String-Roasting in My Fireplace

Hooray!  It has been cold enough to have a fire!

I had hoped (and planned) for a day like this and so I had purchased two tiny Rock Cornish Game hens to cook in front of the fire.  I wanted to try string roasting again and this time get it right.  (Previously I tried it at a public cooking demonstration and it didn't turn out.  See this post here.)

What I wanted was a good fire that was putting out a lot of heat but also had some good embers.  I also needed to plan where the string would be:  The recommendation was to have it hanging from the mantel and to make it long, but my mantel wouldn't work for that.

My fireplace has a metal piece at the top of the opening, and that piece had a slotted hole in it.  Its original purpose is unknown to me but it looked promising for string roasting.  The only problem was that I knew the string would be short.

A long string is useful because you can get the meat to twirl, which twists the string first one way and then the other.  Basically, it is like having the meat turn itself on a spit, with little work from the cook.  But I knew I would make it work even with a short string.

When I started the fire, I took the birds out of the refrigerator so they could start coming to room temperature.  I knew I needed to wait 60 to 90 minutes for the fire to mature enough for cooking.

With two birds to cook at the same time, I decided to hang one below the other, using chopsticks inserted in them to act as connectors.  I know this description isn't very useful unless you already know what I'm doing; the pictures below will help.

I found an S-hook (made by my awesome blacksmith friends) and put it into the slot.  Then I estimated the total length the two birds would need, along with a little distance between them.  From there I estimated the longest distance from the top of the opening to the top of the first bird that I thought I could get away with, and cut a string four times that length.

It is important to have a pan below the birds to catch the drips and that figured into my estimation.  I chose the shortest pan I could use close to the fire and put it into the fireplace with two cups of water in it.

The chopsticks were inserted into the birds (two per bird), the long string was tied into a loop, and two more loops were tied at a length that would separate the birds but not too far apart.  I put in an effort to make those two loops the same length.  I also got all the strings wet.

I coated each bird with melted butter and many dried breadcrumbs.  No other seasoning was used.

Once the fire was ready, I put the loops on the chopsticks and hung the birds on the hook.  Here is the set up:

The long loop had each end over a stick and went over the S-hook.  The small loops connected the lower stick of the first bird with the upper stick of the second bird.  In this picture one of the loops is too close to the end of the stick.  Push the loops so they are snug up against the bird:  This keeps the birds balanced and stops the risk of the whole thing coming apart while cooking.

It was easy to get them spinning but with the short string, they didn't stay spinning very long.  The fire was hot and I didn't want to sit in front of it.  So I sat off to the side and used a long handled fork to keep the birds spinning.  Every few minutes I used the fork to push on a stick to twist the string.  Then I let it go and watched it spin until it slowed down again.  I thought this worked well.

It took about 45 minutes until my thermometer showed the meat was over 140 degrees F on both birds.  They were a lovely golden brown so I decided to take them down.  Unfortunately I lost control of them when unhooking the long loop and they fell down into the drip bowl.  This didn't harm the birds but it did dump the liquid all over the floor of the fireplace.  No drippings to try!

The birds rested on the kitchen counter while I quickly tidied the hearth.  (The cats were very interested in what I had left there!)

The red juices concerned me.

The Verdict

The birds were attractive to serve; it was fun to tell my guest taster about the cooking process while we ate dinner.  I served stuffing and a salad as side dishes.

The meat was tender, the breast was still moist, and the skin had some crisp and crackle to it.  

The flavor was good!  My guest taster wanted more salt but I didn't need it.  We enjoyed it.  I call it a success!

The only part that wasn't cooked enough -- there was still a lot of pink -- was where the thigh was pressed up against the rest of the body.  It was easy to fix with a minute in the microwave oven.  From this, I think I could have roasted the birds another 10 to 15 minutes without worrying about overcooking them.

I had thought about turning the birds while they were cooking to make sure the tops got as cooked as the bottoms, but with two tied together, I decided it was too risky.  I didn't want to drop them.  This was a good decision considering what happened when I took them off at the end.  Fortunately, the birds were cooked well top to bottom.  I think this worked because the fire was so big.

The Magic of Fire -- A Book Review

I live in Southern California, where the idea of seasons is laughable to many who live elsewhere.  Yes, we have seasons but their differences are mild:  winter is colder (but no snow, maybe we get rain, rarely does it freeze), spring is typically cool ("May gray" and "June gloom"), summer is hotter and drier (but "hot" is a relative assessment), fall can be cooler (but it is our usual wildfire season, so expect hot and dry).

This puts my next statement in context:  It was cold enough that I was able to build a fire in the fireplace.  (That is, without overheating the room.)  That means it was an opportunity to cook!

I love cooking with fire.  I don't get the opportunity to do it very often as my home isn't set up for it unless the weather is cold enough.  I could try it outside but reference that wildfire comment made above; we are all very aware of the danger a single spark poses.

So I grabbed that opportunity, and will do so again if others arrive.

Fortunately, my fireplace is huge and raised up off the floor.  The area in front of it is all ceramic tile.  There are enough horizontal surfaces around it to give me working space.  *Sigh*, it is a lovely setup for an historical cook.

As the fire was getting started, I recalled a book I used in 2014 in a post for this blog: String-Roasted Chicken.

ISBN 1-58008-453-2

There are many aspects of this book I enjoy -- the drawings, the stories, the recipes, and the cooking ideas -- but the one I want to focus on is Mr. Rubel's description of the different fire types you need for your cooking.  He includes how long the fire has been burning, the amount of embers and heat to expect, and each type's usefulness in cooking.

I'm going to paraphrase his words from pages 17 and 18:

New fire:  15 to 30 minutes after lighting; no embers; has limited use in cooking.

Moderately mature fire:  30 to 60 minutes after lighting; some embers; only useful for dishes that need a few embers.

Mature fire:  60 to 90 minutes after lighting; first five logs in fire reduced to embers that are producing most of the heat needed for cooking but still there is a gentle fire that helps, too.  Most recipes start with this level.

Long-burning fire:  More than four hours after lighting; has a substantial ash base which is what distinguishes it from the mature fire.  May have one of the flame types listed below. 

Gentle:  one or two logs burning lazily; slow ember production

Moderate:  two or three logs burning with some energy but flames only a few inches long; there is a hot bed of embers, enough to harvest a fresh amount every 10 to 15 minutes

High:  three or four longs burning fiercely; a substantial bed of embers and more being produced rapidly; long flames

What I like about his description is that I now have a way to judge either what recipe to make or what fire to aim for.  Do I need a long, slow heat to cook beans?  Do I need the more focused heat from a lot of embers?  Mr. Rubel tells us what fire he recommends for his recipes but I can extrapolate from there for recipes from other books.

So what did I cook over my first fire of the season?  Nothing precisely from his book but it did inspire me to try some techniques I haven't used in a long time as well as a new one.

The easiest, but still wonderful, recipe is for Roasted Onion Salad. I wrote about it in 2013 but baked the onions in the oven.  This time I set the onions in the fireplace and let them roast by the fire, with an occasional turn.



As the fire changed, I moved the onions around to keep them cooking.



They came out beautifully tender and mild.  After they were peeled, I sliced them and dressed them with a quality balsamic vinegar, freshly grated nutmeg, and a dash of olive oil.  I served them with grilled sausages for a light, flavorful dinner.  (I tried to grill the sausages over embers but didn't have enough to make it work.)

The next day was still cold so I kept the fire going and tried out cooking in my big ceramic pot.  An important part of cooking with ceramic is getting it warmed up slowly to avoid thermal shock.  I put the empty pot on the hearth as the fire was rekindled and turned it a few times to warm it evenly.

Then I added the ingredients for a chicken and vegetable stew:  chicken thighs, garlic cloves, cabbage, young potatoes, mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, onions, fresh thyme, ground pepper, salt, lemon slices, and water.



I put in the thyme and about half of the veggies first.



Then the chicken and spices on top of that.



I topped it off with the rest of the veggies and the sliced lemon, with water to cover.



The cover went on and the pot was moved close to the fire.



I turned it to put the cooler side towards the fire every 30 minutes or so as the fire grew in size, embers were produced, and the contents warmed up.  Then I moved the pot onto the bricks.



At this point the pot was hot all the way through, so I just checked on it and the fire every hour or so.  I let the stew cook most of the day (to the fire at 11:30 am, it was ready for dinner around 6pm).

It was a good stew!  It needed more seasoning -- especially salt -- but the meat was cooked, the water turned to broth, and all the vegetables were tender.  I dished the vegetables and broth into a bowl then used tongs to put a piece of chicken on top.  It was a complete meal, along with a glass of wine, of course!  (For the leftovers, I added some red wine and more salt and pepper before I reheated it.  Yum!)



I want to point out an advantage of using the bricks.  The fireplace floor is below the tiled hearth so the bricks give me a higher floor, making it easier to move the heavy pot in and out without having to lift it up.  This is important considering I'm sitting sideways to the fire and have to lean over to move the pots!

That evening I got out my small iron kettle and filled it with course sea salt.  I decided to make Hard Eggs, which I wrote about in 2012.  I buried four eggs in the salt, set it near the fire for an hour or so, then moved it even closer before going to bed.

The next morning I dug the eggs out of the salt to see how they had cooked.



They looked good, but the telling is in the peeling, and this is how they turned out.



Two were obviously cooked more than the other two, to the point where they looked dark and rubbery.  But we ate them anyway, just to see.



The lighter ones were really good:  the flavor was deeper, almost caramel-like, than a typical hard-boiled egg.  The surface was slightly salty, which surprised me.  I think the salt may have infiltrated the shell because the eggs were slightly damp when they went into the salt.  I am not a big hard-boiled egg fan but I did like these very much.

The darker ones were too chewy, too rubbery for my liking, but they were still edible.  I suspect that I moved the kettle too close to the fire when it was very hot.  The salt is very good at moderating the heat around the egg (which is why they didn't explode) but it can only do so much when the fire is hot.

Mr. Rubel brings up this point, too, on page 81, "Roasted Eggs" (in ashes):

While these instructions are easily stated, this is, in fact, one of the most difficult recipes in this book to master.  If the buried eggs get too hot too quickly, they soon explode with a muffled "pop."  If they are less hot, but still too hot, and especially if too hot for too long, they dry out in the all-night baking.  But if the ashes are too cool, the eggs don't cook fully.  Perfect warmth maintained for 8 hours results in eggs of lovely golden hues and a delicate flavor.

I achieved the golden hue and delicate flavor for two of the four eggs.  Between that, the stew, and the onion salad, I declare my fire-based cooking adventure a huge success!

I do recommend getting The Magic of Fire by William Rubel.  It is beautifully produced and has a wide variety of cooking techniques.  I am itching to try Fagioli al Fiasco, which has us cooking beans in a glass container.  When you read his writing, you know you are hearing the voice of long experience.  And that is the highest compliment I can give!