Rendezvous

Rendezvous had an unlikely start – it used to be a Burger King in the middle of Central Sq - not the most fabulous of beginnings. A Boston Globe review I read a while back (I only hate Alison Arnett a little. I mostly just want her job) noted that the ambience of the restaurant is disturbed by the Burger King-like design of the space. Whatever. Yes, from the outside it looks BK-like with its sloped glass awning type thing, and the room is a perfect square. But when you step inside, all thoughts of greasy smelly fried things fall away. The space is warm and inviting - the walls are painted an alive deep yellow and are lined with earth-tone paintings. The back wall is cut to allow glimpses of the kitchen without revealing too much of the technical side of the restaurant.

The servers and hosts were so nice! It was a very pretension free environment, which I always appreciate. I liked that everyone that worked there weren't grudging or irritated or... like me in lab, for example (I think there may be a theme emerging here). They all seemed happy to be there. The hosts especially seemed to take the restaurant and the patrons personally, like they actually cared about my evening. Neat.

The focus of the restaurant is Mediterranean, including North Africa. The kitchen tries to use local and organic produce whenever possible. I was thoroughly conflicted over the menu (always a good sign) but finally settled on the grilled Portuguese sardines to start. The server unobtrusively told me how to eat it the fish. Good thing he did too. I wasn’t sure how to approach at first. The skin of the fish was perfectly crisp, while the white was flesh tender and juicy (I almost wrote succulent but just couldn’t bring myself to be that much of a food writer snob. Guess I kind of used it anyway). The olive oil based sauce around the fish was infused with fennel, fennel seeds, lemon, and garlic and tasted light and summery. The fennel, parsley and lemon worked wonderfully well together.

On to the seafood chowder. I was at first weary of ordering something that sounded like a fall dish (as if we’ve been having summery weather up here. Not like it’s August or anything). I needn’t have worried. The base of the chowder was a light cream, not the heavy and thick stew that I have grown used to in Northeast chowder. The cream was cut by the acidity of red and yellow grape tomatoes and the fresh corn. The lobster and mussels were both very tender and perfectly done. No rubberiness to be had.

My friend had the roasted leg of lamb with harissa, couscous, and grilled eggplant. Again, the initial concern was that the dish was unseasonably heavy (actually, a good portion of the menu did not scream summer to me) but there was no need to fear. The lamb was remarkably light. Or as light as lamb can ever be. No unnecessary grease was to be found; the gaminess of the lamb was muted by the slightly sweet harissa on top. I tasted cinnamon in the harissa but I was obviously imagining it as the harissa recipe on the Rendezvous website makes no mention of cinnamon. We may have been drinking… Since the lamb wasn't terribly lamb-like, I found the eggplant to be the most memorable. The skin of the eggplant was bordering crispiness while the insides melted. Perfect.

[An aside: the website is worth a visit. The chef/owner posts recipes from the restaurant. There is an interesting-looking recipe for a French cabbage stew, garbure. It's on my growing list of things to make].

Now for the dessert – orange polenta cake with crème fraiche and summer berries. The polenta cake was dense and moist and not too sweet, with polenta gritties throughout for texture. Crème fraiche was its regular tangy and refreshing self – or as refreshing as pure cream can be.

And then! There was a then. I tried eau de vie (French brandy) for the first time. Wow. It was perfectly clear with a powerful pear scent (this was pear eau de vie, obviously). Despite the concentrated fruity smell, I felt as though I was drinking rubbing alcohol. It burned all the way down. I am no stranger to vodka, believe me, but this hurt! I think they call it eau de vie because it can bring people back from a coma. The aftertaste was remarkable, I have to admit. A soft and clear pear taste lingered for ages! Or until I absolutely had to have another bite of cake. Neat overall, but I am not sure it was worth the suffering.

The dishes I had surprised me in that they sounded heavy and imposing but were actually light and perfectly seasonal. I walked out slightly less a skeptic than when I walked in. And I loved the room, Alison Arnett be damned. Suffice it to say that I would not cry if all Burger Kings across the world turned into Rendezvous. Or would that be Rendezvouses?

Rendezvous
502 Massachusetts Avenue
Cambridge, MA 02139
617.576.1900

Some Experiments DO Work!

My mind is a giant repository for completely useless knowledge. For example, I have never heard Shooter Jennings’ music, yet I know who he is dating (Drea de Matteo – sort of my hero). I also know that Ms. de Matteo has a vintage clothing boutique in NY. Why oh why can’t my head be filled with oh, I don’t know, information that I can actually use?! Every once in a while my embattled brain gets its revenge in my sleep. As in, it won’t let me have any.

A month ago, and I am not kidding about this, I woke up in the middle of the night to write down a recipe idea that I had been dreaming about. I have many, many issues. Somehow, at around 3AM, my mind translated an Earl Grey flavored chocolate I had the day before into a cheesecake with vanilla and Earl Grey tea layers. Oh and in my dream, I also made a big bow out of cheesecake (somehow) to top the cake with. I don’t even know what to say about that. At least it wasn’t pink.

Oddly enough, conscious me doesn’t like cheesecake nearly as much as unconscious me does. Cookies came to mind as a suitable substitute for the tea-flavored, bow-topped cheesecake of my dreams. Specifically, Clotilde’s Langues de Chat (cat’s tongue) dry petits fours or tea biscuits flavored with Earl Grey tea.

This recipe was a bit of a challenge as I did not have Earl Grey tea powder. I buzzed Earl Grey tea in a food processor and passed it through a sieve in an attempt to generate something resembling a powder. It worked well enough. I also got to use a pastry bag for the first time. Since I don’t actually own a pastry bag, I went the ziplock bag route, cutting off one corner of the bag to extrude the cookies onto the baking sheet (cutting a hole far too large the first time, of course). Since these cookies had a purpose (they were flying to Texas with me the next day) I wanted to ensure that I made something edible should my Earl Grey experiment go down in a ball of flames (as my experiments frequently do... in lab), so I made a second batch of biscuits flavored with vanilla.

Luckily, both the experimental and traditional Langues de Chat came out well. The tea flavor of the experimental batch was subtle yet present. I guess my tea powdering approach was successful because I didn’t feel as though I was chewing tea leaves, although the cookies were peppered with little bits of tea. The edges of the cookies were brown and crisp while the center was slightly chewy. The egg whites gave the cookies their camera-friendly gloss. They were very fn to photograph, as evidenced by the zillion pictures that I took of them. The coarse salt I used made for occasional bites of saltiness with combined with the sweet, which I love [I sometimes butter a pan for brownies with salted butter, making a wonderful salty chocolate edges on the brownies.]

Clotilde’s Langues de Chat with (or without) Earl Grey tea

[I tweaked Clotilde’s recipe, but only a little. She used fleur de sel in her cookies which is, I think, less salty than conventional salt so I cut down on the amount I added to the cookies. I adjusted the oven temperature because the cookies weren’t baking to my liking. This may only a factor of my city apartment oven, however.]

¼ c plus 1 tsp unsalted butter, softened
¼ c plus 1 tbsp sugar
2 egg whites
½ c flour
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp powdered Earl Grey tea or ½ tsp vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 425F.
2. Beat butter and sugar with an electric mixer until fluffy.
3. Add egg whites and beat until combined. Add flour, salt, tea powder and process until smooth.
4. Cover and chill for 1 hour.
5. Cut off a corner of a 1qt ziplock bag to make a 5 mm opening or use an actual, grown up-like pastry bag. Squeeze the batter onto parchment paper-lined baking sheet in 2.5 inch lines.
6. Bake for 8 minutes or until edges of the cookies are brown. Allow to cool on wire rack. Take many many pictures. They like it.




Note: I have since listened to the Shooter Jennings CD and it's great! It's my favorite kind of country music - the kind that only a Manhattan dweller can produce. He sounds like Gram Parsons-tinted Rolling Stones with Mary J. Blige on the backing vocals, occasionally. I am going to his show in two weeks! Btw, Gram Parsons was just about the coolest person that ever lived. 10-14-06.

I'm a Bad, Bad Grad Student

I have reached a new motivational low in lab – I actually took three hours in the middle of day to get my hair cut. Yes, it does indeed take me two hours to get my hair done, plus an hour of travel time. I figured that since I was already in Harvard Square and already wasting half the day away (although time spent getting my hair done can never truly be a waste) I may as well waste even more time by getting lunch from Cardullo’s.

Cardullo’s is the neatest little shop. It’s been in Harvard Sq for ages (56 years, to be precise) and is still run by the Cardullo family. It is packed to the ceiling with spices, teas, chocolates, and imported foods that cannot be found anywhere else. One of the shop’s focuses is British food imports. Their website states: “Britain is no longer the culinary wasteland that it was just three decades ago.” Such a very funny backhanded compliment, and so true. I speak from experience when it comes to Britain’s horrid gastronomical past. For one, I have tried Marmite. Curiosity almost killed the cat on that one. Blech. And I eat everything. I mean everything! Another quote from the Cardullo’s website defines Marmite as: “a thick black paste made from yeast and vegetable extract, beloved only by those who acquired a taste for it in childhood.” That may be the understatement of the century.

But I digress. The shop is definitely worth the trek to Harvard Sq, if only for the curious sight of Cod Roe spread in a squeezable tube that I can only assume is imported from some sort of Nordic country. They also happen to have a deli counter with prepared salads and an extensive list of sandwiches that they make in front of you. I ordered the Tuscan to go - grad student guilt started kicking in at this point (guilt is really such a useless emotion). I would have much preferred to eat my sandwich while sitting on one of the chairs outside the shop in the middle of Harvard Sq. But again, I digress.

The Tuscan: grilled chicken breast with olive tapenade (kalamata olives and capers as the two major ingredients), marinated tomato salad, eggplant spread, and arugula on fresh focaccia bread. Although it does not look like much in the picture, it may well be my perfect sandwich. Every last ingredient was screamingly fresh. [Screamingly is not my word, sadly. I stole it from Anthony Bourdain.] The oil from the tapenade soaked into the bread flavoring it all through with olive-tinted saltiness. The chicken was wonderfully moist and almost creamy in texture. The mildness of the chicken was cut by occasional bites of sharp bitterness of the arugula and the tang of vinegary tomatoes. My only wish was for more eggplant, but then again, one can never have enough eggplant.

All in all, Cardullo’s was definitely worth my truancy. Nothing like a great sandwich to assuage the waves of guilt from skipping out on work. Plus, I have cute hair.

Cardullo’s Gourmet Shoppe
6 Brattle St
Cambridge, MA 02138
617.491.8888

May have to take another three hours to try out the squeezable Cod Roe. Wish me luck.

Many Margaritas

I didn’t forget the Texas margarita. Here it is, as promised, in all its tequila-laden glory. You are looking at the margarita at La Fogata in San Antonio, of the fantastic salsa fame. It’s giant, it’s garnished with an orchid flower, and it goes down far too easily. The key to that is top shelf liquor. A lot of top shelf liquor. Let’s just say that around the time of my second margarita, I thought it a good idea to see what the orchid flower tastes like (it tastes exactly as it looks, by the way – flowery, crunchy grass).


The La Fogata margarita breakdown goes a little something like this. If you have one, you are having a good time. If you have two, you’re pretty cool (c’est moi). If you have three, you’re a champion. If you have four... you’re stupid. As in, rendered permanently so by the alcohol overdose.

Two posts in one day. Wow. That’s a first for me. Note to self: look into getting a life.
~AK

A Revelation

Who would have thunk it? Watermelon + salt + chile powder = wonderful.

There is a number of thoughts and events that went into the making of this seemingly bizarre combination. Not sure anyone is actually interested, but here goes.

To start, I am obsessed with watermelon. I go through an embarrassing amount of watermelon on a weekly basis in the summer. Anything having to do with watermelon is likewise part of the obsession. Watermelon tastes like the essence of summer to me. By the way, if you don’t make a complete mess of yourself and everything around you while eating it, you’re doing it wrong.

Lara told me she prefers her watermelon with salt. I know that a lot of people salt their fruit – it’s more common than not in India. And Vietnam as well, I think. I have had mango with salt (and chile powder) and guava with salt, but I have never tried (or even thought about trying) watermelon and salt. You know what? It’s great! The salt makes the watermelon juicier (if that’s possible) and adds a whole another dimension of flavor that I can only describe as meaty. Weird, I know. I have a serious suspicion that salt brings out the umami flavor in watermelon. If that is not the worst foodie snob remark I have ever made, I don’t know what is. Still, I think there may be some truth to it, if I understand umami correctly.

So, my obsession was step one, Lara was step two. The final piece of the puzzle came from Lisa, in the car to Alaska… Ahem, Worcester, as it’s commonly known. Lisa said that chile powder would be interesting in combination with salt and watermelon, and so, the watermelon combo was born. Yes, we were talking about salted watermelons in the car. Is that not normal?

Well-chilled, cubed watermelon with a sprinkling of coarse salt and a hefty pinch of red chile powder made for a great first dish in a dinner that I had the pleasure of making for Kanchan. It was sweet, salty, spicy, crunchy, (umami?) and cold all at the same time. Very impressive for only three ingredients. The salt works its magic if the watermelon is allowed to sit too long, leaving the watermelon limp and sad. Having to eat it all straight away, however, did not pose much of a challenge. I think next time I may add some mint or cilantro for color contrast.

So, there you have it. I think an illustration of my thought process is way scarier than watermelon + salt + chile powder.
~AK

The Famous and Fabulous Hatch Green Chile

I was lucky enough to visit Texas during the very short season for the renowned Hatch green chile. These chiles are grown in only one place – Hatch, New Mexico, the self-proclaimed chile capital of the world. Everything in Texas last week was Hatch – Hatch green chile sausage, chile bread, chile layered inside brie with olive oil (OMG how good would that be). People are obsessed with them – ask anyone West of, well, Boston. Somehow, the chiles just don’t make it all the way out here.

The chiles are ready for harvest during a ridiculously narrow window of time – something like 2 weeks. They are roasted over an open flame – the smell that is emitted from the roaster is unbelievable. I could stand there and just inhale all day. The roasting process was really neat to watch – the chiles bounce around in the spinning cage over an open flame. One second they are perfectly normal-looking fresh green chiles and the next they collapse onto themselves, all charred and fragrant and releasing juice. I guess once they reach a critical temperature they just *poof* and roast. Very fun to watch (and smell), but I think less fun to actually do – the guy roasting chiles at a farmers market was in a bit of pain from all the capsaicin hitting him in the face from the roaster.

I didn’t know what the big deal with these chiles was until I actually ate one. The depth of flavor of a roasted Hatch chile is indescribable. Due to that fact, and because I have a headache, I will not attempt to describe the aforementioned indescribable depth of flavor of a Hatch chile. All I will say is that both the hot and mild Hatch chiles are very sweet. I didn’t think that chiles that size are ever very hot but believe me, these were hot. Really hot.

The chiles I brought back were roasted on a Sunday and I moved plans around so that I could cook with them on Monday, when I got back home. I am aware that I have a problem. I didn’t have a chance to look up an actual, authentic New Mexican chilli recipe so I winged it a bit. I make no claims of this resembling anything ever prepared by New Mexicans, Texans, or anyone else who has ready access to Hatch green chiles. Lucky bastards. [Headache still there. Can you tell?]

For the green chile stew or whatever it is that I made (mush?) I used a mix of hot and mild chiles – 4 hot and 3 mild. It pains me terribly to admit this, but I actually seeded a couple of the hot chiles to knock down the heat level a little. I have failed myself… I had to! The end result was still a very spicy stew/mush. I think most people peel the roasted chiles but I didn’t. I really like the charred flavor of the burnt skin and I figured that the immersion blender will take care of any textural issues which it did, quite nicely. Allowing the chicken to cook with the rest of the mush kept it very juicy and infused it with the chile flavor.

You will have to forgive me – I went a little nuts with the pictures of tomatillos in various stages of undress. They are just so damn photogenic!

Hatch Green Chile Stew/Mush/Chili (don’t know what I should call it)

Olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 whole chicken breast, chopped into large-ish chunks
4 medium tomatillos, chopped
7 roasted peppers (Hatch green chiles if you are fortunate enough, or Anaheim or Poblano chiles would work, right?) with their juice
½ cup chicken stock
2 tbsp cilantro
juice of ½ lime

1) Saute onion and garlic in olive oil until onion is translucent. Add in chicken, season with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and cook until chicken browns a little.
2) Add chiles with their juice, tomatillos, and chicken stock. Lower hear, cover and cook until the tomatillos break down and the chicken is cooked through, ~10-15 minutes.
3) Remove the chicken to a separate dish and buzz the chile/tomatillo mush with an immersion blender. Add the chicken back, add the cilantro and lime juice, heat through. Adjust the consistency by adding more chicken stock – I left mine really thick. Adjust salt/pepper.

[I meant to add flour to the chicken and chiles before adding the stock to pull the sauce together a little bit but forgot completely. It turned out ok. For future reference - Add 2 tbsp flour and stir about before adding the liquids.]

The chiles freeze really well once roasted. I currently have two bags in my freezer - one with hot and one with mild chiles. One of those bags contains individually wrapped chiles while the other one does not. I got sick of it individually wrapping individual chiles. So I guess I have a Hatch green chile block. Once I find a recipe deserving enough, I will pull them out. Until then, I reserve the right to take out the bags and inhale deeply.

~AK

Texas BBQ

One would have to be a fool to visit Texas and not try the barbeque. I am no fool. [Oh if only that were true…]

Barbeque was among my many food requests for my visit to San Antonio. My request was granted the second day I was there with lunch at Grady’s. Such a neat place! Serving Texas style BBQ (as in vinegar, not tomato-based barbeque sauce, I think) since 1948, the room is paneled in wood with heads of things on the wall, true to type. The room is big and open and feels like a cabin in the woods. Totally perfect for a barbeque joint.

The menu is printed on a wall-sized poster in the entry way. It includes the expected standards – barbequed beef brisket, ribs, chicken, chicken fried steak (I swear I will try that one of these days, if only because of the ridiculous name), fried catfish and sausages. Once you have made up your mind of which large plate of protein you would like, you walk a bit to place your order with the cashier. There is a tin trough full of iced beer on the right. By the way Lonestar, a Texas beer, is pretty good!

The cashier hands you a beeper thingie that vibrates when your order is up. And by vibrate I mean that it can be used as a jackhammer. You wait for the order at a table of your choosing and when the time comes, you pretend not to have been scared senseless by the sudden shaking of your entire body by the beeper thingie. Not entirely unpleasant, really.

So you know how I said that I am no fool? Well, I was joking. I thought I should make some attempt to inject nutrients into my meal and ordered a side salad with my chopped brisket sandwich. Ha. This is not the place to order a salad. I knew this, and yet persevered in my quest for vegetables. Foolish me.

The portions at Grady’s lean to the side of absurdity, but then again, this is Texas. The brisket was wonderful. The sauce was vinegary and not too sweet, which so many tend to be. There were large chunks of cracked black pepper throughout, which I loved. The beef itself had tons of charred pieces lending bitterness and smokiness. Some of the meat was in chunks, but most of it was shredded. The shredded pieces were drier and almost crunchy while the chunks were soft and tender. The bottom part of the bun dissolved a bit under the barbeque sauce making a neat bread-sauce-beef all mixed together combo. Yum. I think I was eating a good 20 minutes after Anthony and Lara had finished their meals. This is in no way unusual.

Lara had the same thing I did whereas Anthony had the special – barbequed half chicken with pinto beans aaaand something else that I forgot. The chicken was really tender and not overwhelmed by the barbeque sauce – it was allowed to taste like chicken, but bettered by the sauce.



Barbeque was one of the things scratched off my “must eat in Texas” list. Next up: margaritas. Large, potent margaritas. Many margaritas.

Oh, and don't order a salad at a barbeque restaurant in Texas. Just a bit of wisdom for the day.

~AK

So Very Many Tastes of Texas

I have a food hangover. My food hangover may or may not be mixed in with the other kind of hangover but that is, for the moment, irrelevant. I spent four wonderful days visiting friends in San Antonio (very neat place). We did a lot of eating - this may be an understatement. Every moment of the day was scheduled around when and where we should eat, which worked out to be as fantastic as it sounds. My Texas food experience was in no way limited to restaurants - we also went to an awesome farmers market and a couple of grocery stores that made my local Stop and Shop look like a 7-11. And there may have been a mechanical bull thrown in sometime during the weekend. I will say no more.

This is a partial (if you can believe that) record of the things that I brought back from my trip. Only by some minor miracle did I avoid having to take a second suitcase home with me to fit all the food that I bought while there. Somehow, I sat on my suitcase long enough to shut it. The poor thing may never be the same. I will get to all the restaurants in a later post.

I have never seen fresh dates before. Frankly, I thought fresh dates were a bit of a myth. These were grown locally in the Austin area (Hill Country, I think). The nice farmer/vendor man was patient with us cityfolk in explaining that dates are edible in all stages of ripeness, with the taste of the date evolving as they ripen. Green dates taste nothing like the fully ripe ones. When green, they are crunchy and somewhat mealy in texture (not in a bad way). The taste is grassy and floral, and lacks the molasses syrup note of the dates that I am most familiar with (the ones sold gummy and sticky). The dates in the picture should be fully ripe in about 2 weeks at which time they will be brown and soft. Unfortunately, the sight of fresh dates left me discombobulated enough to have forgotten to ask what variety of dates I was holding in my excited little hands. Any ideas? I haven’t yet decided what I will do with the dates once they are ripe, but I am thinking about something involving, not surprisingly, cheese.

Although this looks like an apple, it is not. It is in fact a cross between a pear and an apple which I will from now on refer to as prapple, since I don’t know what it’s actually called. This pretty prapple (hee) was raised by Lara and Anthony’s next door neighbors on an actual tree that is growing in their actual yard. They made their own fruit! How cool is that? As an aside, I really need to get out of the city more. Trees bearing fruit should not seem as much of a novelty as they do to me. I have yet to taste the prapple, but I am assuming that it will taste like a cross between an apple and, umm, pear - at least that’s what Anthony said.

[Just had the prapple - OMG it's so good. It has the texture of an Asian pear and all the little regular pear gritties, but tastes more like an apple with a slight pear hint. Very unusual and very good.]

Growing trees with fruit was nothing in shock value compared to growing trees with nuts. This totally blew my mind: Lara’s father grew these pecans on his very own pecan trees. Lara very kindly and generously packed some (and by some I mean a giant bag) for me to take back to Boston. These pecans didn’t taste like others I have had. I first tasted almond! The second wave of taste was more reminiscent of the familiar pecan but a little earthier. So very good. I am now completely ashamed for thinking myself a stud for growing basil on my kitchen windowsill. People grow prapples and pecans! Still can’t believe it.

The food gifts only got more impressive from there. If I understand this correctly, these are dried, ripe Hatch chiles from Mesilla, New Mexico. I have my eye on a couple of recipes for these pretty pretty chiles – my first effort will definitely be pozole (New Mexican chili).

This green chile is a less ripe version of the red chile above. I was lucky enough to be visiting Texas during the super short season for Hatch green chiles. These were roasted at the most giant Whole Foods in Austin the day I left to go back to Boston. Much (much) more on these fabulous and impossible to acquire (on the East coast) chiles later.

The last for this post, although in no way last of all the things I brought back with me, are dried hibiscus flowers from Mexico (Flor de Jamaica). Karkade is big in Texas –a deep red hibiscus tea that can be supplemented with sugar, ginger, and other flavorings, served either hot or cold. The tea is tart and very refreshing, especially on the 102F Texas summer days (that actually sounds a lot worse than it is, although I am told that it is about to get much much hotter. Scary). This may be an important note – in addition to being very high in Vitamin C, hibiscus tea is also a natural diuretic.

So that’s it for the partial list of things I brought back. I didn’t mention raw honey from Round Rock Honey Company, two kinds of Vosges chocolate, salsa from New Mexico (thank you again, Anthony and Lara), beef jerky, yogurt starter that I haven’t been able to find anywhere, and special cream to get rid of the onion and garlic smell on your hands (total turn off). Whew. I have a feeling that I may not be getting rid of my food hangover any time soon.

I highly recommend a trip to Texas, especially if you have two completely awesome people to eat with you.

~AK

P.S. If you are up for a truly surreal yet ridiculously entertaining evening, go here.

Seattle Wrap Up

As much as I loved Seattle and eating in Seattle and drinking in Seattle, it's time to move on, blog-wise. Before I leave the subject entirely (for this year, anyway) I am posting some promised pretty pictures of sushi. Some pictures are less than pretty because the drinks were more than good.

Assorted sushi platter at Wasabi Bistro. Take note of the salmon at 1 o'clock. The stuff at the back is conventional, farm raised salmon. The darker orange pieces toward the front are wild caught salmon (sockeye, I think. Not sure). The appearance and taste of the two types of salmon were strikingly different. The wild caught salmon had a much greater depth of flavor with hints of something I can only describe as floral. So good.

Abalone at I Love Sushi. This was my first experience with abalone - I have been wanting to try it forever. It was completely not what I expected, but not in a bad way. It tasted like the ocean – like salt and seaweed. The texture was what threw me – it was crunchy. Weird, right? The only thing I can compare eating abalone to is crunching through cartilage. As someone who has just gotten their cartilage pierced, that description makes me gag a little, but it’s accurate. I would like to try abalone again, just to make sure that it is indeed weird.

Wasabi Bistro
2311 Second Ave
Seattle WA 98121
206.411.6044

I Love Sushi: Would give the address here but I forget which of the 3 locations we ate at. I know that there was a lake involved. Unfortunately, that narrows absolutely nothing down when in Seattle. Uma?

Next week's posts will be wildly different from those of Seattle. I am off to Texas! San Antonio and Austin, to be precise. I am slighly intimidated by the red meat extravaganza that is sure to be the next four days but I know that it will be super good. I don't have a whole lot more planned than eating and that's the way it should be. Alamo what?
~AK

My Idea Of A Good Week-End

I am taking a break from Seattle to write about something that I actually cooked! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I finally had the chance to cook. It’s been so long! I had the perfect reason too – Archna was in town for the week-end. We had great deal of cooking and eating planned for ourselves, and not a whole lot else.

My thoughts were running rampant in deciding what to make for dinner. It’s been so long since I made anything that I wasoverloaded by ideas. I finally settled on a risotto with grilled veg and a salad. Silly me. I thought it had cooled down enough in Boston for me to be able to stand over a stove for thirty minutes. Not so much! I had to take frequent breaks to sit down and take deep breaths in front of the AC. And drink wine. The wine really helped.

I had mushrooms in the fridge, as well as a jar of saffron that I have been dying to use but haven’t had the chance. And so, a mushroom and saffron risotto was born. I wanted to boost the mushroom flavor of the risotto beyond what fresh mushrooms could do. I went to my personal playground, Whole Foods, to get some wild mushrooms to make the mushroom risotto a little more interesting. This is when I found out that fresh chanterelles (my very favorite mushroom) run a cool $40 a pound. I have always had expensive taste.

This is right about when dried mushrooms came in. Dried wild mushrooms have an incredibly potent and pungent, earthy-mushroomy (obviously) smell/taste. When steeped in boiling water, the flavor leeches out from the mushrooms to create a flavorful broth. Not surprisingly, dried chanterelles are far more reasonably priced than fresh and, I think, can impart a great deal more concentrated flavor to the dish than their fresh precursors.

The mushroom infusion, along with the saffron, flavored the chicken stock that I used for the risotto. In this way, the flavor spreads evenly throughout the rice, more thoroughly than if the flavorings (saffron, mushroom juice...) were added to the rice directly.

It worked! The flavor of the saffron did not overpower that of the mushrooms, as I was afraid it would (and has in the past). The baby portabella mushrooms maintained their integrity nicely – they still had a lot of bite after all the stirring and cooking was done. I was very happy with myself. The velvety risotto, served alongside roasted zucchini, a salad with heirloom tomatoes, a bottle of Carmenere, and much catching up with one’s closest friend made for a perfect Friday night.

Mushroom and Saffron Risotto

3 cups chicken stock
¼ tsp saffron threads
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp olive oil
8 oz cremini (baby portabella) mushrooms, caps only - sliced thinly
1 shallot, finely chopped
0.02 lbs dried chanterelles (weird measurement, I know – it was a small container from Whole Foods)
1 cup carnaroli rice (arborio would fit the bill just as well)
½ cup dry white wine
¼ cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
handful of finely chopped fresh parsley

1) Steep dried chanterelles in 1 cup boiling water. Let stand until water cools. Squeeze the mushrooms dry and finely chop. Add mushroom infusion along with saffron to chicken stock and bring to a simmer (beware of the sand left at the bottom of the mushroom soaking vessel).
2) Add olive oil and 1 tbsp of the butter to a large sauté pan on medium heat. Once butter melts, add shallots and both fresh and dry mushrooms. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Sauté until the water evaporates from the mushrooms.
3) Add the rice and toast while stirring for about 2 minutes, until the rice becomes translucent.
4) Add wine and stir until absorbed.
5) Add chicken stock ½ cup at a time, stirring until all liquid is absorbed before adding the next ladleful.
6) When rice is tender but not mushy, add parmesan, 1 tbsp of butter, parsley and season with salt and pepper. Eat right away!



Oh but only if the eating had stopped there. Archna is not my friend for nothing. I think the eating was only interrupted by sleep. She first requested the truffle fries from the Pig and then decided to return the dinner favor by cooking later that night. Problem is that whenever Archna cooks, she makes about a gajillion dishes, each of which can feed a small army. She had no fewer than four pots going at the same time! On the menu for the following night: raita, onion salad, dal, okra (bhindi), aloo gobi, and rice (naturally). The best part is eating with your hands. Don’t know why it always tastes so much better that way. Below is a picture of Archna’s bhindi, which I one day hope to recreate (with Archna coaching me on the phone, I suspect).

Needless to say, my fridge is no longer empty. Cooking, eating, shopping, and very dumb movies were just what we both needed. Perfect remedy for two burned and tired girls.



~AK

Seattle's Coffee Buzz

I apologize for the awful pun. I simply couldn’t resist.

One simply cannot speak of eating in Seattle without mentioning the coffee. The rumors are true - the coffee is fantastic. In my opinion, the quality and/or taste of Seattle coffee is far superior to most others available to devout East Coasters such as myself. It is most reminiscent of European coffee in that it is quite strong, but never bitter. I don’t know whether this has to do with the beans themselves, the roasting, or the preparation of the coffee but I am willing to bet it is all of the above. I limit myself to two espressos or two Americanos (or one of each) a day when in Seattle. Jittery hands make for blurry food porn pictures.

An entire culture revolves around coffee in Seattle. Firstly, there is a coffee shop every 10 feet in Seattle. I am not exaggerating. The vast majority of the shops are independently owned, each with its own personality and its own group of devotees. Everyone in Seattle has their own, preferred coffee shop that they go to by default. One can come in and order one cup of coffee, and sit in the shop for the rest of the day, reading, working, or staring, all without worrying about being hassled away. Most of the coffee shops have free WiFi, big comfy couches, really really friendly people behind the counter, and obviously, great (and pretty! see pic) coffee. [Uma theorized that Seattle's obession with coffee shops evolved out of a need for something to do during the 9 months out of the year when it rains non-stop. Sounds about right to me.]

All of these things are in marked and sad contrast to the coffee shops here in Boston. The vast majority of the shops are major nationwide chains, the most pernicious of these (and the one with the grossest coffee) starts with S and ends with –tarbucks. The employees act as though they are better than you and there is never any place to sit. If you do happen to sit down for any extended period of time, the other patrons express their impatience at your occupation of the coveted seat/table clearly enough to make you want to run away. Equally as important, the coffee isn’t any good! It somehow manages to be incredibly bitter and tasteless all at the same time. Ick.

Uma has a favorite Seattle coffee shop and so, by extension, do I. Caffe Ladro has four locations in Seattle and a few more on the outskirts. The shops are very warm and homey, painted in muted oranges and browns with a pastry case filled with things so gorgeous that I stop and stare for five minutes whenever I walk in. They sell their own blends of organic, fair trade coffee, the differences between which the employees will be happy to discuss for hours in helping you pick out the one most suited to your tastes.

(I think Queen Anne is a posh neighborhood in Seattle, incidentally)

The shop on Capitol Hill also has wooden deck chairs set out on the pavement around the store, perfect for hours of people watching – the tremendously pierced and tattooed population of Seattle makes for some seriously fabulous people watching.

Although I think that cities are best appreciated when explored without a preset agenda or itinerary, reserving a few hours a day to sit idly at a Seattle coffee shop is an absolute requirement when visiting. And set aside some time I did…
I so wish for a coffee house culture in Boston. It would be a lot easier on my liver than hanging out at the Tavern half the week, that’s for sure.
~AK

*Note added in proof: The coffee in the top picture is Uma's hazelnut mocha from Cafe Victrola in Capitol Hill.

Seattle... Let Me Count The Ways

Things I love about Seattle, in a somewhat particular order:

1) Friend since freshman year of high school, Uma
2) Brett, at Deep Roots Tattoo and Piercing (the man is a genius)
3) The FOOD
4) Shops that sell clothes with skulls on them
5) The Coffee (it’s not a myth – Seattle coffee is the best I have had in this country)
6) The FOOD

This is one of those rare times that food is so low on a list of things I love, but I listed it twice to make up for it. Hope you will forgive me this once.

Seattle has a fairly large Asian population (13.12%, to be precise) which potentially explains the fabulous array of great restaurants. The University district (surrounding University of Washington) has every possible kind of Asian restaurant including the best Thai food I have ever had (Thai Tom – post to come), Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, fusions of all of the above, and about a million bubble tea shops. In addition, the U District has a number of Vietnamese delis that sell Vietnamese sandwiches. Am I the only one that has never heard of a Vietnamese sandwich? Well, I have been missing out.

The particular Vietnamese sandwich from Saigon Deli that you see above consists of shaved carrots, radish, cucumber, cilantro, tofu (also available with chicken or pork), all on a toasted baguette with what I think was mayonnaise thinned with soy sauce. The tofu was very fresh (I have a serious suspicion that it was made in-house), marinated in soy sauce, sesame oil, tons of black pepper and lightly fried. The deeply flavorful tofu had a thick and meaty texture and played off the super crunchy, fresh vegetables. The bread was crusty and warm while the inside of the sandwich was cool and light. Fabulous.

I am never one to mention price when it comes to food (I would rather not buy shoes for a year than have to save on food - I have my priorities set, thank you very much) but I found the price of the Vietnamese sandwich to be bordering on the absurd. It was $1.75. Seriously. That’s all. Perhaps I am a jaded Boston-dweller, but $1.75?? I think that the quality and sheer volume of the ingredients in the Vietnamese sandwich could command far more than that… Whatever. I am not complaining.

We went back to the Saigon Deli the next day to try other things off their extensive menu (shrimp spring rolls with a thin, not too peanut-y sauce in the picture below).

Every meal at the Deli ends with styrofoam cups of home-made, sweetened yogurt. It was the lightest and creamiest yogurt I have ever had, by far. The silky smooth and deeply chilled yogurt was absolutely key to my surviving a giant conference in Seattle during a heat wave. Here’s a valuable warning – UW doesn’t have A/C. I am lucky to be alive. All the credit is due to the sweetened yogurt. Well the yogurt, and the conference beer.

Many more Seattle-themed posts to come! Most of the pictures from my 10 days there were of food. Not sure what that says about me.

Saigon Deli and Restaurant
4142 Brooklyn Ave NE
Seattle WA 98105
(206) 634-2866

And just in case anyone is interested:

Deep Roots Tattoo and Piercing
4517 University Ave NE
Seattle WA 98105
(206) 633-2639

[Ask for Brett. He’s the one with the giant spacers and tattooed palms. Ouch.]

~AK