Tag: duck

Of Duck, Brisket Tacos, and a Good Sauvignon Blanc (Plus a Fine Bartender Makes a Good Cocktail)

I like duck. I like to eat it, and I like to cook it. I like to confit it. I love the legs and the breast. I love it all — duck feet and beaks in Hong Kong as well. (During one of my residences in Paris, the grocery store near my apartment sold a wonderful confit de canard in the refrigerated section, two pieces for, as I recollect, five or so euros. Ahh, we’ll always have Paris … )

A week or so ago, I had a very good plate of duck confit in Houston, at Toulouse, a restaurant whose Dallas location (the original one in the two-location mini-chain) was once one of Angela’s favorites. Here’s my take on that duck, and the rest of the meal. The lentils were excellent, by the way.

You like tacos? Yes, don’t we all. Texas is home to its fair share of them, and you would have to eat at a different place daily for years to get to all of them. A new restaurant in Houston is serving a great brisket taco at the moment, and I ordered it last week. I recommend you try one or several. Read about it and see it here.

Now to some wine. I not long ago opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, a 2016 Sauvignon Blanc from Ehlers Estate, and was, in a word, refreshed. It was clean and crisp, it was balanced impeccably, and it was oh so good with the chicken I had cooked. So good it was that I’m going to open another bottle this weekend. Read about it here.

Finally, as I write this, it’s cocktail time. A good bartender I know, who works at one of my favorite restaurants in Houston, this week accepted the challenge of creating a cocktail that included Ancho Reyes Verde, a rather spicy liqueur made of poblano chilis. She did quite well, and if you want to watch her make it, see this.

Eat well, and with people you love.

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.

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.

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.

Duck and cheese, for a brisk day in Paris

Paris is … well, Paris is a great place for food, which is one of the reasons I love this city. Every day I wander into another little shop, looking for cheese, meats, vegetables, wines, coffees, or teas. Or conversation with people who love food and love to cook.

Teas of the world, in the 5th.

Teas of the world, in the 5th.

Today was brisk and sunny, I was out early, enjoying the holiday feeling, the lights and smiling people, the frowning people. Christmas trees are selling now, and the man who sits on the corner near my apartment depending on the kindness of strangers for his income added a new puppy to his entourage. He now has three.

I have been cooking a lot lately, saving my dining-out money for when Angela arrives. The kitchen in my apartment is small, two burners and a toaster oven. That limits my choices, but so far I’ve not had any problems satisfying my palate. This afternoon I picked up some sliced duck and a few shallots, and when I returned home I surveyed the kitchen and noticed some pasta and chèvre, and macaroni and cheese came to mind.

I love duck.

I love duck.

From a goat and a garden

From a goat and a garden

I cooked the pasta until it was just under al dente, then rinsed it in cold water and drained. I returned it to the pan and cooked it for a minute longer, to chase away any excess moisture. I then sliced the chèvre into it, added some salt and butter and mixed that well.

Cheese, pasta and butter

Cheese, pasta and butter; stir well.

duck bacon?

Duck bacon? Yes.

Duck fat and vegetables

Duck fat and vegetables

The duck I heated gently, then removed it from the pan and sautéed an onion and a shallot in the duck fat, which imparts a great taste to the vegetables. The duck I tore into smaller pieces, then added it, along with the onion and shallot, to the pasta and cheese mixture. Stirred it well and seasoned with more salt and pepper, then added a bit of cream.

The oven was hot, so I buttered a baking dish and put the pasta mixture into it. Into the oven went the dish, and I cooked it for an hour or so.

One can do a lot, or a little, with a toaster over

One can do a lot, or a little, with a toaster oven.

About five or 10 minutes before the dish was done I put a few more pieces of chèvre on top of the pasta and broiled it until the cheese melted.

It was excellent, with a baguette and a pinot noir. If you can’t find duck I have also tasted this dish with pork bacon, or lardons, or salmon. I prefer duck.

Everyone loved macaroni and cheese, no?

Everyone loves macaroni and cheese, no?

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