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Noshing Out – Burger Breakdown – West vs. South

                When contemplating the ultimate showdown of the fast food burger, a popular matchup is often posed between In-and-Out Burger, the California chain, and Shake Shack, the East coast sweetheart. Heated debates ensure over grinds, toppings, customizations, and other extras (In-and-Out will give you a hat for free if you ask). However, having spent a good deal of time in Texas, another chain entered the fray of the burger battle, Whataburger.

                This Texan-founded restaurant, its logo striped with orange and white, has the classic burger joint vibe. Employees race about in white, button-down t-shirts, managers have orange suspenders and different colored, full-length shirts. There is a persistent din of the fryalator behind the counter paired with the clicking noise of the soda dispenser filling another cup. What is oddly not present is the blurping sound of ketchup plopping into white paper cups. This is because Whataburger is known for its “gourmet ketchup,” which comes in individual containers rather than bladders.

The classic Whataburger itself is fairly large. About a centimeter thick and approximately four inches in diameter, the meat’s grind is actually fairly loose. There is certainly a smoky component, but no char. The burger is evenly cooked, and not inherently greasy. The potato bun has a hint of sweetness. Standard toppings also follow the classic recipe, iceberg lettuce is leafed, not chopped, the onions are thick and raw, tomatoes are sliced, and the cheese is yellow American. Admittedly, the flavors don’t blend as much, with some bites containing a nose-blasting amount of raw onion, best moderated with the spicy “gourmet” ketchup.

In the other corner of this burger bout, In-and-Out burger has an even more classic feel. White, yellow and red as primary colors, much of their packaging features bible verse references, a reflection of the Christian beliefs of the founders. Primarily located in Southern California, the chain is known for its very limited menu with nigh infinite customization. One can get a burger “animal style,” the mustard cooked onto the patty, with onions cooked or raw, “protein style,” nixing the bun in favor of iceberg lettuce, and as many additions of patties and cheese as you would like. The potatoes used for the fries are peeling and cut on-site, on demand, and their signature “spread” is pink and similar to thousand island dressing: a mixture of ketchup, mayonnaise, and sweet pickle relish.

As to the burger itself, the patties are smaller and smoother in the grind, the outer rim featuring a bit of char. The cheese firms quickly after its melted on the grill and a similarly sweetish bun is toasted on the inside, dressed with a generous amount of iceberg lettuce and tomato slices, and of course, spread. The sautéed onions are dark brown and chopped fine, adding an umami accent uncommon in fast food.

So who wins this burger bash? I’m not presumptuous enough to make that decision. Fries, shakes, atmosphere, availability, so much more goes into the holistic burger experience than what I’ve described here. What I can say is, they both beat McDonalds hands down (which is not saying much) and I still make a better burger at home (a high bar to surpass indeed).

Noshing Out – Eat Your Science

                 “If I was your food god, [which I am increasingly believing is an inevitability] I would decree that…*Slams whisk-ended regal staff on the floor*you would need a license to use sriracha!” declared Alton Brown to a fully filled Bushnell theater Sunday night. His “If I were your food god…” pronouncements, made in Grecian deity regalia and all, was just one portion of the concert/standup/cooking demonstration/lecture that is Eat Your Science, his second live tour.

                Alton and his original show, Good Eats, was an enormous factor into how and why I got into cooking. My best description of Alton as a food personality is Bill Nye the Science Guy meets Julia Child. He is witty, smart, and most importantly, honest. His show took a scientific look at the “anatomy” of an ingredient or specific dish. This analysis allowed me to learn about that food and manipulate a personal idea, rather than simply following the prescribed method from a recipe. I’ve seen every episode of every season of Good Eats, and still refer to them for concepts and ideas.

                This was my third time seeing Alton live. My first was back in college. He was on a book tour for his release of “Feasting on Asphalt.” He was at the Mall of America and my parents and I waited for almost two hours to get my copy of his book signed. Before the signing though, he did a Q&A session with the audience. I was called on and asked him, with regards to an upcoming date, what dessert to make that would pair well with his pizza recipe. He clarified if I lived alone and if this was a potential girlfriend situation, both were true. He then said, “In that case, the best dessert…is breakfast!”

                My next encounter was about two years ago. He came to Hartford as part of his Inevitable Edible Tour. Similar in style to his current tour, he brought audience members on stage to cook a pizza in his “Mega Bake,” an over-the-top remake of an Easybake Oven using rock and roll stage lighting to create a 650˚ light tunnel in which he cooked. His performance on Sunday was equally quirky, using liquid nitrogen to alter to texture and reduce the polyphenols of an acrid cocktail, its ingredients selected at random from a Price-Is-Right style wheel (the lucky audience member spun tequila, fernet blanc [a herbaceous liquor similar to Jägermeister], and instant coffee). In addition, using the same principles as a supercomputer, created the Astro Pop, a rocket ship shaped cone of hot air popcorn poppers capable of popping four bushels of corn at once.

                Alton’s whimsical curiosity with food, is anchored in science, research, and knowledge. His light-hearted demeanor makes him amicable, but he also has a childlike deviousness. All of this comes together to create a food personality that is unique, and to me, a model to strive for. Thank you Alton for the inspiration, the knowledge, and a wonderful night. 

Noshing Out – Texas Hospitality

                After slurping oysters and chomping chicken on a stick, I wandered the grounds of St. Mary’s University for more Oyster Bake fun. I was called out because of the backpack I had won from spinning a wheel at the Wing Stop booth. I got to talking to the group that had called me over and got some advice on how to spend my time at the event. About two hours later, I hear my name called. Sure enough, it’s the same group of people heading toward the Kevin Fowler concert, asking me to join. I tag along. In short order, we are waving beers in air to Texan-style country music. In between songs, I get to know the group and before you know it, I have an invitation to a barbeque at their house the next day.

                Beers in hand, I’m met by Joe out front and am welcomed into Jody’s home. The cylindrical smoker is already housing ribs and brisket as Joe’s bright orange lamb ribs enter its depths. An educated guess on my part revealed Joe’s secret rub, blended barbeque chips. The three of us, along with the rest of the party, gather around the island in the kitchen while Jody’s wife takes out one of her wedding presents, a family recipe book. A recipe from her youth, she constructs a homemade guacamole, using a stick blender to combine the avocado, lime, salt, chilies, and other ingredients. The creamy dip is immediately adorning everyone’s chips, the slight tart lemon juice elevating the buttery flavors of the avocado, its smoothness contrasting with the crunchy tortilla chips.

                After another round of beers and shooting at cans with a BB gun the back yard, the meat was taken off the smoker and carved. Charred ends were prized bites, densely flavored crunchy bits of meat dangerously picked from the cutting board while the rest of the brisket was sliced. The dry rub had scorched onto the meat, each knife stroke causing an audible crack. As each slice was separated, it perfumed the kitchen with carnivorous aromas. Both brisket and ribs were succulent and moist, the meat pulling apart yet maintaining its integrity. Smokey flavors from the wood permeated every bite, with crisp or soft textures depending on where you sank your teeth in.

                Not long after, Joe’s lamb ribs were brought in. Each “lolichop” had a slightly sweet flavor on the surface from the BBQ chips. The sometimes gaminess of lamb was not present at all, the tender meat yielding from the bone with each bite. The third animal of the evening, the meat’s texture was more of a single cut rather than something to be pulled apart. Flavors were layered from succulent meat to smoky char to sweet BBQ, the mélange blending wonderfully.

                The night wound down with a final round of beers and a game of Cards Against Humanity, both new and old friends calling each other out for their raunchy contributions. As my last weekend in San Antonio with my work, I can’t think of a better way to punctuate the travel, and I can’t thank my gracious hosts and new friends enough for their Texas-size hearted hospitality.

Noshing Out – Mad Pecker

                Ok, so I realize that the title may be a little misleading. Mad Pecker is the name of a pizza and beer dive in San Antonio. After a long day at work, in the last weeks of this project, the team and I decided to check Yelp and head out. Located in the back end of a small strip mall, it easy to miss the place. The sign is of a dapper steampunk gentleman and the interior is all wood. It has almost a western tavern feel, with open space and square wooden columns dotting the dining room. Above the large bar are two TVs, one playing “the game” and the other on a presentation loop, describing the beers on tap.

                We sat in the middle of the room on metal chairs with thin cushions. In each corner of the dining space, at a 45 degree angle, were more TVs depicting the same game. We started by ordering a plate of nachos, the thick, triangle chips covered in a gunky, cheese sauce. I overheard the bartender mentioning that there are plenty of cheap cheeses that they could use, but they spring for “the fancy stuff,” whatever that means. The nachos came dressed with pulled pork, small chunks of tomato, and diced green onion, mostly haphazardly tossed about the tray. The pulled pork was likely not made in house as it seemed like it was recently warmed up, chunks of fat still throughout, and the cheese sauce was heavier than it looked, and tasted as unnatural as its yellow/orange color.

                We ordered two pizzas, a supreme and a meat lover/Hawaiian. The dough had the characteristic unevenness of being hand-tossed, the outsides crispy with a bit of char. As pizza should, it was almost like a bagel or baguette, crispy on the outside, yet chewy in the middle. The cheese still stringy, it was clear that these had been made to order. The dough had almost a whole wheat heartiness yet was still thin, the small grains still crunching outside of the singed crust. The pineapple on the Hawaiian was clearly from a can, and the ham looked like it was cubed from a “ham, water added for $3.99/lb” from Cosco. The other toppings were freshly cut, but the flavors didn’t seem to meld. The toppings sat above the cheese, each standing out on its own.

The wait staff was knowledgeable about their impressive beer selection, the most interesting of which was The Salty Lady. A gose beer brewed in Fort Worth TX, it had natural tasting lemon flavors with a salty texture. It was similar to a salted lemon drink from India, or a Pocari Sweat from Japan. The liquid had a viscosity and effervescence, with a tart bite. A unique beer (for me) that was the most memorable part of the dinner.

Noshing Out – Fireplace Feast

                It’s the beginning of April. Easter has passed and we already had some mid-60˚ days. But mother nature, in her jesting way, decided to give winter one last (hopefully) hurrah and dump snow on Connecticut last weekend. An hour drive away from Hartford, the Salem Cross Inn provides colonial experiences throughout the year. Entering the front door, you get the vibe of old New England with wood and rusted farming implements decorating the interior. Down the stairs is an open entertaining room with a wood hearth about eight feet wide and five feet tall. Logs of hardwood are ablaze within its brick depths, the flames pushing heat into the room. Outside, a horse drawn carriage provided an unseasonably wintery reprieve from the heat with a short ride around the property, now covered in white. With flurries gusting, we huddled under blankets to block the wind as we surveyed the acres of land belonging to the Inn.

                Back inside, warm, spiced cider in hand, we watched racks of prime rib roasting on spits. I was entranced by the rotating meat, the higher rows basting the lower as the juices dripped down. Eventually, they were removed to rest and carve; the logs were rearranged to prepare for a demonstration on how to make clam chowder. A heavy, black cast iron pot, reminiscent of a witch’s cauldron, was hung on a hook above the roaring flames. Onion, fat back, clams, clam juice, potatoes, and cream were added incrementally. The audience took turns stirring the concoction with a long wooden paddle, but the turns were quick, as the heat billowing from the hearth was intense. I was surprised at the violent boil within the cauldron, which I would expect to give the shellfish a tough texture, but as we filed out to the dining room, I was soon proved wrong.

                We sat at tables, family style. Behind the scenes, a roux was added to the chowder to thicken it, and a team of servers quickly ladled out the soup for service. Thick, but not grainy, with the clams firm but yielding, the chowder was excellent. Unlike most chowders, laden with potato, this version had a wealth of seafood, its briny flavors contrasting with the heavy creaminess. Sides of squash puree, spinach pie, and rolls were handed out before the carved, medium rare prime rib was plated. Marbled with fat, the meat was pinkish in the center with a char on the outside. Spices and juices had crusted from the intense wood heat, imbuing the meat with a woody, smokey flavor, yet soft texture.

                During the social hour prior, the pastry chef had given a demonstration of an antiquated coring/peeling machine, working through a bowl of apples from a local orchard. These had been tossed with butter and spices and baked into a tray of apple pie. Accompanying the tray, a server hefted a tub of house made whipped cream, halfway to butter in thickness and heady with the scent of vanilla. Diners were quick to take photos of the mountain of whipped dairy. Dollops made an audible plop as we lined up for the sweet, tart, freshly made finish to our meal; the apples still maintaining a slight firmness and the buttery crunch of the pie shell accenting the richness of the cream.

Noshing Out – Gourmet Barbeque

                Hopping on planes and accruing skymiles week after week has its perks, but what it doesn’t allow you to do is get a good feel for a city at play. Sure, you might be able to see restaurants, districts within the city, maybe even go for a run along some of its more scenic areas, but until you can spend a day at leisure, not having to head back to the hotel to get enough sleep for that first thing in the morning call, you cant really get a taste for the city that surrounds the office. Last weekend, I stayed over in San Antonio.

My weekend started earlier than my work days do, driving up to La Cantera mall by 8:00 am on a briskly cool Saturday morning. The sun just peaking up from the horizon, slowly illuminating more and more of the land, hundreds of Texans gathered in between the closed doors of the shoppes, geared up in running attire, ready to dash through the Culinaria 5k. A fellow runner was wearing a t-shirt that encapsulated the entire event “I run so I can wine.” Upon completion of the 1.5 laps around the outdoor mall, runners were treated to not only the standard water, bananas, and granola bars, but to a walk around food and wine festival. Nothing like 19 Crimes Cab Sauv before 9 am after a 3.1 mile run. Restaurants from all over the area had tents and tables set up, dishing out carnitas, sangrias, and famously fluffy pancakes from Magnolia (whose line started with the first finishers of the race). Cooking on an open griddle, steam billowed from their shack. Served with whipped butter and warm syrup, the flapjacks felt like warm marshmallows to the touch. Similar to a fresh donut, the pancakes dissolved in your mouth, suffusing it with the  signature “sour” twang from buttermilk and the nuttiness from the flat top grill.

After a rest and a shower, my day continued with another jaunt through the Pearl district. The same location from a previous post on Cured, the ex-brewery is now a shopping, art, and culinary space. While everywhere are the signs of the old brewery, brick buildings, rusted metal structures, what stands out is the wooden shack. The Granary ‘cue and brew looks like it could be a sugar shack in the North Woods. The microbrewery kettles stand prominently in copper between the entrance and the bar. Seated and perusing the beer menu, I select a Belgian trippel. I’m a fan of the heavier gravity and lighter flavors of Belgian styles brews, and after tasting two others, the mild orange rind bitterness and slight spice of cinnamon came through a background sweetness of almost hard cider flavor.

I always endeavor to sample as much of a restaurant’s offerings as I can, particularly the establishment’s specialties. In pursuit of this, I ordered the market meat platter and the beef clod (part of the shoulder). The meat platter came with pulled pork and beef brisket with sides of beans and german potato salad. After tasting the beans, I asked if I could swap the potatoes for a second bowl. Pieces of meat, a variety of beans in a rich molasses, and tomato paste sauce were heavily perfumed with smoke. Both the beans and the meat gave way at the slightest pressure of the tongue, melting in my mouth.

The beef clod was plated with coffee quinoa, baked to a hard crunch. Tomato caramel replaced the traditional barbeque sauce in this playful reinterpretation of brisket. Red, brown, purple, and black shaded the tender center of the cut. Its outer edges firmer with a burnt end char. Sweet, smoke, spice, and umami meshed with contrasting textures with each bite. Chased with a cold beer, I could proudly call my day complete.

Graham’s Gastronomy – Cajun Whitefish

                Cajun spiced whitefish. That was the only direction I was given from London for the one complete meal I had time to make over the weekend. Able to use my poorly missed kitchen for only two days a week, my grocery list has become woefully truncated, and with my upcoming two week absence in the back of my mind, I endeavored to use anything I had already. My shortlist to use was: Apples, oranges, bean sprouts, cilantro, shallots, soba noodles, bosc pears, and hard cider. Like a slot machine, I kept shuffling through combinations; many being dismissed as clashes of flavors made themselves apparent (is there a way to put apples with cilantro, some kind of salsa perhaps…). It was a sunny day, unseasonably warm for March, so a run (literally) to Whole Foods would serve as my muse.

                No trip to Whole Foods is complete without a stop at the cheese department. A short conversation with the red-coated woman behind the counter brought to mind a poached pear dessert that could be modified to fit my ingredients. Hard cider would replace white wine, add honey and poach the pears. Toasted walnuts substitute pecans, adding crunch to the otherwise smooth texture and a nutty aroma, and filling the crevasse cut from the center of the fruit. Then, the cider, reduced to a syrup, melts the creamy yet mildly pungent gorgonzola placed in the middle.

                Back home, wedge of cheese in tow, I coat the fish liberally with seasonings and put it in a 350˚ toaster oven while I tackle the sides. I wanted to use the cilantro with the shallots, but the buckwheat of the soba didn’t seem to match with a traditional chimichurri, so instead I sautéed the shallots in bacon grease and added darker flavors like soy and balsamic to create a sauce in the food processor. Perhaps I didn’t add enough liquid, but the vegetative crunch of the herb held on and its freshness clashed with the almost fermented flavors in the rest of the sauce.

                Unsatisfied but not disheartened, I went back to the culinary drawing board. Back at Whole Foods, I stopped in to talk with the seafood department for ideas about side dishes. They suggested the heat of the Cajun seasoning could use a cooling component. Mixing green apple and bean sprouts, along with what was left of some shredded cabbage and plain yogurt, adding lemon pepper to brighten and spice, I created a white-washed slaw with a satisfying crunch. Sweet, tart, cream, and crunch all played their part, a welcome counterpoint to the pliant, Cajun kick from the fish.

                Cooking complete, London and I plopped onto my pleather couch and pulled up Netflix. Lights dimmed, but not enough to obscure the enjoyment of the food, the table made a scratching noise as we pulled it towards us, settling in for dinner and a movie, and a lazy Sunday evening.

Noshing Out – VOX

My travels to San Antonio kept me in Texas over the weekend, so I took the opportunity to check out Austin. Only a 1.5 hour drive North, it was an easy way to get to see more of the Lone Star State. Saturday evening, taking the suggestion of both a coworker and the concierge, I made my way downtown to check out the nightlife. My wanderings, (and a search on OpenTable), brought me to the South West part of town near The Alamo Cinema, to VOX Table for a late dinner. Being a party of one, the hostess asked if I would like to sit at the bar directly in front of the kitchen. I gratefully accepted.

                Expedited plates and their associated tickets were passed directly to my right. Forgoing the menu, I decided to order based on what I saw pass by, along with input and suggestions from my waiter. Every dish was artfully crafted prior to service, chef’s hands dipping into the mis en plas arrayed in front of them. My curiosity got the best of me as I inquired about this sauce and that garnish, learning that VOX had a bit of a flair for molecular gastronomy. My first dish was hamachi served on the tip of a pippete. Six were displayed on a block of wood cut specifically for the plating. Crunchy and slightly sweet tiny white orbs encrusted the raw cubes fish, while the pickled cucumber and tomato raisens added a secondary crunch. The acidic and tart coconut vinaigrette in the pipette had a slight creaminess that enveloped the fish and vegetables as each bite was quite literally, sucked down. (see 10 o clock on the plate)

                The colorful calamari linguini caught my eye and inspired my stomach. The hood of the squid was cut lengthwise and sautéed with tomato and a chorizo broth. The shallow bowl used for plating was first painted with a corn puree before the calamari was assembled on top. Garnished with watermelon radish and a crisp made from squid ink, the dish was as colorful as it was delicious. Squid was soft and pliant while the oil from the chorizo played into the corn puree, giving a spicy and smoky hint.

                With so many choices and delectable dishes passing by, my third choice was difficult. From consultation with the expediter, we determined that the newest menu item, the pork cheeks, was the best choice. Pork cheeks also make an appearance on another menu item, the tongue + check bun, but the preparation was completely different. In the bun, buttery pastry encircled the meat and a red wine jus. Complete with a horseradish aioli and topped with crispy leeks, it was a larger, creamier take on beef wellington. My order was the alternate choice, glazed pork cheeks with piquillo peppers, black eyed peas, and a sweet and sour au jus. The same cut tasted completely different, as the glazed cheeks had dark sweetness from the caramelization. The dark meat cut melted with the sauce, filling my mouth with umami flavors.

                Dessert was a flourless chocolate cake, but the excitement came from an orb of menthol liquor that sat atop. Mint and dark chocolate melded together as I punctured the pouch, the liquid cascading around the dense cake. Cocoa nibs brought a hint of bitterness and texture, adding crunch to the otherwise velvety smooth finish to a phenomenal meal.

Noshing Out – Get Cured

The work week is over. Whatever else is left to do, can be dealt with Monday morning. A simple salad from lunch, consumed hours ago, has left you hungry for a substantial meal and with no work tomorrow, craving a cocktail. A co-worker and I took this opportunity to explore our temporary transplant city and headed to the Pearl District of San Antonio for dinner. The area is a refurbished brewery, complete with quaint shops and industrially décor-ed apartments above them. A variety a restaurants and bars are sprinkled throughout the complex, including a hotel adorned with steampunk-esque cogs, pipes, knobs and dials from the old brewery. Our destination however, was what looked to be an old bank, the restaurant Cured.

                Stepping into the yellowed brick building, the first and most prominent feature is the meat case. Off-white fat striped and dotted the hanging cuts in the temperature and humidity controlled locker, standing in the middle of the room. We were seated and once handed the menus, my attention was immediately drawn to the restaurant’s namesake, the charcuterie section. With our knowledgeable waiter guiding us through some of the more unique cuts, we ordered the largest sampling platter.

                We needed a guidebook to navigate the white ceramic plate that was set before us. The charcuterie was accompanied by a garlic mustard, slightly chunky with the ground bulbs and heady with the roasted garlic scent. Maple mustard was also painted across the plate, grainy with mustard seeds and providing a dark sweetness to any meat of our choosing. In the upper left, the cannel of chicken liver mousse had a sweetness on its own, creamy with the texture of whipped butter. Just above the bowl of berry preserves was our smoked duck ham. Not gamey at all. The meat was moist despite the cure. While the skin was not crispy, the flavors of the breast came through simple and clean, a meat best used to play the condiments. To me, the most interesting offering was the offal sausage (bottom right). Having sampled organs before, they can be tough, tasteless, gamey, bitter, or some combination of all of them. This sausage had none of those things. It was soft and succulent, its pink striped with white appearance betraying a more expensive cut of meat. Mild saltiness and meat flavor like a tartar came through and paired well with the berry.

                Though mostly full from our meaty meander, I did order something lighter that piqued my interest for novel cuisine: Shrimp pastrami. Using the same seasonings that one would use for the cut of beef, the shrimp were cooked and pressed together in a circular log, then sliced thin and displayed with watermelon radish and a spicy remoulade that tasted not far from a kicked up Russian dressing. The shrimp texture was most apparent, and the slices were only lightly held together from the spider web of red spices that laced throughout. Slightly briny, mildly salty, and clean on the palate, is was a nice, light end to what was otherwise a deliciously fatty meal.

Graham’s Gastronomy – Peruvian Flashback

Readers of this blog know that back in October, I spent about a week and half in Peru, hiking to Machu Picchu, and noshing my way across Lima and Cusco. Inspired to bring part of my gastronomic adventure to my friends, I volunteered to open my home, and my kitchen, to one of my meetup groups for a Peruvian dinner.

                My contributions to the evening were ceviche and pisco sour, two of the most prevalent menu items I experienced. In Peru, the best ceviche was in Lima, made from a cart outside of a local fresh market. White fleshed fish, swimming the day before, sat filleted in chunks in a bowl. The man behind the cart deftly squeezed the tiny Peruvian limes into the bowl, spooning in dollops of cilantro and red onion, “cooking” the fish, created the acidic base known and “leche de tigre.” Doing my best impersonation, I cut both tilapia and raw shrimp into a large mixing bowl. With the same additions, and a bit of slivered serrano pepper, I let the concoction marinate in the refrigerator for about an hour before stacking the seafood into a fluted cup, adorned with boiled potatoes. The fish retained its original delicate flavor, yet was accented with a mildly sweet acidity from the lime. The herbaceous flavors added a green and almost bitter note. The fish had firmed and become opaque from the acid, but was still soft and pliant, the texture of sushi grade salmon. After service, I retrieved shot glasses from my bar and poured small drafts of the tiger milk which where, with a loud cheers to our health, knocked back. The cloudy liquid was swimming with the remnants of green peppers, cilantro, and red onion. Its heavy acidity was tinted with fish flavors, burning slightly on the way down.

                Washing my hands, I switched gears to the cocktail portion of the evening. Similarly ubiquitous, the pisco sour was offered on every drink menu across the country. Made from Pisco, a clear, grape-based spirit, lime juice, simple syrup, and an egg white, the final concoction is shaken with ice to a frothy finish in the glass. An appropriate counterpart to the ceviche, the pisco sour is both tart and sweet, the spirit bringing body and strength but also losing some its own character in the acidity.

                The rest of the evening was a smorgasbord of corn-based salads, potato laden soups, and swoons of exotic food pleasure.

Noshing Out – First Blush of San Antonio – Whiskey Cake

                Last week, I woke up in a mummy bag, lying on block of ice, in a hotel made entirely from compacted snow. It was 25⁰ in my room. The next day, I stepped on to the veranda of my hotel room, overlooking the courtyard of the spa, complete with running waterfall and outdoor pool. Behold the miracles of 21^st century travel. I have been assigned a three month long engagement here in San Antonio, and last week (albeit a short one) was my first time here. Readers will know that this isn’t my first foray into the Lone Star State, but as Texas could be its own country, San Antonio may as well be a whole new adventure. What struck me first upon acquiring my rental car was the near constant commercialization of the area. Walmart after Target after boot shop after chain restaurant was passed on the highway before I got to my hotel. Like a child in the candy store, my head was on a swivel trying to take in my new environment, making note of any signage that was new or different.

 

After days of setting up for the coming months, the team and I set out to The Shops at La Cantera for dinner at Whiskey Cake. It was a late dinner, starting at 9. Despite this, the restaurant was still crowded. Waiters in white t-shirts with suspenders, jeans, and paperboy hats weaved between tables with drinks and food. The lighting was dimmer, playing off the wood and dark colored metal of the tables and decor. A hollowed out glass light bulb and small candle adorned our table as we sat down to cocktails. The figgin’ delicious, made with bourbon, ramazotti amaro bitters, lemon, and black walnut bitters, had light fruity notes, yet was still spirit forward and a glowed with a brownish red hue on the table.

My entrée, the striped bass, came smokey grilled in two fillets, under one was a carrot and kale slaw, lightly tossed with an acidic dressing that brought out the brightness in the fish. The other fillet sat above a roasted gold pepper romesco, the blended nuts adding body, a counterpoint to the lightness in the bass.

Our waitress, upon describing the restaurant’s namesake, convinced us to dry the decadent dessert. With dollops of whipped cream, the whiskey cake was also topped with pecans and a dense caramel sauce infused with whiskey. The cake itself was full of molasses and again, more whiskey, keeping the entire dish moist and heavy, easily shareable, unlike putting down your fork.

Food From Afar – Quebec

After an almost 7 hour drive straight north on I-91, we arrived in Quebec. The primarily French speaking Canadian city felt European with cobblestone streets, narrow and winding. It was Saturday night and snow was softly falling, a perfect way to begin our weekend of the Winter Carnival and Ice Hotel.

                We wandered Sean Jean St, heavily populated in the early evening. The European influence showing itself as restaurants seems in full swing around 8pm. We followed our noses to a bakery/sandwich shop, Paillard. Croissant and baguette were highlighted behind a glass case in the front window. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted as we opened the door, calling to our travel weary stomachs. White-clad bakers took our order in French accents as we sat down to warm sandwiches. My pork- layered creation came with a carrot balsamic slaw and pickle relish, its acidity and mild spiciness reminiscent of a giardiniera. The bread crunched as I bit in, succulent pork and toasty bread melting into a mélange of flavors.

                The next day was filled with the Winter Carnival. Ice sculptures, snow carving, and winter sports were all on display in the central city park. Bon-Homme, the festival’s effigy, was seen in every shop window, his tilted smile and wink greeting all. After a day of wandering the snowy streets, we settled in to a prix fix dinner at Aux Anciens Canadiens, a traditional Canadian restaurant. The interior was softly lit with the feel of an old log cabin. I ordered a wapiti (elk) sausage that came atop a bowl of maple-infused baked beans. The grilled meat was softly sweet and smooth in texture, its casing pliant rather than popping. London ordered the meat pie, the buttery and flaky crust encasing a mixture of ground meats. Again, they were soft in texture, no gristle or extraneous bits. Dessert was a pair of maple confections, a mud pie and bread pudding. Both rich and dense, the dark sweetness of the maple was tempered by the fat of the crème anglaise poured over pudding and the whipped crème on the mud pie.

Noshing Out – Niagara Falls Ice Wine Festival

                The temperature drops and the sky goes to a steel gray. Grapes, what used to be firm-fleshed juicy orbs, have deflated in the cold, drooping on their vines or hanging in nets strung up below. The area around Niagara Falls is known for its ice wine production, pressing dehydrated grapes (yet not quite raisins) to create a delicate dessert wine. Usually made from pinot gris, vidal blanc, or cabernet franc grapes, ice wine comes in 375ml bottles and has the viscosity of a light syrup. My girlfriend and I were there for the first weekend of the ice wine festival. Tickets came with eight tear-off tabs used to sample an ice wine along with a food pairing at participating wineries throughout the region.

                Having experienced the spray, the roar, and the glow of the Canadian Horseshoe falls the night before, we set out Saturday morning to sample. Bundled up in our winter jackets, we, along with a small army of other tasters, crisscrossed the region. Our cell phones not working in Canada, we unfolded a map across the dashboard and ticked off our sweet and savory destinations. While delectable options were everywhere, as ever, a few stood out from the crowd.

                Reif Estates, the German flag flying proudly outside next to a tour bus. The tasting room was packed with people, and the smokey scent of spit roasted porketta wafted from the back room. The whole hog was being torn apart and served into buns, the skin making and audibly loud crack as the culinary shears cut through. It was lightly adorned with an ice wine infused apple sauce, bringing sweetness to the warm and succulent pork. The video to come will give you a better idea of the crunch of the crackling.

                Our favorite tasting experience came at Kacaba Vineyards. They served an al dente barley risotto, flavored with duck stock from the rillete that was mixed in. The meat fell apart in in my mouth. The savory flavors highlighted by a berry coulis that dolloped the top, along with the cabernet franc ice wine, a reddish brown hugh and subtle sweetness as compared to the vidal ice wines. We were also shown around the unbottled wines, and led through a personalized tasting from the staff, working our way through young whites to spicy and meat friendly reds.

My favorite food paring was reminiscent of molecular gastronomy. Flat Rock Cellars, two, circular, glass and metal buildings overlooked a vast, frozen field of hibernating vines, poured a 2013 Late Harvest Gewurztraminer. Still sweet and light gold in color, the viscosity of the wine was significantly less. Paired with this was a small chalice filled with a shredded pork belly flavored with maple and a winter herb relish. This sat atop a creamy parsnip puree and was finally dotted with wine caviar. Each component could be tasted on its own, or all could be loaded on the spoon for a symphony of flavors and textures.

Noshing Out – Comfort Food Friday

“And after all the voting, I’m ignoring the winner and next month’s theme will be: Comfort food!” declared Caryl, the founder/leader of the Foodies meetup group. Every year, January’s theme is comfort food, and every year, Caryl still takes a poll and votes on a theme that she theatrically ignores.

There is an expected degree of chaos at the beginning of every Fabulous Foodie event. Despite participating chefs’ mis en place, there is always warming, roasting, composing, and finishing touches to be completed before service. Dishes appear on the table as they are ready; the dull roar of conversation the background for the symphony of corks popping and food sautéing. The first dish passed around was a split pea soup, a dark green mash thick with aromatic vegetables and smokey from added bacon and kielbasa. The sausage was cooked before being added, the casing popping as you bit into a spoonful.

My offering was in the oven at 425⁰ from the moment I took off my coat. Sliced potatoes, diced onions and garlic had been tossed in olive oil, parsley, and perfumed with a touch of truffle salt. Steam billowed from the oven when I opened it to reveal the roasting tubers. After a toss and other stint under the heat, the crispy slices were removed. The crunch on the edges gave way to a starchy center. Unfortunately, the heady aroma of the umami truffles that wafted from the potatoes quickly dissipated.

The star of the party was still being created. A variety of custom grilled cheese sandwiches sizzled away in a wide brimmed pan, the stuffing ingredients arrayed to the side. Scents of butter, toast, brine, meat, and of course, bubbling cheese emanated from that side of the kitchen. The crisp bread crunched as the sandwiches were cut in half, barely making it to the table before being consumed. My favorite combination was constructed with tomato, pickled jalepeno, dill pickes, and ham. A variation on a croque monsieur, the vinegary vegetables and fresh tomato added brightness and acidity which was a keen counterpoint to the heavy bread and cheese.

Plate filled a second, or perhaps a third time, I sat down with a glass of wine and was regaled by a foodie friend of he and his wife’s trials and tribulations of travel over the holidays having her green card stolen.  I was among my people.

Nosh Out – Ring in the New Year Between Two Pieces of Bread

Most people focus on the last night of the year. Champagne toasts, overpriced buffet dinners, crustaceans of various types, and open bars. This fare usually results in the need for greasy food and a hair of the dog bloody mary the next morning. My festivities were celebrated with friends at home, a smorgasbord of potluck offerings on the dining room table and a plastic bin full of beers, ice, and wine. Midnight was “counted down” by Bohemian Rhapsody, rather than Auld Lang Syne, and the next morning was both hangover and walk of shame free. But a second celebration came the next day, as Rita (you may remember her from the tamale party post) once again graciously opened her home and her sandwich presses for a bellini and panini party.

Guests brought sandwich fillings and condiments along with a bottle of wine/champagne/Prosecco. We hungrily circled around the panoply of offerings, carefully constructing towering topping in preparation for the press. Soon, the scents of nutty butter and herbed olive oil suffused the room as the coated bread turned to grilled toast. Waiting my turn, I sipped mango puree-infused Prosecco. The heady aroma of my favorite “cologne,” Eau du Bacon, a side effect of my food offering, still lingered on my wrists as I brought the fluted glass to my mouth, effervescence tickling my lips. The Prosecco was dry, its golden hay color bubbling with carbonation. The mango puree brought a sweetness to the glass that removed the usual toast flavors. A refreshing drink, we often made the mistake of adding the puree first, causing the flute to foam over with the addition of the spirit.

My panini started with a base of onion and rosemary bread, painted with olive oil infused with the same. Having surveyed the potential combinations, I decided on darker, warm, umami flavors that would meld together on the heat. Honey mustard, still grainy with the seeds, spread across my doughy canvas and was quickly followed by roasted turkey, bacon, caramelized onions, blue cheese, and sautéed mushrooms. A humble suggestion with pressed sandwiches, simplicity is not to be scorned, as a complex construction will just fall apart. Cranberry relish and salad were added to my plate and I impatiently waited for my sandwich to transform. The bread rendered sufficiently toasty, I removed it from the press and, gingerly handling the grilled creation, bit in.

Freshly toasted sandwiches are completely unlike their raw kin. Flavors melt into one another, the crunch of the toast giving way to unctuous cheese. Moisture in meat is unlocked from the heat, as are the aromatics from condiments and vegetative toppings. My participation in the conversation took a hiatus as I indulged in gastronomic bliss.