Category: Uncategorized (Page 12 of 19)

In Spain, By the Sea, I Dined Well

Paco Perez in his Restaurant Miramar. (Photo courtesy four-magazine.com)

Paco Perez in his Restaurant Miramar. (Photo courtesy four-magazine.com)

I was in Girona for a few days and decided to drive myself to a little town not far away, to a place called Llançà, in and around which about 5,000 or so people live. My final destination was Restaurant Miramar, where Paco Perez and his team create beautiful (and delicious) dishes from local, stellar ingredients, including tuna, anchovies, sea cucumber, and pigeon.

I arrived in Llançà in the late afternoon, after a drive along the coast, a winding and invigorating journey. I parked near the sea, along a promenade, fishing boats, and families and couples wandering in the sunlight. As I am wont to do, I walked the streets of this town that was new to me, stopping in a bar/pub that advertised Paulaner on a sign hanging above its door. The proprietor spoke some German, and we talked about Fussball and food and politics.

Around 7:30 I made my way to the restaurant, which holds two Michelin stars, and ordered a Campari and Soda at my table overlooking the promenade and the water. I chose the tasting menu, which was comprised of 20 or so plates, ready for a long and enjoyable repast. I was not disappointed. A foie doughnut, a beautiful prawn, rouget, pigeon, much more, all done with sophistication and artistry. As the menu stated, “Simplicity is the greatest sophistication.”

Here, for your gustatory pleasure, my meal.

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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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Brockhaus Kicks Off With The First Supper

James plates salmon tartare

Plating salmon tartare

It had been in the making for a while, this dinner event, which was designed to launch Brockhaus, a culinary think tank with its current headquarters in Houston, Texas, and its roots the world over. The menu was developed and discussed a number of times, and once a venue was selected – and it was a perfect place for Brockhaus‘ premiere, a beautiful home owned by gracious people, Jared and Caroline Starry LeBlanc – all systems were go.

The team was in fine form; Chris Stanton an ideal sous, Isaac Johnson the consummate sommelier, and Angela Shah an impeccable hostess and all-around troubleshooter. We began prepping that morning (Saturday, September 27) around 11, starting with an asparagus purée, a chip for the salmon tartare, and corn and jalapeño fritters, and the hours passed agreeably. Chris and I have cooked together many times, as have Angela and I. Isaac, a friend whom I met since moving to Houston, shares my taste in wine, and his front-of-the-house talents are prodigious. He and I worked together seamlessly, and we all kept one another on form. Working with all of them felt just right.

The first guests arrived around 7 p.m., right on time, and we served them a Greek Brut Rosé to accompany the fritters, the beginning of some great pairings.

The First Supper menu

The First Supper menu

We had designed the evening to include a mingling period, and once all of the guests were there the brut flowed, as did the conversation, everyone assembled in front of the open kitchen. Isaac and I had the schedule under control, and we ushered the guests to the table on time, ready for the meal proper to begin.

As the menu above shows, it began with wild salmon tartare, and closed with pecan semifreddo and walnut cake. In between came scallops and spot prawns and clams, plus duck and rib eye. And more.

It is my observation that many people rush through their meals, not fully enjoying each taste, each bite. Not these guests. We spaced the courses well, and as midnight approached the conversation emanating from the dining room was as lively as it had been at 8 p.m. It pleased me mightily to hear the comments about the food Chris and I cooked, the various tastes of each plate. It pleased me greatly that these individuals sat around a table for nearly five hours and enjoyed the food and wine we served them. Here, one guest’s words:

Dear James and Angela: Thank you for an absolutely fantastic evening. The food was off the charts. We were amazed at the multiple layers of taste in each dish. I know you put a tremendous amount of work into the prep and cooking of the meal … it was apparent in the taste.

We also enjoyed the company of your guests. It was a most engaging evening of conversation. The only thing missing was having the two of you sitting with us during dinner.

Warmest regards,

Russ

Another wrote: Such an exciting night to share with so many great dinner companions. I can’t stop thinking about the incredible menu.

It was an honor to cook for all of them, and we look forward to seeing them again.

Brockhaus is planning its next dinner, and is looking for another great venue. Let us know if you would like to become involved.

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Dining and Cooking in New Delhi With Friends, and Foie Gras and Mushrooms

A  mixture of fresh and dried mushrooms in a New Deli kitchen.

A mixture of fresh and dried mushrooms in a New Delhi kitchen.

Sean and I descended on the market armed with a mental menu and an abundance of rupee. We walked past the hardware vendors and the mobile phone stalls and entered the vegetable and meat areas, looking for mushrooms and onions, and we found some, and corn, and we had duck breast and some beef tenderloin. We were assembling ingredients for a dinner that evening and we had everything we needed.

Sean and Surya – our hosts – a friend of theirs whose name escapes me (David?), and Angela and I would be at the table. Sean and I transported our goods back to their apartment and started prepping in the kitchen, assisted by Angela and Surya. I took care of the mushroom bisque, using both fresh and dried mushrooms. I base my method on a Thomas Keller method (which you can read about here), and it is among my favorite things to make. On top of the bisque I placed a few pomegranate seeds, which Sean patiently procured.

Sean has his way with a pomegranate.

Sean has his way with a pomegranate.

A small glass of richness.

A small glass of richness.

A table graced with good lighting.

A table graced with good lighting.

A man and his knife.

Sean had some foie in a tin that a friend had left him, and he took care of that. (I had envisioned an amuse of seared foie gras with strawberries and a balsamic and Madeira reduction, and that is what we made.)

An appropriately rich beginning.

An appropriately rich beginning.

Sean and Surya’s kitchen is large, and has much light, which streams in from tall windows on the space’s rear wall. I liked cooking in that kitchen. We seared duck breast, and made a spicy corn and tomato “salsa” for the tenderloin. Sean grilled the beef to perfection.

Corn, tomato, and chili.

Corn, tomato, and chili.

Beef and arugula are always good company.

Beef and arugula are always good company.

Dessert was molten chocolate, ice cream, and strawberries. Surya enjoyed hers with relish.

Chocolate, strawberry, and ice cream closed the meal.

Chocolate, strawberry, and ice cream closed the meal.

A hostess can eat her dessert in any manner that suits her.

A hostess can eat her dessert in any manner that suits her.

Those days spent in Delhi in April of 2013 were good ones. The four of us shared other tables, most notably one at Indian Accent (about which more later). But no meal was more enjoyable than the one on that evening, when all was perfect and lively and warm.

Surya and Angela on the way to another table in New Delhi.

Surya and Angela on the way to another table in New Delhi.

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.

 

 

Talking (Wisconsin) Squirrel and Rabbit

And these two (or creatures similar to them) ended up in a giant cast-iron skillet).

And these two (or creatures similar to them) ended up in a giant cast-iron skillet in Wisconsin.

On Labor Day I spent some time with my friend Mike Pitzen and his family – Krista and Holt – here in Houston. We smoked some briskets and grilled some corn and a skirt steak I had marinated overnight. I made a Bloody Mary or two and we sat outside by the wood and charcoal and talked about food and cooking and family. I had seen a squirrel in the backyard, and suggested that we could use Holt’s toy bow and arrow to shoot it, after which we could grill it. (Holt is a 7-year-old vegetarian, having decided to pursue that route after viewing Charlotte’s Web.) The precocious young man promptly relieved me of the weapon and took it inside.

My plan, however, had aroused a memory from Mike’s culinary past, of a dish his mother cooked whenever a number of rabbits and squirrel had been shot at their Wisconsin home. Mike would skin and gut them, and his mother would portion the animals and brine them overnight in a solution of buttermilk and salt and pepper. The next day she’d cook them in oil or lard in one of her many cast-iron skillets (many of which Mike has today), adding yellow onion slices and apple pieces near the end of the process. A lid would then be placed on the skillet and the steam and heat would turn the meat and the fruit and vegetables into a savory dinner.

They are cute, and they taste good.

They are cute, and they taste good.

They have been known to attack ...

They have been known to attack …

Holt had by then returned to our company, fresh from hiding his bow and arrow, so we finished our cooking recollection and turned to politics. That conversation was much less appetizing, and it nourished us not at all.

On a Labor Day grill in Houston.

On a Labor Day grill in Houston.

 

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