Category: Uncategorized (Page 14 of 19)

A Good Season for Corn and Chèvre

King Corn: On the farm yesterday, on my table today.

King Corn: On the farm yesterday, on my table today.

Spring is, after Autumn, my favorite cooking and eating season. An abundance of vegetables that I love to use daily, including King Corn, are out there, waiting for your hand.

The other day I was in a market and ran across some corn that was advertised as having arrived that day, so I asked the clerk and she told me that, yes, the corn had been delivered from a farm in Texas that morning. I selected a few ears and immediately had a dish in mind. (And my mind wandered to a meal I had in 2013 at Hot and Hot Fish Club.)

There were some good peas in a basket, so I put a few handfuls of those in my bag and moved on.

Back home, I toasted a bit of pimentón in a pan and let it smoke for a few seconds. (Toasting dried spices is a great way to taste their best flavor.) Add some salt to the pan as well. I husked the ears of corn and cut the kernels into a bowl, then shelled the peas and chopped a shallot and some garlic. Butter and olive oil into the pan with the pimentón, stir it a bit, then add the garlic and shallot and soften on low heat. Meanwhile, blanch the peas (lots of salt in the blanching water) and put them in an ice bath. Put the corn and the peas in the pan and cook on low, stirring as often as you want.

You’ll know when the corn and peas are ready, especially if you cook this a lot this spring, which I recommend you do. Warm some bowls, plate, then, as a final touch, top with some chèvre. Season with salt and pepper to your taste.

My Parisian Packaged Duck

A weekly purchase at my market in Paris.

A weekly purchase at my market in Paris.

What I want now.

What I want now.

I often crave something with a suddenness that surprises me. Today it is duck, and the craving was strong, and very specific. It was not a need for just any duck. It was a desire for the packaged duck I bought weekly in the market near my apartment in the 5th. And the scent of that duck came to me today as I was driving, and I wanted nothing more than to walk to that small, narrow store and select a package from the cooler. Here is how I cooked with it one wintry day in Paris.

Food works on us in mysterious and beautiful ways. And that is more than a fine thing.

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

Drum and Crab and Empanadas at Roost

A great little place that puts out some very good food.

A great little place that puts out some very good food. (photo by Angela Shah)

I wrote about Roost earlier this year after my first visit to the little restaurant in Montrose. Angela and I shared a great meal, a small experience that was nearly perfect. I have been back several times since then, most recently yesterday. We were meeting friends from Dallas for dinner, and thought they would enjoy the food at Roost, and they, and we, did.

If you are not aware, the restaurant has a great happy hour – form 4 p.m. until 6:30 all bottles of wine are discounted 50 percent. Knowing that, Angela and I arrived early and shared a bottle of Grüner Veltliner (Domäne Wachau), $19. We also spent some time at the picnic table out front with Charlie, a friendly cat.

Meet Charlie, Roost's resident feline.

Meet Charlie, Roost’s resident feline. (photo by Angela Shah)

Around 7, when the mosquitoes became too much for Angela, the woman who might just be the best FOH person in Houston, if not Texas, told us that our table was ready, so we sat and waited on Peter and Catalina, who arrived about 10 minutes later.

Roost does its business in a small building, and space is a bit tight, but the atmosphere is always pleasant, lively, and the service is seamless and understated. (Much of that is the result of the professionalism exhibited by the woman I mentioned earlier.)

To the food. Since Peter and Catalina had never been to Roost, we began with the cauliflower. This is how it is described on the menu: “The famous frIed caUliFlower, boNito, miso dreSsing, pine nuts, scallion 9.” If you have not tried it, you need to. You must. The pine nuts are toasted, the bonito flakes exhibit good umami, and the dressing is something I would drink from a tall glass.

We decided to share everything, and from the cauliflower went on to: yell0w corn cakes, jumbo crab mEat, artichoke ragOut, paragon cheese 14; h0use made sPanakopita empanadas, garlicky tzatZiki, fennel & pine nUts 11; roasted gUlf fish, sweet n’ sour toMato broth, bok choy, coconut rice 24; ALL-crab-cakes, Thai curry sauce, cabbage & chayOte squash slaw, pEa shoots 29; and paulie’s pasta, r0asted peaches, goat’s cheese, rosEmary lemon butter 19.

Peter, who has a threshold for dill, found the sauces to be excellent, and I agreed with him, From the cauliflower to the Thai curry on the crab cake dish to the artichoke ragout, every taste was as it should have been. The drum was firm, the pasta was al dente (though I found the rosemary a bit much), and the crab in the cakes was as good as any I have ever had.

We ended the meal with C0ffee n’ donut hOles, crushed pistAchios, salted carAmel, coFfee ice cream 7. Like the cauliflower dish, this dessert is always on the menu at Roost, and for good reason. Not overly sweet, crisp and warm and moist doughnut holes, and really good coffee ice cream.

If Roost is new to you, you can do much much worse in Houston, and often you cannot do better. It really is a place approaching perfection.

Crab, with crisp slaw and a very good sauce.

Crab, with crisp slaw and a flavorful sauce.

Drum, grilled in a very effective manner.

Drum, grilled in a very effective manner.

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.)

Two Friends, Two Grills, and Some Great Cooking

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.

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.

Man and Woman Cannot Live on Food Alone: One Must Have Fussball

Not really. But I like the shirt.

Not really. But I like the shirt.

Yes, food and cooking and eating are important to me. But so is football, the real football (which is also known as soccer). And even if you are not a fan of the beautiful game, you are possibly aware that the World Cup kicked off today in Brazil, the birthplace of Pelé, the greatest player ever.

It promises to be an outstanding tournament, Sepp Blatter notwithstanding. I am looking forward to it, as the Cup has been a ritual for me for a long time. It is the grandest and most beautiful sporting event known to man. It moves me, infuriates me, brings tears of pride and joy to my eyes, and inspires me. It is integral to life. (That also describes my relationship to food.)

I am lucky, because I support two teams: Germany and the United States of America. I went to high school in Germany, and watching Die Mannschaft has been a religious experience for me ever since. Beckenbauer, Briegel, Brehme, Walter, Klinsmann, Breitner, Klose, Mueller, Schumacher .. those names, and others, are part of my education and history.

Herr Kehl. my trainer at TSG, and a great man indeed. Rest in peace, my friend.

Herr Kehl. my trainer at TSG, and a great man indeed. Rest in peace, my friend.

The first time I saw the team play, their opponent was Brazil. I was at the Kehl family’s home for dinner, and Frau Kehl made delicious stuffed cabbage. We drank beer and wine and watched the match. Herr Kehl was my trainer at TSG Kaiserslautern, and he was the best coach I ever had. He died several years ago, and I miss him dearly. I spent some time with Frau Kehl in 2012, and I look forward to seeing her again soon. The Kehls live a stone’s throw away from the Betzenberg, my favorite stadium. It is the home to my club team, 1. FC Kaiserslautern. I am an American, but my blood runs the colors of Deutschland where football is concerned. In my brain is the profound memory of an all-white ball, a warm, late-spring day, the odor of the grass on the training field at TSG. We played as if our lives depended on that ball. Perhaps it did. I climbed the hill to the Betzenberg twice a month to see my beloved FCK, and return there every chance I get. It was a great time of my life. It changed me for the better.

This stadium is legend. The Betzenberg is in my heart and soul.

This stadium is legend. The Betzenberg is in my heart and soul.

I played here, for a great trainer and with some great teammates.

I played here, for a great trainer and with some great teammates.

Kaiserslautern American High School ... a good side.

Kaiserslautern American High School … a good side. (I am second from right, bottom row.)

Holger Westing, great in the kitchen and on the field.

Holger Westing, a talent in the kitchen and on the field.

The US is another matter. I started playing soccer in Florida, but I learned to play Fussball in Germany, through the hands and spirit and mind of Herr Kehl, and with my teammates at TSG, including Holger Westing, still one of my closest friends. (I also played for my American high school team in Kaiserslautern, under a German coach, Herr Konrad. The dual training regimens and match schedule benefitted my fitness.) At that time, the US national team was a nonentity. Sure, they defeated England at the 1950 tournament, 1-0, but it would be 40 years before the Yanks qualified for another World Cup. I did not follow the team, I did not know much about it, and what I saw of it was not worth seeing. That has, of course, changed. In 2002, the US defeated Portugal twice, with aplomb, and beat Mexico with flair on the way to a quarterfinal meeting with Germany. Yes, that Germany. It was a 1-0 result, Germany moved on, but the US had arrived. The American program has continued to improve. In 2010 the team finished first in its group, ahead of England (the team I love to hate; more on that later). In my opinion, the caliber of the 2014 squad is inferior to that 2002 side, and they drew a Group of Death for Brazil: Ghana, Portugal, and Germany. Smart money would bet on Portugal and Germany going through to the next round, but I am hoping for a Germany – US 1-2 finish.

The ball continues to roll. Here’s to Germany’s fourth World Championship, great Fussball, and some fine food. I am happy to be alive.

The tradition continues ...

The tradition continues …

 

 

 

Snapshots of Dining With Dean in Hong Kong and Macau

Life can at times seem to be one long meal … which is not a bad way to think about the journey we all take. Meals and conversations form a long road, a connected series of days and nights and tables and bottles and sensual memories that one can return to again and again.

I spent a month in 2013 with Dean Cox, one of my closest friends, in Hong Kong. I have known him a long time, and never tire of his company. (I am missing him now, because we have not been together in the same place since March of 2013.) We have shared meals in Paris and the Loire Valley, Hong Kong and Macau, New York and Basel, and Stockholm and Huntsville and Birmingham. It’s been a great journey thus far, and it continues.

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UPDATE: Make Your Own Pasta (Thank You, Lidia and Marcella)

(Editor’s note: A few readers have chastised me for neglecting to include a recipe in this post. That oversight has now been rectified. Please let me know how you make pasta, and if you have never made fresh pasta at home, I hope this post inspires you to do so.)

“I still think that one of the pleasantest of all emotions is to know that I, with my brain and my hands, have nourished my beloved few, that I have concocted a stew or a story, a rarity or a plain dish, to sustain them truly against the hunger of the world.”

– M.F.K. Fisher, The Gastronomical Me

It is simple, and the payoff is extremely satisfying.

It is simple, and the payoff is extremely satisfying.

Pasta from a box is fine. I use it, mostly penne and farfalle. But there is nothing better than fresh pasta, and I am always happy when I can show people how easy it is to make their own. I taught my 8-year-old nephew how to make pasta, and I’ve guided Angela through the process – she is now expert at it.

I have a stand mixer and pasta attachments, and love it, but that has not prevented me from making hundreds of batches of linguine and ravioli and other varieties of pasta by hand. And there is a bonus: It is a meditative process. The action of mixing and kneading and rolling and cutting calms one’s mind.

There are plenty of recipes and methods for making pasta. I use two eggs (sometimes three), some olive oil, and, of course, flour and water. Over the years I have discovered my own technique and method. (You will, too.) Here is mine, and I give all thanks to Lidia Bastianich, whose pasta I encountered firsthand at Felidia years ago. I followed her methods and have revised them as time has passed. (Marcella Hazan is another inspiration, for pasta and many other things. Get to know her.)

First, relax. Do not get uptight about the process. It is a simple thing, depending on the shape of pasta you wish to make. Put on some good music, open a bottle of wine. Choose a smooth and large working surface; if you have a work island, use it. (I use a large wooden butcher’s block.) Make sure the surface is clean and dry. Sift two cups all purpose flour onto the surface and form it into a mound. Make an indentation in the middle of the mound. In a small bowl, mix two eggs, 1/4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, and 3 tablespoons of water. (I often add a pinch of salt. You can as well.) Gently pour the liquid mixture into the flour’s crater, and, using a fork, combine the liquid and the solid. Then, with lightly floured hands, mix and knead the dough until it is soft and smooth. (You will get the hang of it after a few attempts. Again, it is not difficult. In all, it should take you about 8 minutes or so to make the dough.) If the dough is too moist, add a little flour. If too dry, add a touch of olive oil. As you make more and more pasta, your hands and eyes will guide you. You will know when it is correct.

Form the dough into a ball and wrap tightly in plastic wrap. If you are going to use it that evening, let it sit at room temperature for 30 minutes before rolling it out. (Wrapped tightly and well, you can freeze the dough; I have frozen it for as long as a month, but I rarely do this.)

DSC_9137

Ian's pasta

He did this: Ian’s pasta.

When you are ready to roll, clean your work surface, get a rolling pin, and divide your ball into three pieces; lightly flour the surface – a dusting – and roll until the dough is as thin as you can make it. (In the photo below is a modified fettuccine, and we should have produced thinner noodles – they always expand in the water. But again, do not fret … on this evening we made basil pesto, and the meal was delicious, thick noodles and all.)

To make this simple ribbon pasta, use a sharp knife and cut the dough in straight lines, lightly arranging the ribbons into three bird’s nest clumps. Bring some salted water to a vigorous boil and, one bird’s nest at a time, cook the noodles until they float to the top of the water. (One important thing: Many home cooks err by not using a sufficient amount of water. Get your largest pot, and do not skimp on the water; the noodles need room in which to move and evenly cook.)

Have a sauté pan ready (with your desired sauce in it: oil and onions, tomatoes, pesto … your imagination is the limit). Lift the pasta from the water and add it to the pan, coating the ribbons thoroughly. (I also like to cook the pasta a bit longer in the pan, a minute or so; it makes everything taste better.)

That’s it. After you do this a few times, you’ll be ready for ravioli and orecchiette.

Flour and eggs and water and oil, plus you.

Flour and eggs and water and oil, plus you.

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