Mise en Place

Month: August 2012

Go to Saturne

August 25, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Angela and I recently tried Saturne, a restaurant that was recommended to me by a French chef working in Abu Dhabi. If you are in Paris, book a table here.

It is near the Bourse, close to a Metro station, on a quiet street, Rue Notre-Dame des Victoires. Open, airy, light wood and white walls. A wall of wine behind sliding glass doors catches the eye, as does the open kitchen. (A word about the wines: an abundance of “natural” selections, and many value-priced bottles. We started our meal with a glass of Crémant de Loire, proceeded to a bottle of Loire white, then finished with glasses of pinot noir.)

A wall of wines

A wall of wines

This is a dégustation menu, and for 60 euros you get seven courses. We began with a soup of tomato, black olive tapenade, and olive oil, upon which floated a paper-thin piece of fried bread. The taste: go out to your garden and pick a ripe tomato, slice it in half, drizzle olive oil on it, and add a few black olives and some garlic. Bite. Then, break a tomato stem and inhale.

Tomato, olive, bread, olive oil

Tomato, olive, bread, olive oil

Next came bonito, ceviche style. Five or six pieces of pink fish, raspberries and basil and onions on top. Tomato water was poured atop this all. There was a light sprinkling of cayenne pepper. The fish was of a perfect texture, not chewy, tasting slightly of the sea. The other ingredients? Well, you know how it is when you put a mix of ingredients in your mouth and smile when all of the flavors combine? That’s what this dish made me do.

Bonita, raspberries, tomato water, onions

Bonito, raspberries, tomato water, onions

Monkfish was the next plate, served with small discs of yellow squash and nasturtiums, all of which immersed in a slightly mustardy sauce flavored with mussel stock. Monkfish, which is one of my favorite types of fish, was slightly grilled, and meaty. The squash was cooked for a very short period of time, so the discs were firm, full of flavor.

Edible flowers and monkfish, plus squash

Edible flowers and monkfish, plus squash

And then came the lobster, a large piece of lobster tail, from the wonderful waters of Brittany. The meat was as it should be served: when done this way you taste the sea, and the meat is firm, not stringy. The coral of the lobster was used in a sauce, and baby radishes, slightly pickled, accompanied. On top of this all was a foam made of lobster stock.

From the waters of Brittany

From the waters of Brittany

We next were greeted by a beautiful plate of pigeon, two pieces: the breast, pink and juicy, with grilled, crisp skin, and the leg and thigh. A grilled wedge of eggplant was the only other thing on the plate, which I would not have missed. Pigeon is at the top of my desirables list, and this was some of the best I have had.

Leg and breast

Leg and breast

We were entering the final stage of the meal, and our desserts – two courses – were light and tart and sweet, and a bit savory, and not too sweet. The first plate consisted of strawberries, sorrel sorbet, and a cream of goat cheese, sprinkled with freeze-dried parsley. I loved it, and it was a perfect ending … except for the second dessert plate: hay-infused cream, blackberries, and a chocolate spread that had a consistency akin to a light cake frosting.

Fitting close: Chocolate, blackberries, cream

Fitting close: Chocolate, blackberries, cream

You can do a lot with strawberries and goat cheese

You can do a lot with strawberries and goat cheese

My favorite plate in Paris

August 11, 2012 / / 0 Comments

It was on the menu, to my relief. Great relief. I first sat down to dine at Le Comptoir du Relais two years ago. It was a warm summer day, and the tables on the sidewalk were full of families and solo diners and couples. I was solo, and so had to share with no one one of the best plates I have ever had, anywhere: Carpaccio de Tête de veau. The chef, Yves Camdeborde, has long been a favorite of Parisian diners, and his kitchen is still producing great food.

Yves Camdeborde’s tête de veau: It will have you coming back for more.

Simply put, the meat that comes on this plate is sublimely flavorful, and when it first touches your tongue the sensuality of it melting in your mouth will make you want to close your eyes and forever stay in that moment. That feeling, and taste, will be the reason you, like I, will visit that sidewalk as long as the restaurant’s ovens are hot.

I decided to return to Paris this year, to spend days and nights with Angela, who is here for most of August. I have on more than one occasion told Angela about the dish at Le Comptoir, the Carpaccio de Tête de veau, that dish I love and adore and can by merely thinking about eating it grow desirous. I told Angela we had to go to Le Comptoir du Relais.

(A few nights before I made my way back to that sidewalk near Metro Odeon, Angela and I ate at a place in the 7th, and I had potatoes stuffed with the meat from pig’s feet. It was good, but it was nothing compared to my Carpaccio de Tête de veau. So, when you are in Paris, and wanting a great dish, take my advice and do nothing until you visit Le Comptoir.)

On the joyous night, Angela and I met a former colleague, Nick Stout, who has lived in Paris for 30-plus years, and he had never been to my sidewalk table.

Nick Stout, Paris veteran

Nick Stout, Paris veteran

He loved the food, and the place. We sat at a table outside, and I became lost in the wine  list. Interrupting my jaunt through the Loire Valley, Angela showed me that the calf’s head carpaccio was indeed available. I was happy. I ordered that plate as my first course, and it was a good as ever. The sauce is warm and slightly tangy, and the lettuce hearts on top are perfect companions for the meat slices. (See first photo above.)

My main course, Pied de Cochon, is composed of a rectangle of porcine greatness, served with creamed potatoes on the side. Imagine a crisp outside and an interior full of unctuous, moist, slow-cooked pork. I grew happier.

From the feet of pigs ...

From the feet of pigs …

Angela started with a salad of Burrata and heirloom tomatoes, with a nice basil pesto. It was acidic and excellent. She then enjoyed a great sashimi of tuna belly, topped with wasabi foam.

Sashimi with a French twist

Sashimi with a French twist

Nick chose gazpacho, followed by squid stuffed with risotto; its squid-ink sauce was pungent and perfect.

Big squid, big taste

Big squid, big taste

When I was in Paris in 2010 Le Comptoir was the only restaurant I dined at more than once. For good reason. And before I leave Paris this time I will once again find myself at that sidewalk table, a bottle of white chilling in the Ice Bag.

Chilling at the table

Chilling at the table

I do not have to tell you what I will order.

Light in August

August 7, 2012 / / 0 Comments

The light. There’s something about the light in Paris that always gets to me, makes my eyes feel good. When I lived here in 2005 I loved the summer evenings, sitting outside with a carafe of wine under a slowly darkening sky. It seemed that it would never grow completely dark, and as my companions and I drank and ate and planned our next meal I silently gave thanks for the city’s geographical location and for the way the sun worshipped the streets and buildings and people.

That very same light makes, to my eye, the food and produce for sale in markets look better, brighter, tastier. The tomatoes are shiny and firm, and don’t look waxy. The flesh of a duck looks as it should, not violently compressed under a layer of cellophane. Radishes, berries, green beans, lettuces … they all benefit from the light in August.

And I benefit, because that light makes me want to cook and eat and wander the streets of this beautiful place. And that’s what I’m doing now.

Home from buying groceries, and headed to the kitchen

Home from buying groceries, and headed to the kitchen

In the bags above there are two pork chops, some lettuce, radishes, cheeses, wine, beer, Nutella, butter, shallots, eggs and a few other foodstuffs. Angela and I made a simple salad, but a salad whose lettuce had a crisp bite and actual flavor, so unlike most of the lettuces I was forced to eat while living in the desert. The radishes were also crisp, and had a heat that was pleasant and invigorating. I cooked the chops simply, in butter, and made a sauce from the shallots, garlic and some Crémant de Bourgogne “Egrade” brut.

We’ll always have Paris.

By the skin of a chicken

August 1, 2012 / / 1 Comment

If you like fried chicken, or a good roast chicken, and if you share my tastes, I bet you love eating the skin. Its crispness is a sublime mouth sensation, and depending on what type of oil you use when frying, or what you add to the butter or olive oil you use to baste the bird while it is roasting, the flavors of the skin can range widely. (Duck fat? Olive oil/butter mixture? Garlic, shallots, basil, sage, chili powder? The sky is the limit.)

One of the things I learned to do at Restaurant Amador is use the skin alone to make chicken-skin wafers, or chips. (You can ask your butcher to order chicken skins for you, or learn how to skin your own chicken, as it’s really not that difficult. And the skins freeze well, so there is no excuse for not having any on hand.)

What you’ll need: A Silpat or two, a large metal baking sheet, two baking dishes of similar size, some heavy stones, and parchment paper.

Baking stones

Baking stones

To begin, take a chicken skin and spread it on a cutting board, skin-side down. Then, using a flat, flexible plastic scraper – you can buy these at a cooking-supply store, or make your own – scrape as much of the fat away from the skin as you can. (Have a container near you to scrape the fat into.) You’ll find it impossible to scrape away all of the fat, but get as much as possible without stressing over it. (The less fat, the lighter the taste.) Then, one piece at a time, spread the de-fatted skins, skin side down, on a Silpat, stretching them as much as possible. Repeat this until you have the Silpat covered, making sure to not overlap the skins too much; you want the layer to be as thin as is possible.

Chicken skins, spread on a Silpat

Chicken skins, spread on a Silpat

Repeat the scraping procedure with another set of skins – and don’t worry, this is a fast procedure … once you get going you can de-fat one piece in less than a minute – and, one at a time, spread a skin over the pieces already on the Silpat. Only this time, make sure to put the pieces skin side up. Making sure that the layers are uniform, cover the first layer completely.

The next step is easy: take your other Silpat and place it on top of the chicken skins, then put the assemblage on a baking sheet. Put the baking sheet on the bottom of one of the containers, (the space created by the inverted container helps crisp the skins). Place a piece of parchment paper on top of the Silpat, and on top of the paper put your other baking dish. (The dish needs to be large enough to cover the entire surface of the Silpat sheets.) Into this dish go the stones, which serve to exert pressure on the skins.

A double batch of chicken skins

A double batch of chicken skins

(Do not fret if you don’t have metal pans like the ones in the photo above; improvise with what you have. But do invest, if you have not already, in Silpats; you’ll find yourself using them often.)

With the oven set at 330 Fahrenheit (165 Celsius), put the entire stack on a rack and cook for two hours. Your kitchen will develop a lovely scent.

Next, take the tray containing the stones out of the oven and put it in a safe place, as the stones will retain their heat for a long time. Remove the remaining trays from the oven and put the Silpat sheets on a counter. Slowly peel back the top Silpat and behold your creation: you will discover a crisp, flat layer of chicken skin, with uneven edges. (If you have a food dehydrator, now is the time to dry out your skin. If you don’t, put the skin on a piece of parchment paper and bake it in your oven at a very low temperature, say, 70 degrees Fahrenheit. This step helps give the skin a lighter taste and feel. Leave it in the oven for 30 minutes or so.)

A tasty wafer

A tasty wafer

Finally, it’s time to cut the skin into individual pieces; feel free to use your imagination here, depending on how you plan to use the pieces.

Rectangles of crispy goodness

Rectangles of crispy goodness

At Amador, the skin is cut into rectangles and served as an early course, adorned with purées, creams and herbs. They are delicious. Just take the skins from the oven and place them on a cutting board. Using a sharp knife – of course, you should have nothing but sharp knives – cut the pieces into your desired shape. As a final step, sprinkle with Maldon salt, or your preferred sea salt. You could serve them in many ways, and I know they would be good as a garnish on a bowl of shrimp and grits, perhaps sprinkled with dried shrimp.

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