My Love for Food

Pape Kibo's in Hudson, FL

2011-04-22T08:57:00.004-04:00

Hudson, Florida is where I grew up. Actually, I lived in the next town over but I went to Hudson High School and all of my friends were there, so I claim it as my childhood home. Like many kids feel about the place they are from, I deplored Hudson. To the south were the mostly retirement communities of Port Richey and New Port Richey that I still affectionately consider to be “God’s waiting room”. Catering to mostly geriatric residents, teens were frowned upon in general. To the north and east of Hudson was mostly nothing. A few pockets of mainstream subdivisions existed but a short drive off any main road and you are in unattractive pine forests dotted with trailer homes with several broken down, dusty vehicles in each unkempt yard. There right smack dab in the middle of this Shangri La was the canvas for my youth –Hudson.

In the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I made some friends that would end up shaping my life forever. Without going into the boring details, Kristi, Rob, Ann, Toni, Laura, Kim, Jim and a few others were my very best friends. For a few years, we were an inseparable group. We went to movies, the mall, the beach, church, the bowling alley and many other places together. I’m not being overly dramatic when I say they changed my life forever. I would go on to be briefly married to one of the girls and we have a wonderful son together. Another remains my best friend to this day.

Laura and I met somewhere around 12 years old although I might be off by a year. Her dad owned an insurance agency and was deeply involved in the few positive parts of the community. Both of her parents treated me with a respect rarely given to bratty pre-teens especially knowing I was a young boy chasing after their daughter. Yes, Laura was my first REAL girlfriend – in the sense that 13 year olds can be boyfriend and girlfriend –but by our actual dating years she had long since dumped me (for a musician –go figure). What transcended though was a terrific friendship that has endured since and I’d have to say that while I’ve been closer to other people at different periods of my life, Laura has always been, and I suspect will always be, a major player in shaping my moral compass.

We don’t get to see each other very much. Our lives are both pretty busy. We both have our families and life commitments. Still, 4 or 5 times a year, we manage to make a few hours to grab a bite and catch up. I was the one who had to cancel our last dinner so I guess it’s my responsibility to reschedule. Recently, I was heading a couple hours north for a business appointment when I realized I’d be passing Laura’s office around lunch time. Knowing it was a long shot because Laura almost never answers her cell at work, I thought to try to call to see if she wanted to grab some lunch. I was surprised that she answered but even more surprised when she told me that we should try this great new restaurant in Hudson. HUDSON!!! To the best of my knowledge, there has never been a great restaurant in Hudson. Crappy take out Chinese, Applebee’s and Perkin’s has been the Hudson food genre. But Laura has a pretty honed palate so if she says “great”, I believe her. I met her at her office and off we went to Pape Kibo’s.

We pulled up to an unassuming building on Old Dixie Highway not far from Hudson Beach. Walking in, there is nothing too impressive: Key West pastel-colored walls, small tables, mismatched chairs. Immediately to the left, though, is the special’s board. This is where it get’s interesting. Specialty sausages of lamb and duck, kangaroo steak and crocodile are written out in unassuming fashion. I was not going to be disappointed. The regular menu has a few interesting twists but remains pretty standard. It’s the wild game specials and hard to find oddities, though, that are compelling to me. Depending on the day, you can find antelope, llama, iguana or python. With some advanced notice you might also order bear or lion (A lion steak will run you $350 but a lion burger is a mere $50). There wasn’t anything too special on the menu the day I showed up for lunch but I did try the crocodile which was cooked really well with welcoming, attractive topping of a creamy sauce with shrimp and tomatoes.

No, it doesn’t taste like chicken. A little chewy like many wild animals, the flavor was similar to alligator, frog or turtle (all of which I love). I also tried the sausages of duck and lamb which were sublime and exquisite. The duck was subtle and well spiced and the lamb was perfectly distinct as great lamb always is. There were also a few dolmades (stuffed grape leaves) that I adore. The Mediterranean flare was perfectly manipulated in this dish.

The appetizer of mussels rivaled the exquisite flavors that I remembered from my trips to Belgium where mussels reign supreme on any restaurant menu.

Prior to this day, my only reason to go to Hudson was to visit with Laura who owns a business there. Today, there is a second reason. Pape Kibo’s is a jewel in Tampa Bay and I would tell anyone that asked that a trip to Hudson has moved up on the scale from “are you out of your mind?” to “must go”. From Tampa, it’s about an hour’s drive and well worth it. Perhaps after a day of swimming with the manatees in Crystal River or a visit to the gardens and mermaids of Weeki Wachee, you could swing into Pape Kibo’s for dinner on the way back. There are steaks and seafood and salads for the unadventurous but for the inner Bizarre Foods lover, there will certainly be something to delight.

Hunting Wild Boar

2011-03-31T05:31:00.003-04:00

I’m not much of an outdoorsman. Most people know this about me. A stroll on the beach or a short hike on a trail is the extent of it in my book. The human race moved from huts to solid structure buildings centuries ago and I moved right in with them. Add air conditioning and I see no need to be in a tent. With this in mind, it is quite surprising that when Lisa mentioned that I should go hog hunting with her dad, I was immediately interested. Lisa is constantly looking for things to keep her newly retired father busy. In sharp contrast to me, Smitty, as he likes to be called, is a Bass Pro Shop kinda guy. He grew up on a farm, loves to hunt and can fix anything. Even with our differences in interest, I really enjoy spending time with him. So a little internet searching and I found a hunting guide down in Okeechobee that guarantees a kill. Game on. We were off.

2 ½ hrs from my front door in civilization, we pulled up to the meeting place a little before noon. It was a store on a lonely road on Lake Okeechobee that also functioned as a little restaurant, bait shop and feed store. Saying I was out of my element is a slight understatement. I pulled my little hatchback into the lot next to the trucks and swamp buggies and headed in. I found the guide service owner, Ron, sitting in a booth on his cell phone booking other hunters for future adventure. I was shocked that he had cell phone reception out here. I did not. Allowing him to finishing his call, I then introduced myself and forked over the remaining balance due (cash only). Ron then jumped back on his magic flip phone and called his “boys”. After tossing down some hot boiled peanuts, I saw a once blue pick-up truck pull in and its 3 occupants emerged. It was a scene from Deliverance. A few salutations later and we were following the truck down the road to get the dogs and the shotgun. What was I thinking? Once the requisite animals and hardware were recovered, we again drove a short distance to a dirt turnoff. In the few hundred yards from the main road until we stopped, I began wondering how much of my credit card limits could be reached before my dead body was found. Still we pressed on. Once one of the guys handed me the shotgun, I felt more at ease. I took a few shots at a tree to make sure I had the right aim. Amazingly, I was dead on.

The dogs and 2 of the guys went in one direction and Smitty and I jumped in the pick-up truck with the other guide and went the other. The plan was to circle back to them and let the dogs do their job. Just a short 10 or 15 minutes passed before the walkie-talkie went off saying the dogs had a hit. 5 minutes after that and I was chasing the dogs through dry lake bed, shotgun in hand. I found the dogs chasing a pretty good sized boar. They were in and out of the thickets and I didn’t really have a good line of sight at first. In short order, however, the animal got into the clear but the dogs were circling her. I didn’t want to shoot a dog. Suddenly, from about 30 yards away, I had a great silhouette. With one dog in front and one dog behind and after checking to be sure all humans were clear, I aimed and shot. She never took another step. She dropped instantly. I did it. I officially shot dinner for the first time in my life (and most likely the last).

I was relieved to get back to the main road a short time later. Once again I was following our guides with my trophy clearly visible in the bed of the truck ahead of me. We were headed back to the house where my hog would be prepared to look more like something found in the grocery store. As the animal was cleaned it became clear as to why the hog dropped quickly. Call it luck, but my shot entered the left shoulder and traversed both lungs and its heart. The mangled slug ended up in the right shoulder just under the skin. I liked the humane nature of this. During the quartering process, I asked some questions of the young men who made my hunt a success. I wondered how they were able to guarantee a hog to every hunter. The answer was surprising. Apparently, there are a lot of hogs. So many, in fact, that there is no license required to hunt them. Wild hogs have 2 litters a year and since they are not indigenous, they are nuisance animals that destroy local agriculture. Next, I asked about people just being a bad shot. How do you guarantee a hog then? I got another surprising answer. If the hunter misses, then the guides tackle the hog by hand. They hold it down, count to 3 then jump away as the poor shot pulls the trigger at point blank range. That’s even lees sporting than my concierge hunt. Still, it serves a purpose. These guys get to make a living (albeit humble), the wild boar population is kept in check and I get to take home 80 lbs of meat.

Our entire experience took less than 2 hours and we were headed home with 2 full coolers loaded. Since that day several weeks ago, I have made lots of boar recipes:

Horseradish crusted tenderloin with a champagne, mustard, thyme sauce.

Slow roasted wild boar ham that yielded several great dishes like this ham steak with peppered brown gravy and sunny side up egg.

So what does wild boar taste like? Well, that’s a tough one. Like lamb or duck, it has its own signature. I don’t really like the word gamey because it implies unpalatable to me but there’s the slight hint of wild animal that you find in venison combined with a much more substantial pork flavor. With very little fat, the heartiness of the meat is present in every bite. In a word, it is delicious. That being said, slow cooking is the key. Only the tenderloin can be eaten from a sauté. The connective tissue in the meat has got to be broken down in low heat over a long time. This technique makes for perfectly tender, succulent boar meat.

I’m going to share a recipe but I realize that most people won’t be able to get the same meat. Still, pork shoulder would be a great substitute and you’ll be making your own sausage meat if you give it a go. You do need a food processor or meat grinder though. I prefer the food processor so that I can grind the coriander and fennel seeds before adding the meat. I basically made a sausage and let it rest overnight so the flavors would combine then I used it as the base for an amazing but fairly basic ragout. I used a few strips of bacon just to give the meat the small amount of fat it was missing. I then whipped out the pasta maker and made some robust, wide tagliatelle. The velvety pasta was the perfect vessel to stand up to the rich, spicy tomato and boar ragout. I’m posting this recipe because this is one of the top 4 or 5 dishes I’ve ever made. It got rave reviews from everyone I shared it with. If I had a restaurant, I’d order boar meat and feature this dish. It was just that delectable and aside from hand making the sausage and pasta, it was pretty simple as well.

Tagliatelle with Wild Boar Sausage Ragout

For the sausage

2 lbs wild boar shoulder, cubed (substitute pork shoulder if you must)
1 tbsp whole coriander seeds
1 tbsp fennel seeds
4 cloves garlic, peeled
¼ cup fresh Italian parsley
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper

In the food processor start by adding the coriander and fennel seeds. Once processed, add everything but the meat and again blend. Then add the boar or pork. Depending on the size of the food processor, this may need to be done in batches. I let the food processor run a good minute for each batch. This helps to make sure the meat is ground as fine as possible and prevents any chewy bits. Transfer to storage container and place in the refrigerator overnight.

The ragout

1 tbsp olive oil (not extra virgin)
4 strips of bacon
1 small onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, sliced or minced
Boar sausage from above
3 oz tomato paste
32 oz beef broth (only use as much as needed while reducing)
28 oz can of whole San Marzano tomatoes (better flavor but any can of tomatoes can be substituted)
8-10 large sprigs of thyme
1 tsp chili flakes (for some heat, optional)
Salt and pepper to taste (season in layers as you add the ingredients)

In a large pot over medium heat add the oil and bacon. Cook the bacon until it just begins to render its fat and add the onions and garlic. Sauté until onions are translucent and fragrant. About 1 minute. Add the boar and stir together. Brown the meat and break up into the smallest pieces possible with a wooden spoon. This takes about 5 minutes. Add the tomato paste and cook another 2-3 minutes stirring constantly. You can use a few tablespoons of broth at a time if it becomes too dry and sticks to the pot. Add the tomatoes, thyme and chili flakes. Stir together. Turn the heat up and bring to a boil then reduce heat to simmer. Let simmer for 3 hrs checking frequently and add ½ cup of the broth at a time as needed as it reduces. The amount will vary based on how hot your stove is. The final consistency should be that of a thick stew or chili. Check for seasoning after reducing.

For the pasta

If you have the ability to make fresh pasta, this is the time for that. If not, a pound of linguini will do just fine. Follow the directions on the box. Do not overcook.

Put it all together on a large serving platter if you’re having guests. Freshly grate some parmesan cheese over the top and serve.

Florida Strawberry Festival a Must

2011-03-06T07:39:00.002-05:00

Tampa Bay has little claim to fame. Yes, I love the community and I love living here but you don’t see us featured too often in the national media for anything. When I open issues of the cooking or travel magazines that I subscribe to, I long to see some local flavor but it’s just not there. One annual event, though, leads the nation into spring and shows off a vibrant agricultural gem that dots the landscape just east of greater Tampa Bay. The Florida Strawberry Festival is in Plant City; a little community not nearly prepared for the heavy traffic it receives for 2 weeks every March. I’ve been going on and off to this fair since I was a little boy but it wasn’t until I began travelling extensively that I realized what a unique prize we had here.

In the US, Strawberries are available year round. California provides most of the nation’s berries but Florida is second and produces 100% of the strawberries consumed in the South during the winter months. The biggest impact on Strawberry production is the weather. They like rain and sunshine in a harmonious balance and don’t care much for freezing temperatures. Every year our local news runs stories of how the growers are dealing with days that fall below freezing by coating the berries with ice from sprinklers mounted in the fields. This prevents the berry from falling below 32 degrees no matter how cold the outside air becomes. Complaints from growers about stunted crops don’t seem to have too much of an impact on the availability of brilliant, plump and sweet fruit when the March festival arrives.

I must admit, I’m generally not much of a “fair” person. People that know me will tell you, I like my concrete. Therefore, the whole agriculture scene is beyond me. Contests where cows and pigs are judged do not hold my interest. Unless you tell me bacon tastes better from a prize hog, I could care less. I’ve also always assumed that “fair” beauty queens were judged on numerous criteria including, but not limited to, a tooth count. Prejudices aside and as long as I stay at least a hundred yards from tents that house the yet-to-be-dead livestock, I think the Strawberry Festival in Plant City is an amazing way to spend a day.

This fair is huge. I’m sure there are bigger but the midway isn’t just a strip in the center on the event. It wraps completely around the fairgrounds with more rides than Disney World. All involve a central theme of spinning in one direction or another and faster than humans should spin. I would imagine we could make a dent in the federal budget by simply sending pilots and astronauts to the fair for a few rides rather than building expensive centrifuges. Dotted along these nauseating, child-loving paths is the real reason I love the Strawberry Festival: the food. Booths and trailers fill the air with aromas that are as compelling to me as sirens to a sailor. Year after year, the boundaries of what can be fried or grilled are pushed anew. My only regret is that the portions, while not huge, are too big to try as many things as I’d like. Fried Wisconsin Cheddar nuggets, hand coated Chicken-on-a-stick, chocolate dipped bacon and, of course, the strawberry shortcake is all I could make room for in the 6 hours we were there. I really wanted to try the battered and deep fried Twinkie but I couldn’t bring myself to spend the money on something I knew I could only take one bite of because my stomach was already full. While there are plenty of grilled options that are slightly more calorie-friendly, to the best of my knowledge you won’t find a healthy-tree-hugging-organic-renewable option. This is a salad-free zone and, for one, I am glad.

The quintessential Strawberry Festival experience must end with the famous Strawberry Shortcake. While the line wraps around the outside of the exhibit hall, it moves quickly. We make our way to the back where the gentleman holding the sign that says “back of the line” tells us that, while long, we’ll be building our own strawberry shortcakes in about 10 minutes. Experiencing serious Déjà vu, this line and method of building your own dessert is exactly the same as it was when my parents first brought me to the Strawberry Festival as a little boy (with one exception –it was free then. Now it’s $3.50).

Not completely understanding the efficiency of this concept, we purchase our ticket for the shortcake then take 3 steps where we deposit out ticket for the shortcake. Seems like a step could be omitted but either way we were at the front. I ladle fresh cut strawberries and their accompanying sweet juice onto the cake and dollop on the fresh whipped cream (a constant stream of fresh whipped cream pours from the kitchen where 4 industrial mixers work non-stop to keep up with the demand).

At the end of the line, one of the country-clad strawberry maidens tops my creation with a final fresh berry.

Another thing you may or may not know about me is that I’m generally not a dessert person but I’d wait in a much longer line for a much longer time to enjoy this treat. The entire day, the entire distance from my home, the entire sunburn on my skin covered head was worth this moment. The strawberries, even in their own sweet juices, are so fresh that they still have a perfect texture. The Pound Cake soaks up the flavor like an exquisite sponge while the whipped cream is just sublime.

My kids had a spectacular day as did I, but for very different reasons. While they rode and spun, got nauseous and recovered, smiled and shot toward the sky –I stood next to the ride nibbling on many of the delicious offerings. Someday, I hope to go back with my kid’s kids and watch them smile as did mine. That, and the food, make a day like this precious.

Roasted red pepper linguini with red pepper sauce, tarragon and jumbo lump crab

2011-02-26T05:20:00.003-05:00

Thank goodness for my DVR. I recently sat down to catch up on some programming dating back to November. On the list were 6 or 7 episodes of Iron Chef America. What a great show. They have been producing this program for 9 seasons and I think I’ve seen every episode. I don’t believe I’ve ever tried to reproduce a recipe from this show –until now. It was Battle Bell Pepper. Newest Iron Chef Marc Forgione was making his kitchen stadium debut. I’m afraid I don’t recall the challenger’s name but that’s not too important to the story. One of the dishes Forgione prepared caught my attention. He made a roasted red pepper pasta in a roasted pepper cream sauce that not only looked terrific but got accolades from the judges. It had the eye-catching color of sunset and I’m such a sucker for fresh pasta. Forgione went on to win the battle. Combine my intrigue with this dish as well as my recent enthusiasm for my new pasta maker and the die was cast. We’re making some red pasta.

If you use a pasta maker you know 3 things. It’s tricky. It’s messy. It’s worth it. Making the pasta dough is not as easy as the food network celebs make it look. While none of my early attempts were complete duds, it took me few tries to get the texture exactly perfect. In my recipe below, I’ll give some loose measurements but the consistency is paramount to success. I’ve learned that the liquid ingredients will generally accept only so much flour so, depending on your method for mixing, more flour is OK. Too little is disastrous. Early on I used the mixing method that I’ve seen on TV. On my counter top I used a couple of cups of flour and started with a mound. In the center I created a well. The final analysis looked like a little flour stadium or coliseum. In the center I cracked an egg. The tricky part here is to begin gently whisking the egg so that the flour falls into the egg without breaking down a wall of your little volcano allowing the egg to escape. This takes a little practice but it’s not too tough. Next is the kneading. The dough doesn’t come together at first but as the glutens in the flour begin to break down it will all converge under your palm. Unlike bread or pizza dough, pasta dough is never really all that sticky so as long as you continue to dust with flour, it’s much easier to handle than bread. As you can imagine, this process generously spreads flour around your kitchen. I have since taken to using my stand mixer which cuts down on the mess a bit until it comes time to roll out the pasta sheets.

Some pasta recipes I’ve read call for the dough to rest in the fridge for an hour while others go straight to the roller. I find that resting the dough gives a slightly better pasta bite while going right to the roller is a touch more velvety. I don’t see much of a difference though and if you plan on drying it on a rack, it shouldn’t matter at all. Working with well flour-dusted tennis ball sized portions, it’s time to fire up the pasta maker. This is the fun part. Starting at the widest setting, I run the pasta through the rollers. I was a little discouraged at first because my pasta was coming out the bottom of the rollers with a few holes in it. These were not the pristine sheets that I’d seen on TV. I found that the key here is to simply make sure the dough remain floured and fold it in half and run it through again. You really need to run it through each setting a few times following the same folding and dusting. You’ll be amazed at how long these sheets become as you dial in the smaller settings. This also gets flour everywhere and I’ve found no real trick to avoiding it. It’s simply the cost for obtaining something unctuous and heavenly. The last step is attaching the cutter and making the linguine. I repeat these steps until all my little tennis balls are linguine. It takes some time. I’d say just rolling and cutting the pasta eats up about 20-30 minutes. Lastly, make sure to keep the freshly cut pasta floured or it will stick together.

For this dish I added a puree of roasted red peppers to get that bright red color. The sauce was also a puree of roasted pepper with garlic, tarragon, cream and butter. With the pasta and sauce combined on a serving platter, I topped the dish with jumbo lump crab and some more fresh tarragon. The final touch was, of course, some fresh grated parmesan-reggiano and we had dinner. Lisa’s dad and I mowed through this pasta in short order. The taste was bright and fresh with the silky pepper infused pasta and creamy sauce. Not too rich but still with luxurious notes of deep flavor from the cream, this is one of my best pasta-maker experiments thus far. Adding the crab is just such an elegant touch. Of note, jumbo lump crab is crazy expensive but if you figure the low cost of the other ingredients, this is a budget friendly family meal.

Note: If you don’t have a pasta maker, a pound of dried linguini will work or, even better, some grocery stores carry the fresh stuff too. The taste will still be terrific and making with dried will allow this entire dish to come together in about 15 minutes. Also, the amounts below are pretty loose. In the sauce, you can use some of the pasta cooking liquid if needed to beef up the quantity if I’m a little off or if your sauce reduces a bit too much. Never be afraid to add a ladle full of this cooking liquid to the final combination if the pasta looks sticky. This recipe is worth a go even if you need to use store bought pasta.

Roasted red pepper linguini with red pepper sauce, tarragon and jumbo lump crab

For the Pasta:

3 cups flour + a generous amount to keep the pasta dusted and workable
1-2 eggs depending on size
12 oz jar of roasted red peppers, pureed in a food processor or blender
Teaspoon salt

Make the pasta according to the directions on your pasta maker. Know that using the puree of peppers makes the dough a little too moist so be prepared to add a bit more flour if necessary as you knead the dough.

For the sauce:

12 oz jar of roasted red peppers, pureed in a food processor or blender
3 cloves garlic, chopped or put in the food processor with the pepper puree
½ cup chopped fresh tarragon + some fresh tarragon for garnish
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
1 tbsp unsalted butter
½ cup heavy cream
6 oz jumbo lump crab meat

In a large sauté pan over medium heat, add the red peppers, garlic, tarragon salt and pepper. Bring to slight boil then reduce heat to medium low for 5 minutes. Add the butter and cream and whisk in. Reduce on low just a few minutes and the sauce is ready.

Meanwhile in a large stock pot bring salted water to a boil for the linguini. Fresh pasta will cook in about 3-4 minutes while dried will take 8-9 minutes. Reserve the cooking liquid in either case.

Add the drained linguini to the pan with the sauce and turn to coat with tongs. Move this to a large platter and top with the crab and tarragon garnish.

After serving, offer some fresh parmesan-reggiano to grate over the dish.

Serves 4-6.

3 at Bats, 3 Home Runs -In the Big Apple

2011-01-30T07:11:00.003-05:00

I love the city. I love everything about it. From the people to the museums to the endless miles of concrete, I adore it. Interestingly enough, I’ve never lived in the heart of a major city before. I’ve always lived in the “burbs”, and while this is a much more conducive place to raise a family, there will always be a part of me that wishes I’d had a little apartment at some point right smack in the center of things. This is in sharp contrast to the views of many of my friends who enjoy the wide open spaces and huge distances between homes. First of all, if you’re going to live in the country you need to be somewhat handy. At least everyone I know that lives in a rural setting is. I can’t fix anything. I can barely hang a picture straight. I do own a toolbox. In it are the various requisites I’ve collected over the years but every time I open the lid, Lisa is immediately concerned. And while it has cost me a bit more money over the years than most, I happily pick up the phone for even some of the simpler house projects. Fueling my urban passions are the great cities I’ve visited over the years. On the streets of Hong Kong I thought to myself, “I could live here”. But I also thought that in Miami, San Francisco, London and Washington DC. While every city holds its own unique identity, there is a palpable bond that is common amongst them and I guess that’s the draw for me. Oh yeah… then there’s the food.

I recently arrived in Manhattan on business and aside from the work tasks at hand, all I could think about was where we were going to dine. New York is sensory overload for foodies. It is what Rome is to Catholics, Las Vegas is to gamblers and Amsterdam is to party goers. A simple slice of pizza for lunch is better than any pizza you’ve ever tasted. A quick stop in a coffee shop for a bagel is spiritual. Yet for New Yorkers, it’s just another day. Well I was not about to take one single morsel for granted. My first choice for dinner was born as much out of convenience as it was out of culinary adventure. Unless you live under a rock, you probably know that this has been a pretty brutal winter for New York City and this week was no different. A foot of snow arrived during my visit but that was no deterrent for me. The good news is that New York has great food on every block so I knew I didn’t need to travel far. A quick conversation with the front desk at the hotel and I knew The Bridge Café was a must.

A few steps from my front door and just beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, this is the oldest continuous drinking establishment in NYC. The doors opened in 1794 in the previously dicey Seaport district. Credited with once being a brothel as well as a saloon, the early clientele had more sinister motives; but today this landmark is charming, cozy and above all else, warm. In the bustle that is Manhattan, this small room almost seems out of place. Only about twice the size of an average living room and décor preserved from a hundred years ago, The Bridge Café is in contrast to the modern dining experience one thinks of when thinking of New York City. To me it was more reminiscent of the seaside village cafés of the New England coastline. On the lower east side, there was something quaint. My appetizer was mussels in a ridiculously delicious spicy tomato and andouille sausage broth. This just begged to be sopped up with the warm house made bread that was served. Next came a perfect medium rare hanger steak. There were no frills to this; just a well made cut that I adored. A great first-night-in-the-city meal was in the books and there was more to come.

On the second night, we hit Katz’s Deli. If you told me you had one hour in Manhattan and needed to get something to eat, I’d suggest one of the Jewish Deli’s in the city. There are at least 5 famous ones that I can think of off the top of my head and Katz’s is my personal favorite. They take making corned beef and pastrami very seriously in these places and it pays off. Although table service is available, part of the quintessential deli experience is stepping up to the counter and watching you sandwich be made. Large slabs of beef are hand carved with a knife and portioned onto rye bread with spicy mustard. There is other delectable fare to be had as well. Famous for their salami and with the smell of the sausages on the grill, there are plenty of choices but for me the pastrami is the only way to go. I must offer word of caution. If you like pastrami and try this, you may never be able to eat pastrami outside of New York again.

This gigantic mass of juicy meat between 2 slices of bread is so perfect, so delicious that it’s sinful. I could have lunch at this deli every day for the rest of my life and be amazingly content.

I reserved the last night for the classic New York experience, dinner and a Broadway show. With close to twenty thousand restaurants to choose from in the city, I went back to my tried and true website, urbanspoon.com, to narrow the options. Once again I was not let down. From their top-ten list in the “Talk of the town” section, I made reservations at the up-and-comer, Osteria Morini. There are no less than 7 restaurants that Chef Michael White has his thumbprint on in and around New York. This latest venture in SoHo is remarkable. White pays homage to the style of the northern Italian region of Emilia-Romagna.

In a setting of imported block tables and wooden beams imported from an Italian farmhouse, White’s attention to detail is second only to his food. Cured meats and cheese appetizers are served on sturdy butcher blocks. House made pasta is silky and flawlessly cloaked in various sauces, butters and broths. Ravioli filled with truffled Mascarpone in brown butter with ribbons of Prosciutto is simple, elegant, decedent and genius. We started with 2 appetizers. First was 2 Prosciuttos. The traditional Prosciutto de Parma that is prized and coveted as one of the best meats to ever come out of Italy was served on one side of the wooden block. On the other side was Lardo, or white Prosciutto (yes just the fat). Set atop toasted rounds of bread, both were equally as delicious but the lardo in particular was like eating a surprisingly light pillow of butter with a hint of salty pork flavor. It was mesmerizing. Also we sampled grilled sardines over white beans with olive oil. I’ve had this dish before but this was on another level. These bear no resemblance to the salty pizza topping we’re familiar with. These fish are rich, briny and especially tasty. Next I chose small hand shaped tortellini of pork and beef in a duck liver cream sauce for my entrée.

Served on a small, elegantly painted farmhouse plate, the fresh pasta and smooth cream sauce were in harmony. I loved this dish for its unique, sophisticated essence. Finally desert. Zabaglione with cappuccino and a scoop of vanilla gelato again did not disappoint. This restaurant hit the mark on so many levels, it is almost indescribable. After sampling all of the aforementioned delectibles, one might be left with a feeling of over indulgence. Nothing could be further from the truth in this case. These portions are not “Americanized”. Smaller plates allow for more tasting options and always leave you wanting a bit more. That’s a much better feeling than gorging on a huge plate of pasta and needing to undo the top button of your pants to sit and enjoy the show. Noteworthy was that every pasta creation was under $20 and appetizers were less than $15. Not bad for New York.

Three delicious meals in the Big Apple down and I was ready to get back home. Wicked, the show we saw was also terrific and I have since bought tickets to take the family when it comes to Orlando in March. The best thing about New York is that my meals there are reproducible at restaurants all over the city. A bad restaurant in Gotham will not stand long. Whether you use word-of-mouth or the internet you will find food that suits you. The only error you can make is to never go there.

Lenny's in Clearwater, FL

2011-01-22T06:44:00.006-05:00

OK, it’s time to talk about the home scene. After recently paying homage to pretentious meals in Phoenix for which my wallet was left much lighter, it’s refreshing to talk about a little breakfast joint around here that has been attracting quite a following for years. If there’s a better little place in Tampa Bay for breakfast than Lenny’s in Clearwater, I haven’t been there. In the shadow of Bright House Field, spring training home to the Philadelphia Phillies, Lenny’s will fill your belly with more than standard breakfast fare as long as you’re willing to stand in line for a table. Lenny’s vast menu is based on the Jewish delis that New York is famous for. Along with your standard bacon and eggs you’ll find fresh bagels with lox, knishes, cheese filled pastries, polish sausage along with other eastern European comfort food.

The Jewish Deli became a New York institution in the late 1800’s as waves of eastern European immigrants flooded in to New York harbor in an attempt to escape the volatile and dynamic political climates back home. Homesickness was combated by congregating in familiar surroundings and sharing common food. Never fancy or ornate, these establishments were as much a social distraction as they were restaurants. As time has passed, though, these restaurants have become some of the most coveted and visited restaurants New York City has to offer. Katz’s Deli, Stage Deli, Carnegie Deli, 2nd Ave Deli are just a few of the must try places the city has to offer. Sadly, outside of Gotham, there are few –and I mean few –truly great delis of this genre. Also sad is that Tampa Bay is no exception.

The good news is that Lenny’s does a pretty good job with the breakfast component. I used to frequent Lenny’s some years ago when I worked in the Clearwater area. Unfortunately, I just hadn’t been back there in quite some time. Mostly, it was the distance. There are at least 5 decent places to get breakfast closer than the 30 minute drive to Lenny’s and combined with the fact we only go out to breakfast once a month or so, my absence from this great little spot grew. For the past few weeks my 6 year old daughter, Olivia, has been attending a basketball camp on Saturday mornings in Clearwater so I decided to introduce her to Lenny’s and reacquaint myself.

I’d forgotten how long the wait is to get a table. The line at 10AM on Saturday mornings looks painful. If you’re willing to have counter service though, there’s pretty much no wait. So Olivia and I bellied up to the bar ready to eat. She’d been practicing her dribbling, passing and shooting skills for the past hour and had worked up a good little appetite. Me? Well, I’m always hungry –much like a goldfish. The menu is 3 substantial pages long full of specialty omelets, special egg dishes, various breakfast combos and, of course, the aforementioned deli breakfast fare. I ordered a special for the day –Lobster Benedict –while Olivia stuck with her tried and true pancakes. While sipping our coffee and chocolate milk, respectively, we caught the attention of a wandering minstrel of sorts. On Saturday mornings, a gentleman meanders from table to table making the most elaborate balloon sculptures that I’ve ever seen. At our counter spot he stopped and made Olivia a pretty cool looking dolphin.

He also performed a magic trick where he changed the length of three strands of rope and then changed them back. We liked him. It turns out, he is a professional entertainer and has performed at venues both big and small. He shared with me his vision for a new restaurant where guests are entertained in small groups before dinner in a similar fashion to Hibachi chefs at those Japanese joints like Benihana’s. Seems viable to me.

Shortly thereafter we were presented with our food. Knowing I wouldn’t finish, I also ordered a potato knish. Frankly, I hadn’t had one in a while and I just wanted a few bites. These pillowy potato pastries are perfectly savory and especially good with some spicy mustard. Mine was no exception. The benedict was also delicious. Rich hollandaise with sumptuous warm egg yolk over the sweet lobster meat was breakfast nirvana. Judging by the clean plate in front of Olivia, she enjoyed her breakfast as well.

Most neighborhoods have a good little breakfast spot but I think Lenny’s is a cut above. I suggest venturing out from your favorite place and give them a try. Personally, I have 6 more weeks of Saturday mornings to reacquaint myself before Olivia’s basketball commitment ends. I plan on taking full advantage of both that one on one time with my little girl and a thoroughly scrumptious breakfast. Win win.

Phoenix High Life -Elements

2011-01-18T06:09:00.005-05:00

As a food lover, there is nothing better than going to a restaurant that leaves an indelible impression on the soul. Great food, all by itself, is impressive enough but combine great service in a terrific venue with a rock star celebrity chef and you might find yourself at Elements in Phoenix, Arizona. Elegant, sharp and inspiring are just a few words that can describe the sense that you get as you drive into the Sanctuary Resort and Spa nestled gently into the foothills of Camelback Mountain. Set off any main road yet only 20 minutes from downtown, this place feels secluded. The Frank Lloyd Write inspired design looks more like art than architecture. A cascade of buildings blends seamlessly into the hillside and I’m targeting just one.

Elements is the creation of Chef Beau MacMillan. Recognized for his work in other noteworthy kitchens around the country, MacMillan was recruited to Arizona in the late 90’s to reinvent the offerings at this transitional property. After a major renovation, Sanctuary and Elements were born and MacMillan would soon be recognized as a major player on the national food stage. His offerings are seasonal, clean and above all else, creative. A few years ago, MacMillan defeated Bobby Flay in Food Network’s Kitchen Stadium in Battle Kobe Beef. Since then he has appeared on numerous programs including the first season of Worst Cooks in America opposite Ann Burrell as the cooking mentor for ridiculously bad cooks. As his face becomes more known to the foodie community, his food remains constant and delicious.

A few years ago my mother and I dropped into Elements to simply have a cocktail and appreciate the views. We sat and relaxed sipping Martinis while chatting and taking in the dessert sun. I recall thinking that I’d really like to get back for a meal. Now my time had come. Visiting on business, we planned this dinner night a week or so in advance. After picking me up from the hotel, Mom and I met my brother, David, and his girlfriend, Brianne at the Sanctuary. The first thing you appreciate when walking into Elements is the expansive appearance of the room perpetuated by the all glass walls. The desert views are breathtaking as the sun sets beyond the looming rock formations above and valley below. This is just the beginning of a spectacular dining experience. The only disappointment I can claim was that Chef MacMillan had just left for the day. I was hoping to meet him but I guess I would have to settle for his food.

Seated against the desert backdrop along the wall, I perused the menu with great excitement. The menu design is exquisitely simple with the focus on clean fresh preparation. Things like butter seared scallops and bacon wrapped filet are dishes that can be found in plenty of restaurants but the preparation and attention to detail are the hallmarks that Elements is known for. My appetizer was Foie Gras 2 ways.

A creamy Foie Gras custard was topped with a perfectly seared Foie Gras slice. Atop that was a vanilla quince compote and dotting the surrounding plate were a few pink peppercorn caramels. In 2 sentences, I described every ingredient in this dish yet this preparation was beyond elegant and most delicious. Brianne’s beef carpaccio looked perfect too, albeit a bit smaller of a carpaccio than I’m used to seeing. The entrée I chose was Hawaiian Opah.

This large Pacific fish is much like tuna with a slightly milder flavor. My first and only other experience with this fish was in Hawaii some years ago and I’m glad to have found it on a mainland menu. Seared on the outside with a light pink flesh on the inside, this buttery Opah was akin to fatty tuna belly. I immediately thought that I need to get back to Hawaii. Served with the fish was a crispy sushi rice cake topped with some rock shrimp and pickled cucumber. I thought the dish was perfectly prepared and I was able to successfully reproduce the rice dish at home. It was amazingly simple but delicious. Even Lisa liked it. The dessert menu, which I typically shy away from, was also an eclectic treat. Dessert wines, teas and the remerging dessert cheese course are available. I went with the pumpkin and cream cheese mouse while David did the Bananas Foster.

Again, perfection. A cinnamon, white hot chocolate was served alongside my beautiful piece of cake that was unlike any hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. I loved the spice with flavors that reminded me of hot spiced cider, only in chocolate. What a wonderful way to round out a great dining experience.

I have to say, this restaurant is a destination unto itself. Nowhere else that I’ve eaten in Phoenix combines such scenery with great culinary acumen. You will, however, be set back a bit by a visit to Elements. The average appetizer or salad averages around $15 and the entrée is about $32. Dinner for 4 with a great bottle of wine and a few cocktails was just over $500 but our wine was $100. While there are plenty of places in this city to get a great meal at a fraction of the price, Elements is a rare gem that should be savored. Popping into the bar for a cocktail and an appetizer or salad would be a very affordable way to soak in the ambience. There was plenty of the dressed up stuffy crowd but there were also people like me wearing jeans and just enjoying the night. It is a resort after all. I did love this place and this night. There is no better way to enjoy the company of family than over a great meal and Elements helped us fit that bill.

On the Road in Phoenix -Check Out Durant's Steakhouse

2011-01-08T07:26:00.003-05:00

I’ve written about steaks before; several times, in fact. Occasionally, it just begs revisiting. This is one of those times. After all, if you had to pick out the quintessential American meal, it certainly would have to involve a steak. As a young boy we made regular visits to Ponderosa Steak House and I believed that was as good as it got. Not only was there a never-ending salad bar but the smell of searing beef met you at the door where you’d get into a line with your tray and prepare to order. You could see the flames rising from the grill behind the counter where the steaks were being prepared. While I admire my parents for introducing me to this meaty atmosphere, I’ve come a long way since then. I do admit to visiting these economical, family friendly steak venues over the years and it is always somewhat nostalgic. The difference between a food lover and a food snob is the ability to appreciate a meal for what it is. Those meals and those days will always hold a special place in my heart. As I’ve grown, however, and had the great pleasure to travel and explore most corners of the US, I’ve encountered lots of beef. I’m sure I’m not the only non-vegan who just gets the craving for a great steak and as time has passed, I realize I’ve eaten at some very coveted steak houses. Many, I’ve blogged about and many I haven’t.

Let me tell you about last night. Durant’s Steak House is a Phoenix, Arizona icon. Established in 1950 in an unassuming, pink downtown building, Durant’s is one of a kind. Bawdy red velvet wall paper and Cherry wood interior is exactly what you’d expect from the era this was born.

I can only imagine the million dollar deals struck in this place over a great martini and a cigar. I’ve heard every celebrity that’s ever visited Phoenix has eaten here –but on this night, it was a mostly jovial, middle-aged, power-broker crowd who appeared to have plenty of disposable income. Stepping in from the valet, you enter through the kitchen on a red carpet. I initially thought we were going in the wrong door since we were actually in the middle of the kitchen but I learned this is part of the experience. We entered the dining room using the same swinging doors that the wait staff uses to usher in the food. I would guess that there has been more than one high priced steak that has met its demise at that door. Our booth was a small, two-seater next to the wonderfully ornate dark-wood bar. After taking in the entire sensory overload, the next thing of note is the service. Our waiter, Jeff, was one of the best servers I’ve ever had. His knowledge of the wine list and menu combined with his perfect timing when checking on us was unparalleled. When we were about to make a mistake by ordering some wines by the glass, he recommended a bottle of wine along the lines of what we wanted that actually saved us some money. By no means a wine expert, I thought this 2007 ZD Napa Valley Cabernet was awesome. I plan to look for it at home.

While waiting on our entrée, we were served a small round loaf of freshly baked bread topped with the most unusual but delicious accompaniment. Braised leeks with lots of garlic and butter made the bread absolutely addicting and it took all I could muster to turn down a second loaf when it was offered. Next was the most unique soup I’ve had in a while. Cheddar and three onion soup was perfectly sweet from the onions with that little bite form the cheddar. It would be so easy for a soup like this to be overly thick or even goopy, but this had a perfect creaminess that made one wanting for more after the cup was empty.

This bread was unbelievable

Now for the steak –Durant’s signature. I always toil over what cut to order. For me, there is no cut more appealing than another. It just depends on the mood. Tougher cuts like sirloin offer a more beefy, hearty flavor while Filet Mignon is more coveted for its butter like texture that can often be cut with a fork. This night I chose to split that line down the center and had the New York Strip. My knife slid through this perfect cut in a one directional slice. Inside, the medium rare center was the perfect balance of beef flavor, juiciness and texture. I polished off this steak and accompanying whipped garlic-mashed potatoes in very short order despite my stomach telling me that I might already be full. This was definitely an undo-the-top-trouser-button kind of meal and I couldn’t be happier. I would love to be able to describe the over-the-top dessert that would certainly have followed but that was not to be. We were done.

While Durant’s was an experience I thoroughly enjoyed, it was by no means exclusive. I’ve eaten at amazing steak houses both home and abroad and last night gave me pause. Where is the best steak? I could go online and order the same restaurant quality prime beef that I’ve eaten out. I even fancy myself a good enough cook to reproduce the perfect steak at a fraction of the cost. But as I gazed around the room last night, I wondered why so many people craved this high-priced environment to enjoy a steak. Is it a status symbol of affluence combined with testosterone-driven need for decadence? Well, in a word… Yes, I think. I didn’t see many 20-somethings. I certainly wouldn’t have fit in to a place like this in my 20’s either. Older and doing OK for myself, a dinner like this is symbolic. I’m good. I made it. I can do this and I guess, in some small way, I want everyone in the room to know it. That was the mood of the room and it explains why places like this exist in every major city in the US.

As I’ve said so many times, food is an experience. I fondly recall Ponderosa Steak House because it reminds me of my mom and dad. In that context, Durant’s has nothing on those memories. But if you’re in Phoenix, I suggest Durant’s for that one of a kind experience.

Short Rib Ravioli in a Creamy Wild Mushroom Sauce

2010-12-13T05:31:00.004-05:00

There are a lot of foods that can be considered decadent, I think, but slow braised beef short ribs have to be near the top of the list. Beefy, hearty and oh so delicious, these unassuming looking slabs of meat cannot be overstated. I don’t know why I don’t make them more often but 3 or 4 times a year they find their way into my crock pot with a bottle of merlot and a few other things. About 6 hours later, I’ve got fall of the bone primal looking pieces of steaming beef ready to be paired with almost anything and the residual jus from the pot is like liquid gold. As perfect as they are simply accompanied by some creamy mashed potatoes, I recently was inspired to step up my game.

There’s always a story…

It all starts with Harry Potter. We’re fans. No, we’re not the robe wearing, wand wielding “Potheads” (as I’ve heard them called). We just like the books and have seen the movies. I also made it a point to check out the coffee shop where J.K. Rowling wrote a portion of the first book while I visited Edinburgh a few years ago. That’s probably the extent of my fan-hood. Lisa, on the other hand, takes it a step further. She’s listened to the audio books over and over. She knows the minutest characters and how each has woven his or her way into and out of the story. A few weeks ago, on the cusp of the release of the latest Potter installment, Lisa suggested we head over to Orlando on the release weekend. She wanted to check out the new Harry Potter exhibit that recently opened at Universal Studios then top it off by seeing the movie. The most interesting part is that she suggested we go without our 6-year-old daughter, Olivia. I was all in.

When we travel we usually try to get a reasonable hotel or use my travel points. It’s a real savings. On this trip, however, I wanted to stay somewhere special since we haven’t had an adult weekend away since Olivia’s birth. So I booked a room at the Loews Portofino Bay on the Universal Studios property. If you’re looking for an economical way to stay in the Orlando resort area –and there are great savings out there –this is not your hotel. Designed to replicate an experience on the Italian Riviera in its namesake’s fishing village, Loews has spared no expense in creating this magnificent property. From the multicolored fishing boats in the bay, to the exquisite Italian architecture, to the imported furniture, to the peaceful, elegant gardens, this place takes its northern Italian roots seriously. Even the staff has been imported –the valet provides the first of the many “buongiorno’s” you will receive.

I’d love to detail our experiences of the day but suffice to say: Butter Beer is worth tasting, the movie was good and the Harry Potter ride is a must.

Butter Beer with the Hogwarts Express Conductor

The village of Hogsmead is really cool too. The pinnacle of my weekend, though, was Bice Ristorante at the Loews. What began in 1926 as a small cucina in Milan has erupted into an empire of fine dining restaurants that can be found in exclusive enclaves on six continents. Beatrice Ruggeri, or Bice (pronounced “Bee-Shay”), began making fresh pastas and northern Italian cuisine in a small trattoria and the rest is history. The Orlando version adds the magic that can only be found in the resorts of this tourist Mecca. Elegant architecture, exquisite attention to detail and, of course, the imported Italian staff all combines to enhance the already perfect food. Only in Orlando can folks get away with flip flops and shorts in a place like this. In any other city, a dinner jacket would be a must.
My meal was an exploration in beef. A simple but perfect tenderloin carpaccio with truffle Dijon dressing, artichoke and arugula salad was a mouthwatering starter. I will almost always order this paper-thin sliced raw beef appetizer. It simply melts in your mouth and that is always a good thing. I had a difficult time choosing the entrée, though. I came very close to ordering the double-cut veal chop but with all the pastas being made fresh daily, I had to go the pasta route. I chose the ravioli stuffed with beef short rib and spinach in a creamy mushroom, Marsala wine sauce. I’ve wondered for years what I’d like my last meal to be and I may have found it. Of course, I should have been able to put it together all along. Fresh made pasta combined with the rich decadent short rib filling and a sauce of creamy, earthy yet not too heavy sauce should have been a no brainer. But until now, I just didn’t make the connection. If there is a heaven, this is on the menu.

Stepping down off the cloud, we returned home but I was obsessed with recreating this dish or at least some version of it. I’ll admit, I forgot the spinach and rather than Marsala, I chose the jus from the braised short ribs. That’s because the jus was a combination of the beef juices and the entire bottle of wine I braised the short ribs in for 6 hours. This is not a simple dish to make. I did it in 2 days although each trip to the kitchen was quite brief. Fresh Won Ton wrappers are an excellent substitute for making your own pasta but eating this dish stepped up my time table for ordering my pasta maker –it should be here any day now. I’ll detail my version in the recipe below but the basics are: braise the ribs, let them cool, stuff the pasta, make the sauce and serve.

If a good meal makes you happy, this will make you giddy. It is worth the time you put in. Thank you J.K. Rowling and Thank You Harry Potter!!

Short Rib Ravioli in a Creamy Mushroom Sauce

5 large short ribs
2 carrots peeled and chopped
1 onion sliced
3 cloves garlic, smashed
A few sprigs of Thyme
1 bottle of Merlot
32 Wonton wrappers
Fresh grated parmesan cheese
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp olive oil
3 cups wild mushrooms (such as Cremini and Oyster)
1½ - 2 cups heavy cream
Salt and pepper to taste

In a crock pot combine the short ribs, onion, carrot, garlic and thyme with the wine. Season generously with salt and pepper.

Cover and cook for 6 hours. Remove ribs to a plate and allow to cool until you can easily handle. Shred the meat by hand taking care to discard any remaining large pieces of fat. Set aside. Strain the liquid and discard the solids. Put the jus in the refrigerator. Once the jus has chilled (a couple of hours at least), a layer of solid fat will have formed on the top. Using a spoon, remove this fat and discard, retaining just the liquid. Rewarm the short rib meat in a skillet over low heat with a few tablespoons of the jus.

To assemble the ravioli:
Place a teaspoon of the meat in a won ton wrapper and just a light shaving of parmesan atop. Take a second wonton wrapper and wet the outer edge with water. Seal the ravioli taking care to expel the air and not tearing the wrapper. This took me a little practice to get right. Repeat to finish the ravioli. Place in a pot of very lightly boiling water for no more than 1-2 minutes. Do this in small batches of 3-4 ravioli so they do not stick. Drain and set aside with ravioli not touching so they do not stick.

For the sauce:
In a large sauté pan over medium heat, add the butter and olive oil. Once heated add the mushrooms and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add 1/3 cup of the jus and reduce by half. About 15 minutes. Add the cream, reduce heat and again reduce by ½ taking care not to allow the cream to burn.

Putting it all together:
Add the ravioli to the pan with the cream sauce. Allow ravioli to rewarm and be coated by the sauce and serve.

A fresh baguette for that amazing mushroom sauce would be perfect!!

Gravlax

2010-11-28T08:37:00.003-05:00

Well I hope all had a terrific Thanksgiving. It was one of my best. This year the family all gathered at my house. It was quite traditional with an abundance of food followed by couch time and plenty of football. We ate, drank, laughed, talked, played cards and just savored the moment. As my kids get older, I am painfully aware that days like this are very finite. The oldest 3 are all at an age that they’ll be starting their own families soon and pulled in other directions. With that in mind, this holiday was special.

Although most of the menu was a cornucopia of tradition, I also prepared one of my favorite snacks to nibble on as I worked that’s as far from any traditional Thanksgiving menu item that I’m aware of. If you like Salmon, you’ll love Gravlax. It’s not something I’d even heard of until a few years ago but once I prepared it, I was hooked. Traditional Gravlax is Salmon cured in salt, sugar and dill for at least 24 hours. It comes to us from our tall, blond and beautiful friends in the Norse countries. Back in the Middle Ages, not only was the Salmon packed in this salt mix, it was also buried in the sand just below the high tide line at the ocean’s edge to allow it to ferment. Gravlax literally translated means “buried Salmon”. Somewhere along the way, the fermentation idea was discarded and we have the Gravlax that is served today. The salt draws the moisture from the outer edges of the fish leaving just a slight leathery texture followed by a creamy finish from the inside. The Salmon-y flavor is enhanced by perfect saltiness with hints of lemon (which is added in most modern preparations) and dill. Gravlax can be served in many different ways. Here you see that I’ve simply put it on a piece of Pumpernickel bread with dill and capers. A thin slice of lemon and some red onion would also be delicious. I sometimes add it to scrambled eggs as a takeoff from one of my favorite breakfasts in Scotland –scrambled eggs with smoked Salmon.

Of course I Googled Gravlax to see all of the different ways folks make it. There are plenty but salt, sugar and dill seem pretty consistent. A chef I met in Canada uses thinly sliced beets to impart a beautiful red hue as well a unique and delicious twist. As I mentioned, lemon is common but I imagine other citrus would add a tasty acidity as well. You be the judge but the basic texture and creaminess will be the same.

The best reason to talk about Gravlax during the holiday season is that it’s absolutely the easiest thing I know how to make. Unless you plan on serving your guests chips when they arrive, you won’t find a simpler or more elegant starter. Obviously this has to cure for a day or two (I think two is best) so you’ll prepare it well in advance and not have to think about it again. The magic will happen in your refrigerator (unless you choose to bury it at the beach).

I think it’s time to start a new tradition.

Gravlax

1 3½-4 lb Salmon fillet (pin bones and skin removed)
2 cups salt
1 cup sugar
1 lemon thinly sliced
1 cup fresh dill, very coarsely chopped

Combine the salt, sugar and dill. On a long baking sheet, cut a piece of cellophane that is big enough to wrap the entire piece of fish and lay that out as a base (you may need 2 pieces). Place enough mixture on the bottom so that all of the fish touching the bottom will be covered. Lay the Salmon down on the mixture. Pour the rest of the cure over the top and add the lemon slices across the top. Laying the lemon on the fish will give it more lemon flavor but will discolor the parts of the fish it touches. Wrap tightly in the cellophane. Lay a second baking sheet on the top and weigh down. I use a heavy cast iron skillet but 1 or 2 foil wrapped bricks would be fine too. Place in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours.

When ready to slice, remove Salmon from the cure and wash thoroughly. Pat dry. Using a sharp knife, make very thin slices at a 45 degree angle.

Serve in any of the ways described above or create your own wonderful idea.

It's Not About the Stuffed Peppers... It's the Story

2010-11-14T08:32:00.004-05:00

It has been a while, my dear friend. I’ve been away from this far too long. My path over the last couple of years took me away from the things that have meant the most to me and I’m very pleased to be back. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice to say, I have had a tremendous opportunity to reflect. And now with the holiday season at our door step and slightly crisper air outside, the timing couldn’t be more perfect to revisit my blog. So here it goes…

If you were to do a web search for Emily V. Thornton, or any facsimile of her name, you’ll get many hits. I tried. You won’t, however, find the person I’m referring to. There could be several reasons for this. Perhaps it’s because she never owned a computer, or because she lived a humble life, or because her only claim to fame was spending the first half of her life wanting to raise a child and the last half enjoying doing just that. The last of four children, Emily Vanide Fealser was born to Austrian immigrants in a small house in Erie, Pennsylvania in 1924. Her father, Amos, ran the family dry cleaning business while her mother, Mary, tended to raising the family. Mary was a very proper woman who was never seen without her light makeup or in anything except a dress. The idea of trousers was appalling to her. She was a nurturing mother whose children all grew up to live very successful lives in and around the blue collar city of Erie.

As time went by, as time inevitably does, Emma grew wary of life in the declining industrial city so she struck out and away. After a failed marriage, some time in both California and Florida, and fast approaching her 40’s, she found herself back in Erie. There she met a salesman. Louis sold everything from insurance to cars to real estate. He followed the money and had done pretty well for himself in doing so. One of the most affable and free spirited people she’d ever met, Emma fell for him. During a cross country road trip in the mid 60’s, they eloped in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Louis and Emma’s story is full of fun, adventure and happiness but they both really wanted to have a child. Unable to conceive, they decided on adoption. This is where I come into the story… and I promise I’ll get to the food soon enough. In October of 1966, they took home a 3 day old baby boy that they named Louis Thornton Jr. –Me. While I wish I could have known my parents when they were younger, because they sounded like a lot of fun, I was the benefactor of all of the attention and love that comes with more mature parents.

Now to the food… Most of what we ate was out of convenience. Mom was not the June Cleaver type. By the time she started a family, she had not honed her domestic skills. She’d been busy enjoying life. I kind of admire that about her. I remember lots of Kielbasa braised away with cabbage and caraway seeds served with horseradish. For lunch, there might be small pumpernickel rounds with limburger cheese, a thin slice of onion and sprinkled with paprika. Breakfast was raisin bread toast with jam and butter. Most of my friends didn’t stay for dinner but this is what I knew and I enjoyed it. In fact, I’ve never had a problem trying new things and I believe my mom and grandmother played a huge part in my interest in all things food.

Now I’ve enjoyed street food as well as fine dining in all parts of the world. From Dim Sum in Hong Kong to Fish and Chips on the coast of Britain, from San Francisco to New York to Miami, I have been blessed to be able to taste the flavors of so many places and cultures. Still, if you ask me about what I liked as a kid, the litany might be extremely unimpressive to any other foodie. Some years ago, my mom and I were talking and she mentioned that she hadn’t cooked for me in a while and she wanted to. Being questioned, I told her that I really missed her stuffed peppers. A few days later, I walked into mom and dad’s house and the smells made me feel like I was 10 again. It may have been that long since mom made them for me.

While I realize there is nothing auspicious, unique or remotely special about a stuffed peppers, to me this was as wonderful a meal as I’d ever had. If rice, meat and spices combined in a pepper with tomato sauce harkens Hamburger Helper to you, I understand. To me, it’s a foodie way to sum up the love and care that my mom had for me. It was also the last meal she would ever cook for me. Two months after the birth of my youngest daughter, now 6 years old, and one month after mom’s 80th birthday, she passed away suddenly. While failing in her later years, her life had been one that she enjoyed. She’d had fun. Her laugh was as jovial on the last day we spoke as I remembered almost 4 decades earlier. My father, now 91 years old, is still surviving and lives in a little condo with his dog Lucky. The picture frames are full of the good times he and my mother had.

So while I’m offering up to you today a simple recipe that you can download from just about any cooking site, it’s the story that matters to me. I wish I could tell you I pulled this from an old recipe box (mom did have one). That might make the story a little better but that’s not really how things worked in our family. While I adapted this recipe myself, I still got a little choked up putting it on the plate. This is the first stuffed pepper I’ve had since mom made them for me. It was heaven.

Stuffed Bell Peppers

Note: My mom used only ground beef. I chose equal parts ground beef, pork and veal. Some recipes will call for you to brown the meat before stuffing the pepper but I like the juices from the meat to be a part of the sauce. Cooking time is longer stuffing the peppers with raw meat so if you’re in a hurry, browning the meat first will save about 45 minutes of baking time. Lastly, I simmer the sauce separately beforehand. This is another step that can be omitted but I think it develops the flavors a little more.

4 bell peppers, any color
1 ½ cups cooked long grain white rice
½ lb ground beef
½ lb ground pork
½ lb ground veal
1 medium onion diced, divided
4 cloves garlic diced, divided
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp cumin
1 egg
28 oz can crushed tomatoes
Fresh grated parmesan cheese to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cut the tops off the peppers (reserve one or two tops) and remove the seeds and ribs. Blanch the peppers in the water making sure to submerge entire pepper. Remove to an ice bath after 2 minutes. Dice the reserved pepper tops.

In a large sauté pan, sauté ½ of the onion and ½ of the garlic in a tsp of olive oil over medium heat just until fragrant. Add the can of tomatoes, reduce heat to low and simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

In a mixing bowl, combine the rice, ground meat, diced pepper tops, remaining onions and garlic along with the egg, paprika, cumin and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stuff each pepper with meat and rice mixture. If there is left over mixture, add it to the sauce.

Arrange the stuffed peppers in a baking dish upright. Pour the sauce over the top of the peppers after it has simmered 10-15 minutes. Grate a layer of fresh parmesan cheese over the top and bake for an hour or until the internal temperature of the pepper is 160 degrees.

Let rest for 10 minutes and serve.

Serves 4.

Vacation time -Colorado

2010-02-07T07:12:00.005-05:00

Ah, vacation. That sliver of time we all look forward to. The reward we give ourselves for months of hard work. It seems there really isn’t enough play time in life after the age of, say, 10. Lisa and I haven’t had a real vacation in years. Sure, we’ve whisked away for a weekend here or there and we’ve certainly done our parenting duty by making sure our Floridian family has seen Mickey numerous times, but to get on a plane and escape the worries of the daily grind is just something that has eluded us. Well, no longer. We decided some months ago, at the urging of our never-seen-snow-before daughter, that we were going somewhere so that Olivia could make snow angels and go sledding. This led us to Colorado. It wasn’t by pure coincidence that we chose Colorado. Some dear friends of ours –Rob, Christine and their two boys, moved to a little town between Boulder and Denver last spring so we took them up on their numerous offers for a visit.

I’m not going to say there aren’t nicer folks on the planet than our hosts simply because I have yet to meet all 6.7 billion people here on Earth, but if they exist, I haven’t met them. Rob and Chris bought their home with house guests in mind. Their 5 bedroom house has a finished basement with a bedroom, living area –complete with flat panel TV and separate bathroom –and they love to have company. This was perfect. For 5 cold January days, this was our base from which we explored the rugged Colorado countryside and, yes, Olivia got to make her snow angel. And while I could go on to detail the fun we had in our adventures from Rocky Mountain National Park, Estes Park, Boulder, Ft. Collins and Wyoming, I really really want to tell you about the food.

Boulder was our first stop. After a visit to the Butterfly Pavilion (essentially a bug museum) we stopped in a little southwestern café called Zolo Grill for lunch. As always, Urbanspoon.com gets credit for this find. Being packed on a Saturday for lunch is a good sign that the food is worth waiting for –and it was. For starters, we wanted some chips with queso fundido (melted cheese).

This is a fairly common southwestern menu item. Lots of liberty can be taken with the recipes for queso fundido but here, goat cheese and roasted garlic are mixed with traditional Mexican cheese to create a spectacular appetizer. Warm tortillas and house made chips are served along with a red pepper jelly. I could have eaten several helpings of this and called it a day. Next I had the blue corn fried oysters with house slaw and jalapeño crema.

Coming from the gulf coast of Florida, I found the oysters to be a little small but they were no less tasty than any other. The blue corn crust was light and added a great crispy texture that hid the creamy oyster underneath. My Chicken enchiladas that followed were equally perfect with that deep flavor of the southwest that can’t be reproduced on my side of the Mississippi. We had a terrific lunch then perused the shops and galleries that downtown Boulder had to offer. What a perfect day.

One of my goals of the trip was to drive the hour-and-a-half north to the Wyoming border just so I could say I’d been to Wyoming. There were only 5 states left on my list to see (now only 4 –I crossed Alaska and Hawaii off the list years ago). The plan was to get up early and make the drive alone so as not to disturb the two families but when I brought this to everyone’s attention, they all wanted to go. Aside from the backdrop of the majestic Rockies to the west, the drive was unimpressive –and so was Cheyenne. This prairie city is a small cropping of buildings and convergence of railroad lines. I’ve never seen the movie Natural Born Killers but it could have easily been filmed in Cheyenne. We stayed long enough to fill the tank and use the bathroom and promptly left. Lunch was in the downtown square of Ft. Collins. Coopersmith’s Pub was the perfect place for a bite. The brew and ale house serves a hearty selection of their specially crafted beers as well as the standard fare one would expect in this type of haunt with a few unique specialties. Things like BBQ brisket, Prime Rib sandwiches and smoked turkey are standard but Applewood smoked salmon and brie quesadillas or the house made pretzels are not. Their Highland Cottage Pie caught my attention immediately. Beer and herb marinated lamb served in a pastry bowl with vegetables and topped with mashed potatoes, this was a Sheppard’s Pie/Pot Pie hybrid and I loved it.

Chuck wagon fare as I envisioned it. I have to give a shout out to my old colleague and friend, Jon, who dropped in on no notice when I called his cell and surprised him. I’m glad I got to see him. Lunch was great.

Across from the pub was an ice rink in the center of the square. This did not go unnoticed and soon Olivia, Christopher and Matthew all donned skates and were sliding around the ice. Growing up in Florida, I have never had the opportunity to ice skate and I can honestly say it has zero appeal for me. I grew up diving, spear fishing and water skiing and I think that’s where I’ll leave my passion for the outdoors. Still, the smiles on those kid’s faces will be a memory that I will carry forever. I sat and watched happily.

We saved our special night out for Denver and a landmark restaurant. While there are finer restaurants in Denver, there is none more unique or old west than The Buckhorn Exchange.I can describe this place no better than their own website:

“Denver’s original steakhouse, The Buckhorn Exchange is located in the city’s oldest neighborhood, just 5-minutes from downtown Denver ... This National Historic Landmark and Western Museum has been serving the finest in Old West fare since 1893.

Prime grade beef steaks, buffalo prime rib, elk, salmon, quail, game hen, and succulent baby-back pork ribs are just some of the marvelous offerings on the Buckhorn menu. Exotic appetizers such as alligator tail, rattlesnake and buffalo sausage are available, and no dinner is complete without the house specialty, Rocky Mountain Oysters.”

After reading about this place online, I had to try it. I have to say, my entrée was superb. I chose medium rare elk tenderloin and 2 quail.

Both were succulent and perfectly grilled. The rest of the dining experience was a bit underwhelming though. From the salads to the appetizers (Olivia’s gator –which she loves –wasn’t very good and my rattlesnake was hidden in a flavorless dip), we were quite unimpressed. When I saw the menu, I immediately knew we were going to have trouble finding Lisa something to eat. The epitome of picky eaters, they had little to offer her but she settled on a pot roast and she loved it. I was glad.

Even if our dinner was a mixed bag, the experience is incomparable. Every corner of the restaurant is a tribute to the old west. From the wagon on the patio, to the magnificent taxidermy heads that adorn the walls to the guns and other various items on display, The Buckhorn Exchange reminds us in a modern way how rugged life out here once was.

If you’re not in the mood to spend a small fortune on a dinner, I recommend a trip to the second floor bar that has an authentic parlor seating area to just relax and take in the museum feel to the place.

The next morning, we packed up and left our friend’s house. Vacation over for them too, they were getting back to their morning routine of work and school as we left. Our love and gratitude for Rob and Christine Balzano’s friendship and hospitality can’t be expressed in words. It was a special week for all of us.

Stay tuned next year as we are planning a ski week in Steamboat. I’ll be lucky to survive that.

Tony Packo's Cafe -A Toledo Gem

2010-01-16T09:05:00.003-05:00

Looking back through my blog, one might think I stick to pretentious foods. In the past few months, I’ve written about steak houses, eating in New York or Chicago or Miami, hundred dollar dinners for one etc. But if you dig deeper –I talk about cheese steaks and hamburgers and ribs too. What I really try to do is find whatever I think is terrific and if it’s a slice of foie gras atop veal with shaved truffles or if it’s a juicy cheeseburger, I’ll eat it, love it and write about it. I have found terrific food from coast to coast –small towns like Owensboro, Kentucky (where you have got to visit the Moonlight Bar-BQ and try the mutton) to the big city (South Beach’s Puerta Sagua has a Cuban pig’s feet stew that I just can’t resist when it’s on the menu), there is no one fare that inspires me more than the other.

Tony Packo’s in Toledo, Ohio is one such place. Food, atmosphere and history all in one perfect hot dog joint –and they don’t even serve hot dogs! Let me explain. In 1932, a Hungarian immigrant named (you guessed it) Tony Packo borrowed a few bucks from family. This was no small feat during the great depression. He then opened what would go on to be a successful family business. His “hot dog” was really a type of sausage called Kolbász, which tastes a lot like a cross between a hot dog and a kielbasa. About twice the size of a hot dog, he sliced it in half so it wasn’t like eating a sausage. Today’s versions are no more creative than other hot dog joints, but the fresh dog, house made chili and other offerings, such as pork and beef stuffed cabbage in sour cream sauce, keep Tony Packo’s bustling year round. Toledoans know their Hungarian food.

While Tony Packo’s might have been well known to the folks in Toledo, it might have remained another tasty but obscure little local treasure had it not been for the 1970’s and 1980’s hit TV show M*A*S*H*. For those of us who grew up watching this still-to-be-outdone comedy, one might recall Tony Packo’s being brought to the spotlight by Cpl. Max Klinger. In the character’s never ending quest to be kicked out of the ARMY and move back to his beloved Toledo, he referenced Tony Packo’s numerous times in the series. In one episode, they ordered sausage casings from Tony’s so they could be used as blood filters (crude dialysis) when the ARMY requisitioning process was too cumbersome. Jaime Farr, who played Klinger and is also a Toledo native, suddenly made Tony Packo’s a national sensation.

Since then, they have opened numerous locations in and around Toledo, but it’s the original, albeit expanded, restaurant that has the sense of nostalgia brought to light in the TV show. Hanging stained glass table lights and dark paneled walls reflect the origins of the place. The 1930’s and 40’s don’t seem so long ago. What is newer are all of the signed Hot Dog buns on the walls. There are hundreds of glass encased buns signed by every celebrity and politician that have passed through these doors since the first bun signing by Burt Reynolds in the 70’s.

For my meal, I ordered more than I could eat but I had to try what they were famous for on several fronts. Like a poker player salivating at a royal flush, if I see fried pickles on a menu, I’m all in. Served with 3 different dipping sauces –notably a spicy ketchup, their house made pickles are perfect for frying.

Tart, vinegar-y flavors layered with that welcoming fried texture and unique ketchup, I thought these were some of the best fried pickles I’d ever tasted. Next came the chili. It was pretty good but also pretty standard. Nothing jumped out at me flavor-wise, but I have to admit, I’m jaded with Chili. Still, it was perfect for dog topping. By now I’m starting to get full and I have 2 more things to taste. The stuffed cabbage was next. Braised and reduced in sour cream sauce, this Hungarian-spiced, meat-filled roll was terrific. My grandmother’s family was also from the “old country” and this food reminded me of my childhood. Sweet cabbage leaves filled with savory pork and beef is an art. I only finished a small portion of this because I knew the dog was coming. I ate the rest the next day. Lastly came the chili laden half sausage with mustard and onions (always my choice for toppings) and cheese to be layered on top.

One bite and I could see what Cpl. Klinger was homesick for. Not completely a hot dog and not completely a sausage, this creation that is cased on premises is so unique and delicious, I don’t believe I can find anything like it anywhere else.

I don’t expect anyone will head off to Toledo just to try Tony Packo’s but if you are ever in the area (30 minutes south of Detroit and 30 minutes west of Cedar Point –roller coaster capitol of the world), you have got to stop in and try this one-of-a-kind establishment. Thank goodness I have family not far away, because I will be visiting this gem-of-a-find again.

Stone Crabs

2010-01-10T08:08:00.003-05:00

Stone Crabs are one of the real jewels from the gulf coast. Until I started traveling extensively, I didn’t give much thought to how lucky us Floridians were to have these delightful creatures in our backyard. If you enjoy seafood, you must love this crab too. Harvested from October to May, Stone crabs are fished in a unique way. They are caught in a standard crab trap whose buoys dot the shallow gulf waters. Only the claws (usually one) are removed and the animal is returned to the briny deep. There they will grow another in 12-18 months. This is quite a sustainable model. The claws are then cooked at the docks before being shipped to restaurants or fishmongers. Any delay in cooking would make the meat stick to the claw and very difficult to eat. This process makes for a consistent delicacy no matter where you eat them. For this reason, it would be difficult to write about the best place to eat Stone Crabs but there are a few tips I can offer so that you have the best possible experience.

There are 3 things to keep in mind when deciding to invest in a meal of Stone Crab. They are, after all, one of the most expensive pound for pound products the ocean has to offer. First, and most important, is freshness. Whether you are buying them from a fishmonger to eat at home or going to a restaurant, you should ask when they came out of the water. For me, a few days are max to get a great tasting fresh meat. Anything longer and the meat begins to take on that frozen taste. In my experience, though, it’s not difficult to find fresh Stone Crabs. Most places I‘ve been turn their product over very quickly so freshness isn’t usually an issue. I stay away from the grocery stores. Even if the guy behind the counter says they came in that day, he has no clue about the lag time from the water to his cooler. Too risky.

Then there’s size. This can be a bit tricky. They come in a few different size varieties from medium to jumbo. I’ve heard people say that a particular size produces a sweeter meat but I have not found this to be true. For this reason, I say get the biggest claw you can. The amount of work to get meat from a smaller claw is less worth it for me. Restaurants will always serve it with the claws already cracked. If you are taking the claws home from the seafood store, you’ll have to do this yourself. This video can help get into this thick shelled armor.

Lastly, I have to mention price. Cheaper is not always better but neither is most expensive. The above mentioned size and freshness play into the cost but so does abundance and demand. A season with heavy winter storms drives the price up as harvests are reduced. What I can buy for $12/lb one week can be $25/lb the next. You should be flexible if you can and not expect consistent prices.

If you are lucky enough to live on or visit the Gulf Coast anywhere from Texas to Key West, you can snatch up this amazingly sweet crab claw which is my all time favorite seafood. In restaurants it is usually served with some sort of remoulade, butter or Dijon sauce; all of which I adore. Cocktail sauce would be heresy, in my humble opinion. My favorite place in Tampa Bay is Frenchy’s Rockaway Grill on Clearwater Beach. They have their own fleet of fishing boats and the claws are always succulent and perfect. The rest of their menu is pretty awesome too, by the way. There supply has been limited at times, but otherwise they are some of the best. In the Miami area, I recommend Billy’s Stone Crab (that’s where I snapped this photo) on Hollywood Beach.

A bit too formal of a place to eat Stone Crab (I prefer the seaside shack environment), I still found their claws to be superbly fresh and the view of the mega yachts that travel the adjacent waterway is pretty cool. Probably the most famous place to eat Stone Crabs would be Joe’s Stone Crab on Miami Beach, but there you are truly paying for the name. Let the Euro-tourists drop their currency there. You don’t see too many locals.

I hope some of these tips help you with an amazing gastronomic experience.

Hiatus

2010-01-03T08:30:00.002-05:00

For the few folks who have emailed me wondering where I've been, I apologize for no updates. Life is good; great even. I started a new job in November and have relocated to Ft. Lauderdale (during the week). There just haven't been enough hours in the day. Still, I continue to explore, cook and meet new people. The coming months should be promising with the upcoming South Beach Wine and Food Festival (February) and a pending celebrity chef collaboration. Please, bear with me and most importantly, Have a happy health and prosperous New Year. Stay tuned.

Whatever your tradition, Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T06:03:00.003-05:00

3:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning and I’m wide awake. I’m writing this from a little town dotted in the middle of a cornfield (literally) in Northwestern Ohio. This is where Lisa’s family lives and where I’m thankful she escaped from. If I wanted a life partner that hails from some romantic far-off shore, I looked in the wrong place. Her family is as pure bred mid western American as it gets. All are hard working with a do-the-right-thing mentality. They were warm and inviting when I met them for the first time – 10 Thanksgivings ago –and they are no less today. Lisa’s Dad is an interesting man. He’s a guy that can fix anything and he is quite accepting of the fact that I can fix nothing. Instead of lecturing me on how I should possess some of these qualities, he just brings his tool box down to Florida a couple of times a year and swings his hammer around my house until the jobs are done. He’s fixed soffits, rewired rooms, built gates, installed lighting and generally picked up the slack for his inept son-in-law. His conversation is intelligent and engaging. I love when this guy visits and I love visiting him. So here I am.

Earlier this month I wanted to get a traditional Thanksgiving recipe up since I haven’t written a new recipe in a while. I’ve come to realize that wasn’t going to happen. It turns out my life isn’t very traditional. Currier and Ives has no colorful depiction of my last 43 years. Now this isn’t a complaint, mind you, just a fact. I’ve travelled for a living for the past 7 years and I now have an apartment in Ft. Lauderdale where I spend my weeks as my family continues their life 4 hours away. As a very young boy, I recall a family steeped in tradition. We all gathered at Grandma’s house (on my mom’s side) in Erie, Pennsylvania and sat at one very long table that ran the entire length of their formal dining room. I remember saying grace then passing around platter after platter of very traditional fare. From a foodie point of view in the 21st century, most of you would have been appalled. Boxed, canned and processed was considered en vogue. In the 1960’s, canned foods were in their adolescence and the idea of opening canned corn and canned cranberry sauce was way more appealing than making it. I was well into my 30’s before canned vegetables disappeared from my own pantry. Still, it was these moments that I remember from my earliest Thanksgivings and Christmases that are the only remnants of true traditional family holidays.

When I was 6, we moved to Florida permanently. Like many others, my folks really needed to escape the cold weather. Winters in Erie could be brutal. My dad’s parents had already made the break to the south some years earlier and we had spent a year there when I was about 3 before returning to the snow. We actually rented a place just a few blocks from where I currently live on Lake Tarpon while my parents had a house built. We returned to Erie a few more times over the years for occasional holidays and family get-togethers. Our last big family gathering was when I was 16 for my grandmother’s 90th birthday. All my cousins and aunts and uncles celebrated her joyous life. She was humble and ladylike in all she did. She never wore pants, only skirts or dresses, and her hair and makeup were always done just subtly perfect. I was her youngest grandchild and she paid me every bit of attention that a youngest grandchild could ever hope for. The next year, grandma died. She left with me, though, the memory of a striking woman who took her matriarchal responsibilities very seriously. Now that mom and her siblings are also all gone, I’m glad I had those times.

After those early years, holidays became a hodgepodge. When we didn’t go up north, we would have Thanksgiving and Christmas with just the three of us. It was caring and loving and I was oh-so-thankful that I could ride a new bike on Christmas morning without the cold, but there was something missing without the family all gathered together. When I started my own family, I was in the military where tradition is hard to maintain. Then my colorful 20’s produced a couple of marriages and 5 kids. This made it even more impossible to make holiday gatherings consistent. Make no mistake, we’ve had spectacular holidays. It’s really about surrounding yourself with those you love and not who’s house you gather at. My kids and I have managed to be together most holidays and for that I am grateful.

Being with Lisa’s family transports me back to a time when I was a child. Her dad’s house has the same creaky floors that grandma’s did. They use a tea kettle that whistles and the coffee is instant. When we gather later today at Aunt Linda’s house, the cranberry sauce will come from a can and I will eat it. The green bean casserole will be topped with canned fried onions and I will eat it. There will not be one dish from Bon Appétit magazine or The Food Network or anywhere else other than the 3x5 card index that Aunt Linda has been using for as long as she’s been making the holiday meal. I can’t wait for the raspberry pie (made with raspberry jell-o, sugar, cornstarch and frozen raspberries). The kids will run around like mad, the ladies will gather and chat and the guys will gawk at the always lopsided Thanksgiving football games. Later, a friendly card game will develop in the basement where I plan to clean out Aunt Betty yet another year. While I’m not with my older kids this Thanksgiving, I am helping my 5-year-old Olivia form her future tradition with Lisa’s family. My wish is that she grows to cherish that as I did.

Sorry for no Thanksgiving holiday recipe this year (it is a food blog after all), but instead just a hope and wish for you to be surrounded by loving family. I do plan on cooking for Christmas and I do plan on playing with a few new recipes for the holiday meal, so I will be sharing that in the coming weeks.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!!!

An American Institution

2009-11-14T06:47:00.004-05:00

I know I’ve written a lot about steaks lately so let me apologize right up front. I have no greater affinity for steak than I do other foods; I love it all. It’s just that I’ve been to a couple of places lately that commanded my attention and last week was no different. On my second trip to New York City in less than a month, I was planning to have at least one great meal. On my first trip, I worked too many hours to really seek out anything other than the great neighborhood food that Chelsea has to offer. While I wasn’t even remotely disappointed with that idea, I wasn’t afforded the opportunity to look for that special destination that I always look for. This time would be different. My hours were a bit more normal at work so the evenings were mine.

After reading about and seeing several TV spots dedicated to Peter Luger Steak House, I wondered how far my Long Island hotel was from the place. Turns out, Great Neck, NY (just outside the city) had a location 12 miles from me –so off I went. I was pretty excited. I knew that this place had been in business for over a hundred years. I knew they had a unique way of selecting their prime beef (only certified family members could select the meat). I knew they were rated New York’s #1 steakhouse time and again by many publications. I knew I had to eat there.

Walking in to the restaurant was a bit unimpressive. Dark beams running in the walls, dim colors and stained glass windows inspired thoughts of lederhosen, oversized blond women sloshing steins of beer and large Oktoberfest banners draped across the ceiling. I’m a firm believer in preserving tradition, but I have no need to sit beneath a dimly lit sconce to look at my menu. Plus this is a newer location (there are only 2) just a short ride from the original. They could have fast forwarded at least a few decades, if not a century, from the original.

While many of the reviews I read citied overly rude host and wait staff, I was greeted by friendly people and served by a wonderful waiter who wanted to make sure my first experience here was great. He succeeded. If the décor was unimpressive, the menu is less so. There are only a few choices to select from and there are no real choices on the cut of steak. Everything is “Steak of one”, “Steak for two”, etc. There’s a fish of the day, roast chicken, pork chop, a few sides and appetizers. It’s obviously about the steak. Steaks are always porterhouse. Unfortunately for me, “steak for one” is just the NY strip without the adjacent filet but after watching a few steaks go by, there was no way I could down the two-finger thick “Steak for two”. I settled on the classic Peter Luger meal: a tomato and onion salad, a slice of grilled bacon, creamed spinach and “Steak for one” with hash browns. The salad was chuck wagon style. Thick sliced onion and thick sliced beefsteak tomato and that’s it.

The waiter said it is eaten with the house made Peter Luger steak sauce. While there was nothing special about this, the steak sauce was great.

It has the requisite smoky, vinegary, tomato-y flavor of most steak sauces with an added horseradish kick. I took a bottle home. The bacon slice was unique, delicious but a little unnecessary.

The creamed spinach was also just… um… well, creamed spinach. Tasty… good… but creamed spinach. I’m not even going to talk about the hash browns.

But the steak! This is what makes Peter Luger famous. Set before me was still a sizzling, pre-sliced NY strip that couldn’t have looked more magnificent. The contrast of dark outer char and pink medium-rare center were only topped by the beefy smell and buttery drippings that are drizzled over the meat tableside.

This could be a post card, a greeting card or a screen saver. The flavor was packed with perfectly dry aged lightness. It was tender, succulent and frankly, the best steak I’d ever eaten.

Seared under an 800 degree broiler just like they were 120 years ago, Luger found a magic that persists. Any disparity about my salad and sides melted away just like the rich mineral-flavored beef did as it passed my lips.

While the critics pan the cash only policy, boring side dishes and marginal service, there are few businesses that have thrived since the late 19th century. Just like the sizzling steak that is set before the guest, that says something. I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe a few things but, hey, this is Peter Luger’s legacy.

Second City -out and about in Chicago

2009-10-31T15:04:00.002-04:00

What a boring week I expected. The call came asking me to journey to Madison, Wisconsin. In my 43 years, not one soul has ever mentioned a reason I should visit Madison, Wisconsin. I know it’s a college town but since I’m not of college age, I saw no intrigue in this trip. Oh well, after the previous week in New York, a little down time in a boring place was welcome. I guess I could try some cheese. I landed late on a Monday night and grabbed a quick hotel next to the airport. Tuesday morning, I was at work at sunup. By noon, my phone was blowing up about an emergency in Chicago and I needed to get there ASAP. Chicago… Madison… Chicago… Madison… Chicago it is. Showing my geographic ignorance, I had to look at a map to see where the hell I was. Turns out, it’s only a 3 hour drive but if you’d have told me it was a 4 hour plane ride, I’d have believed you. By early afternoon, Madison, Wisconsin was clearly in my rearview mirror. If I missed any wonders that town had to offer, I’d have to settle for some dining experiences in Chicago as a consolation.

After a few hours getting some work done, I found myself in a downtown Chicago hotel on State Street. Everything was in walking distance, it seemed. Some short steps from my door was a restaurant I’d driven or walked by on previous visits. I’d always said I wanted to eat there but never had. Tonight I was going to the Weber Grill Restaurant. Chicago is famous for its steak houses and Weber is famous for its grills, so the marriage of the 2 has to be the perfect gastronomic love affair. Deciding to give this place a try was not an easy call though. Also in walking distance were Gino and Geogetti’s as well as The Chicago Chop House. Both of these restaurants set the bar pretty high for a great steak in the city of great steaks. Still, I wanted to stay true to the commitment of trying something new and the opportunity was ripe.

Usually the experience of a great Chicago eatery comes with an aura of dining in a 1930’s backdrop. Dark, hardwood walls with dim protruding sconces and dark paintings of men in suits. White tablecloths and crystal glasses with middle aged men having late night business meetings over a porterhouse and baked potato. That’s the Chicago I think of. You can toss that idea out the window at Weber. The clientele on the night I visited was a mix of youth and tourist. The room was large and open. The length of the restaurant is an open kitchen and the back wall is a row of stainless kettle grills under massive ventilation fans.

Conversations were loud, beer seemed to be the drink of choice and wait staff were running fast to keep up. The bar where I wanted to eat was packed 3 deep so I ordered a drink and proceeded to wait. I would not be deterred. Once I finally elbowed my way into a seat, I got a menu and ordered the French onion soup and a hand cut, dry aged New York strip. The soup was exceptional with a rich blanket of Gruyere cheese hiding the luscious, sweet onion laden broth below. My steak followed. It was perfectly seasoned, perfectly medium rare and perfectly unpretentious. There’s something about steak in the Midwest. As the cuts are being shipped to butchers shops around the country, there must be some clandestine gatekeeper whose job it is to reserve only the best beef for Chicago. While they did provide me with a steak knife, a butter knife would have done the job. I had a fantastic meal at a fraction of the price I’d have paid at one of the aforementioned steak houses.

On the second night, I strode out into the blustery wind that gives the city its nickname. The day had been unseasonably warm for October, but after the sun set and the wind picked up, fall was making its presence known. My plan for dinner was to find a corner bistro or pub or whatever looked good without looking too hard. I walked a few blocks down Rush Street then doubled back toward State Street. I walked by an Italian place with no intention of stopping in initially but the wind was beginning to wear me down. Ok, at the very least I would have a cocktail at the bar at Osteria Via Stato. The décor was slightly haughty and perhaps a bit pretentious but the bar was warm and inviting. I asked to see a menu while sipping a Manhattan –a bartender recommendation since they make their own sweet vermouth. I was blown away by their inspired offerings. This was one of those places that I wanted to try everything and I almost passed it by. This is not your typical family style Italian fare of lasagna and manicotti. While there were traditional dishes on the menu such as classic carbonara and pappardelle with a signature 3 meat ragu, there were less conventional dishes like a hunter’s stew made with quail, rabbit and housemade sausage or the slow cooked pork shank with Tuscan kale and white beans. This was a fortuitous find.

With too many wonderful choices, I asked the bartender if the kitchen could present a few small plates in lieu of full entrees. That way I could taste more. She checked and it was no problem to get a side order portion of anything –so to ordering I went. Grilled baby octopus with roasted fingerling potatoes was first.

Exquisitely tender and bathed in butter and lemon, the octopus had that ideal texture and flavor and the potatoes were an unexpectedly wonderful accent. Great dish. I’m going to have to try to work with octopus. Next plate was the special for the night: beef short rib risotto. Need I say more? Decadent, creamy and rich are the only words that come to mind. I’m rarely speechless when it comes to food but this is close.

Last was the cavatelli. There are several different pronunciations for this, none of which sound like the spelling. “Gav-a-deel” is the one I’m most familiar with. Hand rolled pastas about an inch and a half long made with ricotta cheese then sautéed in butter with a wild mushroom broth, these are the best cavatelli I have ever eaten.

Simple and sumptuous with a pan roasted rich flavor, these were the star of my dinner. I can’t imagine a better meal. I left this almost-passed-by restaurant completely satisfied.

Chicago is a city full of life and wonders and the great food is only one of its draws. If you pass through town, I also recommend The Green Mill –Al Capone’s old hangout, which looks much like it did in the 20’s. The booze is legal now, there’s usually some live blues playing and the atmosphere is engaging. Kingston Mines is a one of a kind blues bar where the artists are always noteworthy and they have two stages so that when one band ends, another begins. Passing-through-town celebrities frequent this unique bar and I’ve had some great times here.

It wasn’t such a boring week after all.

Start spreading the news -New York

2009-10-30T07:15:00.002-04:00

New York City. What can anyone say that hasn’t already been said? If you’ve been there, you already know and if you haven’t, you can only imagine. I’ve visited the city maybe a dozen times. I’ve eaten deli sandwiches so big that there is a difference in air temperature from the top to the bottom. I’ve mopped up amazing Ethiopian spiced meals with the spongy flat bread they serve. I’ve wandered the amazement that is Chelsea market, marveled at the unending choices of street vendors, sampled dim sum in Chinatown, picnicked in Central Park and dined at The Four Seasons. Yet, I haven’t even scratched the surface. The city holds so many culinary wonders that thousands –thousands, of books, articles, periodicals and blogs are solely dedicated this one-of-a-kind city. The sensory cacophony is overwhelming. That’s why I love it so. It’s the rush.

I was in town on business during a crisp, fall week recently. My work kept me much busier than I’m used to and I really only had late night dinners to enjoy and unwind. That’s fine by me though, because the best food you’ll ever taste is only 2 blocks from wherever you’re standing in the Big Apple. In most cities, I turn to the internet for guidance on where to get the best local fare, but not in New York. The best way to experience food culture of this metropolis is to simply go for a walk. You won’t travel far. My first day there was a bit of a blur. I worked late; very late. I didn’t get to my hotel till around 9:30PM after a 14 hour day. I was pretty exhausted. In these situations I typically order in and keep my expectations low. Greasy and poorly flavored Chinese food or some chain restaurant pizza is my standard. But here, in the world’s most diverse gastronomic town, I’m just as excited to order in as I would be to dine in any fancy restaurant. On this night, it’s pizza.

A trip to New York without eating pizza would be like going to the beach on a hot summer day and not even putting your feet in the water. It’s anti-American. It’s heresy. I ask the guy at the desk for the number of the closest place that delivers and he gave me the number for Tostino’s Pizza. I didn’t ask him for the best; just the closest. I didn’t have to. Any sub-par pizza place in New York would last about 3 hours. An hour later, a perfect pie was sitting in front of me and I was in heaven. Notice those black, crunchy bits yet each slice was designed to be folded in half and eaten in messy fashion. Not laden down with heavy ingredients or thick sauce, this pizza represents Americana, New York style. Of course you can get good pizza around the country (although every good New Yorker will argue that –they say it’s in the water), but what you don’t get is the volume. If you accidentally pass the pizza place on your left, the one a block down on the right is just as fantastic. Had I gone home the next morning, this pizza in my hotel room was all I would have needed to be satisfied.

The next day was just as grueling at work. I got back to my room pretty late and pretty tired. Still I had to venture out. I was in the mid-town neighborhood of Chelsea and I knew there was food to be had. In mid-town alone, there are around 2500 restaurants. I didn’t have to go far. Stepping out into the cool night, I walked all of a block before an Italian bistro caught my eye. Restivo’s has a patio out front (for the warmer days) and an inviting bar just inside the front door. The room was a bit dark –just soft lighting, and I thought I caught a glimpse of Frank Sinatra sitting at one end. The smell from the kitchen permeated every corner of the room. I could smell sauces, garlic, pasta and spices. Perfect. This looked like a great place for a late dinner. The menu was exactly what I expected. Classic Italian fare with few frills.

No one sits at a bar in New York without talking to your bar mates. It’s just a simple rule. So I began chatting with the two guys next to me and it turns out I was chatting with the owner, Joe Restivo. Joe embodies every bit the part of a New York Italian bar owner. Thick accent, perfectly combed black hair, a little on the heavy side (I’m not one to talk) and ready to strike up a conversation at the drop of a hat, Joe explained the Menu to me. Tonight I was having Ossobuco over a mushroom risotto and for an appetizer, I went with escargot (not really Italian but a favorite of Joe’s). The snails were buttery and tender and had none of the slight toughness that I’m used to with escargot. Just another testament to New York that the quality of the ingredients here are superior to just about anywhere else I’ve been. Of course, the Ossobuco was perfectly braised and super tender with a rich, silky flavor infused with the tomatoes and spices it was cooked in. Another perfect meal.

I spent an hour or so chatting with Joe. He’s owned this restaurant and the apartments over it for years. He talks of hard work and I learn a lot about what it’s taken him to be successful. Joe owns a corner of New York City and that is no small feat. Nowadays, he spends much of his time on a farm in Pennsylvania but his passion for his work and his city come through. If I had only a few hours in the city, it was Joe I really wanted to meet.

There are so many reasons to visit New York, but as a foodie, the culinary experience is my favorite. But the museums, shows, shopping and pure amazement at the concrete jungle would make for a fantastic visit and with the holidays right around the corner, the city becomes pure magic. I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I’ll be just as awed the next time.

Note: I was so exhausted on this trip that I forgot my camera. These photos were the result of internet searches. I can't take credit for that.

No one does Crab like Baltimore

2009-10-09T10:51:00.003-04:00

As a foodie, when I think of Maryland, I think of one thing: crab cakes. These meaty seafood delights are a dream to eat. Arriving in Baltimore very late on a Friday night, I knew that there was a sweet hearty shellfish dinner in my near future. I was consumed with the idea of crab cakes. Certainly you can get crab cakes all over the country and I’ve had plenty of them, but a few things about the Maryland version stand out as the best. While you may be inclined to think it’s the Blue Crabs from the Chesapeake Bay that are the reason, it’s actually how they make them but more on that in a minute.

The Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary in North America. It’s home to a bountiful amount of wildlife and the ecosystem where salt and fresh water mix is the perfect home for Blue Crabs. Each year, 75% of the crabs are harvested and the remaining population has been responsible for replenishing the stock. These harvests are tightly controlled and this system has worked for decades. Unfortunately, as we infringe on the land surrounding this magnificent well of life, the effects of runoff into these watershed lands has been pretty bad for our little friends the Blue Crab. These once abundant crustaceans have dramatically decreased in numbers leaving the local fishing industry a mess. The good news is that efforts are underway to stem the tide of population reduction and it seems to be paying off. Add to the solution that Blue crabs are found throughout the east coast and Gulf of Mexico where harvests and populations are abundant. In fact, in Baltimore where the demand for crab is the highest in the nation, much of the crab consumed there come from these other regions. The bottom line is that while we work hard to rejuvenate the Chesapeake, we can still enjoy the delicious sweet Blue Crab.

Maryland is certainly the most famous part of the country for crab but they are not alone. Ask someone from the Pacific Northwest about sumptuous crab and they’ll begin extolling the Dungeness Crab. Peekytoe Crabs from Maine are celebrated for their sweet pink meat and make a fine crab cake as well. Yet, it is the Blue Crab that still has command of the crab cake industry and for good reason. They achieve a perfect trinity of brine, sweetness and texture that leads to an ethereal crab eating experience. As far as different preparations go, there are many. A Google search for “crab cake recipe” will yield a plethora of versions. For me, less is more. The perfect crab cake has few ingredients and, for god sake’s, mayonnaise is not one of them. It’s crab CAKE not crab SALAD.

As I often do, I asked the concierge for the best crab cake recommendation in the area. While he pointed me to the G&M Restaurant where they have been voted best crab cake in Baltimore for the past 5 years, he also suggested that the best place in the inner harbor was right across from the hotel. Happy to get a great meal by walking across the street, I headed over to Luna Del Sea Bistro.

The patio was bustling on this warm end-of-summer afternoon. This is a small eclectic bistro with a diverse menu. While my eyes danced around ambitious offerings of pastas, mussels, clams and steaks, I really only had one meal in mind. A short while later, two 8 ounce crab cakes were placed in front of me. That’s a pound. I saw nothing but crab; no onions, no peppers, no fillers. This is why Maryland crab cakes are better than any other crab cake on the planet. While I’ve had others I enjoy, the residents of Baltimore demand a pristine rendition. Crab isn’t just the star; it is one of only a couple of ingredients. In my opinion, you shouldn’t be able to pick out anything else clearly. That’s what was I was looking at on my plate. As my fork slid easily through this cake, huge morsels of pure crab had the perfect blend of cohesion and flakiness. I was in a good place. No one is in a bad mood eating crab cakes. These were as perfect as any crab cake I could have had. Not one flake of that meat was missed. I was satisfied.

In a conversation with the manager, I learned that these are made to order. 8 ounces of jumbo lump crab meat get just a teaspoon of mustard, a teaspoon of a crushed Japanese cracker (I didn’t press him for info on that –I should have), and a dash of Old Bay seasoning. It is then formed into a smushed softball sized patty and baked till lightly browned. Not exactly NASA engineering but perfection none the less. Less is more.

So –while I recommend the crab cakes at Luna Del Sea, there are many fine places in Baltimore to enjoy them. A couple of years ago, the Owl Bar at the Belvedere Hotel catered a lunch I attended. Those crab cakes still stand out in my mind and I’m a bit disappointed I didn’t make it over to G&M as well. Ahhhh, another time. For now, I have my recent memories and a seafood store to get to.

Pan seared lamb chops with roasted cauliflower puree and port reduced shitake mushrooms

2009-09-26T09:35:00.002-04:00

I fell in love with lamb many years ago. If someone asks you to describe its flavor, you just can’t. It tastes like nothing else in the meat world. Succulent, earthy and medieval all come to mind, but you just have to dive in and find out for yourself. I can’t recall my first chance meeting with this heavenly gastronome but I do recall making it for the first time. It was the Christmas of 1993. That was the first year that I had assumed all of the duties for the family holiday meal. As I perused cookbooks looking for the perfect menu (back then I was a cookbook purist), I stumbled across a leg of lamb recipe. It sounded just perfect. While I don’t remember the exact preparation, it cooked slowly for hours with orzo bubbling away in the bottom of the pan studded with tomatoes and spices. It was a hit. That was the beginning.

As the years have passed, I have made lamb many different ways and enjoyed its unique flavor in many cultures around the world. Mutton (lamb over 2 years old), served in the UK has few spices, is slowly braised and has a headier more robust flavor while Mediterranean preparations are loaded with brilliant peppers and aromatics that sing on the palate. Spring lamb is an outdated term that used to refer to lamb born in the spring and harvested the following spring. Today, spring lamb means any lamb that is the right age and weight and can be found year round. Generally sweeter and milder, most of the animal is tender enough to be cooked directly over heat. In Anthony Bourdain’s book, A Cook’s Tour, he describes a trip to an Egyptian market in search for the freshest whole lamb. Not being slaughter day, he pays extra to have a fresh lamb prepared before his eyes. He then packs the animal on a camel and caravans to a Bedouin camp outside the city where the animal is slowly cooked over open fire. Eating and drinking late into the night, he enjoys the most coveted part of the animal in the region –the testicles. His description is vivid and compelling. Most of us will not trek to the Middle East to eat lamb balls, but his passion is noteworthy. I highly recommend this book for any foodie.

For reasons I don’t completely understand, lamb tends to stay out of most American kitchens. It seems to be reserved for special occasions and high end restaurants. I know there are folks other than me that eat it because my grocery store sells it –but I never hear any of my friends talking about the lamb they cooked last night. Personally, I buy lamb every 6 or 8 weeks in some form or fashion. Since I’m the only one in my house that will eat it, I just buy enough for myself and make it when no one else is around. I chose a recipe to share that is quite simple to prepare and stars one of the most popular cuts –the lamb chop. These small cuts hail from the sirloin of the animal and contain a cross section of the tenderloin. They are by far the tenderest bits of lamb. Before they are cut, they are the “rack” and tied into a circle they make the coveted crown roast. While I have explored different spices and marinades, I find the lamb chop requires little else than some salt and pepper. With it I cooked down some shitake mushrooms in a port wine sauce and served it over a roasted cauliflower puree with garlic and parmesan. I rarely know how my vision of a recipe will turn out but this was spectacular. The lamb was perfectly rich and sumpuous complimented by the sweet mushrooms and creamy puree. You can whip this recipe up any night of the week in about 35 minutes and the ingredients cost less than $30. You dinner guest(s) will be impressed.

Pan seared lamb chops with roasted cauliflower puree and port reduced shitake mushrooms

Head of cauliflower broken down to individual florets
5 cloves of garlic
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, divided
3 oz (about 1/3 cup) dried shitake mushrooms
4 tbsp butter, divided
1 shallot, sliced
1 cup port wine (any wine will do –port makes the mushrooms quite sweet)
3-4 tbsp grated parmesan
1-2 tbsp fresh tarragon, roughly chopped
¼ cup chicken stock
2-3 tbsp heavy cream
8 lamb chops

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lay cauliflower and garlic out on sheet pan and drizzle 2 tbsp olive oil over the top. Season with salt and pepper and use your hands to mix around on the pan to evenly coat each piece. Ensure that the cauliflower and garlic are in a single layer. Place into the oven for 30 minutes or until fork tender.

While the cauliflower is roasting, add the dried mushrooms to a salted pot of lightly boiling water. Allow to boil for just a few minutes then remove from heat and let sit for about 10-15 minutes or until mushrooms have completely reconstituted. Drain and roughly chop. In a sauté pan over medium heat, add 2 tbsp olive oil and sauté the shallots until just fragrant –about 1 minute. Add the mushrooms and sauté another 2-3 minutes. Add the port wine and reduce by half, about 10 minutes.

Generously season the lamb chops with salt and pepper. In a separate pan over medium high heat, add 2 tbsp olive oil and place the chops in. Do not move the meat. Cook for about 3 minutes on each side for medium rare (depending on the thickness of the lamb chops). Remove from heat and allow 5 minutes to rest.

Remove cauliflower and garlic from the oven and transfer to a food processor. Add cream (start with 2 tbsp but add more to get a creamy consistency), chicken stock, 2 tbsp butter, parmesan and salt and pepper to taste.

To finish the port sauce, whisk in 2 tbsp butter till just melted as well as the tarragon.

To plate, place a scoop of the puree in the center of the plate, lay 2 lamb chops across the top and spoon a few mushrooms over that.

Serves 4.

A weekend in Canada -cooking

2009-09-23T09:17:00.005-04:00

I think all clichés are born out of wisdom. In this case, “Be careful what you wish for” comes to mind. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew” is another. “Too stupid to know any better” is also applicable. I’m referring to being approached by some friends and asked if I’d take care of the cooking for a large party; a very large party. And what rolled off my tongue? “Of course. Sure. No problem. It’ll be fun.” And it was. Here’s the story.

Karen and Harold are my winter neighbors. They have a cute little place down here in Palm Harbor where they retreat to escape the evil winter weather of their home in Wynona, Ontario. Both former small business owners, they really are enjoying their retirement. Karen approached me back in January and, knowing my passion for all things food, suggested I cater Harold’s 70th birthday party in August which was to be held at their home in Canada. I accepted the challenge without hesitation and didn’t think about it again for months. Then around the end of May, Karen called and wanted to know if I was serious because the plans were well under way. There was a theme, color scheme, live music, dancing and of course, lot’s of food. “I’m in.” Now things were getting serious for me and my nerves were getting a bit jittery but I’d made the commitment. It was time to buckle down and figure out what to do.

I began with menu planning. Karen and I spoke pretty constantly about the details and we settled on finger foods. With a Caribbean theme, I was filled with ideas that needed to be narrowed down. Karen’s strong aversion to cilantro made it difficult initially because I don’t know many (if any) island style dished without cilantro but that was a fun part of the challenge. While I was quite concerned about execution, the creative aspect of dish creation has always been my forte. We came up with 7 items and there would be over 1200 individual servings. Yikes! What had I committed to? I was definitely getting nervous.

I landed in Buffalo, NY on a Friday afternoon. Harold’s daughter, Tammi, picked me up and we headed across the border and up the Qweensway. After a quick stop at the grocery for the last minute perisahbles, we pulled up to their home. Karen had already done most of the shopping from the list I’d sent her. What a marvelous home they have. Both spacious and charming, the place is the perfect party house. There’s a huge wrap around deck with an exceptionally large and well groomed back yard. But the one thing that stands out is the view. From their back porch, you walk about 30 yards and you are standing on a seawall that overlooks Lake Ontario. Directly across the Lake and about 30 miles as the crow flies you see the skyline of Toronto with the CN Tower being prominent. It was breathtaking, to say the least. My room was to be on the second floor with picture windows running the length of the room looking out over the lake. I had little time for sleep but this was a peaceful room.

After getting my bearings on where everything was located, I immediately went to work. I had taken the time to map out a day by day food prep plan. This would turn out to be invaluable. For Friday night, my biggest challenge was to get 12 chickens roasted for a homemade chicken salad with avocado. Using Karen’s and her neighbor’s ovens, I got that done in a few hours but now there was meat pullin’ to be done. This is where I began to realize what a daunting few days ahead. 12 steaming chicken’s sat before me and I realized that if it normally takes me 10 minutes to do one chicken, I was going to be at this a couple of hours. That’s when the first of what would be many volunteers stepped up and the wheels really began spinning. Karen’s neighbor, Donna, and other neighbor, 12-year-old Cailin, stepped in and between the 3 of us we were done in short order. This is where the bells when off that I’d need a lot more help than I thought.

The next morning I was up well before the sun and hard at work. The clock was ticking. I had about 30 hours to go. As morning wore on (and my 2 day back ache began), several of Karen’s friends began showing up and offering to pitch in. Thank god. Without Kaley, Lynda, Liz, Tammie, Erin, David, John, Lawrence, Pam, Elise, Cole,Kevin, Cailin, Donna, Deepika, Marie, Brenda, Kenn, and Alice I would never have been able to chop, dice, slice, cook, skewer, roast, bake or sauté any of the items by myself. The plan was simple but time consuming. I began at about 5 AM by thinly slicing and pickling the red onions for the roast beef and brie sandwiches (not really Caribbean, but a request from Harold). Then there were the pounds of scallops for the scallop cups (a vibrant scallop salad served in lettuce cups). I sautéed for what seemed like hours. And so it went, on an on, all day long. I made several fresh sauces (remoulade for Shrimp Po’ Boys, Horseradish for roast beef), relishes (pineapple jalapeño for skirt steak) and marinades (Meyer’s rum and OJ for skirt steak). All the while my troop of volunteers, continued to do all of the prep work. From my kitchen view over the lake, I watched the sun rise and set while we continued to work. With Saturday’s chores finally behind us –and my back screaming, we sat and drank. I’m not sure what time I went to bed but I remember thinking it was too late.

Now it’s Sunday. Party day. With my Saturday to-do list completed, I turned to the Sunday morning portion. Raspberry tarts with homemade vanilla whipped cream were the first order of business. While making this, the rest of my enlistees showed up and none too soon. It was assembly time. I realized that I had several crews working on specific tasks and my role was changing from cook to conductor. I demonstrated to each crew how I wanted each item put together; how to assemble the hundreds of different sandwiches, skewer the 200 caprese salad skewers, fill the 120 scallop cups, top the tarts, flour the hundreds of shrimp for the Po’ Boys and so on.

Next I set up my outside station. The plan was to grill the island skirt steak and make the fried shrimp at the point of service so that we had 2 fresh hot items on the line. As party time approached, the food began coming to the buffet tables outside. When the clock struck 1 PM, everything was in place and the guests began to arrive. Folks dug in. Steel drum and island music played. The sun was high in the sky with just enough occasional overcast to make the day perfectly comfortable.

I grilled the marinated steaks and handed them off to be sliced and plated with the salsa. I also fried the shrimp that had been soaked in soda water then coated with a seasoned flour and cornstarch mix. This provided a light and crispy crust on the shrimp that tasted as perfect as any Po’ Boy I’d had on my many visits to New Orleans.

After just a couple of hours, my service was complete and I was ready to just enjoy. My nerves had melted hours ago simply because I was too busy. Now I was just running on adrenalin and some wine was in order. I mingled stopping by each table to ask if all was OK and I didn’t hear a negative comment. In fact, humbling compliment was the order of the afternoon.

If I missed the mark on any of these dishes, no one shared it with me. I did make a couple of mistakes that didn’t translate to the taste of the food. Notably, we had a lot of food; too much. While I did stick to the small plate theme, each item was probably too big so folks filled up. We ended up sending lots of food home with guests. Whole trays of sandwiches were destined for office break rooms on Monday.
What a terrific experience this was for me. I had fun even though I didn’t leave a 100 yard radius for my 3 days in Canada. A wise person once said, “If you make a living doing what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.” Now, I don’t make a living doing this but, as hard and long as we worked for 3 days, it never felt like a chore. I can’t wait for Karen and Harold to get back to Florida so we can reminisce about that great weekend.

I visited a Top Chef contestant's restaurant

2009-09-05T08:59:00.004-04:00

Note: Sorry for the absence. I’ve been running around a lot lately and I just haven’t had time to finish a post. Interesting that I’ve had several posts started but just haven’t completed anything. I’d like to get back to my weekly ranting this month. Also please excuse the photo quality. I used my iPhone. Olivia had her 1st day of Kindergarten while I was on this trip and I had to leave my camera at home. Now on with the writing:

After circling the globe a few times, there are a few constants about traveling that I have come to understand. Such as: never get behind mother with a stroller at the airport security line (you’ll be there forever) or, even if you don’t deserve it, always ask for a complimentary upgrade or never assume a familiar menu item on a foreign menu will even remotely resemble something you’ve had at home. There are so many silly little things like this that many books and guides have been written to help the occasional traveler navigate the gauntlet of uncertainty. One rule I found to also be true is that hotel food is horrible; usually real horrible. Of course there are exceptions at major resorts in the Caribbean, Las Vegas, the pacific islands and a few other rare gems –but in general, your average business traveler’s hotel food sucks. I’d swear that the salmon I had in a Marriott in downtown San Francisco came out of the same unseasoned vat of goo as one I tried in a Boston Hilton.

Imagine my surprise (actually giddiness is a better word) at walking into a hotel lobby last week and seeing a poster congratulating their executive chef for being a contestant on this season’s Top Chef on Bravo. Top Chef has become iconic for any true foodie. The façade of the Hollywood Beach Marriott in Hollywood, Florida is unassuming for a full service hotel. Built in art deco style, it was absent the charm of the South Beach art deco less than 20 miles to the south. If it hadn’t had the typical red lettered “Marriot” signage, I’d have thought it a wanna-be beach hotel. The exterior of peeling whitewash and lime green pastel accents are contrasted by a beautiful interior of dark woods, exquisite marbles and a charm reminiscent of an early 1900’s elegance that Teddy Roosevelt would enjoy. Management is not shy about their new celebrity chef either. A poster on an easel immediately greets you with a larger than life picture of Chef Ron Duprat. I didn’t even complete the check in process before asking to meet the chef. He’d already left for the day, I was told. I was crushed.
“What about tomorrow?” I asked.
“He’s usually here for breakfast. You can either see him in the main dining room or in the concierge lounge”, the exceptionally attractive young lady at the desk replied.
OK, fine. I’m here 2 nights, so certainly I’ll catch him tomorrow.

That night, I met my colleague for dinner at the pool bar. I couldn’t wait to eat hotel food this night. If Bravo selected this guy to be one of 17 contestants on a popular television show, he does something special in the kitchen. His menu seems a fusion from his French-Creole roots in Haiti combined with traditional south Florida fare. Simple preparations with clean flavors go a long way with me.

I decided to go with the “price fix” menu. Not a new concept, by any stretch, but it seems I’ve seen more restaurants offer this lately. Here, for $35, you get 4 courses with several choices for each course. If you eat out even just once in a while, you might recognize that this is a killer deal. My first course was a crab cake over a black bean and corn salsa with a remoulade drizzle and a few micro greens. As pretentious as this sounds, it wasn’t the slightest bit haughty.

It tasted exactly like a crab cake should: like crab. Void of heavy fillers, the sweet crab came through perfectly. I could have eaten 10 of these, seriously (they were small). Next was a curried green tomato gazpacho.

Slightly tart, a little sweet but perfectly curried, this was another hit. Next came the main course and my absolute favorite.

Atop some perfectly tender and bright green bok choy sat a magnificently seared miso crusted sea bass. This was a cross between fish and butter, heaven and perfection, Jennifer Anniston and Angelina Jolie (I still can’t believe Brad had both). As if the miso needed more help to make this dish stellar, there was a ginger butter sauce that made me weep as if I were walking my little girl down the aisle.

Lastly, the desert course was a rum cake with candied ginger, mango and blueberries. I was taken off guard when I was presented with something that looked airy, like a mouse. I’ve had rum cakes and I expected something more cake-y.

One bite into this fluff and my vision narrowed only to see the beach, a single shade-producing palm tree, a blue and white striped beach chair next to a table with a coconut with a straw hanging out. The waves crashed rhythmically onto the shore. The sun was high. It was hot. OK, I might be a bit dramatic but this was good. Really good. Thrilled with dinner, I retreated to my room and called it a night.

The next morning, I looked for Chef before breakfast but he wasn’t in. Damn. I might miss this guy. After a long day at work, I returned just sure he wouldn’t be in and I was checking out the next morning early. Bellying up to the beach bar, I once again asked the bartender if Chef Duprat was in.
“Let me check.” She said as she walked off.
5 minutes later, Mr. Duprat emerged. He looks every bit the part of a Caribbean chef. I found his appearance commanding and his tone soft. He introduces himself with a smile that fills his entire face.
We spoke for about 10 minutes and he told me about his past. I asked him how he liked being on Top Chef and he made a bit of a scowl. I’m guessing he doesn’t go far on the show. Chef Duprat freely admits that he doesn’t know how to cook fast. He goes on to talk about his French training and his penchant for slow braising and long cooking times. I had to ask if Padma (show’s host) was as beautiful in person as she was on TV and he responded, “She’s even more beautiful in person.” (I was secretly hoping he was going to tell me she was a hag.)
“What’s Tom Colicchio (the other host) like? Mean? Nice?” I asked.
Being very gracious, Chef went on and on about how kind he was.

Ron Duprat is a pleasant fellow. He’s a joy to talk to and his passion for his art comes through in conversation. At first, I wanted to meet Ron Duprat because he was a Chef on Top Chef but after our conversation, I was glad I met him just because he’s a really nice guy; the kind of guy you want as a neighbor or drinking buddy. I’m headed back to Miami next week. Any guesses where I plan to have dinner?

A little eggs story then smoked soft boiled eggs with caviar

2009-08-21T08:55:00.004-04:00

On a business trip to the Netherlands a few years ago, a colleague and I were having lunch in a small bistro on the outskirts of a northern town called Alkmaar. It was directly beneath the town’s historic and still functioning windmill. Damon was what I would call a non-eclectic eater at best. It has always bothered me to see folks who pick through their food with a fork and knife –inspecting every crumb and bit for that hint of some unappealing vermin that the chef snuck in during the cooking process. This is far different from the inspection of the gustatory enthusiast who often deconstructs his meal while lauding each component for its creative use. The difference can be seen in the face of the inspector. A scowl or grimace on the former and a look of reverence on the latter. Damon had that scowl for 2 solid weeks (except for our adventures into the red light district of Amsterdam which should be left for a completely different blog).

In the smaller towns of the Netherlands, English is scarce making reading menus difficult. Sometimes you just had to take your best guess and Damon was trying his best to survive this horrid dining experience. On this day, we recognized the word “Hamburger” and Damon felt safe ordering this. I feel enlightened knowing the word has Dutch origins. I was prepared for the disaster to come when the waitress struggled to convey through a combination of frustrated hand gestures, guttural utterances and less-than-adequate interpreter help from the neighboring table that bread was an option. If bread was not standard for a Dutch hamburger, there was going to be an unappealing twist to this story for Damon. With a bright smile, the lovely barkeep returned with our plates and set before Damon two hamburger patties that I’m guessing were boiled. To the side was a large piece of the optional crusty bread atop a fresh cut slice of tomato and a few lettuce leaves. The coup-de-gras, though were the two poached eggs nestled atop the beef –yolks pre-broken and running lazily through the valleys of the meat. After a lunch of bread and butter, tomato and lettuce, Damon rose from the table with that scowl fixed and I swore –just like mom used to warn us about childhood eye-crossing –this was permanent.

Eggs. C’mon. The first thing most of us learn to cook as kids are scrambled eggs, right? There’s something primal and comforting about cracking eggs. But I must admit, that first guy who saw that white orb squirt out of a chicken’s ass and decided, “Wow, I should eat that!” well –he’s my hero; an epicurean visionary of unrivaled proportion. Or maybe he was just that hungry. Either way, eggs are enjoyed on every corner of the inhabited world and for great reason. They can be raw, boiled, fried, baked, stuffed, simmered or steamed. They can be the star of your meal or be a subtle perfect ingredient. In the September issue of Bon Appétit, a particular egg dish caught my eye. Told in unique and captivating comic book style is the story of an egg appetizer served at Momofuku Ko in New York City. Chef David Chang has been toying with this dish for some time until arriving at his current sensation. He perfectly soft boils an egg for a very specified length of time (5 minutes, 10 seconds). It then goes into a ice bath to stop the cooking process. Once cool enough to handle, the egg is gently pealed taking extra care not to split the white apart. The first bit of creative magic that sets this apart from any pedestrian egg dish is that the peeled egg is now returned to a water bath infused with a touch of liquid smoke. An overnight stay in the refrigerator yields a smoked, soft boiled egg. Already sounding perfect to me, the egg is re-warmed (4 minutes in a hot water bath) and served split –its silky warm ribbons of yellow oozing out like a perfect sunset over the beach. Ah, but wait, this is where it really gets good. A bit of caviar is then gently placed at the split in the egg giving the impression that these briny, black bits of oceanic perfection followed the yolk onto the plate. I had to try this. There was more to the dish than just the egg. He serves this atop on onion soubise (slow braised onions) next to a few homemade chips and some greens. For me though, it was the egg that moved me.

Within hours of reading this article, I was at it. Before wasting my time and money at the store for liquid smoke and caviar, I had to see if I could make a soft boiled egg at all. It’s a good thing I started with 3 because only one egg ended up worthy. It takes some practice removing the shell from that silly thing without pulling the while apart and ruining the yolk. I found the tricky part to be at the poles of the egg while the equator seemed to go fairly smooth. Now to the store. Since I live in the burbs, so to speak, I wasn’t willing to travel the distance required to find a high quality caviar so I settled on what was readily available at the grocery store. I imagine that might appall any caviar aficionados out there but I don’t know any. There was a black lumpfish caviar that was $14 for a tiny jar so I chose that. It certainly looked regal enough although my next rendition will be with the good stuff.

I got home, followed the recipe with my improvised ingredients and ended up with a treat of epic proportion. This tasted like something you’d pay a fortune for in a restaurant and I can only imagine how wonderful it would be with the accompanying onions at Momofuku Ko. Certainly, my rendition may be a bit more crude than the celebrated chef’s version but I was quite pleased with my more pedestrian version and I can’t wait to make this again.

Mac and Cheese with Pork Jowl Bacon and Roasted Poblano Pepper

2009-08-09T06:48:00.005-04:00

This post is really about Mac and Cheese but first I have to share a recent discovery about one of the ingredients that I just fell in love with. If you watch The Food Network even a little bit, you’ve heard talk about pork fat and how delicious it can make almost anything. I have found this to be quite true. Now I know it’s not horribly good for you but a little goes a long way. About a year ago, I began reserving my bacon drippings and keeping them in the refrigerator in a small plastic container. I’ll go to this frequently instead of butter and I use about half a teaspoon as the base for many dishes that may begin with, say, onions and garlic. It’s really awesome.

Some weeks ago I was looking through the section at my grocery store reserved for meats that most folks rarely cook with. Things like pig’s feet and beef heart which are placed at the far end of the meat cooler. I never see anyone perusing the stuff. Tucked behind a bit of intestine, I noticed a package of pork jowl bacon. I wasn’t really sure what that was but it looked like bacon. Into the shopping cart it went. It came in a big slab that I had to cut myself.

Its first use in my house was in some collard greens that I cooked in a pretty traditional southern style. Wow was that flavorful. Unsmoked and a bit less salty than regular bacon, this had a pure taste. It was unmistakably and exquisitely pork. I have since used it in several dishes where I thought bacon was called for. I must admit, I like it better.

Now on to the Mac and Cheese. While out of the box Mac and Cheese is a popular American tradition in most households, it could not be further from its home made cousin both in flavor and ease of preparation. From the box to the plate is about 10 minutes from the store-bought variety and everything can be done right from the same pot. While I don’t find this horribly tasty, it’ll do in a pinch. Homemade Mac and Cheese, though, is just heaven. A sea of bubbling cheese with crunchy brown bits of breadcrumbs nestled about is enough to put anyone in a good mood. Unfortunately though, you do have to work for it a bit. I would call the home made variety an intermediate dish. Not completely simple to prepare and a bit time consuming, I messed quite a few attempts up before stumbling upon the correct concoction. The recipe I offer here is my most recent and it took about 2 hrs and required 3 pans and a few kitchen gadgets. (I cheated and used a food processor attachment instead of a box grater for the cheese.) Every bite, though, was worth the effort. From scratch Mac and Cheese just tastes like someone loves you. Silky, creamy, cheesy and packed with such succulent decadence, I can’t contemplate a more heartwarming dish.

Here are a couple of tips. You can use the amounts that I give you below but they are an estimate of what I made. The real key to the cheese sauce isn’t so much the type of cheese but the consistency when added to the macaroni before baking. It should be a bit more watery that you might think because much of the liquid gets absorbed by the noodles in the oven. If it’s too thick from the start, your cheese will end up kinda gloppy in the final dish. I’ve done this before and while the taste is still wonderful, the texture is a bit off putting. For the macaroni, you want a version that acts as a vessel to hold the cheese to it. I used shells because they are these little cups with ridges and it worked perfectly. Macaroni has the hollow center that does a nice job and is much more traditional. Rigatoni would be great too. As far as the cheese goes, the sky’s the limit. Lisa often complains that I have so many different cheeses that they have their own dedicated spot in the fridge. That’s true, they do. In this dish I used 4: Monterey Jack, cheddar, smoked provolone (over the top good) and Swiss.

Why did I choose these? Because I had them and I thought they’d go well together. I was right but it was just a guess. Another tip is to add some new flavors to the dish. Just the cheesy version stands up all by itself but you can be as creative as you like. I used the aforementioned bacon and some roasted Poblano peppers. What I ended up with was a scrumptious meal that had small crunchy bacon-y bits (because I rendered the pork jowl bacon first) and the sweet heat of the roasted Poblanos. Shrimp or Lobster would be good. Maybe some diced tomato would too. Since most of my recipes are pretty off the cuff, your own creative style would suit this just fine. Here is my version and it was yummy.

Macaroni and Cheese with pork jowl bacon and roasted Poblano peppers

2-3 large Poblano peppers
½ cup of pork jowl bacon, cubed into ¼ inch pieces (regular bacon would be just fine too)
1 lb pasta shells or elbow macaroni
½ stick (4 tbsp) butter
3 cups half and half
½ cup cheddar cheese, grated
½ cup Monterey Jack cheese, grated
½ cup smoked provolone, grated
½ cup Swiss cheese, grated
1/3 cup bread crumbs (I make my own in a food processor with a bit of garlic powder and salt but Panko crumbs would be good too. Regular store bought would be OK but that’s always a very last resort, in my opinion)

Place the peppers in a 450 degree oven and cook until all of the skin is dark brown or black, about 30 minutes. Remove and place in a bowl. Cover with plastic wrap so the peppers can steam a bit. Allow to rest at least 30 minutes to cool. Take each pepper and remove the brown/black skin so that the green flesh is what you have left. Discard the seeds and rinse the pepper flesh clean then dry with paper towel. Dice peppers finely and set aside for later.

Place the cubed bacon in a skillet that is preheated to medium low. You want to avoid too much sizzle because we want these to render over 10-15 minutes and not cook like traditional bacon bits. If you are using regular bacon, you want it just a bit underdone. When done, move to a plate lined with a paper towel to drain the excess fat.

In a large pot of salted boiling water, add your shells. Turn heat down and cook for about 7 minutes until shells are al dente. Drain and set aside.

In a large saucepan, melt the butter and add the half and half. Bring to just a scald and add the cheese. Stir until all the cheese is melted. I use a whisk to determine the right consistency. If the sauce is right, it will fall away from the whisk as it is lifted out. Think tomato soup thick: a bit liquidy. If too thick, add a bit more half and half.

In a casserole dish, combine the bacon, Poblanos, shells and cheese sauce. Depending on the size of your casserole, you may or may not use all of your cheese sauce. Place in a 350 degree oven and cook for 30-45 minutes. Remove and sprinkle bread crumbs over the top and cook an additional 10 minutes.

Serves 8-10