Good to be in the know

What should a chef do when he has a bunch of new recipes to try out but has no normal outlet for the creativity? Obviously, he should invent a fictional persona - complete with Mexican wrestling mask - and gather his friends and relations at a café in the depths of Cambridge for an after hours underground dinner. Obviously.


Please meet Chef Delicious. He is not nearly as scary as he looks. In fact, he is rather lovable, especially after you try his food. Chef Delicious is a professional chef in the Boston area who cooks New American food with a focuses on local (to New England), seasonal, and sustainable ingredients. He knows the farmers in the area, he knows when and what the land surrounding Boston produces and more importantly, he knows how to use it all.

I had been looking forward to his Mexican-influenced winter feast for weeks. It was my second Chef Delicious dinner and I could hardly wait, having a good idea of the quality of the food in store for me. To put things in perspective, attending this dinner was so important to the Texan, that he shook off a fever in the middle of his bout with the flu by downing a mouthful of pills of various shapes and sizes and demanding to be brought along to the dinner. Against my better judgment (the Texan may know yeast, but I know viruses), the Texan came along. I didn’t have the heart to deny him a feast, Chef Delicious style.

The Texan’s suffering was well worth it. A group of about 18 people gathered at a café past closing hours (as a favor from the café owners) to mill about drinking tart margaritas, smearing toasts with a spicy chicken liver pate, and hovering over absurd amounts of Island Creek oysters. With at least half the available oysters safely housed in my belly, the time finally came to sit down at long, white tablecloth-covered tables decorated with grant silver candelabras. At one end of the table, sat Alex Whitmore of Somerville’s Taza Chocolate fame. At the other end, my close friends from grad school. I got my dose of celebrity and friendship all in one, topped off by a ton of oysters. The dinner was barely under way but I was already a very happy girl.

First course out consisted of giant platters piled high with large mussels with orange peel and cilantro, paired with a lightly hoppy pilsner. Normally, I hate hoppy beer, but paired with the citrusy mussels, both the beer and the mollusks were transformed, playing perfectly against one another. I only wished I could pour the mussel juice into a glass and drink it. For breakfast. Every day.


Next up, a smooth black bean soup, garnished with a small dice of sweet parsnips and carrots poled in the middle. The black bean soup must have passed through about 15 sieves – it lacked the body I would have liked to have in a winter soup. I heard quiet longings for a crouton or crumbled queso fresco from people on either side of me and I agreed with both. Something was missing. Overall, not my favorite course. And not the easiest to photograph – ergo, the empty plate.


The next course set everything right. Oh how very right. Oxtail mole with sauteed spinach, roasted mixed winter vegetables and roasted potatoes. I don’t have the words to describe this mole. The sauce was thin but packed with flavor, redolent of peanuts and sesame. The meat cooked till it came off the bone, making for a mouth-coating collagen-rich velvety sauce. I wanted to bathe in the mole, to rub it on like lotion every day for the rest of my life. That recipe shall be mine, mark my words. The sweet, juicy winter vegetables played very nicely with the mole love. I was getting happier by the moment.


Next, an aged goat cheese with super sweet red grapefruit sections and a green salsa style sauce with parsley, sesame oil, and perhaps a touch of mint. Building harmony where none was expected, the sum of the course was far greater than it’s parts.

To calm the overstimulated taste buds, a palate cleanser of a sweet lemon and chili sorbet, served in wine glasses.


As if that wasn’t enough to please and satiate, there were two courses of Taza chocolate-centric desserts, beginning with a creamy spiced hot chocolate, followed by a chocolate tart with a cacao nib-studded whipped cream. To say that the tart was rich would be an understatement. The chocolate was very dark and a little bitter, almost tannic in its intensity. I was approaching unconsciousness just two bites in. one bite later I had to admit defeat. Too rich for my blood and too late in the evening for my cranky post-doctoral body.


All that was left to do was to thank Chef Delicious profusely for a wonderful and intelligent meal (it's an odd to say about food, but Chef Delicious' preparations really are intelligent. His food is unusual and thought-provoking, with flavor combinations reminiscent of but not quite in line with the expected). I reminded him yet again that I am an excellent chopper and am happy to assist and any and all future Chef Delicious endeavors, thanked his lovely wife, brother, and sous-chef who helped prepare and serve the meal, and rushed to get home, to bed, to sleep, to digest… and to reflect on how good it felt to be surrounded by amazing people, great food, and to be the envy of all the folks staring at the elegant gathering inside the closed café, wishing they were invited to the party. Hehe. Life is good in the underground.

A Step Away from Greatness

“Thank you for calling WGBH. May I please have your first and last name?”

Boston’s WGBH was one of the first pubic radio and TV stations launched in 1951. It was the home of Julia Child’s French Chef. It is now the home of Christopher Kimball and America’s Test Kitchen. WGBH puts on periodic pledge drives, asking for viewer support and contributions. Pledges can be made online, of course, but it seems that a lot of people are really either uncomfortable with computers or they simply prefer the minimal personal interaction that speaking with a phone operator affords.

This is where I came in. This past weekend I volunteered to take a four-hour shift as a phone pledge-collector. It was a slow day. A really slow day. In those four hours I received four phone calls. Two of those were nutjobs and two were very nice (and very ready to spend – one caller pledged $250, the other, $125).

One of the main reasons that I signed on for the job - besides the good karma vibes of course - was the likelihood of encountering Christopher Kimball, a badass in his own right. He really does wear a bow tie all the time, and not ironically. He is also likely the only man who can pull it off. He is wickedly funny. He hates Rachel Ray with a burning passion (and has little respect for the rest of the Food Network).


I was very happy to have the opportunity to sit behind Mr. Kimball’s back as he asked for donations on live television (you just may see me on PBS if you live in the Boston area – I am the nervous-looking blond girl trying to avoid the camera). I had the chance to speak with him and really wanted to, but totally chickened out. I was also completely pinned behind my desk - I had no idea that 40 people could be stuffed into 5 square feet of floor space, give or take. I did find out that America’s Test Kitchen sends recipes out to home cooks for testing, to get an idea of how real people cook and you can sign up to be a test cook on their website, somewhere.

Turns out, there are some very stupid real people. Apparently, one chicken recipe came back with a poor review. In the comments section of the review, the test cook had written something along the lines of, “ I didn’t have chicken, so I used shrimp. It really wasn’t good.” Wow. I really hope he didn’t cook the shrimp 5 minutes on each side as you would with chicken.




P.S. Should I ever actually graduate, I will absolutely look up how to be a test cook. I am a real person. More often than not, a stupid real person, but still... I can do it.

On the Road to Improvement

On the road to Durham

A week ago I listened close to my gut instinct and took in its constant scream of, “Science ties me up in knots, get me out of here!” I took three days off lab, rearranged and rebooked travel plans and attended a food blogging event in Durham, North Carolina, organized by the wonderful folks at BlogTogether. A food blogging event alone would have been enough to send my instincts into convulsions but with Michael Ruhlman as the guest of honor/speaker/author/blogger idol, I had no hope of resisting.

The first part of the event was a book reading at the Regulator Bookshop. Michael Ruhlman read an excerpt from his book, talked about writing books and blogs, the direction of American cuisine, cooking, eating and generally enjoying life to its fullest. He then signed books for a line of eager blogger worshippers such as myself, taking time to chat with every one of them.


When my turn came I was awkward and tongue tied, due no doubt to stress and science (I blame everything on science these days). Happily, Bora covered by saying that I am shy. Thank you! We bloggers need to stick together. [As an aside, I may be a great many things but shy I am not. Inarticulate and unsociable at times, yes. Shy? Not so much.] I did manage to squawk out a bit about my own blog and food writing, which Michael sat through with all his composure and obscene patience.

The next day was spent in anticipation of dinner at Piedmont. Chefs Drew Brown and Andy Magowan based practically the entire dinner on one heirloom pig that was raised on a local farm. I don’t know if it was the knowledge that all the ingredients save for the olive oil were born and raised in locally or that the execution of the dishes was flawless, but the food was rich, alive, fresh, simple, and cared for. In other words, it was great.


First
Housemade charcuterie and local cheeses: pate, lomo, rillette, head cheese, new moon, chevre camembert and accompaniments
Le Colture Fagher Prosecco

Second
White sweet potato puree with pancetta
Pierre Henri Chardonnay 2006

Third
Arugula salad with cherry tomatoes, pickled oak-grown shiitakes and herbs (basil, tarragon, fennel fronds and dill were all I could pick out)

Fourth
Pork loin with butternut squash polenta, braised chard and jus
La Gironnere Cotes do Bordeaux 2003

Fifth
Scuppernong* granita with moscato d’asti, cookies

---------

Michael took a look at my blog and was kind enough to give me his opinion on how I can improve. I have to be more me, he said, have to give the reader a better sense of my voice minus the snarky, to which I am massively prone. Good idea? Yes. Easy to execute? Nope. I’ll be working on it, over the next 20 years or so.



Pictures from the dinner here, courtesy of Anton Zuiker.

*Don’t know what scuppernong is? I didn’t either. It’s a large grape with a thick skin that is grown in NC and is used to make a sweet wine. The granita was pale green, smooth, and almost creamy. The taste came forward in stages – sweet at first, perfumey and floral last.




P.S. Impressions? Michael Ruhlman is a pretty neat (and tall!) guy - well-spoken, attentive, with a barely concealed edge (always the best part of a person) which I unintentionally coaxed out at dinner. I have a tendency to do that. That’s another bit of me that may need to be kept in check.

Chef Josh

The following is the first of what I hope to be a series of interviews with Boston area chefs.

Meet Chef Josh. Chef Josh runs the kitchen at the Washington Square Tavern in Brookline, one of my favorite restaurants. The focus at the Tavern is on seasonal American bistro food and great wine. Josh has worked and trained at The Elephant Walk, Mistral, and the Federalist - a rather impressive roster. He was kind enough to take 40 minutes of his time to humor me and speak into my little voice recorder.

Thank you, Jonathan, for facilitating and chaperoning the interview. I am much obliged.
Thank you, Josh, for your time and patience. It was a fun afternoon. And long(ish) evening.

Here we go.

A: Do you yell?
Chef Josh: No.

A: Not a yeller?
CJ: No, not a yeller. Once, maybe twice a year.

A: Were you yelled at when you were training?
CJ: Yes, that’s why I don’t yell.

A: If you were to have your very own restaurant, what would it be like?
CJ: It would probably be similar to this place. Small, American bistro food, wine, beer. There would not be burgers on the menu.

A: You hate burgers?
CJ: I don’t actually hate burgers, I hate cooking them. I’ll eat them.

A: How do you come up with something new for the menu? What is the process? Do you make it at home a few times?
CJ: I usually spend the owner’s money and make it here [at the restaurant]. Usually specials - try it as a special, see how it works, what the feedback is, and go from there. Every dish is pretty much the same, meat/protein, vegetables, starch, sauce, done. Just different combinations of that.

Jonathan: Do you wish the menu changed more often?
CJ: No! I could not come up with ideas. Every two months is a lot. I’ve never worked any place else where the menu changes as much. There are like 8 seasons according to this place.

Veal marsala with truffled mushroom risotto and lemony arugula (my favorite thing on this menu, closely followed by the lamb lollipops).*

Jonathan: How often do they change the menu at Mistral?
CJ: Probably four times a year. Most places I worked, that’s what it was. Some things never change, like the burger. I don’t even have to cook those. It still bothers me. Last night a table of four, four adults, grown ups, came in for dinner. I am looking out, think “Oh they’re drinking wine, maybe they’ll get some fish.” Four burgers. And these people are like forty. Look, I’ll eat a burger too but if you go out on a Saturday night, splurge a little bit, you know, get a steak. You don’t need a sandwich. You can have that at home.

A: Grown-ups don’t eat sandwiches?
CJ: No, they do, but have you ever gone out with your parents and they say I’ll have aaaaa sandwich for dinner. [Me: Uuhh, no]. We get people that come in here [and say] “I love the food here. You do a great job… I get the burger every time.“ Huh? Wha? I’ll go get the guy who makes the burgers and you can tell him.

A: You didn’t go to culinary school, right?
CJ: No, I didn’t. I have just been doing this a long time, working in restaurants, delis. Started out washing dishes… sob story… without a dishwashing machine. I have done everything, which is nice because I wouldn’t ask any of these people that I work with to do anything that I haven’t done. Maybe that’s why I don’t yell. It’s pretty easy when you’re not washing dishes.

Seared tuna with pickled haricots verts (amazing) and wasabi mayo.*

A: So you learned all the techniques just through working?
CJ: I learned a lot at the Elephant Walk, a little at Mistral, a little at the Federalist. Learned a lot here just messing around with stuff. When you’re a line cook and you just show up and everything is done for you every day, your station is all set up, everything is cut up, all your sauces are done, and you just go, cook, and leave. It’s hard to pick things up that way. Yeah, I learned a lot… Learn something from everybody if you want to.

A: There is always a trendy food. Do you follow the food trends?
CJ: No, I don’t know. What’s trendy right now? Am I out of it? Am I in it? No, I don’t really care. I don’t follow it. I don’t ever plan on foaming anything unless it’s a latte. No foam, no tapas, whatever the next hot thing is.

A: What’s you wish list for next round of menus?
CJ: Foam, of course foam. I don’t want to say starch free, but I am sick of potatoes. Really light summer stuff. No more mashed potatoes, I don’t want roasted potatoes. I am kind of sick of starch so I hope they let me get away with some starch-less dishes, salad, green vegetables, light and clean.

A: What’s the one technique you go back to every time?
CJ: Searing seems to be the way. We have two stations. It’s either sauté or grill, so I would say searing is pretty constant, and then pan sauce is a pretty constant thing.

A: What won’t you ever eat, ever?

CJ: Swordfish. Ever.

A: Is it the bugs?
CJ: It’s the worms, it’s the way they fish it now. It’s no longer harpooned, it’s all long lined and the fish drowns. I don’t like it. I don’t like the meat, I don’t like to cut it, clean it, nothing about it appeals to me. [Face contorted with active disgust]. I think that’s the only thing I will never eat.

* Please forgive the crap photos. It's dark in the Tavern, as the name might suggest.


P.S. Lesson learned? Think twice about ordering a burger at a nice restaurant. The chef may take offense. Rightfully.

P.P.S. Interviewing people is hard! I have a new-found respect for Jay Leno. In the interest of, well, interest, I moved some stuff around in the interview, cut things out, nothing ethically or morally challenging, but just enough to make it readable. Bear with me, I hope to get better as I go along.