I got so many requests for A Pasta Edition following last week’s newsletter that I’m rerouting a bit. This week’s issue was originally slated to be the first in a series of three (!) on retrogradation, and - because I’m excited that you’re excited! - I don’t want to make you wait an entire month for the one on pasta. So: pasta moves to the forefront, but I have some work to do to speed that one along - which means that, today, you get a mini issue to tide you over: two totally random recipes that coincidentally pair incredibly well. Just add a lentil salad, some esquites, or even the corn recipe from Vol.Zero, and dinner planning is done (one down, infinity more to go, amirite?).
While you’re enjoying those, don’t forget to email or DM me if you have specific (or general!) questions about pasta (or pasta recipe requests!). Just to stir the pot: what is your least favorite noodle, and why is it farfalle?
Here for this week’s recipes? Awesome: I’m going to intro them below, and it should only take you about 4 minutes to read. Just wanna get to the recipes? No sweat: scroll straight down to the recipes, attached as separate files for your saving and printing pleasure. xo.
A thick, rosy-centered, juicy half-pound burger is a magnificence, one of my favorite things to bite into, and - ready for this? - I’m going to take two minutes to convince you not to make one. A smashburger - a thin, thoroughly-cooked patty enrobed in deeply flavorful brown crispiness - is the polar opposite of the classic burger ideal, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be just as good. Apples & oranges, here: these burgers can coexist in my heart, and yours.
Not familiar with the #smashburger? A quick primer: There’s some argument and competing-claims happening, but the burgers hail from somewhere in the Great-Lakes-y region of the midwest: diners and roadhouses would (and still do) griddle smashed-thin patties of beef to crusty-crisp, and layer them on soft buns with enough cheese to make up for the lost moisture. It’s a preparation that seems antithetical to the modern burger gospel - food publications have been begging and pleading that we STOP smashing our burgers for years - but it’s clearly working for some; smashburgers are no longer a regional specialty, but the backbone of fast-casual chains like Shake Shack, In-N-Out, and (haaa) Smashburger. And while the fixin’s might vary, the thin crispy beef patty is ubiquitous.
Why all the smashing? Why - if the word on beef is generally to preserve moisture, intramuscular fat, and juiciness - is there this burgeoning counter-culture that’s smashing their burgers to hell and pressing all of the good stuff out of it? The answer is relative surface area, and more specifically, contact points: when you smash a patty of ground beef as thinly as possible, you maximize the amount of surface area of the portion of meat, and thereby maximize the amount of meat that comes into contact with the griddle. When certain amino acids and sugars that are present in the meat reach 280°F, a chemical change called the Maillard reaction occurs; it produces hundreds of complex flavor compounds that weren’t otherwise present in the food and results in crisp, deliciously browned food. Maillard browning is responsible for the tasty, crunchy brownness of a seared chop or steak, the crusts of bread, the edges of cookies and toasted marshmallows. (Sidebar: Maillard browning is NOT caramelization, although those two reactions often occur simultaneously within the same food. Yet again: another newsletter.) Water can impede this chemical reaction, so the surface of the food needs to be relatively dry, which is why you’re often encouraged to pat proteins dry before pan-searing them - and why the smashburger method works so well. We’ve established that smashing the meat as thinly as possible maximizes the amount of the meat’s surface that comes into contact with the griddle to encourage Maillard browning, but what that also does is minimize the thickness of the patty, allowing steam to readily escape up through the patty itself, and steam = lost moisture = increased browning. That’s why you can’t just throw an 8-pound wad of beef into a skillet and hope for a deliciously crispy mega-burger; yes, you’ve maximized surface area, but the patty is so thick and heavy that the steam can’t readily escape, and your burger will be too waterlogged to brown properly before it overcooks. Science! And if you’re thinking to yourself that all that lost moisture would result in a dry smash-patty, you’re right; the beef itself is definitely on the dry side. The smashburger, by design, is a dressed burger; you need a slice or two of American (and maybe some secret sauce) to compensate.
Does it sound like I’m dragging the smashburger? I hope not, but if I’ve made you a skeptic, this week’s recipe for smashburgers actually solves some of the inherent problems with dryness by using lamb.
Why does lamb work, here? Four big reasons to help convince you. Firstly, lamb is a young meat, and like veal is tender because of immature muscle fibers. That tenderness makes a difference when you are intentionally overcooking something, and is an insurance policy against toughness. Lamb is also (generally speaking, since ground proteins can be comprised of different muscles) both higher in fat and lower in water than beef; the low water content means that you’ll see Maillard reaction occurring sooner, which results in a flavorful crust developing more quickly than with beef - meaning your burger is done before the patty completely overcooks. The high fat content ensures a juicy mouthfeel. And lastly, lamb is a more intensely-flavored meat - and from a science-of-taste perspective, the more flavor compounds a food has, the more saliva your mouth produces — meaning that the taster is actually girding against dryness, here. Also, because of the strong flavor profile of lamb, you can get away with using only one patty per burger, where the beef smashburgers generally stack two - a bonus, if you’re one to limit your meat intake.
The Butter. recipe for lamb smashburgers also incorporates a mesh of griddled onions for added Maillard-y flavor, and suggests some toppings for finishing the deal (including my current favorites). These have been a big hit with my family, recently, and are one of our new favorite ultraquick dinners; you’ll be done in less than 20 minutes.
And for no reason whatsoever other than this sludgy weather, I’m also including a recipe for homemade granita. More a formula than a recipe, it will teach you how to make a granita - the Italian word for “grainy,” and it is indeed the grandma of Italian Ice - out of almost anything your heart desires. Making homemade ice creams, sorbets, and gelatos can be a pain in the ass, but granitas are quick, require no more special equipment than a baking dish and a fork, are largely hands-off, and are nearly foolproof.
If you give either one a shot, let me know.
LINKS
After reading my comment last week about waxy butter, my friend Cat was reminded of this article that she’d read previously about waxy butter plaguing Canadians during the pandemic. The Kirkland butter I mentioned was actually from New Zealand, but this was still a really interesting read.
This quick Instagram video from Cook’s Illustrated has a hack for slicing onions that I thought was super clever. I haven’t tried it but thought a lot of you might enjoy. Geometry!
READER Q’S
I actually got several versions of the same question following last week’s newsletter: Why the additional 1” depth of pasta water, and how precise does that need to be?
In my head, this is a Why that was being saved for the pasta edition, but I should have explained this one a little better in the meantime. My bad, fam. You do NOT need to be precise here; if anything, the revelation that you can add hot tap water to dry pasta and just set that on the stove to boil indicates that cooking dry pasta is really forgiving. The reason we go for the additional inch of depth once the pasta is fully submerged is just a hedge; dried pasta absorbs different amounts of water and expands at different rates, depending upon its shape, and it’s important that the pot contains enough water to rehydrate the pasta and allow it to move around freely to avoid sticking. BUT, the more water you add to the pot, the more diluted the starch runoff is - and per last week’s rundown, the starchy water is really important, and we want it to be as concentrated as possible. So it’s a balancing act: enough water to hydrate and separate, but not so much that the starch is so dilute as to be an ineffective emulsifier when we use it in the pan sauce. The 1” depth is a good hedge, but as you become more comfortable cooking your favorite shapes in your favorite pot, you’ll adjust accordingly. Maybe you need another inch or two; totally fine. A good rule of thumb: properly starched pasta water should have the opacity of dishwater. Add your dry pasta and hot water, set it on the stove to boil, and give a few stirs; after 2 minutes, the water should look cloudy and dull, but should not be so opaque that you can’t see the pasta beneath the surface. If it is, just add water until it thins to the right translucency. If, after 2 minutes or so, the water is still crystal clear, you’ve probably got too much in there; just (carefully) ladle some out. All good.
And if you get it wrong? It happens. I made buttered noodles two days ago and got distracted by kids and forgot the pasta water. They super sucked. Shit happens. We move on.