It's 4th of July weekend, and for a lot of Bay Area cooks that means heading outdoors and firing up the grill. Forum talks BBQ and grilling techniques, and compare notes on favorite foods prepared by fire.

Host: Dave Iverson

Guests:
• Amanda Gold, food writer for the San Francisco Chronicle
• Chris Ying, editor in chief for Lucky Peach Quarterly, a new journal of food writing published by McSweeney's
• Eric Markoff, chef at Anchor and Hope in San Francisco and developer of the BBQ program at Town Hall Restaurant
• Ryan Farr, owner, chef and butcher for 4505 Meats

Original Broadcast: Fri, Jul 1, 2011 -- 10:00 AM

Related Posts:
Grilled Pizza

January, 2002, Ohio

The editors at Bon Appetit should be finishing up their summer grilling issue right about now. It will come out in August. Buried among the advertisements for lunch meat and recipes for three-minute meals centered around canned goods, a massive photo spread depicting a plush suburban backyard will introduce the menu and the accompanying four inches of article. In the picture, beautiful plates of perfect steaks sliced to reveal pink and ruby interiors, salads, rolls, assorted colorful enticing sides will perch on a broad buffet table standing in an impossibly verdant carpet of grass. Slender, attractive people of all races will be draped over handsome lawn furniture, ladies wearing breezy summer skirts and sun hats, guys sporting casual collared shirts and sandals. Their adorable children will be sitting on their laps, rolling around with clean, well-groomed puppies at their feet, smiling as they pause to spoon up another chomp of mac-'n'-cheese. In the center of the frame, a monstrous grill will glaze the scene with warm wisps of cozy smoke. What I describe sounds more like a shoot Gourmet would have done, but I'm sure Bon Appetit will pull out all the stops it can. After all, the spread will be designed to get readers stoked on throwing their own summer grilling parties. Unfortunately, those, with their leathery chicken breasts, lumpy mashed potatoes, misshapen pies, normal-sized adults, bratty, sunburned kids, and greedy, flea-ridden mutts, won't measure up.

For me, however, summer isn't the time I really like to cook out. I don't buy into the convention that warm weather and clear skies should always encourage fire-building. It doesn't make tons of sense to create heat outdoors on a truly hot day unless you're abandoned in the wilds of rural Idaho without your trusty Vulcan range. Furthermore, I actually tend to crave the foods associated with cookouts during winter.

There's a reason for that. I went to college in northern Ohio, not far from Cleveland, just ten miles from the shores of Lake Erie. In case you don't know, the weather fluctuations in that part of the country are brutal. Every year, when I would arrive at school in late August, temperatures often approached 100 degrees, and the air was humid, thick, hanging around your neck like a rope. It was like Kentucky, except there were more trees to hid beneath there. When it's so hot, you sweat through your clothes within five minutes of leaving the house, cookouts lose their luster -- until the sun goes down.

The most memorable cookouts from that period of my life didn't happen at the end of summer, but instead months later, in the middle of winter. At Oberlin, we had something called Winter Term. It lasted the whole month of January. For three out of the four years, you used that time to fake an internship or cobble together a half-assed pet project. By the time senior year rolled around, I had done this three times. That January, I didn't do anything except freeze, sleep, read, watch mysteriously free cable on a crummy TV set, drink, and cook out. Winters in northern Ohio are forbidding. There would be a foot of snow on the ground and my friends and I would think nothing of putting on coats and firing up the bright orange smoker I'd salvaged from the basement of my parents' house. That year, I was still in the early stages of fighting off a long, persistent case of vegetarianism. I usually cooked a mako shark steak for myself. You could taste the mercury through whatever soy-garlic marinade I threw together. I might as well have barbecued a thermometer. When car-less, we often walked fifteen minutes to a lonely IGA for supplies. That month, I honed a cole slaw recipe that hinged heavily on lip-numbing quantities of Srirachi sauce. The dressing could never decide if it wanted the shredded cabbage, carrots, and peppers it adorned to skew towards the mayo or vinegar sides of the cole slaw spectrum. I always added both, along with olive oil, in loose measurements, and the final product invariably split the difference. My process was simple. I would pull all the condiments and potential flavoring agents out of the fridge and cupboard and start adding dabs of this and that: in addition to Srirachi, Dijon mustard, sprinkles of sugar, salt, pepper, celery seed, fistfuls of scallions, and herbs like dill and parsley. After the meal, we'd leave the dirty plates and scraps outside and head in to watch Iron Chef or something. We'd forget about the mess and, by the time we remembered, the leftover mashed potatoes would be frozen clods the color of dirty snow.

As much as I'd love to replicate those cookouts here, San Francisco winters are short on bluster. Besides, eating in the rain isn't as appealing as eating in the snow. Hard rains also pose challenges to outdoor cookery. Still, I think it could be done. It'd be nice to have a big back patio and a huge tent you could set up, or at least a deck with overhang permitting enough space beneath for a grill to stay dry. Cooking on the deck would work too. If you rigged a beach umbrella or even a large portable one so that it hung right above the grill, you could essentially cook out while remaining inside, just reaching out to flip a burger or toast a bun before ducking back in again. You would probably want a second umbrella just to keep above yourself, so that whatever you were ferrying back and forth didn't get soaked. Maybe you could tape one to the back of your head. I really just need to get a grill now -- and find a way of sneaking it past the nosy lady downstairs. Hiding the smoke and smells emanating from preparations more sophisticated than the shark of senior year will be another matter entirely. I need to hurry though. The days are warmer; the rains are less frequent. Grilling season's almost over.

For those unwilling to flaunt fire codes, San Francisco is home to a few good public grilling spots. Dolores Park is nice enough, and I've been told you can reserve barbecues and picnic areas for small, well-behaved parties. Golden Gate Park hosts plenty of epic cookouts -- notably local house label Dirty Bird's monthly Sunday carne asada parties in Jerry Garcia Meadow. Even if you -- like me -- side with Ali G. when it comes to actually listening to house music, these outdoor bashes are a lot of fun. The best place in town to cook out is also the diciest. When I first moved here, some friends and I relished Saturday night bonfires on Ocean Beach, roasting hot dogs on sticks to go with the twelve-packs we'd haul in. Sands and stifling winds stood in for Ohio's snow drifts, and while the food was fairly rudimentary, the misty primitive setting made up for any culinary shortcomings. Though we always cleaned up after ourselves, others weren't so considerate, and the authorities became increasingly peckish. One night a few years back, we were carrying on as usual and, just as I was applying a thin drizzle of mustard to a blistered dog, Officer No Fun walked up swiftly, abruptly heaved a few shovels of sand on the fire, and warned of $200 fines in the event of future infractions. That was that. Ever since, most my cookouts have been snow-, rain-, and sand-free. They've happened at Brothers Korean BBQ.

Sunset magazine has long been the go-to source for "how to live in the West" especially when it comes to travel, gardening, home improvement and of course, food and wine. Since the centennial of the magazine in 1998, Sunset has been hosting an annual open house called the Sunset Celebration Weekend. The weekend takes place in June, and there is a schedule of chef demonstrations, garden and outdoor living events and live entertainment. The entrance fee is $15 and that gets you admission to all of the presentations although you'll need to sign up for the wine tasting events separately and they fill up quickly.

Many vendors offer tastes and nibbles, but for a meal, you'll have to pay. I was a bit disappointed that the food available was the typical street fair variety such as corn dogs, gyros and overpriced tostada salads. Not very inspiring! The exhibitors and vendors range from Hawaiian Airlines and speciality nurseries to the ShamWow! and everything in between.

Highlights of the experience include meandering through the gardens, including the team garden for the Our One-Block Diet, a tour of the test kitchen and the outdoor kitchen.

Test kitchen has a long counter where finished dishes are evaluated. Once the editorial and test kitchen team is finished with the dish, a green flag indicates the staff can eat it. A red flag means the dish is not yet finished, and a pirate flag means, the dish did not pass muster, eat at your own risk! In the tote bag you receive at the entrance are some coupons, a schedule and a great booklet with recipes from all the chefs so even if you only come one day, you'll have recipes from the whole weekend.

My favorite presentations were by chefs Burak Epir of the Pilita Mediterranean Turkish Grill in San Carlos and Cindy Pawlcyn of Mustard's Grill. Epir showed off his kebab technique with a huge knife, and shared tips such as using a small sieve to filter stems and seeds from dried herbs. He used my favorite pepper, maras, in his recipe for Kilis kebab which also included lots of fresh parsley, the most commonly used fresh herb in Turkey.

Cindy Pawlcyn emphasized the importance of using the ripest produce, explaining it is better to substitute an ingredient than to use something that is not deliciously ripe. She also showed a technique of smashing hazelnuts with the side of a chef knife rather than chopping them to create a better and more uniform texture. Great tips, no matter what recipe you try.

Kilis kebab
10 tomatoes
2 poblano peppers
1 medium white onion, preferably sweet
1 bunch Italian parsley, chopped
1 Tablespoon salt
1/2 Tablespoon fresh ground pepper
1 Tablespoon Maras red pepper, also called Marash pepper
1/2 medium white onion, grated
2 pounds ground lamb, shoulder cut

On a charcoal grill cook the tomatoes and pepper until well charred, remove the skins and finely dice.

Also finely dice the onion and mix it with the chopped parsley. Add to the charred tomato and peppers and set aside. Cover and keep warm.

Prepare the kebab by adding salt, pepper, Maras red pepper and the grated onions to the ground lamb. Mix well. Make the meatballs and place on a skewer. Grill indirectly over the heat, until nice and juicy. Place the charred tomato and peppers on a plate and set the meat kebabs over it.

Recipe reprinted courtesy of Sunset and chef Burak Epir

My first summer in San Francisco, I bought a little Weber and installed it on my fire escape. Within two minutes of lighting its inaugural pile of charcoal, I answered my doorbell to find an irate neighbor pointing at the flames and reminding me that all the houses in our neighborhood were constructed of wood. My poor Smokey Joe was instantly retired. Since then, I've explored various safer ways to char my food and finally, after quite a few years, settled on a system that actually works.After dismissing stovetop options, such as grill pans and an aluminum rack on legs that I dug up in the back aisle of Soko Hardware, I finally cobbled together a simple setup.

I had a gas stove from the 80s with a broiler drawer at the bottom. (It was pristine the first time I opened it; the previous inhabitants hadn't used it once!) Unfortunately, I could never get enough heat to sear and finish food with that unique texture and flavor that comes from the direct heat of a hot, dry flame. Everything steamed and soaked in its own juices, and my food always left a mess that was a pain to scrub away.

Two things changed that:

1) Replacing the wimpy grill pan that came with the stove. I bought the biggest, heaviest searing grill that I could find. The ones that stretch across two burners and have a grease well are perfect. I splurged on a Dacor searing grill, but there are plenty others that will work.

2) Following Linda Carucci's advice and keeping the door of the broiler open an inch or so. This helps the steam escape to maintain dry heat.

As you can see from the photo, even whole fish grills up crisp and clean. It's essential to preheat the searing grill until smoking hot. The first few times you use it, be sure to brush it lightly with peanut or grapeseed oil (you'll need the high-smoke point!). As the grill becomes seasoned though, the oil in the marinades and moist rubs is enough to lift food off easily. I can now confidently follow summer recipes throughout the year while keeping my fire escape free of flames.

For the other half of grilling fish in the city, here's a quick primer on buying the freshest fish possible...

FINDING A FISHMONGER

Visit a quality fishmonger. New May Wah on Clement and 8th Ave, Bryan's on California St., Shogun Fish at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, Berkeley Bowl, 99 Ranch and Whole Foods are a few of the places I'd recommend, but the best thing to do is look for a good store near you and then cultivate a relationship with the folks behind the counter.

Ask friendly questions, such as their advice about the freshest fish of the day, how it was caught and how they like to prepare it. After a few visits, you'll figure out if they know what they're talking about. Best of all, you'll become one of those favorite regulars who receive the best of the counter. Any quality vendor appreciates curious customers who are looking for good products. (Be prepared for brusque service at the Asian fish counters, though. I hate to admit it, but customer service isn't their forte. Super-fresh fish for the fearless, on the other hand, they have covered.)

When you walk into a new place, look for lots of ice for the whole fish and metal trays for the fillets and steaks. Needless to say, you should immediately leave any place that smells of rotten fish. A wall of tanks filled with lively fish swimming in clear, bubbling water is at the top of my own list, since I often point at the exact fish I want netted. Little signs that indicate origin and the method of catching are helpful for those who are trying to eat within a sustainable seafood system.

SELECTING FISH

On whole fish, don't be afraid to lift the gills to check for red blood. Avoid any fish with dry, browned gills. Then press your forefinger into the thickest part of the fish's flank to watch its flesh spring back out, quick and firm. Wet, moist tail and fins are good; dry, brittle ones are bad. Clear, shiny, rounded eyes are another good indicator of fresh fish, although sometimes the ice can damage them, so it shouldn't be the only thing on your list. Sniff for an odor of ocean. It's okay to get a noseful of "pier perfume," but there should be no hint of decay or any strong "fishiness" that reveals too many days out of the water.

If you're buying fillets, the touch and smell tests are the best. Even cut flesh will spring back. You shouldn't be able to see a depression where your finger was. The longer your fingerprint lingers, the older the fish. Sliminess is another sure sign that you should move on to the next fish or choose chicken for dinner. Whole fish will have a natural shine and slipperiness -- the scales dull and loosen as the fish ages out of water -- but cut flesh should not feel slick.

If the fish is protected behind glass cases, I make a point of asking the person helping me to poke the fish for me or to bring it out so I can perform my own touch and sniff tests. No, I don't mind people behind me sighing, rolling their eyes or muttering under their breaths.

Sometimes, though, the best fish is in the freezer. A fish that's expertly frozen within hours of leaving its watery home is much, much better in quality than a so-called fresh fish that's taken almost a week to get from boat to market.

After going through all that trouble tracking down and identifying a good fish, don't bother waiting a couple of days to cook it. Plan on buying, cooking and eating your fish the same day or, at the most, within a day of finding it.

PREPARING WHOLE FISH FOR THE GRILL OR BROILER

Here are some tips for handling whole fish:

If you're not comfortable gutting and scaling a whole fish (that's another whole entry in itself...) then make it easy on yourself and ask the fishmonger to clean the fish for you. What you want is simply a dressed fish: gutted and scaled but with its head, fins and tail intact.

Get back home quickly, or plan to bring a cooler or insulated bag with you. I often ask the fishmonger to put the fish, after weighing it, into another bag with some ice. No market has ever refused to do this, and they may have a ice pack or two that they're happy to pass along.

When you unwrap the fish in your own kitchen, take care with the tail and fins. They sometimes have sharp ends that can poke or cut your hand.

With any fish that's more than two inches thick, cut three slits at an angle into each side of the fish to allow the heat to penetrate to the center. I like to fill the belly cavity with aromatics -- say scallions and lemon slices or big handfuls of fennel fronds -- in order to maintain its rounded shape at the table. A few toothpicks soaked in water will keep the belly flaps together.

Here's an old trick for creating a "nonstick" grill rack: Cut a big, starchy potato in half. Stick the potato halves onto a big fork. Be sure the grill rack is clean and free of burnt food remains. Once the preheated grill rack is hot, rub it well with the cut side of the potato halves. The instantly seared layer of starch will create a surface which will release the fish more readily, especially if you have a brand-new, shiny grill.

For every inch of thickness, allow ten minutes to cook the fish. It will vary slightly either way, but this is a good baseline for figuring out cooking times. Once the fish flakes easily close to the bone, it's ready for eating. I prefer undercooking to any amount of overcooking, but you should cook the fish to the point that you enjoy. With the variation in size and species, the best way to test for flake is with the tip of a paring knife.

Use two wide spatulas to roll the fish gently when it's ready to turn. Be sure there are enough hot coals beneath the area where the second side will cook. Brush the fish lightly with oil before turning it.

Wrapping a fish in soaked banana leaves will make the fish easier to turn and remove. You'll lose that nice char but will gain a wonderful smoky flavor while retaining lots of moisture. Plan for a longer cooking time.

If you have a pizza peel or one of those thin cookie sheets, especially one with a tapered edge, then you can scoop up the whole fish with little effort. Otherwise, use those two wide spatulas and have the platter as close to the fish as possible.

SPICY GINGER-LEMONGRASS RUB

This is a recipe that I've adapted from my uncles in Vietnam. Whenever I visited, they'd chop down a young banana tree to create an impromptu grill. Two logs of the juicy trunk supported split bamboo skewers, and everything from the family chicken to sweet field mice ended up coated with this spicy, savory rub.

I have an Indian-style mixie which makes it a lot easier to blend the hard lemongrass with minimal liquid. If you have a regular blender, plan on chopping the ingredients more finely and then adding a bit more oil and/or wine to help the blades do their thing.

Chop roughly:
A big knob of ginger, peeled
The pale half of 4 stalks of lemon grass
3 large cloves of moist, plump garlic
2-4 red Thai chiles, seeded or not as you wish
A small knob of fresh turmeric (or a half teaspoon of powdered turmeric)

Have ready 3-4 tablespoons each:
Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
Vegetable oil

Combine the aromatic, dry ingredients in the jar of a blender. Drizzle in 2 tablespoons of the rice wine and oil. Blend to a smooth paste, adding more liquid and scraping down as needed. Rub evenly onto fish, chicken, beef, pork or pressed tofu. Cover and let marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Grill or broil the meat or tofu with high, direct heat, brushing lightly with additional oil.