Matters of Taste

Prosecco & Frosty Paws: The "New" Cocktail Hour

                                    

When our beloved black Lab, Geena, turned 10 earlier this month, we celebrated at a sunset cocktail party. There were Aperol Spritzes for the two-legged guests and Frosty Paws ice cream cups for the dozen dogs who gave new meaning to the term "party-hearty."  (Photo by Joyce Johnston.)

Aperol is an Italian apertif that's been popular in Italy, Austria and Germany for a hundred years and is now a hot cocktail in the U.S. too. (See what I wrote about it in 2011.) It's a tantalizing blend of flavors --  rhubarb, gentian flowers, bitter orange and cinchona (the source of quinine). Aperol looks like Campari (and is now owned by Campari) but has none of the bitterness of that other Italian aperitif.

The "Spritz" cocktail is made with a splash of Aperol, then half Prosecco and half sparkling water. It's delicious, refreshing and very low in alcohol. It's also very pretty. Make one for yourself and everyone else at the party will want one too.

                                           

Frosty Paws, from Purina, are a dog's equivalent of winning the lottery. It looks like the little paper cup of ice cream baby-boomers bought from the ice cream truck and ate with a tiny flat wooden spoon. (Folks who grew up with me in New England know this phenomenon as the "Hoodsie Cup.") I don't know what it tastes like because Geena doesn't share.

                                      

What I can tell you is, whip one of these out of the freezer and you will have a friend for forever. (Frosty  Paws also come as bite-sized treats similar to the Dibs enjoyed by the two-legged set.)

If Geena could talk, she'd tell me birthdays aren't so bad. She'll gladly turn 70 years old any day, if there's a cup of ice cream in it for her.

                                         

Toqué! --- The Book, The Blog, The Beautiful Food

When I wrote earlier this week about the many wonders of Montreal chef Normand Laprise's kitchen, I attributed the blog All Toqué'd Out to him. Turns out this very cool blog with exceptional photography is the work of a French-Canadian food-lover who is methodically cooking his way throught Laprise's book, Toqué! Chef Normand and his restaurant, Toqué!, have no connection to the blog.

On the blog, David, the cook, and his "close-minded, picky vegetarian" partner, Melissa, share mouth-watering photos that show their glamorous final dishes as well as all the sometimes-tricky steps along the way. The blog's tone is conversational and user-friendly.

Check out the blog; then head to Amazon to buy chef Normand Laprise's book for yourself.

                                                MAPLE SYRUP CARAMELIZED ASPARAGUS  

                                  

                                   BANANA SORBET AND MOUSSE WITH DRY SAFFRON MERINGUE 

                                  

                 

                                               ASPARAGUS MOUSSE WITH BURNT BUTTER    

                                   
 

                                            

Touting Montreal's Toqué! Restaurant

It’s hard to say what I love most about Normand Laprise.

                                         

His effervescent personality that shines through even when he’s hard at work in the high-pressure kitchen of Toqué restaurant in Montreal.

His impressive ability to translate the hard-to-fathom machinations of Modernist Cuisine into something simple, down-to-earth and divinely delicious.

His gorgeous cookbook, Toqué, which won the James Beard Award last year for Best “Professional” Cookbook.

Or, let’s get real here, his food. Silken Pink Banana squash soup with bacon and thyme-scented whipped cream. Pan-seared wild mushrooms with poached egg, melted Gruyere cheese and cherry tomatoes. Gratin of chevre cheese and potatoes. Puckery lemon tartelettes piled with toasty meringue. Classic escargots in all its bronzed, garlicky glory.    

                                     


Last fall, I dined at Toqué on the recommendation of my good friend Julian Armstrong, former food editor of the Montreal Gazette. I loved the airy space and stylish design, the welcoming staff led by Laprise’s partner Christine Lamarche, the thoughtful wine list on which I discovered a  yummy new friend, Monthelie, from Burgundy’s Cote de Beaune, and the food.  Creative, but not precious or contrived. Delicate, but with robust, satisfying flavors.

                                      

Scallops (above), served in their shell, were thinly sliced and floating on a pool of fragrant apple water, with a hints of daikon and pear mousse doing the bitter-sweet balancing act. A stunning tomato “carpaccio” featured lovely late-harvest specimens, their flavor intensified by fresh basil and lime-spiked mayonnaise. Bits of pancetta added oomph to the dish and a subtle tomato vinaigrette made all the different flavors play in perfect harmony.

                                        

Mushrooms had a starring role on the menu. A first course of pan-seared wild mushrooms was terrific. Ditto the main course of cavatelli pasta (above) tossed with wild mushrooms shiny with a gossamer cream and parmesan cheese glaze.

 I was so taken by the show at Toqué that I went with friends the next night to Laprise’s newer, more casual restaurant, Brasserie T!, in Montreal’s Quartier des Spectacles.  At this French-Canadian gastropub we feasted on opulent Coquille St. Jacques and garlicky escargot – the proverbial ‘blasts from the past’ --- as well as admirable duck rillettes, glossy salmon tartare with crisp French fries, and fat, handsome homemade sausages with white beans and salad. (Photo by Hand Laurendeau, Shoot Studio.)

                     

And, finally, on my third and last day in Montreal, I dropped in on Laprise in the kitchen of the city’s Mont Royal Club where he was consulting on a new menu. That’s where I got to see the passionate perfectionist, the tireless experimenter, the creative, independent trend-setter with the flawless classic techniques.

That’s also where I learned how to build a better béarnaise sauce.

To lighten the fat and calorie count, yet deliver the equally seductive mouth-feel of classic béarnaise, Laprise uses a whipping siphon. That’s the contraption that the rest of us reserve for making whipped cream, the ISI Cream Profi Whip, which you can find on Amazon.com. (There’s also a cookbook devoted to this Modernist Cuisine tool.)

                                          

Laprise starts his sauce with the basic ingredients -- egg yolks, salt, white wine –- but uses none of the butter demanded for the traditional recipe. Instead, he employs the whipping siphon  -- with two cartridges instead of one -- to create a super-light sauce that won’t curdle or separate. I was blown away by the silky-smooth texture and the delicate flavor of this bearnaise. And, since bearnaise or hollandaise made this way can be kept warm in the siphon in a waterbath, it becomes far more do-able for the home cook.

Read more about Laprise, his restaurants and his fascinating version of apple mousse (below) at his blog, AllToquedOut.   

                                      

Coqueta: The Best of Spain meets the Best of San Francisco

There’s a good reason why Coqueta is on the final ballot for the 2014 James Beard Best New Restaurant Award.

Actually, there are quite a few good reasons why this San Francisco newbie made it onto the list of the five best eateries to open their doors last year. (Winner will be announced at the annual Beard Awards in New York City on May 5.

                                     

Reason #1:  Pintxos, dozens of them, Spain's traditional skewered snacks lined up on wooden platters like a glamorous Rockettes chorus line. Pronounced  peen-chos, these are one- or two-bite offerings that pair perfectly with the house’s cocktails and wines, and that give diners a tantalizing hint of what’s to come. I loved the hopscotch game played by the pintxo of Spanish chorizo, roasted artichoke and piquillo peppers, as well as the skewer of Serrano ham with Manchego cheese and an apricot-Sherry chutney. (Photo by San Francisco Chronicle.)

Reason #2: Luscious duck and pork meatballs, with crisply grilled edges, a tart cherry puree and crackly fried shallot rings on the side.

                     


Reason #10 (Don’t worry, we’ll get to 3 through 9 in a minute.) Coqueta has one of the the coolest vibes in town, thanks to a packed house of attractive, animated guests and a dramatic décor complete with cowhide rugs,  handsome wood floors, rough-hewn columns holding the ceiling high overhead and a bustling open kitchen.  Woven leather chairs encircle rustic wood tables set with hammered copper water cups. There’s also an inviting “patio” (enclosed in cold weather) that was abuzz with party-hearty diners on the January night I visited.

                                    

Chef Michael Chiarello, famed for his Napa Valley restaurants Bottega and Tra Vigne, captures the sexy, vivacious vibe of Barcelona restaurants with this, his first real departure from Italian fare. He deftly marries the Spanish menu to the local, seasonal and organic ingredients at his fingertips.  The result is one of the buzziest and most delicious scenes in town.

OK. Back to the litany of lovable dishes.

                                     

Reason #3. New potatoes with crisp, lightly smoked skins and dreamy, creamy insides. Salsa brava and a spot of garlicky alioli (Catalan’s version of aioli) doubled the eating pleasure.

 #4. A pintxo of quails eggs “Diablo” with pickled mustard seed and Serrano ham.

 #5: Brilliant baby beets on a toothpick with Cana de Cabra (soft-ripened goat’s milk cheese), grilled spring onions and a spritz of citrus.

 #6: A chickpea flour pancake with juicy nuggets of shrimp inside and a drizzle of saffron alioli on top. (Photo from Yelp.)

                                       

 #7 Grilled beef shortribs, fork-tender and slick with a lip-smacking fino sherry-chocolate glaze.

 #8 Beet salad dressed up with just-picked watercress from Sausalito and the Spanish blue-veined cheese called Cabrales.

 #9 Rice, rice and more rice. Though Chiarello’s glamorous paella is a specialty of the house, our merry band of tapas tasters opted for the simpler Arros con Setas and loved the comforting fusion of caramelized mushrooms, slightly smoky Idiazabal cheese, braised kumquats and Bomba rice. (Photo by San Francisco Chronicle.)

                                    

By the way, Coqueta’s liquid offerings are as exciting as the food.  Would you believe seven racy riffs on the classic Gin ‘n Tonic?  And a by-the-glass list of some 25 interesting wines? With tantalizing cocktails like the "Castro" (tequila, fino sherry, Fresno pepper, lime and pickled carrot) and homemade sangria (red wine and sherry, plus ginger, berries and chamomile), it takes some self discipline to move on to the eating portion of the menu. (There are  creative non-alcoholic refrescos too.)

The James Beard Awards are the Oscars of the food world. Coqueta’s competition in the award for Best New Restaurant: Betony, Carbone and Estela in New York City, and Peche Seafood Grill in New Orleans. For a complete list of the awards and the nominees, see the James Beard Website.

 

 

Local Color: Katz Orange Restaurant, Berlin

On a short visit to Berlin last summer, I fell in love with the darling of that city’s booming dining scene: Katz Orange.

“The Orange Cat” is a small bistro-like eatery with a big personality and a commitment to local organic ingredients and an eclectic style of cooking. Occupying two floors of a handsome brick 19^th-century brewery, Katz Orange has a rustic charm and inviting ambiance that won me over the instant I stepped inside. (Actually, as soon as I stepped into the front courtyard which is dramatically illuminated at night.) (Photo from HollywoodReporter.com.)

                            
                                 

Inside, the lighting – mostly by huge candles -- is low and artistic; the furniture, an appealing blend of hipster modern and vintage. There’s an eye-popping red lighting installation on the ceiling, a cascading chandelier by the door, and a small “art gallery” in back. Servers are a friendly, accommodating group that includes an American sommelier in love with Pinot Noirs. (Photo by Scoop.it.)

                           

Katz Orange’s clientele, a mix of hip young people, important-looking older people, and everything in between, is eminently watchable. The vibe is comfortable, cool, and playful.

The food, too, is cool and playful, a deft blend of classic German, contemporary German and tried-and-true American favorites, such as Philadelphia  Cheesecake with fresh rhubarb. The focus is seasonal and locally sourced. The menu changes often and usually includes two Tasting Menus, along with a la carte options.

We started dinner with an elegant little salad of wild herbs, leafy, flavorful, and laced with raw marinated fennel, pear chutney, “sweet-and-salty” sunflower seeds, and a misting of carrot and fennel cream. Equally exciting was the soup of young spring garlic speckled with small ground lamb meatballs.

It’s not often that I opt for an all-American hamburger when I’m in Europe, but I couldn’t resist the handsome specimens being trotted past our table. It was a great choice: top-notch juicy beef, loosely formed into a massive burger, perfectly cooked and topped with homemade condiments. I loved every bite. Ditto every bite of the crisp French fries, cooked in organic goose fat, and served with lip-smacking homemade ketchup and curried mayonnaise.

                            

Asparagus Risotto was also impressive, its al dente rice studded with local green and white asparagus and roasted romaine lettuce, and crowned with a poached “farmer’s” egg (no store-bought eggs for this chef) and a drizzle of chervil-laced cream.

In addition to the Philly Cheesecake, seasonal mousses and a cheese selection, the Orange Cat offers a lovely little plate of petits fours that sends guests off satisfied but not stuffed.

                                    

Since we didn’t get to taste the dish Katz Orange is most famous for ---12-hour-cooked specialty pork, with champagne cabbage, braised onion and potato puree, we have a good excuse to go back to Berlin again sometime soon.

The restaurant, in Berlin's trendy Mitte neighborhood, is open daily. Prices range from 7 to 26 Euros ($8 to $36).

POUTINE: Delicious Dish or "Dog's Dinner?"

You could call this an “Out of the mouths of babes” story. Or, more accurately, an “Into the mouths of babes” story.

You see, it was my 20-something sons who got me to try poutine. They had discovered this Canadian creation at Whistler Mountain, B.C., then at Salt House in San Francisco. They both raved about the glories of the mishmash of French fries, fresh cheese curds and brown gravy. They marveled at how it was always served in an enormous portion.

                       

For years, I've listened and wondered where the hell I went wrong in raising these kids. I mean, really. What could possibly be appealing about a huge load of soggy French fries trapped in (barely)edible sludge.

But last fall, I decided to give poutine a chance when I was in Montreal, said to be its birthplace. (Technically the dish is thought to have been invented in either Warwick or Drummondville, small Quebec towns not far from Montreal.)

I was lucky enough to be guided in my exploration by Julian Armstrong, the former food editor of the Montreal Gazette and a close friend of mine for decades.

Julian was quick to defend the dish, saying that it was pretty darn delicious when it first became popular sometime in the 1960s.

“It came in an individual small soup bowl type of styrofoam container. This allowed the freshly fried fries to stand up in the bowl, with very fresh cheese curds dropped into the bottom where they could start to melt. Over this went a little chicken gravy. You raised a fry and it would have a slight amount of melted cheese dripping from it, as if you had dipped it in a good cheese fondue. The gravy was only a garnish,” she explained.

However, more recently, when she and a photographer were looking for poutine to photograph for her book on Montreal street food, she had a rude awakening.

“I found the arrival of a low, wide Styrofoam container and a super-abundance of gravy. The look? Dog’s dinner. What hath the popularity of this simple dish done to it?”

                                       

I opted to taste my first poutine at a popular food truck parked by Montreal's Convention Center. There were about 20 people clustered around the truck, waiting to order or pick up. Everybody was very jovial. This was clearly not just lunch but a cherished ritual. I was excited.

I stuck with the basic poutine, made at this truck with braised beef cheeks, which were very tasty. The cheese curds were OK; a little chewy and with minimal cheese flavor (cheese curds don’t normally have a lot of flavor anyway). But, oh, my, the poor French fries. When I finally rescued one from the gooey gravy sea, it was long past resuscitation.

My first poutine was likely to be my last.

But, for those of you who think you can, indeed, polish a meatball, there are poutine variations including Greek, with feta cheese and gyro meat; Italian, with spaghetti and tomato sauce; and New Jersey poutine with mozzarella.

Armstrong also tells me that Montreal's hot-shot chefs pride themselves on their “designer” versions:  Martin Picard of Au Pied de Cochon adds duck foie gras (below). David McMillan of Joe Beef fries his potatoes in duck fat and adds Stilton cheese. Chuck Hughes of Garde Manger adds lobster.

                                    

Moreover, each winter during Poutine Week, the chefs at some 30 Montreal restaurants try to outdo each other with the likes of poutine with lamb shanks, flower petals, fried eggs, Hollandaise sauce, roasted root vegetables and wild mushrooms.

Not a bottle of ketchup in sight.

 

The Great Gastro-Adventure of 2013

The only thing better than a mind-blowing meal in a magical setting is a mind-blowing meal in a magical setting when you know you’ve already burned off all the calories!

             

That’s pretty much my definition of a GastroAdventure. I had lots of them in 2013 but one stands out: A foray into the Austrian wine country called Steiermark (Styria in English) where we ate fabulous food at Restaurant Kreuzwirt and hiked during the day in the enchanting Altenbachklamm.

                     

Home base for the two-day adventure was Pössnitzberg (above), a family-run winery with about 20 elegant hotel rooms and a Gault-Milau-celebrated restaurant, Kreuzwirt.

On the day we arrived, we walked the serpentine country road called the Panorama/Weinstrasse (wine road), taking in the vast expanses of manicured vineyards, meadows full of flowers and cows eating them, and picturesque clusters of old homes and barns. That night we dined at Kreuzwirt (below), a sleek modern restaurant that appears to be floating in open space, thanks to two sides of floor-to-ceiling windows that were completely open on the warm June night we visited.

                     

Dinner was a thrilling procession:  A “martini” of homemade vermouth sorbet flecked with olive bits and herbs to mimic the “juniper” flavor of gin; a single raviolo (below) holding a poached egg, sautéed spinach, browned butter and shaved white truffle; local venison with summer mushrooms and tiny dice of speck (bacon); raw milk mousse and rhubarb sorbet, and more, much more. (Click here to read about the whole dinner.) Every course was accompanied by award-winning Gut Pössnitzberg wines.

                                   

The next day, after a terrific breakfast served on the sunny terrace, we drove 20 minutes to the trailhead at Altenbachklamm. (Klamm means gorge or ravine; this Website is not available in English but you can use Google to translate it.)

South Styria is well known for its hikes, especially the panoramic walks on country roads and through vineyards and farms. But we were looking for something more challenging and, given the fact it was 95 degrees, something in the shade.

                               

After a short hike thru some vineyards, we found ourselves in heavy woods and climbing steadily. A billboard at the beginning of the trail described how the Klammsteige (“ravine climb”) was created in 2009 by local climbers and engineers. This masterpiece of bridges, steps, ladders, and one unattended hut, turns a terrifyingly steep and dark ravine into a pleasurable day hike.  Miles of railings, ropes and iron cables allow hikers to traverse the challenging terrain, and crisscross the deep ravine over and over again. Bridges are numbered -- I lost count at 25 – with the most impressive being a 100-foot long suspension bridge.

                                       

A bit of dappled sunlight peeked in now and then but mostly we were in a cool, dark wonderland that we had all to ourselves. Ninety minutes later we emerged onto a vast, grassy plateau, and gazed out over the vineyards and valley floor from the terrace of Gasthaus Tertinek, a family-owned inn where we stopped for cold drinks and a donut.

You heard that right. A donut. Known as Krapfen in Austria, these beloved jelly donuts are almost always homemade and always scrumptious. The way I figure it, you can enjoy one completely without guilt if you have just clawed your way up 1,200 feet in a veritable jungle. (Photo by EuropeanBusinessJournal.)

                                           

That evening, we enjoyed a quiet dinner on a tiny outdoor terrace overlooking the Pössnitzberg vineyards.  We drank Sekt (sparkling wine) during sunset, then enjoyed iced cucumber soup, garnished with minced salmon tartar, that hit the spot on an 85-degree evening.  Next came a lightly creamed ragout of local mushrooms, studded with diced speck, topped with a fried egg from the neighboring farm, and accompanied by a small green salad. Apple-rhubarb strudel, drizzled with raspberry sauce, was a colorful conclusion to the GastroAdventure of 2013.

Like most of the wineries in the region, Gut Pössnitzberg offers appealing package deals. We opted for the “Culinary Time-Out” package that included two nights’ accommodations with buffet breakfasts, one dinner in the garden from the hotel’s menu, and the four-course dinner, with wines, at Kreuzwirt. The cost was 199 Euros (about $250) per person. For more details, check out Gut Pössnitzberg.

 

 

When "Yuck" Turns To "Yum"

Yesterday’s New York Times article, “A Taste You Hate? Just Wait” by Frank Bruni is a must-read, full of humor, insight, and a welcome prodding of our personal food memory banks.

"Are there really foods that we don’t like, or just foods that we haven’t liked yet?" Bruni asks, suggesting that it’s never too late to develop a taste for foods we think we abhor. He concedes that most people are convinced that they hate broccoli, parnips or calf brain. 

“All of them assume that their predilections are as rooted as redwoods, as fixed as eye color. And all of them are wrong, because appetite isn’t just or even mainly physiological. It’s psychological. Emotional. It’s a function of expectation, emulation, adaptation.”

Over my bowl of oatmeal this morning (a food I disliked as a kid, preferring “Markie-wants-his-Maypo), I got to thinking about the foods I once shunned that became my “can’t-live-withouts.” 

                              


Growing up in Boston, I hated the rhubarb pies my Nana routinely trotted out at Sunday family noon-time dinners. Slimy. Stringy. Yuck. I didn’t give a hoot that the rhubarb was picked from the backyard garden hours before. That the crust was handmade with lots of Crisco. All I wanted was an ordinary hot fudge sundae. (Photo above from FineCooking.)

But when she died in 1981 – she was 86, I was 33 – my cousin Wendy baked fresh strawberry-rhubarb pies for the reception after the funeral. Somehow, during an afternoon of comforting our Grandpa, crying about our loss, laughing about the good ol’ days, and, yes, eating pie, rhubarb became one of my favorite flavors.  Just ask my friends, who know that if the rosy stalks are in season, they will be on the table -- in crisp, crumble or pie -- every time they come for dinner.

I experienced another Age of Enlightenment when I lived in Austria for a year. There was sauerkraut, sauerkraut everywhere.  In open wooden barrels in stores, on restaurant menus, on our friends’ tables, where feasts were built around a steaming mountain of the stuff with sausages and meats poking out.

The smell alone nauseated me, bringing back disagreeable memories of one Christmas Eve, when my sister Marcia and I refused to eat the sauerkraut on the dinner table --- what kind of stinky foreign stuff was this anyway? –-- and got sent to bed without the traditional singing of Christmas Carols. I hated sauerkraut before that night and hated it even more after.

                               

However, as a 30–year-old in Innsbruck, experiencing a new culture, speaking a new language, and making new friends, I allowed sauerkraut to slither its way into the whole exhilarating experience.

Today I love it. And my family loves our traditional Christmas Eve dinner.  Bauernschmaus, which I discovered in Austria’s many farmhouse restaurants, is a heap of sauerkraut, cooked with apples and onions, then baked with sausages, smoked pork chops and dumplings called Knödeln, and served with a half-dozen types of mustard.

In his article, Bruni regales us with yuck-turned-to-yum tales from his friends and colleagues. Please dig into the food memory bank and share your stories with us too.

 

Meringue Glacé Goes Modern

Dessert stole the show at my recent dinner at Les Bouquinistes in Paris.

The classic meringue glacé, a meringue shell with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream, has been a French menu staple forever. Though it's one of my favorite dessers, I'm the first to admit that It can seem downright dowdy these days.

                         

But it's not dowdy at this popular “baby bistro” (offspring of wunderchef Guy Savoy) where the Lady Gaga of meringue glacé arrived looking like a snow-white sculpture: Brancusi meets the Smurfs. One enthusiastic smack of the shiny meringue shell revealed a voluptuous mélange of meringue bits, a semifreddo-like vanilla mousse and sweetened whipped cream.

                                      

Les Bouquinistes is named for the picturesque bookseller stands that line the quais along the Seine. The bistro is part of the Guy Savoy empire of restaurants which includes Guy Savoy and Le Chiberta in Paris and Restaurant Guy Savoy Las Vegas. It’s a stylish, comfortable place with very good service, great people-watching, and a terrific wine list. When I dined there 15 years ago it also had terrific food.

 

                                        

However, on this recent occasion, the rest of our dinner wasn’t as memorable as the splashy dessert. A pretty good scampi in spicy Thai stock; a pretty good sautéed bar (cod); a ho-hum presentation of foie gras. With prices that hover around 37 Euros ($50) for entrees and 14 Euros ($19) for desserts, it’s not a place I’ll rush back to.

Rah Rah Rah for RASAM

Bet you’re going to tell me you know all about rasam, right?  Know what an intoxicatingly fragrant, flavorful, satisfying soup it is. Been guzzling it forever. Right?

Well, rasam is a new one on me. I was bowled over when I discovered it recently at Quilon, the Michelin-starred South West Coastal Indian restaurant in the 51 Buckingham Gate hotel in London. A discovery akin to the Holy Grail, I might add. I mean, this stuff is fabulous. Or at least it is as prepared by Quilon chef Sriram Aylur.

                                      

My husband and I found many things to like about Quilon.   A warm welcome. Friendly, knowledgeable, accommodating service. Traditional elegance with contemporary touches in terms of décor, lighting and art. And, after one bite of our first appetizer – Cauliflower Chilli Fry tossed with green chilies, curry leaves and yogurt -- we knew we’d really like the food, too.

                                        

But it was the surprise intermezzo course, the tiny, complimentary glass of hot rasam that excited me most. Along with its tamarind water base, chef Aylur uses fresh tomato puree, dry roasted peppercorns, cumin and mustard seeds, dried red chilies, garlic, curry leaves and lentils to create a fine and feisty potage.

It’s better than the best Bloody Mary you’ve ever tasted. Better than the best tomato soup your grandmother made when you came in from ice skating on a frigid afternoon.

                                    

The rest of our dinner was also impressive. Lighter-than-air poppadums with two savory spreads.

                                     

Perfectly baked black cod -- sweet, satiny and subtly seasoned. Kothu Lamb, a snappy dish of marinated lamb mixed with onion, chilies and ginger and cooked on a very hot griddle. Mango curry, a new experience for me with its green chilies, curry leaves and yogurt. The heavenly layered bread called paratha.  And, for dessert, yet another epiphany: “Lentil Cappuccino,” a frothy, exotic creation akin to rice pudding, with a scrumptious cardamom shortbread and fig-honey ice cream on the side. (Photo by ThoughtsFromAJoy.)

                                            


Now that I’ve done the research on my new love, I understand that tomato rasam can be served as a sauce over rice, a soup, or a beverage. Since our server graciously provided me (unbidden) with the recipe, I plan to do it all three ways in the very near future.