Setting things on fire is fun. In the hands of the particularly foolish, it can be dangerous, yet I maintain that humans will never lose their primal fascination with burning stuff. It's why we love the cozy warmth of the fireplace in winter, why we stare as lit candles melt down into sad little puddles on the kitchen table and why I still remember the prairie-burning field trip I went on in fourth grade. Perhaps that's why I have friends who have set their own pants and arm hairs ablaze. More than once.
Alas, modern technology has largely rid humankind of the need for fires in everyday life. We have electric stovetops, central heating, light bulbs, ovens, even electric cigarettes. In many ways, the technologies that have replaced fire are safer and more efficient. Yet we keep lighting stuff on fire anyway, and nowhere is the act of incineration more justifiable than in the kitchen.
Using fire on our food imbues it with a nuanced set of flavors and textures that can't be replicated. At the least-fiery level are smoked foods like thinly sliced, unctuous, cold-smoked salmon and brisket from a good barbeque joint. Grilling yields less subtle flavors and is a more adrenaline-pumping experience. Not only do the erratic flares from fat dripping onto blazing coals make grilling a thrilling and dangerous sport, but the char from the fire produces hot, juicy backyard fare.
As far as cooking with fire goes, nothing is more chest-beatingly primal than roasting large chunks of meat on a spit over a hellish bonfire. It's something I've always wanted to do, but for now I'll settle for roasting marshmallows over the grill when the weather warms up.
Sometimes cooking with fire requires finesse and precision that crude grilling could never produce. Butane torches, like little glue guns that spurt blue flame, are handy for melting the sugar atop fussy desserts like creme brulee. Torching food is fun and flashy, but no kitchen technique is more flamboyant than flambe, a term used to describe a dish to which high-proof spirits have been added and then ignited. The technique is used mostly for show, as the flaming alcohol causes a spectacularly colorful fire to leap forth from the pan.
Saganaki (Greek flaming cheese), Steak Diane and Crepes Suzette are all examples of flambeed dishes, but my personal favorite is Bananas Foster, a dessert invented in 1951 at Brennan's Restaurant in New Orleans. Bananas Foster, for those unfamiliar with the dish, is essentially bananas cooked in a caramel sauce (the flambeed part) served over ice cream.
To make it, you need:
2 bananas cut into 1-inch chunks
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup high-proof alcohol of your choice (at least 80 proof)
A pinch of cinnamon and nutmeg
Put all ingredients in a pan over high heat and cook until syrupy. Traditionally, banana liqueur is added to that mixture, but this isn't essential. Stir the bananas gently to coat with sauce and continue cooking until it is slightly thicker and dark brown. Turn the stove off and add the alcohol. Traditionally, rum is used, but bourbon, whiskey or Everclear would work as well.
To flambe, bring a lit long match or lighter toward the dish until it ignites. The more adventurous can also turn the stove back on and tip the pan toward the burner until the fire catches. In any case, keep a safe distance from the pan until the fire dies. Turn the heat back on and reduce the sauce until syrupy once more. Serve bananas and sauce over vanilla ice cream.
