eG Foodblog: John Whiting

[Swisskaese]

Sabras in Willesden Green..

Most (outside of Golders Green) Indian restaurants are not certified Kosher. The density (both senses) of observant jews in London doesn't justify the expense. Nothing like New York.

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Where is this restaurant in Willesden Green? I have never seen it.

[John Whiting]

Authenticity is something I've recently been giving a lot of thought to. I'm in love with Italian cooking and when I'm living in Italy, my food is Italian, it can be nothing else because of the ingredients. The bread I'll make is infused with the air of Umbria. But what happens when I'm in NY and I can only cook in the Italian style? Have I sacrificed all 'authenticity"?  To be authentically Italian I should be using local NY products and not expensive imports.  A conundrum methinks.

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Most efforts to establish authenticity end up playing with words. John Thorne has written very perceptively about the interlocking elements of culinary and cultural integrity. When you go to a different country, your cuisine changes as inexorably as your life style. You can't live in the middle of Manhatten and live the life of a hermit in an Amazon rain forest; neither could you cook the cassoulet of a woman like Elizabeth Luard's Madame Escrieux, who potted her own confit, grew her own beans and kept and slaughtered her own pig.

Put it another way: Fusion cooking is the only kind there is.

[John Whiting]

Portobello/Chestnut/Cremini is the remarketing of the older brown strain of the gilled mushroom Agaricus bisporus. This strain fell out of fashion after the development and hugely successful marketing of the white strain ("champignon de Paris") in the 1920's.

What ever the market name I am glad they are back as they have more flavor then the white strain. It is odd to think that many of the classic dishes that use these as a ingredient or garnish, most likely didn't use the flavor lacking white strain at all.

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Adam, thanks for the more precise info. It's ironic that down through history, the gentrification of dress, cuisine (including bread), religion and race have often involved the "purification" of color. White is also an archetypal attribute of death. Go figure.

[Swisskaese]

I do not make most of the dishes that I used to make in the US because I cannot find the same ingredients here.

Most of the ex-Pats here struggle to find ingredients to make their "comfort food" from their respective countries and have set-up news groups to ask other Anglos where to find x, but I did not have food culture-shock when I moved to Israel.

I fell in love with the dishes here and the produce is outstanding, so I find that I am making dishes that suit the produce I can find.

With that said, why couldn't I call my dish authentic Italian, if I can find the same ingredients here, for example, imported Italian cheese or buffalo mozzarella made by Italian buffalo that happen to live in Israel or 00 flour from Italy, etc.?

[fou de Bassan]

Wonderful writing! Happy birthday, may you have many more.

The first cassoulet I made was to use up the leftovers from the holidays. I suddenly understood so much.

[jackal10]

Where is this restaurant in Willesden Green? I have never seen it.

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Just along from the bus station.

Sabras

263 High Road NW10 2RX

(020 8459 0340)

I grew up round there

[Adam Balic]

Portobello/Chestnut/Cremini is the remarketing of the older brown strain of the gilled mushroom Agaricus bisporus. This strain fell out of fashion after the development and hugely successful marketing of the white strain ("champignon de Paris") in the 1920's.

What ever the market name I am glad they are back as they have more flavor then the white strain. It is odd to think that many of the classic dishes that use these as a ingredient or garnish, most likely didn't use the flavor lacking white strain at all.

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Adam, thanks for the more precise info. It's ironic that down through history, the gentrification of dress, cuisine (including bread), religion and race have often involved the "purification" of color. White is also an archetypal attribute of death. Go figure.

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Yes, one must wonder what your paternal ancestors were thinking when they changed their name from Browning?

I wonder if the preference in colour reflects the swinging of the pendulum between austerity and romanticism in anyway?

[John Whiting]

Yes, one must wonder what your paternal ancestors were thinking when they changed their name from Browning?

Worse than that! It was Blacking! Actually, I'm 1/32 Cherokee, but don't ask me which bit.

I wonder if the preference in colour reflects the swinging of the pendulum between austerity and romanticism in anyway?

This longing for a paler shade in all sorts of things including skin color seems to go way back into primitive history. "Black is beautiful" is, alas, a relatively recent slogan.

[Adam Balic]

Except in eggs, Anglo-Saxons like brown eggs for some reason.

[John Whiting]

Except in eggs, Anglo-Saxons like brown eggs for some reason.

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That's farely recent. Until the "health food" movement got underway, white eggs were regarded as more "hygienic" and were always favored by institutions as well as most households. Both my wife (in England) and I (in America) can remember brown eggs being regarded as vaguely "dirty".

The color is, of course, related to the color of the hen's feathers.

[chefzadi]

I don't check in much. Someone told me you were blogging. Happy Birthday John and may you have 75 more!

Refreshing to see your take on authenticity.

[Adam Balic]

Except in eggs, Anglo-Saxons like brown eggs for some reason.

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That's farely recent. Until the "health food" movement got underway, white eggs were regarded as more "hygienic" and were always favored by institutions as well as most households. Both my wife (in England) and I (in America) can remember brown eggs being regarded as vaguely "dirty".

The color is, of course, related to the color of the hen's feathers.

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The same health movement most likely made brown bread more popular as well I imagine.

Regarding egg shell colour, the colour of the feathers is immaterial. White Plymouth Rock's lay brown eggs and black Leghorns lay white eggs for instance. White egg layers

[Priscilla]

John, happy birthday upcoming, from a fellow fractional Cherokee. I like this unfolding-cassoulet premise, and I love the market pix!

The South Indian veg place I used to frequent here in Southern California had a lot of signs, too--not health-related messages, but the overall look strikes a familiar chord.

Looking forward to the bean component.

[hathor]

Thanks for the tip on John Thorne. Interesting stuff.

Nice market photos!

[John Whiting]

Regarding egg shell colour, the colour of the feathers is immaterial. White Plymouth Rock's lay brown eggs and black Leghorns lay white eggs for instance. White egg layers

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That's what I get for citing a childhood legend without ever having checked it. The yolks of all chickens' eggs are of course yellow. You can tell from the one that's spread all over my face.

[jamiemaw]

Good morning John,

Long a fan of cassoulet, I anticipate yours with unrepentant glee.

Happy birthday,

Jamie

[Adam Balic]

Regarding egg shell colour, the colour of the feathers is immaterial. White Plymouth Rock's lay brown eggs and black Leghorns lay white eggs for instance. White egg layers

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That's what I get for citing a childhood legend without ever having checked it. The yolks of all chickens' eggs are of course yellow. You can tell from the one that's spread all over my face.

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For detailed cassoulet instructions, all is forgiven.

For what it is worth, I don't think it is very common knowledge. My family are that breed of people known as "Chicken fanciers" and, eh, some of the knowledge must have rubbed off.

[John Whiting]

There’s more than one way to eat a duck.

Guided by Mirabel Osler’s A Spoon with Every Course, I once ate at Au Caneton, a wonderful restaurant in Orbec off the tourist track in Normandy, southwest of Rouen. My first visit was with Frank on the journey narrated at length in Through Darkest Gaul with Trencher and Tastevin. The second time I travelled with Mary, who was so taken with the restaurant and its cuisine that we stayed over at a local b&b chateau and ate there three times in two days.

Au Caneton is an elegant husband-and-wife restaurant that functions with very little extra help. The chef, Didier Tricot, is locally noted for his L’aiguillette de canard au citron. Is it original? “I never invent,” he says dismissively, “but I may adapt.”

So do I. My version of his duck breast recipe has become a tradition in our household. I’ve changed it to a degree that Mssr. Tricot would probably not approve of, but I lack his expertise. Part of the skill of cooking, I’ve learned, is acknowledging one’s limitations and still producing something agreeably edible. (I know a world-famous author of multitudinous cookbooks who admits that she can’t bake.) Here’s my own modest version of Mssr. Tricot’s splendid recipe. I cooked it again last night and Mary was gratifyingly enthusiastic, as always.

L’aiguillette de canard au citron

(Lemon duck breasts)

salt and pepper

2 duck breasts

2 tsp. sugar

1 fl. oz. wine (or balsamic)vinegar

8 fl. oz. good veal or chicken stock

grated zest and juice of ½ lemon

2 tsp. Grand Marnier

Heat a small frying pan, without oil. At the same time begin to heat a small heavy roasting pan in the oven at 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6.

Salt the duck breasts lightly on the skin only.

Brown them skin side down in the hot frying pan. The object is to extract the fat and crisp the skins without drying out the flesh.

As the skins brown, add the sugar. When it starts to caramelize, add the vinegar.

Turn breasts in the sweet/sour mixture, coating them well. Transfer to the hot roasting pan skin side up, uncovered, and cook in the oven for 20 minutes, then check. How much longer you cook them will depend on how well done you want them.

While the duck is cooking, bring the stock to a boil in a separate pan and simmer until it starts to thicken. Add the Grand Marnier, the lemon juice and most of the zest. When the breasts are done, add as much of the pan’s fatty juices as your taste and diet will permit.

It’s customary in such recipes to slice the breast at an angle and fan out the slices. This makes a great photo but allows it to cool quicker than you can eat it. I prefer to leave it whole and have some warmth still left in the last bite.

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Original recipe from Au Caneton, Orbec; as set down by Shaun Hill for Mirabel Osler’s A Spoon with Every Course and further adapted for my travel journal, Through Darkest Gaul with Trencher and Tastevin.

I make this rich dish even richer by accompanying it with semi-caramelized carrots julienne, sauteed very slowly in butter and a bit of stock. The only way I’ve found to cut them properly is with that massive piece of kitchen machinery, the Braun mandoline. It’s an instrument best not played with bare fingers; the slider is an essential accessory.

A folded oven glove is under the leading edge because the raw steel will leave permanent calling cards on your work surface. But there are non-skid rubber feet on the rear support. Curious.

Mary relieves the wicked richness with simply simmered leeks. Here’s our dinner, dished up for consumption rather than display.

We polished off the meal with a tiny remaining piece of mincemeat and apricot streusel. As the dish says reassuringly, it’s just fruit.

Mirabel’s book was reprinted in paper as The Elusive Truffle. Her preferred title was The Elusive Salamander, for reasons that become evident as you read it, but her first publisher insisted on A Spoon with Every Course, which applied only to the Normandy chaper. The paperback publisher reverted to the original title but insisted on truffle rather than salamander (too obscure), even though it bore no relation to the book’s content. Sigh.

The book is a masterpiece, so naturally both editions are out of print, but the paperback is curiously offered used through Amazon at 99p. Snap it up—it’s one of the greatest French food/travel books ever written.

Edited January 13, 2006 by John Whiting (log)

[Marco_Polo]

Just back from the pub, John. No, not to The Bridge but the much closer Steam Packet just around the corner for pints of Bass (excellent, a raspingly fresh, very hoppy cask) and packets of crunchy pork scratching. Have now returned home starving. Before I raid the fridge, I check the computer only to be tortured by your picture of caneton au citron. Looks fantastic (you know my weakness/addiction to duck!). Fortunately, Kim has left me something to eat and it will have to do until I can satisfy my mad, insatiable craving for all things duck (it's some chargrilled chicken breast with avocado, passion fruit and lime salsa, not a bad substitute at all, I have to say).

You are building up the anticipation for the Birthday Cassoulet very nicely - rather like a slow striptease. . . or, more aptly, like a slow-braised dish, in the oven for literally days, your words and pictures like smells emanating out to drive us crazy. The anticipation, the deliciously winding journey is as much a part as the arrival.

Good night.

M

PS I ordered Mirabel's book, yes, for 1p through my one-click settings with Amazon.co.uk. It's just been confirmed that I will pay the 1p plus £2.75 postage and handling. I know what postage costs here: so can anyone please tell me how can it be worth it for someone to package up the volume, then go down to the Post Office to send a book for a penny? The world is indeed a mystery.

Edited January 13, 2006 by Marco_Polo (log)

[JeanneCake]

Except in eggs, Anglo-Saxons like brown eggs for some reason.

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This reminded me of a marketing jingle that I used to hear on TV and radio as a child:

"Brown eggs are local eggs and local eggs are fresh!"

It was definitely a regional thing, maybe even throughout New England, but very definitely Boston! And even now, sometimes the distributor I buy from will ask if I care if the eggs are white or brown and he'll start singing it....

[John Whiting]

I shop, therefore I eat

The third area of London where we shop regularly is the rising middle class haven that Ronnie Barker called “Muzwell on the 'ill”. According to legend, it got its name from a mossy well, which has now been replaced by Moss Bros. (That’s an extended in-joke for eGullet Brits.)

The commercial area of Muswell Hill is rapidly being invaded by trendy delis, but some good old-fashioned shops survive. Foremost among them is Martyn’s, a “dry goods” grocery store that started in 1897. The exterior looks as if it were remodelled sometime in the art deco area, but certainly not later. Their usually splendid window was today in the midst of redecoration.

Modern coffee shops often employ artificial scent dispensers to draw in customers, but Martyn’s has an ancient coffee roaster in the window, still sending its heavenly aroma out into the street. That’s William, the present generation of the Martyn family, loading it up:

Once inside, every architectural detail is from a long-gone era. This is where Mary comes for the Marriage organic stone-ground flour from which she makes our bread, and also for most of the dried fruits and nuts that go into her cakes and Christmas puddings.

The raw coffee beans are on the floor, conveniently close to the roaster…

…and overhead are the storage tins for the tea. Yes, it’s all real – I took these photos this afternoon.

Some of Muswell Hill's ancient history is modern. Just along the street from Martyn’s is a brand new Gaudi shop front. It’s such a departure from the MacDonalds/Boots/W.H. Smith norm that the local council has ordered that it be destroyed and replaced by a plastic obscenity. Thousands have signed a petition in favor of its preservation, and the owners are fighting for their lives.

Tonight’s and tomorrow’s dinner demanded a bit of the dairy hard stuff, so Mary and I went to the unambiguously named Cheeses. It occupies one of a row of Edwardian shop fronts that have miraculously escaped the plague of modernization.

A quarter of parmesan and six ounces of two-year-old gouda. It cost about a fiver and half an hour's conversation.

Edited January 13, 2006 by John Whiting (log)

[Zucchini Mama]

Speaking of caneton, you may like the book Feeding Frenzy: Across Europe in Search of a Perfect Meal by Stuart Stevens. The author visits Tour D'Argent for the pressed duck. It's a fun read, and I don't think you can get it for one pence, but Amazon lists it for as low as one dollar.

Lovely pictures of Martyn's. My dad ran a general store on the Canadian prairies that was a more rustic version of what you show there, but in some ways very similar.

Zuke

[John Whiting]

Speaking of caneton, you may like the book Feeding Frenzy: Across Europe in Search of a Perfect Meal by Stuart Stevens.

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Strange you should mention this. I've a used hardback copy I bought several years ago on a whim. I started reading it and was put off by the heavy dose of whimsy, but kept going and was soon impressed by the author's ability to sum up the tone of a restaurant in a few well chosen words. I can't vouch for his total accuracy, but I came out at the other end with affectionate memories of restaurants I will never visit. And vicarious Michelin dining is a lot cheaper than the real thing.

EDIT: Marco, what are you doing up at this hour after all that heavy excercise?!

Edited January 13, 2006 by John Whiting (log)

[misgabi]

Beautiful blog John, cannot wait for the cassoulet.

I noticed in the picture taken inside Martyn's that they sell the Walker's shortbread. We can only get the Homebake Shortbread Rounds here over Christmas from one shop but they are my guilty, guilty pleasure Even though I usually make my own shortbread I still love tucking into these rounds, yum

I am jealous of the produce you have to choose from and hope you will suggest some form of substitute for the sausage in the cassoulet as I know for a fact we cannot buy that here.

Thank you too for the "confit duck" idea - will be trying that very soon.

[jackal10]

Hmm...the brothers Moss are my cousins by marriage (really)...