Matters of Taste

SuperKALEifragilisticexpialidocious!

Kale. It’s everywhere. Kale slaw. Kale chips. Kale salad. One would think this rough, ruffly dark green cousin of chard just popped up out of the earth in 2012, so gaga are today’s chefs over it.

But kale can be a scary thing in the wrong hands. It’s tough (Tuscan kale has thinner leaves and is less tough than regular kale). It’s tough to cook properly. And, it can be tough to eat. I need all five fingers to count the number of times in 2012 that I’ve been served kale that could do double duty for a Brillo pad.            
So I was apprehensive when my son Nicholas ordered the Shaved Tuscan Kale last week when we dined at Matyson BYOB in Center City Philadelphia.

                                    
Happily, that apprehension quickly turned to awe.

Not only was this the best kale dish I’ve ever tasted, it was one of the best dishes of 2012, period. Matyson chef Ben Puchowitz starts with what he calls “really, really fresh” Tuscan kale from a nearby Lancaster, PA farm. The leaves are sliced very thin (a chiffonade) and tossed with roasted butternut squash, fluffy quinoa, pumpkin seeds, freshly grated parmesan cheese and a zesty lemon-oregano vinaigrette. Thanks to a last minute dusting of fresh, rubbed oregano, the dish smelled as good as it looked when it arrived at our table.

I was in awe of much of the food at Matyson, actually. I also loved the night’s special, a pan-roasted cod that was first marinated in miso paste and sugar so that it caramelized and formed a crackly crème brulee-like crust when cooked. The butter-soft fillet was paired with slightly chewy Shanghai-style noodles and set afloat in a divine broth sparked with ginger, garlic and several types of Korean chile paste.

                                      

“Spicy Beets” (above) was a lip-smacking wonder of a dish, though it sounded like a major culture clash with its (Greek) feta cheese, (French) lentils, (Korean) kimchi, pistachios and fresh mint. (Photo from CityEats.com.) Long Island duck breast was formed into elegant noisettes, sautéed and served with crispy little rice cakes and a garlicky soy-based sauce. Cured Verlasso salmon was whimsically paired with “tater tots,” whipped buttermilk and a sprinkling of caviar. Hangar steak was first-rate, each delicious slice made even better by the lobster mushrooms and kohlrabi puree sharing the plate. This is creative food, bursting with flavor, artfully presented, and all without taking itself too seriously.

Matyson is a pretty place, a long narrow room with nice lighting and attractive art on the walls. Since there’s not much space by the front door/desk, folks waiting for tables often do so on the sidewalk, where a charming bench sits under the front window. Rittenhouse Square is just up the street.

                                        

Matyson is a member of the BYOB brigade, a popular phenomenon in Philly where liquor licenses are reported to cost nearly $100,000. The bold letters are prominent in the logo, lest unsuspecting souls get settled at a table only to find they have to schlepp to the nearest state liquor store for a bottle of wine.

I'm not sure when I'll get back to Philly for another feast at Matyson BYOB. But I do know when I'll get to taste the fabulous kale again. I've added it to our menu for Thanksgiving dinner.

Humble Hash Goes Haute

The Clancys of mid-20th-century Boston would get quite a chuckle out of the lofty new status of corned beef hash. This classic New England dish was originally based on leftovers --- the corned beef and cabbage Sunday lunch and cooked potatoes. It was a cheap and easy way to feed a family, and a festive accompaniment to green beer on St. Patrick’s Day.

But somehow hash became a regular at the chichi Power Breakfasts of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s.  And now, it’s a fashionable, anytime-of-day feast, with highly respected chefs tossing in everything from beets and horseradish to roasted chiles and chorizo.

In the right hands, this plebian staple is a thing of beauty. And “right” is an apt description of the hands chopping and dicing in the kitchen of the Four Seasons Philadelphia.

                                 

 
In the hotel’s elegant yet comfortable Fountain Restaurant, the House-Made Corned Beef Hash is served with two perfectly poached Lancaster eggs. The meat is sweet and meltingly tender. The caramelized onions are from Vidalia, GA. Some of the Yukon Gold potato cubes are crisp, some soaked in meat juices. But what I loved most was the nearly-hidden bits of fiery, roasted peppers. (The menu calls them “Long Hot Peppers.”)

This corned beef hash looks plain and simple (as you can see in my “doesn’t-do-it-justice-but-I-was-anxious-to-dig-in” photo.) But start eating and you know immediately that it’s a “10,” with luscious bits of what seem to be roasted tomatoes and red bell peppers hiding behind the beefy façade. As the runny yolk starts to weave its way through the dish, you might even pronounce it an “11.”

 A humble plate of hash goes haute at the Four Seasons. Gotta love it.

I'll Drink to "Thymes Like These"

Last month I blogged about the inspired “Thymes Like These” cocktail that’s served at Restaurant Eve in Alexandria, VA. I was lucky enough to taste the herbal, citrus-spiked creation recently at a State Department event introducing the Diplomatic Culinary Partnership.

                                               

Bartender/Craftsman Todd Thrasher was shaking up this quirky quaff at the party. Not only did it taste great –- bright, bracing, aromatic -- but it expanded my drinking horizons. Until then I was only vaguely familiar with one of the ingredients, Cocchi Americano, but learned from Thrasher (and subsequent research) that it’s a fortified white wine aperitif, created in Italy in 1891 but widely introduced in the US only in 2010. The Moscato-style wine is infused with cinchona bark (the original source of quinine), citrus peel, spices and other botanicals.  The aperitif is crisp and citrusy with a pleasing hint of bitterness.

 

                                                      

I wasn’t familiar with Citadelle gin either, since I do most of my summertime G&Ts with Tanqueray or Hendricks. (Citadelle is a French gin, complex yet subtle, that’s aged in Cognac barrels. It’s a blend of about 18 botanicals and doesn’t have the in-your-face juniper flavor of many other gins.)

And, I had never contemplated tossing fresh thyme into a cocktail.  

But Thrasher, whose creations are dubbed “relentlessly innovative” by StarChefs.com, loves to incorporate seasonal ingredients into his creations and prides himself on the 14 varieties of house-made bitters at his bar.

He was kind enough to share his recipe, so there’s no need for us to be thirsty in “Thymes Like These.”

"Thymes Like These"

1oz Citadelle gin

1 oz Coccchi Americano

3 tablespoons Thyme-Lime Mixture

Drops of Kaffir-Lime Bitters, to taste

Place all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

 

Thyme-Lime Mixture (adapted from Thrasher's recipe)

1 cup simple syrup

Large bunch of thyme, washed and patted dry

¼ cup freshly squeezed lime juice

Heat simple syrup until it comes to a gentle boil. Add thyme leaves. Reduce heat and let simmer for 10 minutes. Strain through a sieve or chinois. Add lime juice and cool before using.

Note: Kaffir-Lime Bitters can be purchased, on-line, as such emporiums as Cocktail Kingdom.   

Celebrating (The) Napoleon

Too bad that Elvis has left the building. The guy would have flipped over the Peanut and Banana Napoleon at db Bistro Moderne in New York City.

 

                         



Unlike the King, I’m not a fan of PB&B sandwiches.  I’m actually not a Napoleon fan either. (The soldier or the sweet.) But I flipped over pastry chef Ashley Brauze’s rendition of the gossamer Gallic classic – a lovely layering of banana cream, shiny and sumptuous; rum-glazed bananas; crackly feuilletine, an impossibly fine milk chocolate and peanut disc; and the coup de grace, spiced chocolate ice cream perched in crushed wafers. (Brauze cooked at El Bulli in Spain and Per Se in New York before settling down in the Daniel Boulud empire of haute cuisine.) 

I’ll tell you exactly how good this dessert was.

So good that it stood out on an evening that could best be called Sensory Overload – that would be a performance of the outrageous Book of Mormon Broadway show and a dinner entrée of Daniel Boulud’s renowned, over-the-top sirloin burger filled with braised short ribs, foie gras, and black truffles, served on a parmesan bun with pommes soufflés on the side.

Yet, still, it is Brauze’s remarkable dessert that I’m dreaming about months later.

Chick Chick Hooray!

“Nobody doesn’t like fried chicken,” said Lee Schrager, organizer of Food Network South Beach Wine & Food Festival, in the Wall Street Journal.

Good grammar aside, Schrager is probably right. Even the people who say they don’t like fried chicken really do like fried chicken; they just don’t like to admit it.

A recent article in the WSJ asks “Could fried chicken, in its many forms…be the next big trend in food?”  Well, reporter Charles Passy says that based on the menu at the Food Network New York City Food & Wine Festival held last weekend, the answer is a resounding YES.

                                    

At one of the Festival's “themed” events, called "Shake & Bake," patrons who paid the all-inclusive $145 admission fee, chowed down on the likes of Fried Chicken Thigh Burger; traditional southern-style Buttermilk Fried Chicken;  Matzo Meal-Crusted Drumsticks; two versions of Chicken in a Waffle Cone;  Korean Fried Chicken Tacos; and Backhendl with Potato-Arugula Salad (pictured here) by Blaue Gans' chef Kurt Gutenbrunner. (Photo by Arthur Bovino for The Daily Meal.)

All this talk about crispy chicks got me thinking and drooling over my own Remembrances of Fried Chickens Past.

One of the best-ever was a serendipitous encounter this summer with the perfect Backhendl, German for fried chicken, (pictured below): crisp, non-greasy, smartly seasoned, with the ideal one-two punch of dark golden crust and tender juicy meat. Fresh lemon and parsley adorned it, and a glistening, vinegar-based potato salad was on the side.

                                        

My husband and I made this bird’s acquaintance at Kirchenwirt, a small, family-run cafe in the middle of no-where, on the outskirts of Vienna, Austria.  The Kirchenwirt gasthof gets plenty of visitors despite its out-of-the-way location because it sits across the street from the Basilika Klein-Mariazell, a picturesque church and cloister founded in 1134. Though it has weathered some tough times, the elegant cluster of buildings is today both a living religious community and an architectural work of art.

                                      


It is also smack dab in the middle of a massive network of inviting hiking trails. Our Austrian friends suggested the day’s excursion and guided us on an enchanting three-hour hike that took us through gladed forests, across grassy meadows, up and down rolling hills, and through tiny hamlets such as Altenmarkt an der Triesting.  It was there we passed a lovely old home with this sign on the gate. The sign says: “I am a Rottweiler. Beyond here (this gate) Benjamin von Husarentempel will bite you.”

                                      

The hike started and ended at the Basilica Klein-Mariazell, so Kirchenwirt was a natural place for lunch.  We sat on the terrace, in warm sunshine, with cold draft beers, and gave thanks for good friends,   gorgeous landscapes, a glorious hike --- and great fried chicken.

Vernick Food & Drink: Love at First Bite

Dinner started with a little flirtation: a tiny oval of the most exquisite tuna tartare I have ever tasted: luminous bits of tuna the texture of cooked rice, judiciously moistened with sesame oil and a touch of herbs. The wooing continued with grilled sourdough topped with a mint-flecked, vibrant green pea puree and wispy lardons of house-cured, crisp bacon. By the time the pork blade steak arrived, with its bitter mustard greens and sweet-tart red onion marmalade, I was totally in love with Vernick Food & Drink.

                     
                        
That’s Greg Vernick’s new Philadelphia restaurant, an internationally inspired American bistro by the accomplished chef who opened a slew of restaurants around the world for Jean-Georges Vongerichten, but who has now come home.

Open only since May, Vernick Food & Drink is a Rittenhouse Square-area, two-story townhouse, with a sleek downstairs bar with bistro windows opening to the street, an airy upstairs dining room with large windows opening onto a balcony, and a spacious rear dining room with open kitchen and counter seating.

                                           

The menu is small. The flavors are huge.

That winsome pork blade steak, crisp-edged and fork tender, seemed to lasso all the robust pork flavor that’s been bred out of today’s ordinary pigs. The wood-roasted carrots that were tossed into a salad with cornichons and an olive-flecked dressing, tasted like they had been yanked from the garden just hours before. Grilled hearts of romaine were delicious in a pas de deux with figs. And ravioli (below), crafted of delicate dough and creamy, dreamy mashed potatoes, and topped with braised lamb and butter-blessed breadcrumbs, were terrific (though possibly more terrific with a bit more seasoning?)

A luscious Butterscotch & Smoked Chocolate Parfait -- with shortbread and pecans -- showed off how the kitchen’s rousing creativity is firmly grounded in the classics. And, did I mention the shishito peppers(pictured above), those darlings of every bar and tapas menu worth its salt? Blistered and salted and paired with impossibly crispy potato chunks, they were reason enough to return to Vernick’s inviting home.

                                   

In fact, about my only beef with the experience was that I couldn’t eat everything I wanted. Ambitious though my son Nicholas and I may be, we couldn’t order nearly as many dishes as we would have liked. Next time: The olive-oiled slab of grilled sourdough topped with creamy eggplant and chanterelles; dressed beets with Moliterno cheese; and the carrot cake that’s frosted with cream cheese, fromage blanc and vanilla (I’m still kicking myself that I missed that one).

Vernick is one of the few restaurants that really can be all things to all people. You want to pop in for a handcrafted cocktail and a few nibbles after a concert or movie? Go for it. Want to dine alone without feeling self-conscious? The kitchen counter is the place. Looking for a place to dine leisurely with a group of fussy foodie friends?  Look no further.

Vernick Food & Drink. Great food, good looks, a flexible, reasonably priced menu, professional service, and a low-key but unusually hospitable ambiance.  What’s not to love?

Three Cheers (and Two Feasts) - Lobster Season is Here

To me, the first spiny lobster plucked from the California Pacific on the first Wednesday of October is as important as the first pitch at Petco Park in March. That is, VERY important.

                                      

Arriving home from vacation over the weekend, we dashed out Saturday night to Rimel’s Rotisserie in downtown La Jolla for a lobster extravaganza.  The lobster, split and grilled over mesquite wood and topped with lip-smacking salsa fresca, was tender and moist, with a lovely sweetness and unmistakable fresh ocean flavor.

Served with a little tub of melted butter, black beans, lemon wedges, rice and warm flour tortillas, it was worth waiting seven months for --- the season ends each year on the first Wednesday after March 15^th.

Also known as California spiny lobster, this cousin of the Maine lobster has razor-like bumps on its carapace and two long spiny antennae, but no large claws. Found in the waters off southern- and mid- California and Mexico’s Baja California, this species is usually about 12 inches long when they hit the restaurant plate. 

Actually, I had waited two years for my Saturday feast. I didn’t get a single local lobster last year because the prices were prohibitive (40 bucks and up for a half-lobster dinner) and the availability was next to nothing. My seafood sources, a couple of local fishermen and fish market owners, told me that Japanese buyers  snatched up the local catches and paid sky-high prices for them, leaving little for local merchants. 

                                         
                                         

I don’t know what the dynamics of that dance are this year, but I’m thrilled that the lobsters are out there, and they are of top quality. I paid $39.95 for the whole lobster (about 1 ½ pounds) dinner at Rimel’s.

The next night I paid $35 for a whole lobster dinner (pictured above) at The Fishery in nearby Pacific Beach. Two lobster pig-outs on two nights in a row --- sheer heaven.

The Fishery calls its whole spiny lobster “Puerto Nuevo-style,” meaning that it’s cooked after the fashion popularized in Puerto Nuevo, a dirt-road town about a half hour south of Tijuana, Mexico.

In truth, The Fishery’s preparation is far more sophisticated than that of Puerto Nuevo, where the cheek-by-jowl eateries often pop lobsters into smoking vats of lard and serve them alongside frijoles fried in lard. At The Fishery my spiny beast was dusted with a house blend of four types of chili powder, poached whole, split, and finished on the grill.  Each chunk that emerged from the shell was charred on the top, but emphatically juicy underneath. The salsa fresca --- tomato, onion, jalapeno, cilantro – had just the right bite. The pinto beans were served in a crisp, fluted tortilla shell, dusted with cotija cheese. 

When I was little, growing up in Boston, a Maine lobster dinner was considered the ultimate luxury. Two dinners in two nights was like Christmas coming early.