Matters of Taste

Delectable Dishes of 2011

One last longing glance at the delicious year that was 2011. Here are 10 “best bites” that you might want to put on your “To Eat” list for 2012.

When members of the Association of Food Journalists (AFJ) descended on Charleston, S.C. last fall, every chef in that food-crazy town set out to outcook his colleagues. We had extraordinary lunches and dinners everywhere we went. But the most exciting food in my book was at Charleston Grill, where chef Michelle Weaver knocked the socks off our party of 10 food writers. We loved the butter-poached Maine lobster with wild mushrooms and preserved lemon atop a sweet corn puree; the sweet potoato “casserole” ravioli with pork belly pecan streusel; and the impressive Charleston Grill Crab Cake with Creek shrimp and lime-tomato-dill vinaigrette, pictured here. But the real standout for me was the voluptuous seared foie gras with aromatic bourbon-cider sauce. Trimmed with sautéed apples, poufy cider doughnuts and sumptuous mascarpone sauce, it was sensational.

                                       

There were a lot of rave-worthy dishes at Michael Chiarello's Bottega in Napa valley, where we celebrated my mother’s 89^th birthday in late fall.  But the ethereal potato dough raviolo of chef de cuisine Robert Hohmann managed to be in a league of its own. The delicate pasta package was filled with spinach and ricotta cheese and topped with an organic, soft-cooked egg that mingled its vivid yolk with a brown butter sauce flecked with fresh sage. It was all showered with shavings of fresh black truffles. Simple. Sensational.

In truth, I adored all the food  I tasted at Yerba Buena, on New York’s Lower East Side.  The booze, too. (The Poquito Picante was my favorite cocktail of 2011.) But if I have to single out just one of the boldly flavored, beautifully presented Latin dishes,  it would be the pan-seared, miso-glazed black cod that was done with aji panka, a Peruvian pepper with a distinctive smokey, fruity taste;  shiitake mushrooms; and choclo corn, an Andean variety with a nutty flavor and  substantial texture.  (This photo is from Starchefs.com, a site which includes other Yerba Buena photos that will make you drool.)

                                       

Tautog. Never heard of the beast? Neither had I. Until, that is, I stumbled upon the Atlantic Ocean fish at The Little Owl, an enchanting bistro in New York’s Greenwich Village. The tautog’s flesh is firm and pearly and sweet, thanks to its high-fat diet of fiddle crab and mussels. Chef/co-owner Joey Campanaro pan-sauteed the filet and crowned it with an aromatic “salad” of cherry tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, garlic, lemon zest and fresh thyme. Brilliant.

 

 

I wasn’t really expecting great food at the Vintage Restaurant in Sun Valley, Idaho when I visited late last summer. It’s a funky little place, a tiny wooden cabin in the middle of the village , with seating in a rather neglected little garden. However, when the sun went down and the Christmas lights went on, the place was magical. And the food was fabulous. I especially loved the Sweet Corn Rock Shrimp Tamale (pictured below), with its perfectly cooked jumbo shrimp, snappy aioli-like sauce, and colorful confetti of corn, carrots, onions and tomatoes.  This was lip-smacking bliss.

 

 

If you knew gnudi like I know gnudi…..you’d buy a plane ticket to Seattle today.  I found the most ethereal little dumplings -– like biting into a cloud, really –- at Lark,  a  lovely, low-key restaurant across from Seattle University. Everything I tasted at this “small plates” emporium was superb, but it was the noteworthy gnudi embellished with arugula and toasted pine nuts that really rocked my world.

Not only was chef Dan Kluger’s signature black sea bass creation at ABC Kitchen one of my favorite dishes of 2011, it was one of the best seafood dishes I’ve ever tasted. Perfumed by the marjoram and mint, basil, dill and jalapeño tucked under the seared skin, it was presented with baby potatoes  cooked in water infused with rosemary and tarragon, lemon zest and ginger. The accompanying wilted spinach, dressed with lemon confit, made this dish a triple triumph of taste, texture and scent. (Photo from PeekAndEat.com.)

                                      

 

A dumpling by any other name……tastes even better when it’s called a knödel,  I love the round, hefty  “dumplings” of Austria, German and Südtirol (the German-speaking, northernmost region of Italy), and tried to eat at least one every day of my month-long hiking trip last summer.  I found the best, a simple but sublime version, at Gasthof Fürberg am Wolfgangsee, a rustic country inn on the shores of Lake Wolfgang, south of Salzburg in Austria. Light and airy, the knödeln were made of flour, fresh spinach, herbs, and cheese, and set afloat in a parmesan and butter broth. Showered with shaved parmesan  and roasted cherry tomatoes,  they were a decidedly elegant riff on a rustic staple. 

                                       

Everybody says the food is not the thing at Waverly Inn in Greenwich Village. And, in fact, the A-list clientele, the camaraderie, the consorting, the seeing and being seen really are more important than what’s on the plate or in the glass. Nonetheless, I was completely smitten by the signature chicken pot pie when I dined there last spring with restaurant consultant Clark Wolf. (I’d never snag a table on my own….this is, possibly, the toughest restaurant in town to get into.) But the poufed, well-burnished package, which spills decadently over the edges of the plate, offers tender chicken, peas, carrots, crimini mushrooms and pearl onions, and can hold it’s own in this den of distractions. It’s comfort food with a cosmopolitan touch.  (By the way, rabbit gets pretty fabulous treatment here, too, showing up in an excellent pasta dish with morel mushrooms and fava beans; and a top-notch rabbit terrine studded with pistachios. )

 Sometimes a memorable dish is memorable  because it inspires you to cook it at home and enjoy it over and over again. Case in point: Spaghettini  with Flaked Cod, Broccoli Rabe, Garlic, Chili, White Wine, and Rustic Breadcrumbs at Union Square Café in New York City.   I’ve been a fan of this Danny Meyer restaurant since it opened in 1985. Every time I go I find a dish (or two or three) that I can’t live without. On a visit last spring, I flipped over the grilled lamb chops “scotta dita” served with a potato-gruyere gratin, and the spring greens ravioli with preserved lemon. But it was the simple spaghettini with sprightly flavors that I loved most, and now make at home whenever I get the craving. This photo is from Mission:Food; the post includes the recipe.

 

 

Top Three Meals of 2011: AI FIORI

In the aftermath of 9/11 and the 2008 economic collapse, restaurateurs and restaurant-goers alike have been pretty much fixated on homey, rustic, bistro, farmhouse,  low-key.  And I’m no exception.

But I was thrilled to discover last spring that haute cuisine is alive and well and holding court at Ai Fiori in New York City’s luxury boutique hotel, the Setai FIfth Avenue.

                                    
                                       
From the first nibble of cod croquettes with truffled tartar sauce in the hotel’s chic Bar on Fifth, to the last lick of ethereal chocolate semifreddo in the graceful dining room, this was a dinner to remember and rave about.

The excitement started with lobster veloute, a shimmering potage with ocean-fresh flavor, and a delicate spray of shaved chestnuts and black truffles.  The blue crab salad that followed was a sparkling mosaic of crab, avocado, grapefruit and fresh, fragrant tarragon, served with a crisp little farinata (a Ligurian chickpea cake usually cooked in a wood-fired oven) on the side. The two dishes artfully summed up Executive Chef Michael White’s strategy at Ai Fiori: Marry the best of French technique to the exuberance of the Italian palate, and get ready for one happy reception party.

The seduction continued with barely poached Wellfleet oysters set afloat in a gossamer beurre blanc speckled with cool cucumber and shiny sturgeon caviar. In terms of extravagance, that was a tough act to top, but along came the homemade agnolotti which did just that. The fragile bundles of braised veal and butternut squash were buried in a black truffle sauce that brilliantly straddled earthy and elegant.

Have you noticed a recurring theme here? White uses truffles like other chefs use salt and pepper. Which makes the price of dinner at Ai Fiori a pleasant surprise. The four-course dinner is $79, a hefty chunk of change, yes, but a bargain for food and service of this quality.

The menu also includes ravishing ravioli stuffed with ricotta and mascarpone cheeses in a red wine glaze; a rustic-regal braised beef cheek “daube” (a classic French stew); and a rack of lamb that outshines all other racks of lamb.

Served as individual chops, the lamb is wrapped in a cloak of ground breast meat and foie gras that’s sealed in caul fat, deco-ed with flattened parsley. It’s a majestic production, with amazing flavors and tongue-tickling textures, and I loved every bite. (Photo from Time Out New York magazine.)

There isn’t a lot to say about the décor at Ai Fiori. The colors are neutral, muted and not terribly memorable. But the tables are well-spaced, chairs are comfortable, and the second-floor views of Fifth Avenue are captivating. Service is friendly, and professional without being pompous.

Let the bucolic bistro trend rage. I know where I’ll be going for a now-and-then shot of sophistication, style and sensational food.

 

 

Top Three Meals of 2011: BIN 941

In August, after the two-day, 200-mile RSVP Bike Ride, I finally got to experience Bin 941, a Vancouver, B.C. restaurant that my sons have been raving about for years. It lived up to all the hype and then some. Here’s what I wrote about the experience: 

"Since Bin 941, officially dubbed a “Tapas Parlour” doesn’t take reservations, we settled in at the eatery’s bar and celebrated our accomplishment with gin and tonics and the Goat Cheese House-Dried Tomato Salsa appetizer. One taste of the tangy spread, scooped up with outtasite Navajo Fry Bread, and I knew this meal would end up on my Best of 2011 list.

Once seated at our Lilliputian, bare wood table, we opted for  “British Columbia Coastal Mussels, Fresh Daily” that were swimming in a sea of spectacularly flavorful coconut milk, lemon zest and garam masala. (Just thinking about this dish again right now is making me crazy.) The mussels were succulent; the hunks of dunked grilled focaccia were lip-smacking good. Forget Seattle, hell, I’d bike  from San Diego to Vancouver to eat this dish again. (Photo from ShermansFoodAdventures.com)

Equally impressive were the “Original Tijuana Caesar” with luscious grilled crouton; and the Angus   Beef Short Rib that was so tender I thought it might fall apart even before I prodded it with my fork. Served with parsnip puree, mushroom-studded spinach salad and a smooth but spunky peppercorn Cabernet jus, this was a unique take on a ubiquitous dish.

Bin 941 is a weensy place, with no more than 7 or 8 tables along with a dozen or so bar stools. The “décor” is funky; the attitude friendly and no-fuss; the food, fabulous.  (Salad & Such average $8; all main Tapatisers are $17.) It’s best to visit with a small group…that way you can order a greater variety of dishes. It's also wise to visit with a fun-loving bunch since this place turns into party-central later in the evening.

                                

We wanted to order more --- fresh Pacific halibut with wild mushroom risotto; crab cakes with burnt orange chipotle sauce; olive-crusted lamb sirloin with potato latke; golden beets with truffled honey glaze. But the portions were large, the flavors intense, so we called it quits, leaving a lot of reasons to visit Bin 941 again."

TOMORROW: AI FIORI, NEW YORK CITY

Top Three Meals of 2011: BONDIR

Bond. Jason Bond. And whether he wants to shake it, stir it, puree or braise it, I want whatever it is he’s cooking.

This affable chef, who’s worked (according to his website) in everything “from slow-smoked BBQ to Relais & Chateaux,”  opened his first solo restaurant Bondir, in Cambridge in late 2010. I visited last spring and was in awe of his creativity, precision, and total lack of pretense. Each and every dish was special, extraordinary, really. And yet it was a dining affair without airs.  To me, sort of a French Laundry experience without the narcissism. No need to genuflect before the food, to worship the super-chefs. Bond and his staff encourage guests to enjoy their friends and conversation along with the stellar fare.

                                    

Located in Cambridge, on the edge of Central Square and a stone’s throw from MIT, Bondir is a pretty little place, sort of an urban farmhouse, with a blazing fire to greet you just inside the door. Extra logs are stacked neatly under antique benches around the room. Well-spaced tables are set simply with a single flower and mismatched plates decorated with flowers and fruits.

The menu changes every day, and has just eight or nine dishes in total. Other than the soup and salad, all courses come in two sizes, allowing  a group of, say, four people, to sample just about everything. Luckily I was with friends who know and appreciate good food and wine, and who were willing to share, both bites and opinions.

Our adventure started with silky-smooth spring parsnip soup to which a weensy bouquet of celery and bergamot (a type of bitter orange) added depth of flavor; roasted hazelnuts, crunch. The evening’s salad was an inspired mingling of spice-poached beets, wispy greens, pumpkin seeds, blood orange and a buttermilk vinaigrette that sparred playfully with the spices.

Sweet, pan-seared scallops from Scituate, an waterfront town south of Boston, were paired with burdock root (an earthy cousin of the artichoke) and rutabaga puree, creating a dynamic interplay of textures.

Hand-rolled garganelli pasta was sauced with a delicate sorrel-infused cream, the citrusy tang of the herb brightening the flavors of the Berkshire ham and Georgia peas that dotted the creation. And luscious buttery grits and a pesto made with Vidalia green onions made a fabulous braised chicken from Vermont even better. While I’m not a huge fan of duck breast, a small bite of my friend’s Roasted Mallard Duck with Vidalia onions, Calypso beans and White Flint Corn Cake gave me reason to re-evaluate that mindset.

Bondir’s desserts were no less exciting. I loved the brilliant version of pear tart (a crostata here), a dessert I normally avoid because the odds of it being good are about the same as the Sox making it to the post-season. Bond poaches local pears in red wine until tender, tucks them into flaky pastry and anoints the still life with almond cream and lemon mousseline. (This photo is from FoodieMommy.com.)

But I really, really loved the Tangerine Dream, a fragile genoise cake harmonizing with thyme-scented buttermilk ice cream, vermouth-infused tangerine, and a glossy, golden meringue brulee.

Bondir’s wine list offers delicious flights of fancy, including a Spätburgunder from Germany, a St. Laurent from Austria and an Aglianico from Italy. Wine prices are very gentle, with the majority under $50.  There’s also an impressive selection of microbrew beers in bottles.

When I arrived at Bondir, I figured it to be a cozy, casual neighborhood place where I'd drop in often if I lived around the block. I quickly discovered that the very special food and inviting ambiance make it equally suited to celebratory occasions. Or, in the words of the Michelin Man,  "worth a special journey."

TOMORROW: BIN 941, VANCOUVER, B.C.

 

The Great Gastro-Adventure of 2011

When our group of 8 hikers – tired but giddy over the day’s accomplishments - arrived at Fuciade Hütte late one afternoon last June,  we expected bare-basic accommodations and simple, hearty fare. Instead, we got the gastro-adventure of 2011.

We had left Sottoguda, a quaint one-block town in Italy's imposing Dolomite mountains, that morning -- five physicians, two nurses, this food writer, and our bergführer (mountain guide) Roman Profanter. The day’s planned route included a trek up and over the dramatic stony mass called the Forca Rossa, but that plan was soon scratched when it started to rain and heavy grey clouds obscured all signs of mountains in that direction.  Instead, we took a 20-minute taxi ride to a hiking trail deep in the forest and started to climb a series of hills and peaks heading for our next overnight stop, Rifugio Fuciade. (In this part of Italy, the Alto Adige or Südtirol, both Italian and German are spoken. Hütte and Rifugio both refer to the simple but often spectacular houses with rooms and food along the trails.)

Our hopes for a yummy lunch at the hut proposed by Roman were dashed when we discovered a sign in the window of the darkened hut: Closed for a family funeral. We waited out a cacophonous thunder and lightning storm, huddled under the building’s eaves, and “lunched” on the goodies one couple had brought along: bread from the breakfast buffet, a bit of salami and cheese, and homemade “gorp” with M&Ms.

We spend the rest of the afternoon climbing, in and out of woods, in and out of drizzle. Even in black-and-white, the vistas were spectacular. Finally, after a particularly challenging downhill scramble, we rounded the proverbial corner and came face to face with Fuciade Hütte with its Heidi-esque balconies, geraniums, lace-curtains, playground and tiny wooden chapel.

The Italian-speaking owner and her huge black dog greeted us warmly, took our muddy boots to the  boot-dryer and showed us to our rooms on the second floor. (Fuciade Hütte has only 7 or 8 rooms, with rustic furnishings and small but nice bathrooms.) After hot showers and catnaps, we gathered in the bar for aperitifs and card games, then went to our assigned table, exquisitely set with local linens and Italian glassware.

The salad should have been a tip-off that this was not going to be a normal mountain hut repast, usually a salad, meaty dish and homemade cake or strudel.  Chef Rossi's elegant salad of fine, leafy greens was dotted with paper-thin shavings of green apple and fresh herbs, and was followed by a robust vegetable soup that we all agreed we would have killed for at lunch time.

Next came homemade lasagna, with gossamer noodles and deer ragu, and, sharing the plate, a well-seasoned barley risotto, with perfectly al dente grains and translucent shavings of parmesan.

As the proverbial happy campers, we toasted our good fortune with delicious local wines, and commented, not complained, mind you, but commented on how few vegetables we had eaten in the past couple days. Boom, out came the “main course” – a bowl of five or six kinds of bright, butter-blessed vegetables, accompanying a Brobdingnagian veal shank called Stinco di Vitello. 

                                            

The glossy, crusty meat fell off the bone into shiny natural juices as the platter was passed around the table. Every caramelized nubbin of meat brought oohs and aahs from the stunned audience. But there was still more: Steaming slabs of polenta with a wild mushroom ragu, which I tasted enough of to know that it was fabulous and that I would regret the next day that I hadn’t eaten more.

Three or four  homemade desserts, including an impressive, egg-white-fluffed buckwheat cake with homemade jam, and a picture-perfect pear tart came next in the parade. Since no one could eat more than a bite, we were all thrilled to see them again the next morning on the breakfast buffet, that also featured a nice cheese plate and sensational breads baked on the premises.

Dazzled by our gastro-adventure of the previous night, and the brilliant blue skies that greeted us that morning, we set out for another day of trekking in the Dolomites.

                                              

(Though Fudicade Hutte, built in 1960, appears to be in the boonies, it is accessible by foot (both hiking and skiing) and via a rickety, red contraption (like a snowplow) that ferries diners along the long dirt path to the "state" road.  I'm told that the owners, Sergio and Emanuela Rossi and their grown children, serve 300 people for lunch and another 100 for dinner on a busy July day. But in late June, we, and one other single hiker, were the only overnight/dinner guests.  The Rossis smoke and age all their own meats, make all pasta, breads and desserts, and maintain an impressive wine cellar.)

Divine Desserts of 2011

Semifreddo. Just the sound of the word sets my heart aflutter.I discovered this Italian cousin of gelato  decades ago in Florence, Italy.  Lighter and creamier and far more voluptuous than gelato, semifreddo (which means half-cold) is, basically, ice cream into which whipped cream (and sometimes beaten egg whites) has been folded.  In my book, it’s the Sophia Loren of ice cream.

Unfortunately, it’s really tough to find properly made semifreddo in the U.S. That’s why I felt like I had hit the lottery when I found two fabulous semifreddo creations in two nights in Philadelphia last fall.

At Zahav, a modern Israeli restaurant in the Society Hill neighborhood, the ethereal orb of almond-scented semifreddo might well have lifted off from the plate had it not been restrained by a crackly wafer of bittersweet chocolate. The texture was divine; the flavors subtle, sublime.

At Alma de Cuba, near Rittenhouse Square, I was equally enchanted by a banana semifreddo that smelled and tasted like a tropical garden. The mousse-like texture was right on; the banana flavor was bright but not overdone. The glamorous presentation added to its allure:  a pouf of caramelized marshmallow, finely diced fruit salsa, and wispy macadamia nut tuile. Sensing I was in the presence of pastry chef greatness, I also ordered the Tres Leches cake, pictured here. Miraculously moist with its three milks, and adorned with crisped pineapple, fresh mint and fruit salsa, it was a memorable exclamation point to our dinner.

 

                                                 

 

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Caffe Affogato is one of life’s simplest pleasures.

Plop a scoop of really good vanilla ice cream in a glass, pour a shot of hot espresso over it, and float a halo of freshly whipped cream on top. (Affogato is Italian for “drowned.”) Flavors, textures and temperatures mix and mingle, creating the ultimate caffeine high.

Last summer the chef at Pfarrwirt, a magical 14^th century inn in Vienna, Austria, took this humble  concept to exalted heights with a multi-faceted riff on Eiskaffee (coffee ice cream, in German).

In an earlier post  I summed up the sensation:

"The tiny demitasse cup contained a shot of espresso crowned with freshly whipped cream; the silky panna cotta was flecked with vanilla beans; crushed pistachios garnished the sphere of  soft vanilla ice cream; and, on the side, homemade cookies. Dark-roasted coffee beans dotted a decorative squiggle of buttery caramel sauce. It was a yummy surprise in a country where traditional usually trumps trendy."

 

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I’ve been a sucker for lemon meringue pies ever since my mother made the condensed-milk wonder for my birthday when I was about 7 or 8. It became my official birthday cake.

Last fall, I found the old familiar flavors, along with a newfangled style and artistry, in the Lemon Meringue Ice Box Cake at The Ivy Inn in Charlottesville, Virginia. I wrote this in my post/paean to the yummy dessert:

"The elegant creation starts with a wafer-thin, buttery graham cracker crust and moves onward and upward with tangy, zest-infused lemon curd and caramel cream layers. On top, an ethereal cap of toasted meringue, along with barely-there pieces of candied lemon zest and coarse organic sugar. On the side, a delicate lemon lace cookie. And it's all framed by a fresh, fragrant lemon-berry coulis."

 

                                            

 

 

I'll Drink to That: Favorite Cocktails of 2011

I was feeling left out of the party when both of my sons called to rave about the Poquito Picante cocktail at New York City’s Yerba Buena restaurant. So, of course, the restaurant was my first stop when I got to the city last February.

The straight-up concoction of gin, Cointreau, cilantro leaves, cucumber, jalapeno, and lemon juice was every bit as good as it was cracked up to be. Maybe even better.

I loved the playful mingling of spice, cool, herb and citrus. I loved the way people were drinking Poquito Picantes for the bold flavors not for the booze.  (Photo by Rebecca McAlpin for The New York Times.) 

I loved the whole East Village Yerba Buena bar scene, with its exuberant host, animated crowd, and engaging bartender muddling the cilantro, cucumber and pepper, and shaking up the icy potion for the appreciative audience. (There’s also a Yerba Buena in the West Village.)

The Website Metromix had this to say about the Poquito Picante:

“A textbook handling of heat in a cocktail; the subtle spice adds body and texture rather than sharpness or pain, and serves as a distinct flavor before giving way to other notes, like the cucumber’s freshness. A fire that warms rather than burns you.”

I had this to say about it: “Another round, please.”

(Check out my original post about the Poquito Picante for the recipe.)

 

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While visiting Charleston for the Association of Food Journalists’ annual conference, I went to FIG restaurant for award-winning chef Mike Lata’s food. I went back again, and again, for his drinks. I mean, c’mon, clearly I wasn’t’ going to leave town without making a serious dent in FIG’s clever, perfectly executed Make-Your-Own Manhattan menu.

Joined by a dozen other food writer friends from around the country, I tackled the list of 15 bourbons  (and a few ryes), eight types of sweet vermouth, and 13 types of bitters, mostly homemade, over the course of three nights. Like a kid in a candy store, I made the acquaintance of Old Overholt Rye (Lata' s favorite), Dolin Rouge Vermouth (and I thought Cinzano was the only game in town?), and Angostura orange bitters. Served straight up in old-fashioned “champagne” glasses, each creation was a delicious swirl of sweet, smoke, herb and tang.

FIG’s cocktail menu also featured riffs on the Negroni, a classic Italian aperitif of Campari, sweet vermouth and  gin that was invented in Florence, Italy in the early 1900s. Calling it the “short and perfect aperitivo,” the menu lists nine versions including the Rhubarb Negroni with Farmer’s Gin, Zucca Rabarbaro (syrup) and Dolin Rouge vermouth;  the Negroni Sbagliato with Campari, sweet vermouth and Prosecco; and the Hummingbird (Beefeater, Campari, elderflower, Nouilly Pratt and crushed ice). You can check out my original post on FIG to read more about cocktails and Lata's terrific food.

 

Celebrating the Food and Drink of 2011

OK, so it’s the beginning of March already. Who says a “Best of the Year” list has to hit the blogosphere in January?

I figure it’s never to late to share the yummiest discoveries of a year, a day or a decade. So, starting with this post, for the next week or so, I’ll dish up all that was sweet, savory and sensational in 2011. Maybe you’ll discover a restaurant, a chef, a cocktail, a dessert that will make your Best of 2012 list.

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                                   APPETIZING APPETIZERS of 2011

Call them what you will --- appetizers, tapas, nibbles, bar snacks, or small plates --- the best of the genre was at Coppa in Boston’s South End. This hip, and wildly popular, café by two of Boston’s most celebrated chefs, Ken Oringer and Jamie Bissonnette, packs ‘em into a long, spare room with no “décor” to speak of, no pretense, just plenty of personality and pizzazz.  There’s usually a wait at the crowded bar before you’re shoehorned into a tiny table, but the procession of stellar share-ables that comes next makes it all worthwhile.

I loved the white bean bruschetta with sage and EVOO from Olio de Melli; and the fried risotto balls stuffed with fontina. I was crazy about the springy meatballs made of short-ribs, pork belly and the trimmings from house-cured lardo; and the homemade orecchiette pasta with lamb, fava beans, mint and pecorino. (The menu changes often. This photo, by Keller & Keller for Boston magazine, shows rigatoni with goat ragu, mushrooms and green olives.)

I flipped over the wood-fired Pepe Bianco, a white clam pizza with bacon and Vidalia onion. Heck, even the “Sides” were irresistible. Marinated cauliflower was doused with shallots, thyme, Ricotta Salata and coarse salt; and roasted sweet peppers were pepped up with Turkish spices, feta and aged balsamic vinegar.

Oh yeah, did I mention that there’s also an impressive selection of “salumi,” including rabbit “porchetta" and duck prosciutto? Or a half-dozen cheeses from Formaggio that’ll knock your socks off? Or a couple of “Family Style” dishes such as roasted and confit chicken with sunchokes and kale.

Coppa’s wine list partners the food with panache. It’s a fascinating line-up of lesser-known Italian treats, with many by the glass and a few by the carafe. A good friend and I spent three blissful hours at Coppa, doing our very best to eat everything on the menu. I guess I’m glad we failed…..that leaves plenty for me to enjoy next time.

 

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I also loved the “small plate” approach at Zahav, a "moderan Israeli restaurant" in Philadelphia’s Society Hill neighborhood. Chef Michael Solomonov updates classic Middle Eastern/Israeli dishes and serves them in a stylish, high-energy bistro where people make a sport out of sharing as many menu items as possible.

That’s not a tough task when you’re talking about yummy ground duck kebabs with foie gras and pistachios; sizzling chicken shashlik with figs, almonds and carrot pilaf; out-of-this-world fried cauliflower with chives, dill, mint and garlic; and several types of lip-smacking hummus, served with laffa, a soft, hot-from-the-wood-burning-oven flatbread that was, in and of itself, a reason for me to go back to Zahav, soon.

(The fried cauliflower photo is from FussingWithForks.com, a classy Website by “part-time foodie, full-time photographer” Jason Varney.)

Desserts are also out of this world. But more about that in my post about 2011's Best Desserts.

Zahav’s prices are remarkably reasonable --- many plates cost about $6. The cocktail list is impressive; the wine list includes treats from boutique Israeli wineries.

 

 

Bruschetta: Thinking Outside the Jar

Cucina & Amore Piquillo Pepper Bruschetta is a savory, preservative-free mix of piquillo peppers and artichokes that’s made in Peru.  Blended with just a touch of sunflower oil, vinegar, and spices, the veggie flavors are bright and distinctive, and the bumpy texture is appealing.

I first used it atop toasted ciabatta as an hors d’oeuvre. But the next morning was when the fun started. I daubed it on hash browns and scrambled eggs; tucked it into mini turkey-and-cheese sandwiches; mixed it into tuna and egg salads; and teamed it with chevre on a cheese tray. I think it’d be great in a baked potato, too, or folded into cooked rice or orzo to add color and pizzazz.

A jar costs $4.39 on Amazon.com, but I found it for just $2.99 at my favorite San Diego grocery emporium Barons Market (located in Point Loma, Rancho Bernardo, Temecula and Murrieta). Cucina & Amore also does pesto and pasta sauces that have lively flavors and are easy on the wallet.

Give the bruschetta mix a try, and pass along your creative recipe ideas.

What Do Caviar and Banana Peels Have in Common?

Chef Rafa Mora Sanchez takes the adage “Waste Not, Want Not” seriously. And diners at Café Milagro, on the road from Quepos to Manual Antonio National Park in Costa Rica, are glad that he does.  

On a recent night at the Café,  the chef served his own colorful version of picadillo, the Latin-American hash that usually consists of seasoned ground meat, diced vegetables, olives or raisins. His starts with the peels from unripe green bananas called plantains.

“We grew up very, very poor, near San Isidro de El General,” Rafa explained in Spanish, with my sister-in-law, Ceci, translating . “My grandmother was cooking for a very large family and to make enough picadillo for everyone she had to use the peels of platanos.”

At Café Milagro, Rafa neatly dices the plaintain peels and adds finely diced squash, red onion, sweet peppers, a bit of soft crumbled chorizo, cumin and garlic. Grated coconut adds a hint of sweetness, cilantro lends an herbal note. It’s well seasoned, but not spicy.

When we were there, he served the unusual picadillo with a terrific piece of seared yellowfin tuna (local and fresh at this time of year) and paper-thin corn tortillas for scooping. But I loved the way the firm, perfectly diced pieces of fruits and  veggies felt on my tongue and opted to eat the stuff straight from a spoon ---- just like one would an expensive caviar.

Café Milagro has been a fixture in Quepos for almost 20 years. Created by a couple of young, adventuresome gringos, Adrienne Pellizzari and Lance Byron, it was at first a coffee-roasting operation in the heart of Quepos. Later, with the addition of tables and chairs, it became a funky little café  beloved for its café con leche and pastries made by a local bakery.  Later, an “outpost” Café opened a couple miles away on the road to Manuel Antonio. (The Website’s history of the company reads like an appealing “coming of age” novel.)

It’s the Manuel Antonio Café Milagro that now serves dinner, in an enchanting little garden lighted with Christmas tree lights.  The menu is typical “Tico”  with an emphasis on super-fresh fish, rice dishes and other Latin-American specialties, such as pork tenderloin with Mojo Criollo (olive oil, lemon, garlic and cilantro.) Rafa's patacones, the smooshed, twice-fried plantains (also known as platanos and tostones) are fabulous. And I'm told he does a terrific puree of ripe plantains with bacon, onions and cilantro

Though the delicious banana peel hash is an attention-grabber, it’s Café Milagros’ coffee that has put it on the map over the years. Adrienne takes full advantage of the different types of beans coming from Costa Rica’s many microclimates. All of her beans are hand-picked on (mostly) family-owned farms, micro-processed and often sun-dried. She, Lance, and now employee Randall Rojas, a Tico, still roast the beans in the same clumsy contraption (the Website calls it "an archaic, locally made one-of-a-kind coffee roaster") that Adrienne was using 20 years ago.

I admit…I’m a coffee snob, pretty much convinced that only the Italians know how to make a great cup of coffee. (And, indeed, the best cappuccino I ever had was at a little café outside the Tuscan town of Colle di Val d’Elsa; the best espresso, at the Hotel Greif in Bolzano, Italy.) 

But I was astonished by the rich, sweet  fragrance of  Milagro’s ground espresso,  and thrilled with the caramel and citrus notes of the brewed Tarrazu Reserva Especial.  (Tarrazu, at 6,000 feet, is considered the premier coffee-growing region in Costa Rica.) Café MIlagro coffees, ground or whole bean, cost about $12.95 for a 12-ounce bag and can be ordered on-line. There’s a flat shipping rate of $9.95 for any number of bags, to anywhere in the U.S.