iTaste D.C.

Lavandou (Cleveland Park, 03/09/09) - J'habite aux Etats-Unis

2009-03-13T14:06:00.000-07:00

J'habite aux Etats-Unis. That's about all the French I know. And I do live in the U.S., so it's both impressive and accurate when I bust that out at parties. How worldly I am.

My knowledge of French food is not much better. I've certainly consumed my fair share of crepes, confit and coc a vin (see alliteration usage in previous post) to know that the cuisine trends towards the rich, heavy and flavorful. But I've only just in recent years been starting to pay attention to the difference between a good and bad hollandaise. From what I'm beginning to understand, French food, possibly more than any other food, is about perfection. I mean, how did that rat in "Ratatouille" know how to balance those flavors so perfectly?! Wait....

Anyway, J and I are on a French kick. We're going to France soon, so we've been trying to at least get some context for what we're about to be tasting. We've even decided to have some old friends over for a dinner next weekend, the theme being....exactly.

So in the spirit of "research," J and I went to Lavandou in Cleveland Park. I'd been once before, many years ago, but didn't remember much about it at all. We had never really had an excuse to try it, considering Petit Plate, L'Enfant and Cafe Bonaparte are all so close, but decided that Monday night was the perfect night for an adventure - or at least what qualifies as one on a Monday night.

I will say this. If Lavandou is what France has to offer (and I realize it's not, but humor me), I think our trip will be a good excuse to lose some weight. I was really excited when we walked in. We were greated by a staff of obviously Franco origin (else just really big fans of Pepe Le Pu) and were shown to a lovely little table by the window. The place screams French country style and is, I will admit, pretty romantic. But the food just didn't hold up at all.

I ordered a fennel and apple salad to start. I was actually excited because it came garnished with Roquefort cheese, and, given the impending embargo, I wanted to taste it one last time. Placed on the table, it actually looked beautiful and refreshing. But the execution on this painfully simple dish was just pathetic. Neither the apple nor the fennel was crisp. Both tasted as though they had been sitting under a warming lamp for about 1/2 hour. The roquefort was almost tasteless, as was the oil drizzeled around the plate. An utter failure.

For the main course, I ordered a hanger steak. The steak itself was actually pretty good. Really, really simple, but full of flavor. The problem was that each piece was cooked completely differently. Some pieces were WELL done. Others, almost rare. It was good for splitting with J (as she refuses to eat meat that hasn't been turned grey on the fire), but showed a lack of attention.

The puree of celery root which came with it was...hmmmm....how do I put this....awful. It wasn't watery and inconsistent in texture. The flavor might have been good if the chef hadn't run out of salt. Well, I just assume he ran out of salt, because why else wouldn't he put any salt in it?!

One final note. J ordered a vegetarian sampler for her entre - basically just a combination of most of their side dishes. They were out of the carrot souffle (to which J was really looking forward), so she opted for the tomatoes with garlic. After messing up the order (bringing the sun dried tomatoes instead), the waitress finally deliever the proper order in a little dish. One taste and J handed me the fork saying, "taste this. It tastes like a barn." Indeed, it did. Just like a barn. Wet hay, sheep, you name it. I don't know what the hell they put in there to make it taste so bad, but we actually laughed when the waitress asked us how we enjoyed it. I know that sounds mean, but it was REALLY bad.

So, we won't be going back to Lavandou. Too bad. I've always liked the look of that place. But you would figure that a place that had survived this long would have something to show for it. Lavandou does not.

The Source (Downtown, 03-06-09) - Great Food, Cold Atmosphere

2009-03-07T05:09:00.000-08:00

We've been to The Source, Wolfgang Puck's over-priced DC establishment, a number of times. And it seems that each time we go, the price from the last visit has somehow faded from my mind while the flavors of the delicious food have remained. Last night was no different. J and I went with my folks for an evening on the town, giving my mom and dad a little taste of life they don't get to see very often in the suburbs. The Source is ultra-hip. It's cold and dark with minimal furniture, a lot of brushed steel and classic rock playing overhead.

Puck's vision for this place is hard to argue with. Every detail is perfect. Even the silverware and the water vessels seem to match and just look, for lack of better words, sleek.

And the food is pretty much flawless. I split the tuna tartare with my pops. It comes in these crunchy sesame cones and is filled with spicy, sweet ahi, roe and watercress. It has the perfect combination of flavor and texture and beautiful presentation. One criticism I'll make is that the little wooden thing it comes served in looks a little 8th-grade-shop-class - out of place in the detail-oriented environment of the place. But whatever. You don't eat that.

J started with a spicy coconut soup with shrimp and ginger-scented tapioca. Creamy, light and silky, it was really delightful.

For my main course, I settled on the pork chop as they were out of the duck. And I must say that I was a little wary given that the dish was basically labeled as pork on pork - chop and belly. But the two cuts were SO different and SO perfectly matched that they were far from redundant. The smokiness of the belly played off the sweet chop, and even their textures seemed to provide depth. This dish was a slam dunk.

For dessert, we all split their version of the chocolate molten cake. Every restaurant in the city has one of these on the menu, and I'll put Source's up there. But, in the end, it's the same thing. The execution was great, as the center was really smooth and warm, and the ice cream was rich and creamy. But I guess dessert just doesn't excite me as much.

The final note that I'll make is that, for all it's perfect execution and sleek appearance, the Source leaves something to be desired in terms of soul. The place just feels a little contrived and has no warmth at all. I like modern as much as anyone. I think places like Oya and Zengo are really fun and are able to combine a cool atmosphere with something comfortable. There is nothing comfortable about the Source - at least not the dining floor. But the food is magnificant and must be tasted. Just get a drink to reflect some of the sting when the bill comes.

Sonoma Restaurant and Wine Bar (Capital Hill, 03/02/09) – A Sharp Decline

2009-03-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

It was two years ago when some of my colleagues suggested that we hit Sonoma, a wine bar/restaurant, for some after-work relaxation. The suggestion itself was a little dangerous as we private-firm lawyer types rarely rub elbows with the Capital Hill crowd. While they’re busy hanging out at the Hawk n’ Dove or Bistro Bis, we’re at Tenh Pen or Lima Bar. But heading into “their” territory proved a fruitful journey, as Sonoma proved the perfect place for a gathering, complete with great food, interesting wines and a really cool atmosphere.

A few months after my first visit, J and I took her sister to this little gem. It was the first time I had met her, and Sonoma was a great place to break a lot of ice. We feasted on a wide variety of cheeses, charcuterie and local meats, fishes and vegetables. My absolute favorite item on the menu was their truffle-poached peaches, which were even more interesting than they sound. I don’t know if they used really young peaches or what, but they looked and had the texture of olives, while still tasting like peaches. Very strange but very, very good.

And so it should have been a sign when, after returning to the restaurant following a 2-year hiatus, J and I ordered the truffle-poached peaches just to be informed that they were no longer available. The waitress informed us that people are constantly asking for them, so why the hell don’t they bring them back?!

Anyway, despite the lack of peaches, the place felt very much as we remembered. It’s ultra-hip with some two-tops as well as some big tables perfect for groups of friends. It has a modern feel but somehow maintains its warmth. The crowd is diverse and of all ages. J and I actually had a really, really nice time.

The only problem was, unfortunately, the food. We started with a cheese plate, ordering just two cheeses – a “semi-soft” mona sheep’s cheese and a truffle tremor goat cheese. Well, they were out of the tremor. So the waitress suggested the chevre, and we bit. When they came to the table, I was surprised to see that the mona was FAR from semi-soft. Whereas I was expecting something along the lines of a sheep’s camembert, it had more the texture (and taste) of parmesan. They’re menu had given the worst description ever. It was fine, just not what I was hoping for.

For a starter, I opted for the calamari salad. As presented, it was beautiful – full of color and texture. The taste, however, was really, really flat. The sauce which looked to have so much promise didn’t bring any acidity to the dish and barely any heat. The garbanzos were hard as little pebbles and had about as much taste. The squid itself was decent, but just not very interesting. There was so much potential with this dish, but it just fell short at every level.

For my main course, I accept full responsibility for a poor choice. You know, I read chicken and parmesan, but it just didn’t register as chicken parmesan. I don’t know why. Maybe I just didn’t expect to be served boring Italian food at place known for its unique approach. But when it came to the table, I was immediately put off. The chicken was severely overcooked – dry even in the middle of that excessive mountain of tomato sauce. The only real highlights from the dish were the toasted bread served on the side and the fresh mozzarella melted on top. Otherwise, it was boring and, to be honest, pretty poor tasting.

Let me qualify and perhaps give an explanation. The creators of Sonoma have jumped whole-heartedly onto the locally-grown food bandwagon. It’s a great idea both for its economic impact on local food providers and for its environmental sustainability. It is a noble venture and one I absolutely support. The problem is, it’s March, and there isn’t a lot of food growing in March. Places like Sonoma, deeply committed to the locally-grown concept, are at a distinct disadvantage in the winter months. This doesn’t excuse overcooked chicken or the NINETEEN DOLLARS they tried to charge us for a glass of wine (apparently, ½ glasses are more reasonably priced, but who orders ½ of a glass?), but it at least accounts for the flat tastes. I am absolutely not giving up on this restaurant, and I’m excited to try it again in the summer. But I’m a little more skeptical now that some of the halo has disappeared. We shall see.

Shrimp "Ceviche" (03/01/09) - A Solid First Swing

2009-03-03T17:35:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in my Las Canteras post, a trip to this Peruvian restaurant had made me curious about creating my own ceviche. I'd actually been wanting to try this ever since I saw Alton Brown's AWESOME show on this subject, but I'd yet to have the acute motivation.

Pronounced "seh-beach-ay" because, for some reason, Spanish speakers have always had something against the letter "v," the basic idea is a citrus-marinated fish or shellfish dish. In the most traditional (and best, by far) ceviches, the fish is "cooked" via the acid of a lime. So we're not talking raw fish, here. It just isn't cooked over heat.

I decided to go pretty simple in my first attempt and do a shrimp ceviche. Overall, I think it went pretty well. The flavors were fantastic, though, how can you really mess us with avocado, tomato, lime, lemon, peppers, onion and shrimp? I admit it, however. I wussed out. I gently poached the shrimp before putting it in the lime and lemon juice to marinate. Still, in the end, it really tasted lovely. It was really simple and something that I think I'll definitely be doing again. Next time, though, SOMETHING is going to be raw. (I mean, cooked in acid!)

Ingredients:
1 lb shrimp, shelled and deveined
2 avocados, diced
2 vine tomatoes, diced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced
1/2 orange bell pepper, diced
1/2 cup diced white onion (though red would probably be better)
2 tbs cilantro
1 lemon, juiced
1 lime, juiced
salt and pepper

Directions:
- Boil a pot of water. When the water boils, turn off the heat and dump in the shrimp. Allow shrimp to sit for 2 minutes and then remove. Cut into 1/2 inch pieces.
- Mix the shrimp, onion and juices together in a nonreactive bowl and set in the refridgerator to cool for 1 hour
- Remove, add the rest of the vegetables, toss, allow to come to room temp and serve

Cauliflower Soup (02/28/09) - Eh.

2009-03-03T17:08:00.001-08:00

It has been referred to as the “Ugly Betty” of the vegetable garden. It is the crucifer often scorned by chefs and widely despised by children instructed to clean their plates before leaving the table. I speak, of course, of the lowly cauliflower - hated on, alternately, for its color (or lack thereof), its texture and its ability to bore the crap out of anyone eating it.

Personally, I love cauliflower. I’ve spent many a fall afternoon eating it raw off the plant at Lariland Farms in HoCo, Maryland. My pops used to steam it and then top it with a plain roux, imitating a cheesy sauce. I often consider it more a starch than a vegetable, but those nutritional contents don’t lie. It’s got allicin (good for preventing heart attacks and strokes), selenium (a nice immune strengthener), folate (needed for cell growth) and, of course, fiber. Oooo yeah.

My favorite application for this member of the “white” family (which interestingly includes bananas, mushrooms, onions and garlic) is cauliflower soup. I love it cold, hot, or luke warm served in a bowl, sippy cup or beer bong – whatever. It’s subtle, silky and, with the right amount of salt, can be sublimely sinful. (Note: I also like alliteration. Sometimes at the expense of substance.)

On Saturday, as I pondered the end of another winter, I realized that I’d not had any of this delicious concoction all season. I’ve got a good standby recipe which is literally just cauliflower, chicken broth, a little cream and some salt, but I wanted to try something new while still paying due homage to the main ingredient. After looking at a bunch of recipes online, cherrypicking those tips I thought valuable, I came up with the following ingredients:

1 medium-sized cauliflower head, chopped
3 youkon gold potatoes, peeled and diced
3 stalks of celery, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium-sized yellow onion, chopped
2 tbs minced shallots
½ cup chopped scallions
1 tbs fresh dill
32 oz chicken stock (by volume)
½ tsp dried thyme
½ tsp curry powder
1 tsp celery salt
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive Oil

Putting this together was too simple. Heat some oil in a large soup pot at medium high. Throw the onions, garlic, scallions and shallots in and sweat for about 7 minutes. Toss in the celery, potatoes, cauliflower and dill and cook, stirring occasionally, until the veggies start to get tender. Salt it well and add the thyme, celery salt and curry powder as it’s all cooking together. Then pour in the chicken stock, pop on the lid, reduce the heat to medium/low and simmer for 20 minutes. You can take the resulting mixture and transfer it, one ladle at a time, to a food processor, but I’d rather hit it with my emersion blender and get it all done right there in the pot.

I gotta say, my whole family loved the soup, but I’m not sure I was 100% a fan of it. Don't get me wrong - I really liked the spicing. I was a little nervous about the interaction of the dill and the curry powder along with the cauliflower flavor, but it all came out surprisingly well balanced. The curry powder really just gave the soup depth and the dill make it fresh. But there were some flavor issues. First of all, when I first blended the whole mixture together, it was a little too watery for my taste. I like creamy. In retrospect, I should have just reduced it by keeping it over some heat. But I decided, instead, to put together a quick oil roux and just thicken it up. The result, at least when I first tasted it, was a distinct taste of raw flour. (The lesson: Never rush a roux) When I reheated the batch for general consumption, I let it simmer for a while, and I think that took care of the taste. But still. I also wasn’t a huge fan of the celery flavor. I love celeriac soup, but I think it got in the way of the cauliflower taste.

In the end, I’d probably add about 1 cup less chicken stock, 1 fewer celery stalk, and leave out the celery salt. But, as I said, it was met with rave reviews, so maybe I don’t know what the hell I am talking about. Or they were just saying they liked it so my feelings wouldn't get hurt.

Las Canteras (Adams Morgan, 2/26/09) – Definitely Better Than Last Time

2009-03-03T16:14:00.000-08:00

It is one of the biggest culinary mysteries to me in the DMV area. I’ve heard for probably a decade now that we have in our backyard some of the greatest Peruvian food this side of Machu Piccho, but everything I’ve tasted has been awful. Not just mediocre. AWFUL. My first experience was at a place in some urban sprawl section of Alexandria where my “traditional” dish came to the table as a piece of dry chicken served over white rice and french fries. No sauce, no salt, no spices. Just chicken, rice and french fries.

Dating J has made my general dislike for Peruvian food a little difficult. She loves it and insists that there are great places all around. We went to a rotisserie place up in Silver Spring that she adores, but, again, I thought it was so-so. I mean, it’s chicken. On another occasion, she took me to Las Canteras in Adams Morgan, where I had food so poor that I have made a point to comment on it each time I pass the place. It was dry and boring and just bleh.

Well, J and I were going out with some friend for salsa dancing (1,2,3. 5,6,7. 1,2,3. 5,6,7.), and, to “get in the mood,” J insisted that we return to the scene of the crime at Las Canteras. I decided, however, to keep an open mind and order under the instruction of one of our friends who, as it happens, has been spending a lot of time in Peru for work. Tough life.

On his recommendation, I started with the Pisco Sour. I don’t know who first thought to put whipped egg whites in a drink, but I must say that I found it quite pleasant. It was a little strong for my taste, but I’m a big wuss. The addition of the cinnamon and the bitters made it actually reminiscent of an old fashion…sort of. So far, so good.

My first course was the classic ceviche - a traditional criollo of raw, lime juice-marinated white fish. It. Was. Awesome. Really, really good. Tangy and spicy. The texture was perfect, especially with the addition of the corn and whatever that orange stuff in the middle was. It was a very different taste than I’m used to with Peruvian food – in large part because it had taste! I was so inspired by this dish that I immediately began to plan my own ceviche experiments (more on that to come in later posts).

For my entre, I accidentally reordered the same dish that had so put me off on our last visit. This time, however, it hit the mark. I had the Trio De Anticuchos, which consisted of marinated chicken, beef and beef heart, tenderized “Peruvian style.” It was served on a bed of mashed potatoes with gigantic corn kernels and ensalada criolla. I will say that the meat was a little tough, as I don’t think they’re into medium rare at Las Canteras. But, overall, the dish was great. The heart was really delicious with the mashed potatoes. The salad was tart and refreshing. And the giant corn was (once I added some salt) a really great compliment to the entire dish.

So there you go. I no longer despise Peruvian food. It’s still on probation, but a few more good experiences like this one and I might even find myself a fan. If you’re in Adam’s Morgan and itching for some fish cooked via acid, stop by Las Canteras. Tell them I sent you. It won’t get you anything, but it will certainly confuse them.

West End Bistro (West End, 01/31/09) - In Defense of Sweetbreads

2009-02-03T12:29:00.000-08:00

In comparison to the majority of the population (at least the part of it with which I interact), I am a relatively adventurous eater. If someone else has eaten it and lived to tell the tale, I'll probably try it. I make this claim in full knowledge of the fact that I've not been to Asia where, if I am to believe the media portrayals, those flavors most desired have at one time been growing or flopping around in the deepest depths of the unknown. But I'd like to think that, given the opportunity, I would try whatever a (modestly reputable) chef puts in front of me.

The last few years have seen a dramatic increase in the amount of "offals," or organ meats, that have turned up on the menus of fine restaurants. Trotters, tongue, liver, kidney, stomach - the parts of the animal usually reserved for the trash or for hotdogs - are now appearing as stars of gourmet - and often as the most expensive dishes. My friend Budda tells the tale that this phenom is the result of chefs who, after preparing all of the best cuts of meat for paying customers, have traditionally been left with only the "undesirables" to cook for themselves and the kitchen staff. Professional kitchens being the competitive, "we set the standard of cool" places that they are, chefs began focusing their creative energy to turn offals (pronounced "awfuls") into delicacies. Eventually, these creations made their way onto menus for us common folk, and restaurants like the Spotted Pig in New York, featuring menus dedicated to these preparations, vaulted to the "height of hip."

While I don't blindly love all offals (beef liver is not so good), I do enjoy a good amount of it, my favorite of this class being sweetbreads. Don't be fooled. The name has nothing to do with the item itself. The first time I ordered this dish (at Jose Andres' Jaleo), I was expecting something like bear claws. Wow. That sounds even more stupid when I write it than when I thought it. Suffice it to say that I was a little surprised when I learned that sweetbread is neither sweet (well...we'll get to that) nor is it bread but is, in fact, the thymus gland of the cow, pig or, sometimes, lamb.

Ok, don't do that. There's no need to gag. Just because the thymus gland is an important part of the lymphatic system of all mammals, secreting thymosin for the development of antibodies, doesn't mean it can't play an important role in fine dining as well. Jeez.

Anyway, over the past four years, I've had occasion to eat sweetbreads in a number of preparations - as an amouse bouche/finger food, a side dish and as a main event. I've had it poached, fried, and seared as well as in pate form, and I've generally really enjoyed it. But I don't think that I've ever had it prepared as perfectly as at Eric Ripert's West End Bistro. On Saturday, J and I made our first trip to the restaurant, set on the ground floor of the Ritz down on 22nd Street, with some friends from out of town. It was filled with snobby old people, but the staff was very friendly and the place had a nice feel.

On the whole, the food was very good - not great - but definitely very good. This was pretty much in line with the rumors we'd heard. The sweetbreads appetizer, however, was a knockout. The main ingredient came perfectly pan-fried in a crispy, light batter. It was smooth, savory and, dare I say, a little sweet! Underneath, the chef had assembled the most delectable assortment of complementary flavors, including artichokes, capers, olives, quail egg, fingerling potatoes (white and blue), endive and a tangy sauce gribiche. Eating it was like a choose your own adventure novel, as each combination of flavors resulted in a totally unique tasting experience.

There is wonderful food to be had all around this town. My credit card bill is a testament to that. But there is something really, really special about the sweetbreads at West End Bistro. It is clear that a lot of thought has gone into not only the star ingredient, but each of the accompanying flavors. The dish is complex, with each piece clearly requiring its own extended preparation. The inclusion of the gribiche, a sauce dating back 5000 years, characterized the outside-of-the-box thinking that went into developing this dish. It is a mature feature of the West End menu and, as far as I'm concerned, the star of the show.

To those of you who would otherwise be turned off by eating a gland, I offer the above defense of sweetbreads - in particular, Eric Ripert's. It is worth it to put aside your fear of the unknown and dive head first into this wonderful meat. With the right preparation and accompanying flavors, your first sweetbreads experience does not have to be "offal" (Oh!!! You knew it was coming. It had to. You thought I wouldn't go there, but I did. Right there at the end. Holla!).

Spherification Attempt #4 (01/19/09) - Success!!!

2009-01-30T06:26:00.000-08:00

This will be a short post. We've been over this before. Spheres. Chemicals. No reason for it, but it's fun. And, as you know, I've been messing around with this for a few months. Each time, a fatal mistake has killed my attempts - whether a bad taste, bad texture or just plain bad. Well, no mas. I should have stuck with Adria's recipes to begin with because he is the man.

So I decided to do mango caviar - basically just really small spheres the size of beluga caviar. I followed the directions from the texturas website to a "t," and it worked out just fine. The texture was right, the taste was nice and they looked really cool. I didn't really use them for anything but experimentation, but I can imagine that they would be really cool in a cocktail, on ice cream or even in a salad.

Either way, I feel good about it. Finally.

A Note: I apologize for the long break in between posts. That's, unfortunately, going to happen given the swells in my work schedule. Hopefully I'll keep you guy interested enough to check back periodically!

Pesce (Dupont Circle, 1/13/09)

2009-01-15T19:50:00.001-08:00

Finally!!! A really good fish restaurant in D.C.! I have to tell you, I’ve been to a lot of restaurants in this city that are supposedly known for their fish. I’ve done Oceaniare and Hook. I’ve had Grillfish and Black Salt and Kincaids. But every time I go to one of these places where the fish is supposed to be the focus, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was starting to think that I’m not a fish kind of guy. I’d leave these places completely unsatisfied, wishing that I had ordered something with legs or wings. And my growing disdain for fish in restaurants has not only made it tough to eat healthy when eating out but it has also suppressed any urge I might have to cook my own. How can I be inspired by another piece of sea bass?!

But on Tuesday night, J and I met up for a little impromptu date and decided to walk along P Street in Dupont until we found something interesting. Café Japone wasn’t going to happen, and neither of us is really into pizza – especially when trying to eat healthy. Eventually, however, we came across a tiny little place called Pesce. We entered the restaurant, finding it about half full with a generally older crowd, and took our seats. It was cozy and warm and perfect for a quiet Tuesday night.

There is one menu at Pesce. When you’re ready to start paying attention, they bring over a big blackboard on which they have scrawled the day’s catch, prop it up on a chair next to your table, and invite you to stare at it awkwardly until you decide what you want. J and I chose to start with an appetizer – the Pesce Trio – which featured eggplant caviar (a fancy name for babaganoush), tuna ceviche and crab with avacado. Every single bite was fantastic. The fish was really fresh and the textures of the three different pieces were wonderful – especially when eaten with their fantastic crusty bread.

For mains, J went with an arugula salad, having already eaten a little bit at work. It tasted like arugula. And I opted for the cod. The COD, for chrissake! When have I ever ordered cod anything? When I think of cod, I think of cod oil. And when I think of cod oil, I think of 1950s tv characters and the mean old aunts that used to make them drink it. But here I was, ordering fricken cod and regretting it before the words even left my mouth.

As you can almost certainly tell given the tone of this post, my fears were unwarranted and, in fact, totally off base. This was, quite possibly, the single greatest piece of fish I’ve ever had. It was fresh and flavorful, crispy and light. The potatoes and chive sauce that it served with, combined with wonderful mushrooms, made this a perfect dish. Perfect. We left feeling satisfied but not stuffed, and we weren’t set back too much in the wallet.

I can’t tell you how excited I am. I really do love fish. I just needed to find a real fish restaurant in D.C. It looks like Pesce fits the bill.

Four Sisters (Falls Church, 1/11/09) - Phở Que

2009-01-13T19:41:00.000-08:00

Tucked away in the utter mess that is the Falls Church "Seven Corners" area is a sight unlike almost anywhere else in the country. There, I'm sure off some incarnation of the ubiquitous Glebe Road, is the Eden Center - an all-Vietnamese shopping district to which members of the community flock from far away. Speaking from the perspective of a white, Jewish dude from the Baltimore suburbs, it's weird. Nothing is in English, most of the wares available for sale have uses to which I'm not privvy, and I think that they have the neon market cornered. It is a little dreamland -fairytale, really - of weird letters, spooky dolls, interesting haircut options and awesome, awesome food.

An unlikely candidate for all-Vietnamese anything, I was first taken here by J's brother and girlfriend who insisted that this was the place for Phở. Pronounced "fuh," Phở is a very basic soup, composed mainly of chicken (in the case of Phở Na, my favorite), rice noodles and broth. It is traditionally served with a few accoutrements on the side - lime, basil, bean sprouts, hoisen sauce and, the most important, siracha - Asian chili garlic sauce. Over the last two years, J and I have fallen in love with Phở. It is healthy, filling and soul-warming - an especially important combination in these winter months. Add some garden rolls and a little bar-b-qued pork and you've got yourself a nice little Saturday.

The Eden Center offers a number of different Phở options, but, for many years, the Four Sisters restaurant had the champion. Cheesy and plastic, this place was teaming with Vietnamese families looking for authentic cuisine and slurping this stuff up by the gallon. J and I have gone on a number of occasions - each time making sure to bring a native speaker along to do all the ordering for us. It felt as thought the dream would last forever, but as these fairy tales go, something evil was afoot.

It seems that the proprietors of Four Sisters decided that they had outgrown Little Saigon and wanted to crossover into the "mainstream." So they packed their stuff and moved to another, let's be nice and call it "less charming," part of Falls Church - right across from the multiplex cinema and next to the pottery store. J and I had heard that they had "expanded," so after a gathering at a friend's house in the area, we hit up the new digs in search of the Phở we had grown to love so dearly.

I will say this - the food remains excellent. We had, as you can see, an order of the garden rolls, big bowls of Phở, and some bbq. It all had the same great, unique flavors, hitting every note. But something is truly amiss at the new location. It's just....tooo.......nice. The floors are stone, and a big flat screen tv flashes blinding lights from behind the bar. There are bottles of wine displayed (albeit, crap wine) and a really nice bathroom. Gone are the jade-colored, plastic chairs and rickety tables. Even the famous painting of the four sisters, which was displayed so prominently in the old location, has now been relegated to a spot on a wall that you really need to seek out to see.

And, not surprisingly, the throngs of Vietnamese families who waited impatiently at the old place had not followed. This really scares me. Those who don't know the food won't hold this place to the standards it once had to meet in order to be the best at the Eden Center. People will flock to this place, ask the waiter what they should order, and leave thinking that they're really open-minded. Meanwhile, the place will cut corners, try to appeal to more Western tastes and generally blend right into the scenery. I bet they do really well here, but I am sure that the food is going to suffer. The Brothers Grimm would not be happy with the ending to this fairy tale.

Leg of Lamb (1/10/09) - The Goose is Loose

2009-01-12T18:59:00.000-08:00

Meet Oma. She’s my grandmother, and she is effing awesome. My Dad calls her “Goose.” Every year, she gets on a plane in her native Germany and flies across the ocean to spend a couple of weeks at my folks’ place. Not all that remarkable until you are informed that she has been around since 1907. That, for all you who like me specifically avoided math in school, makes her 102 years old. But now, every year, she’s just lounging at the ol’ homestead, getting some much deserved rest and indulging in American Chinese food. “I love zee zrimps!”

Oma remembers the day when she was forced to leave Germany to escape the rise of the Nazis. She and my grandfather (Opa) fled to South Africa, one of the only countries accepting German Jews, where they had to create a whole new life. She and Opa eeked out a life any way they could while raising my Dad and his younger brother in a totally foreign land. Despite the tragic reason for their emigration, Oma has very fond memories of life in South Africa. “It had a very nice climate,” she told me yesterday..

They left South Africa in 1966 to return to Germany, but she retained her love of the food to which they had grown accustomed; in particular, the leg of lamb which, based solely on her description, I am imagining was delivered twice daily to every family in the neighborhood. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but she said that they had leg of lamb all the time, and she loved it. One of the secrets to her longevity, in fact, is a diet heavy in fatty meat, along with a lot of bread, cheese and chocolate. Nothing green, because, as she is prone to remind anyone serving her such garbage, “I am not a cow.” Lamb, however, fits nicely on the centigenarian plan.

Last year around this time, when Oma was residing State-side on her annual visit, J and I wanted to make a meal that would put Oma over the moon, so we roasted our first leg of lamb. Not really knowing what to expect, we stopped by Giant and picked up what was unmistakably a leg. Hip bone, knew cap, shin, the whole damn thing, right there in neatly sealed plastic wrap. Gross. But we studded the thing with garlic, roasted it low and slow for a few hours and put the whole leg on a plate. It may have been a first attempt, but Oma loved it and as been talking about it ever since. In reality, when not answering direct questions, Oma has only a few default lines of conversation. Give her a break; she’s 102. That the lamb made it in there could very well have been a fluke, but J and I decided to repeat the performance with an improved recipe – Leg of Lamb 2.0!!!

I saw this Tyler Florence thing on Food Network where he crusted lamb with porcini powder and roasted it directly on the oven rack over a pan of potatoes and fennel (allowing the drippings to flavor the vegetables as they roasted). It appealed to me in large part because the leg was de-boned before cooking, each half of the leg being tied into a separate roast. That would make it a lot easier to handle and to carve at the end, which proved problematic last time. So J and I decided to go with that approach. I called the Whole Foods butcher and asked for the special order, requesting that he reserve the bones for me. (see gravy below)

When we got it home, J used her expertise to masterfully tie two hunks of meat into beautiful roasts. We stuffed them with thyme, studded them with garlic, dusted them in porcini, and set them to roast at 375. (You can see the whole recipe here: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tyler-florence/roasted-leg-of-lamb-recipe/index.html) When we took them out of the oven after about 2 hours (internal temp of 170), they looked perfect. I carved them up, plated them and brought them out for Oma who, upon seeing the plate, simply said “thank you” – indicating that the serving plate was her portion and the rest of us could eat something else. She sat there, not saying much of anything, just savoring each piece. When she finished, she looked up and said in her thick German accent, “Dahn-ee-el. Zee lamb vas schmect goot. Mmmmmm.
Vundebar. Just like in Sous Afrika.” And she was excited when I told her that she could have all the leftovers – “I vill eat it tomorrow, zen.”

That’s all I wanted. Both J and I felt very fortunate for the opportunity to make my Oma so happy. She is truly a remarkable woman. Speaking with her at my folks’ place the next day, we talked about life in Germany at the turn of the last century. She related stories of the times surrounding the war, and she was able to recall the most specific details about things that had happened decades ago. She has seen more than most people on the planet, and somehow she remembers it all. I love my Oma and will be very sad when she boards her plane back to Germany in a few days. But, as I tell her every time she leaves, she’ll be back again next year. And the lamb will be waiting.

PEACH AND RASPBERRY COBBLER

In addition to the lamb, the evening yielded a few other promising dishes. Most notably was the peach and raspberry cobbler that J put together. We had forgotten to plan for dessert before I hit the grocery store, so I picked up some frozen fruit and figured we’d find something to do with it. J spent some time doing some quick research and decided to make individual cobblers with the simplest, most delicious recipe ever. In all honesty, I’m pretty sure that this was Oma’s favorite dish. She commented all night about it and reminded J the whole next day about how good it was. J gets all the credit. I don’t remember where she got the recipe from, but here are the highlights:

Ingredients:
1 package frozen peaches
1 package frozen strawberries
Juice of one lemon
1 cup flour
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup melted margarine
1 egg

Directions:
- Thaw the peaches and raspberries, mixing them with the lemon juice, and spoon into baking ramekins
- Sift the flour, salt and sugar together, add the egg and crumble with fingers
- Distribute the flour mixture on top of the fruit, and drizzle with the melted margarine
- bake at 375 for 35-40 minutes, top with ice cream and serve.

LAMB STOCK GRAVY

I wanted to use the bones from the lamb to make my own stock for a gravy. Don’t ask me why. As you can probably tell, I like to do things the hard way. “Why use beef stock from a can if you can make your own stock? All you need is about $10 worth of ingredients and 4 hours of your day?” Yeah, upon repeating it, it doesn’t sound worth it to me either, but the result was actually fantastic. Here’s what I did:

For the Stock: I roasted the leg bones at 450F with some carrots, celery and garlic. Once the bones were brown, I pulled it all out of the oven and tossed it into a pot filled with 1 ½ liters of water, rosemary, leeks, bay leaves, more garlic, salt and pepper. I let the thing simmer for about 4 hours, until it had reduced to about 2 cups of liquid, and then ran the whole thing through my strainer. There you go. Lamb stock.

For the Gravy: I started by reducing about two cups of wine by ½ over medium heat, adding in a handful of chopped shallots and about as much garlic. When it was reduced to about 1 cup of liquid, I added 1 cup of the stock and simmered for a few minutes. I removed the gravy from the heat, strained it and let it rest. In a separate sauce pot, I made a quick roux (melted 2 tbs of butter with as much flour) and slowly poured the liquid gravy into the roux pot. This thickened the gravy to a nice consistency and added a bit of nuttiness. Done and done.

ROASTED GARLIC

There cannot be a simpler recipe that yields such amazing results than roasted garlic. You don’t even need a terra cotta garlic roaster, though, yeah, I got one of doze. Ain’t I special? You just chop the tops off a few heads of garlic, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle on some salt, some pepper and add whatever other spices/herbs you desire. Wrap it in some tin foil (or place under your roaster) and throw it in the oven at 350 for about 30 minutes. It will come out brown, buttery, mild and delicious.. You can’t screw up roasted garlic and people love it.

Spherification Attempt #3 (01/10/09)

2009-01-11T19:47:00.000-08:00

I'm tired and just doing some work on this lovely Sunday evening. But I wanted to write to say that I may be nearing the end of my spherification career. I need success in both the formation of and the tasting of these culinary enigmas. For those of you too lazy (or important) to read the Attempt #1 posting, I remind all three of you reading that spherification is the process of submerging a tablespoon of puree of [insert food item] laced with a little sodium alginate (or calcic acid) in a bath of water (laced with the opposite of the alginate or the calcic) to create a sphere of liquid trapped in a very thin, gelaltin-like skin. It sounds weird, I know, but I've had them prepared by one of the top chefs on the planet, and they can be really fantastic and interesting.

Those of you who know me know that I have been very excited about achieving this feat in my humble apartment kitchen. I've talk to almost anyone who will listen to me about these damn spheres, and I've been dreaming of a neverending list of things that would be cool to "spherify." My first attempt yielded instant success in the process by which these little buggers are created. The olives were the perfect consistency, easy to form, and generally pretty difficult to screw up. But they did not taste very good because the olive flavor was crappy and way too strong. My second attempt, mentioned briefly in the New Year Blog, yielded a gelatinous blob when the strawberries I pureed failed to perform as anticipated. (Great site, though: http://www.foodrockz.com/)

On Saturday, in a brief space of time taken in the midst of cooking a huge leg of lamb and four other dishes for my 102-year-old grandmother (shout out, Oma!!!), I took on pea soup. I won't go into the recipe because I took it from this guy (http://www.hungryinhogtown.com/hungry_in_hogtown/2006/04/liquid_pea_ravi.html) and it was easy to follow. Peas, mint and water. A little salt. And, of course, the fun (all natural extracts) chemicals.

Look, it worked. As you can see above. It even looked really pretty. Shocking the peas (dumping them in an ice bath after a quick boil to stop them from cooking and preserve color) is a really great little trick. But the spheres were finicky in their formation. I'd say that only one in three created a presentable sphere, while the rest were better suited for Rorschach's patients. If not left long enough in the water bath, the skins couldn't hold the weight of the liquid. If left in just a little too long, they formed much tougher skins which are sort of weird in texture. So execution was a problem. This is much harder than the olives.

More importantly, however, it just didn't taste great. None of this stuff can be done warm (I don't think), so you're serving room temperature pea soup. Not a great start. Second, I could really taste the chemicals in the soup. It was almost like the soup had been made with really hard tap water (which it wasn't). The soup is supposed to be fresh - not taste like someone should label it with a "Mr. Yuck" sticker.

To be honest, pretty much everyone who has tried either my olive spheres or my pea soup spheres has reacted negatively. Not. So. Good. Al.

I don't know, man, they just don't taste good. It think that, assuming the formation of some decent looking spheres with a good thinkness of skin, a good pea recipe would go a long way to curing this. And it is possible that a longer bath in the clean water after the spherification process could make things a little less chemically. I'm not giving up yet. I'm just saying, I need some success in this pretty soon.

Fogo de Chao (Downtown, 01/09/09) - No Mas!!!

2009-01-11T18:57:00.000-08:00

I'm done. No more. I've really had enough of this place. Chances are that some wide-eyed summer associates, dying to kick off the shackles of the Ramen-noodle diet in their new-found life as an adult, will drag me back to Fogo de Chao at some point in the future. Or I will cave to peer pressure when a meat-crazed friend convinces a group to head downtown to this meatatorium. But when I'm deciding, when it's on my dime, I will never choose to go back.

Look, the idea is enticing. No menus, no waiting - just a floor full of waiters dressed in "authentic" Argentinian garb, carrying around all varieties of slow-roasted animals on spits. You have a little card on your table that, when turned to its green side, invites these merchants of meat to come and keep coming, carving off a slice of this or a chunk of that. When flipped to red, the card is supposed to turn off the protein spigot - though it seems that is a formailty rarely obeyed. I admit to having been tempted by this Siren on a few occasions before. "Filet mignon wrapped in thick-cut bacon? Yes please. And come back in about 2 minutes, 'cause I'm-a want summore."

But this past Friday night was really the last time. It is not because the service was pretty spotty. The meat guys were all over us, but ordering a drink proved a veritable oddessy. It's not that the place was loaded with tourists. I'm up for sharing great food spots with those who come visiting this fair city, even when their clothes have been "bedazzeled." It's not even that dinner for 6 with 6 drinks and 1 bottle of wine cost (gasp) $550. No dessert, mind you. I'll glady drop that cash at Mini-bar or Capital Grille when the (very rare) occasion calls for it. It's because, in the end, a restaurant must be judged on its food and the value thereof. And Fogo's food just isn't very good.

It took me a little while to come to this conclusion. I've been going to Fogo about twice a year for the last 3 or 4 years (Budda, you'll have to remind me when that first time was). But I should have been tipped off by the fact that it has a salad bar. I don't care how big the palm hearts are (in fact, who can eat an entire freakin' palm heart), it's a salad bar. Sizzler had a salad bar. In the end, you get back to your table with your big pile of nonsense and you realize, this is just boiled asparagus. No care was taken to ensure each individual spear hits the tastebuds correctly - they're about quantity. That huge wheel of parmesean looks really cool sitting there at the end for you to carve your own slice, but when I'm paying $50 a head, I want someone to carve my damn cheese for me.

But the main problem with Fogo rests squarely on that which is the most enticing to begin with - the meat. It's fine. It doesn't taste bad. It's generally hot, pretty juicy, and there's a lot of it. But come on! I can walk 6 blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capital Grille, order the Kona-crusted aged sirloin, and actually feel good about the fact that I've probably taken about 2 days off my life. And that piece of meat will leave me a pound heavier in the gut, but only fourty dollars lighter in the wallet. I leave Fogo seriously considering pulling out my teeth so I have no way to chew anything ever again. I don't care that, in the space of 30 seconds at Fogo, you'll be offerred top sirloin, bottom sirloin, tenderloin leg of lamb, rack of lamb, chicken and filet wrapped in bacon, sausages, pork, veal, what-freaking-ever. Quality surpasses quantity very quickly when performing a cost/benefit analysis. I can eat $100 worth of the best beef on the planet (wagu comes to mind) and be a happy little carnivore, but I can't (and don't want) to eat $50 worth of ok meat. And Fogo's meat is just ok. Even the bacon-wrapped filet looses its appeal once you get over the utter briliance of the conept.

The bottom line is that Fogo is the worst kind of tourist trap. It looks fancy, offers something foreign (meat on a stick) but still safely domestic (meat) and gives you more than any one person should ever eat. But, when you're sitting there with your pants unbuttoned under your shirt, reaching for a Zantac and a packet of metamucil, Fogo is just mass-produced, thoughtless food showing no personality, no skill and no restraint. And for that, you have to leave a good bit of coin on the table. So I, for one, am never going back....unless you wanna go....ok, fine, I'll go. Can I recommend the bacon-wrapped filet mignon? You can eat as much of it as you want!!!

Acadiana (Chinatown, 01/07/09) - Tunks a Lot!!!

2009-01-09T16:09:00.000-08:00

The attorneys from my summer associate class had been itching to have a little reunion dinner – something we used to do much more often, and a tradition which I certainly miss. They are good people, all of them. So on Wednesday night, we decided to go to Acadiana, an upscale New Orleans-style, low-country place in Chinatown (sort of). Acadiana is the most recent addition to Chef Jeff Tunks’ line-up of DC restaurants which also includes DC Coast, Cieba, and, my favorite, Ten Penh. I like his places. Truly. They can all have their off days (one specific visit to Ten Penh with a few colleagues two years ago comes to mind), but they generally serve really good, interesting food at a price that doesn’t completely break the bank. They’re not cheap, but we’re not talking Citronelle or Komi prices here.

Anyway, as we had arrived with a fairly large party, we were seated at a big table in the back of the restaurant. I recognized our waitress immediately as a former bartender from Sorriso. It seems the money of working downtown had drawn her away from my favorite DC haunt. But she was quick to offer us some of the new “Obama Inauguration” drinks that had just been added to the menu, and, intrigued, we ordered. J and I both opted for “The Spirit” – a concoction of Moet, white grape juice and elderflower. It was lovely. Girly and sweet and all that nonsense. But I enjoyed it thoroughly and J said it was “the best drink [she had] ever tasted!”

As we sipped our cocktails, the waitress delivered the taste that is probably most loved by Acadiana regulars – biscuits and honey butter. Now I’ve been to Acadiana many times. We’re probably hitting double digits at this point, given the number of summer associates who like to take us working stiffs to this place for lunch. And I will admit that I am, consistently, more excited for the biscuits than anything else on the menu. The biscuits themselves are soft, always right out of the oven, and sweet and salty with the flavor of buttermilk. But it is the honey (I think?) butter that really puts these puppies over the top. It is rich and gooey, buttery and sweet. In other words – the perfect compliment to the biscuits. I limited myself to one, but I could have easily eaten the whole basket.

Moving to appetizers, I made what was probably the weakest of my decisions that evening. Though the trio of deviled eggs (with caviar) stared me in the face, and the gas station boudin balls whispered in my ear, I’m trying to eat a little healthier. So warm spinach salad it was for me. Now, to be fair, the salad has bacon and macadamia nuts – not exactly the lightest salad on the planet. But the bacon is in the vinaigrette dressing which is conveniently served on the side, so I went very easy on it. The salad was fine – the shitake mushrooms probably standing out most. But there’s just something a little weird to me about a warm salad. It’s like when you pick up a glass of what you think is water and it turns out to be Sprite. The taste isn’t unpleasant; you just don’t expect it.

Luckily, I think that my choice for main courses fit the bill as being both healthy(ish) and incredibly tasty. I went with the roasted grouper, and, I have to tell you, it was really fantastic. To be honest, most fish that I get in restaurants tends to be pretty bland – especially white fish. Most chefs seem so scared to season fish that, on its own, has a nice but very mild flavor. But when I’m out to dinner, I don’t want to just marvel at how good your fish monger must be to get you that great piece of fish. I want to taste something. The grouper was dusted with nice, robust low-country spices, and the texture of the fish was just perfect. I don’t think I’ve had such a good piece of fish in years – and this is coming from someone who is intent on not being that “I love everything” food blogger guy.

As good as the fish was, I think the star of the plate was the oyster stuffing. Lord. As you can (hopefully) see in the picture, the stuffing was served in a hollowed out, baked onion. It includes whole oysters and a truly fantastic stuffing mixture. I can’t begin to tell you what was in it other than parsley and some type of acid (I’m guessing lemon juice), but it was g – o – o – d. The sautéed cauliflower served with the dish added not only a great flavor, but a nice crispy texture which was needed in the otherwise-soft dish.

As for dessert, the waitress brought us a few plates of samples from the kitchen. I don’t know if they were just trying to get rid of them, if it was a special night, or if they give everyone that treatment. I’m sure it was good. I didn’t eat any. I’m trying to be healthy, dammit.

Overall, I’m going to put this Acadiana experience at the top of my Acadiana experiences. The service was great, the drinks were fun and interesting, the food was outstanding and the company couldn’t be beat. The drinks made the experience a little more expensive than originally anticipated, but overall, it was a perfect evening. I’m excited to go back again sometime.

A HOMEMADE, NEW YEAR'S EVE FEAST - GREATEST HITS (12/31/08) - Polenta Cups, Fig Crostini, Brussel Sprout Hash, and Celeriac Soup

2009-01-06T11:33:00.000-08:00

It may have been foolish to start a close-to-daily blog right before the holiday season, even if the subject matter is food. Irregular schedules and lack of time in front of a computer tend to get in the way of regular upkeep. But with the new year comes a renewed commitment to this hobby. Future posts will also begin incorporating a theme that is always prevalent at the beginning of a new year – healthy eating – because boy do I need it. That topic, however, must be delayed for the moment, as I must report on the feast of New Year’s Eve.

This year, J and I found ourselves hosts of the annual New Year celebration of my college friends. Though smaller this year than in years past due to babies (welcome Caroline!), “temporary” relocations (Scott and Adina, you’d better come back!) and unfortunate work schedules (hope it was a good one Brett!), we still had 14 people coming to dinner at my apartment. My friends like to cook, so we had arranged this as something of a pot-luck. And it turned out to be quite a feast! Pete and Lisa made some amazing, spicy jalapeño shrimp as well as some chocolate/rum balls. Ian and Ellen brought a wonderful puffed pastry appetizer, a fantastic (truly) salmon dip and a homemade cheesecake. Sarah and Tom made tabouli and a refreshing citrus green bean salad. Gary and Brooke brought the green salad as well as a number of desserts, including a Barefoot Contessa-inspired “bark” with candied ginger. Vi and Laura made a wonderfully-cheesy shepherd’s pie. And Ron and Liza made some of the biggest cookies I’ve ever seen!

At any reasonable gathering, this would have been more than enough food. But J and I decided to take on a very ambitious challenge, opting to put together an additional ten dishes from scratch. We had homemade gyozas and quail eggs dredged in coriander. There were fig crostini and polenta cups filled with both braised beef and spinach. We put together a celeriac soup topped with crispy bacon, brussel sprout hash, Greek risotto and a strawberry sorbet with sweet balsamic sauce. And we roasted an eight-pound porcini-crusted beef tenderloin over fennel and potatoes. That no one lapsed into a diabetic coma or developed severe gout is both surprising and lucky!

Pulling off this stupidly-immense feast was an exercise in stamina. It took us 16 hours over the course of two days to complete the final products, including a 13-hour marathon on New Year’s Eve day. Having never worked in the food industry, I won’t pretend to compare what we did to the absolute crush that line cooks and chefs must endure day in and day out. But, for us amateurs, it was hard - and I loved every second of it. I was braising beef at 8:00 in the morning, cutting sheets of polenta into countless cylinders at noon, and dabbling into molecular gastronomy on and off all day (my strawberry spheres failed to materialize, so J saved us with the idea for sorbet). We ground porcini mushrooms in a coffee maker, peeled about 60 quail eggs, made gyoza wrappers from scratch using a tortilla press and toasted our own coriander!

Not all of what came out of our kitchen was great. The risotto lost its creaminess when we made the mistake of making it in the early afternoon and then having to chill and reheat it before serving. The gyozas weren’t as good as the last time we made them, I think in large part because we let the dough for the wrappers sit for a while before we could turn to them. The beef was good, but not out of this world – 10 fewer minutes in the oven would have done the trick. But a few stars did emerge, and for those I will share the recipes.

POLENTA CUPS WITH BRAISED BEEF

I got this recipe from foodchannel.com, and it worked out exactly as I had hoped. I braised the beef in my new le cruset dutch oven, and it came out moist and tender. The polenta cups were flavorful and really unique. I only wish I had been able to eat a few more of them instead of staying in the kitchen working on the next dish!!!

Ingredients:
8 cups chicken stock
2 cups polenta
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons canola oil
1 1/2 pounds boneless beef chuck-eye roast, cut in 3″ cubes
1/2 cup shallots, minced
2 tablespoons garlic, chopped
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
2 cups beef stock or broth
3/4 cup red wine
1 teaspoon fish sauce (optional)
1/2 tablespoon whole black peppercorns, crushed
5 thyme sprigs
Salt to taste
Black pepper to taste

Preparation:
- Bring chicken stock to a simmer. Whisk in polenta.
- Cook for 30 minutes or until tender, whisking frequently. Add butter.
- Line a deep-rimmed baking sheet with wax paper. Pour polenta onto tray and spread evenly to 1” thick. Allow to cool at room temperature; transfer to refrigerator and chill for a minimum of two hours.
- Remove polenta from the refrigerator when completely chilled and firm. Cut circles into the polenta using a 1” cookie cutter. Scoop out the centers of each polenta circle with a 1/2 teaspoon measuring spoon, taking care not to make a hole in the bottom of the circle. Polenta cups may be prepared up to 2 days in advance at this point.
- Preheat oven to 350° F.
- Season beef with salt and pepper to taste.
- Heat 2 tablespoons oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat.
- Add meat to pot, searing on all sides until dark brown. Remove meat from pot.
- Add shallots and garlic to the Dutch oven. If necessary add remaining oil. Sweat for 5 minutes.
- Add tomato paste and cook until paste becomes fragrant and dark red, approximately 3 minutes.
- Reduce heat to low and add flour.
- Whisk in beef stock, breaking up any lumps. Add wine and fish sauce. Simmer over low heat until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
- Add the reserved beef to the sauce and bring to a boil. Cover and place in oven. Cook until tender, about 1½ hours. (Sauce should continue to be at a light simmer while in the oven. If the sauce stops simmering bring it back to a simmer on the stove top and return to the oven.)
- Remove the beef from the sauce, cover and reserve.
- Strain sauce through a fine mesh strainer and reserve.
- Shred beef while warm, discarding any pieces of fat. Toss shredded beef with some of the reserved sauce to coat. Reserve warm.
- Warm polenta cups in a 250°F and fill with shredded beef.

WINE-SOAKED FIG CROSTINI WITH PROSCIUTTO

We were planning on doing a pear and gorgonzola ravioli, but we just didn’t have the time. Instead of wasting the ricotta that was to be used with the filling, we decided to do something a little less involved, and I think this ended up being my favorite dish. It’s a Dave Lieberman recipe (MOT alert!!!). Sweet and tangy from the balsamic reduction and smoky from the prosciutto, this dish was easy to prepare and fantastic to eat. Fourteen people went through almost two loaves of French bread in this incarnation.

Ingredients:
1 pint (about 15 to 20) dried figs, preferably Calimyrna
2 cups full-bodied red wine
1 demi-baguette (or half a regular baguette)
1 cup whole milk ricotta
1/4 pound prosciutto
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Preparation:
- Using a small knife, trim the stems off the figs and cut the figs in half lengthwise.
- Place the figs and the wine in a small saucepan, bring to a simmer over medium-low heat, and simmer about 20 minutes until figs have absorbed most of the wine and they are tender and fat. Remove figs with a slotted spoon to a bowl and reserve for later. Some reduced wine should remain for sauce; return wine to medium heat and simmer again until reduced by half and a syrupy liquid remains. Let cool slightly.
- Slice demi-baguette into 1/2-inch slices. Lay the bread slices on a baking sheet and toast lightly in the oven, about 5 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool.
- Spread a tablespoon of ricotta on each crostini then lay a small piece of prosciutto on top of the cheese. Place fig halves on top of the meat and finish by drizzling the remaining reduced wine on top of the figs. (I replaced the wine reduction with a balsamic reduction, just simmering about two cups of vinegar over low heat until it had reduced by about ½ and had become sweet and thick.)
- Serve immediately.

BRUSSEL SPROUT HASH

Unfortunately, I’ve got no pictures of this one, but you’ll have to trust me. I’ve converted a number of people who swore they detested brussel spouts using this dish. I believe this was a Bon Appetite recipe, but I’m not sure. When prepared properly, the sprouts retain that amazing green color, and the bitterness cited by so many as the reason for their dislike is replaced by the sweetness of caramelized shallots and the tanginess of apple-cider vinegar.

Ingredients:
6 Tbsp butter
1 1/2 lbs brussel sprouts, shredded (cut in ½ and then cut lengthwise in 1/8 inch strips)
1/2 lb shallots thinly sliced
3 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 cup water
4 tsp sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
- Melt 3 Tbsp butter over medium heat.
- Add shallots, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
- Sauté until golden, about 10 minutes.
- Add vinegar and sugar, and brown for another 3 minutes. Then remove shallots from the pan.
- In the same pan, heat oil over medium high heat and add the shredded sprouts.
- Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
- Sauté until brown at bases – about six minutes.
- Add 1 cup water and 3 Tbsp butter, and sauté until water evaporates--3 minutes.
- Add the shallots back in, toss and serve immediately.

CELERIAC SOUP

I had never worked with celeriac (celery root) before, but it is not very intimidating. Just like pretty much any root vegetable, once you get past the tough, ugly skin, the inside becomes very easy to work with and very difficult to screw up. We served this in small glasses, topped with crispy bacon, and it looked quite elegant. But I can definitely see making this soup in the depths of winter and making a Sunday afternoon very warm and cozy. This recipe comes from the cooksister.com site. Ingredients:
1 celeriac (about 1kg), peeled and chopped
2 medium onions, peeled and chopped (or half and half onion and leek)
1 potato, peeled and cubed
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
750 ml chicken stock
100ml single cream (or milk)
50g butter
salt and pepper
2 thick cut slices of smoked bacon

Preparation:
- Prepare the celeriac first and place the peeled pieces in a bowl of water to which you've added a couple of tablespoons of vinegar or lemon juice to keep the root from turning brown.
- Heat the butter in a large saucepan and add all the vegetables. Season with salt and pepper and then allow to cook gently for about 10 minutes until they are just starting to soften.
- Add the stock, bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and allow the soup to simmer for about 25 minutes.
- Cut up the bacon into thin strips not more than 1 inch long. Heat a frying pan and toss them in - they should render enough fat that you don't need to add oil to cook them. Fry over high heat until the bacon pieces are starting to look crisp and golden around the edges. Remove and drain on paper towels.
- Check if the celeriac is tender enough to mash - if so, remove from the heat and liquidise the mixture. Return to the heat and stir in the cream or milk. Check for consistency (add more milk if the soup is too thick) and season to taste.
- Garnish each serving with a couple of bacon crisps and serve immediately.

-----------------------------------

So there you have it. These were my favorite dishes of the ones that J and I prepared. I’d love to put some of the recipes for the food others brought up here, so if any of you are reading, feel free to post. Happy New Year!!!

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

2008-12-24T07:26:00.000-08:00

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.

----------------------

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)

2008-12-23T06:40:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-22T12:26:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2008-12-22T07:22:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-18T16:06:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-18T14:42:00.000-08:00

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.