Dinner Down Under

To coincide with the national holiday of Australia, aptly named Australia Day, this week we threw a little grub on the bar-be. And no, it wasn’t a koala stuffed inside of a kangaroo stuffed inside of a crocodile, nor did we eat Vegemite sandwiches while listening to Men At Work, but despite all this we still had a right tasty Aussie-inspired meal.

The diversity of the Australian landscape, verdant fields, dense forests and lush waters, provides for a richly varied cuisine. Likewise, the diversity of people also lends their influence. English, Greek, German, Italian, Asian and South African blend with indigenous traditions to create flavor possibilities as vast as the country itself.

So with so many dishes to choose from, I needed a little help from someone who eats Australian food every day.

After some correspondence, Zeller, an American transplant to Adelaide, South Australia and a family friend, sent me some recipes and this video:




Well we sure don’t want to be un-Australian on Australia Day so lamb it is.

Pepper-crusted grilled lamb chops with plum chutney to be exact, with potato and romaine salad in a lemon sour cream dressing, cheese and chive damper and pavlova for dessert.

Flavorful, uncomplicated and filling, this week’s dinner was an easy one to tackle. Especially since we had help from our chef friend Vincent, who came prepared with his own pavlova recipe.

Named after Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova who toured Australia and New Zealand in the 1920s, “pav” is a meringue-based dessert topped with whipped cream and fresh fruit. Although there is some argument as to whether the dessert first originated in Australia or New Zealand, pavlova is still considered a quintessential Aussie favorite.

While Vincent whipped the egg whites, I set to work on the damper.

A yeast-free bread traditionally made over camp fire coals, damper is popular with indigenous Australians. Self-raising flour is mixed with butter, milk, water, and in this case cheddar cheese and chives, and then lightly kneaded and formed into a ball. I made individual-sized balls, brushed them with a little milk and sprinkled them with Parmesan cheese.

The recipe I used called for “tasty” cheese, which I thought an odd distinction until I found out that the term “tasty” is used in Australia the same way we use “sharp” in the U.S.

Once the dampers were in the oven I began making the chutney. Diced dried plums with cranberry sauce, balsamic vinegar, brown sugar and fresh rosemary brought to a boil was all the preparation needed for the lamb.

For the salad, boiled new potatoes with halved grape tomatoes, diced red onion and chopped romaine were all tossed in sour cream, whole grain mustard, chives and lemon juice. This salad can also be served with sausage, but I chose not to use this addition since I didn’t want it to interfere with the lamb as our centerpiece.

With the bar-be-que fired up, we sprinkled the baby lamb chops with fresh ground pepper and grilled them to a nice medium rare. Minutes before they were done we added a spoon of mint jelly to each.

Topped with plum chutney, the tender chops had the perfect balance of sweet and savory flavors that sent us all back for seconds. I spread the remaining chutney on my damper and again the fruit mixed perfectly with the pungent sharp cheese within the bread.

The damper itself was lighter than I was expecting and was so simple to make I will have to try the more authentic preparation next time I go camping. It would be interesting to also try other damper additions, although the cheese and chive version we tried was definitely a winner.

As for the salad, the lack of oil or vinegar in the dressing made for a delicate side dish that was still quite hearty. Adding the sausage could definitely bring this dish up to entrée status.

I can always tell how much Adam likes his food by how quickly it disappears and this dinner was no exception. In fact, we all vigorously cleaned our plates.

Then came time to decorate the pavlova. The meringue crust had a chance to harden while we ate our main course and all that was left to do was top it with fresh whipped cream, pineapple, kiwi and mango. For an additional surprise Vincent added a few dates as well.

After trying the pav it's easy to see why Australia and New Zealand would argue over its inception. From the first until the last, each bite simply melts on the tongue. I would have also had a second helping of dessert had my head not started to swim from the rush of sugar, but I seriously considered it.

I will definitely be saving these recipes for future use and will be happy to share them with anyone who wants to amaze their guests with a simple and delicious meal from down under.

Turducken a la Flambé

Continuing in the spirit of experiencing new exotic foods, this week we made a special stop on our tour in honor of my roommate who thinks he’s better than all of us and is skipping off and moving to New Zealand. Also in honor of roomie’s newly discovered high cholesterol, I decided a little gluttony and a little carnage would serve as the perfect going away gift.

A long-term topic of discussion finally turned reality, this last Thursday, with the help of a few friends, we ravenously gorged on that beautiful meat sculpture known as a Turducken.

The true origin of the turducken is still up for debate, but despite which camp you belong to, I’m of a mind to believe that combining as many animals as possible into one roast is not a new idea. The evolution of the turducken can be traced back to early French and even Roman times, regardless, this entry will not be considered one of the 80 we are striving for, but merely a delicious curiosity piece.

Now before we go any further I have to admit that we cheated a little. I have never deboned anything in my life and didn’t want to make my first attempt while expecting a dozen guests for dinner. Still, even after having most of the work done for us, the preparation of our feast was not without a little excitement.

We stopped by our local Highland Park Market early in the afternoon and picked up a perfectly constructed fresh turducken from Bill the butcher, an absolute master of his craft. The 18-pound bird(s) came complete with apple cranberry cornbread stuffing and an aluminum roasting pan. Check.

Once home we basted with a little oil, butter, garlic and other spices and popped the whole thing into the oven at 300 degrees. Check and check.

As we busied ourselves with other preparations for the evening, I noticed a bit of smoke coming out of the oven. We investigated the source and found a small puddle of grease at the bottom of the oven. As Adam scraped it out I grumbled about messy roommates not cleaning up after themselves. After a touch more basting we put the bird(s) back in to cook.

We listened to the mouth-watering sound of the turducken cooking, sst sst sst, and waited for the rest of whatever had been smoking to burn off.

About an hour in, I realized the kitchen was filled up with even more smoke and we rushed in to find the oven on fire. We had already been cracking jokes about smoked turducken, but turducken flambé was no laughing matter! Thanks to his quick thinking, Adam was able to rescue the bird(s) from the burning oven and put out the fire with merely a spatula.

After running around the house opening doors and windows and turning off smoke detectors, we assessed the damage. The turducken was unscathed, but the now rather large puddle of grease in the oven was a cause for concern. That’s when we discovered that the delicious cooking noises we had been hearing was actually the sound of turducken juice falling on the heating coil and realized that the roasting pan had a small hole in the bottom.

I rushed out to buy another pan as firefighter Adam stood guard and soon we were back on track for the evening’s feast.

Once the danger was behind us we were able to devote our attentions to another pressing matter, the turducken shot.

Adam had the idea of creating a turducken inspired drink, similar in theory to a Three Wise Men shot. He picked up some Wild Turkey and a bottle of Fighting Cock bourbon, but then couldn’t find the missing duck component. We wracked our brains when finally he decided to try the one ingredient he could think of, duck sauce.

I admit I was skeptical looking at the bright yellow and very large bottle of Chinese duck sauce, but when mixed with the liquors and a splash of lemonade, we found it was not as disgusting as it sounded.

When our guests started to arrive, so did the moment of truth. Would our adventures of the day show up in the flavors of the meat? Would anyone throw up after drinking a turducken shot? Would we be eating turducken sandwiches for a week?

We all lined up and piled our plates high. There was silence for a moment as we savored the first few bites. It was delicious.

There were no charred bits or ashy flavors as I had worried, rather the turducken was tender and juicy and the sweetness of the stuffing was a perfect compliment to the different meats. The fattiness of the duck, sandwiched between the two leaner birds, lent a lot of moisture without making the dish overly greasy.

Everyone in attendance was a turducken first-timer and I think it safe to say that each of our guests is now a turducken convert. By the end of the night when our bellies were full, only the wings and a leg remained with a few scant bits of stuffing.

Even the turducken shot was a success, although no one really went back for a second round, but at least everyone tried it and later praised Adam’s . . . creativity.

Maybe when Paul returns after his jaunt in New Zealand we will have another turducken feast, however, Bill the butcher did say he would be willing to stuff just about anything so maybe next time will be commemorated with something even more bizarre.

Bon voyage buddy.

O My O'Porto

Since starting this project I find I can’t help asking practically everyone I meet where he or she is from and inquiring about their native cuisine. This week’s probings brought me the insider tip of where to find the most authentic, and of course tastiest, Portuguese food in the area. Luckily for us, O’Porto on Park Street in Hartford also happens to be participating in the Taste of Hartford this week so we were able to eat some great food for a great price.

The food was truly delicious. Mr. Meat and Potatoes even remarked halfway through his entrée that unless the dessert absolutely sucks, then he would enjoy this meal from start to finish.

Heavily influenced by the rich surrounding coastal waters, Portuguese cuisine has a pervasive variety of seafood. Clams, mussels, oysters, scallops, lobster, octopus, sardines and especially cod are all popular fare.

Named after one of Portugal’s largest cities, O’Porto’s menu is laden with various fish dishes and even the decor evokes the feel of a seafaring village. Large shades reminiscent of sails hang in the windows and the glass-paned doors that section the dinning room seem as if they might open onto a veranda overlooking the sea.

Similar to Mediterranean cuisine, Portuguese food often calls for olive oil, garlic, white wine, lemon and vinegar, perfect partners for almost any seafood. Indeed, O’Porto offers numerous fish and shellfish combinations with white wine and garlic or lemon and butter. And as in the homeland, tomatoes, potatoes and collard greens also play a large role.

To start our meal, I opted for a glass of vinho verde, or “green wine.” Named for its age rather than its color, green wines hail from the Minho region of northern Portugal and are usually intended to be drunk within a year of creation. Slightly effervescent, the glass of Farol was crisp, light and refreshing, yet nothing compared to the Caipirão that this week’s guest of honor, Josh, ordered.

Similar to the Brazilian caipirinha, a caipirão is made with muddled lime and sugar and Licor Beirão, a double distilled liqueur popular in Portugal with a sweetly herbaceous flavor. Josh and I both agreed it was one of the best drinks we have had in a long time.

For dinner, Adam and Josh both ordered the same thing, Camarão Alhinho, grilled Brazilian shrimp in a garlic butter cream sauce, for an appetizer and Mariscada à Casa, a mixed stew of mussels, clams, shrimp and scallops in a cilantro white wine sauce, for their entrées.

The camarão was rich and robust with garlic without being heavy or overwhelming and my companions lapped up the remaining sauce with house made Portuguese rolls, with my help of course. Although we did practically lick the plates, my one complaint is that we shouldn’t have had to also lick our fingers since the shrimp were swimming in the creamy broth with their tails still attached.

The mariscada was also thoroughly enjoyable as the sauce was delicate enough to not mask the profiles of the shellfish, but rather enhanced their natural flavors. The liberal use of cilantro lent an intriguing quality that would make one’s taste buds cry out if any of the delicious sauce went uneaten. A side of saffron rice was served along with the stew expressly for this purpose.

For my part of the meal I of course had to be different. For my first course I tried the Caldo Verde, a traditional soup of collards greens and potato puree garnished with chouriço, a delightfully smoky Portuguese sausage. I would have been happy to have had more than one slice of that wonderful chouriço, but I still found plenty else to enjoy about the soup. Even Mr. Meat and Potatoes seemed to like the caldo, although I don’t think he’s ever eaten anything quite so green before.

For my entrée, I again took the advice of my Portuguese tour guide, Fatima, and ordered the Carne de Porco Alentejana, sautéed pork loin served with clams, roasted potatoes, carrots, black olives and cauliflower in a spicy tomato and white wine sauce.

Supposedly pork and clams is a traditional combination in Portugal that stems from when farmers used to feed their pigs with the abundant supply of fish. This practice resulted in pork that had a distinctly fishy flavor; therefore, the meat was often paired with clams in order to mask this rather undesirable quality. Whatever the reasoning, it seems a match made in heaven to me.

Although the pork was a little dry, the Alentejana sauce was amazing. A healthy dose of vinegar and red pepper give the sauce a peppy zing that soaked into and tenderized the meat and vegetables. The only problem: I could not stop eating it and left myself no room for dessert.

Well actually, I did have room for a spoonful each of Adam and Josh’s desserts, for the sake of research of course. Adam had the chocolate mousse, and Josh the Pudim flan, both a velvety texture that just melts on the tongue.














The three of us were perfectly happy with our Portuguese experience, and with the relative inexpensiveness of O’Porto’s menu, even without the $20.10 Taste of Hartford selections, our bill was not as high for as full as we were.

Robust, intricate and highly flavorful, Portuguese food just might be a new favorite of ours.

A Ukrainian Christmas

Here in the United States the holiday season already seems a distant memory. In Ukraine, however, families throughout the country gathered together this past week to observe their Christmas traditions. In honor of their celebrations, we had a small Ukrainian Christmas dinner last night for week two of our culinary adventure.

According to my lovely assistant, Oksana who lives in Odessa, Ukraine, Christmas Eve is celebrated on January 7 as the last day of a 40-day fast without meat, milk or eggs. Although many families do not observe the full 40-days, some still fast the day before. On Christmas Eve, once the first star has risen in the night sky, each family sits down to a 12-dish feast of fish, vegetables, grains and fruit.

Since I wasn’t going to attempt cooking a dozen different dishes, Oksana gave me a few suggestions of things to try for our own mini Ukrainian Christmas. I also invited some friends over to witness my first attempt at Ukrainian cooking; after all, what is a holiday if you can’t share it with others?

Traditionally, the first of the 12 dishes served is Kutya, a porridge of wheat, poppy seeds, nuts and honey, so naturally I had to put this at the top of our menu. I also decided to make Vareniki, Ukrainian-style dumplings, and Borsch, a beet and cabbage soup. To drink, a warm spiced honey mixture spiked with real Ukrainian vodka.

Bread is the staple of any Ukrainian celebration. Abundant wheat crops from fertile soil have made bread the symbol of health and hospitality. Intricately decorated loaves accompany any special occasion such as holidays or weddings. Our dinner also included a large round of crusty bread and a bulb of roasted garlic.

Each recipe was relatively easy to make because basically everything was boiled, but easy or not I’m sure my borsch was nothing compared to the one Oksana enjoyed with her family. Although one of our guests, Jimmy, did go back for a second helping…

The kutya took the longest to prepare since the main ingredient, wheat berries, had to be soaked and then simmered for four hours. Actually, according to the recipe the wheat berries were supposed to be soaked overnight, but since I didn’t realize that until cooking day I crossed my fingers that an hour would be sufficient. After the berries had plumped up, I drained most of the water and added some dark honey, an amazing amount of ground poppy seeds, chopped roasted almonds and diced dried apricots.

Our unanimously favorite part of the meal, the kutya didn’t have the gravel-like consistency I was afraid of, but was soft and lightly chewy with a nice crunch from the almonds. As much as we enjoyed it however, I feel that kutya would be better suited as a breakfast dish served with yogurt rather than as an “appetizer.” Good thing since I will likely be eating it for breakfast for the next week.

While the wheat berries were cooking I began preparing the beets, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, onion and garlic for the borsch. My hands still have a slight tinge of that beautiful deep red from grating the beets, but at least my kitchen no longer looks like a murder scene. Everything went into a pot with some diced tomatoes and the soup done.

Only seasoned with salt and pepper, the borsch was a bit plain, although I’m sure as with most soups it will be better today than it was yesterday. Dipping a piece of the bread with a spread of roasted garlic into the soup brought out more of the flavor so I think if I attempt to make it again I will add more garlic and perhaps some beef stock.

Since there was no meat to be had at this dinner, I figured Mr. Meat-and-Potatoes would like the vareniki the best. Usually stuffed with an assortment of fillings such as sauerkraut, cottage cheese or cherries, I opted for a non-threatening mashed potato with onion and smoked cheddar variety served with sour cream. Still, Mr. M and P liked the vareniki least of all.

I didn’t think they were quite that bad, although again I think they would have benefited from a little more seasoning. Or perhaps a practiced hand skilled at making a more delicate and less heavy pasta.

Even though he didn’t eat much at all of his dinner, Adam still did his part for the occasion by procuring the vodka. An odd coincidence, it was donated the day of our dinner by a man Adam had happen to tell about our around-the-world food adventures.

By itself, Nemiroff Birch vodka has a slightly sweet, herbaceous flavor with a sharp, biting finish. Mixed with a warm concoction of honey, clove, allspice, cinnamon and orange zest, the bite was tamed and the vodka smoothed into a pleasing beverage that warms from the inside out.

For dessert, our guests also tried their hands at Ukrainian cooking with delicious snow cap cookies. A light pastry topped with chopped walnuts and a coconut marange, the cookies were unfortunately the only dish we didn’t have leftovers of.

Another successful night of first experiences under our slightly loosened belts, thank you to Oksana for being my tour guide and to Jimmy and Rene for being my taste testers; you are welcome back any time you want to bring me more cookies.

Week One: Cuba

As the first destination of our journey around the world, we chose a country whose flavors would distract us from our cold and snowy New England surroundings and transport our taste buds to a tropical getaway.

For a true taste of Cuba we ventured out last night to the highly recommended Soul de Cuba restaurant on Crown Street in New Haven.

A cozy hole-in-the-wall, Soul de Cuba boasts authentic recipes handed down through generations to two of the co-founders, brothers Jesus and Robert Puerto. With a mere nine tables and a six-seat bar, Soul certainly has a home-cooked feel, as if it were modeled after the Paladares, the independent, family-run restaurants common in Cuba.

Awash in earthen tones, the walls are adorned with ancestral photos, brightly colored artwork and framed cigar box labels. Lively island music further invites each guest to sit back and relax while sipping a fresh Cuban mojito.

Made with fresh mint, lime and Cuban-style Matusalem Platino rum, the Soul mojito was a refreshing way to start to our meal. Soul also offers an impressive variety of Caribbean rums, South American wines and island-inspired cocktails.

In order to get an idea of what to expect from our first flavor adventure, I researched a few different recipes and found that Cuban cuisine is a mixture of predominately Spanish, African and Caribbean influences that relies heavily on garlic, onion, green peppers, oregano, cumin and citrus. Slow-cooked meats, plantains and rice and beans are also staples.

During my research I kept seeing mention of a dish called Ropa Vieja, tender shredded beef in a tomato and green pepper sauce served with rice and black beans. Although the name (translation: “old clothes”) hardly makes the mouth water, I had already decided to try it when we arrived at the restaurant. Upon reviewing the menu, however, I was swayed in a different direction.

For our first course we ordered the tostones, fried green plantains with a side of mojo for dipping. Typically used as a marinade for meat or vegetables, mojo usually consists of garlic, sour orange juice, onion, oregano, cumin and black peppercorns. Since unripe plantains have a rather mild flavor, almost like a potato, the distinct garlic flavor of the thick mojo was a necessary accompaniment. Although I thought the sauce made the dish, my esteemed colleague and tasting partner, Adam, did not much care for it.

For my main course, instead of the ropa vieja I had planned on, I decided to try something really different and ordered the rabo encendido, oxtails stewed in a savory red wine sauce. The segmented meat was extremely tender, making it easy to extract from each of vertebrae, and I soaked up the remaining sauce with the white rice and beans.

A misconception about Cuban food, one that I obviously share, is that it is spicy. I was expecting a bit of a bite when in reality, the traditional flavors are more simple and subdued. In Cuban cooking it is the meat itself, rather than intense spices or heavy sauces, that provide all the flavor. Hence the prevalence of slow-cooking techniques, over low heat and several hours the meat has a chance to break down to its most tender and flavorful point. This is what makes Cuban food delicious.

For his entrée, Adam ordered the bistec de pollo milanesa, a lightly breaded and fried chicken breast topped with a slice of smoked ham, grated parmesan and a chunky tomato sauce. Basically chicken parmesan with rice and beans, the pollo was a bit bland compared to my oxtail, but Adam still seemed to enjoy it.

Even though we were stuffed to the brim with arroz y frijoles, we couldn’t end our Cuba experience without flan. A thick custard served with a light caramel sauce, Cuban flan is actually a bit spongier than the creamy Mexican flan I’ve had before, yet it was still deliciously simple and just the right size.

A fairly inexpensive meal, $65 for the two of us, Soul de Cuba is open Monday through Saturday for lunch and dinner and Sunday for dinner only. Soul also offers some of their sauces, such as their traditional mojo, for sale.

For a night of firsts, our first taste of Cuban cuisine, my first bite of oxtail and our very first Passport to Dine dinner, I’d say we met with success. Now I’m off to plan our adventure for next week, but before I do that, it’s time for some leftovers.