Graham's Gastronomy - Personal Chef for the Week Part 1

My parents, who live in Eden Prairie MN, are remodeling the master bathroom. My father, who just turned 57 and is semi-retired, enlisted my help under the guise of “teaching me a life skill” to help with the endeavor. Added to all this, I was conscripted (or maybe volunteered) to be the personal chef of my parents for the week. To me, this meant that I had control over the menu, and got to cook delicious food for a captive audience with a skillful sous chef (my mother).

The meals began Monday night, with grilled swordfish that I coated in a pineapple habanero glaze. I painted strips of zucchini and yellow squash with a combination of olive oil, A-1, Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper and grilled them, turning only once to get nicely defined grill marks. I also made a chop salad with romaine lettuce, tomatoes, shredded carrots, slivered onion, cucumber, edamame, and topped with blue cheese. A citrus vinaigrette with lemon and lime juice, with just a hint of mirin to mirror the lightness of the swordfish’s marinate topped the salad. All of this was paired with a French vouvray, light, fresh, with notes of lemon and apple.

Tuesday was a dinner out at Rodizio Grille, lots of meat, and a place restaurant I have written about before.

Wednesday was a practice run for my entry for a grill off competition next week. I thawed ahi tuna, then let it marinade it in half soy sauce and half honey for ten minutes. I rolled the steaks in black and white sesame seeds and seared them on the grill (my father’s grill has an infrared back burned that lets the grill get to 600-700 degrees). The seeds burned a bit, so I may have to reconsider coating before searing. Further, the tuna could have marinated for a bit longer as the marinade flavor didn’t really come through. I paired the fish with grilled eggplant that I drizzled with the remainder of the marinade sauce. The honey caramelized and burned a bit, giving a tasty outer char. Lastly, I tossed some orange and yellow peppers in a ponzu sauce with just a little fresh ground sea salt and gave them a char on the grill as well.

Day three of my willful culinary servitude was 15/30 tiger shrimp, peeled, and marinated in pesto with a little extra salt, lemon, and olive oil and were grilled (sensing a theme yet?). I would have also grilled the asparagus that was one of the sides, but the stalks were a bit thin and I didn’t want them to burn, so they were steamed and topped with a bit of butter and truffle salt. Reminiscing to my time in Nashville, I made grits, but 1/3 of the cooking liquid was a rendered turkey dripping I found in the fridge, just asking to be used. I also added a Colby jack cheese, making the grits creamier but also providing a bright orange coloration.

I’m a sucker for leftovers. In fact, I usually cook enough to have the meal for at least lunch the next day. That said, the leftover asparagus was chopped along with some of the bone honey ham and I sautéed both of those, adding beaten egg and Dubliner cheese (my parents get it in a huge block from Cosco) and I had a delicious omelet. Paired with pineapple, mango, and toasted coconut over plain greek yogurt with some PG Tips English tea, and that’s what I call breakfast.

Nosh Out - Iftar

We are in the season of Ramadan, “the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, and is observed by Muslims worldwide as a month of fasting to commemorate the first revelation of the Quran to Muhammad according to Islamic belief.” Fasting is undertaken from sunrise to sunset, and ends with Iftar, the evening meal. Because the Islamic calendar is based on the moon, Ramadan moves around the seasons. Summer, having the longest days, means long periods of refraining from food and water. On Tuesday, that fast started at around 3am and ended at 8:37pm.

A nearby Turkish Cultural Center that often does community outreach programs. I have attended cooking classes and celebrations among other things. I recently received an email inviting me and a guest to break the fast with a local family, in their home. Needless to say, I excitedly accepted. We arrived about 30 minutes before sundown, and as the door opened, we were welcomed with smiles, open arms, and a perfume of Turkish spices. Our hostess had been cooking all afternoon, unable to consume any of the food she was preparing. We sat in the living room, making rounds of introductions and small talk. Our hosts were bright and talkative, more than I could say for myself if I hadn’t eaten since 3am the night before. As official sunset passed, we sat down to a feast. Regretfully, I didn’t write down the Turkish names of all the amazing food we had, but everything was homemade, from scratch, and delicious.

We started with a single date, a chewy and sweet way to begin the meal. A bowl of bright orange lentil soup was laid before us, earthy and mildly spiced, it was warm and pureed smooth. Upon mopping the bowl clean with bread, the array of main dishes was passed around. Green beans were sautéed with tomato, garlic, and onion, creating a rich sauce with aromatic spices, the beans soft and pliant. The chopped salad, composed of freshly cut romaine lettuce was adorned with tomato, cucumber, onion, and a bright lemon dressing, a refreshing counterpoint to the heady spices of the other dishes. My personal favorite sat prominently in the middle of the table. The clay crock contained cuts of beef, potatoes, tomato, onions, and what I think was sumac, allspice, and cumin. The meat perfectly browned and the vegetables created a broth as they cooked down. The stuffed pepper also featured meat mixed in with rice. I am used to green bell peppers, but the (what I believe to be) wax peppers were mild, not giving off the vegetative grassy notes that bell peppers can. Last, but not least, was the eggplant salad, with chunks of tomato and onion. The eggplant was roasted and the salad was served cold, all of the vegetables blending their flavors. It may have been a dressing, or a marinade, but the salad sat in a pool of slightly sour liquid, bright lemon and parsley flavors coming through.

After dinner, our gracious hostess served Turkish tea in fluted glassware. Round, thick, honey sweet cookies paired perfectly with the strong, and slightly bitter tea. The cookies, crunchy and crusty on the outside, were soft on the inside, with the bottoms slightly oozing the syrup that had topped them. In the center, a hazelnut, slightly toasted from the baking, gave the cookie a distinct crunch.

The feast was wonderful, and I cannot thank our hosts and the Turkish Cultural Center enough for opening up their homes and hearts and sharing a religious and gastronomic experience with us.

Graham's Gastronomy - Charcoal and Firework Smoke

The June semester is over, my roommate and I are finally in the new apartment and we are mostly unpacked. My kitchen gadgetry is put away and I can finally enjoy the stainless steel appliances and granite countertops that enticed me to the apartment in the first place. With the Fourth of July falling on a Saturday, everyone got Friday off. The three day weekend was a welcomed retreat from the super-packed June I had, largely accounting for the lack of blog posting recently.

As my weekends usually do, some friends and I stopped in at Pig’s Eye for happy hour. Unfortunately, because of the holiday, the bar was dead and there was no food like usual. Oh well, quick plan change, we are going to get pizza toppings and cook pizza at home (I balked at the idea of ordering cheap pizza). After we all arrived at the apartment, we did the first logical thing for a three day weekend, celebratory shot. Dough was flung about the kitchen as we topped three pizzas with variations on pineapple, ham, bacon, sausage, and extra cheese. The pies came out thin and crispy, largely thanks to a perforated pizza pan the host had. The rest of the night was full of inebriated debauchery, and yes, we all crashed there. I created a mixed drink of pineapple vodka, watermelon pucker, limeade, lemon juice and a splash of white rum. I didn’t have the presence of mind to name it at the time, but in retrospect, I think I will call it a Pimermelon Splash.

With the crazy Friday night, Saturday was more relaxed. We hit the grocery store to pick up the fixings for grilling. I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to buns on hamburgers and hot dogs. I will readily eat them bun-less if the bread isn’t something worth eating on its own. Unfortunately, we were non-plussed by the bun selection, so we ate them with knife and fork. The charcoal grill was in full swing by the time I added Worcestershire sauce, soy, liquid smoke, steak seasonings, and freshly chopped onion and garlic to the beef, formed patties, and stuffed them with sharp cheddar and blue cheese. Those went on the grill as I shredded green and purple cabbage with carrot, and added plain Greek yogurt, lemon, salt and pepper, ginger, white balsamic vinegar, diced apple, dried cranberries and golden raisins, and chopped almonds to a big mixing bowl for the slaw. I tend to stray away from pre-made coleslaw dressings as they are usually full of oils and high fructose corn syrup. We cheated a bit with the corn though. Did you know you can steam corn in the husk in the microwave? We did, peeled back the husk, and ringed the burgers in cobs of corn to give them just a little smokey flavor and a touch of char. Burgers came off medium rare and juicy and we ate on my new back patio.

Dessert was strawberry cake. A recipe a gleaned and modified from my mother, it uses a box of yellow cake mix as a base, and builds on it with sliced frozen and thawed strawberries, jello, and a topped with a glaze of butter, powdered sugar, and more strawberries, which is poured over the perforated cake as it is still warm. The cake is set to cool, but is served re-warmed with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Very moist, not too sweet, perfect for summer.

After the meal, we hopped in the car to find fireworks, the charcoal smoke still lingering on my shirt wafted to my nose, but it was now accompanied by the heady aroma of fireworks as well. Couldn’t ask for a better Independence Day.

Nosh Out - From Majorca to Majorca

As anyone working in the business world knows, going on vacation can be great, but the deluge of emails and back logged work can be killer when you get back. That, plus a summer semester start has been keeping me busy recently, but a friend and previous coworker of mine was in town and invited me out to dinner. She has a few rules around business travel and eating out, she has to go somewhere new and try at least one novel thing when she goes there. After some consideration, we decided on Majorca, a tapas restaurant just off Prospect Street.

American tapas restaurants seem to have slightly different offerings than Spanish tapas bars do. In Madrid or Barcelona, every tapas bar will offer patatas bravas, grilled octopus, chorizo, charred peppers, cheese, olives, jamon (cured ham), and coca (bread smeared with tomato). While I’m no tapas aficionado, I can tell you I saw those items on every menu throughout the Iberian Peninsula. American tapas bars have items reminiscent of these, but also are catered to the American pallet. Hungry, we ordered a panoply of dishes that started with a ceviche, and a grilled squid. The ceviche was served in a martini glass and was a bright mix of crab, a whitefish, onion, tomato, avocado, and citrus. Thin slices of toasted bread were served on the side and used to dip into the sour and savory concoction. After the vegetation and seafood were consumed, I drank the dregs like a soup shot, bracing and refreshing. The grilled squid came on a circular quinoa cake and was topped with picked radish, cucumber, and jalapeno. Slightly spicy, it too has a savory sour mix.

More plates came, including bacon wrapped dates, stuffed with almonds and chervre. The bacon added a crisp and salty component to the sweet and creamy perspectives of the date and the cheese. To me, it was like dessert in the middle of the meal. Papas fritas came to our table. At first glance, they were simply French fries, but the graded manchego cheese, garlic, and most of all, truffle oil, made the aroma of the fries waft across our table. The duck leg confit that came next was served with yellow lentils, the dark leg meat fell off the bone and the skin was crisp. A hint of orange peel was reminiscent of duc l’orange, evoking a French tone to the Spanish tapas.

Dessert was a house cheesecake, brought complimentary from the manager. The center was rich and decadent, and was adorned with a salted caramel sauce and fresh fruit. As my friend and I split the cake, the siren song of the cheese plate, complete with truffle honey, seduced us as well. Manchego, played the star role, but another salty cheese, cut into thin discs, was like an aged provolone that paired well with the micro greens and arugula that sat aside it.

While not exclusive to Spanish or Majorcan cuisine, Majorca put out a great meal. A big thanks to my dining partner, with whom I always have a wonderful evening. Hope to see you in Hartford again soon.

Foods From Afar - Portugal – Lisbon and Sintra

After a very early morning and a flight back to Madrid, Charlie and I parted ways. I took the metro back into Madrid and, after stashing my bag at a local hostel for 2 Euro and a free breakfast (Thank you “The Hat” hostel) at which I met some friends for the day, we roved around the city. Traveling with a friend is wonderful, but being on my own, making new friends was also refreshing. We saw the rose garden, the Prado Museum, visited a market, and that evening, I attended a bull fight. It was gruesome and I won’t go into any detail. After three stomach turning rounds, I left to retrieve my bag and took the night train to Lisbon. Over the course of the next 10 hours, I drank Super Bock (a pretty refreshing, but low alcohol beer that is everywhere in Portugal) with some other Euro-trippers and got some sleep.

We arrived early in the morning, and I checked into my hostel, having a simple breakfast of fried eggs, fruit, Portuguese bread, which were like deflated orbs, crispy on the outside, and fluffy dough on the inside, they too were ubiquitous at every bakery and sandwich shop. I made some new friends as I went on one of the free walking tours around the city. We had lunch at a local café where we ordered the three “fish of the day” plates along with a bottle of crisp vino verde, sharing everything. There was a charming old man at the table next to us, sipping glasses of port, with each refill, the waiter made a notation to his running bill etched on the paper cover of the table. Lisbon is a port town, so the fish, as expected, was quite fresh. Not quite sure what we ordered, what arrived was salmon, skin on and simply grilled, a fried cod, the batter  thin and mild, preserving the taste of the fish, and a char broiled catfish (or at least, that’s the best translation we could get). The fish was almost burned crunchy at the ends, and sat in a white wine and butter sauce, covered in young garlic chunks. While perhaps too dark for some, I like a bit of char, so I ate it with revel.

For dessert, we stopped for ice cream. At almost any shop, the same variety of popsicles are available, but what pulled my attention was the mojito popsicle, with real muddled mint and rum inside. The exterior was icy and hard, but the core was chewy and the alcohol flavor, though mild, came through. On the way back to the hostel, we saw a large crowd of locals gathered around a small, quite literally, hole in the wall shop. For 1.40 Euro, they were buying small plastic cups of ginja, a sour cherry liquor, with cherries floating in the cup. This afternoon aperitif was to be sipped, both sweet and spiritus, it was a great way to cap off a late afternoon lunch.

The next day, I met another friend from the walking tour to visit the Saturday flea market. It was expansive with vendors selling everything from second hand goods, cloth, antiques, electronics, and more. After perusing their wares, we wandered the old town, whose walkways careen this way and that, finding a small restaurant spilling into the narrow street. We sat under the shade of a Super Bock umbrella and ordered one of the signature dishes of Lisbon, grilled sardines. About 6-7 inches long, each order came with four of the charred, whole fish. Sardines can have a metallic flavor, their flesh is slightly firm, but we left only the head and the spine, sipping sangria all the while.

It is worth it to mention that every tour in Lisbon will tell you to go to Belem for their pastelle de nata, or custard tarts. The famed shop has long since become a pastry factory, producing thousands of them a day. The tarts are ubiquitous in the city, but if you want the real thing, follow your nose through the old town, find the smallest bakery with the oldest grandma, and pay 1 euro for flaky, gooey, creamy goodness.

My final day was spent in Sintra, a quaint town a 40 minute train ride away from Lisbon. The city at the base of the mountain is for tourists, offering samples of port and ginja in chocolate cups. The weather was beautiful and the hiking even more so, a great way to tire myself out for the 48 hours of transit I was to face getting home.

Overall, it was a wonderful trip. Each city has its own vibe, its own dialect, food, and feel. Despite being geographically to close, Lisbon and Spain are very different countries, both of which have now been crossed off my bucket list.

Foods From Afar - Spain - Majorca

After seeing the amazing La Sagrata Familia, we headed to the airport for our flight to Majorca. The trip was short, descending as soon as we got to altitude. Landing in Palma, we got our rental car and drove Southeast to our hotel. The island is pocked with ‘C’ shaped inlets called calas. Each of which could be a boat dock, tourist locale, private beach, or party place. Cala Figuera, where our hotel was located, was quite, mostly populated with Germans. Majorca is sometimes referred to as “South Germany,” as there are so many of them that vacation there. So much so that even the grocery stores have wursts and German bread.

Our following day was spend cruising the coastline, relaxing at beaches, and taking in the sun and sangria. After touring the Drach caves, we took dinner at a seaside restaurant, specializing in Majorcan cuisine. We ordered a starter or shrimp, covered in sobrassada, with sautéed onions. Sobrassada is a cured meat, like a spreadable chorizo. Like the Jamons of Spain, there exists a variety of grades, depending on the kind of pig that was used, level of spice, age of the cure, etc. I ordered the cuttlefish, simply charred. Not unlike squid, the cephalopod was fresh and clean, with just a touch of lemon, the charred flavors really came through. The flesh was soft and yielding, not rubbery at all. Charlie ordered a salt encrusted swordfish. As his meal arrived, the waiter made a show of cracking the encasing, and butchering the fish tableside as he plated. The salt served as an insulator, rather than a flavorant, steaming the fish inside, leaving is moist, falling apart on the fork.

The next day, I spent the morning in and out of the ocean, jumping from cliffs up to 12 meters (about 40 feet) high. I met back up with Charlie and we drove to his family’s home for dinner. Originally, they are from Peru, so Charlie requested his favorite Peruvian dish, Causa. The dish is steamed and mashed yellow potato, layered with tuna, and this version was topped with finely chopped purple onion, tomato, black olive, and hard boiled egg. It’s a hearty dish and was artfully created, but hungrily devoured. Paired with some sangria, local wine, cheese, and Majorcan bread, it was a great evening (though I was only able to pick up about 5-10% of the conversation).

Our last day was spent in Palma. We started our day in the traditional manner, with ensaimadas. The Majorcan pastry consists of flour, water, sugar, eggs, and lard. The dough is folded and rolled, resulting in layers of fluffy and light pastry, topped with powdered sugar, cream, or fruit. We ordered them from S’an Joan D’Saigo, a café established in 1700. I also ordered an almond ice cream (because pastry and ice cream is truly the breakfast of champions). The ice cream tasted as though almond milk, almonds, and ice were pureed together. Each spoonful had a crunch reminiscent of the almonds, simple, fresh, delicious.

After walking the popular port town, we finally settled down to a paella of paella. We had been waiting the entire trip to have the meal on Majorca, and the restaurant we selected, Sa Cranca, delivered. Walking in, we could immediately smell the aromas or fresh seafood cooking. We sat down and ordered the mixed seafood paella and of course, a bottle of crisp pinot grigio. Our meal arrived tableside, as our waiter used two spoons to scrape the pan and mix the seafood with the slightly charred rice on the bottom. The rice was just al dente and we tasted the saffron through the bright shellfish, each bite was savored as our gastronomic craving was finally fulfilled. It was our last day on the trip together, though I had one more stop, and I couldn’t have asked for a better final meal.

Foods From Afar - Spain – Barcelona

After checking into the hostel, Charlie and I hit the metro to explore the city. We headed to Fira and the magic fountain, along with the National Museum and the Olympic city. The entire area of the city was bustling, as there was a car show going on, and teenage girls flocked toward the nearby stadium for a “The Vamps” concert . After all that walking, we worked our way East and found an organic grocery store that sold red and white wine, sangria, and vermouth from huge wooden barrels at the back of the store. You could buy a bottle or bring your own, but the wine and spirits went for about $2 per liter, and they were all of decent quality.

We found dinner by wandering the streets, window shopping at menus posted outside restaurants. There were three requirements for us to go in, first is that the establishment was busy, second was that it was populated with locals, and third, the menu had to be in Spanish (or rather, Catalan) Bodega 1900 was such a place. Because we didn’t have a reservation, we had to sit outside. Our meal started with the house made vermouth and “olives.” I put them in quotes because there were two olives, each served on a spoon. Slurping them, they burst in my mouth like a balloon filled with briny goodness. Our meal continued with other tapas, including a traditional bocadillo (Spanish sandwich), stuffed with fried squid and a tart aioli, a seared tuna flatbread, and a duck bacon slider, unctuous fat oozing through on the crisp, flat, almost English muffin bread.

The next day, we took the train North to Parc Guell, a large open area designed in part by Gaudi, the architect responsible for La Sagrata Familia. After wandering the tiled terraces, we headed to La Ramblas, a long and straight street, packed with shops, vendors, restaurants, and people.  Along the way, I stopped at La Boqueria, a large city market. In truth, it’s actually a repetition of the same handful of shops, but that doesn’t make it less appealing to stroll and sample. Jamon (cured ham), cheese, dried fruits and nuts, fresh fruits, fresh fish and crustaceans, pastries, and seafood bars went on for aisle after aisle. I was able to sample some local cheeses from the Catalan region, most of which are similar to Manchego, white, not too potent, yet complex in their flavors.

Later, we met Charlie’s father, who happened to be in Barcelona on business. We tasted many traditional tapas like coca (tomato rubbed on bread), gazpacho (a tomato based, pureed vegetable soup served cold) and heirloom tomato salad topped with brulleed goat cheese. However, my favorite was the octopus, charred and topped with Spanish paprika, not rubbery at all. After lunch, we went to the Picasso museum and I rambled the Gothic quarter, and old part of the town with winding streets, tall walls, and more vendors, shops, restaurants, and bars.

I met up again with Charlie and his father for dinner, we found another tapas restaurant that took a more modern and global take on the concept. Gourmet Tapas by Sensi was a small restaurant, with a kitchen that barely fit the chefs working in it. The menu was split into traditional and modern dishes. We ordered a variety, including a seared duck breast topped with a mango chutney that sat aside a puree of parsnip. The duck was rare in the center, yet charred on the outside, the meat rich and not gamy. Charlie ordered a potato curry that came with three varieties of potato, sweet, purple, and what appeared and tasted like Idaho, swimming a bright orange, creamy, yet spicy sauce. The meal was an amazing end to the day. A big thank you to Charlie’s father for showing us the gastronomic delights of the city.