Chris Amirault

I made Erik's underhill lounge Tales punsch tonight. I haven't a clew as to whether it's "authentic" or not, but it's mighty tasty. I'm eager to give it a go in some vintage recipes for Swedish punsch. Question for the punschers: a few receipts include vanilla extract. Yes? No? Maybe so?

I decided to break in my new bottle of sloe gin (thanks, LeNell) with a Modern variation. I tried leaving out the grenadine so as not to interfere with the sloes, and lacking a scotch worthy of the drink, I thought I'd try bourbon: 2 oz sloe gin (Plymouth) 1 oz bourbon (Old Fitzgerald BIB) 1/2 tsp absinthe (Kubler) 1 dash orange bitters (Regan's) lemon twist Good, but not great. I couldn't quite find the bourbon amid the sloes, and a touch more sweetness seemed needed. I also thought that a more aromatic bitters might help, as well as some caramel on the nose. Finally, I wondered what the earthiness of rye would do with those tart berries. So, next try: 1 1/2 oz sloe gin 1 1/2 oz rye (Rittenhouse BIB) 1/2 tsp absinthe (Kubler) 1/2 tsp 2:1 demerara syrup 1 dash orange bitters (Angostura) flamed lemon twist Now that's a fine drink. I'd have used orange if I had one here, which would have been better. But, boy, what a fun formula to fiddle with.

Still lovin' that Improved Holland Gin Cocktail. I scored a bottle of Angostura orange, so I subbed in a dash of that and a dash of the Fee's Whiskey-Barrel Aged bitters instead of the Peychaud's. Oh baby.

Excellent. I have been playing with a braised brisket that uses a lot of dried porcini mushrooms I've found on sale. I also will happily report on using brisket for beef penang, a Thai curry, when I get out from under here.

Interesting NYT story about Bill Niman, who left the eponymous meat company after decades there and is now raising goat under the brand BN Ranch (can't use "Niman" anymore): You can find it at Preferred Meats, Copeland Family Farms, and Thyme for Goat.

No, I'm afraid I don't have a shot of it, but standard issue Wagyu shots are pretty close in re the marbling.

I used the green peppercorns last night in a fresh rice noodle dish (basil, shrimp, simple sauce) and they were very good: a bit too salty of course and not as bright on the tongue. But, heck, they worked just fine.

This website calls it Beef Panang. Is this what you mean? http://www.thaitable.com/Thai/recipes/Beef_Panang.htm The quality of your red curry paste in this dish will make all the difference. ← I don't think that they're the same. Beef Penang is braised (in the curry sauce as in that recipe or separately as in David Thompson's recipe, which braises the meat in coconut milk). That sounds more like a double-fried method....

As it turns out, Michael Pollan (who wrote The Omnivore's Dilemma, and more) addressed this issue in the NY Times Magazine this weekend, in which he urged the next US president to

What does "broke" mean? How much exactly per person per meal? That will help.

I don't know if superior is the right way to explain what that dry aged steak tasted like. The meat I ate was funky and complex, and I loved it. I kept thinking that if I got a couple of steaks I'd make Larry Forgione's steak with blue cheese and onions with them. It's certainly the kind of meat that makes me want to drop a few hundred bucks on a big cab. Though great, the wet-aged meat had few of those funky qualities and little of the intensity of the dry-aged beef. Honestly, if anything, the grass-fed beef seemed superior to it, more sure of itself as a product. I could imagine grilling the grass-fed beef with some wet grape cuttings for extra smoke; served with some grilled bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms, it'd just need a handful of salt and lots of black pepper to bring out that winey clarity. The Wagyu was a whole other thing. I'm wondering whether it was cooked enough: it was medium rare at best, like the other steaks, and it's my understanding that one wants to get Wagyu up closer to medium. (Here's a post describing that.) It was also cut very thick (3/4") and we had no knives to cut it more thinly. In short, I don't think that it had been prepared to showcase the Wagyu exactly. Still and all, I understand the fuss. The marbling is crazy on it, and even when the steak hasn't been cooked though and is thick, the "flavor fat" (as the panelists called it) suffuses the meat. I wish I could have stolen a steak or two to try it out at home, which would have given me a keener sense of it. Me, if forced to choose one DeBragga & Spitler steak for my last meal, I'd go for that uber-aged Colicchio slab.

If you are interested in this position, please send a PM to jtphjl. -- CA The Obama National Campaign in Ohio is heading into the critical get-out-the-vote crunch of the last three weeks. Their ground campaign is run by about 50 staff and full-time volunteers in a "bullpen" in Columbus, who will be working pretty much around the clock for the next three weeks. They have an industrial kitchen there, and they are looking for a full-time cook who can feed the troops through Election Day. They will supply the supplies and the equipment, and will put the cook up in supporter housing. If you know someone who's had experience cooking for large groups and could take the next three weeks off to volunteer in Ohio, please steer them my way.

Just got a bottle of the van Oosten from LeNell's and gave this a try: I agree that it's damned tasty, though I bumped up the arrack because I used the Cruzan blackstrap rum and wanted to be sure I tasted it; I also think I got more than Dave intended from my half-lemon (probably an ounce, though I wasn't measuring). I'll give this a more careful treatment next time. What else are people drinking their arrack in?

George took us inside of DeBragga. First, we had to be properly dressed, with coats, hair nets, and booties. They run a clean ship, DeBragga & Spitler: at the end of the tour, when I took off my booties, they were nearly spotless -- this after walking through a meat processing facility. The old saline cooling system is still in place, with 24F salt water running through the pipes and chilling the perpendicular metal squares, causing cold air to fall down to the floor and keep the meat cold. The meat is stacked for dry-aging in 36F rooms that average about 90% humidity. The beef is aged until is loses 12-20% of its weight and concentrates its flavor. Because lamb loses its weight so much more rapidly than beef, it is kept wrapped in the aging room. Here are some of the remarkable specimens we found: Here's George holding a project for Tom Colicchio at Craftsteak, which has been cut and aged to the chef's specifications. George estimated that one of those steaks would sell for between $120-150 in the restaurant when finished. The smell inside the aging rooms was remarkable to me, a combination of an old wine cellar and a curing chamber for well-molded salumi. Others were revolted; two participants had to rush for fresh air at the end. The tastings (wagyu grain-fed vs. grass-fed; wet-aged vs. dry-aged) were swell: I could taste the rich funk of the dry-aged beef, particularly against the steely herbal quality of the grass-fed beef. Thanks to the Coppola winery for providing their claret and a new "director's cut" Zinfandel, both which paired very nicely. I left the session feeling grateful that we had individuals of such integrity and seriousness of purpose thinking about the meat we eat. I also want to start saving my pennies (or benjamins, really) to order some of those dry-aged wonders from DeBragga.com.

Had a bit to wander around the MPD before the Beef Tour, and got a few shots of the last block of meatpackers, on which DeBragga & Spitler are located. During the heyday of the Meatpacking District, there were hundreds of meatpackers in the neighborhood; now there are just a handful, between Washington and 10th Ave, including DeBragga & Spitler. Here's the courtyard in which the tour took place: An hour or so later, we started the session. Here's the panel: From left to right: George Faison, co-owner of DeBragga & Spitler; Bill Kurtis, founder of Tallgrass Beef (you probably recognize him from CBS or A&E); Mark McCully from Certified Angus Beef; and Marc Sarrazin, second generation co-owner of DeBragga. The panel discussed a number of different issues related to the current and changing state of beef production in the US. There were clear tensions among the participants: when Bill Kurtis made his energetic case for the health benefits of grass-fed, pasture-raised beef, for example, Mark McCully grimaced sporadically. Whatever their differences, the insights of the four panelists were fascinating. I had a lot of assumptions challenged by the session. In particular, the relationship between the breed (Angus or Hereford, say) and the program (feed plans, antibiotics or no, pasture or confined animal feeding operation, etc.) is a very complicated one, and the consumer needs to do some homework to figure out what things really mean. Let's take "Angus." 60% of all beef is Angus in terms of breed -- but even that designation is hinkey these days. Turns out that the USDA declared "Angus" to be a black-hide animal, which expands the breed beyond a clear set of genetic markers. (The USDA pulled a similar move with choice and prime, expanding the bottom ends of those grades in the last twenty-odd years; as a result, when your granny tells you that choice steak used to be better in the old days, she's right.) Thus thirty years ago Certified Angus Beef was born, as an attempt to create a higher standard and thus a more valuable brand in the market. (You can read about the standards here.) Another trick is figuring out feed. Cows are ruminants and have evolved to eat grasses, but the US beef industry's focus on efficiency has demanded that beef eat grain, for which their digestive systems are not built. There was some disagreement about the effects of grain feeding on fat type, flavor, marbling, illness, and the like, but all agreed that an enormous amount of attention must be paid to different feeding protocols over the lifespan. Shocking statistic: 70% of all antibiotics used in the US go to cattle. Thank you, CAFOs! As George Faison asked: remember how sick everyone got during those first few weeks of school? That's the problem of tight-quarter feedlots in a nutshell. The panelists agreed on several things: the lousy job that the USDA has done for both quality beef and the health of Americans; the importance of Bill Niman and Orville Schell's work at Niman-Schell starting in 1978; the meaninglessness of the designation "natural"; and the need for us to eat both less beef and better quality beef. What does better quality beef look like, you ask?

Welcome to the Eater.com lounge for bloggers, at which Ben Leventhal and Amanda Kludt of Eater.com hosted several of us computer-toting types for two days of good noshes, interesting guests, working electrical outlets, and a solid wireless signal. If nothing else, it was a chance to sit in some fine Design Within Reach furniture and listen to the likes of Tom Colicchio, Dana Cowin, Michael Schlow of Radius, and a few others hold sway over the crowd. This was my perch for a few hours on Saturday: It's an odd experience to go from covering the event to being part of the event. The shape of the Milk loading dock -- open garage doors onto the sidewalk, and a U-shaped enclosure for sitting and typing away -- was quite a fishbowl, and many festival participants would stop at the front, notice the velvet rope and security guards, and start trying to figure out who the hell the sun-starved geeks were. I once succumbed and said, "Really, we're not worth watching," to one befuddled woman.

I can still find it around town for $15-20 easily. (Ducks)

The stuff is gold. Use it for anything that you can benefit from a robust, salty gelling agent: soups, stews, cassoulet, beans, terrines. I've also used it to top jars of duck rillettes or confit instead of duck fat to similar effect.

Got a great education at the Beef Tour, the second part of the Beef Summit hosted by Stephanie Faison with a panel including George Faison and Marc Sarrazin from DeBragga & Spitler, Mark McCully from Certified Angus Beef, and Bill Kurtis, founder of Tallgrass Beef. I also had some fine meat. More tomorrow on this and the festival as a whole after recovery from the travel day.

Cocktail Clinic with Dale DeGroff & David Wondrich Sat Oct 11 3:45-5p Hotel Gansevoort I spent two great hours with two giants of the cocktail world, Dave and Dale respectively. This blurry shot is representative: Though my unsteady hand is responsible for the quality, the fact is that this shot is one of the few clear shots, as Dave and Dale were on the move throughout the session. So forgive the blur and note the jovial by-play of the two: there's no question that these two masters keep each other (and their audience) pretty well entertained. The workshop wove cocktail history, technique, and recipes seamlessly through a series of anecdotes and drinks. We got a taste of what was to come in the waiting room: Meet the NYC WAFF Punch, whose awkward name was offset by the adept combination of rum, pisco, cognac, lemon rind muddled with demerara sugar, tea, nutmeg, triple sec, and water. Dave said punch was the crack of the upper classes, gin the crack of the lower classes, and both received shaken fists and angry opprobrium from the tipplers of the other; a taste of this elixir and you'd see why: Astute readers can no doubt tell from that set-up what one of those drinks would be. Here's Dale's gear: During the session, Dave and Dale traded off different segments of cocktail lore based on different drinks. They started by charting the movement from the punch to the sour, and Dale made New York Sours using Maker's Mark, lemon, some simple syrup, and a float of claret. I'd never had a sour with a claret float before, and it was a tart, beautiful touch. The next drink was the Manhattan (Wild Turkey 101, Carpano Formula Antica vermouth, Angostura orange, twist), during which D&D riffed on glass design, Prohibition, medicinal bitters, LeNell's potential eviction, the speed of 19th century US life, the Four Seasons, the demise of Kold-Draft and the importance of good ice. (The ice at the event was lousy.) It sounds chaotic but it was not: it was seamless in a Mark Twain sort of way, two raconteurs with a keen ear for historical anecdote talking to you from behind an impromptu stick. Dave demonstrated the proper method for cracking ice using a wooden mallet and a thick canvas money bag. As you can tell from Dale's reaction, it was a solemn scholarly moment: The drinks were all excellent, even though they were served to sixty-odd people. This drink in particular showed how well the Antica and new Angostura orange bitters interact in a well-balanced drink. Next we had the Martini/ez discussion and drinks: CFA, Plymouth, Luxardo Maraschino (which Dale pronounced with a soft "sh"), quartered lemon. They concluded -- of course -- with the show-stopping Blue Blazer demonstration. It's very hard to capture the blue flame with my camera, but you can see the heat from the drink in these two photos: Dave and Dale kindly stayed after the session to talk to me on a variety of subjects. Dave talked about his background (punk musician, grad student in comp lit, martini drinker) driving him to the study of drink in all its forms, and the need for his considerable research chops to find equal behind the bar. His new book is taking another step backwards, this time into the world of punch and the social meanings of public drinking in the pre-Jerry Thomas decades. We three talked about the changing nature of the profession as well. We all know that there are several young whippersnappers concocting fantastic drinks in NY, San Francisco, and elsewhere, but both Dave and Dale turned to a previous generation of bartenders to find professionals that combined expert drink-making with social lubrication and premium hostpitality. They weren't dissing the current crop of "mixologists" at all, but both looked forward to the days when had more years and experience under their belt, so that they could take their place among the great storytelling bartenders like Paul Gustings and Chris McMillan in New Orleans. And, of course, like themselves. The sterile environment was transformed immediately by their presence, repartee, and libations, and even the most awkward situations were handled with aplomb. Dave repeatedly opined with grace during a lengthy exchange with a single-minded participant about whether high-end vodkas leave you with less of a hangover. (No, a thousand times no, each with a smile.) Dale was approached by one gushing fan who said, "I have every book of yours in my collection!" and turned the man's embarrassment (DeGroff has but one book out, The Craft of the Cocktail, with another, The Essential Cocktail: The Art of Mixing Perfect Drinks, arriving in three weeks) into a friendly laugh over one's own foibles and thanks for the appreciation of the other. Neither betrayed anything but sincere gratitude and camaraderie for everyone there -- indeed, were I betting, I'd lay five that neither felt anything but sincere gratitude and camaraderie. Watching the last attendee trickle out with a broad smile on his face as Dale and Dave packed up their gear, I couldn't help but think I'd just been served by two masters working the best traveling bar in history.

Thanks, Yojimbo. I didn't ask, but, having tasted the product, my guess is that he felt that the citrus and botanical character of gin supported the inclusion of those elements -- and I'm sure he added several others that don't serve the marketing purposes to the same degree.

Has anyone seen Mr. Adria noshing at Katz's this weekend?

Sake Tasting at ONO Sat Oct 11 2-4p ONO, Gansevoort Hotel 18 9th Ave Well, this was a winner. About thirty folks mingled in the dining room of ONO at the Gansevoort chatting with teams of sake experts and eating some simple but much appreciated hibachi grilled salmon, chicken, shiitake, and peppers. (Sadly, due to an inadequate flow of food from the kitchen and the shark-tank atmosphere it created, Abby and I were unable to grab more than one single microsandwich at the appetizer event just before....) There were nearly 20 different sakes on hand to try under the thoughtful tutelage of Chris Johnson of Bao 111: Henry Sidel, CEO of Joto Sake: and Takahiro Tokura of the Banzai Beverage Corporation: Most of the attendees (including your reporter) were not particularly well versed in the production or classifications of sake, and some of our questions were no doubt idiotic to an expert. But everyone at each of the three stations handled their chores with aplomb, bilingualism, and a great enthusiasm for the product. I won't detail what I half-learned about the brewing process, but I left with a sense of the remarkable variety and quality of the sake that is now widely available (and that was unavailable of just two decades ago). One of my favorites was the aged Katsuyama Junmai-Shu: the woman next to me likened to a complex Italian dessert wine, but I'd have compared it to a light sherry or even aged golden rum. I also loved the Murai Nigori Genshu, a sweet, unfiltered, 75% milled sake that had a creamy, coconut element and lovely mouthfeel; it paired very well with the salmon and suggested other possibilities with more spice, especially star anise, black pepper, and cinnamon. I also found that I liked funky styles like the Kasumi Tsuru Yamahai Junmai (Hyogo), which had a smoky, earthy quality that evoked a peaty scotch. Great event.

Best event so far was one I stumbled into accidentally. Here's Amy Scherber of Amy's Bread, who was running one of the free Kids Get Cooking! events titled Baking for Kids. Amy had about a dozen kids slamming, kneading, twisting and shaping the dough from her bakery down the hall in the Chelsea Market. (No faces shown, but trust me: they were smiling.) Amy herself was beaming throughout, too, and this preschool principal can tell you that her language with little kids is spot-on. (She credits her four year old.) Unlike many of the other celebrity-driven events here, the session was about food, touching it, smelling it, tasting it. Anyone who has ever cooked with young children knows that they constantly remind you that dough is a magical substance, an alchemical entity that is like nothing else.

Wanted to grab a coffee and croissant so I headed over to the Chelsea Market, the renovated full-city-block marketplace at the north edge of the Meatpacking District and where several festival events are being held. The market does a great job of incorporating the history of the building (the old National Biscuit Company -- Nabisco) into the space. Wondering about that big line? That's the crowd for the 11a booksigning by Giada De Laurentiis. Judging from the conversations that I had with a dozen or so ticketholders, Giada's appeal is what you'd expect: simple cooking, homey demeanor, etc. (She's not the uberstar, though: Giada would lose a popularity contest with Rachael Ray in a landslide even among her early morning faithful, given my informal sampling.) One odd feature of the event. Volunteers were moving through the line to post-it the name of the ticket holder into their cookbooks so that Giada would be able to personalize them quickly. Not all of them, however: apparently, if you trucked your well-worn, sauce-bespattered tomes from home, she wasn't going to write your name on it. However, she'd happily personalize a volume newly purchased at the festival.