foodie nyc

I Want to Cook For You (And Serve You Wine)

I sometimes feel guilty that most of the food I discuss on this site is mine. 

OK, I guess I don't.  I mean, it's my site, right?

Just kidding.  I'd love one of your dishes on this site.    Plus, I've done these contests in the past with the hopes of meeting a long time reader in person...and it's worked out well. 

So, I'm giving away a free seat to the upcoming March 30th tasting, which you can read about here.

So what do you have to do to win?

Just submit a favorite  dish you've made at home with a general method of preparation and a few sentences about why you made the dish.  While a photo of your submission is not required, it will count in your favor when choosing the winning entry. 

Entries must be received by midnight on March 16th.  I will announce the winner on this site on Monday, March 17th.

I'll be choosing the winner based on creativity and your ability to make me either drool or laugh,  which believe it or not, is not very difficult to do.  (I drool frequently.)

If you live in another state or cannot attend the tasting on March 30th, you will be given the option to receive a seat to a future event or pass your seat onto a friend that can attend the tasting in your place.

Please send all submissions to me at joe at foodienyc dot com.

Have fun!

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

Soba Noodles with Tofu, Shitake, Pineapple, Cilantro

One of the single most frustrating aspects about having a passion for cooking is the frequent assumption that cooking is something I do to fulfill my own needs. 

I often hear things like "It's not a big deal, since you love to cook anyway" or "I know you just made a huge dinner for me and friends, but you love it",  or  "I know this was a major effort, but you'd be cooking anyway".   

It's as if cooking is a narcissistic act that solely revolves around fulfilling my passions.   While there is some truth to that, cooks everywhere experience a phenominom once they learn their guests tastes, likes and dislikes.    Cooking for someone becomes thoughtful. 

A friend who adores soup and pho? Hmm, maybe I'll make a rendition of oxtail soup that would have completely different qualities in comparison to pho.   Someone  who loves the clean yet complex flavors of Thai?  Maybe these flavors would be a helpful remedy for her crazy weekend on the road?

What I'm getting at is that cooking is much more than the physical effort of chopping, sauteing and searing.   Beyond the effort,  it can become an extremely thoughtful expression.   Thinking about what flavors or tastes can make someone smile...remembering what ingredients they love and loathe with precise detail...recalling a dish they loved while eating at a restaurant  together.  All of these things are much more than an act of labor.

My point is simply that cooking for someone on a frequent basis becomes much more than a  physical effort.   Believe it or not, sometimes that gets overlooked by eaters everywhere.

Anyhow, I bring this up because that's exactly what inspired me to make this Soba noodle dish (which is the actual point of this post!).   I went to the market thinking about what flavors would comfort someone coming back from a rowdy and sleepless weekend.    She loves the play of sweet, tart and spicy, loves starches like rice and noodles, enjoys the earthy flavors of tofu and mushrooms, and maybe cilantro is one of her favorite herbs.    Done.

I simply sauteed shitakes in olive oil with finely chopped white onion, garlic, ginger and some cayenne.  After the mushrooms cooked down and released their water, I added cubed firm tofu and sesame seed oil and sauteed for a few minutes.   A bit of soy deglazed the pan.   Finally, cubed pineapple, roasted cashews, chopped cilantro and the juice of a whole lime finished the dish.   I added the cooked soba noodles, folded them into the ingredients in the pan, then adjusted the seasoning as necessary.    I added a bit more lime juice and another few drops of soy and sesame oil for balance. 

A delicious and simple dish, which made excellent lunch leftovers the next day.

Sandra Lee Sucks: Coq Au Coconut with Celery Root Puree

My virtual protest of the culinary train wreck that is Sandra Lee comes to you in a variation of the classic French dish, Coq Au Vin.

For this edition of  "I Loathe Sandra Lee", I've decided to show Sandra how to create a proper braised chicken dish.   Sandra created one of the most unfortunate recipes I've seen, unwisely called "Chicken Scaloppini".  She inexplicably suggests that you braise thin, boneless chicken breasts for 4 hours.  To accent her dry overcooked chicken, she suggests braising pre-cooked frozen vegetables and potatoes for four hours, just so you can appreciate how vegetables can turn gray and lose all of their flavor and texture.   Now that's good eating.

I wish I could say I spent a ton of time thinking about how to improve this debacle.   But I didn't need to, because unlike Sandra Lee,  I realized that the  French pretty much mastered the technique for braising chicken long before Sandra even knew how to spell "preservative."

I followed the traditional Coq Au Vin technique for braising chicken, but since I try to live my life beyond the "30% creative benchmark" that Sandra inspires the world to live by,  I chose flavor combinations I thought would add an earthy element to the chicken and the braising sauce. 

After searing the chicken, I added cremini mushrooms, ground curry, garlic and water to deglaze the browned chicken goodness left in the bottom of a heavy pot.   I submerged the chicken in the liquid, brought to a heavy simmer, than placed it in a 350 oven for just a little over an hour (not four!).   

After the chicken is ready, the key becomes turning the amazingly rich, mushroom curry broth into a sauce.   I reduced the sauce for another twenty minutes until concentrated and thicker.   I then finished the dish with coconut milk, adding a creamy spike of flavor.    A bit of lemon juice cuts through the richness and balances the sauce. 

As a starchy compliment to the dish, I boiled and pureed celery root.   I love the fresh, celery flavor the puree adds to the earthy flavors of the mushroom, curry and chicken.   A simple garnish of diced radish and celery leaves adds a burst of fresh flavor and texture.

Chest bumps, Sandy!

Full recipe follows.......

Save the Date: The Next Tasting Is In Sight

I'm very closing to announcing the next set of Foodie NYC tasting events for the weekend of March 28-30.   

Read more here.   

I'm going to be doing a theme for this event, most likely inspired by my upcoming trip to Puerto Rico.    I did an event last year based on my trip to Umbria/Tuscany, which made for a personal and interesting dining experience for my guests.

I'm also thinking of  giving away a free seat to this event by doing a potential contest, like I did with my chocolate tasting event a while ago.

Stay tuned, more to come....

I Still Loathe Sandra Lee: February 2008

It's been a while since I've thought about Sandra Lee.

But one Saturday morning, I couldn't sleep and found myself curled up on the couch watching Saturday morning Food Network shows.   Before I knew it, the queen of semi-homemade popped onto the screen in all her processed glory.    All of the cuddly goodness of this particular Saturday morning suddenly stood still in time, as I heard the dreaded words that sent my mind into a state of perplexed anarchy.   I can almost hear the shrill of her voice now:  "70% Semi Homemade and 30% creativity" and something to the effect of fooling people into thinking you actually made food from scratch.   Dupe your family!  Fool your friends!  Woohoo!

All of this reminded me how much I loathe Sandra Lee.    I get tons of love and hate mail around this subject, and I'd like to clear something up.   I don't loathe simple cooking.   Or meals that take only minutes to make.    What I do loathe is using processed ingredients full of chemicals, artificial flavors and passing it off as homemade cooking to fool your friends and family. 

It's almost like Sandra Lee is stuck in a food time warp circa 1985.    Sometimes I feel like the entire country is moving toward a local food, all natural, fresh tastes better, farmers market mentality.   But every time I feel assured about the food progress of our country,  I'm reminded that there's a single woman out there who encourages us to forget about eating  natural, healthy, local ingredients.

Beyond this, I couldn't help but notice her awful cooking technique. 

An example would be her recipe for "Chicken Scaloppini".   I'm sorry, but this has to be the worst technically sound recipe I have seen in my life.   She suggests that you should buy thinly sliced chicken breasts and braise them with a bouillon cube , Campbell's cream of asparagus soup, and frozen vegetables for 4 HOURS!!!  Not only does this combination sound horrendous to me, the technique for braising is unbelievably wrong.     One does not braise skinless, boneless chicken breasts for four hours! Ever.   No one likes tough, rubbery chicken.  Nor does one braise pre-blanched frozen veggies for four hours - they are already cooked! 

Read some of the comments from people who made this horrendous dish.   They speak for themselves.

This recipe embodies everything wrong with Sandra Lee.    She is literally setting the American food revolution back by 10 years every time she convinces a poor soul to listen to her shitty advice.

On February 18,  the next internet protest of Sandra Lee will occur on this little site.    I will post a recipe inspired by Sandra Lee's "Chicken Scaloppini" recipe.   The only rules:  I will not use processed ingredients or anything semi-homemade in my dish.   I will braise using proper techniques.   I will be more than 30% creative rather than buy bouillon cubes and Campbell's Soup to avoid thinking.

If you are interested in joining me and telling the world how much you loathe Sandra Lee, simply make a braised dish in the anti-Sandra Lee method outlined above.   Send me a photo of your creation by February 17 and a bit of description and I'll feature your protest of Sandra Lee alongside my dish.  If you have a blog, I'll link back to you in my post.

Related:   The I Loathe Sandra Lee Archives

Aglio Oilio, Bastardized

By now, you've read enough about the simple, traditional pasta we always have on Christmas Eve.    Olive oil, garlic, peperoncino, parsley and parm regg make up the dish.   Despite all of the adventures I like to take with ingredients, I can rarely muster the nerve to mess with this dish.

But as part of the post Kate Nash dinner, I said screw tradition. 

The concept and technique for the dish remained the same, but the ingredients were turned upside down.   I started with olive oil in a pan, but rather than infusing with garlic and peperocino, I went with garlic, smoked paprika and a dash of ground cardamom.   After a handful of parsley, the oil stays on low heat for all of the flavors to come together. 

After cooking the pasta to the point of almost al dente, it's added to the oil to cook just a bit more to immerse itself in the flavored oil.   To take this bit of heresy to another level, I finished the dish with grated 5 year old aged gouda instead of the traditional parm regg.   

The smokey, fragrant oil was intense, flavorful and earthy.   I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the aged gouda in the pasta.    It lent the same nutty, salty flavor of the parm regg, but the caramel flavors were an interesting twist. 

Cooking for Kate Nash

As I always say, cooking inspiration can come from the unlikeliest of places.    

Music shouldn't be a surprising source of inspiration for long time readers of this site.     I've sporadically posted the music I listen to in the kitchen.   And last year, I created a dish inspired
by one of my favorite musicians, Andrew Bird, after seeing him in concert in 2007.

For the past few months, I've been completely in love with Kate Nash.    Her songs come across as real, stream-of-conscious stories of her life.  As I watched her in concert on Jan 7,  I couldn't help but admire her ability to be amazingly sweet, yet all of sudden sour, bitchy,  and even slightly unbalanced at the same time.

I've written about my attraction to the bitchy sweetness dichotomy on this site already.    Sure, sweetness is important but there's something interesting about the occasional curve ball that feistiness adds to life. 

In fact,  listening to Kate Nash tell a dude off through witty sarcasm is pretty hot.  I couldn't imagine being told off and feeling good about it, but after listening to Kate Nash do it,  I think it might be possible.   

As I thought about all this at the concert,  I couldn't help but realize I was describing her personality in food terms.

In my mind, a Kate Nash dish would be colorful, vibrant and definitely feminine.  There would be bit of sweetness that would be balanced by a mouth puckering tartness and a hint of spiciness.   

I went to the market looking to re-create the sweet and bitchy flavors I thought about while watching Kate Nash in concert.   Here are the results.

Red Mullet on Banana
Meyer Lemon, Mango Juice
Cilantro Mango Jalapeno Pomegranate Salsa 

I wanted to pair a mild fish with a light, tart sauce and a salsa that was both spicy, sweet and crunchy.   Meyer lemons are frequently described as a cross between a  lemon and an orange, but they're still rather acidic on their own.    I juiced two Meyer lemons with a whole mango.   The mango not only adds sweetness, but adds a creamy body to the Meyer lemon juice. 

Red mullet is an excellent, mild white fish that's a breeze to make.   I cook the fish on a non-stick pan skin down the entire time, solely to create a crispy skin.   I even broil the red mullet skin side up for a minute right before serving, just to further enhance the crispiness of the skin.

I perched the red mullet on a small raw slice of banana and garnished with the salsa, then poured  the Meyer lemon juice around the fish.   The tart Meyer lemon cuts through the richness of the fish, and is balanced by the sweetness of the mango and banana.   The occasional bite of jalapeño adds an unexpected spiciness, while the pomegranate adds a crunchy texture.

Bitchy and sweet, indeed.   

Kate Nash photo courtesy of Rockographer.

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....

A Sandwich For A Non-Pork Eater You Owe A Favor

I tend to wince at questions like "What would you eat for your last meal?" or "What is your favorite food?".    That's like asking me if I'd rather  watch Semi Homemade with Sandra Lee or go to Olive Garden and drown myself in Alfredo sauce and unlimited breadsticks.   It's such a tough call.   There's one thing I do know, though.   Pork would be involved in my last meal.   The issue is in what form, really.   

I guess that's why non-pork eaters who aren't 1) vegetarian or 2) religious make me ponder the meaning of life and the future of humanity as we know it.     OK, I kid.   Sort of.

For Christmas dinner, I made a pork roast that was butterflied and stuffed with caramelized onions, fennel, mushrooms and sage.  The next day, I couldn't wait to make a sandwich with the leftovers.   

It turns out a friend decided to do me a huge favor, drive an hour out of her way, and take me back to NYC  after the holidays.    Since she was starving, I thought I'd try and make an amazing sandwich for the ride back the city.   Considering her efforts,  I wanted to make her a sandwich that she'd never have before.   Or maybe again.

But, this is one of those non-pork, non-veggie, non-religious types of people.   Right.

I went rummaging through the fridge and found some shrimp, frozen peas, leftover caramelized onions and last but not least, a chunk of Gruyere.  I would make my Spanish Style shrimp (recipe here) with garlic and paprika, then chop them coarsely.   I wanted a creamy base in the sandwich, so I reheated the peas and pureed them with olive oil.   I carved out some of the insides of the baguette (ingredient to bread ratio in a sandwich is important to me), spread the pea puree as a base, and topped it with the chopped shrimp, the sweet onions and cheese.    Despite the picture above, the sandwich was finished with a baguette top and warmed in the oven. 

My non-pork eating friend and I gave this sandwich an A- .   The pea puree is a perfect compliment to the shrimp, while the sweetness of the onion added a surprise with every bite.   The combination of ingredients was totally unexpected and made the sandwich a fun experiment for a brief road trip.   

Ham Hock Soup, Pastina, Yellow Foot Mushrooms

I had one of my first major cravings to braise in a long time last weekend.    That's odd behavior for me, considering I seem to rush to braise the first time I feel a nip in the air.   

But so far, it's been all about soups this winter season.   There are a few reasons for the change in course.   The first is that I've been told frequently that my soups are one of the best things I'm making these days.  There seems to be some truth to that,   so why mess with a good thing?

The other big reason is that I rarely get my plan together for cooking four hours before I'm ready to prepare dinner.   The comfort food that falls second on my list after braised meats is a flavorful soup.  So instead of braising,  I'll poach a whole chicken for a brodo that reminds me of Italy, simmer mushrooms for a mushroom stock, experiment with veggie and ginger stocks...the varieties are endless.   I recently had a duck stock at Momofuku that I loved, so I need to work that into the mix. 

One of the stocks that's been part of my arsenal for years is a smoked ham hock stock.  I love the smoky, intense pork flavor especially within a clear, unfatty broth.   I posted my recipe for smoked ham hock stock before - it requires little effort and can basically simmer on the stove while you read the paper, watch football or declog your shower.  (Sorry, inside joke.)

You've heard everyone say that homemade stocks are a thousand times better than anything you can buy.   For once, everyone is right - the flavor isn't even comparable in my opinion.  But another major benefit of making stock, in fact one of the most important benefits, is the abundance of good eating that will follow.   It's like the a culinary gift to yourself that keeps on giving.   

For instance, this ham hock stock was used to make a soup with pastina, sausage, yellow foot mushrooms and rosemary.    After a night of leftovers, the stock made an appearance in a green curry and mussel soup, similar to the one I've posted here.     Another thing I like to do after work is to just reheat some leftovers in the soup.    I recently had some leftover brussel sprouts, rice and peas in the fridge - nothing originally intended for soup.   Just a few ladles of the stock turned them into a quick dinner that left me wondering why I wouldn't always have stock in my fridge.    Oh wait....I do.    Nevermind.

Fried Lotus Root with Banana Sriracha

My recently declared focus on Japanese ingredients and cuisine hit an impasse recently.   For starters, the holidays were a bit of  a barrier.   But I also underestimated the breadth and depth of the traditional ingredients that are in the NYC markets.   I quickly found out that my typical spontaneous market visits that lead to the dishes you read on this site wasn't going to cut it in this case.    I need to do a lot more research and come to the market with more of a plan.     So until I get up to speed on making these things humans call "plans", you're going to be seeing Japanese ingredients (that I know) with my own touches.

I recently had a bowl of thin, salty, crispy fried lotus root at a Japanese restaurant in the East Village called Kasadela.    One part of our excellent meal that I won't forget anytime soon was the fried lotus root.   I couldn't help but imagine them as a perfect little bite to start a dinner party.    I imagined a sweet yet spicy dollop of a condiment on each lotus root chip.   I thought about a guacamole I'd been making last summer, only enhanced with some chopped banana for sweetness and texture.  I realized I didn't need the avocado, and would simply add a spicy sriracha accent to the mashed bananas.    I simply chopped the bananas very finely, added a bit of sriracha and lemon juice, and mashed the mixture together with a fork.    The sweet, spicy, citrus flavors almost seemed to enhance the salty, crunchy chips.

The fried lotus root were equally good served like chips, sans condiment.  The key to success with the lotus root is getting them as thin as possible before frying them in a neutral oil (I used grape seed).  A plastic mandolin is the perfect tool, as the thin uniform slices lead to a chip that seems to shatter and crunch at the same time.

When the Eve is the Main Event

There are a few events I look forward to each year, and there's no doubt that Christmas Eve is at the top of the list.   It's probably no surprise to you that I'd describe it as a food and wine extravaganza.   Add the family and traditions that have seemingly been a part of our Christmas Eve since Italians starting simmering garlic in olive oil, it's such a fantastic night for me that it makes Christmas Day seem like a bit of an afterthought.   (I did not feel this way while I was growing up and waiting for Santa to come the next morning, of course.)

Here are some of this year's highlights.   

Before we get too far into this, you need to know that we follow the Italian tradition of eating only fish on Christmas Eve.  We are not hard core seven fish traditionalists, though I would bet that we do have seven varieties over the course of the night each year.   We are pretty consistent about sticking to the fish tradition, which I've come to enjoy, as it's a challenge to keep the main courses interesting each year.  Well, there was the time that Uncle Beef decided to randomly serve braised beef as a main course, in a controversial maneuver that shocked and appalled everyone over the age of forty.   We don't talk about that often.  (OK, we do.  It was pretty funny).   

The other element that never changes is the pasta course, which is the classic Alio Olio recipe that I've discussed on this site before - simply olive oil, garlic, peperoncino, parsley, parmiginano reggiano and a thin cappellini-like pasta (thicker than angel hair, thinner than spaghetti).   It's a classic dish that I end up craving from time to time, mainly because it reminds me of being a kid on Christmas Eve.    Uncle Beef, in the midst of a few " cool down beers" one year,  added diced pancetta to the pasta that led to raised eyebrows and hidden sighs of pleasure.    While I have been fending off such renegade behavior over the years (such as an unfortunate capers episode and the threat of a sardines), I was greeted this year with a plethora of pancetta and a craving for a return to the renegade pancetta behavior of the past.   I don't fight pork fat - I only crisp it with serve it with a smile on my face.   

Before the pasta course, we had a fantastic mussel soup - possibly my most satisfying bites of this year's dinner.    Judy made a great crab stock, which was added to a base of garlic, ginger, onion, peperoncino and fire roasted canned tomatoes.   After the soup simmers for a while, the mussels and a nugget of butter is added right before serving.   The mussels add their juices to the broth, while the nugget of butter balances out the acidic qualities of the tomato.  A last minute handful of tarragon brought it all together.  (Note:  I was too busy to take a picture of this dish, so the photo is from Judy's mussels from '06.  The version I discuss above was soupier than the picture.  That's for those family members keeping  track of such detail...all two of you.)

The other enduring tradition for our Christmas Eve is wine.    Only recently did the wine quality take off to another level, though I believe the quantity consumed has maintained a fairly consistent level best described as...hmmm....generously foolish.   This year's highlight for me was the 1998 Chateau Angelus Grand Cru Bordeaux from St. Emilion.    I had been holding onto this wine for a while and was happy I brought it, but I had meant to bring a Chateauneuf but grabbed the wrong bottle while rushing out the door.   I didn't realize until we got there that I had brought the Bordeaux, thus embarrassing myself continuously by mentioning Chateauneuf throughout the evening.    Good thing I can cook, eh? Well, at least I could appreciate the amazing, herbacious nose of the Bordeux and the long earthy finish.   

Finally, the main course this year happened to be outrageous.   Judy made a whole salmon stuffed with kashi which was moist and delicious.   The other main was based on a post I had written a long time ago - essentially a recreation of an unbelievable cod dish I had a few years ago at a restaurant called BLT FISH.    The cod is marinated in soy, white vinegar and acacia honey, then broiled and roasted.   The exterior crust is a caramel colored golden brown, while the sauce is salty, sweet and rich.  It's so good that I had to fight off this random Jewish dude who keeps showing up to Christmas Eve dinner, or I think he may have chugged it straight from the pot.

Since I take pride in not following recipes and find the  Food Network only vaguely satisfying, a few people found the fact that this dish came from a recipe and from foodnetwork.com a bit humorous.     Chef Laurent Tourandel, the genius who created this recipe, must have made this dish on a Food Network episode, as googled the dish up popped his recipe on the Food Network.  So, in a nod to my duplicitous actions, I offer you the Chef Tourandel's recipe, courtesy of the Food Network - and take zero credit for the idea.   Make this cod - it's a show stopper.

(NOTE:  Missing from the list of Christmas Eve traditions are the fried smelts.  I would describe them for you, but writing about them makes my stomach turn.  Nothing like gagging on little bones and fishy meat...mmmm.)

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.

Five Things That Make Me A Better Cook

On my way to work today, I came to the realization that I'd been feeling uninspired in the kitchen and somehow needed to get myself going again.  It led me to begin thinking about some of the key motivations that inspire me.    While not a comprehensive list and certainly more EMO than practical, writing this actually did lead to a new source of inspiration which you'll read about in the upcoming weeks, I presume.

The Reaction

I'd say one of the most motivating and satisfying parts of cooking are those few moments of unprompted joy and satisfaction I see from someone eating a dish I've made for them.     I can sometimes see surprise in their expressions, sometimes a hint of questioning and thought, sometimes a hint of revelation, sometimes the makings of a smile.   There is the rare occasion in which a dish can turn someone from grumpy to upbeat, and those moments are slightly unforgettable for me.  Don't be confused - I'm not talking about accolades or gracious thank yous.  While those are certainly great,  the unscripted and often subtle moments of appreciation are immensely satisfying to me.

Embracing The Potential to Fail

The first thing I started to feel when I began cooking for people was the pressure of serving a dish that didn't seem to be working out accordingly to plan.    At one point, I stopped worrying about the potential of making mistakes.   As you'd expect, the sense of liberation was refreshing.    Cooking for someone is like giving them a gift.    When *most* people are given a gift, they appreciate it for what it is - an expression of thoughtfulness and generosity.    This attitude allowed me to become bolder and riskier in the flavors combinations and dishes I'd serve.    If I gave them something unexpected that wasn't absolutely perfect, they'd appreciate it just as much (if not more).    This attitude change didn't relax my standards at all, but gave me the confidence to focus on seeing the end dish at the end of the tunnel, rather than all of the roadbumps in between. 

Keeping Myself Uncomfortable

I wrote about this when writing about the raw dinner I made recently.   I never aim to settle for being the master of my own domain.   Every few months, I become obsessed with a new ingredient, a new technique, a new cuisine, a new culture, a new cookbook.   And I immerse myself in it.     My next foray will be into Japanese cuisine and ingredients.   I am currently reading Morimoto's new book, which is about to launch me into a new set of dishes to add to the repertoire.    New challenges, new ingredients, new cooking gadgets, new techniques, new restaurants....they all keep cooking fresh and fun for me.

Market Moments

Something magical happens to me when I shop for ingredients.    I begin to envision a dish in my head, then begin to fill in the gaps by choosing ingredients that will balance flavors, textures and create an interesting presentation.    This process is one of those precious times in which I enjoy being alone.   I love cranking music and wandering the market with my cell phone off for a half an hour.   It's a bit of a creative escape for me. 

The Post Dinner Buzz

No matter how I feel before or while I'm cooking, there's one thing that I can always revel in - the post cooking buzz.    The more people I serve, the bigger the buzz.   After doing my events for 50 people, it generally takes me hours to come down.  I need to go out, I need to have a few drinks, I need to talk about the food and the event in detail.    I'm just a huge bundle of energy.    I can't imagine what a rock star feels like after a performance, but I suspect it's similar (and better!).   Rarely do I ever cook and want to hang out on the couch afterward.    And now that I know this about myself, I look forward to the buzz and energy I know will be waiting for me at the end of the meal.   It's a bit thrilling to know that when the last dish is served, I'm going to be an energetic ball of enthusiasm.   

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.

Turkey Leftover Magic

(Ed:  This is a recycled post from Thanksgiving 2005.   Sorry for the lack of posting here lately - I've lost my digital camera.   A certain slacker I know has tons of my food pictures but has been remiss in sending them to me.   Write me a rude comment below so I can use them as motivation for her).

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. 

As you may expect, I did a decent amount of holiday cooking.  My family doesn't really like me to experiment on Thanksgiving, which is understandable (I guess).  So I won't get carried away with pictures of a roasted turkey or mashed potatoes.  Instead, I'll share possibly the best thing I ate over the entire holiday and wine filled weekend.  I made a stock with the turkey bones the day after Thanksgiving, something which I find an absolute must.  Throwing away the turkey bones should be a criminal offense, punishable by a lifetime of Taco Bell gordita consumption. After I made the stock, skimmed it and removed as much of the fat as possible, I decided to make turkey meatballs with finely chopped leftover shreds and pieces of turkey white and dark meat that are always lying around.   I mixed the meat with an egg, parm cheese, parsley and formed them into meatballs.  I seared them in a pan of olive oil and then let them reheat in the turkey stock.  No need to get fancy with this - just season the stock with salt and pepper, toss in your meatballs and a handful of grated parm cheese to finish.

Edit: Cindy's comment below reminded me to post my chicken and meatball brodo dish, created from a similar stock based recipe.  Cindy's right, it's easy and worth the effort to make your own stocks at home, especially on a cold winter afternoon or night.  And even easier, my ham hock stock recipe for a variation.

Fried Egg, Smoked Paprika Mushrooms, Cashews, Cilantro Juice

Of course, I've had the classic runny egg over asparagus dozens of times, with nothing but appreciative bouts of sighs and moans.    But after a recent dinner at Blue Hill, I realized that I've only really experienced the  joys of the runny egg on either asparagus, or as a garnish for a starch.    Blue Hill served a  runny, poached farm fresh egg in what I vaguely remember as a watercress broth.   Vibrantly green, the fresh, herbal qualities of the cress inspired me to consider what other bursts of garden freshness could match well with a runny egg.

Certainly, I needed texture as well.   Something to absorb all of the rich, eggy runniness.   I had a ton of cremini mushrooms on hand.    As they were really the main partner for my runny egg, I kept the 'shrooms whole to add a substantive quality to the dish.    I sauteed them in a bit of olive oil, smoked paprika, cayenne and a touch of garlic near their conclusion in the pan.   I roasted some whole cashews in an effort to add a crunchy texture to the dish.

The Blue Hill inspiration came in at the end, when I juiced a bunch of cilantro as my herbal, garden fresh component to the dish.    I ran the cilantro under very hot tap water for only a minute or two.    Blanching the herbs in a traditional manner leaches out some of the raw,  garden fresh flavors I was after.      I thought about making a vinaigrette with the cilantro juice, but wanted to keep the flavors really pure.     After placing the fried egg on the mushroom and cashews, I simply spooned some of the cilantro juice around the plate, with a squeeze of lemon juice around the cilantro.     The cilantro juice was not overpowering whatsoever, to my surprise. After the runny egg was broken, the yoke, cilantro and mushrooms became a single medley of flavors.    The earthiness of the mushroom and the smoky depth of flavor from the paprika were enhanced by the egg yoke, then accented by the fresh, garden flavor of the cilantro juice.    

Fried Mint Crusted Lamb, Celery Root Cake

I have professed my love for Michel Richard's Happy in the Kitchen  on this site several times.    One particular dish that I found visually arresting in the book was the contrast of rosy,  pink lamb loin crusted with bright green, fried basil.   I decided to give this technique a go, but went with the natural combination of mint and lamb instead of basil. 

The first attempt at crusting the lamb with fried mint was a bit tricky.   As you can see in the pictures, it was difficult to get the crust to adhere to the lamb.   The general process is to fry the mint, puree it with a bit of bread crumbs, then egg wash the lamb and apply the crust.    I chose to sear the lamb, then egg wash, crust it, and finish the cooking in the oven.   Searing it first may have made the crust application more difficult.   But I was apprehensive about crusting the raw lamb and losing the vibrant green mint color while it roasted for a long time in the oven.   Hmmm.

I've yet to perfect the presentation, but it has tons of potential.    The crust adds a crispy texture, and most importantly, explodes with a concentrated, fresh burst of mint with each bite of lamb.

The other experiment here was the celery root cake.    After reading Richard's book, you'll quickly learn about forming an ingredient in plastic wrap, sometimes freezing it to ensure it holds its form. 

Pureed celery root is smooth and silky.    After boiling it, I set out to puree it with a thickener of a blond rioux - butter and flour just cooked together until thick.  I let the mixture cool, formed it into little cakes, then lightly dredged the cakes in flour.   (In retrospect, I would have made the cakes thicker and more compact).    I wrapped them in cellophane and froze them for a few hours to form.    A day would have been best, but I didn't have the time.     I took the cakes out of the freezer and immediately dropped them in oil for a quick fry - just to form them and get them a bit golden.    The inside was warm and soft, the exterior was crunchy and had a nice texture.     The creamy celery root was the sole flavor, which was a nice foil for the lamb yet mellow enough to compliment the intensity of the mint crust. 

I probably could have used a sauce here - maybe something bright and vibrant like a mint oil, or even a simple jus.   The fried shallots were a nice bonus garnish. 

I certainly have not aced this dish or the techniques involved as of yet, but wanted to share it with you regardless.   A work in progress is rarely worth filing away, in my opinion.

Related:    Mint Crusted Tuna  

The Many Lives of Focaccia

I have always been a fan of focaccia.    I think my first memories of eating it were with my Uncle Beef, who also taught me and many others how to make it from scratch.

Out of nowhere,  I've had a few different encounters with  focaccia that really opened my mind to the variations in which it's served.   

Wood Oven Roasted Focaccia

You may recall that I spent a week cooking with a chef in his restaurant outside of Florence.    I had a few completely revolutionary focaccia experiences with him that started this focaccia awakening.    On the first night I arrived to work with Chef Claudio,  I helped him prepare for an outdoor party at his bed and breakfast.    I watched him make the dough for the focaccia, pretty much in the typical way I was used to making it (more on that below).    However, he had an outdoor wood oven.   After watching him make a few, I took over and made the focaccia in the wood oven for the rest of the afternoon.     Rolled the dough.   Dimpled it with my thumbs.   Salt, olive oil, then added it to the piping hot wood oven.   Obviously, the wood flavor made this a focaccia experience that I could never forget.    At the same time, there wasn't that soft, spongy interior that I was used to tasting.   Not bad, just different.

Fried Focaccia

The next day in his restaurant kitchen, Chef Claudio made the same focaccia dough, but this time fried it in olive oil in free form pieces.   He served them warm with salt and sometimes rosemary as bread to start the meal.   Fried Focaccia.    Brilliant.

Three Toppings

Around the holidays last year, Uncle Beef made focaccia for us at home, but somehow I was able to weasel my way into making the toppings.   After laying out the focaccia dough onto a sheet pan and dimpling with thumbs, I then applied three different toppings.    The first was a truffle salt (which you may recall I broke up with a few months ago) and rosemary, but my favorite was whole red grapes gently cooked in balsamic.   A bit sweet, a bit tart and a sprinkle of pine nuts for texture.  The third topping was a mojo - a few varieties of herbs ground with olive oil and garlic in a mortar and pestle.

Crispy, Chewy Pizza

My local pizza place, Muzzarella, has a very crispy, thin focaccia crust that is my go to late night neighborhood slice these days.      The copious amounts of olive oil and the super hot oven make the focaccia pizza crust crunchy and chewy at the same time.  Right on.   

Light and Airy

And finally, on the airy section of the focaccia spectrum, I recently bought a slice of Whole Foods focaccia I saw in their bakery.    No joke, the airy interior was something like two inches thick.    Sliced down the middle and layered with salami, goat cheese and truffle oil, it was an airy, soft sandwich that once again made me rethink the focaccia I had in Italy.   

I'm sure someone will write me a passionate email telling me that there's one right way to make focaccia.  But somehow, I'm concluding the best way is every way.

The base recipe for focaccia is below.

The Weekend Tasting Series Menu: October 2007

Sorry for the outage here lately.   I've been recuperating from The Weekend Tasting Series while also taking a bit of a hit at work.   Overall, I thought the experience was a complete success.   Some of you may know that I'm my harshest critic, yet I feel satisfied that the experience lived up to my initial vision.   I thought I'd share the menu(s) and discuss a few cooking highlights for me.   

Coming Full Circle

As I mentioned a while ago, I think the most exciting part about this blog for me is chronicling my cooking adventures for you on an ongoing basis, then seeing my menus come from the ideas on this site.  For instance, you've read about savory waffles here before.   And the idea behind Fig Rockefeller.  And my favorite pork recipe.   Or my thinking behind Vanilla Bean Ginger Bouillabaisse.   

In many ways, it's a full circle interaction with those of you who actually come out and taste the finished result.   I am a big fan of many blogs out there, food and otherwise, but what I often miss is the ability to be able to connect the website to a real, human experience.   I'm excited that I'm posting food ideas and dishes on this site, but also giving readers a chance to actually enjoy them in person.   Integrating the blog with my events wasn't always a goal, but I hope it continues.    It seems to be mutually fulfilling for me and the guests who I spoke with at the events.

The Beauty of Smoked Duck

I'm going to save the smoked duck breast I featured in the third course for another post, but overall, it's certainly going to be part of my future arsenal.    Go out and give it a try.   Hudson Valley has a great smoked duck.   You can even order some  at Fresh Direct.   One evening during the events, I served it warm as an accompaniment to soft cheese pierogies in a sage sauce.    On the other nights, I served the smoked duck as an accent to slices of seared duck breast.    Smoked duck and I are now beyond dating.   We've kind of in lust right now.   We're approaching love, so when it hits that level, I'll do a post.

Williamsburg Felt Like Home

I haven't spent much time shopping or cooking in Williamsburg (Brooklyn, for those of you reading from elsewhere.)  I really didn't go to a big market for much of the ingredients I needed to fill in the gaps on a daily basis during the weekend.   I went to a local, small butcher shop, a fish shop, a produce store, all within a few blocks from each other.   I felt like I was thrown back in time to the quaint, hometown I have in my head, but  seemed to have missed by only a few years before the invention of one stop shopping.   Quite refreshing.

Flavoring Bechamel

You know the traditional bechamel sauce.   I love spiking it with a single, pronounced flavor.    In this case, smoky, spicy chipotle as a drizzle with fresh, warm figs.

Bottlerocket Rocks

I picked up all of my wine for the events at Bottlerocket.   These guys are the real deal.   They have a passion for pairing wines with food and flavors, and I really enjoyed working with them to pair the wine with the menu.   Of the wines we served, I think the consensus favorite was the Clos du Prieur, Syrah, 2003.   Big, delicious but not a crazy fruit bomb.    A great, untraditional pairing for curry and pork.

Hope you can make it to the next set of events.   The mailing list is the best way to find out about them the moment they are announced.

(PS.  For those of you who attended the events, the above is the menu from 10/14.   After the jump are the menus from 10/12 and 10/13.)

A Weekend of Tastings

I always wanted to do my Foodie NYC tasting events on consecutive days.     In my grand plan, my tasting events would pop up at different locations for an entire weekend a few times a month.   My mailing list would receive notice a few days in advance of the next tasting weekend and...voila.   We'd have a mini restaurant up and running for the weekend.    Not a restaurant, per se, because it would have a more intimate vibe and personality all its own. 

And now, it's finally coming to fruition.    I had been holding out on doing events for the summer, mainly because I was enjoying my personal life.  But in reality, I had been waiting to execute this weekend tasting series idea.   I had also been hoping to launch a new name and website with the new weekend tasting idea, but that could take a while.  That plan is still in the works, however.

In the meantime, I'm happy to announce the launch of The Weekend Tasting Series on Oct 12th.   All of the details are located here.  I'm sure I'll be posting cooking ideas as I prep for the event and will most certainly share the menu and pictures afterward.      

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.

The Base for Ginger, Vanilla Bean Bouillabaisse

I'll never forget the night I had one of my first grown up meals in New York City.    Laurent Tourondel, the LT of the BLT restaurant empire in NYC,  was at the time the chef of a restaurant named Cello.   My Uncle and his friend Joe took me to the restaurant, right around the time I was graduating from college. 

I'd had only a handful of high end meals at that point in my life.  After the dinner at Cello, I realized the immense pleasure that would be awaiting me as I grew into a cook.    I'll never forget the entree I had that night - a classic bouillabaisse.   It was outrageously good.   In fact, I ordered bouillabaisse anytime I saw it for almost a year afterwords, just to confirm what made a great bouillabaisse better than all the rest.

As you've gathered by reading this site by now, I have no desire to make the classic bouillabaisse perfectly.   I've had it and it's delicious.   Instead, I wondered how I can stay true to the classic technique, while adding a flavor profile that was delicious yet captivating.   

The bouillabaisse is all about making a delicately flavored fish stock.    Making a fish stock is not as much of an effort as you'd think.    The fish bones and scraps that it takes to make a stock are often available at your fish market - just ask.    Markets like Fresh Direct have them ready to put right into your stock pot.   A fish stock only needs to simmer for about thirty minutes, so it doesn't take all day to make either.

I love a hint of vanilla bean with a meaty white fish.   Nothing overwhelming, but a bit of the floral, exotic  vanilla bean gently permeates the stock and adds a sense of richness that is striking.   I add a large quantity of chopped ginger to the stock as well, giving it more depth of flavor and bit of that peppery gingery bite.  The rest of the ingredients are expected - celery, carrot and some tomato paste for a pinkish, rosey color.

The recipe for the base of my ginger vanilla bean bouillabaisse follows....   

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.

Strawberry Tomato Gazpacho

In what seems like an eternity ago, I went to 11 Madison Park and had an amazing strawberry lobster gazpacho to open our meal.  It was a confounding gazpacho to say the least - I could certainly taste a shellfish reduction, but the strawberry puree balanced seemlessly with the pureed tomatoes.  Little chunks of lobster and vegetables provided the only texture in the soup.   

While I found the shellfish reduction interesting, I left this technique behind while making a strawberry tomato gazpacho at home.   I found bursting at the seams heirloom tomatoes, which would serve as the base of the soup.    I pureed the tomatoes with some chopped carrots, red onion, a nugget of ginger, celery leaves, salt, pepper, lemon juice and a few chopped strawberries.  The strawberry to tomato ratio is the entire key to success for this dish.   One and a half large tomatoes took only about a handful of  strawberries.   I generally thought about the strawberries as I would an herb.   You don't want to overwhelm the tomatoes with strawberries, so add less and keep adding after tasting. 

An unexpected technique that made this dish was straining the puree.  After removing all of the pulp and chilling the remaining juice, I garnished the soup with a very fine dice of each of the ingredients in the puree to garnish the gazpacho.  I also added some chopped smoked almonds, a nice wedge of avocado and a drizzle of olive oil to finish.

Whatever you do, don't toss the puree pulp once you strain.   I brought it into work and served it as a salsa with chips.   Gazpacho salsa?  Totally works.

Kafir Lime Steamed Halibut, Arugula Ginger Shells

You may remember my recent experiment with lavender infused cod.  On a night when a light dinner was sorely needed, I thought about that lavender steamed fish and decided to steam halibut with a few aromatic leaves of kafir lime.

Kafir lime leaves have perfect qualities for steaming.  Their flavor profile is distinct and potent, yet also lend almost a light, refreshing, floral quality that matches perfectly with a white fleshed fish like halibut.

Steaming with kafir couldn't be easier.   Start with some boiling water, drop a few kafir leaves in, place your seasoned halibut filets in a steam tray above the water (I used a mesh strainer) and a covered lid.   That's it.   

The kafir lime literally permeates every single morsel of the halibut, which ultimately necessitates for little else to  accompany the steamed fish.   I was looking to accent the kafir with herbaciousness and a peppery sharpness.   

I blanched some argula leaves and a few whole chunks of ginger, then juiced them in the juicer I talk about frequently.   After the pasta was cooked, I mixed it with the arugula ginger juice, creating a light yet explosive bed of  pasta for the fish.   I fried some leeks for some  much needed texture. 

In the future, I will consider pairing steamed kafir fish with a very simply flavored pasta or grain.   Maybe nothing  more than a nugget of butter, an herb and a spicy citrus note.   The steamed kafir flavor can certainly be the star of the show - it's that remarkable.

My Underwear Drawer, Pressed and Neatly Folded

Sorry for the delay in getting the results of my recent summer menu experimentations posted.   I've been drinking heavily and pondering the wonders of the legend that is Kenny Loggins.   (If you haven't listened to Foot Loose recently...um...don't.)

So, where were we.   I gave you the results of a brainstorm I had before making dinner for friends, with the goal of showing you how I developed a menu, and how the final results would compare with my original plans.

As expected, I had to adjust my menu based on ingredients available at the market, additional ideas I had while cooking, and finally, the reality that I needed to dial back my own ambition in order to get dinner out before midnight.

My original brainstorm ideas are located here.   All in all, I was happy with where I landed.    Pretty much all of the dishes were tasty, but what I generally look for when cooking spontaneously is to land on a core concept that can be tweaked and refined in the future.   Below is a recap of each dish and how/why the final dish evolved from my original intention.

Bloody Mary-ish Gazpacho 

My original idea was to express a single fruit in four ways.   I went with the tomato, which I realize was sort of obvious.   But the morning of the dinner party, I had a Bloody Mary on my mind.    I decided I would make a gazpacho as the base of the dish, with tons of fresh horseradish, celery and black pepper.    My second texture of tomato would be a yellow tomato gelee.  I'd make a puree of tomato, celery, horseradish and mix it with gelatin and let it cool for a few hours.   Finally, I made a tomato confit, which was essentially sliced tomatoes simmered in olive oil at 200 degrees for about three hours.   Hiding underneath the yellow tomato gelee is a slice of smoked mozzarella.  The smoky creaminess really brought the dish together.   In retrospect, I would have added cayenne to the dish for a spicier note.

Shiso Juice Ceviche 

This idea came to a grinding halt when I  became  beyond pissed and frustrated that I couldn't buy lobster anywhere near my apartment.   So I bagged the shiso, which would have required effort I couldn't muster at the time.    I decided to create little bites of ceviche as canapes for the guests as they arrived.   After buying some fresh salmon and tuna, I went completely off-the-cuff on this one, only creating the combinations in the kitchen just before serving.    For the salmon, I aimed for refreshing.    Salmon and avocado was a natural match, as was a bit of diced cucumber for texture.   Olive oil and lemon juice rounded out the flavors.   

For the tuna ceviche,  I wanted to pair the fattiness of tuna with a drizzle of truffle oil, a sprinkle of Parmigiano Reggiano, and a dice of celery.   I had never seen or tasted these flavors paired with raw tuna, so I was going with instinct on this one.   Italians all over the world most likely rolled in their graves as I presented this dish, but the cheese and tuna really worked.  I thought this was a bit of a breakthrough combination, at least in my world.

Peach Mac and Cheese

I stayed very true to my original idea with the peach mac and cheese.   I made a bechamel with Parm Regg, half and half, a bit of white wine and flour.  After the bechamel came together,  I folded in a fresh peach puree.   I simply combined the mac with the bechamel, covered the top in bread crumbs, more Parm and broiled before serving.   I was incredibly behind schedule at this point, so I didn't give the crust enough time or attention.    The peach added a fruitiness that cut through the richness of the bechamel, but didn't cross the line of sweetness that one would imagine when picturing these flavors in their head.     A crustier texture on the mac and cheese would have added another level to to the dish and made it an ace, in my opinion.   

Lobster Wellington

My original intention was to stick very close to the Wellington in appearance.  I was going to wrap pastry around large pieces of lobster, corn kernels and a lobster mousse.  But again, I was behind schedule and needed to improvise in order to expedite dinner.    I decided to eliminate the construction of the Wellington and do everything a bit free form.   I'd bake the puff pastry separately, make a raw corn tarragon puree, eliminate the mousse and juice corn to act as a sauce for the dish.     The lobster was steeped in boiling water, shells removed, then finished in a bit of butter and wine.   Overall,  the dish was excellent but I was disappointed that I didn't get to experiment with the Wellington presentation.   But like all ideas, being nimble and open to progression landed on a dish that I thought was worthy of the effort.  Corn and lobster is a perfect pairing to me.

I enjoyed showing you the before and after of the planning and cooking process in my bizarrely unorganized world.    Hopefully I can do another post based on this theme before the summer ends.

(PS - Thanks to Laren, Frankie and Mere for the pictures.  I was too involved to shoot the dishes as I usually do).

Original and Related Post:  Showing You My Underwear Drawer

Showing You My Underwear Drawer: Pre-Dinner Menu Brainstorm

I'm feeling a bit feisty today, so I thought we'd try something new on this site.

I recently brainstormed a few interesting  summer focused menu ideas, many of which I've never made, seen or tasted before.   Since these ideas are the results of a brainstorm, they weren't researched at all.   My goal was to let my creativity and instincts form rough menu ideas that could be fleshed out in the future.

For your amusement, I thought I'd show you the output of my brainstorm in advance of me actually making these dishes.   

This Sunday, August 12, I plan to actual make these dishes for the first time.   I'll post pictures and results of the dishes next week.

I think this could be an interesting way for you to see how a dish goes from concept to reality in my world. You'll be able to see how I start thinking about a dish, then see how it evolves into a finished plate.  For instance, you'll see that I may need to make adjustments as I research my preparation techniques and cooking plans.   I will most likely be inspired by other ingredients at the markets.  As I actually cook and prepare the dishes, I may decide to make adjustments based on instinct. 

My hope is that giving you a peek at my starting point will make the final dishes I post even more interesting for you.

Foodie NYC  Menu Brainstorm
A Random Summer Sunday Dinner
August 12, 2007

Four Textures of Fruit

This idea would feature four expressions of a single fruit.  I picture a Napoleon of sorts, with a layer of the raw fruit, a layer of the fruit in the form of a gelee, and then a roasted slice of the fruit.  I'd then create a sauce or loose vinaigrette of the fruit, which will finish the dish.   I will most likely add elements of accenting flavors in the gelee, and maybe garnishes of flavor throughout the dish.  Herbs, maybe a cheese, nuts are all possibilities.   I'll play that by ear as the dish progresses in the kitchen.

Ceviche in Shiso Juice

I want to try and turn fresh shiso into a vibrant green juice as a base for a ceviche.   I love the herbaceous flavor of shiso, and think that a bit of olive oil, citrus and spiciness would be an excellent counterpoint to a mild, super fresh, fatty fish.

Peach Mac and Cheese

Some of you know that I love to make fruit pastas.  It sounds weird, but it makes for a nice dish if executed properly.   My idea is to make a peach bechamel.  The bechamel would be the base for a mac and cheese.   I'm hoping the peach flavor will infuse itself into the pasta and create a fresh, bright, subtle flavor that plays off the creaminess of the mac and cheese.

Summer Lobster Wellington

I want to create a light and modern version of a Beef Wellington.   I envision a layer of charred kernels of corn, then a layer of a creamy lobster tarragon mousse, followed by large whole pieces of lobster.  The entire thing would be wrapped in pastry, with a bit of a lobster and corn sauce around the plate.  This dish has drool worthy potential, but also high potential for error.  Especially concerned about making sure the lobster doesn't overcook when the whole Wellington goes into the oven.

Check back here sometime early next week to see the results.

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.

Liquid Summer Magic

I've experienced a bit of a beverage awakening this summer season.    The kind of awakening that makes me wonder what the hell I've been drinking in summers past.   I thought I'd list of few of my highlights so far. 

Hitachino Nest White Ale

Seriously, I could drink this beer all summer long.   In fact, I would if I could find it consistently.   Hitachino in a bottle is fine, but Hitachino draft is another experience entirely.    Floral, with hints of orange and citrus, Hitachino Nest White Ale is a Belgian style beer that is at the top of my list these days.   It's made by Kiuchi Brewery near Nagano, Japan, and generally pretty difficult for me to track down.   I've had bottles  of the White Ale at Momofuku,  BLT Burger and Mermaid Inn but have only found it on tap at Marshall Stack. 

Seriously, if someone can point me in the direction of a bar pouring White Ale from a keg in NYC, I'd love you (long time).

2006 Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc

I'm a huge fan of New Zealand Sauv Blanc.   For around $12, I think the '06 Kim Crawford Sauv Blanc from Marlborough is one of the best values on the market.  Huge hits of grassiness are balanced with a cutting acidity, making a refreshing yet flavorful wine perfect for a meal or just casual sipping.   I have bought a case to hold me through the summer August.   You can find this wine here.

Berritt's Ginger Beer

I've been obsessed with ginger beer for a while now.  Maybe you've noticed.   I like to drink it at home courtesy of the Berritt's brand.  I can usually find them at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, though less frequently than I'd like.  Since I'm not usually after a Dark and Stormy in the summer, I like to make cocktails with ginger beer, vodka, seltzer and whole pieces of spicy candied ginger.   I am foaming at the mouth even writing about it.   More about Berritt's Ginger Beer here.

Basil Simple Syrup

A friend took me for a cocktail at a North Fork restaurant called The Feisty Oyster earlier in the summer.   I had a  cocktail that consisted of a basil infused simple syrup,  gin,  seltzer and a sprig of rosemary.  It was one of the best cocktails I've had this summer for sure.   Why am I telling you this?  Mainly because this cocktail is a breeze to make at home.  Here's the recipe for a basil simple syrup - give this a try, it's worth the minimal effort.

Gruner Veltliner

It's relatively embarrassing for me to admit that I hadn't had a Gruner Veltliner before 2006.   Not sure why either, as I enjoy Austrian wines in general.  I love the crisp acidity of Gruner, combined with the deep minerality that lends it a powerful yet floral quality.    Gruner is also a great food wine for the summer.  One of my favorites is the 2005 Hiedler Gruner Veltliner Thal Novemberlese, which you can search for here.

That's just a bit of a highlight reel, certainly not a complete list.  White Burgundies, Pims Cups, Blue Moon, Muscato D' Asti and lots of others are for future discussion.  Would love any of your thoughts or suggestions......

Dreaming of a Tuscan Zucchini Sformatino

Around this time last year, I was wandering Tuscany and Umbria on the culinary tour of a lifetime.  I feel guilty that you haven't seen much of it - from the olive oil tastings, local cheese makers, and fantastic wine producers I visited - there's almost too much to post on this site.

But as I long for those extraordinary experiences in Tuscany, I'll start to sprinkle in a few Italian inspired posts here and there over the rest of the summer.

One of the restaurants we visited for lunch was Osteria Volpaia in the town of Volpaia, near Chianti.   It was a scorching hot day, so we needed to eat light.   A primi that we ordered was a Sformatino al Zucchini, which is essentially a steamed/baked custard made with a puree of zucchini.  The kicker was the beautiful zucchini blossom that encased the custard.   While the dish was rich, the fresh garden flavor of the zucchini made the sformatino a perfect dish for a warm summer afternoon.

I'll never forget our experience meeting the chef after the meal.   Chef Francesco Sabbadini was leaving the restaurant at the same time we were, as he was heading home for the afternoon.   We stopped him and told him how much we loved our meal, especially the zucchini sformatino.  Not only did he talk to us for about twenty minutes, but he took us back to the restaurant, gave us a tour of the kitchen, then wrote the zucchini sformatino recipe down for me to take home. 

After we both got into our cars and drove off, we saw him a few miles later at a stop sign.  He waved back to us with a genuine sincere happiness, as if we'd just bonded over an appreciation of food and his efforts.  Doesn't sound much like the over-hyped, chef driven world we live in today, does it? 

In tribute to this little moment I shared with Chef Sabbadini, I'm passing on Osteria Volpaia's recipe for sformatino al zucchini, which you'll find below.

I would recommending making this sformantino with some toasted country bread, a side salad, and possibly a shaving of parmigiano reggiano to garnish the custard.

Watermelon, Gruyere, Charred Jalapeno, Mint Salad

I started experimenting with fruit and cheese summer salads while cooking in Umbria last year.  On multiple occasions, I decided to refresh myself in the summer heat by playing with perfectly ripe fruit salads, paired with cheese, herbs and a lingering spicy note for balance.

At a recent cheese focused dinner at Artisanal, a friend openly scoffed at a watermelon, olive and feta cheese salad appetizer, thinking the salty flavors of olive juxtaposed with the sweet, refreshing flavors of watermelon would be a stretch.  I was in the mood for snails in puff pastry on this given night, so I'd have to prove that a savory watermelon salad was worthy some other time.

At the market the next day, I was reminded of those perfect summer days in Italy - watermelon salad, spicy peppers, a bite of cool fresh mint, an unexpected, salty, creamy cheese.  A drizzle of fine extra virgin olive oil, maybe a squeeze of lemon juice rounding out the flavors.  Those satisfying days in Italy were calling at me, thanks to a random reminder from a Manhattan bistro.

I decided to experiment with my choices of cheese and peppers.  Peperoncino was an obvious ingredient while in Italy, but I went with jalapeno on this occasion.  I simply blistered the pepper on the gas flame of my stove for a bit of extra flavor. I wanted a firm cheese, so I went with a cave aged Gruyere.  You know, the kind with those crunchy, crystallized salty bites I love so much.   I decided to make fried ginger slivers, which added a subtle backbone of flavor and texture to the dish. 

The presentation needed to be simple, but at least slightly thoughtful.  I wanted to feature layers of the ingredients, so I chose to serve three neat stacks of the salad on a plate for an appetizer.  A thin slice of  the sweet watermelon is the first explosion of flavor in the mouth, which is quickly followed by the creamy, firm cheese.  The fresh blast of the mint hits the palate and bursts with flavor, while the heat of the jalapeno hits you right at the back of the throat to conclude the bite.   A squeeze of citrus and the fruity drizzle of olive oil is a nice condiment to the dish.

If you're interested in trying these flavor combinations, it's important to consider the temperature of  both the cheese and watermelon. Obviously, the watermelon is best served cold.  Thin shavings of the cheese is slightly important for proportional balance, but it's critical to properly ripen the cheese at room temp.  As we all know, a cold cheese is no one's friend. 

Charred Halloumi and Peach Salad with Crispy Ginger

One of the challenges of being creative in the kitchen is finding inspiration.  After you've been cooking for a while, you'll realize that limiting your channels to the obvious sources can actually limit your creativity.   Restaurant menus, blogs, cookbooks and TV shows are great and all, but sometimes it's the everyday conversations that strike a chord and open new paths.

This is a learned trait, trust me.  Everyone and their mother gives me food and cooking tips.  Mainly, they know I love to chat about food, so it's a welcome topic.  But back in the days of my arrogant youth (2006?), I'd rarely internalize them.  But I realized the obvious.  There's a nugget of inspiration in most things around me, they just need to be extracted properly. 

Take for instance, a recent chat with new blog crush, ACB.  She was telling me about grilled halloumi cheese, which I recalled reading about long ago.  The old Joe would have tried to internalize it, but the halloumi would have slipped into the back ether of my brain moments later.  The new Joe pursues its possibilities straight away, as it might lead to an idea that could motivate me to keep it top of mind.

I thought about a charred, thick hunk of halloumi with a hot, firm interior contrasting with a crispy exterior.  I thought about using the halloumi in a fun! summer! salad!, maybe contrasting the saltiness and creaminess with a charred, fresh sweetness (corn and mint came to mind).  I even envisioned the presentation - a thick circular hunk of halloumi overflowing with charred veggies.

Sure enough, the extra thought about halloumi during the initial discussion made the dish stay in my mind.  I went to the market with this rough idea, but became intrigued with peaches.  I would char peaches, toss them with a chiffonade of mint, and finish them with a squeeze of lemon juice and maybe a drizzle of a mint spiked olive oil to top the cheese.

The best method for preparing the peaches and halloumi would certainly be on the grill.  Since I'm grill challenged here in NYC, I used a flat, non-stick griddle pan.  Simply get the pan very hot, add a touch of olive oil and char the peaches on one side.  I didn't bother cooking them on the other side, as I wasn't looking for limp sauteed peaches.  Remove them from the pan, then do the halloumi in the same method, but charring both sides this time.  Don't season the cheese, as its pretty salty on its own.

I kept the cheese in the oven at 250 while I prepared a few garnishes.  I needed some texture, so I thinly shaved ginger with a sharp pairing knife, as if it were garlic and I were in Goodfellas. I toasted the shaved ginger in hot olive oil for a few minutes, until the slices turned crispy.   I also blanched a handful of mint and whizzed it in the food processor with olive oil, creating a mint oil to spoon around the cheese.  Simply strain the mint from the oil for a vibrant green, mint infused oil.

The saltiness of the halloumi was a perfect foil for with the sweetness of the peaches.  The crispy ginger added an interesting texture and burst of flavor, while the mint and the charred exteriors of the cheese and peaches tied the elements together. 

Music in the Kitchen: July 2007

As a few of my friends know all too well, I am obsessed with the song Ada from The National's new album, Boxer.  I'm not sure it's even the best song on the album, but it's on every new playlist I make these days. 

I was listening to this playlist while recently making lavender steamed cod with a cherry chili vinegar .  As I sliced, simmered, pureed and strained, the lyrics of the chorus of Ada, "Leave it All Up in the Air", was ringing in my head.   

Occasionally, cooking leaves my mind wandering, as if I'm on autopilot.  There isn't usually much need for me to think about the process of pitting cherries, you know?  Instead, Ada sparked an observation about myself.  I'm at a stage in my life where so much of what I value is currently being left "up in the air" - undefined, unresolved, unfinished and seemingly left to chance.  While that sounds like a negative, I reminded myself that this is a self imposed imposition.

Leaving things up in the air has always been an acquired skill for me.  My personality doesn't naturally accept  undefined or unclear goals, which I've currently been finding a bit of a personality flaw.  Over the past six months, one of my personal objectives is to let things sort themselves out with little interference on my end.  I'm letting my personal life run on the path it naturally sets for itself, as opposed to the grand plan I've usually mapped out in my head .   In many ways, the freedom from the burden of planning the next move has taught me to go with the flow a bit, something which I feel was missing from my life for a while.  Every now and then, I frequently feel the urge to take control back and map out the next move.   But I relent, if only temporarily. Leave it all up in the air, indeed.

Ah, the joys of cooking and music.

By the way, this post is part of my sporadic playlist series called Music in the Kitchen.  I've posted this playlist on iTunes for your listening pleasure.

Longing For A Modern Day Harvey's

I recently finished reading The Devil in the Kitchen, an uncensored memoir written by the infamous British chef Marco Pierre White.

Chef White's career preceded my awareness of great restaurants and chefs, as I was just a teen when he became the first British born chef to earn three Michelin stars. But I had tracked down his first book, White Heat, which I had heard was unlike most cookbooks I had previously owned.

The food wasn't a huge focus for me when I first read White Heat.  Rather, I found myself fixated on the raw, brutal, unrefined nature of Chef White's writing and appearance.   Equally perplexing was the elegant, refined and thoughtful approach to cooking that contradicted his brutish nature.  I remember reading White Heat and catching myself with my mouth gaping (sometimes smiling), as if watching a train wreck heading for a crash that's somehow avoided.

When The Devil in the Kitchen landed in my lap (thanks Laren), I was skeptical about the quality of the story Marco was going to tell.  I pictured an inarticulate, slightly emotionless, brutal behind-the-scenes story about how White used to torture his kitchen staff in the pursuit of perfection.  I'd read about Mario Batali's abuse at the hands of White (in the book Heat), as well as Gordan Ramsay's war stories with White and wondered if this would be a shallow, surface level book that you'd read and forget about weeks later.

To some extent, this book is just that.  The difference is that the restaurant war stories are absolutely hilarious and shockingly unbelievable.  I've personally never seen or heard of someone getting kicked out of a restaurant by a superstar chef for complaining to a waiter, or getting into a fist fight with a chef in the kitchen.  And rest assured, the stories are just damn funny coming from Marco's brutish voice.   Somehow, Marco's unrefined, simplistic writing style adds to the humor and drama of his story.  Yet, his real and honest voice allows White to get very personal.  Even when he glosses over some of his feelings while discussing emotional points in his life, his tone of voice somehow communicates his choked back tears. Curse word after British slang after typo, I questioned the editors of this book but then realized the editors are one of the stars here - they did an excellent job leaving Marco's voice unpolished and unprofessional.  It makes the book.

There are many aspects of the book I can discuss here, but I'll just focus on the one thought I had over and over again as I read about Marco's rise to three star perfection.

Marco's first restaurant was called Harvey's, a small restaurant that Marco brought from nowhere to Michelin star fame.  The stories behind the day-to-day life at Harvey's are one of the highlights of the book.  As I read about Harvey's, I remember thinking about how I've never been to a restaurant like this in my life.  At any given night, White makes it seem as if you'd witness a guest getting kicked out of the restaurant, guests getting into fist fights in the kitchen, chefs getting into brawls in the back alleys behind the restaurant, chefs having sex with guests in back rooms, movie stars acting like clowns in the dining room....it seemed to go on and on.

Harvey's seemed to have adapted the personality of Marco - the dichotomy behind his thoughtful and perfect cuisine and his brutish, unpredictable, over-emotional tendencies.   If a modern day Harvey's were within my current reach,  I would want to dine nowhere else.

In my opinion, high-end restaurants these days avoid displaying the personality of their owner (Babbo has always been one of the exceptions, thankfully).  These days, it's all about following a formula to accomplish a goal of delivering refinement, trendiness, or a theme/genre.

Dining at Harvey's meant entering the world of Marco and knowing that while you'd get an amazing meal, something could happen at any given time that could be a little bit offbeat, quirky, or down right wrong. And that's one of the reasons why people went to Harvey's.  Harvey's wasn't able to be replicated next door, as there was only one Marco Pierre White. 

I long for this type of restaurant in NYC.  But thanks to The Devil in the Kitchen, I somehow felt like I was transported to Harvey's - and damn was it tasty.

Corn Flan, Strawberry Mint Corn Salad

I know, I know.  As I write this, corn isn't really at its peak yet.  But looking through some of my photo archives, I noticed this unpublished dish from last summer and thought I'd give you a little taste of the sweet corn brilliance that lies ahead this summer. I'm all for turning corn into fuel, but as long as I can get my crack corn addiction satisfied late in the summer season, all is good in my world.

Savory flans were a go-to dish when I first started doing Foodie NYC events.  They are simple, easy to prepare and can act as a foil for any type of creative condiment.

As I look at this corn flan I made last summer, I've realized this may have been the last flan I made.  (I just had a tingle of EMO writing about a flan...wow, this is embarassing. OK, I'm over it.). That's so wrong.  I predict a few of you out there will be eating a savory flan in your not too distant future.

This corn flan is very rich and explodes with multiple textures of corn flavor.   A corn puree adds corn flavor into every bite, while the whole kernels add a bit of texture. (I've also made this dish with toasted, charred corn which I highly recommend). While I like the interiors of my flans creamy and soft, I like a broiled crusty top for a bit of depth.

There are so many ways to garnish this corn flan.  I wanted to feature corn again, but thought I'd pair it with the sweetness of chopped strawberries, chopped mint and some finely diced red onion.  Damn, this dish was tasty.  (Uh oh.  I'm starting to get a little flan EMO again.  Is this healthy?).

The full recipe for corn flan is below. 

The Bitchy Sweetness of Peperoncino Honey

I was recently thinking about the personality traits of the women I tend to gravitate towards.  One trait they seem to have in common is that they're sweet, yet have the tendency to turn on a witty brand of sarcastic humor on cue.  Maybe there's even a little bitchiness there.  Regardless, the balance of sweetness and bitchiness varies from one person to the next, but somehow, I enjoy that dichotomy in my life.

While I obviously prefer the balance to skew strongly towards sweetness, I like a bit of spiciness as well.  The kind of spiciness that hits me right in the back of the throat, slightly taking me by surprise after a burst of sweetness comes through.  Maybe there's a lingering tingle in my mouth, or even a little warmth under my collar.  A spicy balance can go a long way to keep things interesting.  But while a little kick in the ass is nice, too much heat overwhelms me. 

This need for the perfect balance of sweetness and spiciness is the inspiration behind a peperoncino honey I made as a summer condiment to drizzle onto fish, vegetables, figs, cheese....you name it.  Just add a cup of a neutral honey to a pot, along with a generous pinch of peperoncino.  When just at the point of boiling, pour the honey into a container and let it cool for a few hours.  The oils of the chili will have infused into the honey, creating a bottle of bitchy sweetness all your own.

Cherry, Avocado, Lemon Basil, Jalapeno, Corn Salsa

I spent the day in beautiful Greenport on the North Fork of L.I. this weekend.  One of the highlights was a salsa I made for a grilled swordfish dish. 

We went to Sang Lee farms, where we picked up a beautiful bunch of delicate, baby lemon basil.   For reasons unknown, I immediately wanted to use it in a salsa with cherries.   Cherries were on my mind due to my recent cherry vinegar experiment, but also because of the cherry picking that was happening at farms all around us.

To counter the sweetness of the cherries, I picked up a jalapeno for a spicy counterpoint.  Avocado would be a creamy textural note, and then felt the need to add a charred flavor from the grill.   I know corn is not at its peak right now, but I figured the starchiness and the charred flavors would add another complex element to the salsa. Charred corn it was.  The lemon basil was a fresh, herbal note that made the salsa pop with flavor.  A bit of lemon juice and a touch of salt and pepper tied the salsa together.

The uses for this cherry salsa are unlimited.    I went with a meaty piece of fresh grilled swordfish, simply seasoned with olive oil and salt, then a squeeze of lemon juice after grilling.   From swordfish to chips, this cherry salsa is going to be on my menu for the rest of the summer.  Now, if I only brought a big pot of that baby lemon basil back to the city with me.....

Lavender Steamed Cod, Cherry Chili Vinegar

I'm a bit of a condiment junky.   Siracha, mustards, olive oils top the list.  But this weekend, a friend made a vinegary, chili, herb laden condiment that I found inspiring.

I thought I'd riff off of the idea and create a white vinegar based cherry and chili vinegar.  I simply pureed fresh cherries with some serrano chili and lots of white vinegar.  I heated the mixture briefly, for only a minute or two to let the flavors bloom. I did not reduce at all, as I didn't want a thick, concentrated fruit driven reduction.  I wanted a loose condiment that balanced fruit, acid and spiciness all in one bite.  I  let the condiment cool and marinate for a few hours as well (of course, it was better the next day).

A natural companion could have been anything gamey or fatty, like duck, foie gras, lamb or pork.  But I felt the need for something simple and healthy and decided that cod would be a nice partner with the cherry chili vinegar. 

I ran into a beautiful bunch of lavender at the market and wondered if the aroma of steamed lavender would impart its floral flavors into a piece of cod.  I simply brought a little bit of water to a boil, added a ton of lavender and added my fish to the steamer.   A closed lid sealed in the aroma and infused the cod with a subtle, floral accent.

Red Mullet, Banana Guacamole, Cucumber Campari

I thought long and hard about whether or not this dish would make it to the Internets.  One side of my brain was impressed with its own resourcefulness, while the other side simply reminded me that THIS DISH SUCKED!

Well, let me clarify.  The crispy, pan seared red mullet paired with the creamy sweetness of the banana guacamole far from sucked.  In fact, they were both delicious together.  But the entire origin of this dish was built around my desire to create a sauce based on one of my favorite spirits, Campari.

This all started while at my favorite place to get a drink, Milk & Honey.   We were debating the merits of Campari (I love it, friend hates it) and asked the bartender to whip us up two drinks featuring the bitter beverage.  I watched as the barkeep muddled cucumber with the Campari and let the flavors marinate for a few minutes.  Sure enough, the bitter Campari had the distinctive underlying flavor of cucumber, which was an excellent touch.  Friend still hated it, of course.

I wondered what it'd be like to muddle the cucumber with Campari and reduce it until syrupy in texture.   Sure enough, the flavors concentrated but that meant bitter beyond belief.   Said friend also hated this dish (yes, I'm a glutton for punishment).

I still wonder whether the idea of a Campari reduction could work.  Maybe the bitterness of Campari could be balanced with the sweetness of a gastrique?  We shall see.....

Mini Asparagus Morel Waffle

I've been doing tons of personal catering and dinner parties over the past month.  The majority of my menus have been focused within the little canapes/tapas style, as opposed to elaborate sit down meals. 

Thanks to all of these personal cheffing assignments, my little bite arsenal has expanded times ten.  One of the little bites that people seem to clammer over are these asparagus, morel mini waffles.

I simply blanch or broil asparagus tips (depending on my mood), poach my morels per usual, and place them on a mini waffle that I usually make in my waffle iron.   They also sell mini waffles at Whole Foods for $3, which I've used before and generally like.  When I make my own waffles, I add an ingredient like rosemary, crumbled bacon or smoked paprika to the batter for another layer of flavor.

The waffle is the perfect vessel for the spoonful of morel sauce that finishes the dish.  As you'd expect, the nooks and crannies of the waffle are a great conduit for an intense, rich morel sauce.  Yep, loving the mini waffle these days.

Cooking For One: Jersey Sans Jersey

I looked in my fridge and saw a large eggplant, leftover ricotta and kafir lime leaves.  Surely, a run to the store was in my future for dinner tonight.

But wait.  Today's Iron Chef tasting and judgment panel would consist of me and only me.  Time to make the best of it and get creative.

I thought about eggplant parmigiana.  A natural progression for me, as this was one of the first dishes I'd ever made.  (C'mon people, I'm from Jersey after all).

Rather than labor to make a traditional eggplant parm, I thought it would be interesting to explore multiple preparations and textures of eggplant within a single dish. 

These little stacks of eggplant would feature a layer of crispy, crusty baked eggplant, coated in a crust of curry and bread crumbs.  A second layer of curried fresh ricotta would add an earthy creaminess.  The third layer of this 'not eggplant parmigiana' would be slices of eggplant cooked slowly in a kafir lime infused coconut milk.

This dish was very simple to make.  Simply slice 1/4 inch thick slices of eggplant (use a ring mold to make them uniform if presentation is important to you).  Beat an egg and brush it on half the eggplant.  Then sprinkle these slices with a bit of salt, pepper, curry powder and bread crumbs (both sides).  Give them a drizzle of olive oil over the top, then bake the eggplant in a 350 oven for 10 minutes, finishing on broil for maximum crispiness.

In the meantime, add the rest of the eggplant slices to a pot and cover with coconut milk, a bit of stock, a few kafir lime leaves and a squeeze of lime juice.  Simmer on low heat (avoid boiling) and cook until the eggplant are tender, about 10-12 minutes. While waiting for the eggplant to cook, mix a pinch of curry and chopped chive into the ricotta.

To serve, make layers of the crispy eggplant, a dollop of ricotta and finally the coconut kafir eggplant, repeating twice.  Finish with the crispy eggplant slice and you're ready to serve.  A few tablespoons of the coconut kafir lime sauce is a welcome finish to the dish.

And there you have it.  Jersey, sans the Jersey.

Pork, Meet Dork

I woke up this morning, assessed my pre-shave beard scruffage in the bathroom mirror, then quickly noticed I had a shit-eating grin on my face.

I looked around the corner and confirmed Sandra Lee was not in my bedroom. 

Then I quickly realized the cause of my pure, uncompromised joy.

As I applied my shaving cream, I confirmed the events of last night's activities.

A few minutes after walking by Molto Mario's table on my way to our seats at Momofuku Ssam, a guy from his party came over with a plate of pork ribs they couldn't finish.  Mario looked right over at me (not unintentionally, I assure you.  He is obviously addicted to Foodie NYC and reads this blog obsessively.  It wasn't like I was the only member of our table in his line of sight at the time) and said something about the ribs being delicious. Curiously, there were Daisy May's wet naps on the plate (?). Our server refused to comment on such matters after further inquiry.  Impromptu, fall-off-the-bone BBQ goodness is how I would describe the start of the night at Ssam.

Next, we proceed to have the 'fuku pork buns.  You know how I feel about them.

At this point, I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I cut myself shaving.  Chin = bleeding.

Many other deliciously excellent things followed, but that's for another post.

Ah, right.  The reason for the excursion to Ssam - (not like you need one) - was the Bo Ssam, a.k.a. Ridiculous Berkshire Pork Butt Extravaganza.  I lost sense of time and Mario at this point, as I could only concentrate on the combination of pork butt wrapped in bibb lettuce and dosed with a truly excellent ginger scallion sauce.  A bit of hot sauce sometimes topped these seemingly endless bites of heaven. (Pork Butt photography courtesy of pork aficionado Laren).

I then thought about my preposterous activities upon leaving the restaurant.  I came home and anxiously unwrapped two little gems Laren brought back from Salumi, the pork haven in Seattle.  I recall  thinking that eating a slice of this salumi after the above feast was unwise and possibly even unhuman.  Yet I couldn't turn down the bizarre coincidence of eating leftover ribs from Mario and salumi from Pappa Batali in the same night.  At this point, I wondered whether I'd reached pork dorkiness.  I looked down at my protruding stomach and the multiple gashes on my shaven face and realized that why yes, I am a pork dork.

But after all those highlights, all I can think about is the cardamom-orange salumi I had from Pappa Batali's Salumi.  The intoxicating earthy flavor of the cardamom and the distinct pop of orange zest/rind was unusual, captivating and just insane - I can't get over how much I loved the combination of these flavors.  Truly inspirational.

By this point, I'm done with my shave and despite all this pork dorkiness, I somehow managed to escape with only two chin wounds.  Damn, I better not shave the day after I convince Sandra to finally stay over.  One would consider that a risk to my health, right?

Pancetta Popcorn Arugula Salad

A while back, I had an excellent salad at The Tasting Room.  Baby greens were tossed with popcorn,  pancetta, radishes and a crumbled soft cheese (goat?).  The texture of the popcorn, crisp pancetta and the spicy, peppery radish were an excellent combination.  The salad wasn't perfectly executed in my opinion, as the large, whole radishes and large dollops of cheese could have been more thoughtfully  integrated.  But the idea behind the salad was a great one worth exploring at home.

I've riffed off of these flavor combinations a few times now.  In this version, I took the peppery bite of the radish and replaced it with arugula. The popcorn is very roughly chopped, as the whole kernels seemed a bit too large in a single bite for my tastes.  For the creamy element, I tossed in a crumbly goat cheese that was reminiscent in texture to a ricotta salata.   In fact, I've also used ricotta salata in this dish with nice results.

A standard lemon, EV olive oil dressing would be great for the salad.  On this given night, I gave myself the challenge of featuring booze in every course I made.   I had a Thai chili infused martini at Koca Lounge that I enjoyed, so I pureed chili into vodka in a food processor, brought the mixture to a boil, cooled and strained it, then seasoned with EV olive oil, salt, pepper and a bit of lemon juice.  The spicy notes made the dressing a welcomed addition to the salad, but as you'd expect, the vodka lent little flavor on its own.   But with all of these flavors going on at once, that wasn't such a bad thing.

The Last Glass of Chianti

Sometimes, enjoying the last glass of a bottle without a friend can be inspiring.  Other times, it can just leave you hanging.  Hanging is where I’m left tonight, so I thought I’d put down a few end-of-the-bottle thoughts for you. (My brain:  “What a bad idea for a post...Perfect!”).

1) I’ve spent the past few days missing a (relative) stranger.

2) If I could be a rock star, it would be Ben Gibbard.

3) I need to use an acid other than citrus to balance my dishes.

4) I wish my blog design matched my personality.

5) I have about five blog crushes. Seems a bit lame, no?

6) I wished I lived in Sonoma and bedazzled guests each day by preparing thoughtful lunches and dinners paired with the wines we made at the winery.

7) Pisoni Pinots – what rock have I been living under?

8) I wish I could convince you to buy a juicer.

9) I’ve coined a few terms for my style of cooking and frequently consider renaming this site based on the style, all of which strikes me as arrogant. I cook beyond the classics, but do I need a restaurant to have a cooking style? Why do I even need a cooking style? Isn’t my style a style of its own?

10) I am at my prime mental peak somewhere between the hours of 8 pm - 12 am. I used to be proud of this, but now I wonder if it’s nothing but a character flaw.

11) I think six or so courses, even small plates, is the max I’d ever serve a human being. If I can’t get to you by six courses, I’ve got no game. You shouldn’t need to stumble home and gain a pound in the morning to wow you...right?

12) Bad Dating tip: The moment you think something is there, just make out. That’s not frat boy talk, it’s an office consensus (women included).

13) I currently have an unwrapped, whole leg of Jambon de Bayonne in my fridge without a slicer or occasion to serve it. For reals.

14) I’ve been told by a wine geek that I’m operating at a 5 out of 10 on the wine geek scale. I think that’s harsh, as I consider my palate at about a 7 or 8. She found my wine geek vocab and regional knowledge (old world especially) to be lacking. Clearly she didn't read this post. I gave her the finger and poured her a Malbec from Argentina.

15) Ok, the bottle of '98 Fontodi Chianti Classico is well and truly done.  Neeext.

Porcini Valrhona Crusted Tofu, Edamame Puree

I'm far from a tofu lover.  In fact, I haven't made my way past firm blocks of freshly made tofu from my corner bodega at this stage in my checkered tofu history.  I did enjoy the tofu tasting at EN Japanese Brasserie a while ago - the different textures and the flavors of freshly made tofu were an exciting experience for me.  Otherwise, I tend to eat tofu as a utilitarian need for protein, especially when I'm on a health kick (i.e. the past few weeks).

My approach with tofu is to treat it like meat.  I like to use a big, thick block of firm tofu, coat it in a flavorful crust of spices and flavors, then sear it and roast it in the oven.  Because tofu is pretty bland on its own, I aim for bold flavor combinations for the tofu. 

Even though there isn't much of a flavor profile for tofu, I tend to group it within the 'earthy' category.   In order to bring out the subtle earthinesss of tofu, I pair it with a range of earthy flavors.    Mushrooms, curry, nutmeg, bittersweet cocoa and dried/roasted chilis all tend to make the list. 

On this particular evening, I was serving tofu to a veggie.  Tofu was a part of the routine, so my goal was to make it unique.  I went with a version of my dried mushroom cocoa crust that I outline in my favorite pork recipe.  The cocoa was a Valrhona cocoa powder I found at Whole Foods - it's bittersweet and therefore earthy and rich in flavor.   A dash of ancho chili powder, a bit of curry and salt, a touch of nutmeg and a generous amount of ground, dried porcini were mixed in with the cocoa, creating a huge burst of earthy flavors to bring the tofu to life.

Luckily, I found some beautifully fresh, whole porcini that I sauteed in butter for an added burst of earthy richness.  For a starchy component, I pureed frozen blanched edamame with a bit of coconut milk and lemon juice as a base for the meat.  Ur...tofu.   I guess the dish could have used a bit of sauce, but I went with a flavor drizzle of EV olive oil to keep it somewhere in the realm of healthy.

Goat Cheese, Fennel Juice, Fried Leeks

While thinking of a condiment to accompany a creamy, herbaceous goat cheese, I began envisioning a light, intense vinaigrette of sorts to drizzle around cheese for a burst of complimentary flavors - something to further enhance and accent the natural flavors of the grassy, soft goat cheese.

While staring at the veggies in the market, my gaze focused on fennel.   The fronds, in particular, were of interest to me.  Sure enough, I juiced the fronds and some of the stems that connected the fronds to the bulb.  A bit of salt, pepper, a squeeze of lemon juice and a whisk of extra virgin olive oil produced a fragrant, light dressing that exploded with a mellow fennel flavor.  For texture, I fried some leeks in olive oil to add a crunchy bite of onion flavor to the creamy cheese.

The process of eating this cheese was perfect for an appetizer to share with guests.  Simply slice off a bit of your goat cheese, bath it gently in the fennel juice vinaigrette, and smear it onto a cracker or piece of toasted crostini.  I know that none of the ingredients here are particularly Spring focused, but somehow this dish tasted like a bite of Spring to me.

Black Pepper Skate, Morels and Cilantro

At this point, I must be the unofficial morel dork of the interweb.  This is my 30 millionth post on morels and yet only my first of 2007.

While writing this post about a recent skate dish I made, I realized that while I continue to obsess with morels each and every Spring, I've only scratched the surface on morel dorkiness.

For instance, I'd love to head out to Oregon or somewhere dedicated to morel excellence and immerse myself in morel cultivation. I also want to go on a morel hunt.   

I picture weeding through damp misty forests, wearing camouflage and maybe night vision headgear.  I'd be carrying an official looking camo bag that would be stocked with important hunting tools - a bottle of Oregon Pinot, proper stem wear, a small sterno, a little saucepan, salt, pepper, a lemon, forks and a corkscrew that can double as a weapon should we encounter any drunken shitake hunting hooligans.

My morel hunting guide stops in the middle of his tracks and sniffs the air, dramatically.  The birds stop chirping and all goes quite.   I look down and see morels growing near an old tree.  Morel man teaches me a few picking techniques and we gather the pinecomb beauties.  They are plump and beautiful - a few little baby blond morels, a few pimp daddie, jumbo black morels are also in the mix.  We take them down to a local stream and I just barely rinse them, removing any sand.  I dry them thoroughly in the sun as we crack the Pinot.  I clink glasses with the morel hunter and.. HEY....WAIT A MINUTE..  At this point, I realize my morel hunter should now be a female.  (She's super hot, obviously, and wearing a hot camo mini skirt...ok, that's better).  We cheers morels and the genius of her camouflage high heels and begin to fire up the sterno. 

I saute the morels in butter on slow heat with salt and pepper, then add a squeeze of lemon juice after a few minutes.  We then eat the morels straight from the pan, enjoying the efforts of my morel hunters' genius (and crazy hottness).  She tells me my passion for morels is inspiring and we kiss passionately, but unfortunately my camo face paint smudges all over her and freaks us both out a bit.

Right. 

So, this needs to happen.  Hot morel hunters from Oregon with a passion for camo and Pinot should email me immediately to arrange a visit.

Until someone convinces me otherwise, I am fully committed to poaching morels per my usual method.  For this dish, I pair the beauties with the richness of skate.  I firmly believe that morels should not compete with many flavors, so I simply sauteed the skate in a bit of leftover pancetta drippings from a previous course, enhanced by only black pepper, salt and a squeeze of lemon juice before removing from the pan.  Believe it or not, I think the fresh burst of cilantro in this dish is pretty special.  Certainly it needs to be used sparingly with morels, but just a few leaves accent the richness of the flavors nicely.