Fork&Cork

Mr. Trotter Moves On

2012-01-04T19:24:00.000-05:00

“You know the old adage that the customer’s always right? Well, I kind of think that the opposite is true. The customer is rarely right. And that is why you must seize the control of the circumstance and dominate every last detail: to guarantee that they’re going to have a far better time than they ever would have had if they tried to control it themselves.” Chef Charlie Trotter

Last spring, I posted a quote and link to an article about one of my favorite chefs, Charlie Trotter. Well- favorite is understating it a bit. I can say without hesitation that I've been shaped by his artistic sensibilities, business acumen, tenacity, vision and even bravery. The news that came this week of his plan to close his restaurant in Chicago took me off guard at first. Yet, if you understand the man behind the apron, you had to know this was not only inevitable, but almost predestined. Trotter, like so many of his contemporaries and mentors, is going out on top. As a life-long scholar, the only way for a perfectionist to continue to pursue his passions is to do so unimpeded.

It is extraordinary for a restaurant of Trotter's caliber to have lasted 25 years while continually ranking as among the most excellent in the world. If there is any dissension about the food or service, it is only because he has raised the bar on himself. For every foodie who is non-plused by Trotter's, you are enjoying a unique view of the food world from atop Chef Trotter's shoulders.

After some consideration, I've decided to let the blogosphere and food pundits dissect the meaning of his decision, his contributions and where it all fits in historically. Right now, it would feel too much like writing a eulogy. So then, here is a re-post of that piece from last April.

I've long believed that the adage about the customer always being right was never intended for restaurants. It is meant (and I suppose true) for the service and retail industries, instead. The main difference here is that you are dealing with the culinary arts. At this level of restaurant (and those like it), you are experiencing food prepared by someone who has devoted their life to educating their palette, developing their craft and creating unique meals to be shared unspoiled.

As I have discovered over the years, those who pursue power like to exercise it to feel the full rush of what being powerful means. Customers who like to flex that muscle and reconstruct a dish, substitute, omit and tailor a chef's menu to their liking are not, I repeat, NOT, getting what the chef intended, but some bastardized iteration that is akin to letting some unskilled orderly handle your delicate open-heart surgery. Like giving your Mercedes to a hack mechanic and asking him to pimp it out and paint it cherry red. Like ordering a diet coke with your breast of pheasant with morels and truffles. There are those out there who disagree, and quickly bash chefs as egotists and inflexible snots, simply because they believe they have the right to get what they want because they're paying. I argue that those chefs have the right not to serve you, either.

Charlie Trotter is famous (among all his culinary and artistic skills) for being the first chef to go on record as saying that in order to perfect your product, service and brand- it's necessary to fire customers. Get rid of those whose expectations don't meet your standards and focus on the ones who do. At some point, the thinking goes, there will be enough customers who will give their loyalty to an establishment because of that vision, not in spite of it. That was over 15 years ago.

A selection of amuse bouche from Trotter's September, 2000

If you care to read a bit more about Chef Trotter and his rare breed of customer service, click on the quote above that will take you to a recent article on the 51 year old chef and why he stands out (to some) as a genius and to others, a lunatic tyrant.

Full disclosure: I am a huge fan of Trotter's philosophy, his cooking, his books and accomplishments. His style of cooking and commitment to excellence have shaped me and help me become the chef I am today. I spent a week in his kitchen in September of 2000 absorbing, tasting, cooking and finally, partaking of his Grand Tasting menu. It was, quite simply, one of the most unique experiences I've had in my career.

The staff of Trotter's circa 2000. I am located dead center, (back) with the Cheshire grin next to my future buddy, and Top Chef Season 2 contestant, Otto Borsich.

The great artists are rarely understood in their time, and much of the article in The Times attests to that in its myopic view of Trotter as of late. It attempts to psychoanalyze why Trotter is not in the press more or hasn't expanded his brand into multi-unit prostitution, or why he has failed in his attempts to do so. In each of these scenarios where he tried to recreate the level of excellence of his restaurant in Chicago, there were contributing factors that didn't meet his standard of the original, and subsequently he pulled the plug. While some call that failure, others would call it integrity.

The copper pots that distinguish the tiny, talented kitchen.

As far as Grant Achatz is concerned, I have immense respect for him. He is cut from the same cloth as Trotter, Ferran Adria and Thomas Keller. Yet, I can't help thinking his publisher and/or partner pushed to create controversy to sell more books with all the volatile portions in the book dedicated to his pent up angst toward Trotter- especially now, since he appears to have "a cordial if not close relationship" with him. But then, FUCT (F*** You Charlie Trotter!, the acronym supposedly adopted by Achatz and his partner to emote his feelings about his post-Trotter's tenure) is pretty harsh, no matter how you slice it, and I believe somewhat unprecedented among chefs of such stature. Achatz maintains it was included in the book to later draw a parallel between the two chefs and their shared commitment to perfection. Still, the Golden Rule seems more apt among culinary professionals.

Van Gogh's The Golden Rule

Whatever your view, I believe there can still be room for an innovative artist and an artistic innovator in the same arena.

Happy New Year

2011-12-31T12:17:00.000-05:00

Farewell, 2011!

It was another interesting year for food, celebrity cook-types, wine, The Phils and of course, music.

A VERY quick wrap of some of my 2011 favorites.

Dinner at Amis after ONE of the blizzards in February. Guinness Export: first time in the states since- 1940s? Dope. Eleven Madison Park and Rotis cookbooks.

In concert, Aimee Mann, OMD and English Beat. On TV: Portlandia, Workaholics, and Beavis and Butthead.

2011 Philadelphia Phillies- 102 wins, 5th consecutive NLE Championship. And on that note, Vance Worley's pitching. Wilson Valdez's winning pitching effort in the 19th against the Reds! What the WHAT? Cliff Lee's first major league HR. Hunter Pence (Good Game! Let's Go Eat!). And following it all on Twitter was pretty fun, too.

Beer got more delicious. Produce got more local. Good cheese became more available. In addition to my 4 year old's penchant for seaweed, olives, bacon, salmon, and soba, we added shrimp and octopus! Three or four dozen delicious Sunday dinners at M&D's (right?).

The Chef's Table revival at the UWC. Shigoku oysters from the West Coast (holy mother of God- over the top). Foie gras and shrimp toast together in one dish. Scallop dumpling and squab consomme. Amazing locally foraged mushrooms- and monstrous porcini from Oregon. Kabocha squash (don't know how I missed this). Barely Buzzed coffee-rubbed cheddar from Bee-Hive Cheese Co. And, home-made Orange Grappa from Italy.

Domestic sparkling from Argyle in Oregon and Gruet in New Mexico. Robert Stemmler Pinot Noir, Estate. Merry Edwards Sauvignon Blanc. Mission Estate Pinot Noir. Barricadiero, carried all the way back from Italy (MiMi!). Just about every wine I drank from Moore Brothers, especially the wines from Mas Amiel.

Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones and Butter and the return of non-fussy food. Amazon's Cloud Player and Kindle App. for the Android.

I caved in and for the first time watched episodes of Top Chef: Texas and Harry Potter. I liked both.

To anyone I cooked with, ate with or drank with in 2011, I'm looking forward to lots more in 2012.

Happy Christmas: War is Over

2011-12-16T20:40:00.000-05:00

"Sweet Bird of Truth" Matt Johnson of The The, 1987

(Spoken)Flight leader, this is "Combat" your forward end controller
I have three targets for you
Your first target is a blockhouse, target number 11 at the north-east corner of the combat zone, request: Napalm
Rodger, flight leader, the identity of your request is, eh, batch of Napalm on the blockhouse in the north-east corner of the target area
Flight leader, understand, 30 seconds
White flag, this is "Combat", we have you in sight
Roll on to the west, call to confirm you have target area, a'ight

Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia
Six o'clock in the morning and I'm the last person in this plane still awake
Y'know I can almost smell the blood washing against the shores of this land that can't forget it's past
Oh the wind that carries this plane is the wind of change, heaven sent and hell bent
Over the mountain tops we go, just like all the other GI Joe's, adios
This is your captain calling (With an urgent warning), we're above the gulf of Arabia (Our altitude is falling)
And I can't hold her up (There's no time for thinking), all hands on deck (This bird is sinking)
Across the beaches and cranes, rivers and trains, all the money I've made, bodies I've maimed
Time was when I seemed to know, just like any other GI Joe
Should I cry like a baby, or die like a man while all the planets little wars start joining hands?
Oh what a heaven, what a hell, y'know there's nothing could be done in this whole wide world

Arabia

I don't know what's wrong or right, I'm just a regular guy with bottled up insides
I ain't ever been to church or believed in Jesus Christ but I'm praying that gods with you when you die
This is your captain calling (With an urgent warning), we're above the gulf of Arabia (Our altitude is falling)
And I can't hold her up (There's no time for thinking), all hands on deck (This bird is sinking)
Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, Arabia

Iraq War~ 2003-2011

Chef Quote of the Week: Roy Choi

2011-12-14T11:13:00.000-05:00

“It’s like when you get stoned, sometimes things go into different worlds and fabrics and textures. It’s a little crispy, then it’s spicy and warm and soothing. It helps me bring in a whole pantry of ingredients that as a chef I may have considered not good enough. Using [classical] techniques but then balancing it with straight French’s yellow mustard, or bringing in some ghettos--- that you pull from your cupboard.” Chef Roy Choi
On inspiration (ahem) and where he gets his~

F&C Rewind: Just Like Honey

2011-12-13T17:25:00.000-05:00

Today, the NYTimes posted this piece about those in America who have shunned Facebook. I was instantly reminded of my short stint with FB- and how it most resembled an unsuccessful experiment with drugs. Whether you're on Facebook, kicked the habit or are still thinking about it, I offer this repost of what it was like.

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“Is the world fundamentally a better place because of science and technology? We shop at home, we surf the web, at the same time, we feel emptier, lonelier and more cut off from each other than at any other time in human history.” from the novel (and film) "Contact" by Carl Sagan

Late last night, when I deleted my Facebook account, the captcha (random confirmation) words were "truffles out". I kid you not. If ever there were a sign from the cosmos, this was it. I had to stare at it for a few minutes, completely amused and somewhat mystified.

I suppose I was asking for it. I so resisted joining the "collective", only because I truly didn't miss what I didn't have. My friends told me it would be a great way to promote my blog. It seemed like the right thing to do; for an egotist. As a reader of Ayn Rand, I didn't mind the "ego" part. I had a lot to say, and I wanted to share my passion and love for all things food, wine, beer and creative thoughts alike.

But, something crept in. Not what I expected. It wasn't an addiction, as I know it. It wasn't a fad. It wasn't even vanity. Ok- maybe a little. But, ultimately, it was a trap. I began to think that the only way people would listen to me, appreciate me, notice me- was through Facebook. It makes me feel a little ashamed, now. Posting on FB is supposed to be like stepping into a virtual town square and screaming, "HEY! Check out what I'm thinking! 'Listen' to this! 'Watch' that, 'join' us! But, in reality, it was more like doing stand-up at an open mic, unable to see if anyone is in front of you listening, yawning or sleeping. You long for a "like" or emoticon of approval.

It began with the naive thinking that sooner or later we were all destined to become a part of the hive. But, when I began to search for the people I knew had consciously avoided joining and then failed in finding them, I was silently jealous.

Since creating an account last September, I've read some of the most interesting viewpoints on FB, and been exposed to some of the most idiotic and ignorant rants at the same time. I met some wonderful new people and introduced some people to each other. I've laughed my ass off at some of the most ridiculous videos and comments. And, when there was nothing interesting going on in my real life, I surfed other peoples comments, profiles, photos- but, that's the whole point, right? So, why then did it feel so unsavory? When did it go from being fun to feeling dirty? It was like being stuck in the mall, but without the fountains and Cinnabon.

It was a tremendous platform for advocacy. And lunacy. There were 1.7 million people who "liked" the prayer for Obama to Die, yet only 800,000 (at my last check) to petition FB to remove the page for its blatant racist and hateful bent. My most memorable experience was watching a particular page climb in membership from 750,000 fans to just over 1 million in less than a half hour! Each time you hit refresh, it would climb exponentially. The page was about as harmless and vacuous as you can imagine: "If I can get 1 million fans, my sister said she will name her baby 'Megatron'". The site now has 1.7 million "fans". The baby, a boy, is due in August.

People would cut and paste "status" updates that advocated awareness for anything from special education and autism, to spousal abuse, human rights and cancer. It was the platform for me to create my very own page condemning the anti-immigration law recently passed in Arizona. It raised awareness for approximately 70 people who joined. I posted information and updates daily from articles and websites both conservative and liberal, mainstream and private, ethnic, domestic and foreign. I learned a lot on the subject and still feel strongly about my views. But, it was a bit like preaching to the choir. I knew the people who joined the page were intelligent, compassionate people who had a firm grasp on morality and altruism. So, who was I hoping to convert? The person who would rather feed their virtual guppie than discover the US Constitution being flouted daily? Not gonna happen.

To connect with others in my field, it was about as ideal as it could get. Chefs work a lot. To be able to share ideas, photos, specials, inside jokes, and gripes while at work or after a shift, was the ideal. And in many cases, I found myself visiting their establishments to say "hello" in person and eat their marvelous creations, drink their spirits. And I'll continue to do so.

I hated high school. It was never a secret. So when I found so many people coming out of the creases of the internet to be FB friends, I did so with caution. Why would these people want to know about my life after all these years? Did I really want to know about theirs? Let's just say that the most ironic part of friending former classmates was that of the 50 or 60 I reconnected with, I found that the same 7 or 8 people I regularly hung out with and genuinely enjoyed being with in school were the same 7 or 8 I shared regular conversations, jokes, stories and photos with on Facebook. I will miss the sarcastic and subversive posts of my friend Steve. Picking up with our friendship in the last six months was like we had never stopped. Yet, we've already decided to get together (with a "new" chef friend, no less!) and reminisce over some good food and cold beer. I'll miss occasional updates from my former art teacher, though it goes without saying that we'll stay in touch through emails and possibly even visits. My buddy and pal, Penny, and I have already met up and shot the breeze, and I've no reason to doubt we will again, after so many years, some shit is still funny!

But, despite the boundless nature of FB, the ability to connect with people from all around the world felt the same as connecting with someone I just saw an hour ago at work. It became soulless. The fact that most recent comments, messages or posts of interest were electronically whisked right into my pocket made it even less interesting. Normally, I'd be bowled over to see photos of food from the former sous chef I worked for in France; but, something got lost in translation (and it wasn't the French). At times I would sit and stare at the screen the same way Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson would look out their hotel window in the movie of the same name. With millions of people zipping about in a city that never seems to come down from a neon buzz, it was about as exciting for them as watching a lava lamp. Sober.

Keeping up on how the business of Facebook was evolving and how it was slowly, incrementally implementing their mission statement to make the business of information gathering profitable became a daily exercise for me. I tried to believe that I had the right to my privacy, when at the same time there were approximately 270 people I was sharing my morning breakfast with and digital moods. My sister sent me an email about a site called Spokeo. She explained that just by typing in your name, email address or phone number, all the information that you thought was secure on websites like Amazon, Facebook, blogs, message boards that require sign-in or memberships- it's all available for anyone to view online. For only $2.95 a month, you could get a membership for a year that gave you full access to the personal information of just about anyone who has ever used a computer. And in some cases, there is information that is shared from sites that aren't even online (census).

The business model for Spokeo isn't so much to get people to buy access to other people's information. Oh no- that's so 1990's. When people see that someone is pimping their personal and private information online, the immediate response is not "who got it and how did they get it?", it's "how do I get it OFF this site??". And lo and behold, what does Spokeo offer just below the memberships that legalize identity theft?? A product by Reputation Defender called MyPrivacy.

"Delete private information from Spokeo, Peoplefinders, People Search and other online databases using My Privacy."

Talk about good cop, bad cop?!? You can also go to the bottom of that same page and delete yourself from Spokeo for FREE. Just carefully follow the directions. If you still can't do it, Google "how to...".

I suppose I was really never pushed over the edge by something like Spokeo or that someone could get or would want my credit score. I mean, really? But, having considered deleting my account and even threatening to do so a few times on FB (an empty threat if ever there was one), it seemed the right time to end the Facebook Experiment. It only required my FB password and typing the randomized phrase "truffles out". *delete*

And then, there was a virtual silence. A great, glorious silence so golden, it was if all the engines of every car on the information super-highway had stalled, coming to a screeching halt and then- were silenced forever. I stepped away from the computer in the most confident and contented way, toward the front door and walked out into the Spring night. I stopped and took the deepest breath- and then exhaled. And, then I smiled.

I was Bill Murray coming out of the elevator of the hotel and walking into the crowded streets of Tokyo. Hitting "delete" was like chasing Scarlett in that last moment before he might never see her again, and in that instant- as if on cue- I could hear in my head the echoing snare drums and the impudent reverberating guitar from the opening bars of the Jesus and Mary Chain's "Just Like Honey" as the credits rolled:

"Listen to the girl
As she takes on half the world
Moving up and so alive
In her honey dripping beehive
Beehive
It's good, so good, it's so good
So good"

"...And then- there's Copper...!"

2011-12-07T16:06:00.001-05:00

It's that time of the year again, in Delaware, when we are rewarded for living in a state with no sales tax and enormous tax loopholes for huge businesses to incorporate! I mean- uhmm, er, uh- Christmas! For cooks, chefs and gastronauts alike, it also means the Emile Henry/Mauviel Warehouse Sale in New Castle. And if you're a copper ho, like me, you'll be wanting to add another piece to your collection. Yes, Mauviel also makes a gorgeous stainless steel collection, but, none gives the love that French copper gives a cook. Glorious, gleaming, heavy-duty copper sauteuses and sautoirs, roasters and rondeaus, round paella and oval Dutch ovens, and the precious 1/4 quart cocotte for the escargots lover. They give the feeling of preparing a meal for royalty. The touch of one in your hand is like holding a precious stringed instrument or rare bottle of wine.

Along with Emile-Henry cookware, Rősle stainless steel utensils, Cuisipro multi-purpose kitchen gadgets and other high-quality brands of kitchen helpers, the annual event is now a three-day warehouse sale that is open to the public, offering them the chance to purchase all that these companies stock at up to 80% off the retail price. My new 2012 Slogan: "Copper: It Costs Money, Because It SAVES Money!"

Chef Quote of the Week: Michel Richard

2011-12-07T11:22:00.001-05:00

"Before nouvelle cuisine, no chef had the right to create their own dishes. You had to copy Escoffier.”

Chef Michel Richard

on the late Jean Louis Palladin's contributions to the culinary world.

The mentality among the rank-and-file chefs back in France, notes Richard, went something like this: “Creating your own dish when I was a young man? Are you sick? You’re not smart enough to create your own dish.”

Richard is honoring Chef Palladin ten years after his death with a multi-course tribute meal at his DC eatery. Read the article in the Washington Post here.

F&C Rewind: By The Book: A Cook's List of Essentials

2011-12-05T11:10:00.001-05:00

At this time of year, it becomes very challenging to focus for an hour or two on producing a new post. As such, I like to pull out particularly poignant posts and put them back up to keep you interested! Since it is the gift-giving time of the year, I thought it'd be apropos to re-run my list of favorite or must-have cookbooks to add to your arsenal. In revisiting this piece, I found that while I have since added many more to my collection, those I originally chose for The Top still retain their standings. Bon appetit!

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I've lost track of how many cookbooks I own. Yet, I always know when one is "missing". I do know that as I get older, I buy fewer. But, the other night I thought that it had been some time since I pulled out a cookbook just to peruse the contents for pleasure. I grabbed the Frog Commissary Cookbook, an oldie, but a goodie. I had actually just gotten a copy, so while it was published in 1985, it was new to me.

By all standards of what a cookbook should be, it's one of the best. It has simple, succinct recipes with quick, informative descriptions of ingredients, methods and dishes that may not have been common knowledge in the Decade of Greed. My favorite part is the "how to" in the margins. I think it's useful to know, for example, the items and quantities to set up a proper bar for a cocktail party of 50. Or, the essentials of setting up a raw bar, hors d'oeuvres buffet or continental breakfast. This is real, practical stuff. The style of food is eclectic and not pretentious. But, by today's standards, the book would never sell more than 1000 copies.

It wasn't designed for the coffee table. More like, it was designed to put your coffee cup on. Nor does it have full page, glossy, sexy food porn shots. It doesn't praise the farmer who delivers their eggs, it doesn't feature drawings or paintings from staff, and it doesn't cost $55. It's a true utilitarian cookbook.

The Moosewood Cookbook of old is another with easily-soiled, coloring book quality pages, and matching hokey drawings of dancing broccoli from a time when vegetarians weren't so annoying (yeah, I said it). Another paperback, it may be the gold standard for diverse, non-meat recipes that runs the full gamut of appetizers to desserts. And, I dare say they're healthy, too.

The Silver Palate is another crossover book that should sit on the shelf of the serious cook. It too is from an age when the author sought to give not just a broad spectrum of current, creative and healthful recipes, but it came from an accomplished cook who, like Julia Child and James Beard, wrote for the everyday cook.

So, why then, do I have so many cookbooks if I already know how to cook? I'm trying to figure that out myself. After much consideration, beyond the obvious answer of "recipes", my collection provides inspiration.

I own every cookbook from Thomas Keller and Charlie Trotter, because I admire their style, their philosophy, their creativity and probably above all else, their discipline. I can pick up one of their books and feel their unique style ooze out of a phrase of admonishment. To prepare food at that level requires a certain work ethic and commitment on the part of the chef. At times, I'll open the books and page through them simply to look at their pictures, presentation or what ingredients they combine. Maybe even peruse a particular season to get ideas. Often, I just like to revisit an idea. But, I rarely prop them open and "cook from them". They are conceptual books meant for the lover of food and art. This is the style of cookbook most common on the shelves today.

In this same genre, I have the Inn at Little Washington books. Along with Trotter and Keller, they tell of the building of their brand: the loyalty of their staff, faithful customers and what a unique dining experience they are. It's like buying the program at the ballgame. You saw the show, now take the glossy keepsake home for years of enjoyment to come.

Another section of my culinary library is built on the "must haves". My go-to book for classical Italian is Marcella Hazan, my Japanese, Nobu. Baking, CIA and Cheese, Steve Jenkins. Some genres require more than one, and as a Francophile, I own no less than 20 French cookbooks. Paris cooking is covered by Patricia Wells, while country cooking is beautifully and completely rendered in Anne Willan's recent Country Cooking of France. I have a rudimentary, yet useful book of recipes from the Basque region (in French). I have the masters; Blanc, Ducasse, Guerard, Bocuse, Troisgros, Girardet. Then, cross over into the US for the expats, and I have Ripert, Boulud, Robouchon, Richard, Jean-Georges and Pepin.

Recipes from Da Fiore of Venice focuses on the gorgeous seafood and regional ingredients of the Veneto. While the publisher BK (from England) has put out several primers on ethnic cuisine, of which Indian Cuisine has been the most useful to me.

Saveur's three book series on American, Italian and French cuisine is a must for their "real" recipes, grounded in tradition and authenticity. It doesn't hurt that they have some of the most beautiful photography of any food magazine today.

Back when I was just a waiter aspiring to take over the world, I bought a copy of Larousse, Gastronomique. It is the mother of all culinary tomes, both encyclopedia and recipe collection at once. It has entries on Antonin Careme and Julia Child. It has the origins of salade nicoise and the proper way to make a vegetable "charlotte". It's very...old school. If, on the other hand, you need a reference guide, whether you're a newbie or want to check your spelling on a menu, The Food Lover's Companion is the most user-friendly resource on the market. There are three editions, two editions of the Wine Lover's Companion and now the Cheese Lover's Companion, the last husband-wife collaboration before the founder, Sharon Tyler Herbst passed away just a few years ago.

I suppose if there were one book that was a game-changer for me, it would have to be Gray Kunz "The Elements of Taste". For an advanced cook, you long for a collection of thoughts and ideas that encompasses and sums up the building and layering of flavors from a conceptual standpoint with examples to back it up. When this book was released, I read it from cover to cover. I began to think differently in the way I wrote menus, created dishes, the way I seasoned food and more importantly, the way I corrected my seasonings. The book is broken into four categories: Tastes That Push, Tastes That Pull, Tastes That Punctuate and Taste Platforms. And, rather than arranging food by course or primary ingredient, they identify 14 basic tastes (salty, sweet, floral, herbal, "funky," meaty, etc.). The binding on my copy is beaten up, the pages slightly stained with wine and demi-glace. It's the one book I don't loan out anymore, and it's because it's not in print anymore. New copies on Amazon start at $355 each (*$136 today-R.A.L.).

I have several books on only one subject from, pancakes and foie gras, to truffles and duck. Soups, sauces, shellfish and seafood, mostly by James Peterson. You need Harold Magee to answer those nagging questions about which boils faster, hot or cold water? Or, how to hard-boil an egg without the green sulfuric ring around the yolk. It goes without saying, but Beard and Child belong on your shelves, and should be read. Craig Claiborne, Deborah Madison and Mario Batali have earned the right. There are so many other great books- all of which have contributed to the enormous array of talent we experience today.

Whatever reason you like buying a particular cookbook, it is personal and you don't owe it to anyone to explain why. The above mentioned books have broadened my knowledge and creativity in the culinary arts, and I hope you find the list of use. No matter what your level of cooking, is there ONE cookbook that changed your life?

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T10:48:00.001-05:00

Take this APP and Shove It!

2011-11-10T14:20:00.000-05:00

It's time to take another glance at technology, pop culture, and the world of food. Along with political protests and Famous Dictator Deaths (for $500, Alex), 2011 will likely go down as the year of the Tablet, the popular digital gadget and "must-have" of toddlers, students and adults, alike.

My alma mater just released last month a fully interactive tablet application for "The New Professional Chef", the exhaustive, comprehensive Bible for all CIA students and grads. And, in good turn, after testing it out and piling on a little kindling (ahem) to the fire, The New York Times asked the incendiary question, "Are Cookbooks Obsolete?"

I suppose the same question has been asked recently of magazines and newspapers. We're already in the midst of a sea change in traditionally printed materials. Gourmet Magazine is dead and burried. But, cookbooks obsolete?? Let me begin by acknowledging that tablets as teachers have an edge over texts as they promote space saving, speed and accessibility. Putting a reference such as Pro Chef into a compact, highly convenient, interactive application for mobile devices was brilliant. Mostly, because it's meant to be used as a teaching tool. But, you ask, "Aren't all cookbooks teaching tools?" Hardly. There are several styles of cookbooks- and yes, utilitarian is one. But, the real question is, "Of all the cookbooks you have, what percentage of them do you actually cook from?" Are we talking single digits, here?

I guessed as much.

Cookbooks are a very unique way for people to connect with food. When we choose a book for our collection, we attach ourselves to its personality. The beautiful photography can activate Proustian memory in some, salivating in others. We can see ourselves sitting in folding chairs at the long vineyard or farm table with carafes of rose and fresh cut flowers, kids, dogs, family and huge bowls of colorful pastas, salads and breads. The freshly baked cake on a decorative ceramic pedestal looks a lot nicer than it does on the heirloom cookie sheet with foil. And, the people in cookbooks are more beautiful than we are. We live vicariously through the culinary landscapes they depict.

Last week was the release of another cookbook, possibly the most anticipated of 2011, Eleven Madison Park. The boys at EMP are riding the crest of some remarkable recent publicity, a well-deserved three stars from Michelin Travel Guide and the news they are branching out on their own from Big Daddy Danny (Meyer) to not only purchase EMP, but open a new hotel next year. This book is the modern equivalent of The French Laundry cookbook or Grant Achatz's Alinea; beautifully photographed, extra-large format books that define an era and critical genre of American cooking. EMP is a stunningly gorgeous book that leaves you shaking your head and licking your lips at once. For advanced cooks, it represents a cuisine you must grasp or risk being left behind. At the criminally priced $25.77 on Amazon, this book could easily fetch $100 or more, specifically because it is so revered as a "must have" for foodies. Yet, I cannot imagine sitting down with a smart phone or tablet and getting a fraction of the pleasure I get from reverently leafing through the heavy, white pages of culinary artistry it provides.

A dish from Eleven Madison Park Cookbook; Photography by Francesco Tonelli

Whenever I am writing a menu of great importance, I open a mature bottle of wine and pull the big boys off the shelf: Ducasse, Blanc, Kunz, Robuchon and their American counterparts, previously mentioned. The same consideration given to appreciating the wine's nuances is given to the genius and years of professional and creative contributions these artisans provide. Charlie Trotter who helped define this type of modern, food-as-art cookbook is famous for saying of his first book, and I'm paraphrasing, "Use this book as either a collection of recipes to try or simply use the pictures and recipes as inspiration; but think outside the recipe."

Mood has as much to do with inspiration as source. As I slowly turn the pages and sip history, I am reminded that a cook's collection of cookbooks define his style and philosophy on the subject. A method here, a shortcut there- even if you flat out copy a recipe, it'll never come out the same way twice. Reducing that tactile experience to sliding screens of reconfigured 1s and 0s seems unromantic at best, and more like being cheated of some really creative ideas.

No, I'm not willing to give up aesthetics for convenience. Yet, I confess that I bought Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones and Butter for my phone with Kindle technology. I couldn't wait to read it, and I knew at that time of year, I was more likely to read it digitally because of my work load. I loved it; it was convenient and quick and it was always there when I had a few moments to spare for another chapter or two. And the built in book light was a bonus for these aging eyes. But, I feel as though someone has stolen from me a book that should now be nestled right between Comfort Me With Apples and The Soul of a Chef on my shelf at home. Instead, I have it on my phone. Sigh.

Even more preposterous is the idea that people would stop giving hardcover cookbooks as gifts. Culturally we all benefit from reading and cooking from cookbooks. I suppose I love the Pixar film Ratatouille so much because of its message- which, by the way is NOT "Anyone Can Cook" (Linguini can't cook- and is relegated to waiting tables at the end). The resounding message to all ages is, and should be, encourage creativity. After all, what is a cookbook if not a collection of ideas meant to evoke a visceral connection to food? If it was to feed ourselves or to learn to cook, surely we would have all starved to death by now.

La Truffe au Coeur

2011-11-04T19:10:00.000-04:00

One of the few remaining ingredients that must be foraged to make it to a high-end restaurant's kitchen is the elusive and exotic truffle. The price for bringing them to the table is so high specifically because they can't be cultivated, only foraged, and only in a few choice locations in the world, such as Alba, Italy, Burgundy, France or the Northwestern United States.

A tiny bit of black truffle properly coerced by a hot pan will yield layer after layer of intense, earthy flavor that can cause the head to spin when paired with mushrooms, wild game and a big, bold red wine. Shaved like hard cheese over risotto, pasta or eggs, the white truffle is the most expensive and highly prized of the various types of truffle available. Unlike the black truffle, it requires no cooking or heat to activate the heady aromas. They currently are priced at $2800 per pound. Considering the dollar value of truffles, they far outpace the cost of street drugs or the risks associated with smuggling them. Their intended uses are the same: unadulterated, decadent pleasure.

There is an entire culture throughout Europe where truffles are found. Among those who hunt them and those who buy, the comparison to drugs is quite accurate, because if you reveal your source or your location, you're toast. But, there is a romantic lure to truffles, as well. Long considered an aphrodisiac, menus and dishes that contain fresh truffles have a way of making grown adults giddy as school children. Or, lovers penning poems with comparisons to the moon, diamonds and women.

This tribute is from The Illustrated London News, Saturday, August 26, 1882.

(Author unknown)

Lunaire

Ambiguë

Telle est la Truffe

Riche et Parfumée

Unique et Pure

Fille de la Terre

Féminine et Veloutée

Etonnante et Imprévisible

Noire elle Parait

Or en Fait Elle Est

Inimitable et Irremplaçable

Rare et Raffinée

Envoûtante et Inoubliable

Moonlight
Ambiguous
This is the Truffle
Rich and Fragrant
Unique and Pure
Daughter of the Earth
Feminine and Smooth
Amazing and Unpredictable
It Appears Black
Gold, In fact It Is
Inimitable and Irreplaceable
Rare and Refined
Haunting and Unforgettable

Truffles as poetry? At the very least, yup.

F&C Rewind: Sunday Suppers: Meatloaf

2011-10-29T18:17:00.000-04:00

When the weather gets damp, cool and gloomy like it's been the last week, some recipes come out of hibernation and make it into the heavy rotation of Sunday suppers. One of our faves is meatloaf.

But, not any old meatloaf. This jazzed up meatloaf has mushrooms, peas and mire poix. It's crusted with pine nuts, and layered throughout is hard boiled egg. "HERESY", you scream! Not really. It's made very similarly to what meatloaf really is, and that is a type of forcemeat. Pates and terrines are forcemeats, as are sausages, hot dogs and bologna. Olive loaf? Forecemeat numero uno.

When making a forcemeat, a traditional French method of charcuterie, there is a standard ratio of meat to fat, followed by what we call "garnishes". Most often people think of parsley and lemon crowns or large plouches of herbs that lie next to a finished dish as a garnish. But, garnish refers to ingredients studded throughout the forcemeat that give it its unique flavor. For example, a traditional dish made in this method is a duck galantine. A boned out duck is filled with a mixture of finely ground duck meat and fat, along with garnishes of pistachio, orange zest and other vegetables. After it is stuffed, it is rolled into a cylindrical shape and cooked. When it cools, it is sliced down into discs resembling meats like salami that have a flecked appearance and texture. An example of a popular type of galantine is turducken.

So, how did your mom figure out how to make a meatloaf without grossing out the family? First of all, there are few meatloaf recipes out there that I know of where you are actually grinding your own meat at home. If growing up our culture had more variety meats at the supermarket, we very well might be eating some version of game meatloaf or duck terrine on a Sunday at mom and dad's. And some do! But, as such, we used what was commonly available to us and affordable: ground beef. Older generations will tell you they almost always used a blend of ground beef, pork and veal. That's because their meats came right from the butcher, and it was readily available. Only recently have uber-grocers caught on to marketing this blend which they call...wait for it...the meatloaf mix.

But pates and terrines are cooked in hot water baths to evenly distribute the heat of the oven while gently poaching the meat, thus keeping the fats from separating. It's a sophisticated, yet time-consuming method of cooking. So, home cooks needed a less complicated way to cook their forcemeats; and, so they just roasted them in the oven.

The texture of a meatloaf is decidedly chunkier and not as smooth as pate. For that smooth texture, a tamis is often used. A tamis is a fine mesh sieve used on forcemeats by passing the meat mixture through the screen to promote a silky, smooth and even consistency. "Okay, Captain Loquacious, can we get back to this meatloaf??" Yeah, yeah- I just wanted to make sure proper credit is given to all those home cooks who make a killer meatloaf. If you didn't like meatloaf growing up, it's because your mom didn't make this one.

Base:
1 1/2 # ground beef, pork and veal
1/2 small yellow or sweet onion, minced

2 pieces garlic clove, minced
1 stalk celery, small dice
1/2 carrot, small dice
5 white button mushrooms, finely chopped
1 raw egg
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan
1 piece of fresh bread, pulled into small pieces
3-4 good-sized squirts of ketchup
1 good-sized spoonful of Dijon mustard
1-2 dashes of worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper

Garnishes:
1/4 cup of fresh or frozen peas
2-3 hardboiled eggs, peeled
1 tablespoon of chopped parsley

Topping:
1/4 cup of toasted pine nuts, roughly chopped
More ketchup and mustard and some more fresh bread crumbs

In a saute pan, slowly cook the mushrooms in a little butter and oil until they steam. Add your mire poix, or carrots, celery and onion. When softened, add the garlic and cook until you smell all the ingredients together. Turn them out onto a plate and let them cool down completely. Place the mixture into a bowl with the ground meat, raw egg, grated parmesan, fresh bread, parsley and wet ingredients. Season generously with salt and pepper.

Note: I've grown accustomed to making a small patty and cooking it to taste. It only takes a minute or two, but it's a good way to tell if you've put enough salt and pepper in without going the "tartare" route.

Now, mix the ingredients by hand until just incorporated for a rougher texture. For a denser texture, mix more. Now drop in the peas and mix. In your roasting pan, turn out the mixture and form your loaf. Using your fingers or a spoon, take out an egg-sized portion of meat to make room for the eggs. Drop them in a tight line so they are end to end. Push the loaf together from the ends and then drop the scooped meat on top of the eggs to cover them. Like at Easter, hide the eggs.

For your topping, mix all the ingredients into a paste and spread evenly over the meatloaf.

Place in a 375 F degree oven and cook for about 35 minutes, depending on the thickness of the loaf. When the loaf is firm, or around 155 F degrees in the center, it is finished. Use a sharp knife to make slices and a spatula to lift them so the egg doesn't fall out.

Serve gobs of Dijon mustard, ketchup or steak sauce if you like, along with some Ugly Betty veggies and warm bread. Like Thanksgiving turkey, there are few wines that do not work with meatloaf. I like earthy reds, but drink what you enjoy. And- well, you know- enjoy.

Chef Quote of the Week: Olivier Desaintmartin

2011-10-13T17:19:00.001-04:00

"The true French bistro still needs to be owned by a French chef, because we grew up with this cuisine. We know all the stories behind it because our mothers made those dishes."

Philadelphia chef and bistro owner Olivier de St. Martin has some other choice words for the faux-bistro craze that's hit big cities.

He serves a classic duck for two at his Zinc Bistro au Vins, complete with silver bone crushing duck press for every last drop of ducky goodness.

"You're eating the duck in his own juices," Desaintmartin said. "To me, that's respecting the animal. You're using everything. And there's nothing else added. You order a duck, you get a duck. You order a hare, you get a hare. Nowadays, you go somewhere and, say, order tuna, and what do you get? Four ounces of tuna and then a bunch of b------- around it." Original article- Philadelphia Daily News

Ten Years That Changed My Life: An Ode to My Ipod

2011-10-06T21:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes we aren't fully aware of greatness until the ones who embody it are gone. This is not a eulogy for Steve Jobs, and I am not a member of the world's largest cult known as Apple. I have never owned an Apple computer (although I did learn how to use a computer on the Macintosh). I don't currently own an IPad, nor do I have an IPhone. I never felt left out of the phenomenon that is the Apple craze, but the day I discovered the device called the IPod and what it could do, my world changed forever.

I grew up surrounded by music, with all members of my immediate family playing an instrument, singing or reading music. We had the requisite console stereo that played vinyl albums, which was later augmented by the 8-Track player. We were very fortunate to have an uncle who was in vending (read that anyway you want) and my parents got us our very own jukebox that played 45s. I spent my allowances on the latest releases, loading up the player to sound just like my favorite AM station. But the most significant perk was being able to control what played. It was rigged so you didn't have to put money in. And, we discovered the "eject" button in case we had a fat-finger mistake or couldn't wait to hear the latest single from The Knack. All this was novel and drove the fun at family functions, but the game changer was the all-in-one "media center" that allowed you to record from vinyl or radio to cassette or even- gasp!- from cassette to cassette! All for about $159.99 at your local Sears or K-Mart.

Not long after that, the Walkman strode into our lives. A Star Trek tri-quarter looking device that was no bigger than a box of Crackerjax with personal mini-headphones, so much cooler than the ear sweat-inducing Princess Leia head-huggers. Now that we were all listening to cassettes, naturally, we all wanted to record our own. Blank cassettes started around 45 minutes in length- 22 1/2 minutes each side. And, that was fine, because a typical album only lasted about that long. But then came the 60 minute and 90 minute tapes. What, pray tell, do you do with these?? Soundtracks were really hot in the 70s, with movies like Animal House compiling a bunch of hit singles to make a shoulder industry out of movies along with toys, posters and other marketable tchotchke. And with that, the mixed tape was born. Favorite Love Songs. Party Rock. Christmas Hits. Best of the Beatles! Stoner Tunes. Are you kidding me? The mixed tape became an art form. Creating a mini-soundtrack that could set the mood which lasted anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half. But sadly, once you played the tape to death, you had memorized the play order and it got stale. Fast.

My first job was working in the record section of a department store. Shortly after that, I worked at Wall-to-Wall Sound and Listening Booth, your one stop mall shopping for audio equipment and the latest (and oldest) hits. Having the privilege of buying music at deep discounts when you're a teenager AND at the height of a musical revolution (punk and new wave) is not only exhilarating, it's downright dangerous. Very often, I'd just hand my paycheck back to them, hoping to clear my tab from the latest vinyl binge. But, just when you've built up a formidable library worth bragging about, deep with selection and breadth like a good wine cellar, another new form of technology comes- and you start over again.

Switching to the compact disc was a no-brainer for people, because it couldn't be scratched the way a record could (and that presented its own problems for another emerging musical genre) and eliminated a crackling, gravelly sound that I never imagined I would miss. As this technology evolved, the next phase in having complete mastery over your music library came with the "shuffle" function. No longer would you have to stare blindly at the album cover and listen to the same songs in the same order ever again. Shuffle was huge. And, just when it seemed like it couldn't get any more exciting, there came the three-disc, then the five-disc and even 10-disc CD changer. A benchmark in music listening came when I could load up all of my Smiths CDs and shuffle them at once, allowing for hour upon hour of pathetic whining and self-pity. Even if owning a 10 disc player was the antithesis of suffering.

Upon announcing I wanted the new 400 disc changer with programmable remote from Sony for Christmas, my family pronounced me officially insane. But, I got it and gamely filled it completely up, creating my own categories of genres, which included 80s, Classical, Classic Jazz, Acid Jazz, World and VH1, that burgeoning category others knew as adult contemporary, but alas, a genre a thirtysomething didn't want to admit to owning.

Sony jumped right on the dwindling interest in the Walkman and created a device the size of a Big Mac capable of playing single compact discs (also with shuffle) aptly named the Discman. How could this little metallic sandwich produce the kind of intense sound as my full-size stereo, all while I clocked 3 miles on a treadmill?? (Author's note: just because you can use it on a treadmill, doesn't mean you should. Wipeouts are expensive, but not nearly as damaging to your ego as when the entire gym watches you go down in flames and your player belches the disc across the room as a final indignity.)

CDs were smaller and lighter, and thus easier to store. No longer did you have to schlep a pleather suitcase of mixed tapes around on a vacation, getaway or long roadtrip. Neatly compacted, zip-up books with plastic sleeves could hold 100 cds, and it took up no more space than a phone book. To drag 100 cds all the way to Europe while attempting to travel light seems nerdish and excessive, that is, of course, until you whip out the perfect dinner jazz album watching the sunset on the Basque coast. Or have the ultimate disc to fall asleep to when you can't. Or need to access the right party tunes, when one unexpectedly crops up- you become a hero, a Renaissance DJ. Close friends know I used to travel to dinner parties, friends homes and the occasional after-hours gig with my own music.

The only thing I thought was left to evolve in this ever-changing universe of musical convenience was creating a recordable compact disc. That was it: copy your music (or your friend's music) onto a disc that you could load onto a multiple disc player? Or, record your old vinyl back onto disc, retaining that golden sound of yesteryear (even if the mid-section had been completely gutted out by the transfer of analog to digital). And, finally, using a mixer board to create seamless tracks of beat-mixed music while burning your own copy?? Bonanza!

The technology was evolving exponentially now. The new way of obtaining music was to get a computer with a fast enough internet connection so you could download a large file known as an MP3 that mimicked the ones that were created by the record companies for disc format. It seemed like the computer was poised to become the new jukebox- the future of condensed listening. No actual tangible disc to insert, just tiny bytes of compressed information magically making music out of digital information. Napster and Kazaa music-sharing services changed the way we thought about obtaining music. They created a huge shake-up in traditional music sales. It seemed everyone could get it, very often for free, and at a time when there were hardly any rules to the internet, let alone rules about digital file sharing.

It was a chaotic period. Formats were changing so quickly, no one wanted to spend their money anymore on re-replacing their music libraries- so they went where they could get the latest incarnation- and for free. Online file sharing. Musicians and record executives were crapping themselves, wondering how they would be able to survive when their final product had become something you couldn't hold, didn't need packaging for, could easily be shared with millions and no one to govern the dozens of sites that were giving it away for free (see Radiohead for how that turned into a plus for the band).

I owned every last one of these devices and gadgets. Some improved upon design, some on price. I flirted with free downloading and creating a library of MP3s. But, it seemed like I was starting over, yet again.

"Someone needs to figure this shit out," I thought.

I had heard only tangentially about the Ipod, but I was mostly convinced they were the next Mini-Disk player, a lead balloon if ever there was one in the progression of music players. My first encounter with an Ipod was a wedding gift I had received from a friend who is the biggest Applemaniac I know. I was not interested in being converted to the Apple way, so I proceeded skeptically. I also knew there were proprietary drawbacks that made me scoff even further.

The packaging was an eyebrow raiser: smooth, clean, minimal and compact. The first generation Ipod resembled a futuristic passport or high-tech pacemaker. Still, I was not sold. With only one port for listening and one for charging, I wondered how it would actually work. And I wondered. And wondered. There was no manual on how to operate the damn thing! Am I supposed to just "get" what to do? I bought the Missing Manual and spent days with my Ipod, laptop and guide hoping a light bulb would go on. Ripping, burning, uploading, file conversions- WTF- I was pissed. And what's with these earbuds? I had the thing a week before there was any music on it. Most of the problems arose from not knowing where the music was going once it was transferred to the hard drive. And so, even though it was foretold the songs would go directly into my Music Match Jukebox (the software that would run it), it became clear, Apple had not made the MMJ, and thus, there were some square peg-round hole issues. I had to use their software (Itunes) for this to really work.

But then it clicked- I could rip 10 albums a half hour to my hard drive! They would go instantly to my Ipod upon plugging it in. All my previously pirated files from Napster would upload in an instant of dropping and dragging. And they were all alphabetized! And put into genres! And I could click one button and browse by artist or song! Eureka! A revelation. The first generation IPod was 5 gigabytes, capable of holding some 1000 songs right in your pocket!

This was the moment I had been waiting my whole life for.

Every hurdle to the perfect listening device had been cleared. I held in my hand the soundtrack to my life, which I could take anywhere, and with one very simple patch cord, I could plug it into any stereo, old or new. I could plug in computer speakers and listen. I could rock out the surprisingly efficient earbuds, or buy up to the noise-cancelling DJ version. I could transfer all my music- vinyl, CD, MP3- into one neatly organized, efficient and flexible digital card catalog. I already owned a cassette converter for my Discman- so I could listen to my IPod in the car, as well. I even read in my manual there was a super-secret feature that could record voice (and it did!). Switch to disc mode and I could store files like Christmas shopping lists. And you could strap it onto your arm and run, jump, roll and flail about without creating a public incident (well, it didn't affect the Ipod, let's say). In place of the mixed tape came the "playlist"; as easy to make by dropping and dragging songs on your computer as it was by double-clicking the songs on the device itself. No time limits, no duplicates, and fully shuffleable depending on my mood. This was the Holy Grail for me.

Naturally came the proliferation of Ipod products: The ITunes Store, Ipod docking stations, different colored cases and earbuds, car radio adapters- it was time to diversify. As Apple started to put their tiered pricing into place, they realized they could make these things smaller and thinner, they could hold more data and they could keep the price about the same, or make it less for people who couldn't afford the big boy. Variations like the Mini, the Nano,and the Shuffle; a Genius button, full color screens, picture files, video, whole movies- HOLY CRAP! SLOW DOWN!! Finally- and inevitably- the IPhone was born, merging just about everything a hand held device ever was into one. I don't own an IPhone, and again- I don't want one. But, evolution marched on.

Ten years later, I'm on my fourth Ipod and it's still an Ipod Classic- 6th Generation, with 80 gigs of storage, capping out at just around 15,000 songs. I've since dumped all my pictures and video so I can store more music. And, I'm already preparing to step-up to the next level, the 7th Generation Ipod which holds 160G of information. It's rumored to be the last of the Classic Ipods.

I take my RoPod with me everywhere. It's another limb. An angel on my shoulder. My orchestra in the pit. My musical muse.

Were the Pharoahs of ancient Egypt alive today, I'd want to give as much credit to the slaves who built the pyramids, and not just the architects. And so it is that I thank anyone and everyone who made the Ipod possible. Not the least of whom was Steve Jobs.

Phils Phinish Strong

2011-09-29T11:33:00.000-04:00

I'm not going to waste space here regurgitating all the superlatives of the 2011 Season of the Philadelphia Phillies. I'm just going to bask in the glory of their stellar finish last night for a club record of 102 wins, and wait contentedly for Saturday's Game 1 of the NLDS vs. the Cards.

F&C Rewind: Ugly Betty Foods

2011-09-26T10:31:00.000-04:00

I am unabashedly fond of the Ugly Betty ingredients of the food world. Not literally ugly, but like Betty, unpopular and misunderstood. Maybe even a little kooky. As we enter this season of earthy foods, I'm feeling like it's time to put some of these underappreciated gems in the spotlight.

Brussels sprouts can be found on a lot more menus these days, especially among the small plate crowd. But, I often hear people say they "hate" them. So, I'll ask them if they'll try mine. After scrunching their nose, they taste, and then the light goes on. "They're not all CRUNCHY like my mom used to make!" Very often a lot of the unsung veggies whose virtues I am about to sing are improperly prepared.

Cooking good Brussels sprouts is a two-step process; first, they need to be boiled vigorously in lots of extra salty water. I prefer to cut them in half before I blanch them. It helps them cook faster, more evenly and readies them for the next stage, searing the sprouts. Pat these little guys dry after you've pulled them out of the ice bath, and put them in a nice, hot skillet or pan, cut side down, with some whole butter. First, they're gonna steam and hiss at you. Then, they'll start to crackle letting you know the butter is browning them nicely. Take a little peek; when they're golden brown, turn 'em over for a minute or two to warm the back side; salt and/or pepper if necessary.

That's the simple version. The better, more delicious version includes adding smoky bacon at the beginning of the browning stage. Mmmmmm- baaa-con. The lardons of bacon, or fat little strips, should brown up at the same time as the sprouts. So that's good; but wanna make it even better? This week we'll be serving an appetizer of Brussels sprouts and bacon, but we're adding to the mix some house-made crispy duck confit and tossing the whole shootin' match with lentils. Yeah. It's like that.

Celery doesn't really generate the "ick" factor among people, but it does suffer from the misunderstood veggies complex. Yes, that's a bonafide culinary term, BTW. Yet, its versatility of flavor seems limitless. If you're cooking anything with a liquid base, like a soup, stew or braise, celery is in there along with carrots and onions- called mire poix- because it creates a crucial backbone to the dish. When you break out of the box and start putting it in your tomato sauce, for example, which when used with say, a Bolognese preparation, the flavor elevates like you can't believe. Its aroma is exotic, almost curry-like. I also like to incorporate raw celery into dishes. Salad is the most obvious; it excels in texture and the "fresh" factor. Added to any mixture of cabbage to create a slaw, it is essential. And, the tiny leaves that accompany the hearts of celery are both pungent and vibrant in any form of dish, cooked or uncooked.

If you're not into "earthy", it's unlikely you'll become a beet fan, no matter how many tips I give you for preparing them. But, when I was first learning about the components of foods, i.e. proteins, starches, sugars, acids, etc., a lot of bells went off for me. There are natural sugars in almost all foods, especially vegetables, but how you coax them out is the key. For beets, I prefer to roast them. Roasting is the process of using a slow, steady dry heat to cook a food. So, if you follow this logic of roasting a vegetable naturally rich in sugars, you're going to eventually remove some of it's moisture, thereby intensifying the sugars. Roasting beets in their jackets on a bed of salt is my favorite method for enjoying these, the most nerdy of all vegetables.

The salt becomes a softer heat source than a metal roasting pan, and as such, doesn't burn the side of the beet that comes in contact with the hot pan. It also precipitates the reduction of moisture and helps the beets cook faster. But, enough of the scientific; what roasted beets contribute to a dish in terms of flavor is nothing short of brilliant. I've had beets and corn that are similarly sweet and flavorful. When you have a flavor component so vibrant, you can begin to pair it with equally vibrant components. It's this reason that beets pair so well with brutish cheeses like bleu and chevre. Sweet-creamy-earthy-pungent is just one of those unlikely, yet heavenly combos that work. After that, it's just variations on a theme. Replace sweet for sweet. Dabble a little in what is fresh; for example, herbs like basil or tarragon. Or, walk the line on your choice of cheeses in this scenario and you'll be delighted in what you discover.

The same concept of accentuating a food's sugars to produce more flavor can apply to my next wallflower, the parsnip. This little albino carrot packs what has to be the most unique flavor profile of all root vegetables. As with all roots, roasting can provide some of the most satisfying results. Ever had a killer pork roast without potatoes, carrots and onions? The slow, dry heat is the key. Adding parsnips to the mix is the icing on your savory cake. Anywhere you would use a carrot, go for a parsnip. In soups, the simple addition of diced parsnips leaves people asking, "what was that flavor??" Boiled, pureed and whipped into mashed potatoes is one of the most revelatory "first" food experiences you can have. Mounds of pureed potatoes and parsnips with lumps of creamy, rich butter and a dusting of white pepper leaves me swooning for Thanksgiving in March. As a simple puree soup with a hint of truffle- STOP IT.

So, what about my last ingenue de les legumes? Les navet, or turnip. As a rule, the smaller a vegetable, the more concentrated the flavor. It's for this reason that a variety of turnip known as the Tokyo turnip is a favorite among chefs. Go ahead- Google Tokyo turnip Images and see how many shots you get from tasting menus and wine dinners in elite and aspiring restaurants. Why more popular? Simple- the smaller variety is first, more appealing to the eye than the baseball sized purple variety. Second, the sugars are more concentrated, so when cooking, the flavor is more intense. I used to braise these little buggers in chicken stock, butter and whole vanilla bean. Talk about flavor! They make great accompaniments to lamb and other gamy flavors where a natural sweetness creates balance. A properly cooked mushroom does the same thing. Shaved, raw turnip on an appetizer or salad is a more mild substitution for a radish; earthy without the spice. So, love thy turnip, yo.

Thus ends my defense of the downtrodden of all the food chain. (Well, not ALL the food chain- we aren't talking muskrat, here). If you've eaten my cooking, you've likely had most of these Ugly Bettys, and you've likely enjoyed them, too. So, next time you're thinking about eating or cooking them, don't turnip your nose at them. (No he dittn't). Embrace your inner Betty and walk on the Ugly Side.

Local, Local, LOCAL!!!?

2011-09-21T13:32:00.000-04:00

So, if you're like me, I'm starting to feel a little overwhelmed with the whole Fresh and Local thing (see my Out & About piece next month...) But, I just read this on another blog about a 14 year old raising a 6-month young lamb with the New Castle County 4H Sheep Club (wow- who knew?) who then turned it over to a chef, who purchases them (alive presumably- would be kinda cruel to make the teens "off" the sheep they raise, no?) And the pay-off is that you can eat this very same, increasingly famous lamb during Delaware Dines Out Week (reservations required, void where prohibited).

We'll just call this "Strange Local News", and leave it at that.

But, I was reminded of this BRILLIANT clip from one of my favorite shows, Portlandia. It's not too far off the mark...

The Farmer and The Chef

2011-09-15T09:40:00.000-04:00

Foodies and Farmers unite! Tonight is The March of Dimes' 4th Annual Farmer and The Chef event at the Chase Center in Wilmington. One of the greatest food and wine events in Delaware, and it features all Delaware products, farmers, growers, chefs, brewers and talent. If you call yourself a locavore, missing this would be like a sports fan missing the superbowl! See you there~

September 11, 2001: A Tale of Three Towers

2011-09-11T00:39:00.000-04:00

Musee Rodin, Paris 9/11/01- Photo R. Lhulier

I'm not going to write anything. I am gonna write. I'm not going to write something. No- I am. I should. No: I'm not. As the days counted down closer and closer to this Tenth Anniversary of September 11, I felt the grim milestone inch nearer and the pull of its weight like 110 floors of concrete and steel. It would be arrogant to say I was profoundly struck by what I had witnessed and felt on the day of September 11, 2001. Because, all Americans were. But, just like the days following the attacks, we had to seek the therapy that came with telling where we were when it happened. Ten years later, we feel the same stirrings- viceral and wholly unnerving- to relive those feelings, whether we want to or not. So, I've decided to write.

My mother and brother share a birthday. On the morning of September 6, 2001, I called to wish them well on their day and finished packing my bags. I left Philadelphia early that evening on a flight to meet up with my two traveling companions and good friends, Dan and Kasia, for a 10 day vacation to the city I had always dreamed of seeing in person. I had spent the month leading up to that day watching live webcam shots of the Eiffel Tower throughout various stages of the day- sunrise, sunset, rain storms, fog, lights on, lights off- I was enraptured.

Courtesy of SketchPlease.com

From the moment I landed in Paris, I began to search for my precious icon. When I finally spotted her in the morning rush hour traffic from my cab, I didn't take my eyes off of her until the morning of September 16 when I left. In the city that twists and turns and climbs and falls, there are no straight streets. Left Bank and Right Bank can be just as confusing, since they really are north and south (of the Seine), not left and right. But, once you've positioned in your mind the location of the Tower on a map of the city, you can get your bearings in the instant you spot the spindly, iron landmark. It was most comforting. I felt no fear or apprehension walking the city, day or night. It was like having a second sun on the horizon. Always at your side, warming to your skin, nudging you through the shadowy streets.

It made sense, then, that it wasn't until I had been in Paris five whole days before actually making my official visit to the Eiffel Tower. I had lots of time and she wasn't going anywhere.

In the shadow of le Tour Eiffel~ Photo R. Lhulier

We had spent the days leading up to that ill fated day gregariously embracing the gustatory history of the city. Each meal was spent discussing where the next one might come from. So many bites and sips were taken with eyes at half mast, it felt every bit like the final minutes of a dream you never want to awaken from. And as I now know, that's exactly what it was.

But, as dreams fade, memories last.

Marble Study~ Photo R. Lhulier

What was a crisp, blue September morning for this side of the Atlantic, was a greying Tuesday afternoon for us. We three decided to visit the Rodin Museum near Les Invalides, the glistening gold-domed Hotel of museums and monuments that was a former military hospital. And, which happens to be a short, but spirited walk away from le Tour Eiffel. Dan and Kasia had already made their pilgrimage a day earlier and decided to spend the afternoon strengthening the French economy by visiting the world famous shops of the area around l'Arc de Triomphe. And why not? It was Dan's birthday today.

As we approached the high-walled Musee Rodin and gardens, the day took on an austere quality. In retrospect, it was the perfect weather to do the museum. Afterall, it's hard to concentrate on paintings, marble and bronze when golden sunlight is streaming through the windows. I was equipped with a couple of cameras, one digital and another loaded with black and white film. I had shot some infrared film earlier I was excited about experimenting with, but I settled on the plain black and white for Rodin.

I started on the ground floor looking through the sketches and small bronzes, instantly recognizing so much of what I had studied in school. Rodin's human figures were the most real for me. No vaunted, ideal, bigger than life beings- just gorgeously sculpted muscles and bones beneath a thin skin of marble and bronze. I don't recall any floors in between the ground and top, just that when I reached the top, I was struck with an urge to stay for as long as possbile, alternating between the life-sized studies and peering at the lush gardens, which I could now see spralling out in all directions, the city not far behind.

I began to shoot.

Marble Study 2~ Photo R. Lhulier

Walking around sclupture gives you a sense of the real. But, framing a figure with a lens helps put those figures in perspective and can make them a bit dreamier. Or nightmareish. I moved between Rodin's impossibly silken-skinned figures rendered in grey marble with arched backs, tilted necks and delicate limbs- and the lurching, twisted, tortured faces of his studies for The Gates of Hell. Clenched fists, taught triceps and gaping mouths of sorrow, despair and pain.

Gates Detail~ Photo Ken M Photography

I kept shooting.

Bronze Study~ Photo R. Lhulier

The walls started to feel closer now. And the crowd was thinning as we approached the early afternoon. I went out into the gardens. Almost empty, I took a deep breath and let my camera rest at my side. If you're an audiophile like myself, you always carried a messenger bag when traveling to keep a discman and selection of changes on hand. I had done some recent music shopping, too. Aqua Bassino is an electronic band who produce atmospheric instrumental and vocal music. Their just released album "Beats and Bobs" was in my player at the time, and I decided to walk, my soundtrack at my side. Its tracks are all over the map, musically, but Moonlight (listen below) was playing while I strolled the gardens.
How is it, you say, that you can recall what was playing at that time?

Well- listen to it. It's profoundly reflective and haunting. A soundtrack for sadness.

It is said we can detect when "big" things are about to happen. Even feel that something is happening while it unfolds without knowing that it is. I remember what it was I was listening to, therefore, because as I sat in disbelief a full 24 hours later, it struck me that the song that played in those lonely gardens would stay with me until my final hours knowing what was unfolding (or about to) at the exact same time some 4,000 miles away. It even feels like soundtrack music. A story unfolding, a slow montage of wiping and fading images, telling a tragic tale of epic proportions.

I was done with Rodin. It was time to get on with my day. And, as I looked over my shoulder, there she was. It was time, at last.

Different music, different attitude, different walk. I was on my way to see the Tower up close.

As you approach, she becomes more exhilarating, her web of iron beams woven into a constantly changing lattice of steely, sensual beauty. I spun around as I reached the underside of the Tower, snapping pictures furiously, giddy with pleasure. The mall before her stretched northward toward the Trocadero, a popular gathering spot for viewing and taking full scale photos of the Tower.

Courtesy of FulcrumGallery.com

There was a tremendous buzz of activity at the foot of the steps at the plaza. It was a gathering of people from what seemed to be every nation on earth. All races, colors and creeds- hugging, posing for pictures, arms entwined, laughing and smiling. Jugglers, musicians, and hacky sack. It was magnificent. After I shot a dozen or so photos, a young girl asked if I wanted my photo taken. It seemed indulgent, but I was completely caught up in the touristy moment and said, "yes". I wasn't really prepared for my photo to be taken, but ready or not, it was. It was approximately 3:30 pm, Paris time. The photo serves as my "moments before it happened" portrait.

The Carousel at the base of the Eiffel Tower~ Photo R. Lhulier

I was feeling really energized and happy. We would be meeting back at the apartment in a little while for some Champagne, perhaps a little nap, and then off to celebrate Dan's birthday in style. I walked all the way from the 7th, back to our flat in the 4th and eyed up a little boutique that cut hair just around the block. On a completely spontaneous whim, I ducked in and asked for a haircut.

I was ready for a change.

Normally, English is spoken all over Paris, but my little shoppe was inhabited by all Parisians. And in Paris, if you don't strike up a conversation with someone, they'll just assume you aren't interested in any light banter (quite the opposite of US cities).

There were only two chairs in the salon, so there was a bit of a wait for a walk-in. Carefree and my mind on our evening, I thumbed through a magazine from my bag and didn't pay attention to anyone else. Finally, it was my turn. I began with a quick wash, and when I sat in the proprietor's chair, le jig was up: I was an American. I had to explain what I wanted done, so in my worst broken French, I used a combination of Charades-like hand motions and "snipping" sound effects, punctuated with "un peu" and "un petit peu" to explain. As he began to cut, I started to tense a little. Just then, a very voluptuous and stylishly dressed Madame came in, flitting around nervously and speaking very quickly in French. Again- sometimes I'd tune it out when I didn't need to listen- and so I wasn't. But the word "American" kept slipping into the conversation catching my attention, and my curiosity was peaked. My cutter kept darting his eyes back to me in the mirror, and mine to him and back to her.

"You have heard what has happened, monsieur? In New York?"
"Umm- no?" I squeaked.
Madame was next. "It eez terrible- two airplanes- they have crashed into zee towers, and they come all the way down- all the way down." Whether or not she uttered the word Pentagon was completely superfluous, because I was now fixated on whether she was a crackpot, or telling the terrible, horrible truth.
"Yes- this is true", said my guy.

At this point, my entire body locked up and my eyes shot to my ashen face in the mirror, wondering how much longer this haircut could possibly take. As the snipping continued, I began to feel the blood drain out of my limbs, straight through my feet. My palms were sweaty, and I couldn't fathom what it was that had really happened and why, to say nothing of the real magnitude.

What seemed like the longest 25 minutes of my entire life, was finally over. I paid what I now believe to be $75 for my haircut and burst out the door. I feverishly ran through the curving streets that only days earlier might have taken me an hour to navigate. I began looking around at the people on the street, sitting in cafes, walking, talking on their phones and to each other. They all knew what had happened- except for me.

I ran faster.

Down the Rue du Bourg Tibourg , passed the Lizard Lounge and up to the heavy door, I pushed hard and stumbled to the lift. As I got to the door, I burst in looking for a familiar face and found Dan sitting on the couch, putting on his shoes.

"Did you see? Did you hear?? Dan- Dan- put on the TV!"

The first images were of a city street strewn with fluttering papers and thick clouds of dark dust. There were pictures within pictures on the screen, and I could see emergency vehicles, scrambling people and jittery camera shots. A beautiful wide image of New York City sky was muddied by billowing black smoke, and then- right there, where the two most iconic of all American buildings once stood, there was nothing but blue sky and smoke.

The replay showed in succession the toppling of the south tower and then the north. I held one hand to my mouth and the other instinctively reached for Dan's knee as I uttered, "No. Noo. Oh, my God, Dan, no."

The Next Day: A State of War~ Photo R. Lhulier

In France, we had the unique opportunity of seeing footage of the first plane hitting the first tower. If you recall from the miles of coverage, the only footage shot of the first plane was from a team of French film makers doing a movie on fire fighters in New York. That footage belonged to them- and was subsequently transmitted back to the stations in France. In it the beautiful clear sky and towers are framed in the rear, the cameraman completely unaware of what was about to happen. When the plane hit, it made a loud "POP", and the camera shook a little. Smoke began to immediately pour out the sides.

The footage then cut to the moments after the towers fell. By then the brothers had turned their cameras to the streets beneath the shroud of ashes and smoke, a place that would forever be known as Ground Zero. That's when it got surreal. No movie or news footage ever looked as ominous or desolate as the images being broadcast. Men in business suits, still holding their briefcases, doused in soot, stumbled the streets along side dazed rescue workers. Bloodied women fought to keep ashes and tears from their eyes. Glass everywhere. And the paper continued to fall.

It wasn't until we saw the next round of footage that we "heard" about the Pentagon and saw it burning.

We had to get out and get information. Even with Dan's working knowledge of the language, we needed to get the story. We went where we had gone just about every day since arriving, to the local internet cafe. The tiny storefront was lined with Americans who had pulled up real-time footage and headlines as they developed. Some were crying, some were dumbfounded. All were petrified. The picture was beginning to sharpen: 4 planes, terrorists, scrambled jets, a missing president, New York, DC, Pennsylvania, and always, the replay of that second jet hitting the tower.

The only way to reach anyone in the States was through the internet. And at that time, most people were using the wholesome community of AOL for chatting and email. Phones were so jammed with calls, they didn't work until the next day. When we signed on, no one- and I mean no one- was answering their chat. We finally reached a friend who promised to pass on to our families that we were "ok".

As we resumed a slow, dogged pace back to the apartment, we spoke little as the facts were settling in.

The world had changed. In an instant. There was no going back, and it would never be the same again.

We ducked into the Lizard Lounge across from our flat, owned and operated by American expats. Our Champagne was replaced by big glasses of vodka over ice. We talked of what was next. What could we do with the little resources we had, this far away from home. On Thursday of that week, we were supposed to leave Paris and head to the Loire valley for a wine tour for the rest of our stay. That plan was quickly scrapped. Would travel be disrupted? Would flights be cancelled? How long would we be "stuck" here (if there is such a thing as being stuck in Paris)? Were we at war, and if so, with whom? I don't remember exactly what else we talked about except one thing: sitting in front of the television or computer wasn't going to change anything. We were going to go out and celebrate Dan's birthday.

The Metro and stops along the way to the hotel where we would eat was empty, and suddenly, it was easy to get a cab on the street. The entire time prior to today, we three had done our absolute best to fit in among the French- using our French whenever we could, double-kissing, trying distinctly regional foods and drink, and buying clothing and eyeglass frames with a particularly Gallic feel to them. Tonight, however, we decided to be the people we were: unique, diverse and resilient Americans. And, hungry ones.

The appetite returned, the vodka kicked in, and we began to do what any red-blooded American would have done in our situation: we made fun of and mocked our snooty French waiter. After all, he was being a complete turd to us, so we let him have it- and we laughed and laughed over our opulent dinner. We even managed to drag the young busboy/fromager over to our side, as he became clearly aware of what we were doing. He managed to get in a jab or two at his maitre de salle in English. We had made a friend out of a stranger, and without his pity.

As we caught a cab back, we sat silently, drinking in the beautiful colors and amber lights of the city. I kept a close eye on my now-illuminated, golden companion in the distance, her vigilant search light skimming the low-hanging clouds. This was to be no dream I would awaken from. And- yes, there was no going back. We all lost something that day, some significantly more than others.  But, I was one of the lucky ones. For even though we had just met, I would go to sleep knowing she was there, watching over me.

And, it made it somehow a little easier to dream that night.

Chef Quote of the Week: Danny Meyer

2011-09-06T20:57:00.000-04:00

"Within moments of being born, most babies find themselves receiving the first four gifts of life: eye contact, a smile, a hug and some food. We receive many other gifts in a lifetime, but few can ever surpass those first four. That first time may be the purest 'hospitality transaction' we'll ever have, and it's not much of a surprise that we'll crave those gifts for the rest of our lives."

Danny Meyer from "Setting the Table"

A Chef's Table in August

2011-09-03T19:04:00.002-04:00

The first local figs were pulled the very same morning; pictured here, still warm from the hot sun.

The Chef’sTable

at the

University and Whist Club

Of Wilmington

August 19, 2011

Reception

Vietnamese Spring Roll

The fresh spring roll is soft rice paper with raw vegetables and is eaten cold. Inside our version are acidulated vegetables, or finely julienne of carrots, bell pepper, cabbage, daikon and scallion in rice wine vinegar with ginger and mirin. Lastly, we add freshly chopped cilantro and shiso just before rolling. The dipping sauce consists of pomegranate vinegar, chili, honey and sesame.

Lobster and Truffle Brandade

More a reconstructed brandade, our mashed Yukon potato is whipped with a milk-butter mixture infused with the poaching liquid of lobster and tarragon. The lobster medallions are sliced and laid atop the pureed spread on brioche toast with chervil and sea salt.

ArgyleBrut, Oregon,2007

Yet another American sparkling wine made in the Champagne style, Argyle Brut is from Oregon, where both Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are gorgeous for this style of wine. It showed incredible body and fruit, and naturally was a perfect start of a summer meal.

Amuse Bouche

Chilled SIW Farms Corn Soup

with fried clams and nori

I regret not taking pictures of the bi-colored corn from SIW Farms before we cooked it. The thin veil of sticky sugar on the kernels was visible from having been picked the same day. It was simmered with a stock made from the cobs and contained only mire poix before it was finished with a touch of cream. Top neck clams were shucked and lightly breaded and quickly fried as a foil to the creamy sweet texture of the chilled corn soup. Julienne nori helped bridge the land and sea combo.

First Course

Terrine of Trout, Fava Beans andLentils

Ginger roe, caper and radish

Cakebread,Sauvignon Blanc, Napa,2009

A cold terrine of smoked trout and earthy lentils made sense in the progression of flavors. It was enhanced with sweet, starchy fava beans and silky avocado wrapped in a thin sheet of imported ham. A ginger flavored tobiko, capers, radish and lemon infused creme fraiche brought out the delicate flavor of the trout. The pea tendril garnish was a nice bite of garden fresh flavor.

Second Course

Squab Breast “Char Siu”

Scallop dumpling and Shiitake inConsommé

Domaine de Robert, Fleurie, Cuvée Tradition, 2009

Scallop, ginger and scallion mousse provided the filling for the dumpling.

Pictured here is the fabled "raft" that develops from when a consomme comes to a simmer. The beginning stock was made from the remainder of the squab after we pared off the breasts.

The finished dish resulted in my favorite course thus far in our Chef's Table series. On its own, the squab consomme and dumplings were a course worthy of their own consideration, but the tender breast of pigeon basted with the home-made Chinese barbecue sauce (char siu) elevated the dish to the sublime. The beautifully crafted Fleurie from Domaine de Robert was a surprise hit with pairing. I don't brag about dishes but, this course I am in love with.

Intermezzo

Cucumber-Lime-Mint Sorbet

Main

Roasted Lamb Shoulder

grilled baby romaine, olives,feta and mint

ChateauPaul Mas, “Clos des Mures”, Coteaux du Languedoc, 2009

I knew what I wanted this main course to be- basically, a greek salad with lamb. But, to serve a salad for main course can seem a let down out of seven courses, even if it is the height of summer. A boned out lamb shoulder was rubbed generously with several spices and marinated for a day. The lamb was then charred on the grill to give it a nice crust while keeping the center a pale pinkish color. Since romaine is one of the firmest of salad greens, we tossed them in oil and also quick-charred them, laying them out to wait for the rest of the ingredients. The still-warm lamb married with crumbled feta, several varieties of olives, chopped mint and a dressing made of sherry vinegar. The Paul Mas Coteaux du Languedoc was beautiful with the course- something right off a Provencale table. Spice from the syrah caught the pepper in the marinade, while the gamey cheese was mellowed by the chewy tannins.

Two of the reds poured that evening. The unique "Mas Amiel" was a surprise hit with the chocolate and banana risotto fritters.

Components of the salad. Perfectly ripe white nectarines and quartered and sliced cioggia beets.

Various varieties of toy box tomatoes


Building this colorful canvas, we utilized the free time of our cooks who had nothing to cook at the time, to carefully build one of the prettiest dishes we've done yet. Salad Baby Beets and Nectarines tangerine lace, Manchego andsunflower seed

The finished dish was a hit with the guests. Remove one component, however, and the dish would have felt incomplete.

Dessert

Fried Chocolate Banana RisottoFritter

Butter Rum Sauce

Maury,Mas Amiel, “Cuvée Spéciale”, 10 yr.

Our first chocolate dessert to date, the fried chocolate and banana risotto fritter was arborio rice cooked in what was virtually a sugar free hot cocoa of milk and extra brut cocoa. The dark, dirt colored rice was turned out onto a sheet pan to cool. Pureed ripe banana was spread over the rice, and the fritters were shaped with a scoop and flash-frozen. When it came time to serve, we dropped them in hot oil for 2 minutes, dusted with a cocoa-cinnamon-sugar mixture and drizzled with warm caramel sauce infused with rum. It was a dizzying experience for the chocoholic!

Friandises

Lemon-Poppyseed Madeleines

Fresh from the oven, the seminal, warm Madeleine was just enough of a nibble or two (along with those fresh figs) to say "goodnight".

F&C Rewind: Your Mother Should Know; A Culinary Top 10 List

2011-08-25T15:43:00.000-04:00

When learning to cook, the "aha!" moments are rare. But they do exist, and my friends, I'm here to tell you: listen to them.

As I find myself well into the educational phase of my career (that is, passing on what I know to other cooks), I'm discovering that for every moment the world of cooking seemed like an endless expanse of culinary universe, I find that universe shrinking and starting to make more sense each day.

What some sources refer to as the culinary basics, our mothers and grandmothers would call good, common sense. Let's face it; in the realm of chicken and egg scenarios, it's the all-knowing, multi-tasking matron of the hearth who came long before the Certified Master Chef. For all those women who had no choice but to cook for their families when the house was empty of kids or working men, they did so out of necessity and survival, not expression of creativity or ego. Before cookbooks and anything slightly resembling a home-guide for the kitchen were available, determining which pot was best for which dish, when a using a wooden spoon was better than a metal one, when to cover the pot, or leave it open- and when to turn the flame up versus down was trial by fire (pun-intended).

It wasn't until the supposed "masters" like Escoffier and Careme, Brillat-Savarin and other culinary giants came along with their guides and rules for doing it right all the time. Most of these men served careers in the military first. Upon leaving the service, they applied this new-found rigidity and culture of order to the craft of cooking, and in doing so, they turned it into a science. They evaluated things like boiling points of water vs. sugar, they studied the effects of heat and steam on proteins and the differences of various cooking metals (i.e. copper versus aluminum). They wrote the recipes for the basics, and, in short, they codified cooking to remove the guess work and make it a more exact science.

"So", you say, "my grandmother couldn't tell you the exact poaching temperature for a terrine, but I'm certain she has one of the most bad-ass pie crusts you'll ever make!" And, you're right. Ironically, it's the simplest of elements the housewife mastered in cooking that young line cooks and culinary students today can't grasp. I think most cooks think not about putting the final product on a table to actually savor, eat and enjoy, but more about how it will look on the plate. Taste has become secondary. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

More mothers and grandmothers have landed perfect pot roasts and mashed potatoes on kitchen tables they knew tasted good than can most line cooks today, I can tell you. One factor is the incessant distractions for line cooks. They fight boredom, extreme temperatures, long-hours, sleep deprivation, substance abuse, hangovers, ADHD and the insidious Top Chef scenarios which play out in their heads. If only I were competing, I'd show them all! Well, if competing on a cooking show is anything like taking your cooking practical at culinary school where you are judged on technique, creativity, mastery of basics and timing, let's just say that having a camera shoved in your arse won't make it any easier (certainly not on your ego when you're trashed by the judges in front of millions).

Upon graduating from CIA, I landed as a sous chef for my first cooking job. Heading up my first kitchen, I had set a standard for myself: never, EVER, let a dish go out of the kitchen that I wouldn't be proud to serve my parents or my instructors at school. It worked for me. But, line cooks also notoriously have a varying degree of quality acceptance in their heads which could be set very high one day, and very low the next, often depending on the factors mentioned above. To fight that rogue thinking in cooks, I employed a mantra of thinking "ALWAYS". "Always" was the sure-fire way to infiltrate the cob-webby minds of cooks to make sure that whenever considering cutting a corner, taking that shortcut or battling laziness, they would prevail by choosing the one correct route: the right way, always.

And so, this brings us back to why mothers and grandmothers have always had the upper hand on so many aspiring iron chefs, career line-cooks, hot-shot culinary snots and gadget toting food geeks; they learned by trial and error, not from books, a sous chef or even television.

Here then, in no particular order, whether you cook at home, as a hobby or on the chain gang somewhere in the masses of mashed potato houses, are my

Top 10 Things You Can Do to Be a Better Cook:

1. Control Your Heat- Oh, how I've watched a poor dish of veal medallions languishing in a saute pan that isn't hot enough, or a cream sauce on nuclear boil. A stove has knobs; USE THEM!

2. Work Clean- ALWAYS clean after yourself as you go. It is the key to organization mastery. A dirty cutting board is a dirty mind.

3. Be Patient- You can make something fast, or you can make it the right way. Cut corners and you cheat flavor.

4. Taste and Season Often- If you aren't tasting what you're cooking, you are not a real cook, but a robot. Enjoy your life of automated servitude. Or, season and taste your food and build a library of flavors, sensations and a vocabulary that will help you get the most enjoyment out of the culinary arts.

5. Listen- Your food is talking to you. Very often it can tell you that you're doing something wrong, like cooking on too high heat or not enough oil in your pan. Food that snaps, slides, pops and sighs is teaching you about cooking. Listen to it.

6. Smell- Your sense of smell can save you from using fish that is past "safe" or knowing the difference from toasted bread and charcoal. A simple pot of tomato sauce has that "finished" smell when the combination of onion, garlic, tomato and herbs have melded into one harmonious, heady aroma.

7. Use Fresh- If you are ever asking which is the better ingredient(s) to use, the answer will 99.9% of the time be "fresh". Think about it. If taste is priority (and I think we've established it should be), then use fresh products. If you want to cut corners and make a quick stew our soup, use your canned beans, dried herbs and bouillon cubes. If you want to see the difference I'm talking about, try it the other way.

8. Order of Ingredients- There is ALWAYS a right order to put ingredients in a recipe for maximum flavor and/or correctness. And you need to learn why. Sometimes it's scientific, other times it's common sense. A fresh pea takes, what- two minutes to cook? Add it at the beginning of a 45 minute soup, stew or saute and you've killed any flavor, nutritional value or color that poor legume ever had of gifting you.

9. Use Proper Tools and Sharp Knives- You've heard this one a lot. So why do you insist on using tongs for every task, you filthy, dirty little cook, you? There is a big difference between gadgets and proper kitchen tools, particularly spatulas. Same goes for bowls, pots and pans. Stop being lazy. Also, sharp knives are better and safer to work with, always. But, if you insist, go ahead and cut your fingers off. You're giving the rest of us a bad name.
UPDATE: Case in point- this article in the WSJ one day later...
10. Know When to Stop- There is always a time when you should stop; stop beating, stop blending, roasting, adding salt, adding other ingredients or just trying. Read your recipes and listen (ahem) to what they say. This one can't be taught, so you just have to learn it. Or, go ask your mother.

Gold in the Air of Summer

2011-08-18T13:00:00.001-04:00

Kings of Convenience "Gold in the Air of Summer"

A Table is Worth a 1000 Words

2011-08-13T18:40:00.000-04:00

Pierre Bonnard "A Table in the Country" 1913

Chef Quote of the Week: Alain Ducasse

2011-08-09T19:02:00.000-04:00

“Desserts are like mistresses. They are bad for you. So if you are having one,
you might as well have two.”
- Chef Alain Ducasse

F&C Rewind: The Taliban Approves of Your Child's Lunch

2011-07-26T20:25:00.001-04:00

UPDATE: Last year, I blogged about how Americans have at their fingertips the tools and resources to eat healthier foods more than ever before, in particular amongst children. But, ultimately that responsibility lies with the parents.

Today, a very loud signal echoed back from that call in the form of a cave-in (even if small) from McDonalds. Fresh fruit will be included in Happy Meals and French fries will be halved. In some cases, you will be able to opt out of fries.

This is still a long way from giving children a sensible meal that comes with the marketing muscle of McDonalds, but it's a start. In fact, I made this challenge: "If you don't think you can fight the big corporations, or if you think you don't have a choice or a voice, just think how McDonald's would react to losing a market share to people eating healthy. They wouldn't like it, not one little bit. "

There are lots of issues to debate with this news, but in the mean time, I offer this blog post again to remind anyone who this subject is dear to, more and more these days, it's necessary to have your voice heard.

Here's a good one. CNN reports that 27% of young adults (17-24 years of age) are ineligible to join the armed services...because they don't meet the physical requirement. The study says that obesity is the number one cause. Retired generals and military types called the youths "too fat to fight"; but, rather more disturbing is that "75% of young Americans between the ages of 17 to 24 do not qualify for the military because of failure to graduate [from high school], criminal records or physical problems."

Let that sink in for a sec.

I clicked on the article because the teaser was about how school lunches are "a national security risk". I am very passionate about the subject of school lunches, but more generally, how we feed our kids. I can see where they were going with that link, but it's kind of a stretch. I'd say the bigger threat to national security is education. Clearly we need an overhaul of lunch programs so that kids are fed meals that don't double and triple load on carbs, rely on frying to give flavor and will provide actual nutritional value that isn't cooked completely out, say when broccoli becomes the color of an army jeep.

The "give a man a fish" rule of logic is in effect here. If children have access to the knowledge they need to feed themselves in a safe and healthy manner, they'll develop good eating habits. Don't just give 'em tuna salad on wheat and call it a day. I remember when I was in school, the class called "health" was not about dietary tips. If it was, maybe no one remembered because the subject competed with the more popular subject of "how to lose your virginity".

But, the onus is on the school system to make sure kids have access to these options. Pfft- scrap that- the onus is on the system to provide only healthy options. If Junior wants to bring the belly-buster special to school five days a week, let him: at least the schools would be doing their part. But, then comes the next important part: parent accountability.

Twenty years ago, who taught you about using a computer? I can tell you the answer was NOT your parents. To assume that parents have the inherent knowledge to provide good tasting, nutritious meals, is just assuming too much. Again, it's back to education. The mass producers of "easy" and "quick" meals of all sorts have done their homework, gang. They know how many meals a week we don't cook. They know how busy we are, how much money we spend on take-home meals and they provide hundreds upon hundreds of products that are supposed to make our lives easier. Yeah- a hot dog and chips is easy, too.

Ahhh, but there's the rub. I live in absolute guilt that I allow my daughter to eat a "Lunchables" meal because she spotted one at the store and at only three years of age, recognized it is something "fun" that she wanted. No one told her what it was, no cartoon characters on it; it was at the right height with the right colors on the box in the grocery store. She swiped it off the shelf and literally ran away with it. Since birth, she has always eaten all the foods we eat. Roasted and braised meats, fresh fish, cheeses, root veggies, grains of all sorts, and just about every vegetable I'd ever turned my nose up at when I was a kid. But, all it took was one time to cave in and say, "oh- it's just for fun, it's no big deal" (said the crack user to his pusher).

So one day, when I decided to lay down the law, I took a ring mold cutter and cut real cheddar cheese and real baked ham into little circles and put in some simple crackers to see if the little Oscar Mayer meth-head would notice. She did not. The next month, I discovered Grammy sent home some Lipton noodle soup in a packet with her. I was rushed, it was convenient, I made it, and she ate the hell out of it and asked for more. Checked the label, sodium level was at 29% of RDA and contained MSG. They got me again.

And don't get me started on ketchup: gateway drug.

See, I'm not getting preachy, but even if we choose to not feed ourselves well, we need to get the kids we bred to a point in their lives where they can make informed, smart decisions about the future of their health. I'd very much like to see new generations learn how to properly cook vegetables and enjoy them as much as any fried potato. I'd like to see proteins from meat and fish become an equally shared portion of the plate, not the main event. And, I'd like to see restaurants and grocers that specialize in this kind of trend flourish, profit and grow to a majority.

If you don't think you can fight the big corporations, or if you think you don't have a choice or a voice, just think how McDonald's would react to losing a market share to people eating healthy. They wouldn't like it, not one little bit. And so, they would be forced to win-back what they lost to that ever-growing segment of the population who want more variety and more nutritious options. No? Maybe the Colonels were right then. Maybe we are too fat to fight.

Cool It

2011-07-20T16:08:00.000-04:00

Stop what you're doing right now, and have some ice cream.

Chef Quote of the Week: Anthony Bourdain

2011-07-08T10:50:00.001-04:00

"I was about getting the biggest paycheck then, so I could see music, smoke expensive weed, do cocaine, that kind of life. It was less important to me that I would get good at my craft. I deluded myself into thinking I was good." Chef Anthony Bourdain

Biggers with Roy Yamaguchi

In the age of oversaturation of reality shows, we have reached a perverted gladiator-style of entertainment, and the arena is the kitchen. We've come a long way from the Food Network's "Ready, Set, Cook!" in which perky host Sissy Biggers egged on a studio audience to cheer for their favorite cook as they raced against the clock to create a dish from a mystery basket of ingredients. The winner was decided by a majority of flashcards held by the studio audience depicting either a tomato or a bell pepper for their favorite contestant.

Today, debasement, sabotage, plot lines, humiliation and real live injuries are not just common, but necessary to attract viewers. It is the Wild, Wild West, and there no heroes, just survivors.

So, it's very rare when a ribbon of truth ekes out into the MSM about what it's really like in a professional kitchen. And, when it does, it seems to fall on deaf ears. This is why I chose to make Anthony Bourdain my "Chef Quote of the Week."

Successful author and TV personality Bourdain recently had a very (public) self-deprecating moment, and it was directed at a portion of the audiences who one day aspire to culinary greatness. He calls it "My Favorite Mistake".

"If you’re serious about cooking and your craft, do the opposite of what I did."

Read the full piece in Newsweek here.

F&C Rewind: Feeling Crabby

2011-07-05T15:56:00.001-04:00

If there is one item I could live without ever ordering, preparing or seeing on a menu again, it's the crab cake. It's become the most egregiously made, bastardized dish throughout the mid-Atlantic, with variations so vast, it's no wonder locals are so visceral in their opinions on the subject.

For me, it begins with what people come to expect in a crab cake. If there is anything other than boulder-sized chunks of crab in front of them, they complain of "too much filler". Ughgh. I'll get back to that, but I think it must stem from what people don't know about making these local delicacies. The crab cake should be primarily crab with seasonings that complement the sweetness of the meat. It should be moist and tender, properly seasoned, and it should hold together as it slides off a spatula and onto your plate or bun.

Smarter cooks know that the fewer ingredients you use in a dish, the more you must respect the ones you do use. All those lovely lumps of precious crabmeat are held in trapezoidal compartments within the crab, and they're delicately extracted and separated into and sold as the valuable categories of jumbo lump, backfin, lump and claw meat. Experienced crab eaters would never discriminate and abandon all the briny goodness that comes from eating all the various types of meats from their crustacean cronies. But, try using something other than jumbo lump, and the average Joe screams heresy. They are unaware that the only way to keep a crab cake bound together is to use complementary ingredients that help hold them into the signature "cake" form. The intense and sweet flavor is often given from using a combination of the jumbo AND claw meat. The delicate nature of the claw/leg meat (like that of the Jonah crab) also helps to bind when mixed with the base. So, my ill-informed filler-fanatics, crab claw meat that binds, is still crab. It's a wise use of crab meat and if you are going to produce them in volume, it helps keep them at a reasonable price.

Typically a little bit of egg, bread or mousse combination is used to help bind these two flavorful types of crab meat. Egg alone will not do the trick, but adding fresh white, doughy bread crumbs, like from Wonderbread, help hold the crab together. Taking the protein of shrimp or scallops and combining in a processor with egg white and heavy cream will give you a delicate mousse that is both flavorful and does the trick nicely of binding the crab. Beyond that, what else you put in is a matter of taste. Avoid putting in anything that will detract from the main flavor or cause too much moisture or dryness, and you've got your own personal version of the dish that made Maryland famous. So, why then do so many of them suck?

For all the crab cakes I loathe, it is mostly because they are mass produced for a homogenized appeal. Each chef has their own idea of what a good crab cake is, and very often it's one that appeals to the masses. Nothing wrong with selling a lot of crab cakes, I suppose. Hey, Yugo sold a lot of cars, too. But, I'm long since past ordering one in a restaurant, simply because I know I will be disappointed. Give me a softshell crab, on the other hand, and it successfully captures all the things I love about a properly made crab cake: crispy, toothsome texture, held together nicely in it's own natural sauce and it's as about as "pure" as it gets. Slap on a little remoulade or equally gooey-tart sauce on a toasted, buttery bun, and my hankering for a sandwich of fresh crab is satisfactorily sated.

I don't hate the crab cake. Really. And I'm certainly not being snobby about it. In fact, I love them so much, it's out of respect for their uniqueness that I sound off. So, I guess you could say that I am being a bit of a purist. And, just to show you how much I care, I'm going to share my recipe as long as you promise to make them for only two people. Four, at the most. And not another crab cake more.

The main concept behind making this version of a crab cake for only a few people is that it forces you to concentrate on following the recipe and to not cut corners. Additionally, when you've mastered making these, you'll feel as though each time you make them again, it will be for people you really love and want to spoil. You'll be giving them something they can't get anywhere for any price! Now you know why some chefs don't give up recipes. So, for you, my faithful Fork-N-Corkers, I am willing to make an exception, all in the name of respect for that little puck of tide-water goodness: the regal crab cake.

Robear's Secret Crab Cake Recipe

Makes four 5 oz. crab cakes

8 oz. fresh jumbo lump crab meat
8 oz. fresh crab claw meat
1 small onion, small dice
2 ribs celery, small dice
4 oz. whole butter
3 leaves fresh basil
Juice of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
1 dash or two of Tabasco
1 dash of Worcestershire sauce
1 egg
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
2 pieces fresh white bread, broken into small pieces
Salt and White pepper

In 2 oz. of butter gently cook the celery and onions until soft. Do not brown. Add the Old Bay and basil. Remove the mixture including the butter and set aside to cool.

Combine the wet ingredients in a bowl and mix until just combined. This is your base. After you pick through your crab to remove shells, you will use it to bind the crab together along with the bread crumbs. Season with salt and dashes of white pepper. TASTE! If you feel as though you could eat the whole thing right there, it's ready. Fold the crab, fresh bread crumbs and some of the base together until it can hold it's own shape. Resist using the entire mixture. You are meant to have extra, but this is where people screw up: when they add all the base, they try to compensate by adding more bread to dry it up, and this is where the perception of "too much filler" comes from. You can always add more if you really need it, but the key concept here is to barely bind those ingredients together without turning it into a seafood meatball.

Form four cakes onto a plate, cover and refrigerate for at least an hour. This is also a key step: don't skip it!

When it's time to cook, turn your oven to 355F. In a non-stick pan, put a couple tablespoon of oil and heat the pan to medium hot (only lightly smoking). Use a spatula to gently lift the crab cakes and place them in the pan. Add the remaining 2 oz of butter now. First, the pan will sizzle, then it will subside. It will build back up to a hiss first (that's the steam) and then finally return to a sizzle. When you see that the edges are beginning to brown, use your spatula and with both hands slowly turn the cakes. Place the whole pan in the oven for 12-15 minutes. Serve immediately from the pan.

Open some pinot blanc, Macon chardonnay or other white to complement the sweetness of the crab. Bon appetit!

A June Chef's Table

2011-07-02T19:18:00.001-04:00

The Chef’s Table

at the

University and Whist Club

Of Wilmington

June 17, 2011

Reception

Crab and Corn Fritter~ Yellow tomato cocktail sauce

Venison Tartare

Matanzas Creek, Sauvignon Blanc, Sonoma County, 2007

Denver Leg of Venison provided for a nice alternative to beef tartare. Balsamic caviar beads provided an unexpected burst of sweet and tart.

Sweet Corn and Crab: a classic pairing. Yellow cocktail sauce was stripped down to its basic components: fresh horseradish, fresh tomato, vinegar and sugar.

Fresh hydrangeas were rescued from the yard. In summer the club is surrounded by alternating powder blue and rust-purple blossoms.

Amuse Bouche

Chilled Tomatillo Soup

with Sope, toasted cumin and Fava Bean Puree

Chateau St. Michele, “Eroica” Riesling, Columbia Valley,

Washington, 2008

This close-up of the garnishes for the soup features a warm sope, corn relish, cilantro blossom and fava bean puree.

First Course

Mediterranean Mussels

Leeks, tomato, tarragon, semolina

Joseph Hofstätter, Pinot Bianco, Atlo Adige, 2009

Ten pounds of Mediterranean mussels gave their lives for this course. Here they are simmering in leeks with their steaming liquid, white wine and butter.

With their counterparts: tomato, tarragon and toasty semolina bread.

Second Course

Veal Cannelloni

With Hand-packed ricotta, beech mushroom and sweetbread ragout

Domaine Dominique Guyon, Bourgogne,

Hautes Cotes de Nuits, 2009

Continuing with a course of hand-made pasta, a veal ragout and artisan ricotta fill a cannelloni, while beach mushrooms and sweetbreads back up the earthiness.

Intermezzo

Watermelon, Tomato Vine and Basil Sorbet

Main

All-Natural Dry Aged Beef Loin

Braised beet greens, poached garlic and sauce foyote

Marchesi Antinori, Tignanello, Tuscany, 2007

A whole strip loin was slow roasted and carved to order. Placed atop tender braised beet tops with a traditional bearnaise sauce enhanced with fortified veal stock and roasted garlic cloves. Magnificent with the Tignanello.

Cheese

Goat Cheese Tasting

Cowgirl Creamery “obanon”, Toma Della Roca, Midnight Moon

And Moilterno al Tartufo; macerated apricots

One of my favorite cheese courses yet, the truffle cheese was just as exciting as any- but the apricots macerated in riesling stole the show.

Dessert

Cherry Clafoutis

with Armagnac and Honey Ice Cream

Domaine Carneros, Rose “Cuvee de la Pompadour”, NV, Carneros

Perhaps one of my favorite desserts of all time, the classic Cherry Clafoutis, here with frangipan and cherry-port reduction. The ice cream lent a decadent richness hard to put into words.

This wine (and winery) is very underrated. Nearly all pinot noir, the fruit was superb for the clafoutis, and another refreshing summer course.

Friandises

French Macarons

Strawberry, pistachio, Lemon and Praline

Our pastry department came up big with these textbook French macarons.

Store Wars

2011-06-21T20:19:00.000-04:00

We all have a favorite grocery store, that place we can go for everything from the simplest of items to the whole shopping list. Some are luckier than others. Living next to a Super G, for example, must be one of the happier things in life to happen to foodies. Whole Foods is like Disney meets Trader Joe’s, truly a capitalist grocery if e’er there were one. Then there are those unfortunate few who are landlocked, trapped from civilization and unable to get common items like coffee filters, chicken or milk. The Trolley Square Acme in Wilmington, DE is one such store. Maybe landlocked is not quite correct. Black hole is more like it. Its lack of usable products and cast of certifiably looney-bin customers earn it a place in our hearts. The place where acid indigestion begins.

Locals have a hate-hate relationship with our ACME. We bitterly refer to it as the SMACKme, the CRACKme or more appropriately, the SOVIET ACME, where long lines and no food are the norm.

I can honestly say that I'm desensitized by its user-unfriendliness. After all, I lived in Cape May, NJ for awhile. The ACME there makes Trolley look like Beverly Hills. Because there are only about six aisles, it isn't uncommon to find barbecue sauce in the same row as Band-Aids. Which is great if you're making a haunted house. Very often you can spot birds flying around the store, a hazard most aren't used to navigating while shopping for food. Year round you can buy a styrofoam cooler, but only three weeks of the year can you find avocados.

Speaking of avocados, our beloved Trolley ACME has recently diversified their produce aisle, placing like-used products together, i.e. tomatoes, garlic and basil in the summer. So, avocados can likely be found in two or three different locations now. But, that doesn't increase the chance of ever finding a ripened one. Ever. My favorite is their 10 for $10 promo. After all what's better than one unripened avocado but 10 unripened avocados? But, I'm being insensitive and elitist.

It's like a big game of craps. You never know if you're going to hit. Many times I've gone in with a list of 8 or 9 items, half of which I couldn't find. Usually then, I just abandon my basket and walk out. I've got to head to another store anyway, so, might as well. It also helps take the sting out waiting in the two lines that are open, knowing you only accomplished half of what you came in for. More intriguing than not being able to find simple staples has to be the things I have found. As a chef, I am often stiffed by my purveyors for odd items or items that come only in huge cases when I'm just in need of one. Against all odds, I make the trek to Moscow and begin my search.

"Ummm- do you have gooseberry jam?" I half-jokingly ask.

"Aisle 2".

What the what?

Can't find sliced pumpernickel bread, but sun-dried cherries and matzo balls are always on the shelves.

There are some days I don't mind being called "babydoll", and others I could go ballistic. Like, "Babydoll, c'mon over here, my line is empty." Yay.
But, "Can't you see my light is OUT? This line is CLOSED, Babydoll!" Picture Michael Douglas in the movie Falling Down.

I'm grateful for the local elderly patrons who walk to the store to shop, because at least I know they aren't on our roadways. They seem to have absolutely no peripheral vision what-so-ever or awareness of personal space. I begin to hum a particular Ludacris song at this point as I navigate these obstacles in my cart with only two working wheels.

The characters you see there are right out of a John Waters film. My Duchess, as I like to call her, has straight-up Cindy Brady length gold braid extensions anchored by a fine velour Fat Albert and the Gang cap. She wears a full-length winter coat no matter what time of year it is, and her makeup on any given day could hide her 75-plus years, or scare the hell out of little children. Make that little children and adults. My mind races as I stare into her cart at the 100 cans of cat food, Freihofer's cookies and epsom salts. Must. Get. Out. NOW.

Lastly, the self-checkout lines. If you cannot check yourself out faster than one of the clerks here (and this is saying something), you have no business being in these lines. They are built for speed, and I dare say, for people just like you and me who have no choice but to shop there, yet need to get out of the store before our mental health insurance plan is activated. Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths.

Chef Quote of the Week: Sam Sifton

2011-06-14T18:40:00.000-04:00

Not a chef, but one who thinks like one for a living: Sam Sifton is the New York Times food critic and restaurant reviewer. He's in good company with a long line of other writers whose tenure typically lasts about 5 years. They can make or break the reputations of the greatest restaurants in the greatest restaurant city in the world. Today Sifton reviews Masa, the sushi and Japanese cuisine temple located in the Time Warner Center a few steps from another mecca of cuisine, Per Se.

The most surprising thing revealed to me in this review was the cost of a meal at Masa. When it opened in 2004, a meal was $300 per person, not including tax, tip or anything to drink, and for awhile, it was on my list of restaurants I would like to visit. Today, $450 is the price tag, making the cost for two who "do it right" (that is to say, drink well and tip on the whole thing) cost upwards of $1500. For hardcore foodies, it's a price worth paying to surrender your control to the master of ceremonies, Masayoshi Takahama as he sends out course after course of whatever he feels like. I've friends who forewent a honeymoon to eat here. So, Sifton explains what happens when psychologically you expect the absolute best (as in four stars), and don't consistently get it.

"New York City now demands of its four-star restaurants an understanding that culture at its highest must never feel transactional, whatever its cost. We ascend to these heavens for total respite from the world below, for extraordinary service and luxuriant atmosphere as much as for the quality of the food prepared." Sam Sifton

Photo courtesy of New York Restaurant Insider

Sifton has nailed a very important idiom here: as we move into the economic unknown of tomorrow, we will constantly adjust our standards of fine dining based on what's happening today. Perhaps that is why in 2004 Frank Bruni awarded Masa four stars, the highest rating attainable. When you surrender $1500 of hard-earned cash for a meal, "perfect" is a word that should come up more than a few times when describing it to others.

May Fools: An Indulgent Chef's Table Tasting

2011-06-01T18:22:00.001-04:00

Plate design sketches for the May Chef's Table event at the Whist Club

Certainly one of the most enjoyable parts of crafting a seasonal menu is the exclusivity of it all. Having bragging rights about the first-of-the-season anything makes a nine-course, seasonal menu tasting even more exclusive. As we continue into the warmer weather, some of the region's best known (and beloved) ingredients show up on the plate. With more exotic ingredients, we explore more uncommon grape varietals, like marsanne and gewurztraminer. Classic blends with a twist were featured, like the Schramsberg Cellars Blanc de Noirs- an almost 80-20% blend of pinot noir and chardonnay, and Bonny Doon's Chateauneuf du Pape blend, Le Cigare Volant provided unimaginable depth to the flavors we aimed to coax from the ingredients. And, so it went something like this...

The Chef’s Table

at the

University and Whist Club

Of Wilmington

May 19, 2011

Reception

Grilled Octopus Escabèche

Chive Blossom Tempura

Schramsberg, Blanc de Noirs, California, 2007

Tempura Fried Chive Blossoms with Rice Wine Dipping Sauce

Braised Octopus Escabeche: in the style of Spain

Amuse Bouche

Mission fig, Foie Gras curls and Blackberry-Balsamic Caviar

First of the Season Mission Figs via California

Figs and Foie, yes; but blackberry balsamic caviar? Oh yeah.

Friend and Florist Dominique Ho of Le Sentier provided the quintessential May bouquet of Peonies

First Course

Lobster Carpaccio

cape gooseberries, young herbs, nori and persimmon vinaigrette

Navarro Vineyards, Gewurztraminer, Anderson Valley, California, 2008

A lobster "carpaccio" with cape gooseberry, citrus herb mix, persimmon vinegar

One of my favorite pairings of the night, the Navarro Vineyards 2008 Gewurztraminer with the Lobster Carpaccio

Second Course

Softshell Crab

spicy almond flour, melon and sorrel

Qupe, Marsanne, Santa Ynez Valley, California, 2009

Another season first: Softshell Crabs awaiting their fate

Almond flour dredged softshell with melon, young sprout salad and sorrel puree

Intermezzo

Peach-Ginger Granita

A clean, refreshing Peach and Ginger Granita- a taste of May!

Main

Smoked Moulard Duck Breast

oxtail ravioli and porcini, dried cherry jus

Bonny Doon, Le Cigare Volant, Santa Cruz, 2006

Sous Chef Andrew Ramage makes the pasta for the oxtail ravioli just hours before the dinner.

The completed dish: house smoked moulard duck breast with oxtail ravioli, porcini and sour cherry jus

Cheese

Delices de Bourgogne, pistachio, truffle honey

Chateau Cantenac-Brown, Margaux, 2003

The sensual Delices de Bourgogne with truffle infused honey, toasted pistachio and feuilles de brick

Dessert

Berry-Almond Shortcake

Vanilla cream and thai Basil

Fresh berries in basil oil, almond biscuit and vanilla clotted cream

Friandises

Nougat, Gianduja Chocolate, Strawberry and Coffee

Caposaldo, Prosecco

Chewy nougat, strawberry-coconut confection, espresso bon-bon and gianduja chocolate square with pine nut

Beautiful chive blossoms; lovely to look at, delicious to eat.

Chef Quote of the Week: Alain Ducasse

2011-06-01T15:04:00.000-04:00

On wine: "There are no rules...You have to taste the wine with an open mind. You can drink red wine with lobster and white wine with lamb."

Chef also adds, "The world of wine is more creative than the world of cooking...There are so many impassioned winemakers. I think there are more impassioned winemakers than chefs." Click for the full interview with the WSJ

Chef Alain Ducasse

Pork: Just Take It Easy

2011-05-26T11:26:00.000-04:00

Pork: The Other White Meat.

Pork: Be Inspired.

Pork, the one you love. No, wait.

Pork: You're Overcooking It. And, we knew it.

Yes, not only is pork not a white meat, the bloody USDA (pun intended) has finally come clean and officially declared that pork is safe to eat if cooked to 145F, not the disastrously moisture reducing 160F.

In other news, John Boehner is sensitive.

Look: we all knew it, but it became so ingrained in our consciousness that it's like the story of the elephant who is able to be tethered by only a loose rope. We can't disobey. Well, my fellow carnivores, let thy spirit be free! Wok on the wild side! Waltz into your local bisto and proudly order the pork tenderloin...dum dum DUM!...medium! I mean, after all, that's how we've been serving it to you, so we might as well come clean. Yes, I said it: a chef/kitchen HATES to have food sent back, especially when it's not even been tasted, but more than that, we hate to send food out that's overcooked by your request. So, we cook it until it is "done" and sauce over it to hide the perceived pink. Think I'm kidding? Ask a guy in white.

I realize I'm probably preaching to the choir here, but in simple terms, cuts of meat that are lower in, or even devoid of fat (see buffalo, venison, elk, boar) are simply unpalatable when cooked to well-done and devoid of color. But, you continue to ask for them that way. Insert line about sheep and pork here.

So, what about the cuts with more fat, like the shoulder, picnic, belly, butt, osso buco, etc? Well, duh. Fat is flavor. And, let's be honest- a mouthful of meat that is laden with too much fat is just nasty. Cooking is about balance. Cook those cuts of meat slower, lower and longer. Let the fat render slowly to season the meat, while providing the optimal amount of flavor.

That's all, folks.

The End is Nigh! Let the Rapture Begin!

2011-05-19T23:10:00.000-04:00

Yeah. It's like that. See you all next week.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-06T13:22:00.000-04:00

A Spring Chef's Table: UWC

2011-04-26T18:10:00.000-04:00

The latest installment (April 15, 2011) of The Chef's Table at the University and Whist Club of Wilmington was another rousing success. As we slipped a few weeks more into the spring season, we delved a little deeper into all it has to offer. First of the season 2010 Rose made a debut from Alexander Valley Vineyards in California, while black sea bass wiggled onto the menu, and wild boar loin with golden chanterelles and fresh fava beans took center stage. See the full menu, with wines, below:

Reception: 2010 Alexander Valley Vineyards Rose

A colorful spring table set the tone for a beautiful evening

Plump, creamy and luscious Kumamoto oysters await dressing for the opening course.

Dainty bluebells picked from the grounds of the club to accent the final course.

Likewise, pastel-colored arrangements were assembled from local clippings by Staff Florist Dominique Ho. Merci, Domi!

Popcorn Rockshrimp dredged in rice flour and flash-fried with Saffron Aioli

Barbecued Oxtail Ragout with Radish Slaw in Hand-Made Phyllo Cups capped off the reception

New Mexico Gruet Blanc de Blanc 2006 carried over on our theme of all American Wines with oysters.


Kumomoto oysters bathed in "mignonette" of sake, yuzu and serrano chile; served with miniature wasabi oyster crackers


Massachusetts Black Sea Bass with Celery Root and Fennel Puree, Shaved Hazelnut and Mitsuba

Newton, Unfiltered Chardonnay, Napa 2008

Hand-Made Agnolotti filled with Duck Confit and Tallegio

The tiny pasta pillows were then waded into a broth of duck jus infused with blood orange

Robert Sinskey, Pinot Noir, Los Carneros, 2008

Intermezzo: The Arnold Palmer. Ceylon Tea, Lemon and Mint sorbet

Slowly roasted at low temperature, the wild boar was sublimely tender served on caramelized chanterelles with fresh favas and Knob Creek bourbon demi-glace

Ferrari-Carano, Westface PreVail, Alexander Valley, 2005

Chef de Garde Manager Dave Stewart carefully applies truffle essence to the Cheese Course

The Rite of Spring: Warm Bucheron and Honeyed Beets with micro bulls blood greens and truffle essence

Pluot and Frangipan Tartlet with Curry-Saffron Anglaise and edible Chrysanthemums

Graham's 30 Year Old Tawny Port


Mignardises: Date-Coconut Granola, Lemon-White Chocolate Truffle, Pine Nut and Chocolate Wafer and soft Caramel with Sea Salt

Pithy Remarks

2011-04-21T12:57:00.001-04:00

Are you cooking yet this spring? If so, what are you cooking? There are several ways to take advantage of seasonal delights, and one of my favorites is infusing the many types of citrus available to us.

Meyer Lemons and Blood Oranges are among the most common citrus fruits we see in spring. Grapefruits and pomelos also show up, as well as kumquats. They add bright notes to a salad or fish dish, but consider them for what they are (an acid), and they're a game changer.

Last weekend, I made an asparagus salad (just blanched) with julienne radish, shaved parmesan and shallot-citrus vinaigrette. This is true seasonal cooking. Just replace your vinegar with a combination of citrus juices, and use a fruity olive oil. Fresh herbs are another way to brighten the dish. Also, don't neglect the oil-rich rinds of these seasonal gems. They're loaded with flavor that can be extracted, zested, infused or candied. Or, if you're old fashioned, twist a little in your martini.

Chef Quote of the Week: Charlie Trotter

2011-03-29T21:56:00.002-04:00

“You know the old adage that the customer’s always right?” he said. “Well, I kind of think that the opposite is true. The customer is rarely right. And that is why you must seize the control of the circumstance and dominate every last detail: to guarantee that they’re going to have a far better time than they ever would have had if they tried to control it themselves.” Chef Charlie Trotter

I've long believed that the adage about the customer always being right was never intended for restaurants. It is meant (and I suppose true) for the service and retail industries, instead. The main difference here, and certainly at Chef Trotter's level, is that you are dealing with the culinary arts. At this level of restaurant (and those like it), you are experiencing food prepared by someone who has devoted their life to educating their palette, developing their craft and creating unique meals to be shared unspoiled.

As I have discovered over the years, those with power like to exercise it to feel the full rush of what being powerful means. Customers who like to flex that muscle and reconstruct a dish, substitute, omit and tailor a chef's menu to their liking are not, I repeat, NOT, getting what the chef intended, but some bastardized iteration that is akin to letting some unskilled orderly handle your delicate open-heart surgery. Like giving your Mercedes to a hack mechanic and asking him to pimp it out and paint it cherry red. Like ordering a diet coke with your breast of pheasant with morels and truffle. There are those out there who disagree, and quickly bash chefs as egotists who are inflexible snots, simply because they believe they have the right to get what they're paying for. I argue that those chefs have the right not to serve you, either.

Charlie Trotter is famous (among all his skills) for being the first chef to go on record as saying that in order to perfect your product, service and brand- it's necessary to fire customers. Get rid of those whose expectations don't meet your standards and focus on the ones who do. At some point, the thinking goes, there will be enough customers who, not out of misplaced reverence, but respect for the chef and his vision, will frequent an establishment because of that vision, not in spite of it. That was over 15 years ago.

A selection of amuse bouche from Trotter's September, 2000

The staff of Trotter's circa 2000. I am located dead center, (back) with the Cheshire grin next to my future buddy, and Top Chef Season 2 contestant, Otto Borsich.

The great artists are rarely understood in their time, and much of the article in The Times attests to that in its myopic view of Trotter as of late. It attempts to psychoanalyze why Trotter is not in the press more or hasn't expanded his brand into multi-unit prostitution, or why he has failed in his attempts to do so. In each of these scenarios where he tried to recreate the level of excellence at his restaurant in Chicago, there were contributing factors that didn't meet the standard of the original, and subsequently he pulled the plug. While some call that failure, others would call it integrity.

The copper pots that distinguish the tiny, talented kitchen.

As far as Grant Achatz is concerned, I have immense respect for him. He is cut from the same cloth as Trotter, Adria and Keller. Yet, I can't help thinking his publisher and/or partner pushed to create controversy to sell more books with all the volatile portions dedicated to his pent up angst toward Trotter- especially now, since he appears to have "a cordial if not close relationship" with him. But then, FUCT (F*$% You Charlie Trotter!, the acronym supposedly adopted by Achatz and his partner to emote his feelings about his post-Trotter's tenure) is pretty harsh, no matter how you slice it, and I believe somewhat unprecedented among chefs of such stature. Achatz maintains it was included in the book to later draw a parallel between the two chefs and their shared commitment to perfection. Still, the Golden Rule seems more apt among professionals.

Van Gogh's The Golden Rule

Whatever your view, I believe there can still be room for an innovative artist and an artistic innovator in the same arena.

Primo Piatto!

2011-03-28T22:09:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, it can be a drag waiting for the weather and ingredients to catch up to the daylight savings time and budding bulbs. I've been anxiously awaiting some decent artichokes to feature and wild morels to take the stage on the plate. Ramps will probably be available this week, and, yes, my beloved striped bass is running (and running strong), but cold weather is cold weather, man. What's a foodie to do?

One of my favorite "bridge meals" from Winter into Spring is the humble Risotto alla Principessa. You really only need your base ingredients (rice, onion, garlic and stock), some lemon, a good parmesan and nutty-tasting, tender Spring asparagus. And fortunately for us, Mother Nature is cooperating on the asparagus.

The northern Italian dish of rice, asparagus and cheese is one of those subtle, classic dishes that focuses on good ingredients, simplicity and method. The naturally creamy, light and lemony risotto is the perfect meal for when you're feeling warm in spirit, but still need that certain something to take the chill off the bones.

Ingredients:

Arborio or Carnaroli Rice 2 cups
Chicken Stock 4 cups
Dry White Wine 2 cups
Onion, small dice 1 small
Garlic cloves, whole 2 ea.
Bay leaf 1 ea.
Butter and Olive oil 4 oz. combined
Asparagus, chopped on a bias 1# (bunches are usually 2#)
Grana Padana or Reggiano Parmesan 2 cups
Salted Butter, cold and diced 1 cup
Lemon Zest 1 ea.(microplaned is best)
Fresh Herbs, i.e. basil or chives, chopped 2 tablespoons

Method:

Warm the oil and butter in a sauce pot. Add the minced onion and garlic cloves. Cook until tender, but not browned.
Stir in the rice until coated with oil and butter. Add the bay leaf.
Add the white wine and stir until the wine has dissolved.
Add the chicken stock 2 cups at a time, constantly stirring over medium heat.
You may need to add more stock, but when the rice grains have begun to "pop", add your asparagus and continue to stir on medium to low heat until the rice is no longer "al dente" (sticks to the teeth). By this point, the asparagus will have finished cooking. At once, add the herbs, cheese, lemon zest and butter. Season with salt and pepper until you taste all the ingredients, not just one or two. Add more of anything you think it needs to taste "finished". All the colors should be bright and vibrant, not dull.

Variations include:

Pancetta or Bacon- add finely diced cured ham at the first stage, with the onions.
Peas or Favas- in place of the asparagus, quickly blanch your beans or peas and add when it calls for the asparagus.
Shrimp or Fish- adding a protein like shrimp or scallops enriches this dish; sear some of that precious bass and serve atop the finished risotto.
Change your Cheese- in place of parmesan, switch it up and add some creamy goat cheese, mascarpone or tangy pecorino.
Go Decadent- atop any of these iterations, loft a soft-poached egg.

Wine? Lemony, dry, tart wines from any region like American Northwest, Italian Alto Adige, Austrian gruner veltliners, New Zealand sauvignon blancs or chalky Chablis.

A Chef's Table is Set Again

2011-03-23T18:44:00.002-04:00


Under a full Supermoon, the Chef's Table was born again.

One of the more exciting developments in my life these days is the revival of the concept of The Chef's Table, the restaurant I held in Old New Castle for just under two years. The University and Whist Club, where I have been executive chef for the last 7 or 8 months, has enthusiastically embraced a multi-course (8, to be exact) Chef's tasting menu, beginning with a reception of Champagne and hors d'oeuvres and moving through appetizers, seafood, game, intermezzo, meat, cheese, dessert and patisserie, all paired with wines, of course. When you're a chef who doesn't just cook but creates, this, my friends, is what you wait for.

The style of cooking I've developed over the years is certainly not one that is unique or ground-breaking, but it is distinguishing. I like to cook clean. I like build flavors, layer them, but I want them to shine not get muddied from putting too much in the dish. The more I work with food (and really great ingredients), the less effort, I find, it requires to make it taste great. Yes, you can also make exciting, interesting food by purchasing a centrifuge, immersion circulator and sous vide machine, as you'll discover from the newly released Modernist Cuisine. It's an anthology of cooking methods from the very beginning (that would be Escoffier, not cave man) to the present. It's five volumes of gorgeously photographed and constructed food. But, if I may be so bold, it's the construction that turns me off. In these gleaming volumes some call "the most important cookbook ever assembled", the final product looks nothing less than absolutely- well, perfect. I'm more a naturalist when it comes to dressing up food for its close-up. I believe the right time to photograph your food is just before you're about to eat it.

Last weekend was the Inaugural Chef's Table event at the club, and sixteen members ebulliently arrived for an evening of seasonally inspired cuisine. I share with you their menu and some shots from their meal:

The Chef’s Table

at the

University and Whist Club

Of Wilmington

March 18, 2011

Reception

Sea Bass Brandade~ Yukon potato, olive oil semolina toasts

Braised Pork and Pineapple Empanada

Nicolas Feuillatte, Brut NV

Amuse Bouche

Torchon of Foie Gras

on shrimp toast, tahini and macerated grapefruit

Royal Tokaji, Red Label, 5 Puttonyos, 2006

Silky Slices of Foie Gras Torchon for the Amuse Bouche

Admittedly an odd looking and sounding dish; yet, talk about UMAMI, mommy!

First Course

Medallions of Monkfish

chick pea puree, garlic-tomato confit

and crisp pancetta

Pascal Jolivet Sancerre, 2009

Second Course

Lasagnette of Rabbit

royal trumpet mushroom, young spinach,

petite basil

Antonin Guyon, Savigny-les-Beaunes, 2008

A bechamel bound with gruyere both binds and acts as a sauce for the dish; basil infused oil punches up the flavors

Intermezzo

Margarita Sorbet

sel gris and lime zest

A scoop of margarita sorbet rimmed with gray sea salt.

Main

Roasted Leg of Lamb

spring morels, minted English peas

Château Grand-Puy-Lacoste, Pauillac, 2003

Cheese

Cowgirl Creamery “St. Pat”

olive-raisin chutney, upland cress

This aged cow's milk is made in Spring and wrapped in stinging nettle leaves

Dessert

Lemon Ricotta Cake

orange-cardamom glaze

Jorge Ordóñez & Co., Moscatel,2006

Bellwether Farms in Sonoma County, California provided the ivory colored, thick curd ricotta

Friandises and Coffee

White chocolate dipped hazelnut, dark chocolate Cognac truffle, pineapple-coconut macaroon and pistachio-caramel brittle

Thanks go out to sous chefs Andrew Ramage and Stephen Seth, pastry chefs Deb Saienni and Michael Preske, Beverage and Dining Manager Caroline Robino, Dave Stewart (Lil Dave) and Brad "Butters" Borton for his skillful photography.

Blood, Bones and Butter

2011-03-10T17:25:00.000-05:00

Okay, I know I've given some time to Chef Gabrielle Hamilton on this blog already- but, I'm only on the third chapter of this marvelous memoir and I am rapt with my own memories of growing up, first food experiences, sibling rivalry and intense smell association. In short, this is a chef's chef memoir, and I am devouring it. More to come...

The Root of All Good

2011-03-09T18:52:00.000-05:00

Have you ever had a crush on an ingredient? Smitten with its sheer, simple beauty, the way you remember that cutie from school days, but it only becomes obvious as a grown up. Why didn't you see it then? You can't answer, but you see it now. And then, your second chance is handed to you, to fall all over again.

I've always loved radishes. They were usually on my family's table growing up (and to some degree, they still show up). Right next to some briny olives, stinky cheese and a home made, baked stromboli of anchovy, orgeano and hot pepper flakes. Sadly, they usually get thrown on the lowly crudite old school restaurants and country clubs roll out for banquets (and usually have to roll back in). But, the rekindling of my romance with the radish came when I began to see it for its taste profile instead of where you might expect to see it, like on a relish tray. Its natural zippiness, water chestnut-like texture and perfect "SNAP!" on the teeth gets me wound up sometimes. Ok, not wound up, but this puny little vegetable is misunderstood, at best. Kind of like celery.

Radish by Fran Henig

You can cook radishes (try a braise, or quick saute) in the manner of a turnip, with appropriate amounts of butter and a little stock. You can julienne and toss in a salad or make a refined slaw to top tender and sweet striped bass. Or whatabout the all-the-rage pickling? Money. For an hors d'oeuvres, try a little hot/cold thing and toast pieces of sour dough bread with cream cheese or good quality ricotta until a slight color develops; slice radishes thinly and layer on top with some sea salt and chives. DAMN, that's good eatin'.

One of the simplest combinations, however, is salted butter and cold, raw radishes. Those who know are nodding- and, those who don't are asking, "WTF?" All I can say is get thee to the produce stand, with dispatch. Use a quality butter and let it warm slightly until spreadable. WINNING.

Photo courtesy of Minnesota Monthly

Chef Quote of the Week: Gabrielle Hamilton

2011-03-02T08:11:00.000-05:00

“I’m going to eat foie gras...I’m going to have sex with whoever I want to have sex with. I don’t want politics to deny me these experiences. And I’m not having them every day. So it’s not rapacious or gluttonous. Please.”
Chef Gabrielle Hamilton, Prune, NYC

More Songs About Buildings and Food

2011-02-23T12:52:00.001-05:00

Everyone seems to think they know about music from 1978. Ignoring the simultaneous exploding genres of disco, country and western and metal, there were bands making music that didn't fit any mold, and as such, they were largely missed by Americans. Kraftwerk, O.M.D. and Talking Heads arguably did their best and most unique work in the late 70s.

More Songs About Buildings and Food is the second album from TH. Its jangly, bouncy guitar riffs and hyper drum beats career through funk and reggae with pschobilly reverberation echoed by David Byrne's stranger-than-life voice and lyrics. To say the album was ahead of its time is a huge understatement. But then, so was the band. No performance captures the genius of Talking Heads more for me than this clip of "Found a Job" from the More Songs... album. It's from the 1984 film Stop Making Sense directed by Johnathan Demme. It's 3 and half minutes of the four members doing what they do best.

Chef Quote of the Week: Thomas Keller

2011-02-19T18:25:00.000-05:00

"When you acknowledge, as you must, that there is no such thing as perfect food, only the idea of it, then the real purpose of striving toward perfection becomes clear: to make people happy, that is what cooking is all about."