Leave it to Cleaver
You never sausage a place!
Welllllllll, actually the décor wasn’t what drew us in or kept us there. It looked like we walked in the morning after a mini-rave had popped up in a shoebox-sized, open-faced, brick-walled cube and left its sinners in the sunlight, forming a horseshoe of heathens circled around its crude, wooden planked bar acting as the centerpiece, a plasma TV above and a few half-booths squeezed against the walls on either side.
(picture courtesy of Salt and Cleaver)
We decided to take up residence in the tiny corral of outside seating at a distressed metal table and began deciphering their giant chalkboard of microbrews. But I had my sights set on mimosas, ever since the siren song of Sunday brunch had led me here. Salt and Clever (S&C) was all about homemade sausage, and the combinations they were coming up with were enough to make me want to rave too.
Sunday Brunch Menu
Drinks
Damn it! We missed the $12 bottomless mimosas by 30 mins (arrived at 3pm), but they had already run out…maybe it was because you were allowed to order two, five or 10 at a time! Now that’s my kind of bottomless!
S&C mimosa mixes:
blueberry/sage
blood orange
passion fruit
*Note to self – arrive at 11:30am sharp next Sunday*
Favorite Links
Duck.Duck.Pig: housemade duck & bacon sausage, crispy duck confit, baconaze, orange marmalade $11
You down with DDP? Duck.Duck.Pig. lived up to the hype. This was on that same elevated hierarchy of Maine lobster or caviar – luxury was the only word that came to mind. But beyond its decadence, I don’t know if I’d ever tasted a sausage whose advertised flavor actually matched the inside stuffing so spot-on. This sausage really tasted like duck! And like bacon! “The schnozberries taste like schnozberries!!”
And my amazement didn’t end there. I’d come to accept that with sausage came grizzle, fat and weird little hard pieces….but S&C had NONE of that!! It was all meat, all day, front to back, top to bottom. Every bite was delectable (and that was very important when dealing with queasy stomachs on a Sunday morn).
The piece de resistance = pieces of crispy duck confit scattered on top. Orange marmalade’s sour and sweet medley played amongst frisee’s refreshing crunch in a bun that fit like a glove (yet another impressive feat) laced with baconaze = bacon mayo.
Ribeye: housemade ribeye sausage, Brussels sprouts, goat cheese, S&C sauce $11
If I closed my eyes, my brain rode the same memory patterns experienced when eating steak – but it was sausage!! S&C was blowing my mind by truly capturing every flavor advertised in their links. This gave new meaning to the word, “tube steak” and the finely diced, raw, Brussels sprouts acted as a less bitter take on sauerkraut. Goat cheese brought the tang, while three, deep-fried, Brussels sprout leaves were placed atop like crunchy, lucky clovers.
Unfortunately the S&C sauce, described as “fancy ketchup” by our server, didn’t add anything, and I was happy to have the horseradish mustard as one of the several condiments on the table.
Warning: Eat the DDP last or else everything will taste bland after its brightness.
Sides
Cucumbers chips – fresh cut cucumber slices, lime, spices, side of tzatziki sauce $4
These were the ultimate palate cleanser in between mouthfuls of meat.
Seconds at S&C:
I was already planning my next trip back, and my next order, which would include the housemade fried chicken sausage (sweet and spicy bacon, hot sauce, housemade buttermilk waffles $12), the Machaca burrito (pulled pork, caramelized onions, pico de gallo, sweet peppers, scrambled eggs $10), chorizo loaded fries (S&C fries, housemade chorizo, salsa fresca, guacamole, sour cream $7) and fresh green tomatoes (green heirlooms, lemon juice, bacon relish, roasted panko $6).
Plus they had an entire section dedicated to Brussels sprouts on their regular menu (Mon-Sat) and S&C offered a late night menu (10pm-12am), which included the California Sausage (housemade carne asada marinated sausage, fries, guacamole, sour cream and pico de gallo $10).
They also had craft drinks like the Abe Froman (tequila, Pimm’s, Cynar, lemon, simple syrup, Peychauds Bitters, muddled cucumber, rocks), build-your-own Bloody Marys, loads of microbrews and clearly, S&C were so generous with the champagne that they partied 'til it ran out.
S&C Sausage Factory
And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, their menu’s mascot was a pig with a bowler hat, bowtie and handlebar moustache that exclaimed, “I am a gentleman!” I suggest they start making up T-shirts, pronto. I’ll be there to pick mine up next Sunday when I get there at 11:30am sharp. Feel free to come join me…I’ll be the one with 20 mimosas in front of me.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Friday, March 14, 2014
Pascal and Sabine - Asbury Park, NJ
Feasting Flashbacks: Opening Week at Pascal and Sabine
In the last decade, Asbury Park had changed from the sketchy, forgotten beach town of my youth (“where the debris meets the sea”) to a bustling mecca of new restaurants and shops, including Pascal and Sabine (PS), a European brasserie which opened the same week I was visiting Jersey.
The Four B’s of this Brasserie:
1) Beans: My eyes were drawn directly across the room to the polished gleam of an enormous copper, espresso machine lording over the back coffee bar like a more personable version of C3PO, since he could dispense hot chocolate and espresso from his orifices.
2) Books: Two steps in and I immediately wanted to plop down in the comfy corner to my right that could have easily passed for a stylish friend’s living room (perfect for happy hour) with bookshelves that went from waist-high to the ceiling, flaunting colorful volumes, including The Red Balloon (noted as the restaurant’s inspiration).
3) Bar: I could almost picture a European version of the Rat Pack clinking glasses in this minimalist setting where the atmosphere and drinks were both served neat (including a specialty menu of bourbons, whiskey, and scotches). I could also picture cheers-ing here with my own ratty pack of friends and slurping down a few cocktails in this fancy-feel, yet down-to-earth space that brought a certain je ne sais quoi to Jersey.
4) Booths: I felt like Tony Soprano meeting for a sit-down, dwarfed by a booth that evoked the same privacy felt in the curved shell of a Tilt-a-Whirl. The straight, brown backing was more like an insular wall that kept our semi-circle (big enough for six) muted from outside chatter, while still keeping us in the warm glow of company.
Entrees
Duck confit - seared duck breast, Swiss chard, fingerling potatoes & duck jus
I’m a sucker for skin and this salty, crackly crunch of a coat was the best one I’d seen on a duck breast in years – we’re talking serious fowl fashion. PS rendered out most of the fat, which forced the skin to crisp into a protective, edible armor like Magic Shell hardening over ice cream.
I didn’t even miss the duck confit that was supposedly the headliner of this dish – whoops! They’d run out unexpectedly, but rectified this by giving a more generous portion of the breast. Since this was their first week, I understood a few glitches…and this happened to be Glenda the good glitch = more duck skin for me!!
Fried chicken - drumstick, breast & thigh with parsnip slaw *
Every time I ordered fried chicken at a restaurant, I could almost hear Kenny Rogers singing The Gambler. Of course it was a risk, as was ordering any simple classic. It meant that I would ultimately compare it to my favorite, fried chicken moment in time and judge it by those merits. But PS paid out in full with salty skin that spoke for itself (literally and audibly) with a range of sound effects that gave way to moist, juicy chicken.
But the real surprise was the parsnip slaw beneath - a shredded root veggie blend exhibiting all the signs of complex life = spicy, earthy, crunchy and creamy. Every element was there, just enough to fool the mind into thinking “summer picnic” in the midst of Jersey winter.
*No longer on the menu - I guess it didn't make the final cut!!
Burger - brioche bun, gruyère, gribiche sauce & frites
It was an $18 burger, but I had to say it was worth it. Just like the fried chicken, it was easy to get a bum burger when the mouth already had certain expectations, but PS' house-made patty imparted the succulent luxury of well-marbled meat, along with the gribiche (creamy, green peppercorn) sauce which was more velvety than Prince’s suit in Purple Rain. The brioche bun turned a bit soggy with all of that juicy beef, but it was a minor distraction in what I would call a masterpiece of meat.
And I guess those stereotypes of simple classics followed me all the way to the frites, since I automatically assumed “steak frites” meant skinny, sleek, and shoved in my mouth by the handful. But no, no. These kitchen-cut fries were like a plus-size model knowing she looked goooooood. Their thick body worked every curve with confidence.
Sides
Fried baby artichokes - lemon, herbs, anchovy bread sauce
Bright and fresh. These looked like miniature sunflowers and they opened on the tongue with the same sunny warmth.
The bread sauce was salty and thick, almost like a variation on a Caesar dressing with a hint of anchovy and citrus that made a second order necessary.
Roasted beets - crème fraiche, hazelnut crumb
I'm not the biggest fan of beets, but when these carved, fuchsia orbs arrived, I couldn't help but stare.
Crème fraiche helped ground the beet's loamy earthiness with tangy dollops of puffed cream and was topped off with buttery hazelnut sprinkles - a savory sundae of sorts = beauty and the beet.
Desserts
Hot chocolate duo with madeleines
I had to admit this little novelty of a dessert was what had drawn me here and I’m not even a big sweets fan. But multiple samplings of hot chocolate sounded too good to pass up, and the fact that they came with buttery, cakey madeleines, perfect for dunking, made it all the more exciting. The two flavors:
1) Traditional French hot chocolate: I found myself on the streets of Paris, where I had first tried this European version of hot chocolate that pretty much tasted like a melted dark chocolate bar in a cup.
2) Caramelized cinnamon: But this was my favorite. It wasn't quite as rich, and the aroma of the roasted spice had an oddly calming effect...even in the midst of gulping straight sugar.
Chocolate Mousse - flourless chocolate cake, chocolate ganache, creme anglaise
This looked like a sturdy, chocolate covered bell, but as my fork cut in, it deflated its shape, I realized there was no backbone to this structure. The chocolate cake came in the form of a shallow flooring at the bottom of a two story house of mousse, which was a bit heavy for my liking.
But it was a creative way to reinvent classic chocolate mousse.
PS I love you
I was impressed on so many levels - the menu, the atmosphere, the quality of food and drink. I was smitten. I could picture many scenarios here: at the bar for some Belgium beer (Chimay - red, white and blue!) or a designer cocktail or just a quick pop-in for some charcuterie (happy hour anyone?). Maybe a rainy Sunday for hot chocolate and a foie gras breakfast sandwich on a sea salt croissant. Whatever the time of day, I knew I would revisit this little piece of Paris whenever I found myself back in Jersey.
In the last decade, Asbury Park had changed from the sketchy, forgotten beach town of my youth (“where the debris meets the sea”) to a bustling mecca of new restaurants and shops, including Pascal and Sabine (PS), a European brasserie which opened the same week I was visiting Jersey.
The Four B’s of this Brasserie:
1) Beans: My eyes were drawn directly across the room to the polished gleam of an enormous copper, espresso machine lording over the back coffee bar like a more personable version of C3PO, since he could dispense hot chocolate and espresso from his orifices.
2) Books: Two steps in and I immediately wanted to plop down in the comfy corner to my right that could have easily passed for a stylish friend’s living room (perfect for happy hour) with bookshelves that went from waist-high to the ceiling, flaunting colorful volumes, including The Red Balloon (noted as the restaurant’s inspiration).
3) Bar: I could almost picture a European version of the Rat Pack clinking glasses in this minimalist setting where the atmosphere and drinks were both served neat (including a specialty menu of bourbons, whiskey, and scotches). I could also picture cheers-ing here with my own ratty pack of friends and slurping down a few cocktails in this fancy-feel, yet down-to-earth space that brought a certain je ne sais quoi to Jersey.
4) Booths: I felt like Tony Soprano meeting for a sit-down, dwarfed by a booth that evoked the same privacy felt in the curved shell of a Tilt-a-Whirl. The straight, brown backing was more like an insular wall that kept our semi-circle (big enough for six) muted from outside chatter, while still keeping us in the warm glow of company.
Entrees
Duck confit - seared duck breast, Swiss chard, fingerling potatoes & duck jus
I’m a sucker for skin and this salty, crackly crunch of a coat was the best one I’d seen on a duck breast in years – we’re talking serious fowl fashion. PS rendered out most of the fat, which forced the skin to crisp into a protective, edible armor like Magic Shell hardening over ice cream.
I didn’t even miss the duck confit that was supposedly the headliner of this dish – whoops! They’d run out unexpectedly, but rectified this by giving a more generous portion of the breast. Since this was their first week, I understood a few glitches…and this happened to be Glenda the good glitch = more duck skin for me!!
Fried chicken - drumstick, breast & thigh with parsnip slaw *
Every time I ordered fried chicken at a restaurant, I could almost hear Kenny Rogers singing The Gambler. Of course it was a risk, as was ordering any simple classic. It meant that I would ultimately compare it to my favorite, fried chicken moment in time and judge it by those merits. But PS paid out in full with salty skin that spoke for itself (literally and audibly) with a range of sound effects that gave way to moist, juicy chicken.
But the real surprise was the parsnip slaw beneath - a shredded root veggie blend exhibiting all the signs of complex life = spicy, earthy, crunchy and creamy. Every element was there, just enough to fool the mind into thinking “summer picnic” in the midst of Jersey winter.
*No longer on the menu - I guess it didn't make the final cut!!
Burger - brioche bun, gruyère, gribiche sauce & frites
It was an $18 burger, but I had to say it was worth it. Just like the fried chicken, it was easy to get a bum burger when the mouth already had certain expectations, but PS' house-made patty imparted the succulent luxury of well-marbled meat, along with the gribiche (creamy, green peppercorn) sauce which was more velvety than Prince’s suit in Purple Rain. The brioche bun turned a bit soggy with all of that juicy beef, but it was a minor distraction in what I would call a masterpiece of meat.
And I guess those stereotypes of simple classics followed me all the way to the frites, since I automatically assumed “steak frites” meant skinny, sleek, and shoved in my mouth by the handful. But no, no. These kitchen-cut fries were like a plus-size model knowing she looked goooooood. Their thick body worked every curve with confidence.
Sides
Fried baby artichokes - lemon, herbs, anchovy bread sauce
Bright and fresh. These looked like miniature sunflowers and they opened on the tongue with the same sunny warmth.
The bread sauce was salty and thick, almost like a variation on a Caesar dressing with a hint of anchovy and citrus that made a second order necessary.
Roasted beets - crème fraiche, hazelnut crumb
I'm not the biggest fan of beets, but when these carved, fuchsia orbs arrived, I couldn't help but stare.
Crème fraiche helped ground the beet's loamy earthiness with tangy dollops of puffed cream and was topped off with buttery hazelnut sprinkles - a savory sundae of sorts = beauty and the beet.
Desserts
Hot chocolate duo with madeleines
I had to admit this little novelty of a dessert was what had drawn me here and I’m not even a big sweets fan. But multiple samplings of hot chocolate sounded too good to pass up, and the fact that they came with buttery, cakey madeleines, perfect for dunking, made it all the more exciting. The two flavors:
1) Traditional French hot chocolate: I found myself on the streets of Paris, where I had first tried this European version of hot chocolate that pretty much tasted like a melted dark chocolate bar in a cup.
2) Caramelized cinnamon: But this was my favorite. It wasn't quite as rich, and the aroma of the roasted spice had an oddly calming effect...even in the midst of gulping straight sugar.
Chocolate Mousse - flourless chocolate cake, chocolate ganache, creme anglaise
This looked like a sturdy, chocolate covered bell, but as my fork cut in, it deflated its shape, I realized there was no backbone to this structure. The chocolate cake came in the form of a shallow flooring at the bottom of a two story house of mousse, which was a bit heavy for my liking.
But it was a creative way to reinvent classic chocolate mousse.
PS I love you
I was impressed on so many levels - the menu, the atmosphere, the quality of food and drink. I was smitten. I could picture many scenarios here: at the bar for some Belgium beer (Chimay - red, white and blue!) or a designer cocktail or just a quick pop-in for some charcuterie (happy hour anyone?). Maybe a rainy Sunday for hot chocolate and a foie gras breakfast sandwich on a sea salt croissant. Whatever the time of day, I knew I would revisit this little piece of Paris whenever I found myself back in Jersey.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Le Bernardin - Manhattan
Weeknight at Bernie’s
We hit trouble long before we reached traffic at the Tunnel. It started when my mom (Eddie) and I decided that it would be easier to drive from Jersey into midtown Manhattan instead of taking the train the day before New Year’s Eve...it wasn't. Our destination didn’t help - smack in the middle of Rockefeller Center, Radio City Music Hall and Times Square = we were screwed.
I called Le Bernardin and told them we were going to be late for our reservation. The same reservation that we booked two months in advance to secure a much sought after table at the legendary, French restaurant known for its seafood. Opened in 1986 by siblings Maguy and Gilbert Le Coze*, Le Bernardin (aka Bernie) had earned three Michelin stars, retained its four star status with The New York Times for over 20 years and collected more James Beard Awards than any other restaurant in New York City = restaurant royalty (which left Eddie and I = royally screwed).
*Chef Eric Ripert succeeded Gilbert as head chef after his death in 94'
Our extremely late entrance and apologies were waved away by the maitre d’, as if there had only been a small delay (thank you, good sir – your welcome was both classy and comforting). Understandably, they had given away our dining room table after 30 minutes, but had called to let us know they’d graciously saved us a spot in the lounge, where we could still order from a full menu.
Lounge Lizards: Led to a tea party sized table with shorty, low-backed, swivel chairs and padded bench seating across from one another, we realized it was a happy accident that we landed in the coziness of the lounge instead of the monochromatic beige of the dining room. Straight ahead, a wall of glass peeked in a piece of the city through vertical blinds that trapped the low, orange backlighting of the lounge, its polished bar rising from the center like a pristine temple with the lone, textured oil painting of a salty sea fisherman playing the disheveled Messiah as the centerpiece above.
Amazing Grapes: The wine list read like the New York City phone book - thick with diverse regions, prices and age ranges. We couldn't have been happier with our $70 bottle of Beaujolais, served chilled and with a bit of carbonation that played magnificently off the fish.
Prix fixe four course - $135
Amuse bouche trio:
1) Tuna tartar with a puffed whisp of crisped barley, acting as a handle
2) Sliced cucumber with lump crab topped with a slice of black truffle
3) Cauliflower soup with a parmesan crisp
This playful amuse hit all the bells and whistles. Fresh, decadent, creamy – Bernie knew how to get the party started.
Almost raw – 1st course
Tuna - Layers of Thinly Pounded Yellowfin Tuna, Foie Gras and Toasted Baguette, Chives and Extra Virgin Olive Oil
In a word: perfection. This was why we had come. I wanted to be floored. I wanted an experience unlike any other and this performed the task, above and beyond. It was one of the few times that I could agree, “Thin was in.” From the fish to the foie gras to the barely-there baguette, every element was paper thin, but under this girdled facade laid a zaftig broad with body, depth and passion that carried some real weight. Olive oil and chives floated the final notes that finally sent me into a slight convulsion of pleasure.
Barely Touched – 2nd course
Lobster “Lasagna”; Celeriac, Truffle Butter
Bernie was known for its sauces (mais bien sûr, il est français!), and a separate vase followed most dishes in the second and third courses. Multi-colored liquids of varying viscosities were emptied with purpose, making their own grand entrance and proving almost as important as the fish – almost. Fish was the front guy for sure, but the sauce made a hell of a wing man.
I couldn’t wait to taste this dish that married two of my favorite components, but the undercooked pasta reminded me of al dente wonton wrappers and the chopped lobster in between had taken on an almost mealy quality. Every element seemed oddly disjointed and although the sauce was superb (truffles and butter was always a win), I felt nothing but lament over my lackluster lasagna.
Barely Cooked Scallop; Brown Butter Dashi
Two giant scallops came in purple shells big enough for a mermaid’s bra and were bathed in the soulful, cleansing broth of brown butter dashi. The scallop's mild nature became the shy starlet that unexpectedly emerged - tender, quivering and nearly raw. No matter how delicate the fish, Bernie somehow managed to keep each sauce a secondary, complimentary sidekick.
Lightly cooked – 3rd course
Baked Snapper; Charred Green Tomatoes, Baja Style Shrimp Sauce
Easily, the most perfectly cooked piece of fish I’d ever eaten. This thick, flaky filet exhibited a certain suppleness that I’d never seen in snapper before. Remember thinking you knew about music and then hearing The Rolling Stones for the first time? It was like discovering an entirely different animal - and that's what happened here. This would be the memory I chose to carry with me and the standard on which I gauged a snapper dish from here on out. The charred green tomatoes gave a grilled, open-fire quality, while the marriage of lime and crustacean in the Baja shrimp sauce completed the beachy scene evoked in my head, where my toes gripped the sand as the fork hit my lips.
Pan Roasted Lobster; Truffled Salsify, Red Wine “Sauce Américaine”
Another plate that engaged the eye first and led to salivation (and salvation) in anticipation of a bite – the response was Pavlovian. This flirty Maine lobster was already shimmying out of its shell, cut in knuckled pieces for easy shucking with a plump claw set out in front like a luxurious lump of a welcome mat.
I thought sauce Américaine was thicker, but the thin, brownish-red broth cooked with wine and lobster stock carried a lightness that complimented the rich, starchy bowl of truffled salsify on the side, its firm bite a direct contrast to the velvety lobster.
Dessert – 4th course
Pistachio: Passion Fruit Gelée, Meyer Lemon, Pistachio Ice Cream
How would you feel if someone gave you a Picasso and then said, “Go ahead, tear into it!”? That’s how I felt as they told me to eat this edible piece of artwork. A scoop of pistachio ice cream was propped on a base of chopped pistachios and topped with whole, candied pistachios that introduced an ideal crunch without marring the silkiness of the ice cream. Dollops of passion fruit gelee brought out the sweet and sour of citrus, causing the palate to pinball between the tart and nutty components, scoring high points all the way.
Chocolate Mille-Feuille: Caramelized Phyllo, Thyme Gelée, Salted Milk Chocolate Ice Cream
Could Rumpelstiltskin have been in the kitchen? Because here was another dessert where regular cream and sugar were spun into gold. The salt in the chocolate ice cream did the same thing it did in savory dishes - heightened the chocolate’s natural essence. The thyme gelee was like a faceless, herbaceous gummy bear and there were so many dimensions and shapes on the plate that I felt like I finally understood geometry. Long planks of caramelized phyllo poked towards the ceiling amongst clumps of mini-circular, chocolate crunchies that looked like models of an atom (maybe this would help me understand molecular biology too?) All I could say was that this was one highly intelligent dessert.
Dessert Amuse Bouche
Chocolate cinnamon orb, Salted caramel cookie, Lemon macaroon, "Figgy bread"
What a treat! I love when they gave you dessert after dessert – it was just good sense and very good manners, which was pretty much what Bernie was all about. The simplicity of the dishes showed there was no need for smoke and mirrors when the real trick was time. The painstaking time it took to explore and hone the French technique and come up with a concept that worked seafood into endless possibilities.
Lesson at Bernie’s: What Le Bernardin taught me was that I needed to take more chances in my culinary journey. I saw so many unknown combinations on their menu that I got a little overwhelmed and reverted to a safety zone by ordering the lobster lasagna. But my instinct was wrong and while trying to keep myself safe, I ordered a bomb. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward…next time I’d order the big footed body of the geoduck (thinly shaved “giant clam”; lemon confit, piquillo pepper, baby zucchini, pesto broth) and the surf and turf (roasted bone marrow and sea urchin; pickled onions, capers, bacon crisp.)
The entire idea here was unmasking every alien-esque delicacy that the sea had to offer and highlighting their natural strengths, while draping them with enough luxury to compliment each creature's individual character. The gentle hand required to keep seafood the star among swirling waterfalls of French sauces and flawless technique was a feat that only Bernie could explain.
But who was I to ask? I was just happy to sit there and enjoy, reveling in a meal that I would rewind in my mind like a fishing reel pulling back its line.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Amaya at the Grand Del Mar - San Diego, Ca
The Grand Del Mar was saved for grand occasions and my birthday seemed like a good enough reason to indulge at Amaya. We’d already eaten at Addison’s, the second restaurant on the property, and it remained one of my most cherished dining memories to date, which meant Amaya had some impressing to do.
Drinks
Jalapeno margarita: Jalapeno infused vodka with a few slices of the actual pepper sassed up this classic, as the spice naturally fell in step with the soft burn of tequila and rocky rim of salt.
Margarita with grapefruit juice and elderflower syrup: This played a little softer than the jalapeno version, but still had its own kick. Grapefruit juice grabbed at the throat as elderflower soothed the sour with its delicate, floral syrup.
Apps
Shrimp with chili and lime broth: I couldn’t fathom how the chef had cooked these shrimp so perfectly - down to the second. Shrimp’s short window of turning pink, but retaining its succulent, springiness was as elusive as glimpsing the green flash at sunset* – almost impossible. The chili/lime sauce was thick with butter and the squeeze of citrus turned up the chili’s heat, while keeping it tamed enough to spotlight every individual ingredient. Toasted baguette slices were there to sop up any remaining sauce and I assume to keep patrons from licking the bowl.
*Not sure if I only know about the green flash since living in San Diego, but it’s the rarely seen, green flash of light that lasts only a millisecond as the sun hits the horizon during sunset.
Duck proscuitto flatbread with arugula and Manchego cheese
Crispy dough, flat as a quarter, was the platform for paper thin slices of the deep maroon, duck proscuitto, whose salty, earthiness was mirrored like a twin in the Manchego's creamy tang, with arugula playing their peppery sister.
Entree
Duo of lamb: Little Bo Peep should have checked here when she went looking for her herd because this was where they were all hiding. Rib-eye of lamb fanned itself out in slices like a demur Southern Belle flaunting its rosy, (true) medium rare center, circled with a cracked crust of sea salt and ground pepper. Lamb chops crisscrossed themselves above with delicate Frenched bones grounded to the plate by their swollen lollipop heads, thick with meat.
Both the chops and rib-eye were seasoned better than most lamb I’ve eaten in my life and there was absolutely no negative critique I could give to this dish…other than I needed more lamb pancetta in the white beans and greens concoction beneath the meat. Yes, you heard me correctly: LAMB PANCETTA!! That’s when this duo turned into my type of threesome. What can I say? I’m a glutton for mutton.
Dessert
Frozen lemon meringue pie with raspberry coulis: This pie was served with a lemon twist = lemon curd ice cream. If you haven’t been lucky enough to try lemon curd, then hustle down to Trader Joe’s and grab a jar. It’s meant for muffins and breakfast toasts, but not only was it fitting as a filling, but was easily one of the best ideas since someone realized that chocolate could rival jelly when it came to peanut butter. The topping wasn’t a true meringue because instead of whipped egg whites and sugar, the lightly bruleed top was thicker and had a texture like marshmallow (maybe to withstand the freezer?). But surprisingly I loved it, which impressed me all the more since I usually hate marshmallow. Bottom line: Curd is the word.
Pecan pie tart with buttermilk ice cream: Their buttermilk ice cream tasted pretty vanilla and the pecan tart seemed like it could have been bought anywhere. My guess? Dudsville, USA. Not bad, but nothing special.
A to A comparisons: Amaya’s food was perfectly seasoned, executed and presented. But Amaya cost around the same as Addison’s and the two weren’t even in the same ball park when it came to service or experience.
Addison’s
1. We were greeted by name
2. Hostesses and waiters performed a seemingly choreographed production of service while welcoming us
3. Giant tweezers were used to lay our napkins on our laps
4. Individually wrapped pieces of house-made shortbread and a printed version of the tasting and wine choices from our evening’s four-course menu were received as a parting gift.
Amaya
1. Our waiter went missing for a bit, maybe since there was an event going on outside, but we were left unattended for a good while and were left waiting to order.
2. The sommelier was very attentive, genuine, funny, and seemed to be more present as a server than our actual waiter, but service was still spotty.
Conclusion: Amaya fan? Yes. But for the money, I’m all about Addison's.
Drinks
Jalapeno margarita: Jalapeno infused vodka with a few slices of the actual pepper sassed up this classic, as the spice naturally fell in step with the soft burn of tequila and rocky rim of salt.
Margarita with grapefruit juice and elderflower syrup: This played a little softer than the jalapeno version, but still had its own kick. Grapefruit juice grabbed at the throat as elderflower soothed the sour with its delicate, floral syrup.
Apps
Shrimp with chili and lime broth: I couldn’t fathom how the chef had cooked these shrimp so perfectly - down to the second. Shrimp’s short window of turning pink, but retaining its succulent, springiness was as elusive as glimpsing the green flash at sunset* – almost impossible. The chili/lime sauce was thick with butter and the squeeze of citrus turned up the chili’s heat, while keeping it tamed enough to spotlight every individual ingredient. Toasted baguette slices were there to sop up any remaining sauce and I assume to keep patrons from licking the bowl.
*Not sure if I only know about the green flash since living in San Diego, but it’s the rarely seen, green flash of light that lasts only a millisecond as the sun hits the horizon during sunset.
Duck proscuitto flatbread with arugula and Manchego cheese
Crispy dough, flat as a quarter, was the platform for paper thin slices of the deep maroon, duck proscuitto, whose salty, earthiness was mirrored like a twin in the Manchego's creamy tang, with arugula playing their peppery sister.
Entree
Duo of lamb: Little Bo Peep should have checked here when she went looking for her herd because this was where they were all hiding. Rib-eye of lamb fanned itself out in slices like a demur Southern Belle flaunting its rosy, (true) medium rare center, circled with a cracked crust of sea salt and ground pepper. Lamb chops crisscrossed themselves above with delicate Frenched bones grounded to the plate by their swollen lollipop heads, thick with meat.
Both the chops and rib-eye were seasoned better than most lamb I’ve eaten in my life and there was absolutely no negative critique I could give to this dish…other than I needed more lamb pancetta in the white beans and greens concoction beneath the meat. Yes, you heard me correctly: LAMB PANCETTA!! That’s when this duo turned into my type of threesome. What can I say? I’m a glutton for mutton.
Dessert
Frozen lemon meringue pie with raspberry coulis: This pie was served with a lemon twist = lemon curd ice cream. If you haven’t been lucky enough to try lemon curd, then hustle down to Trader Joe’s and grab a jar. It’s meant for muffins and breakfast toasts, but not only was it fitting as a filling, but was easily one of the best ideas since someone realized that chocolate could rival jelly when it came to peanut butter. The topping wasn’t a true meringue because instead of whipped egg whites and sugar, the lightly bruleed top was thicker and had a texture like marshmallow (maybe to withstand the freezer?). But surprisingly I loved it, which impressed me all the more since I usually hate marshmallow. Bottom line: Curd is the word.
Pecan pie tart with buttermilk ice cream: Their buttermilk ice cream tasted pretty vanilla and the pecan tart seemed like it could have been bought anywhere. My guess? Dudsville, USA. Not bad, but nothing special.
A to A comparisons: Amaya’s food was perfectly seasoned, executed and presented. But Amaya cost around the same as Addison’s and the two weren’t even in the same ball park when it came to service or experience.
Addison’s
1. We were greeted by name
2. Hostesses and waiters performed a seemingly choreographed production of service while welcoming us
3. Giant tweezers were used to lay our napkins on our laps
4. Individually wrapped pieces of house-made shortbread and a printed version of the tasting and wine choices from our evening’s four-course menu were received as a parting gift.
Amaya
1. Our waiter went missing for a bit, maybe since there was an event going on outside, but we were left unattended for a good while and were left waiting to order.
2. The sommelier was very attentive, genuine, funny, and seemed to be more present as a server than our actual waiter, but service was still spotty.
Conclusion: Amaya fan? Yes. But for the money, I’m all about Addison's.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Hinoki and the Bird – Los Angeles, Ca
Bird is the word
This is what I imagined the upper echelon of garden sheds to look like – four-star all the way. We were led to an outside booth padded with dark denim cushions, and the rusty, metal frames surrounding the windows were faded with an antiqued grace instead of looking like ravaged corrosion. Multiple varieties of greenery and vegetation sprouted from behind a row of bench-seating, boxing out the back wall and gaining plenty of natural light from an open air roof, which began closing in multiple, corrugated sections at varying degrees throughout the meal.
Nesting
When we’d passed through Hinoki and the Bird's interior, a dining room dressed head to toe in wood (appropriate since hinoki was a type of Japanese tree known for its valuable timber), I was once again reminded of the simple things in life elevated to first class – this was high society’s rumpus room. But there was no need for a TV or a game of Twister since guests could swivel their necks and get a Bird’s eye view from the almost wall-sized, rectangular cut-out that looked directly into the kitchen.
Top Chefs
And the Bird’s chefs were used to the attention. Executive Chef David Myers had opened several restaurants, including Michelin-starred Sona and his LA eatery, Comme Ca, which boasted a second location in Vegas’ Cosmopolitan Hotel. Chef Kuniko Yagi, who had competed as a contestant on Top Chef (Seattle), was also present in the kitchen…and at the table directly behind us. Both she and Chef Myers made an appearance just a few feet away, where they spoke at length to a brunette woman with her back to Bubba. *cue Madonna music* “Who’s that girl?” I'd have to find out, but first, a cocktail.
Cocktails
Seasonal Fix - gin, rum, vodka or tequila, served with fresh lemon over muddled seasonal fruit: This was like a choose-your-own-adventure drink. Pick your liquor. Pick your fruit. Options were: raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and/or grapes - pick one or all to be muddled in the mix. Our choice: vodka, blackberries and strawberries. An avalanche of crushed ice filled the glass, while the vodka and mashed berries swirled into every available crevice and created the ultimate alcohol snow cone = best brain freeze ever.
Tommy’s #2 - tequila or mezcal, lime, orange and agave: This was served in an Old Hollywood style champagne glass with a wide rim to fit all of its citrusy, sunny, brightness (see picture below with lobster roll).
Drinking To-do: Their list of clever cocktails would undeniably lure me back with concoctions like the Griffith Park Swizzle (bourbon, mint, lime, bitters & absinthe) and the Gordon’s Cup (gin, muddled lime, cucumber, Szechuan pepper, salt). Next time.
Eats – sharing plates and tasting multiple courses is encouraged
Half dozen oysters with pear mignonette: We had to try the Forbidden Oysters, since they sounded so off-limits, but they were pretty tame in their briny, squishy presence and the pear didn’t offer much flavor to the run-of-the-mill mignonette.
Lobster roll, green curry, Thai basil: I had specifically picked the Bird because it sounded more my speed than some of the trendier spots with menus that flew right over my head - sorry, Michael Voltaggio, but to me, your “charcoal waffle” just sounded burnt. Though here I was, enjoying what looked like a croissant that had been left in the oven and charred to a crisp…but that was all part of the edible illusion.
This black bread had abracadabra-ed itself into a buttery, moist compliment to the simplicity of the Maine lobster – like sporting a Mohawk with a Channel suit - classic charm while working a fresh angle = black bread is the new black. Green curry was the-barely-there binding agent instead of mayo, but present enough to enhance the lobster’s sweet nature, along with Thai basil and strong blasts of heat from Thai chili and sour hits of lemony citrus. I’d come back for a few of these and some cocktails alone – let the good times (lobster) roll!
Chili crab toast, spicy cucumber, coriander: I pictured this more like shrimp toast - a greasy, deep-fried triangle with shredded crab stuffed into its interior, but instead we were brought slices of toasted baguette topped with shredded crab and chili paste, resembling the color and texture of pulled, barbeque pork. The cucumber beneath the crab ran the length of the bread, but lost some of its crunch under the hot mixture. Overall, it was a bit bland and nothing special.
Drunken duck breast: This was from the ‘simply grilled’ section of the menu and served with sliced pears. I was instructed by our waiter to cut my duck lengthwise, which proved a bit of a task since my two pieces were short and stubby, so it was hard to get a good hold on it while seated. I would have preferred that they’d sliced it in the kitchen, but I felt like a baby asking for someone to cut my meat, so I sawed away, stabbed a pear and was finally rewarded with a fowl and fruit combo that played off each other’s sweet and earthy notes in varying degrees – a perfect “pearing”.*
Sonoma rack of lamb, patty pan squash, arugula, cumin yogurt: These were some big chops - the kind that should be waved above your head at a feast, but they were a touch underdone and the sauce was scarce. The precious drops I did taste were ideal, blending the spicy, loamy taste of cumin with yogurt's tart cream and the mild game of lamb.*
*I’ve had better duck and lamb dishes before, but I don’t know if I’ve enjoyed my surroundings as much while having those better duck and lamb dishes.
Dining To-do: Next time I’d try the hinoki scented black cod with sweet potato and pistachio (served with a still-smoking piece of wood) and the caramel braised kurobuta pork belly with radish and mustard greens.
Side show(stoppers)
Sweet potato with lardons, crème fraiche and piquillo peppers: This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I was picturing a mashed concoction, heavy with cream and bacon. Instead it arrived in the simple disguise of an ordinary, out of the oven, cut in half, still in its skin, sweet potato topped with a smattering of crisp lardons (fat, little fingers of bacon), a scoop of crème fraiche and thinly sliced piquillo peppers. But this unassuming spud held secrets within its straight-laced skin that made me question what happened next.
This sweet potato = the singing frog from the old Looney Tunes' episode. You know the one I’m talking about. Whenever the frog was alone with his owner, he’d belt out, “Hello, my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal!” But if the owner tried to show-off his singing pet to others, the frog would only answer with, “Ribbit.” Well, on the plate, this looked like a “Ribbit”, but when I placed that fork in my mouth, the music started and a well choreographed number came to life on my tongue. I couldn’t believe that just a few well-placed components on this “frog” could transform it into such a prince.
Braised shiitake mushroom, yuzu kosho: The mushrooms arrived in a flimsy, silver plastic disc that looked like a coaster for beneath a flower pot, which was appropriate since its contents seemed to have been plucked directly from the earth and placed on the plate. Braised mushroom heads puffed up next to a brownish-green clump of something growing in the corner and that something = the best condiment ever: yuzu kosho (a paste made from chili peppers, yuzu peel and salt, then allowed to ferment). This salt-cured condiment worked as a truth serum on the shiitakes and drew out their raw essence in a salty, spicy, funky, fabulous way.
Desserts
Vietnamese coffee “snow cone”, nata de cocoa, condensed milk: As if my alcohol snow cone wasn’t enough, dessert gave me another opportunity to fill the void left by my Snoopy Snow Cone Machine decades ago. Shards of toasted coconut built a roof atop the pungent coffee, hitting me just as I was blindsided by a blanket of condensed milk that put me to out like a handkerchief full of ether. Somehow it was strong, crisp, refreshing, toasty and decadent all at once and was simply divine.
Cotton cheesecake, rhubarb, raspberry, strawberry yogurt ice cream: I was about to order the miso doughnut, when I went with the cotton cheesecake instead, a Japanese version that was similar to the porous texture of pound cake. But it didn't move me in any way and I felt like it was something I could get from the grocery store...next time I’d order the doughnut.
Meathead, Marty McFly and the Mystery Woman
I’ve never been someone that’s really into the celebrity scene, though I have to admit that I got a little giddy when I saw Rob Reiner seated on the other side of the dining room. But what made me really lose my shit was when Michael J. Fox sat (diagonally) across from me. I had to keep myself from shouting, “Flux capacitor ready!”, and instead, I just gave him a nod, as if to say, “We’re all just eating dinner here, buddy.” As for the brunette who stole the chefs’ attention at the beginning of the meal and had several visitors at her table throughout the evening, we walked directly in front of her as we left, but I couldn’t place her Barefoot Contessa-esque countenance…I still don’t know who we missed.
Waiting on a Friend
Our waiter Daniel was probably one of the most exquisite courses of the meal. Between his recommendations (“You probably want the lobster before the crab toast since the lobster’s more delicate”) and his genuine warmth (as well as the attentive and friendly, bow-tied maitre d’), we were treated as if we were Michael J. Fox – A-list all the way. The Bird’s special brand of service and laid-back setting made it hard to leave the nest.
This is what I imagined the upper echelon of garden sheds to look like – four-star all the way. We were led to an outside booth padded with dark denim cushions, and the rusty, metal frames surrounding the windows were faded with an antiqued grace instead of looking like ravaged corrosion. Multiple varieties of greenery and vegetation sprouted from behind a row of bench-seating, boxing out the back wall and gaining plenty of natural light from an open air roof, which began closing in multiple, corrugated sections at varying degrees throughout the meal.
Nesting
When we’d passed through Hinoki and the Bird's interior, a dining room dressed head to toe in wood (appropriate since hinoki was a type of Japanese tree known for its valuable timber), I was once again reminded of the simple things in life elevated to first class – this was high society’s rumpus room. But there was no need for a TV or a game of Twister since guests could swivel their necks and get a Bird’s eye view from the almost wall-sized, rectangular cut-out that looked directly into the kitchen.
Top Chefs
And the Bird’s chefs were used to the attention. Executive Chef David Myers had opened several restaurants, including Michelin-starred Sona and his LA eatery, Comme Ca, which boasted a second location in Vegas’ Cosmopolitan Hotel. Chef Kuniko Yagi, who had competed as a contestant on Top Chef (Seattle), was also present in the kitchen…and at the table directly behind us. Both she and Chef Myers made an appearance just a few feet away, where they spoke at length to a brunette woman with her back to Bubba. *cue Madonna music* “Who’s that girl?” I'd have to find out, but first, a cocktail.
Cocktails
Seasonal Fix - gin, rum, vodka or tequila, served with fresh lemon over muddled seasonal fruit: This was like a choose-your-own-adventure drink. Pick your liquor. Pick your fruit. Options were: raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and/or grapes - pick one or all to be muddled in the mix. Our choice: vodka, blackberries and strawberries. An avalanche of crushed ice filled the glass, while the vodka and mashed berries swirled into every available crevice and created the ultimate alcohol snow cone = best brain freeze ever.
Tommy’s #2 - tequila or mezcal, lime, orange and agave: This was served in an Old Hollywood style champagne glass with a wide rim to fit all of its citrusy, sunny, brightness (see picture below with lobster roll).
Drinking To-do: Their list of clever cocktails would undeniably lure me back with concoctions like the Griffith Park Swizzle (bourbon, mint, lime, bitters & absinthe) and the Gordon’s Cup (gin, muddled lime, cucumber, Szechuan pepper, salt). Next time.
Eats – sharing plates and tasting multiple courses is encouraged
Half dozen oysters with pear mignonette: We had to try the Forbidden Oysters, since they sounded so off-limits, but they were pretty tame in their briny, squishy presence and the pear didn’t offer much flavor to the run-of-the-mill mignonette.
Lobster roll, green curry, Thai basil: I had specifically picked the Bird because it sounded more my speed than some of the trendier spots with menus that flew right over my head - sorry, Michael Voltaggio, but to me, your “charcoal waffle” just sounded burnt. Though here I was, enjoying what looked like a croissant that had been left in the oven and charred to a crisp…but that was all part of the edible illusion.
This black bread had abracadabra-ed itself into a buttery, moist compliment to the simplicity of the Maine lobster – like sporting a Mohawk with a Channel suit - classic charm while working a fresh angle = black bread is the new black. Green curry was the-barely-there binding agent instead of mayo, but present enough to enhance the lobster’s sweet nature, along with Thai basil and strong blasts of heat from Thai chili and sour hits of lemony citrus. I’d come back for a few of these and some cocktails alone – let the good times (lobster) roll!
Chili crab toast, spicy cucumber, coriander: I pictured this more like shrimp toast - a greasy, deep-fried triangle with shredded crab stuffed into its interior, but instead we were brought slices of toasted baguette topped with shredded crab and chili paste, resembling the color and texture of pulled, barbeque pork. The cucumber beneath the crab ran the length of the bread, but lost some of its crunch under the hot mixture. Overall, it was a bit bland and nothing special.
Drunken duck breast: This was from the ‘simply grilled’ section of the menu and served with sliced pears. I was instructed by our waiter to cut my duck lengthwise, which proved a bit of a task since my two pieces were short and stubby, so it was hard to get a good hold on it while seated. I would have preferred that they’d sliced it in the kitchen, but I felt like a baby asking for someone to cut my meat, so I sawed away, stabbed a pear and was finally rewarded with a fowl and fruit combo that played off each other’s sweet and earthy notes in varying degrees – a perfect “pearing”.*
Sonoma rack of lamb, patty pan squash, arugula, cumin yogurt: These were some big chops - the kind that should be waved above your head at a feast, but they were a touch underdone and the sauce was scarce. The precious drops I did taste were ideal, blending the spicy, loamy taste of cumin with yogurt's tart cream and the mild game of lamb.*
*I’ve had better duck and lamb dishes before, but I don’t know if I’ve enjoyed my surroundings as much while having those better duck and lamb dishes.
Dining To-do: Next time I’d try the hinoki scented black cod with sweet potato and pistachio (served with a still-smoking piece of wood) and the caramel braised kurobuta pork belly with radish and mustard greens.
Side show(stoppers)
Sweet potato with lardons, crème fraiche and piquillo peppers: This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I was picturing a mashed concoction, heavy with cream and bacon. Instead it arrived in the simple disguise of an ordinary, out of the oven, cut in half, still in its skin, sweet potato topped with a smattering of crisp lardons (fat, little fingers of bacon), a scoop of crème fraiche and thinly sliced piquillo peppers. But this unassuming spud held secrets within its straight-laced skin that made me question what happened next.
This sweet potato = the singing frog from the old Looney Tunes' episode. You know the one I’m talking about. Whenever the frog was alone with his owner, he’d belt out, “Hello, my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal!” But if the owner tried to show-off his singing pet to others, the frog would only answer with, “Ribbit.” Well, on the plate, this looked like a “Ribbit”, but when I placed that fork in my mouth, the music started and a well choreographed number came to life on my tongue. I couldn’t believe that just a few well-placed components on this “frog” could transform it into such a prince.
Braised shiitake mushroom, yuzu kosho: The mushrooms arrived in a flimsy, silver plastic disc that looked like a coaster for beneath a flower pot, which was appropriate since its contents seemed to have been plucked directly from the earth and placed on the plate. Braised mushroom heads puffed up next to a brownish-green clump of something growing in the corner and that something = the best condiment ever: yuzu kosho (a paste made from chili peppers, yuzu peel and salt, then allowed to ferment). This salt-cured condiment worked as a truth serum on the shiitakes and drew out their raw essence in a salty, spicy, funky, fabulous way.
Desserts
Vietnamese coffee “snow cone”, nata de cocoa, condensed milk: As if my alcohol snow cone wasn’t enough, dessert gave me another opportunity to fill the void left by my Snoopy Snow Cone Machine decades ago. Shards of toasted coconut built a roof atop the pungent coffee, hitting me just as I was blindsided by a blanket of condensed milk that put me to out like a handkerchief full of ether. Somehow it was strong, crisp, refreshing, toasty and decadent all at once and was simply divine.
Cotton cheesecake, rhubarb, raspberry, strawberry yogurt ice cream: I was about to order the miso doughnut, when I went with the cotton cheesecake instead, a Japanese version that was similar to the porous texture of pound cake. But it didn't move me in any way and I felt like it was something I could get from the grocery store...next time I’d order the doughnut.
Meathead, Marty McFly and the Mystery Woman
I’ve never been someone that’s really into the celebrity scene, though I have to admit that I got a little giddy when I saw Rob Reiner seated on the other side of the dining room. But what made me really lose my shit was when Michael J. Fox sat (diagonally) across from me. I had to keep myself from shouting, “Flux capacitor ready!”, and instead, I just gave him a nod, as if to say, “We’re all just eating dinner here, buddy.” As for the brunette who stole the chefs’ attention at the beginning of the meal and had several visitors at her table throughout the evening, we walked directly in front of her as we left, but I couldn’t place her Barefoot Contessa-esque countenance…I still don’t know who we missed.
Waiting on a Friend
Our waiter Daniel was probably one of the most exquisite courses of the meal. Between his recommendations (“You probably want the lobster before the crab toast since the lobster’s more delicate”) and his genuine warmth (as well as the attentive and friendly, bow-tied maitre d’), we were treated as if we were Michael J. Fox – A-list all the way. The Bird’s special brand of service and laid-back setting made it hard to leave the nest.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Feasting Flashbacks: Memorial Day Weekend – Piccola Italia (Ocean, NJ)
Jersey Shore, Memorial Day weekend = the North Pole at Christmas.
The celebration can’t be stopped. This year, I was lucky enough to get back home for the official opening of summer, and though I usually found myself lulled by the same idealized haunts of my youth (measuring which still fit the puzzle pieces I’d fixed in my nostalgic brain), this trip served up a new way to see the Garden State on a plate, at a little Italian joint tucked in a strip mall.
A four-star restaurant in a strip mall?!
Toto, I think we’re back in Jersey.
Digs
Piccola Italia gave me a geography-warp = like a time warp, but rather than time, it was the immediate, overall change of surroundings due to the common practices and elements from that particular region. The heavy, mahogany-like bar was an instant reminder of being back in Jerz like a stoked fire of dark paneling that was rarely lit in the light woods and gauzy fabrics of San Diego. Murals of the Tuscan terrain rose up from the side wall, set off by large squares of white flooring, and gave off the first impression of Old World, old school...mom and pop at its best.
Eats
Amuse bouche
Fried ricotta with fresh tomato sauce: Propped on a chunky bed of fresh tomato sauce, this circularly-shaped, yet sleeker cousin of the mozzarella stick could barely contain itself. A sheer shell of breading cupped the ricotta like slinky lingerie before bursting forth in one hot dollop of cream. In the amuse(ment) bouche park, this would be the roller coaster – unexpected, high impact and over too quickly.
Apps
DLT sandwich – duck confit/ butter lettuce/ grape tomatoes/ caramelized onions
No biggie - just a sandwich stuffed with duck confit and caramelized onions. Its bread: crisped in a pan, where it'd absorbed all the butter from the onions and duck fat from the confit, morphing into a Texas toast/grilled cheese “high-bread” that made me weak in the knees. Dotting their T’s with balsamic reduction, grape tomatoes were halved and scattered on the plate for a refreshing squirt of acid, leaving the velvety, softness of butter lettuce to wipe the palate clean.
Pasta
Homemade pasta and shiitake mushrooms: I’m not exactly sure how I would categorize this type of pasta – wider than parpadelle, but thinner than a sheet of lasagna. The length of it collapsed upon itself like a freshly, folded piece of laundry with a malleability that spoke of its newly formed nature. Between the plump ribbons of fresh pasta, shiitake mushrooms and micro-greens sprouted from a soft drizzle of parmesan and delicate broth that made me feel like a tree nymph foraging off an enchanted woods’ floor. It was an edible landscape that truly transported me to a magical place.
Entrées
Blue cheese encrusted filet mignon with mashed potatoes, sauteed spinach and onion rings: I’ve had peppercorn encrusted, pistachio encrusted, but never cheese encrusted. The cocoon of blue cheese ensured every bite had a bit of stank to the rosy center of the perfectly, pink beef and even in the cocoon stage, this dish had clearly blossomed into its full potential...so good they had to put a (onion) ring on it.
Potato wrapped tilapia with brown butter and fresh green beans: You say potato, I say "po-nado" = a potato tornado spun its tight funnel of long, hash brown-like strips around the tilapia’s fork tender filet. Pan fried and crisped into one tight package (snug as a fish in a spud), the brown butter still managed to work its way between the small gaps in the potato cage and onto the fish’s flesh, keeping it moist, while keeping it clever in this culinary mash-up of fish n’ chips.
Side bar
Any port in a storm? Nope, just the one in the green bottle:
We ended up moving to the bar for cappuccino and a snifter of Frangelico, when we were offered some port. I automatically cringed when I heard the word and recalled my last run-in with this punk, a Tawny port I’d tried when my friend insisted, “It tastes like Raisinets.”
First of all, I’m not that hot on Raisinets and secondly, it tasted like my mother’s basement. So when it was offered to me at Piccola, I shrank away before my eyes were drawn to a dusty, green bottle that looked like something Alice might find with the words, “Drink me” on it, pulled from beneath the bar. I became more intrigued when this emerald bottle produced a pale, orange liquid that looked like Glenda the Good Witch instead of the damning tar of Tawny. All the ports I’d had before were dark, brooding characters that overstayed their welcome on the palate, but this tasted of apricots and peaches, and everything good in the world. Libation education 101 = white port existed and was delicious.
Scenes from a mall
My first impression was my lasting impression – mom and pop at its best. Piccola's modest location downplayed the intensity of what was happening in Chef (and owner) Brian Gualtieri ’s kitchen - expert technique, homemade pastas, fresh ingredients, enthusiastic staff - there was a real sense of heart felt within these walls and on the plate. Piccola's modern play on Italian classics kept you guessing, while remaining Old World, old school…new favorite.
837 W Park Ave, Ocean Township, NJ 07712
Phone:(732) 493-3090
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Hot down, summer in the kitchen - Chef Sean's summer supper (San Diego)
When Chef Sean traipsed into town on a whim, his first words were, “What are we making for dinner?”
Now let me explain. When I talked about making dinner, it usually referred to a pan of homemade lasagna, but when Chef Sean broached the subject, he was speaking of demi-glaces, buerre blancs and anglaises – oh my!
The Main Ingredient
Quality product was a necessity, so we high-tailed it around town procuring the best of San Diego: 1) Pancho Villa: this Mexican market offered affordable produce, Mexican cheeses, fresh tortillas made on sight, and a meat counter that hit every entrail and flank of the meat rainbow (along with the beef bones we needed). 2) Iowa Meats: they were usually the top pick for specialty proteins, but they only had frozen duck breast, so we ended up finding fresh at Whole Foods. 3) Point Loma Seafood (PLS): we first stopped at Blue Water Market on India St, but their Ahi paled in comparison (literally) to the deep magenta of the PLS tuna and their unmatched display case of still seemingly moving fish.
Chef Sean’s Summer Supper 2013
First course: Shellfish in white wine broth served with fresh herb & goat cheese garlic bread
I felt like King Neptune had just called forth all of the fish in his kingdom and placed them before me. My bowl came piled high with mussels, shrimp and clams in a broth that married wine and sea with sweet traces of tomato beneath the salty bite of bacon. But the standout citizens were the mussels who had been brought up with a gentle, knowing hand and given the proper attention necessary to summon a briny shine and extinguished any back-talking chew.
Shrimp and clams completed the conga line of perfectly cooked shellfish and I couldn’t help but hum, “Under the Sea” in homage to this seafood celebration. As for the garlic bread, the chef's choice of ciabatta stood up to the slathering of goat cheese and herb, compound butter that formed a delicate shell on top, that when dipped in the broth weakened and happily soaked it all in – this sop was tops.
Second course: Soy/ginger cured Ahi tuna taco - tempura fried avocado, queso fresco, spicy aioli
Street tacos instead of salad – sweeettt!! The Ahi was left unadulterated before curing in a concoction of ginger, cilantro and soy sauce. Its almost raw, sensual feel had the softness and color of lips - a pink that seemed more likely to be found on an artist’s canvas than in nature. It lay next to a tempura avocado that posed the same powerful “crunch and cream” dynamic that rivaled the simple brilliance of an ice cream cone. Clumps of queso fresco fell in with swirls of spicy aioli and all were enhanced by the freshly made corn tortilla that fit demurely in my palm.
Third course: Seared duck breast with blackberry demi-glace served with homemade, rosemary gnocchi* in almond browned butter and sautéed spinach
When beef bones were braised for hours to create a true demi-glace, you knew it was something worth waiting for. Deeper than Aristotle; more body than Jessica Rabbit; this blackberry demi-glace motorboated the tastebuds and did a lap (it up) dance atop a sliced, duck breast, whose rosy pink center came rimmed in a G-string of skin. With all that body, the blackberries became the backbone of the sauce with a tart, acidity that climbed its way to the top of each complex layer. My only issue was that Chef Sean had forgotten the halved blackberries he’d prepared as a garnish and because they were missing, when a blackberry seed was found with the teeth, it took the brain a second to process what it was.
*The name game: The chef had labeled these gnocchi, but I preferred to call them potato dumplings because when you heard a certain term, it set you up for expectations. There’s a lot in a name – sorry Shakespeare. A rose by another name might still smell sweet, but if you were expecting lilacs and they smelled like roses, you might be disappointed. Just like when I thought of gnocchi, I imagined light and airy pillows dissolving on the tongue. But Chef Sean’s delightful nuggets of potato pasta were much more like a dumpling - like a baby periogi that hadn’t received its filling yet. After a few minutes in boiling water, they were crisped brown in the pan with a mix of duck and beef fat. Then they were tossed with butter and slivered almonds, browned into a nutty decadence that was rounded out by the subtlety of sautéed spinach. WOW.
Fourth course: Homemade baklava with ginger/honey drizzle and orange/saffron ice cream
Phyllo dough.
Melted butter.
Chopped walnuts and honey.
Stack.
Repeat.
Baklava was dense and sticky, making me heavy with thoughts of grandmothers in babushkas baking in Old World kitchens. One bite overtook the mouth and held it captive, thick with honey holding firm the flaky dough that dissolved on the tongue. It slowed the chewing process, which slowed the mind into appreciating just how satisfying one mouthful could be.
We didn’t leave enough time for homemade ice cream, but that didn't mean Chef Sean didn't have a few tricks up his sleeve. One gallon of store bought vanilla + 3 oranges + a few strands of saffron = orange/saffron ice cream. The flavors were so bold it tasted homemade - the saffron was present, but not overpowering, while the orange brought an almost floral finish and gave some give to the sticky nuts and honey. The final touch was a drizzle of ginger/honey for spiciness that cleansed the palate and said a final goodnight.
Summer lovin':
Summer lovin' had me a blast
Summer lovin' happened so fast
We went shopping at Pancho Villa's
Got some bones and some tortillas
Shiny shellfish cooked to perfection
Duck breast slices got a berry injection
Baklavaaaaaa (pause)
The last hurrah
But ohhhhh!!
Those saffron noooooo-tes......
Thanks for another great meal Sean!!
Now let me explain. When I talked about making dinner, it usually referred to a pan of homemade lasagna, but when Chef Sean broached the subject, he was speaking of demi-glaces, buerre blancs and anglaises – oh my!
The Main Ingredient
Quality product was a necessity, so we high-tailed it around town procuring the best of San Diego: 1) Pancho Villa: this Mexican market offered affordable produce, Mexican cheeses, fresh tortillas made on sight, and a meat counter that hit every entrail and flank of the meat rainbow (along with the beef bones we needed). 2) Iowa Meats: they were usually the top pick for specialty proteins, but they only had frozen duck breast, so we ended up finding fresh at Whole Foods. 3) Point Loma Seafood (PLS): we first stopped at Blue Water Market on India St, but their Ahi paled in comparison (literally) to the deep magenta of the PLS tuna and their unmatched display case of still seemingly moving fish.
Chef Sean’s Summer Supper 2013
First course: Shellfish in white wine broth served with fresh herb & goat cheese garlic bread
I felt like King Neptune had just called forth all of the fish in his kingdom and placed them before me. My bowl came piled high with mussels, shrimp and clams in a broth that married wine and sea with sweet traces of tomato beneath the salty bite of bacon. But the standout citizens were the mussels who had been brought up with a gentle, knowing hand and given the proper attention necessary to summon a briny shine and extinguished any back-talking chew.
Shrimp and clams completed the conga line of perfectly cooked shellfish and I couldn’t help but hum, “Under the Sea” in homage to this seafood celebration. As for the garlic bread, the chef's choice of ciabatta stood up to the slathering of goat cheese and herb, compound butter that formed a delicate shell on top, that when dipped in the broth weakened and happily soaked it all in – this sop was tops.
Second course: Soy/ginger cured Ahi tuna taco - tempura fried avocado, queso fresco, spicy aioli
Street tacos instead of salad – sweeettt!! The Ahi was left unadulterated before curing in a concoction of ginger, cilantro and soy sauce. Its almost raw, sensual feel had the softness and color of lips - a pink that seemed more likely to be found on an artist’s canvas than in nature. It lay next to a tempura avocado that posed the same powerful “crunch and cream” dynamic that rivaled the simple brilliance of an ice cream cone. Clumps of queso fresco fell in with swirls of spicy aioli and all were enhanced by the freshly made corn tortilla that fit demurely in my palm.
Third course: Seared duck breast with blackberry demi-glace served with homemade, rosemary gnocchi* in almond browned butter and sautéed spinach
When beef bones were braised for hours to create a true demi-glace, you knew it was something worth waiting for. Deeper than Aristotle; more body than Jessica Rabbit; this blackberry demi-glace motorboated the tastebuds and did a lap (it up) dance atop a sliced, duck breast, whose rosy pink center came rimmed in a G-string of skin. With all that body, the blackberries became the backbone of the sauce with a tart, acidity that climbed its way to the top of each complex layer. My only issue was that Chef Sean had forgotten the halved blackberries he’d prepared as a garnish and because they were missing, when a blackberry seed was found with the teeth, it took the brain a second to process what it was.
*The name game: The chef had labeled these gnocchi, but I preferred to call them potato dumplings because when you heard a certain term, it set you up for expectations. There’s a lot in a name – sorry Shakespeare. A rose by another name might still smell sweet, but if you were expecting lilacs and they smelled like roses, you might be disappointed. Just like when I thought of gnocchi, I imagined light and airy pillows dissolving on the tongue. But Chef Sean’s delightful nuggets of potato pasta were much more like a dumpling - like a baby periogi that hadn’t received its filling yet. After a few minutes in boiling water, they were crisped brown in the pan with a mix of duck and beef fat. Then they were tossed with butter and slivered almonds, browned into a nutty decadence that was rounded out by the subtlety of sautéed spinach. WOW.
Fourth course: Homemade baklava with ginger/honey drizzle and orange/saffron ice cream
Phyllo dough.
Melted butter.
Chopped walnuts and honey.
Stack.
Repeat.
Baklava was dense and sticky, making me heavy with thoughts of grandmothers in babushkas baking in Old World kitchens. One bite overtook the mouth and held it captive, thick with honey holding firm the flaky dough that dissolved on the tongue. It slowed the chewing process, which slowed the mind into appreciating just how satisfying one mouthful could be.
We didn’t leave enough time for homemade ice cream, but that didn't mean Chef Sean didn't have a few tricks up his sleeve. One gallon of store bought vanilla + 3 oranges + a few strands of saffron = orange/saffron ice cream. The flavors were so bold it tasted homemade - the saffron was present, but not overpowering, while the orange brought an almost floral finish and gave some give to the sticky nuts and honey. The final touch was a drizzle of ginger/honey for spiciness that cleansed the palate and said a final goodnight.
Summer lovin':
Summer lovin' had me a blast
Summer lovin' happened so fast
We went shopping at Pancho Villa's
Got some bones and some tortillas
Shiny shellfish cooked to perfection
Duck breast slices got a berry injection
Baklavaaaaaa (pause)
The last hurrah
But ohhhhh!!
Those saffron noooooo-tes......
Thanks for another great meal Sean!!
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