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ulterior epicure

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  1. I thought it was interesting that they played (debuted?) it during the Oscars (as opposed to some other food-related event - not that I can think of one specifically outside of the Food Network shows).
  2. Despite the rough reports posted immediately above, I have to say, I had a pretty darned good meal recently at frasca food and wine. Here's an excerpt from my blog post. You can read the rest and see the pictures at the ulterior epicure. To clarify - Fuji is the nickname I've given my dining partner. ********** I’m sure I’d have no clue where Friuli Venezia Giulia is if it weren’t for Lidia Bastianich, the doyenne and ambassador of Friuli Venezia Giulia cookery in the U.S. Her restaurant, Lidia’s, in Kansas City, introduced me to this northeastern region of Italy when it opened about ten years ago. I’ve shared a couple of meals with Ms. Bastianich; visited three of her restaurants (admittedly, two of which, Felidia and Del Posto, don’t have much to do with Friuli Venezia Giulia); own and have skimmed through all of her cookbooks a dozen times each; and have even recreated some of her dishes at home. Yet, I remain largely clueless about the food and culture of Friuli Venezia Giulia. The region’s close proximity to the former Austro-Hungarian Empire is apparent from the cuisine. Perhaps, this is why I take to it especially well. Sausages, beans, and whole grains, like the faro served with our quail, are popular. There’s stuffed cabbage and strudel-like pastries. Acid is put to good use - as the pickled horseradish was on our beef course – cutting a sharp, thin line through the richness of it all. And soups - brodo (or broths) - like ours, which came with soft strips of rabbit “conserva,” are stunningly simple and immensely soulful. The onions in the hot soup all but melted away, the root vegetables were soft but sturdy, and the greens (baby spinach?) had become dark green ribbons of silk. Frico is a word I know. Besides prosciutto di San Daniele, it’s probably the most popularized food item from the region. I’ve made it at home. It’s a sandwich of sorts: two crepe-like discs of melted Montasio cheese stuffed with a warm, comforting mix of potatoes, onions, and, often, some other inspiring ingredient – I’ve witnessed sausage, crab and scallions, and even sautéed apples. If you’re bad at making frico, like I am, the cheese discs turn out thick and clunky. They’re greasy and the edges can be hard, if not burnt. It’s a ploughman’s tuck. Bastianich’s frico – the dozens of times I’ve had them - are thin and soft. They’re a shade between gold and bronze. Or, maybe, gold with bronze highlights? They’re terrific – rustic, but accomplished and presented with class. MacKinnon-Patterson’s version is even more refined. He achieves a thinner layer of melted cheese – impossibly thin – which dissolves on contact, leaving only its full, rich flavor behind. This one was simply filled with sautéed potatoes and perfumed with herbs and spices. Instead of being served as a round, or a wedge of a round, it was neatly folded into a rectangular packet. Like the frico caldo, all of MacKinnon-Patterson’s food is simply done and elegantly presented. It’s not haute and it’s not complex. But it is a departure from its peasant origins. It’s recognizably authentic without being entirely so. The cooking at frasca food and wine is confident and refreshingly understated. It’s spartan (the food looked almost naked on the plate), yet immensely flavorful. For the most part, it was flawless. Ingredients were top-shelf (including the white truffles, which we had shaved over three of our courses). Proteins were cooked perfectly, which preserved moisture. Saucing, therefore, is minimal. The bone-in “Grilled Mississippi Quail Breast” and pasture-fed River Ranches beef, alike, were juicy, tender, and kissed with grill smoke. Flakes of “Butter-Roasted Wild Atlantic Sea Bass” unseamed at the drop of a fork. Stained scarlet with a just a touch of cranberry-brown butter sauce and garnished with pine nuts, the almost gelatinous fish was spectacular. And the pasta, too, was a highlight. Between the house-made pasta - which had an exciting bounce to it - and the smooth ricotta and La Tur filling, I’m not sure which was the more compelling part of the tortelloni. Either way, the plump buttons were such powerhouses - in flavor and texture - that I wonder whether the white truffle was wasted on this dish. Though these white truffles were surprisingly pungent, the aroma took a backseat to the pasta, in my opinion. And white truffles, to me, are a jealous ingredient that are happiest when given the title role. Or, maybe my sensory bandwidth wasn’t large enough to accommodate all that traffic at once. The same might be said of the white truffles and quail pairing. The grill smoke and juicy meat in that dish was sufficient to carry that plate through successfully without more. But truth be told, the shaving of white truffles was rather stingy on this course - two landed on my plate - so the truffles didn’t make much of a difference anyway. In fact, the smokiness from the meat overwhelmed what little truffle aroma there was. Where the white truffles did shine - and shine magnificently - was on the cheese course. This was simply a wedge of Alta Langhe Brunet (Formaggio) topped with freshly shaved white truffles and accompanied by white truffle honey. The pairing was spectacular. The truffle honey wasn’t that slightly greasy, emulsified honey with truffle oil you find in jars at the more fashionable markets. This milky white honey flecked with chopped white truffles shavings, which seemed to shimmer like bits of gold leaf, was heady and, by itself, could have been a wonderful dessert. The prosciutto that kicked off our meal along with the frico (both under the banner of “antipasti“) wasn’t the prosciutto di San Daniele mentioned about. Instead, it was domestic La Quercia (Acorn Edition) prosciutto. The ham came with matchstick-thin grissini that, unfortunately, were too dainty to hold up under the weight of the prosciutto. That was a little annoying and senseless. Wrapping the prosciutto around the grissini proving impossible, Fuji and I just went at it with our forks and knives, using the creamy horseradish sauce made from crème fraîche (garnished with chives and red onions) as a glue with which adhere the shards of grissini to the ham. Despite its name, the “Warm Salad of Young Lettuces” was much more about the bacon and the figs than it was about the lettuces, though the lettuces made an excellent canvas on which to paint the flavors involved. The Montegrappa (Cow Girl Creamery), a slightly sharp and salty cheese, contrasted the sweet dried figs wonderfully. I feared that the bacon and cheese, together, would be too salty. It wasn’t. The salad was incredibly balanced and served slightly warm, which helped intensify the flavors. The “crespella” for the “Maine Lobster “Crespella,” a supplement which Fuji and I split, was more like a cold wrap. The crepe was thick, a bit spongy, and slightly eggy. The filling was akin to lobster salad: hard-boiled egg, mayonnaise, a touch of crème fraîche and dices of mortadella. But it picked up a palpable sweetness from the mortadella and tiny dices of Braeburn apple, which also added crunch and tang. Where this fell on the authenticity spectrum, I have no clue. But it wasn’t what I expected. It reminded Fuji of “bad Chinese food.” I wouldn’t have described it that way, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. There was something about the way the egg and mayonnaise interacted with the sweet mortadella that made me think of Cantonese char sui sausages. It wasn’t bad. But it was the least compelling of all the dishes we tried (which further reinforces my belief that if you let the chef choose, you’ll usually get his/her best dishes). The “Huckleberry Brioche,” a pillowy, soft pastry (actually, it was like very fine focaccia) paved with crème fraîche and warmed blueberries (which bled their berry goodness into the creamy spread), was a stunning and simple end. It was accompanied by a dip of house-made yogurt ice cream on a bed of white chocolate shavings. Tart, with a mellow, sweet middle note, this dessert was balanced and tidy and one of the ten best desserts I had in 2008. The kitchen has a keen sense of portioning. I’m not just talking about the overall portion sizes of the courses, which, at nine plus a supplement, were perfect. More so, I’m referring to the proportions of the ingredients on the plate. At high-end restaurants, the last few bites of a dish leave me wanting far more often than they should - the best ingredient or an essential component having disappeared with the initial or second bite. At frasca food and wine, there always seemed to be just the right amount of condiment or just the right amount of accompaniments so that every dish started and ended on the same foot. Without having to ration, the pickled horseradish lasted all the way until my last bite of beef. There was just enough extra yogurt ice cream to account for the attrition due to melting - the scoop promised and delivered one last spoonful to accompanying my last bite of the huckleberry brioche. This level of thoughtfulness (or luck) is rare. So is the service here. It’s spectacular. I'm sure that phoning in a request for a large tasting menu might have raised a flag on our reservation. But I paused between courses and noticed everyone else getting similar treatment around us. But I can only speak of my experience. Our service ranked up there with Jean Georges and le Cinq for one of the three best restaurant services I experienced in 2008. Not since my meal at Charlie Trotter in 1994 have I witnessed such ballet-like movement among the staff. Graceful, efficient, and elegant, we were greeted and treated graciously from head to toe. The servers and service here are sharp and snappy. I will admit that I was a bit unnerved by the fact that the staff assumed that we would want the white truffle supplement without asking or clarifying the issue at the table(the menus were pre-printed), or telling us how much the supplement would be. But, we didn’t ask and, ultimately, felt that the outcome was fair. The total bill came to $120 for the tasting, plus $60 for the truffles. Together with the wine, supplemented Maine Lobster “Crespella,” tax, and tip, we were staring at a total somewhere in the neighborhood of $240 per person. It wasn’t cheap. But it was certainly a solid meal. Wine service here is also very good. Complimentary flutes of prosecco were presented at the beginning. I asked for two half pours, specifying a red to go with my beef. Both selections were wonderful, especially the Sottimano Langhe Nebbiolo (2006), which was juicy and dark in the best of ways. It was perfect for the beef - especially in concert with the pickled horseradish - and even better with the white truffles and cheese that followed. Watching one of the servers slice bread at a side station was like having a front row seat at the Olympics. Like a lumberjack cutting a stick of butter, he buzzed through a crusty loaf with a bread knife in a matter of seconds, leaving a row of uniformly sized slices. Beyond him, I caught glimpses of the kitchen between door swings. It was like watching a French Michelin-starred kitchen - a row of mute toques working calmly and orderly. ... Given the level at which frasca food and wine performs, the restaurant’s and Chef MacKinnon-Patterson’s success comes as no surprise. The quality of the food - everything from the butter to the house-made chocolates that came with the bill (Manjari 64% bittersweet, to be pedantic) that Fuji and I experienced - and service earns this enterprise every bit of acclaim that it has received, including this enthusiastic post from my corner of cyberspace. frasca food and wine deserved a spot on my list of the ten best meals of 2008.
  3. I really surprised by their lack of understanding of balance in a cocktail. ← Are we basing these comments off of personal, first-hand knowledge, or through-the-screen (or judges' mouths) tasting?
  4. That's what some would say about a tortoise and a hare.
  5. It's not you. He is an ass. I'm amazed at Carla's performance in the past few episodes. I'm happy for her, but surely not convinced that she should win the competition. ← I have loved Carla from the beginning. I won't say that I'm NOT surprised that she's in the final three. And I won't lie and say that I DON'T hope she wins. But I'm afraid all of the signs are pointing to Stefan as the winner. I hope the judges surprise me.
  6. Just to give the benefit of the doubt...perhaps he has rotating specials that aren't shown online. Also, my understanding is that he owns more than one restaurant, and perhaps the one you looked at isn't his flagship.Mind you, I think the difficulty of doing standard Italian cuisine really well is often underestimated. A typical put-down is, "It's a red-sauce joint," as if there were something intrinsically wrong with that. ← Agreed. He does corporate catering, which probably limits him in some way. That is, I'm sure he's not able to indulge his creative/authentic Italian side as much he might like.
  7. I'm a complete disaster in this area, so I'll let others speak. All I know is that I like what I like. Since you specify "top-end restaurants," I''ll venture a yes, more or less.
  8. ← To me, that's almost the perfect size for dinner, anyway. Thanks for this, weinoo!
  9. That might be limiting in some respects, but I'm sure that's where wine directors/sommeliers become especially helpful.
  10. I'm wondering if anyone agrees with this sentiment. I think I do, and I also think it's why shows like Top Chef and anything with a competition in it are so popular. ← Is it just me, or is this review shorter (word count) than most?
  11. Cream-based sauce?
  12. I am not sure what you're comparing it to, because Bouley currently is offering fewer choices than any comparable restaurant, and no one yet has suggested it is better than all of the comparable restaurants—JG or LeB, for instance. ← Why not compare it to itself? That is, is the food at the new Bouley, with a shorter menu, better (in whatever terms you think of food being "better") than the food at the old Bouley, which had a longer (in my opinion, somewhat rambling), menu? What I'm getting at is, in my experience with restaurants in general, a shorter menu often means that the food and kitchen are more focused. I'm not saying that this is the case with the new Bouley. I merely stated above that the fact that the new Bouley has a shorter menu is more of an incentive than a deterrent for me to return.
  13. I know exactly the musty wet rag smell you speak of. That's really a shame to hear.
  14. I always wonder if somethings are staged. This and the fridge breaking down on the Christmas show and no one went home. Just seems too set up. ← Ever since the producers of Twenty One got caught cheating in the 1950s, people have always suspected that game shows are staged. The blow to their credibility if it were discovered would be incalculable. And among the large number of crew who work on that show, it would take only one to spill the beans. The chances of pulling it off are low.The Christmas show was a celebrity event for a large number of guests. If you were going to stage an incident that threatens to wreck the food, is that the time you would do it? Sometimes, shit happens. I agree that this week's knife drawing was a remarkable coincidence, but even here, there are clues it was random chance. By winning the quickfire, Carla won the right to exchange knives with any chef she wanted. If it were staged, why would you set it up so that Carla draws the knife she already wanted? All of those dishes were classics, meaning that any of the chefs could have prepared them with equal probability of success or failure. Fabio and Stefan, it's true, won unusually lucky pairings, but that could easily happen even without the producers' intervention. ← Right. And, I might add, there wasn't anything inherently Italian about a roast chicken and nothing inherently Swedish about roasted salmon with potatoes and spinach. Now, if it had been chicken cacciatore and hot-smoked salmon with dill, respectively, then perhaps you might say that Fabio and Stefan got a leg up on cultural familiarity.
  15. The reaction to Stephan's preparation was practically unanimous, which suggests that he cooked it beyond the point that any chef would consider reasonable. ← Stefan.
  16. Are these actual nominees, or sort of, nominees to be nominees? ← These are semifinalists. From these, five will be chosen to move on to the finalist list. That list is supposed to be announced sometime in March.
  17. They're called spoilers for a reason, though. I'm not sure I would find the show more enjoyable if I got to see more of city but had read or heard about most of what had happened already by way of gossip columns, blogs, etc.
  18. I'm glad you brought that up. I pulled that book off my shelf last night during the show because I was curious to see how many of them matched up. As I said upthread, Lidia probably chose roast chicken because it reveals the true worth of a chef. Same with Dufresne with the egg. What culinary student DOESN'T know about the famous (and harrowing) omelet test? By the way, did anyone catch HOW Fabio broke his finger? ← In that book, by the way, Jacques Pepin's last supper would be: I think - if for no other outstanding reason - EATING this meal would cause it to necessarily be anyone's last. Goodness.
  19. I'm glad you brought that up. I pulled that book off my shelf last night during the show because I was curious to see how many of them matched up. As I said upthread, Lidia probably chose roast chicken because it reveals the true worth of a chef. Same with Dufresne with the egg. What culinary student DOESN'T know about the famous (and harrowing) omelet test? By the way, did anyone catch HOW Fabio broke his finger?
  20. I'm assuming cut into strips, breaded and fried? Was the mustard sweet at all, or was it just full on vinegar and nasal pick?
  21. I would say the ability to do classics well is a major part of being a successful culinary student. The ability to improvise, create and interpret classics is a major part of being a successful chef. ← Then it seems we have a lot of entry-level culinary students on this show, don't we?
  22. I do not scoff at roast chicken, I love it, and agree that it is challenging to execute correctly. Nor do I scoff at an omelet as a test of a COOK. But being a CHEF is about more than being able to bang out perfect execution. That's the absolute minimum skill set that should be required to even be in the running. Every single contestant should be able to do that... The fact that what the judges appear to be looking for is perfect execution of simple dishes is exactly my point: I think it's a BS criterion for choosing a top chef. They had all damned well better be at that level. So stop constructing challenges that can be won by perfect execution without thought given to any level of creativity. But unfortunately, as we have seen, too many of the cheftestants DON'T have fundamental techniques in their pockets. We've seen everything from a butchered (instead of filleted) fish to an ill-trussed leg of lamb (even I can do that!) to watery Hollandaise... It seems to me that there is a problem with younger generation chefs these days - hyper-creativity and no soul... and even less basic skills. But, after all, this IS a reality show.
  23. For personality: Carla
  24. Thank you. And it is exactly what Lidia ordered. Next time you get exactly what you order, and it's exactly perfect, and it's in a restaurant, please let us know. Why do those who scoff at the roast chicken think it not odd that a French chef will ask someone to cook an omelet as a test of his/her skills? ← In fact, I don't doubt that that is why Lidia chose it - albeit a daring one to ask for if the scenario were real. I wouldn't want to risk that kind of disappointment for my last meal. And, it's all that much harder to do with a broken finger.
  25. Ameretti. The amerreti cubes. Ameretti is made from stone fruit pits. ← For what it's worth, here's what I thought of that (fantastic) dish:
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