Last week I sang the praises of Cornell chicken, but Ithaca isn't the only central New York town that lays claim to its own homegrown grilling tradition—Binghamton is in it to win it with spiedies. So what the hell are these things? Traced back to traditions of Italian immigrants, spiedies are kind of like those skewers of grilled meat you pick up at street fairs and festivals, if they were actually good. The secret? It's all in the marinade.
There's been a lot of talk of New York barbecue coming into its own in the past year. While there are some inventive smoked meats being produced out there that may start to define New York as a style, this mostly means local pitmasters have finally reached a level that's close to, or on par with, some of the greatest barbecue from prime regions across the country. While emulation has made me an incredibly happy eater recently—Hugh Mangum's brisket and pork at Mighty Quinn's is insane—there's neglect that New York as a state has a bit of rich barbecue and grilling history of its own. Sure it's not of the same ilk as the meat counters that dot the hill country in Texas or the whole hogs doused in vinegar in North Carolina, but there are tasty traditions right in my backyard that are worthy of praise, like the tangy and juicy Cornell chicken.
Even though I grill year-round, spring still brings a giddiness that "grilling season" has finally arrived. That stir of excitement has only increased since I've started competing, but even though I'm ready to jump into action, I haven't found any comps yet with the right combo of timing and distance that I can enter. It's an odd feeling, because as I look back at last spring, I was so engaged in developing the best recipes for these competitions. I remember fine tuning my ribs and chicken, figuring out what will blow away the judges for "Chef's Choice," and trying to answer the question, what's a great grilled vegetable? In my attempt to unravel the riddle of the last point, I came across these zucchini rolls with goat cheese and mint. In the end I didn't use them in competition, but maybe should have because they're way more impressive than the chili-lime corn I ended up turning in.
I mentioned a couple weeks back that even though I stuffed my homemade Mexican chorizo into casings this time around, I rarely actually consume this sausage in link form. The intense spicy and earthy flavor of chorizo can be a little much when eaten alone, which is why, more often than not, it finds its way into tacos, quesadillas, and other dishes that both compliment the sausage as well as lessen its impact. I found one of my favorite uses for it a while back with these chorizo-stuffed poblano peppers.
I now have about three pounds of amazing Mexican chorizo waiting at my beck and call to fill tacos, peppers, and quesadillas. It's truly one of my favorite sausages, but has one drawback—it's not always best in link form. Heavily spiced chorizo can be intense on the taste buds with the earthy chilies and slight Christmas spice building up after each subsequent bite and becoming a bit overwhelming by the end. So when I want chorizo in links for the purpose of grilling and eating as is, I've found a variation that's perfectly suited for the job—green chorizo.
Handpicked items by the Meatmaster to aid in your own barbecue and grilling.
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