Just recently, I finally got to go to McCrady's in Charleston for dinner. For years now, I have yearned to visit this restaurant, even after all of the fabulous restaurants around the world that I have been to, and the great food that my mother and I cook at home. With a James Beard Award, executive chef that has appeared on Iron Chef, molecular gastronomy laced, and nods from folks like Giada De Laurentis, I figured what could go wrong. Well, it was more like what didn't go wrong. With reservations at 7:30, we arrived promptly at the reserved time, to a restaurant half full, with a sleepy atmosphere. This aspect, and being greeted by a positively snotty waitress (Most likely a college student with absolutely no right to have such an attitude), did not make the evening look promising, but we forged on, with the hopes that redemption was on the horizon of this supposed epicurean gem. With sitting down, both my mother and I felt as though our table could have been of better quality, due to the amount of diners in the large room, but we decided not to make a fuss. Next, we were approached by our waiter, who I have no better word to describe him except for bored and personality-less. I knew I wasn't a fan of his from the minute he said "Hello" (If he was even present enough to say "hello"), but my opinions of him and the restaurant plummeted even more so, when he rushed my mother into a wine choice, without even allowing a glimpse at the list or discussing her palette. After receiving our beverages, I felt as though I was rushed through choosing a dinner option by our "lovely waiter", and not even given a chance to warm my seat yet. My mother order a Cocoa Encrusted Magret Duck Breast, with Duck Sausage, Brussels Sprouts, Fois Gras, and some sort of sauce I cannot remember. I ordered a Duo of Beef, that consisted of Beef Belly (a surprising change from pork belly), and a Beef Tenderloin, with Broccoli and Farro. The waiter informed me that the broccoli and farro were a taken on the quintessential broccoli and rice Chinese takeout meal. Okay...
Between the meal and ordering, we were addressed by a very solemn-looking girl with a large bread basket. She mumbled to us the bread selection, which even after repeating herself twice, we still were not sure as to what type of bread were were receiving. My mother and I both ended up with a dry, day old slab of multi-grain, accompanied with ice cold butter (major restaurant pet peeve), and a pleasantly fruity olive oil. I was verging on bored and perhaps losing my appetite as well. I waited for my meal with bated breath.
Our meal finally arrived after sitting there for thirty minutes anticipating whether or not this was going to be a full 360 degree disaster. My Duo of Beef arrived beautifully presented, on a large white plate. My mother's duck, also arrived stunningly presented. Both dishes were awfully petite and at any other half sane restaurant, another course would have been advised. We completed the dishes in about ten or so minutes, and were still hungry. My mother's duck didn't have the slightest hint of cocoa in it, nor did she find any fois gras under the scattering of "decorative" and raw brussels sprout leaves. Mine on the other hand, was the better of the two but still nowhere near the quality it should have been. The Beef Belly, was undoubtedly amazing, but my steak which I clearly specified to be cooked medium-rare, was WAY overcooked, and clearly medium-well. The farro had amazing flavor, albeit part of it being a little TOO al dente even for my taste. When I asked our "charming" waiter what was in it, he informed me that all it was flavored with was some broccoli puree and fried. I sensed no trace of broccoli in the farro, but what do I know?
With this final bit of disappointment, my mother ordered for the check, and we blew the joint, making ourselves clear just by demeanor, that we would not be returning. To possibly try to liven up the abysmal evening, we walked to Slightly North of Broad (Always great) for dessert and cappucchino. There was a wait at 8:30, so we went across the street to High Cotton (Also great), where we squeezed in at the bar. As we sat sipping our cappucchinos, my mother and I both came to the realization that S.N.O.B. and High Cotton were both packed, while McCrady's was half empty, for a reason. This providing further reasoning to the saying "The proof is in the pudding."
After this disappointing evening, it really made both my mother and I realize how much we absolutely adore eating at home. This depressing experience only gave me more of an urge to bake, and create something fabulous, which I did. This is by far one of my best creations yet!
Vanilla Squared, Biscoff Cheesecake
Topping
2 cups ground Biscoff cookies*
6 tbs (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, melted
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Grind the Biscoff cookies in a food processor until they resemble sand. In a bowl, stir the crumbs into the melted butter. Press into a 8-inch spring form pan. Bake about 10 minutes, or until the crust is crisp looking and golden brown. Let cool. Keep oven temperature.
Filling
3 8-ounce packages of cream cheese, room tempy
1 cup sugar
2 vanilla beans
1 tsp good vanilla extract
4 eggs
3/4 cup sour cream
With a stand or handheld mixer, beat the cream cheese until it is smooth. Add the sugar, vanilla beans, and vanilla extract, and beat again until incorporated and smooth. Add your eggs one at a time, making sure they get fully immersed and not stuck on the side of the bowl. Then, once the eggs are fully incorporated, add the sour cream. Pour this mixture over the topping, and bake for about 1 hour. The cook time will most likely be a tad longer, but this is a good time to give the cake a gentle jiggle. You want to cook it until the edges are firm, and the center still moves a little when shaken. Listen to your judgement. Just make sure that you don't cook it too long, because it will dry out.
Take the cake out when ready, and let it cool for 30 minutes to an hour. Chill overnight, uncovered.
Biscoff Caramel Topping
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup light corn syrup
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup Biscoff spread**
Combine the first three ingredients in a metal saucepan. Stir (I use a metal spoon) over medium low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Next, turn up the heat until the mixture simmers. Simmer for about 10 minutes, swirling occasionally. The mixture resembles a dark amber and has that caramel-like smell. If necessary, brush the sides down with a brush throughout the process, to prevent the sugar from burning on the side of the pot. BE CAREFUL OF BURNING! It is always better to under cook rather than overcook it.
Take your caramel off the heat and add the cream. Be careful, because the mixture will bubble up viciously. Return to low heat and stir until the mass of sugar dissolves into the cream. Add the Biscoff spread, and stir until it is incorporated over low heat.
Release the side of the spring form pan. Cut, and serve with caramel topping. Fall in love!
* Biscoff cookies can be found in most supermarkets in the cookie aisle. They are the cookies that you receive on airlines.
** Biscoff spread is an international item, sometimes referred to as Speculaas Spread. This can be found in some grocery stores, international food stores, and online.
Believe me, this cheesecake is probably the most amazing dessert I have ever tasted, and I made it my own home! A good lesson I learned through this experience, but it all ended well.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Newest New Beginning
So, after a few months worth of training for a ballet exam, I am now free from dance(and leotards, he he) for a while and I am geared to bake.
Friday night, as planned, was a celebration. To commemorate the work put toward a ballet exam, my mother, father and I had a little dinner get together, just the three of us. As always, when a hiatus from ballet begins, I make it a point to throw a small gathering devoted to extra naughty food. This time, the menu consisted of pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw, sweet potato fries, and lovely lemon pudding cakes. I just happened to be in charge of the dessert, which turned out lovely...to my surprise. Read, and see.
Chosen from my encyclopedia size "Bon Appetit: Desserts" book, these Lemon Pudding Cakes with Marbled Raspberry Cream were a divine contrast to the sloppy, dinner choice. I had chosen this dessert because I thought that I would contrast nicely with the pulled pork. Aside from that though, I wasn't terribly excited for these. I admit, I settled on the recipe, for convenience and theme, but I wasn't convinced until my spoon broke the cake.
The mise en place. Sorry for the bad i-phone quality...
For not having that many ingredients, these were not simple. They had quite a few steps, and required a good amount of mise en place. The mixture came together somewhat like a souffle, with me having to fold the egg whites into the lemon mixture, which consisted of lemon juice, rind, flour, butter, sugar, egg yolks, and my special addition of butter. Once assembled, the batter was just okay, which worried me more about these innocent little cakes, that I had yet to even try.
I poured the mixture into buttered ramekins, and pooped them in the oven for 25 minutes. While I waited for them to bake, I put together the raspberry cream. The cream, which incorporated pureed raspberry drizzled into a classic whipped cream, was undoubtedly fabulous. After whipping the cream, I simply poured the puree into the cream, and cut the cream with a knife. Hence, marbled cream.
Puffed and firm, my cakes came out of the oven approximately 25 minutes later. Seeing that this recipe was supposed to be the lemon version of the classic molten chocolate lava, I was a little unconvinced by the "firm" word. I placed the cakes, which looked as pretty as could be, on their plate and served them warm. The whipped cream was applied over top, of course.
Upon digging in, the first layer of cake was light and spongy, with a clear taste of sweet lemon. I was impressed, but it wasn't what I expected...or was it?
Discovering the next layer was like unearthing a treasure. The once spongy, yet soft, cake above, had transformed into creamy, pudding-like texture that had a slight whisper of cake still running through. As I got closer to the bottom, the mixture got increasingly wetter, and also surprisingly tarter as well. An enjoyment through and through. The raspberry cream was a fabulous accompaniment.
In the end, I was wrong. This dessert was delicious, and decadent. Also, it is really fantastic for those with short attention spans, seeing that it kept changing the closer you got to the bottom. I would surely make these again, and possibly even with different flavors. Best yet, they got A++ reviews. Not just because they are my parents, but I do feel as though they were genuinely enjoyed, seeing they were still being talked about long after their departure.
I was glad that I made them, not only because I was proved wrong, but also because they were delicious. A two-for!!!
Friday night, as planned, was a celebration. To commemorate the work put toward a ballet exam, my mother, father and I had a little dinner get together, just the three of us. As always, when a hiatus from ballet begins, I make it a point to throw a small gathering devoted to extra naughty food. This time, the menu consisted of pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw, sweet potato fries, and lovely lemon pudding cakes. I just happened to be in charge of the dessert, which turned out lovely...to my surprise. Read, and see.
Chosen from my encyclopedia size "Bon Appetit: Desserts" book, these Lemon Pudding Cakes with Marbled Raspberry Cream were a divine contrast to the sloppy, dinner choice. I had chosen this dessert because I thought that I would contrast nicely with the pulled pork. Aside from that though, I wasn't terribly excited for these. I admit, I settled on the recipe, for convenience and theme, but I wasn't convinced until my spoon broke the cake.
The mise en place. Sorry for the bad i-phone quality...
For not having that many ingredients, these were not simple. They had quite a few steps, and required a good amount of mise en place. The mixture came together somewhat like a souffle, with me having to fold the egg whites into the lemon mixture, which consisted of lemon juice, rind, flour, butter, sugar, egg yolks, and my special addition of butter. Once assembled, the batter was just okay, which worried me more about these innocent little cakes, that I had yet to even try.
I poured the mixture into buttered ramekins, and pooped them in the oven for 25 minutes. While I waited for them to bake, I put together the raspberry cream. The cream, which incorporated pureed raspberry drizzled into a classic whipped cream, was undoubtedly fabulous. After whipping the cream, I simply poured the puree into the cream, and cut the cream with a knife. Hence, marbled cream.
Puffed and firm, my cakes came out of the oven approximately 25 minutes later. Seeing that this recipe was supposed to be the lemon version of the classic molten chocolate lava, I was a little unconvinced by the "firm" word. I placed the cakes, which looked as pretty as could be, on their plate and served them warm. The whipped cream was applied over top, of course.
Upon digging in, the first layer of cake was light and spongy, with a clear taste of sweet lemon. I was impressed, but it wasn't what I expected...or was it?
Discovering the next layer was like unearthing a treasure. The once spongy, yet soft, cake above, had transformed into creamy, pudding-like texture that had a slight whisper of cake still running through. As I got closer to the bottom, the mixture got increasingly wetter, and also surprisingly tarter as well. An enjoyment through and through. The raspberry cream was a fabulous accompaniment.
In the end, I was wrong. This dessert was delicious, and decadent. Also, it is really fantastic for those with short attention spans, seeing that it kept changing the closer you got to the bottom. I would surely make these again, and possibly even with different flavors. Best yet, they got A++ reviews. Not just because they are my parents, but I do feel as though they were genuinely enjoyed, seeing they were still being talked about long after their departure.
I was glad that I made them, not only because I was proved wrong, but also because they were delicious. A two-for!!!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
A Dinner Party and Dessert
Last week, my parents and I had over two very good friends. So, when given any chance to make a fabulous dessert, I always jump. So after a few days of intense pondering, and some severe indecisiveness, I found the winner. The chosen dessert was a Cranberry-Lime Tart from a December 2003 issue of Bon Appetit. I recently purchased the "Bon Appetit Desserts" book, and I am slowly but surely trying to conquer a good portion of it. I decided to choose this tart because I often find that anything to do with curd, in any form is always good, and the addition of the tart cranberry compote wasn't a bad thing either.
So, my process began two days before the dinner party. I needed to make the lime curd first, so it could sit overnight. All I can say, is that the recipe called for the use of an 11-inch tart, and I was only using an 8-inch, so there was plenty left over...THANK GOD! After a few very naughty tastes of the curd, I controlled myself and popped it in the fridge for the night.
The next day, I made the crust. The crust was a combination of the usual ingredients-butter, sugar, flour-but the addition of toasted almonds made it into something very special. Like the curd, there were some leftovers, which made me seriously contemplate the outcome of a possible cookie made the same way. I chilled the crust as instructed before baking, and then popped it in the oven until golden brown.
Once the crust came out, I allowed it to cool. Whilst the crust cooled, I decided to put together the cranberry topping and the white chocolate cream. Both components needed to cool, so this was as good a time as ever. The cranberry topping had suggested an optional addition of Chinese Five Spice Powder, which I completely intended to do, but I didn't have any luck finding it in the local markets. I have since gotten some, and I will be certain to use it next time. It all worked out in the end though, because I wouldn't have changed a thing about the cranberries. To replace the omitted Five Spice Powder, I added some cinnamon, nutmeg, and lime zest which worked just perfectly. Moving onto the white chocolate, I had worries that this element would not be able to stand up to the severity of flavor in the lime curd and cranberries, but I would just have to wait and find out.
About and hour later, all of the components of the tart are cooled and it is ready to be assembled. First to go in, is the white chocolate cream. I used it all, and then chilled it until firm in the fridge. Next, I layered the lime curd over top of the white chocolate cream, followed by the cranberries. With that last touch to the pie, it was ready to be enclosed in foil and put in the fridge to chill overnight, before its big unveiling the next evening.
The time finally arrived. I couldn't contain myself, as I slid the pie cutter into the crisp crust.
As for taste, I was quite impressed. The crust was better than I thought, and the white chocolate did in fact stand up to everything and did not get lost. The lime curd but of course, sublime, and the cranberries were equally as delicious too. By the first bite, everyone at the table was extremely pleased with the dessert, and loved the taste, just as I did.
It didn't hurt either, that the tart was so very pretty.
So, my process began two days before the dinner party. I needed to make the lime curd first, so it could sit overnight. All I can say, is that the recipe called for the use of an 11-inch tart, and I was only using an 8-inch, so there was plenty left over...THANK GOD! After a few very naughty tastes of the curd, I controlled myself and popped it in the fridge for the night.
The next day, I made the crust. The crust was a combination of the usual ingredients-butter, sugar, flour-but the addition of toasted almonds made it into something very special. Like the curd, there were some leftovers, which made me seriously contemplate the outcome of a possible cookie made the same way. I chilled the crust as instructed before baking, and then popped it in the oven until golden brown.
Once the crust came out, I allowed it to cool. Whilst the crust cooled, I decided to put together the cranberry topping and the white chocolate cream. Both components needed to cool, so this was as good a time as ever. The cranberry topping had suggested an optional addition of Chinese Five Spice Powder, which I completely intended to do, but I didn't have any luck finding it in the local markets. I have since gotten some, and I will be certain to use it next time. It all worked out in the end though, because I wouldn't have changed a thing about the cranberries. To replace the omitted Five Spice Powder, I added some cinnamon, nutmeg, and lime zest which worked just perfectly. Moving onto the white chocolate, I had worries that this element would not be able to stand up to the severity of flavor in the lime curd and cranberries, but I would just have to wait and find out.
About and hour later, all of the components of the tart are cooled and it is ready to be assembled. First to go in, is the white chocolate cream. I used it all, and then chilled it until firm in the fridge. Next, I layered the lime curd over top of the white chocolate cream, followed by the cranberries. With that last touch to the pie, it was ready to be enclosed in foil and put in the fridge to chill overnight, before its big unveiling the next evening.
The time finally arrived. I couldn't contain myself, as I slid the pie cutter into the crisp crust.
As for taste, I was quite impressed. The crust was better than I thought, and the white chocolate did in fact stand up to everything and did not get lost. The lime curd but of course, sublime, and the cranberries were equally as delicious too. By the first bite, everyone at the table was extremely pleased with the dessert, and loved the taste, just as I did.
It didn't hurt either, that the tart was so very pretty.
I served it on Spring green plates with a few white chocolate shaving over top.
Très délicieux! Plus tôt...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Chattin About Manhattan
Well, after a one week restaurant (with some shopping) jaunt through Manhattan for my birthday, I am feeling heavier in lbs, but lighter in spirit. The week was filled with fabulous food, and great experiences. Don't get me wrong, there were some DEFINITE misses, but nothing astronomical. Anyway, the first night was Felidia. Felidia is almost a home to my mother and I, and we always feel as if we a deeply welcomed when there. Therefore, Felidia is a permanent fixture on the list when going to Manhattan. This particular night, we had a fantastic experience. The hospitality, and warmth of Felidia is more than enough, but the food is also just as divine. My mother ordered Butternut Squash Soup (a special), and "Manzo", which was a Creekstone Farm braised beef flat iron “al barolo”, hanger steak tagliata, heirloom beans, farro and tuscan kale. The soup was hearty, and so full of flavor. It was filled with beans, panchetta, and or course, butternut, making it the perfect comfort food for the cold night that awaited outside. The "Manzo", was also delicious. To my mothers surprise, it consisted of steak done two way; one done as if it were a pot roast, and the other perfectly rare in the center, and more steak-like. The beans, farro, and kale surrounding the meat was an equally sumptuous accompaniment that stood up to the meat very well. I, on the other hand, opted to just order an entrée, seeing I had dessert on the brain. I had the veal tenderloin with parsnip puree, sautéed spinach, and cheese fonduta from the truffle suggested tasting menu. Over top, I specially ordered shavings of black truffle. I anticipated a very stingy offering of truffles, but no, shaved at the table, the precious shavings drowned my plate. The more the merrier!!! Aside from the truffles, the veal was unctuous, and the parsnip puree was absolutely indescribable. I couldn't have asked for more any more decadence, while still showcasing a stunning display of flavor and quality. In addition to these orders, we were given a two entrées on the house; "Barbabietole", satur farms baby beet salad with spaghetti squash, cranberry agrodolce, mustard seeds and local cheeses, and "Cardi Carciofi e Uova", cardoons, artichoke and frisee salad with burrata and sunny side-up blue organic egg. Both were fabulous. I preffered the beats though, because there was a most fabulous array of cheeses, chunked over top. Delish! Also, for my birthday, we were surprised with an assortment of the desserts on the Felidia menu, and the Felidia palette cleansing biscotti, and cookies. The evening was flawless. Brava, Brava!
The next night beheld my dream, Le Bernardin. I have been dying to go for quite sometime, and I would never have guessed that it would have been this sensational. We chose the Le Bernardin Tasting Menu, which is seven courses. The menu read like this:
Tuna layers of thinly pounded yellowfin tuna; toasted baguette; shaved chives and extra virgin olive oil. botani moscatel seco, sierras de malaga, spain 2008
Octopus charred octopus; fermented black bean. pear sauce vierge; ink, miso vinaigrette; purple basil. sauvignon blanc, paul cluver, elgin south, africa 2008
Lobster warm lobster carpaccio; hearts of palm, orange vinaigrette.
chardonnay, ramey, russian river, 2007
Hiramasa seared yellowtail king fish; truffle risotto, baby vegetables, black truffle emulsion.
rioja reserva, viña bosconia, lopez de heredia, spain 2002
Black Bass crispy black bass; lup cheong and beansprout "risotto" mini steamed buns, hoisin-plum jus. barbaresco, valeirano, ada nada, piedmont, italy 2005
Parsnip parsnip crème brulée, roasted hazelnut, browned milk solids, vanilla salt
chikurin, karoyaka junmai ginjo, okayama
Milk Chocolate maralumi milk chocolate parfait, liquid pear, gingersnap
château la rame, reserve, saint croix du mont 1999
I could go on for a lifetime, on my thoughts and feelings about each and every one of these dishes but that would obviously take...a lifetime.
My favorites, were the tuna, and the hiramasa. The tuna, with the foie gras, was enough, but the baguette, that was crisp, yet still enabled one to cut through it cleanly with a knife, was magnificent. The hiramasa, was equally as genius and like nothing I have ever tasted. The truffle emulsion, poured over this rare, white fish from Australia, was beyond. I have no words to describe this sultry sauce, but I actually asked the captain who served me, if I could just get a bowl the sauce. I wasn't thinking clearly. The sauce was engrossing, and the fish was beautiful as well.
These aforementioned dishes were just the outrageously great highlights. All of the dishes shown as stars, and there were by far, no misses whatsoever. I do have one comment though. The octopus was perfectly cooked (of course, what did I expect), and all of the dishes components were again, like I never tasted. But! On completing the dish, I felt like it was a tad too rich, and heavy for a seven course menu. I got scared at only the second course, that I would be obscenely full because of this dish, but thankfully, this wasn't my conundrum.
In addition to the seven courses, the amuse bouche, was a perfectly plump oyster, surrounded in a truffle froth, and we also requested the egg, which was more beautiful than I expected, and was terribly scrumptious. Last but not least, was the passion fruit mousse that was brought for my birthday. This was the most amazing dessert I have yet to have...ever, and I plan to replicate it shortly.
Food aside, nothing can overshadow the amazing gift that was bestowed upon me at the restaurant. I was invited to visit the kitchen, to meet Chef Eric himself. He was just as handsome in person, and appeared in his pristine chef whites, welcoming us into his kitchen. I do not care to say more, because I will over think the experience, instead I will provide proof. I was starstruck, I must admit.
^^^Is there anything else to say??? Oh! The service was impeccable too. Can the place get any more perfect? The answer is, "no".
The next few nights consisted of Tamarind, which we were both really excited for some authentic Indian, but it was disappointing, and Felidia, which was yet again a very memorable, and lovely experience. BLT Steak was forgettable, and very bizarre all around, and Monday night was spent at the corner diner, with great food and giggles.
Our last night in the city was spent at Gotham Bar and Grill. From all of the great reviews we had heard, we expected nothing less than perfection. And that it was. The food was outstanding. We ordered the tasting menu, which was...
NANTUCKET BAY SCALLOPS
green apple gelee, celery hearts and lime
piment d'espelette
DUCK AND FOIE GRAS TORTELLINI
smoked onion soubise and shaved matsutake
matsutake consommé
ROASTED TURBOT
kennebec potato, leek fondue and burgundy truffle
ruby port bordelaise
RACK OF FALLOW VENISON
savoy cabbage, smoked bacon and sweet potato fingerlings
huckleberry genivere
SOUFFLE BELLE HELEN
bosc pear, poire william crème anglaise
dark chocolate cointreau ice cream
All of the dishes were robust in flavor, and savory. I adored the Turbot, and the Souffle was so ambrosial, that I was even inspired to make it at home a few nights ago.
For the souffle, I used a Bon Appetit "Pear Souffle" recipe, which I ad libbed, with the addition of a caramelized pear compote on the bottom of the souffles, and a Poire William Crème Anglaise, just like the one at Gotham. YUM YUM YUM! It achieved great reviews all around.
Unfortunately, in my hastes to get a picture before the soufflés fell, I got a blurry picture.
I had the utmost wonderful time in Manhattan, but it was made even more fabulous by the quality time I spent with my mother. We laughed and reminisced the whole way through, and it also didn't hurt that we got to do this whilst executing some of our favorite activities.
The next night beheld my dream, Le Bernardin. I have been dying to go for quite sometime, and I would never have guessed that it would have been this sensational. We chose the Le Bernardin Tasting Menu, which is seven courses. The menu read like this:
Tuna layers of thinly pounded yellowfin tuna; toasted baguette; shaved chives and extra virgin olive oil. botani moscatel seco, sierras de malaga, spain 2008
Octopus charred octopus; fermented black bean. pear sauce vierge; ink, miso vinaigrette; purple basil. sauvignon blanc, paul cluver, elgin south, africa 2008
Lobster warm lobster carpaccio; hearts of palm, orange vinaigrette.
chardonnay, ramey, russian river, 2007
Hiramasa seared yellowtail king fish; truffle risotto, baby vegetables, black truffle emulsion.
rioja reserva, viña bosconia, lopez de heredia, spain 2002
Black Bass crispy black bass; lup cheong and beansprout "risotto" mini steamed buns, hoisin-plum jus. barbaresco, valeirano, ada nada, piedmont, italy 2005
Parsnip parsnip crème brulée, roasted hazelnut, browned milk solids, vanilla salt
chikurin, karoyaka junmai ginjo, okayama
Milk Chocolate maralumi milk chocolate parfait, liquid pear, gingersnap
château la rame, reserve, saint croix du mont 1999
I could go on for a lifetime, on my thoughts and feelings about each and every one of these dishes but that would obviously take...a lifetime.
My favorites, were the tuna, and the hiramasa. The tuna, with the foie gras, was enough, but the baguette, that was crisp, yet still enabled one to cut through it cleanly with a knife, was magnificent. The hiramasa, was equally as genius and like nothing I have ever tasted. The truffle emulsion, poured over this rare, white fish from Australia, was beyond. I have no words to describe this sultry sauce, but I actually asked the captain who served me, if I could just get a bowl the sauce. I wasn't thinking clearly. The sauce was engrossing, and the fish was beautiful as well.
These aforementioned dishes were just the outrageously great highlights. All of the dishes shown as stars, and there were by far, no misses whatsoever. I do have one comment though. The octopus was perfectly cooked (of course, what did I expect), and all of the dishes components were again, like I never tasted. But! On completing the dish, I felt like it was a tad too rich, and heavy for a seven course menu. I got scared at only the second course, that I would be obscenely full because of this dish, but thankfully, this wasn't my conundrum.
In addition to the seven courses, the amuse bouche, was a perfectly plump oyster, surrounded in a truffle froth, and we also requested the egg, which was more beautiful than I expected, and was terribly scrumptious. Last but not least, was the passion fruit mousse that was brought for my birthday. This was the most amazing dessert I have yet to have...ever, and I plan to replicate it shortly.
Food aside, nothing can overshadow the amazing gift that was bestowed upon me at the restaurant. I was invited to visit the kitchen, to meet Chef Eric himself. He was just as handsome in person, and appeared in his pristine chef whites, welcoming us into his kitchen. I do not care to say more, because I will over think the experience, instead I will provide proof. I was starstruck, I must admit.
^^^Is there anything else to say??? Oh! The service was impeccable too. Can the place get any more perfect? The answer is, "no".
The next few nights consisted of Tamarind, which we were both really excited for some authentic Indian, but it was disappointing, and Felidia, which was yet again a very memorable, and lovely experience. BLT Steak was forgettable, and very bizarre all around, and Monday night was spent at the corner diner, with great food and giggles.
Our last night in the city was spent at Gotham Bar and Grill. From all of the great reviews we had heard, we expected nothing less than perfection. And that it was. The food was outstanding. We ordered the tasting menu, which was...
NANTUCKET BAY SCALLOPS
green apple gelee, celery hearts and lime
piment d'espelette
DUCK AND FOIE GRAS TORTELLINI
smoked onion soubise and shaved matsutake
matsutake consommé
ROASTED TURBOT
kennebec potato, leek fondue and burgundy truffle
ruby port bordelaise
RACK OF FALLOW VENISON
savoy cabbage, smoked bacon and sweet potato fingerlings
huckleberry genivere
SOUFFLE BELLE HELEN
bosc pear, poire william crème anglaise
dark chocolate cointreau ice cream
All of the dishes were robust in flavor, and savory. I adored the Turbot, and the Souffle was so ambrosial, that I was even inspired to make it at home a few nights ago.
For the souffle, I used a Bon Appetit "Pear Souffle" recipe, which I ad libbed, with the addition of a caramelized pear compote on the bottom of the souffles, and a Poire William Crème Anglaise, just like the one at Gotham. YUM YUM YUM! It achieved great reviews all around.
Unfortunately, in my hastes to get a picture before the soufflés fell, I got a blurry picture.
I had the utmost wonderful time in Manhattan, but it was made even more fabulous by the quality time I spent with my mother. We laughed and reminisced the whole way through, and it also didn't hurt that we got to do this whilst executing some of our favorite activities.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Happiest of Birthdays
Well, I just celebrated a big birthday. The BIG 1-7. No, it isn't one of those milestone birthdays but it is definitely one that woke me up. I do feel older, and it is quite strange to actually think that I will be applied to a college this time next year. Regardless of my "getting older" woes and responsibilities though, I had a wonderful small party with my mother and father where food was the star...aside from my brand new Cinnamon Red Kitchen Aid Stand mixer that I got for a present.
Seeing it was my party, my mother wouldn't allow me to do any of the preparations, which I must admit, was quite unnerving, but nonetheless, it all turned out well.
For our entree, I had decided upon Shrimp and Grits. This is one of my all time favorite meals, and I never get to eat it, so I figured my birthday was the best day to do it.
We used a recipe from The Martha Stewart Show, titled "General Oglethorp's Shrimp and Grits". Don't get me wrong Martha is someone I truly emulate, but her recipes sometimes leave a little something to be desired. To be honest. It really wasn't very good. The grits were outstanding, and the shrimp were fresh, but the roux drizzled on top was bitter, and the seasoning on the shrimp was just okay. In defense of Martha, it wasn't her recipe.
Maybe cake will be better...
Seeing it was my party, my mother wouldn't allow me to do any of the preparations, which I must admit, was quite unnerving, but nonetheless, it all turned out well.
For our entree, I had decided upon Shrimp and Grits. This is one of my all time favorite meals, and I never get to eat it, so I figured my birthday was the best day to do it.
We used a recipe from The Martha Stewart Show, titled "General Oglethorp's Shrimp and Grits". Don't get me wrong Martha is someone I truly emulate, but her recipes sometimes leave a little something to be desired. To be honest. It really wasn't very good. The grits were outstanding, and the shrimp were fresh, but the roux drizzled on top was bitter, and the seasoning on the shrimp was just okay. In defense of Martha, it wasn't her recipe.
Maybe cake will be better...
Funfetti Cake. Can we get any better? Yes, I am highly against boxed cake mixes, but for birthdays, when you are seeking nostalgia, I fear that box cake is permitted. Well...
It was worth it. I managed to find the Rainbow Chip Icing reminiscent of my childhood, because the new Funfetti icing simply would not have done, and my mother dyed the cake and icing to a playful pink and blue hue. The cake was delicious to SAY THE LEAST, and was the instigator of a very unpleasant binge...
All in all, my birthday was wonderful, and surely one to remember. Capping of the night, "Sex and the City" re-runs, and aching bellies, I wouldn't have changed a thing.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Closet Italian
Italian food is always a cuisine that I underestimate. Whenever choosing a restaurant or recipe, Italian always has some sort of stigma in my head of being heavy and laden with tomato sauce. But in reality, Italian food is an expression of simplicity, beautiful presentation, and the use of delicious ingredients in their most organic state. This makes for a delicious recipe, even though looks may be deceiving.
That being said, I decided to try my luck at pasta making this week. We have had a pasta maker for a little while now, and I have been dying to use it, so I made time to do it. I decided to use an Eric Ripert recipe for the actual making of the pasta, and a Cooking Light "Pappardelle with Roasted Winter Squash, Arugula, and Pine Nuts", for the remaining of the preparation.
So I start with my well.
Flour, eggs, and a dash of salt, are poured gently into my well to begin making the dough. What I had determined would be easy, turned out to be the beginning of a small nightmare. First, I think I may have combined too much of the flour with the eggs in the well, far too quickly. For this unknown mistake, my "dough" turned into a coarse meal, and not a soft and silky, HOMOGENEOUS, piece of dough. Therefore, after several minutes of kneading, I came to the conclusion that my "sand" was not going to transform itself without any help. I decided that the only way to save the dough, was to add water, and lots of it. I know that this may seem like a pastry chefs worst nightmare, but I did what I had to do. It won't happen again...
Minutes later, after water and all, I have dough, which goes into the fridge for at least thirty minutes, but in my case, a few hours.
Hours later, the actual rolling of the pasta arrives. Since I didn't address the degree of difficulty associated with the dough making, I was by no means feeling carefree about rolling the pasta.
I prepared the dough by rolling it out to a large rectangle, and then I feed it through the machine at the widest setting...Easy! Success.
I fold the dough in half, and repeat the process...It worked again! Now I am feeling cocky, and continue the rest of the process with ease. I crank out some linguine for my father, which is done effortlessly by the machine, and then cut my mother and myself some rustic pappardelle. I gently drape the pasta over a floured baking sheet, and prepare the rest of the ingredients in the recipe. Little did I know, the REAL problems began simply, with the way I let my pasta wait.
In the meantime, I roast my butternut squash with balsamic vinegar, oil, and salt. What I am left with, is a beautifully crisp, and delicious tray of cubed butternut squash. Next, I have a mixture of pine nuts, sage, and garlic, ready to be sauteed in a pan with butter. This is all to be done at the last minute, so I get everything ready to go, and wait until the proper time to cook my pasta.
When this time arrives, I toss my fathers in first. Well, I had the pasta waiting on top of each other, and what is obvious now, stunned me at the time. The pasta or dough, being very malleable, combined itself right in with all of the other pasta that it was nestled on top of. Consequently, I had one giant clump of linguine strands melded together. I drop them(it?) in the water, with high hopes that they may separate with cooking.
2 minutes later, the linguine has separated slightly, but I find that it can be pulled apart easily, after cooking, so I move onto the pappardelle. Well...
The situation here is much worse. The ribbons are not coming apart, which has turned my, what was beautiful pasta ribbons, into small, uneven chunks of dough. What I did salvage(which was plenty) didn't have the same appeal, as the original look of the sheets, but I had to get them in the pot regardless. While the pasta cooks, I melt the butter for the pine nut, sage and garlic mixture.
With frustration coursing through my body, and just when I didn't need it, I smell something. It is the familiar smell of burning...The nuts and garlic, are scorched in the pan. I never do this! Mindlessly, I had walked away and forgotten. In hot pursuit, I had to prepare that mixture again, drain the pasta, only to find that I have some very unappealing hunks, and finish preparing the meal.
I put the pappardelle in a bowl with the butternut squash, and throw in the now perfectly cooked pine nuts, and toss to combine. Now comes the arugula, and some freshly grated truffle cheese, and the pasta is ready to go. A huge sigh of relief is heaved, but I can still feeling a sort of nervous buzzing reverberating in my head.
The verdict: Well, the past isn't that great. My family and I found it to be a tad heavy, and something just wasn't right. We did agree on the fact that homemade pasta does have that certain something. A je ne sais quoi, that is unexplainable. Aside from this tragic end to the actual pasta, the recipe made was delicious and we would happily try it again with dry pasta...unless I make some real positive strives in the pasta making realm. Which reminds me of the beginning statement. Italian cooking may seem simple, but often that results in explosive flavor.
In the end, the whole pasta venture didn't really work out. I will definitely reattempt this journey again, after some careful research and observation. It was a fun project, and being able to say that you have made pasta is a truly rewarding accomplishment.
That being said, I decided to try my luck at pasta making this week. We have had a pasta maker for a little while now, and I have been dying to use it, so I made time to do it. I decided to use an Eric Ripert recipe for the actual making of the pasta, and a Cooking Light "Pappardelle with Roasted Winter Squash, Arugula, and Pine Nuts", for the remaining of the preparation.
So I start with my well.
Flour, eggs, and a dash of salt, are poured gently into my well to begin making the dough. What I had determined would be easy, turned out to be the beginning of a small nightmare. First, I think I may have combined too much of the flour with the eggs in the well, far too quickly. For this unknown mistake, my "dough" turned into a coarse meal, and not a soft and silky, HOMOGENEOUS, piece of dough. Therefore, after several minutes of kneading, I came to the conclusion that my "sand" was not going to transform itself without any help. I decided that the only way to save the dough, was to add water, and lots of it. I know that this may seem like a pastry chefs worst nightmare, but I did what I had to do. It won't happen again...
Minutes later, after water and all, I have dough, which goes into the fridge for at least thirty minutes, but in my case, a few hours.
Hours later, the actual rolling of the pasta arrives. Since I didn't address the degree of difficulty associated with the dough making, I was by no means feeling carefree about rolling the pasta.
I prepared the dough by rolling it out to a large rectangle, and then I feed it through the machine at the widest setting...Easy! Success.
I fold the dough in half, and repeat the process...It worked again! Now I am feeling cocky, and continue the rest of the process with ease. I crank out some linguine for my father, which is done effortlessly by the machine, and then cut my mother and myself some rustic pappardelle. I gently drape the pasta over a floured baking sheet, and prepare the rest of the ingredients in the recipe. Little did I know, the REAL problems began simply, with the way I let my pasta wait.
In the meantime, I roast my butternut squash with balsamic vinegar, oil, and salt. What I am left with, is a beautifully crisp, and delicious tray of cubed butternut squash. Next, I have a mixture of pine nuts, sage, and garlic, ready to be sauteed in a pan with butter. This is all to be done at the last minute, so I get everything ready to go, and wait until the proper time to cook my pasta.
When this time arrives, I toss my fathers in first. Well, I had the pasta waiting on top of each other, and what is obvious now, stunned me at the time. The pasta or dough, being very malleable, combined itself right in with all of the other pasta that it was nestled on top of. Consequently, I had one giant clump of linguine strands melded together. I drop them(it?) in the water, with high hopes that they may separate with cooking.
2 minutes later, the linguine has separated slightly, but I find that it can be pulled apart easily, after cooking, so I move onto the pappardelle. Well...
The situation here is much worse. The ribbons are not coming apart, which has turned my, what was beautiful pasta ribbons, into small, uneven chunks of dough. What I did salvage(which was plenty) didn't have the same appeal, as the original look of the sheets, but I had to get them in the pot regardless. While the pasta cooks, I melt the butter for the pine nut, sage and garlic mixture.
With frustration coursing through my body, and just when I didn't need it, I smell something. It is the familiar smell of burning...The nuts and garlic, are scorched in the pan. I never do this! Mindlessly, I had walked away and forgotten. In hot pursuit, I had to prepare that mixture again, drain the pasta, only to find that I have some very unappealing hunks, and finish preparing the meal.
I put the pappardelle in a bowl with the butternut squash, and throw in the now perfectly cooked pine nuts, and toss to combine. Now comes the arugula, and some freshly grated truffle cheese, and the pasta is ready to go. A huge sigh of relief is heaved, but I can still feeling a sort of nervous buzzing reverberating in my head.
The verdict: Well, the past isn't that great. My family and I found it to be a tad heavy, and something just wasn't right. We did agree on the fact that homemade pasta does have that certain something. A je ne sais quoi, that is unexplainable. Aside from this tragic end to the actual pasta, the recipe made was delicious and we would happily try it again with dry pasta...unless I make some real positive strives in the pasta making realm. Which reminds me of the beginning statement. Italian cooking may seem simple, but often that results in explosive flavor.
In the end, the whole pasta venture didn't really work out. I will definitely reattempt this journey again, after some careful research and observation. It was a fun project, and being able to say that you have made pasta is a truly rewarding accomplishment.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Sydney Had A Little Lamb...
Lamb. My favorite protein.
I adore the distinct "gamey" taste that is immediately recognized when taking a large chomp out of a delicate rack of lamb, and that is simultaneously sensed when eating sheep's milk cheese. It is obvious that a sheep's cheese would resemble the lamb meat, just as goat's milk cheese resembles the taste of goat meat, but every time I compare the two I am simply blown away by the lovely taste of lamb. That is why, I decided to make 'Beef Tajine" or, well er...."Lamb Tajine" on my part.
Ethnic, middle eastern food calls to my mother and me so strongly, we often find ourselves making it more than anything else. Therefore, on a very cold night, we found no other solution to the winter blues, than a lovely "Beef Tajine" turned "Lamb Tajine" by one of my personal favorites, Jaime Oliver. To start, I had to make the "ras el hanout" which, yet deliciously fragrant, was not of the standards I had hoped, due to a lack of will power to run to the grocery. Anyway, the task was to marinate the lamb chunks in with the spice blend, for a few hours-overnight. I opted not to marinate this long, which in fact, didn't seem like it made a difference, but in test kitchen fashion, I will try both ways eventually. Although, deep down I feared that the great natural flavor of the lamb would become vague, or disappear with all of the very "present" spices in the marinade. To my chagrin, it did not, and as the lamb marinated, I chopped my veggies(butternut squash, being the star player), and prepared to cook.
With the lamb marinating long enough to my liking, I started to get to work on the actual stew portion. Taking the lamb out of the fridge, I gently fry the lamb chunks in a dutch oven, coated with olive oil. I proceeded to add, onion and coriander(cilantro), which smelled up the kitchen wonderfully, and fried that with the lamb for a few more moments. Next came the can of chickpeas, the stewed tomatoes, and a little deviation from the recipe. The recipes instructed to simmer the tajine for 1-and-a-half hours on the stove. I decided to pop mine in the oven at 375 F, and let it simmer there for the duration.
5:30pm, I come back to my home, and the kitchen smells of a Moroccan village. I am immediately engrossed in the delicious smells of coriander, and cumin, and prepare the rest of the ingredients to go in. Next in the pot, is the fat chunks of butternut squash and the torn prunes. The tajine, continues to simmer for about an hour, or in my case, until the butternut is cooked at 9,000ft elevation.
6:30pm, the last steps of the tajine are ready to be performed. The lamb is flaky, and the butternut squash is not rock solid still, after an hour or so of cooking. With all of the vegetables and spices nicely melded together, and the cooking liquid reduced, so you have more of a stew-like consistency, I put the couscous in a pot on the next boiler, and prepare to serve.
-Yes, I know it looks like quite the mess, but it actuaclly didn't stick at all, and the dutch oven washed beautifully.
6:40pm, after adding a slight bit of water to the tajine, to make it a little less dense, I scoop the couscous into our bowls, and top with the lamb tajine and a generous sprinkle of cilantro. Anxious to eat, my mother and I sit down to enjoy the flavors of the far east.
So, what seemed as if it were going to be slightly daunting at first, ended up being of true ease. The tajine was a walk in the park to make, and gave me my lamb fix that I wanted. This dish had a flavor that did not overwhelm the other components of the dish, but was still very much involved in boosting the dish to its maximum potential. The textures were diverse, with the flaky lamb, the soft, mushy butternut squash, the chewy prunes, and the chickpeas somewhere there in the middle as buffers. Both my mother and I loved this, and would certainly make it again, adding it to our long list of tajines, and indian curries that we have loved.
Soaking up our last bit of sauce with the couscous, my mother and I laid back in our chairs with extreme pleasure, and pondered the vast, and diverse aspects of the flavors in the dish. Bed, was closely impending...
I adore the distinct "gamey" taste that is immediately recognized when taking a large chomp out of a delicate rack of lamb, and that is simultaneously sensed when eating sheep's milk cheese. It is obvious that a sheep's cheese would resemble the lamb meat, just as goat's milk cheese resembles the taste of goat meat, but every time I compare the two I am simply blown away by the lovely taste of lamb. That is why, I decided to make 'Beef Tajine" or, well er...."Lamb Tajine" on my part.
Ethnic, middle eastern food calls to my mother and me so strongly, we often find ourselves making it more than anything else. Therefore, on a very cold night, we found no other solution to the winter blues, than a lovely "Beef Tajine" turned "Lamb Tajine" by one of my personal favorites, Jaime Oliver. To start, I had to make the "ras el hanout" which, yet deliciously fragrant, was not of the standards I had hoped, due to a lack of will power to run to the grocery. Anyway, the task was to marinate the lamb chunks in with the spice blend, for a few hours-overnight. I opted not to marinate this long, which in fact, didn't seem like it made a difference, but in test kitchen fashion, I will try both ways eventually. Although, deep down I feared that the great natural flavor of the lamb would become vague, or disappear with all of the very "present" spices in the marinade. To my chagrin, it did not, and as the lamb marinated, I chopped my veggies(butternut squash, being the star player), and prepared to cook.
With the lamb marinating long enough to my liking, I started to get to work on the actual stew portion. Taking the lamb out of the fridge, I gently fry the lamb chunks in a dutch oven, coated with olive oil. I proceeded to add, onion and coriander(cilantro), which smelled up the kitchen wonderfully, and fried that with the lamb for a few more moments. Next came the can of chickpeas, the stewed tomatoes, and a little deviation from the recipe. The recipes instructed to simmer the tajine for 1-and-a-half hours on the stove. I decided to pop mine in the oven at 375 F, and let it simmer there for the duration.
5:30pm, I come back to my home, and the kitchen smells of a Moroccan village. I am immediately engrossed in the delicious smells of coriander, and cumin, and prepare the rest of the ingredients to go in. Next in the pot, is the fat chunks of butternut squash and the torn prunes. The tajine, continues to simmer for about an hour, or in my case, until the butternut is cooked at 9,000ft elevation.
6:30pm, the last steps of the tajine are ready to be performed. The lamb is flaky, and the butternut squash is not rock solid still, after an hour or so of cooking. With all of the vegetables and spices nicely melded together, and the cooking liquid reduced, so you have more of a stew-like consistency, I put the couscous in a pot on the next boiler, and prepare to serve.
-Yes, I know it looks like quite the mess, but it actuaclly didn't stick at all, and the dutch oven washed beautifully.
6:40pm, after adding a slight bit of water to the tajine, to make it a little less dense, I scoop the couscous into our bowls, and top with the lamb tajine and a generous sprinkle of cilantro. Anxious to eat, my mother and I sit down to enjoy the flavors of the far east.
So, what seemed as if it were going to be slightly daunting at first, ended up being of true ease. The tajine was a walk in the park to make, and gave me my lamb fix that I wanted. This dish had a flavor that did not overwhelm the other components of the dish, but was still very much involved in boosting the dish to its maximum potential. The textures were diverse, with the flaky lamb, the soft, mushy butternut squash, the chewy prunes, and the chickpeas somewhere there in the middle as buffers. Both my mother and I loved this, and would certainly make it again, adding it to our long list of tajines, and indian curries that we have loved.
Soaking up our last bit of sauce with the couscous, my mother and I laid back in our chairs with extreme pleasure, and pondered the vast, and diverse aspects of the flavors in the dish. Bed, was closely impending...
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