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Category: Alabama

The best plate – and chile relleno – I have ever had in a Tex-Mex joint.

Huntsville, Alabama, Boasts the Nation’s Best Tex-Mex (or Cali-Mex) Joint

August 7, 2014 / / 33 Comments

 

The best plate – and chile relleno – I have ever had in a Tex-Mex joint.

The best plate – and chile relleno – I have ever had in a Tex-Mex joint, anywhere. Look at those beans.

Meet Oscar Gutierrez, whose team has been making the best Tex-Mex in American for ...

Meet Oscar Gutierrez, whose team has been making the best Tex-Mex in America for years and years. And Oscar is one of the finest men you’ll encounter this side of Heaven or Hell.

There is a small restaurant in Huntsville, Alabama, whose kitchen is the source of some of the best Tex-Mex food in America. To my palate, it is better than anything Tex-Mex I have tasted in The Lone Star State thus far.

The original Bandito Burrito opened in 1990, and it is owned and operated by Mr. Oscar Gutierrez. Along with Asador Extebarri and Restaurante Arzak (and seven other excellent kitchens), Bandito Burrito is on the Brockhaus List of the 10 Best Restaurants in the World. Mr. Gutierrez has been at his craft for many years, and those countless hours of experience shine through in his food, which people clamor for daily. When I lived in Huntsville it was not uncommon for me to eat at the Bandito four times a week. Sometimes five.

Refried beans. Those two words speak of paradise, and if you like this staple of Tex-Mex, you will, after trying the beans at Bandito Burrito, never be happy with any other examples. Creamy, rich, soft, these beans made in Alabama are supreme.

Chile rellenos (my favorite anywhere, never greasy, always light, and perfectly cooked), enchiladas, tamales, and burritos are also, of course, on the menu here. And as with the refried beans, Oscar’s tomato salsa is some of the best I have tasted. Ample cilantro, the right amount of heat, and a few secret touches combine for bowls of salsa that call for mail-order. (And I would add to my shipment my favorite Bandito plate, the Juan Beeg Dinner, which includes an enchilada, a tamale, that perfect chile relleno, and rice and beans. All for $9.99.)

I miss the food at Bandito Burrito; indeed, it is one of the few restaurants in the world whose tastes I love to summon to my mind on a regular basis. And that gives me a grand idea: I am going to have  Oscar visit me in Houston … and I’ll arrange for him to teach some people here how to cook some kick-ass refried beans and chile rellenos.

Two Friends, Two Grills, and Some Great Cooking

July 6, 2014 / / 1 Comment
Days of yore ...

Days of yore …

I have a friend named Mike Pitzen. I have known him for a long time, going on 30 years. He is a good man, and he is funny, with a sense of humor formed by a rural Wisconsin childhood, an education at the University of Wisconsin, and a levelheaded and pragmatic approach to life. We worked together as counselors at Space Camp, took part in a high-speed chase with Officer Wiley Bibb on an interstate highway in Alabama, and, yesterday, we grilled some very fine meat in Houston.

Mike and I in New York on New Year's Eve, partying with Michelle Shocked.

Mike visited me one year in New York, and we hung out with Michelle Shocked on New Year’s Eve.

Mike has lived here for about 13 years now, and when I decided to move to Houston, this past year, one of the things I looked forward to was reuniting with him. I had not seen Mike in a long while, for perhaps eight years or more, and since I’ve been in Texas we have had several long lunches and conversations over beers, and Angela and I have enjoyed getting to know his family, Krista and Holt. I am glad he is here.

I received a call from Mike several days ago during which he told me, “Come over around 4 and we’ll fire up the grills and burn some meat.” Angela and I headed over to their house and upon arriving saw two Weber Kettle grills ready for some proteins. Mike had rubbed a brisket, and it and some ribs were on the smoke. Angela and I brought some jumbo shrimp, and I got busy marinading them, in preparation of wrapping them in bacon and giving them a nice sear. We added a giant sausage link to the mix, and two chickens, one of which we cooked in the beer-can method. Mike rubbed his bird with a mixture of oil and spices, and I put some garlic slivers under the skin of mine and stuffed its cavity with fresh rosemary and a lemon. We talked, drank some beer, kept up with the match between The Netherlands and Costa Rica, and ate some very good meat.

Brisket from Pitzen.

Brisket from Pitzen.

Birds on a grill.

Birds on a grill.

On the table.

On the table.

The food is Hot and Hot in Birmingham

June 13, 2013 / / 2 Comments

Whenever I am in Birmingham, Alabama, Highlands Bar and Grill is on my agenda. And my most recent visit to “The Magic City” was no exception. In fact, I dined at Highlands twice in May, and, as always, loved it.

Setting the stage (Photo courtesy of Hot and Hot Fish Club)

Setting the stage (Photo courtesy of Hot and Hot Fish Club)

But this time I added another restaurant to the schedule, a place I have had on my list for years but for whatever reason – and the main reason is Highlands Bar and Grill – never entered: Hot and Hot Fish Club. (Chris Hastings, the restaurant’s chef and co-owner, was named best chef in the South in 2012 by the James Beard Foundation, and I’ve long admired his support of Alabama agriculture.)

My decision to visit Hot and Hot was made at the last minute, and it was a Saturday, and I was arriving around 8:30, but I was dining solo and scored a seat at the end of the bar, near the kitchen door. Which was fine with me, because I like to see how people move in a restaurant, how the food flows. The bartender set my place and I looked at the cocktail list and the wine board, settling on a glass of Riesling.

The restaurant was buzzing, full, loud. People were waiting near the front door for a table, and the tables on the patio were full. After a first taste of my wine I walked through the main dining room, where one is treated to a view of an open kitchen. Men and women and a few teen-agers were talking and drinking and eating at their tables, and all of the places at the chef’s counter were occupied. A warm room, inviting.

Ravioli and cheese and chicken ... and corn

Ravioli and cheese and chicken … and corn

Back at the bar, I enjoyed my wine and the bartender handed me the menu. I quickly homed in on the ravioli as my first course. Good choice. The pasta was filled with farmer’s cheese and chicken, and the plate was completed with summer squash (including a blossom), English peas, and spring onions. And, in what would be a welcome and delicious leitmotif that evening, the ravioli was bathed in a sweet corn broth. (Corn is what I am talking about when I write “leitmotif”. Early corn, sweet, amazingly flavorful. It featured in every plate.) This first course was perfect. Vegetables cooked to point, or the point I like: right below crisp, giving a sublime mouthfeel. The ravioli was as thin as paper. The cheese, firm and mild, crossed the membrane in a delicate manner. Ideal opening.

Duck, two ways. And, more corn.

Duck, two ways. And, more corn.

Next: Pan-seared Duck Breast and Crispy Confit. (I love duck; in fact, one of my favorite breakfasts in memory is the morning I cooked two breasts for breakfast. Duck, with Champagne. It was a Sunday, and the day began well.)

The duck at Hot and Hot was as it should be: the breast pink, the confit crisp and dense. The plate contained, continuing the theme, corn, Anson Mills grits, Alabama strawberries, pecans and arugula. (I don’t know where Chris Hastings got that corn, because I failed to ask, but I hope many more people have the chance to eat it. It is the best corn I have had in about five years.) Plates such as this one sing, all of the flavors and textures communicating, harmonizing, and for a little while on that stool at the bar I was completely happy.

I often decline to order dessert. I consider wine to be my dessert. Or I have cheese. But this time I was intrigued by something on the menu: Sweet Corn and Lemon Bread Pudding with Benne Seed Brittle, Corn Cream, and Lemon Ice Cream. Put simply, it was the highlight of the evening. And that’s saying a lot.

A bread pudding for the ages.

A bread pudding for the ages.

Think moist and dense bread pudding. And, once again, think corn. Sweet corn. The corn cream I slathered on the bread pudding, and I made sure to slide a few of the kernels on each spoonful of bread pudding, because that corn was amazing. And the bread pudding … I once had a superb bread pudding in Portland that featured pigeon. I remember thinking during that meal that this was “the” bread pudding. But at Hot and Hot Fish Club I had another great one. Warm, not too sweet, slightly crisp exterior. Eating two portions would not have been out of the question. I could have done without the ice cream and the brittle; to my palate they were too sweet. But I think I am being too harsh. I imagine most people would not have a problem with the sweetness.

Jason's Corn 'n Oil

Jason’s Corn ‘n Oil

Speaking of the bar, the man working behind it and bringing me my food and drink that night is an exemplar of his profession. His name is William Hamrick, and he mixes and pours with grace and care. He answered my questions forthrightly, and when I ordered the bread pudding for dessert he made me the best libation I have had in a long while, saying they would pair perfectly. He called it Jason’s Corn n’ Oil, and it was made with John D. Taylor Velvet Falernum. You take 2 ounces of the Falernum, ¾ ounces of Gosling’s Black Seal Rum, and ¾ ounces of fresh lemon juice. Shake. Serve over crushed ice and garnish with a lemon peel. It was delicious. It seemed to me that the dessert and drink were created together one night in a divine session of inspiration. Mr. Hamrick wrote the recipe down for me. You can see it below. And you should make this drink tonight.

One for the books

One for the books, courtesy of William Hamrick

After a bit of conversation with a couple from Atlanta sitting next to me, and a few more words with Mr. Hamrick, I left Hot and Hot Fish Club and headed up the road. I shall return, though, and if a table isn’t available I’ll be more than happy at that bar.

Common Grounds

April 11, 2012 / / 0 Comments

A kitchen without tools would not produce much, no matter how willing or talented its inhabitants. While most home cooks do just fine without every single accoutrement found in a restaurant kitchen, anyone wanting to put more than the basics on the table will over the course of a lifetime accumulate a sizable collection of spoons and knives and food processors and pots and pans, not to mention a chinois or two.

The drawers and cabinets in my kitchen are fairly well stocked, and I’ve come to have strong relationships with a good number of the tools I use on a regular basis, including a Japanese mandoline and a Dutch oven that is now perfectly conditioned. But my feelings about most of my kitchen stuff are purely utilitarian; I love them because they work and allow me to do what I do easily and efficiently.

A workhorse: I've had this Tre Spade pepper mill since about 1987, and every time I use it I think fondly of Grant and Kathy Heath, who gave it to me as a Christmas gift. There’s a bit of rust on it, and its lid requires tape to stay closed, but I’ll never replace it.

A workhorse: I've had this Tre Spade pepper mill since about 1987, and every time I use it I think fondly of Grant and Kathy Heath, who gave it to me as a Christmas gift. There’s a bit of rust on it, and its lid requires tape to stay closed, but I’ll never replace it.

There is, however, one thing that I use all the time that means more to me than merely “utility,” and that is my Tre Spade pepper mill. I use it every day, and along with my knives it is integral to my cooking. But what makes it really special are the man and woman who gave it to me and they way they did so.

The best roasted coffee beans in the world have been coming out of this place since November 1977.

The best roasted coffee beans in the world have been coming out of this place since November 1977.

Grant and Kathy Heath are their names, and they roast and sell the best coffee in the world. I mean that. They own a small shop, The Kaffeeklatsch, in Huntsville, Alabama, and I used to work for them. And though I left Huntsville long ago, in 1994, I still order coffee from “The Klatsch” as often as possible. As I said, it is the best in the world – wherever I travel, be it Umbria or Munich or Beirut – I search for the perfect beans, and so far I have found nothing that can compare. I doubt I ever will. Order some and see what I mean.

Kathy and Grant always took time out from their workday to eat lunch; there was a small table in the center of the shop, and that is where they had their meals, usually simple but delicious things they had cooked, like barley soup with kale. They made me do the same, insisted that I take a break to sit down and have my lunch every day. I did.

One day while eating I admired a pepper mill that we used in the shop, and I asked Kathy if I could order one from the supplier; Christmas was coming and I thought it would be a good gift to give myself. She said she would place the order and we went back to work.

About a week later our regular delivery arrived, and as I was unpacking the boxes I looked forward to finding the pepper mill. But it wasn’t there. Kathy came upstairs from the office and told me that it was on backorder and would probably be in stock early in the new year. C’est la vie. I would live to grind another day.

The focal point of The Kaffeeklatsch: The 1929 Jabez Burns roaster, a work of art.

The focal point of The Kaffeeklatsch: The 1929 Jabez Burns roaster, a work of art.

The holiday season was upon us, and we got busier; customers came in for their supply of coffee, and beans by the many pounds flew out the door and were picked up by the UPS man for delivery across the nation. Grant was constantly at his Jabez Burns gas roaster, turning the small batches of green beans into something magical. (Not to go off on a tangent, but that roaster, which was born in 1929, is a beauty. I’ll write more about it, and Grant, later.)

On the evening before we closed for the holidays we were sitting at the table, enjoying beers and talking about dinner plans and which of our relatives were coming for Christmas and what we would be cooking. I had presents for Kathy and Grant, and they gave me a few pounds of coffee. Then Kathy reached behind her, picked up a box wrapped in festive paper, and handed it to me. It was the Tre Spade pepper mill. And, as I wrote, I have used it nearly every day since then. Thanks again, Kathy and Grant.

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