Greetings, friends. (XXVII)

Greetings, friends. There’s been some traumatic news for a number of my friends in different circles, so I want to take a moment and express my love and sympathy for all of you who are struggling right now. I send you hugs.

Not to change the subject, but today I want to keep my journal entry light. I was originally going to talk about beef jerky. I absolutely love the stuff. I think I like any kind of shaved beef steak. Actually, if I had to pick a favorite food item, it would be a classic Philly cheesesteak, white American, with onions and hots, on an Amoroso’s Italian roll. I have a lot to say about cheesesteaks, but I digress.

What’s not to love about beef jerky? Aside from the entire American livestock factory farming industry, that is. But I sort of made my peace with that evil compromise about 15 or so years ago, when I gave up on a dozen years of ethical vegetarianism.

Beef jerky. Savory, salty, umami, compact, long shelf life, high protein. That last is especially important to me now that I’m borderline diabetic and closely watching my glucose levels in the hopes of having the full use of my extremities in my old age. But more about that later.

When Granddad Red died in 2016, we got nearly the whole family got together for the first time since 1987. After the funeral, my cousins and I stopped off at the liquor store in order to honor the old man with a proper wake at home. At some point into the mournful festivities, we got hungry, so I went searching for snacks in the fridge, and found a Mason jar filled with beef jerky. I asked my grandmother about its provenance.

“Your grandfather made it,” Grandma said. “You might as well eat it. I don’t care for the stuff.”

So my sister and my cousins and I passed around Granddad’s last jar of homemade beef jerky and drank corn whiskey and traded memories of our ancestor. It seemed fitting.

I suppose that, having spent a bunch of time flirting both with low-carb / keto diets and overnight backcountry hiking, it was logical that eventually I would try making my own. About that time, I bought an inexpensive name-brand food dehydrator off a global e-commerce website, bought about five pounds of eye of round, and went crazy with random marinade ingredients. I took most of it to Keeney Meadow in Oregon for the Great American Eclipse of 2017, and shared it with the gang. I didn’t bring any home. It was pretty good.

The only problem is that beef jerky requires a bit of preparation and forethought, and most dehydrators are not very quiet and run for six plus hours and also make the house smell like marinated beef. Which is okay up to a point, but really you want a garage or some secluded but well ventilated space in which to make the magic happen.

So now that Besha has kindly granted me access to her workshop, it is time to make the magic happen again!

First off, you need the beef. I go for round cuts — top round, bottom round, eye of round, London Broil. They tend to be lean, which is what you want. They’re tough, sure, but that’s also they’re usually the cheaper cuts at the butcher. I wait until my supermarket of choice has round cuts on steep sale, and then fill up my freezer.

Next, you want to slice the beef properly. Which means, IMO, with the grain of the muscle, as thinly as possible. I’ve thought about getting a meat slicer to really do it right, but I don’t have anywhere to keep such a monstrosity. Mostly I let the cut defrost for an hour or so (or put it in the freezer for a half hour, if it’s not frozen), sharpen my biggest knife as best I can, and have at. I can only make a pound or a pound at a half at a time on account of the size of my dehydrator.

This time around I am trying to be a bit more disciplined about the marinade formulation, since that’s about half the battle right there. I’ve made some really good beef jerky, as I said, but I’ve also made some in the past that was… meh? I’d like to really dial it in this time.

I had a brainwave and went around a bunch of recipe sites to begin synthesizing what I call my Gwailou Char Siu beef jerky.

Can I just interrupt myself for a moment to talk about how terrible recipe websites have become? Like, I literally do not care about that one time you tried the dish when you were on a yoga retreat in Honduras. I do not need to see endless photos of the preparation. I do not give a goddamn about how much your kids or your aunt or your dog or your surreptitious affair loved the dish. I do not need affiliate links to buy cooking gadgets. I do not need interstitial popups begging to give you my email for notifications and updates. Just tell me what the fucking ingredients are or GTFO.

Oh. Oops. Well this is not a recipe website, it’s my journal. Sorry not sorry.

My Gwailou Char Siu beef jerky marinade includes:

• ½ cup soy sauce

• ⅓ cup hoisin sauce

• ¼ cup crushed pineapple

• 3 tbsp Shaoxing wine

• 3 tbsp molasses

• 1 tbsp honey

• 2 tsp toasted sesame oil

• 1 tbsp diced garlic

• 1 tbsp diced ginger

• 1 tsp Five Spice powder

• 1 tbsp salt

• 1 tsp black pepper

• 1 tsp paprika*

• 1 tsp red chili flakes*

The last couple ingredients are experimental. I’ve been dialing back the black and chili pepper, because Besha likes beef jerky as much as I do but her palate is more delicate than mine. I also leave off the red food coloring that is traditional when making Cantonese roast pork.

Also, I have seen Char Siu barbecue sauce recipes that call for sherry instead of Shaoxing wine. I would not but I guess one does what one must.

I mix the dry ingredients together, add enough soy sauce to make a paste, swish everything else in, then dump the sliced beef and the marinade into a 1 gallon resealable freezer bag. If the meat’s not perfectly covered, I’ll pour in a little more soy sauce for good measure, then bung it in the fridge overnight.

I realized as I was writing this that Char Siu sauce is normally cooked to a low simmer briefly before use, probably to let the sugars caramelize a bit. I’ll have to try that in the future.

The pineapple is not traditional for Char Siu, but I think it is essential, because pineapple contains bromelain, which is an enzyme that softens muscle fiber. Did you know, by the way, that bromelain also slowly dissolves the protein bonds in living tissue?

In Soviet Russia, pineapple eats you!

Anyway, the bromelain in the pineapple takes that tough round cut down a notch, and adds some sweetness and flavor, which is why I use a lot less sugar than is traditional for Char Siu. Also I’m borderline diabetic and the last thing I need is sugar in my high-protein snack.

However, pineapple juice is relatively expensive, as is raw pineapple, and neither one keeps in the fridge for very long. The solution I finally hit on was to buy crushed pineapple in the least expensive can I could get at the supermarket, portion it out into the ice cube trays that I bought to make extra large cubes for bourbon, and then keep the pineapple cubes in the freezer. That way I can add a single cube of frozen pineapple at a time to my beef jerky marinade, and none goes to waste.

Although, now I am reading on Wikipedia that canned pineapple does not functionally contain bromelain, as the heat used in the canning process denatures the enzyme. Back to the drawing board, I guess. Anyone want a fruity tropical cocktail?

You do have to be careful with the stuff. When I started experimenting with pineapple juice in the marinade, I once left the jerky marinating in the fridge for several days by accident, and the final product … did not have the right texture. You want your beef jerky to have a little chew. But the right amount for the right amount of time can make a huge difference.

I also have thoughts about Prague Powder #1, but this entry is long enough.

After a day or so of marination, the jerky-to-be comes out of the fridge. I pat the excess liquid off each slice with paper towels, and then it all goes in the dehydrator for six hours at 160ºF. Once it cools down, I pack it into a Mason jar, where it keeps in the fridge basically indefinitely.

Anyway, I made another batch yesterday in order to have some to take with on my flight to the Bay Area this weekend. It’s pretty good, and not too spicy, so Besha likes it. I’m still trying to get the amount of Five Spice right — you want it to blend with the fermented goodness that is the hoisin, as well as the other flavors, and not be all like OH HI IS THAT FIVE SPICE? WOW. HELLO.

Anyway, if you’re reading this, I hope you have successfully dialed in whatever is your Five Spice equivalent for today. Ceterum censeo pro vigilum imperdiet cessandam est. Toodles!