David Ross

There's a lot of discussion here right now over who will the the "Next Iron Chef America." But let's back-up to the actual show itself--the Chef's, (and sometimes the judges), certainly give us enough cannon fodder to lob a few volleys in their direction. When I saw the preview this evening for tonight's episode, "Cora vs. Walzog," it immediately took me back to a horrific dinner I had at SW Steakhouse last May. Chef Walzog holds down the kitchen at SW Steakhouse at the Wynn--purportedly the highest grossing restaurant in Las Vegas for both food and wine. (Those statistics are of course based on the Las Vegas casino/resort style of accounting). The low-point of the dinner in May was a $46.00 grilled veal chop that was absolutely raw. The black grill marks must have been painted on with a magic marker because there was zero evidence that a flame had even touched this piece of meat. And what a shame. The Chef was in the kitchen that night and when he came to our table, he gasped in horror at the havoc that had been wrought on that plate-shards of meat cut into bits in search of just one little tidbit that was cooked. My dining companion, a local, told me that Chef Walzog apologized for days after the veal disaster. He really didn't need to apologize--he should have made sure the veal was cooked properly in the first place. Apparently the Chef wasn't watching over his crew on the line closely enough that evening. It will be interesting to see what "secret ingredient" the Chairman will choose for Cora and Walzog tonight. Let's just hope it isn't veal. Edit to add that the episode was shot months ago, far in advance of our dinner at SW Steakhouse last May. Maybe we just caught Chef Walzog and crew on an off night and he really is an "Iron Chef."

I vary the ingredients I add to my fried rice, but the one thing I don't ever vary is the technique I use for cooking the rice. I typically use Basmati rice--probably not the first choice of most home cooks. I prefer the long-grains and the earthy scent of Basmati rice. I soak and rinse the rice in at least 5 changes of water to remove as much starch as possible before I cook the rice in a basic rice steamer. After the rice cools down, I cover the rice and let it sit overnight to allow the rice to chill down and any remaining starch to set back down. On day two, I'll separate the chilled rice in my fingers so that I'm not faced with big chunky rice balls. I was getting frustrated in recent years when I cooked fried rice because it continually came out "soggy" and just didn't have the same texture as fried rice from a restaurant. (Obviously I didn't realize that it was probably due to the fact that I don't have a high-output flame heating the wok on my home stove). My cooking technique may sound a bit odd, but it seems to work for me in coming close to replicating the fried rice I find in restaurants. I heat a large, non-stick skillet over high heat. No oil, no butter no fat, just a dry, non-stick skillet. Then in goes the rice for a blast of dry heat. The rice gets a little crusty and a few black, charred bits on it--just the way I like it. I stir the rice around just for a minute or two, then in goes the garnishes--ham, egg, chinese sausage, shrimp, carrots, whatever. Next in the pan is a few dashes of sesame oil and a slug of soy sauce. On a rare occasion I'll add a dash of rice wine or Chinese black vinegar. I always finish my fried rice with a scattering of peas and chopped green onion.

Jen blew it, plain and simple. Given her background, she surely knows the standing of Chef Moonen and his regard for seafood. She must have at least considered the fact that given her background and association with Chef Ripert that Chef Moonen and the judges would have expected more. Yet rather than push herself to do a more creative and challenging seafood dish, she chose a pedestrian treatment of a common trout dish. The trout dish looked horrific, (it was kindly described as "beige"). But the presentation was merely a precursor for the tasting comments of the judges--a terrible dish with a broken sauce. I agree with the thrust of Collichio's comments about Jen's trout--that Chef Ripert would have been very disappointed in her poor effort. Her emotional reaction to the judges comments bore out the fact that she was disappointed in herself. Unfortunately, disappoint doesn't win out in the end. Top Chef is a competition that is quite unusual and in many ways different than the day-to-day challenges the Chefs face in their restaurant kitchens. I would agree with those who say that a "competition" Chef is not necessarily a great "restaurant" Chef and vice versa. I mean really, how often will a "Top Chef" cook over an open campfire in the desert outside the Las Vegas city limits? Maybe Jen falls somewhere in the middle of that pack--a talented Chef in a restaurant setting that doesn't hold up well to the stress and challenges of a competition? I don't know, but it's a point worth considering. However, history demonstrates each year that "Restaurant Wars" is probably the one challenge that most clearly gauges the overall abilities of the Chefs to prove themselves in the same type of environment they face every day in the "real world." Unfortunately, history also shows that each year the weak can't stand the heat of the kitchen during "Restaurant Wars" and that's often an ominous sign for the final weeks of the competition.

Good Lord! What's scary is that when I first viewed your photo, I thought it actually looked like a baby suckling pig--like some sort of dwarf piglet that you'd normally see in a jar in a biology class! Is it just me or does anyone else see that little ear, closed eye and snout? I guess you've got something porcine there, but I'm just not convinced it's the foot of Mr. Porky!

The technique of cooking foods low and slow in the oven is often over-shadowed by the more popular association with the term--"low and slow" is usually a definition applied to championship barbecue. But low and slow cooking in the oven produces juicy meat that literally falls off the bone and is every bit as tender and delicious as a barbecued brisket. The technique for low and slow oven cooking is very easy. Once you've decided on the meat and the cooking vessel, (tagines, claypots and French enamel-ware casseroles are just a few), you basically add liquid, herbs, spices and vegetables and let time to do the work. I suppose the biggest challenge for me when I cook a dish "low and slow" in the oven is the anticipation of waiting upwards of 8 hours for dinner to arrive at the table. As the low temperatures dipped into the upper teens last week, I decided to cover the barbecue smoker on the patio and go indoors for some "low and slow" cooking in the oven. I had been holding onto a French recipe for a seven-hour roasted leg of lamb that I knew would be perfect for this cooking method. The recipe called for white wine as the base of the braising liquid, but I was looking for heartier flavors so I chose a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and veal stock for my dish. To accent the rich flavors of the lamb and red wine, I added the spicy perfume of black peppercorns and fresh juniper berries to the mix of herbs that would flavor my lamb. It's impossible to find a whole, bone-in leg of lamb in my local supermarkets this time of year. The leg of lamb I found was boneless or butterflied--not a cut that I would recommend for low and slow cooking. I needed the whole haunch of lamb for my dish. The bone gives the meat flavor and acts as the clothes pin to keep the meat held together during the long, arduous cooking time. I decided upon a free-range Australian leg of lamb that I ordered through D'Artagnan. I appreciated the fact that the leg of lamb was left with a decent outer layer of fat--not as thick of a layer as I would have preferred had I butchered the lamb myself, but certainly more fat than I would have found on a supermarket "super-trimmed" leg of lamb. The leg weighed about 7 1/2 pounds- I seared the leg of lamb in olive oil in a large roasting pan- The flavors for the lamb came from fresh sage, thyme, rosemary, black peppercorns and juniper berries- I liberally seasoned the lamb with salt, pepper and crushed juniper berries. The braising liquid was a blend of one bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a cup of veal stock and about 3 cloves of whole, peeled garlic- I covered the lamb with foil and let it roast at 275 for 6 hours, basting the lamb with the pan juices every 30 minutes during the cooking time. I then uncovered the leg of lamb for the last hour of roasting. To accompany the lamb I chose a traditional French side dish of stewed white beans--in this case, Great Northern beans. I stewed the beans in the oven during the last three hours of the lamb cooking time. The braising liquid for the beans included veal stock and water and a bouquet garni of bay leaf, thyme, sage, rosemary, and black peppercorns- After seven hours of cooking "low and slow" in the oven, a thing of beauty emerged- A quick sear and flash in the oven is certainly an accepted cooking technique that we all use on a regular basis, but the less popular "low and slow" oven cooking technique is the only method that will deliver this delicious result- I've got a "Duck Civet" recipe from Daniel Boulud that I think would be quite good cooked "low and slow" in my oven and so that will be on the shopping list for next week. What dishes do you like to cook "low and slow" in the oven? Do you have specific side dishes you serve with a meat cooked "low and slow?" Do you find a certain cooking vessel works better than another? Do you keep the dish covered for the entire "low and slow" cooking time? How do you keep the meat from becoming too dry? Let's hear, and see, your best "low and slow" dishes cooked in the oven.

I'd like to add another note about the yield of meat from a Dungeness Crab. According to my fish guy, and proven through my own experiences, deep-water Dungeness crabs fished out of the Pacific are larger in size with harder shells than the crabs harvested out of bays. The deep-water crabs tend to have firmer meat and a slightly higher ratio of meat to shell. In the end though, I'd agree with what the folks at the Oregon Dungeness Crab Commission report--expect no more than about a 25% yield--regardless of where the crabs live. The Dungeness Crab season in Oregon and Washington typically begins on December 1, weather and conditions permitting. We avoid buying Dungeness this time of year, preferring to wait a couple more months until the season opens and the first, fresh crabs start to show up in our markets.

If you have the bucks, try Bartolotta Ristorante di Mare at Wynn for fresh seafood flown in from the Mediterreanean. The cafe at RM Seafood at Mandalay Bay is a casual place for fish in a bar, cafe type setting. The upstairs bar at RM serves small plates of seafood. I believe the main dining room is still closed due to the poor economic conditions in town. I'd avoid the seafood at Michael Mina at Bellagiw--overly priced, somewhat contrived "trios" of seafood dishes. One advantage,however, of dining at Mina is the fact that they have some of the best pastries and desserts in town.

Last night was the launch of my annual return to cooking wild game each fall. I've been nervous about the availability of wild game this year. I had been visiting the D'Artagnan website regularly since mid-August and the wild Scottish game I enjoy every year was listed as "out of season." I was worried that I had missed the season or that something had happened to the supply of wild Scottish game birds. When I returned to the D'Artagnan site earlier this week I found that the availability of wild game had returned, so I quickly ordered, among other things, a wild Scottish grouse. The Scottish birds procured by D'Artagnan roam free in the Northern Highlands and are harvested during weekend hunts on private estates. As you can imagine, wild game from Scotland, hunted naturally and then processed and shipped to the U.S. within two days of the hunt, are not cheap. D'Artagnan currently lists the wild Scottish grouse at $43.99 per bird. But if you are a gourmand with a taste for wild game, and it's a once-a-year treat, then I certainly think the flavor is worth the cost. The grouse are delivered fresh: The wingtips are cut off the bird and the heart and liver are left inside the cavity. I would have used the liver, but it was terribly small and I had other plans for using another form of poultry liver in the dish. You do need to carefully go over the bird before cooking as there tends to be feathers and pin feathers that need plucking. As evidence that the grouse was harvested by the hunt, be careful of the buckshot: I seasoned the cavity with salt, pepper and sprigs of fresh rosemary, thyme and oregano. Since wild birds have little fat, slices of bacon simply placed on top of the breasts add fat during cooking to keep the birds moist. I typically leave the bacon on for the first half of the roasting process and then remove the bacon during the second half of cooking so that the skin can get browned. NOTE: wild birds have very thin skin so while it will brown, it won't necessarily get "crisp" like the skin of a domestically raised duck. Here is the grouse ready for about 20 minutes in a 450 oven: I served the roasted grouse whole, accompanied by a Huckleberry Compote. If you've followed my posts, you know that I savor the wild Northwest huckleberry as one of nature's most rare and delicious berries--a berry that grows wild and has to be harvested by hand. The huckleberry is one of the staple foods of bears, yet I imagine that grouse, partridge, chukar and quail most likely find the berry a source of energy. This year's crop of huckleberries was sweet yet tart, uniquely fragrant and the perfect accompaniment to the rich dark meat of the grouse: I decided to do a take on the traditional dish of roasted grouse served on a crouton spread with a pate made from the bird's liver. In addition to the grouse, my order from D'Artagnan included Foie Gras Mousse with Black Truffles. The plan was to serve little "Foie Gras Sandwiches" with the grouse. I used a biscuit cutter to cut small rounds out of a loaf of homemade white bread. The bread was very light, almost like a feather pillow. When I pushed the cutter through the bread, it sort of crimped down on the edges, forming the little rounds into the shape of a macaroon cookie. While unintentional, it worked out beautifully as the rounds of bread made for perfect little "sandwiches" to serve with the grouse: The grouse was delicious, and the huckleberry compote is probably what I would call my "signature" recipe. But those little sandwiches, toasted in butter and holding Foie Gras and Black Truffle were fabulous. And when I topped the "sandwich" with a spoon of the huckleberry compote, I found what I think I'll call my second-best "signature" recipe.

I'm with the cranky group that's not all to happy with the Producer's for not showing a new episode this week. It just adds to my aggravation of when they run two or three previous episodes to build up to the week's new show. It seems to me that they are teetering on losing viewer interest by changing up the schedule format, but maybe they have some chart on a piece of cardboard with arrows and graphs showing this is a profitable way to air a reality cooking competition.

I'll second the vote for CUT. The steaks are very good, and it's the sides that set it apart. Instead of "creamed spinach," think of "bone marrow custard." The decor is a bit too stainless steel and "moedaarn" for me and the 80's rock music is midly annoying, but the service and steaks more than make up for those minor quibbles. Try to ignore the waiters when they roll out a cart with linen wrapped beef. Things have gotten so crazy in Las Vegas that now they are featuring not just one type of Kobe, but various grades and various price ranges. All overly expensive. Their Midwest beef, dry-aged and either grass-fed or corn-fed, is really quite delicious at a fraction of the cost of that fatty stuff. Craftsteak at the MGM is also a very good steakhouse. Like CUT, what seems to set Craftsteak apart are the sides like roasted wild mushrooms and desserts based on seasonal fruits. It is not your cookie cutter style, chain steakhouse.

I agree, and I think you've pointed out what I see as the keys to the Quickfire Challenges--how to present a dish that fits within the time constraints of the challenge and using techniques that lend themselves to quick preparations. That has to be balanced with a consideration for the "theme" of the Quickfire. Applying those principles by selecting the appropriate, and unique, ingredients seems to be what makes the difference in who loses and who wins.

Let me add that I don't discount how wonderfully delicious a "Crudo" can be. Last week I tasted three different plates of "Crudo" in a local restaurant that were fabulous. Two of the crudo were especially good--one using fresh escolar, the other using geoduck clam. I use that example because a crudo can be delicious, and innovative, if the Chef uses just a bit of whimsy and uses a variety of seafood that we don't typically associate with crudo. Scallops, not so innovative--but geoduck is a more unusual shellfish that can push a dish to a higher level. And of course, I qualify my comments by stating that I'm not aware of what the Chefs had at their hands to work with for the Quickfire. (And live, fresh geoduck probably wasn't available at Whole Foods in Las Vegas in May). Wasn't it just a few years back that Hung did that wonderfully creative dish of geoduck and chicken? Sometimes just one ingredient or one simple technique is what separates a "Chef" from a "Top Chef."

It would be interesting to actually know what the Chef's do have waiting for them in the larder. Yet if we are correct that there are foodstuffs other than scallops available, isn't it really a question of the Chef's showing their creativity and presenting the absolutely best dish possible under the time constraints and limitations of the Quickfire? If you share my opinion that it is quite reasonable for the judges to expect a very high level of innovation within the challenge-then it seems to follow that scallops, ceviche, raw tuna or pasta salad fall far short of what one should expect from a "Top Chef." I personally don't think that slicing a raw scallop, garnishing it with a few chives, a drizzle of olive oil and serving it with a lemon wedge, (Jennifer's "Angel" portion of her scallop dish), is anything more than a pedestrian effort to race through and get the dish out to the judges.

I subscribe to Bon Appetit, Saveur and Food and Wine. I also buy BBC Food at a local bookstore. I cut my subscription to Gourmet, although I will buy it at the newstand if the feature piece interests me. On occasion I'll get a complimentary copy of another food magazine looking for my business. I suppose somewhere along the way I've put down "food and cooking" as one of my hobbies on an internet form so the food magazines come knocking on my door. Saveur is, for my tastes, far and away the best magazine for people seriously interested in food, the traditions and history of food, where our foods come from and how they are cooked. The current issue has a fabulous feature piece on lamb. Issues in the past have featured pieces as far ranging as the noted Food Writer Clementine Paddleford and the cuisine of Trader Vic's. I happen to be a student of the history of cuisine and eating in America, so I suppose that's why I prefer Saveur because it focuses more on my interests in food. And I love the decidely non-trendy photos of the food in Saveur. The Editors have wisely chosen to showcase dishes in their natural state--if the juices from a Blackberry Cobbler ooze and seep over the sides of the dish during baking, that's what you see in the final photo--they don't wipe off all the spills drips, drops and crumbs. I remember a piece in Saveur about old-fashioned butchers. The knives the butchers used were obviously not new, nor did they look to be very sharp. But those natural, unadulterated photos of old butcher's knives is the image that tied the written word to one's memories of why we miss old-style butcher shops. The other magazines just don't portray food and cooking in such a personal way.

Yeah, and even then Colicchio spit out some of the ceviche. Yuck.

Did anyone catch a glimpse of any type of mobile refrigeration unit at the camp? I didn't. All I saw were their trusted coolers on wheels. I doubt that a cooler filled with ice would safely hold seafood overnight in the intense heat of the Las Vegas desert. I'm wondering if the Producers hid a mobile refrigerator hooked up to a generator or something. I don't really care to eat ceviche in the desert and I certainly don't want to eat it if the fish wasn't kept properly chilled before it was prepared. Anyone see any sort of refrigeration unit outside of the portable tailgate coolers?

Recently we split some of the posts in this topic discussing customer attire at Eleven Madison Park into a new discussion topic, "Restaurant Dress Codes and Attire Is it appropriate in the age of "casual?" which you can find here.

It seems that we are living in a much less formal age when it comes to the attire of customers in fine dining establishments today. Recently, the discussions in the Eleven Madison Park topic focused in on this issue of whether or not a certain level of dress is appropriate when one is dining in a high-end restaurant. Should the apparel of the customers meet the expectations of the sophisticated food on the plate seems to be the question. (There is another topic that was inspired by the Eleven Madison Park discussions, “Rating a Restaurant, What criteria are fair game?” here. ) I’m a product of a generation where fine-dining restaurants regularly posted dress codes, yet somewhere in the past 25 years or so, it seems the culture has moved to one where men can comfortably wear dockers and a golf shirt while dining on caviar and foie gras served by Waiters wearing expensive Armani suits. The previous posts speak to this issue as it relates to Eleven Madison Park, but it’s a separate topic that is ripe for discussion on its own. Are the restaurant dress codes of the past appropriate today and secondly, should customers feel compelled to “dress-up” when they are patrons in a fine dining restaurant?

It was a pretty big week for Las Vegas when you consider that Top Chef was being filmed and "Vegas Uncork'd" was going on. I can imagine the PR and coordination that had to have taken place behind the scenes to bring all the schedules together at one place and time. Colicchio was doing Top Chef during the day and then did a book signing at an event at "Uncork'd" in the evening. Guy Savoy, Robuchon and Alain Ducasse we're all in town for "Uncork'd"--and Robuchon also judged Top Chef. For a few days in May, some of the greatest Chefs we know were in Las Vegas.

By far my favorite Top Chef episode of any season-largely due to the fact that I was in Las Vegas on the days that they were filming the "French" episode and so I've been anticipating seeing this one since last May. I was in town attending "Vegas Uncork'd," and had the pleasure of meeting Robuchon at a private event at L'Atelier. (You can read my report here ). I was surprised that Robuchon voiced the words "I don't speak English very well" at the Top Chef table. Trust me when I tell you that he doesn't speak any discernible English as far as I could tell when I met him. (Maybe he's really just fooling us all). The filming of the "French" episode began in the morning and carried into the late afternoon. That evening, the last day of "Uncork'd," I joined some friends for dinner at a very off-off-off Strip Asian restaurant. One of the French Chefs who was on the judging panel joined us and he told me that all of the judges, including Robuchon, were very impressed with the talents of the young Chefs who presented the top dishes. And yes, all were incredibly nervous--which of course is understandable under the pressure of any Top Chef challenge--add to that pressure the presence of Robuchon at the table and the stress quotient increased by a considerable amount. Would you want to craft a bernaise and serve it to Robuchon? My favorite dish of the episode wasn't really the star on the plate-it was that tiny, little puffball Pommes Souffle that Bryan gently tilted next to the trout. Une petite pomme de terre délicieuse.

Wow, great tip about the dental floss. Thanks, I'll add that to my pastry rolling techniques.

It's very easy: 2 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 cup cake flour 1 tbsp. sugar 1 tsp. salt 1 stick salted butter, chilled 1/2 cup Crisco 1/3 cup ice water Blend the dry ingredients together and then add the chilled butter and Crisco. Cut the butter and shortening into the flour using a pastry cutter until the butter and shortening are the size of small peas. Add the ice water, stirring into the dough with a fork, until the dough starts to come together and you can easily form it into a ball. Wrap the dough with plastic wrap and chill for at least one hour before rolling out. NOTE: Sometimes I'll add a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar. It gives the finished crust flavor and it helps make the crust flaky. When I start the process of rolling, I shape the chilled dough ball into a small circle/slab with my hands. I then place it on the floured pine board work surface and I start rolling from the center outward. I turn the dough a quarter turn, dust with flour a bit and keep rolling/turning until I get a basic circle large enough for my pie pan. I like my pastry crust fairly thick, so I'll roll the dough out to just under 1/4" thick.

That's a very good point-keeping the dough cold. I make a dough with a mix of both butter and Crisco so given that high content, it tends to naturally roll out very well and might roll out well immediately after mixing. I haven't taken the chance and so I chill the dough after mixing so the butter can cool down. I chill the dough in the refrigerator for at least an hour before rolling. Then I'll take it out of the fridge and let it sit on the counter about 15 minutes to soften before I roll it out. It's still cool, just not bone chilling cold. I try to limit the amount of flour I use to dust the pastry dough while rolling it out because I don't want too much extra flour making my pie crust too gluey or dry.

Since we are in the midst of the end-of-Summer fruit season--and looking to the Fall crop of pears, peaches and pumpkins, I thought it would be a good time to discuss the best techniques for rolling pastry dough into the perfect pie crust. While I vary the fillings for my pies, I always use exactly the same recipe and technique for my pastry dough--including the method I use for rolling out the dough. I use a heavy, marble rolling pin. Somewhere over the years the handles and the middle "axle" in the rolling pin broke and fell by the wayside. Not to worry, the marble rolling pin soldiers on. I cover the rolling pin with a cotton cloth cover that was my Mother's and is probably over 50 years old. Yes, through the years of being dusted with flour and the occasional turn in the washing machine, the cloth cover endures. If I use a rolling pin "bare" the dough seems to stick. With the cover, dusted in flour, sticking is never a problem. I roll my pastry dough on a pine board that I cut and placed on top of one of my kitchen counters. It's not the most pretty of countertops, but it's sort of "rustic" looking. With a dusting of flour, pastry dough never sticks to my trusted pine board. I suppose my techniques are a bit unconventional--but they work. I get incredibly soft pastry dough that is very easy to move over from the rolling pin/board to the pie dish. What techniques do you use for rolling pastry dough into pie crust?

Forgive me but I'm still stuck on Cheftestant Jesse's lip piercings. For some odd reason I keep envisioning undercooked chicken and unsanitary lip piercings. Ugh. Once I get beyond that phobia I'll get back on track with critiquing the chefs. My early season favorites to get far in the competition are Kevin, Jennifer and Bryan with Eli and Robyn as my darkhorse candidates. Bryan has the technique down, but doesn't seem to show what I would call the "WOW" factor so far. Pretty plates, tasty food, nothing overly memorable. It's like eating at a dining room in a Four Season's Hotel. You know the food will be good, it's expensive and it looks nice on the plate, but was it really a memorable dish?