Matters of Taste

How Do I Love Thee, Gary Danko

Let me count the ways.

For starters, there’s the astonishing Crispy Farm Egg you do at your award-winning restaurant near San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf. Gently cracking the golden orb was like opening a Fabergé egg to discover its treasures. In this case, a bright runny yolk that mixed and mingled deliciously with the creamy white polenta, Royal Trumpet mushrooms, wisps of frisee and pancetta on the plate.

                                      

Loveworthy, too, is the precious medallion of pink, a point salmon that you top with a paper-thin horseradish crisp, creating a delicious textural counterpoint.

Way #3: The off-the-charts yummy Herb Crusted Lamb Loin -- scarlet-hearted, glistening with natural juices, and with a delicate rim of crushed herbs adding flavor and texture. (Photo from TasteTests.com.)

                                     

Way #4: The equally off-the-charts Hazelnut Crusted Pork Tenderloin, with a little puddle of braised pork cheeks on the side. Totally swoon-worthy. (Squash puree, apples, chestnuts and Brussels sprouts on the side make this the quintessential autumn/winter stunner.)

And, oh, yes, that pickled beet salad of yours. Anyone can toss a few beets into garden greenery and anoint it all with walnut vinaigrette. But only you nestle a quivering goat cheese panna cotta into the scene and scatter watercress clusters for a peppery punch.

                                        

But what do I love most about Gary Danko? The attitude.

The guy has won the James Beard Award for Best Chef California and been nominated by that organization for Outstanding Chef of the Year. His restaurant won the James Beard Best New Restaurant Award the year after its opening. He captured Esquire’s Best New Restaurant Award for an earlier restaurant.

Yet he remains a down-to-earth gentleman, devoted to being in his kitchen, and giving his guests the best possible dining experience every evening.  That means maximum flavors in stunningly simple presentations.  An elegant but unfussy setting.  Flawless service -- professional yet accessible. And remarkable value -- $73 for three courses, $107 for five courses. (Photo from BonAppetit magazine.)

                                    

Call me crazy. But I like to walk out of a restaurant gushing about the delicious food and the fun of dining in a comfy place with people I like, not bragging about how much money I just spent and how stuffed I am after 12 or 14 courses.

I guess that’s another reason I love thee, Gary Danko. You get it. 

 

The Rest of the Best

Everybody loves a list.

Especially when it involves food. On Thursday I highlighted two of 2012's most scrumptious cocktails. This week I’ll start a run-down of the best food and drink, dynamite destinations, and dining extravaganzas that I encountered in 2012. That means Appetizing Appetizers like the crispy skinned potato chunks at Jamonera (Philadelphia). Sprinkled with coarse salt and drizzled with a bracing, wood-smoked garlic aioli, they delivered a rapid-fire volley of flavors and textures. 

                                  

And Divine Desserts, like the voluptuous Chocolate Bread & Butter Pudding at The Hungry Cat (Santa Barbara) that performs magic with crusty cubes of bread, silken ganache and a bumpy brulée crust.

                                   

And Pasta dishes that'll make you weep. Case in point: Thomas McNaughton's Flour + Water (San Francisco) Raviolo Doppio of Pork & Pea.

                                    

Hungry yet?

Come back and check out the Highlights of 2012.

A Honey (Dew) of a Drink -- Best Cocktail of 2012

Actually there were two Best Cocktails last year, but since their success revolved around one rather unusual and very scrumptious ingredient I’m calling it a tie.

Who knew that honeydew melon could be a playa on the chic ‘n’ trendy cocktail circuit?

At Hop Sing Laundromat in Philly’s Chinatown, I fell in love with a simple but magical potion involving a top-shelf rye and freshly pressed honeydew melon juice. It was a wildly aromatic wonder, mingling the soft summery sweetness of honeydew with the warm, dry spice of rye whiskey. Served ice cold, straight up in an old-fashioned champagne coupe ( the shallow alternative to the flute), it was exciting, inspiring and delicious.

                   


Hop Sing Laundromat (above) is showing up on plenty of Best of 2012 lists. It’s a quirky, fantastical place that channels the days and drinks of pre-Prohibition and the Speakeasy era. Opened last summer by a dapper Asian gent who calls himself simply “Lee”, it became an instant sensation, thanks to creative, meticulously crafted cocktails, a supremely comfortable space, and a definite flair for the dramatic.

 

My early September adventure began when my son, Nicholas, and I arrived at an unmarked door in Chinatown a little after midnight on a Saturday evening and rang the buzzer. The street was dark and deserted. Nicholas assured me that he knew “the drill,” but I fretted nonetheless that either #1 I wouldn’t pass muster with the bouncer who’d open the door or  #2 I’d end up getting mugged in what seemed to me a rather sketchy part of town.

After several minutes the door peeped open and a “host” escorted a group of very happy guests out, wishing them a good evening. He told us someone would be with us shortly. That someone was “Lee” himself who opened the door after a few more minutes and asked what we wanted. Nicholas told him we’d come for cocktails -- seemed like a no-duh question and answer to me but apparently it's part of the schtick. Lee asked if we knew the rules. Nicholas assured him that he did, but Lee nevertheless ran down the list:

No cell phones, no cameras, no other recording devices, and cash only.  Apparently we both looked pretty good, because Lee skipped his usual spiel about “dress” requirements that ban flip-flops, sandals, sneakers of any kind, shorts and hats.  Oh yeah, patrons aren’t supposed to bug the bartenders with questions about what’s in each drink either, which is why my above description of my own personal honeydew heaven is short on specifics.

When the eccentric Lee ushered us inside, I was dumbfounded by the scene that unfolded --  a cavernous, dimly-lit space with high ceilings, exposed brick, church pews,  bookshelves lined with weighty tomes, a massive carved wood bar lighted by real candles, and a floor covered completely with shiny pennies. Elegant, well-spaced tables were tucked into every alcove, stools lined the nickel-plated bar.

                                            

All Hop Sing cocktails are unique and inspired, and made with fruit juices squeezed on the spot, homemade syrups and bitters, and an astonishing collection of top-shelf booze, said to number 1,000 bottles. (Photo of the Henry "Box" Brown cocktail by Robert Neroni.) Glasses are vintage style, ice is custom made, servers are polite and professional. Most drinks (each of which is said to have two-ounces of alcohol) cost $12, a bargain by any modern standard, a downright steal given the mesmerizing performance that is Hop Sing Laundromat.

 

                                  *********************************************************************

 

Honeydew also showed up in my glass at Franklin Mortgage and Investment Co. another Philadelphia lounge/bar seeking to recreate the days of Prohibition. (Am I the only one who doesn’t get this fascination with one of the nastier periods of American history?)

                                  

Named for the company that served as the front for what was once the largest illicit booze ring in the country, the subterranean Franklin Mortgage and Investment Co.-- A Drinking Establishment  (just off Rittenhouse Square) captures the flair of the pre-Prohibition era with its décor, music, and drinks.

We arrived early on a blustery October evening and managed to snag a cozy corner booth right away (I’m told patrons routinely wait an hour or more on the sidewalk in everything from snowstorms to sauna baths). Based on my experience, these classy, creative cocktails are well worth the wait.

My Starbuck Swizzle was a light and luscious concoction of Tanqueray gin, Bonal (a French aperitif), green Chartreuse, house-made honeydew syrup, fresh pineapple and lime juices and a few drops of orange bitters. Each fruit announced its presence loud and clear; the gin contributed the perfect herbal balance. I also love the Emma Frost, a glitzy production of Plymouth Gin, Cocchi Americano, fresh lemon juice, house-made grapefruit syrup and a few drops of crème de Violette. 

                                       


The rest of the ever-changing menu at Franklin Mortgage is equally enticing, with all the ingredients of the day – Rittenhouse Rye, Buffalo Trace Bourbon, Becherovka, Bitter Truth Bitters – shaken and stirred by a talented team that’s having a whale of a good time doing its job. Mixologist/bartender Al Sotak (pictured above) will be  honored next month as one of Philadelphia’s 2013 Rising Stars by StarChefs.com.

 

To Grind or Not To Grind

Not exactly a deep philosophical dilemma. But, as events played out at our house over the holidays, a serious question to ponder nonetheless.

It all started when son Nicholas arrived at our vacation home for Christmas, proudly bearing two sacks of Stumptown coffee. For those not yet in-the-know, Stumptown is a cherished Portland, Oregon operation, with five stores there, two in Seattle and one in New York City.

                                       

“I hope you brought ground coffee; I don’t have a grinder,” I said as he unpacked his bags and looked at me in total shock. No grinder? How can any self-respecting coffee aficionado not have a grinder? Of course, he brought beans, because anyone who stops by the Stumptown coffee wagon at Penn every morning, and grinds and brews his own coffee – French Press, if you please – at home wouldn’t dream of bringing anything but beans.

Yes, I am a coffee aficionado. I have catalogued in my brain the best cups of java I’ve drunk in my life, starting with the perfect-crema espresso at Hotel Greif in Bolzano, Italy; the heavenly latte at a dinky café in Val D’Elsa, Tuscany; and the ethereal cappuccino at Sant Ambroeus on Madison Avenue in New York. 

Yeah, I know all about Stumptown and Blue Bottle.  I know that the Major Dickson's Blend at Peet’s  Coffee is mighty fine. And I truly hate pretty much everything about Starbucks, other than the fact that you can get consistent lattes when you’re in godforsaken places that don’t know from consistent lattes (think Mesquite, NV). (Photo by Jim Wilson for The New York Times.)

                              


But I don’t grind. And I don’t do brewed coffee, only espresso. Haven’t crushed a bean for about 15 years when my restaurant-model Faema espresso machine with grinder bit the dust. That’s also when I discovered Illy Caffe. Ground. From Italy. In classic silver canisters. So, for two decades I’ve been smugly making lattes every morning with ground Illy and milk frothed to a fare-thee-well in my beloved Froth au Lait machine.

Until Christmas week 2012, that is.

“Well, OK, maybe I have a grinder around here somewhere,” I feebly answered Nicholas’s look of incredulity. And, indeed, I did have a functioning Braun grinder tucked away in a cabinet. And, I was totally blown away the first morning I ground Stumptown Ethiopia Mordecofe beans and brewed them in a Mr. Coffee that I also dug out of a cabinet.

This extraordinary cup of coffee had so many flavors swirling around it felt like a party. The little card that accompanied the bag suggested notes of mint chip ice cream, brown sugar, apple, fig and ginger, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t catch every one of those nuances in each complex, deeply satisfying sip. The aroma was intoxicating.

Nicholas wasn’t the only one leading the charge for grinding fresh beans that week. On January 2 the NYT Dining section ganged up on me with its cover story “Learning to Create the Perfect Cup of Coffee”  and persuasive sidebar “Better Coffee Depends on Good Grinding.” (Photo by Jim Wilson for NYT.)

                             

So, all right already. I’m convinced. Hooked. A convert. The NYT was persuasive, but it was the flavor and fragrance of freshly ground and brewed Stumptown Ethiopia Mordecofe and Hair Bender coffees (the latter promised notes of milk chocolate and caramel and it delivered) that really sealed the deal.

Unfortunately, the Mordecofe brew is not currently available at Stumptown, so I’ll sit and sip my Illy (freshly ground, of course) until it’s back.

Justice (and Soup!) Served

I had Jury Duty yesterday. After four hours of sitting in the Juror Lounge, reading newspapers (fresh and stale) and hoping against hope that my name wouldn’t be called for a trial, I was sent packing with my fellow “potential jurors” for a two-hour “lunch.”

I wandered the streets of downtown San Diego for a while, shopped a bit and finally ended up in the café at Nordstrom where I ordered the soup of the day, Chicken Watercress. It was sensational – a lightly thickened tangle of tangy watercress “ribbons” and tender nubbins of chicken that looked and tasted like they had been hand-shredded from the bird by Grandma herself (as opposed to hard, dense cubes hacked by machines). Very simple, very classic, very delicious.

                                   

The recipe isn’t in any of the Nordstrom cookbooks. However, in perusing the "Nordstrom Family and Friends Cookbook," I came upon a soup that sounds even better. And, given the frigid temperatures we’re experiencing this week, Nordstrom's Chicken Pot Pie Soup (above) is an ideal dinner solution. I plan to make it tonight. Here’s the recipe. (Photo from Foodspotting.com.)

 

NORDSTROM CHICKEN POT PIE SOUP

(slightly adapted)

 5 cups reduced sodium chicken broth

2  chicken breast halves with skin on and bone in

1 medium onion, sliced

2 teaspoons chopped fresh parsley

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

1/4 teaspoon black peppercorns (or 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper)

1 stick butter, divided

1 medium onion, chopped

2 carrots, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch dice

2 celery stalks, cut into 1/4-inch dice

6 mushrooms, quartered

2 unpeeled red-skinned potatoes, cut into 1/4-inch dice

1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

2 cups heavy cream

3/4 cup thawed frozen peas

Combine broth, 1 cup water, chicken breasts, onion and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a large saucepan. Bring to boil and turn down to simmer. Add parsley, thyme and peppercorns; partially cover and cook slowly until chicken is tender and cooked through (approx.. 30 minutes).

Strain into a heatproof bowl, reserving the broth. Place chicken on carving board and set aside to cool.

Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a large Dutch oven. Place the remaining 6 tablespoons butter in a heatproof medium bowl and let stand at room temperature to soften. Add chopped onion, carrots, celery and mushrooms to heated Duth oven and cook, stirring until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add potatoes and stir well. Stir in 4 cups reserved broth and bring to a simmer. (Reserve the remaining broth for another recipe. Can be frozen.) Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Add flour to softened butter and mash with a fork or rubber spatula to make a smooth paste. Whisk in about 2 cups of cooking liquid from the Dutch oven to make a thin paste. Whisk this mixture back into the Dutch oven along with cream. Simmer until the soup is velvety smooth and lightly thickened, about 10 minutes. Add the chicken and peas and cook until heated through. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

 

 

 

 

Ringing in the New Year - With Justin Isosceles Reserve

About a year ago a friend gave us a bottle of Justin 2007 Isosceles Reserve. I’ve been waiting – and salivating – for just the right occasion to open it, and found that occasion last week on New Year’s Eve.

                                         

The wine, a Bordeaux-style blend from Central Coast California, the Paso Robles region, was one of the most delicious I’ve ever tasted. The intense aroma of cassis and black plums (and whiff of vanilla) met me more than halfway, that is, the minute I opened the bottle. The concentrated flavors of blackberries and currants were almost chew-able. Though extremely fruit-forward, the wine was balanced and refined.

Fans of French Bordeaux may scoff at my enthusiasm, preferring more reserved, austere wines as they do. But I’m not ashamed to say I flipped over this bold, extraordinarily rich, self-confident wine and can't wait to taste it again. (Justin Isosceles Reserve 2007 received 94 points from Wine Enthusiast. It sells for about $100. Though I've heard that it is only available to the winery’s Wine Society members, I did find a few bottles for sale on-line.)

Before planning the New Years Eve dinner, I read the tasting notes on the wine and wondered what the heck one eats with a wine that’s called “tremendous,” “impressive,” “powerful,” “brilliant” and “gorgeous?” We decided on our family’s traditional Christmas Day turkey dinner, which we didn’t have on Christmas Day this year, and readied an organic nine-pound bird, for the outdoor Ducane rotisserie. I was looking for pure, hearty flavors but nothing rich or fussy to compete with the wine. The crackly, well-burnished bird, with mashed potatoes and shaved Brussels sprouts sauteed with shallots, bacon and toasted hazelnuts, was a deliciously satisfying choice.

                                          

However, the logistics of the adventure proved a little dicey. Since the thermometer registered below zero that night, my husband had to pile on ski clothes each time he ventured out to baste the bird. As it happens, the Wall Street Journal picked the same day to do a feature on winter barbecuing. "The Life of the Party: Your Grill" offers tips, recipes and anecdotes about dinner parties in Fargo, ND.  

You CAN Go Home Again -- Coffee Mallow

When I was little my favorite dessert was the Coffee Mallow that my grandmother made.  I got the very important job of snipping marshmallows into a bowl, using a pair of big-people scissors. Nana then poured hot brewed coffee over the heap and I stirred until most of the sticky bits were melted but some chunks remained. Then we whipped cream with a rotary whisk, and folded it into the mix. Not haute, but undeniably happy cuisine. (This photo, from Taste of Home, shows the dessert dusted with crushed Oreos, a step my grandmother skipped.)

                                       

Last week I attempted to “upgrade” the concoction using artisanal marshmallows instead of Kraft, and Illy Caffe espresso instead of the inexpensive A&P blend my grandmother used.

Handmade marshmallows are the rage these days, with countless recipes on-line and in cookbooks, and dozens of small-batch companies making the cloud-like nuggets. (Plush Puffs is one of the best.)

Unfortunately, my local Whole Foods had only their own brand of Peppy Peppermint Handcrafted Marshmallows in stock, and the idea of a peppermint-espresso  marriage didn’t thrill me.  So I substituted Ghirardelli hot chocolate for the coffee and snipped, whipped and folded my way straight back to my grandmother’s kitchen.

The result was as luscious as ever. Much sweeter than the original coffee version, but a perfect blend of fluff and lump, and a great catalyst for reminiscing, and sharing those memories with my own kids.

                                            

No sooner did I lap and smack the last of the “mallow” in my bowl than I serendipitously stumbled upon a months-old Wall Street Journal article about the lowly but “universally loved” marshmallow. Reporter Jennifer Levitz claims that marshmallow products are found in the pantries of 46 percent of U.S. households. Her fascinating article focuses on Marshmallow Fluff, the snowy white marshmallow cream that’s been made in Lynn, Mass. since the 1920s.

                                      

I loved the article because I've been a Fluff fan since birth (in Lynn, Mass., by the way). But what really grabbed me was a factoid about the origin of the marshmallow. After 25-plus years as Food Editor and Columnist of the Union-Tribune, I thought I had heard it all. But learning that the marshmallow was originally made in Egypt from the mallow plants that grew in marshes there was a jaw-dropping “You’ve got to be kidding!” moment. Read more here.

 

Hog Wild -- Christmas Week at Our House

Charles Dickens may have considered a fat goose to be the de rigueur Christmas feast. But at our house last week it was all pork, all the time.

Bauernschmaus headlined the menu for Christmas Eve. Known as Choucroute Alsacienne in France, this Tyrolean specialty is a heaping mound of apple- and bacon-flecked sauerkraut hiding a treasure trove of pork sausages and smoked pork chops. It’s topped with fat, fluffy dumplings known as knödeln.

                                 

My husband and I have enjoyed Bauernschmaus on Christmas Eve (and other wintery nights) since 1977 when we discovered the “farmer’s feast” while living in Innsbruck, Austria.The impressive one-pot wonder is remarkably easy to make. First, sauté a chopped large onion or two until caramelized. Add large jar of (drained) sauerkraut to the pan; mix in two thinly sliced green apple (skin left on) and top it all with two or three strips of bacon. Cover the pan and cook over low heat for about 40 minutes, discard the bacon, and add all the goodies.

This year I used fresh bratwurst, frankfurters and knockwurst, and several smoked pork chops, all from Tip Top Meats in Carlsbad, CA. The semolina dumplings were ready-made, in a bag that I just dropped into boiling water. I hope my Austrian friends don’t read this; it’s just too embarrassing. But making the dumplings from scratch is a challenging operation and Christmas Eve isn’t the time for challenging operations. I serve the hearty feast with a half dozen different types of mustard -- Bavarian sweet, stone-ground, honey, and Dijon among them; as well as horseradish sauce.

 Our Christmas Night Dinner was another porkathon, enjoyed on December 26th since the skiing on December 25 was too good to pass up and left no time for complicated dinner preparations. Our crisp, oversized Beggar’s Purses were filled with chunks of pork tenderloin, slow-braised with Anderson Valley Brewing Company Winter Solstice Seasonal Ale, onions and dried cranberries. Each slice of pork was topped with my cousin Wendy’s Red Onion Marmalade (recipe follows), then wrapped in butter-sloshed phyllo dough. It wasn’t the prettiest package at the party (I do not recommend the Athens brand's skimpy phyllo sheets), but it was festive (with broccoli puree and mashed Yukon Golds on the side) and delicious. 

                               

A couple day’s later, son Ben volunteered an exotic menu of Pork Vindaloo with basmati rice, mango chutney and naan. He made the fragrant stew in the pressure cooker (far more efficient at 9,000 feet), adapting Lorna Sass’ recipe from “The Pressured Cook.” Made with coarse-grained mustard, fresh ginger, toasted cumin seeds, dried red chiles, coconut milk, Yukon Golds and frozen peas, it was a colorful and lively antidote to the rich food of earlier nights.

Not to be outdone, son Nicholas whipped up Tacos Al Pastor for the final pork party of the week. No tacky taco shells for this guy. No quick-grilled tenderloin, or packaged seasoning mix. This labor of love involved a hunk of pork shoulder, painstakingly trimmed and sliced into fat slabs that spent the night in a marinade of dried guajillo, ancho and chipotle chiles, fresh lime and orange juices, Mexican oregano, cumin seeds, garlic and a splash of Coca-Cola. (The recipe is from Food & Wine.)

                                       

At showtime, Nicholas grilled the meat on the Ducane, along with fat slices of onion and fresh pineapple, then chopped and piled the succulent pork atop tiny warm corn tortillas from La Tortilla Ria in nearby Telluride, CO. Chopped grilled onion and pineapple added the finishing touches, along with a last-minute flurry of chopped red onion and cilantro.

All in all, a week-long pig-out to remember.

Here's Wendy Neal's recipe for Red Onion Marmalade. It makes about 2 1/2 cups.

 

Olive Oil (3/4 - 1 cup)

3 1/2 lbs red onion (sliced thin)

Red pepper to taste

1 cup brown brown sugar (packed)

3/4 cup apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup Sherry

1 - 2 tbs grated ginger

Heat olive oil in large saute pan. Add onions and red pepper and cook over low heat until tender, at least 40 minutes. Add sugar, vinegar, Sherry and ginger. Cook until onions are really tender (I cooked them another 30-40 minutes) and begin to caramelize. They should become thick and dark.