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vin d'orange

This is kind of a cruel post, because I'm about to start raving about this incredible aperitif I brewed up, telling you how delicious, refreshing and unexpected it is. And then I'm going to have to tell you that it is made from sour Seville oranges. And then the part comes where I tell you the short growing season for this unlovable stepchild of the Navel is over.

I was fortunate enough to be inspired to try my hand at vin d'orange just towards the middle of March, and the oranges are typically impossible to get before January or after March. I got on the phone and made the kind folks at WF order me some, and after a few weeks of badgering, they finally came in.

Seville oranges are ugly. Splotchy and oddly shaped, they kind of resemble navel oranges that have been kicked around on the orchard ground for a week or so. And they don't taste good, either, with a bitter and unforgiving bite.

But. Let them sit in a fruity white wine, mixed with a little sugar and vodka and you get the delightful French aperitif, vin d'orange. Some make it with rose or even red wine, but the lightness of white is perfect for summer. It sits for a month and then becomes the most strangely delicious beverage. It has this haunting and addictive quality, with a light sweetness at first sip that finishes into bitterness. It will have you and whoever you share your precious homebrew with intrigued. I quadrupled the recipe and stored it in a Playmate cooler while brewing. Now I have almost a dozen half bottles that I will be rationing out to whomever I see fit....bribes accepted.




vin d'orange

1 lemon
3 seville oranges (aka sour oranges)
2/3 c sugar
5 c white wine
1 c vodka
1 inch piece of vanilla bean

Rinse and half citrus fruits. Mix sugar, wine and vodka until dissolved. Add vanilla and citrus. Cover, let stand for one month (at least). Strain, put in clean bottles. Stores one year.

chocolate whiskey cake

This cake is one of my absolute favorites, ever. It spent a good bit of time on the restaurant menu, despite its, err, unsightliness. This cake is downright ugly, at least for people with rather conventional notions of pastry beauty. It's like that princess and frog....gross looking, but when she finally laid her mouth on it, she could see and appreciate what was behind the facade.

This facade hides a couple of ingredients that are subtle but powerful: coffee, black pepper, and cloves. None of these suggest themselves, but they unite with the other ingredients to form a deeply flavored cake. It's so moist, so dense, so amazing.

And you probably already know this, but bourbon and scotch are both whiskey. Scotch is whiskey from Scotland, typically with a peatier flavor, and bourbon is whiskey from the US, fuller bodied and slightly sweet. Revelations.

chocolate whiskey cake

3/4 c plus 3 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 c strong brewed coffee
1/2 c whiskey
12 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 c sugar
1 c brown sugar
2 c ap flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp fresh ground black pepper
1/8 tsp ground cloves
3 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
1 c mini chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 325. Butter a 10 inch springform pan then dust with the 3tbsp of cocoa powder, knocking out excess.

Heat the coffee, whiskey, butter, and remaining cup of cocoa powder in a medium heavy saucepan over low heat until butter is melted, whisking occasionally. Add sugars and whisk until dissolved, remove from heat. Transfer mixture to a large bowl and cool.

While chocoalte cools, whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, black pepper, and cloves in a bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs and vanilla. Starting with a slow drizzle, whisk the eggs into cooled chocolate mixture until combined. Add flour mixture and whisk until just combined, then fold in chocolate chips. Pour batter into pan and bake until a wooden pick comes out mostly clean, about 1 hour and 5 min.

Cool cake, store in fridge after one day, wrapped in plastic.

fava bean mash

Favas are not for the faint of heart. This little bean requires shelling, followed by a second, more difficult round of shelling, which is then followed by a boiling and a shocking, whereupon one then begins the recipe at hand. And there's no better bean to make you feel old for your years than the fava....carpal tunnel at 25? It seems a very real possibility.

So a handful of beans was all I could muster up the will for, but it was undoubtedly worth the trouble. Nothing for me is so fresh, so springlike as the fava bean. I've heard their distinct aroma/flavor described as a byproduct of gastrointestinal distress, but WHATEVER...they're so delicious. This puree comes together in about 3 minutes, if you don't count the hours it takes to derobe this glorious legume.

fava bean puree

as many favas as you can stand to shell, boiled until tender in salty water (i did about a half cup...shameful, i know)
a shallot, minced fine
a pinch of salt
a pinch of fresh ground black pepper
juice from half a lemon

Pound to a paste the above ingredients to desired smoothness. Eat!

pork sandwich

Giving me a free piece of meat sets off a chain of events reminiscent of that childhood favorite, If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. I'm not the world's number one consumer of animal flesh, and given that I am also a cook that loves to experiment, you can see how things can get a bit out of hand.
I kept it simple with the gifted pork tenderloin, because I knew its major use would be as a component of something else. And also because *honestly* I don't recall ever cooking one and I didn't feel like looking at recipes. So, a quick season and sear and it was off to the oven...when it came out about 15-20 minutes later, I was pleasantly surprised by the taste. Sure, it was plain, but it was pretty delicious for not having gone through any fancy cider marinating or sweet tea brining. There's a time and a place for that, and my kitchen at Monday lunchtime was not it. In a last ditch effort to add some flavor, I threw sliced onions in the pan for the last sear and then draped them over the pork as it cooked. Not sure it worked, but it did produce beautifully caramelized onions that were awesome on my sandwich!
By the way, chutney mayonnaise almost beats creme anglaise for things you know you shouldn't keep licking but you do anyway.


pork sandwich

1 pork tenderloin
1 onion, sliced
2 pieces good-quality sandwich bread
1 tbsp mayo, preferably homemade
1 tsp Alecia's Tomato Chutney
lettuce

Heat a few tbsps of olive oil over high heat. Season pork tenderloin all over, then sear on each side until brown. After the last turn, add onion slices to the pan, stirring occasionally.
Transfer contents to baking pan and place in 425 oven. Cook for about 15 minutes or until desired temp is reached (use thermometer-I went to 145).
Toast bread. Mix mayo and chutney and spread on one side of bread. Spoon on onions, and top with slices of cooled pork and lettuce.

variation: another easy warm winter salad

I've been so incredibly busy lately-hence the lack of posts. The simplicity of my recent recipes also reflects this total lack of free time. Sunday nights tend to be the only time I have to get crazy in the kitchen, and then my amazing meals of homemade mushroom ravioli and overflowing plates of finger foods don't really photograph that well. But you know what? These five or ten minute lunches of late have all been equal in terms of deliciousness to many of my more elaborate preparations.
So here's a variation on the previous warm winter salad. I feel like it's cheating, posting something this simple and for me so 'duh'. But it didn't feel anything like cheating eating it, so here goes.


another easy warm winter salad

1 eggplant, cut into small dice.
1 butternut squash
olive oil
sprigs of thyme
salt
pepper
lemon juice
1 lb arugula
1 can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
pecorino cheese, shaved

Peel squash, cut into small dice. Heat about a tbsp of olive oil and saute squash with thyme, salt, and pepper (to taste) until squash is tender and a bit golden. Wipe pan clean, heat more oil, and saute eggplant with salt and pepper until golden and tender. Toss arugula with lemon juice, olive oil and a pinch each of salt and pepper (to taste). Top arugula with chickpeas, vegetables and pecorino shavings. Enjoy.

See? It's criminal.

warm winter salad

I love vegetables. I'm an equal opportunity employer of them in my cooking, but if pressed I would probably say that winter vegetables are my favorite. Yeah, they typically require some coaxing from the oven or saute pan. But just because they don't have the natural grace of those easy summer vegetables ('oh, i'm such a gorgeous raw tomato, just slice me and eat me, oh') doesn't mean they're not twice as delicious when properly attended to.

Here's a delicious and healthy winter lunch. Time all the ingredients right, and you will have a plate of earthy lentils, laced with the sweet notes of caramelized onions and the savory crunch of roasted cauliflower, mixed with slightly wilted lemony arugula. Doesn't get much better. So there, tomato salad.


warm winter salad

1 c dried red lentils
3 c water
bay leaf
thyme sprigs
1 med onion, halved then sliced thinly
1 small cauliflower, chopped
tbsp sherry vinegar
10 oz arugula

Preheat oven to 400. Toss cauliflower with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast until brown.
Meanwhile, heat some olive oil or butter in a pan over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until caramelized, about 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, bring water to a boil with bay leaf, thyme, salt and pepper. Add lentils, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until tender, about 10 minutes. Drain, then toss with sherry vinegar.
Right before serving, toss arugula with a squirt of lemon juice and some olive oil. Mix together lentils, onions, and cauliflower and serve warm.

makes four salads.

gruyere-walnut crisps

Sunday is special. There's that whole going to church day-of-rest thing, but not everyone is into that. However, I've not yet met anyone who has not been into these crackers. With their sharp cheese taste and the added crunch of walnuts, they're kind of like Cheez-Its for adults. They are best presented around five o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, when the sun has turned extra-golden and the hint of a hunger pang is starting to insinuate itself. And Sunday adult snacktime is best completed with this and some gin.

gruyere-walnut crisps

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
12 ounces finely grated Gruyere cheese
1 tsp salt
2 cups plus 2 tblsp all purpose flour
1 cup chopped toasted walnuts

Using electric mixer, beat butter in medium bowl until smooth. Beat in cheese and salt. Add flour and walnuts; beat just until dough comes together, adding water by teaspoonfuls if dry. Divide in half. Roll each half into 14-inch log. Wrap in plastic and chill until firm, at least 4 hours. At this point, dough can be refrigerated for up to 2 days.

Preheat oven to 375F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Cut logs crosswise into 1/4 inch thick slices. Arrange on prepared sheets, spacing 1/2 inch apart.

Bake crisps until deep golden brown, about 20 minutes. Transfer to racks and cool completely.

Variation: For attractive presentation, before slicing the dough, brush the logs with lightly beaten egg white then roll in poppy seeds, sesame seeds, or caraway seeds. Slice; bake as directed.
From Bon Appetit.

adios, el bullí

Two more dining seasons before El Bullí closes its doors.
Not forever, mind you, but for two years at the least. And there is no guarantee that anything will ever be the same when Ferran Adriá reopens his restaurant. His cryptic remark? “In 2014, we will serve food somehow. I don’t know if it will be for one guest or 1,000.”
For those who don't know, El Bullí has been the world's number one restaurant for four years. The molecular gastronomy there would be unrecognizable as edible substance to the majority of the world's population. Adriá spends half of each year innovating, and opens his restaurant for the second half to display his new creations.
This is a big deal, people, with one Spanish journalist going as far as to say, "Yesterday's announcement could be considered as the day gastronomy entered the 21st century."
I don't know about you, but I just got on the waiting list for reservations.

Read the interview translated from the Spanish here.

calas classiques

Once a common street food in New Orleans, calas have fallen off the radar, overshadowed by their omnipresent cousin, the beignet. After my trip to the Southern Food and Beverage Museum, and subsequent pumpkin calas spotting on the Cochon menu, I was fascinated by this long-forgotten fritter. An 1903 cookbook reads (according to my rudimentary French) '"Bel Calas, good-n-hot!" So goes the cry of the Negresse who sells them on the street in a wooden bowl that she carries on her head, covered with a clean napkin. Calas are eaten with coffee from the market in the morning...they're delicious!'
And I'm here to report that they are, indeed, delicious. They're a brilliant way to use old cooked rice, and the dough keeps in the fridge for several days. They are basically like the child a beignet and a bowl of rice pudding would produce if biology made such things possible. I can't wait to make them again....maybe next time with some cheese and andouille!

calas classiques

2 c cooked rice
1 egg
1.5 tsp yeast
1/2 c water, warm
1/8 c sugar
2/3 c flour

Mix all ingredients, allow to rest for a couple hours or overnight. Fry balls of dough (it's very wet) in hot oil. Sprinkle with confectioner's sugar if desired.

Prune, cherry, and apricot frangipane tart

This incredible dessert is not only the most delicious, showstopping dessert I've ever had--it also answers a couple of burning questions:
1)why grappa should always be kept on hand
2)why Gourmet should still be a magazine
3)why holidays and special occasions even exist
4)why I should never be left alone in the same room with dessert

one hundred year old gumbo

There's nothing like the combination of food, New Orleans, and other people's obsessions to inspire you. It was on a visit here that I encountered a little gem masquerading as a worn, blue hardback entitled Cooking in Old Creole Days. Published in 1903 by Celestine Eustis, it offered an incredible look into the methodology of Creole cooking and the attitude towards culinary arts in the previous centuries. Despite, or maybe in part due to, a remarkable overtly racist prologue ("as a race, we are certainly not gifted with culinary talent") by S. Weir Mitchell, the book is fascinating from start to finish.
I jotted down a recipe for the most basic dish in the Creole repertoire: okra gumbo. I wanted to see how the traditional elaboration compared to what comes out of my pseudo-New-Orleanian family kitchen. So I followed the "receipt" to the best of my abilities-the ambiguity of it I actually found to result in a fun cooking challenge, allowing me to fill in the gaps with my own knowledge and whims.
And...most importantly...the gumbo was delicious! Chip proclaimed it amazing, and I thought it tasted quite good as well. A fairly easy meal. I do have to say I like my dad's darker, more Cajun gumbo better, but that could just be due to another tradition that dates back hundreds of years: a strong loyalty to your own flesh and blood's roux.



okra gumbo

Put into a saucepan a spoonful of pure lard* and one of flour. Stir it well until it is of a light brown. Chop an onion into small pieces and throw them in. Cut up a fat capon or chicken into small pieces and put it into the saucepan with the flour and lard. Stir it all the while until the chicken is nearly done. When the whole is well browned, add a slice of ham* cut up small. Throw in two or three pods of red pepper*, and salt to your taste. Then add a quart of boiling water, and leave it on the fire for two hours and a half.

During that time you take either a can of okra or the fresh okra, and chop it up a bit. Put it in a saucepan with a little water and let it simmer a quarter of an hour, stirring it all the time. Then add to it either six fresh tomatoes or half a can of tomatoes, and let it cook on a slow fire for an hour, uncovered.

When your gumbo has been on the fire the two hours and a half, you take it off to cool, and skim all the grease off. Then you put it back in the saucepan and add your okra and tomatoes and let it simmer slowly for an hour or until the okra is thoroughly cooked. Serve hot, and eat it with dry rice served in a separate dish.
-Mme. Eustis, Mére.

*for the lard, I used butter. for ham, I used andouille. for the red pepper, I used chile de arbol.

the buckley thanksgiving menu

Roasted Cauliflower and Radicchio Salad

Roast Turkey with Innards Stuffing
Prime Rib
Creamed Corn with Scallions
Potatoes a la Grandma

Cranberry and Vanilla Bean Sorbet
Prune, Almond and Cherry Frangipane Tart

butternut squash soup with curried parsnip

We had the best soup in the world at work the other night. Unfortunately, it wasn't this one, but it did inspire this one. It was a similar to a typical lentil vegetable soup, but with a cream base instead of a broth one. And, atop of this already plenty delicious soup were delightfully crunchy cubes of roasted potato.

At home the next afternoon with a squash and daydreams of tiny crunchy squares of tuber, I devised this soup. It's oh-so-delicious, and quite simple and quick. The star anise adds an imperceptible depth and richness to the yummy yummy soup. And the curried parsnips are the perfect garnish, adding a kick of savory heat. Homemade chicken broth if possible, people!


butternut squash soup with curried parsnips

1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1 in cubes
3 star anise
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 shallots, chopped
3-4 cups chicken broth
1 large parsnip, peeled and diced small
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp curry powder
2 bay leaves


Preheat oven to 375.

Heat 1 tbsp olive oil and add garlic, shallot and star anise. Sautee until translucent and add squash and chicken broth to cover. How much you use will depend on how big your squash was. Simmer until squash is tender, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, toss parsnip with curry powder, 1 tbsp olive oil, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Roast until softened but still a tad crunchy, about 10 minutes.

Remove star anise and puree everything else. Thin with broth if desired. Serve with parsnips in the middle and, optionally, croutons.

apple walnut butter cake

We have this amazing cake at work, the most unassuming yet moist and delicious thing you have ever put in your mouth. It was my dad's birthday this week, and so I immediately thought about making it for him. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to collect the recipe, so I had to wing it by piecing together a few different ideas and hoping for the best.

I chose a cake recipe from Bon Appetit, but when I set out to make it I realized it was going to make a teeny tiny sheet of a cake, so I doubled the recipe. Then, when it came out in all of its ugly glory, I knew I would need something to fancy it up, as well as something to go in between the layers. The moist crumb was a red light for a traditional frosting...I know my limits and controlling the wild crumbiness was definitely beyond them.

With my remaining apples, I sauteed an apple butter for a moist middle layer, and then whipped up a glaze to try to disguise what turned out to be the ugliest yet most delicious cake this side of 2009.



apple walnut cake

apple butter::
6 apples
1/2 c packed brown sugar

Juice three apples. Dice three peeled apples. Simmer the juice and diced apples until mixture is reduced to about a third. Add sugar, stir, and cook over medium heat about twenty minutes.

brown sugar glaze::

1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1/4 cup whipping cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

Stir all ingredients in small nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until sugar dissolves and mixture comes to boil. Reduce heat to medium; whisk until glaze is smooth, about 1 minute. Remove from heat.

cake::

4 cups diced peeled apples (about 4)
2 cup sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted, cooled
2 large egg
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts


Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter and flour 2 8x8x2-inch baking pans. Mix diced apples, sugar, butter and egg in large bowl to blend. Sift flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt over. Add chopped walnuts; mix thoroughly. Transfer mixture to prepared pans, dividing evenly.

Bake until cake is brown and crusty on top and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 45 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack.

Spread apple butter over one layer and place the other layer on top. Make glaze and pour over top of cake; let cool 30 minutes before serving.

*adapted from Bon Appetit

tomate frito

Any grocery store in Spain devotes at least half an aisle to tomate frito, a Mediterranean sauce par excellence. It comes in jars, it comes in briks (cardboard boxes), it comes dried in packets, it comes in any form one could possibly imagine, matched in ubiquitousness perhaps only by American ketchup.

Tomate frito is essentially a slow cooking of tomatoes in a sofrito of the chef's choice. While the packaged version of tomate frito dates only from the 20th century, this puree of 'fried tomatoes' was most certainly being made and used before. Ever since Cortes brought back the first tomato from the Aztecs in the 1500's, it seems likely that cooks combined it with the already popular onion over heat. The first tomato recipes appear in a Naples cookbook in 1692, but the author obtained the recipes from Spanish sources.

Everyone in Spain swears by their mother's (or grandmother's) version, so there are really no definitive rules. I am of the opinion that the simpler the better, otherwise you may as well whip up an Italian tomato sauce. So I keep mine plain-a little onion, salt, and a bit of sugar. Depending on the tomato variety and ripeness, you may not even need sugar. Some people insist on peeling the tomatoes and seeding them, others simply on seeding them, and still others just do a light chop and thrown the tomatoes in, seeds and peels included. I've done it both ways, and as long as you pass it through a food mill, seive, or chinois, I believe it doesn't matter.

As far as uses go, this silky, rich sauce is incredibly versatile. It's featured in typical Spanish dishes, such as tigres (mussels cooked with mirepoix then filled with tomate frito and bechamel before being breaded and fried) and patatas bravas (i love you), as well as infinitely adaptable to any meat or vegetable dish. So hurry-if you live down South you can still grab the last of the season's tomatoes and store some for winter.





tomate frito

5 lbs ripe tomatoes,
small onion, chopped
about 6-8 tbsp oil
tbsp of salt
pinch of sugar

In two 12 inch saucepans, heat oil (enough to cover bottom of pan) over med. high heat. Add half of onion to each pot. Fry until translucent, not browned. Add tomatoes, dividing equally between pots, sprinkle with salt and sugar, and turn heat to low. Cook for 30-50 minutes, until tomatoes are dark red and slightly caramelized.
Blend very well and pass through strainer, pressing to release all the sauce.

brown butter sage pasta

Last Sunday, I was engaged in wolfing down some of my best chicken salad ever when I noticed my poor husband standing off to the side, looking sad and hungry.

I took pity on him and set to the fridge to see what I could rustle up, and it turns out I got a little bit jealous by the time I was finished. We had a couple half portions of frozen ravioli, some butternut squash, some cheese. I pulled some butter and parmigiano out of the fridge, some sage out of the garden, and got to work creating a pretty pantry friendly and delicious lunch. The husband was happy too...he even graced it with one of his Chimays, which he rations out pretty strictly. Honor of honors!


ravioli with brown butter and sage

a serving of ravioli, preferably squash filled
4 tbsp butter
a handful of sage leaves
2 tbsp olive oil
peeled parmigiano reggiano

boil pasta water. heat oil over high heat and lightly fry the sage leaves until crisp; set to dry on paper towels and sprinkle with salt.
melt butter over medium heat. skim off foam and continue to cook. meanwhile, boil pasta according to directions.
when butter begins to smell nutty and turns a brown color, pull it off the heat. toss pasta with butter, plate, sprinkle with salt and liberally with black pepper. top with fried sage and cheese peelings.

a dinner summary:: restaurante akelarre, san sebastian, spain

Sorry for the lack of pictures here....we were so focused on the amazing meal we had at Akelarre two weeks ago that we took no photos, choosing instead to savor every bite of our amazing meals.

Overall, I must begin by saying, this was one amazing meal. I have never eaten at Mugaritz, or Arzak, or Etxebarri, or El Bullí, so this isn't really about recommending one place over the other. All I can say, with every fiber of my food-loving and food-breathing and food-working body is this was worth every penny. The food was exquisite, perfectly timed, perfectly cooked, of incredible quality, and, of course, fascinating.

So let me get down to the details:

The meal started with an amuse bouche: a little box with 4 "candies". The first we were instructed to take all at once, and it turned out to be an oyster encased in a "shell" (get used to the parenthesis...this meal is filled with things that appear to be something other than they are) of black, sandy, crunchy, salty something. Next came a roll of black pudding and crispy wafer. Then a bite-size piece of tuna rolled in crunchy nuts. And finally a powdery "polvorón" of almond and artichoke.

We each got our own tasting menu, sharing the plates. For the first course, B. had the Cold and Hot Crab Salad and its Coral, sitting in what looked a little forest, with a tiny cucumber, she claims an eggplant, and a little "carrot" that was sort of gelatinous and filled with carrot essence, or puree. This crab was the best I've ever tasted, sort of stringy but in the best way that word can be used... I had Little Pearls and Porous of Foie-Gras, Toasted Peanut Bread. A strange translation (from poroso de foie gras) but I don't have a better one; it was a plate of foie gras beads with an airy foie mousse and a thick piece of crispy peanut bread with silky peanut butter.

For the second course, B. had Prawns and French Beans cooked in Orujo Fire, which they brought to the table in a little cauldron and set on fire, infusing these beautiful shrimp with orujo, a liquor made from the pomace of grapes left after wine pressing. These we were instructed to suck the heads of and then dip the bodies in both the green bean puree (again, super silky) and this "soil" of crushed rice and shrimp shells. Amazing. I had Mollusks in the Net of the Fisherman, a challenging dish for someone who barely likes most seafood. However, even I could tell that the razor clams, mussels, shrimp, clams, squidy squids and whatever else was on there (!) were perfect. On top sat a little puffed rice "net" with the cutest little dried shrimp and delicious blobs of dried seaweed.

For the third course, B. had the Wild Mushrooms and Egg Pasta, a slab of impeccable wild mushrooms (enoki, shitake, some other white enoki cousin) with yellow and white "noodles" made by steaming egg whites and egg yolks in noodley shapes. On the side was a dab of deeply flavored mushroom aioli. I had Vegetable Ravioli, four lovely assorted discs of thinly sliced vegetables filled with the cream of each respective veggie: beets, turnips, carrot, and another....and in the center was a little "ravioli" of Iberian ham fat-whoot whoot!

For the fourth course, B. had Red Tuna with Onion Threads and Roasted Peppers. The tuna was gloriously simple, and the red pepper puree that accompanied it was thick and luxurious. There were also "rocks" made of red pepper meringue and a marinated guindilla pepper. I had the Integral Red Mullet with Sauce Fusili. The mullet was crusted with ground up fish bones (yum, for real!) and, as with all the proteins, impeccable. On the side were six little corkscrew shapes of green, white, and brown. They were soy sauce, parsley juice/puree, and garlic juice/puree, fashioned using nitrous something into the shape of corkscrews. Amazing.

The fifth course had B. eating the Roasted Baby Pig with Tomato Bolao and Iberian Emulsion. The pig had the crispiest skin, and it was uber decadent to drag it through its own fat straight to my mouth. My Loin of Lamb Roasted in Live Coal was incredible, as were the black (squid ink) tempura fried veggies alongside.

Next, dessert course one. B. had the most interesting dish: Milk and Grape, Cheese and Wine in parallel Evolution. It was a slab with five little components, starting with a bland looking domino that was basically gelatinous milk and a light grape gelee sort of thing. The flavors got more concentrated and intense the further down the slab we got...a crumbly, powder tart cheese with grapes, a creamy, sweet cheese with ginger jelly and something red, a strong cheese with something encased in a sherry shell, and a gorgonzola ice cream with wafers. Sorry for the ambiguity on that one...we were freaking out over it. The other was Xaxu and Coconut Iced Mousse, a feathery frozen coconut cream with airy frozen creams of goat and cow's milk.

Dessert course two was the Peach in Syrup for me, a lovely white chocolate shaped "peach" that, when cracked open" oozed cold essence of peach, accompanied by a little piece of french toast and a distilled mint water that had the most amazing body in the mouth. B. had Another Apple Tart, which came covered in a piece of edible silver paper with Akelarre written on it. The paper was apple flavored, the writing chocolate. Underneath was a delicious wafer and cream apple flavored dessert.

Finally, there was a little treat box, covered in another piece of edible paper, with chocolates, a candied hazelnut, and who the heck knows what else because we were pretty euphoric by the time this meal was over, two and a half hours after we sat down.

So, a long post that does not do justice to that which it describes. Sorry if I bore any of my usual readers, but I know this will steer someone towards having the same amazing experience I did...so it's worth it.

Viva Pedro!

gourmet magazine folds

After years of being at the forefront of cuisine and months filled with whispers of trouble, Gourmet magazine has closed its doors.
So sad.
So many questions.
Why? Beyond dismal ad revenues, which could partially be attributed to the economic climate?
Which magazine will step up to be the classic, sophisticated authority on food that Gourmet was? Bon Appetit is nice, but focused much more on trendiness and unambitious, comfortable recipes.
Where will all the talented writers and cooks employed by gourmet go?
Will someone take the name and go independent? Ruth?
I feel so alone...

how to make instant coffee

Instant coffee has a bad name, and rightfully so. That's why I buy mine when in Europe. Or I get other people to, like my brother, who called me from France and was like "they don't have instant espresso, all they have is this Nescafe" and I'm like "bingo, you got it!" I suppose what I'm trying to convey is that when in a country where coffee means espresso, it's hard to get a bad cup. Really hard.

So I love having it around, because it's just so handy. And sometimes even French press doesn't make that cafe con leche taste just right. Somewhat recently, a friend told me about a trick his Peruvian friends swear by, and I've been doing it ever since. And it produces the best cup of instant coffee, with a foamy top and a perfectly blended body. It basically consists of forming a paste with the instant coffee granules, sugar, and a splash of milk or water. The process is almost as fun as drinking the resulting perfect cup of 'coffee'.

the best instant coffee

this makes a small/normal size cup of coffee depending on where you are from

tbsp instant espresso/strong coffee
tbsp of sugar
6-8 ounces of milk (whole cut with a bit of water, for me)

measure the coffee and sugar out into a cup. splash a tiny bit of milk and mush with spoon into a thick paste. pour steaming milk over coffee, agitating with spoon. drink.