Bashing the Bourbon Bash

After attending the 2nd Annual (or technically biannual) Bourbon Bash at Max’s Oyster Bar, I found the experience to not only be inebriating, but also educational. In addition to a few fun tidbits about the history and making of that beautiful brown liquor, I learned that my job has made me nitpicky and obsessive, and that there truly is such a thing as too much bacon.

As we entered the restaurant’s private dinning room and took our seats, we were offered a flute of cranberry honey smash, a tasty mixture of Basil Hayden, macerated cranberries, honey, mint and ginger ale. Whilst sipping and waiting for the presentation to begin, like a kid eagerly awaiting Christmas morning, I wondered what other creative cocktails we had in store for us.

After executive chef Scott Miller and Jim Beam rep Marco Pelliccio introduced themselves and Pelliccio began to explain the legal requirements that qualify a bourbon, my eyes were continually drawn to the small table beside him that had previously housed our opening cocktails.

“Only whiskey produced in the United States can be called bourbon,” wow that tablecloth is really off center “and it must be made of a grain mixture that is at least 51 percent corn,” it needs to be straightened and pulled a little to the right. “Bourbon must also be distilled to no more than 160 proof,” And look at those creases! That’s like wearing a shirt right out of the package! “and must be aged in new, charred oak barrels.” *Gasp* They all have creases! “There is also never any coloring or flavoring added to bourbon,” I can't believe they don't iron their tablecloths. “And may be bottled at no less than 80 proof.”

I soon dragged my attention elsewhere and watched as our servers poured out a generous two fingers of Knob Creek while Chef Miller described our first course, a drunken crab bisque with bourbon poached king crab and small blue crab grilled cheese. Suddenly I could feel my head unconsciously cock to the side as our server mis en placed for the soup with a literal fist full of spoons. After shooting a perturbed glance at Adam, I knocked back a swig of Knob Creek and waited for our first course to arrive.

Once it did, I quickly had to move my bread plate and further space out my silverware in order to make room for the long, rectangular dish. When I leaned over to comment on the lack of proper planning in table setting and the inexplicable placing of a useless bread plate to Adam, he nodded and agreed that he was also struggling to ignore such minutiae that he and I have both been trained notice.


The bisque was deliciously rich and creamy and the large section of king crab afloat in the center was absolutely heavenly, even though I had to be that person who used their knife to eat their soup. The light sweetness of the crab paired perfectly with the subtle maple flavor of the Knob Creek and the “mini melt,” although nothing special on its own, was fun for dipping.

Fun Fact: Knob Creek is named after a small waterway that ran past Abraham Lincoln’s boyhood home and the KC label is reminiscent of the old custom of wrapping the bottles in newspaper at the distillery for distribution.

In preparation of our next course, our glasses were filled with another liberal helping, this time of Booker’s, neat of course. The only unfiltered bourbon bottled straight-from-the-barrel, Booker’s boasts a hefty 120+ proof yet remains remarkably smooth with soft oak and smoky vanilla notes. Pelliccio wisely urged the group to add ice to our glasses to tone down the potency and quipped that no one need try and be “a hero.” Touche, sir.

Although it was interesting to try the first two bourbons side by side, I was still hoping for some kind of ingenious mixed cocktail, something I would rush to write home about, rather than a straight-from-the-bottle pairing.


When our second course arrived, a Pekin duck breast and fois gras roulade served over mashed celery root with a pomegranate duck jus, that obsessive-compulsive part of me was dismayed yet again. Although the duck was plated somewhat uniformly, the obvious “front” of the dish was completely ignored when served, resulting in breasts pointing here and there and everywhere. Not to mention the au jus was a messy puddle that had been allowed to slop all over the plate and, SIN OF ALL SINS, onto the tablecloth AND MY CAMERA!

After taking a deep breath and making sure my electronics were still in working order, I poised my fork to dive in. And that’s when *cringe* I noticed that while Adam’s plate had three duck rolls, mine only had two. Looking around the table I found that everyone else’s plate also had three rolls. My shock at this discovery was not so much a result of feeling gypped, but of being appalled at this portioning fas paux. How was that plate even allowed to leave the kitchen?

Still, the duck I was able to enjoy was a tender delight, in spite of the fact that the pomegranate jus was too acidic and the celery root puree boring and bland.

Putting the duck behind me, it was now time for the very course I had been waiting for, the third course playfully called the Three Little Pigs. For those of you who aren’t aware, to me bacon is one of life’s blessings and I am a proponent of the belief that everything is better with it. Just call me the Big Bad Wolf. This belief, in all of its crispy, greasy incarnations, has never before let me down, that is until I tried the bacon infused Baker’s manhattan.

Finally here was one of those esoteric cocktails I had been so keen on but sadly I just didn’t get it. Instead of being smooth and savory and meaty, it simply tasted like a cup of liquid smoke. Still, I held out the hope that it would all make sense once paired with the smoked belly, confit shoulder and house-cured guanciale (pork cheek), that were on their way.

After shaking my head to another example of proportional disparity, I dived in to the piggy trio and quickly found that, no, unfortunately the manhattan was still repellent.


Once again, let me reiterate that bacon, and especially pork belly, is one of my favorite things in this world, but the sliced smoked belly with maple bourbon glaze was inexplicably dry and a plain disappointment. The confit shoulder topped with preserved tomatoes and Baconaisse had a decidedly better texture, but the fat to actual meat ratio was not working in my favor.

Lastly, I tried the guanciale. Made from the jowls, the richest and most tender part of the pig, guanciale is an Italian bacon that is silkier in texture and fuller in flavor than other bacon cuts and is typically dried over a three week period. Unfortunately, this last little piggy was anything but what I was expecting. Dried to the point of jerky, it was completely uncuttable and frankly inedible. The only part of the entire dish that I enjoyed was the butternut squash biscuit that accompanied the belly, and it is a sad day when on a plate of pig the only thing I like is the starch.

As our plates were cleared I crossed my fingers that the impending lamb loin would not be ruined for me as well.


Thankfully, the Oyster Bar kitchen managed to bring things back around with the following course of sous vide lamb loin with merguez-cranberry dressing and a cranberry sage vinaigrette. Although the vinaigrette had too much mustard for my liking, and the Baker’s bourbon pairing seemed a bit of a stretch, the lamb was perfectly prepared and simply melted with the moist, sweet dressing.

At this point I was all but bourboned out, which I’ll admit, for me is hard to do, but I managed a few sips of the Marker’s Mark dessert pairing as I sat in awe of the gigantic Maker’s bourbon ganache torte before me. Decadently rich and perfect washed down the sweeter-style bourbon, after a couple of bites I found I was no match for its sheer size.


The Maker’s Mark sorbet that accompanied the torte was also a delight. We were cautioned to eat carefully since the alcohol was frozen with liquid nitrogen, but this warning did nothing but make me wonder why it was already melting when it arrived at the table. Still, the sorbet was tasty and, as I keep trying to remind myself, nobody is perfect.

Prost!

Tis the season for steins and schnitzel and all things Bavarian (at least it was when we first set out on our German adventure, but alas, I have once again fallen behind in my posting duties), so in honor we raised our mugs and toasted to our own mini Oktoberfest celebration.

Accompanying us as our tour guide was our friend Jevon, who, after previously visiting practically every German restaurant in Southern New England, declared the food at Old Heidelberg in Bethel, CT, far superior. With its cozy gasthaus decor and outdoor biergarten, the Heidelberg was just the place to emerse ourselves in that Old World spirit.

Although the menu is printed entirely in Deutsch, it does include English translations for novices such as Adam and myself, but regardless, after spending quite some time picking out a beer (they have over 30 different imports to choose from), we relinquished any and all menu decisions to Jevon.

First we started with kartoffelpfannkuchen, which certainly sounds like a mouthful, but was actually a fairly light appetizer of potato pancakes over applesauce. Then we moved on to some serious family-style dining.

Of the three entrées we had in front of us, we dug into the rouladen first. Thinly sliced beef rolled around Westphalian ham, pickles, shallots and mustard, then spooned with gravy and served with red cabbage and spätzle, the rouladen was and instant favorite. So much so that after all the meat was devoured, I kept going back to the gravy-soaked spätzle in order to relive its savory, tangy goodness.


Next we divvied up the jägerschnitzel, a boneless, breaded veal cutlet topped with a mushroom burgundy sauce. My first encounter with schnitzel, I have to admit that after the excitement of the rouladen, I found it rather boring.


Making quick work of the jägerschnitzel, we then moved on to the gemischte wurstplatte and sampled three of the eight different sausages we had to choose from.


The weisswurst, which literally means "white sausage," was the mildest of the three. Made with veal, lemon, onion, cardamon and parsley, weisswurst is typically part of the traditional Oktoberfest fare and was almost spongy in texture.

The thin Nürnberger wurst, originates from the city of Nürnberg and is considered the most popular sausage in Germany. Stuffed with pork, marjoram and caraway, Nürnberger is usually grilled over a beechwood fire.

Lastly, the grobe rindswurst was a lightly spicy smoked sausage made with coarsely chopped beef and more closely resembled the typical sausages found in the United States.

Served with sauerkraut, spicy mustard and a helping of deliciously (if not unexpectedly) sweet mashed potatoes, the only thing that was missing from German feast was a pair of lederhosen.

I do regret not saving room for dessert since Germany is as well known for their confections as for their beer and sausages, but alas, we missed our chance for strudel and black forest cake.

Although Oktoberfest has already drawn to a close, that doesn't mean you can't still enjoy some hearty Bavarian cuisine, just crank up the Oompa music and head to the Old Heidelberg. Prost!

Eating Our Way Through New York Part 3, Night of the Ninja

Finally it came time for the dinner surprise that Adam was dying to reveal and I was curious to find out. Arriving at a store front that at a glance could easily be missed, it all came together. The comments, the teasing and subtle hints that Adam had been dropping for practically a month now all made sense as we stood in front of a door with a little black sign that read, Ninja New York.

We had first heard about Ninja last spring when we saw a Travel Channel spot on a concept restaurant that combines food with theater and also tries to scare the crap out of you. I remember saying back then that I wanted to check the place out and now here we were, in the dimly lit basement space that is Ninja, making our way through a dark tunnel to our table, waiting for an assassin to jump out and attack.

Fashioned after an ancient Japanese fishing village, the inner sanctum was all rock and wood planks and sunken pits, and the booths, hidden behind shoji screens, were like intimate caves for two.

Ninja offers an ala carte menu in addition to a series of tasting menus that all come printed on a parchment scroll. Each named after famous samurai, the tasting menus range from three to five courses and are designed to delight the senses with flavor and "Ninja magic," as well as test the stamina.

Since Adam and I are both the "go big or go home" type, we told our server, who introduced himself with a slight drawl as the Texas Ninja, that we would each the largest tasting. Several of our courses required a choice between two dishes, so in order to avoid missing out on anything, in those instances Adam picked one and I got the other.

As I mentioned before, Ninja is big on theatrics, so when my first dish, tuna and beet sashimi with tuna confit and ginger sauce, arrived I had to draw a sword from below the bowl of confit with a loud battle cry. Doing so must have released a chip of dry ice as a fog began to bubble from the dish and spread across the table.


Our second first course, a cake of fois gras and pressed taro, had an accompanying sweet ponzu sauce that was caramelized table side over a small flame.


I tend to be rather picky about my fois gras, but the preparation was not only a treat for the eyes, but one for the taste buds as well. The sashimi was also quite good although I must admit that as I am a huge beet fan, I ate more of it than Adam did.

Next, we were both served a plate, or shall I say plank, of nigiri. The usual tuna, salmon, red snapper and salmon roe was joined by the unusual choice of cod and skipjack. Strong to the point of being fishy, skipjack is certainly not for those squeamish about raw fish, and if I ever encounter it at another restaurant, I am not likely to order it again.


The sushi was followed by an oven roasted black cod, again smoking with the aid of some dry ice, and a generous portion of thinly sliced wagyu encased in a phyllo "tree stump" that I got to break with a karate chop. Hi-ya!


As much as we had enjoyed everything up to this point, the cod was a major disappointment. Not only did it look like one of the ten plagues, but it tasted as if it were swimming in ketchup.

While we pushed the cod aside, I discovered that the wagyu more than made up for it. Served with rice, zucchini, enoki mushrooms and fried potato straws, it was as velvety and buttery as you'd expect wagyu to be.

While we giggled and nibbled our way through the evening and I polished off the wagyu, our ninja returned and asked if we were ready for our entrées. At first I laughed, thinking he was kidding, hadn't we just finished our entrées? Boy was I wrong.

Generally speaking, when I think of a tasting, I imagine course after course of scaled down portions, but when our entrées arrived, they were full-sized, no messing around entrées.

The miso basted grilled lamb chops with yuzu butter became a literal bonfire as our server (excuse me, ninja) set them ablaze, which I have to admit was pretty cool, but the ribeye, where it lacked in pyrotechnics, excelled in shear size. After three courses, although it really felt more like five, a 22 oz steak is unimaginable and frankly impractical. Without the will to try a single bite, we asked for a doggie bag.


Dessert at this point was equally out of the question, so a glass or two of sake took its place.

Although, sadly, no one had jumped out to scare us as we had expected, we did strangely get a magic show at the end of our meal. Still, the real surprise came when I visited the restroom.

An unimpressive washroom at first glance, I soon became enthralled once I sat down to do my business. Each of the stalls is equipped with a washlet, which has got to be the coolest invention ever. Without going into too much detail, let's just say the heated seat is just the beginning. Even if you're not impressed by an imposing, firey, five course meal or a couple of magic tricks, you will be amazed by the bathrooms.

Oh, and did I mention that if you ask nicely, your ninja will give you stickers, too?

For the more serious-minded diner, Ninja is perhaps too gimmicky and showy, but Adam knows me well enough to know I eat this stuff up.

Eating Our Way Through New York Part 2, Dine Like an Egyptian

While in New York, enjoying our "feastival" of food, we decided what better place to cross another country off our list than the Big Apple?

Once we had fully rested and digested from our afternoon in Queens, we set out to find the very place where we could dine like an Egyptian.

Stepping out of the cab (read: taking no chances this time) in front of Casa La Femme, we were instantly grateful for the beautifully warm night as we took in the open-air quality of the restaurant front. Large floor-to-ceiling windows slid open for an al fresco feel, inviting the evening’s gentle breeze as diners relaxed in extravagant armchairs and swirled candlelight round in their wine glasses.

The outdoors vibe did not stop there, however, as we stepped inside onto a real, wall-to-wall grass floor covering that extended through the entire lounge area.


Casa La Femme offers a prix fixe and an ala carte menu and seats their dining room according to which is preferred. The lounge, with grass floor, low tables, large cushioned chairs and imposing fireplace, is dedicated to ala carte diners, whereas the booths in the slightly raised rear dining area, individually tented with white organza, are reserved for those partaking in the four course prix fixe experience.

Since we had already spent the day stuffing our faces, we opted for simply sharing a few drinks, a few apps, and the warmth of each other’s company.

While everything we tasted wad delicious, my one complaint was that our waitress tried too hard to sell us on the higher ticket items, to the point that one could easily believe the only available options were the $20 cocktail or the $200 bottle of wine. Not to mention that if even a simple glass of ice water is dressed up with fresh mint and lime, it should not be offensive to ask for one. Regardless, it would have taken more than a pushy sales technique to ruin an evening we were determined to enjoy.

A highlight of the dishes of Northern Egypt, we first picked from the menu the gibnah domiaty, a mild, creamy Egyptian sheep’s milk cheese served with warm, sesame pita bread. Brushed with oregano, salt and olive oil and a staple of any Egyptian meal, the generous portion of bread did not last long once tasted with a hunk or two of the cheese, which turned out to be akin to a delicate feta.

Next, an order of kofta, or Middle Eastern meatballs, made with sweet lump crab, shrimp and leeks, with a citrus-tossed salad of carrot, bell pepper and scallion spooned on top. Moist and deftly spiced, the kofta made me rethink a few of my preconceived notions about crab cakes.


To satisfy the remains of our appetites, we next ordered the sogo, a spicy Alexandrian sausage served with a red onion and tomato salad, a cucumber yogurt “zabadi” sauce, and pita. Once again, the small bites were packed with big flavor and did not disappoint.


As we sat back and relaxed after our light meal with a hookah and our toes in the grass, figuratively speaking, the evening’s entertainment began. As the music cranked on, a costumed belly dancer weaved and bent and twirled her way through the restaurant. Although some might consider it kitsch, I have a fondness for belly dancing that steams from my mother and grandmother who both used to practice the same sinewy gyration, so I for one enjoyed the show.

With another country added to our whirlwind of a day, we still had the following day and Adam’s super secret dinner surprise to look forward to, so stay tuned for the third and final installment of our Eating Our Way Through New York adventure.

Eating Our Way Through New York Part 1, Asian Festival

For a delightfully delicious birthday celebration, this week Adam and I spent two days eating our way through New York. Now admittedly, our posts have been coming fewer and farther between, but they also seem to be growing larger in scale. As a result, today’s three-part post will cover the dishes of not one, but nine different countries. So, put your eating shoes on, settle in, and let’s get hungry.

As mentioned, our big city adventure was in honor of a special birthday, (although I won’t tell you which one) and the festivities included tickets to the Asian Festival at the Sheridan La Guardia in Flushing and a surprise dinner somewhere in Tribeca that Adam worked hard to keep a secret.

Once we checked into our hotel and our bags were deposited, we logged onto hopstop.com and printed out directions to the festival’s location. The day was young and there were dumplings to be had!

After a subway ride and a few blocks walk, we found ourselves at a dead end surrounded by industrial buildings. No one was around. The only business we passed was a nude club called The Play Pen. We were in the wrong spot.

I didn’t understand what had happened, I studied the directions but we had not misstepped. That’s when I realized the devil truly is in the details. Instead of typing in 39th Avenue, Adam hit 39th STREET. Not only that, but somehow he had selected the wrong borough. Instead of eating our weight in noodles in Queens, we were lost in some warehouse district in Brooklyn where I feared we would stumble upon the shady dealings on a gang of mobsters and be dumped into a vat of concrete merely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Obviously since I am here to relay this account, we were not murdered by mobsters. After flagging down a cab and footing the bill for a ride to the correct address, we received our wristbands and finally entered a haven of Asian cuisine.

With the booths of 20 area restaurants, representing the up-and-coming best in the borough, offering all kinds of steamed, roasted and stir-fried delights, I soon forgot all about the morning’s misadventures.

First we sampled the wares of Java Village, an Indonesian restaurant in Elmhurst. Their specialties included mie ayam, an Indonesian version of a Chinese noodle dish with chicken and flat pasta, and basko telor, beef meatballs stuffed with a quail egg; a popular street food.


Tempe, fermented soybean cakes that originate from Java, one of Indonesia’s 6,000 islands, was also served, as was another common dish, daun singkong, or cassava leaves. Pervasive in Indonesian stir-fries and amazingly high in protein and vitamins A and C, cassava is a staple food on some of the more arid islands where rice doesn’t grow.

After making our way around to the beer and sake sampling tables, we followed our noses to Hahm Ji Bach’s Korean barbeque station. Easily the most well liked fare at the Festival, Hahm Ji Bach’s barbeque beef and pork short ribs were fall-off-the-bone delicious.

The most typical variety of Korean barbecue, or gogi gui, is galbi, beef marinated in soy sauce, water, garlic, sugar and onions and cooked on a charcoal grill often built into the center of the dining table.

Also offered was kimchi malee, another Korean favorite. A traditional dish of fermented vegetables such as Napa cabbage, radish, green onion and cucumber, kimchi is prepared in hundreds of different varieties and is the most common side dish in Korean cuisine. As pork belly is another favored food in Korea, the kimchi malee, pork belly rolled with kimchi, was a deliciously sweet, smoky, tangy and crunchy Korean treat.

With chopsticks poised and ready, we stopped at the Bownie Restaurant booth for a taste of Sri Lanka. Similar to, but generally much spicier than South Indian cuisine, Sri Lankan preparations are believed to be among the hottest in the world.


In addition to breaded fish cutlets, often referred to as “short eats” or snacks, Brownie served up some iddiyappam, a kind of noodle cake typically served as a main dish with coconut sambol. Made with ground coconut, chilies, dried, cured tuna and lime juice, coconut sambol is a spicy dry paste that should be used in moderation by the uninitiated.

Next, the sight of a roasted pig head drew our attention to Payag, a relatively new Filipino restaurant in Woodside. Usually the centerpiece of special celebrations, the suckling pig, or lechón, was perfectly moist and tasted of anise while the skin was so wonderfully crisp that you could instantly tell how painstakingly it had been prepared.

In addition, Payag served up some kinilaw na isda, a Filipino version of ceviche that uses vinegar as the curing agent instead of lime juice, and humba tartlets. Humba typically refers to slow-braised pork belly, although Payag uses knuckle meat, glazed with cane sugar and cooked with salted black beans and star anise. After popping back a couple tartlets it was easy to see why humba is considered one of the delicacies of the region.

Before wandering out onto the terrace we stopped for a helping of Ice Fire Land’s Taiwanese specialty, shabu-shabu. Also known as hot pot, shabu-shabu consists of a broth, Ice Fire cooks theirs for over 20 hours, made from various fruits, vegetables and meat bones, that is then served simmering over a cooking unit.

When ordering a hot pot you not only decide what kind of broth you would like, such as chicken, herbal or hot and spicy, but also what ingredients you would like to add to it. Thinly sliced raw beef, leafy vegetables, mushrooms and seafood are common and are served on the side for the guest to dip into the bubbling broth. The raw components cook quickly and should be plucked out again to be eaten with a savory and spicy dipping sauce of soybean oil, garlic, shallots, chilies and dried shrimp. The soup, which becomes more and more flavorful with the addition of each new ingredient, is drunk at the end of the meal.

As we walked outside the mouth-watering aroma of grilling meat guided us to the booth of Sedap Taste Good where we found what could be considered one of Malaysia’s most iconic dishes. Passers by gobbled up skewers of chicken and beef satay, served with a traditional peanut and coconut milk sauce, just as quickly as they could be produced and with a meat stick in each hand we contentedly nibbled away as we watched the fragrant smoke rise into the pleasantly sunny afternoon air.

Next we shared a generous portion of Taste Good’s curry laska. A popular soup made with thick noodles, bean sprouts and tofu in a sweet and spiced coconut gravy, the laska as well as the satay were both worthy of the restaurant’s name.

While on the subject of Malaysia, a table inside that we had stopped at earlier was offering samples of another Malaysian treat, coconut jam. Served simply on a triangle of toast, I regret now that we had not purchased a can to take with us.

After eyeing the strangely beautiful produce at the small farmer’s market, curiosity dictated that we sample a steamed yak momo from the Himilayan Yak Restaurant of Jackson Heights. A popular street food in Nepal, momos, or dumplings, can be made with various fillings, such as goat, buffalo, chicken, pork or yak.

Served with an avocado cream and a spicy chili sauce for dipping, the momo definitely tasted like yak, not that I have any frame of reference for the flavors of yak, but it was not altogether unpleasant. Not that I’m going to run out and buy a yak filet, mind you, but my curiosity was indeed satisfied.

For dessert we polished off a few mini cupcakes by Natural Vegan Way with such intruiging flavors as wasabi, green tea and pandan. Although I was not sure exactly what pandan was, I popped one of the slightly green cupcakes into my mouth. Whatever it was, it tasted of citrus, pine and delicate tropical flowers.

While snagging a few more for later and chatting with the NVW rep, we found out that pandan refers to the leaves of the screwpine tree that are commonly used in Southeast-Asian desserts and savory dishes. Sounds good to me. Anything that can make a vegan confection taste that yummy is ok in my book.

Putting down our chopsticks for the final time and procuring our parting grab bags, which included the New Asian Cuisine cookbook, we made our way back to Time Square and our hotel where we digested the afternoon’s adventures and prepared for a night on the town.

ON20 goes to the James Beard House

Executive Chef Noel Jones of the PolytechnicON20 in Hartford was honored this week with the opportunity to show off his expertise at the James Beard House in New York.
And since I never turn down the chance at a good meal, I jumped at the opportunity to attend.

After champagne and hors d'oeurves in the garden, which included Stonington fluke sashimi and PEI mussles with an edible shell, we nestled into our table in what appeared to have once been the library.

The dinner began with a Starlight Gardens tomato salad marinated in a 25-year aged balsamic and stuffed with goat cheese and parmigiano-reggiano crisps. Our first course was also paired with a 2009 Huia Sauvignon Blanc.


Our next course has been on the ON20 menu for some time now, but this was the first chance I've had to try it. As I knew I would be, I was enthralled.


A Flamig Farms golden egg, poached one hour sous vide, topped with a truffle-infused beet sauce and shaved summer truffles and paired with a 2009 Domaine Joseph Cattin Reisling. A bouillon spoon was key for lapping up every last heavenly drop.

Our next course consisted of pan roasted Maine diver scallops over a sauce bercy with a crispy scallop chip that made me wonder whether I had ever truly tasted a scallop before.


Accompanying the scallop was a 2007 Chatom Vineyards Chardonnay.

Next we enjoyed a playfully plated vegetable stuffed Point Judith squid with a squid ink demi glaze and a 2009 La Croix du Prieur Rose.


The fifth course was a velvety Colorado lamb loin served with a chickpea cake, caramelized baby carrots and a bordelaise. After the first several bites we all forgot our manners and polished off the last few meaty morsels with our fingers, washing it all down with a 2008 Chateau Haut Bayard Montagne-Saint-Emilion.


For dessert, a summery blueberry tasting with a blueberry ice cream sandwich, a white chocolate macaroon with blueberry filling and blueberry shortcake, all paired with a 2009 Bricco Del Sole Moscato D'Asti.


It's not often that we get to enjoy such dinners from the other side of the plate so a spectacular meal combined with a show of support for a chef and his team that we know and love, made for an experience to remember.

Vegetables Really Can Be Delicious

For a taste of Southern India, this week we visited Udupi Bhavan on Saybrook Road in Middletown. To help explain the difference between the Northern and Southern cuisines of India, our friend Gabriel came along as our guide. A classic Hatha Yoga instructor who studied at the Yoga Vidya Gurukul Ashram in Maharashtra, India, it is safe to say that Gabriel has seen the country from many different angles.

Yoga Vidya Gurukul

Mainly lighter, less oily and mostly vegetarian, the Indian food of the South also tends to be more austere than richer, more heavily spiced food of the North.

One of India's many temples, in the Southern city of Hempi

Rice is an important staple in Southern cuisine, more so than in the North, as does tamarind, coconut and a variety of pulses. Dosas, a crispy crepe made with lentils and rice, are a typical South Indian favorite.

Masala dosa, a popular variety stuffed with spiced potatoes served with sambar, a broth of red lentils and tamarind.

According to Gabriel, the food offered at Udupi Bhavan is generally considered "fast" food in India, something you would grab a bite of while out, but not often cooked at home. Not at all like our McDonalds or KFC, I'd rather have a curry than a BigMac any day of the week. Even Mr. Meat and Potatoes himself was surprised to find he enjoyed our 100% vegetarian dinner.

An abundance of food

We let Gabriel order for us and we ended up with more food than we could possibly eat. We had palak paneer, a mixture of spinach, cheese and tomato, vegetable korma, a curry dish made with coconut milk, and malai kofta, vegetables dumplings in a spiced yogurt sauce which turned out to be my favorite of the meal.

In addition to plenty of rice, each dish was also accompanied by a cup of raita, a cucumber and yogurt dipping sauce that is typically eaten by stirring it into one's rice. Gabriel also insisted we try another South Indian staple, spicy diced pickles. The key, he said, is to mix little bits of pickle into a bite of food for a sporadic kick of spice.

Train ride to Hempi

As Gabriel plans his fourth trip to India and beyond, we wait and see where our next adventure will take us. One can only hope it's somewhere delicious.

Phở-tastic

The food of Vietnam is known for being light and colorful. The abundant use of fresh herbs, vegetables and spices, the minimal use of oil and the precise balance of flavors and contrasting textures has helped gain Vietnamese cuisine the reputation for being the healthiest in the world.

Bordered by China to the north, and Laos and Cambodia to the west, Vietnam is steeped in a culinary tradition all its own. Exhibiting influence from various methods of Southeast Asian cooking, Vietnamese is an individualized kind of cuisine where many dishes are often blended at the table, leaving the exact combination of ingredients up to the diner.

While Asian cooking generally uses lots of flavorful herbs and spices, in Vietnam herbs are not just used to enhance the foods; they are part of the meal itself. Fresh, flavorful herbs such as mint, basil and coriander, snipped into large pieces, are an accompaniment at every dinner table and are often found in popular noodle dishes.

Indeed, Vietnam's national dish is the delicious phở (pronounced fuh), a broth made with rice noodles and brimming with savory greens such as basil. Commonly made with beef, phở can come in many forms but is typically served with bean sprouts, lime and chilies on the side for each person to add to their own bowls.

Vietnamese cuisine is also distinguished by the generous use of dipping sauces, which help to give the food its distinctive flavor.

A typical sauce combines garlic, chilies, lime juice or vinegar, sugar, and the hallmark ingredient, fish sauce. Known as nuoc mam, fish sauce is made from salt-cured anchovies that are placed in a barrel raw and left to ferment. The quintessential Vietnamese ingredient, fish sauce can be found in almost every dish.

In addition to the plentiful use of fresh, nourishing herbs, another reason why Vietnamese cooking is considered so healthy is that meat is generally viewed as a condiment rather than a main dish.

Meats are most often cut into thin strips or slices, soaked in a simple marinade of shallots, lemongrass and fish sauce, and then quickly grilled.

The ideal way to eat these morsels is to dunk a piece of meat into a dipping sauce, then pick up some herbs and rice and put the complete bite into your mouth.

Another important component of Vietnamese cooking is that of balance.

In Vietnamese culture, the five basic elements, Earth, Water, Fire, Metal and Wood have great influence over daily life and are seen as instruments of maintaining life's balance. Vietnamese cuisine reflects an integration of these five elements into the nutrition, taste and colors of their dishes.

The balance of nutritional elements such as liquid, protein, fat, powder and minerals; the incorporation of the five common colors in the presentation of their dishes: yellow to represent Earth, black to signify Water, red for Fire, white for Metal and green for Wood; and the skillful blend of the tastes of sweet, salty, bitter, sour and spicy; all characterize the influence of such beliefs.

Such balance is also demonstrated through ingredient selection and the manner of serving the dishes according to the season and weather conditions.

For our foray into Vietnamese cuisine, we popped into the highly regarded Pho Boston in West Hartford. With an extensive menu and competent staff, it was a great place to stop for a delicious and healthful meal.

To share, we couldn’t pass up the chim cút chiên, crispy, spiced roasted quails marinated in ginger, soy and five spice. The birds were so perfectly flavorful and juicy that we sucked every last scrap from the tiny bones.



Adam selected a non-threatening hủ tiếu xào bỏ, or beef and vegetable chowfun

and I ordered the hủ tiếu nam vang, a phở variant with shrimp, crab, fish balls and cakes, pork, rice noodles, scallions, onions and cilantro.


After picking out each morsel with my chopsticks, I found I was completely full. Still, I tipped the bowl to my lips and drank the savory broth, not wanting any to go to waste.

If you visit Pho Boston, which I definitely recommend you do, the noodle soups are a must. Make sure you squeeze some fresh lime into the broth and mix in some spicy chili paste, then, enjoy!

Hungry for Hungarian

This week, with the help of our Hungarian friend, Mária, we not only learned to make a classic Decsy family meal, but we also had our first experience with homemade pasta.

Mária, whose family lives in Budapest and to the west of the Danube, brought with her a peculiar looking tool reminiscent of a cheese grater with a spackle knife. This tool, called a galuskaszaggató, was how we were going to make our pasta.

Once our pasta dough of eggs, flour, salt and water was the right consistency, we spooned a little at a time onto the galuskaszaggató. While holding the grater over a pot of boiling water, the dough was then pushed through the holes in the galuskaszaggató with a flat, wide scraper until every last nugget had plopped into the water. When the galuska, or pasta dumplings, had risen to the top of the water, they were ready to be strained.


Over the top of the galuska we ladled csirkepaprikás, a typical Hungarian stew with bell peppers, onions and chicken in a thick sour cream sauce. The most important ingredient of paprikás is mild, sweet paprika.

Although the sauce in our paprikás recreation was not as thick as it should have been, according to Mária, not one bite went unsavored.

The perfect compliment to the csirkepaprikás was a simple, thinly sliced cucumber salad with vinegar, garlic and salt. I don’t know what it was about the combination of the two dishes, but they just worked so well together.

For dessert we mixed pureed chestnuts with a little rum and sugar and topped the resulting paste with whipped cream. This concoction, called gesztenyepüré, is very popular in Hungary and was just as easy as it sounds to make. Although it could have used more sugar, and for the heck of it a bit more rum, but it was still surprisingly good.

To wash it all down, Hungary’s most famous red wine, Egri Bikavér, or Bull’s Blood. A blend of at least three of the following varieties; Blauburger, Portugiser, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Kadarka, Kékfrankos and Zweigelt, it is said to have given strength to the people of Eger to fight off the invading Turks in the 1500s.

Adam and I were both pleased to get back on track with an easy and delicious meal and the help of a few friends, and since we’ve discovered a simple way to make homemade pasta, I feel another experiment coming on.

Sumptuous SoCal

With work trips and vacations and all their inherent preparations, suddenly five weeks have gotten away from us. Although this may not make up for our recent lull in activity, I intend to cover a lot of ground here and hopefully bring us all back up to speed. We do, after all, have much to catch up on.

Instead of watching fireworks and attending bar-be-ques with friend and family, Adam and I celebrated our own independence by flitting off to San Diego where I introduced him to the land of my birth.

As I sit here today, flipping through our pictures and enjoying one of the most perfect summer days so far this year, I wonder, “Why couldn’t we get weather like this in California?”

Surprisingly, in the land of eternal sunshine, we caught the tail end of what the locals call the “June Gloom,” and were treated to a rather cool and overcast week. While the East Coast was sweating their way through one of the worst heat waves ever, I was buying a sweater to bundle up in at the beach.

On about the fifth day Adam, in all seriousness, turned to me and said, “I don’t believe you, there is no sun in California.”

Not to say that we didn’t enjoy our vacation, that is certainly not the case, and I think I speak for both of us when I say it was a trip that will have to be repeated soon.

In addition to a lot of sightseeing and a lot of walking, we did a lot of eating. Of course. Not only did we hit up my fast food faves, Jack in the Box, In n Out and a taco shop or two, but we also managed to sample a few more unusual flavors as well.

Our first stop was to a childhood staple, the annual San Diego County Fair. With my mother, brother and Mother’s friend Celine in tow, it was very nearly like old times.

As with any self-respecting country fair, the food in the centerpiece of the experience. Each visit revolves around what giant, fried abomination you plan on eating next. This year was no exception.

There were quiet a few intriguing, and disgusting, options available, such as the new craze in the deep-fry-everything movement, fried butter. Although I am still uncertain as to the logistics of this scientific wonder, I’m sure it somehow originated from Paula Dean.

Instead of this caloric monstrosity, or the chocolate dipped bacon also severed at the Heart Attack Café, we opted for a fried treat of a different variety: frog legs. And amazingly it was Adam who pointed to the flashing sign with the dancing frog on it and said, “Oooh, we have to get those!”

A first for us both, we were expecting the frog legs to taste like chicken, as we had heard they do. Actually, we found them more similar to crab and noticed they really freak people out when eaten in public.

At the request of my mother, we followed up our greasy, gluttonous, finger-licking day at the fair with something a bit more refined; afternoon tea.

We ditched the previous days’ jeans and t-shirts and arrived at the AubreyRose Tea Room in La Mesa like perfect ladies and gentleman who would never even dream of wiping their hands on their pants.

Part gift shop, part English tea room, and all lace doilies, AubreyRose seems a likely hangout for the Red Hat Society. Still, the relaxing and elegant atmosphere was hard not to succumb to. Even for Adam, who only once complained that he had left his skirt at home.

Offering a well-rounded and uncomplicated variety of exotic teas and herbal tisanes, AubreyRose also serves delightful homemade tea sandwiches, pastries and fresh fruit. And of course no tea would be complete without a warm lemon lavender scone. To our surprise, we found it very easy to sip away several hours just nibbling and chatting.

Our SoCal culinary adventures continued with dinner in San Clemente with our friends and former CT residents, Deadrick and Grace. If you’re ever in the area and looking for authentic Mexican food, freshly prepared in an elegant setting, and all with reasonable prices, Avila’s El Ranchito is the place to be.

The service was also some of the best I have ever experienced. Our waitress was so fast that we wanted for nothing and her feet never seemed to touch the ground.

As per usual I wanted a little bit of everything on the menu, but instead I defaulted to a weakness of mine: tamales and any sauce with the word “verde” in it.

The food did not disappoint and even though the portions were generous and quite filling, we couldn’t pass up a giant whipped cream and caramel-topped ball of fried ice cream.

For our next stop, once back with family and friend Celine, we set off to sample the best Moroccan food in town.

Kous Kous in Hillcrest is one of those nondescript, below street level spots that you could walk right past without sparing a second glance. To do so, however, would be a grave mistake.

The lounge area to the right of the entrance with low cushions and dark couches, intricate lanterns and hand-woven rugs evokes a mysterious den right out of the movies. The draperies hung throughout the dining room serve to create several dark and cozy corners, perfect for snuggling in to.

Once seated, our waiter quickly talked us into a family-style meal of three vegetarian small plates, their signature b’stila rolls, the house specialty cous cous, our choice of two entrées and dessert. For $30 per person, we could hardly turn it down.

The small plates consisted of a variety of vegetable spreads served with warm pita. The zaalouk was a mixture of roasted eggplant, cumin and lemon, the shak-shouka­, roasted tomato and bell pepper, and the khizzou, my favorite, was a spicy blend of caramelized carrots, garlic and ginger.


The spreads were also accompanied by the b’stila, a traditional Moroccan chicken and nut pie, individually wrapped in phyllo and dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar. An odd-sounding combination perhaps, but they were just as our server had described; like an appetizer, entrée and dessert all in one bite.

For our entrées we ordered the ahi tuna brochette, grilled tuna skewers in sharmoula – a lemon, garlic, cilantro and cumin marinade ­– and the Marrakech lamb tagine.

A tagine is a heavy, glazed clay pot with a round, shallow base and a cone-shaped cover designed to trap in condensation during cooking. Moroccan tagine meals tend to take the form of slow-cooked stews.

The lamb, braised with saffron, garlic, cumin and lemon, was perfectly tender and the house specialty cous cous, garnished with caramelized raisins and garbanzo beans was easily the best I have ever had.

To round out the meal we finished with cinnamon-spiced fresh strawberries and mint tea sweetened with orange blossom. The tea, in true Moroccan style, was poured from a silver pot raised arms length above each cup. This technique aerates the tea, just like swirling a glass of wine.

We were stuffed to capacity and still had plenty of leftovers. If we had been back in Connecticut, we would have been eating Moroccan food for a week. As it was, there was still too much to try to stop there.

On Saturday morning we met again for a Cantonese-style brunch, or dim sum.

Celine, knowing the language and the customs far better than the rest of us, took charge of the ordering. As each steaming cart rolled past she pointed at this basket and that until our table had accumulated quite an array of unidentifiable dishes. Celine described each one as Adam tried to mask a growing look of uncertainty. I knew exactly how he felt.


There were steamed dumplings and shumai, spare ribs and rice noodle rolls, glutinous fried rice, congee, steamed meatballs and others.

Since they sat right in front of me, I found I could not shy away, so pecking here and there I slowly worked my way up to some of the more bizarre items.

The tripe steamed with cabbage, as my first introduction to stomach lining, was not bad. However, although the flavor was better than expected, the chewy texture was a bit more than I could take. Next time I think I would prefer my tripe in soup form.

Next Celine showed me how to eat a phoenix claw. An epic name for a fried chicken foot, there is not actually much to eat on a “claw.” Upon finding it was far more gelatinous than meaty, the idea of chicken Jello put me off to this “delicacy” pretty quickly.

Adam wisely avoided the tripe and phoenix claws and instead tentatively nibbled a jin devi, a chewy dough ball filled with a sweet red bean paste and rolled in sesame seeds. My mom is obsessed with these sesame balls and pointed at them excitedly when she spied them on a passing cart.

Filled to the brim yet again, once we went our separate ways for the day I took pity on Adam and promised him some good old-fashioned, normal pizza for supper.

Towards the end of our trip we sat down to a quiet dinner for two at the illustrious Marine Room in La Jolla. Although we had heard that reservations are hard to come by, we luckily had no problem getting a table.

When we were shown to our booth, I think we both heaved a relaxing sigh before settling in to a nice, long, indulgent evening.

Throughout our meal, which was expertly prepared and beautifully presented, different members of the staff kept asking whether we had planned our visit specifically for high tide.

During the day the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto a 100-foot stretch of sandy beach and the glittering ocean beyond. In the evening, and especially during certain times of year, the ocean waves, highlighted by underwater floodlights, rise high enough to crash upon the glass. We had no idea we were in the midst of a high tide week, we just happened to luck out.

The view was spectacular. The setting sun upon the water, the fishing boat lights in the distance, the sea lion swimming past, it was truly wonderful.

The food was equally spectacular. To start, I had the warm mushroom torte with white asparagus and a 20-year-old Royal Ambrosante and Adam chose the lobster bisque with pancetta and yuzu cream.

Then the Cervena elk and venison with rhubarb preserves and a cacao nib Madeira gastrique for me,


and the lobster and filet surf and turf for him.


For dessert, a cobblestone pie with espresso and vanilla gelato and spiced rum butterscotch, and a confection “trilogy” with a chocolate Kahlua tart, blood orange sorbet and a cherry Amarone pot de crème.

Three hours after first arriving at the Marine Room, we stumbled back to our hotel and slipped pleasantly into a food coma.

From the bizarre to the beautiful, the tasty to the questionable, our seemingly endless exploration of San Diego’s culinary realm was really only one small part of the entire adventure. Spending time with family and loved ones, making new friends, reconnecting with old ones and sharing memories are what bring sunshine to an otherwise cloudy day.