Dave the Cook

I had an extraordinary dinner at Blais last night. Since some of my comments would be superfluous, I'll only note where I have something to add. It's interesting that Blais continues to tinker with both the dishes and the menu. Some of this, no doubt is due to sourcing, but much of it also has to be the application of a philosophy of continuous refinement. ***** Piper Sonoma sparkling brut NV Chicken skin, country gravy, pickled collards Iced tea three ways At first I was not impressed. The solid stuff (Meyer lemon gel and a capsule of honey) stuck at the bottom, ruining the effect. Perhaps I didn't drink it as quickly as I should have. On the other hand, when it was done, I wanted more. Asparagus in parmesan mousse with caramel topping Fried calamari with whipped harissa and paprika I'm not a fan of calamari, but I could have eaten a dozen of these. The harissa was excellent. Sangria three ways with apple chip: foam/reduced/gel with fruit cubes A perfect follow-up to the calamari. According to the staff, Blais is an insomniac, and one of the things he does when he's up all night is play random games with a dehydrator. The amazingly thin but flavorful apple chip is one of the pleasant results, as are the dried capers that appear in a couple of other dishes. Oyster with cocktail sorbet For me, the most dissapointing dish of the evening. Not that it wasn't good -- it was. This was the tiniest oyster I'd ever seen, with a spot of vermillion sorbet. It was over before I knew it. I don't want to overstate my disappointment -- this was a gift from the kitchen, and what was there was tasty. But perhaps the tasting menu is not the best way to "get" this dish -- you probably need three to five of these things. Barely-smoked hamachi (carpaccio), cucumber/radish brunoise, yuzu mayonnaise Muscadet Sevre et Main sur Lie - Chateau de Chasselour ‘01, "Cuvee des Ceps Centenaires" I'm not overly fond of raw or underdone fish, but this one grew on me. Very subtle. I thought that this was the one mismatched wine of the evening; unfortunately, I didn't write down why in my notes. Vitello Tonnato: braised pulled veal salad in sushi-style roulade of sashimi tuna, four sauces Vermentino di Sardegna “Aragosta” ‘02 More raw fish, so it was a surprise for me to realize that I had forgotten to try the wine in my haste to scarf this down. Too bad: based on the one bite I had left, it was an excellent pairing. This is where I discovered the dried capers. Chef Blais should bottle these things and sell them on the way out the door. Japanese Fluke, almond gnocchi, haricot verts, orange rind, dried capers Chappelet Old Vine Cuvee Chenin Blanc ‘00 The staff told me that this was one of the most popular dishes on the menu, and I can see why. It struck me as a revision of good old Meuniere, with a nod towards that other standby, Trout Amandine. I lost my taste for crunchy, undone green beans a few years ago, but the way these were done reminded me of why, for some veggies, it's still a good idea, and they were a good textural contrast with the softness of the rest of the dish. Black Sea Bass, cauliflower two ways, smoked apple, "burnt" foie gras Gewurztraminer d’Alsace, Domaines Schlumberger “fleur” ‘02 Frankly, it seemed like a random act of plating. But the flavors came together as the consumption progessed, a high tangy note of pickled cauliflower corresponding almost perfectly to the baritone of the foie and accompanying wine reduction, and the salty fish with its crisp skin making a surprise of the sweet, musky apple. How do they do that foie -- on the grill pan that comes with Kitchen Barbie? The tiniest quadrillage you can imagine. The soft pillow was a 1/8 scale repoduction of a half lobe. Very clever. Pink Duck Breast, Vanilla Reduction, Turnip Puree, with orange-anise-espresso vapor Pinot Noir, Ninth Island, Tasmania '03 Because I'd been wanting to try this wine, I snuck a taste of it as soon as it was poured. I wasn't impressed, and I was glad that I hadn't spring for a full bottle at the package store. Then the food came, introduced as an homage to Chef Achatz's rosemary vapor. I was dubious. I also think the now-conventional wisdom of cooking duck breast rare is wrong. So this dish came to the table down three strikes already. Now, I still think underdone duck is overrated -- unless it's cooked by Chef Blais, and maybe then only in this dish. But it certainly worked here, and the whole contraption: the awkward plating to accomodate the vapor generation; the at-first odd selection of aroma components (note that they are not expressly duplicative of what's in the food); and the wine selection, were amazing. Each component reinforced the next -- the vanilla reduction, combined with the orange and anise in the vapor, brought out the previously muted overtones of the wine, which helped you catch the espresso, which underscored the bit of gaminess in the duck, which supported the earthiness of the turnips. A triumph. Dynamic Beef Duo, salsify-bacon puree, porcini, horseradish foam Madiran, Chateau de Perron '00 Many of my favorite things, all on one plate. The duo was a thickish slice of beef filet roasted perfectly rare, adorned with horseradish; and a chunk of braised short rib in a puddle of demiglace/wine reduction. If you never understood the attraction of one cut of meat over the other, you will after you try this dish, with its swapped garnishes. I appreciated the sides as commentary, but the porcini, while perfectly cooked, lacked the 'shroomy depth that I wanted, and the puree was overpowered by the beef, particularly the short rib. Perhaps my tastebuds had become fatigued. Still, this dish is astounding for the beef and its accoutrements alone. (The Lagouile knife, after the succession of demitasse spoons that mark the early part of the dinner, was a welcome sight, though not really necessary.) Porto/Tawny, Dow's 10-year Parsnip Cake with cream cheeses ice cream and pear compote Oozing chocolate, black olive ice cream, red wine jelly I don't care for olives, unless they've been pressed into service as oil, but I liked this ice cream. And like several of the savory dishes, the juxtaposition of flavors and textures is intelligent, informative and entertaining. White chocolate/white truffle milkshake Yum. Fudgesicle lollipop A room-temperature version of the childhood favorite, and dead-on as to flavor and texture. It fell apart. Tang This is served in the same deep, elongated dish as the oozing chocolate trio, but a piece of plastic film has been stretched across the rim, then trimmed very carefully, so that the cube of jellied Tang seems to float above the center of the dish, a witty salute to the space program that's typical of Blais' approach. And it's just perfect: that nostalgic acid punch, that slight undissolved grit, the tease of citrus that kept you drinking Tang -- because you always expected that he next glass would really taste orange. Even though I was expecting all of this, it was hard not to smile. ***** Here's the kicker: including the wine flight and tax, the bill was $107, an incredible bargain. I've paid a lot more for food that wasn't nearly this good -- this is serious, three-star NYC stuff, at one-and-a-half star prices. Go now, before Chef Blais comes to his senses.

From this month's Nature: Article here.

Welcome to eGullet, Star-Anise. We've discussed stand mixers a bit. Here is a recent thread that includes some information, plus links to other threads. KitchenAid mixer recommendation Physical appearance and mechanical robustness aside, what will you be doing with it?

I'll not enter this fray, since I haven't been to Carson's in a good ten years, and I don't remember what I ate. I will, however, back up Ronnie in his assertion that FOB is not necessarily the product of boiling or steaming. FOB is the result of the connective tissue having reached the point of collagen-gelatin conversion, whereupon the meat is released from the bone. This can be done a number of ways, including boiling, steaming -- and long, low exposure to a hardwood fire.

For the sake of convenience, here are Katherine's data and notes: Edit: this data was posted with Katherine's permission.

Many thanks, Katherine. This is a great contribution. I'm thinking that I will test your oven method against the results I reported here.

Anything that could contaminate stock will die when boiled. In fact, the vast majority of them die long before the temperature reaches the boling point. So the issue is not one of food safety, it is one of taste. A batch of stock that has been invaded by bacteria can be made safe to consume -- but the stock is now full of dead bacteria, not to mention the er, end product of their consumption of the growth medium you've so thoughtfully provided. Now, some bugs (yeast, for instance) excrete downright tasty things, but it's unlikely to be true of all spores, molds and bacteria. I don't know the flavor profile of staph or salmonella (or staph or salmonella poop), but I suspect it's not better than chicken, and probably not as good as yeast. In any case, the flavor of your contaminated stock is likely to be changed, one way or another. That's why you throw out stock that's been seriously invaded. As for the three-day rule, it seems like a reasonable compromise between convenience and the chance of contamination.

sigh My work here is done.

Read this: Things you can do with your microwave. Sincerely, Department of Shameless Self-promotion P.S. I have to try chestnuts. Thanks for the tip.

There's a fair amount of fat (lighter than water) in the yolk, and some protein (heavier) in the white and a little in the yolk. Most of the rest of an egg is water. The protein and fat balance each other pretty closely. Eggs with proportionately large yolks will hover (as will untethered yolks, as chickenlady discovered); small yolkers sink.

Sam and Brooks, since you like it spicy, try this: Brine your chicken, of course, adding the juice of one lime or lemon and a teaspoon of red pepper sauce to the salt (assuming two quarts of brine). While it's soaking, puree a can of Chipotles in Adobo, sauce and all. Add the juice of one lime or one lemon and let it meld until the chicken is ready. Smear the sauce all over the skin. Roast per your favorite method. I grill it over indirect coals -- you can spatchcock it, but you want it to take a while to cook, so go easy on the heat.

That's a good start, Cory. More specifically, four things characterize Cincinnati chili: 1) Texture: it's nearly uniform, with every bit of stuff ending up about the size of a BB, enrobed in an orange-red sauce. 2) History: it was concocted by Greek immigrants. Both Skyline and Empire, Skyline's main competitor, have been dominated by Greek families, though I don't know if that's still the case. 3) Seasoning: the sweetness to which Cory refers is due mainly to cinnamon. 4) Application: there is an ordering ritual associated with Cincinnati chili parlors. It has to do with what the chili goes on (usually some form of pasta), and what goes on the chili (beans, cheese, onions, etc.) This array has been distilled into a verbal shorthand. I don't recall the exact arrangement, but it results in an order that sounds like a precis for a porn film: "Gimme Chili-Mac, three-way!"

Or the cooking medium. Could hard (i.e. alkaline) water account for what sounds like failure of the white to coagulate properly?

What's your point?

This is what it's going to take. All this talk about theory can only be settled by real-life testing. My pressure cooker is only 4 quarts in size, so it's going to have to be someone else. That and the fact that I'm not a stock person. Right. From a practical standpoint, you need one of these, and unless you do a lot of canning, you probably don't have one. I can't imagine what kind of cooker you'd need for restaurant-sized volumes of stock. But the idea could be tested in a smaller vessel. Are you sure we can't turn you into a temporary stock person?

I have the geese, but it was a present. I also picked up two smaller ones by accident a couple of summers ago when we were in charge of the food concession at the neighborhood pool, and no one claimed them. Richard's on to something, since Rival invented the category. Of my three, two are Rivals, and they've performed flawlessly. I do think the "warm" setting would be helpful, not just for holding food at the end of the cooking time, but as serving pots for stews and such. But just to get a full survey, this appears to be the low end, with this and this representing two different branches of the evolutionary tree. In between, there are crockpots with matching insulated carriers, and aluminum "crock" pots that you can take off the base unit and sitck in the oven so you can, um, slow cook, with them?

I haven't looked real closely, but I think that not all of them are necessarily crockery. In at least one model, you can use the "pot" to start on the stovetop for browning, then move to the basin for slow cooking. I suppose there are also differences in how the heat is applied, and I'd be surprised of there isn't some sort of programmability built in to some of them. But I think you're saying that there's not a lot of difference in how they apply heat, and their intended purpose. in that, you're probably right. OTOH, I don't see why we can't peddle a few insignificant differences into a rousing debate. We've made more of less, I think.

Well, do you want to be able to put a big butt in it? Four to six lamb shanks? Five pounds of onions?

How big?

yes, he's after intensity, which normally you would get through reduction. I admit to being intrigued by this: I've never heard this before, and I wonder what it means, exactly. The problem with gelatin is that collagen doesn't convert instantly, it takes a while for complete rendering. I know that the few pressure-cooked pot roasts I've had lacked the succulent mouthfeel of a two- or three-hour braise for just this reason. Maybe under more liquid conditions, the pressure speeds up conversion -- or maybe what Blumenthal is calling stock is not what I would call stock. Having said all that, if I had a pressure cooker, I'd try it for sure.

If you're going to be up anyway, I'd definitely keep everything together. It sounds great. I love the demi-glace idea. I don't recall precisely, but I seem to remember that even on high, most crockpots hover around 210, with low being about 180.

I'm sure this will make a very decent broth -- the little booklet that comes with your pressure cooker tells you how to do it. As for stock, maybe. Some things that happen while the stock simmers are at least as time-dependent as they are temperature dependent -- the conversion of collagen to gelatin being the first that comes to mind. This is not to say that pressure won't enhance or accelerate the conversion, but Blumenthal doesn't say anything about it, and that makes me wonder. Bruce makes a good point, but if speed is what you're after, Kafka's microwave technique does a decent job in just five to ten minutes.

I'm not sure. I'd be afraid that leaving the lid off overnight might let the stuff dry out too much, unless you're the type that can get up every couple of hours to check it. Maybe let them cook fully, then strain the liquid, reduce it, and add it back?

So?

Gosh, fifi, I'm sorry I didn't see this until now, or I'd have warned you. This is an all-night thing, on low. As in, set it up after the dinner dishes are done, and it will be ready for breakfast.