food, and other musings

farmerbrown

Ate at farmerbrown last night with some friends. I gotta be honest -- I was disappointed. I did, however, like the space; it was the sort of industrial-chic you see a lot, but with a lot more warmth. I also took to the deliberate down home touches: mismatched silverware, mason jars for water glasses, and old towels for napkins (but watch out, they shed on black pants...). I'd heard that service was slow or just not tight, but ours was great, from the man who greeted us at the door (I think he might work security, ensuring none of the riff-raff from the surrounding 'hood gets in) to the host to the bartender to the server. Everyone was very efficient, friendly and laidback.

I went in licking my chops for the fun cocktails, but sips of both the watermelon margarita and the ginger rum punch were somewhat disappointing. Both were a bit strong on the pour, which doesn't bother everyone, but as a result the flavors weren't balanced, and both were missing a bit of zing somewhere.

And the food, man, it just didn't knock my socks off, or even bunch them up around the ankles. Between what the four of us ordered, I managed to nosh on pan-fried catfish with scalloped green tomatoes and candied yams; fried chicken; macaroni and cheese; biscuits; jambalaya with prawns, catfish and andouille sausage; chilled wedge salad with Pt. Reyes blue cheese, cherry tomatoes and radishes; and the bourbon pecan pie.

Between all those bites, I found nary a one that I thought was terribly well-done, save for the salad. How sad is that? The catfish dish was too sweet, from the candied yams to the tomatoes to the fry, which I swear had sugar in it somewhere. The macaroni and cheese was barely passable -- what's up with shredding unmelted cheddar on top? It never heated up and oozed back into the dish, nor was it browned under the broiler, so after a few minutes at the table it had that whiff of cafeteria food that's been out too long. With mac and cheese, you gotta pick -- either you're the creamy gooey kind, or the homespun kind like my great aunt Margaret makes, with bits of crackercrumb here and there and a thick layer of cheese that melts down into the noodles during cooking, leaving behind crispy ribbons of cheddar on top. What you can't be is both.

The fried chicken was decent, but not as moist as it could have been.* The jambalaya was mushy and you could taste the starch; my guess is the rice was overdone. Nearly every dish had a fatal flaw, and with so many dishes on our table, it's hard to chalk it up to just an off night...I mean, on every dish?

WHY CAN'T ANYONE GET SOUTHERN FOOD RIGHT IN THIS TOWN? (To be fair, I haven't been to Powell's, so maybe before I yell and scream and cry, I should hoof it down there.) If I had the money and the interest and the talent -- none of which I do, mind you -- I know exactly what kind of restaurant I'd open here.

***

*So far, the best fried chicken I've had in this town was at Foreign Cinema. It was really crunchy, just how I like it, with great flavor in both the fry and the meat, and bursting with juices. Mmmm...

San Francisco Chefs

This summer, I worked on a project called San Francisco Chefs. It's the second installment (the first being DC Chefs) and both are the brainchild of Michel Richard, whose Georgetown restaurant, Citronelle, provided Mr. Food Musings and me with our best DC restaurant meal ever ever ever several years ago. (I still remember the soft-boiled egg -- with caviar? I think -- that was served in a small silver penguin egg cup. Adorable!)

Anyway, the project is a benefit for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. In essence, a bunch of the Bay Area's top chefs got together and produced a collection of their keepsake recipes. There are also profiles that tell the story of how each one became a chef.

The list of participants includes a number of those recently graced by Michelin's starry, starry nights, plus other local notables:

Thomas Keller, The French Laundry (3 Michelin stars)
Laurent Manrique, Aqua (2 Michelin stars)
David Kinch, Manresa (2 Michelin stars AND my favorite restaurant on planet Earth)
Michael Mina, Michael Mina (2 Michelin stars)
Robert Curry, Auberge du Soleil (1 Michelin star)
Charlie Palmer & Michael Ellis, Dry Creek Kitchen (1 Michelin star)
Nancy Oakes & Pam Mazzola, Boulevard (1 Michelin star)
Ron Siegel, The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton (1 Michelin star)
Melissa Perello, The Fifth Floor (1 Michelin star)
Gerald Hirigoyen, Piperade & Bocadillos
Charles Phan, Slanted Door
Mitchell & Steven Rosenthal, Town Hall (and the soon-to-come Salt House)

So, why do you care? Because the publisher has offered to send a copy of the publication to all of my readers, free of charge. All you have to do is email your name and mailing address here by Friday, Oct. 27. (They promise promise promise they will not sell your address to anyone, or send you anything else. I know lots of us are paranoid about sneaky marketing ploys, but do not worry -- this is not one.)

I hope all of you who are interested in reading the chef profiles and getting recipes like Town Hall's spicy barbecue shrimp or Manresa's cool melon soup will ask for a copy (which comes out mid-November).

Bon appetit!

...kiss

Next Friday night I'm heading to Kiss sushi, finally, for a kick-ass omikase. Bring on the raw, baby!

bah humbug!

Does  anyone else want to barf over all the Thanksgiving magazine covers that are in stores? It's October, and I can't believe we're already being assaulted with turkey madness. Besides, really folks, what's the big deal? We all know what we're gonna make -- turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, and peas or green bean casserole or whatever token green veggie shows up on your table ("Suffer little children," said Jesus...) and some pumpkin frickin' pie. And we all know which wine goes best with turkey -- all together, now -- "P-I-N-O-T  N-O-I-R."

I just saved you $3.

You're welcome.

penance, shmenance

I started last night with a plan to make a hot vichyssoise, sans cream, to amend for my bad bacony ways, but one sweet smile and several earnest pleas from you know who and before I knew it, I was chowing a veggie pie at Little Star. FYI their second location is now open on Valencia Street; I haven't been so I cannot comment on the interior at all, but I've noticed on my last few visits that the original Divis location isn't quite as a-bomb-inable on the noise front as it once was. Yay!

***

Popped into Iluna Basque for a quick bite Friday night. I'd only been once, right when it first opened, and have since heard so-so things -- but we loved it. The best dish was egg mimosa and anchovies toast, which is basically chopped egg salad on toast with an anchovy coiled on top. Mmmm...I could have eaten ten of them. The duck rillette empanadas were good, too, and the dough was nice and flaky, pastry-style dough rather than the doughy versions you often find.

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Now on my dying-to-try list: Brick, Circa, and farmerbrown. I know I'm not on the cutting edge since they've all been open for ages (except Circa, which used to be Cosmo's and just reopened last week) but I like to let things settle in first. Then there's Masa's, the Dining Room, Cyrus and a return trip to Gary Danko (the first one didn't blow me away, but I want to give it another chance) to fit in, somehow, somewhere. I'm also interested in trying Petite Patisserie, the new organic bakery in Potrero Hill; anybody (besides Sam) been?

ahhh...

A week without bacon was too long, so this morning I fixed an open-faced breakfast sandwich of bacon, egg and cheese, and boldly dared my diet to say boo. However, I tried to discard the (unnecessary) fat and have planned a low-cal vegetarian soup for dinner as penance.

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Important discovery for dieting chocoholics: Fudgesicles are only 40 calories and fat free! That amounts to 1 Weight Watchers point, and a very satisfying chocolatey dessert. I ate one while i was putting the groceries away, and I feel certain another awaits me after my soup. See, my deal is that every day I can have at least one thing chocolate. Most days it's either a chocolate chai or a peanut butterfly, but that's about to change.

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Bar Crudo still rocks. Last night my favorite dish was a Kona kampachi with mascarpone cheese and figs.

tragedy

I have not eaten bacon in over a week. A WEEK! Diets suck. So do fat thighs. Diet, fat thighs, diet, fat thighs. We'll see who wins.

***

I eat Lean Cuisine and I'm not ashamed to admit it. (Well, maybe a little.) But I have found two good alternatives that use no preservatives and boast an ingredient list that is 99.999% familiar. Kashi contains whole grains and is sold at regular grocery stores, while Seeds of Change, an all organic, vegetarian line, is sold at places like Whole Foods.

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Salted-butter caramel spread is the bomb. (slurp!)

***

Mr. Food Musings and I really want to spend a weekend in Healdsburg, traipsing through the leaf-coated sidewalks and smiling at the friendly small-town peeps. Oh, and we want to eat at Cyrus. Does anyone know of a local or nearby hotel that doesn't cost $600 a night? No B&Bs, I don't like other people all in my business or my breakfast.

Glad tidings

Sometimes it helps to know a whore.

Ever since I read all about Henri Le Roux's famous salted-butter caramel spread, I have been obsessed. Salted Breton butter, sugar, milk, almonds and hazelnuts, all in a spreadable caramel? Sign me up! At first glance, it seemed like satisfying my craving would be easy. Unlike most of the piteously backwards French, Le Roux is a modern operation. They have a web site and the ability -- or should I say the willingness -- to ship internationally.

So I logged on to the site and, with my passable French, managed to navigate through words I'm sure I learned in my Business French class back in college. I put a bottle in the basket, then thought, "Who am I kidding?" and added another. They were only 7€ apiece.

I typed in my mailing address, wiping the drool off the keyboard as necessary, and trotted off to get my credit card, clapping my hands with glee.

And then I saw the shipping costs, and my salted-butter caramelized hope died a painful and instantaneous death. 40€. Merde!

I sat quietly at my desk, mourning my loss. I thought to myself, "If only I knew someone who was going to Paris."

DING DING DING!   

I quickly emailed the whore a plaintive but polite request. You know, no biggie if you can't make it, but if you can, can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE bring me some salted-butter caramel spread from France? She said she would try, but she couldn't make any promises. Fair enough.

Obviously the gods don't completely hate me, because they granted me my wish, and today I got my goodies. I raced home from my afternoon date and, diet be damned, ate 4 heaping spoonfuls. WHEEE! People, it is damn good. The first thing I tasted was obviously that burnt sugary caramel, followed immediately by butter. Rich, salty, smooth butter. Mmm...

Is it worth getting on a plane for? Probably. Is it worth paying 40€ for? Damn straight.

Bon Vogage

This recent article in the Times by the late R.W. Apple caught my eye, I think because it hovers at the intersection of several recent foodland and blogosphere discussions: what 5 things to eat before you die and the mystery of Michelin stars, to name but a few. The piece lists the ten restaurants Apple deemed worth hopping on a plane for. I am not nearly as worldly as he, so my list is culled from a shorter (and nearer-flung) list. All are places I would go back again and again, whether I've eaten there once or a million times. Here they are; we'll see if I can muster 10.

Chez Michel ~Paris~
A small spot near the Gare du Nord that serves Breton food. It's rustic, the perfect place to dash in to on a cold Parisian winter's night. I remember the hand-chalked menu that rotated from table to table; a small jar filled with smoked salmon, purple potatoes, carrots and slinky onions that no mortal could finish; and, a crock of paté that was good enough to be dangerous in a When Harry Met Sally kinda way.

Da Roberto ~Rome~
Our last night in Rome several years ago, we dropped in to Da Roberto (not its "proper" name, you know how they do that in Italy). We were the only folks in the joint, which is always worrisome, but that meant we got the attention of the proprietor, who ordered for us. What I remember from the veritable orgy of food was sweet, fresh mozzarella on a plate of caprese; whisper-thin prosciutto wrapped around juicy melon; pasta that I recall was heavenly, though I don't remember now what it was; the best roast potatoes I have ever had -- crispy outside, soft inside; and, the fish, first cooked whole and proudly presented à table, then taken back to the kitchen to filet. We ordered a magnificent wine for what Mr. Food Musings assured me was pennies, and finished with a few shots of grappa from a bottle the size of a baby (and thus called a bambino). We waddled outside and walked around the Forum afterwards, heavy in our bellies and in the knowledge that so many souls from so many civilizations had walked on that very same ground.

Moro ~London~
My love affair with this Spanish-Turkish restaurant, named for the Moors from whence it draws its inspiration, began with its cookbook. The rough-hewn pages and vivid photographs had me drooling, and when I had one London night last December to spend on dinner, this is where I went. The sunchoke and chorizo soup you see on my blog right now is from that meal. Mmm...

Mama Zoya's ~Moscow~
Plenty will argue that Guriya is better, but when I lived in Moscow 10 years ago, Mama Zoya's was one of very, very few restaurants in town. Though it's now housed on a barge on the Moskva River, the original location was tucked away in a low-ceilinged building that did a fair impression of a cozied up cave. Wine could be brought in (no corkage) and the khachapuri (cheese bread) was to die for.

Mt. Burgess Dining Room ~Emerald Lake, British Columbia, Canada~
The setting is incomparable: one small lodge clings to the shore of the brilliant Emerald Lake, which is ringed by the Rocky Mountains. The only view is of the water and the craggy hills that rise up from it; the only intruders, those staying at the lodge. Food is Canadian-inflected California cuisine with plenty of wild game, indigenous berries and local wines.

Old Yellowstone Garage ~Jackson, Wyoming~
So good, Mr. Food Musings got up from his seat after our appetizers were eaten to make reservations for the next night. It's Piedmontese-style Italian fare with a bit of cowboy flare. I loved the zucchini carpaccio with fresh mint, and we took home a bottle of the exquisite olive oil they serve.

Steinhilber's ~Virginia Beach, Virginia~
Nearly every trip home includes a visit to Steinhilber's. It's located at the end of a long and winding road in a sedate neighborhood far from the throngs of red-shouldered tourists that come for the sand and surf. Steiny's, as the locals call it, has been in business for 65 years, and their jumbo, fried butterfly shrimp and sauce are famous for a reason. Have a cocktail outside overlooking the Lynnhaven River and then go inside to the traditional, dark wood dining room. (Hint: opt for the Parmesan pepper salad dressing and the twice-baked potato with your meal.)

Second Street Lunch ~Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina~
Maybe I'm waxing a bit nostalgic here, but this mom and pop hamburger joint is the one place that reigns supreme in my family's food lore. The booths and floors have been there since the dawn of time, and no doubt a layer of grease and grime has as well, but you can't beat the unnaturally cherry-red hot dogs and paper-thin burgers. There's no menu, so know that full dressed means chili, sweet slaw, mustard and onions -- you add the ketchup at the table. The same lucky woman takes your order and cooks your food, which is the cheapest around. it's a small town institution that can barely handle the crowds come Thanksgiving and Christmas, when all the towns prodigal sons and daughters and their offspring swing by for the annual fix. My grandfather came in for a hot dog and a small bottle Coke nearly every day of his retired life.

First spinach, now lettuce?

CNN is reporting today on a voluntary recall of green leaf lettuce by a Salinas-based producer. It was packaged under the brand name Foxy (funny name for lettuce, no?) and sold in stores throughout the West Oct. 3-6. Click here for more details.

At least spinach is back on the menu!