tupac17616

What is your point of reference in making this statement, Maureen? I can't say I agree, but I'd love to hear your take on how the general standard of service in Italy compares with that of other countries in which you may have lived or spent a significant amount of time.

Tonight, I dipped into Molto Italiano once again and made: Cauliflower Pancakes (p.17) with Eggplant Caponata (p.426), Basic Tomato Sauce (p.71), and Braised Kale & Turnip Greens

Sliced Persimmons with Parmigiano-Reggiono and 30-year aged Balsamic Vinegar Cauliflower Pancakes with Eggplant Caponata, Tomato Sauce and Sauteed Kale & Turnip Greens

indeed

Haha. That reminds me of something our waiter at the French Laundry said to me after I'd cleared every plate, tried one of every chocolate, killed off the remaining petite fours, etc: "You are an inspiration to us all"

Sounds like a lovely dinner, Katie. I'm glad it was a hit with the family. I think our chicken was a bit over 4lbs, but the left-overs sure didn't last long, I can tell you that! I also scaled down the spicy oil recipe a lot, so ended up with very little leftover (which I just added to the leftover meat I shredded before popping in the fridge). But as for what to do with your leftover oil, I would think it should keep pretty well in a cool, dark place. It would be delicious drizzled over pizza, for sure. That's always the first thing that comes to mind for me with olio piccante. I also think it might be a nice way to flavor a meaty piece of fish before grilling, like swordfish or tuna. You know, I haven't really given it much thought, but I would think there should be several tasty uses for it. Let us know what you try!

No room for canneles?! Just kidding. Looks like a great meal. Thank you for sharing, doc.

Using Batali's caponata recipe as a rough starting point, last night I had: Eggplant Caponata with Cinnamon-Scented Rice and Seared White Tuna

Eggplant Caponata with Cinnamon-Scented Rice and Seared White Tuna

Ooooh -- this looks amazing! Any chance you could post or PM the recipe? I looove barley, and am always looking for new ways to use it... Emily Hey, Emily, thanks for the kind words. Here's all I did: 1. Buy this Sardinian canned tuna, the stuff dreams are made of. 2. Pick a few pounds of heirloom tomatoes from the French Laundry gardens (with the gardener's permission, of course) 3. Cook barley in the rice cooker, because I'm lazy sometimes 4. Roughly chop the tomatoes, season with salt and pepper 5. Open and carefully pull apart the large, beautiful flakes of tuna, then mix with the tomatoes 6. When the barley is cooked through, gently mix through the tomatoes and tuna, taking care not to break up the tuna too much. The large flakes are what really distinguishes this great product. 7. Drizzle some Colonna Extra-Virgin Olive Oil over everything with reckless abandon. Top with fresh picked oregano. (Optionally: sprinkle some coarse toasted bread crumbs on top for textural contrast.) Enjoy.

definitely heaven on earth.

Sounds like a great trip so far! Glad you're having a blast. In a couple of your remaining cities, I'd recommend: FLORENCE Del Fagioli for bistecca alla fiorentina (Corso Tintori 47r, Santa Croce, 055/244285, Closed Sat/Sun) Vivoli for gelato (Via Isole delle Stinche 7r) SIENA Pasticceria Nannini for great panforte, ricciarelli, cantucci, cavallucci, etc (Via Banchi di Sopra 24) La Taverna di San Giuseppe for Tuscan classics in cozy surroundings (Via Giovanni Duprè 132)

toast. egg. butter. truffle salt. pepper. parmigiano-reggiano.

Barley with Tarantello di Tonno, Tomatoes and Oregano

dear god

Tell me about it!

I've got to put in a good word for Ubuntu, which would be a nice lunch or dinner option in Napa

So, it's been over two years since anyone's posted to this thread, but no time like the present to revive it, I suppose. A couple of days ago I made... Pollo al Diavolo Quite flavorful, very moist, but not spicy enough!

mmm_chocolate, don't thank me, thank opentable! And how was alto? Melissa Hom, how many people and what time and...?

Thanks, all. The first time I've pulled that book out in a while, but I'll have to do it more often from now on. Olive oil infused with hot red pepper flakes, dried chipotle flakes, smoked paprika, Szechuan peppercorns, black pepper, and several fresh jalapenos was the marinade (the recipe didn't call for one, but I figured it wouldn't hurt). After it was a little more than halfway done cooking, I added a rub of dijon mustard, olive oil, salt and lots of black pepper. Oddly enough, this "devil's chicken" was incredibly moist and flavorful, but not spicy enough! Next time, I'll have to bring out the habaneros... (Your corn and prawn fritters look delicious, by the way)

It's been, oh, probably over a year since I've posted to this thread, but no time like the present, I suppose Pollo al Diavolo from Molto Italiano

I finally got around to posting some PICTURES of this amazing place

sounds like a great meal, ue. that is definitely a special place, more about the experience of the farm, even, than the food (which is quite good in its own right). i think you captured that very well. i agree with you about the texture of pasta made with embryonic eggs. it is certainly different than your typical fresh pasta (even when made with egg yolks only). the first time i had it, a chef in modena was telling me about how rolling it out is a pain in the you-know-what. oh, and by the way, what the heck is piracicaba?

alto 6 annisa 9 anthos 9 apizz 6 country 6 craftbar 7 or 930 craftsteak 7 or 9 cru 530 danube 6 or 930 felidia 545 fleur de sel 915 gonzo 630 or 8 gotham 530 hearth 6 insieme 630 or 830 knife + fork 8 le cirque 630 or 9 oeust 530 perry st 530 quality meats 630 porter house 845 salt 6 or 830 town 715 or 8 trestle on tenth 9 granted, some of the above times are absolutely horrible, but there are lost of options depending on what exactly you're looking for. personally, i would book anthos at 9:00 and call it a day.

(To view the photos from the following meals in the downstairs restaurant....eh, who gives a CLICK? ) Name three great chefs. The first three that come to mind. Depending on what constitutes your idea of culinary greatness, a fairly standardized list of names might be running through your head right now: Ducasse, Adrià, Robuchon, Bocuse, Alajmo, Keller, Blumenthal, Gagnaire, et al. (Hey, I’ll play along too… Kinch). Easy enough, right? Now name three truly influential chefs. Not quite so trivial, is it? Influence is a powerful idea; revolution, a loaded word. But neither of these notions is an exaggeration, really, when applied to the work of Alice Waters. Founding Chez Panisse back in 1971, I doubt she or anyone at the time had any idea what was underway. The beginning of this restaurant represented the beginnings of the very idea of “California Cuisine.” It was, in short, an American Food Revolution. Odds are that Waters has even influenced some piece, however small, of how you eat today. This sounds crazy, I know. But I can show you how. Your favorite local restaurants? I’d bet that a good number of the chefs just might have been her disciples at one point before moving on to open places of their own. That public school lunch reform program you are so happy to see your local school district championing? You might have a little program called The Edible Schoolyard to thank. That all-organic farmers’ market you go to every week now? That book you just read condemning the follies of agribusiness? That local Slow Food chapter your city just founded? The fact that your menu told you the name of the farm from which the heirloom tomatoes you ate at that fancy-pants restaurant last night came? I’m telling you, her influence is just about everywhere. Though it is not, some disappointedly complain, at the restaurant itself. At least, not physically. Downstairs, the chef’s duties these days are split between Jean-Pierre Moullé and David Tanis, each working half of the year and spending the other half in France. Going in for dinner and asking “Is Alice in tonight?” will earn you nothing more than the satisfaction of providing the staff with a good laugh. It should also be noted that the downstairs restaurant and the upstairs café are not one and the same. They are two completely different restaurants, in fact, that just happen to operate under the same roof. Downstairs: fixed menu, fixed price, dinner only. Upstairs: a la carte, lunch and dinner. The choice is yours, and frankly, you can eat quite well in either one. In this write-up, though, I’ll focus on the downstairs restaurant. You can see my thoughts on the café here. My most recent visit was just a couple of weeks ago. In the days leading up to the Thursday night reservation, my excitement was already growing. I’d seen the menu posted online the previous Sunday, and it sounded incredible. King salmon, heirloom tomatoes, chanterelle mushrooms, figs, sweet corn — these are not items that easily escape my notice. This particular night’s offering was strongly evocative of the season, a Chez Panisse trademark. My parents and I were in for a good meal, it seemed. Arriving at the restaurant for our 6:30 reservation (there are two seatings nightly), we were shown to our corner table near the beautiful open kitchen. A small dish of delicious Lucques olives was set before us after we had placed our drink orders and looked once again at the night’s menu. Not long after that, two types of Acme Bread were brought out — fresh, crusty and pleasantly chewy. The first course came out: Slow roasted king salmon with green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, and fennel. This was utterly tasty, a pure expression of fresh, crisp vegetables. The green beans had the perfect snap. The cucumbers, a refreshing crunch. The tomatoes deliciously straddled the line between sweetness and acidity. The fennel added that licorice-y top note to it all. All that, and I haven’t even mentioned the buttery salmon, so tender it fell apart at the slightest provocation with the side of one’s fork, much less the tines. Nor have I mentioned the wonderful champagne vinaigrette (a vinaigrette may be a simple things to master, but it’s among the most elusive to actually be well-executed in a restaurant), or the chopped bits of hard-cooked egg, adding even another layer of richness to the dish. What can I say? Things had most certainly started off on the right foot. Next, we moved on to the Chanterelle mushroom soup. The soup had a lovely consistency. Smooth enough that you know it had seen a few trips through the chinois, but still slightly rustic at heart. It was finished with chopped bits of sautéed chanterelle mushroom and a drizzle of fruity olive oil. A dish, undoubtedly, of few ingredients. Yet the care chosen in sourcing them really came through. This kind of flavor clarity is not something that comes easily. These weren’t just any mushrooms. The main course that evening was Spit-roasted loin of Laughing Stock Farm pork with fig chutney, sweet corn, and fried onion rings. At first you might read the menu and think to yourself, “‘Spit-roasted’? Hah!”. But then you sneak a glance toward the open kitchen and see the meat guy at work. At the spit. (Did I mention the kitchen is beautiful? “Rustic” seems cliché until you realize that is exactly the word this space embodies.) The pork loin was rich, flavorful, and incredibly juicy. The fig chutney provided just the right sweet counterpoint to the meat and its tasty jus. The sweet corn was buttery, with a subtle spice in the background from being sautéed with little bits of hot peppers. The onion rings were crispy and very tasty. A nicely balanced dish overall, definitely. Dessert was Apple and quince galette with burnt honey ice cream. “Apple pie à la mode,” my Dad happily noted. And a great (French) rendition of that American classic, it was. The tart crust was somehow flaky and crumbly at the same time. The apple and quince slices were cut thick enough to give you something substantial to bite into, yet thin enough to be tender when baked. The caramel overtones of the burnt honey ice cream brought a very pleasant level of richness to the cold sweetness. Later a small dish of petits fours was brought out as well, providing the crowning touch. This was a nice end to what had been a very, very good meal. And just to show that I don’t consider it merely a fortunate coincidence that I ended up reserving on an evening whose menu sounded particularly good and tasted even better, I’d like to talk about another meal I had there. At the end of August, my father and I enjoyed a menu that was fittingly more suggestive of summer than of autumn, yet no less delicious than the meal I described above. Instead of the dish of olives, this meal started out with a plate of roasted almonds. Rubbed with a delicious blend of spices that I couldn’t quite discern one by one, these were incredibly addictive. Our plate was quickly emptied. Then came some of their delicious bread and butter, which we nibbled on for a few minutes. Our first course that night was Green bean, shell bean and cherry tomato salad with basil and goat cheese croûton. For years, I thought I would never eat a tomato in a restaurant that would come close to those I’d pluck straight from the vine at home in Texas. Still warm from the sun’s rays, I’d eat them unadorned, unabashedly letting the juice run down my face as I smiled with delight. There is nothing quite like that. Still, these particular tomatoes came close. Awfully close. There were several heirloom varieties, among which I remember Green Zebra and Black Prince. Collectively, they hit every point along the sweet-acidic flavor spectrum, creating a stunningly well-rounded tomato flavor. The shell beans, purple and white, were cooked just to the point of being creamy without being mushy. The green beans were bright and crisp. And the goat cheese croûton was creamy and nicely tangy. Dressed lightly with olive oil, this was really a wonderful salad. The second course was Fideus pasta with roasted peppers, white shrimp, and aïoli. This is a traditional Spanish preparation in which the noodles are browned in oil before broth is added, creating an extra depth of flavor and allowing you to slowly add liquid until the noodles are cooked to the desired level of doneness. The result of this cooking method, familiar to anyone who has ever prepared risotto, is a lusciously creamy texture. This pasta was, for my tastes, taken to just the right level of doneness, with a slight al dente quality to give it some integrity. The shrimp were plump and juicy, neither over- nor under-cooked. The roasted peppers and the pleasant spicing throughout this dish made it a real pleasure to eat, and the garlicky aïoli just put it over the top. Very nice. Our main course was Grilled James Ranch lamb rack, loin, and leg, with fried eggplant, olive sauce and garden lettuces. Having the different cuts of lamb was nice, allowing one to enjoy the different levels of leanness and richness. Every piece was cooked exactly to my liking, a juicy medium rare. The panko-breaded eggplant was tender and piping hot on the inside, wonderfully crisp on the outside. The olive (not an ingredient I’m particularly enamored of) sauce was pleasantly assertive without being overly so, an accompaniment strong enough to stand up to the meat. The garden lettuces, lightly dressed with a tart vinaigrette, provided a nice foil to the rich flavors of the meat and a nice way to cleanse the palate. Last but definitely not least was the Summer berry sherbet coupe with champagne granité. What is a coupe, you might ask? Just take a look at the second paragraph here. Call me uncivilized, but it sounds to me like just another word for a sundae. And, in this case, it was delicious. The champagne granité was actually made with Moscato d’Asti, one of my favorite dessert wines, so I decided to order a glass to accompany the dessert. Regular strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and beautiful tiny white wild strawberries (a.k.a. fraises des bois) were all a part of this dessert. The combination was sweet, tart, and incredibly refreshing. Just a lovely way to end the meal, along with the petits fours this time, consisting of lemony thumb-print cookies and pistachio chocolates. After the meal we met chef David Tanis, who is a really nice guy. After chatting with him for a few minutes, he graciously offered us a tour of the kitchen. And what a strikingly beautiful kitchen it is. The first thing one notices upon entering are large presentation bowls showcasing the fresh ingredients that are being served up that evening (see the cherry tomato photo). There is a markedly calm feel to this kitchen. No frantic motions. No yelling. It is an almost-confident calmness that begs the question, “What’s the hurry?” In a culture that often encourages us to whisk ourselves from one activity to the other, never taking the time to really stop and enjoy each one, this is an important question to ask ourselves. Sit down. Relax. Enjoy a meal at Chez Panisse. A meal that dazzles not with technical fireworks, but with simplicity. Nature’s voice is not muffled here; it is given center stage. Don’t come here expecting foams, flashy ingredients, or menus overwrought with quotation marks. But do come here expecting absolutely pristine ingredients, treated with care, so fresh they are nourishing to both body and soul. With that understanding in mind, you will quickly see that it is a special place.