Guest Blog: Residenz Heinz Winkler (Austria)

I'm fortunate to have a fantastic guest blog entry from J on the experience he and Em had at the Residenz Heinz Winkler in Austria. I'm particularly excited by this entry because I've never seen J speak or write of food quite like this before... really cool to read. Enjoy his tale of an extravagant, wonderful food experience.

After having a glorious time in Greece with Lav & Jack, Emily and I headed off to Munich for a 3 day layover. Needless to say, Germany (and more specifically, the Bavarian region) is quite a different gastronomical experience than Greece, with fresh fish and great olive oil being replaced with hearty sausage and spicy mustards.

From Munich, we took a day trip to Dachau, a concentration camp not to far outside of Munich. It was a heart-wrenching experience to see the conditions people were forced to endure, and it was chilling to see how much thought, organization, and operational efficiency the Nazis put into implementing mass murder.

The next day, Emily and I took a day trip to Salzburg, about a two-hour train ride from Munich. We saw Mozart's birthplace and toured the apartment where he grew up. Quite a juxtaposition, going one day from seeing the lowest of lows of humanity in Dachau, to the highest of highs in the brilliance of the music of genius Mozart in Salzburg.


On our way back to Munich from Salzburg, we stopped in a little German town called Aschau, where there is a 3-star Michelin restaurant called Residenz Heinz Winkler. I had come across this restaurant online and thought it was a cool way for Emily and me to see a little more of the countryside and also get an incredible meal. And it was, by all measures, incredible.

I know I need to get on to the food (this is a food blog after all) but I have to start first with the service, which was, by far, the best service I have ever received anywhere. Let me give you some examples of the level of service:

• Obviously they did simultaneous presentation of dishes to the table, always serving from the right side.
  
• Three people were assigned to our table - our main waiter and two helpers. All were young, fluent in German and in English (we think French too) and incredibly friendly with no hint of pretentiousness.
  
• Each round table has a small square table and a stool beside it. The small square table is a place for them to set, ice, and decant wines. The stool? It was a place for Emily to put her purse so it doesn't sit on the ground!
  
• When I got up to use the restroom, one helper rushed up to escort me. Apparently that is customary, but I had gotten up too quickly so she had to scramble to catch up to me.
  
• My favorite: I sneezed into my cloth napkin. Not blew my nose, mind you, just sneezed. Immediately, one helper came by with a brand new cloth napkin and took my old one away!
  
• Not only did our waiter help us with the wine pairings, he gave us two extra (free!) wine pairings to show us how they tasted and melded with the courses. These were not just bottles already opened - he actually came by and opened new bottles for us.
  
• The waiter would take a little pre-taste of each wine bottle, to make sure it had not gone bad. He used the remainder of what he poured in his tasting glass to rinse out the glasses he was preparing for us to drink from. His reasoning – the glasses could have dust or other residue on them, and why waste the tasting wine when he could use it to clean the glass? I thought it was a nice touch.
  
• Because we were staying in Munich that night, we had to catch the last train from Prien, a 10-minute drive from Aschau. We were pushing close to the time, and our waiter coordinated getting us a taxi and instructing the driver to rush us to make the train on time. It was quite a taxi ride, but we made it!
  

Okay, on to the food.

When we first arrived we were seated outside on the patio, facing the snow-capped Alps, to begin our meal with bellinis made fresh with local peaches. These were amazing! They actually tasted like biting into a fresh peach on a warm summer day.


Once we were seated, we were served with a hearty consommé, compliments of the chef, paired with a 2005 Spanish sauvignon blanc, Palacio de Mande from Cuevas de Castillo. A simple fresh wine, with a slight metallic aftertaste, it balanced nicely with the heartiness of the consommé.

Then, another amuse bouche - smoked trout in olive oil with wasabi caviar. The trout was silky smooth, complemented by the caviar, which added a much different texture - a crunchy pop surprising the mouth. The trout was very lightly smoked. It reminded me of the homemade smoked salmon at Sushi Sho, La V & Jack's favorite sushi restaurant in Berkeley. The trout was served with a parsley root mousse and coriander foam. I am not a fan of parsley, I think it's overused, and usually as an afterthought. Here however, it was pronounced, but subtle, mixing nicely with the spice from the coriander. This is major theme of the dinner in my mind – understated, yet distinct flavors across nearly all the dishes.

Now to the 5-course chef’s tasting menu.

For the first course, I had the foie gras with nuts and raisins. The liver was silky smooth with a hint of red chili – it actually reminded me a bit of a hoisin sauce. Our waiter paired this with a 2003 Gewurtzraminer (Vendange Tardive, Henri Kieffer Fils, Alsaces France). An incredibly floral bouquet - smelling the glass was like smelling warm roses. The wine tasted lightly of rose petals with a strong hint lychee, with a really short finish.


Instead of the foie gras, Emily had the carpaccio of Sea Bass with basil sauce. This was beautifully arranged.


Next up was the Cassoulette of "Schrobenhausener" asparagus with morels – what turned out to be my favorite dish. Schrobenhausener is a white asparagus local to the region - thick spears with a lighter flavor than the green asparagus we’re used to. It reminded me of a classic meat and potatoes dish - the morels were so substantial, their texture was like that of a nice filet mignon, and the asparagus were cooked so perfectly, they melted in your mouth like creamy potatoes. Our waiter paired this dish with a 2005 Riesling (Dorsheimer Goldloch, Schlossgut Diehl, Nahe). Super clear, with a taste of honeysuckle, again very little aftertaste.


Next, I went off prix fixe menu (customization encouraged, at no extra charge!) and had the Lobster Medallions with saffron black noodles. This sounded so interesting, I had to try it, but ended up being not so special to me. The noodles were prepared very well, but the lobster was quite chewy.


Emily had "Filet of Angler Fish a L'Ancienne".


Here is an occasion where our waiter poured us wine on the house. It seemed as if he enjoyed sharing with us certain wines with specific dishes as much as we enjoyed having them. He saw our interest in tasting local wines, so this time he poured a 2005 Chardonnay Reserve (Weingut Markowitsch, Carnuntum, Austria). He served this in large glasses meant for red wine, explaining it helped to bring out the bouquet, which was very oaky. According to the waiter, this wine spends only 50% of its time in oak barrels, and 50% in steel. This wine really hit me on the back of the tongue, and in contrast to the wines we had earlier, had a long finish. Strong flavors of cinnamon and vanilla; seemed quite different to me to how buttery I feel most California chardonnays are.

Our waiter then recommended that we go off the menu, and instead of a Crepinette of Young Calf, we had a small cut of veal for two that was cut and prepared right at the table. It was served in a curry truffle sauce, with a side of some root vegetables and a little package of fried potato strings wrapped in bacon. Now on a meat course, we finally moved to a red wine, with a 2003 Pinot Noir Grand Select (Weingut Wieninger, Wien, Austria). This was a Vienna wine maker, a very dry, classic Pinot. It had a slight acidity and a very spicy finish that lingered on the back of the tongue.


For dessert, we had a Fried Chocolate Truffle with coconut ice cream. This might be one of my favorite desserts ever. I'm not sure if I was a little biased from my recent travels to Greece, but these rounds balls of chocolate had the wonderful consistency of a Loukamadi, a Greek fried donut usually served with honey. But whereas a loukamadi is just air inside, these were filled with a rich liquid chocolate. The coconut ice cream was so concentrated in flavor, but not overwhelming. The ice cream did a great job of cleansing the palette for the next bite of fried chocolate truffle. Here again our waiter served us a wine on the house, a Rogomme (Chateau de Chambert, Cohors, France). A sweet wine, with flavors of figs, plums, and raisins.


And finally, we were served a dish with homemade pralines, chocolates, dried fruit, and something that looked like a little boat of hazelnuts with orange zest.


This was our second three-start Michelin rated restaurant - French Laundry was the other. Both glorious meals, but there’s something to be said for being nestled in the German countryside with the snow-capped Alps in view, eating a wonderful dinner paired with perfect wines, and enjoying the company of not only my wife, but some very kind and generous restaurant staff who seemed intent on us having the perfect dining experience... and it was!

Greece, day 9: Going out with a bang

Alas, we had to say goodbye to J and Em, and Lav and I were on our own for one final day in Athens. Since it was a beautiful Saturday, folks were out and about, hanging out in streetside cafes and engaging in some serious people-watching.

To escape the heat and crowds, we ducked into the interior of a simple cafe called Dakos, which is a mezze from Crete consisting of a small rusk topped with tomato and cheese. The really memorable thing about this simple cafe was the fantastic greenish olive oil made exclusively of tiny Cretan olives. Fresh and zesty, with just a faint hint of a bitter grassy finish.

It may sound excessive, but we embarked on one final quest for loukoumades, this time setting our sights on Doris, a small cafe/restaurant on a tiny section of Kolokotronis street. We were served by a man whose expression can only be described as a friendly scowl, but whose service was kind, patient and gracious, particularly since the staff didn't speak too much English here.

Part of me is really glad we made this stop, because we encountered a third distinct approach to the loukoumades. These were impossibly crispy and light, but had relatively little interior... just a thin remnant of soft dough. A healthy dollop of honey, and a bold accompaniment of additional honey, to be added as desired. No messing around here, folks.

The other part of me eventually recognized our gluttony. Unfortunately, crispy golden sweet treats can make us a bit stupid, so we ordered two portions (um, yeah, I know). Somehow, the thought of sharing only five loukoumades seemed too little... the end result was that our initial moments of euphoria were replaced by a sad end of utter defeat. We'd finally had enough loukoumades to last us for a while. The only thing that saved my arteries was the Heineken I ordered (a surprisingly enjoyable pairing on a hot day).

For our last meal, I sent an email reservation request to the folks at Spondi, one of Athens' reputedly best restaurants. Set in a 19th century townhome with a texturally-rich stone and wood interior, this Athenian gastronomic icon has a fantastic ambiance of simultaneously historic and modern elegance. The confidence of the kitchen, bolstered by the aura of its Michelin star, is evident in the execution of hospitality from the top staff.

Rather than go into analytical detail on our impressions of each course, I just want to show you the meal that closed out our treasure of experiences in Greece. If there was a theme to the meal, it was the chestnut:

savory chestnut mousse, pickled daikon "sushi roll" with arugula puree, duck on toast, salt cod fritter

fois gras with milk chocolate and toasted hazelnut fragments, caramel accent

seared scallops with chestnut foam and jerusalem artichoke

filet of sea bass with potato crisp "scales", spinach, jus, and pressed cod caviar in wax (perfectly cooked... i mean really really perfectly cooked).

lamb with harissa tomato chutney, skewer of potato crisp and creamy spinach cube

cheese course

chestnut mousse, sesame tuille, pineapple

meringue crisp, ice cream, chestnut spaghetti, dried pear

chocolate mousse tart, vanilla cinnamon ice cream, gold leaf

petit fours

Whew. What an absolutely fantastic modern meal. We've eaten a LOT of food in the past nine days... really more than we should have, but it was all so enjoyable. From the simple, soul-satisfying decadence of a carefully-prepared gyros to the perfect setting of our first sea-side lunch (wow, that feels like a long time ago), Greece has given us a bounty of great food, amazing beauty, and lasting memories of friendship in another part of the world.

Greece, day 8: Three-part mission in Athens

We're into our final full day in Athens. And while the travel will center around seeing the birthplace of democracy, my mind is also occupied with a three additional food-related objectives: getting more loukoumades, seeing a genuine Athenian street market, and trying the much-hyped, supposedly uber-hip Mamacas taverna in Gazi.

Part One took us to Krinos in central Athens, thanks to a nicely written tip from this European travel blog. Looking like a Greek version of Cafe du Monde, Krinos is a large, self-service cafe where local workers stop for their afternoon snack and a caffeine hit. Scores of pastries and pies, both sweet and savory, filled the display cases. The famed loukoumades are made in a plain back room, where the deep fryer is located. At first, we were worried because a depressing looking batch of pre-made loukoumades were sitting under a heat lamp. PRE-MADE? That goes against everything that is good and righteous about this delectable treat!

Luckily, after a brief conversation with one of the employees and a request for freshly fried loukoumades, our hopes were restored. It seemed like folks often ask for a fresh batch, because the batter and fryer were ready to go. Fresh loukoumades coming up in 2 minutes!
This loukoumades-maker employed a completely different technique, dipping his hand into the vat of batter and, in one expert sweeping motion, dropping the dough into the fryer after making a hole in the center with his thumb.
After frying, a second person douses the loukoumades with sweet honey syrup with a single pass of a huge dowel. Impressive.
A little light on the cinnamon, these loukoumades were fantastic nonetheless. Of a totally different style, the Krinos version is much less dense than the version from Loukoumadopolis, without the interesting elasticity in the dough. Instead, the exteriers were much crispier, and the interiors a warm, pillowy and creamy. We engaged in a light debate about which type was better... but either way, you can't really go wrong.

Part 2: We next found ourselves at the Central Market in Omonia Square, where we gawked at the array of butchers and their fresh variety of cuts. The absolute lack of subtlety in the meat displays was so refreshingly real and tangible... nothing like the disassociating sterility of styrofoam and plastic wrap of the typical American supermarket. Here, you knew exactly what you were getting.
To remind us that we also eat fruits and vegetables after the extensive displays of carnage, we enjoyed the fantastic looking produce surrounding us.

Part 3 took us to Mamacas in the trendy, developing Gazi area of Athens. It was a nice night, so we dined outside under the lights, soaking up the pre-club scene. The great thing about Mamacas is that despite its South Beach chic environs, the staff was friendly and the food was actually very good. Our meal spanned a range of different simple, delicious mezze spreads, an outstanding roasted lamb (among the best of the trip), and a fantasticly crisp, almost tropical 2005 Domaine Gerovassiliou Malagousia, Thessaloniki.
What an awesome evening. My favorite part about today was the way we covered both the quintessentially tourist activities while also getting a bit of a glimpse into perhaps a bit of the lifestyle of the modern young Athenian crowd. I can't believe it's almost over!

Greece, day 7: Really expensive drinks

Somehow, it is already our last day on Santorini (and our last day of the ridiculous villa). We stopped first at the Archeological Museum of Ancient Thira, which had an interesting collection of cookware discovered during the excavation, like this bronze cooking pan and a pretty cool-looking small oven designed to be placed over an open flame.

These are petrified leaves from an olive tree, surprisingly well-preserved.

While we spent some of our last moments wandering through town, we came across a bakery selling a treat we'd been dying to try: katiafi: The shreds of filo soaked in syrup are browned and crispy on top, while noodle-like on the lower half. The interior is filled with sweetened ground walnuts and pistachios for a decadent, texturally contrasting bite of sweet goodness. We also tried elies, a traditional almond-based treat. Fans of marzipan, this one's for you.

Walking through the town, we also came across a tiny street market where some fishermen were selling fresh mackeral, bringing back memories of our splendid lunch at Malena.

But our real culinary target today was Lucky's, purportedly home of the best gyros. Lucky turned out to be the actual name of the owner, who was there cutting off slabs of well-caramelized meat from the biggest gyros meat stack we'd seen. Lucky's gyros were pretty good, but I didn't think they matched the unctuous goodness of our gyros in Mykonos. The real reason to stop by Lucky's is to chat it up a bit with Lucky, an animated and gregarious fellow interested in talking about world travels with his customers.

Loaded up with a significant amount of calories, we decided to walk down the path to the docks. On the way up, we stopped by one of the several cafes set up right along the edge of the caldera with magnificent views and a refreshing-looking "drink special" made with cactus fruit. Having walked back up the fairly steep path, we were pretty thirsty, and ended up doing some damage. Here's how our table looked at the end of our 45 minutes.

It was only just after we ordered our second round that we realized these drinks cost more than most top-shelf cocktails in New York. The treats we consumed from these empty glasses cost about $100. Whew, that's a pricey view! Mental note: check prices before ordering... Just one more gyros and it was time to go... (my stomach's capacity for gyros has been steadily increasing).

The rest of our day involved a quick flight back to Athens for the final leg of our trip. Since we arrived at our hotel pretty late, we decided to go for a simple dinner in Plaka. Since it's so touristy, Plaka is known for having a lot of really disappointing restaurants, some of which will scam you by attracting you with live music, then charging you extra on your bill for the music. To avoid this, we headed to Platanos Taverna, open since 1932 and, known for its spitiko fageto, or simple home cooking. Great prices and a down-home tavern ambiance, we fueled ourselves with a hearty portions of stewed beef and lamb, a well-executed moussaka, and a pasta dish that photographed way better than it actually tasted.

Well fed but exhausted, we walked the surprisingly navigable and charmingly quaint streets of Plaka back to the hotel to recharge for our final days.

Greece, day 6: garrigue in Greece

‘‘Never nature appeared so touching, so sensitive to me.’’
- Vincent Van Gogh

"Garrigue. Characteristic low-growing vegetation on limestone hills in the Mediterranean area, consisting principally of bushy plants (including broom, juniper, wild thyme, rosemary and lavender) and holm oak, resulting from the destruction by logging, cultivation, and fire of the Mediterranean forest which originally grew here. It is differentiated from the maquis (more common in Provence) by the underlying geology which favours different plants."

Today, we encountered the ancient ruins of Thira, the remains of a Hellenistic civilization dating back to the 9th century B.C. atop one of the highest elevations in Santorini. I was struck by the quantity of wild aromatics growing on the relatively dry mountain.

Wild thyme (probably drought-resistant), capers, and scores of other plants I didn't recognize, but which filled the air with a rustic aroma of windswept savory goodness... if I was going to roast meat over an open fire in Santorini, this would be the spot!

We finally found out what "Santorini tomatoes" are: they're cherry tomatoes grown on the island, with a reputation of having and incredibly bright and intense flavor. We had this salad at a cafe along the beachfront in Kamari. While our general experience with tomatoes in Greece has been pretty amazing, these little guys were on the disappointing side... kinda like out-of-season cherry tomatoes from the U.S. Still nice to look at... and one can only assume that when they're in season, they must be pretty awesome (given the hype).

For dinner, we headed to Oia for some simple taverna food at Thalami, a charming taverna seemingly tucked right into the mountainside in the middle of town. We sampled some tasty dolmathes, the stuffing of which was seasoned with that fantastic aromatic combination of spices reminiscent of the holidays in the U.S.; hints of allspice and cumin scenting the rice and cheese...

Still on our fritter kick, we opted this time for zucchini fritters. We were a bit disappointed, as these were relatively heavy on extraneous filler.

Lastly, here's a picture from earlier in the day. I'm putting this in because as we've continued on this trip, I've come to realize the importance of "the bakery" in making us feel at home. It really is amazing how in so many cultures, the role of the bakery is a central focus for comfort and familiarity, all borne of a certain specific necessity. While a lot of things may be new and different here, everything we've seen in the bakeries we've visited has almost instantly resonated.

Greece, special topic: loukoumades

One of the foods we'd been anticipating here in Greece is loukoumades -- Greek doughnuts soaked in honey syrup. The concept sounds fairly simple, but the level of execution is critical to how delectable these little treats can be.

Our first realization of the glorious potential of loukoumades was when we were walking through Fira and saw a shop called "Loukamoudoupolis." Intrigued by the bold proclamation, we stopped in after late after dinner at Taverna Nikolas, where a quiet, reserved man was standing alone behind the counter. We must have had a crazed look of anticipation in our eyes. He asked us where we were from, and when he learned we were from San Francisco, he asked with genuine curiosity: "You know loukoumades?"

It was our great fortune to have our new friend behind the counter making our loukoumades. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt like he made our treats with a special care and skill. He lifted a cheesecloth from a large metal bowl full of a sticky, elastic batter, and hand-squeezed seven perfect, identical spheres of dough.

Into the deep fryer they went, under this craftsman's watchful eye. As we observed excitedly, he deliberately and methodically stirred the frying dough in the hot oil to ensure even browning, holding the whole batch submerged for about 45 seconds at the very end.

He then quickly drained the freshly fried dough and doused them with a honey syrup whose viscosity was thinned just enough to ensure maximum coat-ability. At the end, he pounded some serious hits of cinnamon on top and passed the tray to us with miniature forks.


The first bite was piping hot, wonderfully aromatic, and altogether ethereal. This particular version was made with a dough that rendered a thin, uniformly crispy exterior with a soft, pillowy and elastic interior... delicate, yet toothsome at the same time. The dough also didn't absorb very much oil, so there was none of the heaviness that often accompanies fried food. Instantly infatuated, a good 80% of our conversation for the rest of the night (and much of the next day) focused on the synergy of components of the "perfect" loukoumades, the viability of opening a loukoumades shop next to a Beard Papa, and the profitability of "I Heart Loukoumades" t-shirts.

Now the search begins for other fine purveyors of loukoumades. Coupled with our gyros quest, we're gonna need some elastic pants...

Greece, day 5: Another great day of eating

Today, our travels took us for a packed day of adventures and food, including some of the most memorable eating moments of the trip so far.

The grape vines in the vineyards of Santorini are set up in a peculiar manner. Since the prevailing winds through the Greek islands can be fairly strong, a traditionally treillaced vine would have all of its budding fruit blown off way before its maturity. To avoid this, the vines are contorted into a crown shaped basket low to the ground. This arrangement also maximizes the amount of moisture from the morning air the grape leaves are able to redivert to the vine.

While all of this preserves the fruit, I'd bet that also has a lot to do with why the wines here often taste of stewed plums. With the amount of heat radiating from the volcanic soil under the strong island sun, the grapes must get "cooked" each day... Anyways, it is a pretty interesting solution to the wind problem, and the fact that they can cultivate vineyards here with so little precipitation (just a few inches each year) is impressive enough.

I spotted these vines on my 5 minute walk to a nearby bakery called Artopoieio, just off the main road. The bakery is located in a no man's land between Fira and Pirgos, so you'd figure it would have to be at least somewhat decent to stay in business. (By the way, everything they say about crazy drivers in Santorini is true... walking to the bakery was an exercise in avoiding cars zipping by at over 100 km/hr on an otherwise small, two lane road). Upon entry, we were greeted by a nice woman (with an edge of gruff-ness) who was also attending to a few locals in to buy their morning pastries (a good sign, one would suspect). She didn't speak much english, but luckily, the language of pastries is pretty universal. I was amazed at the sheer number of different treats being sold in this little shop, from traditional Greek koulouri and bougatsa (yum!) to cookies and sugar donuts. We went on a fried pastry binge and were not disappointed (well, except for the weird pastry that we thought was a doughnut but was really a ball of fried dough encasing a not-so-wonderful vienna sausage-type thing... avoid this one).

Pictured here are baskets of awesome paximadia, which is basically a dry, biscotti-type cookie. My favorite kind was convered in sesame seeds had rasins baked into it, spiced with anise and cardamom (I think). With just a hint of sweetness, it turned out to be one of my favorite things.

With J behind the wheel of our rental car, we spent the day touring the entire island. One of our first stops was Antoniou Winery, which is toward the southern half of the island, on the caldera side. The winery, which has an killer view and a cool stairwell and tunnel carved right into the mountain, utilizes the winemaking services of a young, recent immigrant from Russia (hilariously, with no winemaking experience) who warmly greeted and served us while striking up some small talk. After another lineup of not-too-delicious wines, we still counted ourselves lucky for the setting and the chance to meet a really nice guy.

Lunch took us to a wonderfully peaceful, almost perfect little shoreline restaurant (whose name totally escapes me right now...). Here, we feasted on some mezze, which included a traditional dish of mashed "fava" (greek yellow beans mixed with olive oil), tomato keftades (of course, and still so good), and garlic-studded puree of roasted eggplant.

But the real treat were the plates of fresh fried sardines, anchovies and mackeral... oh man. Now before you think, "Anchovies? Sardines? Gross", you need to make sure you've had really fresh versions of these suckers before you poo poo them. The first time I ever had fresh sardines was at the since-renamed Bizou, and they can be phenominally good.

These fish were satisfying in a way that God must have intended. Lightly fried just enough to make the exteriors crispy, while keeping the interiors moist and sweet... we polished them off in no time. Nothing more fitting for a restaurant setting next to a quiet, low-season coastline, with just the splash of gentle waves and the chatter of children playing.

We went ALL OVER the island today, navigating some pretty insane roads (nice job on the first try to Thira, J). By the end of the day, after catching the famed sunset at Ia, we retreated to Fira to dine at Taverna Nikolas, reputed to have good traditional food served by very rude staff (think the Soup Nazi). Nothing could have been further from the truth. At first, our server approached us with a bit of reservation, but after we asked him to help us navigate the all-Greek menu, a huge smile emerged and he suddenly became like a long-lost uncle, eager to have us try some good food!

We did pretty well at Taverna Nikolas, polishing off a stuffed roasted pepper and tomato (check out the nice char), roasted chicken with root vegetables and a light tomato sauce, hearty meatballs, and fresh bass. Everything simple, everything tasty, and finally served with some decent house wine. In a weird way, it was almost like comfort food for us that night. No pretense, no overly esoteric analysis... just food that makes you smile. A fantastic place.

We left after a hearty handshake from our new friend-of-the-moment, content in a day whose sights and experiences were as fulfilling as the food we had.

Greece, day 4: farewell Mykonos, hello Santorini

Today was our final day of chic Mykonos, with its charming lattice of meandering pedestrian streets, its fancy Athenian tourists touting gigantic "i couldn't care less" sunglasses, and the wonderful sleepy-but-lively beachside ambiance of the town center. Oh, and adieu to our quirky but warmly engaging hosts at the Hotel Adonis.

We made a quick stop for: (1) HEALTHY: some delectable sandwiches on fresh-baked bread and a cappucino fredo (by far, the non-booze beverage of choice for the Athenians lounging beachside) at Piccolo, and (2) UNHEALTY: and rather gluttonously, another round of gyros from our favorite shop. Can't get enough!

Bellies full, we embarked on our 3 hour ferry to Santorini. We arrived just in time to drop off our luggage at our unbelievable villa and take a quick stroll over to Santo Winery for some wine tasting while gazing at a dazzling sunset over the caldera.

The winery makes a number of different greek wines -- our tasting included 12 different sips -- so at first, I was excited to try my hand at breaking down the flavors of each wine and drafting some long commentary on the comparative tastes to the types of varietals we're more accustomed to. But in all honesty -- and I really hate to say this -- I didn't really like any of the wines, and many had an excessive level of forgettable funk to them. So we switched gears and just hung out, relaxed, sipped sparingly, and basked in the glow of conversation between great friends in a stunningly picturesque setting.

On the reccommendation of our host, Niko, we had dinner at Pirgos Taverna (http://www.pyrgos-santorini.com/cuisine_en.php) an oddly-cylindrical shaped restaurant with fantastic views of the Santorini lowland slopes. We had a simple, satisfying meal, which included another fantastic greek salad and more of those insanely addictive tomato fritters.

At this point, we're trying to figure out how they make these fritters so incredibly crispy and with such concentrated bright tomato flavor... it makes you forget about how unhealthy these suckers must be. But hey, the Mediterranean diet is supposed to lead to longer life, right? At this rate, we're going to live forever.
Don't worry, were eating fresh fish and getting our omega-3's here and there...


Technorati Tags: Greece, Piccolo, Santorini, Santo Winery, Pyrgos taverna

Greece, day 3: new tastes

One of the best parts about traveling is having the opportunity to try new foods and flavors. While we were walking around town the night before, we came across a high end dessert shop called Mandarini that had opened just a couple of days before we arrived. The shop had been glowing like a beacon to us that night, so we came back today and got an assortment of different phyllo-based baklava-type desserts.

Our box included variations with different jams, candied fruit, chocolate, pistachio and walnuts. While the flavors were interesting (many of the treats were scented with rose water, and one of them had a sweetened cheese center), the honey water used to soak the phyllo was a bit too sweet, masking some of the more delicate underlying flavors. Can't complain too much though when you have a whole tray of pastries to mow through...

During our simple dinner at Taverna Nikos, we also had the opportunity to try some new things. We ordered a half-bottle of retsina, a traditional wine stored in barrels coated with resin (originally for waterproofing). The resulting wine has a distinctive, permeating resin flavor. I've had a Greek white wine with just the faintest hint of resin, which was interesting and very drinkable. This wine, however, had overpowering resin flavor. Think Pine Sol. Yep, that gnarly.

We also finally tried ouzo, an interestig anise and cardamom-flavored liqueur that bears a strong resemblance to pastis. And just like pastis, the clear ouzo turned cloudy upon the addition of a bit of ice water. I thought the ouzo was fantastic; a great way to start off a meal and get your appetite going.

For food, we shared several small plates, including fried cheese, fried tomato balls, and grilled octopus. The fried cheese, or saganaki, can pretty much appeal to anyone who appreciates warm cheese with a crispy exterior. La Verne recalls having a fried cheese dish that was set on fire at a Greek restaurant in New York, so we double checked... but this one was sans flames.

The fried tomato balls turned out to be a surprise hit. The fritter was similar to the zucchini balls we had the night before. The tomatoes had an intense, full-bodied flavor with a nice acidity that held up remarkably well to the frying. And the exterior of the fritter mainteined its crispiness, despite the water content of the tomato.

I was also a big fan of the octopus, which was simply grilled until the flesh became tender and the "suction cups" bore a nice little char. I've never had grilled octopus... I've only had it lightly blanched for nigiri (which, when done without the requisite attention, leads to incredibly chewy octopus). This was great octopus -- clean flavor, great mouth feel (not at all chewy... just lightly toothsome, substantial and satisfying), and nicely dressed with quality olive oil, lemon, and light herbs. At a younger age, I might have found the sight of the tentacle off-putting, but now I think it looks beautiul and appealing. You never know what kind of deliciousness you might be missing if you don't try it...


Technorati Tags: Greece, Mykonos, retsina, ouzo, saganaki, octopus

Greece, day 2: enjoying the character of local food purveyors

So many factors come into play when you reflect on the quality or enjoyment of a meal. One of the things I appreciate most is when someone takes an extra moment to add just an extra bit of service to make a pleasant moment even better.

Our first night in Mykonos, we had dinner at Avra, a small, charming taverna along one of the myriad small streets in Hora. The food wasn't aything particularly special; but I'll remember the expert care with which our server removed the bones from Jay's fish and the way the owner visited each of the tables to make sure his diners were having a pleasant evening.

After that meal, we wandered into one of the local ice cream shops, where we tasted a delicious chocolate and cherry "cookie" ice cream. Even better than the ice cream, though, was how friendly the owner was to us, greeting us warmly and giving us generous tastes of countless flavors.

The next afternoon, we grabbed a gyro at a place that ended up being, by far, our favorite gyro joint in Hora; we also tried two other places in town, and it was no contest. Back at home, we're used to seeing gyros made with shavings from the nondescript "meatroll" rotating on the vertical rotisserie. Here, they use pork or chicken instead, and the rotisserie is stacked with actual pieces of meat, cooked until the exterior has a light crust of caramelized fat and seasonings.

The thing that made this gyro joint so much better than the others we tried was the care they took in putting together even this simple food item. The pita bread is toasted on the grill to order; the meat is shaved off the rotisserie steaming hot and placed in the pita with a generous slather of creamy tzatziki, juicy chunks of tomato, thinly sliced red onion, and a few french fries for good measure. Awesome.

In Greece, people celebrate the resurrection of Christ at midnight on Easter Sunday, and it's a huge celebration involving candle-lighting at church, firecrackers/fireworks (seriously!) and a huge meal commencing shortly after midnight. So in the early evening on Saturday, we noticed the town was quieting down as everyone was getting ready to congregate at the cathedral and feast afterwards. Probably because things had gotten so mellow, we were drawn to the lights of a baker's shop. When we peeked inside, we saw trays of roasted lamb coming out of their ovens, with the sweet smell of the seasoned meat wafting out of the bakery and filling the street outside with its perfume.

The bakers loaded several trays into the back of their mini-truck, no doubt a delivery for a huge midnight dinner party at someone's home. Other folks were also stopping by to pick up smaller portions of lamb for more intimate Easter dinners. You couldn't help but feel the importance of this meal to the residents of Hora.

We decided to make reservations at Phillipi's for the traditional Easter menu, to be served after midnight. To keep our hunger at bay until then, we stopped by a little tavern that caught our attention earlier because of the rustic wooden doors whose windows offered a glimpse of a group of older men drinking and smoking at the bar.

This intimate and uber-charming tavern was our favorite place in Mykonos. We had just a few small plates: rusk (grilled bread with spicy mykonian cheese, tomatoes marinated lightly in vinegar, and olives), sliced mushrooms sauteed with garlic and olive oil, and a soul-satisfying plate of fried zucchini balls. So simple, but so very delicious. And not another tourist in sight. Add a carafe of very drinkable house wine and some fantastic conversation, and it became difficult to pull ourselves away.

After the lighting of candles (and lots of explosions of firecrackers) at the cathedral, we finally partook of the 10-course traditional Easter dinner, which started at 12:30 a.m. A couple of the highlights in this flurry of food excess: we were able to try liver soup (very hearty), small intestine sausage (the small intestine is wrapped like a rope around a filling of chicken meat before it is roasted with a healthy amount of fat; the "sausage" gets a slightly elastic, smooth and gelatinous texture, making the whole thing taste more luxuriously fatty than it really is); and, of course, the roasted lamb, which was served with slices of perfectly cooked potato wedges that soaked up the excess juices from the lamb. Somehow, we rolled ourselves home at 4 a.m., completely defeated by the meal and in awe of how loud and festive Easter is in Greece.

Technorati Tags: Greece, Easter, gyros

Greece, day 1: fresh and simple

I once had an enjoyable lunch at Milos Estiatario in New York, an extravagant experience in the splendor of fresh seafood. Everything in the restaurant was immaculate, from the pure white walls to the inspiring displays of pristine, fresh seafood on ice. I had an exquisite sea bass, grilled and dressed simply with olive oil and lemon. I always wondered how much of that environment was truly part of the quintessential Greek experience, and how much was just a luxurious New York reinterpretation of a specific culinary experience.

Fast forward five years and we're sitting in a spectacular seaside setting at the Sea Satin Market restaurant in Mykonos, and I'm ready to find the answer to my question. The restaurant is exactly what you imagine of a coastal Greek restaurant, perched right at the water's edge under the shadows of the Mykonos windmills, filled with with gleaming white tables and simple bottles of oil and vinegar as perfect color accents.

We were drawn to the restaurant by its scenic location and its equally beautiful display of fresh seafood on ice, including snapper, lobsters, and langoustines that were larger than my hand. We started with an outrageously good tzatziki, a pillow of creamy goodness made with unctuously thick greek yogurt drizzled with olive oil and served with toasted bread, bell pepper slices and olives.

We also dove into a refreshing greek salad, served with a wedge of slightly sharp, rich myconian feta cheese. It's interesting to see how much your mindset can impact your sense of taste and the overall experience of eating. I've had plenty of greek salads in the past, usually made with very good ingredients. But somehow, being on vacation in Greece, sitting at the waterfront in a beautiful restaurant on a gloriously sunny spring afternoon made the salad that much more special... a little crisper, fresher, and more satisfying in my mind's assessment. Sometimes, I suppose, it's okay to let go of objectivity and just enjoy the singularity of the moment.

We also enjoyed vegetables and calamari from the charcoal grill while sipping a Mantineia, a Greek white wine tasting like a cross between pinot grigio and viognier, with pronounced stone fruit and tropical notes, and a light edge of flinty minerality. The real centerpiece was our grilled snapper. One thing to be cautious of when ordering fresh fish in Greece is the price, which is always quoted by weight. We wanted to get a 1 to 1.5 kilo fish to share, which, at 80 euros/klio, was already pretty expensive. The only fish they had available was one at 600 grams and another at 2.5 kilos. Not wanting to spend close to $300 on one fish (no kidding!), we went with the smaller snapper, which was grilled whole, filleted, and served with a colorful assortment of vegetables, potatoes and olives.

I was struck most by the similarity in culinary values expressed in this meal with those we treasure back in California: the freshness of ingredients the the simplicity of preparation to highlight the best attributes of the food. And here, the little details -- like the olive oil's full-bodied richness balanced by its subtle grassiness, or the delicate crunch of fleur de sel on the grilled bread -- add even more enjoyment to the experience.

In the end, I have to give credit to Estiatorio Milos; the overall experience there was a pretty good rendition of the style, atmosphere and food of our first lunch in Mykonos... minus the awesome view of deep blue ocean, of course. Advantage, Mykonos.

Technorati Tags: Greece, Estiatorio Milos, Mykonos, Sea Satin Market, fresh fish

Marin Sun Farms, part 2

Here's the second part of an insightful guest blog by my friend Jeff. Go polyculture!

I think to really appreciate the respect with which MSF treats its animals, you had to have seen or at least read about modern conventional farms. “Seen” is probably not an option as, by all accounts, today’s industrial food producers are unwilling to let any of us peek behind the curtain. I haven’t read much, myself, but The Omnivore’s Dilemma or Fast Food Nation would certainly do the trick. Or else you could get a distant glimpse first hand by taking a drive down the I-5 between SF and LA, or out past your own local feedlot (hint: you can smell it long before you actually find it). Suffice it to say the conditions and practices in most cases are as horrifically shocking as anything your imagination could conjure up, and in other cases are much worse (and obscure).

At MSF, it felt like we were characters in some idyllic children’s book. Laying hens of all varieties wandered out of their coops and around the green pastures, pecking here and there, clucking and generally carrying on exactly as you would expect. One, two and three week old broiler chicks inside a shed moved around an open area of woodchip bedding and huddled under the heat lamps on which their fragile bodies depend. The older ones of their species moved around outdoors in a 12x12 foot covered, moveable enclosure chomping down fresh grass, insects, oyster shells, grain (which, unlike with cows, is a required part of their diet) and vitamin supplement. Cows munched on grass in wide-open fields, occasionally mooing as we approached. A group of cows literally shot across our path as our group moved by them in the pasture. Who knew cows could even run? Well, they can. And fast.

Dave doesn’t hide the fact that all of this surrounding him is still a means to an end, that each of these animals will be killed, processed and sold as food. Thanks to an exemption under federal and state law, Dave is able to slaughter and process his own chickens, and does so outdoors on his farm at weekly intervals. The dance to get his beef to market is a little more complex, but he uses a Petaluma-based slaughterhouse for the initial processing, then rents space at another facility where his own employees break down the carcass further. MSF does the dry-aging and final processing at their butcher shop in Point Reyes Station, where all their products are available for sale. Dave hopes the day is not too far off when any of us could go visit his slaughterhouse and decide for ourselves whether we approve of its killing methods.

We were more than happy to purchase some MSF product, so decided on some NY Strips for dinner and two dozen eggs. Though I was only able to marinate them for a short time, and was restricted to cooking them in the oven at our city apartment, the steaks were terrific. They had a much more pronounced beef flavor than I was used to, but I enjoyed both the flavor and the idea that it was the animal – and not just the marinade – contributing so much to it.

Similarly, the eggs were tastier than their more conventional counterpart. I prepared them simply – scrambled in a little bit of butter, then finished with salt and pepper. They had a smoother, more delicate texture, and deeper, creamier flavor than even the “best” veggie-fed, free range, $4/dozen eggs from Whole Foods. They were so good I held the ketchup. I can’t remember the last time I had eggs without ketchup.

There’s so much more to tell about our trip to MSF but, to be honest, this account is already much longer than I intended. Dave talked about the balance between protecting the MSF chickens from natural predators, and allowing them to become a small part of the local ecosystem (e.g. to the passing red-tail hawks). There are stories of a farmer’s efforts to bring down costs (eggs are currently $7/dozen) and therefore make his food more accessible, while working within a system that almost by definition cannot achieve economies of scale. Dave expressed anxiety (and the potential opportunity) surrounding the closure of the only local slaughterhouse and its impact on MSF and other Bay Area ranchers. He also expressed mostly frustration at how the government bureaucracy stacked the deck against local farmers being able to process their own beef, even under the most commendable conditions.

In any event, my conclusion is that MSF gets it right in almost every way. So much so that I’d deal with the inconvenience of buying from producers like them, and spend the extra money, even if the food tasted the same as the other stuff. But please see for yourself, because that’s what it’s all about in the end.

Technorati Tags: Marin Sun Farms, sustainable, polyculture, The Omnivore's Dilemma

Marin Sun Farms Trip, 3/25/2007 (part 1)

Dudes, I'm off to Greece for the next week and a half to relax, hang with my wife and friends, and track down some amazing food experiences. In the meantime, I'll be posting my first guest blog, courtesy of my good buddy Jeff. He took a fantastic-looking trip up to Marin Sun Farms and has some really good insights to share about having a thoughtful relationship with the food that sustains us. Enjoy his commentary and photos!

I’d like to think it would be difficult to be someone who really cares about preparing, consuming and evaluating food without also really caring about how that same food was produced (and evaluating that production). It’s not hard. It’s easy. And embarrassing. It’s exactly how I would’ve had to describe myself prior to reading Michael Pollan’s The Omivore’s Dilemma. Suffice it to say the book had nothing less than a profound impact on me and, since reading it, I’ve taken an active interest in my food producers. I’ve tried to narrow the divide between what ends up on my plate, and those living plants, animals and fungus – and the people who raise them – that make all of it possible. Living in the Bay Area certainly makes it a lot easier to engage in this pursuant, with so many great local food producers.

With that in mind, my girlfriend "LE" and I recently took Dave Evans and his team over at Marin Sun Farms (Point Reyes Station) up on the offer of a “farm tour," as advertised on their website. From what information I could gather, MSF seemed to be a model of sustainability – producing 100% grass-fed beef and free range broiling chickens and eggs. It turned out to be just us…and 68 other similarly interested Bay Area residents. We were lucky to get in – though we planned the outing a couple of weeks ahead we ended up sneaking in off the waiting list.

While killing time at the MSF butcher shop – the chosen meeting spot – it took all of about a minute before one of the other participants asked bluntly, “So, why are you two here?” It turns out he was a university economics student who read The Omnivore’s Dilemma, which “totally changed [his] paradigm.” I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I am pretty sure Dave would’ve had a much harder time filling two tour buses for his farm tour a couple of years ago, before “Michael Pollan” was on his way to becoming a household name.

About half an hour later we disembarked from the tour bus in the midst of more green than I had seen in a very long time. Rolling hills of lush grass in every direction, dotted by herds of cattle, mobile chicken coops, farm houses, and miscellaneous storage sheds, all peaking in and out of a cozy layer of coastal fog. Dave took the lead and guided us on a tour lasting a couple of hours, exuding much of the well-informed yet quirky passion shared by Joel Salatin (the hero, to the extent there was such a thing, in The Omnivore’s Dilemma).

He told how his family had been farming much of Marin County for generations since they emigrated from Europe more than 100 years ago. One of the things he really loves about farming is the opportunity to carve out a niche different than the one occupied by other farmers (even if those “others” are his parents and grandparents). Marin Sun Farms – 100% grass-fed cattle, and free range chicken and eggs – is his generation’s foray.

He, in particular, has been experimenting with broilers, while his sister does the same with a herd of goats. When raising a polyculture of plants and animals (the plants being grasses), there’s an almost endless way to plan, tinker, evaluate, plan, tinker and so on. If only all of us were so stimulated by our careers, and had the opportunity to reflect in that career our own sense of morality.

Dave makes no claims to being “sustainable." He, rightfully so, argues that farming can never be truly sustainable. Humans cannot directly harness the energy of the sun, like plants. But, that doesn’t prevent him from striving to achieve as close to that ideal as is possible by removing as many layers as possible between the sun’s energy and the food on our dinner table.

For example, this season he’s going to add wheels to his larger mobile chicken coops. As-is, they can easily be pulled across the pasture using a 4x4 truck. But, with wheels, he could move them around with a small ATV or, some day, using oxen. He is realistic – he knows these kinds of changes take many years to implement. If they didn’t take time to carefully plan and come to fruition, he said, they wouldn’t really be “ideals”.

Dave, more than most, seems to have an easy time seeing the interrelationship between plants, animals and humans on a farm. He intuitively knows to appreciate diversity for the flexibility it brings, notwithstanding some short-term negative impact on farm economics (e.g. he was trying to raise red broilers for the first time this year, though there’s no reason to think they’ll taste any better and they’ll take twice as long to reach slaughter weight as compared to the more conventional yellow variety). LE commented how tough it must be for him to lead this tour – to have his expression of self presented to 70 complete strangers and subject to hours of questioning and judgments. It was no doubt difficult, but is also required by his belief that each food producer should be completely transparent with his consumers.

to be continued...

Technorati Tags: Marin Sun Farms, sustainable, The Omnivore's Dilemma

moving again, but settling down soon

I'm moving out of my temporary housing this week into a great new partial warehouse conversion down the street that I'm totally into. But it's a shame that I'll have to say goodbye to this killer view...

It can be tough to motivate myself to cook new things while Lav is still in the Bay Area. Cooking for one person is a bummer. I'm also surprised how much I miss using my knives, pots and pans, stove and gadgets (I should have brought the immersion blender) from home... it's easy to take all the fancy tools for granted. But I've got some great options for grocery stores and markets nearby, with a brand new Whole Foods about 6 blocks away and Pike's Place easily accessible for an early morning weekend food run... so there's really no excuse for lack of inspiration.

My current favorite market is the Metropolitan Market in Queen Anne. The place is immaculate, with some nice looking produce and a fresh selection of meats and fish... kinda like a slightly smaller version of Berkeley Bowl, but without the mobs.
I picked up a beautifully pristine piece of halibut to make a dish I've been wanting to make: crispy halibut in a red wine reduction. Maybe not the most intuitive pairing, but it seemed to me that even with the delicate flavor of halibut, its texture could showcase an intensely concentrated pan sauce without being overwhelmed.
My first thought was to use a bright, fruit-forward pinot noir, but I ended up using a simple village-style Cotes du Ventoux from Chateau Saint-Sauveur for its more muted fruit profile. I added some chicken stock and a splash of soy sauce for balance, a bit of honey for roundness and body, and a tiny pat of cold butter at the end for the sheen. The purple potatoes matched nicely with their unique intrinsic sweetness, and also helped bridge the color contrast between the stark white of the plate and the halibut with the deep brownish burgundy of the sauce. Sauteed spinach would have completed this dish really well...

Exciting things happening here at Fifth Flavor; we're going to have our first guest blog entry this week! Stay tuned; it's gonna be good.