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A Busy Year: PaperCity Magazine, The Brockhaus Returns, and More

March 25, 2016 / / 1 Comment

In June of 2015 I accepted a position with PaperCity, a 21-year-old publication with offices in Houston and Dallas. It’s been busy since then … so busy that Mise en place and The Brockhaus have had to take a backseat to my duties at PaperCity. I hold the title of Features and Digital Editor, and I love the work. It’s introduced me to scores of interesting people doing great things (and that includes my colleagues), afforded me the opportunity to sit down with John Varvatos and Anthony Bourdain, among many other unique individuals, and is allowing me to tell some great stories about places and things I love.

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Tom Ford works on the set of “A Single Man.” (Courtesy Tom Ford)

I’ve asked Tom Ford about his life and loves and son, and I’ve shared some Balvenie with Anthony Bourdain. I’ve introduced readers to some good wines and dishes, and I’ve made some friends along the way. And there’s more, much more, to come.

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Anthony Bourdain relaxes in Les Halles in 2004. (Robert DiScalfani photo)

I‘m happy to announce that The Brockhaus will be back in action on May 7th; it’ll be a seven-course tasting menu, and will include provisions from DR Delicacy. Think chanterelles, morels, perhaps a bit of caviar. Diane Roederer, the owner of DR Delicacy, is hosting the dinner, and I look forward to working with her. I am putting the menu together now, and will be posting the details on Facebook soon. Mark your calendars and save the date.

Wine talk

The Brockhaus takes the Houston Heights, 2015.

Pork belly
Pork belly

The Brockhaus Takes The (Rainy) Houston Heights

June 7, 2015 / / 2 Comments

Prepping was well under way when the rains (and lightning and thunder) came, heavy and loud. The house – the creation of the minds of the hosts and their architect – was, save for the kitchen, quiet, orderly. The rooms, tastefully appointed, were full of framed photography (the owners are collectors), journeys for the mind and eye. It was the perfect environment in which to cook.

Working menu

Working menu

Except that as time marched on toward 7 p.m., when guests were asked to arrive, the rains persisted. The sommelier for the evening was phoning me from his car; the previous week’s flooding in Houston had him worried, so he decided to turn around and head home. Hoping the deluge would devolve into a shower, I called the guests, changed the cocktail time to 7:30, and hoped for the best.

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Constance and I – now joined by Chris – were all in the kitchen, Chris working on Swiss chard and porcini, Constance putting the final touches on the snapper prep, and I taking care of the pork belly.  Chris and I have an unspoken ease in a kitchen, and the input and assistance from Constance, who attended the dinner with Alison (they of the beautiful Nantucket wedding), made the work perfect.

It was May 30, and this was the third Brockhaus dinner (fourth if  the wedding on Nanctucket is included), and despite the rains and the late start, it was a fine affair. Eight guests gathered around a table, seven courses, wines from the hosts’ cellar*, lively and often raucous conversation, smiles, laughter. Strangers at a table when the first course arrived, friends upon departure around midnight. I feel profound satisfaction when my food makes that happen. The guests included three former Brockhaus attendees, two of whom, Russ and Judy, have been at all three Houston events, (they have also hosted a Brockahus event at their home, and I consider them great patrons) and five first-timers. Here is what one guest wrote me a few days later:

“Brockhaus hit the trifecta … creatively prepared food that excited the senses;  expertly paired wines that complimented each course,  and engaging guests that would be envy of any dinner party.   James set a high bar with this delightful evening.”

The Brockhaus journey continues, and we hope to see you at a table soon.

*Wines served: Ivernel Brut Prestige NV,  Château de Montfort Vouvray 2011, Patz & Hall Hyde Vineyard 2012 Carneros Chardonnay, Kosta Browne Pinot Noir Koplen Vineyard 2012, Bodegas El Nido Jumilla Clio 2006, Tenuta Fontodi Vin Santo del Chianti Classico 1996

(Slideshow created by Constance Brinkley-Badgett.)

 

 

 

 

Ribs Take Time, and a Snowy Evening Has Plenty of That

May 23, 2015 / / 0 Comments

 

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When I think of cooking beef short ribs my mind wanders back to New York, and cold nights spent indoors behind windows frosted with ice and snow. We would open a few bottles of wine – one for our glasses and one for the ribs – and chop some onions and carrots and celery while the ribs (usually eight of them) came to room temperature on a platter. After sprinkling them with generous amounts of salt and pepper I would brown the ribs in canola oil, a process I enjoy. I attempt to bring the same shade of color to each piece, to every side side of every rib. The scent that rises from the pan stimulates the senses, and the oil and fat left behind is the perfect medium for the vegetables. We removed the ribs from the pan, into which went the vegetables for five minutes or so, until the onions began to brown. If there was a can of tomato paste in the pantry I stirred a tablespoon or so of it into the vegetables, then added some flour (not much, perhaps two or three tablespoons).

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Next came the wine, the entire bottle – I normally had a case of Protocolo Tinto (Dominio de Eguren) on hand, which when poured into the vegetables caused the kitchen to change. It became a warmer, more comforting place. The ribs then joined the mix, and we made sure that all of the juices that had accumulated on the platter also made it into the pan. The heat was raised to a boil, then we simmered everything until the wine was reduced by half, at which time two bay leaves and some sprigs of  oregano, rosemary, and thyme took part, plus a head of garlic that had been cut in half. Hot beef stock, which surrounded the ribs, was the final touch.The oven, at 350°F, was where all of the magic took place. Into it went the covered pan – I used, and still use, a large French Dutch Oven – and we picked up our glasses and drank and let the heat and time do their work.

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Back in the kitchen the meat is falling off the bones, the sauce is rich and flavors infused. Do I strain the stock? Yes. The polenta is being stirred, and I take pieces of the meat from the bones. The favas are in a skillet, with garlic and butter and a bit of olive oil. The snow is falling on Henry Street and the night stretches before us still.

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James plates salmon tartare

Kitchen Zen (Provence, 1970)

May 18, 2015 / / 1 Comment
Olive oil, salt, radishes, and heat

Olive oil, salt, radishes, and heat

A blank canvas, a sheet of paper devoid of characters or symbols, an empty plate. All draw us to them, call out for completion, for satisfaction. I am forever filling plates and bowls, in my mind and at the countertop, and it is not uncommon that something I read or view forces me into the kitchen. I recently finished a book that inspired some cooking. It is titled  “Provence, 1970,” and it was written by M.F.K. Fisher’s grandnephew, Luke Barr. It’s a work of nonfiction that takes readers to France and puts them at the table with Julia and Paul Child, Richard Olney, Judith Jones, James Beard, and, certainly not least, Fisher, a writer for whom I have immense admiration and respect. I still want to find her home in Vevey and have a vermouth and gin on its terrace.

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The book tells the story of a year that saw the end of one grand era in American cuisine and cooking and the beginning of another. It is a fine read, and its pages bring to life conversations between Olney and Fisher, evenings spent at La Pitchoune, James Beard’s enormous personality. (It makes one feel that life is diminished now that those souls are no longer cooking and writing among us, but I say read it despite that.)

I’ve been cooking osso buco, and duck, and radishes, and chicken and watercress, and “Provence, 1970” has added to my kitchen repository, and some of its scenes have been translated onto my plates.  For many a year now a handful of special  people (including some in Barr’s book) have been in that hallowed room with me when I plan and plate and clean, and from now on a part of me will regret not being in that small part of Provence with those individuals during that pivotal year.

Time makes things perfect.

Time makes things perfect.

Update: One Seat Just Opened For The Brockhaus Hits The (Houston) Heights

May 16, 2015 / / 0 Comments

We’ve had a cancellation, so one seat is available for this event. And the wine pairings are now complete. (Menu follows below.)

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New season, new ingredients, a new venue for The Brockhaus. On May 30th 10 people will gather at a wonderful house in Houston for a seven-course event we are calling “The Brockhaus Hits The (Houston) Heights”.

THE BROCKHAUS
Hits The (Houston) Heights
May 30, 2015
$100 per person

MACADAMIA GAZPACHO
CURED ASPARAGUS
Ivernel Brut Prestige NV

SALMON TARTARE
BLACK SESAME SEED CRISPS
CHIVES, CRÈME FRAîCHE
Domaine de la Perrière Sancerre 2014

SURPRISE
You will see

SPICED BLACK BASS
SWISS CHARD, BACON
Patz & Hall Hyde Vineyard 2012 Carneros Chardonnay

PORK BELLY CONFIT
WILD TEXAS MUSHROOMS
CORN AND TOMATOES
Kosta Browne Pinot Noir Koplen Vineyard 2012

(SLOW-COOKED) 44 FARMS
GRASS-FED RIB EYE
COMPRESSED WATERMELON
BROCKHAUS MOZZARELLA
BASIL
Bodegas El Nido Jumilla Clio 2006

THYME SEMIFREDDO
BISCOTTI
Tenuta Fontodi Vin Santo del Chianti Classico 1996

$100 per person

The bad news (or is it good?): No seats remain for the 30th. (We take to the road in June for “The Brockhaus Does Dallas,” a sold-out dinner event.) But July will arrive soon, and we have plans for that month (if you would like to host an evening, please get in touch.)

We’ve enjoyed great success since our first evening in Montrose, and welcoming strangers to our tables and bidding them farewell as friends – and welcoming them again as repeat patrons – has been a sublime pleasure. It will continue.

Thanks for all of your support and good words, and we hope to see you at the table soon.

The Brockhaus Team

A friendship more than 30 years in the making
A friendship more than 30 years in the making

A Lucky Man

April 20, 2015 / / 6 Comments

Food, friends, reuniting with fine people: I was all of that this past weekend, in Austin. I graduated from high school in Kaiserslautern, Germany, West Germany to be exact, for it was before the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification of Ost und West. This weekend about 200 of my fellow graduates from Kaiserslautern American High School were in Austin, at an all-class reunion. Some of them I know and love, others are strangers, having graduated in 1965, or 1972, or another year before or after my time at that wonderful Department of Defense school in the Pfalz. No matter whether I know them or not, they are special people, our bond formed by days and nights and years spent in a magical land, full of beauty and culture and fine beer and great Rieslings.

We reunite fairly often, in Seattle or Las Vegas or Orlando; some of us have been lucky enough to spend time together in Kaiserslautern or Paris or Munich or New York; I have over the years caught up with fellow Red Raiders in all of those places. In 2013 Angela and I shared a great weekend with Beth Spencer Dixon and her family in North Carolina. We roasted a suckling pig, put together a Low Country boil, and drank some great wines and beers, and Tina’s coffee. It was the perfect weekend.

I am also reuniting with Constance and Alison, two beautiful woman who hired me this past year to cook the food for their wedding, which took place on Nantucket. They flew Angela and me up to that storied little island and we and 50 lucky guests witnessed a lovely ceremony. On Saturday night we cooked at their home in Austin. A few people came, including Jack and his wife, Suze. Another reunion. Jack and I have been friends since 1989; we met when we both worked at a bookstore, Fleming Books, in Huntsville, Alabama. We bonded over James Joyce and coffee and walks on Monte Sano.

I love all of these people, and my life is richer for knowing them.

I am a lucky man. A lucky man, indeed.

On the heat for a long time.

Malaise, Infection, Comfort

March 1, 2015 / / 0 Comments
On the heat for a long time.

On the heat for a long time.

I was sick, lacked energy. I was going through a week of illness that had hit the restaurant. My appetite was nonexistent; coffee had lost its appeal. I was tired. But I wanted to cook. (When I am sick I spend time thinking about what I’ll make when I recuperate. This time, I went to Italy, thanks in part to a recipe for pasta alla Genovese in a Mark Bittman piece.) On the day my energy returned I returned to the kitchen and created some comfort.

Beginnings ...

Beginnings …

There are good things.

There are good things.

Boiled onions

Roots

Comfort in a bowl

Comfort in a bowl

The stranger is no foodie.

The Stranger Takes a Seat at the Bar

February 13, 2015 / / 0 Comments
The stranger is no foodie.

The Stranger is no foodie.

The Stranger enters the crowded restaurant on a recent evening, his goal being to spend a bit of time at the bar and enjoy a glass of wine and some food. At the corner of the bar sit a man and woman, the man wearing a cap of some sort, the woman knockoff Missoni. The barstool to the man’s right is empty save a blue purse; The Stranger politely inquires whether the purse belongs to the man with the cap, who replies, “No, I am saving this seat for a friend who might be coming.” Glancing to his left, The Stranger sees that the stool on the other side of faux-Missoni woman is empty. “That’s OK, I’ll take this seat,” The Stranger says, walking to the empty perch. The man and woman, almost in unison, state: “We are saving that spot, too.” The Stranger looks at the trendy-looking pair, wondering if they are joking, and occupies the barstool.

Cap-wearing man offers this concession to The Stranger: “Well, we were saving the stools in case our friends came, but go ahead and sit.” “Oh, that is so kind of you,” The Stranger replies. “Are you two being serious? This is a bar, not a table. You’re telling me that your friends ‘might’ show up, so you are going to prevent other guests from taking a seat and enjoying the evening? In what city were you thusly educated?”

The Stranger orders a glass of Mencía, while the Missoni-Wannabe calls her absent friends and finds that they are, after all, not coming. Seems there was a trendier place at which they wanted to make an appearance. Stranger wonders if at that trendier place that pair was attempting to save two stools for Missoni and Cap.

While deciding what to order for his meal, The Stranger hears the woman say that she is a wine rep; the cap-wearer proudly replies to her that he is in the “industry” and has been a mixologist for more than five years. The Stranger thinks: They are even more idiotic than I thought; they work in the “industry” and think it proper to save barstools for friends who may or may not appear? Then, In what seemed an effort to make herself look even dafter, Missoni Girl orders a “Boo-shulay,” pronouncing it in exactly that manner.

A city is nothing without human beings, and the citizens of a city give it its unique identity. Subsets of a population, say, “foodies”, further define a community. Houston’s dining and culinary scene has come a long way, indeed, but, as The Stranger thought to himself on that evening, it still has a long way to go, and will have for a long while if Missoni and Cap have anything to say about it.

These two are foodies. Stranger hopes you never encounter them in a restaurant.

These two are foodies. The Stranger hopes you never encounter them in a restaurant.

Longing in a Demitasse (un Café, S’il Vous Plait)

February 9, 2015 / / 0 Comments

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There was a time in Paris during which I bicycled to my office, from the 7th to the 4th, over the river and past tourists and bookshops and beauty. Every morning I would roll my bike into the elevator and squeeze in with it, then descend to the ground floor. (Dean and I were sharing an apartment, and the evenings on which we rode our bikes through the city, dodging cars and buses and people and stopping at a restaurant for a meal before heading home, are magic in my memory.) I’d ride past the Musée Rodin and stop by my patisserie for an almond croissant, then proceed to the small café near the Basilique Sainte-Clotilde et Chapelle de Jesus Enfant. The bike left leaning against the outside wall, I would take my seat at the bar and order un café. Sometimes I had two, and if time permitted would walk my bike across the street and enter the park near the church and sit on a bench and watch the dogs play. The sun warmed my face. I considered my ritual the perfect start to a morning. I consider it perfect still.

For some reason, I am experiencing difficulty when it comes to finding a good espresso in Houston. They are often bitter, often lukewarm. It is especially egregious when I order an after-dinner espresso at an Italian or French restaurant, one that prides itself on its “authentic, excellent food” and “attention to Old World values and tradition.” No self-respecting restaurant would serve such an espresso. (And to those of you out there who order a cappuccino after noon, don’t.)

One morning this past week I ground some French Roast from The Kaffeeklatsch and prepared un café in my Bialetti. I poured the liquid into a warm demitasse and added a touch of sugar. It was hot, it was fresh, it had me back on that bike in Paris, and my day began well.

That Was Some Pork Belly: The Second Coming Is a Wrap

January 31, 2015 / / 2 Comments

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Thanks so much to James and the Brockhaus crew for a great night at The Second Coming. Each course of food was expertly prepared and served along with discussion of the techniques and ingredients used in preparation. Each wine course provided an in-depth background into why it was paired with that course and how the wine received its characteristics. Wonderful food, wonderful wine and stimulating conversation always make a memorable evening! (Note from a guest of The Brockhaus’s The Second Coming)

Chris (my sous chef) and I arrived at the townhouse a week ago Saturday a little after 10 in the morning. We loaded our equipment and provisions into the elevator and sent the car up to the second floor, where a bright and spacious kitchen – containing more than enough prep space – was waiting for us. Thusly, The Second Coming began.

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We started on a butternut squash bisque and dessert; I made the bacon semifreddo while Chris took care of the squash and the chocolate cakes. We took the final course down to the refrigerator in the garage and came back upstairs to go over the plan. Our guests would arrive at 7 (or thereabouts), so we had a fair amount of time to finalize our plating and presentation plan.

I took the pork belly out of the brine, satisfied with the meat’s texture. After drying it and scoring its skin side I rubbed ample salt and black pepper all over its surfaces and put it in the oven for a slow and low journey to the table. Chris was picking through the lump crab, looking for any shell. The panko was in a pan, toasting, and would later enrobe the crab spheres, which we would fry lightly.

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Next up was the rib eye. I cut three steaks from the piece and put them on a sheet pan; they would go into the freezer for 30 minutes or so before I seared them with a torch and put them in a 160F oven until they reached 137F (interior temperature).

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Most of the prep done, Chris started on the oysters; I had decided on a repeat of the dish I came across in “Comfort Me With Apples” and that I served at The Wedding on Nantucket. Chris shucked the oysters and I put together the curry powder and flour and made the cucumber-sesame oil sauce. We refrigerated the oysters, cleaned the shells, and began cleaning our stations, ready for the second (or was it the third?) stage of The Second Coming.

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Wolfgang Puck had it on the menu at Spago, and we did it on Nantucket.

What remained: asparagus risotto, the mushrooms and parsnip purée that we planned to serve with the pork belly, and the Swiss chard that would accompany the rib eye. (I always like to add a surprise course, so this time it was diver scallops, which we seared and served with a beurre blanc. They went to table after the crab and before the pork belly.)

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Angela and Anna had arrived, the dishwasher shortly thereafter. Alex and Nicholas, who were my sommeliers for The Second Coming, were on the way. (I worked with Dionysus Imports on the wine pairings for the meal.) Anna began organizing the tableware, and Angela was in the kitchen tidying the prep area. The team was assembled.

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As at The First Supper, the guest list was diverse. We had the hosts, Ray and Judy, who had been at The First Supper and are special friends of The Brockhaus (Judy is a great cook and her kitchen is outfitted with everything one needs, including two truffle shavers); the president of a software company and his wife; a pair of flight attendants for a private jet company; a leasing agent who was accustomed to the Parisian dining scene; a husband and wife who were wine enthusiasts; and a Tulane MBA student whom Angela had invited. They did arrive close to 7, all of them, and we heard their voices floating up the stairs from the wine room on the first floor, where the somms had opened and were pouring some sparkling.

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I began the dinner proper at 8 p.m., and the plating was a wonder: efficient, smooth, timely. The guests talked and ate, enjoyed and learned about the wines, and did not get up from the long table until midnight. The rib eye, I was told by two guests, was the best they had ever had. I was happy.

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There is a third evening in the works, and there will be rabbit.

Here is The Second Coming menu:

THE BROCKHAUS

THE SECOND COMING

JANUARY 24, 2015

++++++++++++++++

CURRIED OYSTERS ON THE HALF SHELL / CUCUMBER SAUCE / ROE

BUTTERNUT SQUASH BISQUE / CHORIZO

CRAB SPHERE / ASPARAGUS RISOTTO

DIVER SCALLOPS / BEURRE BLANC

PORK BELLY / WILD TEXAS MUSHROOM / PARSNIP PURÉE

RIB EYE / SWISS CHARD 

CHOCOLATE CAKE / BACON SEMIFREDDO

 Special thanks to Dionysus Imports and Russ and Judy Labrasca

“Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are.”

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