essvee

Thanks for the tip, meg. I'll check em out.

Sounds like either the dough was a bit too dry, or you didn't knead it long enough, or both.

Thanks Grant. I'm gonna go check it out right now.

Hear hear, Suzanne. I have no interest in eating at El Bulli. It actually sounds kind of disgusting to me.

I just haven't found a good cafe on this side of the bridge yet. The one I'm looking for should be like my favorite in SF, Cafe Macondo in the Mission. I need used furniture, a game selection, a lot of crappy paperbacks, general dilapidation, no loud music and especially no techno music. Coffee is of secondary consideration. You can always add a shot of espresso if the coffee isn't that great. What I need is a mellow place to be comfortable and play chess all afternoon or evening. Any suggestions would be most welcome.

Black Oak Books in Berkeley on Shattuck has a biggish used selection. Moe's Books on Telegraph has amazing used cookbooks. I never buy new so I can't help you there.

How about the recipe, FG?

I was kind of joking and kind of not. I can't make Thanksgiving dinner without Bell's Seasoning and Gravy Master. Gravy Master basically gives the gravy a luscious, rich color, as turkey gravy can often be kind of gray. Makes it taste better by making it look better. Don't use too much, though, or else your gravy will be the color of black coffee. Kitchen Bouquet is the same thing.

Two words. Gravy Master.

No one has mentioned Bugialli and The Fine Art of Italian Cooking. That's a can't miss. I'm very fond of Carlo's Middione's La Vera Cucina and The Foods of Southern Italy. He's a great writer and I want to eat everything he writers about. Michele Scicolone's Italian Holiday Cooking and A Fresh Taste of Italy are both outstanding and unique. And, of course, Marcella is the queen. Her books put me on the path to the cook I am today. It's truly unfortunate that The Classic Italian Cookbook and More Classic Italian Cooking have been condensed into The Essentials. Marcela's Italian Kitchen and her last, Marcella Cucina are just as good but you must start with the first two. Marcella snapped at me once. It was when I was still in the business. I went to see her at the Fancy Food Show; she was pushing Cucina. She did a risotto demo. She looked damn beautiful, no matter that she was 80 at the time and had a withered hand from a stroke. I was near the back, and I asked her in which risottos one should use wine and which one shouldn't. She must not have heard properly and snapped back, "You use it when you need it!" I was embarrassed to bits but I didn't fall out of love with her. I taught myself to handroll pasta from her books almost 20 years ago... snif.

thumbprint cookies. pizza.

Alas, Elyse, I wish I were insane. At least I'd have an explanation... Say hi to your pops for me and tell him someone still remembers the Freakies song.

Out here in the Bay Area, where Hong Kong style is so prevalent, many places don't use soy, or a miniscule amount anyway, not enough to color the rice at all. I like it that way best.

I have to tell you guys. I received a phone call from Chef Manrique himself. Somehow, someone he knew got a hold of this thread and showed it to him, and first the GM and then he called me! I figure they must have been able to find my ticket, as I dated it in the thread, and got my number that way. Anyway, he complimented me very nicely, said that I should be the Chron critic instead of Michael Bauer. What a silver tongued devil, no? And then he said, even better, that he appreciated my criticisms. He and his staff took a look at those dishes, and he said that I was right. He gave me his number and asked if he could buy me a glass of Champagne some time. I didn't tell him I don't drink any more. I'll have a seltzer and bitters and chat him up for a while. How cool is that? Can you believe it? What a generous and lovely thing to do. A very classy man and a great chef. And all because of eGullet.

Hey Elyse! "We are the Freakies, we are the Freakies, and this is our Freakies tree. We never miss a meal, cuz we love our cereal... I can'r remember the rest, but it is absolutely criminal that I remember any of it. I need the room.

Ever seen them big jars of pork fu at the Asian market, or ordered a Viet combo plate that had some on it? That's some pretty dusty stuff, man.

King Vitaman, Freakies, Kaboom!, Super Sugar Crisp, Puffa Puffa Rice. Gone but not forgotten. What am I missing, here, folks? We used to call Capt. Crunch Captain Shrapnel, on account of how it shredded the top of your mouth if you had more than one bowl. And if you are eating it because you have the munchies, one bowl is never enough.

Back in the day, on Boy Scout camping trips, we would lug huge jars of Tang into the woods solely for the purpose of throwing handfuls of it on the fire. It would flame up in psychedelic colors, and we would taunt each other to jump through it and stuff. I tell a lie. We drink drink a little of it too. And we invented Tang sandwiches, Tang sprinkled thickly on a piece of Sunbeam bread and topped with another piece. I seem to remember regarding them as a delicacy back then...

I want to tell you about Chef Manrique's signature dish at Campton Place, poule en pot. (had the name wrong first time round) Two waiters approach the table, one with a small iron pot with a lid, one with a smaller iron pot with a lid. The first waiter whisks off the lid, amazing aroma billows, and shows the diner, with much ceremony, a plump airline breast, stuffed with foie gras, perched on a bed of aromatic vegetables, baby potatoes, and herbs, a tiny bit of broth on the bottom, I think, it has been a few years. Waiter spoons out some potatoes and veg, places breast on said potatoes and veg, moistens plate with a bit of broth. Second waiter places a monkey dish down, containing cubes of foie and crisp fideo noodles, and pours in very hot and rich dark chicken consomme. Completely wonderful, homey and elegant all at once. Chicken moist and flavorful, the foie accenting its lush texture and rich flavor. Very inspired dish, and it showed off Chef Manrique's ability to stay true to country French roots and use luxe ingredients at the same time. In retrospect, I think I would have poured the contents of the monkey dish over the rest of the dish. As it was, I took little sips from it along the way. It was a little too much foie for me, but that was because I had had his other sig dish, foie gras three ways, terrine, salt-cured, and poached with an Armagnac prune in the middle, for an app. The richest thing I may have ever eaten. The man can really cook, folks.

Thanks for the birthday wishes, guys. Being 40 aint so bad, when you get to eat at Aqua every now and then...

I went to Aqua for my 40th birthday last night, and had a very special meal. It's very difficult for me to go fine-dining, and it has been for some years. I hold a fine-dining meal, both food and service, to near-impossible standards, and it's very easy for me to be disappointed. Part of this is due to an over-weary palate, and part is due to my many years as a restaurant cook. If I can make it at home without too much fuss, or worse, if I can make it BETTER at home (this happens far too often), I am going to be really pissed. For that kind of dough, I need to be really impressed with technique, and flavor combinations, and ingredients and such, but I am also a culinary purist (I shudder at the thought of actually eating at El Bulli) and any combinations too exotic or fusion-y repel me. Also, as I've gotten older, the room and the service is very important to me. A fawning waiter, an inattentive waiter, not crumbing the table, the list of transgressions goes on. That being said, dinner at Aqua came close to perfection in a number of ways. The room is nice: high-ceilinged, attractive flowers, subtle hues, indirect lighting that is romantic but not dim, and quiet enough to chat in low voices, but not tomb-like. Pretty busy on a Sunday night; we got there at six because I like some digestive time before bed, but when we left at quarter to nine, the place was jumping. The service was great, attentive, smart. I got a new napkin when I went to the washroom; that kicks ass, mostly they just fold your old one up again. The maitre 'd saw me dabbing at my shirt and brought over a glass of club soda and a napkin, but wasn't obsequious about it. Major kudos. They removed all utensils every time they bussed the table (hate it when they don't do that), and replenished our rolls (warm, crusty, olives!) without our asking. They didn't rush us but cleared the table very soon after we were done. Great work. Onto the food, which was always solid, sometimes spectacular, marred only by a very few unexciting aspects and the sous chef's (Manrique wasn't there on a Sunday) overuse of vinegar (I wasn't drinking; but if I had been drinking good wine, I would have been a lot more pissed than I was). Manrique, the foie gras king, had made a name for himself at Campton Place (he succeeded Todd Humphries), and recently made the switch to Aqua when Michael Mina went to Vegas or something. I had dined at Campton Place some years ago and had a very fine meal, so I have kept an eye on Chef Manrique. We went with the six-course seasonal tasting menu (at 85 per), with an adjustment or two. We added the first course from the seven-course chef's tasting menu, which wasn't nearly as interesting as the seasonal menu. Amuse: a tuna and tomato rissole (fried ravioli) moistened with essence of something that was so good I tipped up the bowl and drank what was left. A demitasse of pumpkin and marscapone soup that was stunning, and nice and hot, too. First: seared hamachi with fuzu vinaigrette, daikon sprouts and almonds, with a pickled daikon and mache salad. The almonds were a nice rich touch to smooth out the vinagrette, but the pickled daikon was way too vinegary, and I ultimately thought that fish this fine should be left alone, that the frills messed with the dish. Second: seared scallop with short rib ragout, horseradish mashies, veal and red wine reduction. braised endive. Wow. Large scallop, seared perfectly. I enjoy the juxtaposition of delicate white fish with red-meat sauces and such. I think they heighten rather than mask the fish's delicacy. This dish kicked major ass. A little scallop, a dash of ragout and potato, a dab of demi... outstanding. I wiped my plate with some roll. Third: moules frites--mussel souffle, Yukon Gold chips, vegetable escabeche, curry cream. This is reminiscent of an old Aqua dish, mussel souffle with Chardonnay reduction. The waiter punches a hole in the souffle and pours in the cream. I thought the souffle was a little too bready, that Mina's version was better, but it had good flavor and the curry cream was a fine touch. The chips were tiny, feather-light, and delicious. The escabeche, with came topped with a chilled mussel, was way too vinegary, again, and I was getting a little bent. Nice dish, I wasn't disappointed, although I didn't eat the escabeche, but not really outstanding. Fourth: sauteed foie gras with roasted tomato, fried garlic, duck bouillion. Oh my. Manrique is renowned for his way with foie (he has a foie gras farm with two other chefs up in Sonoma that is under attack by PETA and them), and this was stunning. A generous slab, perfectly crusty and salty outside, melting and ineffable inside, perched on a roast tomato, which cut the richness, a few slices of fried garlic, tiny chanterelle and shiitakes sauteed in duck fat (Jesus God I love duck fat). Their haunting taste and the wonderful rich duck bouillion poured tableside rounded and deepened the effect of the dish. The best sauteed foie I've ever had. A truly memorable dish. Fifth: filet of sole with porcini and potato fondue, crispy pancetta, mushroom jus (poured tableside) and hazelnut foam. A lovely hefty portion of perfect white fish infused with thyme sat upon a nice creamy potato fondue, mellow mushroom jus, a touch of hazelnut foam (my first encounter with the famous foam, as I really don't fine dine anymore, but I have read about it quite a bit) which carried an evanescent hazelnut top flavor to happy random bites, and, wait for it, vinegary porcini mushrooms. Apparently I cried "Vinegar AGAIN!" upon tasting the mushrooms, which caused half the room to look at me (this according to my lovely wife), but by this time I was fed up with the fucking vinegar. Besides the fact it ruined the flavor of the porcinis, which I love, it was a misguided attempt to offset the richness of the dish. The dish could have used a counterpoint or risk being flat, but anything but the heavy hand with the vinegar, bub. A simple squeeze of lemon would have worked quite nicely. I was able to overcome my fit of pique and enjoy the dish quite a lot, however. The fish was flaky and flavor-y and the meaty accompaniments were done with a deft and light touch. Sixth: was supposed to be striper bass with lentils and a truffle port jus, but the table next to us had ordered, off the a la carte menu, a lobster pot au feu. It came in a copper pot with bread dough encasing the rim. When the waiter removed the top, an enchanting aroma came out of the pot. Now, I had been wrestling with the sad idea that I had missed this dish, which actually is a takeoff on the chef's signature dish, poulet pot au feu, which we had eaten at Campton Place, and was dreamy good. So, in the middle of the sole, I asked the waiter if we could sub the lobster for the bass, at whatever extra cost, of course, and the chef said yes. Huge points there for the chef; he could have tossed a hissy, because he had most probaobly at least begun to fire the bass, but this switching in late midstream was accomplished with much grace. Major major kudos, chef. So, the dish. Tail in half, claw and body shelled, perfect baby veg, carrots, turnip, fennel, pearl onion, a gorgeous lobster consomme infused ever so lightly with star anise and fennel seed. Top sealed with dough. Three servers approach the table. The waiter removes the dough and the lid and hands it off to server #2, who is holding out a plate for it. Said aroma billows out, making my toes curl. He then separates the contents of the pot into two soup bowls ever so nicely, moistens the dish with the consomme from the pot, and then server #3 hands him a ramekin of sauce Choron, and he naps the lobster with that. Holy shit. I wanted to cry. It. Was. So. Perfect. The sauce Choron commingled with and richened the already spectacular consomme, the lobster was so sweet, the veggies so aromatic... I greedily spooned up every last drop of the consomme and began to stare meaningfully at my wife's portion. She sweetly (love that woman!) granted me a piece of the tail and a spoon of the stuffing. Oh my God! I forgot to tell you about the stuffing! Mussel and scallop and breadcrumbs, tasting strongly of the sea, probably because of being moistened with the reduced mussel juices: it added a nice buttery seafoody starchy bottom to a dish that may have been a little too ethereal without it. A master touch. Pure genius. I wish I could have wrung Chef Manrique's hand tearfully after eating that dish. Sixth: a perfectly serviceable warm chocolate cake with a coconut tuile and a tiny bit of vanilla ice cream, and a few crumblings of tarragon granita. The granita was immediately lost, although I tasted a bit of it and it seemed intriguing. There was not nearly enough ice cream. The coconut tuile was nice. Definitely a missed step, but I was still riding so high from the lobster that I didn't much care, although at another time I would have been much more disappointed. Mignardaise (sp?): tiny cranberry and lemon fruit jellies, blueberry financier, housemade white and dark chocolates, almond macaroon with mocha ganache filling, orange tuile. Gorgeous, fanciful, light but very flavorful. A really nice way to end. Total, with a liter of sparkling water (house comped us another one, another nice touch) $236. I tipped $60, so $296 altogether. Imagine that with wine, no? Yikes. Worth every penny, because I floated out the door, pampered and coddled and head reeling with wonderful dishes and flavors, and I haven't gotten to do that for a very long time. Run, don't walk, to Aqua, and tell them the fat guy who yelled "Vinegar AGAIN?" sent ya.

I agree with most of what's been said, but I also think that if the OP had let the soup sit for a day, as is, it would have been pretty good.

I got so excited I forgot to post suggestions. A chix fricassee, with the soaking water as the braising liquid. Risotto, with half chix stock and half soaking liquid, light Parm, lots of butter.. Veal chops or venison medallions or steak or filet with a red wine-morel liquid reduction. If you are lucky enough to have some meat glaze or good sticky veal stock, holy wow that'll be good. If not, finish with butter. (Meat glaze is a truly wonderful concoction. Peterson's Sauces has good instructions.) On a pizza, with very light cheese. In a mushroom ragout with other mushrooms, to deepen their flavors. Beef or venison stew. I'm getting faint and I have to go lie down now.,

Five bucks? Holy moley. Don't forget to use the soaking water after straining it. Muy sabroso!

Mushy seafood of any sort can also mean the water isn't cold enough. Pacific salmon can sometimes be mushy for the same reason. Seeing as the Atlantic seems to run warmer in the summertime, and as the water stays warm for a while after summer's over, that may be what's going on.