Category: travel (Page 1 of 2)

Take A Culinary Journey Along The Tropic of Cancer Without Leaving Houston

Travel does wonders for the soul. You wake up in one city, and go to bed that evening in another locale halfway across the world, in a completely different environment, surrounded by new sounds, scents, people. You walk down alleys and streets, beaches or trails, and you take it all in, the tastes and sights and the emotions. You sit at foreign tables and allow the days and nights to wash over you, luxuriating in the commonplace, the slower unfolding of your life. Unfortunately, most people find it impossible to get away as often as they want … but there are sometimes others ways.

I recently traveled to Baja, Mexico, and tasted the foods of that beautiful area, all without leaving Houston. Angela and I dined at SaltAir Seafood Kitchen, and it was good. You can read all about it here. (And you’re in luck, because Brandi Key’s Tropic of Cancer Series continues through July 1 … get your ticket to India, China, Hawaii, and Cuba, and eat well.)

 

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.

Au Passage, For Duck, Tongue, and Some Good Wines

To begin a meal.

To begin a meal.

Food memories never fade. Not for me. I can recall almost everything I have eaten, especially since 1994 or so. Seriously. Some plates I remember better than others, and to relive some meals requires a bit of effort, such as the one I had at the house of a friend of a friend. The host was not that good of a cook, and decimated the shrimp. If I want to, I can remember the taste of that poor shrimp. But why would I? I choose to focus on the good.

This was good. One evening in Paris not so long ago I went with a few friends to Au Passage, a small place that I love. It is a simple space, but the food and wines are excellent. We had tongue, we had duck breast, and we drank some great wines. The duck was smoky, and the charred carrots served with it sweet. The tongue, my favorite of the evening: olive oil, some greens, legumes. If I could have anything I wanted for dinner tonight I would choose that tongue.

This speaks to me, with quiet deliciousness.

This speaks to me, with quiet deliciousness.

Duck, done very well.

Duck, done very well.

Au Passage has a great wine list, and we enjoyed it on the that evening. The memories linger.

Vin, a must for every meal.

Vin, a must for every meal.

My Love For Riesling (and Olivia Newton-John) Knows No Bounds

Magic in a bottle.

Magic in a bottle.

Anyone who knows me well knows I am all about Riesling. I love the grape, I love the wines. I study them, I collect them, I drink them, I dream about them. I “grew up” in the Rheinland-Pfalz, a beautiful area out of which comes some great wines, and I still recall the first time I tasted a Riesling: It was 1980, and it was a Bassermann-Jordan, and it was delicious. My life changed then and there. I saw that magic could be bottled and opened later for one’s enjoyment. (Angela and I visited Weingut Geheimer Rat Dr. von Bassermann-Jordan in 2012, along with a number of other wineries in the area. And we’ll be back.)

God's country, and home to some outstanding Rieslings. (Photo courtesy Germany.travel.com)

God’s country, and home to some outstanding Rieslings. (Photo courtesy Germany.travel.com)

The next day I went to the bookstore near my American high school and bought a copy of Frank J. Prial’s “Wine Talk” and began reading it immediately. I read anything about wine I could get my hands on, which was mostly in the International Herald Tribune (I was an editor on the staff of my school’s newspaper, and Ms. Thompson subscribed to the IHT for her journalism students).

My first wine book.

My first wine book.

Not long after that first taste my parents returned to the U.S. for a brief visit and I was left alone for a week or so. I don’t remember exactly where I bought my first collection of wines, but I clearly recall coming up with the plan to open a bottle each evening – I was at the time reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books in the order they were published, and the Rieslings surely added quality to that experience.

A friend who was around my age who lived upstairs from my family also liked wine, so he and I decided to start traveling to a village or town each week to enjoy a lunch or dinner and some wines. We went to Trier, and Mannheim, and many places in between. We ate bockwurst and schnitzel and escargot and saumagen. We drank mostly Rieslings, with some great beers thrown in for good measure. One meal I will always remember was one of trout caught from the waters below our table. It was at Seehaus Forelle, and it was more than 30 years ago, but it will be in my mind forever. The fish and the potatoes and the cucumber salad. And the wine. Riesling, of course.

Hopelessly devoted to you.

Hopelessly devoted to you.

Venus in fur.

Venus in fur.

That is how my passion for Riesling was born. But where, you ask, does Olivia Newton-John come in? Well, like any red-blooded male at that time I had a monumental crush on the Grease star. I loved the film, liked her songs, (though I was soon to discover the joys of Elvis Costello and U2 and the Police and BAP and leave her type of music behind), and admit to fantasizing about her from time to time. Or more often.

Yesterday I saw a video made by the Camerata crew, which transported me back to those days in Germany and made me think of Olivia and my first taste of Riesling. Watch this short, one of the best things I have ever seen made about my beloved grape, and perhaps you will understand what I am talking about. And whatever you do, drink more Riesling. It’s better than greased lightning.

 

Photo(s) of the Day: Cooking With Absent Friends

From France, with love.

From France, with love.

When I cook, I am often doing so with friends in mind.

When I cook, I cook with friends, even if they are thousands of miles away.

One of the joys of my life is cooking in the kitchens of friends, be it in New Delhi, North Carolina, or Marly le Roi. One day in late autumn Angela and I were staying in the home of my friends Xavier and Charlotte, in a village near Versailles. They were in Spain and we had the place – a sprawling beauty of a house with a wonderful garden – to ourselves. We had visited the market in Versailles that day and picked up some lamb and vegetables and cheeses, and chose to enjoy the peace of the Cassignol home with bottles of wine and a long and luxurious cooking session.

I met Xavier and Charlotte many years ago when they lived next door to me, and we have been close friends ever since. I miss them, and their three children, all the time. But on that evening, they were cooking with us, because I was in Charlotte’s kitchen, using her pots and pans and beautiful earthenware.

Eugénie and I discuss politics.

Eugénie and I discuss politics.

Manon and Eugénie, two girls in France.

Manon and Eugénie, two girls in France.

Xavier, the gardener of the family, walks to the house.

Xavier, the gardener of the family, walks to the house.

Eugénie knows what she likes.

Eugénie knows what she likes.

Hector bears a bountiful tray.

Hector bears a bountiful tray.

A fine French family they are.

A fine French family they are.

The lamb was seared, the vegetables roasted, and the bottles of wine were ideal. We toasted the Cassignols and planned our trip to Alsace. Xavier and Charlotte, we’ll see you soon.

Photo of the Day: Tokyo

An offering of love.

An offering of love.

I was wandering the streets of Tokyo, having just arrived that morning from New Delhi. I was hungry, and tired, but in love with the sunshine and the crowded sidewalks. I knew I wanted a beer, and I knew I wanted to find a quiet place in which to sit and gather my bearings. I saw in the distance a sign on the second level of a small building. On the sign was a pig. I steered toward the pig and walked up a flight of stairs and into a small restaurant whose walls were covered with advertisements for beverages and films. I took a seat at a table near the wall, and was happy to see the stovetop in the middle of the table. I speak no Japanese. The woman in this photograph speaks no English. That was no obstacle. Not at all.

Beauties from the Loire: The Wines of Saget la Perrière

A man and his wines: Arnaud Saget has taken his place in1 the ninth generation of a family-run winery.

A man and his wines: Arnaud Saget has taken his place in the ninth generation of a family-run wine-making concern. (photos/James Brock)

I have spent some time in the Loire Valley, and love drinking wines from the large region. It is a place full of lively and interesting winemakers, not to mention châteaux, and if you’ve never had the pleasure of driving from Paris and visiting Chambord or Château d’Azay-le-Rideau and drinking wines from Olivier Cousin in a café around the corner from where they were bottled, you should consider booking a flight to France. It is a magical region, the Loire. (And if it was good enough for Leonardo da Vinci, it is certainly good enough for the rest of us.)

The Loire produces some of my favorite daily drinking wines, and yesterday I had the opportunity to meet Arnaud Saget, whose family owns Saget la Perrière and produces wine with 890 acres and six estates. A tasting lunch at The Oceanaire Seafood Room was the setting, and it’s been a long time since I enjoyed, at one seating, so many exemplary, easy-drinking wines that I would serve, without reservation, on a daily basis.

Saget is the director général of his family’s company and is charge of marketing, so he travels a lot; this weekend he will be in New York, and next week Germany. His enthusiasm for winemaking is infectious, and though he understands that wine (and the selling of it) is a business, it is evident that he also understands and respects that his calling is part of a long and hallowed tradition that brings joy to the lives of millions of people around the world.

We began with the Muscadet de Sèvre & Maine sur Lie Les Cilssages d’Or, and it was the ideal way to start a meal focused on seafood. I liked that this wine was not overly sweet, and the hints of peach and pear were refreshing.

Bottles of 2012 selections from Saget la Perrière command one's attention.

Bottles of 2012 selections from Saget la Perrière command one’s attention.

We had more wines than food courses, but that was no problem. All of the selections were from 2012, and, as I wrote, are drinking well right now. My favorite was the Domaine de la Perrière Sancerre. Crisp, it made me think of a Riesling, and when Arnaud Saget told me that the grapes are grown in flinty soil I understood why I thought “Riesling”. This Sancerre would be perfect for an afternoon under a beach umbrella, or with oysters. Or both at the same time.

We tasted two reds at lunch, a Chinon and a Pinot Noir. The latter was unmistakably a pinot. Ruby color, faint, lovely vanilla taste, easy on the tongue. The Chinon, however, would be my preferred of the two reds, with its supple tannins and wonderful spiciness.

Yes, there was food. We were served an Alaska Red King Crab Salad as a first course, followed by Pan-Broiled Alaska Weathervane Scallops – overcooked to my palate – Seared Wild Alaska Halbut, and, as a closer before the dessert, Grilled Bering Sea Wild Coho Salmon, which we paired with the Pinot Noir, and which was the best dish of the day. Its tarragon butter sauce was perfect, creamy, slightly acidic.

Wild Halibut from Alaska was firm, slightly briny, but overwhelmed  by the potatoes served with it.

Wild Halibut from Alaska was firm, slightly briny, but overwhelmed by the potatoes served with it.

Wild Coho Salmon, with a great tarragon butter sauce

Wild Coho Salmon, with a great tarragon butter sauce, was the best dish of the day.

If you are looking for wines to drink every day, bottles with great price points – the most expensive wine we tasted (the Le Domaine Saget Pouilly-Fumé) carries a suggested retail price of $29 – buying these Saget selections by the case would not disappoint.

WINES TASTED (suggested retail price US$):

Muscadet de Sèvre & Maine sur Lie Les Cilssages d’Or ($14)
Marie de Beauregard AOC Vouvray ($18)
Guy Saget La Petite Perrière Sauvignon Blanc ($12)
Guy Saget La Petite Perrière Sancerre ($22) *A Brockhaus Selection
Le Domaine Saget Pouilly-Fumé ($29)
Guy Saget La Petite Perrière Pinot Noir ($13.50)
Marie de Beauregard Chinon ($17.99) *A Brockhaus Selection

Wild is Better When It Comes to Salmon

Man and salmon cooperate in Seattle.

Man and salmon cooperate in Seattle.

Several years ago I spent some time in Seattle, there for a high school reunion and to visit Ron and Laura, great friends of mine with whom I worked in New York. One day we went to take a look at the salmon ladders, because those great fish were on their upstream homecoming. It was a magnificent site; I had not seen that many wild salmon since I lived in Alaska.

That visit was on my mind recently when I lucked upon some wild Coho salmon and decided to put a rub on a filet and broil it. I think it is a shame that so many people have never tasted a wild salmon.

Beautiful color and texture, a perfect filet.

Beautiful color and texture, a perfect filet.

A good cure" brown sugar, salt, pepper, and lemon zest.

A good cure: brown sugar, salt, pepper, and lemon zest.

I left the rub on the filet, at room temperature, for about 45 minutes, then broiled the fish for 8 minutes or so. (Be sure to remove all the pin bones.)

We Will Meet Again … in Firenze and Houston

Patricia Baglioni, Angela Shah, and James Brock share an evening in Houston.

Patricia Baglioni, Angela Shah, and James Brock share an evening in Houston.

In 2010 I took a trip to Italy, touching down in Florence. I’m not sure what prompted me to stay in Hotel Hermes, but I’m glad I did, because I met and became friends with the woman who owned it then, Patricia Baglioni. For me, there was instantaneous kinship, and she told me about her favorite places in that beautiful city and fed me well. I left Florence after four days, headed to Umbria, but Patricia, and her kindness, stayed with me, and I vowed to return to Florence to see her again. (You’ll find here a record of some of my experiences during that spiritual trip.)

Little did I know at the time that I would not have to return to Italy to see Patricia again … I had only to move to Houston. Seems she has relatives here, and earlier this month visited them, as she does every June. We met for several meals, and it was as if time picked up immediately from where we left it in Italy. The conversation has always been effortless, whether we are discussing the World Cup – Ms. Baglioni supports Mexico and Italy (see her photo with Gianluigi Buffon in the post linked to above) – politics, or art. I was happy to introduce Angela to Patricia, and we shared a bottle of Nebbiolo and some pasta. Into one’s life certain people enter as if by grace. Cherish them, because they are rare finds.

Now, time to plan that return trip to Florence.

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.

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