Page 19 of 28

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

February 9, 2015 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

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 / [email protected] / 2 Comments

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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

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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.”

Three Friends Grow Hungry in Hong Kong

January 18, 2015 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

It was early evening, and the sky above Hong Kong was hazy with the mixture of pollution and moisture and reflected light to which they had grown accustomed. The trio wandered down streets and alleys until hunger called out to them from tables on a sidewalk. They sat and ordered bottles of beer and bowls of rice and pork and beef and talked of golden Buddhas and Barcelona and that dusty bar near the port where the cava costs a euro a glass and the bocadillos bring nothing but grace and satisfaction.

Jascha Hoffman, right, and Spiff Wiegand play at Subterranean Arthouse in Berkeley in 2012. (www.architecture.com)

Songs of the Lives They Lived: A Voice From My Past

January 4, 2015 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

Jascha Hoffman, right, and Spiff Wiegand play at Subterranean Arthouse in Berkeley in 2012. (www.architecture.com)

When I was the copy chief at The New York Sun I hired a few freelancers; one of them was Jascha Hoffman. I enjoyed talking with him; he was interested in literature and music and science, and we discussed those topics, and more. He was energetic and ambitious. I lost track of him when I left the paper and moved to Paris for a job, but thought of him at times when I read or heard something in which I thought he would be interested.

This morning I heard his voice again, after an absence of 15 years. His latest album is out, and NPR’s Weekend Edition Sunday ran a segment on it – the songs are based on obituaries Hoffman wrote. It was a nice reunion for me, and if you follow this link you can get The Afterneath for a great price. Give it a listen. And Jascha, it was nice talking with you.

Of Life and Loss: Christmas Memories

December 24, 2014 / [email protected] / 1 Comment

My mother loves Christmas. I have fond memories of handmade cards, Christmas tree cakes, glitter, glue, pine cones I collected that we would transform into ornaments and centerpieces. On our tables were orderly stacks of construction paper, fruitcakes in festive wrappers, tins of divinity, and bowls of egg nog. (If we happened to be spending Christmas in Savannah my grandmother and mother made everything doubly perfect. My grandmother’s long pantry was full of wonders – she made her own mince meat pies and fruitcakes – including real candied fruit, giant pecans from trees on my great-grandmother’s property, and lots of ingredients that went into multiple batches of perfect fudge.)

Sandra, my mother.

When I was a child, I spent Christmases in, among other locations, Alaska and Florida, New Hampshire and Germany. I especially loved Germany. The winters there were mild, with just the right amount of snow. I learned to love Glühwein and beer. My mother continued cooking, adding German cuisine to her repertoire. We spent a Christmas in Garmisch, and one evening during our stay there I was introduced to the benefits of the sauna when I wondered into a spa and a group of men and women showed me how to properly schvitz. We would emerge from the steamy cabin and walk out onto a snowy roof deck to walk around and cool down, then repeat the therapeutic cycle.

As an adult, I have enjoyed the holiday season in Paris and Munich and Sweden and Barcelona and New York, among other places. I have cooked and eaten in all of those locales, and at every meal, be it a beer and sausage in Trier or a 20-course feast in Donostia, my grandmother and mother were beside me in spirit.

My mother, Sandra, does not cook as much as she once did, and my grandmother died in 2013; around this time every year I remember Ida’s mincemeat pies, her chicken and dumplings, her Savannah kitchen. She taught her daughter well. Next year I will spend Christmas with my mother and father. And we will cook.

My grandmother Ida taught me much about cooking, and I am glad I told her she did.

A Snowy Night in Kaiserslautern

December 13, 2014 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

A line of excellence.

Holger and Max had been planning to go out for an evening of beer, at a bar where they would order a meter of Bier and enjoy drinking the glasses over the course of an evening. I went with them. I have written much about the Westings, and they are dear friends. I miss them, and look forward to spending time in their company again. (I miss fresh German beer, too.) Prost, friends.

Max and I with beers.

One ahead …

Father and son toast.

Advance Notice: Brockhaus Returns With The Second Coming

November 27, 2014 / [email protected] / 1 Comment

We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink. — Epicurus

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.
— Brockhaus guest

The First Supper was a success (read about it here): lively conversation and exciting wines, great food and new friendships. Now for the next course. At 7 p.m. on Saturday, January 24, Brockhaus returns in Houston with The Second Coming, and you can be at the table. Six courses, accompanied by unique and delicious wines, at a table of individuals passionate about all things culinary. And there will be surprises.

$115 per person*

Seating is limited. Email us if you have any questions, and if you know of anyone who might be interested in attending The Second Coming please help spread the news via Facebook, Twitter, email, or word of mouth.

Bon appétit,

The Brockhaus Team

(Brockhaus‘ preferred method of payment is PayPal via the email address [email protected]; please contact us with any questions.)

*A portion of the proceeds will benefit No Kid Hungry.

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butternut squash bisque / cauliflower snow / chorizo

curried oysters on the half shell / cucumber sauce / caviar

pork belly confit / wild Texas mushroom / celeriac purée

crab cake / asparagus risotto

lamb shank / cannellini / roasted tomato / greens

chocolate cake / bacon semifreddo

(complimentary wines accompany each course)

In Spain, By the Sea, I Dined Well

November 3, 2014 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

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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King Trumpet Mushrooms - Pickled Turnip, Crispy Cauliflower, Sumac Yoghurt

A Final Meal on Nantucket …

October 24, 2014 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

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

October 17, 2014 / [email protected] / 0 Comments

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.

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

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).

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.

Mise en Place

Page 19 of 28

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

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

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Three Friends Grow Hungry in Hong Kong

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Songs of the Lives They Lived: A Voice From My Past

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Of Life and Loss: Christmas Memories

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A Snowy Night in Kaiserslautern

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Advance Notice: Brockhaus Returns With The Second Coming

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In Spain, By the Sea, I Dined Well

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A Final Meal on Nantucket …

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Nantucket Eats: Pork Belly, Duck, and Lamb at Oran Mor Bistro

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