Eating with Your Hands

This morning I found this article in the New York Times about eating with your hands, manners, and the (re)evolution of it in the dining world. I've been to a number of restaurants where you eat with your hands - Ethiopian and Moroccan mostly.

There is something about eating with your hands that just takes the dining experience to a new level.

I'm a firm believer that you eat with all of your senses. Everyone knows you eat with your mouth, and therefore "taste" and some will recognize smell...then there are those who realize we also first experience food with "sight" before "taste". Which is why I'm a love of making food "pretty" or appealing looking. Depending on the food you might experience "hearing" it - the sizzle of a fajita plate, the crackling of a well toasted crème brûlée - but so rarely to we touch our food.

Many of us can remember being told "don't play with your food" or "use your fork" as a child. So unless you grew up with a culture that encourage and expected you to eat with your hands this is a new concept completely.

But let me say it's something to experience. Don't let the saucy-ness of the dishes intimidate you, using bread or rice will help make the transfer of food from plate to mouth less disastrous.

Ajiaco - Colombian One Pot Wonder

(Found this recipe on NY Times...going to try it out very soon)

Colombian-Style Chicken, Short Rib and Potato Stew

Adapted from Ana Jovancicevic

Time: 31/2 hours

Ingredients:

1 whole chicken (3 1/2 pounds), rinsed and patted dry

1 pound beef short ribs, rinsed and patted dry

2 3/4 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more for seasoning

1 large white onion, finely chopped

1 tablespoon dried oregano

2 bunches cilantro, with roots if possible

2 russet potatoes, peeled and coarsely grated (about 4 cups)

1 1/4 pounds small Yukon Gold or red potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

2 large ears of corn, husked and cut into 1-inch rounds

3 medium tomatoes, cored and chopped

3/4 cup finely chopped scallion

3/4 cup finely chopped shallots

1 habanero pepper, plus more to taste

5 cups fresh baby spinach

1/2 cup capers with brine

1 teaspoon black pepper

3 avocados, peeled, pitted and diced, for serving

Sour cream, for serving.

Directions:

1. Season the chicken and beef all over with salt. Let stand 15 minutes. In a large pot, combine the chicken, beef, onion, dried oregano and 2 teaspoons salt. Rinse away any grit from the cilantro (do not trim), tie one bunch with kitchen twine and drop it into the pot. Pour in enough cold water to just cover the meat (about 12 cups). Simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, about 40 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a large platter and let cool.

2. Stir in the grated potato. Continue to simmer until the beef is meltingly tender and the potatoes have melted into the broth, about 1 1/2 hours. Transfer the meat to a platter. Once cool enough to handle, shred the beef and chicken, and discard the bones, skin, fat and gristle.

3. Stir the chopped potato and corn into the pot. Simmer until the potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the tomatoes, scallions, shallots and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Chop 1/3 cup of cilantro leaves from the remaining bunch and stir into this salsa. Wearing gloves, remove and discard the habanero seeds; finely chop the habanero and add to the salsa.

5. Return the chicken and beef to the pot. Stir in the spinach, capers and black pepper. Cook until the meat is warmed through and spinach is wilted. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Ladle into bowls, topping with salsa, avocado and a dollop of sour cream.

Yield: 8 to 10 servings.

Food Porn

A fun quick NY Times video about the making of a (food) commercial.

Stubbies

How amazing and yummy is this? Yay Stumptown Coffee!

*          *          *

Stumptown Stubbies

by Oliver Strand

Give Stumptown Coffee Roasters points for style. The small-batch roaster just started selling cold-brewed coffee in dark amber glass bottles — stubbies — that look as if they belong in a cooler on the porch.

The coffee itself is delicious, sweet and clean, and drinking it from a stubby makes a difference. Even though it’s chilled there’s no ice, so the flavor is pure and undiluted. (Right now Stumptown is only bottling cold-brewed House Blend; single origin coffees will be offered this summer.) The bottle has a heft that feels good in the hand, and the shape of it triggers an involuntary shift in posture — shoulders open, arm cocked to half-mast, weight shifted to one leg. It’s hard to be uptight with a stubby.

Then there’s the obvious: it simply looks good. This morning, I met up with a friend who was taking his daughter to school and popped open a couple of stubbies for the walk down West 13th Street, finishing them off as a stream of toddlers surged past us. It felt much more satisfying than sipping iced coffee through a straw sticking out of a sweaty cup.

Which is part of the idea. Duane Sorenson, the owner of Stumptown, said he was tired of the plastic waste that goes into serving iced coffee. “I wanted to find a way to continue to serve cold-brew but eliminate all the plastic,” Sorenson said. “Up until recently we were using a plastic cup, a plastic straw, a plastic lid. I wanted to put it all in a recyclable vessel where it would taste great.”

But really, Sorenson is playfully plumbing his youth — the stubby as madeline. The inspiration for the bottle comes from the Olympia Brewing Company (slogan: “It’s the water”), a Pacific Northwest institution that shuttered in 2003.

“My daddy had stubbies in the crisper, where you’re supposed to keep vegetables,” Sorenson said. “It was filled with stubbies.” His whole childhood was filled with stubbies instead of iceberg lettuce.

Right now the stubbies are only available at Stumptown locations in Portland, Ore. Starting next month the bottles, which are made in Portland, will be shipped to a Stumptown roaster in Red Hook, Brooklyn, to be filled there.

Soon New Yorkers can start the morning with a stubby from the fridge. (There are already refillable growlers of cold-brewed coffee appearing in and around town.) The best part of waking up is reaching for the bottle opener.

“It’s like the olden days,” Sorenson said. “Like when your dad always had an open stubby in the car.”

Something like that.

$3.50 for a 10.5-ounce bottle. Currently only available at Stumptown Coffee Roasters locations in Portland, Ore.; should be available at New York locations by July 1.

Bravo Blais

I'm definitely a Richard Blais fan. I wanted him to win his first season of Top Chef and was very happy when he won the All-Star Season. I also am a fan of fruity-vodka drinks and the one at the end of this article looks very yummy. 

*     *     *

The Chef With the Dragon Fruit
By George Gene Gustines
Photographs by Rob Loud

Alaskan Halibut with fava beans, browned butter foam and picked glassworts,
one of the dishes prepared by Richard Blais.

Move over, pomegranate. And please give a warm welcome to dragon fruit, fiery red and spiky — and the newest poster child for fruit with health benefits.

The fruit first came to my attention earlier this month when it had to be used as an ingredient during a challenge on the opening episode of this season’s “Top Chef: Masters.” Then there was an April 14 Business Week article, “Enter the Dragon Fruit,” about how it was seeping into “America’s consciousness — and the economy.” Last night, the twin forces of alcohol and reality television came together, and the result wasn’t someone getting kicked off “The Real World” but the unveiling of Skyy Vodka’s newest infused flavor. If you guessed dragon fruit, you’ve been paying attention!

The coming-out party for Skyy Infusions Dragon Fruit featured six cocktails mixed with the new flavor and paired with a dinner menu prepared by Richard Blais, who won the all-star edition of “Top Chef” last month. The event began with appetizers and a trio of cocktails: the Blaisin’ Dragon, the Red Dragon and the Dragon Fruit Sparkling Seduction. The winner was the Blaisin’ Dragon, with a slice of seared pineapple, which was the perfect refreshing spring drink.

Richard Blais creating pearls of vodka in liquid nitrogen for an oyster appetizer

As the cocktails were sampled, Blais worked the room, overseeing volunteers from the Culinary Institute of America, his alma mater, and demonstrating one of his favorite tools of the trade: liquid nitrogen. The cryogenic fluid, with its waft of mist, looked even more like something out of a mad scientist’s lab in person than it does on TV. Blais explained that because it is so cold, you should never put your fingers in it (and he did) or place it on your hair (and he did). Perhaps that’s the grooming secret behind his signature spiky coif, which, he confessed, was vaguely reminiscent of the dragon fruit itself and, maybe, why Skyy offered him the job. He then demonstrated how he used the fluid to make “vodka pearls” for an oyster appetizer that was one of the hits of the night for its clean and citrusy taste and its presentation. (The shell sat on a small, circular transparent dish on a bed of sand and next to a miniature starfish, which may or may not have been edible.).

The event was reminiscent of a “Top Chef” challenge: Blais had to use dragon fruit as an ingredient in each drink and course. The first dish was hamachi (tender) splashed with the flavored vodka (subtle), fried clams (a tad too crunchy) and smoked mayonnaise (delicious). It came with a drink called the Muddled Dragon. The next course was Alaskan halibut with fava beans, browned butter foam and pickled glassworts; the fellow diners I spoke to could easily have had seconds or thirds. This was paired with a cocktail called the Dragon’s Cup.

For the final course, the cocktail was the Magic Dragon, which included fresh lime juice, orange curacao, kaffir lime leaves and vanilla bean. And the crowning moment was dessert: a wonderful corn bread with candied dragon fruit and pistachio ice cream. Bravo, Mr. Blais!

BLAISIN’ DRAGON

2 ounces Skyy Infusions Dragon Fruit vodka
1/2 fresh squeezed lime
1/2 fresh squeezed lemon
Splash of orange juice
Fresh pineapple
1 grilled pineapple ring.

Slice and sear pineapple ring on a grill, remove and cool. (Place a few wedges in the freezer for garnish.)

Muddle fresh pineapple with lemon juice and lime juice and orange juice in a shaker. Pour ice in shaker and add vodka. Shake vigorously. Rim chilled martini glass with coarse sugar in the raw. Pour cocktail into glass and garnish with a frozen grilled pineapple wedge and enjoy.

A girl can dream can't she?

Oh my. I read this article in today's New York Times and I can only begin to imagine the amazingness. I admit $165/person is expensive in my world - but I'd pay it in a heartbeat for an experience like they describe.

Yes, you'll find me, occasionally, in the drive through of a fast food burger joint but if I had my choice between the enormous Pepper Bacon Cheeseburger from Burgerville (for $6) and the bitesize Kobe Meatballs ($12) from Departure....Departure all the way.

For me the setting, the atmosphere, the relationship the chef has with his/her creations are worth the hiked up price tag. I'll wait 6 weeks for a reservation if it means an unforgettable meal. So here's my official request - anyone gets reservations to The Chef's Table...add one more to your party and let me know!

*     *     *

The Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare

By Sam Sifton

“PARDON me,” said César Ramirez. Thus begins a meal at one of the more extraordinary restaurants in New York City.

Mr. Ramirez is the chef at the Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare, on Schermerhorn Street in downtown Brooklyn. He stood like a ship’s captain in front of the immense Molteni stove that is the centerpiece of his kitchen, the hearth around which the restaurant was built, framed by an immense collection of gleaming copper pots. Before him were 18 customers on stools set around a D-shaped stainless-steel bar. They were divided into two groups. One had started its meal at 6:30 p.m., the other at 7:15.

“Pardon me,” Mr. Ramirez said again, to the second group. It was roughly 7:20. The first assembly was discussing the scallops before them on their plates, buzzing among themselves, well into their meals. Mr. Ramirez is soft-spoken. Often the first time he announces a dish, customers do not hear him and he needs to repeat himself. “This is a pea soup,” he said, “with Parmesan.”

Michele Smith, who works behind the dining-room counter as a kind of major domo, the restaurant’s host and stage manager combined, had delivered the elegant little glasses for each customer to drink: a cool English pea soup of deep sweetness, green beneath warm Parmesan foam, at once bright and creamy, and flashing with salt.

Mr. Ramirez worked for David Bouley at Bouley and at Danube, and his cooking has some of that chef’s precision and passion, his respect for pure ingredients. This tiny serving of soup tasted exactly of peas and Parmesan, in two separate temperatures. It was astonishing.

Nineteen more courses would follow, though the simple menu placed in front of each place at the counter listed only seven: four savory courses, followed by a cheese, a sorbet and a dessert. Mr. Ramirez has an enormous collection of china on which he serves this food, and over the course of an evening, no plate would ever be used more than once. The procession was something like a meal at a sushi bar, something like a meal at Momofuku Ko, something like a course taken at the standing table in the kitchen at Eleven Madison Park, and nothing at all like any of those.

What Mr. Ramirez is doing at the Chef’s Table is entirely his own production, a kind of sui generis exercise in personal expression. He and his staff are intensely focused, sometimes robotic. They draw no attention to themselves save for when Mr. Ramirez introduces each dish. Then there is silence as forks go to the food, and food goes into mouths and suddenly everyone starts nodding and chirping and staring at cooks who suddenly might as well be magicians.

The mood in the restaurant thus swings on a pendulum from hushed to giddy. Barriers between couples or groups of customers start to fall. Everyone starts to compare notes, share insights, share wine. They celebrate the delicious.

Single bites: There was Japanese snapper with an olive-oil ponzu sauce, and crispy leeks. Fluke with pickled daikon. A scallop served with crisp burdock root, hay against sea. King crab with yuzu marmalade, the crab shipped in fresh and steamed in the restaurant. A single kumamoto oyster suspended over a gelée made of oyster liquor. A bite of octopus with a coin of palm heart cooked in extra-strength dashi. Langoustine tempura with Iranian saffron. Fried monkfish liver with sansho that numbed the mouth. Lump crab. Ahi with ginger. Salmon with trout eggs. A single fried potato chip threaded with sage and a tiny sardine. Folds of soy-milk skin with soy and wasabi.

On and on it went: a cavalcade, dizzying in its intensity. The experience was akin to adventure travel or high fever, a full hour of tiny bites before diners finally edged onto the printed menu with a single seared scallop with morels, green almonds, white asparagus and shellfish foam.

“This one you can eat in more than one bite,” Mr. Ramirez said, to laughter. The dish was a dance to spring.

Sea bass followed, with sweet peas and favas, as if to second the point. (Rhubarb served with the sorbet would underscore the season yet again.) Then came madai with a Japanese risotto made with sea urchin, coconut and garlic, a combination of great depth and interest — a dish to recall for months or more. And to round out the listed savory dishes, a single portion of lamb slow cooked to a velveteen texture, bright red within, over a sauce of miso and espresso. Whoa!

The Chef’s Table has no liquor license, but has stemware for every style of wine and an attractive ice bin in which to store bottles. There is no corkage fee. (You will pay for broken glasses, though.) Some of the customers drink expensive Champagne or white Burgundy. Others, cheap chardonnay. They bring ancient ports for the end of the meal, middling sangiovese, excellent Muscadets. Ms. Smith, a sommelier currently without portfolio, nods politely at customers’ choices, and expresses a desire for the restaurant’s liquor license to come through.

A meal at the Chef’s Table costs $165 a person, not including tip or the wine you bring. That is either expensive or not, depending on your bank balance, but it is worth the money whatever your answer. (Whether this will still be the case when the restaurant is selling wine is an open question; the cost of a meal could easily double, and change the dynamic of the room.) For now, dinner at the restaurant has the capacity to leave customers with kaleidoscopic sense memories and the vague understanding that over the course of the meal something important has happened.

Reservations at the Chef’s Table are hard to come by. The restaurant opened two years ago. For much of the time since, the reservation line was attached to the mobile phone of Heidi Issa, whose husband, Moe Issa, owns Brooklyn Fare. (He plays Medici to Mr. Ramirez’s Donatello.) Potential diners got through to Ms. Issa as she drove on the Palisades Parkway in New Jersey, or sat in stalled in traffic on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn. “I’ll confirm that with an e-mail,” she said cheerfully, about possible dates for dinner in a few months’ time, before ringing off. This was true. It was also frustrating.

More recently, Ms. Issa has handed over scheduling duties to an actual reservationist, Sarah Shelton, who each Monday opens a new week of seatings, six weeks ahead of the calendar date. It can take a few Mondays even to get through to her, much less to secure a date for dinner. This is still frustrating, but what are you going to do? There are just 18 seats.

Yet the restaurant has a healthy base of regulars. Many of these are on a list of people who will come on a moment’s notice in the event of a canceled reservation. (You can ask Ms. Shelton to join them!)

Some have known Mr. Ramirez since his time at Bouley, or at Bar Blanc in the West Village, where he cooked before coming to Brooklyn Fare. They are fans, who bring to the restaurant some of the flavor of a sports bar devoted to haute cuisine, food zealots with encyclopedic knowledge of highlights and statistics, delighted to have a courtside seat.

“You see what you think,” one of these regulars said to a first-time diner back in November, nodding his head. “It’s best if you let it just happen to you.”

Sage advice. It is worth it to try to join him. To do so is to experience the welcome culture of a restaurant that is unique even in a city as widely diverse in its culinary offerings as this one. Mr. Ramirez is Mexican, was raised in Chicago, taught himself to cook. His food is French and Japanese and Italian, made on expensive stoves in expensive pots, and served on luxe china over place mats and stainless steel, in a kitchen next door to a supermarket on a forlorn block in Brooklyn.

The Chef’s Table is that surprising story, exquisitely told.

Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare

★★★

200 Schermerhorn Street (Hoyt Street), downtown Brooklyn; (718) 243-0050, brooklynfare.com/chefs-table/.

Atmosphere: A mashup of a cooking class, an artist’s studio visit and a sports bar devoted to discussion of haute cuisine.

Sound level: Quiet, save for exultations over the food.

Price range: $165 a person.

Reservations: Taken only on Mondays for the week starting six weeks from that calendar date.

★★★ What the stars mean? Ratings range from zero to four stars and reflect the reviewer’s reaction to food, ambience and service, with price taken into consideration. Menu listings and prices are subject to change.

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Recipe: Thai-Style Sprouted Rice and Herb Salad

Thai-Style Sprouted Rice and Herb Salad

By Martha Rose Shulman

This is inspired by a recipe in “Seductions of Rice,” by Naomi Duguid and Jeffrey Alford. The traditional dressing is made with four times as much fish sauce, which I’ve revised here to keep the sodium levels more manageable. I find any amount of fish sauce makes a dish hard to resist.

4 cups cooked sprouted brown rice

2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

1 1/2 cups tightly packed, coarsely chopped watercress leaves, baby spinach, arugula or a mix

1 1/2 cups edamame

1 sweet red bell pepper, cut in thin 2-inch-long strips

2 tablespoons finely chopped mint

1/4 cup tightly packed fresh Asian or sweet basil leaves, or tarragon, coarsely chopped

1 cup loosely packed chopped cilantro

1 shallot, cut in thin rings, soaked for five minutes in cold water, drained and rinsed; or 1/4 cup finely sliced scallion (optional)

1 teaspoon finely minced lemon grass from the tender inner part of the stalk

1 bird or serrano chili, minced

Leaf lettuce for serving

For the dressing:

2 tablespoons Thai fish sauce

1/3 cup water

1 teaspoon brown sugar, turbinado sugar or dark agave nectar

1/2 teaspoon minced lemon grass, from the tender inner part of the stalk

1 garlic clove, minced

1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon crumbled dried red chili

2 tablespoons canola oil

3 tablespoons fresh lime juice

Sprouted brown rice is a packaged product that you can find in natural foods stores with other packaged grains. The grains are sprouted, then dried. It looks and cooks like regular brown rice.

1. Combine all of the salad ingredients in a large bowl.

2. Combine the fish sauce and water in a small saucepan. Add the sugar, lemon grass, garlic and chili flakes, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat, and simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Make sure the liquid does not boil down. Transfer to a bowl or measuring cup, and whisk in the canola oil and lime juice. Toss with the salad.

3. Line a platter with lettuce leaves, top with the salad and serve.

Yield: Serves six to eight.

Advance preparation: You can combine all of the salad ingredients several hours before serving and refrigerate. Toss with the dressing just before serving.

Mmmmmangos

Excerpts from "For Everything There Is a Season, Even Mangoes" by Melissa Clark (NYTimes) and corresponding recipes.

*     *     *

"In spring, it’s so easy to become wrapped up trolling the farmers’ market for the first skinny blades of rhubarb or pungent ramps, that you can forget there is an entire world out there, where seasons can differ from ours. In warmer climates, tasty things are ripening, just waiting to be called lunch.

Mangoes will never be local fare in New York, but the best ones are starting to come into American markets right now.

Beginning in April and peaking in May and June, mangoes from India, the Caribbean, Guatemala, Costa Rica and Mexico will fill the bins at produce markets..."

"No matter what variety you end up with, the test for a ripe mango is to gently squeeze it. It should feel soft and slack beneath the leathery skin but not mushy. If your mangoes are firm, put them in a paper bag to ripen more quickly."

*     *     *

Black Pepper Chicken Thighs With Mango, Rum and Cashews
Time: 30 minutes

1/2 teaspoon light brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Pinch cayenne
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup salted cashews
1 3/4 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 2-inch chunks
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 cup finely chopped scallions
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro stems
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons dark rum
1 large (15-ounce) mango, cut into 1/4-inch cubes (or use 2 small mangoes)
1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons cider vinegar, to taste
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves.

1. In a small bowl, stir together the brown sugar, 1/2 teaspoon black pepper and cayenne. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the cashews and sugar-spice mixture to the skillet; cook, stirring, until nuts are golden, 2 to 3 minutes. Scrape nuts into a bowl.

2. Wipe out skillet with a paper towel. Season chicken all over with salt and remaining 1 teaspoon pepper. Return skillet to medium-high heat and add the remaining 3 tablespoons oil. Add scallions and cilantro stems; cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add garlic and chicken. Cook, stirring occasionally, until chicken is golden and cooked through, about 12 minutes. Pour in the rum and cook, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan, until the rum evaporates, about 1 minute.

3. Remove pan from heat and immediately add nuts, mango, vinegar and cilantro leaves. Taste and adjust seasonings, if necessary.

Yield: 4 servings.

*     *     *

Curry-Spiced Lamb Burgers
Time: 20 minutes

1 1/2 pounds boneless lamb shoulder, cut into chunks
1 medium (or 1/2 large) onion, peeled and cut into chunks
1 fresh chili, preferably jalapeño, seeded and minced
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Diced mango, green and red pepper, red onion and scallion; and shredded carrot and lettuce, to garnish (optional).

1. If grilling or broiling, heat should be medium-high and rack about 4 inches from fire. Put lamb and onion into a food processor (in batches if your machine is small) and pulse until coarsely ground. Put in a bowl with chili, coriander, cumin and turmeric, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Mix, handling the meat as little as possible, until combined. Taste and adjust seasonings. Handling meat as lightly as possible to avoid compressing it, shape it into 4 or more burgers.

2. To broil or grill, cook about 3 minutes on each side for rare and another minute per side for each increasing stage of doneness. For stovetop, heat a large skillet over medium heat for 2 or 3 minutes, then add patties; cook, undisturbed, for about 2 minutes, then rotate them so they brown evenly. Turn once and cook for a total of about 6 minutes for rare.

3. Garnish with diced mango, green and red pepper, red onion and scallion, and with shredded carrot and lettuce.

Yield: 4 burgers.

Tsunami Alters Sushi Markets

By Florence Fabricant
NYTimes

Seafood supplies in northern Japan were devastated by the tsunami that destroyed the region’s fishing fleets and aquaculture farms as well as the ports themselves. The Japanese daily Asahi Shimbun reported on Tuesday that fishermen in the area are living in shelters, transportation to the famous Tsukiji market in Tokyo is not possible, and there is no ice to keep fish fresh.

So far, this grim picture is not causing serious shortages in American sushi bars, but how the situation will evolve remains to be seen.

“It has definitely affected the market,” said Jack Lamb, an owner of Jewel Bako in the East Village, where most of the fish is imported from Japan. But he said that the restaurant had made adjustments and was now buying fish from Kyushu Island in the south, far from the affected area, and was obtaining mackerel and octopus from sources in the United States.

Nobuyoshi Kuraoka, the owner of Nippon, a restaurant in Midtown, wrote by e-mail from Tokyo, where he was on business, that the “striped jack, yellowtail, sniper fish, sea eels and others are coming from Fukuoka on Kyushu Island through Korean airlines.”

Tadashi Ono, the chef and a partner at Matsuri in Chelsea, also said he is buying from Kyushu, as well as from Australian and New York waters. “Today fish comes from all over the world, so we’re O.K.,” he said.

There have been reports that restaurants and hotels in Asia and elsewhere have canceled all shipments of fresh produce from Japan after radiation turned up in products like milk and spinach.

But restaurateurs in New York said they import almost no fresh produce from Japan. They have also said that their customers do not seem worried. At Sushi Yasuda in Midtown, Scott Rosenberg, an owner, said that just a few customers have asked where the fish was from and whether it was safe. As for produce, he said that occasionally the chefs bring in highly specialized seasonal items, but it’s not the season now.

“We have great microgreens and all those things growing here,” said Richie Notar, a partner in the Nobu chain. “We don’t need to buy from Japan. We have California.” But he is keeping an eye on the supply of imported dry goods, including rice, nori and bonito flakes. “We’re starting to develop other sources, like South Korea, for some of these,” he said. “Our wholesalers have warehouses that are stocked, but who knows what the situation will be in six months in terms of availability or even safety from radiation?”

Reika Alexander, the owner of En Japanese Brasserie in the West Village, said: “We must keep buying what we can from Japan. We need to support Japan now.”

D.I.Y Cooking Guide

Wow! Thank you New York Times. This is such a great idea - I wish there were more that I could use. Some of them are a little ambious if you ask me. I'm honestly going to go to Safeway and pick up a box of corn muffin mix instead of making from scratch most days. But I'm sure making my own Nutella is going to be way cheaper than buying it from the store ($5 for a hazelnut spread? Puh-leeze. Hazlenuts are my State Nut!).

Over all though I love this piece and it's ideas. Really recommend going and checking out all their suggestions. For now though I'm going to only share the one's I'm super excited about.

*     *     *

Chinese Chili-Scallion Oil

In a large pot fitted with a deep-frying thermometer, combine 2/3 cup hot red pepper flakes; 4 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled; 3 scallions, cut into thin rings; 2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger; 2 1/2 cups corn or peanut oil, and 1/3 cup roasted sesame oil. Over medium-low heat, bring to a bubbly 225 to 250 degrees, stirring occasionally. Simmer 15 minutes, making sure the temperature does not rise above 250 degrees. Let cool. Scrape the oil and solids into a glass or plastic container and store tightly covered at room temperature.

Variations: Add any or all of the following before cooking: 1/3 cup Chinese black beans, coarsely chopped; the freshly grated zest of 3 large oranges; 1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns.

*     *     *

Chocolate-Hazelnut Paste

Toast 1 cup peeled hazelnuts in a dry pan until they are fragrant and golden, then let cool. Meanwhile, melt 4 ounces semisweet chocolate (not chips) and 2 ounces unsalted butter (4 tablespoons). Stir in 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.

Blend cooled nuts in a food processor until smooth, 3 to 5 minutes, drizzling in 1 to 2 tablespoons nut or vegetable oil. With the machine running, add the chocolate mixture, 3 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk, and 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt. Transfer to a container and refrigerate.

*     *     *

Preserved Lemons

Scrub 3 to 5 organic lemons, enough to fit snugly in a medium jar with a tight-fitting lid (have 2 to 4 more ready on the side). Slice each lemon from the top to within 1/2 inch of the bottom, almost cutting them into quarters but leaving them attached at one end. Rub kosher salt over the cut surfaces, then reshape the fruit. Cover the bottom of the jar with more kosher salt. Fit all the cut lemons in, breaking them apart if necessary. Sprinkle salt on each layer.

Press the lemons down to release their juices. Add to the jar 1 heaping teaspoon black peppercorns and 2 bay leaves, then squeeze the additional lemons into the jar until juice covers everything.

Close the jar and let ripen at cool room temperature, shaking the jar every day for 3 to 4 weeks, or until the rinds are tender to the bite. Then store it in the refrigerator.

To use, remove a piece of lemon and rinse it. (Add more fresh lemons to the brine as you use them up.) The minced rind is added at the very end of cooking or used raw; the pulp can be added to a simmering pot.

The brightness of this pickle has lately elbowed its way out of Morocco’s tagines. New York chefs add the minced peel to salads and garnish fried seafood with it; the cured-lemon flavor is particularly friendly to salmon, carrots, olives, parsley and potatoes. The lemony brine is great in a bloody mary.

*     *     *

Really though there are a few more I'd love to try. Like making my own Kimchi or the Maple Vinegar.

This also helped me learn what the heck Crème Fraîche was (I always avoided recipes that had it or left it out because I had no idea how to make it or what it was).

I hope this becomes a regular piece (and if it already is would someone let me know). Happy DIY-ing. 

Article: Insects as Food? Trying to Change ‘Ick’ to ‘Yum’

Johan Van Dongen sells insects

By John Tagliabue

’S Hertogenbosh, the Netherlands

A bright, engaging man, Mr. Van Dongen is head of the meat department at Sligro, a kind of Costco on the edge of this trim Dutch town. Besides steaks, poultry and others kinds of meat, he offers mealworms, buffalo worms, locusts and other insects, as well as prepared products containing insects like Bugs Sticks and Bugs Nuggets — not for pets, but as a source of protein for people.

On a recent afternoon he arranged two sample stands, one with chunks of chocolate laced with ground mealworms (larvae for a type of beetle), another with various kinds of whole insects for munching, including worms and crickets, in small plastic containers.

At a nearby stand with a Dutch name that translated roughly as the Tasting Garden, there were more insects than garden. While shoppers gazed with puzzled looks, Mr. Van Dongen, 41, warmed up portions of an Asian vegetable dish with crickets mixed in.

Silvia van der Donk tasted some, raised her eyebrows and smiled approvingly.

Her daughter Melanie, 21, recoiled. “I ate locusts once,” she said. “I didn’t like the texture.”

The efforts of Mr. Van Dongen and Sligro, a chain of 25 membership-only warehouse stores throughout the Netherlands, are part of a drive to convince the Dutch that crickets, worms and caterpillars are healthier sources of protein, and are less taxing on the environment, than steaks and pork chops.

Dutch breeders of insects, who until now have supplied the market for pet food — insects for geckos and other lizards, salamanders, newts, frogs, birds or fish — have jumped at an opportunity to open a new market and have founded a trade organization to promote the idea. The government is backing them, and last year it appropriated $1.4 million for research into insects as food, to prepare legislation governing insect farms, health and safety standards, and marketing through retail outlets.

“The risky part is: How can we move this product upscale?” said Marian Peters, a public relations expert who is the organization’s general secretary, munching on Mr. Van Dongen’s insect-laced chocolate.

To be sure, the idea is not new. Entomologists in the United States have promoted the idea for decades and produced a newsletter and even cookbooks with titles like “Creepy Crawly Cuisine.”

The Dutch take the food business seriously. One of the world’s largest food companies, Unilever, has roots here, and the Netherlands, though a small country, is a major exporter of food products, including vegetables, meat and fish.

Moreover, it has the backing of the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, which warns that the production of meat like beef and pork as sources of protein taxes the environment, estimating that almost one-fifth of all greenhouse gas emissions comes from livestock.

Ms. Peters stresses that insects are already a major source of protein elsewhere in the world. Caterpillars and locusts are popular in Africa, wasps are a delicacy in Japan, crickets are eaten in Thailand. Yet in Europe, as in the United States, most people, except some very young children, consider them, well, pretty disgusting.

“I have a friend who came to look with her 2-year-old daughter,” said Marieke Calis, 29, who with her parents and sister Margje, 31, raises about 14 different kinds of insects, including mealworms, buffalo worms (larvae for another kind of beetle) and crickets on a four-acre farm an hour from here.

Dipping a hand into a tray of her buffalo worms feels like immersing it in a bowl of warm pasta, except that the pasta squirms. “The daughter plunged her hands into a tray of worms, and was delighted,” Ms. Calis said. “The mother was horrified.”

When Manon Houkes, 18, strolled by Mr. Van Dongen’s tasting garden at Sligro recently with her grandparents, Hans and Jenny Klop, Ms. Houkes would not taste the Bugs Nuggets, a concoction of 80 percent ground chicken and 20 percent ground mealworms, that Mr. Van Dongen was preparing. “No, it’s yuck,” she said, curling her lip.

Her grandmother tasted, and approved. “It’s like whole wheat,” she said. “Slightly fatty.”

Arnold van Huis, an entomologist at Wageningen University who advises insect breeders and the government, said, “The Netherlands wants to be in the forefront of food.”

“I was working in Niger teaching farmers how to control locusts,” Mr. van Huis said. “Then I realized that the farmers earned more from the grasshoppers they took from their millet than from their millet crop itself.”

He acknowledged that Europeans did not relish insects as food, though he said it was an acquired abhorrence.

“Children have no problem eating them,” he said.

Michel van de Ven, 38, and his brother Roland, 40, have been raising insects for 12 years, the last six of them in a large brick barn once used for growing mushrooms. They export 40 percent of their stock to pet shops in Britain, Germany, Portugal and elsewhere; only 1 percent or less goes to supermarkets.

Michel van de Ven sees potential for insects as human food, if customers are not told what is in the product in the beginning. “But later,” he said, “people will have learned to eat it.”

His brother sees an obstacle other than distaste — price.

“Wholesale, insects are similar in price to beef now,” Roland van de Ven said, citing the labor-intensive farming methods used. “Locusts are more like caviar.”

Margot Calis, 62, who works with her daughter Marieke on the farm, which employs 10 people, agreed. “The price of insects is much too high,” she said. “There is lots of manual labor involved, and it is too expensive.”

Mr. Van Dongen of the Sligro chain thinks the investment is worth it, though he admitted: “It will take four to five years; people must get used to it. It’s all in the mind.”

Most of his customers are restaurants, cafes and snack bars. To attract individual shoppers, he places his insect-laced chocolate samples where they will be encountered first. Only then does he display his samples of insects.

“When they see the bugs, they’ve already eaten them in the chocolate,” he said. “Some people scream, ‘Oh, my God!’ But if you do it once, then you do it twice.”

Article Review: Have It Your Way? Purist Chefs Won’t Have It

I came across this article today in the New York Times and I have to admit I'm on the side of the chefs. I realize that everyone has a different palate or perhaps a food sensitivity/allergy. But I also know that many chefs work years experimenting and perfecting their dishes. 

We've been too over-indulged by the fast food industry where "Have it your way" is literally one company's slogan. We're spoiled. We believe that the "customer is always right". 

We're essentially purchasing edible art. Would you go to an art gallery opening and tell the artist you'll purchase their painting but could they make the sky purple instead of blue?

Now there's nothing wrong with asking.

Ask if there are wheat-free menu items. 

Ask if it's possible to get egg whites in your omelet. 

Ask if there's a substitution policy in general!?

Just don't assume. And look around too - many restaurants that have substitution rules will state so directly on their menu.

These are professionals - they aren't our mothers....although I don't know about your mother but mine was/is a "This is what I made for dinner. Eat it or go hungry!"

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Have It Your Way? Purist Chefs Won’t Have It

By Diane Cardwell

At a pea-size Lower East Side bistro known for its fries, the admonition is spelled out on a chalkboard: No ketchup. At a popular gastropub in the West Village, customers cannot have the burger with any cheese other than Roquefort.

And at Murray’s Bagels in Greenwich Village and Chelsea, the morning crowd can order its bagels topped any number of ways but never — ever! — toasted. “It’s really annoying, because a toasted bagel is kind of fierce, right?” Jamie Divine, a product designer and frequent patron, said with a hint of an eye-roll.

New York has spawned a breed of hard-line restaurants and cafes that are saying no. No to pouring takeout espressos, or grinding more than a pound of coffee at a time. No to taming the intensity of a magma-spicy dish. And most of all, no to the 21st-century conviction that everything can be accessorized to the customer’s taste.

“People just assume that every restaurant should be for everyone — I could understand that if we were in a town with, like, 20 restaurants,” said David Chang, whose small empire of Momofuku restaurants is known for refusing to make substitutions or provide vegetarian options. “Instead of trying to make a menu that’s for everyone, let’s make a menu that works best for what we want to do.”

He added, “The customer is not always right.”

This coterie of food purists — or puritans, perhaps — is hardly limited to New York. The chef-owner of the Michelin-starred Chicago restaurant Graham Elliot does not serve decaffeinated coffee at his new sandwich shop and coffee bar, Grahamwich, because, Mr. Elliot said in an e-mail, “we decided to let our inner purists shine through and showcase coffee for what it is — a flavorful, caffeinated elixir.”

Clark Wolf, a restaurant consultant, recalled a San Francisco spot that would not supply salt or pepper because the chef supposedly seasoned every dish perfectly.

But New York has a hallowed history of persnickety cooks: Kenny Shopsin became something of a cult figure for the litany of rules — including no parties bigger than four, and no more than one order at each table of any particular dish — enforced for years at Shopsin’s diner in the West Village, now a small outpost at the Essex Street Market on the Lower East Side.

Arthur Schwartz, a food writer and historian, recalled a restaurant that the New Orleans chef Paul Prudhomme opened in Manhattan more than 20 years ago that also prohibited dining companions from ordering the same dish. “It didn’t last very long,” Mr. Schwartz said, “because in those days we all said: ‘Too many rules. New Yorkers are not going to do this.’ ”

Yet in a city filled with newcomers seeking a sense of belonging, rules can be part of the attraction. “One reason people go to a particular restaurant is they want to feel part of a particular community,” Mr. Schwartz said — even if that community is based on nothing more than a shared appreciation for carefully tended espresso that never touches a paper cup.

“You’re supposed to drink espresso fast,” said Caroline Bell, an owner of Café Grumpy, explaining that paper lets the heat dissipate too quickly.

When some customers at the three outposts in Brooklyn and Manhattan became, well, grumpy over the lack of takeout espresso, Ms. Bell instituted a policy meant to be taken more with a wink than with the snarl of the cafe’s logo: Patrons can get an espresso to go, if they pay $12 to drink it from a porcelain cup they can keep. “People actually do that,” she said. “There’s a guy that comes in every day to Chelsea with that cup and gets espresso.”

Some restaurateurs say they limit choices because it allows them to serve items consistently prepared the way they want.

“Cooks are creatures of habit,” Mr. Chang said. “To do this ‘Can I get this with no olives, can I get the salad chopped, sauce on the side’ — some of those special requests are ridiculous. My personal opinion is that a lot of people say they have a special allergy or they don’t like something so they can get better service.”

April Bloomfield, who at the Spotted Pig serves burgers with or without Roquefort but refuses to substitute a different cheese, said too many deviations could overwhelm the kitchen. “I just wanted a good burger that was solid and tasty and consistent,” she said.

And at Pepe Rosso in SoHo, said Michele Costa, a partner, there was not enough space to accommodate decaffeinated coffee, skim milk and diet soda along with the regular items. “If you’re really on a diet, drink water,” Mr. Costa said, laughing. A Pepe Rosso branch in Grand Central Terminal allows Diet Coke, he said, but only because the manager does not listen when Mr. Costa tells him not to.

Some of these quirks are cultural. At Le Relais de Venise L’Entrecôte, a Parisian import in East Midtown that offers a set menu of salad and steak frites, diners are asked a single question: Would you like your meat cooked well, medium, rare or bleu (extra rare). Woe unto those who want it medium rare.

“We have no medium rare in France, and we are copying the French way,” said Darin Nathan, a partner in the restaurant, adding that the French rare was a close alternative. (A recent request for guidance from a waitress elicited only the statement, “Rare is red; medium is pink.”)

Some restrictions are personal. At Zucco: Le French Diner on Orchard Street, Greko Chemoul and his father, Zucco, who died last year, banned ketchup and Budweiser because they did not seem suitable accompaniments for the establishment’s food.

“If I go to an American restaurant or pub, I have my burger with ketchup,” Greko Chemoul said. “But I don’t think it looks good when I have ketchup on the side of my coq au vin or grilled lamb. It’s a question of design.”

The diner also discourages customers from participating in the Zagat guide.

For some customers, the rules seem to elevate the blood pressure or inspire subterfuge.

At Café Grumpy in Park Slope, Benjamin Anastas, a writer, said the counterman had refused to grind two pounds of espresso beans at once, expressing concern that the coffee would lose its freshness before Mr. Anastas could brew it. The solution? “I told him I was going to drink it all over the weekend,” Mr. Anastas said.

Other patrons are left bewildered. Despite the no-toasting policy at Murray’s Bagels, afternoon customers can order a pizza bagel that is warmed in the oven. (That could inspire a new version of Jack Nicholson’s on-the-edge customer in “Five Easy Pieces,” as in: “I’d like a toasted pizza bagel with butter. Hold the cheese. Hold the tomato sauce.”)

Mr. Divine has given up trying to get a toasted bagel at Murray’s. “I still have yet to understand why a not-toasted bagel is culinarily better than another bagel,” he said.

Banning condiments, however, was just fine by him.

“Don’t get him started on mayonnaise,” said his friend Daniel Bender, a student at Parsons the New School for Design, as Mr. Divine pronounced: “Condiments are weird.” 

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What do you think?

Review: Bánh mì

If you are unfamiliar with Bánh mì then you don't know what you're missing. The website "Battle of the Banh Mi" describes these sandwiches beautifully.

"Vietnamese baguette sandwiches, called Bánh Mì, have attracted a loyal fan base like never before. Like a musical band with rock star status, these sandwiches have an almost cult-like following of epicurean devotees. The uniqueness of these sandwiches not only lies within the french influenced baguette, but it’s also the flavor packed, savory Viet fillings that what makes the marriage of the two main ingredients a true love affair....


It starts with a Viet style french baguette...Inside the length of the cut baguette...a great banh mi should have luscious, Viet flavored fillings such as pork prepared in numerous ways... Other common ingredients used to finish the sandwich often are: liver pate, homemade mayo, touch of soy sauce, shredded pickled carrots & daikon, fresh cilantro, jalapeño heat and crispy cucumber slices. Most any of these condiments may be omitted since, banh mi are nearly always made to order.."

How surprised was I when reading a New York Times article yesterday and they mentioned my favorite Portland Bánh mì spot - Best Baguette.

"...in Portland, Ore., 82nd Avenue (the “Avenue of Roses”) is home to Best Baguette, where top-notch banh mi is served in a reclaimed former chain restaurant. Don’t let the drive-through scare you away; the place is family owned, all the bread is baked in-house, and the banh mi thit nuong — barbecued pork and pâté – comes slathered in savory yellow garlic aioli. Try yours with a paper cup of fresh-pressed sugar cane juice."

I live only a few blocks from Best Baguette and the first few times I drove by I was a little put off by the bright blue trim and the drive thru option. It just screamed "Fast Food"...but really what it is, is Good Food done Fast.

Finally, my curiosity took control.

The sign outside saying "French-Asian Sandwiches" just was too enticing.

Boy was I ever glad I did.

Hot fresh baguettes baked every hour, so you always get one that's warm and fresh. The crisp outside with an almost gooey yet fluffy inside.

The real boost for me was that they give you the option of vegetables on the inside or outside of your sandwich.


"Ingredients are mixed and matched at the whim of the kitchen, but there’s a common denominator to all banh mi — a bright, crunchy vegetable slaw made with daikon radish, shredded carrot and fish sauce (nuoc cham), accompanied by sliced jalapeño pepper and fresh cilantro."

While I like a little kick to my food, I'm not a fan of the jalapeño pepper. It's not the heat but the flavor I don't care for. So having the option to pick and choose how much cilantro or having the opportunity to design my own daikon radish to carrot ratio is fantastic.

One of my other favorite thing about Best Baguette is they are also a bakery. You can buy these crisp warm baguettes to bring home with you (they've also sold me their little baggies of pickled veggies for $1/bag). But the bakery doesn't end there. Buns, croissants, cakes, napoleons, and the best chocolate eclairs I've ever had (outside a French bakery).

The list just goes on and on about this place...but the real star is their Bánh mì and personable friendly staff. Really, I don't go as often as I should (should = would like to).

I do recommend finding a Bánh mì restaurant near you (tip from Battle of the Bánh mì - they should never cost more than $6) and next time you're in Portland stop by Best Baguette.

NOODLES!!!

I love the New York Times food section I really do. It always makes me sad to see such yummy food thousands of miles away...so I do what I normally do - find a substitution in my city and post the news article on my food blog.

Today is no different.

Today I read an article called "The Long Pull of Noodle Making". Since it's too long to just post I'm linking it here.

I am, however, going to share excerpts from the article and a video of the Noodle Master.

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The Long Pull of Noodle Making

by Julia Moskin

"In an open kitchen in NoLIta, two solemn young men work together in virtual silence up to 16 hours a day, their destinies yoked by noodles.

Michael Hodgkins is a stern, passionate chef from upstate New York, with a dedication to local and organic ingredients. Huacan Chen is an aspiring entrepreneur from Fuzhou in southern China, with a skill that happens to be seriously marketable in New York at the moment: he knows how to spin out endless skeins of la mian, smooth, springy hand-stretched noodles, using nothing but a countertop and his hands...."

"....As the dough came together and softened, Mr. Chen divided the lump into baguette-size lengths and twisted each one tight like cheese straw. When the twists were done, he held each weighty length in his hands, letting its belly fall toward the ground, then twirled the ends together as if making a pretzel. After several repetitions, he broke off a handful of dough and began to pull it long, doubling the dough around his left hand and spreading his arms wide apart in a few quick moves that produce a web, like a full-body game of cat’s cradle. A few extra pulls produce noodles that are xi, or thin; thick noodles are called cu.

When the noodles come out, perfectly tender, Mr. Hodgkins — who worked most recently under the chef Shea Gallante — goes to work. (Since Mr. Chen speaks no English and Mr. Hodgkins no Chinese, they communicate — minimally — in basic Spanish and hand signals.) Mr. Hodgkins added the broth and highly untraditional toppings like Romanesco broccoli roasted in mustard oil or turnips braised in daikon broth..... "

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