Stone

I had my second French Laundry meal today. Damn. It's good. I went with six people for lunch. One of us is in the wine biz -- a part owner of a small winery in Napa. The rest were interested in the food, but I wouldn't call them foodies (not that I'd necessarily call myself that). The reservation was for 11:30. Seemed a little early for our first glass of wine at the friend's winery. But why not? We were greeting, as expected, by smiling, friendly people. Let me say here that the service does deserve the Beard award. Everyone, without exception, was wonderful. Not just friendly, helpful, knowledgeable. But they put the diner at ease, from explaining the menu, asking about wine, to the service. We had the same sommolier as I had last time (never caught his name), and he was great. Between he and the MD (I have no idea what the proper terms are for these folks), the wines were excellent. Very different, very new, and very good. I will say that some of our servers were a little more hesitant than last time. It became obvious that this wasn't for lack of knowledge. I think our table was more boisterous than they were used to. We were sat upstairs, in a private room with a large table. The six of us fit easily. I took the privacy to remove my jacket and roll up my sleeves. Hell, I wanted to be comfortable. Taking the seat in the corner (makes it easier for the staff not to have to squeeze by my), I was greeted with a wonderful view of vineyards over Route 29 (which I could not see). I brought two wines this time. Cos D'Estournel '90, and La Lagune '82. Another fellow brought a Stag's Leap merlot. We ended with about 7 bottles down by the time we'd finished. This one was a bit more about the wine than the food. One problem -- given my advanced years and fragile condition, I was, of course, ill. The pneumonia I had back in February never quite went away. (Yes, doctor, I've noticed a buzzing in my head. For about two months or so. I don't know, I got used to it.) So I'm back on antibiotics, prednisone, sudaphed, and some left-over . . . "self-medication". I can't say that I was completely available, nor were my taste buds. But still, this was damn good. And without Cabrales, it wasn't really the opportunity to examine each bite, each morsel, each pea, each dot of balsalmic. But still, this was damn good. The menu was completely different from the last time, except for the salmon cornet amuse. Ah wait -- one was a tuna cornet. I noticed also that instead of creme fraiche, it was filled with what appeared to be an herb creme. But I forgot to ask. I liked this one better than the last -- which is saying a lot since the last was wonderful. My slight criticism of the last -- that it was a tad oily (sorry Lizziee, whereever you are), was gone. This was bright, fresh, and full of flavor. The cornet was crisp and the creme fraiche light and airy. Very good. Four of us got the chef's tasting menu. One chose from the five course. The last had the vegetarian menu. A risk, but from what I could see, they managed to pull off a nine course vegetarian meal that was as fulfilling and satisfying, in both flavor and volume, as the regular. Heavy on mushrooms, fresh green peas, beets, and a wonderfully light risotto. Looked good. At the start, we had a 2000 Egon Muller, "Scharzhofberger" Spatlese (auction). Whatever that means. It was wonderful. This was described to us as an acidic, light reisling. That was right. It hit first with a good zing of acid, and followed with smooth and mellow sweetness -- but not too sweet at all. I'm not a fan of sweet wine, but this was terrific. Great to wake us up at the start of the meal. Many folks thought it was the best of the day. Cauliflower 'Panna Cotta' with Bagaduce Oyster Glaze and California White Sturgeon Caviar. As with the oysters and pearls, this came served in a perfectly understated white bowl, sat atop the white plate. Each was lightly ringed, as if a small rake were circled in a Japanese rock garden of fine white powder. The panna cotta sat in the bottom of the bowl, topped with a generous quenelle of caviar, and a sprinkling of what I believe was Hawaiian sea salt. The portion of panna cotta was a bit small, but it was great. Light and creamy at first, the cauliflower subtley caught up with the flavor. Not too strong, which, even though I love cauliflower, probably would have been odd. The caviar was not a bright black as last time, but it's flavor came through much stronger. Very different from the oysters and pearls -- and the rest of the menu -- there was not a strong presence of butter today. (Perhaps because this was a spring menu?). It tasted of fish, and salt, and sea, and combined very well with cleaner feel and flavor of the panna cotta. I did overpower the cauliflower flavor however. And the one criticism is that the black color of the caviar bled into the white of the panna cotta, making it look somewhat dirty. It was not a bad presentation, but found it surprising, given the restaurant's perfection. (I can’t say that I noticed the oyster glaze at all.) For my second course, I pulled the seared foie gras off the five-course menu. (Instead of the Moulard Duck Foie Gras Au Torchon, with Bergamot Orange Marmalade and Toasted Brioche.) I’m beginning to like this stuff. Two medalions of foie, scored and deeply seared, they were bursting with flavor. A bit salty, smooth and earthy. I can’t remember what it was sauced with, but I stuck to the foie itself. It did come with a small circle of toasted brioche that was too heavy with butter for me – but I’m not sure if I wasn’t a bit sensitive because of my cold. The MD suggested an amazing glass of wine for the hot foie. 1996 Istavan Szepsy, “6 Puttonyos” Tokaji Aszu, Hungary. Say that five times fast. It was great. A buttercup shaped glass, filled with a strong amber colored wine. It tasted a bit of port, but not at all heavy. A bit sweet, but not at all sugary. Really good. For the others, we had 2002 Forefathers, Marlborough, Sauvignon Blanc, New Zealand, and 2001 Yves Cuilleron, “Les Chaillets”, Cundrieu , Viogner. By this time, my ability remember and explain the wines had passed. But for someone who doesn’t particularly like whites, these were terrific. Better, I’d say, than the reds we had later. Next up, Crispy Skin Filet of Artic Char with Wild Asparagus and Pickled Ramps. Again, excellent. The fish was (like last time), beautiful. A good rectangular block of flesh, lightly heated pale on the bottom, lovely bright pink in the middle, and topped with, again again again, a perfectly crisped brown skin. The flavor of the fish was surprisingly intense and added greatly to the burst of flavor from the delicately thin asparagus tops and the softly pickled, almost translucent ramps. The only drawback: The skin of the fish last time was scored ever so gently – not very noticeable to look at, but it assisted greatly in cutting. This was not, so pressing the knife down on the crispy skin caused the piece to flake apart. The vegetables were, of course, bright and crisp, and served, I believe, with a light bit of cream. Caesar Salad. Sweet Butter Poached Maine Lobster with Roasted Hearts of Romaine Lettuce, ‘Confit’ of Sweet Garlic, Paremsan ‘Crouton’ and ‘Bottarga Emulsion’. Not sure why everything is in quote here. But. O.k. I must say it – not as good as the Peas and Carrots. Just not. The Peas and Carrots were such a surprise and such a new and different way to enjoy lobster. This didn’t live up. But it was pretty good. Pretty damnded good. A nice portion of butter poached lobster (half a tail and a claw?), curled over the roasted lettuce and sitting in the confit. It was topped with a thin disk of parmesan. The servers then shaved on top some red mullet bottarga. The drawback of the lobster was only that this tasted like excellent, sweet, succulent, buttery, moist, and fresh lobster. Not a bad thing. In fact, one of my favorite things. But, although this may have been the best lobster you’re going to get, it’s just higher on the stage from the lobster you usually get. Next time, I’ll beg for the Peas & Carrots. The roasted lettuce is better than it sounds. The hearts held up well to the roasting and developed a surprisingly good flavor for, you know, lettuce. The garlic was very subtle and sweet. And the Bottarga was wonderful. Brined, dried and pressed roe, it looks like a hunk of orange jerky – or perhaps a dry orange salami. But the flavor and aroma of sea and salt are so concentrated and intense that the slight shaving changed the whole dish. It paired very well with sweetness of the lobster to offer two great flavors of the ocean. We couldn’t decide what order to have the reds, so they brought them all at once. Probably a good idea, as the Cos D’Estournel, which had been decanted, needed a bit more time to breath. I thought the Cos was the best. The merlot was a little too round and fruity for me. The La Lagune started well – dry, and slightly textured across the tongue, soft on the tannins. But it crashed fast. I thought the Cos started strong, with smoky rough edge to it, that opened up well. The wine gal described, positively, as “stinky”, like a musky outhouse. Odd. Somewhat accurate. But very good. I wish I really could have tasted it. Slow Braised Shoulder of Cloverdale Farms Rabbit, ‘Farcie Aux Ris de Veau’ with a ‘Ragout of English Peas and Applewood Smoked Bacon.’ Elysian Fields Farm ‘Selle D’Agneau Roti Entier’, Jacobsen’s Farm Fava Beans and Black Trumpet Mushrooms. If the meats were the disappointment of the last meal, these more than made up for it. They were each incredible. The rabbit shoulder looked like a small, chicken drumstick. But the flavor was more intense and meaty than any chicken. The top end of the drummy was stuffed with a gentle amount of breading, rounded, and braised, and then the skin seemed to have been seared a bit to crisp it slightly. It sat on a bed of bright green, fresh peas and wonderful shreds of bacon. A bit of cream was added two round everything out. The lamb came with two generously thick slices, beautifully pink and tender. They had a more subtle flavor than the rabbit, but the trumpet mushrooms underneath offered a blast of the earth. They were coarsely chopped and sauteed, but still retained their snap. The essence of the mushroom filled the mouth and nose with a refreshing blanket of woodsy warmth. Mmm. Sorry, I’m too tired to finish with the desserts. I’ll get them later. Cheers. (I wish I could have tasted all this better.)

I find penang curry to be very different from red. It's got a deep brown color, that comes from toasted spices, such as cardomom and cumin, which I don't think are present in red curry.

Kafir.

Penang beef is the best Thai dish. Should be a drier curry. But it's the best.

I once dated a young lady whose grandmother lived around the corner on 86th. (Owned half of the top floor of one of those nice buildings. Four bedrooms, two living rooms, dining room. Yup. Coulda been mine.) Grandma refuses to eat at Barney Greengrass because he didn't close the store the day of his wife's funeral. Good enough for me. Sorry to spoil it for you all.

Don't take it too hard, I've been to the Bell Tower often. (I used to live a few blocks away.) I find that BT is a typical SF restaurant that is stuck between good cheap eats, and sub-par trendy food. A prime example of this is Rex's, down the road.

I don't have many occasions to drink a $100 bottle of wine. I'm not sure why I buy them. But then again, I'm not sure why I bought a Sony Playstation, roller blades, a home gym, or an ice cream maker either. (That list could go on forever.)

I've got a few bottles of decent wine (i.e., around $100), mostly red. I've got them sitting in a rack on a shelf in my apartment. Not exposed to the sun, but temp in the room fluctuates greatly -- quite warm on sunny days, quite chilly at night. I'm not sure I've got a room with consistently cool temps. Any suggestions, or should I not worry too much.

How do you keep your palm sugar from becoming concrete? It's worse than brown sugar.

A couple more decades of massive immigration from civilized parts of the country. But that's just a theory. A couple more decades of massive immigration from the less-civilized parts of the country. But that's just another theory.

When I did both brisket and butt, I put the brisket on the bottom, so it would get an extra basting from the butt-juice. (he he he.) But then again, I fucked it all up, so don't listent to me.

I know you like Mario. And I like Mario. But I can't forgive him for teaming with that moron, Rooney. (What's the deal with Rooney -- does he own the Food Network or something? Why does he keep appearing on the shows?) And Mario no ipsa loquitor. I mean, he can barely speak English at all. It makes his shows painful to watch. Doubly so when Rooney is on. And substantively, I'm not sure I see so much of a difference in the actual cooking information imparted. (Although Mario points to the map of Italy a lot.) But then again, I'm not paying that much attention, and, what the hell to I know anyway.

As a lay-person, I'm not sure why everyone says Emeril's show is so much worse than other cooking shows. It is tacky and silly. And even I can see where he makes short-cuts without explaining them. But doesn't everyone do that? (I once would like to see a t.v. chef tell people -- "You should let the onions sweat for another 5 to 10 minutes but I don't have time for that.") Other than Alton Brown, who do you think is doing a good job actually cooking on their show -- and why?

Three months later . . . . I found myself in the Haight this afternoon. I hate the Haight. But it does have the Pork Store Cafe. The Pork Store Cafe used to be a butcher shop. Now, it's one of my favorite places in the Bay Area. It's actually got character. Usually I go for the breakfasts: The Pork Store Special: two pork chops, two egs, home fries. Or the chorizo scramble: diced chorizo, fried with onion and peppers, topped with two fried eggs. And they do a great sausage gravy for being in California. Today I had the Pork Store Burger. 1/2 pound burger, thin, but wide. Fried onion, swiss cheese, LTO. I passed on the mushrooms. It was great. Really. The meat was medium (of course, is it possible to get a medium rare burger for under $20?), but the fried onions were amazing. They caught them in that perfect moment between sweated sweet and bitter burnt. The flavor was terrific. And the swiss cheese was a generous portion of tasty cheese, melted through. Home fries on the side are actually loose hash brown (i.e., shredded potato, not diced). Again, very well done. A good balance of crisp and soft potato, with none too raw and none too done. Coulda used more onion. Kudos Pork People.

Banning (or strictly limiting) asbestos put a lot of people out of work. Switching to clean burning fuels put a lot of people out of work. These were all good, hard-working people who just wanted to earn money, raise families, and drink a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon with gonzo-gastronomes at the seedy-hip bars in the village. But unfortunately for them, the career they were stuck with resulted in a lot of people's death. So too, tobacco farmers should be figuring out how to plant something else. Referring to the anti-smoking lobby as "tyranny of the majority" is a wonderful thing. 50 years ago, anti-smokers were quite the minority. I still find it odd that the liberal-elite who are pushing anti-smoking bills (compared to conservative-Republicans who subsidize the tobacco farmers while dropping bombs on cocaine farmers), are considered by anyone the majority.

Yak? God..... I was just trying to be funny..... yaks are yuks..... no? Actually, female "yaks" are properly called "naks" (Sherpa) or "dri" (Tibetan). So there really is no "yak cheese." It's nak cheese. But you can read all about it at www.yakcheese.org. Here's a shot of a ripening room:

Dude. Perhaps it's all the wine and cough medicine. But you rock. That was like a lesson from Yoda. And I'm Grasshopper. Excuse me, I'm going to go stick my fists into the glowing fit pit. Who runs the Virtual Bullet Site anyway? It doesn't seem to be a Weber property.

Is all yak cheese the same? Like cow cheeses run the gamut from brie to cheddar to swiss to jack, etc. Sheep cheese comes as roquefort, feta, peccorino romano, etc. In France they have millions of cheeses, but goat cheeses are all "chevre." I never quite got that. I'd point to a cow cheese on the trolley in a good restaurant and they'd tell me the name. I'd point to six goat cheeses, all of them very different looking and when I ask what they were, each one was a "chevre." I"m sure Abbott and Costello would have had a field day. Where does your yak cheese come from? Is it imported? I got my yak cheese when I was in Nepal. I'm not sure if it's all the same, but all the yak cheese I can recall were very similar. It was probably a simple, all-over cheese. Perhaps analogous to Indian paneer. I wouldn't be surprised if elsewhere Nepali/Tibetans were doing something else with it. I'm certain that in K-du someone is making blue yak cheese, etc. Oh, and while I'm here: Head Toe Butt.

The animal or the gagging gesture? The animal. Google it, Bux. I've never had it myself. Yak cheese is pretty good. When fresh, it's semi-hard, yellow, and mild flavored. Lots of little small holes. It reminds me of . . . I can't think of it. As it ages, it dries and firms, but not unpleasantly so, and the flavor intensifies. Good source of energy on treks.

I saw that, but they don't list replacements for the dual sensor. I'm emailing the company.

But I shouldn't let the lead-end of the probe get under water? Where do you get extra probes?

When I first got it, I tested it with the pyrex in the oven. It matched pretty well. I'll do a boil test tonight. I'm giving myself one more chance to get a good pulled pork butt, all the way through, and then I'm hanging up my Bullet.

I ruined two large hunks o' meat Friday night and saturday. First question: Why can't I find a friggen thermometer that works? I put my new Polder dual-sensor in the pork butt. Registered 32 on the meat and about 100 on the oven. As the oven rose, so did the meat. It didn't really bother me that the oven temp on the Polder on the top rack was about 50* higher than the Pyrex thermometer on the bottom rack, although I thought that was a lot of discrepency for 12 ". What bothered me was when I woke up in the morning and the Polder said the oven was off-the-charts (i.e., over 500*) and the butt was 375* internally. Yeah right. I put the bastard in the fridge, and it's still telling me 140*. So I put a full brisket on the bottem rack and a 10 lb butt on the top. Got them on at 12:15 a.m. Temps stabilized at 250 ish by 2:30. I went to sleep. The brisket was rubbed, barely trimmed. I'm not sure what the deal is with this "point" thing. The flat is pretty easy to recognize. The point, however, seems to be just a hunk of fatty tissue atop one end of the flat. Not much by way of meat. My thermometers weren't much help, so I tried forking the fellow. I woke up at 9, and the brisket didn't really seem done. When I pulled it off at 12:13ish, it was, of course, over done. The flat was burnt at the bottom and pretty dry throughout. The point was still little more than fat. Not sure where the meat was supposed to be. As for the butt, I had three different temp readings depending on the thermometers I used. Polder dual-sensor -- about 350 internal. We can ignore that. Pyrex probe -- about 150 internal -- after 13 hours. Instant read -- about 190. Why, Lord, is this so difficult. I pulled it off when the bone slid out and a fork twisted easily. Well, about half of it was perfect. There was one large internal muscle that was not pulled -- just a roast. Sun of a bitch.

I've found bags of Weber wood chunks. They're a bit expensive, and the smell isn't great. When I burn the hickory or mesquite, it definitely doesn't have that great aroma. Smells like smoke. I thought I might be able to find a better source.

Isn't this the recipe for just about every Chinese stir-fry? Velvet the chicken first.