Hot Knives

It's true we'll never be big believers in vegan "cheese." You know, the velveeta-like pizza and quesadilla goop? Its mostly oil and flavored science to help it "melt." We'll take a splash of good olive oil and freshly ground spices over that any day, thank you very much.

But, we are still keen on protein-laden pâté and spreads that can compliment, or even replace, a funky fromage. Think Euro charcuterie rather than Kraft singles...

So, last weekend, as we prepared a deeply beer-friendly cheese plate for our Greatest Sips book launch party, we looked for a vegan equivalent. We decided to hone a cashew "cheese" recipe we've followed a couple times from Charlie Trotter's "Raw," an excellent vegan-raw "cook" book. Trotter's "cashew cheese" is a simple, creamy spread that doesn't involve a dehydrator or his typical 20-steps. But we also find the flavor to be a little simple as a result. So, to pump up the 'stank' factor, we played a little fast and loose with the fermentation directions and added a secret ingredient that, by now, dear readers you should have sitting around anyway.

The result is a creamy, velvety spread that comes close to the fat and funk of a farmstead cheese, though it really can't be called an imitation. Served with lunchmeat style habanero seitan and kraut-relish, our guests loved it, though some didn't much care for the "cheese" reference. Okay, okay, it's pâté. Now, if only we had a vegan impression of that other classic cheese plate protein -- a terrine of foie gras. Hmm, stay tuned...

3 cups raw cashew pieces
3 cups filtered water
1/2 cup Rejuvelac
2 Tbs. sauerkraut brine (red cabbage preferred)
1 Tbs. kosher salt
2 Tbs. peppercorns
1 1/2 Tbs. Brewer's yeast
1 tsp. dried rosemary
1 tsp. fennel pollen (optional)

1. Soak the cashews in filtered water for at least 12 hours, covering the bowl with a cloth.

2. Puree into a paste: Drain cashews and add to a food processor. Pulse cashews for several minutes, pouring in the Rejuvelac slowly. Then pour in the kraut juice. Once mixture is creamy and fully mixed, spoon it into a fine mesh strainer and rest the strainer in a large bowl, covered with a cloth.

3. Store the cashew mixture in a warm place, like your oven, for 16 hours. If your kitchen isn't particularly warm, try turning the oven on warm for 10 minutes every 3-4 hours to trap in heat, but make sure not to cook the stuff.

4. Once the mixture smells yeasty, you're ready to finish flavoring and shaping it. Remove from strainer into a clean bowl. Add 1 Tbs. of Brewer's yeast and the salt to taste. Then mix with a spoon. Prepare a sturdy cutting board with wax paper and choose 3 ring molds or tea cups to use for shaping the cheese. Spray each cup with a bit of canola or olive oil spray to prevent sticking. Spray the wax paper as well. Divide mixture into 3 portions (about 1 cup each) and pack tightly into cup.

5. Turn the three cups onto the wax paper-lined cutting board and sit like this stored in the fridge for at least 24 hours.

6. Now, the spread should hold its shape. Tap the cup to loosen the Pâté and top with garnish of chopped peppercorns, rosemary, fennel pollen and remaining Brewer's yeast.

Beverage: Firestone's Velvet Merkin
Soundtrack: Stereolab's "Velvet Water"

The Communal and unified nature of the American brewing scene shouldn't be anything new to you. (Buy Our Book.) New, rowdy breweries are equipped with the obsolete machines of Elder breweries past, and Macro-Micro breweries are always evolving into new paternal forms: from distilling to distributing other fellow ale houses' suds.

But the pinnacle of this new school of collaboration rests in grand old Escondido, in the vast fortress of our first love: Stone Brewing. Along with countless forays into expanding the expression of beer-madness, the dudes at Stone are in their third year of organized collaborative brewing and the results have been building in Rad.

Engaging in Hands-Across-The-Pond style brewing, and even embarking on something as official and nerdy as a "Brewer Exchange Program," the Juxtaposition series presents the boys who always wanted to ruin your taste buds with a new set of potential hurdles to demolish. The process they've coined consists of a tryptic of current brewing baddies. Past projects, and current ones for that matter, pretty much read like a roll call of the best and brightest brewers on the planet.

The 'witches round the fire' situation that ensues from such a meeting of minds produces some pretty blazing results. In the case of 2009's Black Pilsner, the three-way offspring becomes a veritable ubermensch. Pilsner, lets face it, is a fairly tired style. Yeah, when pressed to we can tell the difference between PBR and Czechvar but being deeply into Pilsner is like insisting that Barry Manilow is still a total ruler, or that a Wham! Reunion deserves closer inspection given the current economic climate -- tepid and silly.

This Juxtaposition bottle was pried from the depths of the Rock n' Roll 7-11 in Highland Park. Upon popping, a veritable palette of hops exited the wee bottle (there were 9 hop additions during the brewing). In the glass, this beer looks like the antithesis of Pilsner: black, velvety, dense. Swilling brings about a whole new feeling, not unlike the first time you shower stoned. "Wow," you might say, "this feels really goddamn good!" And it does. And it tastes like pineapples. It tastes like hop candy, it tastes like the lightest, hoppiest, stout that you could imagine in all your beer dreams, like some amalgam of Black Flag and Pliny, and something else, like a perfect waxed cup of your best seven-year-old soda fountain cocktail with an inappropriate name (we called them 'Suicides').

And then its over. Flavor upon flavor, in unyielding nonsensical throbs for seven to 17 seconds and then... your mouth is clean. Did you just brush your teeth? Where's my car...

This is aged magic in a bottle; a damn near perfect collaboration of three genies that comes out tasting like something you've never tasted before (or maybe never liked before). Find this before its gone; or covet the success of those who beat you to the punch.

Soundtrack: Mi Ami "Dreamers"
Dairy Pairy: Brebis Roussinere -- a raw washed rind hard aged sheep's cheese from way too high in the mountains.

The other day we came home to a care package from a dear buddy who's been traipsing through distant Chinese cities. We sliced through the wrinkled, brown-bag wrapping. Three small plastic baggies of nubby brown husks and fine orange powder fell to the kitchen counter.

The stash was mostly whole, unadulterated and, presumably, illegal Sichuan peppercorns. Let us explain, officer!

Yes, sichuan pepper became illegal the same year as LSD - back in 1968, the FDA banned it because of fears it would infect our citrus with a rare canker disease. That ban was lifted because the stuff imported to the U.S. is now treated with a blast of bacteria-hating 160-degrees heat.

Not this stuff: there were no signs that the spices we were holding had ever been near a customs officer, let alone a sterilization blaster. Kitchen contraband. Score!

So what exactly are Sichuan peppercorns? Funny thing is, they are not related to black pepper or hot chilies at all. The spice is actually the outer seed pod of a tiny low-hanging fruit that Chinese and Tibetan cooks have been working with for centuries. Known for a mild and anesthetic heat that makes your mouth numb in large enough quantities, the stuff powers hot pots and sizzling woks. Even though the spicy cuisine that gives these little balls their name is synanomous with "searing pain," don't expect Sichuan peppercorns to spice up your cooking. Prepare for the opposite, in fact.

Sichuan pepper numbs your buds. Think the gummy numbness of high-powered cocaine rubbed sloppily on your teeth and lips.

Throughout the week, we've experimented with the best way to harness this weird fruit. We cracked it raw on salad and brussels sprouts. We threw it into sauerkraut. And toasted its dust for hot nuts. But far and away the best way to cook up with this shit is to purely infuse your oil. The first thing we learned is that the citrusy, perfume it gives off only comes out in food if you toast Sichuan peppercorns. Here's a play by play of how to get numb.

4 Tbs. Sichuan peppercorns
4 Tbs. grapeseed or canola oil
fine mesh strainer or coffee filter

1. Toast

Place the whole peppercorns in a saute pan on medium-high heat. Once you smoke, lower to medium and toss every minute for about 5 minutes. Do not burn. Once fragrant and well toastes, remove from heat and rest for a few minutes.

2. Grind

Dump peppercorns into a mortar and pestle and pulverize for one minute, until just coarser than a dust. If chopping by hand, set peppercorns on a cutting board and chop well.

3. Infuse

Put the fine peppercorn dust back into the pan, return to a medium heat and drizzle in the oil. Let cook for another 3 minutes or until you see tiny bubbles where the oil is frying the pepper. Remove from heat and let sit 5 minutes to fully steep.

4. Strain

Place snugly a coffee grinder into the lip of a small bowl or jar and slowly scrape out pepper oil into the filter. It should slowly drip a mostly clear liquid, catching the pepper grounds.

5. Use

Use 2-3 tablespoons of this frying oil in recipes in place of normal olive oil.