The Test: Perfecting a Cheesy Family Favorite

You may or may not have seen the well-known clip from Alton Brown’s “Good Eats” that has made its rounds on the internet, in which Alton makes what is arguably the world’s most literal grilled cheese. His goal is to make sure that every element of the sandwich is physically kissed by the direct heat of the grill, and he uses MacGyver-level ingenuity to convert spatulas into grill pans. Tossing a few handfuls of cheese into these makeshift pans, he melts the cheese over low heat while the bread browns dutifully on the hotter half of the grill.

Without a doubt, this sandwich looks divine when assembled, but the reaction from the Internet was a resounding, “Sure, it looks good, but why make it so hard on yourself to make something so simple?”

I stand somewhere in-between these two parties; it does seem like if you wanted to make more than the two sandwiches the recipe yields, you either need quite a few spatulas or a good amount of time to spare (the cheese alone can take up of nine minutes to cook). But looking at it on a larger scale, I could not respect Alton more for his refusal to accept that even a recipe as simple and unassuming as a grilled cheese is ever truly perfect.

So this month on The Test, we will turn our eye to this cheesy, golden brown symbol of our childhoods, and attempt to elevate it beyond two pieces of Wonderbread and a rubbery slice of Kraft American cheese. Our goal is to preserve these childhood memories by avoiding overly complicated additions to the process, but still do everything in our power to make it a restaurant-ready recipe that everyone can enjoy.

Cheese, You Make My Heart Melt

I think there are probably a good number of us who hold a deep-rooted love for the processed product we know as American cheese; it’s cheap, holds its shape decently when melted, and has (some) flavor. If you haven’t picked up on it from my flippant descriptions, I’m not the biggest fan of the stuff, but I understand why some people go with it. Real cheese can be very temperamental, and separates if exposed to heat for too long, becoming a leathery mess topped with pools of fat.

To understand how to prevent this, we should take a brief, mildly scientific look at the makeup of cheese. During the cheese making process, an enzyme called rennet is added to milk, which through the wonders of science, breaks down the milk’s proteins in a highly specific way. As the rennet goes to work, we see a separation in the milk occur, resulting in solid milk curds (which you’ve probably had deep fried - SO good) and the watery whey runoff. It’s these solidified curds that make up the body of our cheeses, suspended among droplets of water and fat; unfortunately, this bond is delicate and begins to break down in the presence of heat.

So knowing this, it might make a bit more sense when I tell you that cheese doesn’t truly melt; what we perceive as the melting of those delicious slices of cheese is actually those proteins separating. WE can liken this process somewhat to a rubber band being stretched. Just like that rubber band, cheese has its limit; eventually it will “snap,” and the proteins rapidly clump back together, squeezing out any last bits of moisture  and creating those unattractive pools of fat.

With Age Comes Great Flavor

When I was taking my soups class in culinary school, we were running through many of the obligatory restaurant favorites, and eventually hit the classic broccoli cheddar soup. Our natural instinct is to throw every last shred of cheese we have on hand into the pot, but even a soup or sauce stabilized with starch will eventually take on a gritty texture if too much cheese is added. 

Our instructor let us in on a little secret - to accentuate the flavors of a young, creamy cheese, like cheddar, you should not load the pot with it, but rather use it in smaller amounts alongside an older cheese, like Parmesan or Roquefort. It’s honestly a magical combination that creates something entirely new; I think of it as bringing a little attitude to the cheeses that haven’t fully matured.

So if we apply this little nugget of knowledge to our grilled cheese sandwich, we get something that doesn’t just taste like dairy; no need to dunk it into tomato soup just to find a bit of real flavor!

Pan Roast Your Way to Success

So looking back, we know that we have to take care with our young melting cheeses, like cheddar and fontina, and that they need to lean on the experience of the more elderly members of the family for flavor. Now, let’s move forward to actually getting this thing made.

In choosing the bread for your sandwich, the world is your oyster. Want to break out the Wonderbread? Cool. Personally, I think the bread should be just as important as the cheese, so something with good flavor like an aged sourdough or a delectable pretzel roll are natural go-tos. But remember, this isn’t fine dining; whatever you may have lying around is fine, as long as you treat it right.

For maximum buttery crunch and flavor, I always toast the bread on one side before assembling my sandwich. The cheese (and whatever other ingredients wander into the mix) will go on the cooked side of the bread, so all we have to do is toast the outside and melt the cheese. Where we run into trouble is ensuring the bread hasn’t toasted to a charcoal black by the time our ingredients are heated through.

To this, I propose a solution rooted in one of the most fundamental techniques of restaurant cooking: the pan roast. When a chef has a protein that is particularly thick, it’s obvious to them that if they cook it entirely on the direct heat of the gas range, it will be completely blackened by the time it has cooked to temperature internally. So instead, the meat is seared on one side on the stove top, flipped, and transferred (pan and all) to the ambient heat of the oven, where it can be gradually cooked without drying out or burning the surface.

Equip yourself with a heavy-bottomed pan that can take the heat of the oven, and do as the great restaurant chefs do. Assemble the grilled cheese. Toast it to golden brown on one side, flip, and throw the whole kit and caboodle into the heat of your oven. Watch attentively, making sure to wipe off the inevitable drool from your face, and before you know it, the perfect grilled cheese will emerge. 

With food culture spreading like wild fire across every facet of today’s society, I think it’s great that there is a rapidly growing appreciation and recognition of the food that we may have otherwise taken for granted. Even your average home chefs are finding themselves motivated to push their cooking into the realm of art that can be ooh-ed and aah-ed over by friends. Sometimes, however, in this push to elevate our craft, the simple comfort foods we loved growing up fall by the wayside. Never forget about the simple pleasures in life, and don’t be afraid to turn back to what you know for inspiration; sometimes it’s the humblest dishes that impress the most.

THE ULTIMATE GRILLED CHEESE

Makes 2 Sandwiches

4 slices thick-cut, good-quality bread
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
4 slices cheddar cheese, or other melting cheese (Havarti, fontina, etc.)
¼ cup aged Parmesan cheese or other mature cheese (Pecorino, Parmigiano-Reggiano, etc.), grated

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Place a large heavy-bottomed sauté pan over medium heat, and add two tablespoons butter to the pan. When the butter stops foaming, add the slices of bread and toast until golden brown on one side (cook in batches if the pan isn’t big enough).

3. Turn off the heat, and remove the slices of bread from the pan. Transfer to a cutting board. Place a slice of cheddar cheese and a bit of Parmesan on the toasted side of each slice of bread, then sandwich the bread together.

4. Return the pan to medium heat, and add the remaining butter. Place the two sandwiches into the pan, and allow to toast to a golden brown on one side. Turn off the heat, flip the sandwiches, and transfer to the oven.

5. Cook the sandwiches in the oven until the cheese melts and the bread is golden brown on the remaining side, about 3-5 minutes. Remove from the oven, cut the sandwiches in half, and serve immediately.

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Originally from Columbia, South Carolina, Milo Klos is relatively new to Chicago, but is already looking to leave his mark on the city's food culture, eating as much as possible along the way. He received both his bachelor's degree in creative writing and culinary certification from the University of South Carolina, and spent a couple of years teaching cooking classes in the SC-based Charleston Cooks classroom kitchen before making his move to Chicagoland. Here in the city, he works as a private culinary instructor as well as helping to teach cooking classes downtown at Sur La Table. Any bit of free time is usually spent styling food for his Instagram account (@chefagrams), or immersing himself in anything even remotely Batman related.

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What is your most perfect grilled cheese? Comment below or send us your ooey, gooey grilled cheese pics on any of our social networks. Don't forget to tag @Foodseum and use the hashtag #FeedYourCuriosity 

Mint Condition

by Alexandria Ross

Growing up in Wisconsin allowed little to no exposure to the mint julep. While the bourbon culture is prominent in that region, it wasn’t until a few years ago that I had my first taste of that centuries-old Southern cocktail so celebrated during the Kentucky Derby and across the United States on National Mint Julep Day (May 30).

While we certainly know that the julep’s origins are rooted in the South, it’s specific inventor(s) have never been brought to light. Mentions of the mint julep appear in literature as early as 1784, where it was cited as a remedy for nausea…which may seem surprising, until we look at its name. “Julep” has Persian roots meaning “rose water,” which, hundreds of years ago, was a popular form of medication. The mint leaf’s healing properties are no secret, and the muddling process included in crafting the julep helps release even more of the plant’s essential oils and enhances the flavor.

Kentucky Senator Henry Clay had a significant role in spreading the sweet, boozy creation across U.S. soil, bringing the mint julep to the Round Robin Bar at the famous Willard Hotel in Washington, DC. The drink gained even more attention when Frederick Marryat, a British captain, praised it in his 1840 book "Second Series of A Diary in America."

Up until the 19th century, the recipe had pretty much adhered to the same four ingredients: mint (usually spearmint), sugar, bourbon, and ice. However, during this time, people began opting for genever, an aged gin, in place of bourbon in their mint juleps. Jerry Thomas loaned even more variations to the recipe in the 1862 edition of "Bar-Tenders Guide: How to Mix Drinks" or The "Bon-Viviant’s Companion." Cognac, brandy, whiskey, and sparkling Moselle, a primarily white wine, found their place alongside the customary bourbon and gin formulas. Despite the range of recipe options, every mint julep was served in a silver or pewter cup to create a frosty surface.

In 1938, Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby began promoting the mint julep as the designated drink of the event. While the cocktail uses Early Times as its spirit, the official bourbon of the Derby happens to be Woodford Reserve, a 90.4-proof liquor made in Versailles, Kentucky. The race began offering extra premium mint juleps in 2006, composed of the following: imported Irish mint, Australian sugar, ice cubes made from Bavarian Alps spring water, and Woodford Reserve, served in gold plated cups. At $1,000 per drink, the proceeds go to various charitable causes.

I’ve found hands-on learning is the best for me, so the last part of my mint julep education was to take one for the team and make one of my own. Maintaining the original components, but adding a little taste of my own, I put a summery twist on the drink by adding some strawberry into the muddling process. I also used simple syrup in place of just sugar and added mint to the mixture during the heating process. After about an hour of sticky experimenting, I finalized the recipe. Enjoy!

Strawberry Mint Julep 

1 cup ice
1 cup sugar
1 cup loosely packed + a few extra mint leaves
2 strawberries
1/2 cup ice
2 shots bourbon

1. Heat the water, sugar, and 1 C mint leaves on medium high until boiling for 1-2 minutes. Strain into a container and cool in refrigerator for about an hour.

2. Slice one strawberry and add to glass with 2 mint leaves. Muddle until they’re mashed to your liking. 

3. Add ice, 1/4 minted syrup, and bourbon. Mix well.

4. Garnish with the rest of the mint leaves and second strawberry.

Building a Better Biscuit: A Southern Boy's Guide to a National Classic

As I lay down the first few keystrokes of this article, I can already hear what is sure to be the knee-jerk apprehension from readers who already hold what they consider to be the be-all-end-all recipe for biscuits. They are a corner stone of the dinner table (whether crafted from scratch or popped from a Pillsbury can), and we probably have a strong-rooted visual of the ideal biscuit.

Rooted in a simple mixture of ingredients, biscuits tend to be a generational dish, with some of us using recipes passed down from high up on the family tree. When we find a recipe that not only tastes good, but is also so strongly associated with these familial memories, it’s no wonder that people consider a family recipe to be the only one worth having. Having been raised in the South by a full-blooded South African and a northerner from Michigan, it may not surprise you to hear that my love and knowledge of low-country cooking did not come directly from my family (don’t get me wrong, my parents love it too, it just doesn’t run in our blood).

It’s then fallen on me to put my ear to the ground around great low-country chefs to piece together the aspects of what I consider the keys to biscuit making. You see, everybody can make a biscuit, but not everyone can make a dreamy, golden brown, buttery, flaky gift to humanity. Don’t fret; keep reading, we’ll get you there.

Biscuit Building Blocks:

Biscuits Love Good, Cold Butter 

There is no question that butter is one of the most vital elements of the biscuit process. Some people might question whether or not using a more expensive butter can really make a difference; my response is a resounding, “Yes it does.” What isn’t so great about those sticks of store-brand butter is that they are cut with a good deal of water as a cost-cutting measure, and lack the butter fat content that defines that creamy, buttery taste. Using an Irish-, Amish-, or European-style butter (think Plugra, Kerrygold, etc), may cost a dollar or two more, but will have your taste testers drooling in biscuit ecstasy.

Having paid for a premium product, make sure that it stays as cold as humanly possible before it gets mixed with your dry ingredients so that it doesn’t begin to melt. Your end-goal is to still have visible chunks of butter in your dough before it’s baked, so that by the time they are melted by the heat of the oven, they leave behind pockets of steam that will expand and give rise to the biscuits. It is this same idea that creates layers in croissants and flakes in pie crust. 

Ice Water (is for Hot Summer Days)

Recipes that stretch back a few generations might call for ice water to be used as the cooking liquid, not because it is advantageous to use, but because it is cheap and always on hand. Recipes written during wartimes tended to feature sparse lists of basic ingredients that were readily available in most every household. And there’s nothing wrong with such holdovers! If one were to even nitpick a little bit it could be argued that since the water will largely evaporate in the heat of the oven, you’ll be left with a biscuit that is less cake-y and more flaky.

Well, sure, right out of the oven. My concern is that a product that lacks moisture stands little chance of remaining tender for long; and did I mention that water has no flavor? My solution is to look elsewhere for ways to increase flakiness and turn to the ever-faithful dairy cow for my baking liquid (I use a half buttermilk/half heavy cream mixture). Both will lend golden brown color to the final product, and the buttermilk’s tang will add a bit of good flavor, while the cream’s fat content will increase our biscuit’s tenderness.

Cut, Stack, Roll, Repeat 

Okay, this next part is the most important thing I have to tell you, so listen up. Biscuit dough that is too heavy is going to have some trouble rising in the oven, so we need to lighten it a little bit. Nothing extreme, but after your dough comes together, instead of skipping straight to rolling and cutting it, I propose a short detour. If you cut the dough in half, stack the two halves, then roll them back, you’ve now got two layers instead of just one.

Repeat this process about six more times and you’ve increased the number of layers your dough contains exponentially. What this means is that these layers can rise higher individually than if we had left the dough in one solid mass. Basically, we’ve now achieved what I call the “Pillsbury Biscuit Effect”, where our baked product can be pulled apart golden flaky layer by golden flaky layer. Yum. Worth it, right?

Key Finishing Touches

A few smaller elements make up the remaining differences between how I do my biscuits and how grandma may have made them. One that people will want to freak out most about is that I don’t re-roll my scraps. Ever. I know, you think I’m an insane maniac. But when you’ve worked so hard to develop even layers that will rise straight up, you throw all of that out the window by mashing those layers back together (resulting in biscuits that rise with a serious lean).

To make sure I have as few scraps as possible, I forget about using a traditional round cutter and instead use a bench scraper to score out an even grid that only has a bit of trim taken off the edges. And do I throw out that trim? Oh, heck no, I roll it into ropes and make an edible border around my biscuits with it. As they rise in the oven, this border helps guide the biscuits upwards (instead of finding that hard lean again).

Having done all of this, it’s key that your biscuits have a hot enough environment to produce steam to propel them upwards, so none of this 350 degrees stuff. It’s 500 degrees or bust, baby. Now, I know some of this may seem wild and wacky, but try adding some of these techniques to your favorite biscuit recipe and see the difference they make for yourself. If you don’t have a generations-old recipe, it’s okay; you can have mine.

LOW-COUNTRY BUTTERMILK BISCUITS

Makes 9 Biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
12 tablespoons good quality butter, cut in ½ inch cubes, cold, plus more for serving 
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup buttermilk

1. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

3. Add the cubed butter to the bowl. Using your hands, rub the butter into the flour until it is the size of small peas.

4. Make a well in the center of the flour, and add the cream and buttermilk. Using a wooden spoon, mix the dough until it just comes together.

5. Turn out the dough onto a floured work surface and press into a rectangle. Cut the dough in half, stack the two halves, and roll it back into a rectangle. Repeat this process six more times.

6. Once the dough has been cut and stacked the final time, roll it out into a 1/2 inch-thick square. Using a bench scraper, mark off a grid into the dough to make it easier to cut evenly.

7. Transfer the cut biscuits to a parchment-lined baking sheet, placing them very close together. Roll any dough scraps into ropes and place around the biscuits.

8. Chill the dough in the freezer for about 5 minutes, then transfer immediately to the oven. Bake until golden brown and the biscuits spring back when lightly pressed, about 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and serve immediately with butter.

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Brand new to Chicago, Milo Klos received both his BA in creative writing and his culinary certification from the University of South Carolina. He taught cooking classes for a couple of years in a classroom kitchen in SC, but recently decided to move to Chicagoland to study baking and pastry at Le Cordon Bleu. Currently working as a private chef here in the city, Milo enjoys unwinding from a long day with a slice of pizza and anything even remotely Batman related.

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Do you have a favorite family recipe for biscuits? Any idea how to top your biscuits on this most sacred holiday? Send them our way! Don't forget to tag @Foodseum and use the hashtag #FeedYourCuriosity for a chance to see your work on our site.