Category: San Sebastián

Bringing Catalan Cuisine to Houston: A Promising Start

Tuna, with green onions.

Tuna, with green onions.

The time I spent in the Arzak kitchen was brief but rewarding, and several dining tours of Spain – including days and nights in Barcelona, Girona, and Donostia –  instilled in me a passion for Basque and Catalan cuisine. So I was excited when I heard that a chef from Catalonia was going to be in charge of a new kitchen in Houston, BCN Taste & Tradition.

Angela and I were invited to a preview dinner at BCN last night, and it was a great beginning: excellent beef tartare, ahi tuna, a rib eye with foie gras, and, of course, jamón Ibérico. BCN opens to the public on Saturday, September 20, and I will definitely schedule a return visit(s). Service was outstanding, the dining room and bar area are understated and unique for Houston (one can easily imagine being in an elegant, comfortable European restaurant when dining at BCN), and the menu is a showcase of Spanish deliciousness.

Lobster, deconstructed.

Lobster, deconstructed.

That jamón that we love so much.

That jamón that we love so much.

Rib eye, with foie that could have used a bit more sear.

Rib eye, with foie that could have used a bit more sear.

 

 

Percebes, and We Were Late for Lunch at Asador Etxebarri

Inside this building an inspired master presides over a fine kitchen.

Inside this building an inspired master presides over a fine kitchen.

Food and cooking (and culinary subjects in general) constitute a large part of my reading diet. Magazines, food sections, web sites, books … all are fair game. In a recent issue of The New York Times I came across this piece, about something that was part of a meal that holds a place among my all-time favorite meals: percebes. 

Asador Etxebarri was the place, and we were on our way to San Sebastián, having left Barcelona that morning. Colby and Kim were in one car, and Angela and I in another. We were equipped with a GPS unit, so were not worried about making it to our lunch on time. That turned out to be misplaced confidence, because the name of the village in which Asador Etxebarri is similar to another village in the region, and the latter is the one our BMW’s GPS unit selected. We should have insisted on a Mercedes. (Editor’s note: A reliable source insisted that I include the following statement: “And I should have just paid attention to my driving and followed Kim, who was piloting the car ahead. In addition, I should have not argued with Angela when she expressed little faith in my sense of direction.”)

We arrived at the village early and waited on Colby and Kim – our favorite traveling companions – who were on their way to the “right” village. We ordered some wine and sat in the sun in an old square, watching schoolchildren play and dogs chase one another. Colby and Kim never arrived. We called them. They were at the restaurant. We were not. And we were going to be late.

What to do? Well, what we did was walk at a brisk pace to the car while Colby asked if it was possible for our lunch to be delayed, to allow us time to arrive. The manager assented. Kindly. I then attempted to program the village’s name into the GPS system, but it was not cooperating. We called Colby, told him of our dilemma, and he was informed that a young American was staging in Extebarri’s kitchen. The young cook came to the phone and gave directions to Angela, who then relayed them to me.

Traffic was heavy, lots of trucks – we were driving through a semi-industrial area. Hungry, expectant, we drove for about 40 minutes, ending up in a small and beautiful village. The village we thought we were in hours ago. We parked, walked a short distance to the restaurant, and, it turned out, nirvana.

Colby Walton, who was very happy to see us.

Colby Walton, who was very happy to see us.

Colby and Kim were happy to see us, Colby nursing a … was it a Campari? The dining room, upstairs, was sunny, spare, welcoming. The staff welcomed us, laughing a little.

We joined the punctual ones at our table and I was given the wine list; the waiter was aware of our mishap and intuited that I would want wine. A Txakoli is what I ordered. A bottle, which the four of us drank while we looked at the menu.

A menu for the ages.

A menu for the ages.

For those who know nothing of Asador Etxebarri, I have two words for you: Wood and Smoke. Victor Arguinzoniz is the man behind that pairing, and he uses them both to create  beauty. Take a look at the menu shown above and you will see that he grills everything, a method of cooking that imparts flavors of the different varieties of wood his staff collects from the area, including oak and vine cuttings. (He even created a special “cooker” in which he smokes caviar.)

Victor Arguinzoniz and I tour his kitchen.

Victor Arguinzoniz was a gracious host, and I loved his kitchen. (The pulleys behind us are part of his grilling regimen.)

Our meal began, and it was a highlight of our eating tour that trip, which included El Celler de Can Roca, Mugaritz, Akelare, and Arzak, among others. The percebes followed a smoked goat butter, a smoky and creamy opening course that I can taste even today, a few years later. Grilled peas, anchovies, egg followed. And one of the best pieces of beef that man ever cooked. (I asked for the bone, and we took it to the apartment we were renting in San Sebastián; I later trimmed it of all remaining meat and fat and used it in a ragù.) (The photos that follow take you on a brief tour of our tasting menu. Enjoy.)

Colby, Kim, Angela and I spent three or four hours in Asador Etxebarri, and could have spent far more. After our lunch we took a short walk around the restaurant’s environs, admiring the green landscape, the quiet, and gained some insight about how geography and surroundings affect the way one cooks. But we had an appointment in San Sebastián, so once again hit the road and headed to the coast. Much awaited us.

A restaurant with a view.

A restaurant with a view.

Percebes, before the tasting.

Percebes, before the tasting.

The meat. The wonder.

The meat. The wonder.

A chef smiles.

A chef smiles.

Cheese flan

Cheese flan

Palomos prawns

Palomos prawns

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Grilled peas

Grilled peas

The place in which it happens.

The place in which it happens.

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Egg and mushroom

Egg and mushroom

Baby octopus

Baby octopus

If you like beef, this it is.

If you like beef, this it is.

An environment in which to create beauty on the plate.

An environment in which to create beauty on the plate.

Smoked goat butter

Smoked goat butter

Sea cucumber

Sea cucumber

Here's the wood that produces the smoke.

Here’s the wood that produces the smoke.

Perfection, for one

Every now and then I wander into a restaurant by accident, or spontaneously, no reservations, no recommendations from friends, never having read anything of it in a newspaper or magazine. And as much as I recall with infinite pleasure my meal at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, the table reserved there months in advance, or my many nights spent dining at Babbo‘s bar, having waited with wine glasses in hand for a space or two to open at the noisy and warm expanse of wood, these “accidental” meals linger in my mind and leave me sated in an entirely different way. I recently had one such spontaneous experience, and it is about that I now write.

Around the corner from my apartment in San Sebastián there is a wine and tapas bar called Divinum, a place of high ceilings and tables of light-colored wood. It opens early in the morning, and is full of people young and old late into the evening.

I walked in on a recent night and made my way to the crowded bar, behind which a very efficient woman stood. I ordered a glass of Albariño and studied the menu, settling on a pintxo of slow-cooked pork. It is served in a round shape on a small plate, with its own juice, thickened by adding raisins and pine nuts. It is fatty, in the good way, and tender, and one can taste the time and care that went into selecting the pork and preparing it, even if pork cooked this way does not require an excess of attention.

Pork, pine nuts, raisins, and care

Pork, pine nuts, raisins, and care

I could eat three of these plates at a sitting. Or more.

I next ordered a Rioja red, because I love Rioja, and its wines. This to accompany a wonderful plate of beef cheek, served with a rich sauce, full of warmth and meat that did melt in my mouth. Not figuratively, but actual melting. (The photograph I took of it does not do it justice, so I will not ruin my memory of this dish by including an ugly image.)

And how about closing a meal with a foie gras pintxo? Of course that is what I did. It was warm, and cooked just right, so the outer surface carried crispness, and the rest … well, the rest gave me what foie gras always does: an occasion to close my eyes and taste, blocking out all other sensations. It was served on top of a piece of toasted bread, and a swirl of apricot purée decorated the plate. I did not need the decoration. The flakes of sea salt on top of the foie added to its wonder. It is dessert, my ideal dessert. Of course, with it I drank a slightly sweet Riesling from the Pfalz.

Foie gras closes my meal

Foie gras closes my meal

That was my perfect meal, at least for this week.

The next course: An update

Dessert course: A waiter prepares 'Hidromiel y Fractal Fluido' at Arzak.

Last week I told you I was going to spend at least three months in Europe this summer doing stages at two restaurants. I named Restaurant Amador in Mannheim, Germany, as my first stop, but at the time was unable to officially name the second one. I wrote that it was in San Sebastián, a wonderful city in the north of Spain that is producing some of the finest food to be had anywhere.

I can now let you know the name of my second stop, and I am excited, and thrilled, and just a little bit in awe, because the two chefs at Arzak, Juan Mari Arzak and his daughter Elena, are, to put it simply, geniuses.

Juan Mari Arzak, one of the fathers of New Basque Cuisine, is also one of the most influential and respected chefs in the world, and began cooking at Arzak, where his mother still worked, in 1966. Since then, culinary history has been unfolding there on a nightly basis. Elena Arzak joined the staff at Arzak after attending school in Switzerland and working at, among other restaurants, elBulli and Restaurant Pierre Gagnaire. The pair’s passion for learning, and teaching, has inspired many, and their respect for food and the land from which it comes is immense.

I am a lucky man.

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