Peter Green

Okay, I'm in a schizophrenic mode, so this is the post on the Thai salad we did tonight. The schizo part is that I blackmailed Yoonhi into makein ojingo bokkum given that I was doing this. The story. Some time back a friend gave me a smoker they weren't using. So, having returned from the UK with some duck breast and other items, I've been in my usual obsessive mode about trying things out. On Thursday night, I'd gone a little overboard, smoking a tenderloin, a chicken, and about four eggplants. We finished off the tenderloin, but the eggplants and most of the chicken were beyond us. I consider the Thai yam, along with the Sichuan hotpot and a few other deliver systems to be great tools for using up stuff in my fridge. My plan for tonight was a Thai style yam of smoked chicken, smoked eggplant (to get that flavour like at Chote Chitr), and lots of mint, coriander, lettuce, and other stray greens crowding out my crisper. The results were mixed (sorry). A toss-up, so to say (sorry, again). Everything actually worked, but I found that the softness of the eggplant, along with the aggession of the fresh lime juice in the dressing, didn't do much for me. I liked the smoke in the eggplant and chicken, but something didn't balance in the overall. Yoonhi, however, liked it, and had seconds. Given that I had thirds of the ojingo bokkum, it all worked out as a good trade.

It was a schizo evening. I'd been smoking (meats and veg, not herbs) the other day, and so I agreed to use up the leftovers in a Thai style salad. For that you'll have to go over to the Thai at home thread.. I'll get the post up soon. But as I was going through the freezer looking for stuff, I came across a zip-loc of cleaned squid. My immediate reaction was: "This'd go great, just blanched and eaten with some chojang (vinegar and gochujang)". But then my mouth started watering as I realized that it'd been ages since we'd had ojingo bokkum. Soooooo.......after a little wheedling I convinced Yoonhi that she needed to make rice and ojingo if I was going to come across with a smoked chicken and eggplant yam. The result was quite satisfying, the gochujang leaving a burn on the front of my lips that left me with my tongue dashing out like a lizard. I've gotten too used to the Thai chili, I'd forgotten the Korean. Note: edited to add the Thai link

September 27 – Jeffrey Jake The last few dinners of this WGF are something of a trade off. In the past, with more chefs, I’d been tortured, having to limit my exposure to some to only their classes, or even just the one dish at the Gala. But this year I was able to cover all of their dinners, and most of the classes, missing only the evening classes (which meant I missed Michael and Maurizio’s demonstrations). The trade off isn’t that bad, though. What I was missing out on was the surprise. In its place, I had the chance to revisit some of the dishes I’d already enjoyed. So, with Jeffrey’s dinner, there was no pressure. We could sit back in Madison, enjoy the atmosphere, and slowly work our way through the food and wine. Sort of why I like Bangkok, actually. I socialized a bit up front, meeting up with Jeff Cook again. He’s representing Kendall-Jackson here through Wine Estates International. I’d first met Jeff ages ago, when he’d been representing the Mondavis, up until that line passed on (which becomes wrapped up in the tale of Constellation and so Vincor). We were starting with their chardonnay, the Kendall-Jackson, Vintner’s Reserve 2006. An easy thing to drink, especially when I’m with people I know. Poached Lobster and Califlower Flan, Diced Lobster, Sweet Carrot Brunoise, Chervil Vinaigrette and Osetra Caviar Kendall-Jackson, Vintner’s Reserve Sauvignon Blanc 2007 This was a dish I hadn’t seen before. A pleasant presentation of crustacean. Okay, with caviar on top, you know I’m going to find it pleasant. I nibbled at first at the eggs, getting that taste back inside my palate. I wish my photos were better, as this was a very pretty dish. There were notes in here that I remembered from the French laundry, the combination of cauliflower and caviar. The sauvignon blance did alright with this, but I actually preferred the chardonnay. Yes, I’m a heathen. Clark preferred the SB with this. French Beans, ,Summer Squash, and Rocket Salad, Thyme, Cracked Szechuan Pepper and St. Helena Extra Virgin Lemon Olive Oil Kendall-Jackson, Vintner’s Reserve Sauvignon Chardonnay 2006 The salad had changed. Now there was a rich sauce of the pumpking pooling beneath the beans and rocket, whereas the class had been a more austere product. The sauce changed it quite a bit, giving a lot more body. But the beans were still beautiful, and it still had that funky Sichuan pepper numbing I love so much. We’d moved back to the chardonnay, but it’s hard to match a wine with novocaine. Grape Leaf Wrapped Turbot Baby Fennel, Micro Beet Tops, Fennel Jus Byron, Santa Maria Valley, Pinot Noir 2004 You know my feelings about the fennel and fish in grape leaf. A beautiful presentation, and an interesting combination, but if you asked me about my preferences for fish, I’d take Celina’s from the night before. But that’s just my taste. Plenty of the others at the table loved this. The wine was a nice choice, I must say. KJ bought up this winery back in 2006, and it’s a very good pinot noir. We do seem to be drinking a lot of pinot noir this WGF. I don’t care what people say, I blame that movie. {b]Critrus-Porcini Dusted Venison Farro, Wild Mushroom, Toasted Pine Nuts, Dried Cherry Port Syrup Kendall-Jackson, Grand Reserve Merlot 2005 This was the dish I was waiting for. That combination of game carefully handled, with the underlying grain that was making me think a trip to Italy is way overdue. For a picture of this, go back to the Gala. What I had on my camera won’t do justice to this, so I won’t even try. Tie that in with a very solid Napa Merlot, and I was happy. I was looking around for anyone flagging at my table, but my family knows better than to leave their meals untended around me. Sweet Goat Cheese Napoleon Crisp Oatmeal Wafers, Pistachio Ice Cream, Spicy Plum Sauce Atalon, Napa Valley, Cabernet Sauvignon 2002 The dessert was much more enjoyable with more time to linger over it. And, as a not-to-sweet cheese-based finish, it went well with the cab. We chatted amicably with Jeffrey. He’d shaken the trans-Pacific cobwebs off and was in good form for sitting around with a pack of lushes like us. The petit fours closed out the evening, and I had some more of the Atalon poured to tide us over. Next – Sunday Bloody (Mary) Sunday

September 27 – Lounging After a swim and a bit of a nap, I was coasting into the later afternoon. With the lounge buffet open, I stopped by to graze on the offerings. It was Biscotti doing the service today, and I had a glass of the chardonnay and some of the carpaccio with olive oil. A bit of parma ham (with more olive oil). And a seafood cocktail. Things had gone well, so far. The chefs were working out well, and they were also having a lot of fun, too. Both Michael and Glen had their sons along on the trip, and perhaps that leant itself to the feeling of overall harmony. Just one of those happy moments when things all seem to be on track, and going well. I was eating well. I was drinking well. My family was happy, my friends were happy, and the financial markets were treating us all well…….. What could go wrong? It’s not like the world’s economy would collapse or anything? Right? Next: California Dreaming

September 27 – Lobbying for Tea Leaving the class (after policing up the last of the Angelus) we spied from the balcony upon the happy crowd working over Michael Laiskonis’ selection of treats in the lobby. I do confess that I’ve never really understood “tea”, at least not as a topic of reverence as it appears to be in Victoria, with a strictures regarding the use of cucumber sandwiches and scones. What was an early dinner (and there’s another term open for definition) could also be the equivalent of a coffee break in some cultures. So, is it a snack? Is it a meal? Is it a simple break in the afternoon routine to allow one to load up on caffeine and socialize a bit? Does it require pearls and fashionable frocks, or can one make do as per the characters in Orwell’s Down And Out In Paris and London (from which I decided it’s a lot more fun to be down and out in Paris). I’d tried the tea service before, but that was ages back, perhaps WGF5 or 4. At that time it was a proper service of tea with a tier of cookies and light snacks. I can’t say it did much for me. This was more to my liking, and is how the tea service has been the last few years, a wanton overload of snacks and desserts, showcasing the very considerable talents of the visiting (and resident) pastry chefs. Michael Laiskonis gives heart to those of us without formal training, having learned his trade by working at a friend’s bakery while at college. From there he’s moved up through the ranks, arriving at Le Bernardin in 2004. Of course, you could take that heart away by considering that there’s a lot of natural talent in the equation as well, especially considering the awards that Michael has taken over the last several years (James Beard Foundation Award for Outstanding Pastry Chef 2007 being one of the latest). Ellen has already written up the review, seeing as I didn't do any of the eating here, so I’ll just limit myself to a few bits of food porn (beyond the shots she’s already posted). I’m soft for berries, I do admit. This shot shows off the roasted shrimp with mango and curry on the left, the skewered pink flesh in a white bubble bath of foam; and the prosciutto wrapped figs; both of which Ellen showed on her table. And that smoked salmon croque monsieur is back there, too. I contented myself with a simple breeze-through. I didn’t have the appetite to gorge myself to the degree that this required. Instead I took the opportunity to visit with my other friends dotted about the lobby, happily tasting their way through the selection. It was a pity to pass up on this, but I suppose it just indicates that I need more training in gluttony. Next: Pre dinner nibbles

September 27 – My Name Is Glen For some reason, this class before the WGF started up. Asian food in Moscow. When I’d been there a couple of years back (and that’s another thing on my plate that’s slipped away without my writing) that wasn’t a variant of cuisine high on my list. Everything’s a matter of timing. I checked out the back of the Gaggenau front while Glen was going over his ingredients with someone who appeared to be from the press. “What is that?” “Oh, that’s just glucose.” “?” “Glucose….a sugar syrup…” “?” “……” “Oh! You mean gluKOSe!” You say tomato, I say tomato. Nedal’nij Vostok (not-so-far East) opened about half a year after I was there. Glen’s not cooking Russian food (“But I like to eat it”) but is playing instead from his background in SouthEast Asia (he’d worked at the Banyan Tree), Oz, and East Asia (Shanghai). Add to that the large Korean contingent in Moscow (“There’s a huge Korean community” The Koreans control the sushi bars. The Japanese brought them in. The Japanese didn’t stick around, but the Koreans stayed on. But I forgot to check if they were North or South) and very, very nice ingredients from the East coast (he got to talking about the Kamchatka crabs – all meat – and I was having flashbacks to the crabs on the East coast of Korea). He’s has a pretty good playground to frolic in. Oh, and money. They’ve got money. That’s a good thing iin Russia (okay, it’s a good thing just about anywhere). The restaurant is part of the Arkady Novikov’s empire. This includes Vogue Café (who almost showed up at the WGF last year), China Club (which has been around quite some time by Moscow standards), and Vanil, just down around the corner from our friends’ place. Novikov is a story in his own right, but I’ll set that aside for now. You can check out the stuff on . group's web page It’s a good read, with plenty of room between the lines, I should think, given the clientele I’ve seen at Vanil. He’s one of those people I’d like to meet someday, as there is a good tale to tell there. Glen started the class of with the Scorched Tuna Tataki with Braised Sticky Pork Salad. I’d admired this the salad the other day, seeing in it a lot of som tam with some neat dressing-up ideas. Som tam. Piece of cake, right? I don’t think even the past pastry classes have been this involved. I don’t usually do this, but let me stick in my notes for this segment. It’s not a pretty sight. Good thing they don’t uncork the wines until later, otherwise I’d never make sense of this. Ingredients Tuna (middle lone/fresh) 80 g Peanut oil 5 ml Salt 1 gm Sancho (Japanese) pepper 0.5 gm Pork Pork neck, cut into cubes 50 gm Chicken bouillon 500 ml Shallots 20 gm Coriander roots 10 gm Light soy sauce 10 ml Red chili 1 gm (this won’t do) Dressing Red chili 1 gm (yup, we’ll crank this up) Garlic 1 gm Palm Sugar 5 gm Tomato concasse 10 gm Green beans 20 gm Tamarind juice 5 gm Lime Juice 1 gm Sticky Sauce GluKOSe 10 gm Star anise 1 pc Cinnamon 1 pc Pork floss or Malay flossed chicken 5 gm Olive oil (Salgagno EV) 10 ml 1 Like me, Glen likes pork neck. It’s a great piece of meat, with enough fat to keep it juicy, but not so much that it distracts from the business of eating pig meat. This’ll be braised down to release the fat in the meat, giving you that solid mouth-greasing that you know you want. “Knock off a few big pieces.” Take a slab, and then dissect it into cubes and drop these into a bowl. Then hit it with the soy sauce. He’s using light soy to avoid having too much salt in there so the flavour isn’t drawn out. Add some coarse red chili (and more than that measly little 1 gm up there. His Moscow clients don’t do well with chili). Add the shallot, and the chopped coriander root. Give it a good mix, and then let it marinate for a day. Okay. We didn’t have a day. But we worked through the material. The nice thing of demo classes over hands-on classes is that you don’t have to live in real time. 2 We’ve magically progressed a day in the life. We’d take the pork out of the fridge, strain it (reserve the sauce), and then deep fry the pork until golden. He goes between 180 and 200 C for the fry as a middle ground. As a personal preference, he really likes braising in oil. After it’s fried, put it back in the sauce, and put it on the stove top. Add the chicken stock, and boil until it’s tender enough to break up with your fingers. It should be pink in the middle, but SOFT. Once you’ve got it there, remove it from the stove and let it cool in the bouillon. If you put it in the fridge it’ll form a gel, trapping all of the gelatinous fat, which is where the flavour is. So don’t cool it down too fast, too cold. There, that’s step 1, which took up 2/3 of my first sheet of paper. 3 Next, it’s time for Charlie the Tuna. “I want to get my tuna right”. Of the four sections: the loin, the chutoro, the middle loin, and the belly, he wants to use the middle loin for this. There’s enough fat in the pork to go around, so this cut of tuna will tip the balance away from fat overload (is there such a thing?). A bit of seasoning with coarse salt and the sansho pepper, and then roll and press it in order to hold the sansho. Now, to begin, have an ice bath ready. Then use some peanut oil in the pan to get a hot shimmer going, then give the fish a searing to. Shock it in the ice bath to stop the cooking, and you should have the outside long section seared, but the edges raw. In fact, almost all of it should be raw. This’ll go well with the long slow cook on the pork. 4 Time to make the syrup. Take the glucose (I’m through having fun with the accent thing), anise, and cinnamon stick, and put these in a pot and warm them slightly, then rest to allow the spices to infuse. If this comes off too thick, just water it down. It should have the consistency of a sticky honey, but with the licorice aroma of the anise and the cinnamon dusty feel in there. 5 Make the dressing Thai style, with some tomato in it. The Russians, as we said, don’t like things too burning hot, but their tastes are changing, becoming more international. We put in the palm sugar, some garlic (not too much), the tomato, the tamarind juice, nam pla (salt), and some lime to sour it up against the sweetness of the palm sugar. Pretty standard. He peels and juliennes his papaya, without pounding it, retaining more of the crispness. I’m fond of this, rather than beating it to death, and it’ll avoid working the spices in too much for his clientelle. This’ll rest in a bowl of ice water to stay sharp and draw away a bit of the sourness. 6 Beans. The green beans we have for this are a little sweet. They get a few minutes blanch to cook, and then an ice water shock to stop them and keep them pretty looking and firm. He used the same pot to blanch the tomatos, giving them a quick criss-cross with the blade first to ease the skinning. These were then denuded, and the flesh cut away from the seeds. We’ll just use the meaty part for the salad. 7 The peanuts, green beans, and the tomato flesh all go together. Then add the papaya and beans. 8 Remember how frying is good? We’re going to deep fry the pork again to get it crips and warm. Then it goes in the salad. We’ll drizzle on the syrup with a spoon, and follow that with some lemon juice. Then, a bit different, he uses the olive oil as a finishing touch on the pork. The salvageno he’s using isn’t as green as some oils, with a bit of mellow sweetness to it. 9 And then the plating. Cut the tuna, losing the end pieces….okay, I’d eat these. After cutting, stack these. Don’ get fancy and go for a sashimi cut, you’re looking for a simple rectangle. Then dress the salad mix. Not a lot, just enough to coat the salad. Add a few more fresh peanuts for crunch. Top the salad with the sticky pork, and then finish that with the pork or chicken fluff and a sprinkling of chili. You can then finish this with a bit more of the dressing or a bit of extra virgin olive oil. Bang a bit of salt on the tuna, and torture a lime over top of it for just a bit of a squeeze. Finally, for the pyro in all of us, take a blowtorch to the bisected lime and blast the top. Don’t cook the lime through, though. You just want that caramelized surface to squeeze the juice through., sweetening it slightly. And there you go. The first dish of the class. As a heartbreaking aside, caviar has pretty much disappeared from the market for the last 6 months. And here I’d been recommending that folks just drop by Azbuka Vakoosa (or however you spell it) and just pick up a kilo or two to eat at home. Darn! The Seared Scallops, Green Apple, with Horseradish and Beetroot Salad with Lobster Oil was a little misleading in the title, as the beet root was off, but we’d work around this. Ingredients Scallops (fresh/large) 80 g NedalnyVostok special marinade 10 g Sea salt 1 g Black pepper, freshly ground 1 g Green apple 20 g Horseradish 20 g Beetroot (boiled) 20 g (which we don’t have today) Edamame beans 10 g Baby beetroot leaves 10 g Microgreens 5 g (you want herby and peppery) Nedalny Vostok Shiso dressing 5 ml Lobster oil 5 ml Black sesame seeds 1 g Compared to the elaborate set up of the last dish, this is a piece of bivalve. “More like a short order. Not much touching up. You can do whatever herbs you like .” First, we grab our handy bottle of lobster oil, which Glen has brought with him. “Wait just a second!”, goes the audience. To make the lobster oil, in Oz you’d use the the bones/carapace. Give it a wash, then a low roast, like a meringue. It’ll go red and white as it dehydrates. Put some EVOO inside, and cook some more, and squash it down from time to time. Give this about 6 to 7 hours as a slow dry. Then let it sit 1 or 2 days, and then strain it and keep it in the fridge. That’d be Down Under. In his kitchen he makes more of a shell oil, using not just the lobster bits, but also crabs and prawns. Next is the ponzu sauce. Either use the 100% citrus version, or you can make a soy based one with soy, mirin, orange, lemon, and about three days of your life. “Just buy it.” We take two pleasantly plump scallops and very lightly season them. Then, in a pan with just a little oil, we cook them just enough to bring up some colour. They should still be lukewarm, as you want to taste what you eat, with the scallops giving up their juices with the bite. Coat them with the lobster oil and ponzu sauce. For the mysterious NedalnyVostok dressing, we take glucose, chili, ginger, garlic, some white Japanese garlic (which has its own particularly soft flavour), and some coriander root. Work this all up, and then dress the scallop. Turning our attention to the land side, we julienne some green apple, looking for a bit of sourness in the apples we use – and likewise shred up the horseradish. If you’re doing things in advance, then set the julienned apples aside in ice water with lemon juice to stop the browning. But really, you want to do this dish in small batches, working quickly to retain the colour. If we had the beetroot, we’d be in for a long cook. Let it boil for about 3 hours, until you can pass a skewer through it. Then pull it out and let it rest until cool in water so it doesn’t bleed all over the place. “If you give a beet root to a chef who’s not used to working with them, it’ll bleed.” Once it’s ready, just dice. The Russians are used to beets. Saranwrap is the answer to its stain factore. Glen has a small army of vegetable cleaning ladies, all “this high and this wide. All with plastic down.” Now, take the apple and a bit of the horseradish (and don’t give in to temptation and use wasabi. You don’t want that much rough pepperiness), add a bit of EVOO, some pepper and salt, a dash of lemon juice, and then mix it all together to bind. Remove the beans from the edamame’s casing. For the plating, put down our scallops. Place the diced beet root and edamame beans on the periphery, then put the apple on top of the scallops, and top it with the microgreens. Hit it with a bit more ponzu, and drizzle some lobster oil about (just a touch, as it can overpower the scallops if you go overboard). Next, Ginger Panna Cotta, with Ruby Grapefruit & Anise Parfait. Ingredients – for 10 servings Panacotta Cream 33% 500 ml Sugar 45 g Gelatine 6 g Ginger (fresh/grated) 50 g Grape fruit (champagne) 50 g Pepper Jelly water 200 ml Vanilla bean ½ Sugar 30 g Black pepper 5 g Gelatine 5 g Anise Parfait Sugar 100 g Water 100 ml Egg yolk 4 Sambuca whie 30 g Lemon juice ½ g Gelatine 3 g Cream 300 ml Pistachio Emulsion Cream 200 ml Pistachio paste 20 g Sugar 8 g Milk 15 ml Glucose 20 g Star fruit chips 1 g Sugared pistachio nuts 5 g For this, Glen sits back and gives Kobayashi Katsuhiko the stage. “Koba” (as Glen calls him) is the pastry chef, and has been with Glen now for some 15 years through different postings. Koba doesn’t say that much, but Glen’s Australian, so he can talk for two. (I’ll catch a beating for that some day, I know). Whle Koba sets up, Glen gives a nod to the hotel. He’s done a lot of hotel opening around the world, and a lot of demonstrations and promotional meals, and with the Four Seasons, as he says “we don’t have to think, we just show up and cook. Their pastry chef has been here working for 2 days in advance for us.” Plus, he’s very happy with the quality of the ingredients they have, with 8 gm of truffles going out on the risotto last night. In Moscow at the restaurant, Glen changes the menu three times a year, working with a freedom of choice in the focus of his meals – the last time it was a mix of Japan, London, Singapore, and Russian dishes. It’s a successful formula, with a queue from 6 pm to 1 am every day, the kitchen doing up to 300 covers at a time, and averaging 600 a night. Supporting this, he has 100 chefs in the kitchen, working full days, 2 days on, 2 days off. This is the old school part of Russia, the “system” that you see in the government, and in the catering business. It’s an interesting contrast, he says, and I believe him. Koba now has the cream in a cold pan with the 45 gm of sugar. This comes to a “small rollick”, and then he adds the fresh ginger and turns it off, allowing the ginger to infuse for 5 minutes. After that it’s strained into a cold bowl and that bowl goes into an ice bath, turning and spooning the infused cream as it cools. Once it’s at temperature, add the gelatine and allow a slight bloom, and allow to thicken, then put it in the serving bowl to set. This should all be done the day before. Then clean the grapefruit, taking away the pith and membrane, peeling it down, then putting the knife inside the ssegment and running it down, taking away just the meat. Layer this flesh on top of the panna cotta, cover the top, and put it back in the fridge. “We haven’t chosen the easiest bowl to work with.” Next, we do the pepper jelly. For this we use the vanilla to sweeten. The water goes in the pan with the sugar. We scrape our vanilla out of the pod, and then bring to a boil, dissolving the sugar. Keep sharp, and move this around so it doesn’t catch, as you want to reduce this down to a golden colour. Once you’ve hit gold, remove it from the heat and add the pepper. Then let it cool for five minutes, and then strain it off in a fine mesh cloth. Then take this and bag it again, hanging it in the fridge overnight to strain again. You want to be very pure with this. The next day, warm it up, and add the gelatin. Then cool it down again. Pour the cooled gel over the grape fruit, and then put it back in the fridge for another 30 minutes. Now for the Anise parfait. For this, he has a collection of molds that look either like oversized suppositories or else something from Madonna’s wardrobe. Prewhip the cream, as you’ll need it later. With the sugar and water we make a syrup, getting the drizzle up to 150 C. The egg yolks go in the blender for a whip. The blender here doesn’t quite reach the bottom of the bowl, so Glen lifts it up for Koba. Then we add the syrup to cook the eggs, slowly drizzling it in, forsaking the whip so we don’t sray everything everywhere, getting a sabayon. Warm water and sambuca are usesd to break the gelatin down for the 10 portions. Meanwhile, the sabayon is still warm (but not hot). Add in the sambuca and whisk by hand. From the side, take that pre whipped cream and spoon it into the sabayon, getting about 1/3 in whisked in first, and then add in the rest. The result is a sabayon with a mousse feel. Pour this into the molds, and let it freeze for about 8 hours. Take the pistachio paste and spoon in the sugar, cream, and milk, and then whip this up to get the mix to break the pistachio paste. The parfait done, it sits on top of the panna cotta and grapefruit in the bowl. Drizzle the pistachio paste about, and sprinkle on a few (6) grilled pistachio nuts for effect. “At this point, the parfait is done. But a pastry chef’s brain isn’t stable….except for desserts.” So Koba continues to work. On a sheet topped with grease proof paper, he puts down a metal ring and adds the glucose, hand sprinkling some sugar. This goes into the oven for about 5 minutes at 170 C to get a brittle sugar wafer. At some point in the past, he’s taken the star fruit (shaved fine) , dipped them in syrup, and let them sit in the oven for four hours to dry out. Then the wafer goes on top, and the star fruit goes on top of that. You need to learn to take advantage of other people’s obsessions, say I. The wines and dishes we’d done earlier. But, knowing what had gone into the work, it was fun eating them again, picking out the details in the dishes. I do like the Thai-Chinese mix of the pork salad, and I’ll be doing that at home at some time. Plus, the use of the fluffed Chinese meat (either pork or chicken) makes good sense in a salad. I picked apart the salad accompanying the scallops with a bit more attention this time. With green apples and Japanese ingredients, this would be fairly straightforward for when I’m in Vancouver next. And the dessert is just insane enough for me to give it a shot one of these weekends (once I get out from under this writing and video work). This was the end of the cooking classes, so I went back and poked around the Gaggenau gear some more. The monkey-king ring for the IM unit was there, but I was really keen on the fridge. Some of the new apartments being built are coming with Gaggenau kitchens preinstalled. First, if you like hinges, this is the fridge for you. Opening the door was like working with armoured Mercedes doors. If I ever need cover, I’m hiding behind this fridge. Second, I don’t know if it’s specific to Glen and Koba, but it was good to see that the primary function of a fridge was being met – keep the beer cold. Next – A Tea Intersection Note: edited to add in the two pages of notes. I had them on another machine. I shouldn't try to walk and chew gum at the same time, obviously.

More fun with IM I'm still on a hotpot jag. If you need to clean out your fridge or freezer, it’s time for hotpot. I’d been looking at what I had in the freezer, along with the produce I’d bought on my last trip, and decided last weekend it was time to do something about it. The stocks were just chicken broth on one side, and chicken broth with the mysterious package of Chengdu hotpot oil I’d found in town. I’d topped it off with some of my store of peppercorn, and I figured we were good to go. For protein, I had a piece of tenderloin I’d slice down, and some nice tripe I found back of the freezer compartment (when did I buy that?). For greens, I’d picked up some really pretty French beans, a wonderful package of wild mushrooms, and we also had some baby carrots in the bottom of the crisper and a package of British purple sprouting broccoli. Add on a freezer bag of dubious looking water chestnuts (and I would kill for some lotus root). Yoonhi's settled on the method of cooking things through on the mild side, and then only giving them a short bath on the evil side, trying to avoid the worst of it. Full frontal, say I. The fridge still wasn't empty, but I felt better.

Dinner tonight was a matter of some panic. As usual, I’d gone shopping for souvenirs, this time in London. What I brought back was a a selection of pates, game, and produce. That was a week ago. I was now getting the evil look from Yoonhi that indicated that sell-by dates were coming up, and I’d better do something about it if I was going to avoid accusations of wasting food (but all food goes to my waist, say I). Inspiration called to me. I had a smoker that had been abandoned on my doorstep, and some Jack Daniels chips that had come from somewhere. It was time to give this a try. I couldn’t help myself, and placed a bundle of Vietnamese jasmine tea on the lower rack of the smoker, than placed my last chicken breast and a handy hunk of pig belly on the upper rack. The nice thing about smoking meats is that it gives you plenty of time to try and wing your way through the rest of it. Back from dropping the girl at one of her string of post-school assignations, I staved off the missus with some goat cheese and venison pate (again, courtesy of Sainsbury’s in Bracknell). This made do as an appetizer. I then gave her the task of preparing a salad of endives, rocket, balsamic, and the smoked trout that was only just a couple of days past the “drop dead” date. Busy hands are happy hands….at least I think they are. I’d pulled the meat off, and allowed it to rest. It had the cheery smoke-inhalation victim look about it. Meanwhile, I sliced the meats (removing the skin top of the pork), and added a bit of lime, and sent everything in the oven to warm while Yoonhi went off to shuttle the girl back home (again). The result was a very nice bit of duck. The pork was good, but still too much fat for Yoonhi’s liking (but fine for me). The salad was alright, but it really brightened up with the addition of some capers after we’d already started. The balsamic is just as good with trout as it is with salmon, so I’ll be doing more of this. And dessert? Well, I’d already taken my blackberries that were on the cusp and made ice cream with them. This wasn’t a success, as the seeds tend to distract one from what should be an experience in smoothness. Still, I’ve avoided the stigma of not using what I buy (just). I’ll have to go shopping again soon.

An excellent idea! My daughter loves both escargot and spaghetti, so this would make a perfect birthday meal for her! Thanks, Peter

Don't leave home without it. You never know when you'll need one. It didn't carry a lot of the flavour, but more of the smell (at least, that's how it came through my wine sotted brain). I'm stocking up when I get back to Vancouver. One meal we did in Cairo consisted of Bambi, Bullwinkle, and Yogi. The bear, in particular, is something I've lusted after, as it was taken by arrow in the midst of blueberry season......

September 26, 2008 – The Gala Sometimes you just need an excuse to dress up. The Wine Prosecco, Fabiano Castello, Brut, Italy Sileni Cellar Selection, Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough, New Zealand 2007 Wolf Blass, President Selection, Chardonnay, Australia 2006 Kim Crawford Merlot, Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand 2005 Le Clos Jordanne ‘Le Clos Vineyard’ Pinot Noir, Canada 2005 Carpineto Vino Nobile di Montepulciano DOCG Riserva Italy 2001 Chateau Angelus, 1er Grand Cru Class, Saint-Emilion, Bordeaux, France 2001 The Yamazaki, Single Malt Whisky, 10 years The Menu Siggi Hall Icelandic Canapes Glen Ballis Russian Style Crab Pot-Stickers, Shiso Sabayon Celina Tio Crispy Loup de Mer Vegetable Bayaldi and Herb Vinaigrette Maurizio Quaranta Risotto con Zucca, Tuma di Murazzano e Tartufo ner0 Risotto with Pumpkin, ‘Tuma Murazzano Cheese’ and Black Truffles Michael Ginor Roasted Squab and Parsnip Mousseline Foie Gras Cream, Squab Jus and Hibiscus Air Jeffrey Jake Citrus- Porcini Dusted Venison Farro, Wild Mushroom, Toasted Pine Nuts, Dried Cherry Port Syrup Michael Laiskonis Soft Chocolate Ganache, Flourless Chocolate Cake, Cocoa Pearl, ‘Faux’ Palm Sugar Meringue, Pistachio Powder There are three distinct groups of people at the WGF every year. There are the hard core foodies, the people at the classes taking notes, their cameras set on macro, and hanging on every word. This also includes a certain amount of the press. A lot of these are people whom I see every year here, and with whom I’ve enjoyed a large number of good meals at other venues. Then there’s the dinner crowd, who are there for the wines and the food, usually coming in the company of their friends for an evening out. This group breaks up into more foodies; friends of the wine suppliers or others in the trade; and people who just like a good meal. And then there’s the Gala. As a charity event, sponsored by Her Royal Highness, Princess Soamsowali, there’s another set of people here altogether, with very little cross over from the other events. It is, perhaps, more of an event than a meal. I generalize, of course. I generally do. But it’s interesting how things break into the different strata. I fall into the “strictly tourist” grouping, which doesn’t have a particularly large membership. I should mention the charity, though. One of Her Highness’ many good works is the “Save a Child’s Life from AIDS Project”, which is under the auspices of the Thai Red Cross. The focus of the charity is on prevention of mother to child transmission, and has been ongoing work for over a decade now. Back to the stratification thing; perhaps this, in part, explains why so much of the meal was a reprise of the other dinners. With what is mostly a brand new audience, you could redo a number of items, without fear of being caught “wearing the same dress twice” (we guys can get away with that). And the menu did work well. As opposed to last year’s meat overload (lamb followed by pot roast, followed by wagyu sirloin and brisket), the plan looked reasonably well harmonized. Maybe a little short, with really just five courses to work around, compared to last year’s eight (I can’t really call canapés and petit fours “courses”, no matter how good they are). And Siggi’s canapés were good. That salmon with a vodka marinade was back, and there were a number of other items which made a nice backdrop to the Prosecco (okay, I admit it. I lack a 3rd hand for taking notes while standing around drinking and eating). The change in the ballroom was noticeable. It was much easier navigating our way to our table, and once there it didn’t feel as hemmed in as it had last year. It’s still a lot of cutlery and stemware on the table, but that’s not something I mind too much, given the balance of stimulation it provides. Our first course was a rerun of Glen’s potsticker. Russian Style Crab Pot-Stickers, Shiso Sabayon. Just as good as at the dinner two nights before, and not substantially different. What did make a difference were the wines, both the prosecco, that we were finishing off (waste not, say I), and the Sileni Cellar Selection, Sauvignon Blanc, which did very well against this. The La Fleur, as a red, had been a pleasant pairing, but the Marlborough Sileni was a better choice. Celina had something different on offer; a very nice piece of loup de mer (which was also the nickname for Admiral Tom Cochrane, the model for Horatio Hornblower), a seabass. This had been properly crisped on the skin, and then the meat was kept just moist enough. The seabass had run afoul (no, wait, that would require a chicken) on an outcrop of vegetables, reefed about by some spottings of the herb vinaigrette. An excellent piece of fish, and a nice transition from the crab potstickers. The wines were a little out of synch, but I didn’t mind, as it was nice seeing how the fish worked with both the sauvignon blanc and the chardonnay that appeared part way through. The Kim Crawford merlot was specific to this meal, and it was one that Clark in particular had been looking forward to. I’m not that used to Kiwi reds, beyond the pinot noirs, and this was a very pleasant merlot from Hawke’s Bay. The risotto I was a bit disappointed in. The grains were not quite cooked to where I would want them to be, and it felt “rushed”. Still, it’s nice to have a large amount of truffles to stick my nose into….. Yes, I know it’s the pigeon I had on Tuesday, but I still like it. This was a bit more on the rare side, so I was much happier. The hibiscus air was a bit messier than in Michael’s dinner, but there was more of it, so who am I to complain? The pinot noir (I think) came out about this time, and was perfectly serviceable with the squab. I was left wondering how Canada could produce such a wine (self criticism is a vice common to Canadians and the Cultural Revolution. It’s just we do voluntarily.) At this point we were, if my muddle mind and disjointed notes are correct, still on the Clos Jordanne, I was expecting the Montepulciano and the Angelus to show up at any moment. The reason for this was that, with the venison before me on bed of farro – an awned wheat of Italy, the food of the legions – I was slavering for the wines. That’s not a pretty sight, trust me. I’m very, very fond of game. And this was nice venison. Give me the opportunity to eat Bambi’s mother, and I’m right in there. (“Oh, dear!”, you say?) Good mushroom tone from the porcinis, and the grain gives a good chew under the meat. I was looking forward to Jeff’s dinner. I wish he’d done this in the class. The wines did turn up, and both were excellent with the meat. They were also excellent for sitting about and drinking as we entered the final stages of the evening. Michael Laiskonis’ dessert was, as we would expect, beautiful. How do you go about giving the impression of speed to a dessert? Add a skid mark, say I (actually, it was one of Clark’s friends looking at the posted photo who said that). Soft chocolate, and pistachios. Some good red wine to offset that, and I was happy. More pours of the three reds and I was even happier. This state of euphoria is, of course, when you want to have an auction. It went well this year, with active bidding providing a reasonable sum for the Princess’ charity. The last few years have been very active in the bidding, and I’ve learned to console myself with limited takings. I remember that one time, coming home from Bangkok muttering my mantra….”Yoonhi’s going to kill me. Yoonhi’s going to kill me.” Luckily, I have a very understanding wife. The chef’s came out to take their bows. It’s always good to see them together after this meal, and to see them still smiling. I really wish my other shot, of the entire staff, had come out. The chefs are the talent upon whom we focus, but their assistants are the names we’ll be seeing in the future (we hope) and there’s a wealth of talent there in the making (but I may be biased, having drank far too much with Ryan and Bjorn). Plusthere are the Four Seasons’ chefs, who are working just as hard in this effort, without the praise they should be getting – Satoshi, Stephane, Anchalee, Danilo, and, of course, Nicholas Schneller. But, I’m sidetracking again. Away from the table for a few moments, I returned to find them pouring the Yamazaki. It was pleasant, after so many months away from Japanese spirits, to see this. You can picture my solemnity. And Stephane’s petit fours arrived (I may be making an assumption here, as they could also have been Michael’s). Obviously, petit fours call for more whiskey. Strangely, I wasn’t the last man out of the ballroom this year. It must be the good influence of my wife. Tumbler of Yamazaki firmly clenched in my fist, we parted from our friends, and retired for the remainder of the evening. (“You wanted to go out to Tokyo Joe’s!” accuses the wife). A good Gala. A well balanced, if restrained menu. By “restrained” I consider it a well-orchestrated meal, as opposed to some of the years when it’s been a series of solos. There’s good to be said of both approaches, as the solos tend to be way over the top, and appeal to my baser, more hedonistic nature. But that isn’t perhaps, what fine cuisine is really about. Bacchanals - yes,; fine cuisine – no. I’m good with either. What did I do with the rest of that whiskey? Next: Glen again

September 26 – The Calm Before the Gala I’m weak. I admit it. Siggi and a bundle of Black Death, the noise coming up from Aqua, and the prospect of crickets. How could I say no to crickets? It was a good night. Which means I came back with my wallet and all of my teeth. No bugs, unfortunately, but a good time of talking (or listening in), some lounging on the outside cushions at Tapas, and then navigating taxis to the after hour joints (why do people assume I know where I’m going?). We ended up back in the lobby of the Four Seasons around 5 a.m. , with me sharing a bit of Siggi’s penne pasta (which, as I recall, had a particularly nice bite to it). I managed to wear only the most minimal amount of the pasta. It was Friday, and this was the Gala. That meant there would be no lunch time activities, which was all for the best. First, I had some time with Malcolm, the F&B for the hotel. Obviously, with Thai Air pulling their sponsorship at the last minute, this had been a rather “challenging” WGF, to put it lightly. As you’d expect, I was slightly concerned a few weeks back when I’d first heard of the possibility that there might not be a WGF this year. Not only did it threaten to leave a major hole in my social calendar, but I’d also arranged for Clark to come out for this, and the disappointment on his part wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate. But, with a fair bit of hard work, they’d pulled it off. Unfortunately, Carmen Ramirez wasn’t able to come, but that was more a matter of her health, rather than of sponsorship. If I had any regrets about the Fest this year, it was that I wouldn’t be able to do the class with her, as the plan had been for her to go over moles, which is something I’d love to be able to do better. In the end, there were seven chefs, which actually helped out the hotel a bit. With six dinners, the hotel could rotate through the restaurants, freeing up two for the regular trade while engaging the other two. From past years of eavesdropping in the Club, there have been more than a few times when guests of the hotel have either had to make do with room service, or else go elsewhere as the WGF dinners were tying everything up. On the less nerve-wracking side, the renovations of the ballroom had finished satisfactorily. This meant that the back wall had been pushed back, and the capacity had gone up the bit more. Without a major reworking of the kitchens, they’re probably at the right capacity now, and the seating for the Gala looked to be opened up a bit more, making it easier to shmooze about the tables. Outside, they’d extended decking outside of the reception hall, again relieving some of the crowding, and they’d beefed up the air conditioning. This last enhancement would be a big help for me, as I’d made it a point to have to know the coolest spots in the hall from past years of basting in my tux. I left Malcolm to the demands of colour-coordinating the hall, and headed back for the room. I needed to collect the horde and get them over to Sukhumvit for lunch and a massage. Myself, I don’t care much for massage. Paying for a beating just doesn’t seem cost-effective from my point of view. But my point of view appears to be a solitary one. My friend, M, had earlier recommended Lavana, and Yoonhi and Clark had been racking up their massages – Clark’s goal in life to get enough workovers to qualify for a free one. Seeing as she’s even more of a hedonist than I, I thought it wise to take her advice. Lavana had taken over the old Ministry of Sound building, on soi 12, so it seemed most sensible to hit up Cabbages & Condoms for a bite before dropping off the troops. C&C’s reliable, and I like their purple things. I was craving Thai food, and this was an opportunity to take care of that itch. For some odd reason, I was more in the mood for a coconut than beer. The “purple things” (chaw muang) are back to purple again. They’d done a spell at being more blue for a while, but it was good to see a return to the old colour. Fried garlic and fried dough, with the filling of ground meat and herbs. I know some folks don’t like them as much here, but I’m always partial to first impressions. Another reason for coming to C&C is that I know we can do a meal that won’t leave Clark and Serena in pain. Neither does too well with over-the-top burn, and so options like this soft pork and bamboo soup work well for their lunch. And the crispy duck salad is an easy thing to pick through, removing the chilis before eating. We also ordered some fried sausage, which came wrapped in sheets of vegetable protein. All of the appeal of spam, but with a bit more flavour. For a fish, we ordered the deep-fried bass with green mango sauce. And I had a dry curry of softsheel crab brought over (but toned down a bit). And, as a finish, meek rob, which is one of those things I just don’t do at home (Yoonhi has some concerns about me and deep frying). Yoonhi and Clark headed into the spa, and Serena and I meandered back down the soi to the Skytrain. We stopped along the side to get a bit of grilled pork to tide us over to the end of the soi. Lots of fat and bits of meat wedged into a split of bamboo is a hard thing to turn down (although Serena only took a small bite). Back at the hotel, I forced the girl to go for a swim with me, and then I finally nodded off. Napping is a bad thing. I always wake up feeling worse than when I’d gone down. You have that cottony, shattered feeling in your mouth to go with the grogginess and grit in your eyes. The only thing to do in such a case is to have a glass of wine. Being so far behind in my writing, I haven’t been keeping up with the bite-by-bite commentary from the Club. That’s a shame, as the food up there is always a treat. I used to worry about these happy little bites getting in the way of my appetite, but, with years of training literally under my belt, I can now afford to indulge in the late afternoon. It was to be a continuation of Thai treats, with The Spice Market providing the appetizers. The Thai equivalent of a tuna fish sandwich. Tuna salad with ginger and lime served atop a crisp rice cracker. Some hor mok talay, steamed seafood mousse with shavings of kaffir lime leaf and coconut cream providing a resting place for the chili and coriander. Some mieng kham, my favourite finger food. Although I do think that having it prepped like this takes away some of the joy that comes from putting your own together. Sai eua – my favourite sausages from the North. Sticky rice, mango, and coconut cream. And these little sweets to finish, mock fruits made from bean dough (I think). Add in a few glasses of the Chilean chardonnay they have up here, and I was just about ready for the big event. Yoonhi and Clark were back from their beating, and so all we were left with was the detail of feeding The Girl. You’ve probably wondered about what Serena’s been doing these past few nights. She joined us for Glen’s dinner when Clark was feeling under the weather, but her interest (and appetite) hardly justified the ticket price for the meals. So, Serena was spending her evenings with her manga, books, and cartoons, and luxuriating in her private meals from the room service menu. As expected, the Four Seasons does a very good kid’s menu for the type of kids who like that sort of thing – that “sort of thing” being dishes like mac&cheese, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and the like. Serena likes that sort of thing. She’d worked through most of the meal, so this evening it was to be a simple hot dog, the sausages made by the Four Seasons. She was quite happy with this, but I’d rather be eating what I was going to be eating. Next: The Gala

You’ll appreciate, at this point, with the wines from lunch, the whisky tasting, the chardonnays , pinot noirs, and then the icewines, that we were all feeling pretty cheerful. What, I wondered, would be the wisest course for the rest of the evening? Some writing and sleep sounded sensible. With that conservative sentiment cast into the cement like mix of my mind, I knew it would take a particularly malicious spirit to swerve me off the path of righteousness. I hadn't counted on running into the physical manifestation of Loki just outside my door. Next: A Hard Left Turn Off the Highway of Propriety

Thanks, Shelby! The icewines are fun, I must say. The sparkling version they'd trucked along this time was particularly nice with the dessert, but then I'm a sucker for bubbles. Okay, I'd better get focused or I'll still be writing this when the next WGF starts up. Cheers, Peter

September 25 - Celina Tio It was Thursday, and we were at our first meal in Biscotti this trip. It’d been too long. I’m always torn. Do I like the staff in Madison better, or Biscotti? I know, I know, it’s all the same hotel, but there’s a different character to each. (And now I’ve probably alienated the staff in Shintaro and The Spice Market….but honestly, I eat more often in Madison and Biscotti). This is probably on the TMI side. Anyways, we were back for Celina’s dinner. We’d done the class, now it was time showtime. As I’d said in the class, earlier, Vincor was back. The highlighted wines were there Le Clos Jordanne, which is a joint venture with Boisset France. They announced this back in 2000, with the plan to be a concentration upon Burgundian chardonnay and pinot noirs. This was intended to make the most of the soil of the Niagara peninsula, and the Boissets, Vincor’s partners in this venture, have a good background in Burgundy (and a lot of other areas, to boot). Six years later they were bringing their wines to market, and getting to a cult status in the Toronto market. Randy Dufour was there, representing Vincor. Being a fellow Vancouverite, we could not only engage in talk of the wine, but also join in the general snobbery we have regarding the West Coast. Yeah, we’re incorrigible. Along with the Jordannes they’d brought the Inniskilin for dessert. Celina began with a Scallop Crema with Summer Truffle Le Clos Jordanne Village Reserve Chardonnay 2005 A pretty soup, a lily pad of truffles and oil against the thick cream. Good and rich (isn’t that superfluous?), and a proper set-up for the chardonnay to cut through. This wine is the start of their three tiers of chardonnay, and worked well both as a starter, and with the soup. Forest Mushroom Stack Crispy Farm Egg and House Made Herbed Ricotta Cheese Le Clos Jordanne ‘Le Clos’ Vineyard Chardonnay 2005 That ricotta/phyllo/mushroom combination goes down as one of Clark’s favourite dishes, and one I’ve got to try at home soon. The crisp of the phyllo with the warmth of mushrooms - and the ricotta, can’t forget the ricotta – again providing good company for the wine. This one – Le Clos Jordanne – is a single vineyard chardonnay. Nothing at all wrong with this wine, and I was quite happy to order a refill. Slow Roasted Pork Belly with “Pot Roast” Vegetables Le Clos Jordanne Village Reserve Pinot Noir 2005 The pork we’d had at lunch and this pork seemed like two different beasts. I queried Celiina on it, but she said they were both of the same batch. What I’d had earlier was good, pulling well, but a little dry. This was another matter. This pork was running in fat, meeting the definition of pork belly as “not quite meat, not quite fat”. I could eat this all day long. And we’d had this pinot noir the other day. It came through well with the fats in the pork and with the vegetables. Chef’s Favorite Cheeses Aged Monterey Jack, Affinee Blue Cheese and Crave Brother’s Petite Frere House Made Crackers and Brioche Le Clos Jordanne ‘Le Clos’ Vineyard Pinot Noir 2005 Cheeses. There’s nothing like congealed mammary fluid to round out a meal. Of these, I was so so on the Monterey Jack, but I did really like the blue - the Affinee, -and the Petite Frere, both from Wisconson. As with the chardonnay, this PN was the next step up in their tiering, being a single vineyard pinot. That odd smell of earth is there, and the overall effect is very pleasant. The hard part is trying to put that darned movie out of my head now when I have a pinot. Celina had come by around this time, and we did the photo op thing. I’d asked my question about the pork, and then I wondered what they’d had her out eating the other night, as the chef’s make good use of the time normal people would waste in sleeping, hitting up the street food and nightlife. So, what did Celina eat” “Crickets”. I’ve gotta get out more. Frozen “Baklava” Honey Semifreddo with Warm Pistachio Cake and Crispy Phyllo Inniskillin Oak Aged Vidal Icewine 2006 Inniskillin Sparkling Vidal Icewine 2006 Good dessert wines, the sparkling icewine being a particular treat. This would be really fun with some foie gras, and I may have to try this out in December. The dessert we’d already covered in the cooking class. It was good then, it was good now. Looking back on the wines, I was quite impressed. I guess a big part is the local bias we carry with us from our youth, when Canadian wines came in boxes, and were generally neither white nor red, but sort of “brown”. What I was drinking here was very appropriate for the food. I’ll probably look at trying to pick some up to put down (there’s a gravity-challenging phrase) when I get back to Canada. I won’t complain about having their wines here, but I do wonder about the marketing. I suppose, when you’re as big as Constellation and the Seagrams, then you want your brands out there in the world. But Le Clos Jordannes is not a big volume producer, and South East Asia, with its emphasis on recognizable brand names is going to be a tough sell for North Americans, and Canadians in particular. Inniskillin has a certain niche, but that’s mainly from duty free shops in the region. Still, I wish Randy well, and I hope he comes back. Next: Decisions, decisions

The Food Sci wife supports the "freeze and kill" thesis (which may be why I avoid Northern climes). These parasites are (relatively) complicated life forms, and won't stand up to the travails of an extended Canadian winter. Mind you, neither would I. P.S. - why does this thread have me fixated on Walt Disney?

September 25, 2008 – Tinseltown and the Sixteen Men of Tain Places to be, people to do. This was a good trip. Not only did I have the WGF, but the Bangkok International Film Festival was on. Yeah. I like food. But I like films as well. Films about food are a plus (strangely, the converse doesn’t hold. I avoid food with films.), but what I really like is the making of films from the production side. It’s an interesting business – the logistics, the coordination, and the money. I’d finessed (okay, it was brute force, not finesse) an invitation to the producers’ workshop. Up at the front table was Iain Smith, of the Killing Fields, Children of Men, and a raft of other big budget, seriously good films. The Killing Fields, along with the Dead Kennedies' Holiday In Cambodia was probably the driving factor to my going to Cambodia in the first place. And sharing the mikes, one of my personal heroes, Roger Corman, who’s still making movies, and still making money. Roger can figure out a way to make a film, no matter what it takes, and will always come through the flames. And he's still smiling! And the third man, of course, is the talented Mr. Spurrier, whose company I've enjoyed for many years now. Paul has a long string of movie and tv credits, and has also produced a couple of his own films now, so he works well as a host for this. (Bug me and I'll provide shameless plugs for P, if we can ever get a North American distributor (note - it does have food scenes). Alright, none of this has much to do with the WGF, other than to set up my alibi for being late for my next WGF event. I need a seriously good (or seriously bad) reason to leave the Four Seasons. This was justified. (I’ll find somewhere else to write about the stories and bits I got from this. There’s a great short to be had called “How I made Jean Claude Van Damme Cry”, but this isn’t the time). Anyways, there I was, striding through the lobby of the Pullman, dark glasses shielding me from the public glare, purposefully approaching the doormen and having them call a cab for me. Damn I look good at this. Fat, but good. About half an hour later, further from the Four Seasons than when I started, I figured that I should’ve walked, and the hell with style. I made it back to the 4S, sweat my way into the lobby, and went straight to the meeting room. I was just in time to hear about how the Egyptians invented distillation 5000 years ago. When did they lose it, I wondered. I had them set out the tastings for me, and then gave them back my attention. “What happened since then?”, ask I. After the Egyptians, the next major event in the world of spirits (if you’re a Scott) was in 1644 with the introduction of the barely taxes. This was not a good thing for the then relatively strong trade in grain whiskey. And, with a financial impact such as this, your choices are fairly limited. You either look for alternative distribution methods (called “bootlegging” by some) or you change your grain. (And I’ll refer you as well to the discussions on Japanese beers and near beers that are going on in the Japan forum for an interesting parallel. I’d give you the link, but I’m between continents again). Grain alcohol, the favourite of home hobbyists the world around, gives you a very clean, consistent spirit; lighter on the palate, and quick to mature. Your aim in this case is to produce a pure (or damn close to it) essence that should knock birds out of the air and run your car. The heart palpitations are another matter. But there's something in the taste of malt, be it in beer or spirits, that draws a man's soul (and some women, too). Malt whisky, on the other hand, is a double distillation, taking the work to only about 70%. You get more character, more aroma, but it’s trickier, with the question being of how much head (methanol, with floral tones) and tail (with the earthy bits) behind. Given that the heads and tails aren’t particularly good for your health, how you handle these (as with cognac) is where the money lies. The process is quite linear. Take your malt and mill it to grist, then make your mash, ferment that, wash it, double distill it to a spirit, then mature it. Work with your choice of waters for the marriage, and you’ll temper that 70% bad boy back to a well behaved 40% ABV. And, as we all know, there’s a lot of money here. 89 distilleries in Scottland. Plus, you have merchants buying the malts and blending their own brands. Give it 3 years in the barrel, and those are legitimate whiskies – 100% barley. So let’s consider the regions and their stereotypes of whisky: There’re the Lowlands, with their lighter malts. The Highlands, with their fruits (no comments from you Lowlanders, you!) The Isleys and Campbelltown – with their peatiness and salt Speyside (part of the Highlands, really) with their floral notes But enough of that. We didn’t come here to discuss history, we came to drink some whisky! Well, maybe some of the folks came here to discuss history. But it’s hard to tell. Notably, my entourage had all given me a strange look when I’d originally told them that we needed to be at the whisky tasting at 5 p.m. before dinner. Maybe “strange look” isn’t quite accurate. Clark said he needed a nap, and Yoonhi said I was nuts if I thought she was going to be downing single malts before going into another all night wine session. “Sometimes you just have to sacrifice yourself for the good of humanity”, I said. Now I remember. That’s when I got the strange look. Back to the tasting. First, a preface (before the other sort of face). They’ve changed the names on me again. Branding is everything, I know, but I still like consistency. Our first whisky was The Original, otherwise known as the Glenmorangie 10 year old. Before 1960 this was aged in old European barrels, but since the 60’s they’ve switched over to bourbon barrels. Bourbon tends to sweeten the oak, and the Scotch comes out drier. As we lean into the glass, the first thing you get is the hit of alcohol burning your nose with the stronger flavours, the volatile citrus notes, and then rubbing in the earth and the spices. As with cognacs, we temper this with some cool water, making it easier to pick out the individual parts of the chorus; citrus, nuts, herbs, pears, tropical fruit (?), flowers. Not too cold, or we’ll lose the fruit. Our lecturer walked us through his perceptions: 1.citrus 2.freshness, like mint or pear from the interchange with the barrel 3.exotic fruits (“Quiet, you Lowlanders”) 4.flower notes 5.sweet notes 6.chocolate, dates, dried figs 7.spices, ginger, cinnamon 8.nuts I’m never certain about these descriptions, myself. I think that once they tell you they’re there, you convince yourself that they are. Me, I tatsted a nice enough Scotch – creamy, a bit of vanilla fullness, some spice, and a good mouthwashy feel. The 10 isn’t a bad dram, but I don’t lose sleep over not having any about. What changes the taste of a whisky? Well, a lot is in the barrels, but the shape of the still does play a part, too. Glenmorangie started life long ago as a beer brewery (I’m being specific here in case you thought they might’ve been making sake). The first still they had was actually intended for gin, having a tall column to increase the travel time for the vapours and pull off the higher elements, the volatiles that carry the herbs in gin. This 16 foot tall chimney give the GlenM an “elegant and complex” character. Perhaps more important, given that it tames the spirit to 40% ABV, is the water. Glenmorangie draws a harder, more mineral water from Tarlogie Springs, in contrast to the softer water of much of Scotland. As with discussions we’ve had on sake, beer, coffee, and just about everything, this character sets the tone of what you do. Along with this is what is now referred to as “wood management”. GlenM is putting a lot of effort into managing the oak they use, with the Ozark Mountains now being their preference. They’ve been studying (seriously) the effect of wood on spirits since 1985, beginning with the effects of porous white oak from the US vs tighter European oaks. The exchange of air helps to age the whisky faster. Now they’re air drying the oak for two years, before providing it to bourbon makers for two passes of aging, at which point they retrieve the casks. Thus, at 10 years in 1995, the Glenmorangie achieved a balance of spices and oak on hone hand, to flowers and fruit in the other. And this takes us to #2 on our pad The Lasanta, which is Gaellic for “Warmth & Passion”. This is spending an additional 2 years in a sherry cask, and is coming in at 46% ABV. Contrast, they say, to Macalan’s first try, where they only aged in sherry. This “Lasanta” takes me back to the old branding. Then it was “finish”. The sherry finish, the port finish, etc. Now there are three, this being the rebirth of the sherry finish, this working with Spanish Oloroso’d casks. Compared to the 10 yr old….sorry, The Original, this is a bit creamier, perhaps more delicate than the 10. Again, not a bad whisky, but is it a great whisky? I like the fact that it’s unfiltered, carrying more complexities in it, but I have trouble deciding if I like it or not. Perhaps the fact that I’m not ecstatic is a clue? Then there’s the Quinta Ruban. Ruby port casked, a younger port, which lends a pinkish hue to the drink. There’s more chocolate to this, and a bit more herbs (I’m convincing myself). Also a 46 % ABV. If you asked me, my comment would be that I found this more forward in the mouth than the other two. I’d lean more to this than the other two, I’d say. Pour me another. The 18. Ah, now this is a whisky. I’ve liked the 18 year old since I first set tongue upon it. Back in the mid-90s I could find it at the Duty Free in Bahrain when I was transiting to Indochina. I’d spent many a fine night watching traffic flow through Phnom Penh from a hotel window with a glass of this. And I’ve still a bottle or two cached in Vancouver that I’ll have to look up when I get back next. The nose on this is very neutral 43% ABV. It’s spent 15 years in bourbon casks, and 3 years in sherry (more than the Lasanta’s 2). It’s become a more difficult whisky to find, these last few years. The agent here in Thailand (and I’ll have to come back with their credits, as I’ve left the cards back home) advised that they had 30 cases of the 18 in Thailand now, and 3 or 5 of the 25 year old. Interesting enough, I prefer the 18 to the older whiskey. With the 18, the original fresh lemon you taste blends changes to candied fruits, and then spice and wood. I had my nose buried in the glass (big nose, small glass) when the question came up about the 16 Men of Tain. It has a romantic connotations and all, with the pride and expertise of generations being handed down, but the real answer is in that they’d run the stills on 24 day cycles, 6 days a week (never on a Sunday), and so they needed shifts. Strangely, the room was now only half full. How odd. I called for more 18, and approached the agent and the speaker. You see, there’s a new Glenmorangie coming. The Signet isn’t really that new, as they’ve been doing single batches of it for a few years now, but it’s set to come into wider release later this year (perhaps when I’m through London again in November?). This works with heavily roasted “chocolate” malts, which’ll give it more of a porter-like background. That actually raised a question we couldn’t answer on the spot. If Glenmorangie started as a brewery, what sort of beer were they making? That’s one for the lads (and lasses) at Dipsophilia, I should think. Next: Celina

September 24, 2008 – California Dreaming I’d been good. Thursday was a busy day, and I’d put aside that siren call from Aqua and settled down with the family and a couple of large glasses of Bordeaux. Mind you, there was that point where I passed Siggi in the hall, and he had a bottle of Black Death and a look of absolute mischief on his face……. To begin, it was a day for writing, reading the papers, and getting in an early swim. And then it was time for class. Jeffrey Jake – The Carneros Inn, Napa Valley, California (Yeah, I should add USA after that, but I think we all know where it is) Jeff Jake is a pro. Pretty much fresh off the plane (he was still blinking), and he was holding his own here in the Four Seasons. His second, Shantelle Baker, was getting things ready while Jeff works at calming the crowd. Okay, we’re hardly an angry mob. Actually, we’re pretty sedate. Jeffrey Jake is a Californian, or rather, a Napa boy. He’s spent most of his career there, working through Domaine Chandon, The Lodge at Pebble Beach (as exec), Sonoma Mission Inn (chef de cuisine), and the Bath House (exec) before settling into the Carneros Inn. He’s one of those people who’s lucked out in finding that combination of doing the job he likes in the place he wants to be. I can’t argue with that. Envy, yes…argue, no. California cuisine is a term that’s been bandied about over the last decade or more. It’s getting to the point, though, that some cogent points can be made. In Jeff’s case, in the Napa, the wine is a primary ingredient in any meal. As we’d seen with the Sileni, it’s a case of getting both the dish and the wine to support the whole meal, so a lot of what happens in his kitchen is putting the right pieces together. “Plus, you get to drink the wine while you’re working on the pairings.” Our wines for lunch are only two, but that’s alright. I do have things to accomplish in the afternoon, besides my ritual swim. Kendall-Jackson, Vintner’s Reserve, Chardonnay, 2006 Kendall-Jackson, Sonoma-Napa Grand Reserve Merlot, 2005 With this meal, we could go with a sauvignon blanc, which, with it’s bright acidity, green apples, and grass, would work with all three of today. But, with the fennel we’ll be using in the fish, we can do a better job of bringing that out with a chardonnay, adjusting the taste of the dish to where he wants it. And that leads into the question I started to ask. What is California cuisine? By his definition, find the best ingredients, and put them together. ”Just like any other cuisine.” The differences are just in the approach, with the view to be the delivery of a lighter meal, with fewer reduced sauces and far less butter (darn). Our first dish is a talking point on his methods, likes, and dislikes. [b}French Bean, Butternut Squash, Rocket Salad, Thyme, Szechuan Peppercorn, and St. Helena Extra Virgin Lemon Olive Oil Note: the recipes are all for 10 servings Ingredients 1.5 oz French beans (1oz cooked) 2 cups Butternut squash 2 Tbsp Butter (Hooray!)* 2 cups Rocket (arugala) 2 Tbsp Thyme 1 Tsp Lemon zest* 1 Tsp Pine nuts (toasted)* 2 Tbsp Szechuan peppercorn (cracked) ¼ Cup + 3 Tbsp St. Helena olive oil 3 shallots (dried) To taste fleur de sel Shantelle had the water coming to a boil. Jeff’s very comfortable with these sorts of demonstrion meals, though, and has no problems keeping up a steady patter of information while we wait on the heat. As you’d expect, a salad is to be fresh. In his kitchen he doesn’t want to see tomatoes in the fridge. They should be fresh that day on the counter, or he’s not going to accept them. Another aspect of California cuisine is that you don’t get hung up on the “authenticity” of an ingredient. Food migrates. The “French” beans we’re using today came from Mexico to Europe, and then back again to the USA (who’re now the biggest producer of French beans). The salted water had come to a boil, and Shantelle had an ice bath ready on the side. The beans, in a small bunch, took the big blanch…well, a little more than a blanch, about 4 minutes in there, the salt adjusting the flavour of the bean and setting the colour, and then the ice bath locking that colour in, bringing the cooking to a screeching halt. Give it enough time to cook, as “al dente doesn’t mean ‘raw’” Now let’s turn to the squash. This recipe originally called for summer squash, but those days are behind us. So the ingredient to work with is butternut, which will respond a bit differently. This’ll be older, tougher, more bitter, and will need more cooking time to mellow out than the younger, sweeter summer squash. (Yes, I do see the analogy with myself, thank you very much). The concept here is to work the squash up as an alternative to croutons. So, it’ll be knife time. Top and bottom the squash to stabilize it, then peel it down with longitudinal cuts. Then half it, and then vertical cuts, dicing to the crouton size you want. Then, with about two table spoons of butter (you can’t avoid it completely), you sauté the squash. Add in the thyme now to make it interesting, and the crushed Sichuan peppercorns. The rocket (arugala) is an easy thing, simply rinsed and ready. This, with the beans and the sea salt brings in floral and mineral elements to the dish. Add the squash to this, and we pick up some richness, while the thyme and the peppercorns go back to the floral elements. Zest in the lemon, and the citrus is there. Now, instead of a vinaigrette, we use the olive oil. This was prepped beforehand, steeping the oil on low heat with lemon zest. Drizzle in the oil. The toasted pine nuts are added for texture, and for the toast flavour to play off the acidity in the wine. Give it a gentle toss, and we’re there. The question arose, why add the lemon? Why put in more acidity? Well, if you hit your mouth with lemon first, it’ll “time out” your taste buds on the sour end of the spectrum, and let you taste more of the fruit in the wine. This fits with what we’d seen with the “sticky” wine from Sileni before, with the extra sweetness letting other elements in Siggi’s dessert come through. For the plating, first it’s a nest of the arugal, beans, and squash, and the lemon zest. Then the nuts, and drizzle the oil on to the plate. And a touch of salt to taste at the end. We talked about alternatives a bit. If you can’t find squash, you could make this work with sweet carrots. And he likes the St. Helena olive oil as it’s an early harvest, and bit more bitter, but you can work with the tastes in other Jeff likes to add things at the end to sharpen the flavours. Looking at the original recipe, I’ve *’d the ingredients that weren’t there, that Jeff had touched up. And this leads into his other comment on California cuisine, or perhaps American in general. “We can adjust our food to how we want to have it. “ Take the hamburger. It’s a bare bones dish of ground meat and bread. The joy of a hamburger lies in the relishes, in adjusting the flavour to your own individual needs, independent of those around you. There it is, the rugged, individualistic hamburger, iconic as it rides alone into the sunset…….sorry, I’m getting carried away again. Where were we? Next Grape Leaf Wrapped Turbot, with Baby Fennel, Micro Beet Tops, Fennel jus. 10 pc 3 oz square cut Turbot 10 leaves large fresh grape leaves (blanchd) 1 bulb fennel and tops 10 pc small carrots* 4 Tbsp unsalted butter (hooray, again!) 2 to 3 cups fish stock (or you can use the water from the fennel) 20 pc baby fennel 1 Tbsp Saba ¼ cup beurre monte To taste salt and pepper This is typical of the “not heavy” approach. For the sauce, he’ll work with a vegetable puree, rather than a reduction of meat juices. The turbot isn’t a common fish in the US, and is generally expensive. Jeff is using it here because “I can”, as the Four Seasons is paying. If you were in the States, you’re more likely to see halibut used in this. And Jeff does like this fish. It glistens, it’s white, it smells like the ocean. (Jeff’s compliment to the hotel is a common one with the chefs doing the classes. They’re very happy with the ingredients the 4S is putting at their disposal). Cooking in a wrap is a common enough technique. Grape leaves bring back hints of vacations in the Mediterranean (or at least lunches on Broadway in Vancouver); the kranab of the Lao is a great way to do fish, as is wrapping in pandanus leaves for the smell and for the steaing of the meat. Take it a step from there, and you find yourself sous vide, but what we gain technically in the vacuum, do we lose in the feel of the leaf? For leaf, Jeff’s brought his own. These are chardonnay leaves from the Napa, to fit with the wine on offer, the KJ vintner’s reserve. They’re a little sour in flavour off the vine, which you’ll lift away slightly in the blanch. And here, the blanch is a blanch, just a quick wash of less than a minute in the boiling water. But we start with the sauce. He likes fennel, the faint licorice hint to it making it one of his favourites. Myself, I’m not as thrilled with it, but that’s just me. It is a very good match with fish and chardonnay (and, as we said, was the deciding factor on the wine). One of the attractions of fennel is that it keeps well in the shelf, and retains its usefulness even when it dries out. The carrots and the dried fennel are blanched first (again, well salted water). He’ll be using the leafy fronds of the fennel, as well. These’ll give more colour, and bring up the licorice. The fennel will go hot into the blender. Just be careful as “it scares me to puree hot stuff”. Give it a good blast in there, adding either the fish stock or fennel water to get it to the right baby-food consistency. At the end, add in the green fronds, and then blast again. Have an ice bath ready, and strain the goop into it to shock and set the colour. A bit of salt to season. Now, the notes indicate that you could add a bit of pastis (1 tablespoon) at this point, but we didn’t do this in the class. As a note, this would make a good soup with a bit more stock to it. Shantelle had ready a blender and a sauté pan. Some of the hot water from the fennel blanch was spooned out into the pan, and then there was a bit of seasoning tossed in. Now we work with the baby fennel. The fronds are removed, the bulbs cut in half to cook faster (and avoid overcooking) and then they’re blanched. If you were prepping ahead, you’d follow the rule of “shock and fridge” using an ice bath to lock in the colour. We’re seeing a common thread here. Big pot blanching, and ice bath setting. This goes (again) to the “lighter” cooking. For the fish, Jeff would season several hours ahead. He prefers to give about 6 to 7 hours in advance for the initial salt and pepper to work their charm. I would’ve thought that this would dry the flesh out too much, but that’s not the case. We butter the blanched (there we go again) leaves, and place the fish inside the palm of the leaf (as opposed to the leaf of a palm). Fold it over, and your parcel is ready for delivery. An addition that would make sense here is a bit of tapinade in the wrap, the olive paste complementing the leaf and the fish. The fish then goes into the oven at 375 F (Jeff is having some issues with the back and forth of Fahrenheit and Centigrade), and let it pan roast in there for about 5 to 7 minutes for a small filet, or up to 10’ for a more substantial piece of turbot. This’ll come out much closer to a steam than a roast in terms of the texture. (Jeff does give a nod to Gaggenau. He likes the even cooking of their ovens.) While that’s in the works, there’s hard labour to be done. First, the fennel puree is brought up in temperature, and final seasoning is done. Then the baby fennel is sauted in a buerre monte (and again, seasoned). The microgreens are tossed with the saba, and set on the side. (“What is saba?” asks our table. “Part of Northern Bornea”, say I). Saba is similar to balsamic, but is made from the cooked down must of Trebbiano grapes. Jeff says it’s getting a lot of use in California now. Now we can plate. First, put the sauce down. The fish comes out of the oven, and the packets are sliced in two in order to present the white, steaming flesh against the darkened, crisp roasted leaf. Put the microgreens on the dish, and drop a bit more saba about. This works very well with fish. Now what you smell is earthy. Sweet fennel, crisp grape leaf, the fishiness of the turbot, and the greens and fruit of the saba give a great background aroma to the room. This leads to dessert. Napoleon of Sweet Whipped Goat Cheese, Crispy Roasted Oatmeal Wafers, with Pistachio Ice Cream and Spicy Plum Sauce (note: I lied, this serving is for 8, not 10 like the others) Ingredients Crispy Oatmeal Wafers 4 Tbsp unsalted butter ½ cup confectioner’s sugar 2 Tspn lemon zest 6 Tbsp honey 2/3 cup all purpose flour 6 Tbsp rolled oats, toasted To taste salt Sweet Whipped Goat Cheese 4 oz soft/mild California Goat Cheese 4 Tbsp sugar 1 cup heavy cream 1 squeeze lemon Spicy Plum Sauce 4 Tbsp sugar ½ cup orange juice 1 cup black plums, sliced in sixths 2 star anise 6 white peppercorns 1 cinnamon stick 4 whole cloves 1 sprig of thyme 1 pinch salt Pistachio Ice Cream 2 cup lightly toasted pistachio nuts 2 cup + 2 Tbsp sugar 4 cup + 2 Tbsp milk 2 cup + 2 Tbsp heavy cream 12 egg yolks 1 tspn salt 1 vanilla bean, split and scraped 2 tbsp Frangelico liqueur “Goat cheese? Dessert?” But Jeff wants us to think of the tangy taste, and the texture. He’ll sweeten this up with sugar, to get us where we want to go. Again, adjust the flavours. The Sonoma goat cheeses tend to be milder, due to the feed. But what’s on hand here is French, and more full frontal in effect, so it’ll be modified to meet our tastes. He’s fond of using savouries in desserts, and likes this match. Plus, we can drink red wine with dessert. For the sauce, cook the sugar in a heavy sauté pan to get a golden brown caramel colour. Then deglaze the caramel with the orange juice, and add the spices and the plums last. Let this boil and then simmer for 5 minutes. Strain it off, remove the spices, and reserve the plums. Jeff was looking at the plums in the kitchen, and found they came from California, as well. The thyme is important in this, as it’ll add a bit of floral tone, over the heavier spices. The goat cheese goes into the blender with the sugar, and that squeeze of lemon juice. Everyone’s goat cheese is a little different, so you want to be tasting this as you go. The idea is to have it sweet, as the other elements of the dessert don’t have a lot of sugar….okay, pay no attention to that load of caramel in the sauce. The heavy cream is whisked to soft peaks, then he lifts the bowl of sweet cheese out of the blender, and folds in the cream. Then this goes in the fridge in a tray and let it set up. Now, for the cookies, we’d really like to make the batter a day ahead, as it needs to rest. But we’ll set reality aside, and go through the motions. This is one of those desserts that’s designed to bring back childhood memories of meals at home. Me, I try to suppress those, but Jeff didn’t grow up in my house. (Sorry! My mom actually makes – still – excellent baked goods). This’ll be a tuille batter incorporating toasted oats. It’ll be different, crunchier. A little bit of zest goes into the butter, along with the confectioner’s sugar and the oats. Honey is drizzled in. For honey, he finds the clover honey too strong, and prefers wildflower. Or, if you can get it, lavender. It’s really just a question of what sort of crop the bees were working over, as they carry the traces from the pollination duties back to the hive. The flour is tipped in, and everything is blended together with a hook. Once you have this batter, you’d let it rest, giving the long chain proteins – the glutens – time to do their “networking thing” (as Yoonhi says). Jeff would normally use a template for the cookies, smearing the batter in. But here they lay the cookies out on a tray and layer them on parchment. Then, halfway through they pull them out, cut, and finish. Some toasted oats get sprinkled on top, and bake at 350 F for about 5 minutes, or until golden brown. Each serving should get 3 wafers, so do your counting in advance. Jeff put the tray into the oven to finish that part of the demonstration. The pistachio ice cream they didn’t do, but I asked Jeff about the ingredients. As he says, while you appreciate the wealth of material on hand at the Four Seasons, there’s still an element of shellshock as you come to grips with new ingredients. For instance, the pistachios here are from Italy, with a very intense green that’s a beauty to behold, but the Californian pistachios are, in his opinion, a much more intense flavour, and the best you can have. He paused for a moment. “There’s no one here from the Italian Trade Bureau, I hope?” Making the ice cream is pretty straightforward. Steep the vanilla bean in the milk and half the sugar for about 30 minutes, then remove the bean (and you can reuse this). Then put the pistachios in a blender with the warm milk and give them a minute on the merry go round. Meanwhile, ribbon the egg yolks with the other half of the sugar. (Did we say something earlier about “not a lot of sugar”?). Add the pistachio milk into the egg yolks, and then put everything back on heat (160 F) with a constant stir. Remove from the heat, and add the heavy cream and season with Frangelico and salt. Then get to churning once it’s cooled. To plate, cut the goat cheese to fit the rectangular cookies so that you can layer the cookies and cheese. For here, it was just one layer, a sandwich, rather than the stack in the notes. Put the reserved plums from the sauce on the plate, and top them with a scoop of the ice cream. Finish with the sauce painted about the plate, and toss some pistachios on (they are a great looking green). At about this point, we noticed some smoke coming out of the oven. A little sheepish (along with jet-lagged) Jeff pulled the toasted demo cookies out. The salad was coming out at the same time, and the chardonnay was being poured. Like most good ideas, the simplicity of swapping in different ingredients for “croutons” works really well. But it was the peppercorn that really made me smile. Someone had just come back to the Four Seasons from Yunnan, so the flavour we had here wan’t the pale shade of Sichuan we usually get, but the full mouth-numbing novocaine that I love. It’s become a very popular ingredient in the US since it was legalized a couple of years ago, but the intensity of flavour fades extremely quick if you don’t store it tightly (mine’s double zip locked in the fridge). Nicole Krasinski, from Rubicon in San Francisco, had done a sabayon with these last year, which had led me to try it in ice cream. I’m always looking for new uses now, and salads make perfect sense if you can cook them in a bit as was done here with the squash. Plus, it was fun seeing Clark’s reaction to this, as it’s not a sensation he’d had before. The fish looked pretty, but, as I said, I don’t share Jeff’s enthusiasm for fennel. Still, the texture was wonderful, and the technique will lend itself to other flavours more to my liking. Jeff, still doing his duty, came around the tables, and Clark chatted with him a bit (Clark had lived in San Francisco for a stint). Jeff’s one of those guys you like, and, like I say, I admire people that can do their job through the trauma of jet lag. He’d kept an easy chit chat going throughout, and never let people get restless. One of the things I like about the WGF is seeing how the chefs cope with the “shellshock” as Jeff called it. Anyone can do well on home turf, but there’s it’s good to see how well people adapt to the strange. Generally, that’s not a problem for these chefs, and Jeff did well. I’d be looking forward to his full dinner on Saturday. Things were running late, and I actually bailed on dessert and the merlot, racing back up to the room to change for my 3 p.m. appointment. But I felt so bad about this that I got off on the 2nd floor and went back in, rather than heading for a cab. They accommodated me with a serving of dessert and a splash of the merlot. The goat cheese was very good, and the balance of these dishes made it worth the ten minute delay to my getting out the door. I felt bad about doing a dine and dash, but I had to be somewhere else, and that somewhere else wasn’t on the skytrain line. That’s never good. Next: It wasn’t actually that bad

Darn. It has been, I must admit, some three years or more since I was there. Everything is transitory, I suppose. But let's see what else there is!

An excellent start, what with a decent boozer and the prospect of sandwiches with crackling! Aside from St. John, who else is doing good things with offal?

I'll be finding myself in London again. A handful (which is three, I have small hands) of nights next week, and a slightly longer debauch in November as I take care of some business. I'll be down around Trafalgar Square and the Strand, so what would be nice places for lunch, or further afield for dinner? I'll make reservations to get back to St. John for a meal, but beyond that I have little plans or biases. Advice, please?

September 24, - Glen Ballis – Nedal’nij Vostok, Moscow Eclectic. That was the word Malcom used. If you’re going to be eclectic, go all out. An Australian chef cooking Asian inspired food in a very upscale Moscow restaurant showcasing his talents in a Japanese restaurant in Bangkok with good French reds. That’s eclectic. Disaster had struck earlier in the day, with jetlag catching up to Clark and laying him out for the evening. That left us at the last minute with an extra seat for dinner. We cast about frantically for a replacement, but it was, unfortunately, too late. However, a meal like this shouldn’t go to waste. So, we put a pretty dress on the Girl and dragged her away from her manga for the evening. After several days of mac and cheese and hamburgers, I didn’t feel it out of line to expose Serena to the better things in life (although the Four Seasons does a very good mac and cheese). We’d started in the lobby with the La Fleur St. Georges 2006. A little buttery, this was a very nice opener. Nothing overpowering, just a pleasant, refreshing backdrop; eminently drinkable (or should that be imminently, given how fast I killed the first glass?) Hubert de Bouard de Laforestwas in residence to present his wines. The 17th in the line, their holdings dating back to the 1700’s, he’s not only an owner, but also the winemaker, which is a relatively rare thing in Bordeaux. And he’s been running things for over 20 years now. Also, if you’re a Bond fan, Angelus has an excellent reputation. In Casino Royale there’s a bottle of Chateau Angelus on the table in the railway dining scene. This according to Decanter.com. Russian Style Crab Pot-Stickers, Shiso Sabayon La Fleur St. Georges 2006 Our fist dish went under the name of potsticker, giving it a Chinese credence, but that’s a dish with a pedigree across all of Asia. Momo in Tibet or Bhutan; pelmeni in Russia; mandu in Korea; gyoza in Japan; and potstickers on Main and Powell. I should’ve asked Glen if this is the name they go under in Australia. Given the colonial commonality it’s likely they’ve carried the name about. But, what’s in a name? As the bees are wont to say, “A rose by any other name is still arose, and mighty are the pollen”. We want to know what it tastes like. The skin was thick, with more strength than I’m used to. The guts were crab meat, and quite nice. And the shiso sabayon, along with the sake sabayon (Glen talked about this outside of the menu) made for a rich sauce to mop the skin about in. Someone at the table felt there was some ume in the sauce, as well. I wouldn’t have argued if someone had settled another dozen of these on the table, but then there was a lot more food to come. Scorched Tuna Tataki Braised Sticky Pork Salad La Fleur de Bouard 2004 La Fleur de Bouard 2005 The second dish was fun. The tuna was a pleasant red, the sear not having reached too far. And there was a little bit of scorched lime on the side, looking like a green crème caramel. But the sticky pork salad was the best part. This was like a som tam, crisp shreds of papaya giving you that freshness in the mouth to counter the sweetness of the sticky, twice cooked pork. And crisped French beans. And peanuts and chili and a bit of nampla. And then there’s the cotton candy effect of the floss. I took this for fluffy pork, but was later told it was chicken. I’ve generally just used the fluffy pork as a sprinkle (like a furukake) on my rice, or as a snack on its own, but this opened my eyes to its use in salads, sort of like how Geoff Lindsay introduced Persian cotton candy to his salad. Our next wines were the 2004 and 2005 La Fleur de Bouards. Dark plum in colour, much more imposing than the Chateau La Fleur I was still crooning over. These were both aggressive, with a lot more character in them. But for this dish, I wasn’t quite content with the match. Very nice wines, but they weren’t working with the food. I voiced my opinion to the table. “This is like dining with too many beautiful women at the same time. The competition is distracting.” My dinner company, all three females at once, gave me a suspicious glare. Serena had enjoyed the potstickers, and approved of the tuna, but didn’t share my delight in the pork salad. Seared Scallops Green Apple, Horeseradish and deetroot Salad with Lobster Oil La Carillon de L’Angelus 2006 I do miss scallops. It’s something we can’t get here. These were of a good size, and, as Glen said, you don’t have to do much of anything with them. A little time on the grill, and then dress them with the sauce, microgreens, and lentils, and you’re off and away. The twigs you see in there are shreds of green apple, echoing the papaya in the previous dish. Glen did talk of the working material in Moscow. Were he’s at, he has pretty much free reign on getting the ingredients he wants, and so he talks of scallops from the seas east of Vladivostok, facing off against Hokkaido; scallops so big and cheerful that all you have to do is show them the flame of the grill and they’re good to go. Now, having been in Moscow a couple of years ago, and having seen what the prices were in the markets, I can only shudder. Our wine was Le Carillon de L’Angelus. This was a wonderful wine. The jostling of the last two was set aside, and what we had instead was a very full, well rounded drink, that went quite well with the freshness of the scallop. Char Grilled A5 Kobe Beef, White Asparagus and Tomato Citrus Salsa Chareau Angelus Aint-Emilion Bordeaux And now for the main. Kobe beef. For wagyu, I would still give pride of place to Michael’s tartare of the night before, but for cooked Kobe, this was excellent. I’ve written elsewhere of my concerns about cooking wagyu, of how what should be a beautiful piece of meat comes out tasting like any other breed. But this took me back to that night on Sentosa at the fort when I first had a cut of wagyu (from Australia) and I marveled at the even distribution of fat through the meat, how it gave itself up in such a soft, juicy manner. Yeah, this was a good steak. Plus, I’ve liked asparagus ever since I started eating them fresh in the Okanagan during field seasons. The 2003 Chateau Angelus was, like the Carillon, a wonderful wine, and an excellent companion to the beef. And Serena approved of the meat. Great. I’ve got a son who craves caviar and foie gras, and a daughter who wants Kobe. Ginger Panna Cotta, Ruby Grapefruit and Anise Parfait Personally, I think dessert chefs have way too much time on their hands. This was over the top. A panna cotta base, with grapefruit layered in, a parfait sitting on top like one of Madonna’s leftover bra cups, pistachios sprinkled about like used shell casings, and this candy trapping it all in with a starfruit looking like something that came out of low tide. I quite liked this. Petits Fours I don’t pay enough attention in these blogs to the petite fours that come at the end of every meal. But they’re so pretty, and they taste so good. As you know, I’m not a big dessert guy, but I put that aside every time I come here, knowing that Stephane Calvet is back there in the kitchens somewhere scheming as to how he can put an extra 10 kg onto my frame. Glen did stop by to chat over the food a bit (hence, I know it was a sake sabayon). He’s been about, our boy has. With the time here in Bangkok, as exec chef at Harrods, and now with Nedal’nij Vostok. He’s loving Moscow, but I get the impression he has a fairly good time wherever he finds himself (he is Australian, after all). We had some common friends, what with my friends who had been posted there, and I was keen to hear of how things had progressed in the city by the river. But I must say, listening to his stories on what the chef’s life is like there, he is living a good life. I’ll save more of the anecdotes for the cooking class coming up with him. And so, before you knew it, it was time to leave. I had them top up two glasses of the St. Emilions for me to use in further taste tests, and then we decamped for the room. But en route, there were interesting noises coming from Aqua…… Next: The Penne Drops

Thanks for that one, Rona! It's a good site. Not only does it cover the cooking for the WGF, but it gives more insight into the time the chefs spend outside of the kitchen in Bangkok. Plus, fedification.com looks like a fun blog site for Bangkok! okay, I'll get back to writing......

September 24 – Cooking with Siggi We first met Siggi at the initial dinner of the WGF, and he made a good impression. Not just for his food, which struck me as very clean, almost reminiscent of some of my Japan meals, but also by his manner, which disarms you, and so lays you open to his wit (which is very sharp indeed). But we’ll talk a bit more about Siggi in the following days. For now, let’s concentrate on the food that he and his assistant – Bjorn Bjornsson – would be putting together. Oh, and the wine, from Sileni Estates. Pip Austin, as I’d mentioned, had been out here before, and, while I like very much what they do, Clark was on the fence. He needed to be pushed off. Our first re-creation would be the Arctic Char with Langoustine Sauce 1 kg Arctic Char 3 kg fresh blue mussels and langoustine (scampi) ½ liter white wine 2 shallots (chopped) enough butter 8 cloves garlic ½ liter heavy cream ½ green leek frisee lettuce for garnish Char. I used to think it was the only way to cook (don’t tell my mom I said that). This is a pretty fish. Smaller than a salmon, but with a good red hue to the meat (although not so much as a Spring). The flesh, when we’d fed upon it two nights earlier, was finer, and not as fat laden as a salmon. When you went at it with a fork, it came away in soft, moist hunks. I wouldn’t say it was better than a salmon, just that it was different, and very good (I’m from Vancouver. We’re not allowed to say anything is better than a salmon). To begin, some butter. “I use a lot of butter” The char has been filleted away from the bone, with the skin on. The skin side is seared in the pan with the butter, and then, as it cooks, a bit more butter (a dollop) is added. As the fish sears on the skin-side, it’s seasoned with salt and pepper. Meanwhile, the langoustine were disembodied, leaving only the shells and heads. Don’t worry, the meat from these will go to a good home. The phi kraseu (look that one up!) remnants are set aside. For mussels, Siggi prefers the Blue, form the Atlantic. I won’t take offence at this, as he knows far better what he’s doing than I ever will. He then puts his attention back to the fish, and flips it over to sear the flesh. As soon as its lifted and then brought back to the butter the aroma of good fish fills the hall, bringing our mouths to water. After the final flash sear, the fish is removed, and then seasoned again with fleur de sel, the big grains of salt being easier to handle and distribute. The fish is then finished in the oven for 2 to 3 minutes at 175 C (and this could be slower). Keep an eye on the fish that there’s no white spotting, as the fats break free. Let’s turn our attention back to the sauce. The shellfish (but not the langoustine meat) are cooked with carrots, white wine, and fresh herbs…wait! I didn’t see those in the ingreadients! Siggi used a bit of fresh thyme here. On the side, the green from some leeks is chopped and cooked in water and butter. The stock is reduced in half, strained, and then cream is added. Then it’s reduced in half again, and more herbs are added (pick and choose what’s available, says he). The cream sauce is whisked as it thickens, and then, as it nears the end, some chopped chives and a few slivers of Thai chili are added. Pip Austin (from Sileni) stepped in at this point, and talked a little about the wine. When we’d done the dinner, they’d found that the sauvignon blanc lost itself in the cream sauce, so for this they’d now switched over to their Lodge Chardonnay, 2006. This is more of a Burgundian chardonnay than what you’d expect out of NZ, and they felt that the crisp acidity of this would do better at cutting through the sauce. For the plating, the leeks (which had been warmed up in the pan) were put on the bottom, and then the “pretty little princess”, the fish, placed tenderly atop. The sauce (”A cross between a soup and soap”) was then poured about the edges of the bowl, that fat glistening at you, with just speckles of colour from the herbs and chilies winking up. And then the frisee was drifted alongside, and there you were. Next Fillet of Lamb and Lamb Sausage with Xeres Sauce and Sage Let us consider the lamb. No, don’t feel sheepish. Ewe’ll love this. The Icelandic Sheep, or Kind (child?) is not as gamey as the lamb we’re used to (at least that I’m used to). It has less fat, a lot leaner, and, in Siggi’s words, is the wagyu of lamb. In proper Viking tradition (the sheep came with the Vikings) the lambs are free range, allowed to roam pretty much as they please once they’re weaned. This meat won’t be the easiest thing to find. For one Iceland only produces some 900 kg of this per year (“in contrast to 900 kg/hour from one NZ producer”, says Pip). For another, lamb is one of those items which comes under import restrictions from a number of countries (including Canada). Iceland has been a food producer for centuries, the largest part of their economy coming from their position on the cod grounds, and their relationship with salted cod (Icelandic Gold, or bacalao to the rest of us) goes back a long, long time….to when it took 2 months to travel to Iceland. Now, Siggi, on the one hand, is the champion of traditional Icelandic cooking. But, on the other hand he’s a very good chef, and, as with the Thai chilies that he used earlier, he’ll work with what’s good. In this case, while he does firmly attest that Icelandic butter is the best in the world, he also likes to work with olive oil, as he has a good friend in Italy that produces some very good oil. First, a touch of seasoning, and then a mix of butter and oil is used in the pan, and the lamb is seared. As it’s flashed, it’s also further seasoned. This is cooked lightly, and then removed to the oven, where it cooks at 175 C for another 7 minutes. Then it’s removed, allowed to set, and then returned to the oven until slowly cooked. The day before they’d done it at 210 C, but that proved too fast, in Siggi’s view (I thought it was very good), and so he’d back the heat down a bit. Next, the famous lamb sausage. They made this here in the hotel. This was Siggi’s first time doing this sausage, and he had that look that said he’d had fun doing it. 300 gm meat from the leg of the lamb (minced) a pinch 5 spice powder 2 shallots 1 star anise (powdered) 2 cloves garlic 1 red chili 1 egg 1 dash heavy cream taste salt and black pepper 1 intestine/sausage casing Most of the excess fat is removed from the meat (leaving a little for taste) and then the mince is mixed with the other ingredients. Then it’s stuffed into the casing, and the individual sausages are twisted off (sort of like me). Siggi did mention that it’s important to poach these. If you just fry them raw, they’ll explode. And this would work very well with veal or venison (which gives me ideas for home). For the main dish, the sausage was fried in the olive oil and butter we used to sear the lamb. Potatoes These are simply tossed off in the recipe book as creamy dauphinoise potatoes but that hardly does them justice. It’s like Yoonhi looking at this recipe and saying “sounds like scalloped potatoes”. Siggi first parboiled the potatoes, then cut them thin, and layered them with cream in between. Then they were put in a pan and cooked in the oven the day before. Before plating the dish they were returned to the oven to cook through. Parsnips and carrots Dill is the Nordic herb, just as parsley is the French, and basil the Italian. So the butter is melted, and then the dill is added with the delicate little carrots and chopped parsnips. This is glazed, and then set aside. The Sauce lamb fond glass of sweet sherry chopped fresh sage (to taste) butter (lots) white wine (to taste) salt and pepper The lamb fond (demi glace) from the bones, is reduced with onion and thyme. Once reduced, the white wine and sherry is added. At the very end, the butter is whipped in. Not quite the very end, as the sage is added after the butter. This is a tricky thing, as too much can ruin your sauce. At the end, you’re looking for a thin chiffonee. The sherry is a nice touch, as for decades the Spanish would pay for their bacalao with casks of sherry. This presented an interesting problem, as, for stern ages, Iceland was under the fanatical grip of temperance. But, more on that later. To plate, the lamb is sliced and the slice placed . The potatoes are taken as a flat slab of starch and creamy goodness, and given a proud place crowning the lamb. Then the sausage takes position, and the vegetables are put in their place. “The sauce is very important, so be generous.” Good advice. And a piece of tempura crisp sage is added for a bit of contrast. This is a dish Siggi really likes, as the cream in the potatoes goes together with the sauce, with the beauty of the lamb, the crispness of the sage, and with the sweetness of the sherry. His view is to look for the completeness of a plate, and this fits that need. Blueberry Pie with Vanilla Skyr Ice Cream The idea here is to a less-sweet ice cream to bring out the sweetness in the pie. Frangipan (dough) fresh blueberries Vanilla Skyr Sugar syrup Cream/milk And it helps if you have a Paco Jet to bring it all together. That ended up on the ingredients list. And I can't say "vanilla" and "skyr" together without thinking of Tom Cruise for some reason. The frangipan is a typical sugar dough – eggs, sugar, flour, almond flour, butter. We see it in a lot of tarts, and its very popular in Iceland. This is rolled out, and then a steel circle cuts out a circle to serve as the base. Then you make an almond cream of the almonds, eggs, sugar, and cream ( a little) and then put the almond cream in a bowl and cook together. This takes a hand mix, as if you’re too strong the dough will break. “Be gentle” says this bear of a man. Once the dough is ready, put it to a piping bag. He rolls the piping bag down, and then places his hand under the roll to help spoon in the almond cream. Then you pipe the cream on top of the dough, filling in the ring halfway, and top this up with the fresh blueberries. If there’s a national berry of Iceland, it’s the blueberry. Now, pipe some more cream on this. Pop the “pie” in the oven and bake at 170 C for 25 minutes. They didn’t go into enough detail on the skyr ice cream, but it’s a standard ice cream, but made with very little sugar. Skyr itself is very Icelandic. It’s similar to mascarpone, or a thick yoghurt, with a slight bitterness to it. Siggi likes it in desserts, as that bitterness draws out the sweetness in anything it complements. In this case, the blueberries and almond cream. Skyr is one of Iceland’s iconic foods, at least for the Icelanders. In the old days, a typical worker would only be able to afford one good meal a day, which hardly kept these Vikings satisfied. But they were allowed to fill up on as much skyr as they could eat, so it became the mainstay of the average person’s diet. When Siggi came around, I asked about substitutions for this. He felt that a Greek yoghurt might do the job. We talked a bit more about the foods of Iceland, as it’s not a place I knew much about. Like I said a few days back…Iceland…ice + land. I’d expected that they’d eat a lot of herring, and they do, being big producers of herring. But it doesn’t have the variety of what I’d seen in Denmark. The Icelanders catch the herring, do basic processing to preserve them, and then provide this to the various Scandinavian countries to further embellish. When the Icelanders do eat a lot of herring is before Christmas, when there’ll often be a big buffet. While there are no fruits (okay, there’s one famous banana tree), they have a lot surprisingly large amount of vegetables, thanks to geothermal heating for the greenhouses. And also thanks to long summer days, which give you tomatoes that may be second to none. Oh, and by the way, the olive oil comes from his friend, Lorenzo Fasola in Monte Vibiano Vecchio. Siggi has fond ties to Italy, and had once been called to stand in as an Italian chef in the Gulf. “Siggi, my chef can’t come! You have to help. Just speak with an Italian accent, you’ll be fine.” It’s good to have friends. We talked as the food was worked around us. The char did match very well with the chardonnay. Or, rather, the sauce went better. The fish was lovely with both, but Pip was correct in that you needed something that could stand up to the sauce. Taking the food today, after the dinner was done, was something Clark preferred. I can go either way, but I like this combination of an analytical meal to offset the Dionysian revelry of a proper dinner. Here, under the bright lights and casual setting, you could pull more of the nuances out of the sauce and fish, and take a bit more time in thinking about what went into the making of the dish. And to talk over the wines. Pip was about, and we asked about the chardonnay – Sileni Estate Selection, North Island, The Lodge Chardonnay 2006 - and her comment about it being more “burgundy”. It’s completely fermented in oak, the barrels being stirred once in awhile, lending an oatmeal character to the ferment. This in turn does a better job of blending the fruit, and avoiding too much oak, as you move the wine “forward faster”. Hawke’s Bay vineyards, being higher, get a lot cooler at night, and so you get a crisper feel to the wine. Oh, and Pip did also compliment the lamb, too! And that takes a lot from a Kiwi. “It could be New Zealand”. The Pinot – the Sileni Satyr, Marlborough, Pinot Noir 2006 - really is a good wine for lamb. Clark was becoming a bigger and bigger fan of Sileni with every bite and sip. And every bite and sip was good. The Pinot Noir set off well against the lamb, and I saw (and tasted) now what Siggi was saying about backing off the heat on the lamb. What I ate now was, perhaps, better than at the dinner; redder, more tender, and more giving. Pour some more Pinot, say I. And for dessert…. Yeah, I think I’ll try making Skyr ice cream at home (or an approximate) to go with some of Yoonhi’s pies. The “sticky” the Sileni Estate Selection, Hawke’s Bay, Late Harvest Semillon, 2004 was as good here as at dinner before, and, yes, I had some more. I may not be a “dessert guy” but I happily finished off the plate and glass. Siggi and I talked a bit about Black Death – Brennivin - the Icelandic schnapps. “An Icelandic soft drink”, he said, without batting an eye (or breaking a smile). When the forces of decency finally rallied and had prohibition repealed, this was made available. But the authorities required that it be marketed in an ugly bottle, with a black label and warnings about your health. Like marketing cigarettes with a skull and crossbones, this is guaranteed to make it popular. This is definitely a case where I enjoyed the class even more than the dinner. In part, I do think they were right in switching the wines, but also in part I think it benefited a lot from talking through what was being done, and why it was being done. For the Sileni, this was important, as they had a better venue for explaining their purpose in making their wines, targeting them as a complement to the food, rather than wines meant to be on their own. Interesting, while their wines are more French in nature than other Kiwis, their attitude almost seems more Italian. But, it was now after 2:00 p.m., and we needed to get ready for dinner. I was getting hungry again.

I asked Yoonhi about this earlier, and there really isn't a Korean equivalent, not the sort of response that I found in Japan. It's polite to say "chal mokkettsumnida", which is a nice way of saying that "I'll enjoy eating this very much" but it's something you'd say at home, not in a restaurant. It's more like saying "that's great (for the food)! Thanks!" Some families always say this, some don't. But it's just for the home. I've got some things I sing at our dinner table, but I'm getting stern looks, so I'll keep quiet.