Latkapalooza!!! (12/23/08) - Potato Latkes, Butter Bean Hummus and Asparagus Almondine

I'm fairly certain that after God created man, He did not immediately begin resting. Instead, He worked on His final, greatest creation - Potato Latkes. Last night, J and I hosted friends for a little Hanukah celebration. And no such celebration is complete without some dreidel, a little gelt, a few candles and glorious latkes, blessed be They. Here are some of the highlights from last night's dinner.

POTATO LATKES

As I sit here typing, I can still smell the oil that has completely encased me (along with my entire apartment) in a fine film. I've made latkes countless times before, but I think last night might have been my best batch of all time. Everything came together. The potatoes were crisp, the oil was fresh and dinner was soon enough after I finished cooking them that they were still crispy and hot. I'm not tooting my own horn here. Latkes are about as easy to make as anything out there. My recipe is as follows:

5 lbs russet potatoes, shredded in a food processor and squeezed to remove all excess water

8 eggs

1 cup matzoh meal

1 cup finely chopped onions

Salt to taste

There are only a few tricks. First, before adding the egg, matzoh meal and onions, you want to squeeze as much water out of the potatoes as possible. I thought that I might be able to do it all in one fell swoop, so I busted out my chinoise (or china cap) and tried to just push the water out. No luck. There is really no replacement for just taking the potato one handful at a time and squeezing it in your bare hands. Second, you want the vegetable oil in your pan to be HOT. I use my infra-red thermometer and wait for the oil to reach at least 375. You can also test by dropping a drop of water into the oil - if the pan goes crazy immediately, you're ready to go. Third, don't skimp on the oil. This is not a meal for the faint of heart. There should be a good quarter inch layer of oil on the bottom of your pan before the potato mixture goes into the pan. Finally, salt while the potatoes are cooking. For some reason, I've always found that adding the salt before cooking tends to decrease its power. And latkes need salt!

BUTTER BEAN HUMMUS

In addition to latkes, I experimented with a few other dishes last night. The most surprising was the butter bean hummus. J found the recipe on the Bon Appetite website, and I was pretty excited. I really like hummus even though I'm not a huge fan of chick peas. This recipe, however, substitutes butter beans for the chick peas. With all appropriate acknowledgments of the source (Bon Appetite), here is the recipe:

2 large garlic cloves
2 15- to 16-ounce cans butter beans, rinsed, drained
2/3 cup tahini
6 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup olive oil (preferably extra-virgin)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
4 tablespoons (about) water

Salt and Pepper to taste

I just dump all of this into my food processor (which got a good work-out last night) and pureed for about two minutes. The result was a creamy, smooth spread that was just fantastic. Seriously. I've made hummus a handful of times and have never been happy with the result. This recipe, followed to the letter, is perfect. Even J, a self-proclaimed hummus snob, loved it. I topped it with some chili powder, both as a garnish and to add a tiny bit of heat. We served it with some cut up pite bread, and our guests killed it. Huzzah for Hummus!

ASPARAGUS "ALMONDINE"

The final dish of note last night was asparagus, prepared in a manner similar to that discussed in the Joy of Cooking. It's basically an almondine, using the tanginess of an orange and crunch of some nuts to bring out the sweetness of the asparagus. The recipe is as follows:

1.5 pounds asparagus, steamed and shocked

3.5 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons orange zest

Juice of one orange

2 handfuls (about 2/3 cup) toasted almonds

Salt and Pepper

I've found that the trick to good asparagus is steaming, shocking and then sauteing. So I started by putting the spears in a steamer for about 7 minutes and then removed them to an ice-water bath. This stops the cooking (avoiding a floppy, soggy mess) and helps retain the beautiful green color. In a saute pan, I started the butter on medium high heat and added the zest, juice and almonds. I let that cook for about5-7 minutes, allowing it to reduce a little bit and become a nice, brownish glaze. J then tossed the shocked asparagus into the pan, flipping them around to coat all of the spears. Hit it with some salt and pepper, and it's done. The glaze is really refreshing and the asparagus gets a little smokiness to it from searing in the saute pan.

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Thanks so much for all the comments you guys have been posting. I really appreciate you checking out my blog. Until next time, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukah.

Spherification, Attempt 1 (12/22/08)

On the Spanish Costa Brava, about 100 miles north of Barcelona, Chef Ferran Adrià Acosta has been redefining the art of "cooking" at El Bulli for over 20 years. He is the father of the modern culinary movement dubbed "molecular gastronomy," blurring the lines between science and cooking through the incorporation of innovative and dramatic new techniques. For many years, Chef Acosta kept secret the processes by which he was able to create some of the world's most interesting food. But in the late 1990s, he began publishing cookbooks and giving classes on some of his more outrageous techniques.

In this country, no chef has been a greater ambassador for molecular gastronomy than Chef Jose Andres. Chef Andres trained under Chef Acosta and has brought the style to his own restaurant, Minibar, located within his white-cloth restaurant, Cafe Atlantico. And it was at Minibar, between the cotton-candied eel and the dragon's breath (curried kettle corn frozen in liquid nitrogen), that I had my first "sphere." When the chef placed in front of me what he called a mojito but what looked like a grape, I was a bit confused. Once I tasted it, my confusion only increased. Somehow, the chef was able to trap a mojito in a very thin, clear, tasteless skin which dissolved on the tongue, releasing the burst of liquid mojito.

A few weeks ago, the curtain was pulled back on this technique (known as "spherification") when a contender on this season's Top Chef made spherical kalamata olives. Knowing that they post all of the Top Chef recipes on the Bravo website, I immediately logged on and found no-so-great instructions on how I could make my own. It turns out that spherification involves the creation of a chemical reaction between calcium and sodium alginate. When these two chemicals meet, they create a tasteless substance like gelatin. By infusing the calcium into a liquid or puree and then immersing that substance in water infused with the alginate (or vice versa), you can, supposedly, create a skin around almost anything - as long as you can figure out how much of each ingredient to use.

There aren't a ton of recipes out there for spheres, and I don't think that very many casual cooks have experimented with the process. But I really, really like a challenge, and I decided to walk the lonely road. The first hurdle was just locating all the requisite ingredients. The "standard" sphere requires the cook to include calcic acid, xanthum gum, sodium alginate and citras - none of which will you find at your local grocery store. I ordered them all online, turning mainly to mondofood.com as it seems like they have the best prices. The stuff is not cheap. In fact, it's annoyingly expensive. Each of the ingredients (with the exception of the xanthum) cost over $20 (including shipping). Plus, I needed to get a digital scale that would be able to measure to the tenth of a gram.

Once I amassed all of the necessary pieces, I decided that my first attempt should be the "classic" - spherical olives. The recipe I most trusted was the one used by Jose Andres himself and is included at the bottom of this post. It is best, they say, to use the absolute finest olives you can buy. Unfortunately, all I had were Spanish olives from a bottle, but I figured that was fine for my first attempt.

I started by pureeing olives and their brine with my immersion blender until they became a thick, soupy mass. I then strained the liquid through a very fine mesh sieve, sifting out a very smooth liquid with a pretty color. "Tastes like olives," I thought, after testing a little dab. After measuring out appropriate amounts of the olive puree, I mixed in the required calcic acid and xanthum gum, pureed for 2 minutes and then placed the whole thing in the fridge to de-bubble over night. In a separate container, I measured out the water and infused it with the sodium alginate and the citras, blending for about 2 minutes before assigning it the same fate as the olive mixture.

This morning, I couldn't wait to jump out of bed to make my spheres. I put together my little set up - olive puree, teaspoon, alginate bath, slotted spoon for removal, clean water (to rinse), and olive oil for storage. There is definitely a technique, but I was amazed at how easy it was to pick up. I simply poured a teaspoon of the mixture into the alginate, then used my finger to coax the mass into a sphere. Figuring out the right length of time to let the spheres sit was also pretty easy. If you leave them in too long, the entire thing will supposedly turn to gelatin. But I left them in for about two minutes before moving them to the clean water and then to the oil.

Tasting the olive felt a little scary. First of all, I had used a whole bunch of chemicals which I've never used before. Though every source had told me they are safe, it is still a little weird to eat something into which you've mixed fine white powders. Second, I had spent so much time, energy and money to get to this point in the process that, if it did not work, I was going to be very disappointed. But when I slid the olive onto my tongue and felt the familiar splash of flavor, I was nothing but excited. The olives I used were not great, but the texture and the presentation were perfect.

Now that I've got the technique, I'm looking forward to making some really interesting things. If anyone has any ideas or recipes, I'd love to hear them. Until next time, I leave you with Jose Andres' recipe for spherical olives:

SPHERICAL OLIVES (by Chef Jose Andres)

Yield: 8 Servings

Ingredients:

1.25 grams calcium chloride

200 grams green olive juice, strained well

0.75 grams xantham gum

2.5 grams alginate

500 grams water

1 gram sodium citrate

Method: Blend the calcium chloride into the olive juice and allow it to sit for two minutes. Next add the xantham gum to the mixture and blend for 1 minute. Allow the liquid to sit in the refrigerator overnight or use a vacuum machine to extract all of the air bubbles.

Meanwhile, blend the alginate into the water, then add the sodium citrate to the mixture and blend for an additional minute. Allow this water mixture to rest in the refrigerator overnight or use a vacuum machine to extract all the air bubbles.

With a deep, rounded tablespoon, scoop a spoonful of the olive juice and carefully drop the liquid into the alginate water. Slightly agitate the submerged olive to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the container. Allow the olive to sit in the alginate water for two minutes before removing it and rinsing it in plain water. Once rinsed, the olive may be stored in extra virgin olive oil. The holding oil may be flavored to your preference.

Chanukah, First Night (Columbia, MD, 12/21/08) - To Reheat or Not to Reheat

This is just a little "shout out" post to my folks for putting together a fantastic Chanukah dinner last night. Despite the sentiments expressed in my introductory post, my parents do love good food. And when it comes to the Jewish-American "cuisine," they're all about tradition. I've grown up loving everything from chopped liver and whitefish salad to blintzes and rugala (known in my house as "Nana Cookies"). On Chanukah, the most aglow of all holidays, we eat brisket and latkes with sour cream and apple sauce.


I'll go into more detail on my own experience making latkes after I host my own Chanukah celebration on Tuesday night, but for now, a few musings on last night's feast. Brisket, for the charlatans amoung you, starts out as a nasty, tough cut of meat. It comes from the layer of muscle lining the cow's ribs and, if not cooked correctly, can have the consistency of nice, fresh rubber. While our friends to the South smoke their brisket for hours (a topic which I hope to address one day), Jews braise it. A quick sear followed by hours of cooking at a low temparture in juices helps the meat become soft and tender - a process which my mom helps along by slicing the meat very thin while it is still cooking. Having cast off the shackles of her own mother's recipe, which included a cut of brisket, some water and Lipton onion soup from a packet, my mom has honed a recipe which includes cranberries and portabella mushrooms. I've been eating it way too long to have an objective view on this stuff, but to me it tastes fantabulous.


No one, however, comes to Chanukah dinner for the brisket - it's all about latkes, or potato pancakes. My family has gone so far as to rename Chanukah "Latkarama," a name that I hear is really taking off among the ultra-orthodox Jews (just kidding :) ). Latkes are the perfect food. First of all, they're simple - just potatoes, onions, a little egg and some matzoh meal. Second, they're fried. Deep fried, in a pan, in vegetable oil or, if you're lucky, clarified butter. They are, when cooked properly, crispy on the outside, smooth and silky on the inside. Finally, they taste good alone or with almost anything on top. Traditional toppings include sour cream and apple sauce, and I am definitely a traditionalist. I have gone outside, topping them with horseraddish, wasabi and salsa. But nothing compares to the cold silk of sour cream and the sweet, tanginess of apple sauce. If you happen to be within a 2-mile radius while they're being cooked, you get to smell like latkes for the next few days. I'm thinking about bringing my sheets home and sitting them in the kitchen while my mom is making latkes one day - what dreams!!! Anyway, I'll post a recipe and pictures of my own attempts after Tuesday night's dinner.


In addition to lights, family, songs and presents, Chanukah in my parents' house has one very strong tradition - when my brother, Eric, and I start whining that my mom has pre-made the latkes, giving them just a quick turn in the oven before sending them to the table, instead of making them fresh just before consumption. My mom seems to think that she should be enjoying Chanukah dinner along with the rest of us, instead of slaving over hot, stinking oil while the rest of us wait (im)patiently. I don't know where she gets this idea, and Eric and I try to dispell her of the notion every year. I mean, how hard is it to cook 10 pounds of potatoes really quickly?! For decades, my brother and I have lost this battle, our only real salvation being to make sure that we're around the day before Chanukah and steal them off the counter as she's cooking them fresh. But this year we reached a compromise. My mom agreed to cook one batch of latkes fresh for the table, while the inevitable refills the serving plates required would come from a pre-made cache.


If anyone doubted before the superiority of fresh-made latkes over their pre-made brethren, they were silenced last night. And so it is with humility and gratitude that I say "thank you" to my mom for caving. Thank you from the bottom of my slightly clogged heart.

Habana Village (Adams Morgan, 12/20/08) – Muy Caliente!!!

It is cold outside!!! Winter has decidedly descended on the District. To beat the frigid temperatures, J and I met friends Y and Dave on Saturday night for dinner and salsa at Adams Morgan’s Habana Village. If you’ve not been, go. Even without the food, this place is really fun. It has the energy you would hope for in a Latin club which draws the city’s truest salsa enthusiasts. Dim lights, crowded hallways, and the constant beat of the timbales coming out of every room, this place is exploding with energy. With two left feet, I’m no dancer, but it’s hard not to feel the intensity of the crowd as it writhes and twists, each couple working hard to outshine their neighbors.

I’ve been to Habana a couple of times before, but I’d never had occasion to eat there. The dining area on the first floor is pretty small – maybe six tables – and looks more like part of the bar. To be honest, my expectations were pretty low, as most clubs do not put very much effort into their food. But all the tables were packed, and I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the menu and found a full roster of traditional Cuban dishes - from fried yucca and tostones to rum-marinated shrimp. I ordered a mojito and J ordered a caparinia, both of which came packing a very powerful punch. They don’t joke around when it comes to liquor. After scouting out the food choices of the surrounding patrons, I decided on the Roppa Vieja – pulled beef with peppers and onions. From the choices of sides, I opted for the moro and the black beans (not realizing that moro has black beans as well – now I know).



Habana doesn’t do presentation. Unlike other club-restaurant establishments in town, they do not try to make their food look fancy; not that it would matter, given how dark it is in the place. But the humble appearance of the food masks its amazing flavor. The beef was fantastic, especially with a few drops of the unbelievably hot habanero sauce that sat tempting me on the table. The tanginess of the Creole-inspired sauce combined with the heat and smokiness of the hot sauce was just the thing to wake me up in time for a night of dancing.

And though it is rarely the case, the main dish truly played second fiddle to the sides, especially the moro. I don’t know what they did to it. It tasted like it was cooked with ham hock or some Latin-American equivalent. But the rice and beans was bursting with flavor that left me, at the end of the meal, hunting around my plate for every last kernel. The beans were soft, adding only a subtle texture to the rice. And the hot sauce made it even better. I mixed some of the beef with the rice, added a few forkfulls of extra black beans, and I…was…done.

Before heading upstairs, we split a tres leches cake between the four of us. It may sound strange, but I really dislike bananas, and this cake was all about the bananas. It was soaked in banana liquor and topped with chopped bananas. Still, however, the cake itself was very nice, drenched in cream which proved the perfect antidote to the fire still raging in my mouth from the hot sauce. After the cake, we walked up to the club’s two other levels, enjoying the sounds of the live band and the energy emanating from the throngs who had shown up to show off their moves.

It was, from start to finish, a great night. The place had energy, the company was impeccable and the food was marvelous. It does not take a refined pallet to enjoy what Habana is serving. They make food which stays true to Cuban culture while appealing to the masses.

Me gusta mucho.

Thai Chili (Chinatown, 12/18/2008) - Nice n' Cheap

I'm still working out whether to post a review of every restaurant I go to or only the truly notable. In the interest of keeping my momentum going, I'll err on the side of over-inclusiveness for now. Either way, however, I'm betting that you can see where this is going.

I met friends Shelia and Dan at this plastic version of a Thai restaurant, located off the mega-atrium in the Verizon Center complex. Sheila and Dan are regulars at this place. It's easy, it's close to their place, it's an affordable option for lunch and dinner, and, to hear them tell it, you never have to wait for a table. They boast a big menu with all of the standard pan-asian options - pad everything, curries, dumplings, wontons and plenty of lemongrass. They also have a full sushi menu, an arena I rarely enter for dinner.

As far as run-o-the-mill Thai places, it pretty much lands right in the middle. It has little to no charm, feeling more like a food court than an independent restaurant, but the food comes out hot and palatable. It is far from anything special, but it was in no way offensive and it was priced appropriately.

I ordered the Beef Lad Na. I'm on a broad noodle kick - what can I say? The description said that it was served in light brown gravy sauce, but, as you can see in the picture, it pretty much came as a soup. The sauce itself had a nice, salty taste, though not very interesting. The beef was predictably overcooked, but it was so soaked in sauce that it was still tender. The highlight of the dish was definitely the noodles. I love lad na when the noodles have been pan-seared, creating little patches of smokey crust.

I walked out only $20 lighter, including a pretty generous tip - no small feat for a restaurant downtown. I'm not going to go out of my way to return to Thai Chili, but if I somehow find myself there in the future, I won't be too scared. The service was fast and responsive, and some of the chef's suggestions and vegetarian options looked downright interesting.

Maybe next time.

Sorriso (Cleveland Park, 12/17/2008) - A Fantastic Restaurant has a Mediocre Night

It seems to all too fitting on a personal level that my first real post have as its subject the first restaurant in the District at which I was honestly able to call myself a regular. If I remember correctly, Sorriso opened somewhere around December, 2003. The day they opened their doors for business, I wandered in to soak up the glow emanating from the wood-fired oven and was immediately a devotee. I want this blog to be about present-day experiences, not a dumping ground for my memories of meals past. But I would be remiss if I did not mention that Sorriso has played host to countless perfect evenings with friends and family over the last five years. For a casual, intimate meal of delicious food prepared without pretense, there is just no competition in the area.

Though we had a wonderful time, last night proved a mediocre night at Sorriso. J and I were there to meet up with my old friend, Tony, and his wife, Jeannette (kitchenette-jeannette.blogspot.com). As happens more often than not, the first person we encountered upon entering was owner/chef, Pietro. Along with his wife, son and various other members of his extended family, Pietro is always there – interacting with the guests, drinking (a lot of) wine and occasionally stepping behind the grill. We have developed a nice rapport over the years, and there have been many nights when he has dropped off a bottle of grappa or lemicello for the table.

But this night was a little bit more low key. We were shown to a table downstairs and, after some initial catching up, focused our attention on the menu. Tony ordered a bottle of the Ajello Nero d’ Avola, which I thought to be a perfect weekday wine. Shunning my usual favorites, I took Tony’s recommendation and ordered the Tagliatelle con Ragu di Cinghiale – wild boar ragu with pasta. At his insistence, I substituted the homemade pappardelle for the tagliatelle, and it was the right move. I’ve had better sauces than the one they served me last night. While I like the idea of eating wild boar, it has never really impressed me flavor-wise. In this case, the meat was minced so fine that the ragu itself felt a little mealy in my mouth, and the flavor was completely dominated by the tomatoes. The pasta, on the other hand, was perfect. Wide, winding layers of pappardelle cooked exactly al dente. They take their pastas very seriously at Sorriso, and it shows. It does not act simply as a medium for the sauce but is full of rich, earthy flavor in and of itself.

J opted for the pasta e fagioli (pasta and white bean soup) and the caprese salad. The soup was deliciously warm and cozy on this most chilly of evenings, but, other than that, I found it fairly forgettable. The star of her meal was decidedly the caprese. Every Italian restaurant has a tomato and mozzarella salad, but few do it as well as Pietro. It is, in the purest sense of the phrase, a “complete” dish. His mozzarella is so creamy one could eat it with a spoon. His tomatoes are crisp and tangy, even this late in the year. He uses bright green olive oil that provides a surprising amount of zest to the dish. And he adds walnuts, kalamata olives and a basil chiffonade which give the crunch, the acid and the freshness necessary to tie the entire plate together. It was beautifully yet simply presented. And I was jealous.

Overall, however, it wasn’t the most amazing of my Sorriso experiences. If this had been my first time going, I don’t know if I would go back. But I’ve sampled almost everything on the menu, and I know that it’s something special. Between the caprese, the crepe lasagna, the osso bucco and, when they have them, the scallops with risotto, Sorriso remains my favorite restaurant in DC.

An Introduction

I got started late. While most people who fancy themselves “into” food were experiencing and experimenting at a young age under the tutelage of their parents, I was twenty before noticed art in the interaction of subtle flavors and textures. Cooking in my parents’ house was generally viewed as a chore. My parents made good, solid, healthy food, and they served it hot on the table every single night. But meal planning, preparation and presentation were tasks rarely enjoyed. The restaurants we frequented, albeit not very frequently, were almost always Chinese, and they were judged primarily on how quickly we were seated and whether the bill was correct.

So I remember vividly the moment in November, 2000 when a dish revealed a glimpse into the vast world of culinary exploration. At the Bound'ry in Nashville, Chef Michael Cribb was sharing his uniquely contemporary take on Southern classics. The restaurant was built around old-growth trees which, together with sharp lighting and vibrant art adorning the walls, created a tangible energy. When my “chicken n’ dumplings” arrived at the table, the smell was overwhelming – sweet and earthy with distinct overtones of fresh herbs. I can’t still smell it, but I remember what it felt like as the aromas wrapped around my head. I remember the creaminess of the sauce and dumplings that were at the same time crispy and tender. There were diced peppers and, my God, bacon. It’s hard to remember all of the details the way that I would like because, at the time, I did not really know what I was tasting. But I sat their with a spoon and a folk, alternating between the chicken and the sauce while letting the flavors wash over my tongue one molecule at a time. “What. Is. This?!”

It would be a few more years before my enthusiasm for cooking and tasting really took off. Life as a poor delivery guy in Nashville lent itself more to canned soup than prix fixe menus. But when I arrived back in DC to attend law school, I quickly became friends with a number of people who both really enjoyed food and knew a lot about it. My roommate Andrew was passionate about his homemade guacamole, handling it with the care that one would exhibit in transporting radioactive material. Lauren came from a Lebanese household and used the free time given to her by insomnia to make dolmas and lebneh. Danica would stop by with little cheeses and candies she had picked up while exploring the less-trodden parts of the city – little treasures that she had kept wrapped in newspaper or slightly-used paper towels. And then there was Budda. He baked hundreds of cookies. He smoked pounds of meat. He knew how to handle a knife and operate a Kitchenaide. He knew all the restaurants in town and had very definite opinions about which chefs were deserving of his money. Along with his roommate, Dave, Budda was a perfect teacher who never got tired of my questions and was always up for trying something new. While my social life up until this point had been filled with house parties and bar crawls, suddenly a Saturday night was best spent eating blood sausage and sweetbreads at Jose Andres’ Jaleo.

And so, for the past six years, I’ve been making up for lost time, opening my eyes to the culture of food that has gripped this country for the last decade. This “serious hobby,” as I like to think of it, has drawn on a noticeable portion of my disposable income – vacations built around interesting restaurants, the preparation of high-end dinner parties for scores of friends and a mild infatuation with kitchen gadgets of all varieties.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not one for excess. I do not wish to ever feel habitually gluttonous or lose sight of the fact that a hobby in fine dining is, in the end, a luxury. But I also know that there are few things I enjoy more than waking up at 7:00am, heading immediately to the kitchen, and spending the entire day with my girlfriend J preparing a gourmet, 5-course meal from scratch for twelve friends. There are few things more exciting than looking over a tasting menu and seeing combinations I’ve never seen. And there are few things more rewarding than finding a really great dish at a really great price. Food brings together family and friends. It defines cultures and bridges divides. Preparing and eating food is the world’s oldest social activity.

And so I’ve started this blog. I intend it to be a forum in which people can express thoughts on restaurants, recipes, kitchen tools and techniques. I want to learn more, and I want you to teach me. So please, if you disagree with a review, tell me why. If you know a better way to approach a recipe, enlighten me. And if there is something new that you think I should try, tell me immediately. Because I could eat.