the fifth flavor

Top 10 dishes of 2011

2012-01-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

Reflecting back on this past year of eating, I realized two things: (1) nearly all of the new restaurants we tried in Seattle were somewhat disappointing, but (2) every restaurant we love continues to be as good as ever.

I told LaV that I can't put anything from Spinasse or Sitka & Spruce on my annual top 10 list anymore because they'd be guaranteed to make it each year, with amazing dishes like fuls medames with harissa and a mistakenly-ordered albacore tuna wowing us at S&S, and the spectacular simplicity of a single roasted leek, fontina fonduta and ligurian olive oil creating a moment of transcendence at Spinasse. Going on more than four years now, our experiences at both restaurants continue to be treasured moments.

Even though most of the memorable dishes of 2011 were from outside of Seattle, there were still some real gems that made it into the top 10 from local spots. Here they are, in no particular order:

Xiao Long Bao, Crystal Jade (Shanghai). Our biggest gastronomic goal for our trip to China was to find the ultimate xiao long bao. After trying all of the major players (with the humbly appointed Jia Jia coming in second, in my opinion), we were amazed at the XLB at Crystal Jade--an international chain restaurant conglomerate, of all places! Much larger than any other version we tried, the skin was silky smooth and extremely thin, but contained an incredible amount of sweet, clean broth that enveloped a flavorful, nicely textured filling of pork. Score +1 for chain restaurants.

Blood Clam Nigiri, Sushi Oyama (Shanghai). Based on a post in a local Shanghai blog, we nabbed a reservation to Sushi Oyama and proceeded to have the most exclusive, intimate and luxurious sushi experience of our lives. Fish selected specifically for that day, kept in wooden boxes to ensure the perfect temperature for optimal flavor release from the fish oils. Unbelievable chu-toro. Actually, unbelievable everything. If I had to pick a favorite, it was the blood clam nigiri from the waters off of South Korea. Sweet and clean, with just a delicate lingering taste of the ocean... Oyama-san's knife skills ensured the texture was pure silky tenderness. This meal, beginning to end, was the most perfect sushi experience I can imagine.

Caramelized sea scallops, citrus supremes, sunchokes, candied marcona almonds, Book Bindery. This was our third visit to the Book Bindery, this time for a Mother's Day dinner with my mom. I'd had mixed feelings about the preparations on the first two visits, but they nailed it with this meal. LaV had a very nice slow-poached hen egg with tagliatelle, parmesan broth and herbs, but I was the happiest with scallops that had the optimal contrast between seared exterior and rare interior. Flavorwise, the pairing of the caramelization of the candied almonds with the caramelization of the scallops, while offset by the citrus, was inspired.

Agnolotti di Guido, La Quercia (Vancouver): We'd been wanting to try this neighborhood gem in Vancouver for a while. If the currency exchange wasn't as unfortunately disadvantageous as it currently is for the U.S. dollar, we'd be there all the time. This small, cozy restaurant delivers on every level, and the mastery behind these beautiful agnolotti was evident in the pasta (filled with veal, chard, ricotta and parmigiano), whose texture was a true delight, along with the soul-filling flavor of the veal jus reduction that dressed them. Very special.

Soba, fresh yuba sheet, Cocoron (New York): Think of the most perfectly cooked, cascading folds of egg you can imagine. That was the texture of the yuba sheets served with the soba at Cocoron, a tiny noodle shop in lower east side. The flavor of the accompanying broth for dipping the soba and the yuba was simple, but densely flavored. What a great way to catch up with an old friend on a rainy evening in New York. The best soba meal ever? So far, yes.

Tripe with bone marrow and local black truffles, Artusi. It's been a long time since Spinasse has had tripe on their menu, the first dish from Jason Stratton that truly captivated me. I secretly hope that tripe makes a return to the other side, but until then, Artusi's version will more than suffice. Paired with bone marrow and truffles, the dish teeters on the edge of being completely over the top. It's a dish that even impressed my formerly vegetarian friends (you two know who you are).

"Potato salad," Castagna (Portland): I'd been wanting to try Castagna for more than a year, but we couldn't seem to find time for the stars to align. Then we found out that Matt Lightner's last day would be July 30. So on July 30, we were enthralled by an astonishing meal of modern, local, natural food. For me, the most impressive dish of the meal was this composed dish of potato, dehydrated potato crisps, dill, creme fraiche dressing and nastursium flowers. Each flavor and texture was precise and pitch perfect. Other than Sushi Oyama, probably the highest technical precision of any of the meals we had this year.

Multiple dishes, Little Uncle. My favorite new restaurant in Seattle this year, hands down. Wylie and PK have created a magical place where the flavors of the dishes transport you instantaneously to another place. The intensity of the flavors, the brightness of the spices, the uber-funkiness of the funk... and every week, a good portion of the menu changed. After my first visit, I went back three more weeks in a row. Among the favorites: kanom gui chai (griddled rice cakes stuffed with garlic chives, soy and fried garlic oil), nam prik kai (pungent shrimp paste and chili dip, fried local sardine, cha-om omelet, veggies) and phad phet pla mueg (spicy stir fry with squid, fresh bamboo, green bean). They've just opened up their new take-out shop, serving their last pop-up meal at La Bete last month. Great food made by truly great people.

House-cured lox, creme fraiche, The Corson Building. During an impulse meal on a weeknight at the Corson Building, we ordered the house-cured lox on a whim, even though neither of us was particularly inclined to get it. Turned out to be a terrific decision. The gentle cure on the lox reminded me of the sparkling flavor of Aki-san's house-smoked salmon at our beloved Sushi Sho. They've just mastered simple flavor components so well here.

Homemade Japanese-style curry, by LaV. LaV and I are both huge fans of Japanese curry rice, but admittedly, we typically use the standard curry blocks from the grocery store. One night, I came home to the lovely smell of curry wafting through the air. I picked up a spoon and lifted the lid to the pot... wait, something was different. The aromas were much brighter. I took a spoonful... wow, a totally different clarity of flavor. You could actually distinguish the garam masala from the ginger. I said to LaV, "Wow, this is really good! Did you change the brand of curry?" She looked at me with a proud, beaming grin... "No, it's made FROM SCRATCH!" And appropriately, she has a "secret ingredient" that makes it all work. Epic. And no turning back. This also wins the award for most unexpected, pleasant surprise.

Runners up: Crispy Local Smelt, Angiolina Farm cucumber salad, cherry tomato (Babar, Seattle), Salad of composed garden vegetables (Mission Hill Winery, Terrace Restaurant, Okanagan), Akaoni Ramen (Benkei Ramen, Vancouver), Grilled Cuttlefish with Fava Beans and Tomato (La Quercia, Vancouver), Carnitas burrito (Mexican Fiesta, San Diego), almond croissant (Honore).

Best wine we had this year: 1997 Cardinale (insane)

Spirit of the year: Novo Fogo Gold, Cachaca Organica (good in so many ways, the aging makes the difference).

Favorite place for a cocktail: The Pourhouse (Vancouver), particularly since my favorite Seattle bartender left for New Zealand.

spot prawns and their roe

2011-10-16T17:59:00.000-07:00

Nothing is quite as exciting as fresh spot prawns full of tiny reddish-orange pearls of roe. Live spot prawns in good condition are hard to come by now that the ultra-local spot prawn season is over, but Alaska's season is still in full swing with fresh gems available at shops like Mutual Fish.

Sauteed or salt roasted at high heat, count these among the things that make L's eyes sparkle at first sight.

short rib sandwich

2011-10-09T16:58:00.000-07:00

I love leftovers. Short rib ragu from the prior evening--not enough to dress another serving of pasta, but just the perfect amount for a glorious sandwich on toasted sourdough with melted manchengo. It never made it to the plate from the cutting board.

guilty pleasure

2011-08-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

I'm not usually a big fan of the "put bacon on everything" movement, but this was actually one of the tastier s'mores I've had. Go figure.

Top ten tastes of 2010

2011-01-02T13:50:00.000-08:00

On New Year's day, I always enjoy looking back at the past 12 months and thinking of the eating experiences that really stood apart from the others. These memories tend to also be a great reference point to other important moments over the course of the year (time with friends and family, special events, quiet times with each other) connecting us back the thoughts, experiences and emotions from these cross-sections in our lives.

Our opportunities for unique eating experiences were limited by a few things this year, including a good chunk of time where I was eating mostly super healthy energy food for training, as well as the intense busyness of work over the past couple of months. Even still, we were blessed with some really extraordinary food moments in 2011.

Here are my ten favorites, as they occurred over the course of the year:

Photo by Eisaku Tokuyama

multiple yakitori, Zakkushi. Oh Vancouver, what a food haven you continue to be for us. During our trip for the winter olympics this year, we made our first visit to this little yakitori bar and were in total bliss. No scene, no attitude; just beer and grilled meat. With charcoal imported from Japan, every item on the menu is grilled to perfection... glorious notes of sweet, fragrant smoke permeating each bite. My favorites are chicken heart, mochi-yaki, and asparagus with pork (sliced so thinly it literally fuses to the asparagus during grilling). Places like this just don't exist in Seattle, but it's easily worth every second of the 2 hour drive north.

calamares en su tinta, Txori. Dear Txori, your run in Seattle was too short and our relationship with you far too brief. Thank you for the glimpses of deliciousness you gave us, especially your squid pinxto, stuffed with its own tentacles, and lacquered in its own ink. A small bite of refined flavors and textures, capturing a picture of gentle wafts of ocean breeze.

Photo by Joseph Lee

dates and carrots on chickpea puree with harissa and honey, Sitka & Spruce. We've continued to have our share of fantastic eating at Sitka & Spruce, whose fantastic new location fits just right (though a tiny part of me still misses the old location in Eastlake). This dish in particular stands out in my mind because (1) we originally decided against ordering it, and (2) it was eye-opening to taste a set of disparate flavors somehow precariously balanced just enough to enhance the flavors of the primary ingredients (rather than losing them in the jumble). The spice of the harissa was tempered by the creaminess of the hummus and the sweetness of the honey and dates, letting the carrots shine. I tried making the dish myself... it didn't work. Much respect.

pistacchio gelato, D'Ambrosio. How is it that Ballard has a better pain au chocolat than any my wife could find in Paris, and now has some of the most stunning gelato I've ever tasted? Marco and his father are spinning magic in this gelateria, where it's all about purity of flavor and perfect consistency (the strawberry gelato has the most incredible texture, considering the absence of any dairy). But the nut-based gelatos are the stars, and the king of them all is the pistacchio, made from Pistacchio di Bronte, harvested from trees in a specific hillside in Sicily that only yield fruit every other year. You can't make this stuff up. The best is when you watch someone taste it for the first time... invariably, their eyes widen and they exclaim, "It tastes like... pistacchio!" Exactly.

crottin frais, The Calf and Kid. This simple goat's milk cheese from Périgord has a mild, nutty flavor and a decadently soft, creamy texture. Nothing incredibly complex or challenging... no funkiness... just pure guilty deliciousness.

avocado, Mexico. On our trip to Playa del Carmen, we had phenomenal guacamole made from the greatest avocados... simple, ordinary, specatcular tree-ripened avocados. Unbelievably rich and unctuously creamy, the stuff of dreams. Nothing here like it.

Photo by Antoinette Bruno, starchefs.com

the bitter handshake, Mistral. Cocktails reigned supreme in 2010, and Seattle continues to have some of the best bartenders in the country. Everyone loves Murray Stenson at the Zig Zag and Tavern Law has gotten a ton of press, but my go-to place for serious cocktails is the bar at Mistral. On my first visit, I tried The Bitter Handshake (Fernet Branca, blood orange reduction, rye whisky, and simple syrup), watching in awe as Ashley carved an ice sphere out of a block of ice with a chef's knife. A Fernet cocktail? One of the best drink experiences... it struck all the right notes.

first of the season porcini, broiled and raw, Spinasse. I should really keep Spinasse off the Top 10 list because it's hard to stay objective about any of their amazing preparations, particularly anything involving the three T's: tajarin, tripe and trotters (a bowl of their tripe is easily one of my favorite comfort foods now). But on the evening of September 17, LaV and I were treated to a magical dish: one single porcini mushroom, delivered to the restaurant earlier that day. One part was broiled to the point of caramelization; the remainder was shaved thinly and plated raw. Two totally different flavors, 100% umami. If ever there was an argument for the supremacy of simplicity in featuring the best characteristics of amazing ingredients, this was it. A special moment that satisfied the soul. Plus the entire team at Spinasse just rocks.

totten inlet mussels with potatoes and horseradish, The Willows Inn. I've already blogged about how much we enjoyed our meal at the Willows Inn, and how much we think of Blaine Wetzel's talent. This particular dish was the most restrained expression of delicate flavor nuances and pairings, each bite like a reflection of the environment around you. We can't wait to go back.

steak tartare, farm egg yolk & toast, The Walrus and the Carpenter. No reservations and a 2 hour wait at prime time... but somehow on our first visit, we walked in and had the fortune of snagging two inexplicably unoccupied seats at the bar. Great cocktails, fantastic oyster selection (and expert shucking), but my favorite taste was the best steak tartare in Seattle. Simultaneously clean (grass-fed) and decadent, velvety but with just enough texture... all you need is an icy martini to go with it. Our favorite new restaurant opening of 2011.

Some other noteworthy things:

Best spirit: Ebb and Flow Vodka, Sound Spirits. Killer flavor, smoothness and lightly viscous mouthfeel even at room temperature. This is Steven Stone's hobby/passion, and he knows exactly what he's doing. Yet another artisan you want to get to know. Seattle, this is an amazing place to have in our city. The gin has just been released, and more spirits are on the way.

Best kitchen tool: Prospect 240, Cut Brooklyn: Sharpest, most balanced and comfortable chef's knife ever, made by Joel B., a ridiculous craftsman and one of the coolest guys you'll ever meet. This knife deserves its own blog post some day, but for now let me just say it's completely unreal. Everything you've read about it is true... and then some.

Most unhealthy moment: May 22 at 3 am: roasted bone marrow, grilled sardines, steak tartare, frites at Blue Ribbon. Not proud, but not that ashamed either.

Honorable mentions: maple bar at sunrise donuts (redmond), kennebec fries at cru (vancouver), spot prawns (multiple versions); perfect sanma nigiri at miyabi; shigoku oysters by taylor shellfish, homemade pesto with mortar and pestle, alfajores in the mission, burger at magnolia village pub, grilled loch duart salmon with preserved chanterelles at solbar (calistoga), pizza romana and capelli ricci al telephono at oenotri (napa)

Here's to a great 2011...

The Willows Inn on Lummi Island

2010-10-03T19:13:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a tip in Seattle Magazine, yesterday we found ourselves on a tiny island watching a beautiful sunset, enjoying a fantastic meal of pristine local ingredients. And the team preparing the meal? Led by a young and talented chef, Blaine Wetzel, returning to Washington after 18 months as a sous chef at none other than Noma, Copenhagen's gastronomic icon of intensely local and indigenous food, to lead the kitchen at the Willows Inn.

Why was this one of the most exciting meals we've had in recent memory? Maybe it was the spectacular setting of the property... the amazing sourcing of ingredients from the gardens adjacent to the property and from the waters viewable from deck... or the techniques and flavor combinations expressed in the dishes we enjoyed... perhaps the time taken by Chef Blaine, his sous chef Jason, and Riley Stark (the proprietor of the inn) to hang out after the meal to talk about what they are trying to accomplish with the food at the inn.

What I do know is that the first bite of each dish had a bit of revelation, sparking an interest and anticipation for what might be coming next.

The following are some initial impressions of the meal we enjoyed.

Garden radishes in "soil". This is one of the signature preparations from Noma Chef René Redzepi. Chef Wetzel pulled baby radishes and broccolini from the garden, "planting" them in a terra cotta pot in an edible "soil" made of sweetened and dehydrated hazelnut and an herbed mayonnaise. A perfect way to start the meal, a visual metaphor for the origins of the ingredients for the meal, with a delicious purity of flavor.

Totten inlet mussels with potatoes and horseradish. Supremely fresh mussels. A light broth evocative of the ocean. Clean and refreshing cucumber. The surprise of horseradish-flavored "snow". Temperature manipulating the strength of flavor.

Nettles farm heirloom tomatoes with fresh herbs. Yes, we've been eating terrific tomatoes from our garden nonstop for the last two weeks. But here, the tarragon puree created a new flavor profile for enjoying these supremely sweet heirlooms, complex with an intensely deep flavor profile. Full of umami, but fresh and bright at the same time.

Chanterelle mushrooms with woodruff and fresh cheese. Beautiful chanterelles and other mushrooms foraged from Lummi Island, both cooked and raw. The rich pork broth unifying the dish, spiked with tiny flavor accents of sweetly herbaceous woodruff.

Reefnet caught coho salmon with turnips, celery and mustard. Here's a great example of what this restaurant is about. The menu for the evening originally had lamb conceived for this course. But that day, the restaurant received two perfect coho salmon from the waters adjacent to the property. Immediate menu change. Superbly cooked, just to the point of enabling the salmon to flake, but no more. Amazing freshness, flavor and texture. Total respect for the product.

Salmon belly with roasted beet, apple and watercress puree. An additional unplanned course added to the menu to take advantage of the freshness of the remaining salmon belly. Remarkable roasted beet. Each ingredient in this preparation had such primary flavors working together in a lovely combination.

Honey ice cream with walnuts and wild plums. A simple ice cream with floral-scented honey, with rich walnuts and light granola adding texture. The sauce was a reduction of wild plums from the island, giving a nicely tart finish.

There is so much potential for how the bounty of ingredients truly local and indigenous to the area can be expressed in the hands of Chef Wetzel and his team. The inn has cultivated some amazing partnerships to source their products, and each season holds the promise of new experiences. We look forward to coming back and seeing the development and evolution of the cuisine.

If you're near Seattle or Vancouver, BC, go experience this place. It's easily worth the trip, and you might just leave with a different perspective of food in this area.

tajarin al burro e salvia

2010-09-26T18:57:00.000-07:00

In 2006, Perbacco opened in the Financial District of San Francisco, giving a legitimate option for Piemonte cuisine just a few blocks away from my office. It was at Perbacco that I first heard of, and tasted, what was to become one of my all-time favorite pastas: tajarin.

Tajarin comes from the Langhe region of Italy, an area known for its Barbaresco and Barolo as well as its white truffles. The pasta itself is simple but decadent: flour, egg yolks and a pinch of salt. Nothing more.

Rolled to the thinnest setting, then hand cut to the width of just a few millimeters, a well made tajarin is velvety and rich, but has enough structural integrity for each strand to be distinct. Dressed very simply either with butter and sage or a basic ragu, so much of the flavor resides in the pasta itself.

Once we moved to Seattle, we found an even more satisfying version at Spinasse. During our last meal there, LaV declared that their tajarin al ragu would be her pick for her last meal on earth. Yes, it's that good.

And that got me motivated to try making tajarin at home. In The Man Who Ate Everything, Jeffrey Steingarten offers these thoughts on tajarin:

Tajarin is Piedmontese dialect for the most rich and delicious tagliarini noodles made with egg yolks instead of the whole eggs used in the rest of Italy... They are best consumed after your routine cholesterol test, not before. In Alba they are rolled with a wooden dowel and hand-cut an eighth inch wide. I have found nothing like them, fresh or dried, in any pasta store I know. The Piedmontese refer to the "red" of an egg, not the yellow, because their egg yolks are orange-red and their tajarin are a deep golden color. Yours will be paler.

He then goes on to provide the following list of ingredients for the pasta: 1 pound unbleached white flour, salt, and 20 yolks from extra-large eggs...

20 egg yolks?

Yes, that's not quite as ridiculous as it sounds because it's portioned against 1 pound of flour. But what home cook makes THAT MUCH pasta at once?

I figured I'd use 1/4 of the flour in his recipe and see how many egg yolks it would take to get a proper pasta dough. For 4 ounces of flour, it took 5 egg yolks. So it turns out he was spot on.

Here's a simplified recipe for making tajarin with a food processor. Granted it's better when you have the real deal kneaded by hand, but the food processor does a pretty darned good job.

Tajarin with butter and sage
tajarin al burro e salvia

4 ounces all purpose flour (just under 1 cup)
5 egg yolks (the best you can find)
pinch of salt
additional flour, for dusting
5 tablespoons butter
10 sage leaves, chiffonade
freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
salt and pepper

In a food processor, blend all ingredients until mixture forms a ball. On a lightly floured surface, knead the dough (incorporating additional flour if the dough is too wet/tacky) until smooth and elastic, about 5-10 minutes. Wrap in plastic wrap and allow to rest at room temperature for 30-45 minutes.

Cut dough into 4 pieces. Set your pasta roller on the widest setting. Flatten dough into a rectangle and feed through rollers. Fold sheet into thirds and feed through rollers 5-6 more times, folding in thirds each time and dusting with flour as necessary to prevent sticking.

Turn dial down to next (narrower) setting and feed dough through rollers without folding. Continue to feed dough through, without folding, making space between rollers narrower each time, until narrowest setting is reached. Fold the pasta sheet and hand cut noodles 2-3 mm wide, or run pasta through the narrowest cutters on your roller. Toss well with semolina flour to prevent sticking.

Use right away or refrigerate for up to 2 days.

To make the dish:

In a saute pan, brown the butter until lightly toasted. Add sage and remove from heat.

Bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil. Add fresh tajarin and cook for 30-45 seconds, stirring constantly. Do not overcook. Remove from boiling water and add directly into pan of browned butter and sage. Add Parmigiano-Reggiano and toss lightly to coat. Season with fresh cracked pepper and salt, as needed.

weekend eating

2010-09-19T21:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a very good food weekend for us, starting with a particularly terrific meal on Friday night at Spinasse. On a stormy night, few dining rooms in Seattle are as warm and comforting.

Salt-roasted local spot prawns. Sweet and succulent, one of our favorite things to eat.

First of the season porcini mushroom, two ways: broiled and caramelized and shaved raw with parmesan. Unreal depth of flavor.

Crispy pig trotter on sauteed beet greens. Crazy rich and decadent, a fantastic contrast of textures.

And of course, the always phenomenal tajarin al ragu, to which LaV has professed her undying love and devotion.

As much as we loved Spinasse when it first opened, Jason Stratton has really elevated the restaurant to the next level and made it his own. He's maintained a fantastic team and has a great sense of the flow of the restaurant, taking regular stints serving in the dining room to stay connected to that side of the operation. Super gifted, super humble, and an all-around terrific fellow who deserves all the accolades he has received. This is one of the restaurants that makes Seattle feel like "home" to us.

Inspired, the next evening we walked into the garden to harvest the ingredients for a dinner with some good friends.

Saturday's menu:

avocado and green tomato gazpacho
blistered corn, black cherry tomato, pickled red onion

salad of garden tomatoes, five varieties
mozzarella, japanese cucumber, apple-mint

roasted beet salad
bacon, baby arugula, chevre, roasted walnuts

skillet-roasted baby carrots
caramelized onion, medjool dates, harissa-spiked yogurt, honey
(a dish inspired by the good folks at Sitka+Spruce)

spaghetti
san marzano tomatoes, garlic, pepperoncini

chocolate zucchini cake
d'ambrosio hazelnut gelato
(gotta do something with all the zucchini we're getting...)

Then came today... a day which somehow turned out to be a bit busy and tiring (for a variety of reasons), but with pockets of relaxation and rest. Looking for a way to close out the weekend, I put together a simple sunday supper:

*caprese salad
*marinated raw zucchini with walnuts and crisped prosciutto (following a tip from Chef Stratton... this may be my new favorite way to eat zucchini)
*risotto of beet greens
*caramelized figs with chevre and honey

Just enjoying a meal with LaV in the peace of our home, sitting on our deck for the last few minutes of sunlight... I wish those minutes would last an eternity. They're a great reminder of how much we have to be thankful for.

We're keeping our fingers crossed for some mild weather this week... our garden still has a TON of tomatoes on the verge of ripening. With any luck, the rain will be sporadic and we'll just need to fend off a few hungry slugs...

chocolate zucchini bread

2010-09-13T23:01:00.001-07:00

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, we are already in mid-September, the last vestiges of summer starting to give way to autumn. The sun is setting at 7:30 pm instead of 9:30 pm, temperatures are mellowing out, and all the kids (and teachers!) are back in school.

But our "summer" garden is still chugging along.

It wasn't a spectacularly warm summer like last year here in Seattle, so most of our tomatoes are only now beginning to hit their peak. The carrots and beets have been very good, the lettuces and arugula were more productive than we ever could have hoped/wanted, and we actually have peppers this year! We're getting some nice delicata squash, the sugar snap peas were fantastic, and the kale and chard keep on going. A big surprise hit this year was our parsley... really delicious parsley, believe it or not.

And then there's the zucchini.

Every year, we plant one summer squash or zucchini. We do this knowing full well that it will be more productive than we can handle and take up more space than we want. But we plant it anyway. Last year, the summer squash grew to extend more than 20 feet, wrapping itself around the garden plot. Thinking we were clever, we opted this year for a "smaller" variety of zucchini. Whatever. Crazy growth has still resulted. When we didn't pay close attention last month, one of the zucchini grew larger than 5 lbs! We've grilled a bunch and given a bunch away, but the plant keeps producing! We can't keep up!

When life gives you an overabundance of zucchini, make zucchini bread.

To be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of zucchini bread. Sure, it's moist, but most recipies tend to lack depth of flavor. Then I ran across this blog post about a Zucchini Chocolate Loaf and I was sold. I'm not going to reprint the recipe here because I just followed Asha's recipe with two exceptions. I omitted the basil from the batter (but I think it's a great idea to add it upon plating), and put in 3/4 cup of chopped walnuts.

The loaf is light, with a delicate crumb, yet super moist and flavorful. Try it for yourself. You won't be disappointed.

Chelanman 2010 race report

2010-07-18T22:14:00.000-07:00

One thought kept running through my mind: "Why the heck am I doing this?"

It all went back to that fateful evening on September 10, 2008. It was a Wednesday night--our usual C-group gathering--and I had just told Nicole H. that I wouldn't be doing the Kirkland Sprint Triathlon because I was crazy out of shape and hadn't trained at all. Nicole looked at me with these sad, huge puppy dog eyes and said "What do you mean you're not going to run the triathlon?" You see, I'd convinced her to do the race with me, and in her enthusiasm, she'd gotten a co-worker to enter the duathlon that day as well.

The sad puppy dog expression was powerful. Too powerful. I convinced myself that cramming in 10 days of training would be enough. Two Sundays later, we did our first triathlon and I was hooked.

Last November, after running an olympic triathlon with Riley, a thought flickered in the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, I could try to survive a half ironman... Part of this dated back to my early college days when I had a secret dream to someday qualify for Ironman Hawaii (even though I'd stopped swimming, didn't own a bike, and hated running). Reality eventually set in and I didn't give it another thought... until I found myself planning and registering for the 2010 Chelanman Half Ironman.

Fast forward to yesterday, around 11:45 am. I'm finishing mile 5 of the run at the Chelanman, and the unimpeded sunlight of a 90-degree summer day is really starting to kick my butt. We don't get heat and sun like this in Seattle. My legs feel like deadweights, my strength ebbing away with each lumbering step. And the only thought pulsing through my mind with every breath is "Why the heck am I doing this?"

* * *
A few moments later, I made it to the next aid station and grabbed two ice cold cups of water. I downed the first and poured the second onto my head... the refreshing shock of the cold water snapped me out it a bit. I plodded on slowly, walking whenever I started to overheat too much, and keeping my thoughts on friends and family. At 11.5 miles, I could see the buoys in the lake from the swim earlier that morning... a happy sight. Not too much later, I finally, FINALLY, came down the home stretch and crossed that finish line. Relief!

So how was the race? Pretty brutal. I've never felt so physically exhausted, and I definitely underestimated how challenging it would be to run a half marathon after 56 miles on the bike through hills. But it was also super gratifying... when I saw the finish line and heard the cheers of LaV, Shane, Jason and Kelly, a shot of adrenaline rushed through my body and for 15 seconds all of the fatigue disappeared. And then it was done! 6 hours, 20 minutes, 50 seconds. Missed my original target time of 6 hours (from before I learned of the climbs on the bike ride), but pretty happy with the result considering the way I felt at the beginning of the run.

All in all, a great venue with amazing friends coming to watch--and some running the 10k at the same time! And about that 10k: Jason ran his first race and got 16th place, Shane ran a personal best, and LaV came out of retirement to run the race... Nice!

And there's definitely a huge upside to running a race in Washington's newest AVA for post-race hydration...

Big thanks go to:

Nicole, whose disappointed expression in 2008 made me do my first triathlon
Riley, getting me to do my first Olympic tri and for telling me to go w/ the two-piece outfit to make bathroom breaks easier (wise man... it came in handy at mile 2 of the run!)
Shane, for all the training runs and motivation over the months
Chris, for good half ironman advice and taking me on a good training ride
Nancy, for magically finding the perfect accomodations for combining the race & Jason's b-day festivities
Emily and Daniel, for the best sign ever
Brian and Nicole, for making it to Chelan on their way back to Colorado

And, of course, to LaV, for patiently putting up with all the training, equipment-buying, and sleepiness, and for being my motivation... you are a trooper.

Race Summary

Venue: Hot, but spectacular. Lake Chelan and the surrounding area is a beautiful backdrop for a triathlon... It felt like we were in California. A very well run race.

Swim: The water was 71 degrees--ideal for going FAST. But winds picked up that morning and the waves were some of the choppiest I've experienced in open water. Following the rope trail under the buoys also wasn't ideal because the winds had pushed the buoys into a curved route. Sighting after the turn was challenging because we were headed straight toward the sun. Still, the lake is terrific, making it a fun swim.

Bike: Fun, but brutal, at least for me. The first half of the course was rolling mild hills along the lake--nice and fast... and a surprising amount of solitude. Not too many people passing me, and a lot of space between riders. It practically felt like a solo ride for the first hour. At about 25 miles, I was still in the top 50. Then the first real climb hit (and my rank plummeted). I've never biked on a route with hills of that length, but I downshifted, found a good pace that wouldn't kill me, and enjoyed the views. A good downhill, probably close to 30 mph, only to be followed by a short, steeper climb, then a seemingly neverending gradual climb. Pain. Fatigue. A false summit, followed by another short steep climb. I've never ridden a bike so slowly. Then, when all hope seemed lost, a blistering downhill (30+ mph?), but with one speed-killing hairpin turn. I beat my target for the bike, but my legs were absolutely burned, even though I was trying to conserve energy on the ride.

Run: Pain. Right out of the transition, my legs were dead tired... but I found a good slow pace to crank it out. After 5 miles though, I had to stop and walk for a while. At noon, it got HOT, and a 10 min/mile pace was tough. It was hard to run unless I had someone to pace off of. At mile 8, I was struggling big time and walking a lot. I swore to myself that I'd never do this again. I'm guessing it was a combination of lack of bike-run distance brick training, the heat, and a larger calorie deficit than I should have allowed. Eventually, that finish line finally showed up.

Awkward moment: Trying to encourage someone I was running with at mile 7. I said, "Just think of the huge, juicy, delicious burger you're going to have when this race is over." She replied, "I'm vegetarian."

sitka & spruce, reborn

2010-05-26T23:09:00.000-07:00

Back in late October 2006, I was preparing to fly up to Seattle for a job interview. Having never spent any significant amount of time in the city, I figured I'd send an email to two local food bloggers to get recommendations for restaurants to check out. Dana Cree (@deensie) and Molly Wizenberg both emailed me back recommended that I check out Sitka & Spruce, a tiny little restaurant in Eastlake that had opened just a few months earlier. I checked out the website, saw that they did Sunday suppers, and gave them a call to see about stopping in the evening before my interview, on November 5th.

Too bad---there wasn't to be a Sunday supper that particular evening due to a private party. I ended up having a perfectly lovely meal at Tilth that Sunday evening. But the desire to try Sitka & Spruce haunted me for months.

I ended up accepting the job and relocating to Seattle in February 2007. Two months later, I finally found myself dining solo (LaV hadn't yet moved to Seattle) on a Wednesday evening, enjoying a brightly dressed tuna crudo and an unctuous plate of braised beef cheek with gremolata. I remember Matt Dillon coming out of the kitchen in the midst of a very busy service and saying in a gentle voice, "How is everything?" I told him it was terrific---that his food reminded me of everything I loved about eating back in the Bay Area, and that the gremolata on the beef cheek was a remarkable accent that really made the dish shine. He thanked me for noticing the gremolata accent, then disappeared back into the kitchen. At that moment, I had two feelings: First, I couldn't wait for LaV to come up and try this place. And second, with restaurants like this, Seattle was going to be a great place to live.

Over the course of the next two and a half years, Sitka & Spruce quickly became my favorite restaurant in Seattle. We were eating meals of such simplicity, resplendent in their remarkable balance of flavor and purity of ingredients. With two of my all time favorite servers/hosts (Matt and Megan), every meal at Sitka & Spruce felt like an intimate evening with friends... and we happily brought all of our visiting friends to this neighborhood gem, tucked between a Subway and a teriyaki joint in a micro strip mall, to show them why I've enjoyed eating in Seattle more than I ever enjoyed eating in the Bay Area.

That's right, I said it. More than I enjoyed eating in the Bay Area. Not by much, but undeniably so. That proclamation drives my friend Riley nuts.

I love this place so much, but I've never wanted to blog about it before. There was already enough press about how great this place was, and far better photographers had already documented the restaurant in their photos. Besides, I long ago lost any ability to be objective about the food and the people of Sitka & Spruce. I was totally content to just sit and enjoy each meal.

Then, out of nowhere, came the news that Sitka & Spruce would be moving to Capitol Hill. No! This place had become so near and dear to us... would the relocation change things? Would the restaurant have a different feel, a different crowd? Would we miss the things we'd come to love so much about the place, like its quirky location, the bright green walls, the beautiful chalkboard menu?

The farewell event was on December 30, 2009. We enjoyed a communal spread, said our goodbyes, and waited for the new location to be completed. Almost six months later, LaV ran into Matt at Bauhaus, and he let her know that the opening was just weeks away. At last! And tonight, Sitka & Spruce reopened.

And man, was it worth the wait. A big round of hugs from Matt at the entry. So good to see him and Megan running the floor. A wonderfully designed space... open, airy, yet cozy and intimate. Killer open kitchen. I mean REALLY open kitchen... with a wood burning hearth/oven. Big communal table. Lots of natural light. Wow.

And then the food. Lenrimmad halibut with creme fraiche, honey and fennel. Our first bite from "new" Sitka, a "wow" moment for me as I pondered the nuanced composition of flavors, the kiss of honey adding an unexpected but perfect waft of sweetness to the richness of the creme fraiche and the pristine flavor and texture of the halibut. Warm vegetables with anchovy brown butter. Grilled asparagus with piparras and a six minute egg. At this point, Sitka & Spruce is showing up big time.

Live sidestriped prawns and grilled bread. Plucked from the waters of the Straight of Juan de Fuca yesterday, doused in olive oil and cooked until the sweet flesh was just done, the oil infused with the flavor of the shells. Oh man, I could eat this all day, soaking up all the oil with good, crusty bread.

A half chicken, roasted in the hearth, with yogurt and harissa. This team has a way with roasted chicken, and they've never surpassed how perfectly cooked this one was. Outrageously moist and tender... I have no idea how they got such precision from the wood burning stove. This expert touch, this respect for the ingredients is what makes their food sparkle.

A simple dessert of olive oil gelato with olive oil cake and outrageously delicious strawberries with a hint of rose water.

Sitka & Spruce is back. It's as good as it ever was... maybe even better. As much as I adored the randomness of the old location, the restaurant finally has a remarkable space to match its food. Service is still warm and personal. After six long months, my gastro-universe has its anchor back and order has been restored. Pretty impressive for their first evening back.

And really, the only thing I miss is the chalkboard.

firing up the grill

2010-05-16T21:31:00.000-07:00

We've had a week of fantastic weather up here in Seattle---prime time to bust out the grill and enjoy the warmth and sunshine.

There's nothing like the first opportunity to eat outdoors after a long winter, the promise of summer just around the corner. The garden is taking off, and we're already getting to enjoy the first batch of lettuces.

Here are some pictures of what is to come...

Garden 2.0

2010-05-08T17:04:00.000-07:00

With lots of things going on at work and a good amount of time set aside for triathlon training, it has been a LONG time between blog posts. That's not to say that there hasn't been time for some great food experiences, from decadent cakes made by friends to our favorite spots--like Miyabi and Spinasse--continuing to surprise and amaze us. And I still need to put up a long overdue post about one of the coolest guys I've met and the unbelievable chefs knives he makes.

For now though, my attention has been on our garden. We've expanded our square footage to double the size of last year's plot, and we've got some grand plans and high expectations. Last week was the Seattle Tilth edible plant sale, which has become one of my favorite Seattle events each year. There's such an astounding variety of plant starts, you can't help but be filled with anticipation and excitement at the potential for the output of the summer garden.

Here are some quick snaps of what we've got going on. The little guys survived a couple of chilly nights early this week (except for the poor Japanese cucumber casualty) and are being rewarded with pure, unobstructed sunlight all weekend long.

Here's what we've got in the ground:

basil
chives
mint
oregano
rosemary
sage
thyme

arugula (2 varieties)
beets
black zucchini
celery root
cilantro
cucumbers
edible flowers
eggplant
bok choy
brussel sprouts
fava beans
kale
lettuces (4 varieties)
parsley
pole beans
shiso
sugar snap peas
sweet peppers (2 varieties)
swiss chard
strawberries
tomatoes (6 varieties)

Grow baby, grow!

making the time for handmade pesto

2010-02-08T08:27:00.000-08:00

With all of the modern conveniences we have at our disposal, our first impulse might be to pick up a container of pesto from the market rather than make it from scratch. Even if we do decide to make pesto at home, we're usually thinking of using a blender or food processor to speed up the process.

But there's definitely something special about making pesto with an old school mortar and pestle: a softness to these otherwise strong, pungent flavors that you can't get with a blender... a slower integration and smoother, silkier texture to the pesto... more of a natural sweetness from the garlic.

More importantly, making the pesto with a mortar and pestle engages all of your senses and connects you to the ingredients and how they come together. You actually breathe in the sweet aroma of fresh basil, see the way the texture of the salt helps break down the raw garlic, and understand how crushing the pine nuts into a thick paste releases the oils that help emulsify and integrate the garlic to the basil. The 15 minutes of effort is well worth the end result, which can be transcendent.

Classic Pesto

2 tightly packed cups of fresh, unblemished basil leaves (stems removed)
2 tablespoons pine nuts
2 cloves garlic
1/3 cup mild extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano
pinch of kosher salt

Using a mortar and pestle, crush the garlic and a pinch of kosher salt together until a paste is formed. Chop the basil into a rough chiffonade---don't chop the basil too finely, because you want to do most of the crushing and pulverizing with the mortar and pestle. Add the pine nuts and a small handful of the basil to the mortar and crush together with the garlic to form a fine paste. Add the remaining basil and continue crushing until well integrated. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil, stirring constantly. Add the parmigiano-reggiano and stir to combine.

The simple pleasures: Beef with Thai basil

2010-01-31T09:33:00.000-08:00

As we wrap up another month of frugality, I have to admit that this year was much easier than previous years. I didn't miss eating out all that much---it helps when your favorite restaurant is closed to move to a new location---and I only really craved a drink whenever I watched an episode of Mad Men...

With all of the cooking we did at home, we cycled through lots of the old favorites: hot pot, chicken poached in sake, tagine, pizza... and the thing I noticed most was how truly delicious the simplest dishes can be. Sure, it's nice to have an opportunity to eat a perfectly prepared sous-vide beef short rib with peanut and broccoli puree with a dehydrated gelatinized sheet of Guinness, but there's something special about the pleasure of simple, well executed dishes. No production, no esoteric flavor combinations, no unexpected twists. Just undeniably tasty food...

...like a 15-minute bowl of spaghetti, adorned only by brightly flavored San Marzano tomatoes and a bit of garlic, basil and chili flakes. Maybe a rich, warm soup with good crusty bread on a cold winter evening. Or hamachi kama, always a favorite, dressed only with a touch of salt and oil before being broiled for 10 minutes to crispy goodness in our toaster oven.

A good stir fry is also always a winner: quick, simple and satisfying. For me, stir frying is all about knowing the different temperature zones of your wok so you can be sure to get the best caramelization and flavor you need to make the dish sparkle.

We had some really nice Thai basil on hand, with a bit of good quality, thinly sliced beef, so I threw together this quick dish for lunch. The Thai basil is the star here, its sweet, enchanting aroma and flavor enveloping the tender, seared beef.

Stir-Fried Beef with Thai Basil

1/2 lb beef top round steak
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons ginger, finely chopped
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
1 tablespoon rice wine
2 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/2 yellow onion, thinly sliced
3 green onions, cut into thin strips
1 red pepper, finely diced
1 bunch Thai basil
1 teaspoon chili sauce or chili oil (optional)

Cut the beef thinly against the grain. In a bowl, combine the soy sauce, rice wine, sugar and corn starch. Add the beef and marinate in the refrigerator for 1 hour. Drain.

Heat wok over high heat. Add the oil and heat until smoking. Add garlic and ginger and cook for 10 seconds. Add the beef and cook until caramelized, about 2-3 minutes (depending on the heat of your wok). Remove beef and set aside. Reserve 1 tablespoon of oil in your wok.

Bringing wok back up to high heat and stir fry yellow onion (with a pinch of salt) until softened, approximately 2 minutes. Add red pepper and cook for an additional minute. Add the beef and green onions and stir fry for 60 seconds. Add Thai basil leaves and chili sauce/oil, toss well, and turn off heat.
Serve with steamed rice.

A second fundraiser for Haiti relief efforts

2010-01-24T13:37:00.000-08:00

The menu and just a few pictures from last night's Fishes+Loaves fundraiser for One Day's Wages Haiti Relief and Rebuild Fund. For the full rundown of the meal, please check out the Fishes+Loaves blog.

j cuvee 20, strawberry

hamachi crudo
beet foam, meyer lemon zest, greens

2007 catalina sounds, sauvignon blanc

“ssam gyup sal”
coffee-cured pork belly, perilla, carrot,

pickled daikon, nori paste, cilantro

ozeki sake, warm

miso-marinated black cod
baby bok choi mui, carrot

2006 efeste, ceidleigh syrah

syrah-braised oxtail
celery root risotto, chevre, beetroot “gastrique”

meyer lemon tart
chocolate, mint oil, cream

still in the midst of dungeness crab season

2010-01-20T11:30:00.000-08:00

At Whole Foods this past weekend, we saw a "weekend special" of fresh, cooked whole dungeness crab from Oregon for $3.99/lb, 50% off their regular price. Two things: (1) I usually like to get live crab from the local Asian market and cook it at home myself, and (2) I'm wary of "weekend specials," especially for highly perishable seafood... but these crab looked fantastic, and at that price, it was super convenient and no more expensive.

It reminded me that we're in the midst of dungeness crab season, one of my favorite times of year. There's nothing quite like the ethereal sweetness of fresh cracked crab---no garnish, no condiments, not even drawn butter is needed when the crab is at its peak.

But when I do want to dress it up a bit, it's hard to beat the simplicity of a crab and avocado salad... one of those flavor matches that will never get outdated. Add just a couple of other ingredients like the acidic sweetness and striking visuals of blood oranges, a bit of shallot and red pepper to add complementary dimensions to the flavor, and a light dressing to tie it all together.

Simple Crab Salad

1 cup fresh dungenesse crab meat, cooked
1 small avocado, diced
1/4 cup diced cucumber
1/4 cup diced celery
2 tablespoons finely diced shallot
1 red pepper, finely diced
1 blood orange, cut into supremes (save peel for zest)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
1 tablespoon nuac cham
salt and white pepper, to taste
a few sprigs of cilantro (optional)

To assemble and serve:

Whisk olive oil and sesame oil with rice wine vinegar and nuac cham. Add finely diced shallot and allow to marinate for at least 3 minutes to soften the flavor of the raw shallot. Set aside.

If using freshly cooked crab, crack and remove the meat from the claw, legs and body. In a mixing bowl, gently combine crab meat, avocado, cucumber, celery and red pepper. Add blood orange supremes, zest and any juice. Season with salt and pepper.

Place a small ring mold in center of a bowl and fill with crab salad. Top with extra blood orange supremes or cilantro and finish with a light drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.

A fundraising meal for Haiti

2010-01-17T15:51:00.000-08:00

This post also appears on my other blog, fishes+loaves.

This week, LaV and I tried to think of what we could do to help raise money for organizations participating in the disaster relief and rebuilding efforts. The outpouring of support from all over the world has been encouraging to witness, but the need is so significant.

According to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon, the Haitian emergency is the "most serious humanitarian crisis faced by the United Nations" in decades, surpassing those caused by the Asian tsunami, the recent Pakistan earthquake and cyclone Nargis in Burma. In the words of Stephanie Bunker of the UN Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs:

"[T]he civil service, police, emergency services, all the organisations which would normally have key roles in responding to a major disaster were affected.... Haiti is very poor. It just does not have the resources or the money to respond to an emergency. What capacity it did have to respond was completely knocked out. This earthquake hit a country which was already barely functional."

After speaking with a few friends, we quickly threw together a fundraising dinner Saturday night. The idea behind the meal was simple. We would serve a four course meal to a small group of six people in exchange for a $50 contribution per person to One Day's Wages, a local Seattle nonprofit (I serve on the Advisory Board) raising funds for two organizations: World Concern and Partners in Health, organizations doing relief and rebuilding work in Haiti.

World Concern has worked in Haiti since 1978 and serves roughly 125,000 Haitians annually. Their office in Port Au Prince is still standing and they are engaged in emergency relief work right now.

Partners in Health has been working on the ground in Haiti for over 20 years. Their mission is to bring modern medical care to poor communities in nine countries around the world, including Haiti.

We figured that with six participants (plus corporate charitable gift matching), we'd be able to raise $600... a small amount in the grand scheme of things, but every well placed contribution counts.

Here was the evening's menu:

aperitif
kir royal

tender pork belly salad
coffee-cured pork belly, apple, fennel, nuac cham

2001 ockfen bockstein riesling, von othegraven

seared scallop
carrot nage, fried shallot

traditional paella
chorizo, shrimp, mussel, clam, squid

2002 pierre bouree fils, beaune, "les epenottes" 1er cru

chocolate bread pudding
ice cream, fresh walnuts
And a few of the pictures:

Planning and preparing the meal was a blast. But the best part of the evening was seeing this group of friends come together to generously donate to One Day's Wage's fundraising efforts.

Later that evening, after we'd said our goodbyes and cleaned up, I looked at the contributions and realized that these folks had given above and beyond what we had requested. We were able to raise a total of $1,100 (corporate matching included) between just these six people, almost double our goal!

A HUGE thanks goes out to our generous diners: Megan, Carla, David, Lena, Brie and Aaron. You guys rock.

Our hearts continue to think of and pray for those who are suffering in Haiti. If you are looking for a way to contribute funds to recovery, relief and rebuilding efforts in Haiti, please consider the One Day's Wages Haiti Relief and Rebuild Fund, or any of a number of reputable nonprofits assisting in Haiti.

We'll be looking for more opportunities to host additional fundraising meals in the near future.

Thinking of Haiti

2010-01-13T22:04:00.000-08:00

Photo: Eduardo Munoz/Reuters
Port-au-Prince destroyed. Unknown thousands of people killed. Survivors at risk without access to food, shelter or clean water. Devastation everywhere.

Yesterday, LaV taught me the Hebrew translation of Psalm 121:1-2...

Esa eynai el heharim mayayin yavo ezri ezri mayeem adonai oseh shayim va’aretz.(“I lift up my eyes to the mountains. What is the source of my help? My help comes from God who made heaven and earth.”

Haiti, you are in my prayers.

If you're looking for an organization accepting donations to support relief efforts, check out One Day's Wages, a local Seattle non-profit organization that is raising money for World Concern, whose team was already established in Haiti and is currently assisting with efforts to provide clean water to survivors.

Month of frugality, week 1

2010-01-10T15:31:00.001-08:00

Most of you know that every year, LaV and I set aside January as our "month of frugality" to take a break from the indulgences and excesses of the holiday season and focus on simplicity and more modest living. Here's how it works: apart from bills, we can't spend money on anything except groceries. No shopping, no eating out... not even a burger or a cup of drip coffee. I also give up wine (and all other alcoholic beverages) for the month.

This first week has gone pretty well, with the theme being juice and soup. At the end of the year, LaV fell prey to to power of the infomercial and bought a juicer---but it ended up being a fantastic purchase. We've been experimenting with all sorts of combinations each day, and I'm totally hooked on juicing almost everything in sight. So far, my favorite combo has been carrot, kale, apple and ginger. It's crazy how much juice you can extract from vegetables, and it has actually been surprisingly inexpensive... a week's worth of fruit and veggies for daily juices came out to about $5.

We've also got a massive surplus of tea, so we're brewing plenty to keep us warm.

Food-wise, we've been doing lots of soup. We started off the new year with a massive hot pot meal with our friends, which converted nicely to a restorative bowl of steaming goodness the next day.

We also did a soup of pork belly, fennel and chickpea, as well as a Chinese-style oxtail soup, which took care of us for a few meals.

The week's dinners were rounded off with LaV's chicken tagine with israeli couscous and a bit of pasta.

Oh yeah, since they were only $4.99/dozen at the market, we splurged and shucked some fresh fanny bay oysters as a little treat.

Now, we're thinking up a few simple, tasty and inexpensive meals for the week ahead. Perhaps a bit of fresh fish, some stir fry... and more juices, I'm sure.

My top 10 dishes of 2009

2010-01-03T22:12:00.000-08:00

Now that we're at the end of the year, it's time to take a look back at the last 12 months and ponder how well we did over a full year of eating.

I always like to start off with reading Jonathan Kauffman's list--particularly this year, since he's leaving Seattle to lend his writing talents to the SF Weekly (major bummer for us, huge win for SF). With the downturn in the economy and the unexpectedly crazy bleeding ulcer that put me out of commission for a few weeks, there was a lot less flash and a lot more comfort and simplicity in the food we ate. But that doesn't mean there was a shortage of dishes that absolutely sparkled. In fact, this was probably the best year of eating we've had.

But what puts a dish into the top 10? The dish has to be more than just delicious. It has to have some unique, perhaps intangible characteristic... maybe the surprise of its delectibility, the way it perfectly captures the emotions of the moment, or the transformative impact of its flavor. The following are my picks for the top 10 dishes of a terrific gastronomic year:

Heirloom tomatoes and japanese cucumbers from our garden. I have to start with the results of our first stab at gardening. Our landlord gave us free reign over a portion of the property adjacent to our house with the most fertile soil and the best sun exposure, and the results were amazing. We were blessed with a spectacularly warm extended summer, perfect for the development of our tomato plants. The black crims and sungolds adapted spectacularly to the soil, giving us tomatoes that had the sweet perfume of roses and strawberries with a gentle, but bright acidity. And the most lovely, fresh, crisp japanese cucumbers whose flavor had a hint of ripe watermelon. I'm curious to see if we can replicate the results this summer.

Matsutake dobin mushi, Miyabi. I feel like every time I go to Miyabi, there's something new and interesting to try that I've never seen before. Masa's fish selection is intensely seasonal, and this year we were treated to things like baby abalone, live razor clam, needle fish, flying fish (not just the roe), and fluke belly. Other favorites included their intensely comforting beef tongue stew and the sharply spiced squid stuffed with cod roe. But my favorite dish from Masa this year was the matsutake dobin mushi, a delicate, supremely simple dish of dashi broth, sake, and steamed matsutake mushrooms. Masa's version included chunks of tender chicken thigh and shrimp, all served in a clay tea pot. Magically earthy, slightly sweet broth with the wonderous aroma and flavor of seasonal matsutake... the kind of dish that makes everything else fade quietly to the background.

King Salmon, Hedgehog Mushrooms, Kabocha and Aioli, The Corson Building. This dish was one of the bigger surprises of the year. We were enjoying a simple meal on a Wednesday night, when the Corson Building has its limited, a la carte selection. The combination of salmon, kabocha and aioli wasn't the most appetizing in my mind when I read it on the menu, but for some reason I went for it anyway. Best salmon dish I can remember. Absolutely perfectly cooked, beautiful troll-caught salmon, with the creaminess of the aioli unifying each of the elements. I knew it would be on the top 10 list after the first bite.

Halibut crudo, garden kumquat salsa, Jefftember (Sonoma, CA). Every year, we have the pilgrammage known as Jefftember. This year's festivities were held at an estate in Sonoma with an epic kitchen, which provided more than enough space for Riley and I to collaborate on a few meals. Riley, ever the forager at Jefftember, snagged some fresh kumquats from the garden and made a phenomenal kumquat salsa (shallot, cilantro, vinegar, lime juice) for the fresh halibut we found at the market. The beauty of the dish was the perfect balance of flavor and seasoning, not an easy feat when trying to feed a dozen people. But Riley totally nailed it.

Soft farm egg with potato, alliams, fermented black garlic and pork jowl, Commis (Oakland, CA). With every year that passes, the food scene in the Bay Area feels more and more distant. But I was paying attention to two restaurant openings in 2009: Commis in Oakland and the re-opening of Quince in the old space occupied by Myth in San Francisco. Commis is a special addition to the East Bay dining scene and would have easily been one of our favorites if we still lived in the area. Chef Syhabout's magical sous vide egg dish was clearly one of the best of the year. The genius of the dish is the addictive sweet earthiness of the fermented garlic, creating a connective contrast to the unctuous richness of the egg yolk and soft pork jowl.

Lamb meatballs in tomato sauce, Bar Mingo (Portland). LaV and I took a trip to Portland this year for our anniversary and wandered all over town, enjoying some of the best the city has to offer. During a meal at Beast, we got a recommendation from one of our communal dining companions, Alan, to check out Caffe Mingo. We went, but opted for Bar Mingo next door and had a series of terrific small dishes. The meatballs were an absolute stand-out... some of the best I've ever tasted. Tender in texture with a rich depth of flavor... I wish I could make meatballs like this. And ridiculous at only $5 during happy hour.

LaV's Homemade Peach Pie. An epic summer produced amazing produce in the Pacific Northwest. And after the beautiful late summer trip to Oregon for our anniversary, we found ourselves back home with an abundance of absolutely beautiful peaches. I know Georgia is supposed to be the place to get peaches, but I can't imagine peaches getting any better than these. LaV decided to take a stab at making a peach pie from scratch, and her first attempt at the half-butter, half-shortening crust resulted in, without a doubt, the most delicious slice of pie I've ever had the pleasure of eating. So flaky, so flavorful, and without a single flaw. Seriously.

Prawn, Extebarri (Spain). Every so often, you may encounter a flavor experience so unique and monumental, it changes how you think about food. This year, lightning struck during our lunch at Etxebarri, and the dish that triggered the moment was a single (albeit, gigantic) perfect prawn. Cooked gently over a custom-built grill, the sweetness of the almost-translucent flesh was masterfully paralleled by the sweetness of the aromatic smoke of house-made charcoal. It forever changed what I expect a prawn to taste like, what kind of cooking I expect from a grill, and how ingredients can express their intended flavors. Unbelievable texture and flavor extraction, totally transcendent. One of the best things I've ever eaten in my life.

Steak, Etxebarri (Spain). As much as I hate putting two dishes on this list from the same restaurant, there was no way I could honestly exclude the grilled steak of Etxebarri. The ribeye came from a type of hard working cattle called Galician Blonde, whose tough, lean muscle fibers are softened by a more leisurely retirement later in their lives, combined with almost three months of dry aging. The result is an unbelievable amount of flavor with the most amazingly tender texture. This wasn't just steak, this was a carnivorous revelation. As I said then, I have no expectation of having a better steak. Ever.

Soup of tripe, pork belly and garbanzo beans, Spinasse. We experienced this dish on the evening of December 30th, barely in time for it to make this list. But what a dish! The soup has the most humble of ingredients (and also appears quite humbly tucked away on Spinasse's menu for $9). It made its first appearance on their menu about two weeks ago, and it's one of the most emblematic comfort foods I ate all year. I'm not normally a big fan of tripe. It doesn't bother me as an ingredient, but it hasn't ever been anything I've ever longed for... until now. Slowly braised until velvety and soft, while also absorbing all of the flavor of the deeply flavorful broth, making it a critical ingredient for both flavor and texture. With this dish, Spinasse now has my favorite salad (chicory salad with rabbit), pasta (tajarin with pork ragu) and soup dishes in Seattle.

Looking forward to what the new year has to offer (and hoping that Sitka & Spruce will be just as good in its new location).

Honorable mentions: pata negra, baby octopus, canned seafood at El Xampanyet, hazelnuts from our tree, fresh walnuts from Ener and Tiffany, red velvet cupcake at CupKates, the Arzak egg, Belgian fries at Wurstküche.

just a quick photo mash

2009-11-15T21:13:00.000-08:00

It feels like life has been super busy lately, and I haven't had any time to blog. In the midst of everything, there certainly has been some good eating, including one of the best dishes I've eaten all year (from a late weeknight supper at The Corson Building).

So here are some quick snaps, just for the memories... working on perfecting our version of paella, which will be its own post if we can pull it off. And unbelievably, Thanksgiving is just around the corner...

Commis, a love letter to Oakland

2009-10-08T17:20:00.000-07:00

As much as I love Seattle, there are times that I very much miss the Bay Area. Of course, our family and so many friends are there, along with a lifetime of history forming our sense of place and belonging...

And of course, there's the food. I've said before---and for now, I still believe---that (somewhat surprisingly) I've enjoyed eating in Seattle overall a bit more than eating in the Bay Area, mostly because the experience has tended to be more intensely personal, interspersed with moments of the imaginative and unexpected (thanks to places like Sitka+Spruce / The Corson Building, Spinasse, Harvest Vine, Lark and Miyabi, to name a few).

But after my most recent trip back to the Bay Area for J+L's uber wedding extravaganza, I was reminded of things that I do long for, whose replacement I've yet to find in Seattle. Like a wondrously crafted late night cocktail and resplendent steak tartare in the timelessly chic supper club ambiance of Bix... soul-satisfying varieties of chaat at Vik's... the delicately nuanced, sparklingly pure flavors of Sketch Ice Cream... the intense classical perfection of Aki-san's craft at Sushi Sho.

But things are not frozen in time. Eric and Ruthie shut down the Sketch storefront back in July (along with my favorite chocolate chip cookie) to prepare for parenthood; Aki-san, at the height of his Yelp popularity (after more than 24 years at the same location) put Sushi Sho up for sale and entered a well-deserved retirement, quietly disappearing and leaving us without his remarkable cold smoked salmon and passionately crafted nigiri. Devastating.

There's another restaurant I miss: Jojo on Piedmont Ave---on December 31, 2008, Mary Jo and Curt closed their neighborhood gem. This was a place full of heart and soul... the kind of cooking that made you feel loved and cared for whenever you stopped by. Terrific pate de campagne, a brawny flatiron steak frites with anchovy butter, and the first savory bread pudding I ever tried... all dishes that will endure in my memory. What could possibly fill this vacuum?

Enter James Syhabout and his spectacular new restaurant, Commis. I first heard about Commis through the SF Chronicle's food blog, and two things immediately piqued my curiosity. Chef Syhabout, one of the Chronicle's Rising Star Chefs in 2007, had already built an impeccable professional background: PlumpJack, Coi, three years at Manresa, time at El Bulli, the Fat Duck and Mugaritz... serious credentials, and seriously high ambitions. Then there was the thought of more modern cooking techniques replacing the warmth of country french cooking... would it work in that space?

I was dining with my mother and sister this evening. In fact, Commis was my mother's choice, as I'd given her the option of simple, rustic and homey, or innovative, different and modern. Now you should know, my mother isn't really one seeking after food and flavor experimentation, but in her own words, "If it isn't going to be interesting, what's the point?"

Exactly! She hit the nail on the head for something that has been bothering me lately about the restaurant scene. Due in large part to the recession, the prevalent trend has been towards simplification and making things more casual... the comfort of the familiar. And when done well, the trend is fantastic... less excess, no unnecessary frills. But isn't it possible to tone things down while still expressing serious creativity? Does every restaurant have to be reduced to serving a 1/2 pound burger on brioche? (Not that I don't love a great burger, but when it's on the menus of french restaurants...) It just feels like there's been a hit to the variety of points of view.

Commis bucks that trend. The first thing you need to know about Commis: They push the envelope with innovation and style, yet without being intimidating or impersonal. The dishes tend to capture both experimentation and familiarity without contradiction.

The second thing you need to know about Commis: While it isn't inexpensive or casual diing, cooking of this caliber and technique should cost quite a bit more. The food and experience were easily worth the $59 for three courses... and I'd trade the cost of two average meals for what Commis offers any day.

Here's the other thing about Commis: It feels genuinely personal. A month earlier, I had reservations to try the restaurant with some friends, but had to cancel at the last minute because the Bay Bridge was closed, making it impossible for us to get to the restaurant on time from our late flight into SFO. They graciously expressed their regret and understanding that we could not join them that evening. On this evening, both the host, Sarah, and Chef Syhabout made a point of saying they were glad we could join them this time. Nice... gesture appreciated.

The staff and other chefs were also a pleasure to interact with---Chef Zach prepared much of our food with equal precision. In fact, the economy of motion from the three chefs---assembling elaborate preparations in the open kitchen---was remarkable.

And now, the food itself. The restaurant was offering nine different dishes on its menu this evening, so between the three of us, we were able to try everything.

EARLY GIRL TOMATOES, PICKLED SHALLOTS, fresh cow's milk cheese with wheat bran, pursulane. Richly flavored tomatoes paired with a rich-as-brie cow's milk cheese, the wheat bran wafers adding a perfect textural contrast with an unobtrusive, light nuttiness... the baby pursulane adding just a hint of a sweet vegetal edge. A "wow" dish, sparkling in its flavors.

PACIFIC SALMON TARTARE AND CUCUMBER, marinated with meyer lemon, anchovy salt. Fresh and delicate flavors... maybe almost too delicate when compared to the other dishes (could not discern the anchovy salt, perhaps it was missing?)... the cucumber shaved impossibly thin and almost melting on your tongue.

WARM SUNCHOKE SOUP, lobster mushroom custard and crayfish butter, fried herbs. A well constructed soup, so rich and velvety... layers of creaminess.

SOFT FARM EGG WITH POTATO AND ALLIUMS, fermented black garlic and pork jowl. This dish was nothing short of spectacular, marrying richness of flavor and texture, and incorporating the captivating, complex sweetness of the fermented black garlic. Pork jowl and an egg cooked in an immersion circulator... unbelievable. You feel guilty that something could taste this good, and you keep pausing between bites to make sure the euphoria settles in fully. Easily one of the best dishes I've had this year.

GRILLED COD WITH FRESH CHERVIL MUSTARD, celery root and lettuce with roast shellfish juices. Beautifully prepared cod, the moist richness of the fish matched with the subtle fresh vegetable flavor of the celery root puree, and the shellfish jus adding just the right boost. Really impressively restrained and balanced.

POACHED THEN SEARED DUCK, MULLED BROTH, chanterelles and marjoram, sugar plum condiment. Two duck breasts bonded together with transglutaminase to form a better shape for slow poaching the meat to a consistent medium rare. The duck was slightly chewy, but the concept makes a lot of sense... they may just need to tweak the technique a bit. Paired with creamy cranberry beans which soaked up the terrific flavor of the mulled broth.

ROAST SIRLOIN CAP OF BEEF AND RIB, pearl barley enriched with parsnip milk, wild anise. In essence, beef two ways. A perfectly medium rare sirloin---uniformly and beautifully cooked. Underneath, a sous-vide portion of short rib, cooked just long enough to melt the collagen and tenderize the meat, but still pink on the inside. A decadent "risotto" of pearl barley and sweet braised stalks of fennel. Comfort food, significantly modernized by technique.

CREAM OF SUMMER MELON SOUP, blackberry, lemon balm and chamomile snow. Pure cantaloupe flavor... a bit hard to discern the other components of this dish, like the chamomile.

BLACK MISSION FIG TART, lavender almond, beeswax-scented ice cream. If only all desserts tasted this good... sweet, buttery, floral, nutty... a complex combination of otherwise elemental flavors. Fantastic.

I love Oakland... I always will. And I'm glad that Chef Syhabout loved Oakland enough to bring his craft home to the city where he grew up. I'm adding this place to the list of reasons to miss the Bay Area, and looking forward to the next opportunity to visit.

a community meal at Spring Hill

2009-10-04T12:54:00.000-07:00

This past week, I had an opportunity to meet some local food bloggers here in Seattle, thanks to the team at FoodBuzz, who hosted a lovely community meal at Spring Hill in West Seattle. It's crazy to see how many food bloggers there are out there these days, ranging from the most sophisticated professional sites to the more blogging-as-a-hobby types like my own.

In its two years of existence, FoodBuzz has managed to connect and aggregate the content of so many people... it's pretty amazing. More importantly, the people at FoodBuzz are terrific---really passionate about food and about their work in establishing those connections and making partnerships.

This was my third visit to Spring Hill, and each time I've been, the food has grown in its polish and sophistication. We started with two amuses: a house-made cracker with foie gras and a riesling gelee (really nice texture to the cracker, the richness of the foie gras accented perfectly by the gelee), and a bite of dungeness crab and kampachi crudo (a bit more acid/vinegar needed).

Next, mussels roasted in their own juice, with lemon, butter and parsley, accompanied by a watercress salad. Simple and fresh, a nice expression of the mussels natural flavors.

We then enjoyed a bite of smoked oysters on house cured sopressata, with potato chips. This was probably my favorite bite of the evening. The smokiness of the oysters accented their natural briny sweetness, which, in turn, paired beautifully in both flavor and texture with the intense savory meatiness of the sopressata. This one raised eyebrows at our table... really delicious.

My main dish was one of Spring Hill's signature plates: sauteed black cod, fennel chowder with fennel frond oil and smoked king clam panzanella. Perfectly cooked black cod, its buttery silken texture contrasted by the light crunch of the panzanella.

With the richness of the meal, it was great to finish with the buttermilk panna cotta with huckleberries.

Special thanks to Ryan and Alexa for hosting everyone this evening, and to the dining companions at my table for the great conversation: Dianasaur Dishes, GastroGnome, OC2Seattle, and Going for Seconds. Hope to be able to share food with you all again sometime!

And a heartfelt congratulations to Spring Hill for being named one of Bon Appetit's Top Ten Best New Restaurants in America. Mark and Marjorie have created a fantastic place in West Seattle, and their efforts and warm hospitality are evident in the experience they provide to their diners.

summer squash + pizza

2009-09-19T18:04:00.000-07:00

The summer squash we planted in the garden has been far more productive than we ever imagined, and at this point, it's getting completely out of control---we've been passing out our surplus (along with our plums) to anyone willing to take it. The plant has produced some really nice, lightly sweet squash, and we've been supplied with an abundance of squash blossoms all summer long.

This evening, looking for a way for me to load up on some carbs for the triathalon tomorrow morning, we made a simple pizza of sliced summer squash, potatoes, rosemary, mozzarella and gouda, and a single blossom that was growing off the squash we picked from the garden. Tossed into a blistering 550 degree F oven, and the magical alchemy of a thin crust with fresh toppings emerges.

The flavors of the pizza felt as transitional as the seasons, as fall is definitely trying to creep in. Thankfully, it it looks like we have at least another week of this incredible Seattle summer left... just enough for one more harvest of tomatoes.

live spot prawns, a summer treat

2009-09-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

Summer will probably start winding down soon (though you wouldn't know it from the amazing weather we've been having), and I was thinking back to one of my favorite bites this season. A few weeks ago, L and I headed down to Federal Way with J+J+S to scout out a new Korean restaurant. Before heading back north, we made a stop at H Mart, the Korean uber-market, full of lots of fresh produce, meats and seafood.

The last time I was in an H Mart, I remember marveling at the tanks of live spot prawns... a seasonal treat, usually from mid to late May through the end of the summer. Lucky for us, this time we were there right near the tail end of the season, and the tanks were teeming with fresh, live spot prawns.

What makes spot prawns so fantastic? They have a super clean, lightly sweet flavor and require only the slightest bit of cooking. Better yet, the spot prawns are phenomenal in raw preparations. When prepared from live spot prawns, the flesh has this unbelievable lightly firm, delicate texture... just a hint of resistance and the ultimate clarity of flavor. You'll recognize these gems as amaebi at your favorite trusted sushi bar.

Another great thing about spot prawns is that while most shrimp (either wild or farmed) are among the most environmentally destructive and unsustainable seafoods, spot prawn fisheries have the potential to be highly sustainable with minimal impact, if maintained properly. The Monterey Bay Aquarium rates spot prawns from British Columbia as a "best choice" for sustainability, with West Coast spot prawns in general a "good alternative."

The spot prawn ceviche preparation is incredibly easy. Take the live prawn and, using a very sharp knive, remove the head from the body as quickly as possible. Remove the shell from the body---gently---make a small incision to remove the vein, and cut the prawn into the desired size. At this point, you can already go ahead and eat the spectacularly fresh meat.

If you do decide to dress it for a ceviche-style preparation, use a light dressing to avoid overpowering the flavor of the spot prawn. We used a vinaigrette of 1 part meyer lemon juice to 3 parts high quality, grassy olive oil, and just a pinch of salt with a bit of chive to accent it. And just like that, you have one of the great dishes of summer.

But that's not all you can do... you still have the heads, which are more than half the weight of the spot prawn. Remove the thick exoskeleton sheath from the head, leaving all other exoskeleton intact (including antenna, legs, eyes, etc.). Dust with rice flour and deep fry in 375 degree oil until crispy, about 3 minutes.

In contrast to the body, the shrimp heads have an explosively rich, powerfully concentrated flavor of... well, shrimp... which pairs perfectly with the crispy texture. Everything is edible... legs, eyes, everything. Just make sure you remove that one external exoskeleton piece before flouring and frying... it's too thick to fry and eat. Serve with a lemon wedge, maybe a bit of aioli, and you're set.

Together, a perfect pairing of two polar opposites from the same product!

a meal for some hard working folks

2009-08-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

We had an opportunity last weekend to host a dinner for a group of hard-working pastors and their families at our home. With lots of folks pitching in to help with set up, plating, serving and child care, we were able to throw a bunch of different flavors/tastes at our guests. It was exciting to use some of the produce from our own gardens in the meal, like our fava beans (really happy with how those turned out), squash blossoms, Japanese cucumber… and of course, our Sun Gold tomatoes—the first variety to ripen.

the menu

crostini
garden fava beans, chevre, pineapple mint

fried squash blossoms
chevre, sauteed summer squash, pine nuts

freezer-set quail egg yolk
balsamic syrup, pecorino, parsley

kumomoto oyster
japanese cucumber, shallot, lime, olive oil

hamachi crudo
japanese cucumber, shiso + white balsamic vinaigrette

caprese
farmers' market beefsteak, garden sun golds, mozzarella, basil

field greens
chicken, gooseberry, balsamic syrup, parmiggiano, cracked almonds

seared scallop
bacon, wakame, favas

spaghetti e vongole
taylor’s manila clams, fish stock reduction

roasted bone-in ribeye
balsamic reduction, thyme

tonnemaker hill market cherries

and just a few of the pictures...

With the beautiful weather of a perfect summer evening, I was reminded of the bounty of summer produce, the joy of al fresco dining, and the perfection of sharing a meal with great company.

gnocchi di ricotta

2009-08-05T23:37:00.000-07:00

Checking out one of my all-time favorite food blogs, I spotted an easy recipe for a ricotta-based gnocchi. Ever since tasting the bone marrow gnocchi at Le Pigeon in Portland, I've loved trying different variations on gnocchi that contain no potato (the gnocchi alla romana at Sitka and Spruce is another favorite).

In this recipe, the ricotta gives the gnocchi a fantastic light, pillowy texture---similar to the way it can lighten the texture of pancakes---making gnocchi that are a great base for simple summer flavors. The only adaptation I made to the recipe was the addition of some fresh thyme leaves from our garden.

Depending on the ricotta you use, the dough can be quite moist. The trick here is to use as little flour as possible... just enough to hold the dough together so it can be rolled, cut, and immediately dropped into a pot of boiling water. The less flour there is in the dough, the more etherially cloud-like the gnocchi will be.

We dressed the gnocchi with fresh corn sauteed in browned butter, sage, clove and oregano blossoms, and added just a few vibrantly flavorful cherry tomatoes from the garden. A quick, easy dish for a Wednesday summer supper.

tribute to kogi and marination mobile

2009-08-03T21:23:00.000-07:00

Now that L's brother and sister are both in Los Angeles, I occasionally check out the Los Angeles Times food blog. Back in February, I first read about a phenomenon that had previously only been known to foodists in Southern California: Kogi. Shortly thereafter, the New York Times did a piece on Kogi as well, helping their fame--and their use of Twitter--go national. A Korean taco truck? What's not to like? Now, we've even got Marination Mobile, our very own Twitter-powered Korean/Hawaiian taco truck up here in Seattle.

I live too far away to try Kogi, and I haven't had a chance to check out Marination Mobile yet, but we had some leftovers from a dinner we hosted this weekend, so I thought we'd make a little Asian-inspired taco of our own.

Kogi and Marination Mobile, here is my tribute to you. I'm going to call it teriyaki-glazed chicken taco with sesame wakame salad, crispy fried chicken skin and Sriracha.

Keep up the good work...

summer = burger love

2009-07-14T22:29:00.000-07:00

Nothing quite hits the spot like a great burger. Back in the late 90's, J and I were on a quest to find the best burger in San Francisco, sampling a new spot every week. We eventually had to stop because the magnitude of the calorie consumption was beginning to have a palpable effect... but not before our dedication to the journey was rewarded with some truly fantastic bites.

As great as it is to hit up your favorite burger joint for their best, making your own burgers can be just as good. With all of the great weather lately in Seattle, we've been grilling like maniacs. When grilling your own burgers, here are a couple of simple tips to ensure the right texture, juiciness and flavor:

1. Get great meat, freshly ground if you can. I prefer grass-fed ground chuck for a robust but clean flavor.

2. Season the meat well. Really well. As in lots of salt and pepper, particularly if you're making thick patties. You'll need to season thoroughly to make sure the flavor expression permeates throughout each mouthwatering bite.

3. Avoid ultra-lean ground beef. You don't want anything leaner than 15% fat, otherwise there won't be sufficient fat to render while cooking, keeping the patty super juicy and flavorful.

4. Don't over-handle the meat. Form the patties gently and somewhat loosely, with just a slight indentation in the middle to end up with a nice, level patty after grilling. Handling the meat too much or packing it together too tight will result in a tough patty.

Other than that, grilling the burger is super simple. For a 7 ounce patty, you can grill over medium high heat for 5-6 minutes per side for medium doneness. For this burger, I went with a brioche bun, caramelized onions, bleu cheese, a slice of a brandywine heirloom tomato, bacon and arugula. Add a nice pile of fresh cut, piping hot, crispy fries and a glass of Washington syrah... and I'm having a hard time thinking of anything more deeply satisfying.

Asador Etxebarri, or, how the Basque country rocked my world

2009-06-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

Walking down the stairs and out the door of the restaurant, I knew that something significant had just happened... something akin to a seismic shift in my whole viewpoint on food, its creative expression, and the perfect pleasure of its consumption. Even now, two months after the meal, I can still sense the singular unifying aroma and flavor of delicate, sweet smoke impossibly imbued into the flesh of a single, perfect prawn.

This was our long-anticipated meal at Asador Etxebarri, the pinnacle of our food adventures in Spain, and easily among the five best meals I've ever had in my life. This is the kind of place you want to visit before you die.

It has been two years since the last time I felt so impacted by a meal. The last time was a 24-course extravaganza at the hyper-modern gastronomic temple of Alinea. This meal at Extebarri was, in almost all senses, the complete opposite. One single cooking technique: grilling. But grilling in its most monumentally perfect form. Charcoal, made by the chef from local wood, each one specifically selected for the particular item to be grilled. A custom-designed system of grill racks, able to be independently raised and lowered for the utmost control and precision in heat. Special custom made pans, some pierced by lasers to create holes large enough to allow smoke to permeate, but small enough to keep liquids from falling through. You've never seen anything like this in the United States.

But how would we get by at the restaurant? We don't speak any Spanish, and by most appearances, they didn't speak any English. With an examination of the menu and a noble attempt at communicating our preferences, we were able to coordinate one shared tasting menu with three additional dishes for the two of us.

housemade chorizo
Phenomenal texture, with each gem of fat giving way and disintegrating into pure richness.

smoked butter
Butter, as its own course? Absolutely. Scented with sweet smoke aromas. With bread or without...

jamon iberico de bellota
Pasture-raised black iberian pig, finished with a diet comprised exclusively of acorns... cured for 1-3 years. Sure, this wasn't the only place to get the famed pata negra, but the richness and decadence seemed appropriate for this meal.

prawn
At the risk of shameless hyperbole, this was possibly the most perfect prawn in the history of humanity's consumption of seafood. It arrived, a single naked prawn, slightly larger than my hand, unadorned but for the crystals of sea salt on the shell. The barely still- translucent shell around the head revealing the abundance of shrimp innard flavor. The flesh was cooked to that precise moment when it transitions from translucence to opacity... but halted just before, rendering an incredible texture--almost as though still alive (think of just-killed amaebi).

I've never experienced quite this level of technical achievement in the cooking of a prawn. The flavor was impossibly good, the first bite a dizzying euphoria, the smoke from the grill somehow permeating the flesh of the prawn uniformly and with the lightest touch. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, but the undertone of smoke was more a seasoning than a flavor, as though the smoke was controlled to impart just enough of itself only to heighten the divine intrinsic freshness of the prawn. Any more smoke would have detracted from the prawn, any less and you wouldn't have noticed it. The genius here is Chef Victor Arguinzoniz's remarkable ability to walk that tightrope. My eyes bugged out and a grin came over my face after that first bite... a grin that made me look 10 years younger, based on the picture Lav took of me. Yes, it was really that good.

crab
Delicately sweet flesh, tender and flaky, with a focused, purity of flavor. One of Lav's favorites of the meal.

oysters and sea foam
Grilled oysters? You bet. Sea foam? Yep---an emulsion of the juices released by the oyster upon shucking. This was another one of the dishes that expressed the absolute precision of Chef Victor's grilling technique. Somehow, by gently grilling the flesh of the oyster, it was able to simultaneously express a heightened flavor of warmed oyster flesh while maintaining the plump, crisp texture of just-shucked raw oysters. Mind-boggling.

caviar
This seemed somewhat controversial... grilled caviar? Believe it. The gentle heat and smoke elevated two primary flavor notes: buttery goodness accented with wafty ocean scents. Surprising.

baby octopus
One of my favorite things to eat while we were in Spain. Tender, sweet and succulent, this dish also had the perfect caramelization of the flesh for just the faintest crisp exterior.

spring peas
Despite the magnificence of everything we were eating, this simple dish stuck out in my mind as one of the more profound successes. A study in the perfection of the sweetness of truly fresh peas. Three perfectly unified flavor notes: sweet pea (warm enough to extrude some juices, still fresh enough to have some crispy snap), gentle smoke, and a beautifully rich sliver of pork lardo.

purple potato, mountain mushroom, farm egg
At first, I didn't understand this dish at all. a lightly smokey mash of sweet purple potato with paper-thin shavings of local mountain mushroom which, served raw, tasted somewhat dry and quite woody (like balsa wood). Not a great combination of flavor or texture... that is, until we realized there was a gently warmed egg yolk hiding under all of the mushroom shavings. We stirred the three ingredients together, then tried another bite. The result was a remarkable synergy between the smooth, sweet texture of the potato marrying with the now earthy (rather than woody) flavors of the mushroom, moistened/enriched/flavored by the elemental creaminess of the egg yolk. Really surprising.

clams
Probably the most ordinariy of the dishes we had, these grilled clams still had an outrageous sparkle of freshness with slivers of crisp, sweet garlic. Again, just the backdrop of smoke to accent the flesh of the clams.

baby squid
Served in a compote of caramelized onions reduced in squid ink, I believe these tender squid were grilled with a different type of charcoal than the octopus. The smoke flavor was less sweet, but equally gentle. The combination of the squid ink into the onion "jam" was masterful---sweet, briny, earthy... perfectly integrated.

galician beef
Back in 1999, I had my first steak at Peter Luger. Renowned for the quality of its house-aged steaks (each side of cattle personally inspected and selected by the daughter of the founder), I'll be the first to admit that Peter Luger has off days as well as days when they're on their "A" game. That first bite of thick-sliced porterhouse still sizzling on the plate and dressed with melted butter was an instantaneous "moment." It became the steak against which all others would be compared, but which none would quite match...

This steak kicked Peter Luger's ass.

The approach to steak in many of the asadors of Spain is completely antithetical to the American approach. Here in the U.S., we slaughter our cattle young (no older than three years of age). For the majority of their short lives, our cattle get relatively little exercise as well... both are done to keep the meat tender. In Spain, the most prized beef comes from the Galician Blonde cattle. These cattle are most often put to work for the majority of their lives, developing tough, lean muscle fibers. At 9-12 years of age, the cattle are "retired" from their labor and given a couple of years of leisure, during which time they are fattened significantly. At the time of slaughter, therefore, the cows are actually quite old. The combination of work early in life and leisure later in life results in beef that is intensely flavored, but still well-marbled with fat. The tenderizing comes from 90 days of dry aging, during which time a significant amount of beef is trimmed off. Whatever it is that they're doing, I'm a believer. I've never had a steak (cooked absolutely rare, but with a beautiful crust nonetheless, and with no blood extruding from the slices) so incredibly flavorful, so impossibly tender. And I have no expectation of ever having a superior steak.

Some additional thoughts.

This meal was where I realized that many restauarants in Spain do not mark up their wines at all... zero, nada... the price on the list is the same as, or extremely close to, retail. Fantastic.

We were lucky enough to have a brief chat with Chef Victor. We tried in earnest to express our effusive praise for the unbelievable meal and our incredulity that everything had been prepared essentially with the same cooking method. He smiled and humbly said "It's just meat and fire..." (a rough translation), asked us where we were visiting from, and bought us a digestif to wrap up our meal as we savored our fleeting moments in this spectacular temple of gastronomy.

I can honestly say that I still ponder this meal from time to time, that my perspective and appreciation of what can be done to food has been dramatically expanded, and that I wonder on a regular basis how this crazy magician is able to do what he does in his workshop... what a treasure.

our first real garden

2009-05-03T22:12:00.000-07:00

At the risk of completely living up to the stereotype, L and I have just finished setting up our new organic garden. This weekend was perfect for this project... beautifully sunny skies interrupted by a few periods of good, solid rain. We started with a visit to Seattle Tilth's annual edible plant sale, made a quick stop by Home Depot for some extra supplies, and a few hours of work later, we had 56 square feet of healthy soil boosted by additional organic soil and compost, arranged into four rows of raised beds and surrounded by chicken wire to (hopefully) keep the wild rabbits from eating everything before we do.

L picked some terrific plants and seeds to create a balanced garden. Our great hope is for five varieties of delicious tomatoes and some sweet corn by mid-summer, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for our four little seedlings of romanesco cauliflower.

My back is a bit sore and my legs are tired, but it's a good feeling after a productive weekend. Now, we just need the sun to cooperate and do a little work for us...

Hisop, and my favorite server

2009-04-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

I promised a friend I would get back to some of the unfinished posts about Spain. Originally, I was going to tackle the Etxebarri post... but that one is going to need some more time. Instead, today's post is about Hisop, a fantastic restaurant located in the upper Diagonal, part of the growing collection of uber-chic, modern Barcelona food scene. Two chefs partnering to follow a dream... a very cool story, a very good restaurant.

We came to Hisop in hopes of finding a balanced combination of modern gastronomic techniques with classical Catalan flavors. Hisop achieved that balance with grace and sophistication, expressed with a firm viewpoint toward pushing the traditional forward into the future.

This was also the meal where we encountered my favorite server of the vacation... skillful, knowledgeable and proficient, looking like Sinead O'Connor's butt-kicking culinary cousin. Something about her said that she didn't take BS from anyone, but even with her take-no-prisoners aura, she was simultaneously hospitable and welcoming. A contradicting combination of characteristics that all worked perfectly for this venue and this meal.

We started with two amuse bouches. The first, an interpretation of a traditional Catalan soup of codfish, olive, potato, onion and white bean--richly flavored, but pure and focused--nicely accented by caramelized and pickled onion. The second, lightly seared tuna with basil concentration, balsamic vinegar gelee cubes and roasted peanut. The peanut flavor was much lighter and nuanced than I expected, and the balsamic gelee tied each of the component flavors and textures together very successfully (buttery soft tuna, nutty peanut).

Our first courses were comprised of two insanely decadent dishes. First, a salad of seared foie gras medallions... are you kidding me??? Sweet, salty, rich, unctuous... the genious of this dish was in the allspice and nutmeg-spiked croutons and the lightly candied orange rind. There was nothing subtle about this dish; just a blow-out bistro salad with an air of luxury. The second dish, lentils with blood sausage and grilled squid. An amazingly caramelized exterior to the squid--tender but crispy, fresh, pristine, almost sweet... accompanied by an earthy mushroom foam. All so rich and so very good.

Corvina with a sauce of rendered tete de veau and leg roast. Perfectly--and I mean PERFECTLY--cooked... lovely crispy skin, intensely moist flesh, and following a prevalent theme of the meal, insanely rich (magnificent body from the beef collagen) without heaviness, focused and precise flavor of the juices of the fish mingled with the beef essence.

Roast chicken with dried apricots, plums and cinnamon foam. De-boned and pressed while grilled, garnished with huge crystals of fleur de sel. A bit springy in texture, but otherwise cooked quite well. Almost Persian in flavor combinations...

Before dessert, a refreshing apertif of peppermint. For me, an array of cheeses (cow, goat, manchengo, bleu, and fermented cow's milk cheese with olive oil--surprisingly acidic), served with a quince compote. For Lav, a rice pudding with pineapple ice cream and a citrus almond cookie. A well-executed combination of flavors.

At 25 Euros, this lunch was an absolute steal for the quality of the ingredients, the amount of food, and the sophistication of both the setting and the service.

Before leaving, we asked our server for tips on other restaurants to visit in Barcelona. Without equivocation, she recommended Saüc, which in her words was making her favorite food in the city. Oh, if we only had more time (and meals) in Barcelona...

Hisop
Passatge Marimón 9, Barcelona
93-141-32-33
www.hisop.com

United Way's Hunger Action Week: April 20-24

2009-04-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

A quick time out from all this blogging about extravagant eating in Spain and Portugal...

A couple of weeks ago, I received an email invitation from the United Way of King County, inviting me to participate in their Hunger Action Week, which starts today and runs through Friday, April 24th.

The idea behind the action week is to raise awareness for hunger issues in our local community, and the challenge is to see if you can feed yourself for only $7 a day, the maximum food stamp benefit for an individual in Washington.

I really like how they explain it on their website:

"This challenge is really an exercise of empathy—to live in someone else's shoes for one week and learn how you can help fight hunger in our community."

Here are the rules for the Hunger Challenge:

Eat breakfast, lunch and dinner spending only $7 per day.
Salt and pepper don't count but all other seasonings, cooking oils, condiments, snacks, drinks, and everything else do.
Don't use food you already own.
Don't accept food from family, friends, coworkers and others. Not even the free samples from Costco!
Try to include fresh produce and healthy protein each day.
Keep track of expenses, food choices, etc. and share your experiences (which you can do on United Way of King County's blog).

So please join up yourself, if you can, and consider the following:

Can you feed yourself for only $7 a day?
If you had to make a choice between buying groceries and paying your rent, how would you choose?
What compromises will you need to make?
Will you be able to provide much variety or will you need to eat the same thing all week?
If you don't know how to cook, does this make the challenge more difficult?

After returning from an extravagant vacation abroad for the past two weeks, this challenge comes at a perfect time to regain some perspective. I'll be blogging about our meals each day at our other blog, fishes+loaves, and returning to blog about the rest of our journey through Spain after the challenge ends.

More information can be found at the Hunger Action Week Blog.

hopelessly behind, wholly overwhelmed by Spain

2009-04-18T17:03:00.000-07:00

Everything they said was true. I had over the top expectations for Spain, but those expectations have been exceeded.

Our journey through Spain has been non-stop--full of amazing sights, sounds, smells, flavors, and people. There are so many food-related things to blog about, describe, remember and savor--including one of the best overall meals of my life, and one of the best composed dishes I've ever had--but there just hasn't been any down time to relax, digest (both mentally and physically), and gather my thoughts.

I figure I'm about six blog posts behind, and those will just have to get done sometime over the next couple of weeks. Meanwhile, I'll leave you with one of my favorite tips for Barcelona provided to us by our hotel:

Be aware at all times, do not let yourself be cheated. If you are offered flowers in the street and the sellers are standing very close to you, they are trying to pickpocket your wallet. If people come up to you pointing to a "stain" on your clothing, they are trying to pickpocket you. If, when you are driving around in a car, and you stop at a traffic light, when someone tells you that you have a flat tire, or the car is on fire: do not leave the car, lock the doors and drive a short distance before making sure that it is not true and that they were trying to rob you.

Luckily, we encountered none of these issues during our stay in Barcelona, which ended up being my favorite city on this trip.

We have never eaten like this before... never so well over such a short, concentrated span of time--with such a wide range of foods and so many consistently amazing experiences. But now, it's time to go an a raw food diet and hit the gym hard. It's hard to leave; I already want to come back.

More details and pictures to come...

Cava Baja: my favorite street in Madrid

2009-04-15T17:32:00.000-07:00

This dark, lively, beautiful street is Cava Baja, my favorite street in Madrid. To explain, I need to rewind a couple of days.

During our first stop through Madrid, S+K, Lav and I went on a fun tapas crawl through the streets between Puerta del Sol and Plaza Santa Ana. Five places, some good food, but nothing that left an indelible impression on my mind. I had to admit to my companions that I was a bit disappointed with the food, given how (perhaps unrealistically) high my expectations had been prior to the trip.

But then Lav and I had some exceptional tapas in Granada and Sevilla. I was enthralled, and my expectations were reignited. Madrid would get a second chance as we passed through for just an evening, traveling from Sevilla to Santiago de Compostela. And this time, Madrid wouldn't let me down.

Our hostel for the evening was located an easy 10 minute walk from the area of taverns around the La Latina metro station, near the literary quarter. Our first stop was at La Camarilla (Cava Baja, 21), a full service restaurant with an excellent tapas bar (and fantastic beer on tap). I also spotted an Asian sous-chef in the kitchen... sweet.

Empanadilla de Atún: Flaky, buttery, richly flavored... tuna has never tasted more like pork than in this empanadilla (included with our drinks).

Pinchos of mushroom, crisped jamon and Tempura de Pimentón: Two delicious bites, with the jamon adding just enough of an accent to enrich the earthiness of the sauteed mushrooms and the vegetal bite of the pepper.

Next stop, Casa Lucas (Cava Baja, 30), just a few doors down, serving innovative pinchos. This is the one place I got by speaking only the few words of Spanish I know, somehow without needing to ever point, pause, or make up words while trying not to look confused. A bit of salami was served with our drinks as we looked through the offerings... we ordered two types of pinchos:

Jumilla: A cold mousse/terrine of half spinach, half corn, with a sweet shrimp and garlic aioli. Our favorite of the evening--the corn mousse with the shrimp and garlic was outrageously good.

Alella: Chicken, caramelized onions, corn pudding, and a soy glaze with sesame oil. The corn pudding was an inspired flavor pairing.

Last stop, Casa Lucio (across the street from the original bar at Cava Baja 34), known for their fried eggs. This one probably could have (or should have) been skipped, but I'm going to show you the picture anyway...

Fried eggs, fries and chorizo. People were devouring plates of these fried eggs all around us, sopping up the residual grease with their bread. Insane. How people in this city can eat like this at close to midnight on a regular basis is unfathomable. Bill Clinton supposedly liked these... before his heart surgery, I'm sure...

Cava Baja, you treated me well, though my arteries might not forgive you for that last dish.

P.S. - S&K, you would have loved the places on this street... more for you to see the next time you go to Madrid...

More tapas, this time in Sevilla

2009-04-14T17:45:00.000-07:00

I think my favorite thing about tapas is the seemingly unending variety. For our stay in Sevilla, I did a little "research" (Chowhound/eGullet/Rick Steves/blogs) on tapas taverns. A few posts on Chowhound lamented that Sevilla was home to an unfortunately high number of disappointing tapas bars. Most sources agreed, however, in the quality of Restaurante Enrique Becerra, a small tavern just off the Plaza Nueva with a nondescript exterior--giving no hint at the treasure inside--where local food fanatics supposedly flocked...

What we ended up finding inside this terrific little tavern was some truly outstanding food and easily the nicest server we've met so far--a classy gentleman who made his way from behind the bar, through the crowd, and up to our little corner to assist us.

Ensalada de aguacate y gambas: A salad of super-ripe avocado and fresh, sweet shrimp, tossed with onions and tomatoes. Simple, creamy and delicious.

Bocaditos de mejillon: Mussels stuffed with a bit of caramelized onion and jamon and fried with a bread crumb coating. Not a delicate dish, this was a total flavor bomb. In a good way.

Pinchito de cordero y datiles con cuscus: Lamb and dates grilled on a skewer, served with couscous. This was an eye opener... the robust, roasted flavor of the lamb was paired perfectly with the practically caramelized dates, all served with the natural juices rendered from the grilled meat.

Revuelto de cola de toro deshuesada y patatas: A racione of oxtail with scrambled eggs and potatoes. Not the prettiest dish to look at, but absolutely delicious, particularly with the gelatin from the oxtail making the dish just that much richer.

In addition to the fantastic tapas, I also enjoyed a perfumed, tropical-scented Rueda and an almost Napa Cabernet-like Rioja for 2 euros per glass. Incredible quality for the price.

After an evening paseo and before some late night flamenco, we decided to throw the research and the guidebooks to the wind and found ourselves at Taberna La Sal, tucked away in a little romantic alley off the main foot traffic of the square.

The meal started with a complementary tapa: tuna mixed with a puree of roasted red pepper and fantastic Spanish olive oil. The Spanish have a magical way with roasting peppers to extract the maximum sweetness and flavor.

Panuelitos de morcilla andalusi: Filo fritters filled with Andalusian blood sausage and caramelized onions. My favorite of the evening. Mouthwateringly delicious, rich, savory flavor. Everything I love about blood sausage... makes you forget what it's made of. Each bite makes you want another. The shatteringly crispy fried exterior contrasts perfectly with the filling. A home run.

Carrilleras de atun guisaditas con patatitas: a rich, slow-braised stew of tuna and fried potatoes in a tomato-based broth. I never would have thought I'd enjoy a "tuna stew," but this dish had terrific body and depth of flavor... amplifying the richness of the tuna.

Fideos caldosos en amarillo con Pez Espada: A simple, clean-flavored seafood broth with short cut noodles. Enjoyable, but a bit bland. Too bad, since this was our priciest item.

Leche frita: Literally, "fried milk", this was a dessert of sweetened cooked custard, lightly fried, and dusted with cinnamon and sugar. I'll admit it, I only ordered this because I wanted to find out what "fried milk" was. It's actually a fairly traditional Spanish dessert made of slices of thickened flan that are pan fried to add a crisp exterior. Dense and filling.

So many different creations and flavors in so little time... I love this.

a tale of two tapas experiences

2009-04-11T08:35:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in an earlier post, one of the things I was most excited about for this trip to Spain was the idea of going on a tapas crawl to sample the best offerings of the myriad tapas bars here. Historically, these taverns were frequented by the lower classes for glasses of simple jug wine, served with a slice of bread (the "tapas," or "covers") to keep the flies away and help prevent spillage. The oldest taverns in Madrid evolved into gathering places for intellectuals, political activists and authors who would engage in lively debates over their drinks and tapas. If Madrid is the political and intellectual center of Spain, then immersing yourself into the local culture would seemingly require a head-first dive into the tapas scene.

Based on a good amount of research, there seem to be three main areas for tapas: between Puerta del Sol and Plaza Santa Ana, the area around La Latina, and Chueca/Malasana/Salamanca. Puerta del Sol and Plaza Santa Ana were the closest to our hotel, so the four of us set out for our adventure.

Museo del Jamon: First thought--How can you not go to a place named "Museum of Ham"? Second thought--generally not a bad stop for a small plate of jamon (serrano, for us), but the place is has all the charm of a chain restaurant which it is), with a utilitarian, fluorescent light atmosphere.

Alhambra: In contrast to the museo, this tavern has a fantastic vibe, with tasty little montaditos of grilled bread and chorizo. The bocquerones (which I loved in Barcelona) were only okay here.

Bar La Abuella: A crowd of locals watching an exhibition soccer match on TV. We ordered patatas bravas and gambas a la plancha, both of which I hoped would be spectacular, but which ended up being just pretty good.

Vinoteca Barbechera: Having made our way down to Plaza Santa Ana, I was in the mood for some wine. A much younger crowd, lots of smoke, and a slightly pricier selectoin of tapas. The croquetas de bacalao had a nice, crunchy exterior, but were otherwise somewhat bland. A tapa of roasted pork tenderloin and caramelized onions was tasty, if not a bit ordinary.

Taberna Maceiras: Looking for a final place to close out our crawl, we grabbed the last small table at Maceiras, which was packed. We ordered some sangria, steamed cockles (berberechos), a layered tomato dish, and a flaming drink... all solid and tasty, nothing earth-shattering.

What was going on? I mean, everything we ate that night was tasty, but nothing was flat out delicious... and certainly not life-changing. Were my expectations set too high? Was the euphoria of my first tapas experience in Barcelona a trick of a sleep-deprived mind? I was particularly disappointed because I had wanted to plan the most epic tapas crawl to end all crawls for our last dinner with S+K, and to experience the best of Madrid as a group. We still had a great time, but I think the most memorable aspect of this crawl was the company of friends and the energy of the different taverns rather than the food itself. Not what I expected at all...

The next day, a totally different experience.

L and I said our goodbyes to S+K, having spent a terrific first 4 1/2 days of our trip with these great friends. After a full day of experiencing the splendor of Granada (including the crazy cathedral, the even crazier Alhambra, an awesome street performance of flamenco-inspired guitar and tasty fried fish at El Ladrillo--fried octopus should be a bar snack in the U.S.--and the uber-intense good friday processional) we were aiming for tapas at Vinoteca Salinas II by the Plaza Nueva. The crowds, however, made it nearly impossible to cross over to the other side of the plaza, so we instead dragged our tired legs to Ermita Centro, immediately adjacent to the cathedral.

Ermita is a beautifully sleek but understated modern tavern, part of a collection of restaurants. Crowded with locals by the time we were into our first tapa, the service and atmosphere were ideal--vibrant, but controlled and well-executed. But above all else, the food sparkled. Here's what we had:

Croquetas Bacalao: Wonderfully creamy and rich, with outstanding cod flavor and nice accents of white pepper.

"Secreta" Iberico: Jamon Iberico served on top of a grilled steak medallion and fries. The glistening Jamon Iberico was outrageously good, its flavor and musky/earthy/meatiness amplified by being warmed through the residual heat of the steak. Crispy, medium-cut fries, just the way I like them.

Carpaccio of ox: Hands down the most delicate carpaccio I can remember having. Unbelievable tenderness, it nearly disintegrated under its own weight, melting effortlessly on the palate. Nice, crunchy flakes of sea salt and beautifully perfumed olive oil. A real surprise and eye-opener.

Ensalada Ermita: A salad of bacalao, avocado, roasted red pepper and caviar, with a broken egg dressing. A nice combination contrasting sweet and creamy with saltiness.

Sopa de Picadillo: A smple soup with strips of jamon, a boiled egg, and shredded slow-braised pork. Comfort food to its core.

Higado de Pate: A nicely seared lobe of duck fois on toast with a light pear compote. Closed my eyes to savor each bite...

Bacalao a Pil Pil: a filet of cod served with pil pil sauce--an emulsion of the natural oils of the cod. Creamy, rich, decadant... maybe just a bit too salty.

This dinner at Ermita was invigorating... exciting... deeply satisfying. The irony here is that the heavily researched tapas excursion in Madrid was somewhat underwhelming while the unplanned tapas stop in Grenada (not in our guide book or any of our resources) absolutely killed.

I suppose you can only plan so far when traveling... with some of the best moments happening by sheer chance.

getting a marzipan fix in Toledo

2009-04-10T07:04:00.000-07:00

The former capital of Spain, Toledo is well known for being a city with diverse religious and cultural influences on account of its historical blend of Arabic, Jewish and Christian backgrounds. The city is also famous for being the home of the famed El Greco in the final stages of his career, when some of his darkest and most intense pieces were created.

Toledo is also known for another thing: marzipan. Now I know a lot of people have mixed feelings on marzipan. Some people feel it can be too chewy, almost like a fondant. Others are turned off by overly sweet marzipan. I whole-heartedly agree with these notions. I typically only enjoy marzipan that is moderately sweetened and delicately textured, not the paste-like sugar bombs you find in most places. But L is the real marzipan fanatic between us. She adores marzipan treats, loves princess cake, and had our wedding cake decorated with marzipan.

The marzipan in Toledo is very good, comprised of a mixture of almond paste, sugar and honey. And while there are countless marzipan shops in town, to get truly fantastic marzipan you need to go to the best: Confiteria Santo Tomé, family owned and operated since 1856.

Santo Tomé's marzipan treates are created using Valencia almonds, thousand flowers honey (produced from countless varieties of different flowers), fresh farm eggs and pine kernels from Avila. In creating the marzipan, traditional techniques are used, such as cooking in wooden dishes and extended resting times.

We picked up a number of treats: mazapan delicia (crecent shaped treats filled with marzipan), pastas pinon (cookies made of marzipan encased in pine nuts), empanadas rellenas fruta (similar to a mazapan delicia, but with fruit jam in the core), figuritas sin relleno, toledanas and jamones mazapan (in the shape of a jamon).

For comparison, we also bought some of the same treats from Calama, another marzipan shop a couple of blocks away. Santo Tomé's treats were a clear notch above in quality of flavor and texture, with smooth marzipan that melted in your mouth whose sweetness had a far more delicate, restrained quality to it... a great way to get a bit of an energy boost for exploring the twisting streets and alleys of Toledo.

beautiful food in the Douro Valley

2009-04-09T16:29:00.000-07:00

When traveling, L and I love to visit different wine regions and make our way out to the actual vineyards to compare the settings with what is more familiar to us in the U.S. We've been lucky enough to see the viticultural areas of New Zealand, Chile and Greece, and L's also been to Champagne and Bordeaux. And just as with our trips to wine country in the U.S., we've enjoyed some terrific meals at restaurants in these wine growing regions (like Laja and Amisfield).

Thanks to Shane's deft driving (and nerves of steel), we were able to take a quick day trip to the spectacular Douro Valley... intensely rugged landscapes, deeply plunging hillsides, and a still-developing wine-tasting scene that is mostly devoid of crowds and corporate over-commercialization.

While tasting port at Kopke the day before, I saw a newly released cookbook by one of Portugal's most famous chef's, Rui Paula, entitled Uma Cozinha No Douro. The food inside looked fantastic, and I began to wonder whether we might be able to pull off a visit to his newest restaurant, D.O.C. Opened in 2007, D.O.C. is housed a sleek, minimalist building jutting out over the edge of the Douro, with ceiling to floor glass walls to maximize the views. The food is a refined, modern expression of the bounty of Portugal's seafood, one of several contemporary restaurants that have recently opened in the Duoro Valley, perhaps ushering in a new era of wine tourism.

L opted for the 4-course tasting menu, called the Menu Huile d'Olive (Olive oil menu), while I ordered two dishes from the regular menu. This is always a good option, because sharing tastes of each other's dishes ended up creating an informal 6-course meal without any redundancy.

Queijo Brie con compote de 2 pimentos (brie with pepper compote): Lovely rich, warm buttery flavors accompanied by a sweet compote with just a hint of the vegetal edge of the roasted pepper.

Recheado com Vegetais, Trufa Preta e Fois Gras (wild mushroom carpaccio with meat cannelloni stufed with vegetables and fois gras): A terrific dish. The wild mushrooms were sliced very thin and sauteed lightly in olive oil, resulting in flat ribbons of muchroom with the texture of al dente papparadelle (if not a bit thinner). Wonderfully rich fois gras encased in a thin ribbon of beef to complement the earthiness of the dish. Beef replacing the role of pasta, and vice versa... except the "pasta" here was made of mushroom.

Creme de Espargos Verdes e Ravioli de Congumelos em Azeite Trufado (green asparagus cream with scallop and mushroom ravioli): Asparagus is in season much earlier here due to the relatively warm weather. The soup had a pleasant purity of flavor... if not a bit on the simple side, with a delicately cooked scallop. The mushroom ravioli seemed an odd addition to the dish.

Polvo a Lagareiro (octopus made by a wine-presser): I will never get over the octopus I've had in Portugal. Ridiculously tender, spectatular flavor... I have no idea if it is the technique or the product itself that makes the octopus so good in this country. This octopus was creamy in texture... unreal.

Cherne con Tomate Confitado em Azeite e Espuma de Batata (stone bass with tomoato confit and potato foam): Another very well executed dish, if not inventive. Perfectly cooked stone bass, flake tender and moist. The potato "foam" was a bit of a misnomer... it was more like highly whipped, lightly aerated mashed potatoes.

Shot de Tangerina con Frutos Secos caramelizados em Azeile (tangerine shot with dry fruits and olive oil: A nice palate cleanser with the acidity complementing the flavor of the olive oil.

Bochecha de Porco Bisaro sobre Circulos de Cachaco Confitados em Azeite Virgem ("Bisaro" pork cheek): Somehow that translation seems a bit on the short side. A slow braised pork cheek accompanied by confit pork, accompanied by a traditional side of mushrooms and thickened cream. A heavy way to end the meal, particularly with the generous portion sizes. This was probably the least favorite dish.

Tarte de Maca com Queijo de Cabra e Gelato de Azeile (apple pie with chevre and olive oil ice cream): The chevre on the apple pie was an inspired combination, but the olive oil gelato's texture was icy, rather than creamy.

We enjoyed the meal with a bottle of Cabeca de Burro Reserva, Duoro, 2006, which I selected because the winemaker was the only female among the producers included in the wine list. Some of my favorite California wines are made by women--in what continues to be an incredibly male-dominated field--and I like to support people who are breaking new ground in whatever small way I can. The wine was crisp and refreshing, with flavors of tart apple and citrus... terrific for a sunny day in wine country.

In all, this was a high quality meal at a fair price, particularly considering the still-unfavorable exchange rate with the U.S. dollar. Nothing ground-breaking, but a thoroughly satisfying way to spend a couple of hours on a beautifully afternoon. Ah, the sun feels nice...

copious amounts of port and some unexpected treasures

2009-04-07T15:17:00.000-07:00

Today's mission was singular in focus: we're in Porto... it's time to drink some port.

Our first stop of the day was at Kopke, founded in 1638 by Christiano and Nocolaus Kopke and recognized as the oldest producer of port. Kopke's tasting room provides a fantastic setting for sampling their wines, with large tables and armchairs impeccably arranged on the second floor, large windows overlooking the riverfront, and a sophisticated and modern urban chic to it all. Kopke was also the only producer we visited who had a vintage port available for tasting, which was a real treat. I sampled the following from their selection:

Kopke Ruby: Deep ruby red color with aromas of raisin and plum. Medium weight on the palate with a hint of a white peppery edge on the finish.
Kopke Vintage 1978: Burnished golden caramel color with heady aromas of vanilla, toffee and baking spices. Flavors of honeyed toasted walnut and a whiff of burnt almond.

The day was spent sampling ports from several producers, and I quickly gained a new respect for port tasters and critics... I have absolutely no idea how they keep their senses receptive to the nuances of different ports, because my palate was crushed after the first four tastings from the sheer weight of the flavor density, sweetness and alcohol content.

To counteract some of these effects--and because the port tasting rooms all closed from 12:30 pm to 2 pm for lunch, we took a late lunch at a small, simple cafe along the waterfront. Shane had been raving earlier about his new favorite sandwich: the francesinha--"little French girl" in Portuguese--so I knew I had to try one.

A specialty of Porto, the francesinha is Portugal's answer to France's croque monsieur, comprised of toasted bread, ham, sausage, steak and melted cheese, all covered in a slightly thickened "secret" spicy sauce. The sauce used varies from place to place, but is generally tomato-based, with onions, garlic, bay leaf, tabasco sauce and beer. I ordered a francesinha especiale, which comes with a fried egg on top. This was a seriously intense sandwich... rich, hearty, filling... a total guilty pleasure devoid of gastronomic finesse but full of primal satisfaction. The sandwich was surprisingly balanced in flavors, with the heat and the acidity from the sauce contrasting the decadence just enough to tie everything together.

We also had an order of caracois, or snails, steamed with oregano. An incredibly simple dish, the tiny snails were tender and addictive, adopting the flavors of the seasonings in the broth. This would be a fantastic bar snack back at home, if only Americans wouldn't be so queasy about the fact that these are snails...

Later in the afternoon, we stumbled upon a warm and friendly older gentleman roasting chestnuts with a bit of salt in a little cart on the side of the road. Roasted chestnuts are one of our absolute favorite snacks, and though I couldn't speak any Portuguese, I think he could sense my excitement. Through a series of hand gestures and nodding, he told me it would just take another minute before the chestnuts were ready. He then proceeded to stick his BARE HAND into the roasting pot (which was literally glowing orange from the heat of the charcoal fire below) to check the doneness of the chestnuts.

Seeing my look of amazement (and envious respect for his hands of steel), he smiled and said something along the lines of "Don't worry, this doesn't hurt at all..." Once the chestnuts were ready, he poured them out and counted out a dozen for me, placing them carefully in a bag, then paused for a moment and added an extra chestnut as a bonus with a wink and a smile. Huge chestnuts, perfectly roasted, the gently sweet meat accented by the lightly salty char... a great way to stay warm on the walk back to the hotel.

Our evening concluded just as it started... with a wide tasting selection of different ports, this time at Solar do Vinho do Porto, a cozy bar in Bairro Alto. Set in a renovated portion of a 19th century building, the bar's overwhelming library of ports by the glass was easily navigated with the help of the endearing servers as we closed out this day--and the bar--in style.

Tomorrow, we're off to try and see where the grapes are actually grown.

12 hours in Spain, then off to Portugal

2009-04-06T17:07:00.000-07:00

The first time I ever had tapas was at a little bar in downtown Chicago while I was still an undergraduate. The allure was immediate and powerful... little plates of terrific food at a reasonable price where communal sharing was encouraged. Perfection. The fascination continued through the years, but the "restaurant" context adaptation in the U.S. never felt quite right. From what I'd seen, read and heard, I suspected the "real" experience would be something different... something more spontaneous, more boisterous, and even more delicious.

And here I find myself in Spain, finding those very things to be true, my first true tapas experience being more than I hoped for.

The preceding 48 hours were rough... I was only able to sleep about 3 hours during that time. We landed early in Barcelona early in the morning and commenced our exploration of the city fueled only by excitement and anticipation. As my energy began to take a precipitous decline, we walked in to El Xampanyet, a popular bar we spotted after our visit to the Picasso museum.

Following the crowds is always a good idea when it comes to food, and this was no exception. The bar was elbow-to-elbow crowded... people gathered at the bar and around small tables in pairs, groups, and alone, all focused on boisterous conversations accented by sips of beer and bites of different tapas. Somehow, we squeezed ourselves into a prime location at the bar, ordered two beers, and proceeded to point at whatever looked appetizing. Except it all looked delicious.

Roasted red peppers stuffed with marinated tuna, served with an olive on bread: Simple and spectacular. Supremely sweet peppers with the most delicious olive-oil cured tuna.

Shavings of pata negra: Unbelievable pork flavor, its decadence obvious even before it touches your lips. The pinnacle of cured meat deliciousness. We will become well acquainted many times on this trip, my new friend.

Olive oil cured sardines: Spiked with a hit of spicy vinegar, the sardines were pristine and sweet, beautifully showcasing nothing more than their pure flavor.

Raw bacalao with olive tapenade: Sweet and salty in harmony, the intrinsic sweetness of the cod paired with the briny, but fruity emulsion of olive oil and pulverized olives.

Plate of canned seafood: Wait, what? Canned seafood at the coastal city of Barcelona? Don't worry, this was nothing like canned seafood in the U.S. In Spain, there is a long tradition of canning the very best seafood at the height of freshness... somehow, their canning methods result in an incredible product, giving the seafood a delicately fleshy texture while amplifying its sweet flavor with just a whiff of the ocean dancing on your palate. It seriously makes no sense, but our plate of oysters, mussels, clams, berberechos, and calamari was absolutely fantastic.

Honestly, I was waiting for Madrid to launch into a full scale tapas crawl, but this was a great start. Hanging out in a shaded courtyard after lunch, I had a deep sense that this journey through Spain is going to be very special.

But before any more adventures in Spain, we were off to the airport to meet up with our good friends Shane and Kelly in Porto, Portugal. Flights from Barcelona to Porto were less than $50 on RyanAir, so we planned a 2 1/2 day excursion out there to sample a good amount of port--obviously--get a bit of the Portuguese scene, and hopefully see some of the vineyards in the Duoro Valley. We met up at the hotel at 9:30 pm, and after a long day of travel, I was in the mood for something simple. On the recommendation of our hotel staff, we headed up the street to a small, modest restaurant (whose name escapes me at the moment) lit by harsh fluorescent light bulbs but full of local families happily sharing massive plates of food. In other words, it was perfect for this evening. We grabbed the last open table, ordered a bottle of dangerously easy-drinking vinho verde, and had a small feast:

Arroz de Polvo: An absolutely terrific dish. The stewed octopus was so unbelievably tender, you could easily cut it through it with just a fork. The rice was infused with the flavor of the octopus, whose juices permeated the dish, imbuing a faint purple hue. We all kept coming back to this dish.

Cozido a Portugeza: We wanted to try something regional and traditional... and this dish fit that calling. This was a traditional Portuguese stew made with cabbage, carrots, potatoes, pork belly, pig ear, blood sausage and a single pig trotter, all served on white rice. Super simple and considered a "peasant" dish (though I find that term problematic), the stew relies on inexpensive cuts of meat and offal to impart richness and flavor. I have to hand it to Shane... the guy will try anything I ask him to. Want to share the trotter and all its gelatinous glory with me, buddy? Why yes, I will...

Grilled fresh calamari: Simply prepared, with the flavor of the calamari taking center stage. In contrast to the remarkable octopus, the meat was a bit tough on the grilled calamari. Not a bad dish, but not a particularly memorable one either.

Fried bacalhau: Served with fried potato chips and a quick sauce of sauteed onions with a dash of vinegar, this was like Portugal's answer to fish and chips. Familiar and comforting.

Some great eating in the first day... and looking forward to what Porto has to offer tomorrow!

how to cook pasta without boiling water

2009-04-01T21:07:00.000-07:00

There's no way this should work.

I was reading a terrific article in Vancouver Magazine a few days back, talking about the best pasta in Vancouver. One section of the article talked about chef Pino Posteraro's technique for making dried pasta:

One local foodie who has spent years in Italy told me some of the best pasta he’s ever eaten was at Cioppino’s. “It was the most extraordinary thing. Pino cooked the pasta in the sauce he served it in. No boiling water, no colander—nothing. I’d never seen anything like it.”

What, no boiling water???? How many times have I read about the importance of bringing an ample quantity of water to a rolling boil before adding the dried pasta to ensure even cooking, no sticking, and a uniformly al dente texture? I kept reading:

Chef leads me to his pasta station, his mise en place meticulously organized—every container labelled and dated with a short strip of masking tape. He grabs a large saucepan, cranks up the heat, and begins. He starts with two types of garlic (purée and confit), a little chili pepper, and extra-virgin olive oil. “You must cook the garlic properly, otherwise it gives you indigestion.” He adds white wine, chicken stock, prawn jus, salt, and a splash more olive oil. (The servers have abandoned their polishing and are crowded around to watch. Even the cooks, traditionally jaded and unflappable, take notice.) The sauce splashes and bubbles as it comes to temperature. He grabs a fistful of dry, uncooked spaghetti, tosses it in, and covers it, savouring my confused look. “Bello, you don’t need to boil the pasta first,” he tells me. “Just wait”. . .

After a few minutes, he removes the lid to reveal a delectable symbiosis. The pasta is cooked perfectly al dente, and has adopted a slightly pinkish hue from the sauce it has absorbed. The starches from the pasta saturate the sauce, making it richer, more textured. The heady aroma of wine and garlic perfumes the air. He fills three pasta bowls—one for me, one for him, one for the lurking servers (who fall on it like a pack of jackals). He chastises a waiter for using a spoon to twirl his pasta. “It’s served in a bowl for a reason,” he shouts. “Use the edge of the bowl to gather the noodles around your fork!” The sauce clings to the noodles; the crabmeat is firm and sweet; all the ingredients sing out in unison. “You see, bello? Pasta this good, I would even eat for dessert.”

After years of working with dried pasta, this just didn't seem like this should work. But hey, Pino's restaurant, Cioppino's (in Yaletown), has been named the Best Formal Italian restaurant at the Vancouver magazine restaurant awards for six years in a row. And the general premise of integrating the starch from the pasta directly into the sauce to thicken it seemed sound... the sauce would be naturally thickened and enriched as it cooked, eliminating the need to add back any cooking water.

But would the pasta cook evenly? Wouldn't it clump together?

Not at all! The technique absolutely works. It's simple, eliminates the separate step of boiling the pasta, and resulted in a spaghetti e vongole that took 12 minutes to make, start to finish. The pasta had a uniquely toothsome texture while being coated with an unctuous, richly textured sauce full of robust flavor.

All this from a recipe that needs no precise measurements and can learned by watching this simple video. Check it out and try it yourself. You'll be amazed.

our go-to buttermilk ricotta pancakes

2009-03-29T14:52:00.000-07:00

Back when we were living back in Oakland, CA, L and I made a regular habit of grabbing brunch at the reliably delicious and cozy Citron. Apart from the fantastic fresh baked scones, probably our favorite dish was their version of ricotta pancakes. Impossibly fluffy and light, with a paper-thin wispy crisp crust on the top pancake on the stack.

The pancakes, unfortunately, weren't always consistent--it really depended on who was on the line during brunch service (and perhaps the level of hangover from the night before)--but when they were at their best, they were truly magical... a standard against which to measure any other pancake.

Here in Seattle, we've had some terrific brunches at places like Boat Street Kitchen, Geraldine's, and Tilth... but we haven't yet found pancakes that really satisfy the same way that Citron's did. So from time to time, we've experimented with making our own version. Some recipies relied exclusively on ricotta and whipped egg whites; others capitalized on the chemical interaction between buttermilk and baking soda and baking powder. Most of the time, these trials resulted in pancakes that were fine, sometimes even very good... but not quite at that "super special" level...

...until this morning.

The recipe we used is our adaptation of a winning recipe from a contest held by bedandbreakfast.com, relying on a combination of both the richness and activation power of buttermilk and the lightening power of folding in beaten egg whites. The main difference in our version is an increase in buttermilk and the omission of the citrus--I think lemon can be a great flavor addition, but the strength of the acid creates too much of a reaction with the baking soda and baking powder.

But I think the most important part of this recipe is the waiting time, which ensures that all of the baking powder and baking soda has sufficient time to react with the acids in the buttermilk; you can literally see a difference in the batter after letting it rest.

Try it out... you'll never think of buying packaged pancake mix again.

Buttermilk Ricotta Pancakes

1 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 large eggs, separated
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup ricotta cheese
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt and set aside. In a separate bowl, combine the egg yolks, oil, buttermilk, ricotta cheese and vanilla extract. Whisk together until smooth.

Add the liquid mixture to the dry ingredients and mix together until flour is just incorporated.

In a small stainless steel bowl, beat egg whites just until stiff. Fold the egg whites into the batter just until incorporated. Let set for 10 to 15 minutes.

Spoon batter onto a lightly buttered pan or griddle over medium low heat. When bubbles lightly form and the bottom is set, flip gently (about 3-4 minutes). Pancake is ready when both sides are golden with barely crisp exteriors.

Serve with fresh fruit or maple syrup.

the best steak I've ever made

2009-03-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

So I've been out of the hospital now for a couple of weeks and things are going well. Thanks to the care and support of our family and friends--particularly of our amazing community up here in Seattle--I had an ample supply of prayers, visits, and great home cooking.

Since leaving the hospital, one of the instructions I received from my doctor was to eat plenty of protein, because my body is in the process of replenishing my red blood cell count, which had gotten freakishly low. So now that I'm finally back to an unrestricted diet, I decided to treat myself (and L) to a great steak tonight. Sorry, my vegetarian friends, this post is not for you.

But what made this the best steak I've ever made?

great product

seasoning with kosher salt 3 times

72 hours of aging in my fridge

a nice hot iron skillet

proper resting.

Oh, and the bleu cheese and butter didn't hurt either...

I picked up a beautiful 16 ounce, 1" thick ribeye steak from the market on Friday and decided to "age" it minimally in my refrigerator before cooking it, particularly given its thickness. On Saturday--following a seasoning tip I read on Ideas in Food, one of my favorite blog reads--I unwrapped the steak and lightly seasoned it with kosher salt, then left it on a plate uncovered to let the dehumidifying action of the refrigerator remove the excess moisture pulled to the surface by the salt. On Sunday, most of the salt was absorbed, so I seasoned it again with a light dusting of kosher salt and let it rest in the refrigerator for another 24 hours. The salt pulls additional water soluable proteins to the surface of the steak which facilitates the development of a terrific crust when seared in a pan, particularly when the steak is free of moisture.

Tonight, after taking the steak out of the refrigerator for 30 minuts, I seasoned it one final time lightly with kosher salt, along with sweet paprika and a dash of cinnamon for each side. Each side was seared in a hot iron skillet (on medium high heat... on our gas stove, high is too hot and would burn the steak and spices, medium would be a bit too weak to develop a good sear) for 4 minutes per side... I then took the steak off the heat, covered it with foil, and allowed it to rest for 10 minutes (minimum... this step is critical) to let the juices redistribute. The result? A supremely tender, incredibly juicy and flavorful steak, with a perfectly seared exterior and a pink, medium rare interior... the seasoning permeating all the way through the steak, and a balanced perfume of spice emerging from the layers of unabashedly carnivorous decadence and goodness.

Served with caramelized onions, a bleu cheese compound butter, and a cabernet reduction, and we had a spectacular dinner for two... my red blood cell count increasing with each bite.

And now it's time to watch Bourdain in Vietnam on No Reservations...

totally out of commission

2009-02-19T11:39:00.000-08:00

What a crazy week! Passed out Sunday night, got rushed to the hospital with some serious internal bleeding, and 5 doctors, 17 nurses, 5 surgical consults, and 6 units of blood transfusions later, I'm finally, FINALLY hoping to go home this evening. I think I've given 20 blood samples... I am so DONE with needles.

Life takes some pretty unexpected turns. I'm lucky that I was in the midst of a caring community at my church when this all happened, that a friend who is a doctor was there to help me out, that we have good health insurance, and that all of this craziness was due to nothing more than a delightful assortment of bleeding ulcers (deemed "impressive" by one of my nurses), one of which happened to be near a bunch of blood vessels. I'm so fortunate that this wasn't something more serious, and my heart goes out to those in our extended community who are suffering through far worse situations.

As I type this, it has been 96 hours since I've had anything to eat, which I'm pretty sure is the longest I've ever fasted. I've been deleriously dreaming through my wish list of favorite foods, like coq au vin, really good fries, a juicy burger, chicken braised in sake... but it looks like my reintroduction to food is going to begin with a bowl of cream of wheat and some apple juice from the hospital's cafe. Say what you will about hospital food, but 4 days without eating makes a lot of things sound pretty appetizing.

A big thank you to the many well-wishers both here and in California, and to the folks who helped support us here through this crazy week. It's tremendously meaningful for us to have this kind of community here in Seattle, and we've really felt everyone's love. And a special thanks, of course, to my dear wife, who saw some crazy things, went through an emotional rollercoaster of a week, and stayed by my side during my half-conscious sloppiness. Well... except for when she left yesterday afternoon for a hot stone massage and ate her Cafe Presse lunch and Whole Foods Cafe dinner in front of me. No, seriously, I'm not bitter about that at all...

Keeping my fingers crossed for being released today... and for eating regularly soon!

frugality, simplicity... and chili

2009-01-31T18:41:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know us are familiar with our tradition of making January our annual "month of frugality," during which we significantly limit the things we can purchase. We do this as a way of taking a break from the excesses of the holidays, and to start the new year out with a fresh perspective on what it looks like to live more simply. And we then try to figure out something positive to do with the money we save. So during January, our expenses end up boiling down to just two categories: groceries and gas.

And I give up alcohol for a month. That's right. My last adult beverage was a glass of cava, which I finished 2 seconds before midnight on December 31st with S+K. And in about 5 hours, I'm going to welcome in the month of February with either a Manhattan or a Negroni at Cafe Presse with those same friends. Perfect.

This year's month of frugality has been a good one. As in past years, I managed to shed a couple of pounds (who knew alcohol had so many calories?), and we saved a good chunk of change to donate to Habitat for Humanity and Three Cups of Tea. I was a little surprised, though, at how obsessed I became with making certain things. First, it was meatballs... then bread... then chocolate chip cookies... pancakes... roast chicken... back to cookies... and bread. All such simple things, but precisely the kind of soul-satisfying comfort food I've been craving all month. I'm pretty certain I would have gotten into better shape if it hadn't been for those cookies.

So today is the last day of this fantastic month. When the sun rises tomorrow, I'll be able to go out and have an americano and a pain au chocolat from Besalu, ease back into the spellbinding grasp of Spinasse, or indulge in phenomenal sushi at Miyabi. But before that could happen, I needed to make one more simple, satisfying meal.

Chili.

This was born of necessity more than anything else. Lav was heading back home from the gym and I was looking for a simple, fulfilling (and filling) meal we could make with what we had in stock. In our fridge: leftover roast chicken breast, celery, baby bell peppers, an onion, celery and tomatoes. In the pantry: a can of butter beans. 45 minutes later, Lav came home and declared this one a keeper.

White Bean Chili with Chicken

1 medium onion, diced
1 clove of garlic, chopped
1 celery rib, diced
1 cup diced baby bell peppers
1/2 cup chopped tomatoes
1/2 cup white wine
1 lime or meyer lemon
1 can butter beans (or other white beans), drained
2 cups leftover chicken, torn into large chunks
2 cups water (adjust more or less to desired consistency)
1 teaspoon flour
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin
a few pinches of paprika

Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over medium heat and saute the onion with a generous pinch of kosher salt until lightly caramelized, about 4 minutes. Add the diced celery, bell peppers and garlic and continue cooking for 3 minutes. Making a well in the center of the saucepan, melt the butter and add the flour to make a quick roux. Once the flour is lightly toasted, add the cumin and paprika and stir the roux
until it is well incorporated with the vegetables. Deglaze with the white wine and stir until nearly dry. Add beans, tomatoes and water, stir thorough, cover and simmer until thickened--about 5 minutes. Stir in the chicken and turn the heat to low. When chicken is heated through, squeeze in the juice of 1 lime, season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.

Garnish with shredded cheddar, cilantro and a few good shakes of Tabasco.

my top 10 for 2008

2008-12-31T16:46:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone! It's about this time that we start seeing the ubiquitous "top 10" lists for the year... top 10 films, top 10 songs, top 10 news stories... heck there's even a "Top 10 Predictions for Virtualization in 2009" (if you're into that sort of stuff... and I know of at least one person who is).

After reading Jonathan Kauffman's "Top 10 Dishes of 2008" I thought I'd compile a list of my ten favorite bites from the past year. Looking back on the food experiences we had over the last 12 months, I'm reminded of how exciting and vibrant the local food scene is here in Seattle and surrounding areas (including Vancouver, of course). So, in no particular order...

1. Charcoal ramen at Motomachi Shokudo: What are you supposed to say if someone wants to put charcoal powder in your ramen broth? Intensely dark, the broth's flavor is strikingly complex and balanced, with just a whiff of smokiness. The beauty of this bowl of ramen is only amplified by the perfection of the ramen's texture and the unctuousness of the slab of simmered pork. And yeah, it's good for you too.

2. Anything with octopus at Sitka and Spruce: I'm trying not to show any bias here because this is our favorite place in Seattle, but the first time we ordered octopus here, we were completely blown away. Impossibly tender, the meat of the octopus practically melted in our mouths... so much so that I had to ask if there was some special way they were cooking it. The answer? Nope, just sauteed simply, with the knowledge of precisely when to take it off the heat. In subsequent visits, we ordered octopus whenever it was on the menu so often, we had to make a consious effort to branch out. Revelatory.

3. Pupusas at Tacos Patzcuaro: I'm a sucker for a well-made pupusa. And I can't say I've had any better than the ones at Patzcuaro... Their fried exterior is both crispy and slightly chewy at the same time; the interior is pillowy soft... made to order, piping hot, and served with an engaging combination of warmth and pride by the friendliest folks you'll meet. Euphoric simplicity.

4. Penn Cove mussels at Toby's: This wins the award for most unexpected deliciousness. Toby's is an old school tavern in Coupeville. We only encountered it when we asked the father of one of the local winemakers where he liked to grab a bite to eat. And what we found were steamed mussels that were so good, our mouths were literally gaping after the first bite. Insanely fresh, insanely good.

5. Top Secret Cupcakes: The cupcake fad seems to have some staying power, and I've never had cupcakes that match the ones made by this local expert. Truly artisan, truly small batch, impossibly moist and tender... they'll make you a believer in cupcakes all over again. topsecretcupcakes@gmail.com.

6. Blood sausage at Olivar: This one almost didn't make the list because I've never had blood sausage before. But the flavor of this dish was incredible, unlike anything I've had. Made of pigs blood, fat and rice, the sausage was bold and intense in its captivatingly savory flavors, richly spiced for a symphonic taste that I still have yet to pull apart in my mind. I've been cautioned of the spine-shuddering flavors of poorly-made blood sausage... but with this dish, it's one of my new favorites.

7. Tajarin at Spinasse: One of the dishes that still haunts my memories from our days in the Bay Area is the tajarin (pronounced tai-yah-REEN) with 5-hour pork sugo at Perbacco... a truly beautiful dish. Justin Neidermeyer's tajarin with a ragu of pork, beef and veal is just as magnificent, but in a slightly different way. The texture and flavor of his pasta is more developed, but the ragu is more rustic. Phenomenal pasta texture--impossibly thin and delicate, but with enough structural integrity so you can sense every strand in each mouthful.

8. Kushi oysters on the half shell at the Corson Building: How have I never had a Kushi oyster before? Thankfully, these oysters are sourced from waters not too far north of Washington state. These Kushis were served with just a dab of grassy, zesty olive oil and a touch of fleur de sel... perfect for their sweet, buttery flavor. It's like what I always wished kumamotos could taste like...

9. Soup dumplings at Chen's Shanghai: More magic from our friends to the north. The quest for the ultimate xiao long bao is a life-long journey. And there is perhaps no better place to embark on that journey than the dynamic Chinese food scene in Richmond, B.C. Most people swear by the xiao long bao at Shanghai Wonderful (which are fantastic, no doubt), but the version at Chen's are transcendent. The dumpling wrapper is the most delicate I've ever seen, melting away in your mouth upon your first bite. The broth is clean and pure, bursting with glorious seasoned pork flavor... but not at all heavy. Amazing.

10. Sanma nigiri at Miyabi: It's always exciting to try a new kind of fish. It's even better when its flavor and texture vault it immediately to the top of your favorites list. Masa-san, the hard working artisan at our absolute favorite sushi restaurant in Seattle (ahem, Tukwila), encouraged us to try sanma (pike mackerel) during the autumn, when the fish was in season. Supremely fresh, slightly sweet, with a firm texture and tasting like the purest spray of ocean mist... one of those bites that changes your perception on things.

Runners up: Roasted Romanesco Cauliflower and Bagna Cauda at Spinasse, Jason's sweet baguette, raw octopus at Kingyo, cavatelli and mussels in a parsley pesto broth at Union, Kurodai crudo at How to Cook a Wolf, salad of local greens and beef tongue with roasted rainier cherries and chevre at the Corson Building, Vivace espresso ice cream from Molly Moon's.

Yep, it was a terrific year of eating, with both familiar and entirely new taste experiences.

What were some of your favorite dishes this year?

quest for a perfect omelette

2008-12-21T17:55:00.000-08:00

All of the snow that has been hammering us over the past few days has given me a lot more opportunities to cook -- mostly really warm, rich braised dishes that are the epitome of comfort food.

We awoke this morning to even more snow... really huge flakes drifting down slowly and covering everything with yet another several inches. Seemed like a good day for making a perfect, decadent omelette.

But what makes a perfect omelette? That's a hard question; it's all about personal preference. Some people like to add a bit of milk to get a fluffier texture... others like to mix all the ingredients together with the egg before adding to the pan... still others are fans of cooking over higher heat to get some color to the eggs.

I tend to go for the simplest omelette possible. No milk, just a few ingredients, and cooked just until the egg has set on the outside while the inside stays warm and custardy. You've got to have a good non-stick pan, use a good pat of sweet cream butter, and cook it slow... real slow... never above medium high. The egg stays rich, moist, and almost sweet, and melds nicely with the ingredients folded inside.

This morning's omelettes had caramelized shallot, crisp bacon, sharp cheddar and slices of crisped mushroom (cooked in the bacon renderings). A bit of baby arugula dressed in meyer lemon juice and olive oil, some crusty bread, and brunch was set.

What's your perfect omelette?

easy, no recipe baked apple pancakes

2008-12-14T12:03:00.000-08:00

Back in college, I experienced some of the coldest winters imaginable. During my first Chicago winter, the temperature dropped down to -27 degrees F, with a wind chill of -75 degrees F. That kind of cold pierces through the thickest down jacket, past the layers of wool and thermals, straight to the core of your bones... not so great for a native Californian.

One of the ways we'd fight off the cold on the weekends would be to take a trip to the local pancake house and order huge mugs of pipping hot coffee and the epic baked apple pancake. Pillowy soft and steaming like cinnamon-infused molten magma, this behemoth of a sugar bomb was really more than any one person should consume alone... but it was exactly the kind of thing that would keep you warm long after you left the pancake house.

This morning, we awoke to the season's first snowfall... a good 2-inch blanket of serenity covering everything. While nowhere near the cold of a real midwest winter, the snow left me craving some baked apple pancakes. There are dozens of ways to make apple pancakes, but I didn't feel like going with an actual recipe. I wanted something simpler, faster, and with no measuring required.

So here's what I came up with: I took buttered two mini cast-iron casseroles (large ramekins would work as well...) and filled them each half way with pancake batter (your favorite batter recipe will work fine without modification... a good pancake mix will work as well). I then added a few slices of apple and topped the batter with a mix of sliced almonds, a sprinkling of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a few small bits of cold butter. Into the toaster oven set at 325 degrees F for 25 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean.

Lightly sweet, crusty on top and fluffy in the middle... just the thing for a cold snowy morning.

the simplicity of baked eggs

2008-12-07T21:36:00.000-08:00

Today was a lazy Sunday morning, with a thick layer of clouds hovering over all of Seattle promising rain showers throughout the day. I woke up in the mood to eat souffle, but not in the mood to put in the effort required. Dragging myself downstairs, I rummaged through the refrigerator and didn't find a whole lot to work with either... just some free-range eggs, parmesan cheese, bacon and two english muffins.

But that would prove to be just enough.

We have these tiny ramekins that hold maybe 1/3 of a cup of liquid. I started by beating an egg with a bit of cream, a good little heap of shaved parmesan, salt and pepper, and poured the mixture equally into two buttered ramekins. I then cracked an egg into each ramekin, drizzled just a bit of olive oil on top of each, and placed them in the toaster oven at 400 degrees for 6-7 minutes.

The result is a rich, satisfying breakfast that takes practically no effort. The egg and cheese custard fuses with the egg white as it cooks and sets, surrounding the yolk and keeping it warm and liquidy. Meanwhile, the olive oil and cheese help the top develop a nice golden crust.

With some good jam, a hot cup of coffee and the Sunday paper, I was left wondering why I don't bake eggs more often...

foodbuzz 24, 24, 24: a special meal of thanks

2008-11-30T14:21:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is such a fantastic time of year---getting together with friends and family and reflecting on the many things we're thankful for. Like most folks, usually we eat until we've expanded our waists a few inches, sit on the couch for a few hours, and get back up to eat more.

This year, I wanted to do something a little different... to give thanks for what we have through our actions as well as our words. With so many food banks in need of support at this time of year (particularly given the current economic situation), Lav and I thought we would throw a small dinner party to raise some money for Northwest Harvest, a state-wide hunger relief agency here in Washington that supplies 18 million pounds of food annually to almost 300 partner food banks and meal programs.

The idea would be simple. We'd invite eight friends over for a formal dinner. Each person would make a contribution directly to Northwest Harvest in exchange for a five course thanksgiving meal, prepared and served by us. By doing this, the simple act of eating would be raising some much needed funds for a good cause.

We were lucky enough to have our idea selected as part of Foodbuzz.com's "24 Meals, 24 Hours, 24 Blogs" event this month. Our hope is that other folks out there who also enjoy cooking and hosting dinner parties might be interested in doing something similar in their own homes.

The evening started off with a few aperitifs---a "holiday spice" martini and sparkling wine scented with rosemary---with Paul serving as our visiting volunteer mixologist/server.

Rather than serving a traditional "thanksgiving" meal, we created a menu based on some of our favorite dishes this past year and dishes that would be seasonally appropriate, given what we were able to find at the Ballard farmers market. I'm also taking part in Urban Hennery's Dark Days Eat Local Challenge, so we wanted to try to make the meal with at least 90% local ingredients.

the menu
shaved fennel salad, apple, beet, parmesan, crouton
romanesco cauliflower, bagna càuda
riccioli, parsley pesto broth, totten inlet mussels
18-hour braised short rib, parsnip, jerusalem artichoke, chanterelle, sage
chocolate cake, molly moon vivace, lace cookie

For the first course, we wanted to start with something light and refreshing. We shaved a bulb of fennel and a few stalks of celery almost paper then, dressing them in a white balsamic vinaigrette. For a lightly sweet counterpoint, we added added matchsticks of fuji apple and thin slices of roasted beets. We then topped it off with shards of parmiggiano reggiano (a non-local, imported ingredient).

I wanted to add something decadent and rich to bridge the diners to the next courses, which would be much more robust and dense in flavor, so we added a toast point with caramelized shallot, bacon, swiss chard and gruyere... topped with a fried quail egg. Just a small bite of crunchy richness for a chilly evening.

The second course of roasted romanesco cauliflower was based on a delicious dish we had at Spinasse here in Seattle. The romanesco cauliflower itself is a sight to behold... you can get lost staring into its fractal patterns. I'm not sure why these fascinating vegetables aren't more popular in our everyday supermarkets.

It took me a little searching to finally locate the romanesco cauliflower (thanks to PCC markets, sourced from a local farm less than 30 miles away), but it was well worth it. We sliced it into wedges and pan-roasted them in a cast iron skillet with some olive oil, salt and pepper until the exterior was nicely caramelized and the interior was just a bit tender.

Earlier in the day, I made the bagna càuda by putting 8 tablespoons of olive oil in a small pot over very low heat. Into that, I added three anchovy filets and 4 cloves of garlic, sliced. As the olive oil slowly heated, the anchovy could be broken up and eventually dissolved into the oil while the garlic softened and permeated the oil with its flavor. Lastly, I added a few healthy pinches of red pepper flakes for a light heat. Once the romanesco cauliflower was cooked, we plated it with some toasted pine nuts and drizzled the bagna càuda all over it. The cauliflower gets a fantastic nutty flavor from the roasting, which matches well with the anchovy-garlic seasoning of the oil.

The third course is a riff on Union's spectacular cavatelli and mussels in a parsley pesto broth. Using the same parsley pesto recipe that I blogged about earlier, we had these fantastic fresh-made riccioli from the farmer's market and insanely fresh, plump Totten inlet mediterranean mussels from Taylor Shellfish.

I can't ever get tired of braised short ribs. This particular dish was special for a couple of reasons. First, we went with the 18-hour slow braising method (trying to keep a constant temperature of no more than 68 degrees C), which creates a meltingly tender texture without overcooking the meat. Second, we sourced the short ribs from two amazing local providers: Skagit River Ranch and Olsen Farms, whose cattle are grass-fed and pasture raised.

To finish, we made a simple chocolate cake and matched it with an almond lace cookie and my absolute favorite coffee ice cream: Molly Moon's Vivace Coffee (a local artisan ice cream shop in Wallingford).

But enough about all this food. The more important thing is that we were able to raise $860 for Northwest Harvest (after factoring in corporate matching and some Foodbuzz funds). Not a bad way to spend an evening!

A special thanks goes out to Leo Chen, an incredible photographer who volunteered his services for the night to take these beautiful pictures. His perspective and images tell the story of the evening in a way that my words simply cannot.

If you find this idea interesting and would like to learn more, please check out our separate blog for this ongoing project, fishes+loaves. There, you can find out more about the theory behind the project and see some pictures from a previous meal that took place earlier in November. This was our second attempt at this kind of a meal, and there will be more to come. If you'd like to get involved with a similarly structured meal for charity, we'd love to hear from you!

parsley pesto broth

2008-11-20T23:48:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled upon the Dark Days Challenge from Urban Hennery. Basically, the challenge unites a bunch of bloggers in an effort to cook at least one meal a week featuring 90% local ingredients. And each week, a recap is done of the ideas and creations from participating bloggers. What an awesome idea.

So here's my first submission; a fairly simple dish where everything except the olive oil and pecorino romano was sourced from the Puget Sound... even the dried pasta was locally produced (from Papparadelle's in Pike Place).

One of our favorite places for a late night meal in Seattle is Union downtown. The bar serves a terrific menu after 10 pm, the cocktails are carefully and expertly crafted, and the prices are absolutely fantastic for the quality of the food.

Among my favorite Ethan Stowell dishes is any pasta he makes with his parsley pesto broth, often paired with pristine mussels. Most recently, we tried a preparation with cavatelli that was outrageously good...

So tonight, I made a first attempt at replicating the dish at home. I followed a standard pesto recipe, but substituted the basil with parsley leaves and used grated pecorino romano rather than parmigiano reggiano for its more assertive flavor and saltiness.

The best part of Stowell's parsley pesto broth is its dilution. Rather than dressing his pasta with straight pesto, he dilutes it (either with broth or cooking liquid from the pasta) to make a much thinner consistency. The flavor still envelopes the pasta, but you get a beautifully green lingering broth that oozes out, robust and packed with flavor, keeping the pasta from getting clumpy or greasy from the pesto.

parsley pesto

1 large bunch flat leaf parsley (roughly 4 cups of leaves)
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup pine nuts
2 large garlic cloves
1/2 cup freshly grated pecorino romano
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Combine first 4 ingredients in blender, discarding the parsley stems. Blend until paste forms, stopping often to push down the parsley. Add pecorino romano and salt; blend until smooth. Transfer to small bowl.

pasta and mussels in a parsley pesto broth

2 servings of dried pasta (cavatelli and orichiette work very well)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 lb. large mussels (roughly 8-10, rinsed and debearded)
1/2 small onion, finely diced
1 strip of bacon, diced (optional)
1/4 cup white wine
2 tablespoons of parsley pesto

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente.

While the pasta is cooking: In a saute pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add onions and gently saute until translucent. Add bacon and continue to cook until the bacon is crisp. Add mussels and toss to coat. Deglaze the pan with wine and put lid over pan. Cook until the mussels have steamed and opened, approx. 2 minutes.

Once the mussels have opened, remove them from the pan. Add parsley pesto to the pan and heat to loosen the pesto and incorporate the broth in the saute pan. Add pasta to the sauce and toss to coat, adding pasta cooking liquid to the pan to further
loosen the pesto as needed, until the pesto has a viscous, soupy consistency (like potato leek soup). Add mussels back to the pan and toss again to coat. Remove from heat and serve.

Serves 2 people.

quick and easy chocolate cake

2008-11-09T09:26:00.000-08:00

I woke up yesterday morning to a fleeting beam of sunlight that was overcome by gray clouds of intermittent rain, and the first thought to enter my head was how fantastic it would be to have chocolate cake... for breakfast. Lav quickly concurred.

As luck would have it, while scrolling through some Associated Press news headlines on my iPhone (still in that mental fog between sleep and full consciousness), an article popped up with what may be the easiest chocolate cake recipe I've ever seen. Now I'm not much of a baker--that's more Lav's domain, given my lack of that all-important combination of precision and patience--but this seemed absolutely foolproof... and from an authority like Francois Payard, no less.

Sure enough, less than an hour later we were enjoying a proper breakfast of moist, rich chocolate cake and coffee.

CHARLIE'S AFTERNOON CHOCOLATE CAKE
from Francois Payard's "Chocolate Epiphany," 2008

Start to finish: 35 minutes (15 minutes active)

Servings: 8 to 10

baking spray (cooking spray blend of oil and flour)
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
8 ounces 60 percent cacao chocolate, chopped
2 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
3/4 cup all-purpose flour

Place a rack at the center of the oven. Heat the oven to 350 F. Use the baking spray to coat the sides and bottom of a 9-inch round springform pan.

In a small saucepan over medium-high, bring the butter to a boil, stirring several times to prevent it from burning. Remove the pan from the heat and add the chocolate, stirring until melted and smooth. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar. Add the flour and mix well. Add the chocolate and butter mixture, then mix only until just combined. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan.

Bake the cake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 300 F and bake for an additional 8 minutes. Remove the cake from the oven and let cool completely in the pan. Unmold and serve.

the magic of spinasse

2008-11-08T11:48:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine at work constantly laments over the lack of good italian restaurants in the Seattle area. And I was inclined to agree--until our dinner last night at Justin Neidermeyer's gem of a trattoria, Spinasse.

Economic uncertainty may be slowing down restaurant traffic, but you wouldn't know it by the bustle of euphoric diners in the confines of the cozy dining space--perfect for a typically rainy fall evening in Seattle.

(Pardon the crude mobile phone pictures... I've decided to avoid bringing a camera when dining out... it's just too obtrusive). Once you're seated and salivating over the menu's rustic offerings, you're provided with a few tiny bruschetta (this night, we had one with marinated chanterelles and another with rabbit liver pate and balsamico) whose robust flavors emerge from the simplicity of the approach... foreshadowing the meal to come.

We opted for a four course meal, comprised of two antipasti, a primo and a secondi... not realizing how much food we were ordering.

Our first antipasti was a chicory salad with poached rabbit, porcini mushrooms and parmesan... a beautiful dish. The slightly bitter edge of the chicory balanced perfectly with the simply seasoned rabbit, the almost sweet porcini and the rich parmesan shavings, drizzled with just a touch of balsamico to tie it all together. The second antipasti was the special of the night: roasted romanesco cauliflower with bagna couda, the classic piemontese accompaniment made of crushed anchovies, garlic, olive oil and sometimes chili peppers... a soulful, robust addition to the caramelized goodness of the cauliflower. The dish was showered with shavings of local black truffles as well, but truffles from the northwest tend to have an incredibly mild, faint flavor--here, they afforded just the faintest whiff of musky richness to the dish.

Ah... then the pasta. There was no doubt on what to order here: the tajarin with a ragu of pork, beef and veal. The first time I ever had hand-shaven tajarin was at Perbacco in San Francisco--their insanely delicious rendition is served with a velvety-rich five-hour pork sugo. One bite and you'll be forever addicted. Spinasse's tajarin is fantastic in a simpler way. Phenomenal pasta texture--impossibly thin and delicate, but with enough structural integrity so you can sense every strand in each mouthful--with a ragu that aims only to be the most unobtrusive of accompaniments, adding flavor only as an accent to turn attention back to the pasta. I could eat this endlessly.

Our final course was the pan roasted quail with lentils and kale. Sadly, our appetites had already hit the wall by the end of the generous portion of tajarin... the moist quail was dressed perfectly with the pan jus over the earthly lentils and kale... but we barely made a dent before we had to call it quits. No loss--just a great lunch for today.

Justin Neidermeyer is a magician with pasta... He easily deserves all of the accolades and recognition for his abilities as a pastaiolo. But even more, he deserves enormous thanks for creating the heart of simple, amazing italian food in Seattle. He's put together a restaurant whose food deeply satisfies from beginning to end. Service was the right combination of casual, friendly and professional, and the atmosphere of the space strikes just the right vibe for a sense of shared experience. We'll be back. Often.

fishes and loaves

2008-11-03T18:43:00.000-08:00

Some cross promotion--I'm trying something new here. Check out the new blog I'm starting. Lots more detail on the way.

the best cupcakes ever

2008-10-29T21:45:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, we got the November edition of Seattle Magazine in the mail. The cover article? "Best Desserts: Where to find the 95 richest cakes, creamiest pies and most decadent desserts for every craving"... accompanied by a simple picture of three of Trophy's gorgeous Chocolate Graham Cracker with Toasted Marshmallow cupcakes...

Now there's a lot to like about Trophy. They make a mighty fine cupcake--a clear cut above the other cupcake bakeries in the Seattle area--good enough to wow Martha Stewart... a local business we can be proud of.

But Martha hasn't had a chance to taste the decadent chocolate cupcakes from the greatest cupcake maker I've ever encountered.

For Lav's birthday, I got two dozen of her all-time favorite cupcakes, half with vanilla buttercream frosting and the other half with raspberry buttercream. Phenomenal chocolate flavor, unbelievably moist and tender... and topped by decadent frosting. The vanilla buttercream used to be my favorite, but the purity of the all natural raspberry puree flavor in the raspberry buttercream was insanely good. These cupcakes are really without match, surpassing even Trophy's version of the chocolate cupcake. Don't worry, we didn't eat them all by ourselves--although we probably could have made a significant dent on our own.

Where can you get these cupcakes? Well, it's pretty much an underground operation for now, but if you're in the Seattle area, you can always try your luck at topsecretcupcakes@gmail.com. Maybe for next year's dessert issue, Seattle Magazine can get the scoop on this one...

more signs of fall

2008-10-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

Not that it hasn't been pretty apparent already, but this week it really sunk in that the fall season has fully arrived. Leaves are changing color all over the place and there's a new, denser quality to the chill in the air. Now, on a clear day like today, there isn't quite the same warmth to the sunshine... plumes of steam shoot out of the side of our house as we run the dryer, and it gets harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning.

But with the onset of this cooler season, I'm looking forward to the return of slow roasting and braising, the use of a richer palate of flavors and textures, and the pairing of dense, brooding wines.

Lav picked up some cranberry beans from the market recently, which I've never worked with before. Even fresh, it takes a good 15-20 minutes to boil these beans down to a tender, creamy consistency, unveiling their slightly sweet, slightly nutty flavor. What struck me most was the stunning colors of the pods and the beans themselves.

Like an explosion of fall foliage... maybe less sun, maybe a bit chillier, but lots to look forward to.

a bookmark of sorts

2008-10-15T18:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you get an idea, but it's only half-baked... Here's something I made near the end of the summer that I want to revisit and refine at some point. It was an experiment of sorts that had a bunch of different flavors and textures.

So what's going on here? The base of this dish is a savory broth made of late harvested sweet corn. There are chunks of roasted beets for a complementary, parallel sweetness... roasted bell peppers for some earthiness, blistered green beans for smoky flavor and crisp texture, chunks of potato for body, cherry tomatoes for brightness and acidity... all topped with a poached egg for added richness.

On the one hand, there's probably some discordance here on account of the number of disparate characteristics... but I do think we got pretty close to wrangling everything together into a cohesive dish. Again, only a half-baked idea... but there's some potential. If nothing else, it's a nice memory of the last days of summer.

changing seasons

2008-10-14T22:42:00.000-07:00

Wow, it has been a while since I last blogged... so long that I'm totally out of rhythm with the whole thing. I missed all of August and September, mostly because we had people visiting, we were out of town, or we were just too busy enjoying our fleeting days of perfect summer weather. Lots of great food during that span... just no real time to hit the blog.

Now all of a sudden, fall has definitely arrived... the sun sets WAY earlier and temperatures have dropped a good 30 degrees... so I'm back to blogging. And there have been some other "changes of the season"... like the arrival of J and N's new superstar (who looks like a wise philosopher):

We had a chance to have a simple dinner with J and N about a week before the big day, and J made us some of his amazing pizzas. He started by superheating an iron skillet on the stove on high while waiting for the broiler to heat up.

Once smoking, the skillet is inverted and the homemade pizza dough was placed, with toppings, onto the skillet and set under the broiler for 2-3 minutes... the resulting pizzas were blistered, lightly crisp, slightly chewy, and utterly fantastic.

So then we gave J & N a little break after they had their baby boy... but less than two weeks later, we got to share a dinner together. The menu was set up specifically for N (she deserved it after all that work)... meaning no tomatoes, mushrooms or cucumbers. Instead, we went with a roasted beet salad with goat cheese and kabocha squash risotto with bacon and sauteed dandelion greens. But truth be told, I think N was more into the little appetizer of hand cut fries (a modified method I'm testing) and the slice of Lav's pear-almond tart (with an accompanying glass of tawny port for J).

I gotta say, I'm impressed that these two had the energy to get together for dinner so soon after their son's birth... and it's a real blessing to share these moments with them.

N, any time you want fries, just give a holler.

Perfect peas and some fishy ideas

2008-07-31T18:29:00.001-07:00

Occasionally, you have one of those days that's so blindingly average and mundane that you're left desperately seeking some kind of creative, interesting outlet to salvage the day. Tuesday was one of those days.

Lav bought some fantastic looking peas and had an idea for a salad of roasted beets, sweet raw peas, caramelized sweet onion, and green beans. The inky red juice of the beets bled into everything, making a wonderfully unified salad permeated with the natural sweetness of each ingredient.

She also had some sashimi-grade bluefin toro and a filet of Alaskan black cod, but wanted me to do something different with them. With the toro, less is more... you don't want to mask the unctuously rich flavor from its perfectly matched, meltingly tender texture. One of the things that seems to be getting more popular at sushi places these days is to lightly torch the top layer of the fish to extract some of the oils and intensify the intrinsic flavor of the fish... not to make it "fishy", per se, but to ensure that the fish actually tastes like something... like itself. That's the point, after all, right? Here, the aroma of the tuna was definitely heightened by the technique, while retaining most of the best qualities of being raw... much better than doing a quick pan sear, which tends to really overcook the fish.

For the black cod, I stole an idea from an episode of After Hours, which featured Michael Cimarusti of Providence in Los Angeles. Chef Cimarusti served a dish of raw Australian lobster in a lightly sweet broth scented primarily with purple shiso. I can only imagine how magical that pairing was, with the herbaceous scent of the shiso wafting ever so lightly as a backdrop to the sweet flesh of the lobster. Here, I adapted the concept for the black cod. We slowly reduced two cups of sake, infusing it with regular shiso (from our garden) and ginger. I thought the sake would be sweet enough on its own, but to ease up the impact of the lightly residual alcohol, we also added a few small dice of the roasted red beet. This resulted in a more complex dimension for the light sweetness of the broth and also made the flavors a bit rounder... ginger, shiso and sake each have their own slightly harsh edge.

The black cod was pan seared in browned butter, constantly basted as the sear was developing with the butter (just like we observed at Le Pigeon). This was served atop melted kale and a lightly cooked radish. To complete the dish, I poured the broth of sake, ginger, shiso and beet into the dish. It's been a while since a new effort like this has resulted in a really fantastic composition. The colors were vibrant, the flavors paired beautifully (ultra rich, buttery flavor to the cod, lightly contrasted and enhanced by the flavors of the broth). The one major edit that needed to be made was the radish, which hadn't been cooked long enough to get rid of its natural earthy funk.

In the end though, it was a pretty way to salvage an otherwise unremarkable day.

my wordle

2008-07-18T17:20:00.000-07:00

this is kind of cool...

My "word cloud" from wordle, showing which terms are more prominent in my blog. I suppose sushi and fish are often on my mind...

The sustainability of ocean life

2008-07-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

Two recent experiences at restaurants served as good reminders of the need to stay aware of our impact on the environment, whether direct or as a secondary effect.

While in Vancouver a couple of weeks ago, we stopped by Rodney's in Yaletown for some afternoon oysters only to find that the oyster happy hour had been temporarily suspended due to major production issues at oyster farms all along the Pacific Northwest. A few days later, while having sushi at Miyabi, Masa commented on the declining availability of good bluefin tuna -- which we've already generally stopped ordering in favor of other options -- due to overconsumption (and the declining value of the dollar).

Here are a couple of recent articles that talk about both issues:

A warning from the sea: Oyster 'seeds' are dying as Pacific Coast waters grow warmer

EU to ban Med bluefin tuna fishing

Here's to being mindful of the enormous impact of our ever-growing patterns of consumption (and over-consumption)...

small bites: watermelon and pickled daikon

2008-07-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

Summer is finally here up in Seattle, and we've just had a week of spectacular weather. Even in the small amount of time we've been here, I've adapted a bit to the climate, and now 82 degrees feels sweltering. Which makes me crave watermelon.

When I was a kid visiting my relatives in Taiwan, I noticed that they often salted their fruit, including watermelon. At the time, the concept was really off-putting to me. Why ruin all of that sweet goodness with salt? My family tried to explain that the slight saltiness actually accentuated the sweetness, but I just didn't get it back then.

Fast forward to this weekend, and as I was sitting on our sun-drenched porch, I got to thinking of how I could make a bite of watermelon that would be refreshing, but also have an unexpected flavor... something that could both complement the texture and sweetness of the watermelon while also successfully incorporating a discordant element... We had some japanese pickled daikon in the fridge, which has a good level of sweetness characterized by an underlying savory earthiness. Sliced up and layered with watermelon, with a bit of mint as a final accent, and the two flavors came together nicely for a refreshing bite.

FOUND: Our go-to sushi joint

2008-07-06T23:08:00.000-07:00

From time to time, people will ask us how the transition has been, moving from the Bay Area to Seattle. I have to say that overall, it's been a lot easier than I expected. Seattle is pretty similar to the Bay Area -- lots of educated folks, a pretty progressive political bent, and a relatively diverse community. Sure, the weather bites in comparison to the Bay Area (and it's actually much more gray than we had expected), but developing our community of friends here has come quickly and we pretty much feel at home... well, except...

1. It's absurdly difficult to find good Chinese food here.

2. It's also surprisingly difficult to find great sushi.

So far, for our Chinese fix, we usually end up at a joint like the Northwest Tofu House, Fu Man or Jack's, or we make the drive up to Richmond, B.C.

The sushi conundrum has been more difficult. As I've heard other California transplants complain, amazing fish should be so much more readily available here, yet the quality overall tends to be somewhat disappointing and the prices are astronomically high (compared to the Bay Area). And you'd think there would be an abundant selection of fantastic sushi places... and we've been looking for 16 months for an adequate surrogate for our favorite place back in Berkeley, Sushi Sho.

I tried Shiro on my first trip here. Solid quality, but nothing particularly notable. No spark.

Nishino: Great fish, but really high prices and too large of a restaurant to feel a personal connection (although Moro-san was really nice).

Saito: People love this place, but it just wasn't for me. I was incredibly disappointed by the omakase.

I Love Sushi: Not sure why people are so devoted to this place.

Sushiland: Yeah, getting desperate... although surprisingly decent quality fish for the money.

Chiso: Promising, but I didn't like the texture of their rice.

Mashiko: Probably my favorite of this bunch. Great fish, good servers, very well made sushi... but way too many options on their non-sushi menu and surprisingly expensive.

Then we went deep into the cultural abyss that is Southcenter Mall and tried Miyabi. If this restaurant was located anywhere else, I might be tempted to keep it all to myself. But I already know the fact the restaurant is in Tukwila will keep it from ever getting flooded by Seattle-ites. Miyabi is a gem tucked away in a bit of a strip mall (shared by Bai Tong, our go-to Thai restaurant in the area) across from Magnolia Hi-Fi.

What you'll find when you go inside is a small-ish, nicely designed restaurant with a sushi counter in the back manned by Masa, one of the more interesting and engaging sushi chefs we've interacted with... a total character. Superb fish, if you know what to look for and how to ask for it, and a laid back setting that can get a little festive when the sake and beer are flowing... not so much that it distracts from the food, but enough to keep the place from being too serious. Amaebi that's thrashing around before being swiftly dispatched and placed onto its throne of rice... deliciously unctuous albacore... superb saba (briefly torched to extract the rich oils and make the fish meltingly tender)... and a sushi chef who knows exactly what condition his ingredients are in. Tonight we had a magical nigiri with uni, ika and ikura combined... I've never seen such a combination before, but it was simply a perfect marriage of flavors to balance out the stronger taste of the uni during this time of year. A real treasure, Miyabi's the kind of place where you're already planning your next visit the moment you step out the door.

Hands down, our favorite sushi place so far in Seattle. Oh wait, I mean, Tukwila.

Fourth of July weekend... and crazy good mussels

2008-07-06T22:17:00.000-07:00

It's been pretty busy around here and I'm behind on a couple of important posts, like dinner opening night at the Corson Building and our terrific 4 day trip to Vancouver... but for now, just a couple of quick thoughts on this holiday weekend.

La Verne's parents were back in town for just a day and a half on their way back from a trip to the Canadian Rockies. It being the 4th of July, there was going to be some barbecuing going on... but to keep things from being too heavy, Lav made a terrific sashimi salad to go with our spicy salt and pepper grilled shrimp (shells and heads on for added flavor), kalbi-marinated shortribs, and copper river salmon... all before heading out to Lake Union for the always killer fireworks show.

The next day, we took an impromptu trip out to Whidbey Island, a relaxing haven for tasting wine, cruising through quaint town centers, and enjoying a slower pace than life in the city.

We stopped by Holmes Harbor Cellars, a promising new winery making powerfully extracted wines, which was having its inaugural open house. Affable winemaker Greg Martinez, a former Navy officer, is literally making wine out of his "garage" -- a nicely designed building next to his house -- using grapes sourced from Walla Walla. Definitely worth a visit.

Greg's father in-law, who was helping with the tasting bar, pointed us to Coupeville several miles to the north and recommended the steamed mussels and burger at his favorite tavern, Toby's.

Lav and I are big fans of Penn Cove mussels because of their sweet, clean flavor. As it turns out, Coupeville is adjacent to Penn Cove, and Toby's gets deliveries of Penn Cove mussels straight from the source.

Toby's is a great old tavern, full of character and history, although the real drinkers have probably dwindled away. Great beer, cool staff, and seriously some of the absolute best mussels I've ever had... whether at fancy restaurants or seafood shacks. Unbelievably fresh and simply steamed with chardonnay and basil. Probably worth the trip for the mussels alone; I'm an instant fan.

Just another reminder of how many amazing things there are to discover here in the Puget Sound.

I'm healthy... no wait, I'm not

2008-06-18T21:15:00.000-07:00

Somehow, EG convinced me to train for the Kirkland Sprint Triathalon in September, so I'm just starting to take some steps toward getting back in shape... doing a little swimming, running, and even some cycling. That's right; over the weekend, Lav and I got bicycles -- something I thought would never happen -- so we did a little apres work bike ride to whet our appetites for dinner. Pretty healthy huh?

Until we got back. Somehow, we decided that the theme for our quick meal should be, of all things, bar food. Yeah, great for endurance training.

So I eyeballed some Campari, vermouth and gin and made a surprisingly balanced Negroni... the first I've ever made for myself that I've liked. Of course, I have no idea what proportions I used to strike that elusive balance (I'm not a fan of the classic 1:1:1 ratio). That went nicely with some fried coconut-crusted prawns (with a sweet chili sauce) and homemade potato chips with truffled salt.

Luckily, we rounded out the meal with one of Lav's awesome salads. Huge chunks of creamy, ripe avocado, sweet and crunchy sugar snap peas, lots of tomatoes... really good stuff.

If I keep this up, the triathalon is going to wreck me.

death to kabocha

2008-06-17T23:06:00.000-07:00

I really dig this picture... it's Lav slicing up some kabocha squash for a hot pot dinner we had with my mom and sister a couple of weekends ago. There's something about the way the light is blowing out the exposure with the glare off the cutting board contrasting against the dark green of the kabocha squash skin... and the sinister looking position of the steel knife, waiting to make the next incision... it's just a natural moment that seems oddly tense and surreal to me.

We don't have any nifty photo editing software... just the "Paint" application that comes with Windows. So it's nice when the photo comes out without manipulation.

The Corson Building's big day

2008-06-07T23:41:00.000-07:00

The day has finally arrived. The Corson Building had its first dinner service tonight to a private gathering, with none other than Anthony Bourdain as one of the guests. We stopped by to try and get a peek of the action, but no luck. The official opening should be within a week.

In the meantime, we had another spectacular meal at a restaurant I treasure too much to take a camera inside. But here's what we ate:

spot prawns with sea beans, dates and farro

wagyu tongue, fiddleheads, provolone

tagliatelle with natural morels, english peas, turada

grilled yellowfin tuna, fennel, olives, lemon

spicy broccoli with marcona almonds

harukei turnips with pancetta and sara

guinea fowl roasted with porcini, pine nuts and parsley

duck egg with duck ham and mustard greens

orange crepes with sauteed dates
It is impossible to have anything but a fantastic meal here. And the superb staff make it just that much more enjoyable.

Battle Pupusa... the truck wins!

2008-06-04T18:28:00.000-07:00

The first time I ate a pupusa was when our landscaper/friend Oscar came over for a party at my family's house back in Alameda in 1999. We were throwing a barbeque and Oscar brought a huge batch of his girlfriend's fantastic homemade pupusas, showing us and our guests how to prepare it with just the right amount of tart cabbage slaw and salsa. Gutsy and satisfying, the flavors were familiar but the context was new. It was my first taste of Salvadoran food and I was hooked...

Fast forward to 2007 and I've moved to Seattle, where tiny pockets of culinary possibility are everywhere... many in the form of roving taco trucks. But in this case, I'm talking about a taco truck that serves crazy good pupusas, parked on the front lawn of the owner's house, no less! Ever since I read this bit out of the Seattle Weekly by J. Kaufmann (a true taco truck bandit whose reviews I used to follow back in his days at the East Bay Express) I've been wanting to try Maria's.

But first, a momentary detour to the Salvadoran Bakery in White Center, which consistently gets impressive marks on Yelp for its pupusas, tamales and baked goods. People go absolutely crazy over their tres leches cake: layers of sponge cake soaked in three types of milk (one of which is sweetened condensed milk).

The pupusas were pretty good... fried to order and pretty sizeable -- like 4 inches in diameter. But they were missing something... they weren't quite crispy enough on the exterior and the filling didn't really strike a chord. As for the tres leches cake... it just wasn't my thing. Super sugary and super soggy. In fact, all of our treats at the Salvadoran Bakery were missing one thing: texture.

In contrast, texture is the best part of the pupusas at Maria's. Sure, the filling of tender seasoned pork, deliciously unctuous beans and melting cheese is pretty fantastic; the slaw has a great fresh crunch with just enough piquancy; and the salsa comes in whatever gradient of spiciness you want.

But the thing that makes Maria's pupusas so crushingly delicious is their magical texture. The fried exterior is crispy and slightly chewy at the same time; the interior is pillowy soft, marrying perfectly with the filling. An inspiring union of flavor and texture... for $2 each, made to order, piping hot, and served with an engaging combination of warmth and pride. Total euphoria. I don't claim to be an expert in Salvadoran food, but it's hard to imagine a pupusa being any more delicious.

Winner: Maria's, by a long shot. How awesome that it's only a couple of miles away.

Tacos Patzcuaro (Maria's)
8303 Martin Luther King Jr. Way S.
Seattle, WA

soup dumpling magic

2008-06-02T17:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I really should know better.

A month ago, some friends and I went on the prowl for soup dumplings near the office, having caught word that a Shanghainese restaurant near I-90 had a terrific rendition of xiao long bao. For some reason, I ignored that voice in my head telling me that great soup dumplings (along with great dim sum) simply don't exist in the Seattle area. I really should have listened to that inner voice. I won't mention the venue we visited (I don't like posting negative reviews)... suffice it to say that instead of delicate dumplings filled with explosive broth, we had mass-produced, frozen, gummy/chewy nuggests of disappointment which ultimately sent two in our group home ill for the day.

Yes, such exploits are best reserved for Vancouver... or more specifically, Richmond, our own little culinary mecca of Chinese food to the north. For that purpose (and really that purpose only), we hopped in the car and happily drove 150 miles, pulling into a nondescript strip mall for what we'd heard were some of the best soup dumplings in all of the greater Vancouver area. Destination: Chen's Shanghai.

Within 30 seconds of being seated, I knew we were in for a treat. Through a window into the left side of the kitchen, we watched as a woman deftly formed and rolled out handmade dumpling wrappers, one after another, with nothing more than the dough, a weathered wooden dowel, a rolling pin and an experienced touch.

This hand crafted care translates directly into the resulting xiao long bao. Unlike lesser versions, the dumpling skin is both resilient enough to hold the broth without disintegrating (no cabbage lining the bottom of the steamer here) while simultaneously being delicate enough to practically melt away in your mouth upon your first bite. The broth is clean and pure, bursting (literally) with glorious seasoned pork flavor... but not at all heavy. Amazing. Our eyes are bugging out as we have half a dozen each.

These may very well be the best I've ever had... certainly the most extraordinary dumpling wrapper I've ever consumed for xiao long bao. All served in the most ordinary of restaurant settings, with a customer base full of regulars who know the owner and a staff that still warmly welcomes first timers. They know how good their dumplings are, and their happy to watch people experience it for themselves.

They say that Shanghai Wonderful, around the corner, has xiao long bao that can go head to head with the ones here. We'll head there next time and find out if that's possible.

Have I mentioned how much I love Vancouver and Richmond?

Chen’s Shanghai
8095 Park Road
Richmond
604-304-8288

phenomenal ramen... in charcoal

2008-05-28T23:22:00.000-07:00

There are certain foods that warrant a life-long search for perfection. The ultimate pain au chocolat... opulent, pristine sushi... a life-changing burger... freshly made ramen...

That's right, ramen. I'm not talking about the instant stuff (although there is a place for that too; thank you Momofuku Ando). No, I'm talking about fresh, hand made ramen, epitomizing everything that is good about noodles (and pasta in general). Silken exterior, slightly toothsome texture, in any one of a variety of carefully slow cooked, flavor packed natural broths. The subject of one of my favorite movies of all time and the inspiration of fanatics around the world... you can have the best bowl of ramen in your life and it only makes you want to keep searching even harder for the next bowl that might just top it.

Being in Seattle, our standby ramen house is Samurai Noodle. Great noodles, super rich tonkotsu broth (if a bit on the salty side) and a great little space where devotees can concentrate on slurping rather than chatting. But Vancouver has always been reliably dominant for asian food, so we figured we'd make ramen part of our quest on our day trip this weekend.

The undisputed king of ramen in Vancouver is Daiji Matsubara, who runs the always jam-packed Kintaro Ramen and the more forward-thinking Motomachi Shokudo, both just steps away from each another on Denman. Motomachi uses a chicken broth, rather than the much richer and more intense pork broth typical of ramen joints, balanced by just a bit of fish broth. But the restaurant is most known for its signature ramen in a broth of bamboo charcoal.

Intensely dark, like squid ink, the flavor of the broth is striking. Packed with complex flavors--rich chicken broth, bamboo, light smoke--the broth's medium body also keeps it from weighing you down. But to make sure you don't miss the richness of pork broth, the bowl includes the most decadent slice of simmered pork ever... meltingly tender, unreal, magnificent. And the noodle texture was simply amazing. Totally balanced, giving the most pleasing mouthfeel... the best I've had. A master is at work here.

But did I really just eat charcoal? What gives? Well, charcoal powder is apparently used in some traditional dishes from Kyoto and is thought to be a healthy ingredient that can absorb toxins and aid in digestion (due to the many small pores and cavities in each particle). Kinda sounds like you're turning yourself into a Brita filter to me, but hey, the flavor definitely works. Come to think of it, I felt great after the meal and pretty energetic for the rest of the weekend... maybe there's something to this after all...

Motomachi Shokudo
740 Denman St.
Vancouver
604-609-0310

For my vegetarian friends, especially the ones who eat bacon

2008-05-20T17:13:00.000-07:00

Back in high school, I was a vegetarian for precisely 2 1/2 months. It was for ethical reasons, and I still harbor some connection to that general ethos... somewhere under countless layers of primordial carnivorousness. I've commented in the past about my personal belief in the ethical superiority of vegetarians--a conviction that, though strong, has not yet resulted in any major transformative impact in my own eating habits.

Recently, I came across a great article in Slate about one man's personal vegetarian perspective, and it instandly made me think of a very specific Seattle-based vegetarian couple (you know who you are). These poor friends are periodically tormented by me as I exploit their deep-rooted, still smoldering love of bacon (in a mostly joking manner)... so much so that one of my new year's resolutions was to stop tempting them with any form of cured pork belly goodness (notwithstanding the fact that copious quantities of beef jerky are now being consumed by the pregnant half of this couple).

And so I offer you, my bacon-loving vegetarian friends (I'm specifically thinking of another such afflicted individual in San Francisco) an homage to your credo with some actual, straight up, pure vegetable goodness from some recent meals at home...

Wok-charred broccoli with garlic and olive oil
Sweet and nutty, with wafts of fragrant garlic

Dim sum style chinese broccoli in oyster sauce
Tender and sweet, with savory, velvety notes from the oyster sauce

Sauteed pea shoots with garlic and sesame oil
Fresh, clean and crisp, with just a hint of richness from the oil

Wok-fried long beans with blistered chinese sausage
Wait, this one isn't vegetarian!

Well, three out of four isn't bad. Somehow, the pork product always manages to find its way in...

What I'm excited about...

2008-05-13T17:32:00.000-07:00

The Corson Building. Built in 1910 during a commercial boom in the Georgetown area (created, in part, by the Seattle Brewing Company building). At one point, it was perhaps a home... then it housed the Italian Architectural Art Company, an ornamental cast stone operation.

Fast forward to 2008, and it is soon to be the site of the most anticipated, and maybe most important "culinary resource center" the city has seen. New ideas, new approaches, new contexts... a restaurant, garden, community gastronomic center... and a bee hive? Brought to you by the chef of my absolute favorite restaurant in Seattle... partnering with Emily Crawford (formerly of Boulettes Larder in SF).

I can't wait... another reason Spring can't come quickly enough in Seattle.

The German influence in Chile

2008-05-07T18:34:00.000-07:00

Way behind on my posts... already back in the U.S., but wistfully thinking back to the memories of our trip...

Cruising into Valdivia, a quaint riverfront town with a bustling commercial district on one side and the Universidad Austral de Chile on the other, we encountered a profound dose of the German cultural influence on the city. How so? Well, the remnants of German colonization (from an early 1800's pro-immigration program designed to spark economic development) have left behind distinctly German-style wood frame homes... and there's lots of beer... not much left of the language though...

No, the German influence I'm referring to is the Completo. A symphonic abomination of flavor and texture... all based on the premise of a hot dog.

We stopped by Cafe Hausmann for a lunch of the Completo... hot dog, minced fresh tomato, gobs of rich mayonnaise and an outrageous amount of creamy avocado. It actually tastes much better than it looks (particularly with the great house-made beer), but it'll set you back a notch or two on your fat receptors. Lav's not a hot dog person at all, so this sight made her stomach churn just a bit.

Halfway through our meal, a group of business men came in and filled up the counter, ordering plates with mounds of what appeared to be white bread and a reddish topping. With a few beers, they started going to town on these things... and we noticed that everyone else was having the same thing. So we asked the owner what everyone was having, and if we could try one... which led to one of the more significant gastronomic revelations of the trip. The amazing crudito.

Known to have the best interpretation of this dish, Hausmann's crudito--or beef tartare--is comprised of a slice of white bread with freshly chopped raw chilean beef spread on top with a sprinkling of raw white onion. The owner then gave the beef a healthy hit of salt and pepper and squeezed the juice of a lemon on top. Next, she spread a mild tartar sauce on top and encouraged us to try it with either mustard or chili sauce. Clean tasting and perfectly balanced, with the acidity of the lemon cutting through the richness of the tartar sauce and elevating the fresh flavor of the raw meat... so simple and so very good. Easily one of the best things we ate in Chile. And all the businessmen were psyched that we were eating the crudito as well.

After a meal like that, nothing like finishing with a decadent slice of kuchen, this one from the chic cafe of Entrelagos. Lovin' it.

My new favorite doughnut

2008-04-22T23:22:00.000-07:00

Donuts are glorious treats, a cross-cultural ambassador of cuisine, if you will. Most cultures have some kind of sweet, fried dough, ranging from Taiwanese yo-tiao to Greek loukoumades to French beignets. If I could only have one kind of donut, it would absolutely be a maple bar. Soft and pillowy dough topped with a perfect maple frosting... simplicity in its best expression, and the king of donuts for me. Until now. More on that in a moment.

Earlier, I denigrated airplane food. I'm going to go in the opposite direction and share a surprisingly good meal I had at the airport in Puerto Natales. Keep in mind that this is a tiny airport. Like three gates, one restaurant. It's called "Restaurant." My hopes weren't high, but I wanted to use their wi-fi connection and power outlet, and we had 2 hours to kill before our flight to Puerto Montt, so we ordered some food. I went for the brochette of beef, which turned out to be some kabobs of really nicely grilled beef, hot dog (!!), onion and bell pepper. Again, the meat wasn't seasoned at all, but the quality of the beef came through. Seared nicely, tender, juicy, flavorful... way better than I was expecting.

We ended up that afternoon in Puerto Varas, where I had my first transformative food moment of the trip. We asked the folks at our hostel to point us to a good panaderia, and they sent us to Cafe Dane, a bakery and restaurant a block from the town square. They're rumored to have the best empanadas in town, but I was craving a sweet snack. Though she spoke no English, the proprietor kindly and patiently pointed us to a small shelf of buns, explaining that they were fried, and each one had a different filling. Hey, a donut... they called them Berlins! Crema (sounded good), marmalade (I was afraid it would be too sweet), and dulce de leche... bingo, I'll take the third one.

One bite of the pastry and I was in a different place... the kind of feeling you get when you stop caring about what's happening around you and you stop in your tracks and just stare at the thing you're eating, chewing slowly to extract every moment of the pleasure of flavor enveloping your senses. The dough was luxuriously soft, with only a deliciously faint hint of sweetness. Inside, the filling was straight up dulce de leche with walnuts... but not at all overly sweet. Instead, the rich flavor and texture of caramel was the most prominent. Basic flavors, but fashioned carefully to avoid what could otherwise be an overpowering amount of sweetness. The best "doughnut" I've ever had. I was still thinking about it when I woke up the next morning.

That evening, we had dinner at Las Buenas Brasas, a cozy little restaurant tucked away in one of the side streets in town. The meal started with a killer bowl of sopapillas (deep fried quick breads) that were both crispy and chewy (a bit reminiscent of the bhatura cholla at Vik's, but way smaller and slightly more dense). Next was an outstanding ceviche of shrimp, conger eel and salmon --remarkably fresh and seasoned simply to let the flavor of the seafood hold the spotlight. One of the best things we've eaten in Chile so far.

We also had salmon a la plancha and a chupe with fresh king crab, both of which were fine, but paled in comparison to the ceviche.

I feel like there's so much to eat, but so little time...

The last hope... or is it?

2008-04-21T23:12:00.000-07:00

I'm getting jostled left and right like I'm on an old-fashioned wooden roller coaster. While not quite as intense as yesterday's drive (where I'm sure I lost some brain cells), most of this ride over the unpaved roads is a rhythmic mix of myriad bumps and jarring lurches, shaking the sense out of me. And though I'm exhausted from the day before, this is keeping me from getting some needed sleep.

But I couldn't be happier. We're on our way to Torres Del Paines, and in front of me in every direction is probably the most beautifully dramatic, breathtaking and awe-inspiring place I've ever seen.

Chilean food sometimes gets a bad rap, and I suppose sometimes there is a certain lack of technique... but so far the quality of the ingredients have generally kept us happy. We stopped at a restaurant in the middle of the national park, Parrilla Pehoe, for a light lunch. The retaurant has a spectacular, unobstructed view of the mountains and serves simple, but good food.

Seeing the roaring wood-fired grill, we opted to share a steak, our first venture into the wonderful world of Chilean beef. The steak was perfectly cooked medium-rare with that fantastic wood-smoked aroma and was absolutely flavorful and juicy. I'm not sure if it was just in my mind, but the beef had a more intense flavor while at the same time tasting cleaner. I don't know if that makes sense... the fats and juices from the meat didn't seem to linger on the palate as heavily or for as long. It also didn't seem, though, that they had seasoned the meat at all prior to placing it on the grill. Just a simple step that would have made it a really outstanding steak. As it was, the pure quality of the beef still made it a nice lunch.

That night, we experienced more cooking with great ingredients in need of just a few minor tweaks in cooking style. The restaurant, La Última Esperanza ("the last hope," named after the province containing Puerto Natales and Torres del Paine) has been around for a long time and came highly recommended by our guide books as well as by John, our terrific guide for the day. I tried congria (conger eel), a popular fish in Chile -- fresh, moist and meaty, but overwhelmed by a cream-based sauce. Lav's lamb had great flavor, but certain cuts on her plate would have been better slow-braised; grilling made the meat tough.

While we were disappointed in the meal, in the end I'm still excited by the fact that even in a small town in the off-season, there is a lot of care placed on the quality and freshness of the ingredients.

Sweets and pizza

2008-04-20T23:56:00.000-07:00

I'm getting the feeling that South Americans like their dessert treats sweet and decadent, much sweeter than I'm used to. The Coca Cola is sweeter here, the orange juice tastes like sweetener has been added and chocolate shops seem to pop up everywhere.

Bakeries are one of my favorite ways to get to know local food, and we had a chance to visit our first panaderia in El Calafate (Argentina), which had a small assortment of pastries and empanadas. One of the cookies we bought was a real treat -- a light butter cookie sandwich with a filling of rich caramel and coconut. The cookie was only about the size of a quarter, but packed an unbelievable amount of sweetness in the pliable chewy center.

We also tried some home-spun ice cream from Acuarela Heladeria -- cherry mascarpone and a creamy milk caramel. Luxurious, velvety and rich, this was actually some fantastic ice cream... if it were only just a bit less sweet.

We returned to Puerto Natales after an incredible trip to Perito Moreno at an awkward time to find dinner: 10 pm on a Sunday night during the off-season in a small town where most locals eat at home rather than in restaurants. This probably wasn't the best time to go looking for fresh seafood. With a light rain beginning to fall and a brisk wind cutting into us, we sought refuge in the warm confines of Mesita Grande, one of the local pizzerias. Ok, before I get blasted for having pizza in South America, our friend Jim from the day trip said that everyone in Patagonia loves pizza, locals and tourists alike. Some of the most popular dining spots are simple pizza joints that churn out hot, substantial food at low prices; makes sense.

Mesita Grande was an unexpected surprise. As we walked in, I saw a wood-burning brick pizza oven behind the bar glowing with red hot embers, raising my expectations immediately. We ordered a fantastic neapolitan style pizza with a simple tomato sauce, mozzarella, spinach, garlic, mushrooms, and a cracked egg on top, followed by an order of lasagne baked in a clay dish... The pizza was nice chewy, with just a thin veneer of smoky crispness, and the lasagne was piping hot and rich, the texture benefitting from house-made pasta sheets.

Not a bad way to recharge after a 17-hour day...

Trapped in a gastronomic purgatory

2008-04-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

Wow... we're headed to Chile!

One of the reasons I love traveling is the promise of new and amazing food experiences. And we've had some real epiphanies in our most recent trips... delicious lamb and jaw-dropping Pinot Noir in New Zealand, simple and soul satisfying noodles, curries, and seafood from hawker stands in Malaysia (not to mention the durian), and crazy good food in Greece, from gyros and loukoumades (insane madness) to spectacularly pristine seafood and Michelin-starred restaurants. So I'm ecstatic that the trip to Chile has finally begun. The plan is to go nuts on great free-range grass-fed beef, organic lamb, uber-fresh seafood and spectacular Chilean wines!
Ironically, as much as I'll anticipate the food on our international trips, they necessarily always start and finish at the opposite end of the food spectrum: airplane food. There is a particularly appropriate passage out of Anthony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour that I was reading at the outset of our trip:

Is there anything so expensive and yet so demeaning as tourist class on a long flight? Look at us! Stacked ten across, staring bleary-eyed straight ahead, legs and knees contorted, necks at unnatural angles, eagerly -- yes, eagerly -- waiting for the slop gurney finally to make its way down to us. That all-too-familiar brackish waft of burned coffee, the little plastic trays of steamed food, which would cause a riot in a federal penitentiary...

So true! But I had no idea how that passage would haunt us. With the craziness of our flight situation occupying my mind, I didn't think to anticipate the onslaught of airplane meals ahead of us.

But before we get to that, the gustatory portion of our trip had already taken a significant detour. After a 90 minute holding pattern over Dallas (random spontaneous thunderstorm that shut down the whole airport for 2 hours), we had to land at a different airport to refuel, then return to DFW only to miss our connection to Santiago by a mere 27 minutes. For compensation, we were given a one night stay at a local motel and a $20 voucher for dinner at any of the fine participating establishments at the airport. Absolutely ravenous -- it had been about 10 hours since lunch -- we scoured the food courts for options, but McDonald's was the only place open after midnight. No matter; we weren't picky at this point. We gladly wolfed down those moisture-injected, breaded and fried patties of "chicken" in a heartbeat. The next morning, a breakfast of a disturbingly unnatural blueberry-esque scone from Starbucks. Okay, not exactly how I imagined my latest food adventure starting, but the hardest part was yet to come.

Have you ever had McDonald's for all three meals in one day? I've done it on a couple of road trips, and its brutal. You just feel terrible, like you're sweating deep fryer oil and a cocktail of aromas designed by McD's biochemists... all you want to do is take a shower or wash your face -- repeatedly. The worst part is, you're not hungry, but you're not full either. Your appetite ends up trapped in some twilight zone of unfulfillment.

Airplane food is much the same. After our transfer to LAX (that's right... Los Angeles!) the next morning, we were finally on a flight to Chile. The first leg of the flight, however, was to Lima, an 8-hour flight featuring the ubiquitous "meat" and rice or chicken and potatoes with some brackish table wine (though the scotch afterwards was nice)... later, a breakfast omelette (ok, official opinion here: all egg-products should be immediately disallowed on any flights). From Lima to Santiago, a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich. Since we missed a day of our trip, right when we landed it was time to fly to Puerto Montt (chicken and vegetable "spread" on a bun... disturbing) and immediately connected to Punta Arenas (a hyper-sweet platter of desserts). Five airplane meals over an 18-hour period. Ouch.

So we find ourselves on our spontaneous shopping spree for clothing / shoes / jackets in Punta Arenas, not confident at all that our bags will ever join us on this trip, and things are going great. La Verne and I are strutting about town in our latest Chile-fabulous outfits... and hey, WE'RE IN CHILE! The one thing that is bugging me, though, as we wait for our evening bus to Puerta Natales is my stomach. It's completely confused by the wall of airplane food consumed, not knowing whether to be hungry or full, happy or sad... yearning for Chilean treats or ready for hari kari. The absence of hunger is a tragic thing -- it's what makes our tendency to eat beyond our appetite so appalling. When you're stuck just wanting to want something, you're in a bad place.

But then, redemptive gastronomic salvation. We decided to spend our final hour in Punta Arenas relaxing with a couple of beers at Cafe 1900. On the menu, two magical words hooked my eyes: torta and empanaditas.

Tortas hold a special place in my heart... whether a torta lengua at upscale Tacubaya or a down home torta al pastor at any of the favorite taco trucks, a great sandwich just makes things right. Ok, so here's my first Chilean hot sandwich: sliced roasted beef, ham, tomato, onion, creamy avocado, mayo and cheese, all on a just crispy bun. A burst of savory-juicy-rich delectability at first bite.

Then, a platter of mini empanadas, filled with either cheese alone or beef, cheese and olives. Glorious. Warm, flavorful fried food made of real ingredients has never been so needed... a lingering perfume of olives washed away by another swig of cerveza. Una mas, por favor.

The culinary fog has lifted and the sun is coming out. We head out to Puerta Natales, no luggage, some new threads, and a renewed optimism for the trip ahead. After settling in to our hostel, we sit around the fireplace with a glass of simple Chilean cabernet sauvignon... a 2007 Cono Sur... familiar from back at home, but nice to enjoy on its native soil.

I'm restored. And I can't wait for tomorrow.

butternut squash soup for my wife's cold

2008-04-13T19:32:00.000-07:00

We just had a glorious two days of great weather up here in Seattle, with blue skies and temperatures in the high 70s. That might not sound like much to the folks back in California, but it was a real treat for us up here.

We were also lucky enough to host our first out-of-town guest since we moved to our new home, with our good friend DM visiting from the Bay Area. I told D I'd describe her in a haiku:

name of morning sun
loyal friend, melodic star
great parking karma
D was up for sampling some of our new favorites up here in Seattle, so we packed in as much as we reasonably could... porchetta sandwiches at Salumi, carnitas tacos at El Asadero ("the bus"), regina margherita at Tutta Bella, nico lattes at Vivace, brunch at the Northwest Tofu House, cocktails at Licorous, an exciting late supper at all-time favorite Sitka and Spruce and (slightly heavy) almond croissants at Bakery Nouveau. Whew.

Now that the dust has settled and D's back in SF, the weather has taken a decidedly Seattle-esque turn, with a 20 degree temperature drop and the return of rain. Our fruit trees which were exploding with blossoms from the nice weather are thoroughly confused, and Lav has come down with a cold. So we needed something simple, healthy and fortifying for lunch.

We had some bun thit nuong that Lav got from Pho Thuy Hong to start... really nice, clean flavors and well seasoned pork. Familiar, comfortable and perfect to whet the appetite... but I really wanted to give Lav a good, hot soup to fight her ailment.

Last night, we had a few friends over for dinner and I tried to copy a butternut squash soup Lav and I had a few weeks back at Tilth. Tilth's soup was remarkable... savory, but permeated with the natural sweetness of roasted butternut squash. The soup was served with diced apples, ginger and mint oil in the bowl, with the hot soup poured over... the sweetness of the apple and the gentle heat of the raw ginger were beautifully integrated accents to the flavor of the broth, and the mint oil added a surprising, refreshingly light element that faintly hovered in the background of your palate... a mere wisp of mint.

My first try from last night didn't quite get the flavors quite right. The soup was based on roasted squash, water and a touch of cream... and ended up being a bit one dimensoinal and overly sweet. This afternoon, I added some chicken broth and a healthy dose of white pepper, which did the trick to introduce the balance of a savory dimension.

For this version, we used an asian pear instead of apple--so the fruit would contrast more prominently with the more savory broth (in both flavor and crisp texture)--and added some celery leaves. Once the hot soup was poured into the bowl, the mint oil floated to the top, dotting the surface with subtle flavor accents. The raw ginger, shaved very thin, added a mild amount of heat that paired well with the velvety richness of the butternut squash. The result was exactly what I was trying to make the night before.

Lav's certainly not over her cold yet, but hopefully this warmed her enough to get her onto the path of recovery before we head off to Chile.