foodie nyc

Ham Hock Brussel Sprouts, Rosemary, Toasted Sesame

Before brussel spouts became a trendy menu item in restaurants last year, I wasn't sure how I felt about them.  They seemed a bit one dimensional in flavor, and I didn't consider them an ideal flavor receptor beyond the obvious bacon and pork partner. 

But then the brussel sprout menu trend exposed me to the complex flavors brussel sprouts reveal when they are briefly pan seared and develop a slightly caramelized exterior.  The pan sear adds a depth of flavor that takes them to another level, in my opinion.   

The trick with adding this cooking method to the preparation of sprouts is avoiding the loss of their green color and nutrients (ick..i just pictured this random know-it-all out there smirking at this nutrient comment.  Stop smirking, know-it-all.  And don't send me any more colored graphs about how healthy brussel sprouts are.  Charts + food =  nerdy).   Recently, I decided to cook the spouts in boiling salted water until about 3/4 of the way cooked.  After draining them, they went into a pan with hot oil to develop the sear I love so much.

I'd be willing to wager that 75% of the brussel sprouts that appear on menus involve some type of pork item.    Bacon and pancetta are the obvious choices (and completely delicious, of course).    There's also the added benefit of rendering the bacon and pancetta until crisp, then searing the sprouts in the pork fat. 

But on this given day, I was serving a ham hock soup that you've most likely read about.    OK, ok.   I will not try and deceive you about my hidden intentions of this post.   I really want you to make smoked ham hock stock.    And as an added benefit, I want you to realize that you'll be able to use the tender,  fall-off-the-bone meat from the ham hock stock as an ingredient for another dish.   

I simply chopped the ham hock meat and added it to the pan after searing the sprouts in oil.   To bring out the earthiness of the sprouts, I finished them with a drizzle of toasted sesame seed oil, which I thought turned out to be an excellent flavor combo.   Chopped rosemary and squeeze of lemon rounded out the flavors.

Now go and make a ham hock stock brussel sprouts before the winter gloom fades.

Peanut Butter Dulce and Pork Belly? You Had Me At Hello!

As you may recall, I  asked you to send me your favorite dishes you've recent cooked at home.   As a prize for the winning selection, I'm giving away a free seat to my upcoming Foodie NYC tasting on 3/30.   

I received many interesting and delicious dishes, so this choice was very difficult to make.   Thanks to all of you that sent in your entries!   

But, in a sense, the winner came down to the fact that I may have drooled on my keyboard when I saw Chicken Fried Gourmet's Peanut Butter Dulce De Leche paired with Pork Belly.    Not only did the pairing completely intrigue me,  but the utter deliciousness of Michael's dish speaks for itself.

From the words of Michael himself, via his blog Chicken Fried Gourmet:

I wanted to do something different with the Peanut Butter Dulce De Leche (surprise) and not follow the usual theme of making a dessert.....My first thought was pork belly. The inspiration came from Sam Mason's Tailor, where he does a miso-butterscotch pork belly. As you can tell from previous posts this is one of my favorite meats to prepare recently. I wanted to do just simple flavors with the PBDDL so there is really not a lot of things going on with this dish other than the usual accompaniments.

I started by marinating the pork belly in a mixture of PBDDL, bourbon, fresh garlic and olive oil. I then vacuum sealed it and put it in the fridge for 3 days. From the start the dish was made to be of smaller proportion. Originally we were going to have this on Saturday night with friends where we all made two small dishes. It would sort of be like Tapas but not Spanish themed. Everything was on track till Louisiana’s crazy weather sidelined two of the couples with flu like symptoms. Since I had already spent so much time on the dish I decided to just go ahead and make it the main course.

I wanted to have as few ingredients as possible in order for the PBDDL flavor to come through. I settled on some micro arugula dressed in balsamic dressing with crushed peanuts to top it off. I added a “paint” of the PBDDL under the belly and added 3 drops of balsamic syrup to cut the sweetness of the PBDDL. All day Friday I kept obsessing on if I should add a “base” to the dish..... The 2^nd idea, and the one I went with, was a sweet potato ice cream. It follows a basic ice cream recipe but I add two roasted sweet potatoes then strain before making the custard. Looking back I would have added more sweet potatoes for a more pronounced flavor. It was still good though.

This dish was a hit.   It was filling but not to the point where you felt like you had to save up to go see your cardiologist.   The ice cream played well with the sweetnees of the PBDDL and the savoriness of the pork belly.

To thank Michael for this delicious bit of inspiration, he'll be receiving a complimentary seat to the Foodie NYC 3/30 tasting event. 

Be sure to check out Chicken Fried Gourmet for more pictures of the winning dish here.

Thanks to all those who participated and congrats, Michael.

Rosemary, Ginger, Smoked Paprika Bloody Mary

As certain people in my life know, I'm a little obsessed with the Bloody Mary. 

I always seem to wake on a weekend morning with a crazy desire for the perfect Bloody.  Sure, it's about the flavor.   But it also symbolizes the the celebratory, unburdened sense of freedom I associate with a weekend morning.    

My Bloody partner in crime and I are fascinated with how inconsistent the classic Bloody Mary tastes from bartender to bartender.    Sure, food and drinks are always subjective, but doesn't the classic Bloody always have the same qualities in common?  It's crazy that maybe 4 out of 5 Bloodies we consume don't exhibit all the traits we crave.

What makes the perfect Bloodie for me?  First, there's the balance between vodka and tomato juice.   Many Bloodies I get are overly watery - the tomato flavor just doesn't come through.   After that, it's all about the ingredients in the mix.    I recently caught my Bloody partner in crime looking through the side of the glass, evaluating the ratio of horseradish, cracked pepper and such within the liquid.  Sometimes you can tell if it's going to be a good Bloody just by looking at it.   

Finally, the  balance of flavors comes next.   The squeeze of citrus, the multiple levels of spiciness (pepper, chili, horseradish, etc) and intangibles like freshness (fresh horseradish makes a huge difference, of course) are certainly factors.

So, considering all this, I felt a bit of pressure when making Bloody Mary's one weekend morning.  Could I live up the standard that I felt so adamantly about?  I hadn't really made a Bloody Mary before, so the pressure was on.

To start things off, I couldn't get my hands on fresh horseradish or Worcester sauce as quickly as I needed to whip up the Bloodies.  To compensate,  I thought about how I could replace the peppery heat of horseradish without substituting with more Tabasco or adding cayenne.   Since the horseradish adds a different sort of heat than a chili, I thought I'd opt for freshly grated ginger.   For a bit of that meaty earthiness that the Worcester normally provides, I broke out the smoked paprika - not enough to overpower the drink, but just a pinch to add a depth of smokiness and complexity.

All I did was grate some fresh ginger on a microplane, which after a few batches (!), ended up being an  essential way to avoid taking big bites of ginger.   The rosemary needs to be be chopped as finely as humanly possible, again to avoid the sometimes unpleasant texture of the herb in the mouth.    A very fine dice of celery was a welcomed bit of freshness in the drink, as was the spicy vinegary kick of Tabasco and the fresh squeeze of lime juice.    The garnish, a wedge of candied ginger, added another welcomed addition of aggressive flavor.

P.S. -  My favorite Bloody Mary these days (actually a Bloody Maria) is at the East Village restaurant Mercadito.  I think its outrageous - cucumber muddled with a smoky, chipotle tomato juice and just the right amount of citrus.  Of course, there's Prune...but sometimes the wait doesn't make sense for me.   

Send me a note or comment on a great Bloody Mary I should try in NYC or Williamsburg, and I'll be sure to tell you what I thought.   

Beets Vinaigrette, Cashews, Cilantro Goat Cheese Sauce

When I'm bored (with myself), I make up little challenges to break up my standard routines.   

At the market recently, I gave myself a four ingredient maximum for a salad that I'd serve before  a sobu noodle dish I was making for a main course.

I started with beets in mind and then found myself drifting toward the obvious goat cheese accompaniment.   But rather than incorporate the goat cheese in a traditional manner, I thought I'd puree the goat cheese with a bit of milk, chopped cilantro and lemon juice, creating a bit of a sauce to spoon around the roasted beets.

Roasted cashews and some orange zest would round out the dish, but something was missing from my plan.   I stared at the leaves of the beets greens and the red veins of the stems, wondering if I could juice them and create a beet vinaigrette. 

I pictured a vibrant green vinaigrette made from the beets tops.  But after blanching and juicing them, I came away with a gray, icky looking liquid that I wasn't interested in looking at, let alone eating.

As plan B, I picked up the vivid red beet stems and decided to juice them.   Sure enough, I had the essence of the beet in a viscous liquid that solely needed a whisk of olive oil and lemon juice.   The beet vinaigrette  lent an acidic element that balanced the sweetness of the whole beets and the creamy tang of the goat cheese sauce.

Just like me to turn a four ingredient appetizer into a process, but the results were worth the trial and error, as I now have a new use for beet stems.

Related:   Blood Orange Beet Salad with White Chocolate

Five Year Old Gouda

(ed note:  I have been eating a lot of aged gouda recently, so I thought I'd re-post this from Sept, 2006.   I'm currently eating a piece as I write this, so I thought I should remind you to track some down.)

Needless to say, I am a big cheese lover.  I know that for many of you out there, skipping dessert for a cheese plate is offensive.  But for me, it's essential.  Cheese is certainly my preferred way to end a meal.  In my fantasy world, I would have a cheese cave (like the ones at Artisanal) built into my fantasy dream world foodie temple, as well as an old school cheese cart, which would be stacked with 20 cheeses and wheeled around by a cheese jockey each and every hour I am awake.  (Yes, I just typed cheese jockey. No, I am not intoxicated).

But in the real world, I have about 3 or 4 cheeses in my fridge at all times, Parmigiano Reggiano (aka parm regg) being the constant.  But after a recent meal in which I served a cheese plate with a five year aged Gouda, I am ready to annoint the five year old Gouda to my all time favorite cheese list.

The texture is similar to parm regg, but with larger crystals within the cheese that add a gritty texture to each bite.  The cheese has a deep caramel like color, and indeed a caramel-like taste. There is even a bit of butterscotch flavor and sweetness that balances nicely with those crystal-like bites of saltiness.  You NYCers can find 5 year aged Gouda at Fairway (73/Bway) relatively frequently.  Artisanal has a four year old for sale - I'd be curious to know how it compares. 

Now, back to dreaming about that cheese cave and the cheese cart jockey. Would that cheese jockey have condiments handy as well?  Would he pair wines with his cheeses? Would he make fondue in the winter? Hmm.....

Cocoa Cardamom Cumin Chicken Wings

It's almost embarrassing that this dish was inspired by garlic, ginger soy marinated chicken wings at Japanese restaurant Kasadela.  (For those of you keeping score, this is my second post inspired by a meal there.   You should go...and I should go back!).

Embarrassing in the sense that I wanted to stick to the flavors I enjoyed at Kasadela.   A moist, wet marinade that exploded with flavor in every bite.   But there's something about me that just wants to take an idea and run with it rather than re-create it.

I have been on a recent ground cardamom kick, generally for the first time  in my life.  Powerful yet fragrant, used in relatively restrained proportions and with earthy flavors, it's truly a phenomenal spice.    I immediately thought cocoa would be an excellent match for cardamom, as would the earthiness of cumin.   

I wish I could give you proportions, but I had people over, we were drinking lots of wine and generally being rowdy.    For the first time in a while, I had a camera.   So I did what I had been doing every time I used to cook, take pictures for you (and my memory, I suppose).  I guess I'm saying that proportion memory was not a priority.

I chose not to fry the wings, which was mainly because I didn't want to burn the rub, particularly the cocoa.   I roasted them at 350 then 450 to finish.   They were juicy, bursting with earthy flavors and generally delicious.   In retrospect, I would have given them a brief fry to finish rather than turn the oven heat up, just for that extra crispiness.   But otherwise, they were eaten relatively quickly by my rowdy friends.    Always a good sign....

Primi, Served as Secondi

There are so many little stories and thoughts about my Italian travels that I've been storing in my mind, but found difficult to turn into individual posts.   Instead, I've prepared a few random little primi and serve them up to you as a more substantial secondi.   

The 1984 Ridge

During my time cooking for the Italian chef at his restaurant during the summer of '06,  he'd always serve me a proper dinner at the tables in the piazza before service.  He'd make me the best dishes on the menu, and I'd sip wine and read under the protection of shade from the summer heat.    On one particular evening, he told me to take anything from his wine cellar.   Thrilled, I spotted a 1984 Ridge Petite Syrah.   Surely I couldn't choose a Cali wine while in Florence, could I? But I loved Petite Syrah, and when would be the next chance for me to have one from the 80s?  So I went for the Petite Syrah.

As the chef  brought out a Chianina steak with porcini for my secondi,   an Italian woman my age sitting close by in the  piazza came up to me and said something in Italian.   I smiled and held up the book I was reading, Heat, which was obviously in English.   She smiled and said in English "Are you a chef?".   I told her about the book and how I was essentially doing the same thing as the author at the restaurant we were sitting in front of.  She pulled up a chair and we chatted for a while.   She was impressed with my knowledge of Italian food and wine.   Well, until she saw the Ridge sitting on the table.   When she heard it was Californian, she became oddly skeptical of me.   Why not drink something Italian...in Italy?  Damn.   Busted.   So I grasped at the last straw.    I offered her a glass, hoping this would speak for itself and somehow justify why I wasn't drinking a Brunello.   She smelled, swirled, sipped....and hated it.   Ciaos and air kisses  followed shortly after.   Damn Americans.

Goat Cheese Ricotta

Pecorino, made from sheep's milk,  is the undisputed king of Tuscany.    The idea of  eating something like goat cheese is so foreign to Tuscans, that my guides thought I'd appreciate a meeting with the most novel cheese maker they knew - a goat cheese producer.   He told me of his struggles to survive - how his friends and the locals thought he was crazy and were not very open to trying new cheeses, and the resulting plight to barely make ends meet.   But his goat cheeses were pristine and phenomenal, while his passion was somehow unaffected by his lack of acceptance.   The cheese was more tangy than grassy, but overall, his story was inspiring.   He showed me how to make a goat cheese ricotta that was amazing...haven't had anything like it since.   I wish I knew where to get my hands on some....

Pasta, Unboiled

One day, the Italian chef asks me if I've ever made dried pasta without boiling it in water.   I didn't respond, just sort of laughed.  I have read about cooking dried pasta in red wine, which infuses the flavor and turns the pasta a haunting purple.   But this Chef was very traditional and took a lot of pride in that, so I thought he was joking.    Without really speaking, he throws whole garlic in olive oil on low heat and removes it a few minutes later.   He puts sliced onions in the oil, sweating them without caramelizing.   In the pan goes fresh tomatoes for a simmer, then some red wine followed by a boil.    He throws in dried penne, covers the lid, and serves the pasta al dente, cooked in the sauce, ten minutes later.   Absolutely delicious.  I need to experiment with this approach more often.

Spoiled with Porcini  

I have always loved porcini.   But my experiences with fresh porcini had been spotty.    I had impeccable raw porcini in a salad at Babbo when I first graduated from college that sent me on a huge porcini obsession.   But then, I'd find fresh porcini in the markets that were old, wet, soggy or dried out and past their prime.  After dish upon dish, crate upon crate of fresh porcini  inspection in the Chef's kitchen in Tuscany,  it hurts me to the core to realize that those perfect, impeccably fresh porcini moments are going to be few and far between for me.    Insert pouting face here.

Cooking sans Cooking

I'm always looking for new cooking challenges.   In fact, I like to put myself in situations that make me slightly uncomfortable.   While it can be satisfying to be the master of what I already know, I am always looking to keep myself sharp.   

I've always believed that over time, I'd learn and appreciate as many new genres of cooking as I possibly could.   Over the years, that usually means learning about other cultures, and the food traditions that stem from them.   

But when a few friends decided to do a raw detox for a week, I couldn't help but wonder what type of raw dishes I'd create.   I researched and read as much as I could on the subject until I was armed to create from my newfound knowledge.   But in my research of raw,  I began down the frightening path of reading about "mock" ravioli and a plethora of "dishes" with a"ridiculous" number of "air quotes".   It made me slightly nauseous and raw started to get me nervous.   And slightly pissed.    I thought I may have met my match.

I then started down a different path - one inspired by the Matthew Kenney, Sarma Melngailis  book, Raw Food Real World.    After consulting with my raw dinner guest,  I realized raw milk cheese and raw fish were sometimes part of the diet.     I realized I didn't need to learn to make a special raw menu.  I do it all the time.

Cooking raw didn't mean following or adapting a new style of cooking, or making compromises by creating food with air quotes.   It meant making raw food within my own style of cooking.

Three Salad Tasting with Truffle Honey

I dorked out at the Union Square farmer's market for about 30 minutes, highlighted by the ten or so salad green varieties I tasted.   As I thought about which I'd like to serve for dinner, I realized it would be a shame to mix the individual flavors together.   So I featured three greens separately in order to appreciate and truly taste their differences.  The pea shoots, the mustard greens, and a wasabi like spicy lettuce (forgot the name)  make up the dish.    I mixed each stack of greens with olive oil, salt, and lemon juice.   I served them with a slice of raw milk Parmigiano Reggiano, some dried figs, and a mixture of preserved crushed truffles and raw honey.

Gruyere with Cilantro Juice and Pomegranate (pictured above)

I figured I'd make a cheese course, choosing a year aged raw Gruyere.   The nuttiness of aged Gruyere is one of my favorite things.   I juiced raw cilantro, added a drizzle of olive oil, lemon juice and a garnish of pomegranate seeds for texture.

Salmon, pear, pistachio with vanilla bean vinaigrette 

I was into vanilla bean in a major way a few years ago and I've noticed it's coming back into my cooking in the past month.   I simply sliced raw salmon, garnished it with fresh pear, and drizzle a vinaigrette made with olive oil, lemon juice and a the seeds of a fresh vanilla bean.   Not one of my best presentations ever.   I also thought the olive oil competed with the vanilla, so a  neutral oil would have been a better choice.   But the combo of vanilla bean and raw salmon work very well with fresh pear.   I'll experiment with this again.

Tuna, avocado, jalapeno and pear curry juice

I thought it would be interesting to try consecutive raw fish dishes, but with completely different qualities.   I aimed to make a pear juice with a deep, haunting flavor.  Just of pinch of curry with the pear juice took the entire dish to a different level.   A slight showstopper and possibly the highlight of the meal.

Anyhow, I'm sure a few raw zealots will send me an email telling me that my ground curry powder was made with toasted spices or what not.   Please don't.   While I certainly find the benefits of enjoying all of the nutrients and benefits of eating raw, I generally thought that the entire raw experience was a bit extreme.    Though I guess in this case, extremely tasty.

Smoked Paprika, Tarragon Compound Butter

One of my favorite ways to roast a chicken is to stuff the skin with a compound butter.   A compound butter is simply softened butter mixed with additional flavors and reformed back to its traditional state.

I make all different kinds of flavored butters.   One of my favorites is smoked paprika and tarragon butter.   But I've made so many others that I equally love.   Chopped mushrooms and thyme, which had been previously sauteed and cooled.    Toasted pink peppercorn, ginger lemon, roasted garlic butter....the list is endless and essentially left up to your creativity. 

The technique is very simple.   I like to get a stick of butter at close to room temp, just soft enough to be able to mix thoroughly with your additional ingredients.   When adding your ingredients, always make sure they are room temp and relatively dry.   I like to lay out the butter on plastic wrap, add the ingredients, mix together with my hands, then roll the butter into a tight sausage like object in the plastic wrap.    I then toss the butter into the freezer to harden and become one.    Simply slice and use as you'd like.   I love how the butter and ingredients baste and flavor the meat of roasted chicken, but you can use this technique for almost anything.

A Drink to Celebrate Unprincipled Veggies

After a tough year, I began 2007 with a few challenges for myself.   

One of them was to open my mind beyond the preconceived notions of what I thought I needed to be fulfilled and satisfied.  As I had a new social life that I needed to build again, I promised that I wouldn’t be looking for carbon copies of myself to spend time with, which unfortunately had been the standard upon which I measured compatibility. The 2007 version of myself was all about having an open mind, open plans, open to sharing anything.

On the dating front, that turned out to pose interesting dilemmas.  Take, for instance, the fact that I’ve been on dates with three vegetarians.   That’s something I wouldn’t do before this year. I mean….do you read this site?

But being open minded means giving people a chance, even if that means challenging yourself to look beyond what on paper could be a bad match.  Of course, all of them turned out lame.   The last and most recent social experiment was the most ironic of all.   I had to dig deep and attempt to be open minded on a variety of major issues, many of which were way deeper than being a veggie.   It turned out to be an unappreciated attempt, which was slightly comical to me.   I thought people could see when they were asking more of someone and would value the effort.   Weren’t veggies usually the incredibly thoughtful, principled, types?

Despite popular opinion, I’m not against being a veggie.  I love vegetables more than anyone, so I could imagine celebrating them above all else.   But I love bacon, and that’s just in my DNA.  What I can also respect about being a veggie are life decisions based on principles or health related goals.   If someone wants to live a lifestyle free of animal fats and what not, I kind of get that.   Kind of.    Humanitarian issues?  Certainly a point for debate, but one I respect and admire.

But every veggie I’ve met had nothing of substance supporting their lifestyle choices.   The most frequent explanation I’ve heard was “texture” – they didn’t like how certain proteins felt in their mouths.   In fact, this last person wasn’t even committed to being a vegetarian.  She could be talked out of it seemingly at a whim, which I would say ended up being metaphor for issues of greater substance.   Commitments can be tricky, especially when they seem to be rooted in whimsy.

So after the latest and most recent veggie debacle, I’m at the crossroads of whether I’d bother going on a date with another veggie.   Gut instinct says bad match.   But the open-minded me says that would be a shallow move.  When it comes down to it,  it’s not about eating veggies, bacon, or foie gras.  It’s about the substance that lies behind the choices we make.   Veggies with principle and conviction, you still make the cut.   Lucky you (?).

To celebrate the failing of my new open-minded romanticism, I offer you a drink that I’m making at home to ponder my recent veggie follies. Velvet Falernum is an amazingly aromatic simple syrup/alcohol concoction.   You need to track it down – it’s shockingly delicious and completely challenges what you’d expect from a spirit.  It’s almost like a little taste of Fall - bursting with spices, nutmeg, cinnamon and all things that remind you of pumpkin pie, falling leaves and unprincipled vegetarians. 

A recipe for my favorite drink with Velvet Falernum is below.

Goat Cheese Smoked Paprika Wonton, Pear Horseradish Sauce

I had previously been an advocate for using purchased wonton skins as a last minute replacement for pasta dishes like ravioli or tortelloni.

But a few weeks ago, I had my last limp wonton skin pasta dish.   No mas.  In my opinion, the wonton skins are too delicate to treat like pasta and a double layer of wonton skins overwhelms the filling.   I guess there is no cheating dough from scratch.

Wonton skins are still useful, however.   Like, for making...urrr...wontons (it's hard being this smart, people.  Don't be intimidated - you'll get there one day).

I look for a simple burst of focused flavor in a wonton.  I chose to go the creamy, smoky route on this day.  I made a goat cheese, smoked paprika puree by simple adding the ingredients to a food processor, along with a touch of olive oil, a bit of cream and a squeeze of lemon juice.  After forming the wontons, it's really just about frying them for a minute or two until golden brown.

The fun for me came while making a dipping sauce condiment.  On this occasion, I had the wontons already made and in the freezer.   I went to the corner store, looking for a few ingredients for the dipping sauce.   I had $5 on me and wasn't in the mood to visit the ATM, so I  limited myself to only a few inexpensive ingredients.  I saw a perfectly ripe pear and thought I'd make a creamy puree, with the pear providing a base flavor of sweetness.   I figured the texture of the pear would also give the condiment some body.

I thought the spiciness of horseradish would be a natural counterpoint for the pear.   I went home and pureed about half the pear, a heaping tablespoon of horseradish, and a touch of dijon together with a streaming drizzle of olive oil until  the condiment thickened.   The dipping sauce has a bit more body than an aioli or mayo, but it still had a thick enough texture to cling to the wontons when dipped. 

I think the pear horseradish combo is a winner, one I'll certainly explore again sometime down the road.   In fact, this would be a killer spread on a sandwich.   Ah....the beauty of leftovers.

Dulce de Frozen Grapes

I am not accomplished in the dessert world.  As you've probably noticed, there are approximately zero posts or references to dessert around these parts. This is a dessert free zone.

I can do some basic desserts and make killer ice creams, but in general, my personality isn't suited to following detailed recipes or weighing out ingredients to exact measurements. 

A little bite of sweet at the end of a meal is certainly understandable, but to be honest, the idea of saving room for dessert is preposterous to me . I max out my stomach space on the savory side of the meal.   I have been known to save room for cheese, but that's about it.  Not that I don't appreciate the pastry arts, I just prefer a bubbly Muscato d' Asti and maybe a slice of creamy cheesiness drizzled with condiments.  Or maybe just the Muscato.

But since I'm a people pleaser at heart, dinner at my place these days concludes with frozen grapes.  Not only are they a refreshing and light way to conclude a meal, but the flavors of the grapes seem to concentrate when frozen.  The texture of the frozen grape is very satisfying and no doubt an excellent treat for the upcoming global warming summer that lies ahead.

As you've seen on this site before, I have stuffed frozen grapes with foie gras as a summer appetizer.  Over the past few weeks, I have been experimenting with frozen grapes as a simple conclusion to a meal.

I've attempted frozen grapes coated with Bliss Maple Syrup, which was nice but the maple was a lost on the grape (despite adjusting the amounts of maple used). 

Another frozen grape variety I've made (and eating as I type this) is coated in a cayenne pepper infused honey.  Spicy, sweet, floral flavors precede the frozen blast of grape flavor, which I found very intriguing.  I haven't received second opinions on this one (read: I horded these alone late at night, drooling, standing in my underwear in a pitch black kitchen with Hall & Oates playing in the background!?!?), so I can't confirm this would be a widely accepted opinion.

But the best combination I've made to date (confirmed by multiple sources, all of whom were fully clothed and within properly lit environments) are frozen grapes covered liberally with Dulche de Leche from Argentina.  The sweet, rich creaminess works perfectly with the frozen grape. 

Simply freeze the grapes in a single layer in your freezer.  After a few hours before serving, mix a few heaping tablespoons of the dulce into the frozen grapes.   The best method is to mix the dulce into the grapes with your hands, as you want a liberal coating of dulce on each grape.  I place the grapes back in the freezer for an hour or so before serving, just so the dulce and grape form into a single entity. 

I'm open to any other flavor combinations....send them in!

Breaking Up With Truffle Salt Is Hard To Do

This is as hard for me as it is for you, truffle salt.

I'm emotional connected to everything truffle related, there's no doubt.   

Your earthy potential, even on the first thought, sends me over the edge. I'll never forget the first day when the natural earthy fragrance of your expensive, elusive, fresh Italian sibling touched my lips.  Shaved over fresh pasta,  its essence awoke all of my senses.  I truly thought we had an unbreakable bond - honey, oil...only time would tell when we'd meet again.

We were set up on a blind date one fateful night on December 25th.  I know you remember, truffle salt.  Yes, it was weird being introduced by my Mom, but I was single and you were looking for someone to connect with.  I opened you from your jar, exposing the amazing fragrance you had infused into a course sea salt.  I thought I had met my match.  Everyone around me saw that you had clearly overtaken me with your overpowering truffle aroma.

I couldn't wait to bond with you.  I sprinkled you over a freshly made foccaccia.  But there was something standing between you and my palate.  What was it? Was it me? I doubted myself, truffle salt. You hit me hard.

I'd wait before I'd call on you again.   Not only did I need to recover from such a disappointment, but I needed to appreciate you on my own, without distraction.   I shaved, lit a few candles and made a simple salad - mixed greens, goat cheese, a nice olive oil, a squeeze of lemon.   I thought this was it, truffle salt.  You had me at my best....I was ready for your earthy aromas to transcend my nose and touch my tastebuds.  But you left me high and dry.  Again.  Another sleepless night, eh truffle salt? Why are you so unavailable? Is it me? Am I overbearing...do you need space?

We were at a crossroads, truffle salt...I was grasping at straws.  This was our last chance.  There wasn't time for other flavors to come between us.  I needed to taste your supposed truffle infused saltiness without distraction.  I placed you on my finger and onto my lips, but there was nothing there.  Sparks didn't fly.   Butterflies? Eh.  No.

It's not you, truffle salt.  It's me. 

OK....it's not me .  It's definitely you.  There's nothing truffley about you. 

Don't call me tomorrow. 

~ Fungus Amongus Truffle Salt ~

A Bird for Andrew Bird

As you've read here before, music is a big part of my life.  I couldn't imagine cooking without it.

But as far as creating dishes at home, I'll take inspiration wherever I can get it.  Certainly cooking shows, books, blogs and restaurants are obvious sources of stimuli.  But sometimes I find ideas in unexpected places.

I recently went to see one of my favorite musicians, Andrew Bird.  His last album has been at the top of my iTunes playlists for over a year and was very excited to see him in concert for the first time recently.  If you don't know about Andrew Bird (listen here), he plays pretty much every instrument on his album, in addition to writing and singing well written, thoughtful lyrics.

Seeing him in concert at Bowery on Jan 17 was an inspiring experience.  Andrew flips between a violin, guitar, glockenspiel and a haunting whistle that adds an amazing depth to many of his songs.  While watching and listening to him at the show, I was totally in awe of his talent. Watching someone so remarkably talented perform an entirely new album (out in March, can't wait!) live with such effortless sincerity and passion was nothing short of inspiring.  While enjoying the show, I couldn't help but wish I pushed myself further and took more chances with my cooking. 

I asked myself a few interesting questions.  Am I drunk? Is that Brookyln Vegan taking those photos? Do I look like that when I go to restaurants? Should I get another beer and doublefist? And, if Andrew Bird were a chef, what kind of dishes would he create?

Well, I'm sure his dishes would be unique, thoughtful and relatively complex.  But I couldn't picture him using science or making foams.  And since he weaves multiple techniques and sounds together as elements that work within a single song,  I started to picture Chef Andrew expressing the same ingredient through multiple cooking techniques on the same plate.  As if transitioning from instrument to instrument, each element on the plate would need to be tied together by a similar flavor.  (I avoided adding music cliches/analogies here, which was very difficult but I hope appreciated).

I went on enjoying the concert but came back to these thoughts the next day.  I would make a dish based on the above ideas, inspired by Andrew Bird.  Now what would be my singular ingredient focus, expressed in a few different ways? Andrew Bird....hmmm.  Right.  Chicken it was.

And the single, uniting element that would tie each preparation of chicken together? I went with chilis.  I'd use a different form of chili within each chicken preparation, in hopes to link each of the chicken dishes together on the plate with a similar flavor.

So, here's an exploration of my Andrew Bird inspired experiment - Chili Chicken Three Ways.

Serrano Honey Chicken Wings - The goal here was to marry earthy, spicy chili flavors with the sweetness of honey.  I covered the chicken wings with an ancho chili powder, olive oil and salt. . While roasting them n the oven for about 25 minutes, I took out my roasted and finely chopped serrano peppers.   I removed the wings from the oven, dotted them with the roasted serrano and drizzled the wings with honey.  I roasted them for another 25 minutes until crusty and caramelized.  These wings were phenomenal. 

Cocoa Chili Crusted Chicken Breast - I brined the on-the-bone chicken breasts overnight.  After drying them very well, I covered them in a coating of 1/2 part bittersweet chocolate and 1/2 part ancho chili powder, salt, pepper and nutmeg. I seared the breasts in olive oil for only two minutes each side, then let them slow roast in the oven.  The brine is essential to ensure for a juicy chicken.  The crust of cocoa and chili added an earthiness that worked well with the other flavors on the plate. 

Coconut Water, Chipotle Braised Chicken - I seared chicken legs and thighs, then added some lemongrass, garlic and onions to the pan and covered the chicken with Zico coconut water and some chipotle and adobo sauce, and a splash of red wine.   I chose coconut water as I wanted the flavor without the richness, which worked well.  The sweetness of the Zico was balanced by the heat of the chipotle.  After braising for an hour and a half, I stripped the chicken into large pieces and reduced the braising liquid by 3/4 for use as a sauce. 

Finally, I added a few garnishes to the plate as a means to transition from one chicken dish to the other.  I dusted some red bliss potato wedges with the ancho chili powder, salt, pepper and olive oil and roasted them for 45 minutes until tender. I placed these wedges between the wings and the chicken breast.  I also poached some shitake mushrooms for about 20 minutes in the chipotle braising liquid, which I placed between the breast and the braised chicken.

All in all, a fun, creative experiment inspired by an unlikely source.

Andrew Bird photo via Brooklyn Vegan.

Plantain Wrapped Goat Cheese: The Sequel

I promised I'd check back as I looked to perfect the plantain crusted goat cheese dish.  You may have read the first edition already, where I discuss how I recently came up with this idea.     While I loved the flavors behind the original dish I made, I couldn't crack the presentation - I needed to find a better plantain to goat cheese ratio for each bite.

The solution came to me randomly while walking home from work the other day.  I'd cut long chunks of the ripe plantain while raw.  With a long sharp knife tip, I turned the plantain chunk on its end and created a hole through the entire piece.  I stuffed the hole with a mixture of goat cheese, chopped rosemary, olive oil, salt and pepper. The best way to get the cheese into the plantain was to push the cheese mixture into a single corner of a small ziplock bag.  After rolling the bag tight into a pastry bag shape, I clipped the corner of the bag with scissors and piped the cheese through the hole and into the plantain. 

I did this for an entire plantain and stuffed the pieces back inside the plantain skin and re-wrapped  it as if it were back in its original state.  I roasted the plantain at 300 for about 25 minutes until soft and firm.  The skin keeps the plantain soft and avoids letting the pieces dry out.  I placed a small plantain chip on the rim of each piece of plantain.  You can thinly slice and fry unripe green plantains or you can buy a bag at your local bodega.  The balsamic reduction is as described in my original post  - it adds a sweet acidic tang that rounds out the flavors of the creamy goat cheese and sweet plantain. 

The pieces of plantain were small enough that a person could eat a whole piece at once - it becomes a flavorful explosion of tastes and textures within a single, large bite.    I may have to add this to my canape arsenal - the addition of rosemary and the crunchy plantain chip take the original idea to another level.

Traditionally Untraditional

I struggle with how I describe my cooking style.

Whenever I meet someone interested in the food aspect of my life, they usually tend to ask me what style of food I specialize in - Is it Italian? French? New American? No.  No.  Maybe...but no. The long answer, as you know by reading this site, is that I'm ingredient and technique focused.  After that, I try and create flavors that make sense to me.   Part of this is my desire to express myself creatively with food.  The other part is that I believe once I've mastered cooking techniques, making a dish becomes an expression of what I've experienced and what inspires me.  I make dishes like corn juice soup based on an experience in a restaurant.  I am inspired by trips to Italy, Argentina, Sonoma and sometimes Rockaway, N.J.

Rockaway is a small, middle class town in northwestern NJ.  I grew up there, as did generation after generation of my family.  While I was home for Christmas, I had a typical experience that, in retrospect, allowed me to articulate my cooking style to myself. 

Uncle Beef, Renee and I went to an 80 year old German pork store called Schwind's.  Nothing new here - we've gone to Schwind's plenty of times before. In fact, my uncle, his friend and others have been frequenting Schwind's their whole lives.  They make traditional Weisswurst and sausages that are just phenomenal.  The entire operation has been family run for their entire 80 years and still is to this day.  It shows in the quality of their food but in the fact that this isn't a yuppified foodie like stop to supplement a trip to Whole Foods.  This is their lives and you can taste it.

We picked up some veal sausages and took these treats, some traditional sweet German mustard and rolls to our friend Bob's house for an afternoon snack. Uncle Beef browned our Weisswurst in butter to get a nice brownness to them.  We cut them open to reveal a light, almost airy, rich interior of veal like mousse.  The picture speaks for itself, really.   They were the simplest expression of tradition and flavor I could imagine tasting.  Every bite seemed to remind me of how complicated food can be, especially when I cook it.

But the next morning, I was back at the stove to make myself a simple breakfast before heading back to NYC.  Somehow, like always, I forgot about the tradition of Schwinds, or how other Germans would prepare their Weisswurst.  I only thought about what would make my breakfast as tasty as it could be.

Another part of my Rockaway, N.J. experience is Latin American influenced.  The day before, I was able to pick up some arepas from a Latin American influenced grocery store that is quickly becoming yuppified.  I bought the arepas out of principle, without a real plan on how (or if) I'd use them.   

But I did what was natural to me.  I browned the sweet, yellow corn arepas (almost like a thicker, more savory pancake...or not) and used them as a base for some of the browned Weisswurst.  I fried an egg and perched it on the sausage and arepa.  As I broke the yoke and had an excellent and random breakfast, I realized what a culinary sin I had created.  Decades upon centuries of people have enjoyed the arepa and the Weisswurst in traditional cultural ways, and I just slap them together casually on an instinctual whim.  In Jersey.

In some ways, I felt guilty.  But I also felt inspired (and certainly satisfied) with what I had just eaten.  I then realized what I'd always known - my cooking style is rich with tradition, only personalized based on my own experiences.  For better or worse, I guess I'd call it traditionally untraditional.

Rosemary Honey

While thinking about making a cheese plate recently, I needed to come up with a few quick condiments to go along with the cheeses.  I immediately began to think about the truffle honey I enjoyed so much in Italy, but I'm unfortunately out of it and haven't tracked down replacements for the pantry.  I did, however, have a high quality Acacia honey that would be a fine accompaniment with one of the cheeses.  In thinking about the truffle honey, I thought about infusing my own flavors into the Acacia honey I had on hand.  I had some truffle oil , but instead eyed some of the fresh herbs in the fridge.  The rosemary in particular should have been a nice pairing with a mild, earthy goat cheese.  I chopped a handful of fresh rosemary and tossed it the honey, then let the rosemary marinate overnight, hoping the flavors would intensify.  That they did.  The rosemary honey was nicely balanced - sweet, earthy and bursting with rosemary flavor.  I think honey is great vehicle for carrying flavor, so I plan on pursuing other honey infusions...and maybe not just for cheese. Peperoncino is at the top of my list - somehow I think the spiciness and sweetness could be a nice combination.  I am cooking for some folks tonight, maybe I'll think about using a spicy honey to lightly coat a slow roasted fish, BLT style?

The Earthy Sweetness of Truffle Honey

For those of you who have ordered cheese at Otto (part of the Molto Mario chain here in NYC), you know about the wonders of truffle honey.  It's nothing short of outrageously addictive.  Sweet, fragrant honey is laced with chopped black truffle, creating a balance of earthiness and sweetness that explodes in your mouth with flavor.

While in Montalcino, we were served an excellent, floral and fragrant local honey with a plate of cheeses.  But the menu called out the truffles in the honey, but I know truffle honey dammit, and there weren't any truffles to be found.  My mother loved the regular honey and purchased a few small bottles of it, but ended up buying the truffle honey instead. This mix up annoyed her for some reason, so she gave them to me.  We served a bottle a few days later with local cheeses at our villa in Umbria.  Seriously, this honey is so damn good that if Sandra Lee was covered in it, I'd even lick it off of her.

I'm down to my last small bottle but I know I will be a cracked-out mess once I run out.  Of course, I've contacted the producer Calugi via their website, begging them to tell me where I can get it in the States or whether they can send me a lifetime supply.  Nothing. I have found some other brands on the web but fear disappointment (average honey or lack of truffle flavor).  Does anyone out there have any truffle honey tips for me? Please? Where does Otto get theirs? Let me know and I'll be your bestie. 

Vere: Pink Peppercorn Chocolate

As if right on cue, I was given a box of dark chocolates made by Vere (pronounced "very").  The chocolate is made from a rare Ecuadorian bean that apparently requires less sweetening vs. other chocolate beans. The dark chocolate was fantastically rich and creamy. It's shaped as a simple disk/wafer, which allows a nice chocolate to mouth ratio per bite.

But of course, it was the pink peppercorn that took it over the top.  It added texture and a crunch, but also the floral, zingy flavor that I love. I will definitely experiment with chocolate and pink peppercorn in the future.  While I focus on desserts infrequently, I will need to come up with options for our next foodie event and pink peppercorn may make a star appearance.

Parm Regg Butter

I recently stumbled into butter made from the cream that remains from the Parmigiano Reggiano cheese making process (@ Fairway, for those NYC dwellers).

I've been dying to try it and finally dropped the $6 for about a 1/2 lb flat, chunky block of the Parm Regg butter.

I tried it straight up at first, on a piece of a baguette.  I did get some subtle earthiness from it, but overall it was creamy, very mild and most importantly, lacked the sweet buttery flavor we have all come to love.

I then used it in a couscous.  The creaminess was definitely there and added lots of richness to the grains. But again, lacking that sweet buttery taste without compensating with the cheese-like flavors you might expect.

I will continue to use it and report if I change my tune in the upcoming weeks.  But my current opinion is that I miss the sweetness of the unsalted butter I currently enjoy and don't taste the benefits of being from the Reggiano hills.  I can't recommend it beyond general curiosity.

Thinking About Concord Grapes

Welch's and Smuckers have made Concord grapes seem pretty ordinary, but for my tastes, fresh Concord grapes available this time of year are anything but mass produced tasting.

In fact, I find them extraordinarily flavorful. The question is, what to do with them?

Maybe frozen, and stuffed with something creamy and rich.  Like this?

Maybe pureed, strained and reduced as a sauce for fish? How about as a sauce for a tender, poached cod or a seared, crispy bass?

Maybe reduced into a sweet syrup, for seared scallops?

Maybe a gelee? Damn, that would be great with oysters.

Hmmm.  Will have to give it some thought, but expect a post with an experimentation soon....

Pigskin Sundays

Back in the day, I used to kickoff Sunday football with wings and beer.  If I weren't concerned about keeling over in an unhealthy state of nastiness, I wouldn't deviate from this successful formula of football satisfaction. But it's not like I'm starting the 2005 season with salads and tofu dogs because let's face it - pork, football and beer is a perfect combination.

I've recently been enjoying putting platters together that can last an entire game.  Last week, I had some mortadella, hot soppressata, brie, an aged cheddar and some crackers. Of course, I needed some of my beloved hot sauce - not the sriracha I normally reach for - but the chili garlic sauce from the rooster company.  The perfect bite is pictured here - a bit of creamy brie, a slice of deep mortadella porkiness, a touch of the chili sauce and a crispy cracker. 

Roasted Okinawa Purple Sweet Potato

I haven't been able to find these purple sweet potatoes from Okinawa on a consistent basis, but they are indeed worth hunting down.  They are sweet, earthy and pretty much taste like a yam.  They obviously look incredible on the plate - I only wish I could experiment with them more often.  I've only roasted them - wish I could try them mashed, in a multi-layered and colored gratin, etc.

Here's an informative look at the Okinawa purple sweet potato.

Mahon in Spain

One of my favorite dishes we had during a recent trip to Barcelona was a beautiful fresh tomato salad featuring little else but a cheese called Mahon.  At the time we hadn't known this cheese, but later found it at the famous and oldest food market in Barcelona called La Boqueria.  I took this picture to remember it when I came back to the U.S. 

Mahon is a cow's milk cheese from the small island of Minorca, which is a popular vacation spot located in the Western Mediterranean off of Spain.  After looking at the different kinds of Mahon in this picture, I have learned that Mahon fresco comes aged only ten days, while Mahon tierno is aged about 1-2 months.  The oldest seem to be about 10-12 months and apparently achieves a hard consistency with flavors becoming more intense.  Based on this info, the Mahon we had must have been the tierno, as I remember it to be soft, creamy and just a touch pungent. The dark red rind is traditionally made from paprika and oil.  Fellow NYC readers can find it here.

Aleppo Pepper

My family has been into Aleppo Pepper for years.  I am just starting to use it frequently and I do indeed love it as well.  Aleppo pepper flakes are dried and crushed red pepper from the Turkey region.  They have a deep, almost smoky chili flavor.  It's not that spicy - certainly much more mild than red pepper flakes. Some liken the flavor to ancho chili, which I find pretty accurate. I like to use it by infusing the Aleppo pepper flakes into olive oil or butter before sauteing, releasing their oils into whatever I am making.  When making a succotash of corn, soybeans, red bell peppers, garlic and onions recently (I'll post the recipe tomorrow), the Aleppo added a deep, almost mysterious flavor to the dish.  Try it out - you can pick up a bottle at Pensey's.

Torta del Casar

One of the best dishes I had in Spain was virtually Italian in origin.  A summer truffle risotto was perfectly creamy, a touch moist and loose, with deep mushroom flavors that languished in my mouth for minutes after swallowing.  Right in the middle of the risotto was a pool of melted Torta del Casar cheese from Spain.  A perfect melting cheese with deep flavors that could stand up to the mushroom intensity, it was a cheese I needed to remember.  We stumbled into a cheese shop in Barcelona and I was able to take a picture so I could remember to track it down when I got home.  Here it is.

Broccolini

I absolutely love broccolini.  As you'll see