Revisiting Thailand

Last April, Lou and I spent seventeen days traveling around Thailand. It was a wonderful trip from start to finish, but the food was one aspect of the trip we enjoyed most of all. As some of you readers know, I took a long break from blogging late last spring and summer, and as a result I never posted about the food we sampled in Thailand. Now that a full year has passed, I thought I'd take you on a photographic look back on some of the simple and delicious food we tasted while visiting that lovely country.

A few words about Thai cooking: everywhere we went--Bangkok, Chiang Mai and on Phuket--the food was simple and made of fresh ingridients. Most often, we ate a spicy salad, made with a consistent base of fish sauce, lime and some assortment of fruits or vegetables and meat or fish, along with rice and some kind of curry, again made consistently with coconut milk, curry paste, whole green peppercorns, and some combination of vegetables and meats, fish or shellfish. No matter whether we ate on the street, at little cafes or in fancier restaurants, the food was always a delight.

Here are some pictures of a few of our meals.

Pork and kale with noodles at the Jim Thompson House Restaurant in Bangkok.



Lou at lunch in Pai in northwest Thailand before we rode the elephant. We often would down a large Singha with a lunch of rice and curry.



This is a spicy chicken curry with bamboo shoots (one of my favorites!).



Some delicious vegetables at dinner in Pai.



That same night we also ordered an unusual shaved lemongrass and cashew salad. I would not normally expect whole, raw lemongrass to be edible, but it was quite tasty with the cashews and light dressing of lime juice and fish sauce.



Here's a picture of a typical spicy beef salad, this one on Koh Racha, where we stayed for several nights at the southern end of Phuket.



While at the Racha, we took a Thai cooking class. Here's a picture of the chefs.



Here's our green curry.



And our Tom Yam Goong (spicy seafood soup).



And our spicy seafood salad.



And me enjoying the results of our class efforts.



A sample of the fresh seafood that was on display at markets everywhere we went. This is also on Koh Racha.



Here's a picture of my birthday cake at the Racha. It was an iced banana cake.



And, finally, here's a picture of the best Mango Sticky Rice we tasted in Thailand. We ordered it at our hotel, the Chedi, in Chiang Mai, and they served it with coconut ice cream. Yum!



What a trip!

You can take the boys out of the country, but can you take the country out of the boys? Or, Alinea meets Rockbridge.

I’ve been meaning to write up my meal at Alinea in Chicago for several weeks, and since I’ve decided to post once every day this week, I’m going to knock out this posting.

About four weeks ago I met five of my close friends from high school in Chicago for a weekend reunion. One of my friends has a membership in a destination vacation club and he graciously reserved a spacious condo for our use in the North Loop. Located on the 46th floor, the condo overlooked Grant and Millennium Parks and the Art Institute of Chicago and gave us a sweeping view of the Sears Tower, many other skyscrapers and Lake Michigan. Despite some low cloud cover that settled in for two of the days we were there, it was a spectacular place to stay.



Even more than the view, I enjoyed the opportunity to reconnect with my old friends. I’ve known some of these guys for more than thirty years, and we’ve managed to sustain our friendships through high school, college, into our 20s and 30s, despite the divergent directions our lives have taken. Two of us now live in California and the other four live in or near our hometown in Virginia. Without wives, boyfriends or children, each of us relished the chance to reconnect and enjoy each other. It was a special reunion.


We had planned very little for the weekend, waiting to see what would unfold and hoping to explore the city spontaneously once we all arrived. I wanted to make plans for dinner, however, and when we all first agreed to meet in Chicago I suggested we plan a meal at Charlie Trotter’s. I knew of Charlie Trotter’s, but had never eaten there before. I called and made a reservation with no problem at all. I was actually somewhat surprised by the ease with which I was able to reserve a table, especially after having tried so many times to book a table at The French Laundry. I expected more difficulty in making a reservation. I scoured the postings about Charlie Trotter’s on Chowhound and investigated the Chicago restaurant scene further and concluded that Charlie Trotter’s was a little tired. Instead, I decided that I wanted to try Alinea, Grant Achatz’s restaurant known for his version of molecular gastronomy that has received many rave reviews in the food press. I called and was able to book a table for six.

Some of my friends grumbled a little about the restaurant (mostly concerning the cost), but after hashing it on email before we arrived in Chicago everyone agreed to give it a try. It turned out to be a marvelous meal, both in terms of the food and in terms of our camaraderie. One of the nice things about the meal was that with a group of six we were able both to carry on conversations as a table, engaging all six of us, and to break off into side conversations of among just two or three of us. We alternated back and forth between having smaller, more intimate conversations and conversations involving all of us. We talked, of course, about the food and about what we were all experiencing thanks to Achatz and his staff, but we also talked about our current lives and the future and we reveled in our common memories of times past. I deeply respect and like all of those guys, and it meant a great deal to me to be able to spend the time with them.

Now, about the food.

Achatz offers two menus, the tasting, which is a fourteen course tasting menu, and the tour, which is a twenty two course tasting menu. We opted for the tasting and chose the wine parings to go along with dinner. At the start of the meal, the servers placed several sprigs of rosemary in the middle of the table. Immediately, the rosemary scent enveloped the table and set the stage for an unfolding feast of tastes and smells.

The first course (don’t worry, I’m going to describe every course) was a lovely little croquette featuring smoked steelhead roe. It was bite-sized, served on a small pedestal and it tasted a little like a smoked fish hush puppy.



A few courses later, we were served one of the most unusual dishes. It was the “apple.” The dish was actually a frozen or iced horseradish ball, bite-sized, topped with a small shaving of celery, resting in a small shot of apple puree, which looked, smelled and tasted like apple juice. The idea was to shoot the dish, and the dish enlivened the nose and palate. Lifting the glass, I smelled the celery, then swallowing the horseradish ball, my tongue came alive with the flaming sensation of horseradish, only to be immediately cooled and soothed by the apple juice chaser. It was a brilliant combination.



Three of the meat courses are worth describing. The first, and the best dish of the night, was the monkfish. Prepared and served three ways—as crisps, as roast and as mousse—the fish was served along with small onions and banana and lime purees. It was unbelievably good, and I liked the combination of the crispiness of the fish and the soft and tenderness of the roasted fish and the soft, saltiness of the mousse, along with the sweetness of onion and banana and the acidity of lime.



The next dish was, by far, the most dramatic. The servers place pillows of juniper air before each of us (cloth pillows were lined with plastic bags and filled with juniper infused air). Then, the servers placed the plates holding the duck preparation on the pillows, causing the pillows to slowly release juniper air to enhance the flavor of the duck. I’d say the juniper was a subtle addition, but the duck itself was a perfectly prepared, and many of my friends thought it was the best dish of the night. For me, it was second only to the monkfish.





The final meat worth mentioning was the lamb. The servers brought out three bite-sized preparations of lamb resting on 325 degree bricks. They then placed the rosemary sprigs that adorned the center of the table at the end of each of our bricks, allowing the rosemary to add to the smell of the lamb.



None of the desserts in particular stood out, though the final dessert, which was not printed on the menu, was a "caramel." It was really a meyer lemon beignet attached to a cinnamon stick—it was actually more or less a sweet, lemon and cinnamon hush puppy. It served as a complimentary bookend to the savory fish hush puppy that opened the meal. Those of us who finished the meal with coffee used the cinnamon sticks to stir our coffee. Delicious!



A few of the wines are also worth mentioning. The sommelier was a doppelganger for my friend Greg’s brother. He paid special attention to us and delivered some wonderful wine pairings. The best wine was the Vincent Dancer Chassagne-Montracht ler Cru "Tete du Clos", 2004, served with the monkfish. The other two dessert wines were also quite good, one from Hungry, Oremus Tokaji Aszu "5 Puttonyos" 1999 and one from Austria, Hans Tschida Chardonnay "Schilfwein", Neusiediersee, 2000. We also ordered a bottle of a Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, a Ken Wright Cellars Pinot 2004 (I think). We drank it in between courses.



A few final thoughts:

The space at Alinea is beautiful. The ultra-modern dining rooms are sleek and calm, with low lighting and gray, black and cream color tones. The walls were sparsely decorated and with several minimalist flower arrangements placed around each of the dining rooms.

I was somewhat surprised by the static nature of the menu. We were served the exact menu that I had read on the Alinea website a week before we showed up at the restaurant, and the menu is still the same today. Coming from California, where most restaurants change their menus almost daily, depending upon what’s most fresh, I expected more or less the same at Alinea. Achatz, who trained at The French Laundry, seems to take the view that he’d rather perfect his dishes and serve them consistently for a season than change the menu daily. I was a little disappointed that the menu did not seem to vary more often and that we weren’t trying some new creations. I was also disappointed in by the response from one of our servers about where they source the food. I asked whether all the food was organic, locally and sustainably farmed, and the server’s reply was, to say the least, vague. He said was that Alinea uses some of the same producers that supply The French Laundry. I was surprised that the menu did not include a statement about food sourcing. No matter, I was still blown away by Achatz’s attention to detail, his careful, beautiful and tasty preparations and by the experience as a whole.

If you find yourself in Chicago any time soon, I highly recommend trying out Alinea.

And thanks to my Lexington friends for a wonderful weekend.

Coi

Foie Gras Ice Cream.

Those four words alone could serve as a summary of the outstanding meal Lou and I shared on Friday night at Coi (pronounced Kwah).

I had read about Coi a few times over the last year, including most recently in the current issue of Food & Wine. I can’t say that anything I had read led me to want to break down the door, but it was on my list of restaurant to try. Then, Lou had dinner with a friend on Thursday night and when he mentioned that I had recently experienced a wonderful meal at Alinea while I was in Chicago in March his friend suggested that we try out Coi, where Daniel Patterson performs his own version of molecular gastronomy.

On the way to the pool on Friday night we called over to see if we could reserve a table. Success! They could seat us at 8:45. We hurried through our workout and headed over for dinner.

I was completely unprepared for what was about to unfold. My impressions about the restaurant were so vague and off-based that I did not know we would end up having one of the best meals I’ve eaten so far this year (it’s been a good year for eating out so far). We let the talented staff spoil and pamper us, we soaked in the sleek, but warm design of the dining room and we enjoyed every bite of memorable feast Patterson and his staff prepared for us.



You can see from the menu that Patterson has constructed an eleven course tasting menu, priced at $115. We chose the full tasting—as opposed to a four course mini-tasting menu priced for less—and asked that they serve us both options, which we would share, when the menu allowed for two choices on certain courses. I learned that lesson at Hatfield’s—we were able to taste everything on the menu. We also ordered the wine pairings to go along with our meal, in large part because the sommelier enthusiastically described some of his innovative wine parings (more on the wine later). Before we were seated, I did not know that the menu was designed as a tasting menu, so I was very much surprised, and delighted, to read about what was in store for us.

I’ll spare you every detail about each course, but a few of the courses are worth commenting on in detail:

The first course was a compote, I suppose, of pink grapefruit, ginger, tarragon and black pepper foam, served in a small bowl set on a long, rectangular plate. The bowl was set to the left side of the plate, and on the right side was a drop of Coi perfume (on sale for $49). Our server instructed us to rub the perfume on our wrists, smell it and then begin to eat the dish. The aroma was light and flowery (neither one of us could identify the exact flower scent), but the combination of the smell with the cool acidity of the grapefruit and the spice of the ginger and the depth of the tarragon, all topped with black pepper foam (which was actually white) was a thoroughly inviting way to begin the meal. The combinations were all fresh, light and airy, and I felt a little like we were settling on a cloud. The dish was paired with Champagne, of course, which only enhanced our sense of delight and good feelings.

Next up: Yuba “Pappardelle” with soy milk, English peas, fava beans and leaves and flowers. The dish was a modern twist on the traditional dish of peas and cream sauce over pasta, but Patterson’s version was modernized using more healthy ingredients. Yuba—the skin from tofu—replaced the pasta and soy milk took the place of the cream. The peas were still peas, though they were very fresh and enhanced by the addition of fava beans and “leaves and flowers.” I suppose the dish actually was healthier than the traditional dish, but what struck me about it was the lovely lightness and freshness of the dish, which pleasantly evoked the season and excited my palate.

The third outstanding dish was the slow cooked farm egg farro stew, garden rosemary, parmesan. I thought this dish was an interpretation on eggs and grits. The egg, which had been slowly simmered in the shell for several hours and then cooked in the stew, was perfectly set on top of the stew. The farro stew was white in color, creamy, somewhat thick, rich, and both soft and warm. A light parmesan foam, with bits of rosemary, rested on top of the egg and the stew. The yolk of the egg mixed in with the stew, and combined with the rosemary and foam to make tasty and rich comfort food. It was the best dish of all the non-dessert courses.



Finally, the piece de resistance was the second dessert. On the menu, the second dessert was listed as a chocolate parfait, served with cucumber ice cream. Interesting, huh? The cucumber ice cream by itself was light and refreshing; the way that water infused with cucumbers is light and refreshing. The chocolate part of the dessert was made up of a thin chocolate wafer, which separated the ice cream from a thick, dense, rich bittersweet chocolate mousse. Separately, the ice cream and the chocolate mousse were terrific, but together they didn’t quite work. Chocolate and cucumbers do not naturally compliment each other. It was the only dish all night that left us disappointed.

I told our server that I didn’t think the two worked well together, and she told us that the cucumber and chocolate combination was new. She said that they used to pair the chocolate with foie gras ice cream. I almost lost it. I oooed and ahhhed, and I told her I thought foie gras ice cream and chocolate sounded like an amazing combination. I also asked if we could taste the ice cream. She said she’d check with the pastry chef. A few minutes later she returned to our table with one new plate of chocolate parfait, with foie gras ice cream. We tasted the ice cream alone and then with the chocolate, and both ways it was better than I had imagined. The ice cream was uber-buttery and rich. The taste was not so much of foie gras, per se, as more just intense, smooth, soft and rich (perhaps that is the taste of foie gras). How can you go wrong with triple fat ice cream? But, with the chocolate, the ice cream was so over-the-top and amazing, I honestly can barely describe the sensation of each of those bites. The richness and the buttery flavor of the ice cream set a platform for the chocolate to soar (sorry for the cheesy language, but that’s all that comes to mind). It was inspired. We ate every bite.

We both raved to the server, and I begged her, for the good of all foodies in the world, to persuade the pastry chef to return the ice cream to the menu. She told us that they had only recently removed the ice cream because so many Coi diners seemed slightly unsettled by the idea of foie gras ice cream and the wait staff had offered to make so many substitutions that the chef decided to pull it from the menu. Shameful. Judging from the reaction of people I’ve told about the ice cream, I’m beginning to understand why they took it off the menu. Even though I enthusiastically described the dish to several people, most of them looked at me with more or less blank stares or made comments of indifference. Oh well. Foie gras ice cream is a dessert that no restaurant will top. Wow. Before leaving the subject, I wanted to mention how the pastry chef came up with the idea (I was somewhat shocked I had never seen it before). Our server told us that he had been served a savory dish of foie gras with a drizzling of chocolate, and that led him to think of pairing chocolate and foie gras, with the foie gras in the form of ice cream. I thought it was brilliant.

Finally—I know this has turned into a long posting—the wines. The very enthusiastic sommelier made some bold and risky choices, and I’m not sure all of them worked. While many of his choices were inspired—the sake pairing for the Kampachi Sashimi and the sherry for the artichoke dish—but the Madeira which he paired with the leek terrine while a good pairing, made for an abrupt change from the wines and sake served immediately before it. Also, the Chenin Blanc, to which he added freshly squeezed lime juice and was paired with the yuba pappardelle, was underwhelming. As a Chenin Blanc fan, I would have preferred to taste the wine without the enhancement, but it was interesting trying it out. Also, he served a second Madeira with the chocolate, and while a good pairing, I would have preferred a port or another wine, especially after having a Madeira earlier in the meal. He was charming and fun, and I’m happy we accepted his experiments, but overall, I’m not sure they worked.

Despite my grumblings about a few of the wine pairings, I highly recommend Coi. Go now, before you can’t get in without waiting two months!

Easter Brunch Featuring: Malt Ball Cake!

I made brunch yesterday for a few friends. As is often the case, I had been fantasizing about the menu for several weeks.

I made eggs benedict with a twist. Instead of using ham or hollandaise, I drizzled creme fraiche (actually homemade mock creme fraiche) and crumbled smoked trout over homemade biscuits and poached eggs, topped with chopped green onions, chopped italian parsley and freshly ground black pepper. I served grilled asparagus on the side.



For the biscuits, I used Julia Childs's simple recipe for baking powder biscuits (1 cup of flour, 1/3 cup of vegetable shortening, 1 tablespoon baking powder, 1 teaspoon of salt and 1 cup of milk, mixed together, barely kneaded, brushed with butter and baked for 12 minutes at 425 degrees). The dough was very sticky, but the biscuits came out light, fluffy and delicious. I poached the eggs the night before, on the advice of Julia Child (for exactly four minutes) and heated them up the next morning (for only one minute in warm simmering water). Despite my worries, the eggs turned out well. The yolks were runny and yellow--perfect with the biscuits and trout.

But the focus of the brunch was a malt ball cake I made for dessert. Last December Food & Wine magazine published a photograph of a malt ball cake and named it as one of the upcoming tastes for 2007, but they did not print the recipe. I was dissappointed because the cake sounded good and I thought Lou might like it. I wrote a letter to the editor expressing my disappointment and asking them to print the recipe. Not long after I sent the letter via email, I got a response back from the assistant to the editor at Food + Wine asking if they could print my letter. I was thrilled and I gave her my permission. My short letter, along with the recipe, appeared in the March issue. The ironic thing is that when I told Lou about it he said he didn't think the cake sounded good at all. So much for me judging his tastes.

I had been thinking of the right time to make the cake since F+W published the recipe and the brunch seemed like a perfect occasion. I got it in my head to cover the cake with malt balls, and Lou and I decided to check out the malt ball selection at the new Miette Confiserie in Hayes Valley. Brad and Joey had told us about the new Miette last week, and I was eager to check it out. It's a beautiful store, and they had several jars of pastel malt balls on display for Easter. We were helped by Caitlin, one of the owners, and she made a helpful suggestion to crumble some malt balls up and add them as a layer to the cake. Brilliant!

I baked the cake on Saturday evening, and we assembled and decorated it later that night. I was skeptical about the recipe for the icing because it called for using 10 oz of milk chocolate, and no other cake I'd made before had called for using milk chocolate. I capitulated to the recipe and made it with the milk chocolate, and it turned out well despite my misgivings. Lou even said he thought it was the best icing he'd ever tasted.

After layering the cake and icing it thoroughly, we debated how to arrange the malt balls on the cake. After discussing various designs, including a big wave which would have run along the side with malt balls, we decided to create seven sections of different colors, in effect creating seven columns of colors around the cake. It worked. On top, we made five rows of different colors. We put it in the refrigerator to chill the icing, with hopes of fixing the malt balls in place.

After everyone had eaten on Sunday, we let the cake make its debut. We waited until the last minute to pull the cake out of the fridge, which in hindsight was a mistake because the cake was very cold and dense, but the dramatic debut was worth it. We served it with some homemade strawberry-balsamic ice cream (again, inspired by Joey and Brad who served us strawberry-balsamic ice cream from Bi-Rite Creamery the week before). Our ice cream was a little tangey since we more or less made up the recipe, using a 1/4 of balsamic vinegar. Nonetheless, it still made a nice compliment for the cake. The cake was moist and the malt balls enhanced the subtle malt flavor of the cake itself. We left the cake out after the brunch ended, and Lou and I thought the cake tasted even better as it warmed up (I've eaten at least four slices since!). It stikes me as odd, but the cake became even more moist as it came to room temperature, and the warming also unleashed the richness of the butter-cream icing. It would have been better served at room temperature on Sunday morning. Oh well.

After all was said and done, Lou loved the cake I had asked Food and Wine to publish for him.




UPDATE: Check out this posting about the brunch from one of our guests.

Making Pies

I've made several pies over the last few weeks. I first made a couple of rhubarb pies late last summer using Julia Childs's recipe for flakey pie dough. Her recipe is perfect, and if you follow her directions you can't screw up the dough. I tried making pie dough once later in the fall and it was a total disaster. The dough did not take and it never adhered. I now realize that I failed to use enough water to provide a base for the flour, butter and shortening to stick together. I'm embaressed to say that I think I used only a few teaspoons of water instead of the full cup of water called for in the recipe. Duh! Anyway, having made that mistake, I feel like I've now got the hang of it. I also learned to follow the recipe.

I made a couple of cherry pies in March, and then I made a strawberry-rhubarb pie on Saturday and a plain rhubarb pie on Sunday. I added some orange zest to the rhubarb pies, and I loved the hint of orange flavoring. The zest mellowed the tartness of the rhubarb, especially the less than fully ripened rhubarb I bought at the store. I served the pies with a sauternes, which pulled out the flavor of the orange zest in particular.

Here's a slice of the cherry pie.

Strawberry-rhubarb pie: filling, fresh from the oven and a slice with homemade vanilla bean ice cream.



And, the rhubarb pie--see the green, not-totally-ripened pieces of rhubard through the vents? It tasted amazing!

Some Baking Photos

I'm going to take a moment to post a few photos of some of the results of some recent (ok, really old) baking.

Cooking Gay?

Adam has an interesting posting today on Serious Eats. I don't have time to share my thoughts in full now, but I'll chime in more later...

Also, Bruni writes more about his essay last week...

Best Brunch in SF: Roast Chicken Hash at Universal Cafe

Quickly, I want to mention that I finally made it back to Universal Cafe for brunch on Saturday. Universal has long been my favorite brunch spot in the city, but I haven't been there for brunch in at least six months. There's no good reason why. I've just been busy, and I have not been going to brunch as much as I used to. It's a beautiful restaurant, especially during the day when light streams in through both the south facing windows at the front of the cafe and the skylights in the ceiling. The decor is simple--white walls, marble tables, concrete floors, and a high ceiling. I love the brightness and the openness of the space. They also usually place a stunning, oversized flower arrangement on the bar.

The food is fantastic. It's a popular brunch spot, and you can expect to wait a good while if you arrive after noon on Sundays. Saturdays are less crowded, and so it was the first place I thought of taking a good friend who was visiting from out of town last Saturday. True to form, the menu looked good. I ordered a scone--freshly baked with apricots--to start. For my main meal, I was drawn to the roast chicken hash, which was served with poached eggs on top,along with creme fraiche and salsa verde. The potatoes were crisp, but not too hard or heavy. The chicken was moist and tender, and the combination of the potatoes, chicken, eggs, creme fraiche and salsa was delicious. It was both hearty and refreshing. It was a classic Universal Cafe dish. I hope they'll serve it again some time soon (the menu changes each weekend), though I may have to make it myself the next time I roast a chicken.

If you haven't done so already, be sure to check out Universal Cafe.

An Impromptu Meal At Chez Spencer

For some reason, I seem to be on a tear about dining out. I'm not complaining. I've eaten well over the last two weeks, and all of these experiences have given me plenty of posting material for Foodphiles. Thursday night, we ate at Chez Spencer, which just happens to be right around the corner from our house. For those of you don't know about Chez Spencer, it's a charming little French restaurant at 14th Streets and Folsom in San Francisco. It's literally around the corner from Rainbow Grocery. The restaurant is set back behind a high wall, and the front porch is covered and heated for dining and the interior of the main restaurant is open, but dimly lit, with a high vaulted ceiling. Chez Spencer is one of the few restaurants I know of in San Francisco that has a wood-burning oven (Zuni is the other). Though you can only barely smell the fire inside, outside, however--particularly just as you walk into the covered porch--the smell of smoke lures you indoors.

We walked over to see if they just happened to have an open table for two. We had walked by a few times recently--for those of you who read my earlier posting, you'll recognize this as the most aggressive form of shuffling the cards to get into good restaurants--but had struck out each time. This night we were in luck, and they seated us at a two top on the porch, the only table left in the restuarant. One of the things that stood out as soon as we walked in was the lively piano music coming from the upright piano wedged between the door and the bar. A pianist, Alex Kallao, was playing jazz and old standards, with a few Broadway hits thrown in for fun. Chez Spencer was alive.

Chef Laurent Katgely serves two menus, a five course tasting or a la carte. We ordered a la carte. For starters, Lou ordered Champagne Oysters Gratinée with spinach mousse. The oysters were surrounded by spinach mouse and topped with egg and champagne. While good, we were both somewhat disappointed that we couldn't taste the oysters. I ordered Roasted Cauliflower Soup with toasted sun flower seeds and curry oil. The soup was delicious, though it could have been hotter. It was smooth and delicate, and the blend of the cauliflower, the seeds and the oil were fantastic. We shared a glass of Kurt Angerer Gruner Vetliner with our first course.

For his main course, Lou ordered Roasted Lamb Rack Braised Artichoke “Barigoule" with Fromage Blanc. The lamb was good, and the artichokes, in particular were cooked perfectly. They were neither crispy nor hard, but firm and soft in the middle. The fromage blanc was also a welcome compliment to the grassy flavor of the lamb. I ordered a Wood Grilled Flat Iron Steak with Morels á la Crème and Truffle Butter and topped with micro greens. Amazing. The steak, the morels, the butter made a creamy, yet earthy, combination. It was a stunning dish. I savored each bite, carefully assembling a piece of steak, with a few morels, some micro greens and some butter and juice. For wine, Lou ordered the Lazy River Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley, and I ordered a Roussillon, which our excellent server, Dagin, suggested because he thought the terroir would compliment the morels well. He was right. While the wine on its own was overpowering in its terroir--no fruit, all dry dirt--it was perfect with the rich and creamy steak dish.

For dessert, we ordered the Hazelnut Parfait, with Espresso Caramel and Piedmont Hazelnuts and the Auslese riesling. The dessert was also incredible. The parfait, was firm and covered with the caramel and hazelnuts. After dessert, Dagin offered us a digestivo, which helped cleanse the palate and wrap up the night.

All in all, the food, the setting, the music led us to pledge to spend the last Thursday of each month at Chez Spencer.

Thoughts on the Chef Almighty

Today in the New York Times food section, Frank Bruni threw down the gauntlet to tyrannical chefs. He argues that the "balance of power" in many "upscale" restaurants, mostly in New York, has shifted in favor of chefs and away from diners, and he sites as evidence the increase in the number of tasting menus, the attitude of hosts and reservationists, time limits on meals, higher prices and the pushing of chef-authored cookbooks on diners. All in all, being the Times restaurant critic and being focused almost exclusively on New York restaurants, I'm sure he's right. My own experience of top New York restaurants is somewhat limited; I've only been to Per Se, Babbo and Daniel, and I would say that my own experiences at those few restaurants were not all together bad.

Actually, my dining experience at Per Se was thoroughly delightful. I never felt pressure to leave--I stayed with my date (Lou) for nearly four hours--and I felt like the servers and the kitchen bent over backwards to cater to our needs. We knew, of course, that we were submitting ourselves to the chef's tasting menu, but we willingly did so expecting to be treated to outstanding food and wanting to try the all-encompassing tasting and pairing experience. As it turned out we had plenty of choice. The menu offered three different tastings--one was the nine course vegetarian tasting menu, one was the chef's nine course tasting menu and the final one was the five course tasting menu, all priced at $175. Rather than feeling constrained by the limited choices or lack of control, I chose the five course tasting menu in part because I was able to choose from a selection of three or four dishes for each course. I also supplemented (paid more for) one of the dishes from the chef's tasting menu as an additional course in my meal. And, yes, we chose the full wine pairing as well. It was the most wonderful meal I've ever eaten in a restaurant. Each course was artfully presented, and the tastes were exciting and pleasurable. I also thought the setting was beautiful (we were there when The Gates were up in New York, and it was lovely looking out over Central Park at a sea of orange and white snow). I have a distinct memory of the smell of the fire burning in the fireplace in center of the bank of windows overlooking Columbus Circle and the park with the skyline in the distance. Both the service and the atmosphere were warm and friendly. It was a stunning evening.

I can't say as much about Babbo or Daniel. Actually, the meal we shared at Babbo with two friends--at the spur of the moment--was quite good. Bruni is right that Babbo is a loud restaurant, but the food was good. I was not keeping meticulous tasting notes on every meal I ate at restaurants then, so I don't remember exactly what we ordered, but I remember being pleased with the food and with the overall experience (I think one dish we ordered was the beef carpaccio). I do know that because we had not made a reservation we ended up at a table in the bar, which was fairly small, but we never felt crowded or rushed, which is a testament to kind treatment by the staff. The other thing that stands out from that night is that Bono was in the restaurant.

Daniel, on the other hand, was not particularly impressive. I can't remember anything I ordered, though I have a vague memory of an interesting dessert (Boulud is known for his desserts, after all), but the restaurant itself was cavernous and gaudy. The whole place had a stuffy feel about it. I much prefer more intimate settings. On that same trip, we also ate at August, and I think the overall dining experience was better there than at Daniel, though I may have been swayed by the fact that the wood-burning oven warmed up the restaurant and made for a nice respite from the cold October rain that was falling outside (note the recurring theme of fires). I also remember the onion tart, which I think is still on the menu. Delicious! Or, perhaps I've grown fond of the pan-Mediterranean cuisine that makes up their menu as a consequence of all my eating at many of the best of the Bay Area's top restaurants--Chez Panisse, Oliveto and Zuni, among others--all of which focus on Mediterranean-inspired cuisine.

In San Francisco, my experience with the restaurants that might meet Bruni's criteria for tyrannical chefs is limited. Of the top restaurants, I've only been to Chez Panisse, Zuni, Oliveto, Quince, Nopa, Bouchon, Delfina, Slanted Door, and Farallon. So, I haven't tried, The French Laundry (though I'm going in March), Cyrus, Michael Minna, Gary Danko, Fluer de Lys, Boulevard. Bruni's comments about how difficult it can be to make a reservation at any of these restaurants resonated with me most of all. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to book a table at some of the restaurants I've just listed only to hear the busy signal or to be told either that there are no tables left or that I can only have a table 9:45 or later. I've come to regard reserving tables at these restaurants as purely a matter of luck--like shuffling a deck of cards--and my conclusion is that the only way to book a table is to call regularly, or at least periodically. So, every once in a while I dutifully call to find out that, once again, I'm out of luck.

I seem to have better luck making reservations for restaurants in other cities. I'm going to LA in February, and I was easily able to reserve tables at Hatfield's and AOC, and for a trip to Chicago in March, I was able to hold tables at Alinea and the Custom House. All of them are well reviewed and much talked about restaurants with what Bruni would probably regard as powerful chefs. Alinea is the only one with a tasting menu.

For me, as a tasting menu novice and despite my annoyance with the difficulty of booking tables, I don't mind the idea of subjecting myself to the will of a chef. I think the overall dining experience is worth it. Based on my experience at Per Se, I'm game for another meal designed by Thomas Keller (the idea of a chef designing the meal says it all, right Frank?), and, I'm looking forward to dinner at Alinea as well. I'll have to weigh in again after both of those meals.

UPDATE: Frank Bruni has posted some additional thoughts on his blog, expanding on his overall point, which he restates, "that restaurants too often seem to put their own self-regard ahead of our satisfaction and our say."

Some easy things to do with chicken and chicken stock

What to do with chicken stock? Let me tell you...

A about a week ago we hosted a small dinner party and roasted a chicken using a rub given to us for Christmas. I won't go into the details of the roast chicken, but the rub was very spicy and full of intense flavors. As is usually the case, we made stock with the leftover carcass. The stock retained much of the spiciness of the chicken, and we ended up with several containers of stock in our refrigerator.

On Saturday, we made a spicy chicken soup. Our good friends recently had a baby boy and we wanted to prepare a meal that would nourish them and taste good.

So, here's my recipe for spicy homemade chicken soup:

6-8 cups of homemade spicy chicken stock (or any chicken stock)
2 carrots
1 celery stalk
2-3 small to medium shallots, coarsely chopped
4-6 chicken thighs, washed and dried, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 small cerano peppers, chopped
1 large bunch of Italian parsley, chopped
1 large bunch of cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 cup pasta shells
pinches of freshly ground sea salt and freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil

Lightly salt and pepper the chicken thighs

Add oil to a cast iron Dutch oven, medium heat. In a separate pot, heat the chicken broth over high heat, reduce when the broth comes to a boil and let simmer.

Add the shallots, carrots, peppers and celery to the Dutch oven, and saute for 5-10 minutes until shallots become translucent and carrots begin to brown. Stir from time to time, adding salt and pepper as necessary.
Slightly increase the heat to medium high and add the chicken. Mix the chicken with the vegetables and let brown for another 5-10 minutes, covered. Be sure to stir the chicken to make sure it cooks thoroughly.

Add the parsley and cilantro and mix both with the chicken and vegetables. Reduce heat to medium again, cover and let cook for another 5-10 minutes stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in a separate pot.

Once the chicken is cooked, add the broth and poasta to the Dutch oven, and stir chicken and vegetables into the broth. Cover and let simmer until ready to serve.



Our soup was deliciously spicy and wonderfully rich from the stock and from the accumulated flavors on the cast iron skillet. The soup also looked very green because of all the parsley and cilantro we put into the soup.



One comment about the chicken thighs: I've become a big fan of using thighs instead of chicken breasts. The main reason is that the flavor of the thighs is much better then breasts and thighs retain their moistness much better than breasts. Thighs are also more tender, and I think it's easier to judge when they're fully cooked.

Here's a salad we made to go along with the soup:



The next night, we had two remaining chicken thighs and we decided to saute them and cook them in some leftover marinara sauce.

We made this up as we went along, but basically we sauteed the chicken very much like we did the night before by sauteing some pressed garlic with two small bay leaves in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat, along with some halved pearl onions. Once the garlic and onions were heated up, we added the salted and lightly peppered chicken thighs and sauteed them until browned on both sides. Once browned, we added about a cup and a half of the marinara sauce, along with two whole tomatoes (they were leftover as well and we wanted to use them) and roasted the chicken in the oven at 400 degrees for about 15-20 minutes.



The tomatoes were soft and the chicken was thoroughly infused with the marinara sauce. And, best of all, the pearl onions were soft, moist and translucent. I made some risotto in our rice cooker (I know it's cheating, but with lots of chicken stock, some wine, salt, pepper and some golden raisins, it actually turned out pretty much like traditional risotto...I was shocked). It was a great meal.

Minako

Lou and I finally made a trip to Minako, a Japanese Organic Sushi Restaurant on Mission Street, on Saturday night.

We were treated to a fantastic meal served by the co-owner, Judy. Judy and her mom run Minako, with Judy's mom heading up the kitchen and Judy running the front of the house. Judy said that by maintaining separate spheres they're able to keep the peace. From the customer's point of view, I would agree. They served up a marvelous meal.

It was a wonderful meal for many reasons. First of all, the food was outstanding. To start off, we ordered a bowl of lotus root dumpling soup. I had never tried lotus root before, and I was intrigued by the description of the dish on the menu. The root was soft, wrapped in dough, and it tasted mildly of flower-scented wood. It was floating in a light soy sauce broth, and the combination of flavors--mostly salt and woodiness--were soft and surprisingly well-balanced. I ordered a beer, and Lou ordered a small bottle of unfiltered sake.

We then tasted a spicy tuna special starter--kind of a tuna tartar--which was delicately placed atop a small rice cracker and mixed with a creamy sauce, scallions and plenty of tobiko. Delicious! For the main course, we ordered the Red Spider--a soft shell crab roll with avocado, wrapped with tuna---a Cole Roll--salmon and avocado--and another roll (I can't remember its name...Daikon perhaps..)--made of tuna, salmon, avocado and more tobiko. Though I love soft shell crab rolls, the last roll was particularly good. It was large--much larger than bite size--and a lively combination of flavors. The tobiko made the dish, however, as the pops of the roe brought the roll alive.

While the decor at Minako is simple, the atmosphere was lively and fun. Judy was playing upbeat 70s and 80s dance and disco music, and at various times we looked around to see several other diners table dancing to the music. Judy herself was a charming host, engaging us in conversation, checking in on us and talking to us about the food. I told her about this blog, and I promised to write up her restaurant when she said that they're small and they don't do any advertising (I was surprised Minako wasn't even listed in Zagats, since so many people have told me about it).

All in all, the sushi was fantastic and the dining experience was delightful, and given that Minako is close to our home, I suspect we'll become regular customers. The many people who have recommended Minako to me have warned me about the long wait, but if you have to wait (we sat down immediately) I can assure you that it's worth it. Go try for yourself.

Minako
2154 Mission St
San Francisco, CA 94110
415/864-1888

Bouchon

I added another notch on my top restaurant list last night. Lou and I had dinner at Bouchon, Thomas Keller's French bistro down the street from The French Laundry and also with a location in Las Vegas. I unexpectedly made a reservation early last week, and we decided to spend part of the long weekend in the Napa Valley wine country. Having only been up to Napa twice in the almost six years of living in San Francisco, I was intrigued to spend the weekend exploring. And, I could think of no better place to anchor a trip than one of Keller's restaurants.

The bright red exterior sets the stage for the classic bistro decor inside. High ceilings, gilded tile floors, tall mirrors welcome diners at small, closely arranged tables. The noise level was high and the crowd was more bawdy than reserved. For me Bouchon contrasted sharply from the spaciousness and the gracefulness of dining at Per Se, where the tables stand far apart from each other and the overall tone is more reserved and reverential.

The food, however, is nothing but graceless. Unlike Per Se, the expansive menu is designed for al la carte ordering, and there is no tasting menu. Each dish was presented on a lovely white plate emblazoned with the word, "Bouchon," and the food was arranged beautifully on the plates.

We started our meal with a dozen oysters, three different kinds, the names of which I don't remember. The most plump of the oysters, the darkest of the three kinds, tasted somewhat strongly of salt and made the best pairing with the yeasty Champagne we ordered to accompany the shellfish. The second batch of oysters were smaller in size and more beige in color, tasted of lettuce. The last oysters, were the most surprising in that both Lou and I though they tasted like radishes. They were small, grayish beige in color and extremely salty. The intense saltiness for some reason seemed to bring out the distinct flavor of a radish. Those oysters blended the least well with our champagne.

The most surprising dish of the evening, were "Beignets de Brandade de Morue," salt cod, lightly fried and serve with tomato confit and fried sage. We were served three beignets, shaped like small Anjou pears, each one resting on a bedding of tomato confit and topped with pieces of fried sage to look like small leaves. They were stunningly beautiful. I expected them to be dense and heavy, tasting strongly of salt cod, but instead, they were light, soft and fluffy, with a subtle flavor of the cod. I irreverently remarked to Lou that they reminded me of pear-shaped, salt cod hush puppies, but in reality they were magnificent and delightful. The flavor of the tomato and sage brightened the fluffiness and the saltiness of the beignets, and made the dish one of the standouts of the night. This dish most closely reminded me that Bouchon is a creation of Thomas Keller, as this kind of dish could have easily earn a place on the menu at Per Se.



For salads, I ordered a caramelized fennel salad with citrus, frisee and a nicoise olive vinaigrette. I was intrigued by the caramelized fennel because I usually find fennel an overpowering and sometimes distasteful flavor. The balance of this salad, as I had hoped, was perfect. The sweet, earthly nuttiness of the fennel was softened by caramelizing the root in butter, and the pieces of white and ruby grapefruit and some tangerine added a zip to the fennel and gave it a pleasing lightness and balance. Lou ordered a salad of braised hearts of romaine, served with proscuitto, cream dressing and a soft fried quail's egg. Though heavier than my salad, the flavors of the cream, prosciutto and the romaine blended together well.

For my main course, I ordered pan roasted sea scallops with glazed chestnuts, parsnip puree and apple cider beurre blanc. I've long been a fan of scallops, but I rarely see them on menus any more. I've grilled them a few times recently, but this was among the best presentations of scallops I can remember. In addition to the scallops, chestnuts and the parsnip puree, a few sautéed apples were tossed among the other ingredients. The apple cider buerre blanc was light enough not to overpower the scallops, and yet strong enough to give the whole dish a warm, subtle flavoring of apples and butter. The parsnip puree helped keep the taste of cider in check. The scallops were firm, but not at all chewy or tough, and though soft, the relative firmness of the chestnuts served as a pleasant counter-balance to the softness of all the other ingredients. Lou ordered a special cod dish, served with black cabbage and a carrot mixture. He paired his fish with a pinot noir from Napa Valley.



We opted for a cheese course before dessert, made up of Brillat Savarin, a cow's milk cheese, Charollais, a goat's milk cheese, and Cypress Grove Mad Rover Roll, another goat's milk cheese. Served with honeycomb and bread, we tasted a half glass of a Cuilleron, which enhanced the flavors of the cheeses well.

For dessert, I was drawn to the only special dessert for the night--a coconut pot de crème. It was amazing. Served with two shortbread cookies in a little white tureen, the yellow custard was light and thoroughly infused with the taste of coconut. We paired it with a late harvest Dolce from the Napa Valley, and dessert ended up being an unexpected treat at the end of a wonderful meal.

All in all, Bouchon was a wonderful experience. We outlasted three tables around us, and we spent less than a third of what we spent on a meal at Per Se. Even with four full glasses of wine and two half glasses of dessert wine, oysters, salads, two main courses, cheese and dessert, we ate well for only a few hundred dollars and much less than our evening at Per Se.

Trout and Tomatoes

We pan-fried trout, made mashed potatoes with celery root and roasted tomatoes the other night.

The trout and mashed potato recipe came from Donna Hay, and it could not be easier.

Bascially, she calls for rubbing the fish inside and out with a combination of salt and pepper and juniper berries. Since we didn't have any berries we decided to pour about two tablespoons of gin in the pan, along with some oil to saute the fish. We cooked it for about 5 minutes per side to allow it to cook through and brown. Our kitchen smelled like a fish pond, but the fish tasted delicious. I loved the flavor of a freshwater stream, and the texture of the fish was light, soft and tender.



For the mashed potatoes, we cooked the potatoes (only two small potatoes) in a cup of milk along with one chopped up celery root. After five minutes, we strained the potato/celery root mixture and "mashed" it in our food processor. They turned out very well mashed, and they were a nice base for the fish. I like the idea of cooking potatoes in milk, and I'm going to do that again in the future.



As for the tomatoes, I coated them in olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, threw in many sprigs of basil and roasted them for about 35 minute at 450 degrees. Let me just say that I can think of no better flavor combination. I love the way roasting tomatoes breaks them down and unleashes all their natural sweetness. The basil enhances the sweetness and brings out the full flavor of the tomatoes. I also love how roasting tomatoes causes them to lose all firmness and become a watery tomato slush. They were delicious.



It was a fantastic meal.