Beyond the Burger

Back in the days of Lyndon B. Johnson and black-and-white television sets, I made my first forays into cooking. Little boys at that time were not expected to step into the kitchen, except perhaps to answer the phone or to check the baseball practice schedule taped to the refrigerator door. Prevailing gender roles encouraged us to live out our culinary inclinations in the backyard. Nearly every summertime Sunday, my Wall Street dad led me to the patio of our New Jersey home to put food and fire together in a particularly male way.

We packed our grill with about as many coals as it would hold and sprinkled them with lighter fluid. My father dropped a lit match on the barely moistened coals, and we waited for them to catch fire. I never worried when the match flickered out because I knew my father had a thrilling back-up plan. I was giddy with anticipation as I watched my father, three paces back from the grill, squeeze the belly of the can to propel a graceful arc of glistening fuel into the briquettes. He drained the can of every last ounce of fuel to soak the coals to their centers. Before the second lit match even landed on the drenched briquettes, a prodigious conflagration rose above my father’s head in a smoky orange blaze. Stepping back as fast I could, I felt the raw heat against my face and squinted to protect my eyes from the sparks.

Eventually the outrageous heat settled into flickering embers, and it was time to grill. Meat, of course. Meat was the only thing we knew how to grill, and frankly we didn’t care about anything else. We would provide pickles for vegetables and potato chips for starch, so all in all we offered a well-balanced meal, right? Our steaks dripped fat and juices into the coals and produced a second inferno that never approached the intensity of the first, but it was sufficient to give the entire surface of the meat our signature look of hardened black tar.

In the decades since then, I graduated from cooking school and worked in several restaurants. What I have learned about grilling could fill two books (actually, it does). My techniques today bear no resemblance to the way I grilled with my dad, but even more surprising to me is the change in what I grill. California can take credit for that.

When I moved to the West Coast for college in the early-1980s, I had never tasted fresh figs, never seen Kalamata olives, and never heard of mahi-mahi. My little New Jersey town was just getting its first taste of “ethnic food,” in the form of tacos and focaccia, so I felt totally unprepared to handle California’s multicultural mind-set. My dorm mates at Stanford who had grown up here shifted effortlessly from tamales to tagines, understanding almost instinctively each dish’s cultural and flavor distinctions.

The diversity seemed rather strange at first. It took me several years--in college, cooking school and beyond--to appreciate how fortunate I am to live and eat in California. I had to make friends with people who had grown up with international tastes and I had to study with chefs who cooked their country’s dishes with a sense of honor and loyalty. They inspired me to look at my own country’s longstanding cooking traditions, particularly those from the grill, such as the pulled pork barbecue sandwiches of North Carolina and smoked beef brisket of Texas.

A little research revealed that grilling is the oldest cooking method of all, and many regions of the world were mastering the grill long before this country was just a twinkle in George Washington’s eye. The Greeks were already marinating chunks of lamb in olive oil, lemon juice and oregano and grilling their skewered souvlaki over fires. The Koreans had perfected bulgogi, barbecued strips of sesame-seasoned beef served with an array of pickled and savory side dishes. Ages before, Mexicans had developed the art of barbacoa, wrapping meats in cactus leaves and cooking them slowly in a wood-burning fire pit.

So today, like a lot of Californians, I am a global griller. I thrive on the multiplicity of authentic recipes cooked in nearby restaurants and homes, because foreign foods are no longer strange to me. They aren’t even foreign, it seems. Living in a place where the world’s people converge, it seems entirely natural that we cook and eat accordingly.

Grilled Figs With Arugula

Serves 4

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons honey, divided

2 tablespoons champagne vinegar, divided

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

8 large or 12 small fresh figs

5-6 cups loosely packed baby arugula

2-3 ounces aged Asiago or dry jack cheese

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To make the dressing: In small bowl whisk together olive oil, 1 tablespoon of honey, 1 tablespoon of vinegar and salt and pepper.

Trim stems from figs and halve lengthwise. Arrange figs, cut side up, on platter. In small bowl, whisk together remaining 1 tablespoon of honey and remaining 1 tablespoon of vinegar until completely blended. Lightly brush cut side of figs with mixture.

Grill figs, cut side down, over high heat until warm and lightly caramelized, about 2 minutes, turning with a spatula once halfway through grilling time. Set aside.

Place arugula in large bowl. Whisk dressing one more time and lightly dress greens (you may not need to use all of dressing). Divide arugula among four plates. Arrange warm grilled figs, cut side up, around edges of salad, dividing them evenly. Curl cheese with a cheese plane or vegetable peeler. Garnish each salad with curls of cheese. Serve immediately.

Mediterranean Lamb Burgers

Serves 4

2 tablespoons Kalamata olives, finely chopped

2 tablespoons fresh Italian parsley, finely chopped

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons dried rosemary, crushed

1 teaspoon garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground

1 1/4 pounds ground lamb

4 hamburger buns

To make seasoning: In large bowl combine olives, parsley, mustard, rosemary, garlic, salt and pepper with 2 tablespoons cold water.

Add lamb and gently mix with seasoning. Gently shape meat into four patties, about 3/4-inch thick each: don’t overwork meat.

Grill patties over medium heat until lamb is medium, 7 to 9 minutes, turning once halfway through grilling time. Grill buns until toasted, about 30 seconds. Serve lamb hot on toasted buns.

Teriyaki Mahi-Mahi with Mango Salsa

Serves 4

For the salsa:

1 large ripe mango

1/4 cup red onion, finely chopped

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon fresh mint, finely chopped

1 teaspoon minced jalapeno pepper, with seeds

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

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For the marinade:

1/4 cup soy sauce

1/4 cup sweet sake

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 tablespoon light brown sugar

1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

1 teaspoon minced garlic

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4 mahi-mahi fillets, about 6 ounces each and 1 inch thick Vegetable oil

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TO MAKE SALSA: Peel mango and cut into 1/4-inch dice. Place in small bowl along with remaining salsa ingredients. Stir to blend. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve.

To make marinade: In small bowl, whisk together marinade ingredients.

Place mahi-mahi fillets in large resealable plastic bag and pour in marinade. Press air out of bag and seal tightly. Turn bag to distribute marinade, place in bowl and refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes.

Remove fillets from bag and discard marinade. Brush or spray both sides of fillets with vegetable oil. Grill over high heat until fish is opaque, 8 to 10 minutes, turning once halfway through grilling time. Remove from grill and serve warm with salsa.