The Bounty of Boston

Memorial weekend in Boston, a city whose flagship foods are well-known. Nicknamed “The Hub,” everywhere you go in Boston has clam chowder, lobster rolls, stuffies, and a variety of other shellfish. From quaint to tourist trap, there is a place for every pallet. Our adventure started Friday night at the Barking Crab. Situated on the water, the deck side of the restaurant has tables covered in butcher paper and equipped with plastic utensils, which is fine because most of the menu can and should be eaten with your hands. The lobster and crab boil we ordered was clean and fresh. A drizzle of lemon and a dip in butter that can be likened to sticking one’s toes into the water was all the seasoning the seafood needed. The chowder here is quite heavy and full of potatoes, while the stuffy tasted like a broiled cup of good thanksgiving stuffing, complete with shellfish, sausage (in this case it was chorizo), spices, breadcrumbs, and just enough egg to hold it together.

Another night brought us to Legal Harborside. Legal is a seafood company that has locations all across the city, this one though, sits on the water and was packed at 7:00. Our waiter, whose accent was a thick combination of Boston and Long Island, suggested the seafood stew and the lobster mushroom pizza. The stew was not unlike cioppino, filled with a variety of shellfish (although no whitefish). The broth was deep with a mix of seafood treasures. Made with the shells and pieces of clams, oysters, mussels, and the like, mixed with vegetables and white wine, the broth was thick with oceanic flavor. The white sauce accompanying the pizza added richness to the already sweet lobster, while the mushrooms added earthiness and umami. Served on a crispy, cracker thin crust, both pizza and stew paired nicely with a light and crisp vino verde.

The true gem of the weekend was Clio. Located in the Elliot hotel, the small yet regal restaurant sits only about 50. Attached is Uni, serving sushi that is flown in from the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo. The restaurant has a partnership with the food science lab of Harvard, meaning that many of the dishes served utilize molecular gastronomy in their creation. We ordered a round of appetizers. The cassoulet, packed more flavor into a small dish than I previously thought possible. Lobster and sea urchin played together in a broth of parsnip milk. Accentuated with candied lemon to bring out the sweetness of both seafoods, yet act as a counterpoint of citrus. The special of the night were barnacles from Spain. The slivers of the creatures were extruded from their shells as they were poached in a simple concoction of butter, white wine, and their natural liquor. Each barnacle a single bite, they tasted of filtered sea water, with just a hint of brine, and soft like a perfectly cooked mussel.

For entrees, we ordered the buttermilk braised chicken. Soft and moist, it was served with a truffle crème, and oak gnocchi among other sides. The gnocchi were the size of edamame beans, browned in butter, they were puffs of nutty, unctuous goodness. The beef shortrib could have been eaten without teeth. The beef had smoke integrated into its flavor in addition to an Asian accent with sake lees and shitake mushrooms. The dessert, which we shared, was a Japanese “cheesecake.” Not as decadent as what one might think, it was served with a tamari ice cream, playing with the salty/sweet combination. A pineapple gelee added a third layer of texture with a light and natural sweetness of the fruit.

There were more dishes between the four of us, but my words don’t do the flavors justice. The combinations, textures, and depth of flavor was amazing, each mouthful packing a full meal worth of taste. I can rarely say this, and my friends know I don’t give praise like this likely, but I can confidently say that the meal at Clio was among the top five of my life.

The Bountry of Baltimore

            Later last week, I traveled the two hours from Philadelphia to Baltimore. My hotel was in the inner harbor area, while the office was near Fell’s Point and Brewer’s hill, giving me easy access to a great variety of places to eat, both Baltimore staples and ethnic gems.

            My first gastronomic adventure was at Jack’s Bistro. Marketing itself as the first sous vide restaurant in Baltimore, the small, perhaps even cramped eatery creates some amazing food. We started at the bar for happy hour. The tatoo’d bartenders muddled strawberries, gin, a couple of other bottles that I couldn’t recognize, along with some bitters. Shaken and poured into a glass with a 2” square ice cube, the drink was both light and refreshing without being too sweet. The beef and grits appetizer was foodgasm number one of the evening. The grits are made with gruyere and the beef was soaked in a rich, decadent demi-glace. Our other appetizer, the fries, were finished with truffle oil and sea salt. The earthy scent of the truffles stuck on my pallet the rest of the night (foodgasm 2). The last item of note was the Malaysian laksa, not terribly different from a Vietnamese pho, the noodles dish had gulf shrimp, roasted chicken, and a fried egg. Cilantro and coconut milk made for a luscious, sweet, and sour combination (foodgasm number 3). The biggest problem at Jack’s is choosing among great dishes, rather than picking the best.

            The next night, my uncle and I ventured to Ten Ten. Tucked behind Fleet Street Kitchen, the unassuming restaurant has an eclectic, American feel. Perhaps it was because Memorial day was imminent, but the place was empty as we sat at the bar. The Brussel sprouts we order were chopped and roasted. Slightly charred, some pieces were crispy while others were perfectly al dente. The devilled eggs were less impressive, served with arugula and crispy pieces of bacon.

            Restaurant hopping, my uncle and I made our way to My Thai. The owner’s son recently returned from a trip to Thailand and was manning the grill bar. Sake ordered, we sat down to a selection of the most eclectic menu items. The silk worms were surprisingly good. I have eaten a fair share of bugs, but these smelled and tasted of roasted chestnuts on the outside, warm and crunchy. The inside was soft and not unlike the roasted chestnut of which they smelled, in texture. The tongue, of which I am usually a fan, was skewered and grilled, which made it a bit tough. The spicy, vinegar-based dipping sauce did pack a punch of flavor to the meaty mouthful. The pig brains that came next were soft. Think of a sausage, all the porky goodness, but with the texture of foie gras, fried, and topped with a sour Thai vegetable relish. Next came the chicken livers. Again, fried and soft, the livers tasted only lightly of iron, and melted in the mouth. Last came the lamb. Seared to a perfect medium rare with criss-crossed grill marks, the meat lollipops were seasoned simply and served with a light, vinegar and Thai herb sauce that accentuated the meaty treat.

            As ever, the digestive divergence would not have been nearly as fun had it not been for the witty rapport of my uncle, who was able to get an introduction to the Thai restaurant’s owner, wife, and wait staff. It’s good to be a regular.

Shove OFF for DevON Seafood Grill and the Oddities of Philadelphia Eating

Another week of travel brings me to Philadelphia, home of cheesesteaks, soft pretzels, and brotherly love. The weather was cooperating this week, 70s all day, it was impossible not to spend my after work hours walking the bustling city, and taking advantage of eating outside when I can.

My first stop brought me to Square 1682 for happy hour. Connected to the Hotel Palomar in Center City and situated on the corner, the restaurant has large windows on two sides, giving an ample view of the street outside. The mussels I ordered came with a lemon basil butter that was soft, rich, and paired perfectly with the beer-soaked mussels. Finished with some roasted onions and parsley, as usual, my favorite part of the dish was the broth. The interesting part was the fried calamari. Ordered by a gentlemen seated next to me, it came with a mayonnaise-based tartar sauce. When he asked for marinara, neither the bartender, waiter, nor chef knew what he was talking about. We explained that it was the same sauce that mozzarella sticks come with, halfway between tomato basil soup and Bolognese as far as consistency. Still perplexed, the chef made a valiant effort to accommodate, producing what amounted to cream of tomato soup with some hot sauce in it. Not only had no one heard of the combination, but they hadn’t heard of the condiment!

Another day, another meal. This time, I met a coworker at Devon Seafood Grill, just off Rittenhouse Square. Getting a table outside facing the park, we ordered a variety of seafood appetizers. The tuna tartare was fresh, not fishy, and was served on pickled cucumber. I don’t mean that it was served with pickles. The shaved cucumber slices were flexible, yet still firm and crunchy, with both a sweet and sour note. They reminded me of pickled ginger. The cilantro oil added an herbaceous note with a smooth, yet slightly bitter counterpoint to the sweetness of the cucumber.

The eight oysters (four varieties, one for each of us) came with lemon, a sweet chili sauce, a brown/red cocktail sauce with small slivers of shallot and one of those cute miniscule bottles of tobacco. Originating from Mexico, New Zealand, Virginia, and California, each had their own degree of sweet, brine, size, liquor, and thankfully, no grit. Personally, the large, Pacific oysters, with a little more sweet and a little less brine were my favorite.

The last dish of note was the lobster tamale (by which I mean corn husk tamale, not green insides tomalley). It was like dessert. The corn masa was steeped in shellfish flavor and had the consistency of firm grits. Smothering it was a concoction of cream, corn, green onion, roasted poblano peppers, and large chunks of lobster claw. Plated to the side was an avocado crema, which only added to the unctuousness of the dish. Sweet, crunchy corn played with the rich lobster, and the smooth avocado, while the pepper and onion softened the fatty blow to the pallet. It was truly a dish to be savored. Paired with a crisp white wine to act as a counterpoint and cleanse the tongue for the next bite, it was a wonderful way to end the meal.

Honey and Oak...Leather and Smoke

After traveling for the last three weeks straight, it was time to unwind this weekend. What better way to achieve this than with a refreshing drink, which, these days, my go-to has been the whiskey-coke. Unlike a rum and coke, I find there is a bitterness to the whiskey that the sweetness of the coke can mitigate. The alcoholic burn is less than with rum, and the caramel of the cola can bring out the smoothness in the whiskey. But what whiskey to choose? For this, we did a tasting. The candidates were:

• Collingwood
• Dewar’s White Label
• Crown Royal
• Woodford Reserve (bourbon whiskey)
• Kilbeggan Irish Whiskey
• Seagram’s 7 Dark Honey
• Jack Daniel’s Honey

Please note, I’m well aware there are a plethora of other whiskies that could have/should have made the list, but this is what I had on hand and we were tasting last minute. We were looking for two winners, one to mix, and one to sip. We knew that certain complexities of flavor would be lost in the cola, so we took that into consideration. We poured ½ a shot of each and sipped, swilled, shot, and shared our thoughts.

The Collingwood, which comes in what looks like a giant cologne bottle, was dark and rich, almost unctuous. The mouth feel was thick and the aroma heady. Dewar’s was a little more aggressive, smelling as though I was walking through the lumber department of Home Depot wearing a brown, tanned, leather jacket. The Crown Royal was smooth, lighter, with a slight burn, but not as much whiskey, woody, flavor. Woodford Reserve was slightly thicker than the crown royal, and smelled of an oak barrel in the middle of fall. It went down smooth with just enough burn on the back of the pallet to know that you are drinking whiskey. The Irish whiskey had another light mouth feel, yet still smooth. The aroma of the grain came through with a slight toasted note.

The sweet whiskies were very different. The Seagram’s 7 Dark Honey was 35% ABV (5% less than the regular) and you could taste it. While sweet, it wasn’t cloyingly so and still felt light on the tongue. By contrast, the Jack Daniel’s Honey was thicker, almost syrupy. The honey was more like wildflowers, while the Seagram’s tasted more of maple or molasses.

Now sufficiently unwound, we determined that Crown Royal was the best to mix, while the Woodford Reserve was the best to sip. Either honey whiskey would make a mighty fine Irish coffee or ice cream topping, which would be imbibed later that evening. Cheers!

“Hungry? What are you waiting Pho?”

I wish that was my witty title, but it’s actually the tag line of Nom Nom Noodles, a soup/sandwich shop in western Houston. Tucked into a strip mall in a suburban part of town, the stark blue walls and industrial look of the restaurant betray a Spartan feel. Metal tables that seat four are strewn across the floor, while a large projector TV played Sports Center in the late afternoon, before the evening rush. Many come for the lo mein and banh mi, but I am here for a different, and much larger meal, the E-nom-ous challenge.

This industrial mixing bowl of pho (a traditional Vietnamese beef and noodle soup) contains 2 lbs. of meat, 2lbs of rice noodles, cilantro, red onion, doused in a bucket of broth. Costing $19.99 + tax, hundreds have tried to consume it in the allotted one hour limit, but only 13 have succeeded. Should the feat be accomplished, the glutton receives a t-shirt, $50 gift card (that cannot be used to pay for the soup recently consumed) and their name and picture on the wall of fame, which is truly the most enticing aspect.

With a variety of meats selected, pictures taken, the countdown began. The rare eye round steak was similar to roast beef. Leanest of the cuts, it was soft and easy to eat. The brisket still had some intramuscular fat, which lended itself to the flavor of the soup. The flank steak though, still had chunks of fat and some connective tissue, which I was grateful I was not required to eat. Despite the fat in the meats, the soup itself was not swimming in oil. The broth, which as in most pho, is the most desirable part, was created with beef bones and simmered for hours. Slightly sweet, slightly sour, satisfyingly salty, the broth made slurping down the white, gelatinous noodles easier. But let’s face it, 2lbs of noodles is not easy to eat, no matter how good the broth is.

After removing my belt, stripping to my t-shirt, 37 minutes, and a number of squirms, I finally reached the bottom of the bowl with a triumphant slurp. Victory, and a very full belly, were mine. T-shirt in hand, I waddled out, trying to decide what movie I was going to watch as I would hit the elliptical all night. Check out pictures of the challenge and their food.

https://www.facebook.com/NomNomNoodles

Kayne was Able

Kayne Prime is touted as one of the top steakhouses in Nashville. Tucked away in The Gulch, Kayne is part of the MStreet restaurant group. Still in Nashville for work, and willing to push past my per diem limits, a coworker and I decided to indulge our carnivorous nature.

Kayne Prime, unlike many other high-end steakhouses, is far from pretentious. The dark wood and white stucco walls help mute the dull roar of the modern restaurant. On this night, Vanderbilt was graduating, so parents, grandparents, and coeds were all treating themselves. Luckily, I had a reservation.

With no warm scented towels nor crumber, our waiter explained the menu. He was confident and complete in his knowledge not only of the preparation of the meat, but also the cattle, the breed, the locations of the farm, and the differences we could expect from each cut. While I could go on for pages about beef cuts and grades, here are the cliffnotes (Thank you Wikipedia):

·         U.S. Prime – Highest in quality and intramuscular fat, limited supply. Currently, about 2.9% of carcasses grade as Prime (Note: You can’t buy this in a grocery store)

·         U.S. Choice – High quality, widely available in foodservice industry and retail markets. Choice carcasses are 53.7% of the fed cattle total. The difference between Choice and Prime is largely due to the fat content in the beef. Prime typically has a higher fat content (more and well distributed intramuscular "marbling") than Choice.

·         U.S. Select (formerly Good) – lowest grade commonly sold at retail, acceptable quality, but is less juicy and tender due to leanness.

Kayne only offered Prime Beef, no wonder the prices are so high. We began with some canoes of beef, which are cow thigh bones, cut down the center, and roasted. The resulting soft and unctuous bone marrow is scooped out by the diner onto toast, accompanied by roasted garlic, coarse salt, and parsley. The fatty, oily marrow carried an aroma of the beef while delivering a smoky, toasted note. The marrow melted in your mouth like butter, contrasting with the stark crunch of the bread.

For our entrée, I ordered the 10oz wagyu filet, while my coworker ordered the NY strip. Which brings me to another quick FYI on beef. Wagyu refers to a few breeds of cattle, originating in Japan, namely the Kobe region. These cows are fed special diets, which include beer and sake, and are massaged due to their lack of roaming space. Beef from these cows can demand extremely high prices, while the same beef, raised in the US, is more reasonable. The marbling (intramuscular fat) is so intense on these steaks, they have to sous-vide the meat so the fat doesn’t render out. Imagine a stick of butter and a NY strip. Now combine these two and you have a good piece of wagyu.

My steak, two inches tall, seared on the top and bottom, red in center, was soft and the meat creamy. My coworker’s NY strip, seared at 1200˚, was crunchy on the top, simply seasoned and in no need of maître’ d butter. Our side was jalapeño creamed corn brulee. Caramelized, burnt sugar on top gave a crunch to the rich and buttery corn, the natural sweetness contrasted with the mild spice of the pepper.

The meal was satiating, fulfilling both a primal hunger and an epicurean desire. While not an everyday meal, it is certainly worth a special occasion.

It’s Cinco de Mayo, so we’re supposed to eat Puerto Rican food right?

Once again I find myself in Nashville for work. Cinco de Mayo falls on a Monday this year, so there will be no tequila shots or gallon-sized margaritas, but that won’t stop me from eating well. Open Table came through once again, providing some great suggestions for food from south of the boarder, or in this case, southeast.

Salsa Puerto Rican and Latin is situated just past the Gulch, the young and hip areas to the South of downtown Nashville. The industrial look and feel of the boxy restaurant is softened by art from locals, available for purchase. The deck was wide open with a garage door style retractable wall, at the time, hosting a group in medical scrubs taking an intro to salsa dance lesson. The menu was primarily in Spanish with English descriptions in parenthesis, always a good sign.

http://www.salsarestaurantnashville.com/

Our meal began with drinks and an appetizer platter, which included Sorullos De Maiz, fried corn fritters. These golden brown, crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, finger sized delectables came with a pink dip, reminiscent of my grandmother’s (which was nothing more than ½ sour cream and ½ mild salsa). The entrée was exactly my style, a tasting of the menu, dubbed “Tour of Puerto Rico,” delivering four different meats and two sides. Most notably was the Pastelon De Amarillos, sweet plantains in a Puerto Rican ground beef lasagna. The meat was dark with roasted chilis, onion and garlic. The plantains, sliced thin and layered on the top, added a chewy and sweet counterpoint to the spicy meat. One of our sides was mofongo, a Puerto Rican dish “typically made with fried green plantains mashed together in a pilón (which is a wooden mortar and pestle), with broth, garlic, olive oil, and pork cracklings or bits of bacon.” (Wikipedia) Much like the corn fritters before, the mofongo was crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside. The salty, savory flavors of the bacon and onion matched well with the plantain, whose starchy texture and subtle sweetness made it feel like a side dish (albeit a stick-to-your-ribs one) rather than a dessert.

As ever, the meal was made better with company. Getting to know the people you work with in a non-work setting, talking about everything but work (a rule I enforce whenever I can) and celebrating a holiday with food, a good way to start the week.