Fresh Beans

There are those who believe that Baltimore's Waverly neighborhood is the next for a social renaissance with the adjacent rejuventaion of Charles Village, but I don't know.

Either way, Waverly is host to the city's only year-round farmer's market and I finally made it down for my first visit. Spike needed to shop for Woodberry Kitchen and I just needed to get out of the house. It's a relatively small or pretty decent-sized farmers' market (depending on how big your farmers' market is) but the selection is pretty good. Local favorites, like One Straw Farm, are there and there's quite a bit to choose from. I ended up buying some chile habanero, apple cider and fresh beans (butter, black and lima). I've never experienced fresh beans before and am looking forward to cooking with them. After years of dried or canned, it was kinda odd to see them fresh and ready to use. Just wish I had more time to use them right away but, alas, they will be vacuum packed and frozen until it's time.

Spike, on the other hand, went off. He buys like I prefer to do: in mass quantities and with full abandon. What's that over there? Something fresh and exciting? We'll take a case. Maybe two. Onions are in short supply locally, so we'll take whatever you have. And those shallots too. And you with the $10 frenched lamb racks - we'll take it all. Let's have five crates of apples and why don't we throw in four gallons of cider while we're at it. Fresh beans? Do you have an extra bucket? No? Be back tomorrow. We'll need two cases of red peppers for that special. And is that all the kale you have left? We'll take that too. What? You'll cut us some fresh herbs for tomorrow? Snap! And how about a couple more cases of lettuce...

We filled up the bed of my Sonoma pickup and it's still not enough to satisfy the needs of the restaurant. But it's always cool driving around packed to the gills with product.

Even More from "The Kitchen"

This was my late-night supper. Two new specials at Woodberry Kitchen. Locally farmed shrimp cooked in the brick oven with onions and a tomato-based sauce and beef & raisin stuffed bell pepper.

The shrimps were thoughtfully peeled but served with the head-on, which is something I can appreciate. For the Asian in me, it's always a pleasure to suck the guts out of a head of shrimp. There's a couple of tiny, but flavorful, morsels in there for the knowledgeable. My first thought was: "how nice a touch this will be for their Asian clients", followed by: "how horrified some of their American clients will be." I find it a strange oddity how America has a hard time dealing with food that hasn't been beheaded. Maybe it's guilt. The shrimp were nicely done and served wonderfully hot. A few deft moves with my knife and these big shrimp were mine.

The stuffed pepper was also cooked in the oven and served hot. Nice flavor to the beef that's crisply accented with the sweetness from the raisins and the sweet twang of the bell pepper. I enjoyed it.

Los Siete Moles de Oaxaca

Chilaquiles con Salsa de Tomatillo, Queso y Cilantro.

After spending yesterday morning at Titita Ramirez's cooking demonstration, I decided that I had to go down to Oyamel and try her seven moles. Was going to go last night, but thought that I should go out with friends on Halloween, so I saved the trip for tonight. Of course, I didn't count on the fact that I was completely and utterly exhausted due to working long hours, running all over the city and waiting until late at night to ring Ana, then having to get up again the next morning with only four hours of sleep. After a week of this kind of schedule, I was beat tired and wasn't looking forward to the drive to DC.

But drive I must to deliver the latest and greatest in food adventures for my energetic readers.

Met up with CapitolSwell around 9:30pm and was seated right away. This was my second time visiting Oyamel. The first was right after my return from Mexico City with Spike, Mariano and Luisa. There were some questions in my mind then and I wanted to settle them with this trip.

The notion that Titita Ramirez would be hosted by Jose Andres and Oyamel was a bit ironic in my mind. During my Mexico City trip, the chilaquiles at Ramirez's El Bajio were the best I sampled and I've since modeled my own approach after hers. The chilaquiles from Oyamel in September were, well, I won't go into that here. More on that later...

Oyamel is Jose Andres' interpretation of Mexican "street food." It's a nicely done restaurant with a very modern interior design that incorporates Mexican "touches" to give it flair. Orange hues on the wall, lots of candles and decidedly Dia de Los Muertos decorations for the occasion: skulls, paper cutouts. Overall, nicely done, but I could do without the very modern touches, like the steel bulkhead and uncomfortable seat cushions that compress to much so that your legs are pinched by the frame. The lighting is very moody, which is nice for the ambience, but too low to see your food.

As is our usual Modus Operandi, we decided to order a number of plates to share. As soon as I sat down, I orderd their Papas al Mole right away to get us rolling. French fries drizzled with mole poblano, queso cotija y crema. Served in what looked like a stiff paper hot dog holder, it meant to reinforce the notion of "street food." However, I would have preferred that the fries came out hot instead of on the warm side as though it had been sitting at the pass for some time. Otherwise, the flavors of the mole were quite enjoyable: deep, rich, twangs of chocolate. It would have been nicely done had the fries come out hot.

Tacos were next on our list. Unfortunately, they were out of the one I was looking forward to trying: Tacos de Chapulines, the Oaxacan specialty of sauteed grasshoppers. That was lame. CapitolSwell ordered the Carnitas con salsa de tomatillo taco - confit of baby pig with green tomatillo sauce (I didn't know there was any other variety), pork rinds, onion and cilantro. Sounds pretty good, right?

Now, if you're someone that goes to traditional Mexican taco joints, you kinda know what to expect. Some meat, some stuff and two corn tortillas. If you're like me and find the stuffing to be quite generous, you pull apart the tortillas and make two. The carnitas came out completely stuffed - to the gills. With only one tortilla. I sampled it. The pork was tender and flavorful, the ground pork rinds added some texture and the seasoning was just right - no need to add stuff like you do at the taco joints. But the thing was so overstuffed that the meat overwhelmed everything else. Out of balance. Too much meat and the corn tortilla was lost.

Quesadilla Huitlacoche.

The next round brought us the Quesadilla Huitlacoche and Chilaquiles con Salsa de Tomatillo, Queso y Cilantro - which is a lot of name for just chilaquiles, but more on that later.

For those of you unfamiliar, huitlacoche is a black corn fungus that's not readily found in America but a delicacy in Mexico. They called it a "Black Mexican Truffle" at Oyamel, which, I guess, is accurate in that a truffle (as we know them from France) is also a fungus, but I found it odd and a bit misleading to label it a "truffle." They've already called a grasshopper a "grasshopper", why not call a fungus a "fungus"?

The huitlacoche was nicely done. A bit plain as a folded quesadilla, I wondered how it might turn out wrapped in corn masa and deep fried. Mixed with yellow corn and Queso Oaxaqueno, it was enjoyable and demonstrated flavors unusual to the American palate that surprised CapitolSwell.

After what I thought was a tasty, but unfortunate show of the chilaquiles the last time we were here, I decided to order it again to see if it was just an off night or if that's really how they do it here. Sadly, it was the latter rather than the former.

At El Bajio, which I am now holding as the definition of chilaquiles on my tongue, the tortillas are laid out and coated with the salsa, then sprinkled with crumbled cheese, Mexican crema, topped with a fried egg and served with a side of refried beans. To me, it is what chilaquiles are all about. A luxurious juxtaposition of chips softened by the sauce and other chips keeping their crunch. Es divino.

I hate to say it, but the chilaquiles at Oyamel are little more than glorified Nachos to satisfy the American palate. Served in a nice-looking cazuela, the chips are drenched in salsa verde before being smothered in Queso Chihuahua y Queso Oaxaqueno that is then melted and blistered under a broiler. If you're looking for something very similar to "Nachos", this is the dish. But if you're looking for an understanding of chilaquiles, this is not the one.

Earlier I said that I thought it was "ironic" that Titita Ramirez would be hosted by Oyamel - that's because of my chilaquiles comparison. That hers were amazing and theirs lackluster. I wish they would have Titita go through their menu a bit.

But all of that is just idle chatter, the reason we were here tonight was because of Titita Ramirez's Mole. This is why I had made two trips to DC in two days - and risked killing myself at the wheel due to exhaustion.

The "Day of the Dead" Specials from Carmen "Titita" Ramirez listed:

Margarita de Chamoy
Titita's margarita with Siembra Azul Blanco tequila, tamarind, chile and salt air

7 Moles de Oaxaca
Take a tour of Oaxaca and its' seven traditional moles. Served with grilled chicken, seared duck breast, pork rib, refried beans and a side of house made tortillas.

Camote y Pina
A traditional "Day of the Dead" dessert of sweet potato and pineapple puree served with pineapple soup.

Calabaza en Tacha y Bunuelo
Calabaza pumpkin candied with piloncillo sugar and spices and served with deep fried pastry.

7 Moles de Oaxaca.

The seven moles were quite a production. Two plates and a woven basket for the tortillas. On the side plate were the moles, each in its' own little saucer ready for dipping. Of course, the plates arrived and no one told us what mole was what. A few moments later, our waiter, who seemed quite new to restaurant service, came by to inform us that the green was the mole verde and that the moles continued down the list in the same order:

Mole Verde
A delicate mole made with fresh greens and typically served with vegetables.

Mole Manchamantel
A fruity mole that includes pineapple, sweet potato and plantain.

Mole Coloradito
A red mole made with a unique chile only found in Oaxaca.

Mole Almendrado
A red mole made with almonds and dried chiles.

Mole Amarillo
A yellow mole made with avocado leaves and a unique yellow chile found in Oaxaca.

Mole Chichilo
A mole made with unique Oaxacan chiles and tomatillo.

Mole Negro
The King of Moles. Mole Negro has a smoky and earthy flavor.

The problem was that there must have been some disconnect between the kitchen and the front of the house because our moles were not in that order.

Because of my experience in Mexico City, I'm a fan of El Bajio. Which is why it pains me to report that I was underwhelmed with the moles.

Granted, I'm no expert with mole. I barely know anything about them. But, for some reason, these just didn't dazzle me. There were hints of something special, but nothing powerful was spoken. The little that I do know about mole is that it's more a smothering sauce, designed to cover whatever meat is being served. Since these were served in little sauces, I think the moles lose context and, therefore, they lose their meaning and power.

I tried dipping pieces of duck, chicken, pork and beef in all the sauces but found it unsatisfying. For someone without any knowledge of these foods, I think it would have been a more powerful statement for the moles to be served individually - in the meat most appropriate for the mole, as decided by Titita Ramirez. I imagine that's how it's done at El Bajio and I wish it was done here as well. CapitolSwell also noted that there were just too many competing flavors for anyone to fully comprehend and appreciate any of them.

That said, I liked the Mole Almendrado the best. It had a nice, thick texture. Rich, warm and enjoyable. Just wish it's flavor was a bit more pronounced.

Sopes con Polvo de Chicharron.

Next up and a bit out of order, was the Sopes con Polvo de Chicharron. Four "traditional" corn flour cakes topped with ground pork rind and house made guacamole.

You know you're in some sort of interpretation of traditional food when the sopes come out the size of silver dollar coins. The corn masa tortilla "cakes" were crispy and nicely done. The guacamole had a bit of spice and kick to it, but the chicharron were just gratuitous. They were piled on high and didn't really make any sense on a flavor scale. The quantity was as though they were putting it on a normal sized sope. The pork rinds were just "too much" and overpowered everything else. For two people that love pork fried anything - especially fried pork rinds, to see half the order remaining on our plate was just telling.

Calabaza en Tacha y Bunuelo.

Moving into the dessert section, I decided to go with the special Calabaza en Tacha y Bunuelo while CapitolSwell went with Pastel de Tres Leches con Pina - traditional cake soake in Myers rum and three kinds of milk, with rum & milk foam, fresh pineapple gelatin and pinepple salsa, with a scoop of dark caramel ice cream.

The calabaza was something I had read about in some Mexican cookbooks. It looked interesting, so I went with it. Not bad. The pumpkin was soft and had a sweet and nutty flavor from the piloncillo. The accompanying pastry was crispy and coated with cinnamon and sugar but otherwise unremarkable.

The Tres Leches cake had a decidedly modern twist with the foam and gelatin. The gelatin was lightly sweet and thick. But the flavor of the cake with caramel ice cream was pretty darn good. A highlight of the meal. While I returned to my pumpkin (without ice cream), I secretly wished I could swipe CapitolSwell's cake.

My gentle readers know that I'm in the coffee business. Those in the coffee business know that I'm a pretty opinionated operator who's made the call for better coffee in restaurants. I already knew that Oyamel was using Mexican Chiapas coffee from Southern Skies Coffee in Sykesville, but did our server know that as well?

After a few moments of questioning and our server consulting with the manager, he returned to inform us that the coffee being served was indeed a Mexican Chiapas from Southern Skies. He even brought along the five pound bag to show us. Nice.

When dining, I regularly ask our servers these questions. If the coffee isn't up to my expectations and is from a less than compelling roaster, I decline coffee. I urge all of you to do the same. The more people that demand quality coffee, the sooner restauranteurs and chefs will wake up and smell it.

Decided to go with the Chiapas that our server said was made recently. The coffee came out in glass cups with steam rising from the liquid. But it was on the cooler side of 180F. I didn't have any problems drinking it because of heat. However, the coffee was drip filtered and lacked the body of a French pressed coffee. Not exactly the perfect crown to a meal but superior than most restaurants.

Pastel de Tres Leches con Pina.

All in all, I was disappointed. Maybe I hyped it up in my mind too much. Maybe El Bajio and their chilaquiles weren't that good. Maybe it was that good because I was with Ana - heck, I could have eaten at McDonald's with her and thought it was the best meal of my life. Whatever the case, I guess I expected a lot from this dinner and what we were served left me underwhelmed and unsatisfied.

I sat there for a long time at the time trying to analyze and understand why I wasn't blown away by the moles and I think it's context. If a certain someone ever invites me to visit Mexico City again (hint, hint - I'm ready), El Bajio will be top on my list to try these moles as they should be served: in context.

Oyamel Cocina Mexicana
401 7th Street NW
Washington, DC 20004
202-628-1005
www.oyamel.com

Dia de Los Muertos

Today and tomorrow, Mexicans in Mexico and throughout the world celebrate a holiday known as Day of the Dead. No, it's not some horror flick, it's long tradition and I thought we'd bring a little of that to The Spro.

Senora Lopez at Fiesta Mexicana made these little tables of food for Dia de Los Muertos, so I picked one up the other night and today it's on the front counter with a candle and a cappuccino.

Friends and longtime readers of this blog know that I'm not Mexican. I'm Filipino. And while there may be a tradition in the Philippines called Araw ng mga Patay (same meaning), it's something that my family never celebrated outside of, maybe, going to church for the Roman Catholic observance of All Saints Day.

According to what I understand about Dia de Los Muertos, the day celebrates those of our friends and family who have died. The candle is the light guiding the deceased back to this world. A table is set with a photo of the remembered and their favorite foods. On our table, we have a photo of beloved Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. In the center of the table is the traditional pan de muerto, a sweet bread with the shapes of bones on top. Surrounding the pan de muerto are: rum, tequila, Electropura agua, Coca-Cola, frutas, arroz con huevo, mole, frijoles, leche de Alpura and Zucaritas cereal. And since we're at The Spro, I've added a cappuccino.

In traditional celebrations, it can days of planning and labor to prepare the food and everything for Dia de Los Muertos, but what happens to the food? I wondered that too. Throughout the day, no one touches the food. It's for the dead and no one else. It's for them to eat. Of course, as per usual with ethereal beings, they are unable to consume the food (as we understand consumption) and the food is disposed of at the end of the holiday.

Dia de Los Muertos is celebrated on both November 1st and 2nd, and even if you aren't Mexican, it seems to me to be a good way to remember our deceased loved ones.

More From "The Kitchen"

The baked cheese special - locally produced Chevre and black peppercorn crusted cheddar baked in the brick oven and served with house made toast strips.

Here's another snapshot from the crew at Woodberry Kitchen for our family member living out there in Ireland. How's it going, Chris?

From D.F. to D.C.

The son-in-law (center) waxes poetic, while Chef Ramirez (in white) watches on.

Readers of this blog might remember my visit to El Bajio with Ana and Tia Cristy back in September. While they're known for other dishes, I found their chilaquiles to be spectacular and a style that I've been trying to recreate ever since. It's a wonderful restaurant whose menu I hope to explore a bit more on my next visit to the DF.

How pleased I was to receive an email from Jeff of Southern Skies Coffee informing me that Chef Ramirez would be giving a cooking demonstration this morning at the Mexican Cultural Institute in Washington DC. So, in spite of waiting until 1:30 in the morning to chat with Ana, I rousted myself out of bed at 6am to begin the long journey down to DC.

After a forty minute commute down to Baltimore's Penn Station, a fifty minute train ride on Amtrak, a 25 minute ride on The Metro (including a train malfunction and two train changes), and a ten minute walk, I arrived at the Cultural Institute just a few minutes shy of the 10am scheduled time. But in true Mexican style, the session would start fashionably late. When I arrived at 9:50am, I was the lone attendee. However, by the time they started, there were about 30 people in the beautifully ornate hall.

The session was led by Carmen Titita Ramirez Degollado, chef and owner of El Bajio, her youngest daughter Maria (a chef who attended CCA in San Francisco) and Maria's husband (also a chef, hailing from Spain).

Surrounded by wood cutting boards, butane burners, glass jugs of agua fresca and mounds of fresh ingredients, Chef Ramirez went to town. First, she started off showing how to make Almendrado, a mole made from almonds, onion and garlic. The second demonstration was on how to make Mole Verde using a wide assortment of greens.

Surprisingly, the preparations were simple and looked relatively easy. I've heard stories about Mexican abuelas spending days grinding and preparing mole. Because of those stories, an attempt at mole always seemed daunting, at best.

I still have to pour through my notes, but here's the best I can do at the moment: the Almendrado consisted simply of almonds, ancho chiles, onions and garlic. Roast the almonds and chiles, saute the onions and garlic, then combine in a blender until pureed. "Re-fry" in oil and it's done.

The Mole Verde on the left and the Almendrado on the right.

The Mole Verde was similarly simple: cilantro, hoja santa, epazote, hoja de chayote, chile poblano, chile jalapeno, chayote, green beans, peas, zucchini, green fava beans, white onion and garlic. Blend the onions and garlic together with some water, into a pot. Blend the leafy veggies, then into the pot. Heat it up and simmer with the chopped veggies and you're good to go.

Of course, it's slightly more involved than that. They didn't talk proportions or measurements so it's going to be a trial and error kind of approach over the next few days.

The flavors (to me) were new and interesting. I thought they could use a bit more salt to give the flavors better pronunciation, but it sparked my interest and I'll have to start making my shopping list for the weekend soon.

But if you're in the DC area (or willing to drive down to DC), then get to Oyamel before Friday to catch Chef Ramirez's cooking in honor of Mexico's Dia de los Muertos.

I'll be there tonight!

The Fridge

The Motherlode.

Was trying to organize the fridge after a morning breakfast of chipotle chilaquiles and thought I would share my current stock (starting from left to right):

- a third pan filled with camembert, cheddar and gouda cheeses
- one Haas avocado, just about ripe
- nine pan of crumbled queso anejo
- ziplock bag of queso chihuahua
- 2qt cambro of chipotle chilaquiles sauce (just reheat)
- cup of homemade herb butter
- Queso Oaxaqueno
- Queso Fresco
- 2qt cambro of guacamole
- 2qt cambro of salsa verde
- 1qt jar of chimichurri (hiding behind the guac)
- 1 ribeye steak from Springfield Farms
- 1 vacuum pack farm-raised chopped pork
- 1 pound salted butter from Trickling Springs Creamery
- 1 squeeze bottle of Mexican-style crema

On the window sill, in a six pan, I've got fresh cilantro, green onions and asparagus in water, ready to eat.

RFTW - Ready For The World

Tempting. But I'm not talking about these guys!

For the past several weeks, I've used part of my weekends to prep food for the upcoming week. Today was one of those days.

In an effort to eat consciously and eat better foods, I'm working hard on preparing my own stuff. In the fridge, I've got a tub of rojo sauce for quick and easy chilaquiles, crumbled queso anejo and a squeeze bottle of crema. But that's not enough.

So today, I had some chiles that I picked up last weekend at a local farm. Don't know what kind of chiles they're hot and I tossed them into the smoker to dry. Since the smoker is fired up, might as well toss in a boneless turkey breast and a half-rack of pork short ribs for good measure.

Then there's the tub of chipotles that looked a bit too "smoked" from last weekend. Stemmed those and ground them in the food processor and now have a smaller tub of chipotle powder.

The nice thing about having the tube of chilaquile sauce is that I can ladle a couple spoonfuls into a pan, heat it up, pour over tortilla chips, fry an egg, drizzle with crema, cheese and sliced white onion and I've got a great breakfast in a couple minutes.

But that's not enough, roasted up some garlic and tossed a bunch of stuff - including roasted tomatillos, into the blender for a tub of salsa verde that I can use with tacos or plainly on tortilla chips. There were also some avocados and tomatoes sitting around, so I couldn't let those go to waste. Chop, toss into a bowl, mash, add some onions, cilantro, lime juice, salt and presto! Instant guacamole.

The only thing I'm worried about is that I'm down to my last bag of tortilla chips from Tortilleria Sinaloa. If I'm not careful and don't restock soon, I could be in trouble later this week.

But for now, I'm Ready For The World.

More From The Kitchen

The day's special: Grilled Halibut with kale.

Before heading off to HouseWerks annual Halloween bash and the Gutierrez's flaming pot of goulash, I stopped by Woodberry Kitchen and ended up having another round of plates with Amy. It was the first day of revenue service so we decided to split a couple supper plates.

The special of the day was a grilled halibut with kale. I find kale to be rather chewy and prefer not to look too closely at the texture of the leaf, which reminds me of the textural patterns one finds in tripe. However, the kale didn't taste like tripe but was rather good - for kale. The halibut was nicely done. A slight carmelized crisp on the exterior yet fluffy and thick on the interior. Very enjoyable.

The second dish we had was the Bone-In Pork Shoulder served with a mixed beet torte. The pork is cooked sou vide for sixteen hours and 160F, then finished in a skilled before serving. Because of this, portions of the meat are incredibly tender. Not falling off the bone tender as might happen with slow roasting or smoking for the same amount of time, the fibers still hold together but the texture is silky, soft and refined in a way that smoking or roasting just cannot match. The mixed beet torte was interesting for its' textures and odd bites of sweetness.

The Bone-In Pork Shoulder.

Friends & Family - Woodberry Kitchen

Wood Oven Roasted Oysters.

The Friends & Family Meal. I've heard about them, read about them, but I've never been invited to one. Until now.

Just what is this "F&F Meal" anyway? It's the meal (sometimes series of meals) that a restaurant hosts just before their official opening. It's designed to identify problem spots and work out the kinks of a new kitchen, bar, dining room and everyone working in the restaurant. The meals are comped by the house and everyone goes to town.

Last nights' Friends & Family Meal went from 5pm to 10pm. I arrived just before 9pm and the main dining room was packed with about 60 people filling the tables and crowding around the bar. The nice thing about this meal is that you know most of the people there and even though my "date" got sick and couldn't make it, there were plenty of friends to eat, drink and be merry with.

After a bit of mingling, Susan and I sat at the bar to sample the kitchens' offerings. Amy would jump in and out while handling the many details that arise when running a working restaurant and Luisa would join us a bit later.

Fried Hominy with Chile Mayo.

The menu is what's described as "Farm to Table" and the approach is a bit different. On the menu are a list of "snacks" designed to be immediate starters. Mini dishes that whet the appetite without actually being appetizers. Think of them as something instead of bread. From there, you can enjoy a variety of prepared oysters or some small cold or warm plates, or perhaps a salad. Once those smaller portions were out the way comes the supper dishes. A bit heartier and more filling.

Of course, we didn't follow the prescription. We just ordered relatively haphazardly - ordering whatever we thought was interesting.

First round: Wood Oven Roasted Oysters topped with bacon. Served on a bed of rock salt, the oysters were briny and had the taste of the ocean. Roasted just right, the oysters had a touch of heat and the bacon was pliable but crisp. Susan loved them but since I'm not a big fan of cooked oysters, I found them to be okay. Perhaps a bit too salty. Bring on the raw oysters because that's what I prefer.

Next round brought us the Fried Hominy with a chile mayonnaise dipping sauce. Reminiscent of CornNuts, the fried hominy, of course, had that rich corn flavor that was lightly fried and properly salted. The dipping sauce matched well but I found the hominy enjoyable enough that I couldn't resist eating it on its' own.

Raw Oysters, Iced on the Half Shell.

Round Three: Raw Oysters Iced on the Half Shell. Again, briny with the strong taste of ocean. As though your mouth was sucking down the ocean itself - which, for whatever reason, seemed odd to me. Perhaps it's just that I'm used to an oyster without such a strong connection to its' origins. However, they rocked. Served with some cocktail sauce, wedge of lemon and mignonette - I prefered the simple preparation of lemon with cocktail sauce while Susan preferred the mignonette. Unlike the many other places I've eaten where the oysters have flown far enough to earn frequent flier points, these tasted like they were pulled off the river bed that morning.

By this point, we're well into our meal and the next round brought something a bit more home-y. A deviled egg course made from Amy's grandmothers' recipe. A taste of Pennsylvania Dutch tradition piped through a pastry bag for a slight fanciness. Creamy, smooth and topped with slivers of chipped ham - what's not to love about deviled eggs? Bravo to them for putting it on a menu.

Amy Grandmothers' Deviled Eggs with Chipped Ham

We never made it to the Salads or Cold Plates, although Susan reported that someone else had tried the Various Beets and lov ed it. Roasted Buchanan Valley Pears and Adolescent Lettuces sound interesting and will have to be a point of interest for future visits.

The next round brought us Chips & Dip - three varieties of potato (yukon gold, sweet and blue), sliced thin, deep fried and served with an onion dip. Classic party food with a serious twist. The sweet potatoes were the favorite with the yukons a close second. The blue potatoes we had were more of the skin and a bit tougher. The chips were perfectly fried, slightly translucent (in the case of the Yukons) and stayed properly crisp.

Chips & Dip.

The nice thing about dining with Susan is that she's not afraid of anything. That's a plus. Whatever comes our way, it's going in our mouths. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Time to see what it tastes like. That which doesn't kill us, makes our tummies fuller. I had asked Rebecca if she wanted to come and join us but she had some weak excuses about a "happy hour", but she's too finicky an eater for this crowd so it was better that she wasn't there. Of course, the one person who I wanted to bring lives 2,000 miles to the south, making these kinds of excursions difficult and sporadic at best.

By far our favorite round, the Griddled Scallops with gold rice and special sauce rocked the house. So damn good, I had to get up and tell the kitchen just how much we loved them. Plump and perfectly griddled to a crispy caramel on the outside. Moist and succulent on the inside. Served with a rice that was just slightly crisp in spots an a lightly sweet sauce that was absolutely sublime. Not overpowering like so many sauces. This one was light, just below the radar and a perfect compliment to the sweetness of the scallops. It was almost as though you didn't know it was there. It was that complimentary. It was perfection.

Griddled Scallops with Gold Rice and Special Sauce - perfection.

Next round: Little Lamb Meatballs ina red pepper sauce with fried sage. Served in a little cast iron dish, these meatballs came straight out of the wood-fired brick oven and were piping hot. Once cooled sufficiently so as not to burn your mouth, these were lovely little bites. Slightly tangy. I actually only had one since the dishes were flying at us now and wasn't able to give the meatballs much attention.

After fiddling with the remote and trying to tame the music volume, Amy's dinner arrived. A little something off the menu. A large hamburger patty topped with grated cheese over a bed of greens. Looked pretty good but didn't have any. A little bit earlier, Nelson had ordered the Hamburger on a Roll. That looked good too with a nice red interior and a bag of French fries. The fries were interesting. Very thinly sliced and short, they reminded me of those Durkee Shoestring Potatoes you buy at the grocery store in cans. A real throwback to youth and a wonderful way to play on peoples' memories - without that gross greasiness you get from eating the stuff in the can.

Little Lamb Meatballs with red pepper sauce and fried sage.

For the next course, we decided to go for a Supper plate and ordered the Cast Iron Ribeye (medium) and asked the kitchen to slice it so all of us could sample. The steak came out very nicely but a bit more on the well side of medium. But the rich flavor of the ribeye was still there and quite enjoyable. I'm not a big fan of potatoes au gratin in general so it's always a tough sell to me. That said, the potatoes were properly done. Thinly sliced to a delicate texture and layered with cheese. It's a tasty accompaniment but I prefer rice over just about anything else so my personal bias starts to show when it comes to potatoes. However, I'm sure that those who prefer potatoes over rice would love the gratin. The steak sauce served with the ribeye was mildly sweet and very reminiscent to the sauce served at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn.

Amy's off-the-menu Hamburger Salad.

A free meal is a tempting mistress and I was certainly tempted to try other thiings on the menu but gluttony is a sin and it would have been wildly scandalous to continue beyond the limits of our stomachs. But all was not over, there was still dessert to be sampled.

The dessert menu offered three items and since there were three of us, three desserts it would be. Both the pear cobbler and apple dessert with vanilla ice cream were solid performers, however the standout of the three was the fig ball (can't remember the actual name). A large, round ball of something fig, it exploded with butter on the palate. Delicious. All three of us agreed that it was the dessert to have. So good, it needs further exploration.

Cast Iron Ribeye with cheddar potato gratin and house steak sauce.

Artifact Coffee barista Marietta was on hand to prepare for me a dark and lovely cappuccino with monk's head foam. I didn't get a picture of it, but it was pretty darn good for a coffeeshop and absolutely smashing for a restaurant (the difference being that most restaurants serve absolute swill as "coffee"). Dark chocolate notes and a nice finish. It was really good up until the point that I started concentrating on holding my pinky up while drinking and ended up pouring some cappuccino down my shirt. Good thing I wear black.

My view from the bar.

All that food, what about drink? The bar is well-stocked with both spirits, wines and soft drinks. Personally, I'm no longer a big drinker so I didn't get a chance to drink as much as everyone else. I stayed with the house-made sparkling water and imported Mexican Coca-Cola. The wine list looks pretty good and if you do go, I heartily recommend the Laurel Glen Cabernet Sauvignon. At ninety-eight dollars a bottle, it's the priciest on the menu, but I had the chance to sample it earlier in the week at the staff wine tasting and it absolutely rocked. Fruit, black currant, body - delicious and highly recommended.

Pear Cobbler with creme pouring sauce.

Lingering around after service always affords a special glimpse into the workings of a restaurant. How does everyone interact? Do they like each other? Who's sleeping with whom? It's still early so the intrigue hasn't built to a fervor. Yet. Everyone's still calculating their moves, building their "sea legs."

So, do I recommend the Woodberry Kitchen? Well, of course I do. As someone who tries various restaurants and writes about those experiences, this one is pretty different - the owners are good friends which, of course, I cannot separate from a potential bias in favor of the restaurant. Heck, I smoked the chipotles, sourced the Coke and have some equipment on loan - of course I think the food is good. But really, just as with the other posts, it's up to you to visit for yourselves and decide if this is just a fluff piece or typical of this blog. I think you'll find the latter as well as a good meal made with great local ingredients at Woodberry Kitchen.

The fig ball dessert - amazing.

Apple Cobbler with vanilla ice cream.

Most of the Woodberry Kitchen Family on opening day.

Woodberry Kitchen
2010 Clipper Park Road
Baltimore, Maryland
410-464-8000
www.woodberrykitchen.com

Running For The Border

Perhaps it's part of my own indulgence, although I'm telling everyone that it's part of our attempt to rid The Spro's menu of all HFCS (high fructose corn syrup) products, but our first order of "Mexican Coke" arrived today.

After a number of failed attempts to connect with the local distributor of the fabled "Mexican Coke", I finally met with a representative and placed an order: 12 cases of Mexican Coke and two cases each of Jarritos Tamarindo, Jarritos Mandarina, Jarritos Limones, Jamaican Ginger Beer, Sidral Mundet and one case of Senorial Sangria.

While I've always been a fan of the Tamarindo soda and The Spro has always carried the Mandarina, it's the Coke that I've been secretly lusting after. It's that crisp zing that only cane sugar can provide that makes Coke worthwhile. Combine that with the lively phosphoric acid and eliminate the heavy coating that comes from the HFCS and you've got a Coke worth drinking again.

And I'm stoked.

So the tally goes: four cases for The Spro, seven cases for Woodberry Kitchen and one case for the fridge at home - for papi chulo.

BTW, if anyone local wants a case, let me know. It's $30 for 24.

Smokin' & Chillin'

Organic red jalapeno peppers ready to smoke.

I spent the weekend smoking some organic red jalapeno peppers from One Straw Farm this weekend and turning them into authentic Mexican-style, direct from Hunt Valley, chipotle chiles. It was a side project I did for Spike and Woodberry Kitchen. One case of peppers created about 20 liters (by volume) of chipotles.

I had never smoked chiles before so much of this was experimentation. Not enough smoking and drying and the interior would be too moist and rot. Too much smoke and the pepper would blacken, turn brittle and be completely destroyed. Finding just the right medium turned out to be quite a task.

The case of peppers from One Straw Farms.

Through trial and error, I discovered that the optimum chipotle could be produced at roughly 220 degrees Farhenheit in about eight hours. That was on Friday. In the rain. On Sunday, the same parameters developed chipotles that were too dry and brittle. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I had miscalculated and forgotten to take the weather and humidity into account in the drying process. Mistake.

But in the end, we ended up with some really nice chipotle chiles that will be making their way into one of your dishes at Woodberry Kitchen soon.

As for the other peppers that were deemed "well done"? I stemmed them and ground them for chipotle powder. And promptly wiped my eye and forehead after working with the powder...

The finished chipotles ready for delivery.

Moon Over My Short Ribs, Tul

The short ribs, Sang Style, ready to eat.

I was back at it today with the short ribs from Springfield Farms. Marinated them briefly in the Sang Moon Kal-bi recipe and tossed them into the smoker for about six hours while I went about my business.

They turned out okay. Again, the cut is too thick for such a short marinade that I'm thinking an overnight marinade might be better. The meat was good but the flavor didn't really penetrate. However, the slow smoke created a rich texture and wonderful aromatic. The meat was stringy and fell apart beautifully.

But more experimentation is required.

Facing A Brave New World

They say that all good things must come to an end.

For the past five and a half years, I've been keeping a mistress. A not so secret mistress. Sixty-six months. And now it looks as though it will have to end.

That mistress has been my steady companion through thick and thin. Feast and famine. Friends and foes. Good times and bad. After such a long time, it's tough to let it go. But let it go I must.

CapitolSwell and I went down to Les Halles last night for a typical outing in DC. The air was cool but very comfortable to sit outside. The patio was crowded and we ordered some of our usual dishes: macaroni and cheese, steak tartare and the favorite, onglet a l'echalote.

Usually this is a meal to get excited over, but this time things fell flat. We discussed this over dinner. Was there a problem with the food? Does it taste different? I don't think so, but maybe it does. Whatever the case, the food was different to me. It wasn't that rich burst of flavor, those wonderful textures. Okay, maybe there was a bit too much proscuitto and bacon in the mac 'n cheese and maybe we were spoiled about a year ago when they ran out of baguettes and had to bake some fresh. But there was more to it than that - even the onglet was flat.

A few months ago, we dragged Spike down to Les Halles and you could tell afterwards that he wasn't thrilled. I didn't understand then but I think now, I do.

After pondering just why the food wasn't as good as before all the way home, overnight and throughout the day, I finally came to realize just what had happened. Les Halles hadn't changed. They still offered the same French brasserie fare I came to love many years ago and still did that food consistently. The difference was that I had changed. My understanding and expectations of food had changed. I have been eating better quality foods and my body could now discern the difference and it was ruining my relationship with my favorite restaurant.

But one just cannot go back. I've tasted new delights and am now ruined forever. How can one go back to commercial, corn-fed meats after romancing grass-fed, free-range? It's impossible.

And so I now must bid a fond, if reluctant adieu to my longtime mistress, Les Halles.

I now face a Brave New World...

La Concha a Woodberry

Enjoying a concha from La Flor de Puebla with coffee from Tulsa's DoubleShot Coffee on the darkened bar at Woodberry Kitchen.

Man of La Concha, Otra Vez

Conchas a la Bimbo.

In my continuing search to find authentic Conchas in America, like the ones I had in Mexico City, I ventured down to Riverdale, Maryland because I had heard about the conchas from a bakery there called La Flor de Puebla.

During my visit, I stopped off at the local Mexican market and grabbed the conchas they had in stock and decided that we would have a "Concha Shootout" at The Spro, so I gathered all the conchas I could find.

And the conchas came from all over the place. We had conchas from Rasita Bakery in Kensington, Panaderia El Latino in Washington DC, El Amigo Bakery of Annapolis, the aforementioned La Flor de Puebla, and Mexico's ubiquitious baker: Bimbo.

The conchas wait being eaten.

The terms of the shootout were simple: just which one tasted best. On it's own and with coffee. For the coffee, we had the very nice Panama Carmen Estate from Hines Public Market Coffee prepared the way I like it - in a French press.

In the end, there wasn't much science to the evaluation. Strictly subjective. Unfortunately, I found the conchas from El Amigo and El Latino to be too dry and not sweet enough for my tastes. The concha from Rasita had a nice, mellow sweet flavor and a soft, fluffy texture. The bread was quite yellow in color, but still quite enjoyable. The Bimbo concha was about what you could expect from a major, nationwide baker - nothing too exciting. Lots of preservatives and just a middle of the road kind of flavor.

The carnage after.

For me, the winner was the concha from La Flor de Puebla. Soft, light, airy, lightly sweet. Delicious. Delicate. Not quite as good at the one I had at Bondy in Polanco, but definitely in the right direction. It's a refreshing treat.

Now, if only if La Puebla wasn't so far from my house...

The Not So Big Tummy and The Angry Pozole

French fries comprises the first course at Taqueria Tres Reyes.

I was in Riverdale, Maryland today in search of Conchas. It's an exhausting search that makes one hungry and I figured that there must be something tasty in the area people call "Little Mexico."

Which is how I found my way to Taqueria Tres Reyes - driving along Kenilworth Road, spotting it to the left and hitting a U-turn to get there.

The setting is classic American Hispanic. About forty Hispanic (presumably Mexican) workers hanging out by the corner in what is growing to be an American ritual - hanging out until someone comes along to offer you daywork. At first, it's slightly unnerving, until you realize what's going on, then it's old hat.

Taqueria Tres Reyes is a down home kind of joint. It's nothing fancy. It looks like it used to be some other kind of fast-food eatery in a previous life - perhaps a drive-inn, perhaps a burger joint. Whatever the case may be, it's old and kinda rundown and the exhaust hoods in the kitchen look like they're from the 1930s.

The Angry Pozole accompanied by some radishes and fried tortillas.

Of course, I'm not here to worry about the decor, which is Formica-chic, I'm here to try the food. But before anyone can eat the food, they have to experience the service, which is almost atrocious. Besides myself and the one white guy eating with some friends, everyone else is (presumably) Mexican, ranging from the rough and tumble general worker to pseudo-suburban type, but the girl behind the counter takes the cake.

She's curt, brash and I think she's also rude, but I can't be sure because she's speaking to me only in Spanish.

And my Spanish sucks.

But there's the attitude. The "hurry the fuck up and order you pinche puto" kind of attitude. And she's got it. In spades.

However, this is my world and she's just living in it so I'm not going to let her spoil the fun. The attitude? It's part of the flavor because, I notice later, she's rude to everyone. As she goes along asking me if I want ketchup with my fries or the order to here or to take my Coke now, I'm barely keeping up with her Spanish and make rudimentary "Si" to keep the pace. I also feign that I'm preoccupied with other things on my mind, which means I'm not really listening and it doesn't seem out of place that I don't understand her right away. Of course, the truth is that I'm paying close attention to what she's saying and it's taking me that long to recognize the words I do know and decipher the rest by filling in the blanks with wild guesses.

Finally, that pain is completed and I sit and wait. And wait. And wait. When I sit, the taqueria is pretty full and by the time my pozole arrives, I'll only be one of two people left. Not too long into my wait, the french fries arrive. They're the typical wide-cut, frozen Simplot kind of fries and while I find processed foods detestable, I can enjoy these fries since they're crisp. The ketchup provided as a side is cheap and watery but since I don't usually like ketchup on my fries, no worries. Hit them with a bit of salt and all is good. Not fantastic, mind you. But good.

After quite a bit longer, my fries are gone and I'm still waiting.

After still yet more time, my pozole arrives and it's angry. Unlike the pozole I've had at other places, this one is huge. I mean freakin' humongous. No wonder it costs nine dollars. It's huge but looks freshly made. The soup is a deep, angry red that's just off the boil which means it's searingly hot - the way a good soup should be served. After some careful sips, the broth is deep and rich. It's heavy on the chiles and the cumin which gives it that deep, smoky character. It's good. Damn good. Rich in a way I haven't experienced with pozole. The flavors are multilayered and so are the textures. The pork is soft and stringy while the rest of the bowl is chock full of hominy. Hominy that looks like it exploded. Any thicker with hominy and you might think you were eating a soupy Mexican bowl of grits. Chunky grits, that is.

Once the bowl has landed, I Thank The Lord that I didn't order a couple of tacos as a side dish. That would have been suicide. The bowl is too much. Way too much for this tummy to finish. I work and work on the dish. I'm sweating. I'm struggling. I'm huffing and puffing and it's blowing my doors down. I can't finish it. I am defeated by this angry pozole.

But it was good.


Taqueria Tres Reyes
5403 Kenilworth Avenue
Riverdale, MD 20737
301-779-6060

DoubleShot Through The Heart And You're To Blame

The filmmaker behind The Perfect Cappuccino, Amy Ferraris, was in town the other week for a family wedding and we ended up touring around some of Baltimore's famous centers of good food, namely The Spro and Belvedere Square. During our day together, we chatted about the many different personalities in the industry that she's met while making her documentary and the lively Brian Franklin from DoubleShot Coffee in Tulsa, Oklahoma came up.

Brian is the vocal owner of DoubleShot and host of the AACafe Podcast who went up against the behemoth Starbucks in a David vs Goliath type of shootout when Starbucks wanted to stop them from using the word "doubleshot", alleging that it was an infringement on their trademark. Brian won.

Amy suggested that I try Brian's coffee and offered to contact him on my behalf. It was a nice gesture because I hate asking fellow industry types for samples of their coffee. I'm embarrassed, really. I had met Brian for the first time during this years' SCAA Conference in Long Beach, but it wasn't the first time I'd heard of him.

I first heard about Brian while he was talking smack about the Portafilter.net Podcast that I co-host. His AACafe Podcast had the same complaint that many others in "the biz" have: it's too damn long. Waaah!

Granted our podcasts can run up to two and a half hours in length, but it's like a morning drive radio show - you don't have to listen to it in one sitting. Listen to it in bites and pieces, on the way to work and before you know it, the show's over until next time.

But I digress.

Two pounds of coffee, a package of Nissin Ramen and two DoubleShot Coffee stickers arrived today. We tore into the Kenyan coffee right away, pressing out two 48z press pots of the stuff. Really nice vanilla and woodsy notes. Planning on using the coffee for tomorrow's Concha Tasting. The espresso will end up in our guest grinder for free sampling to all comers until its' all gone. With the espresso, I'm getting some definite hints dried cherry.

Thanks Brian for the coffee!

Different Is Good - Cinghiale

My older cousin, Ate Ellen has been in town this past week - "ate" being pronounced: "Ah-teh" and is the Filipino honorific used for older female cousins within a family. She's here visiting from the Philippines and has been hanging around the house, enjoying her vacation and doing as little as possible. She's also been advising me on certain Spanish-style traditions, so I don't muck things up with my American approach and mentality. To thank her, we went out to eat on her last night in town at the new Cinghiale-Osteria in the Harbor East project of Baltimore.

Freshly baked foccaccia with an excellent olive oil.

I'll be honest, while I had heard a few positive comments from friends who had gone down to Cinghiale in the first couple of weeks, I wasn't expecting much. There are many who expect great things because they love the sister restaurants: Charleston, Pazo and Petit Louis. I am not one of those people. I've found the sister restaurants to be lacking and I find the "it" scene at Pazo to be utterly detestable. I spent one too many years in the movie business and want none of that celebrity tomfoolery.

First of all, Cinghiale is a beautiful space. I've heard rumors of them spending four million on the place and it looks it. Beautiful craftsmanship in all of the details, from the tile to the boar's heads to the very sexy wine storage. I wish I toured the kitchen. We ate on the Enoteca side (by the bar) since it was nearly 10pm when we arrived but were offered the restaurants' entire menu. Nice.

On the left, califlower, tuna and roasted boar terrine. On the right, parma ham and fresh figs.

Cinghiale is different than other Baltimore Italian restaurants. I see it as a more rustic, country cooking rather than the southern-style red sauces that dominate much of the Italian landscape here. Not that southern is bad. It's just ubiquitous and expected - and I have to say that Cinghiale gave us the unexpected.

Overall, we were in new territory with Italian food and what better reason to order a little bit of this and a little bit of that when you don't know exactly what to order!

Il Fritto Misto - Crispy vegetables, Milanese stylle, brown butter & lemon. Heavenly.

Our first round started off with a variety of items, from marinated califlower to a tuna salad, roasted boar terrine, Parma ham and fresh sliced figs. The execution was nice but I found the flavors to be subtle and almost bland. Everything was well prepared, there were just no powerful flavors. The califlower was crisp and punchy in texture but mellow in flavor. Same for the tuna and terrine. The Parma ham was very thinly sliced and piled on the plate and the figs were beatifully fresh but lightly sweet.

The next round brought us the crispy vegetables and raw beef. The beef was decent. Thinly sliced and covered in an arugula olive oil puree. Again, the flavors were subtle and delicate. Well-executed, but nothing to fantasize about.

Il Carpaccio - raw beef, baby arugula, "EVOO", parmigiano.

The crispy vegetables or Il Fritto Misto took a departure. They were excellent. Fantastic. Probably the best course of the meal. Perfectly seasoned breading, perfectly fried and the flavors were delicate, multi-layered and intense. I will always remember the red bell pepper. It's flavor popped on my senses. Amazing. Sublime. I wanted more.

Seems that chef Stefano Frigero is moving the restaurant in a seasonal direction with more locally sourced ingredients. This is a good thing. And it's good to see our friends from Springfield Farm listed on the menu with their farm-raised rabbit. This time the rabbit is encased in tortellini. Like the other courses, it was delicate, nuanced but not bold. The rabbit was ground to a very pleasing texture that was crumbly without being that pasty mash so many other tortellini stuffings insist on being. Served in a light broth, it was pleasant.

Springfield Farm raised rabbit tortellini.

Next round kept us om pasta territory with sausage stuffed ravioli. Again, nothing bold. They were okay. Nothing memorable except for the execution. Wish I could say more but this was the "John Doe" of our meal.

Our meal ended with an order of the rice pudding with pears and a baked chocolate bar. I have to say that I loved this round. Second only to the fried veggies. Sweet without being overpowering. The rice cooked to the perfect texture that's not soft but not hard, the pudding creamy, the pears crispy and the chocolate the perfect accompaniment.

Sausage stuffed ravioli.

All in all, it was a good time at Cinghiale. It wasn't "the best" Italian meal I've ever eaten. It was well-done and wonderfully executed. The flavors, while not bold, were new and different in the city - which makes it a refreshing change. Because it's so different than other Baltimore Italian restaurants (and the sister restaurants as well), it can be a bit difficult to make sense out of Cinghiale. If you're looking for veal parmigiana or fettuccine alfredo then you're not going to like this place. But if you're looking for good food that's different and going to expand on your understanding of Italian cuisine, then Cinghiale is the place.

I know I will be going back just to see what's new.

Rice pudding, pears and a chocolate bar.

Cinghiale Osteria
822 Lancaster Street
Baltimore, MD 21202
410-547-8282
www.cinghiale-osteria.com