“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.

Upscale Mexican in West Hartford Center and the beginning of a quest

 

Thursday night, I met a coworker for dinner at Besito. On Main Street in Blue Back Square, it has a prime location for the bustling West Hartford neighborhood. Having attended food and wine events in Hartford before, I had sampled their food, but not until last week did I get a table at the restaurant.

My coworker and I met early so we had time to catch up over happy hour. We initially sat at the outside patio. Only having about eight tables, it was a bit small, but it faced Main Street and was well shaded. Unfortunately, happy hour is only served at the bar, so we migrated back inside to whet our appetite.

Happy hour consists of $5 appetizers and drinks. We sampled the flautas de pollo. Dark meat chicken was wrapped in a tortilla then fried to a crisp. The rolls were covered in queso fresco, onions, cilantro, and salsa verde. The heat was mild and the salsa verde was richly spiced, the crunch of the taco shell, which was quite full of chicken, was smoothed out by the fresco and verde. To match was a margherita de casa, which was flavored with pomegranate and citrus, giving it a royal purple hue. Sour was more present than sweet, which is the way I prefer it.

Tortilla chips and salsa came to our bar table. The chips were thin and still had the remnants of oil, showing how fresh they were. While I would have preferred mine to be a little more salty, they went nicely with the tomatillo salsa. While puréed rather than chunky, it was bright with flavors of onion, cilantro, and garlic. The salsa was on a shallow plate and was a tad runny, making it difficult to get a solid scoop.

Once we moved from the bar to back to the patio, a second basket of chips were brought. The salsa on round two was both thicker and spicier, with a kick of jalapeno. At the suggestion of our waitress, I ordered the mahi mahi (pictured). The cut of fish was light and flaky, yet thick . The blue corn and crab crust added a nice crunch to the soft flesh of the fish. It was plated with roasted onions and peppers down the center of the plate, separating the two sauces. The yellow was a sweet corn atole. It was thick, rich, and was reminiscent of creamed corn, but much smoother and with a roasted, smoky flavor. The green sauce was lighter and thinner, a pumpkin seed pipian. Nuttiness mixed with earthy herbaceous notes (not like cilantro or mint) while remaining light, not overpowering the fish.

Declining the dessert menu, as the check came, we were treated to churros, served in a small paper bag. Still warm and leaving small grease stains (a good sign for fried food like this), they were heavily coated with cinnamon and sugar. They managed to feel thick in your mouth, heavy and doughy, while at the same time airy and crisp, and interesting study of contrast.

The next day, I go to my usual cheese purveyor, Whole Foods. As I frequent the fromage selection so much, I am on a first name basis with one of the brokers of dairy goodness, I have “a guy.” Unfortunately, my “guy” no longer works at either West Hartford location. Looks like I get to make new friends. As Megan and I wax poetic over cheese, I begin to wonder how many of the cheeses we review I have consumed. How many are there at Whole Foods? I know I’ve seen that vintage gouda before, but was it the three year or the five? Thus, the cheese diary was conceived. I plan to sample my way through the SKUs of the cheese department at Whole Foods and document my gastronomic journey. Details and highlights to come.

Beauty in simplicity

Many of my favorite foods have astonishingly few ingredients. When dealing with these kinds of recipes, (although I don’t know if you can consider sashimi having a recipe) greater importance is placed on the quality of the ingredients, and the proper handling thereof. This week, I was faced with the task of clearing out my often over-packed fridge, specifically, using up produce procured from a farm stand.

Most people consider the staples of any grocery store run to be bread, milk, and eggs. While the latter two are certainly always to be found in my home kitchen, I would add a few others that I should never run out of: Onions, garlic, olive oil, lemon and lime, salt (in a variety of granularities and origins) and popcorn kernels (my snack of choice). While there is certainly a great deal more at the ready in my kitchen, these things most likely have the highest throughput.

Here is what had to be used up prior to the weekend: 2.5lb bone-in cowboy cut ribeye, 3 zucchini, 1 avocado, 8 tomatoes, 1 bunch of fresh cilantro, ½ package of button mushrooms, 6 eggs.

The steak, being as thick as it was, could not simply be seared as usual. I seasoned it simply with kosher salt, lemon pepper, and a dash each of onion and garlic powder. With the grill at 500⁰, I seared both sides for 4 minutes. The steak was fatty enough to start flaring up, so I put foil underneath it, tented it with another piece of foil, and cooked at medium heat until the internal temp was 140⁰ (rare), then let rest for 5 min to come to temp. The outside was crispy and blacked and gave way to a medium rare (red but warm center) Accompanying the steak was grilled zucchini, drizzled with olive oil, salt, pepper, and parsley, cut into thick coins, and grilled with the steak. I sautéed mushrooms in bacon grease and finished with a red wine and balsamic reduction, but served on the side of the steak rather than on top. Paired all of this with a smoky and velvety malbec. Perfect dinner (pictured).

I unsheathe my 8” chef’s knife, after 8 passes on my honing steel, I set to work on the cilantro. I chop about ¼ cup and dump into a mortar and pestle with avocado, lime juice, salt, pepper. Guacamole, done. Another ¼ cup of the cilantro is added to a bowl with diced tomato, onion, garlic, lemon and lime (lime can get a little too acrid on its own, I like the added lightness of lemon), salt, and some red pepper flakes. Salsa, done. The remainder of the cilantro is tossed into the food processor with onion, garlic, olive oil, lime, salt, and a little tequila (with a splash for me too of course) and blended. The resulting chimichurri-esque condiment that is bright, light, and a little sour and can go on anything from grilled meats to tacos to soups.

The last zucchini, of monstrous size, is grated and the water squeezed out. The dry team and wet team are assembled in separate bowls (thank you muffin method). Zuccini and 4 eggs are mixed together with extra sharp, grated, aged cheddar cheese. The dry team consists of bread crumbs, salt and pepper, mustard power, red pepper flakes, and parsley. The teams are combined and I form 1/3 cup patties. I fry them in peanut oil, flipping only once until golden brown. Dip them in taco sauce, salsa, guacamole, aioli, or nothing at all, they are delicious.

The last two eggs are poached by adding 1T white vinegar to every 3C water. I cook them to a soft center. I fry bacon to a crisp, then use the grease to cook hash browns. The trick is to use a low rim, curved frying pan, and get the grease or oil get rocket hot first. Then, add the shredded potato and pat down with a spatula. Let them cook, don’t touch or move them. Flip the whole pile at once, then tamp down again and let cook. Smear the hash browns with some guacamole, layer of crispy bacon, then, top with the poached egg. A dash of salt and pepper with a flourish of cilantro wouldn’t hurt for presentation. Breakfast nirvana.