bltdown

Fore Street

2006-09-12T13:46:00.000-07:00

The high point of our August trip to Maine (sticky buns from standard Baking after a morning run along the waterfront notwithstanding) is dinner at Portland's Fore Street restaurant. Located in a converted old brick and wood beam structure just off the Portland waterfront, it features wood oven roasted seafood and meats (most of which are locally sourced), from an open kitchen overseen by Sam Haywood, it's highly regarded owner/chef. The unpretentious, casual setting belies the creativity and level of cooking.

Appetizer was grilled calimari in an intense (almost demi-glace-like) mushroom reduction, followed by a wood fire roasted duck breast for The Editor; my seafood stew was a deeply flavored broth with fish and smoky shellfish, while the third member of our party, (kindly refraining from finishing his main course in the interest of providing research material for this review) ordered the perfectly roasted chicken. I think it was Julia Child who said the true measure of a great restaurant was how they did something as "simple" as roast chicken.

The Editor, maintaining the nutritional high ground to which she pays lip service, chose not to order dessert. Her companions ordered a peach tartin and a chocolate souffle, half of each she "tasted" out of professional interest.

Venice Castle

2006-08-18T06:29:00.000-07:00

What can I say? It's taken over 15 years of visits to Hamilton Sorter for Brad to finally initiate me into the "real" Ohio. Venice Castle, a local hangout in the town of Venice, a corruption of the original name of Venus, but now known as Ross is definitely the real thing.

Beer selection, as I recall, is Bud or Coors. No micro brews or imports. I actually wanted to order a glass of red wine, but I knew that would have put Brad's sexual orientation into question. Next time we'll try the burgers to go with the Buds.

Potato Number

2006-06-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

A French classic traditionally made with clarified butter and baked in a mold, this is a somewhat more artery friendly version of Potatoes Anna, but with the same crisp crust and tender interior. Since it involves some preparation time it has come to be known here as The Potato Number and is perfect with steak or lamb. Unlike the original, it is done on the stove.

About a pound and a half of Yukon Golds are peeled and thinly sliced (a mandolin is best), laid out on paper towels and patted dry. Heat olive oil in a saute pan (about 9") over medium heat and overlap potatoes in a layer, sprinkle with minced garlic, grated parmesan, salt and pepper and a few drops of olive oil. Repeat, creating a total of 3 or 4 layers with just drops of olive oil on the top layer. Cover with aluminum foil and place a pot on top for weight. Lower heat to a level where you hear gentle cooking sounds. After about 45 minutes a fork should go through easily, if not continue cooking. Use a blunt knife to carefully separate potatoes from the pan sides and bottom. Remove from heat, place a large plate over the pan and using pot holders flip the pan over. There should now be a nice crust on top. Really good. Never any leftovers.

Babbo

2006-05-30T13:20:00.000-07:00

That's Mario, had he been there to greet us, he would be apologizing for my having to continually redial to get through to a "reservationist" for 35 minutes, starting at 10:00 A.M., precisely 30 days prior to our desired dinner date. But then Babbo is a lot more democratic then most highly regarded New York restaurants; you can get a weekend dinner reservation ("call precisely 30 days prior etc."), they make a point of informing you that there is no dress code, and there is a wide range of moderately priced wines. Two can also eat and drink very well for about $150.

Between us we had roasted porcini with arugula, and beef cheek ravioli as first courses, branzini roasted with lemon and olive oil, and sauted sweetbreads were main courses, with safron panna cotta for dessert.

All excellent, but for me the defining moment was the arrival of the main course. First The Editor's roasted branzini was presented on a serving platter for inspection, then brought to the captain's station for deboning, a process that took about 5 or 6 minutes while I wondered where my sweetbreads were. But at precisely the instant that the captain presented the deboned branzini to The Editor, my sweetbreads landed. Simultaneous arrival; must take a lot of practice.

Red Snapper

2006-05-21T13:08:00.000-07:00

With my cousin Jane up from Austin, Texas we did a 3-1/2 lb. red snapper with olives (from Mario Batali's latest cookbook) to feed four. A little bigger than the saute pan, we browned it in sections befor transferring to our trusty but rarely used fish poacher. It braised in the oven in a broth of lemon zest, lemon juice, capers and olives for about 20 minutes. Finished with a drizzle of olive oil and chopped parsley, it was accompanied by a Castello Della Sala Chardonnay from Umbria which inspired heretofore secret and mysterious revelations of family history from my cousin.

While in New York, Jane visited a 98 year old close friend of her mother's who shuttles between residences in NewYork City, Provincetown and San Miguel Allende in Mexico. She revealed stories of Jane's (very restrictive and protective) parents' (who died in the 1960s), early, wild, bohemian lives in the Greenwich Village of the 1920s, along with the existence of previously unknown family members, strange characters out of an Edward Gorey novella that were never discussed when we were growing up. In the interest of protecting the innocence of Jane's grandchildren, all will not be revealed.

Mussels

2006-05-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

Mussels in white wine, a cheap and quick Mediterranean classic, ubiquitous in French bistros and Italian trattorias. For 2 people, about 2 pounds of mussels, half a dozen or more chopped garlic cloves, some chopped shallot (optional) and a cup or so of white wine. Heat a couple of table spoons of olive oil in a pot large enough to hold the mussels, saute garlic and optional shallots a few minutes without letting the garlic brown, add the wine and bring to simmer, then mussels, and cover. When the mussels open in 3-5 minutes transfer them into a bowl with their shells, then reduce the broth a few minutes and pour over the mussels with a sprinkling of chopped parsley. Best eaten from the shell after scooping up some broth.

Garlic and Chicken

2006-04-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

A stove-top variation of a classic French recipe: Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic. Really simple and quick with succulent, sweet garlic and flavorful chicken.

Brown chicken parts (thighs and legs are best) in oil, remove and sprinkle with salt and pepper, pour off most pan fat and saute 20 or more peeled garlic cloves till golden. Chicken goes back in pan with a cup of white wine, a bunch of whatever fresh herb is available (thyme or oregano) and vegetable drawer remains like parsley, celery etc. Cover and simmer about a half hour turning the chicken occasionally and adding a little water if sauce is drying out. Small potatoes, par boiled, are optional.

Tarragon Chicken

2006-04-09T13:53:00.000-07:00

Probably the best way to roast a whole chicken: stuffed (or not) in a covered casserole pot. A classic French technique from Julia Child. Absolutely moist (including the white meat), intensely flavored and fool proof.

Stuff (Julia's mushroom stuffing is best), or put a bunch of fresh tarragon in the cavity. Truss the chicken and brown on all sides in butter or oil in the open casserole on top of the stove, remove and saute' some onions and carrots in the casserole Add a bunch of tarragon, some salt, and lay the chicken back in the casserole, breast up loosely covered with a piece of tin foil. Tightly cover the casserole and roast until done (175 to 180 degrees), in a 325 degree oven (about an hour or so). Remove the chicken, add a cup or two of brown chicken stock to the casserole, reduce a few minutes, skim the fat, then thicken with 1 Tb of cornstarch dissolved in 2 Tb Madeira or Sherry, boil a few minutes to thicken and add a few Tbs of minced tarragon.

Fish Camps

2006-04-08T09:26:00.000-07:00

Fish camps are one of the Editor's brother Bob's finds.

They're on the water, use paper plates, serve alligator, attract motorcycles and the waitress will warn you if you should happen to order something that isn't deep fried. But they're not chains (yet) and can't be found at Disney World (yet). Fish camps feel like what rural Florida must have been like. None of that "Hi, my name is Cindy. I'll be your server this evening, and can I get you some bottled water?" I was warned off the steamed shellfish sampler with: "hon, I hope you got plenty o' time, cause it'll take you an hour to eat it and you gotta open the oysters, you gotta open the clams, you gotta open the crabs, and the shrimp have shells on 'em." But after a couple of drinks at JB's Fish Camp, waiting for a table and watching the sunset, the alligator (fried) and calimari (fried) were pretty good and the very fresh steamed shellfish only took about 20 minutes to finish off. The Resistant Gourmet tried the alligator, held true to form and ordered a hot dog, then ventured into the unknown with Key Lime pie for dessert.

Porto Bello

2006-03-12T12:17:00.000-08:00

Porto Bello, a long time favorite in the Village, was the scene of an expert discourse by Bill Irvine on the finer points of mailroom organization. Bill described to a rapt audience of Lisa, Chris, Mary Grace, The Editor and myself, how as a child he always dreamed of sorting and organizing mail and documents. Lisa, visiting from the West coast to oversee a Manhattan mailroom installation, attributed her bi-coastal success to strategic planning and the ongoing support of key Hamilton executives.

To toast Lisa and Chris's first visit to New York a Sicilian white was ordered and sparingly sipped. We all shared Porto Bello's excellent mussels in white wine and fried calimari appetizers, and an asortment of veal, sausage and lobster dishes followed. Dinner progressed with Bill's illuminating discussion of human resource management techniques, after which the group repaired to Knickerbocker, to unwind from the serious dinner conversation.

Bolognese

2006-03-08T12:07:00.000-08:00

Our Oscar night dinner spent more time bubbling on the stove than Joan and Melissa spent babbling on the carpet: 5 hours for the Bolognese sauce to come together. Dinner was in front of the TV (as it frequently is on Sunday nights for Classic Film Education 101). But instead of Psycho or Blow Up we settled in for the Red Carpet and a virtuoso performance by The Editor, who, having "mastered" the new DVR remote, provided simultaneous viewing of both Joan on the TV Guide channel and Isaac on E, while intermittently fast forwarding through commercials and sucking fettucine Bolognese.

The secret of this classic Italian meat sauce is long simmering, a minimum of 3 hours, but longer is better. It's basically saute'd ground beef and/or pork, onions, carrots and celery, then milk, slowly absorbed by the meat. and white wine which is also reduced. Add plum tomatoes and simmer away. Serve with grated Parmesan and red wine.

Boy's Night Out

2006-02-25T14:48:00.000-08:00

Arturo's, a vestige of the Village's Italian heritage, is known for its coal oven pizza, live jazz every night and a stable of local characters. Warren is a late night (or early morning) regular, but I haven't been there since we moved uptown from Mercer Street 13 years ago. Alex came by after work at the nearby Village Voice and, after some house red at the bar and a discussion with one of the waitresses about when the place first opened (1957, it was printed on her shirt), we settled into a booth under the neon lights in the front window.

Baked clams and mussels in white wine first, then a large pizza (tomato sauce over the cheese) and a plate of pasta in red sauce that Alex delicately sucked in. Wait for a table in the front room, where the jazz is, and stick to the pizza.

Au Revoir

2006-02-13T12:42:00.000-08:00

Sadly, L'acajou and the bartender with her tatoos and blue ear are gone. So is the rest of an eclectic staff who, after the city's restaurant smoking ban went into effect, all wore "L'acajou No Smoking" t-shirts to remind patrons that their Galoises habits were no longer welcome.

A totally unpretentious French bistro on 19th Street, it was particularly welcoming to go there at lunch with Michel who, in addition to speaking the language, knew some of the staff (the waitress with the thong not withstanding), forever.

Like a cycle of nature however, with L'acajou's closing, Sala opened down the block. A Spanish restaurant with an $8 lunch special that includes either a huge, well dressed salad or soup and an excellent small sandwich (Spanish ham with tomato or potato and egg with a roasted green pepper are two of the choices).

Add the occasional glass of red wine and we don't even miss the bartender with the blue ear.

Duck

2006-02-12T12:31:00.000-08:00

This is a dish from Tom Valenti's book, duck legs braised in red wine and tomatoes. Much of the fat under the skin is rendered by sauteing the legs, skin side down, and discarding the fat. Then it braises for about an hour and fifteen minutes with tomatoes, a little bacon, onions, carrots, vinegar and tomato paste. I made it before and it was good but still fatty. This time The Editor, in the interest of limiting our intake of duck fat, suggested removing the duck skins before braising. Uh Oh.

Now I know why duck tastes good, even if you don't eat the skin. The fat under the skin leaches into the duck meat keeping it moist, tender and...fatty. Braising the legs without the fatty skin resulted in tasty but tough duck.

Grease

2006-01-29T16:39:00.000-08:00

Latkes or potato pancakes have been described as grease infused with potatoes. They are an essential building block of the Eastern European Jewish food pyramid and, along with pastrami and chopped liver, have inspired the career choices of thousands of heart surgeons. The pancakes are eaten with sour cream or apple sauce (or both), however, unlike the French who consume prodigious quantities of wine to counteract the effects of foie gras and cassoulet, the latke eater's indulgance is traditionally accompanied by milk or Dr. Browns Cream Soda.

Sunday night The Editor (who always insists on brown rice when we order Chinese food), required a fix and her personal chef was dispatched to the kitchen to grate potatoes. Add a grated onion, a couple of eggs, spoon into a pan of hot grease to brown and they're done.

The Resistant Epicure, being a traditionalist drank milk. The Editor, nutritionally aware, insisted on white wine.

Slurp

2006-01-21T15:44:00.000-08:00

Soup dumplings – Shanghai pork and crab buns assembled with a semi-solid gelatin that with steaming liquifies into broth – are always worth the long subway ride to Chinatown on a weekend afternoon.

Nibble and slurp is the correct etiquette for inhaling these incredible delicacies. The best are at Joe's Shanghai on Pell, or Joe's Ginger on Mott, a short walk from the nearby courthouses, they are a singular highlight of jury duty. Even the Resistant Epicure will forgo his table manners to fight over the last dumpling.

Otto

2006-01-19T10:13:00.000-08:00

It took a gift certificate from her parents to entice The Editor and Austen out of the Upper West Side and to Otto, the Mario Batali enoteca/pizzeria in the Village. Walking down from my office, I arrived early and ordered a glass of Pezzalunga, an Oltrepo Pavese from Lombardy (never heard of the wine or the region, but it was only $10). I was handed a pretty full glass and an accompanying small decanter for the refill (their "glass" is a quarter bottle). The wine was very good, the bar scene very downtown, and I was gentleman enough to save a few sips for The Editor.

Most dishes are under $10, and limited to appetizers, pastas, pizzas and desserts. We shared some excellent prosciutto, cauliflower Siciliana and lardo pizza. (Gee, is lardo some kind of tofu)? Otto is bustling, casual and cheap, so after finishing the appetizers, the"take the plate and leave the fork" service was less irritating than amusing (the new bottle of Pezzalunga also helped). My puttanesca was excellent, The Editor's carbonara was a bit salty, and Austen was relieved not to have to venture beyond his daily regimen of pizza and Coke.

2006-01-13T13:04:00.000-08:00

How a hot dog tastes is, of course, a result of where you eat it (outdoors is best), how you eat it (standing up, unquestionably), and how much it costs (less is better). In the 50's it was after a long ride on a winter afternoon to Nathan's in Coney Island. The hot dogs were iconic, (O.K., I also thought their "chow mein sandwich" was a rare treat). More recently it's been Gray's Papaya.

Now, with hot dogs conquering the summit of the food pyramid, I've been limited to the occasional bite when Austen can be convinced he wants one (no mustard, no sauerkraut). Unquestionably, the best bites I 've been getting lately are on our pilgrimages (for a year's supply of toilet paper), to Costco. A giant hot dog with a 20 oz. Coke is something under 2 dollars. It's not outdoors, but it's even cheaper than Gray's Papaya.

Garlic

2006-01-08T12:40:00.000-08:00

The Editor dumped a half cup of chopped garlic into a pan and the memory of wandering narrow Italian streets at dusk, with the intoxicating aroma of garlic sauteing in olive oil became real. We had been freed of the constraints of rational usage by the discovery of pre-peeled garlic. No more time consuming peeling of individual cloves, now it was garlic bread with abandon, a staple of the rational eater's food pyramid.

We were making shrimp in red sauce: Saute garlic in olive oil, add a few tablespoons of tomato paste and a little white wine to help dissolve the mixture. Simmer a few minutes while sauteing some shrimp which get added to the sauce and served with pasta.

And speaking of the magic allium, a sure-fire way to find real food in places like Boise, Idaho: Ignore the concierge's recommendations for the town's high end dining spots, instead, explain that you know of a little place in town run by a family where you can smell the garlic a half block away. It works all the time.

The Nose of the Duck

2006-01-01T11:43:00.000-08:00

Accompanied by a New Year's Eve rock and roll countdown on 104.3 (a little heavy on the heavy metal), what could be better than spending 4 hours occasionally monitoring the progress of a very slowly roasting duck? You basically toss some herbs, garlic and shallots into the duck and let it roast. A sweet and tart orange sauce requires some finessing, but with frequent tasting to adjust the flavor balance, and Bruce in the background, the preparation is effortless.

The Editor working on a "what wine goes with what food" book suggested a Pinot Noir. Wine obsessives may spend a few seconds savoring a wine's "nose" before downing , but the roasting duck's intesifying "nose" provided over 4 hours of savoring as it wafted through the apartment.

Duck falling off the bone, orange sauce, crisp skin and the Pinot were perfect, even with the inevitable Stairway to Heaven at number 1 wailing in the background.

The following morning The Editor noted that the "apartment stinks of duck".

Holiday Spirit

2005-12-30T12:44:00.000-08:00

The last time I bought cavair for New Year's Eve was at Zabars which used the public address system to announce an Upper West Side version of the Blue Light special: "Attention shoppers, for your convenience we now have a Caviar Express line at our appetizing counter". No need to wait for the Nova specialists to debone and slice sides of salmon before calling your number, simply wait on a short line, tell the counterman how much Beluga you'll be adding to your credit card debt and get a pick-up number for your stash which will be waiting at the cashier. They don't let you carry it to the cashier, as Reagan said, "trust, but verify".

This year we were having a holiday dinner of Osso Buco. Standing patiently at Citarella's meat counter waiting for my number to be called, I stared in awe at the price. Next to me a guy was commenting to his partner "I can remember when Osso Buco was really the poor man's cod and $6.99 a pound". "I was just thinking the same thing", I said, "I can't believe its $19.00 a pound, a few weeks ago it was $14.00". After agreeing that Fairway's veal was not a real alternative he said they were getting a rack of veal, which they did only once a year, and asked me to guess what it cost. "A hundred bucks?" "216", he said. And there was no express line.

The Editior said I should have invited them to dinner.