Paella, Part 1
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Finally, home. We had a wonderful time on the cruise. (Here's another shot of the little fishing village of Portree on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, one of my new favorite places on earth).
But I've been away from this blog--and work, too--for way too long. I'm sorry for my absence here. The seas were rough. Rough like I've never seen them. We couldn't make it in to two ports because of gale-force winds. One night, they told guests to put trash cans next to their beds--"just in case." As we bobbed around in incredible lightening storms, the ship couldn't hold a steady satellite connection. I started several posts, then the connection would fail and all would evaporate into the internet ether. Sigh.
So now, back on dry land (but why is the house rocking?), I'm ready to post a full-on, two-set entry on paella know-how. We taught hands-on paella classes aboard the ship, using the technique from our latest book, COOKING KNOW-HOW. Here's what we did:
At sea (and wow, working with sharp knives on a pitching ship is rather surreal), we put out sets of ingredients and let everyone build a signature paella, using the basic know-how technique. So I'm going to give it a rundown here over the next two days, a sort of how-to for the basic technique, about like we did in the class.
OK, first things first: by definition, paella is a rice dish. Period. It's not a fish dish, not a seafood dish, not a shellfish-and-sausage dish. There are four constants in any paella: olive oil, saffron, rice, and smoked paprika (more about why that last one's a constant tomorrow).
Well, and another first thing: a confession. Traditionally, paella is made in a slightly concave pan over a fire well. Chances are, most of us don't have fire wells at home. (And certainly now aboard a ship!) So Bruce and I developed this technique for the flat-bottom paella pans sold in North America and Europe. No, these are not authentic, but they were manufactured to match our flat stove burners. Thus, there's some futzing with the technique to get it right.
To start, heat the oven to 350F.
The oven? That answer will come in part two of this post.
Then warm 4 cups stock, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon saffron in a saucepan over medium heat. No need to bring it to a boil--just warm it up a bit so it's not cold when it later hits the rice.
What kind of broth? Depends on what you're making. A game paella of duck confit, quail, and rabbit would need a hearty beef broth. A shellfish-and-sausage paella, I think, is best with chicken broth (fish broth tends to overwhelm the ingredients). A lobster and clam paella would certainly do better with fish broth. But a shrimp and veggie paella might be nice with a much lighter vegetable broth. It's all your call here, based on what you feel will bring the best success.
Now heat two or three tablespoons olive oil in a 15-inch flat-bottom paella pan, a 15-inch cast-iron skillet (my choice), or a 15-inch high-sided sauteuse pan. Don't just use a regular, large skillet; it won't be deep enough to hold everything to come.
Brown up to 3 pounds meat in the olive oil. Up to? Yes. If you're going to add shellfish or fish later on, drop the amount of meat in proportion to the amount of seafood to come. Going to use 1 1/2 pounds shrimp? Then brown off 1 1/2 pounds of sausage here. Going for the all-meat paella? Then go whole hog with 3 pounds. Want to make an all-seafood paella? Then skip this step entirely.
Basically, the range of protein you could use would be along these lines: chicken thighs (bone-in for better flavor, but skinless depending on your proclivities): duck confit legs (with most of the adherent fat scraped off); thick, hearty sausage (cut into 2-inch size pieces); Spanish chorizo (but not more than 1 pound of the stuff); whole quail; split-in-half game hens; a cut-up pheasant; or even a whole pork tenderloin. (Remember: there's probably seafood to come. Not necessarily but probably--like bliss in marriage.)
Once the meat has browned--don't skimp; get lots of browned gunk on the bottom of the pan--transfer it to a plate and dump in about 1 1/2 cups chopped aromatics: onion, leek (for a milder taste), or shallots (for a stronger pop). You could even toss in some chopped scallions, especially if you've got any duck in the mix. You can mix them up or use all of any one (although all shallots will be pretty strong).
Stir these in the fat until they're wilted and a little soft, then raise the heat to high and pour in 1 cup wine. Red for game, of course; white for most other purposes. Or my favorite: rose for a light, summery paella with lots of asparagus and peas to come.
Bring it to a boil and let it reduce until it's about half its original volume, about 3 minutes. No need to measure--just eyeball it. And scrape up any of that browned gunk on the bottom of the pan--the stuff where the real flavor lies.
OK, that's got you up to half the dish done. Click here for the rest.
Reader Comments (2)
My fiance is not a seafood eater at all. He's also not real big on sausage. How can I adapt Paella to satisfy his palate? Love the blog by the way!
Thanks for your kind words, Margaret.
How about making it with chicken thighs and some hard Spanish chorizo (if he'll go that far--just a little for flavor at the bottom of the dish). Maybe a couple quail for the top. Then when we get to part two, where we add the veggies, pump those up dramatically--lots of quick-cookers like asparagus, fennel, carrots, and broccoli florets. We'll get to that in the next post tomorrow--but it might give you an idea how to proceed.
Mark