Month: October 2014

A Final Meal on Nantucket …

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It’s a small island, and in 400 years, give or take a year or two, it will be submerged by the waters of the Atlantic. But it’s had a good, long run, and Angela and I enjoyed our time on Nantucket this month. We took part in a beautiful wedding, met some great people, cooked some food and fed 50 people, and spent some time in a few good restaurants.

Our final dinner of the trip was the best one, at a restaurant called The Proprietors Bar & Table. (We had unknowingly encountered the restaurant’s chef, Thomas Berry, several evenings before at a bar, and then the next day saw him walking a bulldog around town. We, in essence, followed him and his girlfriend, the restaurant’s pastry chef, to their kitchen.) It was a rainy evening, and we were seated at a table in the rear of the tiny dining room. The menu excited me, we ordered a good wine, and the dishes began arriving. We talked, and drank, and were warm and happy.

Pork cheeks done right, shrimp cooked the way I like them – not overcooked – some excellent mushrooms, and a few perfect beets, all accompanied by ideal ingredients. Simple, honest, full of confident technique, and satisfying.

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Nantucket Eats: Pork Belly, Duck, and Lamb at Oran Mor Bistro

The wedding is over, the guests have all left the island. Angela and I remain, enjoying the warm breezes blowing on Nantucket from the Atlantic (the temperature reached 69 Fahrenheit yesterday). Abundant sun, cool evenings, walks on cobblestone streets. The season is over, many shops are in the process of closing, and quiet calmness is everywhere.

We have devoted a portion of our evenings to restaurants, with mixed results. Several nights ago we went to Oran Mor Bistro & Bar, a small place on the second floor of a building a short walk from the house in which we are staying. I’d read a review of Oran Mar in The New York Times, and a few people who had dined there told me they had enjoyed the food. (I phoned the restaurant during the day to ask about its corkage policy. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line replied: “We do not have a corkage fee because we have a wine list. I hope you will be able to find something you like on our extensive list.”)

We did find something on the list, a 2012 Laetitia Estate Pinot Noir, which we ordered after being led past a small bar to our table in the corner of restaurant’s front dining room. The interior space is warm, earth tones on the wall, low ceiling. (I could imagine Thomas Jefferson sitting at the table next to us, wine glass at the ready.)

A wine we drank with pork belly, duck, mushroom ravioli, and lamb.

A wine we drank with pork belly, duck, mushroom ravioli, and lamb.

Our waitress, whose voice I recognized as belonging to the woman who informed me of Oran Mor’s (non)-corkage policy on the phone earlier that day, displayed a perfunctory manner throughout the evening, smiling in what seemed a forced manner whenever she approached our table and declining to reply “You are welcome” when I thanked her for pouring the wine. All of which would have been fine if we had ended the meal after our very good first courses.

Shiitake mushroom ravioli, with squash and parmesan broth

Shiitake mushroom ravioli, with squash and parmesan broth

Smoked pork belly, radish, egg

Smoked pork belly, radish, egg

The smoked pork belly was some of the best I have had, at least since moving to Houston in 2013. The meat was cooked well, and retained a moistness that is often lacking in pork belly. The fatty parts were excellent, as well: they melted in my mouth with a pleasing flavor. The broth was a touch too sweet for me, but the radishes were crisp and a welcome addition to the plate. The ravioli was easily the best thing of the evening. Fresh, strong-tasting mushrooms, rich parmesan broth, and delicate fennel. The pasta was thin yet firm, and each flavor component of the dish melded agreeably.

We were in no hurry on that evening – unless it is absolutely necessary I firmly believe that one should never rush while dining – and several times had to tell a server that, no, we were not finished “working on” our plates. Oran Mor is not an inexpensive place – our bill before tip was $182 – and the service should better represent the niche the restaurant occupies.

While we waited for our main courses we talked about the wedding and the weather on Nantucket and the utilitarian beauty of the Cape Cod architectural style. Our experience at Oran Mor soon took an unfortunate turn.

Hard potatoes, passable duck (save the lackluster confit).

Hard potatoes, passable duck (save the lackluster confit).

I ordered the Pekin duck – breast and confit, sweet potato purée, Brussels sprouts, huckleberry compote – and Angela decided on the lamb. (She was attracted to the Kalamata olives and tomatoes, but, we later discovered, there was perhaps all of one olive in the dish, minced.) Again, if our meal had ended after the first course we would have been incredibly happy. Instead, I was served hard potatoes, bland Brussels sprouts, and dry confit. Yes, dry confit. Angela’s lamb was satisfactory, medium-rare, lacking salt. And those olives were nowhere to be found. I must state that my duck breast was good, but it was not enough to salvage the overall lack of attention to technique and flavor.

Dessert was Elvis’ Doughnuts, and if they had all been at least warm, we would have loved them. Banana cream, chocolate, and fried dough, but two of the doughnuts were warm.

Oran Mor is attractive, and, judging by our ravioli and pork belly, can put out good food. I will reserve a final verdict until after my next visit.

The Brockhaus Does a Wedding on Nantucket

The menu was set, the venue ready, the brides were prepared. A wedding would soon take place on Nantucket, and The Brockhaus was in charge of the food. The beautiful couple had given me their directives for the weekend – five hors d’oeuvres immediately following the ceremony on Saturday afternoon, four side dishes to accompany the barbecue from Salt Lick that would be shipped in and served for dinner on Saturday evening, and the festivities would close with brunch on Sunday. The house, which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, would be full of smiles and music and warmth and activity for the next three days.

Alison and Constance enter a new phase. (Photo courtesy Oliver Quillia)

Alison and Constance enter a new phase. (Photo courtesy Oliver Quillia)

I consulted with Constance and Alison about the food, and came up with an hors d’oeuvre menu that was, by turns, classic, unfussy, and, elegant. Blinis with crème fraîche and caviar; chicken liver mousse on baguette slices; butternut squash shooters; pimento cheese sandwiches; and fried curried oysters on the half shell with a cucumber-sesame oil sauce and salmon roe.

Wolfgang Puck had it on the menu at Spago, and we did it on Nantucket.

Wolfgang Puck had it on the menu at Spago, and we did it on Nantucket.

Several weeks before the wedding took place, as the number of attendees increased, I decided to hire someone to help with the prepping and cooking, and lucked out with Lucas Maylott, who lives on the island and works as a private chef. He and I worked seamlessly in the kitchen, without a hitch. Angela did her part as well, assisting with the hors d’oeuvres and keeping things running smoothly.

The brides were married, the hors d’oeuvres were passed among the guests by several servers, and we completed the side dishes for the barbecue: cole slaw, German potato salad, a mixed green salad, and crab macaroni and cheese, the latter of which – along with the pimento cheese sandwiches and the oysters – was the star of the weekend, culinarily speaking.

The barbecue from Salt Lick had traveled well, and Lucas made sure it was plated properly on the buffet table; we had brisket, and smoked turkey breast, and beef ribs. By 8 p.m. everything was gone, save the Champagne and wine and laughter.

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A Perfect Day For a Tamalada, and Friends and Wine and Food

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There are days that not only seem perfect, but are perfect. Yesterday was one of them. Sun was out, air was cool(er), light angled just so, slicing through the air with a briskness that spoke quietly of ease. On those type of days all I require is to be near good people and good food and wine. Simple, and honest. Nourishment for soul and body.

You don’t know how good homemade tamales are? Never made any? Angela and I did yesterday. She did. I watched and observed. We joined in a tamalada at Sylvia’s. Sylvia Casares, AKA Enchilada Queen, shared her method with us, told us stories of her days spent working in a lab for the Mars corporation, how a stranger on a plane gave her the final push she needed to follow her dreams and how she opened her first restaurant and how it feels to now operate three and what she felt like when the bullet entered her abdomen and she knew she would not die in that way. Not that way.

A woman of taste and substance.

Sylvia Casares, a woman of taste and substance.

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A pork butt and a guisado were cooking, their aromas filling the room. Masa was being mixed, husks were steaming. You know those scents? They have the ability to make one happy. The masa was delivered to our table and Angela and Jack and Sally set to making tamales. It was a tamalada, and Sylvia told us about her father and the recipes her grandmother passed down.

Angela makes a mean tamale.

Angela makes a mean tamale.

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Masa is putty in their hands.

Masa is putty in their hands.

The day continued and Angela and I sat in the sun and drank some rosé and talked and watched people live their lives and go back and forth toward their happiness and desires.

Judy smiles at Brockhaus.

Judy smiles at Brockhaus.

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Jack mesmerizes the Brockhaus table.

We had been invited to a dinner that evening by Russ and Judy, two people with whom Angela and I share a passion for food, wine, and travel. I was not aware that it was a 10-course meal with wine pairings, for 10, but I certainly did not mind when I discovered it was so. We had scallops and duck and foie gras mousse and some Catena and Hunt Cellars (a 2000 Cabernet Sauvignon that Russ had given Angela for her birthday). We spoke of empanadas and Brockhaus and heard a tale about a tasting of some 1945s. We toasted Russ and Judy and left the table happy and sated.

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Duck sofrito …

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A scallop is never a bad thing.

One final venue made the evening complete. Russ and Judy had never been to Camerata, so we took them there and shared a bottle of my favorite wine (favorite now and for about the past year). You can see a photo of the bottle at the beginning of the tale of a perfect day.

Brockhaus in the Media

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Discussing scallops and plating

The First Supper was a success. Great food, fun guests, great wines. One Brockhaus friend at the table that evening, an editor at The Houston Chronicle, wrote a piece in the publication about the event. Read her story here.

The Brockhaus team is working on the next event, and we are excited about selecting a venue for it. If you would like to host a dinner, please let us know.

Until then, bon appétit!

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Searing rib eye

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