Southern Chicken?

Okay, my life isn't always delectable delights. Sometimes I'm stuck and resort to absolute crap for some semblance of sustenance. In fact, I haven't been to a McDonald's since February when I was passing through Frankfurt for a few hours.

In desperate need of food, I swung into a McDonald's and noticed their new Southern Fried Chicken sandwich. Ideas of Chik-Fil-A danced in my head and I tried one. It wasn't that bad.

Sure the crunchy breading wasn't a natural result of being freshly fried and sure the meat seemed like breast, the flavor was still bland. It was not Chik-Fil-A material.

So I took a few bites, tossed half the bun and slowly noshed on the rest as I kept on truckin' down the road.

Cafe Spice

The mystery goat.

Met up with Dai and Marco across the street from The Spro at Cafe Spice - the relatively new Indian restaurant where the Korean place used to be. Outside of Indian "favorites" such as aloo gobi and chicken tikka masala, I really don't know much about Indian food. I know some of it is hot, some of it is vegetarian and typically none of it is beef. Lots of lamb, goat and chicken.

In the few circumstances I've gone out to eat Indian food, it's been with friends for the lunchtime buffet. Depending on the restaurant, a literal smorgasbord of Indian foods - much of which we don't pay attention to beyond the "hmm, that looks good so I'll put it in my mouth" factor.

Which leaves me in a bit of a predicament when actually trying to order Indian cuisine off the menu. I don't have a clue and I refuse to get stuck in a rut of ordering only what I know.

Luckily, Marco is half Indian, half Italian and a subject of the British Empire (he's from London) which means that (happily) he's doing most of the ordering.

We start off with a couple of appetizers: samosas and fried balls of vegetables held together with some sort of batter. Both were quite tasty. The best thing about eating with someone who actually knows the food is that you get a real picture of what the cuisine is all about and how best to eat it. Marco downplays the rice and demonstrates how to tear a piece of naan (the very nicely done traditional flat bread) by using your right hand only to carefully tear a piece then drag it through your dish, sopping up the sauce and pieces of meat. No left hands! Evidently in Indian culture the left hand is used for washing your backside and you never use it for anything else. Lefties beware.

Each of us ordered a main course. Marco had a lamb course, Dai had chicken and I had goat. I would tell you the names of what we had but since they don't have an online menu, I can't recall their names. All I know is that Marco knew what he wanted and I asked the owner what she thought would be the best way to present the goat and went with her recommendation. Whatever it was, it was good. Lightly spicy, rich, complex and slightly sweet - a melange of flavors that went beautifully with the goat.

Indian meals come with side dishes of which I've never understood what to do with them until now. According to Marco, the yogurt is offered to mix in with your spoonful if the spice gets too hot and the weird-looking pickled thing actually is meant to be cut into small pieces and eaten with the main dish, it's pickled and spiciness adding a complimentary tang to the mouth.

Overall, we had a good time and the food was delicious. As someone who's experience with Indian cuisine has been quite limited, it's good to dine out with someone who knows their food. And according to my tastes, and confirmed by Marco, Cafe Spice offers a tasty and quite authentic Indian meal at decent prices.


Cafe Spice
321 York Road
Towson, MD 21204
410-583-7770

Bubba's Breakdown

Bubba's half cheesesteak with everything, no "hots".

The problem with suburban living (or perhaps modern day life in general) is the plethora of crappy places to eat and a dearth of good places. Unfortunately today, I fell prey to the former.

Back in high school, oh some twenty-two years ago, I used to like Bubba's Breakaway in Towson. Back then it was cheesesteaks and pierogies. I hadn't eaten anything from Bubba's in at least twenty years and it's still there in the same nondescript brick building on York Road, with the very same sign that they had in high school. The difference then was that Bubba's was brand new and today's Bubba's looks exactly like the Bubba's from 1986.

Desperate for something different and perhaps a taste of nostalgia, I rang them up and ordered a half cheesesteak sub with all the toppings except for "hots." The "hots" being sweet hot peppers in pickling juice - never my favorite add on, and an order of fries to go with it.

Heavy rains passed through the area and finally, after an hour and twenty minute wait, the driver appeared with my bag of food in tow.

Sad to say that it would have been better had I left Bubba's to the nostalgia of memory.

The meat was the sliced beef you typically find - bland, rubbery and not very exciting. Topped with random vegetables, slathered with mayonnaise and completely engulfed in a enriched white sub bun. Nothing remarkable. Nothing tantalizing. Just crap piled upon crap. Simple, cheap food designed to satisfy the blandest of palates and fill tummies with nothing good for you. It was just bad.

Now, I'm no locavore nazi. I'll take bad for your body so long as it nourishes the soul. This sub was just bad. I felt pangs on the right side of my tummy as though my body was begging for me to stop.

So I did.

I couldn't finish it. Just couldn't. I was hungry and soldiered on through the first half but stopped in the second because it was just too horrible. At least the fries were decent enough (for frozen fries) but served with El Cheap Foodservice Distributor grade ketchup. A ketchup so thin and runny that it's not even worth the effort to cut open the packs and squeeze it out.

I need to stop subjecting myself to suburban sprawl...


Bubba's Breakaway
905 York Road
Towson, MD 21204
410-296-4080

Taqueria La Poblanita

Tacos al Pastor times three!

I found myself in Jessup, Maryland today picking up some equipment and spied this taco truck on the side of the road.

Now, I know on the West Coast the sight of a taco truck is no cause for excitement or concern, but out here in the land of Taco Hell, flour tortillas and lots of grated cheddar cheese, a proper taco truck is quite notable indeed.

The menu is simple: tacos, quesadilla, menudo, flautas and a few other items. I decided to go for the tacos al pastor. Unlike the pastor the taqueros make in Mexico City, these are not roasted on a gyro machine. Sliced pork is cooked in a salsa rojo for the unique flavor and finished on the plancha. Serve with two tortillas, chopped white onion, lots of chopped cilantro, a wedge of lime and a side of salsa verde and puta y madre are they good. I had three.

I was greeted by an elderly man originally from Mexico City but who's been in the United States for 25 years. He's been in Maryland for only 8 months but doesn't quite like it here. He spent the better part of our time together telling me about his journey across America in five buses over four and a half days, interspersed with ten minute breaks for meals, no seat reservations, endless prairies, mind numbing boredom and smelly passengers. It reminded me of my own Bus Trip From Hell and being held and interrogated by the DEA and BATF in the middle of the California desert. Not pleasant.

Turns out his niece is from Puebla (hence the name) and this is her taco truck. She's the one doing the cooking and he's out front entertaining guests like me.

I don't get out to Jessup much, but Taqueria La Poblanita will be on my stop list the next time I'm out that way.


Taqueria La Poblanita
East side of Route 1
About halfway between Route 175 and Route 32 on Route 1
Jessup, MD

The Corner Stable

My old standby: Broasted Chicken Breast, half rack of babyback ribs with fries and beans.

I set out this evening with panang chicken on my mind, but when I arrived at FujiSan restaurant, they were already closed (crap, it's only 8pm on Sunday). I thought of journeying into the city but I just wasn't that committed and ended up across the street at the old favorite: The Corner Stable.

The Corner Stable is known for its' ribs. They're famous around these parts. A verifiable institution. That said, I think rib purists from around the country would scoff at their boiled ribs that are finished on the grill with sauce. I'd be willing to bet that some pitmasters would have a heart attack just thinking about boiled ribs. But this is the stuff I learned to love ribs on and it has a special place in my gastronomic dictionary.

Like I said, the ribs are boiled so they're incredibly tender and falling off the bone. The sauce is smoky and sweet, the broasted (read: fried) chicken is moist and tender, the beans are soft and supple and the fries crisp - what's not to like? Sure, if you're looking for an authentic smoked rib a la Memphis, Texas or South Carolina, you ain't gonna be happy here. But if you like incredibly tender babyback ribs in a smoky, slightly spicy and pungent sauce, The Corner Stable might be for you.


The Corner Stable
9942 York Road
Cockeysville, MD 21030
410-666-8722
www.thecornerstable.com

Flowers In Your Bulaklak

Dad shows off his illegal bounty.

The annual Fiesta Filipiniana was held today in Towson under a blazing sun and merciless humidity. A taste of the worst weather Baltimore has to offer. It was excruciating.

But the best part of any cultural festival is the food. Wild, exotic and tasty. Stuff that wouldn't (or couldn't) prepare at home. Stuff that your mom will lecture you on about the "bad fats." Unhealthy? Probably. Bad for the body but so good for the soul.

One of those things is Chicharon Bulaklak, which literally means "fried crispy flower" in Tagalog, the native language of the Philippines.

It's rich, crispy, fatty and best consumed with spicy vinegar and lots of San Miguel beer (though a cold Coke will do just fine). I highly recommend trying them. However, if you're one of those people that easily become squeamish about your food, it's probably better not to tell you what it is: fried pig intestines.

Yuck, you say? Then you haven't tried it. Absolutely brilliant. I bought a round for my dad and we shared a bonding moment over crispy fried pig intestines. Classic.

Preparing bulaklak is a pretty straightforward affair. Take some intestines, clean them out really well, toss into a pan and boil in water with a little vinegar, garlic, bay leaves and black peppercorns. Boil for a long time or plop it all into a pressure cooker on high for one hour. Once the intestines are ready, cut up into bite-size pieces and deep fry in peanut oil (or for a truly authentic Philippine touch: coconut oil) at 375F until golden brown and crispy. Dip into spicy vinegar (I recommend the organic coconut vinegar) and crunch away to arterial failure. Douse thyself with cold beer. Sleep.

Can't Pull The Trigger

Something must be wrong with me.

For the past six months I've known that I would be traveling to Copenhagen next week. For the past month, I've been contemplating extending that trip to Croatia. And for the past two weeks, I've gotten it into my mind that I must stop through Paris for dinner at Robert et Louise and baguettes from Stephane Secco.

The problem is: I can't seem to get myself to "pull the trigger" and purchase the tickets.

And my scheduled departure is next Sunday, June 15th.

Okay, travel procrastination is my specialty. It seems that I never purchase tickets more than three weeks out - even if I've known I would be traveling for months. Maybe that commitment is too finite. Maybe I like to fly by the seat of my pants. Maybe I'm just foolish.

I've been told that our accommodations in Copenhagen have been secured. Old friend Nik will be hosting me in Zagreb and I'll probably stay at the same place in Paris I did back in February. It's all happening but I can't seem to actually buy the ticket - and the deadline for the fare I've reserved is fast rushing towards me.

Could it be that I subconsciously don't want to go? Or could it be the American Dollar's horrific exchange rate with the Euro? The bills from my last trip to Europe can only be described as a "bloodbath." One money exchange place offered me thirty-five Quid for one hundred dollars and I've been scarred ever since.

I must have checked flights four times this week alone and each time I stop short of clicking "purchase itinerary", what is it that's holding me back?

Tonight will be now or never. Past tonight and we've broken the 7-Day Fare mark and the price of flights will skyrocket to a rate that I can no longer afford.

I'll let you know what happens.

Getting A New iPhone

The menu at Chez Pierrot, circa February 2008.

My iPhone has been acting a bit wonky these past couple of months and finally took a nosedive yesterday. Whatever was wrong with it stopped it from syncing with my laptop. It pretends to sync but does nothing. Months of notes, photos, addresses and appointments have been added, syncing is critical.

Made an appointment today with a Genius at the iPhone Bar at the local Apple Store. He's a good guy. Knowledgeable, friendly and helpful. After several tests, he confirms my worst fears: the iPhone needs to be replaced and unless we can download the data from the phone to the laptop, everything will be lost.

iScrewed.

It's a bit frustrating since the main reason I purchased the iPhone nearly a year ago was to prevent this kind of data loss from happening. A working backup of data that could be accessed separately or downloaded to a new phone. It's something that just hasn't been possible with the Nokias I used to own. I'm starting to think that Data Death and wireless phones will always go hand-in-hand.

At the last minute before they took away my old iPhone in favor of a new one (under warranty), I was able to get the iPhone to sync - or so I thought. It sync'd all of the new photos but hours later, after I had restored the data onto the new iPhone, everything was turned back to February 3, 2008.

That means that all of my contacts since that date are lost. Friends, family, business associates - but what's truly horrific is the loss of the digits from women. Shit - that really sucks. So please, if you're one of my friends, family, associates or sexy women that has given me your phone number these past few months - email me. Please. Especially L.A. Liz and Russian Luiza - especially you two.

So in my iPhone world, we're back in Paris to when the last effective sync happened. Evidently something happened to the hardware sometime after Paris that prevented the data from downloading. Merde.

Truth is, I'm notoriously hard on my equipment. I really lean on them - sometimes literally. The iPhone was pretty beaten up and it was no stranger to falling from high places. All year long, I marveled at the glass that never scratched - until I managed to step on it last Saturday at the Waverly Market, placing two gouges in the glass and a line of broken pixels on the screen.

Miraculously, the Genius decided that it wasn't damaged enough to void the warranty. God Bless Him. He did say it was "right on the edge" of being voided. He was quite generous and saved me two hundred bucks.

So I've got a brand new iPhone for my trip to Europe next week. With any luck, the new iPhone will come out soon and I won't feel bad about giving a used iPhone to my mom.

But for now, my iPhone thinks it's early February.

Lament Florent

Back in the late 1980s, I was a pretentious fuck.

On an average weekend (or weeknight, for that matter) from 1987 through 1988, it wasn't uncommon for us to hop in a car (or Amtrak Metroliner) and hit Manhattan for a night, or two. The downstairs VIP room at Tunnel, Nell's Basement and, once in a while, Palladium (but never Limelight) were our regular haunts attending parties being hosted by James St. James, Michael Alig or John Sex. It was a wild and absolutely ridiculous time. The late 80s: excess to the Max Headroom.

Like I said, we were pretentious fucks. Underage. Club-going and wearing the latest in avant garde haute couture. Clothing from designers like Rei Kawakubo (Comme des Garcons and my favorite), Azzedine Alaia, Stephen Sprouse, Jean-Paul Gaultier, Yohji Yamamoto and whatever style we decided to make ourselves (like the armored jackets made from safety pins).

In reality, we just wanted to be cool. We were young, hip, fashion forward and not afraid to let you know how lame you looked.

Like I said: pretentious fucks.

But after a night of partying in whatever Manhattan club suited our fancy, we usually ended up at a little diner in the meat-packing district called Florent.

Back then, the meat-packing district was just that: a bunch of meat warehouses with none of the restaurants or retail shopping that exists today. At 3am, it was dark and just starting to come to life with guys that worked in the district. Tough, burly guys who packed meat all day long. When we would actually emerge from Florent an hour or two later, the sun would be coming up and the neighborhood would be bustling.

Without realizing it, Florent was my first real introduction for French cuisine. I don't remember most of what we ordered back then, but I'll never forget the escargot bubbling in butter. While most of the world ate pancakes or burgers after a night of partying at 4 in the morning, we sat there eating snails in our sweaty designer clothing. Good times.

I write about this because during one of our conversations this past weekend, it came up that Florent will be closing soon. I looked it up online and found Frank Bruni's blog entry

After 23 years, Florent will close their doors this month. Seems that the rents have skyrocketed in the meat-packing district since it became a shopping and tourist mecca that's part of the Disney-fication of New York City. Seems that tenants like the Apple Store have caused rents to quadruple in this part of Manhattan, forcing out many of the businesses that gave the area it's unique charm and raison d'etre.

It's a sad time. A time for reflection. Maybe a time for a quick jaunt up to the city before Florent closes.

If you have time to visit, do it soon and have the escargot for me.

Florent
69 Gansevoort Street
New York City
212-989-5779
www.restaurantflorent.com

Getting Mushed

Woke up this morning, the world turned upside down,
Things ain't been the same since the Blues walked into town.


Woke up this morning feeling pretty much like I had been run over. Run over but with a great sense of accomplishment and excitement.

It's been a whirlwind three days since Aki and Alex rolled into town and brought the IdeasInFood.com bandwagon to town. Early mornings at the farmers markets, long days of classes that continued into evenings of chatting about food and life, culminating in last nights' eleven-course tasting menu dinner for 25 people at Woodberry Kitchen.

One of the problems I see as a professional barista is that we have a very narrow view of the world and our possibilities within. Almost all baristas are content with preparing what's on their standard menus - typically a collection of relatively boring and lame variations on the same concept: the trinity of coffee, milk and sugary something or other. Macchiatos, lattes, cappuccinos and oddly-named minor variations dominate the lexicon of the modern-day barista.

On the other hand, there's the cadre of competition-focused baristas who spend months (or perhaps years) developing, defining and refining a "signature drink" that is almost guaranteed to never touch the lips of anyone else but a competition judge because they're either too complicated for regular service or that barista secretly (or not so secretly) wishes he could just do away with the signature drink altogether because it's just a waste of their time.

What's really sad is that such a narrow focus prevents us from achieving mastery of our craft. So many baristas are so obsessed with the coffee that they won't see beyond. The thought of coffee and food is just odd. Absurd even.

For this tasting dinner, I was tasked with developing at least one coffee-related beverage to pair with a course. In the world of competition barista, this task would take place over months - with time to develop, refine and perfect. In this world of crazy, breakneck and create-it-as-you-go foodservice, I just wasn't going to have that luxury.

Originally, we were talking about a lamb-pairing. After doing a little research, I thought that a citrus-related drink would pair nicely. Of course, we're talking about seasonal ingredients and flying by the seat of our pants menu development and things would change once Aki and Alex arrived.

First up was the thought of a coffee pairing with either rockfish (striped bass) or fluke (a type of summer flounder). Sweet goes nicely with fluke, so I was partial to fluke. Of course, the decision was made to go with rockfish, making my task a bit more difficult.

With citrus in mind, I called up Daryn Berlin of Counter Culture Coffee and asked him to send me some samples for the dinner. I was looking for a citrus-y coffee to incorporate with the original lamb idea. They wouldn't arrive until the day of the dinner, which meant we had to work with something else. Digging around Woodberry's inventory came up with a bit of the La Golondrina from Huila, Colombia. It's a nice coffee that would have to suffice since the beverage I had in mind would take three days (at least) to prepare.

First step was to mix a half pound of coffee with a half gallon of cold water and steep for nine hours. Would have liked to have gone longer, but nine hours was all the time I had available. After nine hours, strain the mixture, mix with .5% gelatin and freeze overnight. The next day, wrap the bugger in cheesecloth and allow to thaw in a colander over a sheet pan for 36 hours.

The idea was to create a lightly sweet and tarty lemonade with a lingering coffee quality utilizing this coffee "consomme." I wanted a clear liquid that wouldn't affect the yellow-ish color of the lemonade but that would still have a coffee flavor. Unfortunately, the consomme liquid was clear but it wasn't "clear." It still had the brown color of coffee, just with brilliant clarity. Not a disaster but this consomme would most certainly affect the color of the lemonade.

After doing a couple of tests, I came up with this recipe:

Lemon juice - 11%
Simple Syrup - 15% (syrup made of 50/50 sugar to water ratio)
Consomme - 12.5%
Water - 61.5%

This recipe yielded a lightly sweet and tarty lemonade with a smooth and lingering coffee flavor. It had the sweet zing of lemonade with the lingering finish of coffee. Success.

The real problem came when I scaled up the recipe to make 5 liters.

The ratios developed were based on weight, not volume. But when it came time to calculate the weights of the ingredients, I calculated the weights except for one: the water.

Water in and of itself is par for both weight and volume. Meaning that one milliliter of water weighs one gram. Same goes for fluid ounces and weight ounces. Problem is that the consomme, simple syrup and lemon juice weigh more than water.

So, after calculating this recipe:

550g lemon juice
750g simple syrup
625g consomme

I left the note: "to volume: water" for Corey, who was mixing the batch for me.

Since those ingredients are heavier than water (with lesser volume) and the recipe is based on weight (not volume), when the time came to fill the container to the 5 liter mark (instead of weighing the entire batch to 5 kilos), the mix was too "watery" and lacked the punch, depth and complexity we were looking for.

The mix needed more punch, more depth - more "oomph." Added a little more simple syrup, some sassafras syrup that was sitting around and some salt and voila! - something worth drinking.

In the end, the drink made it onto the menu for the fourth course where it was paired with a Middlin Risotto with bacon, lovage and gouda.

A Day in the Land of Pleasant Living

A small gaggle of plants.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day today in Baltimore. One of those days that reminds me of Hawaiian weather and makes living in Maryland enjoyable.

Started off with the weekly trip to the Waverly Farmers Market. Didn't get there until eleven and it was jam-packed. Even last week when we got there at nine, it too was jam-packed. After a winter of shopping at the farmers market with everything for our picking pleasure, it kinda sucks to be awash in a sea of humanity. But at least the produce is looking good. Unfortunately, the peas and asparagus were already gone. But I did score some nice morels, some breads, a whole bunch of herbs, white potatoes, tomatoes (finally!), ginger and a great stash of beef short ribs from Woolsey Farm. Add to that cases of beautiful spring onions, spinach and sassafras root for Woodberry and we were on our way.

For lunch, we decided to give Baltimore Pho another try. Some of you may remember that our first visit there was less than stellar. I'm happy to report that they've stepped it up a bit and the pho broth is rich and tasty. It's got some oomph and I'm looking forward to our next visit.


A small gaggle of potted plants.

While at the market, I decided to give gardening a try. Once upon a time, I used to cultivate bonsai. But that was way back in the early nineties and I hadn't done it since. Last year I bought bonsai supplies from Dallas Bonsai but never got around to it. Not too sure how good my green thumb is but I guess I'll find out.

Reid Orchards offers a variety of heirloom vegetables and herbs that are organic and hothouse raised. They're three bucks each. I went with some cilantro, Gorizia rosemary, basil, hot peppers, green peppers, spearmint, parsley and thyme. Repotted them with some topsoil from Home Depot (okay, I know it's not organic but it was only a $1.17 for a 40# bag) and they're off to the races. I'm hoping for an endless supply of cilantro for my explorations in Mexican cooking and some tasty tomatoes but we'll see.

Since it was such a lovely day, I decided that grilling season was open and hauled out the trusty New Braunfels charcoal grill. Now, I've had the opportunity to cook on a variety of gas grills and I have to say that I just don't like them. They just don't get hot enough for me. Sure, charcoal takes forever to burn down to the coals but gosh does it taste good - especially if you're using real wood charcoal. Gas just can't beat it on terms of flavor.

BTW, the only gas grill I would want for home is the professional MagiCater. That grill generates tremendous heat and just kicks ass.




While the coals were still burning hot, I started the seasoning process for a new wok I purchased a couple of weeks ago. Seasoning a wok takes some time so it's a good thing I've got the other wok at the ready. Grilled up a simple ribeye from Woolsey with salt and pepper, then sauteed some blanched almonds, sliced white onions and asparagus in the wok with a little butter, canola oil and salt. Serve with a side of steamed white basmati rice, Mexican Coke and Paul Garmirian Soiree cigar under the beautiful sunshine and all is well.

Not too long after, some friends came over to partake of the grill action. Fresh chicken breasts on the grill with salt & pepper, grilled portabella mushrooms, grilled sweet corn and mesclun salad with a sesame soy vinaigrette (okay, that was store bought). Maria, our burgeoning casual sommelier brought over a couple of Australian reds that just blossomed as we continued drinking and all was well for round two.

Round three brought another friend over with a london broil in tow. He's got a little bit of a different taste than the rest of us and loves to slather his meats in whatever sweet sauce he can get his hands on at Costco. Today's slather was some syrupy sweet jerk sauce.

Add to that more wine, more cigars and lots of great discussion and it was a perfectly pleasant day here in the Land of Pleasant Living.

Hope your day was as enjoyable as mine.

Deconstructing Dr. Pepper

How about this?

Take a breast of lamb (local, farm raised, you know my deal), season with salt & pepper, sear with a blowtorch, toss it into a bag with some Dr. Pepper and some dill, vacuum seal and sous vide for several hours at 58.5C.

I'm thinking about a coffee pairing with the lamb and am trying to understand the Dr. Pepper a little bit more. While I haven't gone out to the store (yet) to pick up a six-pack and Dublin Dr. Pepper (the only Dr. Pepper) is days away (and no, it's not from Ireland), I'm trying to reconstruct the flavors from memory.

They say there are 23 different flavors in Dr. Pepper. Of course, if you believe that then you believe that Colonel Sanders really did use 11 herbs and spices to create his chicken. I'm thinking that Dr. Pepper has vanilla, almond, sassafrass, cardamom, cloves, and salt. My internet readings come up with ideas like: burnt rum, star anise, ginger, black berry, apricot, prune, plum, oranges and molasses.

So why the obsession with Dr. Pepper? Thinking about flavor components in the marinade to play off of in the accompanying drink. How to pair a coffee beverage with the course, that's the task at hand.

If you have any thoughts to share on the 23 flavors or just ideas in general, let me know. I'll report back as things progress.

Ideas In Food On Tour

Blog favorites Aki Kamozawa and Alex Talbot of Ideas In Food fame are taking their show on the road next month and coming down to Baltimore and staging a dinner at Woodberry Kitchen on Monday, June 2nd.

In case you're unfamiliar, Alex and Aki run one of my favorite blogs. They're chefs who met in the kitchens of their careers, fell in love, got hitched and now share their culinary adventures together. They're currently without a restaurant which means they spend their days experimenting with food in their Queens kitchen (the place, not the size). Oh, the things one could do if they didn't have to actually spend their day answering phones, paying bills, managing staff, ordering product, hob nob-ing with the public, not to mention the actual work of cooking or making coffee on the line. Luckily for us, they do the experimentation and we can reap the benefits.

I don't know what they have in store (yet) but I'm sure it's going to be wonderful and interesting. You can see their notes on the event here.

It's going to be a sit-down, nine course meal with beverage pairings. The cost for dinner will be $150 per person and seating will be limited to twenty people. So, if you want to get in on it, contact Woodberry now.

Hell's Kitchen

No, there's nothing here about Gordon Ramsay...

I'm too tired, burnt out and irritated to do a full write-up but we went to Hell's Kitchen in Minneapolis on Monday and it was overall a tasty adventure. Some of it was good, if not outright great, but there was a lingering sweetness to just about everything we tasted from the porridge to even the peanut butter (something they're famous for).

We actually went down for Sunday Brunch and were greeted with a two-hour wait. We came back the next day. Along with myself was Bronwen Serna, author Michaele Weissman, Drew Johnson, Shane Devereaux, Matty K., Mike Yung and Toronto Coffee Whiz-Kid and Foodie Extraordinaire Matt Lee.

For our first round, we just ordered a bunch of plates for everyone to sample and share. I'm starting to like that approach. It gives everyone the opportunity to sample a variety of dishes that they might not have had on their own and then everyone gets their own main plate.

I had the king crab in scrambled egg special. It was okay. Nothing stellar. The flavors didn't really pop for me. I think I would have been happier with their Nearly-Classic Egg Benedict featuring slow-roasted pit ham. Matt Lee went for the Wellington Benedict - an unbelievable monstrosity of toasted buttery brioche bread topped with truffled duck liver pate, charbroiled certified Angus beef tenderloin filet, poached egg and a black truffle hollandaise sauce with white truffle oil. Bloody hell.

Made the mistake (again) of ordering coffee. Seems that coffee in Minneapolis restaurants really sucks. I mean really sucks. The coffee is so bad in this city it's remarkable and Hell's Kitchen coffee tastes like hell.

Overall, it was a good experience with nicely done food - even though much of it was on the sweet side. I'd visit again if I were back in Minneapolis.


Matt Lee ponders the menu while Canadian Barista Champion Mike Yung strikes a pose.


Finished plates


Mahnomin Porridge


Rosti Potatoes


Shrimp & Crab Cake with Poached Egg


Scrambled Eggs with King Crab Special


Eggs with Black Beans


Yogurt with Berries and Granola


Steak & Eggs

Hell's Kitchen
89 South 10th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55403
612-332-4700
www.hellskitcheninc.com

One would think that with a name from Hell one would try to secure the 666-6666 phone number.

Weapons That Mass Destruct???

Reader Gary was right asking: "???"

I flew through Chicago on the way back from Minneapolis and noticed these large boxes in the TSA Security Screening areas. They're marked "WTMD." Lord only knows what it really means but the idea that the TSA would be installing Weapons That Mass Destruct (WTMD) was just too ironic to ignore.

Isn't That Nice?

Premier Executive on United.

After spending an inordinate amount of time on my ass, in a tight seat, unable to sleep and fighting blood clotting, I'm starting to enjoy the fruits of my labors. Priority check-in, priority screening, priority seating, complimentary upgrades - if only I actually liked flying...

Krispy Kreme Konsomme

Just over a kilo of sweet goodness.

With the USBC fast approaching and my competition slot racing towards me, I guess it's time to start thinking about a signature drink. For the Mid-Atlantic regional, I used a drink called "Breakfast In Bed." For the USBC I'll probably end up using the same drink but with some potential variations.

We've been experimenting with a variety of stuff over the past couple of months, some with a focus on the signature drink, others just for our own use. Lately, we've been playing around with making consomme.

With the right technique, you can make consomme out of just about anything. The sky really is the limit. Dr. Pepper consomme is what Alex and Aki have been playing with at Ideas In Food. For our purposes, we've got four consommes running at the moment: a parmesan cheese, two different types of french toast and the piece de la resistance, the Krispy Kreme Konsomme.

So just what is this foolishness with donuts? Simple. Take two dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, puree them in water, add some gelatin, freeze and then thaw. What you're left with is a clear consomme that's richly flavored with the taste of donuts. Nice.

Unfortunately, this method isn't fast. It's excruciatingly slow. 24 hours to freeze and then at least 36 hours to thaw. It's starting to drive me batty. But I'm bolstered with the belief that the results will be spectacular.

To be quite honest, I don't know what we're going to do with the parmesan or Krispy Kreme consommes. Maybe heat the parmesan and float some gnocchi? Or take the Krispy Kreme Konsomme, pour it in a bowl and drop a couple of milk spheres to eat as a soup. But who knows at this point - the finished product is still 36 hours away.

For the french toast consomme, I'm thinking that we'll keep it room temp and make americanos with the liquid. Float a shot of espresso on top and serve with a bacon stirrer. But who knows how that's going to taste. Guess we'll find out in about twelve hours...

You'll just have to come down to the USBC on Saturday afternoon to find out which version I decide to use.

Egg Custard Sorbet

Not quite ready for prime time.

For the past several weeks, Isaiah has been after me for some Egg Custard flavoring. For those of you unfamiliar with Egg Custard, it's the number one shave ice / snowball syrup in Baltimore. It's so popular, it outsells the next most popular flavor (cherry) three to one.

I've still got some of the Egg Custard flavoring lying around so I brought him a bottle. When it comes to flavorings, a little goes a long way and after working up a sorbet formulation, it was time to give it a whirl. The notion of adults tasting a sorbet from their childhood, now that's the kind of stuff we're interested in.

The results were decent. Sweet, rich and with that comforting flavor of vanilla and caramel, but with the slightly disconcerting bright orange color. The flavor was correct but it lay a bit flat on the tongue. It needed something. It needed just a bit of citric acid to make it pop.

But the problem with this iteration of the Egg Custard Sorbet isn't the lack of acidity, it was its' origins: It's completely artificial. This fact alone makes it ineligible for the dessert menu at Woodberry Kitchen and The Spro. But I think we'll revisit the formulation of the sorbet with natural ingredients in the near future because, afterall, summer is just around the corner.

Finding Happiness at the USBC

This week all of the coffee industry converges on Minneapolis (that's in Minnesota) for the annual Specialty Coffee Association of America Conference and Exhibition. It's the largest love-fest, coffee free-for-all in the world and everyone and their mother is expected to attend. Being held at the show is the annual United States Barista Championship where baristas from around the nation are going to compete to see who's "best" in the country and represent the red white and blue in Copenhagen this June.

And I'm missing a trip to Lake Como, Italy for a weekend by the waters of Lake Minnetonka.

There's poetry in there somewhere, but I'm not going to try to find it.

For American baristas, this weekend is "it". The big show. Hopes and dreams have been piled on anticipating the literal fifteen minutes of barista superstardom as you take to the stage to strut your stuff. Many individuals (and the teams backing them) have spent months, perhaps years, preparing for this moment. Late nights, tears, blood, sweat, pain, anguish and God knows what else they've endured to get to this moment. For many, it's a dream come true.

But for me, I'm disconnected.

Like many others, I've thought about what it must be like to win the national championship. To feel the warm glow as camera flashbulbs warm my face and the tingling sensation on my skin as groupies rip the clothes from my body. How fun it must be to travel the country spreading the good word of quality coffee. Appearances on national television and guest spots on Food Network, not to mention magazine articles, quotes in newspapers and my face on a bottle of syrup. How cool it must be.

But the more I think about it, the hollower it becomes for me. For years I've been told by judges that I don't take the competition seriously enough and I don't disagree with them. There's always been a part of me that just didn't "get it." Is this how I want to get my name known and build a reputation: by winning a competition?

The answer has always been: No.

When I think about those individuals whom I admire in any field, I realize that they didn't build their reputation on competition. They built their reputation on their work. They built it on the line, day in and day out by serving their customers. By providing their customers with exquisite cuisine and a wonderful experience.

They didn't build their reputation through competition.

But it wasn't until I was re-reading Michael Ruhlman's The Soul of a Chef this week that it hit me:

"I'd come to know three outstanding American chefs, each one of whom had been cooking his entire adult life and had made people happy doing it. In fact all three of those chefs stated that a main reason, if not the reason, they cooked was that simple: to make people happy."

He would continue:

"...happiness was anathema to the CMC (Certified Master Chef) exam. It wasn't the point and had no place there. Skill, technique, knowledge, those things did have a place, absolutely; they were the craft elements of cooking that the test aimed to measure. Bu you did not cook to make people happy at the CMC exam..."

And there it was, the exact reason why I had always felt so hollow about competition: it wasn't about making people happy, it was about something else entirely. Barista competition judges wanted you to talk about the coffee, its' origins and other weird, odd and obscure facts. They wanted you to tell them about the flavors - and then you had to nail them or suffer the consequences. Judges were instructed to show no emotion, betray no feeling so as not to give the impression of impartiality. They wanted to see if you tamped exactly the same way each and every time. Did every step of your technique meet standardized criteria?

Judging under these conditions is harsh on both sides of the table. As a judge I was instructed to "reward the barista" - meaning that we were perhaps judging too harshly, looking for a reason to score a zero instead of a four (or maybe a five). As a competitor, you're facing what is essentially a hostile table of "guests" looking for any and every mistake you could make.

But it's not about "right" or "wrong". It is what it is and I'm not interested in changing the competition format. I just know it's not the arena I want to build a reputation upon. So many positive things have arisen from the competition format. Those standards actually can impact a barista and a store, helping them to improve their quality and that's a wonderful thing.

If, on the other hand, cooking for people was how you had always connected to the work of cooking, if pleasing people in a visceral way had always been your ultimate aim, then you were going to have trouble with the CMC exam because your main connection to the work didn't exist in this environment and you were therefore a different cook here."

As a competitor, I think this may be my last barista competition. The disconnect this time is too strong to ignore. I've been so preoccupied with everything else that I haven't dedicated time to the competition. I've spent the past months focusing on business and our customers, trying to work out new recipes and enhance the customer experience. I've been re-thinking our approach and our methods. Even the drink we developed in February for competition has gone under multiple changes and revisions. Nothing has been sacred lately.

That said, I'm not hating on competitions. I love the environment. The camaraderie amongst passionate baristas is worth the price of admission alone. It is the one saving grace of the competition. It is the part I enjoy the most. Perhaps it's because the times spent with friends old and new are about happiness than anything else.

Name Game 3

Here are more submissions to The Name Game for your perusal.

Thoughts?


- Tropho
- cyanocitta cristata
- cyanocitta stelleri
- Seedbed
- Orion
- 10,000 Maniacs
- Pakwan
- Buko
- Hina
- Ipo
- Lono
- Adriana
- Fuse
- Weld
- Crema
- The Other Place
- Pegasus

Los Portales

Chiles Rellenos

It's been said that I can go for Mexican food just about anytime. Sometimes, I just can't get enough.

The food critic for the Baltimore Sun, Elizabeth Large, writes a blog called Dining@Large that I read from time to time. I don't usually agree with her assessments or that of the readership, but it's important to remain open-minded about places that people recommend because you might find that gem in the rough - like Three Chefs carry-out.

In recent threads about Mexican food, several people recommended Los Portales on Aviation Blvd. right by the airport. I'm not usually in that area but since I was coming up from a late meeting in Washington DC, I thought I would swing by and check it out.

If this had been April 2007, I think I would be writing a very different entry. Funny how time changes things.

For those of you who recommended Los Portales as a truly "authentic" place, I have to wonder just what reference point you're relying on? Taco Bell, maybe?

Don't get me wrong, Los Portales isn't "bad" but it certainly isn't "good" and definitely isn't "authentic" - at least if I compare it to the food I've eaten in Mexico City.

Taco de Pollo

I really started off hopeful when I pulled up and realized that this wasn't some simple joint (like many of the Latin eateries). It's quite nice inside with festive decorations and carved wooden chairs. Of course, the Cerveza Corona Countdown to Cinco de Mayo digital clock should have clued me in that Los Portales was more Chi-Chi's than El Bajio.

The staff is all Mexican and really only spoke to me in Spanish - of course, they kept speaking in Spanish even when I answered in English and I got the feeling that it was one of those "you must be Latin so we're going to speak to you in Spanish because you need to remember your roots" moments. I didn't bother to tell them that I'm not Latino and tried to do my best en Espanol because it helps me to learn more.

Of course, I'm still struggling with basic terms such as: listo?

Los Portales offers a large selection of items, with combination platters and full dinners. I decided to go with a couple of small items, like: taco de pollo and chile relleno to start and an order of their enchiladas poblano as the main dish.

Okay, so I'm in a "traditional" Mexican restaurant. The first two courses should be small items just right for a pre-meal snack, right? Wrong. There are two chiles in the relleno and they're stuffed with cheese and are bathing in salsa rojo. The flavor is decent enough but there's no punch. Good thing there's cheese 'cause it's the only saving grace for the dish.

Next up is this large plate with a half-moon of aluminum foil wrapped around something that suspiciously looks like folded tortillas. For a moment I think it might be a side order of tortillas then I realize that it's the taco. As I pull the foil apart, I'm shocked and appalled. Inside is a large, flour tortilla stuffed with shredded chicken, shredded lettuce and shredded cheddar cheese. Jesus, Maria y Jose. It's about as good as it sounds and I eat only a couple of bites just to be sure.

Enchiladas Poblanos

Finally, it's time to check out the enchiladas. Holy Cow, there's a mother-honkin' large mountain of sour cream on top of my enchiladas, along with suspicious-looking tomato red rice and what tastes like canned refried beans topped with more shredded cheese. The enchiladas are rolled and the poblano sauce is looking a bit dry in spots on top of the rolls. Ay, carajo, I bet they've been microwaved.

Unlike the deliciously rich and complex mole negro that I'm used to, this one tastes flat and lifeless. In fact, I can't really taste the sauce since it's overwhelmed by the copious amount of sour cream - and I scooped most of it off.

What I had been expecting to be a pilgrimage has turned into a disaster.

But I hate to beat up on restaurants that are serving food that people enjoy, so I try to look at it from a different perspective. A perspective that's never eaten tacos off the streets of La Zona Roja in Tijuana for fifty cents, or nearly spasm'd from the boiling hot quesadillas in front of a Mexico City supermarket, or have the benefit of Mexican friends who cook truly authentic cuisine. I think of those whose reference for Mexican food is Taco Bell and Chipotle and for them, I bet that Los Portales really seems "authentic."

So, if you're someone (white) who loves celebrating Cinco de Mayo while chugging Corona and gorging on Nachos and crispy corn tacos with lots of lettuce and cheese, I think you'll find Los Portales to your liking.

But if you're someone who dreams of mole Poblano and understands the nuances of stewing your chilaquiles or using fried tortillas for that crunchy juxtaposition, then you'll probably find Los Portales to be a bit too gringo-fied.

Los Portales
6938 Aviation Boulevard
Glen Burnie MD 21061
410-766-9800

Momofuku Noodle Bar

Seasonal Pickles


Pork Steamed Buns


Grilled Octopus Salad with Konbu, Menma and Pickled Chili

Cousin Leroy & Arlo's Soft Serve Ice Cream Cannoli Cream Pistachio Twist


Back at Momofuku. Gotta love the name. Service was decent. The octopus rocked the house. The steamed buns were good. I didn't find the texture of the ice cream to be to my liking but the cannoli flavor was pretty decent. I would pass on the pistachio next time. Give me more menma!

Momofuku Noodle Bar
171 1st Avenue
New York, NY 10003
212-777-7773
www.momofuku.com

Rai Rai Ken

Ramen.

It's got to be one of my all-time favorite things to eat. The problem is that I live in Baltimore and there are not ramen joints at all in the city or surrounding area. Sure, you can sometimes find ramen at a local sushi place but it's typically outrageously priced ($13 up) and since it's not what they do, it's always an afterthought.

I dream of the day when I can finally go (on a regular basis) to a ramen joint for my fix of chicken katsu ramen (a Hawaii off-shoot of a Japanese tradition), but I made a promise to myself years ago that I would stop building businesses just because I was hungry!

We're back in New York City and trying to figure out a place to eat seems to be such a monumental decision. So many choices in the city and so little time. Fatty Crab? Ipanema? per se? Aki Kamozawa recommended Rai Rai Ken and so we were off.

Located on tree-lined 10th Street, Rai Rai Ken is nestled in the middle of the block and is pretty much how a Japanese ramen joint should be like: small, tight and confined. There's a long bar with counter seats only and just barely enough room to pass behind those seated. We make our way to the seats and the menu is wonderfully short. Just a few ramen selections and several side dishes.
We start off with an order of gyoza, little stuffed wontons that are quickly boiled and then pan fried. Tasty. They're pretty traditional so just a bit of soy sauce and you're good to go.

What we're really here for is the ramen. Shoyu Ramen. It comes in a bowl brimming with fish cake, nori and sliced pork, with half a hard-boiled egg for good measure. There are some sprouts in the bowl but not too much - some places like to heap it on. The broth is smooth and rich. Just right for this hungry traveler.

Fans of the movie Tampopo will know to start off by watching your ramen at eye-level and giving thanks while tapping the sliced pork twice before eating. Of course, you also know to move the fish cake to the side. The noodles themselves are chewy and tasty. They're not the best noodles I've ever had but they're good enough and I'm slurping away.

If you haven't seen Tampopo I strongly suggest that you go and find it. It's one of the best food movies ever made and the bit with the live prawns is certainly more sensual than the kitchen scene in 9 1/2 Weeks. Once you've seen it, you'll have a healthy respect and appetite for ramen.

To go along with the ramen, I ordered a can of UCC Kona Coffee. It's famous in Hawaii and Japan and very unusual to find on the East Coast. Not that the coffee was really good. It was more a drink of nostalgia than anything else.

While it's not the best ramen in the world, it's pretty decent and worth checking out in New York City if you need a fix.

Rai Rai Ken
214 East 10th Street
New York, NY 10003
212-477-7030

NinthTown

The move has received very little fanfare or gossip in the industry grapevine, but on March 24th Ninth Street Espresso switched from their long-time roaster (Counter Culture Coffee of North Carolina) to Stumptown Coffee Roasters of Portland, Oregon.

While it may sound like benign news to the casual reader of this blog, the arrival of Stumptown on the East Coast signals the changing tide in the area of specialty coffee. Stumptown has been a long-time stalwart of never bringing on wholesale accounts outside a 45 minute radius of their roastery in southeast Portland. Sure, they toyed for awhile in San Francisco and last year opened operations in Seattle, but shipping coffee across the continent? That's something different indeed.

Since we were in New York City, we decided to hike it over to Ninth Street's Chelsea location to have a taste for ourselves.

I've been a long-time fan of Stumptown since September 2003 when I had my first "real" coffee experience tasting that years' Ethiopian Harrar. A powerhouse of depth, complexity and the fabled "blueberry". It was a real eye-opener for me regarding the possibilities for coffee. Not to mention that we've modeled our french press coffee service on the Stumptown example, and their hardcore approach to quality.

Happily, former Washington DC barista Ryan Goodrow was working the bar and we were presented with some of the most exquisite coffees I've ever had from Ninth Street and a shot of Hairbender that I'll say was better than from Stumptown's own coffeeshops. That strong acidity was there with some nice fruity and chocolate notes. It was delicious.

Of course, a lot of that lies with the barista and I've come to realize that Ryan has got to be one of America's best. Humble, passionate and committed. There's no egotism or pretense, just focus. Then to taste what's in the cup and you can only be seriously impressed, or rather: blown away. In chatting with him, I realize we have similar ethos. Unlike other baristas who desire to be on the national stage performing at a competition, that is lost on Goodrow. He's focusing on the cup and customer in front of him and delivering a national-level performance for that jaded New Yorker or that tourist from Biloxi with the same passion and commitment. It's fantastic.

If you're in New York City, swing by and order a cup from Ryan.


Ninth Street Espresso
Chelsea Market
79 9th Avenue
New York, NY
212-228-2930
www.ninthstreetespresso.com

gimme! Mott Street

Swung by the new Mott Street location of gimme! coffee right before closing and the baristas were still quite happy to prepare us a macchiato. Nice stuff.

gimme! coffee
228 Mott Street
New York, NY
212-226-4011

Eleven Madison Park

It's been awhile since I read Danny Meyers' book Setting The Table but I found his take on hospitality thoroughly enjoyable and in tune with my own sensibilities. So I was more than happy with our choice of Eleven Madison Park for dinner tonight. Earlier in the week, I had been thinking that another visit to per se was in order but Spike was uncomfortable about arriving at the restaurant without a reservation, based solely on my firm belief that "if you show up, you will eat."

The one thing about Eleven Madison Park is that it's polished. Everything is thought out and just right. From the time you call and speak with someone on the phone (try doing that for a per se or French Laundry reservation) through the end of the meal, everyone is so cordial - so filled with hospitality.

Even the reservationist was suitably apologetic and told me that they were "already committed" to a full dining room on a Saturday night but there was availability at 10pm, with a tinge in her voice that led me to think that she didn't think we would be interested. "I'll take it," I told her. Of course we'll take it. We're just the kind of weirdos that don't have a problem eating dinner until two or three in the morning, if necessary.


Hors d'oeuvres

In spite of my incessant desire to put things off until the last minute (like travel arrangements), I hate to be late for appointments. I want to be on time and we were at the restaurant at 10 pm sharp. Of course, it's a Saturday night and the place is packed, meaning that our table wasn't ready yet. Even the way the receptionist/hostess phrased that conversation struck me as well thought out and perfectly approached. She invited us to relax by the bar while the table finished and was reset.

I decided to avail myself of the mens room where I was greeted by little terry cloth towels to wipe my hands after washing. Nice.

At the bar, we were greeted by a cocktail server who brought us a round of drinks, inquired if we were eating at the bar or waiting, asked for the reservation name and proceeded to bring us a round of hors d'oeuvres, which would end up being the first round in the tasting menu (that we hadn't chosen yet). While Spike continued his quest to find the proper pastis (this wasn't it), I decided to sample one of their house concoctions of champagne, vodka, passion and orange bitters. Nice drink but the champagne overwhelmed the other flavors.

No less than three times in the ten to fifteen minutes we sat in the bar area did one of the hostesses stop by our table to update us on the progress of our table. That was really nice. No more worrying if they forgot about us, or getting irritated about it taking such a long time. The updates were frequent and properly timed. And when the time came for us to move to our table, our hostess swept up our beverages onto a silver tray, just in case our arms might have been too fatigued for the journey across the restaurant.


Royal Sterling Caviar - Soft Poached Knoll Crest Farm Egg and Tapioca

Once settled in and greeted by our server, we were presented with the menus.

To be honest, I hate reading menus. Especially when a tasting menu is being offered. I'm not a vegetarian. I have no aversion to seafood. I'm not allergic to anything. Just bring it on and let me have it. I don't want to think. I want to eat. Eat and be cared for.

Spike, on the other hand, has scrutinized the menu and decided that the order as presented would be better with a slight modification to accommodate the wine selections. Truth be told, in spite of the years I pretended to know wine and the years I spent making wine, I really know nothing about wine. I'm forever derided for allowing them to serve me Louis Jadot at L'Arpege. I think I'm scarred.

Happily, the kitchen, our server and our sommelier are more than willing to accommodate our request and the champagne flows.

With a tasting menu this large, it's really quite difficult to cover everything, so I'll just hit you with short blurbs on my thoughts with each course.

The sterling caviar was just a wonderful way to begin the meal. Beautifully poached egg whose yolk added that luxurious mouthfeel with every bite. And the tapioca must have been cooked in a fish stock of some sort because the flavor just permeated each luscious and chewy pearl.


Heirloom Beets - Liquid Sphere with Lynnhaven "Chevre Frais"

First you eat the Chevre and then you eat the beets. Definitely one of the most exciting courses of the meal. The beets exploded in your mouth with such intensity that just surprises.


Cape Cod Bay Crab - Roulade with Avocado, Lime and Yogurt


2004 Mersault Desiree - Domaine des Comtes Lafon


Wild Atlantic Halibut - Seared with Cauliflower, Green Almonds and Crayfish

It was the description that caught our ears: "Wild Atlantic Halibut" Aren't they a bit overfished in the Atlantic and in danger? Perhaps not the best description (or sourcing) for a sustainably-minded chef and barista. But it was tasty and I did like the little pieces of crawfish on top.


Nova Scotia Lobster - Poached with Wild Nettles and Oregon Morels

Definitely one of the most exciting courses of the meal. Just an explosion of flavor. Chewy morels, chunks of lobster and a green sauce that I wanted to guzzle down. Spoonful after spoonful, it was chock full of stuff and I loved every bite.


Foie Gras - Terrine with Rhubarb, Celery and Pickled Ramps


The bread accompanying the Foie Gras.


2004 Volnay Santenots-Du-Milieu 1er - Domaine Des Comtes Lafon

Since I'm perpetually single and a decided bachelor, I'm usually party to some sort of tomfoolery or debauchery that gets my friends into some sort of trouble with their significant others. But this was the first time wine has led to infidelity.

The Volnay Santenots-Du-Milieu 1er is, evidently, Amy's favorite wine in the world. Her and Spike have been to the vineyard and drank the wine straight from the barrels with Mr. Lafon himself. Even Spike commented that this is her favorite. It wasn't until later when he told her about the wine that she told him that drinking the Lafon without her was akin to cheating.

Note to self: never tell your S.O. about the time you drank her favorite wine without her...


Nieman Ranch Port Belly - Sous-Vide with Peas a la Francaise


Black Angus Beef - Herb Roasted with Asparagus, Parmesan and Sauce Bordelaise


Our Man Works The Cheese Cart


Fromage - Selection of Artisanal Cheeses


"Vacherin" - Strawberries, Basil and Black Pepper


Chocolate-Peanut Butter - Palette with Popcorn Ice Cream


Cappuccino - Latte Art Rosetta


Mignardises

All combined, it was a great experience. The food was solid. Excellent even. But the service was top-notch. It seemed as though everything had been thought through and we were never wanting. Combined, it was brilliant. Had it been one or the other and the experience would have been flat.

I don't know if I'll be clamoring to rush back anytime soon but it was a wonderful and delicious meal.

Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10010
212-889-0905
www,elevenmadisonpark.com