pizza stone, and whipped up a quick "test" pizza for me and the sous chefs to munch on before the guests arrived. Evelyn built the pollack roe appetizer and set it out in the front room just as the buzzer starting ringing and guests started filing in.

To be honest, it felt a little awkward. I took coats, got them drinks, and sat them on my couch, but I knew these people weren't really there to socialize with me, they were there to eat my food! I mostly kept to myself and let them mingle amongst themselves. My plan was to start cooking the pizzas during Rob and Cristelle's performance, but since these were my friends, I didn't want to miss their show. So I joined the guests for their short, but sweet set. After they performed, I invited the guests to seat themselves in my dining room, and quickly ran into the kitchen to start the pizzas.

For the most part, the dinner went off without a hitch. One disaster was averted when I realized that the dough that was being cut for the noodles was actually the pizza dough. Those could've been interesting noodles, but the yeast-less noodle dough would've been crappy pizza crust. Evelyn and Phil definitely helped keep me calm, cool, and focused, and actually, because I wasn't sitting with the guests, I was able to pace the meal very smoothly.

I also initially felt weird about not being with the guests during the meal because I was afraid it would be awkward for them, but I quickly realized that I didn't need to worry about them – they were getting along famously. In fact, I almost felt bad about interrupting their conversations when I'd come in to introduce the next course. It sometimes seemed that they were barely listening to me and that they were anxiously waiting for me to leave so they could continue talking amongst themselves.

I didn't actually sit down with my guests until the end of the meal, when I was dead tired and after my sous chef friends had gone home for the night. The guests said they enjoyed the food, especially the kimchi pizza. They did have one suggestion for me if I were to ever hold another event: invite less interesting people. They admitted that they were so enthralled in conversation that the food had taken second fiddle. Part of me felt a little badly that my meal wasn't the main attraction of the night, but I knew that I had prepared a solid meal, and if anything, the event was a success. Bellies were full and new friends were made. Can you really ask for anything more?

If you want to host your own pirate dinner party, volunteer at one, or just eat at one, create a profile at The Ghetto Gourmet, where you can post your event or learn about upcoming events in your area.

First, set the mood with some music. Check out my iMix of food-themed tunes (opens in iTunes).

Here are my recipes for a 5-course Korean fusion dinner for 8 people:

Pollack Roe Amuse-Bouche
Ingredients: Two sacks of salted pollack roe (try to avoid ones that have MSG or that are heavily pre-seasoned), ¼ teaspoon of sesame oil, black roasted sesame seeds, one finely chopped green onion, 8 wonton wrappers, olive oil, for brushing wonton wrappers, Greek yogurt.

Empty the sacks of pollack roe into a small bowl, mix with the sesame oil. Set aside in refrigerator. Use a cookie cutter or small jar lid to cut the wonton wrappers into small circles, about 1½ inches in diameter. Place the circles, floury side up, onto a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil or parchment paper. Brush the circles with the olive oil and bake in the oven for 4-5 minutes, or until golden brown. Let cool on rack. Assemble by placing a very small amount of the roe mixture (about 1/8 of a teaspoon or less) onto the wonton circle. Use a small spoon or a squeeze bottle to top the roe with a small dollop of Greek yogurt. Top with sesame seeds and green onion.

Kimchi Bacon and Corn Pizza (makes 2)
Dough: 1 ⅓ cup warm water, 2 ¼ tsp active dry yeast, 1 TB salt, 1 TB sugar, 2 TB olive oil, 3 ½ cups all-purpose flour.

Toppings: 1 ½ cups Mozzarella cheese, 1 cup kimchi, drained and chopped (reserve juice for sauce), 4 slices of bacon, each chopped into 3-4 inch-long segments, fresh or canned corn niblets, 2-3 green onion stalks, sliced thinly at a diagonal into 1-inch long pieces.

Sauce: 2 TB kochujang (Korean hot pepper paste), ½ tsp sesame oil, 2 chopped garlic cloves, Kimchi juice or water.

Prepare the dough: Combine the water, yeast, and sugar in a bowl and let sit for five minutes, until the yeast has dissolved and looks frothy. Add in salt and olive oil. Measure out the flour into a large bowl and add in the yeast mixture. Mix until it forms a ball and knead for 10 minutes. You can also use a mixer for this, if you have one that prepares bread dough. Transfer to an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a clean, damp kitchen towel, and set aside in a warm place for 1 ½ hours or until the dough doubles.

If you are using a pizza stone, turn on the oven at least 30 minutes before you are ready to cook. I usually set the temperature to the highest heat.

Prepare the sauce: Mix the kochujang, sesame oil, and garlic together with enough kimchi juice or water to make it as loose as a tomato pizza sauce. Ready the toppings.

Punch down the now-risen dough and divide into two balls. Let sit for 15 minutes, or until you are ready to use. Roll out or hand-toss each ball into a 12-inch crust. Pre-bake the dough on the pizza stone just until it's just about to brown, but still mostly white. Pull it out of the oven and top with sauce, cheese, kimchi, corn, and then return to oven. Bake until crust is golden brown and cheese is melted. Top with green onion and serve.

Kalkooksoo (Handcut Noodles)
Stock: 10 cups water, 1 whole skin-on, bone-in chicken breast and 1 whole skin-on, bone-in chicken leg, 1 TB salt, 8 dried anchovies

Noodles: 2 cups flour, ½ tsp salt, ½ cup cold water

Toppings: Shredded chicken meat (from soup stock), 2 julienned carrots, 1 zuchinni, cut in half and thinly sliced into 1 inch-wide, 2-inch long pieces, 1 egg (beaten, fried into an omelet, and julienned), 1 sheet nori, cut into matchsticks

Sauce: 2 cloves minced garlic, 2 finely chopped green onion stalks, ¼ cup soy sauce, ½ tsp sesame oil, ½ tsp roasted sesame seeds, ½ tsp Korean crushed red chili pepper.

Prepare the stock: Combine water, salt, chicken, and anchovies in a pot. I use a pressure cooker, which takes about 30 minutes on high pressure. If not using a pressure cooker, cook on a low simmer for 4 hours for the richest tasting broth. Skim the scum and foam off the surface of the broth. Remove the chicken, cool, and shred the meat for the topping. If you make it in advance, completely cool and then refrigerate the broth, which allows you to also skim off the excess fat that will congeal on the surface.

Prepare the noodles: Combine flour, salt, water, which will form a dry dough. Knead for 5 minutes, cover with plastic wrap or clean, damp towel, and let rest for 20 minutes to two hours. Cut the dough into 4 equal pieces and roll out each piece into a rectangle that's about 1/8 of an inch thick. Slice the dough into noodles, about 1/8 of an inch thick.

Bring the broth up to a boil and add the noodles into it. Cook for about five minutes. The noodles will expand a little, but will have a very chewy texture.

Use tongs to fish out the noodles and place into soup bowls. Top with chicken, carrots, potatoes, egg, nori, zucchini and then ladle hot broth over it all. Serve immediately. Allow guests to add sauce to their liking.

Oxtail Kalbi Jjim
Stew: 8 medium oxtail portions, 2 small potatoes, 2 medium carrots, 1 daikon radish, 8 dried jujubes, 2 cups water, 4 TB soy sauce, 4 cloves minced garlic, ½ onion, sliced, ½ Asian pear, diced, 1 TB cooking wine (or Mirin), 3 TB brown sugar, less if using Mirin, 1 TB sesame oil, ½ tsp black pepper, 2 green onion stalks, sliced at a diagonal.

Barley, rice, and chestnut pilaf: 2 cups short grain white rice, 1 cup pearl barley, 1 cup roasted chestnuts, shelled and diced.

Prepare the oxtails (best to do early in the day or a day before): Soak oxtails in cold water for 2 hours, changing water a few times. This brings out the blood so that the broth will be clearer when cooking. Boil water and place the oxtails in it for 10 minutes. Remove the oxtails and rinse them in cold water. I set aside the broth and reuse it for other purposes, but you can also just discard it. Rinse out the broth pot, fill it with the oxtails, water, soy sauce, garlic, onion, pear, cooking wine, and sugar. Cook for two hours over low heat, or until the oxtails are fork tender (may be a good time to bring out the crock pot!). Remove oxtails and set aside from broth; let both cool and then refrigerate for several hours or over night.

Prepare the vegetables: Skin and chop potatoes, carrots, and daikon into 1 ½ inch cubes or pieces.

Bring out the broth and oxtails from the fridge. There will be a thick layer of white congealed fat on top of the broth, which will also have formed into a gelatin. Scrape off the white fat and discard. Place the broth into a large lidded-pot and heat over medium; the gelatin will melt into a broth again. Add in vegetables, dried jujubes, and oxtails. Cover and simmer on low heat for 1 hour, or until vegetables are tender and meat is heated through. Stir in the sesame oil and black pepper at this time.

While stew is cooking, cook rice and barley as you would normally cook white rice (in a rice cooker or pot) for about 20 minutes. When rice is done steaming, add in diced chestnuts and mix together carefully, without mushing.

To plate, scoop a serving of pilaf onto a plate, top with one oxtail, one jujube, and several vegetables. Ladle broth over it all. Top with green onion. Serve immediately.

Red Bean Puff Pastry
Pastry: 1 frozen puff pastry sheet, 1 egg beaten mixed with 1 TB water, 1 can or package prepared sweet adzuki beans (get the kind that's just crushed beans and not just a smooth bean paste), ¼ cup sliced almonds

Toppings (optional): Greek yogurt, persimmon preserves

Bring out the frozen puff pastry sheet and let sit for 40 minutes at room temperature.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

When pastry dough is ready, unfold and place on a lightly floured surface. Roll out the dough slightly so that it is a thin rectangle. Arrange the dough so that it is longer, rather than taller, in front of you. Spread the red beans into the middle of the rectangle and fold over the edges so they meet in the middle of the beans. Fold over the sides of the dough. Flip the folded pastry over, seam side down, onto a baking sheet. Brush with egg mixture and then slice 3-4 vents into the top dough. Sprinkle on sliced almonds.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until dough is golden brown. Cool for 30 minutes before slicing.

To serve, slice the pastry and serve as is, or top with Greek yogurt and drizzled persimmon preserves.

Design: Majorminor

Dinner photos by Nicole Grant

San Francisco skyline photo courtesy of Duncan Ford

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ChristopherSayso

May 11, 2010, 10:55am

Great story. Thumbs up!

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Published on January 28, 2010