Thanksgiving, Clash of the Titans. Or, Family Recipes Collide

We all get tired of eating turkey sandwiches and are finished braving the holiday traffic. This year, like the past two, I spent my Thanksgiving in Rochester New York. Being the foodie that I am, I insisted that I bring some dish or recipe from my family to the table (literally). However, as the newest member of the gathering, most of the dishes were already claimed. What do I mean claimed? In this family, as I am sure is true in many others, people have recipes dedicated for the Thanksgiving meal. The brother always makes corn casserole, the grandmother has the pie with its homemade crust, the girlfriend always makes the cranberries (note I said makes, not brings, as in the indented jello tube from a can of Ocean Spray), the mother roasts the turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy from the drippings.

Fortunately for me, no one had claimed the sweet potatoes, and I happen to have an inherited recipe from my mother that far outdoes the traditional drowning in butter and brown sugar, topped with roasted marshmallow sweet potatoes. My recipe begins by peeling and cubing the potatoes, then steaming them until the can be mashed with a fork. Alternatively, you can puncture them with a knife, wrap them in foil, and bake them until they are soft, but the oven was occupied by a 28lb bird, so that wasn’t going to happen. Either way, the flesh goes into a large mixing bowl with freshly grated orange peel, a pinch of salt, a bit of brown sugar, cinnamon, a bit of ginger and nutmeg, chopped and toasted pecans, splash of heavy whipping cream, and brandy. This all gets pulverized with a hand mixer until they are light and fluffy. To finish, I spread the whipped potatoes in a Pyrex dish and top with some move toasted pecans and white sugar, then broil it until the top becomes brown and bubbly.

The girlfriend’s cranberries are simple yet delicious. Cranberries, water, sugar, boiled until slightly jellied. Mine (which I never get to make for this particular family) are a mélange of ingredients, best made 2-3 days prior. A package of cranberries, a whole orange (quartered, seeds removed) and a small can of pineapple are put into the work bowl of a food processor. Once a uniform consistency is reached, they are dumped into a large mixing bowl. Add toasted and chopped almonds, finely diced apple (granny smith or gala work well), a pinch of salt, a package of red berry jello (cranberry, strawberry, raspberry, etc) but with only 1 cup of hot water instead of 2. Mix well, cover, and let cool in the fridge for a day or three, mixing once or twice per day. The end consistency will be more like a relish that has contrasting flavors and textures, sweet and tart, soft and crunch.

Lastly, one cannot forget the antiquated green bean casserole. Green beans, a can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, baked, then topped with French fried onions. An alternative was featured at a “friendsgiving” Sunday night, someone brought green beans, but sautéed them in a pan with a little bacon grease, then added chopped bacon, crumbled blue cheese, and walnuts. The blue cheese melted enough to coat the beans and the bacon provided both a salt and pepper component. So few ingredients, but so delicious.

I hope everything had a lovely holiday. Let the Christmas rush begin. *Whistle blows* false start on Walmart.

Thanksgiving Warm-up, Afghan Style

Hard work makes me hungry, whether it’s mental or physical. After a long day of process improvement planning, the team and I went to Afghanistan Shish Kabob House in West Hartford. The restaurant has a very Middle Eastern feel, with lots of tans and brown. Music, in what I assumed was Arabic, played as the seven of us were seated at a large, circular table in the upper level. After perusing the menu and ordering the first round of drinks (mine was a black tea infused martini with just a hint of St. Germain to take off the bitterness), we decided to get the dinner treat. Requiring at least four people the sampling presents a variety of appetizers, kabobs, and vegetables sides. It was simply the best way to taste and share what the restaurant had to offer. We were assured that with the portions they would bring, no one would go hungry. My kind of meal.

The appetizers round consisted of pakawra, large slices of potato deep fried in a spiced chickpea flour-based batter. These red “elephant ears” were soft throughout yet crunchy on the outside and not greasy at all. Bowlani was also on the plate. The menu says that the dish was made from noodles, but it looked more like a soft tortilla, grilled flat, and filled with potato and vegetables seasoned with cayenne and black pepper. These and a few other delectables came with a pepper chutney and homemade yogurt sauce that was flavored with garlic and mint. Both added another dimension of flavor as the appetizers were dipped in them, herbaceous and creamy yet sour respectively.

As the appetizer plates were cleared, a veritable barrage of dishes came to our table. By the time plates and glasses were rearranged to accommodate, our table looked like a Thanksgiving buffet of Afghan cuisine. My eyes immediately fell to the plate of grilled meats. Salmon, beef shammi (spiced, lean ground beef) marinated lamb, and spiced chicken. With something for everyone, that was the first plate to be passed around. The salmon remained soft and yielding, while not overpowered by the spice rub. The beef was cooked closer to well, but despite the leanness, it was still juicy.

The eggplant side dish that followed (brony bonjan) had the purple vegetable cut about an inch thick and grilled. It was generously topped with the house yogurt dressing and sprinkled with herbs. The eggplant was so soft it fell apart as you cut into it. Afghani pumpkin was also featured. I was surprised to find it to have a pureed texture and mostly red, rather than orange. Slightly sweet, I could swear that it had a bit of tomato in it. The long grain brown rice that came next was topped with carrots, almonds, raisins, and scented with cardamom for a delicious combination of sweet and savory.

Stuffed, we turned down dessert, but continued laughing over stories of travels, family, and pets. I still think that conversation over dinner is the best way to bring a team together. Now I’m ready for Thanksgiving.

Zahav

I was in Philadelphia this week doing informational interviews, and celebrated a recent work accomplishment with a dinner at Zahav. Located in old city, Zahav is a modern Israeli restaurant, served in a small plates style. Smaller tables are scattered around the dining room, easily pushed together. There is a bar facing the kitchen for those who want to watch the culinary action happen.

                The menu is split into three sections, salatim (salads) & hummus, mezze (small plates), and al ha’esh (grilled). With many offerings that are uncommon finds, we went for the tayim, the taste of Zahav. Our meandering meal started with a selection of salatim and a foul (pronounced “fool”) hummus, which was flavored with warm fava beans. The seven salads had fresh vegetables, pickled vegetables, spicy, and sweet vegetables. My favorites being a roasted eggplant caponata and the beets, mixed with tahini to give them a nutty and rich flavor.

                We selected four of the 13 mezze trying to order the most ethnic dishes we could. Lamb neck stuffed pastille, grilled duck hearts, kibbe naya (chopped raw lamb), and smoked sable came to our table as they were ready. The pastille was my favorite. Think of a taquito, except the tortilla is paper thin and crispy. Instead of mystery beef, pulled lamb neck, richly spiced and dark meaty flavors with no remnants of game or toughness on offal. The pastille was surrounded by diced apples, walnuts, and a mild horseradish.

                My dining partner liked the kibbe naya best. The diced raw lamb was spooned into bibb lettuce and topped with charoset (“a sweet, dark-colored paste made of fruits and nuts eaten at the Passover Seder”). Uncooked, the lamb was milder than I expected, yet clean and only mildly meaty. The charoset added sweetness and depth of flavor, the lettuce adding a nice crunch.

                Our grilled dishes arrived, lamb merguez and duck kabob. The duck was served as small balls. The dark fowl meat tasted almost beefy in its heartiness. The fig jam that it was served with matched the savory with sweet making the juicy dish that much more delectable. Our other al ha’esh was unapologetically lamb. The sausage was well spiced, grilled, fresh herbs throughout. Mushrooms and pepitas added to the earthiness, a truly savory finish to the small plates.

                Dessert was two dishes. The first, a konafi. Similar to a shredded phyllo dough, the dessert had a creamy ricotta layer and was topped with cherries and almonds. The other dessert was a carrot basboosa. It was like a sweet cornbread, but using carrots instead of corn. Toasted hazelnuts and rosewater-candied cranberries, topped the cake, flavors of fall mingling with flavors of Israel

                The dinner was made that much better because I had a friend to share it with. A great meal, a great time. I never regret coming to Philly.

Five Fuzzy Facial Features

With as much travel as I do for work, I like to have some degree of consistency and reliability to my trips. Having been to Nashville many times, I have found that my hotel of choice is the Embassy Suites near Vanderbilt. Despite my frequent stays, until this week, I had yet to try the new restaurant and bar inside the hotel, Five Odd Fellows.

Passing underneath the entry sign showing five silhouettes of men with beards, mustaches, and other trendy attire, one walks into the fairly wide open bar area, with stools and tables scattered on a whole half. Their “Happiest of Hours” runs from 4 to 7 and features $3 draft beers, of which there are six, and $3 off appetizers (Bambinos on their menu). As some of you may know, Embassy Suites has a complimentary happy hour that starts at 5:30, so I usually didn’t have a reason to visit Odd Fellows, but after a long day at the office and rainy weather, I decided to try their fare.

During happy hour, rosemary, maple, and duck fat popcorn, usually $4, is brought with compliments. It’s salty, sweet, crunchy, a little sticky, and addictive. I ate the whole bowl before I knew it. The beer cheese soup I tried next was thick and rich, but not gloppy at all. It was made with a porter beer and topped with pretzel croutons and crème fraiche. It was delicious and the portion was generous, especially at the happy hour price, and it will fill you up.

Continuing my browsing of the Bambinos, I tried the duck and chicken liver pate and cheese board. The pate was served in a glass tube flanked by apples, smoked cheddar, toasted baguette and pickles. The bread and cheese tasted like something I could have bought store brand, but the pate was slightly sweetened with maple and was smooth and creamy.

Maple lacquered pork belly was also sampled, charred and crunchy on the outside, with the layers of thin fat in between the meat. The cubes were served atop pickled red onion and bibb lettuce, making for a smoky, crunchy, slightly sour lettuce wrap.

Finally, I sampled the “Drake and Boar” burger, a combination of ground duck and pork. The patty didn’t have the dripping juiciness of a high-fat beef burger, but rather a complex mélange of game, pork loin, and spice flavors that were complimented well by the lingonberry aioli smeared across the brioche bun. Served aside (very lightly topped) parmesan fries with a smoky, slightly sweet, slightly chunky bacon ketchup it served as a filling entrée.

Business travel isn’t always glamorous, but that doesn’t mean you can’t eat well and conveniently. 

26, 30, 46, 50

Saturday night, a large group of friends dawned not their Halloween costumes, but cocktail attire. We met at Bricco in Glastonbury for a plated dinner to celebrate the birthdays of two of my friends, one turning 26, the other turning 30. In the back of the restaurant, 46 people gathered in booths and tables for a plated dinner, followed by a house party.

Diners mingled, hugged, and gave birthday wishes as they found their seats. The meal began with a creamy caesar salad, which, untraditionally, included radicchio. The parmesan was shaved on the top, and the croutons were crunchy, the lettuce not wilted under the dressing. The salad was paired with grilled bread, served on a cutting board with mascarpone cheese instead of butter. The cheese was bone white and topped with chopped basil and a touch of olive oil. The oil’s flavor didn’t come through much, but the slight twang of sour from the cheese went well with the heartiness of the bread.

Dinner, like the salad course, was served family style. Chicken picatta was laid out first. Thin breasts of chicken with a light egg batter had been pan fried then coated in a garlic, white wine, and caper sauce. Another plate was the eggplant parmesan, topped with crispy chips of spinach and bread crumbs. The dense layers were almost indiscernible from one another, vegetable, sauce, breading, and cheese all running together in warm gooeyness. Dessert was cannoli. The filling was cream-cheese based and was flecked with chocolate chips. One side of the cannoli was dusted with pistachios, while the other with Oreos. They successfully avoided the cardinal sin of soggy cannoli, the pastry tube remaining crunchy.

After everyone paid (the waitresses were great about having 46 separate checks), we drove back to the birthday boy’s home. The birthday girl, a talented baker, unveiled blue velvet cupcakes, cardamom and pistachio flavored brownies, and a moist chocolate-chili brownie. The latter was rich, heavy, dark, and melted in your mouth. The initial rush of chocolate masked the chili, but as you swallowed, the spice lingered on your tongue, light and not unpleasant. Utterly additive. Cases of a variety of spirits were unpacked and cocktail creating implements were laid out. Every variety of alcohol seemed to be present, whiskey, gin, rum, bourbon, bitters, tequila, and even sweeter spirits like amaretto, goldschlager, triple sec, and midori. One of the party goers, a passionate mixologist, entranced the room with “Spirit School,” walking us through the creation of some classic cocktails. This was soon followed by a three round, single elimination, cocktail creating competition. Each round, a theme would be selected and entrants would have 15 minutes to craft their rendition. The winner of the three rounds would be awarded $50.

I switched from a suit coat to a lab coat, breaking out my syringe and pipettes for the throw down. Round one’s theme was “fine and smooth.” I passed the round with my entry of a combination of rum, angostura bitters, orange, Grand Mariner, and a touch of maraschino cherry syrup. Round two’s theme was “spicy and sweet, but not too sweet.” My cocktail consisted of aged whiskey, goldschlager, a touch of St. Germaine, a splash of soda, and a pinch of red chili pepper for heat. I used a twill of orange around the rim to scent it. It proved to still be too sweet for one of the judges, and it was down to two.

In the end, it was a draw in the last round, “twist on a classic,” between a gin variation of a margherita and a “riff on a riff of a drink from Boston called an 1862(?).” At this point, everyone had sampled enough that raucous cheers went up and glasses were clinked all around.

Happy birthday my friends, may we celebrate in such style again next year.

A Glorious Gastronomic Gala

Every year, at the end of October, The Food Network hosts a four day Food and Wine Festival in New York City to benefit No Child Hungry. Hundreds of restaurants, supporters, vendors, volunteers, and of course, foodies, flock to the events to eat well, drink deep, and meet Food Network personalities. For the past five years, I’ve attended the event, sometimes as a volunteer, sometimes as a ticket holder. For those who have visited my kitchen, you know that I collect pictures with famous food personalities. Many of those signatures and photos came from this event.

I arrived in NYC Saturday morning. After checking in with the volunteer desk, I wrist banded numerous guests to the Chefs + Jets event and the Grand Tasting. Chefs + Jets was on the rooftop of Pier 92. Think of it as the ultimate tailgate. One of the few events where people under 21 could attend, the rooftop was packed with families, beers, BBQ, Jets players, grilled foods, Jets cheerleaders, food served in a bun, a live marching band, and football paraphernalia. The Grand Tasting, an event that lasts both Saturday and Sunday, spanned piers 94 and 95. The picture below only shows about a third of the things to taste and see. Wine from all over the world, cocktails of every spiritual base, grocery stores, and restaurants, everyone had something to hand out, either to consume, or to put in your orange Buick logo’d bag. I wandered the aisles, methodically trying to sample, ensuring that I would be able to taste everything. With, literally, hundreds of different bites to try, there is no way I could recount them all, but there were some highlights that stand out.

To the left of the entrance, rather than a simple booth as you see above, this vendor set up their space like the interior of a European delicatessen. Cheeses, charcuterie, pickles, jams, and mustards were all laid out to try, my favorite being a roasted balsamic fig that paired perfectly with a crumbling blue cheese. Near the middle, a restaurant laid a slice of beef carpaccio on top of field greens, splashed it with herbaceous olive oil, and topped it with a tete de moine (Monk’s head) cheese curl and fresh ground pepper. In the back, liquid sugar was being pumped through tubes to construct blue raspberry flavored, 3D printed candy. Oh yeah, and I also got a picture and a hug from Paula Dean

I walked from the tasting to the Times Building to attend a talk with Rachel Ray and Tom Colicchio. They spoke passionately about solving America’s problems related to child hunger and nutrition. Their main point being that when people are on such a strict budget, they go for cheap food, which also happens to be the unhealthiest. Calories are cheap, nutrition is expensive. Without changes to legislation that currently supports corn and corn products, the problem won’t go away.

Saturday evening, I helped at Tacos and Tequila, hosted by Bobby Flay, again on the roof of pier 92. With the sun down, the chill began to set in, making us all line up for the tortilla wrapped goodness. Pork was most prominent as the filler, but my favorite was a duck confit, complete with crispy cracklings on top. The duck was juicy and rich, lightened by the pickled slaw and garlic aioli.

Sunday, after another round of volunteering at the Grand Tasting, I headed back up to Pier 92’s rooftop for Meatopia X, hosted by Michael Symon. Transformed again from the night before, every booth offered carnivorous treats. 1” square cubes of maple smoked bacon possibly had the longest line, but if you headed to the back, the roasted quail might have been my favorite. Near the front, sitting atop a 10’x10’ grill was a whole cow. The skull on a spit, it was an oddly primordial foreground to a New York City backdrop. As pieces were finished, they were carved and served with truffle mash potatoes and BBQ sauce.

Stuffed to the gills (for about the third time that weekend) I walked to the bus stop for the long ride back to Hartford. Another successful year, both for me and No Child Hungry. Can’t wait till next October.

The High and Low of Silo

Last week, many nights were spent as group dinners. As my team mates know me as the resident foodie, I’m usually entrusted with picking a restaurant. At the suggestion of some locals, I chose Silo. Located a few blocks from the farmer’s market, it sits on a corner in the Germantown area of Nashville. The restaurant is busy, with reservations being enforced and kept. Whiskey bottles are used to serve water, and the lamps are accented with dark reds and yellows, pulling out a natural feel on the wood and cream colored walls.

With a party of five, we were able to get a sizeable selection of dinner options. After a round of cocktails, the table ordered the tasting of the house-made charcuterie. Three separate plates arrived, each with the meat and pairing of pickles, fruit, nuts, and mustard. My favorite was a mousse served in a perfectly shaped dome, and lightly sprinkled with sea salt. It was paired with a whole grain mustard flavored with molasses, the grains popping in your mouth. The plate also featured pistachios and a roasted fig, adding another sweet component, removing any metallic, sour, or gamy flavor that might have been present in the liver-based mousse.

We also ordered were the crispy Brussel sprouts. Roasted and charred, they delivered on the promised crunch. Apple and pickled onion accompanied the dish, sweet and sour complimenting the umami from the char. While the composition, plating, and taste were great, the chef was a bit heavy handed with the salt, to the point of it almost distracting from the flavor.

My entrée was the braised oxtail. Served in a bowl, it was surrounded by roasted vegetation, shitakes, carrots, and potatoes. A poached egg sat atop the bowl, the yolk cascading into the natural jus as it was punctured. I usually eat oxtail at Jamaican restaurants, usually served in a rich curry sauce. This dish highlighted the oxtail on its own, having been removed from the bone. I consider oxtail to be offal, so it usually needs the treatment of something like curry. The meat isn’t as flavorful as other cuts, but I think this dish brought out as much as it could.

Another entrée ordered was the hot chicken, a Nashville staple. This incarnation had thick, juicy, lean chicken breasts, battered and fried. The sauce covering it was spicy, really spicy. I have a decent heat tolerance, but this was hot to the point of being distracting from the rest of the meal. My coworker who ordered it couldn’t finish it.

Sides are served a la carte. We ordered the jalapeño cornbread, which is served in a cast iron skillet. Unlike the hot chicken, the bread was only mildly spicy, crusty on top, and served with a bacon butter. The combination made the side more savory than sweet, which is what I’m used to with cornbread. The other side we ordered was the pot likker greens. The leaves were kept large, rather than chopped, and bathed in their natural juices, flavored with smoked bacon.

Dessert was the highlight of the meal. We ordered the pot de crème, rich and thick, heavily scented with vanilla. It was topped with a salted caramel sauce and served in a mason jar. The jar was surrounded by popcorn, swathed in caramel and speckled with bacon. The salty sweet crunch matched the pot de crème with flavor, but complimented the texture.

“Classic Nashville. Modern Cuisine.”

That is the tagline of Bound’ry, one of the many restaurants in the area surrounding Vanderbilt. A short walk away from many hotels on the west side of Highway 40, it’s far enough away from traffic to be an easy suggestion from the front desk. The interior is an eclectic set of rooms. The left is the bar area, which swoops around in a long arc. The right has a blazing wood fired oven prominent in the corner, where their hand tossed pizzas are made. The deck has mini fire pits at each table, the flames exuding from a basin filled with stones. The back room is a more tradition dining room, the kitchen visible from most tables. The lighting is dark and the art is vibrant and the dinner was about to start.

We begin with two shared appetizers. The pork belly came in four thick cubes. Unlike other belly I’ve had, the layers of meat and fat did not separate easily, and eat bite was better eaten as a whole. The sea salt aioli and hot pepper jam added a nice kick, while the slaw of pea shoots and shaved cabbage cleansed the palate. The other shared dish was the tuna two ways. The seared half was flavored with Chinese five spice and sliced thin, the meat slightly more purple than red. The other half was chopped up and flavored with ginger and sake, the pieces of tuna falling in between sweet potato chips and avocado. All of this sat atop basil painted cucumber.

My salad was the Belgian caesar. Brussel sprouts were shaved mixed with creamy avocado dressing cherry heirloom tomatoes. Asiago cheese, finely shredded and adorned with top along with focaccia crumbs to add crunch. The sprouts were uncooked, so the salad had a slaw-like crunch to it, though it was a tad bitter from the raw vegetation.

The entrée was the highlight of the meal. Always a sucker for novelty, I ordered the antelope. The loin came medium rare, just how I like it seared black on the outside, the interior a purplish red. As often happens, the game was very lean, and tasted meaty and clean, with only a slightly metallic presence. Paired was an ice cream scoop dollop of white truffle scented mash potato. Though delicious, the portion was a little small considering the $30 cost.

If you have to travel to work, and I often do, Nashville is not a bad place to go. Restaurant options are numerous and on most occasions, you can’t go wrong. Bound’ry is no exception.

“What is wrong with you people?!”

Every second Friday of the month, a group of friends and I get together at someone’s house for a cooking fiasco. The meetup group, “Fabulous Foodies,” has been in operation for over four years now. Every month, a new theme is voted upon, and the only rule is that the theme cannot be food or month related. That means no Italian, no grilled, no fall, no 4^th of July. Previous themes have been as random as “suit and tie,” “culture clash,” “if I ran the zoo…” and our most recent installment, “what is wrong with you people?”

In this group, most of the cooking is done on-site, the frantic, home-trained chefs yelling “behind!” as though they were on an episode of Chopped. The wine flows as freely as the socializing, cooking, eating, and drinking, dishes laid out on the buffet table as they are ready. I made many friends through this group, and felt at home in the semi-chaotic, food obsessed atmosphere.

For this month, in both the spirit of the theme and the upcoming holiday, I decided to make a “bloody jack.” Carving out the innards of a pumpkin, I separated the seeds and toasted them (a snack for later). I filled the pumpkin with tomato juice, salt, pepper, Worcestershire sauce, cayenne pepper, roasted garlic, onion powder, pickles, olives, carrot sticks, celery, a dash of lime, and most importantly, a strong pour of cucumber infused vodka. I made holes just below the liquid line so the spirited concoction would drizzle down a bit. The “face” of the pumpkin I decorated looking upward in horror, as attendees “lobotomize” the pumpkin to fill their glasses.

The other dish we brought was an irreverent take on falafel. The Israeli street food is usually made with chick peas, onion, garlic, and flour, formed into balls, and deep fried, presented on a bed of tahini. Our version had the same basic construction, but we added bacon bits to the dough and fried the balls partially in bacon grease. Instead of tahini, we served the fried garbanzo balls with a homemade tzatziki, but ours had a kick of wasabi to light up your nostrils.

Other cooks brought equally absurd offerings. One dish was a coconut chicken pad thai. The dish contained everything that would usually disqualify it from pleasant company or those with allergies: garlic, raw onion, spicy, cilantro, peanuts, and coconut. It was one of the first dished finished. For dessert, one chef brought all the fixings for ice cream sundaes. However, he dropped a small cube of dry ice into each bowl, making each serving a misting delight. He then poured a shot of 151 proof rum on top, then lit the whole dessert on fire. What is wrong with you people indeed.

The evening, as always, was filled with laughing, friends, and full bellies. As the end of the night drew near, we all gathered around for voting on next month’s theme. The raucous crowed spat out ideas ranging from raunchy to ridiculous, but we decided on “Vote’em off the island” for next month. Cant wait.

So how am I supposed to blow out the candles?

Birthdays come once a year, and as such, I think they should be special. It is a tradition in my family that for your birthday, you can have whatever you want for dinner. This included going out. By the time I was 12, I was already asking for hibachi shows and steak dinners. I carry on this tradition with my girlfriend, who had a birthday this past weekend. Part and parcel to the festivities, she got to dictate the meal and chose to employ our own kitchen for her meal.

The dinner started with a trip to Whole Foods. We headed for the meat department and selected two different animals, bison and lamb. The bison was a lean, long, top sirloin cut. The meat was a ruby red with just a hint of brown. The lamb was a bone-in shoulder cut. It had a little more connective tissue and intravenous fat than I usually prefer, but the “lolichops” that you usually get have so much bone compared to the meat, I was in the mood for something else.

Next stop, cheese department. I have been keeping up with my journal and only have furthered my relationship with the cheese monger there. After telling him of the special occasion and our meat selection, he walked us through a variety of options. In general a cheese plate should only have about three different cheeses, as the palate can be exhausted after they are paired with a variety of accouterments. After sampling an assortment of Spanish cheeses, manchegos ranging in age from three to nine months, a mild mahon (another sheep milk cheese) and a cordobes, with a slightly gamy flavor, we chose the six month manchego. We stayed in Europe but switched animals as we sought a softer cheese. The French Bucherondin is an aged goat cheese, the outer layer slightly gray, the rind tangy, and the inside a crumbly snow white. I suggest getting it cut fresh from the log, as goat cheese loses some of its character the longer it’s oxidized. Finally, we went to a third animal for a cow’s milk blue cheese. Soft, not crumbly, it was well molded but only lightly funky, we didn’t want to overpower our other selections.

The meal began as many good meals have, chopping vegetables. Mushrooms, onions, whole cloves of garlic, carrot, cauliflower, and peppers were all tossed in kosher salt, black pepper, thyme, rosemary and olive oil, then roasted at 450˚ until they just started browning on the outer edges.

While the vegetation was roasting, I tried my hand at risotto. Arborio rice, a short grain, Italian variety, is typically used in the dish. When cooked, the rice becomes firm, creamy, and chewy. After sautéing some wild mushrooms (another find from Whole Foods) and onion, I added the rice to the vegetables and hit it with a little dry white wine. As the rice soaked up the liquid, I continued to add chicken stock, one ladle at a time, never ceasing stirring. After the sixth ladle, I tasted the rice for consistency and once satisfied, added parmesan cheese and a finish of truffle oil.

The meats were seasoned simply with smoked salt, fresh ground pepper, garlic and onion powder. Seared on a 500˚ grill until they reached an internal temperature of 160˚, then rested under foil for five minutes. I believe that if you are going to spend the money on quality meat, let it speak for itself, don’t cover it with spices and sauces. The meal was paired with a 2010 California Zinfandel. Dark, juicy flavors of cherry and plum were deepened with notes of espresso and smoke. It played well with the char of the steak and the uname in the risotto.

Birthday cake was forgone for the above mentioned cheeses. Allowed to come to room temperature and plated with green apple, toasted nuts, honey, quince paste, fig/orange jam, and whole grain crackers. We tarried across flavors and textures, sampling things both combined and individually. For those wondering, we did not eat the entire board pictured (though we might have been able to).

Happy birthday my dear. I hope I was able to make it special.

Sweet as Sinema

There is always a charm in nostalgia. Taking a look into the past, we can gain perspective on what we’ve gained, and what we have left behind. As we move forward, remnants of that past are often caught up in the wake. But sometimes, we preserve those momentos. In some cases, we recycle, reuse, and repurpose them, changing them, using their memory-laden mystique. Sinema did just that.

An old movie theater, the original neon sign still illuminates the parking lot. Marquees that used to hold movie posters, now show menus. Stepping inside, the original architecture is obvious. A curving stairway rides up the wall, newly carpeted, still elegant in its copper and brass. Old movies play on a huge projection screen at the top. Lounge chairs scatter the front bar, and taking the stairs, the upstairs bar is already rowdy with people. The upstairs bar has a “concessions” menu all its own, with snacks like corn nuts and house fries. But the true art is in their entrees.

We begin out meal with a tartine. The “hot shrimp” is served with a spiced butternut goat cheese and a chili aioli. The juicy shrimp, coated in a sauce not dissimilar from buffalo, sat atop crisp bread. The cheese cooled off the spice from the chili aioli. Our other appetizer, the foie gras, was whipped to a mousse consistency, specked with shaved truffle, and plated as a cannel instead of a brick. Paired with a sweet zucchini bread and curry cashew butter. The plate also had a floret of pear and micro greens. It was beautiful, rich, and sweet, I could have made it a dessert. The truffle was mild, and each part of the dish was delicious on its own, yet more so as flavors were combined.

We ordered two fish entrees, the halibut and barramundi, both fish I don’t usually find at my monger. Salsify, a root vegetable similar to parsnips but sweeter, was pureed with butter and cream and was splayed across the plate with a verjus vinaigrette, white and purple waves acting as a backdrop to a savoy cabbage slaw and marinated grapes. On top of all of this was the halibut, golden brown on the top, soft white flesh, yielding to the fork.

By contrast, the barramundi was a hardier stew. White beans, lamb sausage, and fingerling potatoes swam in a thin tomato broth flavored with Herbsaint (an anise-flavored liquor made by the Sazerac company). Seared skin-on, the barramundi was crisped on top, giving way to another soft-fleshed fish that was lightly sweet and very fresh.

We shared a dessert, recently added to the menu. It was like a string quartet, first violin was a pear, poached in red wine, tinting the lightly colored fruit. The submersion was delicate, as the fruit maintained its texture and firmness. A moist almond cake played second fiddle, and the crunchy cello was covered by toasted almond slivers. Adding a fourth layer of flavor and texture, a whipped goat cheese was slightly tart and smooth, almost like a thick frosting for the cake, cementing the pear in place.

I want to emphasize how artfully each plate was poised. My cell phone camera (and camera skills) don’t do the composition justice. Sinema is slightly outside of the downtown area, but it is certainly worth the trip. Thanks for sharing it with me.

Mood Lighting and Seafood

After a week of hard work, it was a pleasure to take the newly trained supervisors to a nice meal. My reputation for being a foodie preceded me, so expectations of my restaurant selection were high. I chose ARA, a restaurant in the Royal Sonesta Hotel, somewhere none of us had been before.

Parking can be a bit of a hassle, but the restaurant validates, so at least it’s free. Tucked into the corner of the lobby, the mood-lit ARA offered a quiet and serene dining room. On one wall, bottles of wine stood at the ready, including a large ice bin for keeping the whites and roses chilled.

I was excited to learn my dining partners were as excited to share and sample as I was. Having perused the menu, we already knew that seafood was going to constitute the predominance of our meal, so we started with a bottle of sauvignon blanc. Slightly fruity yet dry, it went quite well with the bisque of scallop, and shrimp. The seafood was artfully placed into a tear-shaped bowl, then the bisque poured around it tableside. Bright orange and velvety, yet not overwhelmingly rich to overpower the crustaceans, we had to deny the server taking it away until we had unapologetically wiped the bowl clean with bread.

ARA is known for their butcher block steaks, and that same meat was dried to a jerky, chopped fine, and topped seared scallops. The scallops were soft and buttery, the jerky adding a chewy texture and a smoky component. The scallops sat atop a disk of green wheat freekeh, giving the starter a hardier feel.

We continued our barrage of seafood with Cobia, an Atlantic sea fish whose meat is light and airy. Skin removed, it had just enough browning on the top and bottom to seal in the moisture. Fresh, a delicate brine flavor came through with no fishy taste or smell. The cobia perched atop a roasted poblano pepper, stuffed to bursting with Aztec rice. An orange saffron sauce dotted the dish, adding both sweetness and citrus.

The menu states that the Scottish salmon comes with tamarind sauce, a combination I’ve never had. Intrigued, we ordered it. The sauce was thick, almost like a preserve, and was generously smeared across the top, then dolloped with almonds. The bowl in which it was served also had a red lentil curry, pureed to smoothness. The Indian flavors paired well with the salmon, while not overpowering the palate to the other dishes.

The sweet tooth in our party not yet satisfied, we ordered desserts. A trio of unique ice creams came to our table. Beer, made with what I assumed was a porter, as the ice cream was a dark brown, had cacao notes, and a slightly bitter finish. Goat cheese and sun dried tomato, the goat cheese adding a firmer texture and a slight buttermilk-esque twang to the ice cream, the sun dried tomato tasting sweet in comparison. Strawberry balsamic, again, a sweet sour combination, small chunks of strawberry adding a soft element to the smooth ice cream

Thank you Houston team for a great rollout week, and amazing dining company. I look forward to my next trip!

Eurotrip Part 4 – “So I suppose that means you have a Swiss bank account”

After a long, five hour train ride, I finally arrive in Zurich, my last stop on my trip. At every hostel I visit, the usual conversation starter is a standard series of questions: What’s your name? Where are you from? What do you do? Where have you been? Where are you going? When I mentioned Zurich as part of my answer to the last question, I got the same response from everyone: “It’s clean, it’s beautiful, you’ll love it, but it’s really expensive.”

Switzerland is part of the EU, but not in the Eurozone. They have their own currency, the Swiss Franc, which is roughly the same value as a USD. While some things are on par with American prices (like cheese and beer from a grocery store) and some things are even cheaper (The local bicycles can be rented from 9am-9:30pm every day for nothing but your license information and 20 Franc note which you get back when you return the bike) most things cost noticeably more. You can’t find a restaurant meal for anything less than 20 franc, and that’s the vegetarian noodle option. Mangos cost the equivalent of $6 in the grocery store and the famed Swiss chocolates can go for about $4/100grams. Want a refrigerator magnet as a souvenir? That’s $6.

Prices aside, the other three parts of commentary on Zurich were also accurate. Streets were clear of both trash and vagrants. The Swiss Alps loomed in the distance and a large lake pierced the center of the city. I took advantage of the free bikes and explored. The Bahnhofstrasse is to Zurich as the Chans Alysses is to Paris, luxury stores and layered shopping malls lining both sides of the street. Local trams zig zagged every street, making getting around convenient (if you can read/speak Swiss German).

As ever, one of my first stops was a grocery store. I had the legendary Swiss cheese and chocolate in mind, and was not disappointed on either count. For chocolate, most stores had an entire aisle dedicated to bars, truffles, candies, of all sizes, shapes, and levels of cocoa. Lindt made a frequent appearance. No surprise, one of their factories is located just outside the city. In contrast to Belgium, the Swiss seem to focus more on the bars of chocolate rather than pralines and chocolate covered goodies. I found Swiss chocolate to be darker, firmer, and more complex in flavor, and the Belgian chocolate to be smoother, creamier, and of a more luxurious texture. I say this with full knowledge that I sampled only a small sliver of what each country had to offer.

As to the cheese, of course gruyere, emmentaller, what we know as “swiss” made appearances.  Fondue restaurants were a frequent site, most touting a blend of cheeses in which bread could be submerged. Another cheese, raclette, was both a cheese and the dish which uses it. The cheese, raclette, is melted to the point of brown bubbliness, and poured over vegetables, potatoes, and the like to create a dish, also named raclette. The cheeses here were of a medium body and funk, offering nuttiness and herbaceous notes, most likely because Swiss cows roam the Alps freely.

On Sundays, almost everything in Switzerland is closed. The government keeps a pretty tight leash on business and enforces a reasonable work/life balance. I decided to hike the Uetelberge, a small mountain just outside the city. I met an American couple from Denver on the way up. They had been living in Zurich for a year, so they shared local tips throughout our accent. We ate grilled sausages and drank beers at the top, overlooking the city to one side, and the Swiss Apls to the other. The vendor had both red and white sausages (beef and pork respectively) the pork having a smoother texture, yet slightly gamier flavor. Both were served with sliced bread and senf (the German, spiced Dijon mustard).

At the suggestion of my new friends, I rode my bike to the other side of the lake, the “gold coast.” Because of the closure of stores, the series of parks and green spaces was full of people grilling, drinking, playing, and relaxing. I found a group playing volleyball and asked to join. I soon found that I stumbled upon an internationals Facebook group, young professionals from all over the world who moved to Zurich for work. I spent the afternoon with 25-35yr olds from Argentina to New Zealand, all in the early stages of their career, all with Swiss Bank accounts (a running joke among them).

After hours of volleyball, jumping in the lake, drinking, and talking, for the first time in my trip, I forgot I was traveling. The enjoyment of the sunlight, the drink, and the company of others was a common thread that transcended the myriad backgrounds, ethnicities, and languages. I felt at home.

Travel changes you. It expands your perspective (and hopefully your pallet too). It is the only other passion that matches mine of gastronomy. I made new friends, had new experiences, ate new things, and got to see a little slice more of what this world has to offer.

Eurotrip Part 3- Luxembourg

After my tour of Belgium, I once again boarded a train, this time bound for Luxembourg City. A number of people during the trip asked me why I planned on visiting Luxembourg, being the small country that it is. To be honest, my answer was twofold: First, because I haven’t heard anyone else mention they have seen it and second, because it was on my way.

Luxembourg City is by no means large; nor could it be considered a tourist destination. The city center itself, with its European-style shopping avenues open to foot traffic only, form a grid, easily navigated. To the west of the city, the river Uelzecht weaves below steeply curved hills separating the new part of town from the old. The Bock, a large, stone, naturally occurring wall that once housed soldiers, now stands as a tourist attraction.

My hostel was in the Eastern part of the city, so I wandered the old town as I made my way to the shopping district. As I was appreciating the antiquated architecture, I noticed a grove of apple trees on the edge of the town. Apples had fallen naturally from the trees and were strewn all over the ground. I local informed me that the grove was tended by the city and that the apples were free for anyone to take. None of the apples were of a variety I could name, but upon tasting them, they were mostly tart, firm, and crunchy. One looked like a miniature red delicious, but didn’t have any of the cardboard consistency I have come to expect of that variety.

I continued my stroll into the city’s center. In the late afternoon, the shopping district was bustling. Restaurants, in the European style, were empty inside as eaters were, instead, spread across tables spilling into town squares. Upon locating a grocery store, I entered to see if Luxembourg had appreciably different ingredients than my previous travels. Mostly, it was a repeat of things I had seen before, but I did purchase some golden dates. The skin was not wrinkled as I have come to expect, and the bright colored skin gave way to a firmer texture, not the gooey inside of a usual date. The selection of local cheeses was limited, and the few that I did sample had a gummy texture, and mild flavor. I did end up selecting a brie that was sharp and tangy, but it was from France. The cheese area also had a curler for sale. Enchanted by the thought of making cheese florets, I purchased that as well.

Other locals I met perusing the store mentioned that I should go North and see the fair that was in town for the weekend. I took up their suggestion, and was pleasantly surprised to feel quite at home. Overpriced rides and carnival games that are nearly unwinnable were interspersed between food vendors. Churros, kebab, and hamburgers were available, but so were grilled sausages with a variety of sauces ranging from a horseradishy dijon mustard (senf), to a spicy, squirtably mayonnaise they called samurai sauce. The local specialty was a potato pancake, mixed with herbs and a little egg as a binder, then deep fried. Clearly, healthy was not the name of the game. To quench one’s thirst from all the fried and salty foods, beergardens also scattered the fair. Standing tables were heavily populated with raucous crowds, parents getting some much needed time, using the fair as a babysitter.

Back at the hostel, my nightcap was a shot of eau du vie, a 90 proof clear spirit flavored with plum, shared with my roommates for the night: A Parisien man in his retirement, a young man from Germany, a Romanian man moving to Luxembourg for an internship, and two Spanish men on vacation. Cheers to that.

Next stop: Zurich

Eurotrip Part 2 – A Glass for Every Beer

After gallivanting through Amsterdam, I hopped on a train bound for Belgium. First stop, Antwerp. Belgium is an interesting country in that it feels very different depending on where you are. The countries surrounding Belgium have a heavy influence on food and language. Antwerp is in the North, so Dutch is predominantly spoken.

Antwerp is a city with strong cultural dividing lines. Move from one street to the next and you change from a Middle East/Muslim neighborhood to a heavily Hissidic Jew one. This is reflected in what dining options are available in each part of the city. But what really struck my interest was the Trappist Brewery 45 minutes outside of the city. There are only eight Trappist breweries in the world, two in the Netherlands, five in Belgium, and one in the USA. Trappist monks get their name from a period of reform which started in La Trappe Abbey in Normandy, France. The monks speak only as necessary and brew beer, make cheese, soap, and other items to sell only to continue their livelihood and contribute to charity. Westmalle, the abbey outside of Antwerp, produces two kinds of beer, a dubbel and a trippel. These are commercially available in any bar or grocery store. However, there is a third beer that can only be purchased at the café outside the brewery, Extra. This is the brew the monks themselves drink, and only the additional is sold. After a long bus ride, participating in a Trappist Mass, meandering through the grounds (the abbey and the brewery are off limits), I picked up a couple bottles of the nano-brew. The dubbel is the color of milk chocolate, and has earthy and hoppy tones. The trippel is closer to a blond ale, slightly sweeter and the taste of the barely comes through. The Extra I did not sample yet, as it is a present.

My next stop was Brugge. Situated in the West of Belgium, Brugge has a much more French influence. Locals call themselves Brugge Zot (fools) and the town itself is quite quaint, but very touristy. Chocolate shops, lace stores, and beer vendors are on every corner, each selling the same array of goods. Through the cloud of consumerism, there are a few places that purvey unique products. De Halve Maan is one.

The local brewery has been creating beer since 1856. Tours through their timeline, brewing process, and of course, sampling, take place daily. Having a unique glass for each beer is a marketing ploy in Belgium. Everything from horns, to trumpets, flasks and decanters line the walls of every bar. De Halve Maan is no exception, as they poured the Brugge Zot into a chalice that grew wider towards the top of the glass. During the tour, I tasted the barley from which the Zot was fermented, and the taste came through. The hop flavor was delicate and not bitter and the pour intentionally left a substantial head which lingered as I sipped.

The other consumable that immediately comes to mind when one invokes Belgium is chocolate. Most of the tourist-driven stores in both  Brussels and Brugge (predominantly French-speaking) featured nuts, fruit, wafers, cookies, and ganache, all covered in very smooth, decadent, white, milk, or dark chocolate. Maybe it was the language barrier, but I was hard pressed to determine how one chocolate shop was different from another. Most vendors couldn’t tell me the origin of the chocolate, or anything about the recipe. The Chocolate Line was different.

The scent of chocolate pervaded the store, despite the constant foot traffic and open door. Solid bars of chocolate, broken by hand, were available for purchase by the gram. A huge array of chocolate pralines, in uncommon flavors, sat enticingly behind a glass wall. All the while, white smocked, chocolate stained chocolatiers spread, plated, and crafted new creations in a kitchen behind a large window. As expected of me, I purchased a slew of the greatest oddities The Chocolate Line had to offer. 

(Top Left, going clockwise) Shiso was a blend of mild mint with basil. Slightly herbaceous, but no plant matter in the center. Fried onions, heavily reduced, chopped fine, sweet and almost candied were encased in silky milk chocolate. Asian confetti combined the saltiness of soy sauce with a sweetness of teriyaki, the dark chocolate provided a bitter point. Wasabi did not punch me in the face with a horseradish-esque burn but rather, the punch was pulled in favor of lighting up my nostrils to the dark chocolate flavor. Chili pepper and lime combined for a striking gelee as I bit into the South American inspired creation. Black olives, sun dried tomato, and basil were wrapped in dark chocolate in the Italian praline, this one more savory than the rest. I found myself wanting olive oil, balsamic, and some pasta to round out the taste.

Belgium is a wonderfully varied nation. Despite its small size, one can find chocolate like the Swiss, fries like the Dutch, cheese like the French, but a beer culture that it is all their own. A great stop for any Eurotrip. Next stop, Luxembourg.

Eurotrip Part 1 - Of Windmills and Wooden Shoes

I am back from my European vacation and have much to tell. My journey began in Amsterdam. The city itself is a wonderful blend of old and new. Traditional rows of houses stand a single street away from a shopping district. The Dam Square is the center of town with the enormous amount of bike traffic filtering through it. Man made canals curve throughout the city, and if my tour guide’s numbers were right, around 70 bikes fall into them every day.

Amsterdam is a tourism-driven city, so authentic Netherland food is not easy to find. Gouda cheese, on the other hand, is very easy to find. Next to every souvenir shop there is a cheese shop selling the exact same array of both young and old gouda cheeses. The young ones, even flavored with nettles, wasabi, paprika, etc, are bland and gummy. The aged goudas, made from cow, sheep, and goat milk, are firmer, saltier, and have a nutty bite. However, these are nothing you cant get in your local Whole Foods. Reypenaer is a different story.

Located on the West side of the city on a corner overlooking one of the many canals, Reypenaer cheese makes their own propriety blends of gouda. For 15€, you can take a cheese tasting class, sampling six different cheeses and analyzing them as though they were fine wines, which are also poured during the tasting. My personal favorite was a three year gouda, crumbly with salt crystals, and smelled of walnuts and smoke. The cheese was rich and filled your senses.

Equally as abundant as the cheese was stroopwaffles. These thin, crunchy wafer/waffles sandwich a layer of honey or maple syrup, making the whole delicacy gooey, very sweet, and perfect for a cup of coffee.

Walking the streets of Amsterdam, one could not help but notice the persistent perfume of French fries. It seems to be the snack of choice, drenched as they are in mayonnaise. I tried this “delicacy,” and was nonplussed. I understand the crunchy, salty, creamy, slightly sour combination, but it just didn’t do it for me.

As always, I found myself wandering through local grocery stores. The selection of fruits, vegetables, breads, canned and dry goods was not significantly different from what you might find in an American grocery, but there were a few exceptions. Even smaller local stores had cut-to-order cheese counters. Most bread was sold in individual servings rather than cut loaves, but that’s a European thing anyway. One thing that was not unfamiliar, but traditional, was stamppot. In this dish, potatoes are mashed with vegetables like kale and carrots, and usually, a small divet is made for gravy. This is eaten with smoked sausage. Like any home cooked food, variations abound and everyone likes their mother’s best. 

Also popular was a mashed, seasoned steak spread, not unlike tartar. It was sandwiched in bread, dolloped on crackers, or served aside cheese. Again, garlic, onion, and other spice variations were available, but any way you had it, the beefy spread was always welcome on my plate.

Next stop: Belgium

“I do.” – Let’s Eat

A white dress with a beautiful train, a bald man in a kilt. A delicate white cake with a chocolate mousse stripe, a basket of crabs. A bluegrass quartet and a 10-piece jazz/rock band.  This weekend, a good friend of mine got married in St. Michael, MD, and the wedding was full of point/counterpoints, but most importantly, was a blast.

The festivities began Friday night at the maritime museum. The appetizer platter consisted of a triad of flavored popcorn: caramel, truffle, and cheese. The aroma of the truffles was heady, preparing my palate for the array of cheese that was to come. Soft and melty brie, firm cheddar, moldy blue, and more cheeses whose names I cannot fully recall (come on, I had 2.5 glasses of wine in me by then, cut me some slack). All were paired with fruit, crackers and other accouterments that made their consumption easier. Excellent beginning to a meal.

You can’t have a wedding meal on St. Michaels without blue crab. In this case, it was a bushel basket that, when opened, the feisty crustaceans climbed over each other to escape. These were added to a large boiling pot with a healthy helping of Old Bay, another Maryland staple. Each of the dining tables was covered in paper, and the steaming crabs were laid out, fresh from the pot. Hammers and knives and most importantly, bibs, were distributed to guests as they smashed, tore, and nibbled their way through the shellfish. Light and tangy coleslaw, potato salad, fried chicken, beef brisket, and an heirloom tomato salad were available for those who either A. didn’t/couldn’t eat shellfish and B. needed a palate cleanser and a break from demolishing their meal. The bald, kilted man arrived about half way through the meal to distribute local ice cream. With six flavors, I, of course, got all of, it was again a welcome array of options sure to please each diner.

The next day was the ceremony. Beautiful, heartfelt, and endearing. Then we headed off to the resort for appetizers and cocktails. There is something to be said for being handed a glass of wine or champagne as you enter a room. It puts you in such a better mood. Hors d'oeuvres were passed. I was surprised as seared tuna, sitting on a bed of seaweed salad, topped a fried wonton. Finished with just a dab of wasabi aioli, it was my favorite until the ceramic spoons of lobster ceviche made an appearance. Citric, bright, and most importantly, fresh, they were delicious.

The party progressed to dinner. The salad featured “truffles” of goat cheese rolled a variety of spices: Salt and pepper, paprika, and Italian seasoning. Dinner was a surf and turf of filet and a crab cake (pictured). The steak was a nice medium, catering to a larger audience. Wait staff were quick to refill wine glasses as the band kept the music going. After a round of toasts and dances, the cake was cut. A light and fluffy chocolate mousse was sandwiched between equally fluffy white cake.

Large events often imply mediocre food, but this was not the case last weekend. Stellar food and phenomenal time was had by all. Congratulations.

Nashville – A taste of the south

I have been frequenting Nashville for work since February, and while it has the upside that I am on a per diem, allowing me to dine at places usually out of my budget, the downside is that I don’t get to see the mid-day, tourist Nashville. This week, my sisters and their friend came to Nashville for a concert, so we hit the iconic spots. My sisters and I grew up in Minnesota, so we’re more used to hearing “eh?” rather than “y’all,” more used to hot dish than hot chicken. So what might be a southern staple was a new experience for my sisters, and I was glad to be along for the ride.

Loveless Café – About 30 min outside the city, this southern shack features all the quintessential cuisine of Music City. Between the four of us, we sampled many of the archetype delicacies: Meatloaf, BBQ pork, collard greens, beans, mac and cheese, fried catfish, fried chicken, fried okra (notice a pattern?) and biscuits with jam. Loveless is known for their biscuits, fluffy, warm, small enough that you don’t feel guilty about eating more than one, especially if its smeared with one of the three jams that they come with. As my sister put it, they were “unreal.”

The Row – Nothing like live music and moonshine. Serving a similar variety of southern favorites with bar food mixed in, The Row is just off Vanderbilt campus. The beef pot roast, a star item on their menu, fell apart in your mouth. Sweeter than I expected, it had a lusciously dark broth. The mac and cheese had firmer noodles than Loveless and was cheesier, rather than creamier. Topped with bacon I preferred The Row’s, but the biscuits at Loveless are famous for a reason.

Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream – Check out their website. Its full of pictures of the handmade processes they go through for each flavor. Its food porn at its finest. When we went there, true to my style, we sampled almost every flavor they had. I settled on the sweet biscuits and peach jam, sweet corn and blackberry, and the saison with sunflower seeds. Each flavor was both novel and complex. Creamy, yet allowed the flavors of the component parts to blend, the ice cream highlighting the mix-ins.

Arnold’s Country Kitchen – This cafeteria style restaurant is squat, flat, small, and has two James Beard awards on their wall. The menu is limited and rotates daily. The ordering process feels more like a New York Deli than a Tennessee kitchen, bordering on rushed. With trays and Styrofoam cups of tea, we sat down to roast beef, country fried steak, collard greens, and the best fried green tomatoes I’ve ever had (pictured). The coating was slightly sweet, flavored with Italian spices. Each batch is made to order, so be careful not to scald your mouth. The permanent line, sometimes out the door, is evidence enough of the authenticity and quality of the food.

Hattie B’s Hot Chicken – Tenders are the name of the game here. Go in for a platter and pick up some sides. An iced tea wouldn’t hurt either; it is hot chicken after all. The meat, especially the white meat of the tenders, is juicy, fresh, and cooked to order, so it is, as the name implies, hot. I like to taste my food, so I limited myself to the “hot,” heat level but the masochists among us can go up to “burn notice.”

I’m aware that there are many other Nashville staples that are not listed here: Pancake Pantry, Midtown Café, the Farmer’s Market, just to name a few. What I can say with confidence is that Music City has a vibrant and classic food scene that keeps me coming back.

 

 

All I can eat meat

About a year ago, I went to Rodizio Grill in Stamford CT for a fundraiser eating competition. For those of you who are unfamiliar, rodizio is an all-you-can-eat style restaurant where “one pays a fixed price and the waiters bring samples of food to each customer at several times throughout the meal, until the customers signal that they have had enough. In churrascarias or the traditional Brazilian-style steakhouse restaurants, servers come to the table with knives and a skewer, on which are speared various kinds of quality cuts of meat, most commonly local cuts of beef, pork, or chicken” (Wikipedia).

The competition was a “last man standing,” wherein the gouchos would continue to bring meats and eaters could not refuse. After a delicious 2.5 hours, I walked away victorious, full, and with $100/month for a year at the restaurant. Unfortunately, the Stamford location closed before I was able to redeem my prize. Corporate was kind enough to honor four free dinners at any of their franchise locations. Last night, I went to the downtown Nashville location for a meat extravaganza.

If you have been reading this blog, you already know I have a capacity to eat more than most, and tonight I was prepared. With my hourglass-shaped red/green indicator, I brought on wave after wave of garlic steak, salt and pepper flap steak, tri-tip, marinated pork, wine chicken, top sirloin, boneless lamb, and of course the iconic cut of the churrascaria, pichana.

Usually, all-you-can-eat restaurants are buffet-style, so there is little interaction with the wait staff. Conversely, at rodizio, you have the most interaction, as you tong freshly cut meats onto your plate. Thus, after over an hour of my indicator being green, I started building a reputation. My plate of sides served more as a palate cleanser and condiments instead of another course of food. I had conversations as to the cuts, levels of doneness, and became increasingly selective about which meats I accepted as started to run out of room. The gentlemen of Rodizio Grille kept it coming with good humor and smiles on their faces (which I suspect was partially due to the running joke of how much I was eating).

Rodizio is an experience, less of a meal. Take your time, come prepared (and by that I mean very hungry), luxuriate in the gluttony and enjoy yourself. The variety and work involved with rodizio make it almost impossible to do at home, so make a night of it, and Rodizio Grill is one place to do it. Thanks guys, I’ll be back (but not before an iron man or two).

Flyte of Fancy

Ah restaurant week, that magical time where diners can enjoy tasting menus at reasonable prices and reservations can be hard to come by. A temporary switch from value to volume, letting everyone win. This week, I’m back in music city, and restaurant reviews along with personal suggestions steered me toward Flyte World Dining.

The restaurant is set up in a large rectangle, with one side hosting the bar, the other the dining room, split by the entrance. The interior is dark and industrial, with candles dotting every table, no open windows, and exposed, painted-over ductwork.

Once again dining with a co-worker, we both ordered the restaurant week menu, of course, ordering different dishes to taste the largest swath of food we could. Our first course was roasted beets presented in two varieties: golden and candy cane. The golden beets were soft, but their pink and white partners were shaved thin and tasted a little more raw. Pieces of rye added a nutty crunch while a blueberry puree, swiped across the plate, added a sweet component. The other first course, a carrot soup, was topped with bacon and crème fraiche and was velvety and rich. The bright orange color showing the freshness of the carrots.

Our entrees were trout and steak. The steak was cooked to a juicy medium, sliced on the bias, and laid atop a bed of charred onion soup, faro, and topped with a parsley crumble. The soup had rich earthy tones, with flavors of caramelized onion, mushroom, garlic, dark and umami. The faro maintained its toothsomeness despite the soup saturation. Soak the steak in the soup for the win. The trout was served whole, skin-on. The flesh was soft and yielding, and the skin was flaky and not fishy at all. The pepita crumble on top added a salty, nutty crunch to the fish. Below, braised cabbage, with a slight crispness remaining, was seasoned with turmeric and sherry for a lighter vegetable side.

Our dessert was cheesecake, served in a small dome rather than a slice. It was topped with a peach jam, chunky and sweet, and finished with a brazil nut crumble. The nuts tasted roasted prior to being pulverized, giving both a toasty note and a crunch to the dessert. The cheesecake itself was soft and light, with the texture of whipped cream cheese that just came out of the fridge.

For about $30 per person, Flyte puts on a nice tasting menu. I personally preferred the carrot soup and the steak to the other options, but try for yourself.

The way to a man’s Oxheart is through his Underbelly

Last time I was in Houston, I did extensive research on where to eat, best restaurants, best chefs, and local flavor. At the suggestion of many, I went to Underbelly, had a great meal, and did a post on it (see below). This time, going back to my research, I went to one of the other highly touted restaurants in the Houston area, Oxheart. The name of the restaurant came from the fact that they feature both meat and vegetables (both locally sourced when possible) prominently, trying to use every part of the animal and plant. Oxheart happens to be not only a piece of offal, but also a variety of tomato.

Oxheart is a small restaurant, seating only 30 patrons at a time. The dining room has an industrial feel, with brick walls, air ducts, and adorned with maneki-neko (lucky cats). About ten of the seats are in a ‘U’ shape around the kitchen, giving a front row seat to the culinary action. The team of chefs, adorned in their whites and aprons, moved past one another gracefully. The kitchen was oddly quiet, lacking the clang and chop of knives, pans, and stoves along with the shout of “behind!” Rather, you heard the muted clatter of metal spoons and tweezers as teams of chefs artfully plated eat dish with practiced motions.

Diners have an option between two, seasonally rotating, tasting menus, one vegetarian, one not. About half of the menu is the same between both options. The meal was paced intentionally, even with the preparation of the first course timed with your reservation arrival time. Each phase allowed enough time to savor the dish, pause, watch, anticipate, and savor again. Each dish’s contents, origin, and preparation were articulated as it was served. Sometimes this was done by the waitress, sometimes by one of the chefs.

I’ve gone three paragraphs without talking about what I ate, which goes to show how much of Oxheart is an experience, not just a meal. My experience started with amaranth (a leafy green with red veins akin to spinach) and bitter herbs. Each leaf assembled with tweezers, it was complimented with pear and dried figs, set in a broth derived from smoked pear cores. The bitter and sweet contrasted and contained one another on the pallet. An almost thought provoking beginning to the meal.

You know the creamed pearl onions your mom used to make. The second dish is what those onions wish they could have been (pictured). Texas sweet onions were shredded thin and provided the base. Larger slices of onion were placed on top, then dabbled with marjoram leaves and oregano oil, adding a light, bright, and slightly bitter component. The onions were drizzled with butter and raw milk, luxurious and smooth. Finally, bread crumbs were distributed on top, providing a crunch that never dissipated.

Red snapper came next, flavored with cane syrup, brown butter, and smoked mesquite, still maintaining the slightly rubberized (and I mean that in the best way) mouth feel. Collards were blended and blanched, the former rolled into the latter. Pickled cauliflower was shaved paper-thin over the whole dish. The best bites had a bit of each, the sour, smoky, bitter, and sweet flavors balancing against each other.

A knife from a selection presented to me in a cigar box. Duck breast, seared on the bone, cut off the bone, scored, cooked to medium rare. A cannel of tomato fondant, almost like a sundried tomato in taste, but without the roasted flavor, just tomato with no water to dilute it. A duck jus reduction, dark and sweet. Miso-garlic cucumbers on the side, bright and acidic. These things composed the next plate.

A bowl of summer stew finished the savory potion of the meal. Mushrooms were cooked, the moisture squeezed from them to a make a broth. But let me be clear, there was no steeping, no extra water added, just the water naturally in the mushrooms was present. It was umami at its finest. The broth contained beans, caramelized sauerkraut, and horseradish dumplings, cut from a piping bag as they were dropped into the cooking broth, they were soft pillows like gnocchi.

Dessert was a lemon parfait, airy, citrus, and light. It was topped with thyme toasted oats, a crunchy and hearty component, and candied lemon. Next to it was Texas hard cider, foamed in a CO2 canister. The combination was refreshing, like an aperitif.

Chef Justin Yu and team were able to let me luxuriate in a playful world of flavor for a few hours, and gave me a front row seat to the construction of that world. The long waitlist and high spot on restaurant charts is well-deserved.