Monday, January 28, 2008
Pungent and Fierce
Paris: The Grand Adventure in food.
It's my first night and first meal in Paris and I'm excited. I've eaten on the flights from Moscow but there's something about airplane food and flying that just throws everything helter skelter, so I'm back on the streets looking for some chow.
It's just past eleven p.m. and most places have just closed but the corner brasserie is still open for drinks and dining. I walk in, choose a table and the man sets me up with a table cloth and place settings - nice! The menu is simple brasserie food, just the way I like it. I fancy myself a man of French food so the Bavette d'Aloyau or skirt steak and french fries, is just up my alley. It's 200 grams of beef goodness coming my way and I can't wait.
This brasserie is a sports pub and after several minutes watching girls' wrestling and girls' karate championships (and who can't like cute girls wrestling with each other or beating each other silly?), my food arrives.
Suddenly, an unusual aroma hits my nose: the smell of livestock.
It's an unexpected odor. It's pungent and fierce. This beef smells like it came from the cattle pen. It's also thin, scraggily-looking and hard charred with grill marks. It's so thin, it's curling.
If this is the epitome of French Food then we might as well kill ourselves now.
But I'm a trooper and I'm determined to eat real, French brasserie food - just like the Parisians do. With Coke in hand, I get to work. The cutting is tough going and the meat is lifeless - no matter how much onion sauce I pour on. Even with a very generous hand of salt, the meat is still lame. And tough. Chew, chew, chew - it doesn't end. 200 grams suddenly seems like 2,000 pounds. I wanted to pass on the meat, but that's why I was here so I keep chew, chew, chewing.
At least the girls fighting each other on tv look pretty enticing. I start to wonder if there's co-ed wrestling and how I might join a class...
Then there are the fries. Again, if these were the definition of "Frites"<, I might as well kill myself by flinging my crying body into the Seine River and dying a ghastly, but romantic, death.
The fries are fucking frozen.
How do I know this? I know battered fries when they enter my mouth. They're crispy. Too crispy for fries of this color. They're crispy even as they cool. They're crispy when cold. Real Frites don't do that. Battered, frozen fries...
Paris is Burning.
It's not a total loss though (okay, maybe it is), the redeeming factor for this place is their fanaticism for rugby. Memorabilia is everywhere. A nod to the All Blacks, even a South Africa ball (boo, hiss) and lots of jerseys. It's something you don't see often in America.
At least I know where I can watch the Six Nations tournament this weekend...
Le Recrutement Cafe
36 rue de la Tour Maubourg
75007 Paris
01 47 05 46 85
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Privyet Moscow
It's a weekend of vodka (lots, lots and fucking lots of it), caviar (3 kilos), food and friendship with a film producer, the Governor of Siberia and 11 security agents.
I'll report back when I have time!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
per se
Behind these doors lies something special.
This one has been a long-time coming.
per se.
Finally.
Friends and readers of this blog know that I've been a fan of Thomas Keller for many years now. His philosophy and his approach resonate with me in ways that I don't fully comprehend. A thoughtful approach. That's something I can appreciate. It's something I desire to pursue.
After lots of talk, thwarted plans and just wasting time, I finally got around to securing a reservation at Keller's outpost in New York City, per se. I won't go into it here, but if you're interested in the history of per se and Keller, there have been many words crafted by writers better than myself who will serve you better.
As you may know, getting a reservation is tough business involving seemingly endless waits listening to telephone Muzak while the plastic of the cell phone causes your ear to sweat and the transmission slowly fries your brain. Obtaining a reservation requires commitment. To a sanitarium.
When I finally got through, I was informed that tables for two were sold out for the rest of the year but tables for four were available. I'll take one. When would you like to dine with us? I told the lady that I am open to any day and that I would only be coming to New York City to dine at per se, so everything hinged on their availability but during the week would be ideal.
The date was set: Monday, December 10, 2007 at 10pm.
I knew that Spike was up for it. Monday nights are typically "safe" nights for chefs to get out and about, so all we needed was two more people. Two more people for one of the worlds' most difficult reservations - shouldn't be too hard.
Boy, was I wrong about that one.
Those were two hardest seats I've ever tried to fill. By the time December 10th came around, the two I had lined up got stuck elsewhere in the world and Spike's restaurant was so slamming that he couldn't get away that night. With a hundred dollar deposit per seat, I was screwed.
Happily, the hostess rescheduled my reservation for Thursday, December 13th at 9:30pm and lowered the reservation to three - making my job filling those seats much easier. Old friend Tony said he would dine and we ended up dragging Kathleen, who was literally getting ready for bed, along with us. It was slightly stressful, but we had three.
The view of Columbus Circle from our table.
You hear different things about per se. Some people laud it, others talk about how it's located in a "mall" - the Time Warner Center. I guess it's true. It is in a mall - there's shopping downstairs but upstairs is filled with some of America's top restaurants.
The week prior to leaving, I read Pheobe Damrosch's chronicle of her life as a per se captain: Service Included. It was a good read and filled with little details about the restaurant and their approach. I made a mental note to ask our crew the square footage of Central Park, and to remember to let the staff know when I was going to the bathroom so my food didn't get cold.
I've toured The French Laundry and per se is hardly anything like TFL. It's sleek. It's modern. It's very different yet tasteful and comfortable. Compared to the dining room at TFL, per se seems cavernous - especially since there are only fifteen tables.
Upon arrival, we were invited to relax in the lounge. It's comfy as far as lounges go but I wasn't sure if they were prepping our table or us cooling our jets was part of the decompression from the "real world." When the moment of truth came, we were escorted to our table by the large window with a commanding view of Columbus Circle and 59th Street. From our warm environs, civilization below seemed, well, less civilized.
After setting us up with some water, we were presented with the Chef's Tasting Menu, the Tasting of Vegetables and Wine Menu. I really don't need to see the former, I can do with out the second and I'm pretty much inept with the latter, so I took a quick glance and let our captain know that there was nothing I wasn't willing to consume and the Tasting Menu would be fine, as well as some wine recommendations.
The tasting menu is standardized at $250 per person but you can easily surpass this with the "supplemental courses" and your choice of libations. For our menu, there were two supplements: a white truffle risotto for an additional $150 and a foie gras course for an additional $45 - I will take them both, thank you very much. Kathleen decided to go with the truffles while Tony decided to add the foie.
As I alluded to earlier, I'm really quite hapless when it comes to wine. Once upon a time, I used to fancy myself a wine-lover, but I've come to realize these past couple of years that I know next to nothing about wine and have come to rely on others to choose wisely. Our sommelier came out, realized that perhaps people of our financial means are not the ideal candidates for the 1951 Chateau La Tour and recommended alternatives.
We would start out with a round of champagne to compliment the first course "Oysters and Pearls" and from there branch out with the 2005 Lucia Chardonnay and then on to the 2002 Sequiom Cabernet Napa Valley, both would turn out to be wonderful choices filled with flavor and complexity.
Prior to coming to per se, I always thought that staff in restaurants of this caliber would maintain a certain level of decorum. A stiffness perhaps. Maybe a bit of stuffiness and heavy formality. I certainly wasn't prepared for the somewhat casual and nearly flippant demeanor of Michael, our captain.
I can't remember precisely what happened that caused me to think this but I must have stated or asked something and his response to me seemed almost flippant. Considering that the most I expected staff at per se to say was "yes, sir" or "no, sir", I was shocked. I thought about saying something but thought better of it. I decided to see how things played out.
As the evening wore on, I realized that this was his style. It wasn't flippant but rather comfortable. There was no arrogance or pretense, he was just tailoring his approach to our tables' demeanor. I don't know why I let the head trash of expected service get the better of me.
We were the casual table of the evening. Just some friends out on the town not trying to impress anyone. It was our casual and relaxed attitude he was responding to and it fit brilliantly as we found our groove and talked about ourselves, business and Pheobe's book. There was even a moment of celebrity thrill when it came out that Michael was featured in the book. He was the Michael who wrangled Keller out of the kitchen when it was on fire and he was the same Michael who wrangled Pheobe into his backserver for Frank Bruni's first visit. If I had my copy of the book, I would have asked him to autograph it.
Within the USBC (that's United States Barista Championship), there's always tales of "five star" or "fine dining" service. The USBC promotes a stodgy, stiff and boring level of service that is just ghastly. Here I was, at one of the top restaurants in the world and the service was friendly and affable. Something is amiss somewhere and it ain't at per se.
"OYSTERS AND PEARLS"
"Sabayon" of Pearl Tapioca with Island Creek Oysters and Sterling White Sturgeon Caviar.
The Tasting Menu lists ten separate courses, but in reality, it's more than that. Much, much more.
We started off with an amuse bouche of fried gruyere. Just a small bite to season the palate and whet the appetite.
Next came the fabled Salmon Cornets, little ice cream-looking balls of salmon in a cone filled with creme fraiche. I had read about these and seen pictures and it was cool to finally have one for myself. It was done in two bites.
Our first listed course came next, "Oysters and Pearls" perfectly matched to our champagne - the tapioca and caviar dancing in my mouth, just lovely.

COMPLIMENTS OF THE CHEF:
A Hamachi round.
Suddenly, another complimentary round appeared of yellowtail tuna. If there's one thing I never seem to tire of, it's Hamachi tuna. This one was buttery perfect and sublime.
By this point, things are really rolling along. Kathleen is starting to really get into the place. At first, she didn't want to come along and was, literally, getting ready for bed in her pajamas. Evidently, she likes to sleep around 9:30pm but it seems like she's enjoying the dinner so far.
The one thing about dining fine is that one must wear a jacket. I'm decked out in my only dark suit with shirt and tie. I have a general rule about restaurants and jackets: don't do it. In fact, it's the main reason why I never go to the restaurant that's a half-mile from my house. I hate to be told what to wear when I'm paying for dinner.
But per se is nothing like the restaurant down the street so I'm almost happy to wear a suit. Better get used to it anyway since I think a suit should be my standard dress for the 2008 Coffee Project. Not to mention it warmed my heart to watch the receptionist invite the two walk-ins wearing jeans to come back after they have changed their attire.
Bread. It's such a tough cookie. Some places have great bread. Some places have merely okay bread. I'm happy to say that the mini-baguette at per se is on the great side. It was damn good. I wish I had more. They say wearing a jacket makes one a bit more civilized. I don't know about that but I didn't tear into the bread like I wanted to.
Butter is another hotly contested table item. To salt or not salt? Spike offers only unsalted butter at Woodberry. To me, it's slightly frustrating because it adds another step. On the other hand, that other step of adding salt gives me greater control over flavor, makes me vision myself as slightly more refined - and that can't be a bad thing.
Ever the diplomat, per se offers both kinds of butters to prevent table fights, friends becoming enemies and business deals falling apart over something as trivial as salt in your butter. God bless those salty cows.
Not long after the bread and butter, comes the Man With The Ellie Bleu Box. It's an exquisite example of French cabinetry with it's lacquered finish and mesmerizing construction. I'm familiar with Elie Bleu because of my days pursuing the finer pleasures of cigars where the Elie Bleu humidor is a coveted and treasured gift.
But this is a man on a different mission. As he arrives and announces himself, he pulls the top back on the hinges with the reverence of the Ark of the Covenant itself, to reveal several fist-sized knockers of white truffles from Alba, Italy. To the uninitiated, they look gnarly. Kind of weird. Kind of like big chunks of tan-colored turd. Steeped in dried carnaroli risotto, the man pulls a knob out of the box and carefully brushes away any stray rice bits.

Shaving the white truffle from Alba with reckless abandon.
As if by magic, our plates of cooked carnaroli risotto in castelmagno cheese arrives and The Man whips out his shaver and begins shaving the truffle.
He starts slowly, just taking his time to make sure the thickness is correct. Once he's assured that the truffles are coming out just right, a crescendo starts to build. He's shaving. And shaving. And shaving some more. Most restaurants would be content with a drizzle of "truffle infused oil" or maybe just a couple of shavings for color. Not per se. The Man is going to town on that truffle.

"CARNAROLI RISOTTO BIOLOGICO"
Shaved white truffles from Alba and Castelmagno cheese.
Soon, truffle shavings are flying out of the shaver, cascading onto the plate below. Truffles are wildly expensive and this man is shaving with reckless abandon. He's sweating for God's Sake. I've never seen anything like this. I'm shocked. It's snowing truffles and no one seems to care. I'm waiting for a manager, the chef or Thomas Keller himself to come bursting into the dining room to stop this insanity. The Man shaves the knob until the knob is no more. He's expended the entire truffle on my plate and I'm delighted.
No wonder this supplement costs $150.
But it's good. Luscious. I've had a few encounters with something truffle in my past but nothing like this. The dish is laden with white truffles and I'm truly tasting truffle for the first time. It's light, delicate and almost non-descript. Paired with the dish however, and it's one of the most exquisite dishes I've ever tasted. The risotto is cooked perfectly. It's the most perfectly cooked risotto I've ever had in my life. Paired with the cheese, I wonder if I could possibly recreate this at home.
I wipe the plate clean. I would love to have more. I must have more. After all, it's only an extra hundred fifty.
Meanwhile, Tony passed on the risotto and went with the regular menu item: "Veloute" of Sugar Pie-Pumpkin - Brussels Sprouts, Chestnuts and "Marmelade de Pruneaux D'Agen" with Black Winter Truffles. I had a taste of it. It's good, but the white truffle risotto beats the pumpkin hands-down.
Kathleen's got a bit of a shellfish allergy so whenever a course has a shellfish component, the kitchen sends her something different. While we were dining on the sole, Kathleen had a John Dory course.
A course that she demanded we try and thank her we did because that was some of the best prepared John Dory I've ever had. Light with a crisp skin. I shuddered eating it. It was better than our sole.

"SOLE DE LA MACHE EN ROUELLE POCHEE"
Braised cardoons, globe artichokes and Greenmarket Carrots with Barigoule Emulsion.
Not that the sole was bad. It was very good. It's just the John Dory was superior. As with any multi-course tasting menu, there are items that stand out above all others and there are other dishes, that are very good in their own right, but kinda fall to the wayside in the context of the whole. The sole was good. It just didn't have the staying power as I write this nearly a month later.

KATHLEEN'S ROCKFISH
- with Leeks and Pearl Onions.

BUTTER POACHED NOVA SCOTIA LOBSTER
Marinated Heirloom Radishes, Miso Glazed Eggplant and Pea Tendrils with "Mousseline Gingembre"
For the next course, I didn't try Kathleen's rockfish, but it looked pretty tasty. I was too busy focusing on my lobster course. If I'm not mistaken, this is similar to the lobster preparation in The French Laundry Cookbook. Originally, they poached the lobster in a buerre blanc, but recently they changed the preparation to sous vide with butter in the vacpak pouch. I was eager to sample the sous vide method.
The lobster was good. Buttery smooth and cooked beautifully. But here's the caveat: maybe I just don't know any better, but I find it hard to cook a lobster poorly. Lobster tends to be readily adaptable to cooking and eating. Just add some butter (and maybe a little salt) and lobster just tastes great. This one did too and I finished in about two bites.
The problem I'm finding with these long, multi-course tasting menus with accompanying wines is the ability to stay sober, cognizant and presentable after numerous courses and at least an equal number of glasses. Sure, you feel happier and easier to coax but maybe you feel so comfortable that you fall asleep in the toilet, kiss one of the runners or flop your head into the soup. Not that any of that happened to me - I'm just fearful that it might.
It was right around this time that something odd happened. As i watched one of the runners place a course in front of Kathleen, I couldn't help but think that I knew here from somewhere. Gosh, she looked familiar. I must know her from somewhere.
Then it hit me. I do know her.
"Excuse me, but didn't you work at Alinea?"
Yes, she did. And after a few choice questions and comments, she was my captain at Alinea the night that the snowstorms prevented Bronwen and the others from flying into Chicago and making it to dinner that night.
Amazing. The world keeps getting smaller by the minute.
Turns out she moved to New York a few months ago to work at per se and before she can become a captain, she has to work her way up through the ranks. Olivia - suddenly, we had another in with the crew here. Just amazing.
SAUTEED GRIMAUD FARM'S "FOIE GRAS D'OIE"
Smoked Onion Puree, Spiced Tokyo Turnips and Field Mizuna with "Jus de Gibier"
Next up was our Foie Gras course. I'm a big fan of foie and order it wherever I can. This one was amazing. Beautiful. Succulent. Sauteed just right. I tore into it. I wish I had more. I even took pictures of the half-eaten dish. That was ridiculous.
RIB-EYE OF MARCHO FARM'S NATURE FED VEAL "ROTI A LA BROCHE"
"Ris de Veau," Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Parsnips and Rainbow Swiss Chard with Veal Sauce
Next up, even more luxury. A veal ribeye. Amazing. The flavor and texture were just beautiful, delicate, smooth. I stared at the odd, round shape of the ribeye for quite some time. Does the ribeye in a veal come shaped like that? Perhaps they used Activa but whatever the case, I loved it. A definite highlight of the meal and one of the dishes I most remember from that night.
Two Types of Bread for "Prima Donna"

"PRIMA DONNA"
German Butterball Potato Salad and Petite Mache with Whole Grain Mustard Aioli
The next course was fun. Two different kinds of bread for the Prima Donna cheese and some potato salad. Kinda fun, kinda whimsical. Something light after two powerhouse courses before we start heading towards dessert.
PINEAPPLE SORBET
Macadamia Nut "Nougatine," Coconut Cream, Guava Jam and Compressed Pineapple
BANANA BREAD PUDDING
Banana "Financier," Vanilla Fritters and Golden Raisins with "Pain de Mie" Ice Cream
"CHOCOLAT PARFUME A LA GRENADE"
Valrhona Chocolate "Biscuit," Pomegranate Ganache, White Chocolate Foam and Date Coulis with Bittersweet Ice Cream
Dessert was like this: simply crazy. We had it all. Just look at the pictures. Immense. And that wasn't all. There was more. Creme brulee, panna cotta and lots of candies. Cocoa-covered almonds and a silver tree of sweets. Not to mention the shortbread cookies and the eat-all-you-want tray of chocolates. Good God, I wanted to stuff my pockets. In fact, I did take a bunch of the wrapped sweets. I couldn't help myself. I'm eating at one of the finest restaurants in the world and I should be acting civilized.
Did I feel shame for lining my pockets? No. Okay, well, maybe a little. But I couldn't help it. The Media made me do it...
COFFEE AND A DOUGHNUT
Cappuccino Semi-Freddo with Cinnamon-Sugar Doughnuts
While Tony and Kathleen had the chocolate and banana listed on our menu, I was served the famous "Coffee and a Doughnut." I had spied another table being served that dessert about an hour earlier and was envious that it wasn't on our menu. Maybe it was just coincidence or maybe they knew I would like that because I'm in the coffee business or maybe because they labeled me a "V.I.P." (but, of course...), but I was stoked to be served the dish.
Stoked because this was the dessert that led to the development of the "Spro Shake" I served for the 2005 United States Barista Championship and the further refinement of that into "Coffee and a Cigarette" that I used for the 2006 USBC. So, "Coffee and a Doughnut" is very close to my hear indeed and I was thrilled to sample it first-hand.
The semi-frozen cappuccino was lovely. Strong milk flavor with eggs and a light coffee tone. The doughnut was cute and decent but nothing that blew my mind. A wonderful dessert overall and a personal thrill to taste.
A cup of the Panama Esmeralda Special
By this time, the conversation between us and our crew was flowing smoothly. Perhaps it was the camaraderie, perhaps it was the wine. Whatever the case, we were having a good time and being well taken care of. While they brought us their house pressed coffee, knowing that I am in the coffee business, they wanted me to try their Panama Esmeralda and see what I thought.
In case you're not familiar, the Panama Esmeralda has made a splash in the coffee scene over the past few years because of its' unique cup qualities. Floral aromatics and black tea notes are amongst the most notable characteristics of this coffee - a coffee that recently fetched $130 per pound green at the 2007 Best of Panama auction and is one of the world's most expensive coffees.
I should note that the auction lot Esmeralda is smaller and different than the standard and contract lots of Esmeralda. From my understanding, the auction lot was hand-picked for defects and is representative of the absolute best the farm has to offer. The contract and standard lots is the same coffee, just not picked over with a fine-toothed comb.
Many places have started to say they have the "Esmeralda" giving the impression that they have the auction lot when they have the standard lots. Considering there's a limited number of pounds that were sold to a limited number of roasters, it seems that there may actually be more on the market than was actually produced.

Cocoa covered almonds and more goodies
That is not to say that per se is misrepresenting the coffee, just something to be aware about. I've had both the auction and contract lot Esmeralda and both are wonderful coffees - the auction lot is just a bit more refined.
The Esmeralda I was served was quite nice. However, I thought it was bit on the heavy side for the Esmeralda. A bit over-roasted perhaps? Tony immediately noted (without prompting or suggestion from me) the heavy black tea notes of his cup. So perhaps I'm not tasting correctly because of the wine or maybe I've got a predisposition (prejudice) about what I'm expecting. I can't tell for certain. The cup, while not the best Esmeralda I've ever tasted, was good.
Perhaps if I hadn't eaten such a regal meal I would have been able to savor it more. Right now, I was more concerned with remaining conscious and not succumbing to bloat.
Our barista, Mamud, was a genuinely interested fellow who is, I think, a bit hampered by the restaurants' commitment to Illy pods. He's been there since the opening. He was friendly and enthusiastic and seems to love what he is doing. My wish for him is that Keller breaks away from these chains that bind him and allow Mamud to take his place as a craftsman amongst the craftsmen of per se. Get a proper espresso machine, some grinders and let the man sing. With a little love and attention, Mamud could soon be making espresso drinks on par with the rest of the cuisine.
Heck, I'd be happy to consult and train him myself 'cause I want to see restaurants offer coffee as serious as their cuisine.
More goodies for the table (and my pocket)
THE BILL
Includes tax and service
At long last (it was about 1:55am), The Bill arrived at our table. While the food was immense, so was the bill. The total for three of us was just over One Thousand Five Hundred Dollars. Holy crap. Outrageous (the meal and the price) but completely and utterly worth it in the end.
I'm glad I didn't bring a date...
By now, I've been to some truly wonderful restaurants across America. And I've paid some crazy money for those meals. While I thought about it in the middle of service, now that I have the perspective of being several weeks later, I have to say that this was one of, if not "the", best fine-dining restaurant meal I've had yet. I would do it again tomorrow. Already, I've started planning and conniving my way back to per se (or The French Laundry). The flavors were lush and delicious. But, more importantly, they filled the soul.
Michael, our captain, Mamud, our barista, Olivia, our runner, myself, Kathleen and Tony basking in the glory of Five Stars.
It's a topic that I was able to discuss with Olivia after service. Our meal at per se was delicious and I found it to be "soul satisfying", meaning that it filled a greater need than to be satiated and stimulated. It comforted. I know it's odd to say that about a tasting menu, but I think it's true.
Only Olivia could understand what I was talking about since she was my captain at Alinea. While Alinea was an amazing and intellectually stimulating experience, I never felt the need to go back. Like I wrote in March (reflecting on my meals at Charlie Trotter's and Alinea):
"...the meals were phenomenal, but there's something missing for me. Desire. Desire is what's missing. I reflect back on my Trotter and Alinea experience and find myself satiated that I tried them. I'm not plotting a return trip to Chicago. I'm not devising ways to raise a thousand bucks so I can eat there again. I'm not dreaming of the food."
While the food at Alinea was amazing and some of the most forward-thinking stuff in North America, it lacked the ability to satisfy the soul. One could (and has) stare for hours at the photos of the meal at Alinea, but that soul was missing. And it's that soul that drives me to go back to per se. An experience like Alinea is a "must have", but perhaps once every two or three years, just to see what's new and happening. But halfway through the meal at per se and we were already talking about coming back. Kathleen's birthday is in March, then would be a good time for her. Tomorrow would be a fine time for me.
There's something about Keller's approach that does more than stimulate through the plate. And it's that "comfort" which calls for a quick return - even with the considerable price tag.
Our evening concluded with a tour of the kitchen (my favorite part of any meal). Michael had previously been a cook at The French Laundry so he was a great guide and explained everything for us. In a word, the kitchen is gorgeous. White tile and custom Bonnet suite and custom refrigeration. Lovely. Maybe one day they'll let me hang out and observe how they work. Please.
By the time we left, it was 2:30am. A relatively quiet time in the city that never sleeps. We had been in per se for over four hours. For many, the 9:30pm reservation would have been too late, but for me, it was just right. I prefer a later seating since they're not going to turn the table again, unless they are going to have a 2am seating (yes, please), so everyone can take their time and you can indulge a little more. The only problem: it's late and you're gonna pay for it in the morning.
But, oh so worth it. I've already started conniving and plottting my return...
Monday, January 21, 2008
Gearing Up

The well-traveled Black Hole and Black Hole Too bags by Patagonia.
I've been hearing rumors that the weather in Moscow is going to be something like 20 or 30 degrees below zero. I've also heard that it's basically just fucking cold there. Frigid cold and lots of snow, basically the Apocalypse in White.
Thinking that I would be ill-prepared in my t-shirt and shorts, I ventured down to the local REI to see what was available and see how much I would need to spend as I "geared up" for this winter adventure.
I'm happy to report that I've pretty much got it covered.
About ten years ago, my friends and I were on this "outdoor adventure" kick. We were going to be the new Tenzig Norgays of the world. No wilderness was too wild and no mountain too high for our sights. We spent the next couple of years slowly piecing together our arsenal of tools and clothing to conquer just about any obstacle.
As luck would have it, the wildest our adventure ever got was the Kalalau Trail on Kaua'i - where I would find myself stranded at the two mile mark at Hanakapiai due to exhaustion, dementia and a pack that was just too loaded to be of use. Later, I would find myself at the summit of Mount Olomana on O'ahu at sunset with an absolute gorgeous 360 degree view of the island below - without a flashlight. Which meant slowly crawling down the 1,643 foot mountain with the flash from a pocket camera. To prove that I was capable of operating in cold, icy conditions, I made my way to the summit of Bradbury Mountain in Maine right after the ice storm of January 1997 (elevation 400 feet).
Perhaps those were not true demonstrations of my outdoor prowess.
Anyway... as I browsed through the aisles at REI, I realized that I already owned just about everything I'm going to need for this trip to Moscow. I've got the Patagonia Capilene underwear, the Capilene mid-layer, Columbia wind jacket, Arcteryx fleece vest and Columbia shell. Pair that with Patagonia shell pants, Smart Wool socks, Vasque boots, L.L. Bean Gaitors, Outdoor Research cap and North Face windstopper gloves. Maybe add on a pair of mitts and a balaclava, and I'm pretty much ready to go.
Of course, those don't address my wardrobe needs for dinner at a nice restaurant and clubbing afterwards with the ladies, but I hear that fur coats are cheap in Russia...
Guide To Nowhere

My selection of guidebooks: Lonely Planet Moscow, Insight Moscow, Knopf Mapguides Moscow, Michelin Paris, Rick Steves' Paris and The Little Black Book of Paris.
The problem with travel for me is that I absolutely hate doing all the planning. Why can't my personal assistant just take care of it for me and I can sit back, relax and be comfortable in the knowledge that someone else is doing all the hard work for me? Live would be so much better. When it comes to booking travel, I'm horrendously late about doing it. I put it off and off, until I reach the point that I absolutely have to make it happen. Then, it's a mad scramble but, miraculously, it always comes together - even if there is only just a few hours to spare.
Every year, my parents invite me to come along on one of their worldwide excursions. The locales they visit are exotic places like Morocco, Spain and other distant points in Europe and the Mediterranean. It's hard to say no - especially since a tour with them means that my pocket stays full. But they're of an older generation that enjoys traveling in groups. They like to have a group of friends as travel companions, and groups mean itineraries - and intineraries that include bus tours and crowds of other tourists are not that appealing to me.
When I visit a new city, I like to go and just hang. Cruise the streets and see the people. Try to get a feel what it would be like to live there. Of course, there are times when living like the locals isn't necessarily in the best interests of personal health - like the 2001 EDSA II Revolution in Manila, or the 1999 7.2 Richter Earthquake in Manila, or the simmering eruption of Taal Volcano in Legazpi City that same year, or the terrorist bombings in Manila in 2000. Hmmm, perhaps there's a reason why I haven't been back to the Philippines in seven years.
Anyway, I enjoy just checking things out. Without a strict itinerary of "must sees." Sure, I've made the time to journey to the St. Louis Museum of Art, or the MoMA, and I've gone to long lengths to visit Tokyo Disneyland and Chichen Itza. But what I really want to do is just cruise around and do not much in particular.
And travel guide books seem to just suck at helping you do just that.
Lately, I've been prepping (not too seriously, mind you) for a trip to Moscow and Paris. A trip whose flight booking will have me departing Dulles in Virginia with stops in Frankfurt, Warsaw, Moscow, Copenhagen and finally Paris. From there, it's back to Frankfurt before returning to Dulles. In other words, I get a cheap, whirlwind tour of Europe on the way to Moscow and Paris. Maybe there will be some cool things to see at the airports.
My friends are planning the trip to Moscow, which works fine for me since I hate to plan. I just arrive, check into my hotel and they're taking care of the rest. Mindless. I kind of like that sometimes.
Paris is different. I'm on my own. I will have to seek out my own adventure. Many friends have stated that I "must see" The Louvre. Frankly, going to a very large museum that costs a bit of money and may be overrun with tourists smashing to see the Mona Lisa does not sound appealing to me. Modigliani? Yes. Ethnographic art from the South Pacific? Yes. But, do I want to go through the hassle? I'm tending on the "no" side of the equation.
I want to wander the streets, drink coffee and eat baguettes while smoking cigarettes (I can start) in a sidewalk cafe, speak atrocious French to Parisian women who might find that endearingly attractive, tour the markets, but it seems that the guidebooks I've sourced are more concerned with telling me about the history of the city and all the "must see" places to see.
What I want to know about both cities is where to stay and where to eat. Guide books are terrible at this. The Insight City Guide to Moscow gives great insight on the neighborhood attractions but places to stay and eat are minimal. It's irritating. The notion of lugging this 1-2 pound book around the world that doesn't tell me where to eat is just puzzling.
It's a poundage game with me since I'm too cheap to buy a roll-on for my computer case and insist on my nine-year-old Tenba shoulder bag. Every ounce weighs on me and I'm careful with what I bring - especially since I'm expecting to bring home more than I left with. So far, on an ounce to info ratio, the Knopf Mapguide Moscow is the best bargain. Just a slim, lightweight book with maps of Moscow and little tidbits on places to visit in each area. Minimal. Light. I likey.
The Little Black Book of Paris is also a small, compact book that's wire bound to make it easy to hold open to the right page. The descriptions are concise and it looks to be a decent book. To be honest, I bought it because it just looks sexy. Leather bound with a black band to hold it closed. Nice. It will probably be the book I end up taking with me.
But all of this thinking is just too tiring for me. Perhaps I should hire a personal assistant.
Or maybe I can find a French girl who will pity this wayward traveller and tour him around her town...
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Great Eggspectations
In between recording sessions (where I've been digitizing my twenty-five year old collection of 7" 45rpm records), training a new barista and watching a marathon featuring The Matrix, The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions, I'm been playing with my eggs...
Stop that.
First up was the eight hour sous vide of eggs at 60C. Determined to see if my recollection was accurate, I forged on. The results were pretty good but took insanely long to achieve. A nice texture to the yolk but I'm playing with commercial eggs and the flavor is, well, less than desirable. Certainly not the rich flavor of the eggs I usually source from Springfield Farm.
I received some great comments from Thursdays' attempt and decided to give them a whirl. Alex suggested trying 63.8C (don't know why it's not just 64.0, but he knows better than I do) for one hour and the result was velvety and luxurious while still maintaining a softness.
What these eggs really need is some salt to kick 'em up a notch. Yes, it's the evening of cheesy lines and bad puns.
Alex and an anonymous commenter also suggested trying the eggs at 65.0C. Another hour later, the egg was ready and this time the yolk was firmer and closer to what I'm looking for. The white remain on the loose side but the yolk is looking very promising. My mom, ever the conscience, wanted to point out that this wasn't very suitable for a restaurant since it takes so long to make the egg. I wanted to eggsplain that these won't be cooked a la minute but decided that some things are better left for later.
So, we're on the road to eggs. I need to get a new supply of farm eggs instead of these commercial suckers to really get a feel for what we're going to do with them, but it is promising.
Oh, after a total of 12 hours in a 60C bath, the kamote still wasn't done and since I had been promising my aunt she'd have some to eat, it was time to cut open the bag and boil the suckers. Maybe 60C just isn't enough for starchy stuff.
Maybe I need to get that sous vide book...
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sous Vide at Home

On the way to sixty degrees with the kamote- Philippine Sweet Potato.
Truth be told, there were four PolyScience Immersion Circulators and this one is mine. Finally got around to setting it up and since I don't have any fresh meat lying around, I grabbed this kamote, or Philippine Sweet Potato.
Cooking the kamote is traditionally done by boiling in water for about twenty minutes until soft. At sixty degrees celcius, I'm going to pull it after two hours and see how it's coming along. The idea behind sous vide is to capture the natural flavors that are lost in the water with direct contact. We'll see how it goes and then move forward from there.
For the overnight sous vide: more eggs.
Hermanos Navarro Otra Vez

Chilaquiles with green sauce and chicken.
Last week, I made a promise to return to Hermanos Navarro to check out their Chilaquiles - I mean, I really do this as a public service for you, gentle readers, so that you won't have to suffer through a potentially poor meal. It's not the most glamorous job but, somehow, I feel that I'm contributing to humanity. And to ensure "fair and even" blog journalism, I brought Spike along to sample the wares - of course, there's very little convincing to do when Mexican food is involved.
The Chilaquiles at Hermanos Navarro are what I think are more "traditional" in style. From what little I know about the origins of Chilaquiles, it was originally made using old, dry tortillas rather than the fried tortilla chips that is popular today. It took me several bites to realize this since the tortillas are stewed in the sauce.
Quite simply, it was darn good. Very different than the Chilaquiles I make at home but so tasty. I could eat more. It's just so filling - even though the portion looks small. Delicate flavor with a spicy hotness and tortillas that stick to your ribs. It's truly comfort food for your soul. I can't wait to go back for more.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Twins and the Runny Egg Yolk
After my six hour ordeal from D.C. to Baltimore, I decided to give up on reaching The Spro or going home, so I headed down to Woodberry to ride out the storm traffic. While there, I decided to set up the Immersion Circulators and go for a test run.
Ever since my visit to Charlie Trotter's and the second course with the poached egg, I've been dreaming of re-creating this on my own. From what our server told us that night, the egg was poached at 60 degrees celcius for eight hours. Of course, it's seven p.m. and service ends at eleven. Four hours. That's gonna have to be enough time to see what happens.
Working with the immersion circulator is pretty straightforward. Fill a pan with water, put the thing in, plug it in and let 'er rip. Dial in the temperature and wait. Hint: if you're attempting a sous vide at 60C, it's unnecessary to use cold water. Just pour in hot water straight from the tap, the heating time will be shorter.
Once the water started heating, I dropped in four eggs and that was it. Now it was time to wait and make myself useful at the bar!
An order of Poutine and Tri-tip Steak (plus a sample of the new house-ground hamburger) later and it was time to check on the eggs. After three hours in the bath, the yolk was still too runny. Not yet. Gotta keep going.
Another hour later (4 hours total), service was over and it was getting near the time to get outta there. Pulled another egg and the whites were really getting that lovely, soft texture but the yolk was still runny. Thicker than the other but still runny. Although, pushing back and forth with the fork showed resistance and the promise of something truly exciting in texture to come. The guy at Trotter's was right, we were only about halfway there. Another four hours and it must be something wonderful.
Unfortunately, it was time to go home so the rest of the eggsperiment will have to wait until another time.
Temari
Whenever I am in the Rockville, Maryland area, I try to make a stop at Temari Cafe. It's one of the few and only "Japanese restaurants" in the Baltimore/Washington DC area that's actually run by real Japanese people. And it's the only place that I know that serves a decent ramen.
It's good stuff and I wish there was a place like this in Baltimore.
Temari Cafe
1043 Rockville Pike
Rockville, MD 20852
301-340-7720
Winter Blunderland

Trying to get somewhere in life. At least it looks pretty.
What should have been a routine trip to Washington D.C. turned into a train wreck today.
Had to go to DC to visit the Russian Embassy to file for a tourist visa since I leave for Moscow a week from today. It took a bit longer than anticipated to arrange all of my papers but I got the final papers last night and this morning I was on my way.
Going to DC is a fairly regular thing for me. To almost anywhere in the District, it's about an hour from my house - maybe an hour and a half at most. The drive down was pleasant. Smooth, traffic was light for a weekday and the weather was that crisp cold right before a snowfall. Flurries started falling on the way into the District and by the time I reached the Embassy, the flakes were pretty large but traffic flowed smoothly.
Dropping the paperwork off was pretty simple: put the papers in a slot, the man checks them out to make sure they are "in order" and hands you a receipt. Come back on Tuesday and the visa will be ready. Nice. I'm in and out in a short amount of time and back on the road to Baltimore and on the way to another day behind the bar at The Spro.
Of course, the flurries have turned to a full downpour and snow is everywhere. It's cascading down pretty heavily and through my windshield, the snowflakes streak by like the Millenium Falcon jumping into hyperspace.
This means that accumulation is occuring, traffic is building and I'm generally screwed.
For whatever reason, schools decide to close two hours early. I never understood this. Two hours early means that parents must scramble to get themselves home too. Now businesses are letting their staff go home early. Everyone and their mother is hitting the roads at 12:30pm. So, not only are the roads hazardous because of the two inches of snow but everyone is trying to get somewhere, which means that everyone is going nowhere.
But it's cool because I've got the iPhone and its' maps are directing me to the side roads where I can bypass the traffic. Without a doubt, those other people and their mothers are on the same road. No matter what I do or where I go, I'm foiled at each and every turn.
So, what would have been a simple one hour journey turned into a six hour odyssey that had me meandering across Montgomery County, Howard County, briefly into Carroll County, Baltimore County and Baltimore City. A normal sixty mile journey took ninety-five, and it wasn't uncommon for things to drag on and on. For example, one mile on Interstate 70 took 35 minutes and then I hit the "Authorized Vehicles Only" median crossing and got outta there. Later, 1/4 mile on Lake Avenue took a half hour to cover. It was insane.
In the end, I never made it to The Spro. At six o'clock, I called and told them to close and go home. I was maybe two miles and at least another hour away. Instead, I bailed and went to Woodberry to ride out the storm.
Poutine!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Something Wicked This Way Comes

Can you guess what's in the box?
They say "Life is Hard" and I think they're right. Life is hard. It's tough, relentless and ever-demanding. But every once in a while you enjoy little victories that help make life just a little bit smoother.
At The Spro today was a box from my favorite Illinois-based scientific equipment company, PolyScience. Inside were not one, not two (and not even three), but four Thermal Circulators all lined up in a row. Spike happened to be at The Spro and with razor knives in our hands, we tore into the box, releasing the circulators from captivity.
Actually, two of them were destined for Woodberry and the third for Gran Cru. The fourth one goes home with me.
I'll report back later.
















