One of the problems with liking good food is that I want there to be good food wherever I go. I realize that under certain circumstances my options are limited: e.g. when camping or staying in a hotel. But if I'm going to be in a house, with a kitchen and access to a grocery store, my inner foodie and control freak join forces and I feel the need to take charge and make sure that there's good food. (Or at least as good as I can make it in an unfamiliar kitchen with unfamiliar equipment.) This is part of what leads me to schlep two or three boxes of equipment and a giant cooler of food to Joshua Tree and cook a big meal, even though most of the other attendees aren't at all bothered by eating pizza or burritos for Thanksgiving dinner. The other part is that for someone who's not interested in having any kids, I can be powerfully maternal--especially when it comes to food. I love to make sure that everyone has something delicious and nourishing to eat.
But now these impulses might be encouraging me to volunteer for an ill-advised amount of responsibility. The Suitor and I will soon be departing for a week-long ski trip in Montana, and as I usually do, I am wondering what we're going to eat. We will be staying in a cabin, which means there's a kitchen, which means that cooking is a possibility. If it were left up to the Suitor and his friend N. (the only other person I know among the people who will be there), we would subsist on Doritos and microwaved burritos all week. Being the incorrigible food snob that I am, I reject that plan, and now the apparent power vacuum in the kitchen is sucking me in. My favorite apron might as well be looking at me with puppy eyes and saying, "take me with you!" But is this really something I want to take on? Cooking one or two meals for eight to ten people is one thing; signing up to cook dinner for 11 people nearly every night for a week is quite another.
My assumption is that breakfasts and lunches will be largely individual affairs, based on when people get up and what their ski schedule is. (That said, I will almost certainly cook eggs for people, and there might be a reprise of Thanksgiving's wildly successful pecan sticky buns.) We'll buy milk and cereal, cheese and crackers, and sandwich fixings. Dinner is where the real action will take place. Dinner for 11. I've done that once or twice in my life, but it was for Thanksgiving (an almost entirely predetermined menu made up of dishes that almost everyone likes to eat). What do I make for 11 people for dinner night after night?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The first question I have to answer is whether or not I'm really willing to take on this project. The urge not to eat Doritos and microwaved burritos and canned faux cheese for dinner for a week is strong. Strong enough to overcome every rational objection to the idea of volunteering to play house chef for a dozen people for a week? I think so.
Operating under the assumption, then, that I will be packing my apron and my knives, I'd like to draft the brainstorming power of my little corner of the blogosphere. What do I cook for 11 people? I don't know what kind of equipment I'll have available to me, other than my trusty knives: presumably a chef's knife, a utility knife, a serrated knife, and maybe a paring knife. The cabin's web page says things like "a very complete kitchen for your chef" and " fully equipped with quality appliances, microwave, coffee maker and plenty of high quality cookware and serving ware," but who knows what that actually means?
Grocery sources are a Costco in Bozeman (we're flying into Bozeman, so I assume we'll stock up there just after we arrive) and, according to the trip organizer, a couple of grocery stores within a few miles of the cabin in Big Sky.
At the moment I have no knowledge of anyone's dietary preferences or restrictions, except mine and the Suitor's. I also don't know how adventurous the other people are, so I'm assuming that people are not adventurous. (My beloved braised kale with chickpeas and sun-dried tomatoes is probably out of the running.) At the same time, I'd like to keep things flexible so that if someone is vegetarian or just prefers to go meatless on a given night, he or she isn't left out in the cold with just a side salad. With that in mind, here are some preliminary ideas that might scale easily to feed 11 people:
- Roasted chickens, sauteed greens with cannellini beans and garlic, and (an enormous pot of) risotto.
- Make-your-own Mexican-ish stuff: tortillas, beans, cheese, veggies, salsa, maybe meats, etc. Could do fajitas, burritos, tostadas, tacos, quesadillas, and so on and people could customize them with whatever toppings they like. Very flexible, if not exactly hearty winter fare.
- Make-your-own pizza: buy a bunch of toppings, make some dough, and let people have at it. We wouldn't have a pizza stone, but a baking sheet would probably suffice.
- Chili, cornbread, and a vegetable. For the chili: Greens' black bean chili (which is vegan), and maybe Silver Palate's Chili for a Crowd if I have time/space. For the vegetable: salad? mustard-glazed carrots?
- Pasta, marinara sauce and maybe a rough basil or parsley pesto, meatballs for those who like them, garlic bread, and salad (or, if I think enough people will eat it, roasted broccoli).
What say you all? Additions? Revisions? Words of caution? (Including but not limited to "you're nuts!") Knowing me, I will probably supplement these things with a pear crisp, brownies or cookies or some other snackable sweet, and maybe a spiced apple cake. I do plan to do some snowboarding, but I don't think I'll be very sad if on most days I spend a few hours on the slopes, and the rest of the day in the kitchen.
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The trip to Cancun was... well, it was mixed. Despite this being ostensibly a food blog, I can't say that I have a lot to report on the food front. At least, nothing fun. Cancun, or at least the area in which I was staying, seems to be very resort-oriented--much to the detriment of one's dining options. There are few restaurants outside of what's located in the hotels, and what restaurants there are were not enticing. Most of what I ate was fair-to-middling; nothing to write home about, even the one Yucatecan meal that I had. It's a curious setup. There are tons of hotels with restaurants, but they seem to count on people not venturing much outside their own hotel, and the quality of the food reflects that laziness. Even though you would think that with so many hotels in the area, the competition would drive quality up (in at least some of the restaurants).
I'm breaking my delinquent streak to put out a call for foodie recommendations in Cancun. I'll be there from the evening of the 17th to the afternoon of the 23rd, and I'm hoping to eat some great food while I'm there. I have a race (event, really, since I won't exactly be racing it) on Sunday so that day will be taken up by swimming, biking, running, and then the finishers' dinner; but I'll be fending and foraging for myself the rest of the time.
When we were planning this trip, Katie’s dad, Papa S., said that he wanted to take us to “some great tapas bars in Barcelona.” Well, we only ended up going to one, but we went there twice, and we were perfectly happy not going to any others. According to Papa S., Cal Pep is Thomas Keller’s favorite restaurant (aside from his own), so you can be pretty sure it’s quite good.
We first went on Saturday evening, the night before our big lunch at El Bulli. Papa S. wasn’t yet in Barcelona, so our party consisted of Mama S., Katie, Sister S., and me. The restaurant opened at 8, and we were instructed by Papa S. to be there by 7:30 to wait in line (they don’t take reservations). We took a cab from the hotel and after a good 10-15 minutes of wandering semi-aimlessly around pedestrian-only streets and squares, and Katie’s patient efforts at getting directions from shopkeepers (which was brave of her, given that pretty much everyone spoke Catalan rather than Spanish), we found it.
It was easy to miss. The sign was small and half obscured, and to be honest, it really didn’t look like a restaurant. Other than the tiny sign, there was no indication that the small space behind the rolling metal door was anything more than a storage space for the adjacent business. But as we walked up, we saw that written on the door were their hours, and in front of the door were a few people already waiting. We joined them in line and got to talking, as they were from Boston. As the time neared 8pm we saw the line grow until it must have had at least 35 people. We were glad we got there early, especially once the door opened and we walked in.
There are not many seats to be had in Cal Pep. There are a few in a back room, and about 20 at the bar in the front. The latter are the desirable ones, as behind the bar is where all the action takes place. All of the food is made directly in front of you. It’s loud, it’s fast-paced, it’s somewhat chaotic, and it’s immensely enjoyable. And those 35+ people? Well, not all of them got the first seating, so they—and all of the other people who arrived to wait while we ate—lined up directly behind us.
That’s right, there are people standing right behind you while you eat, waiting for you to finish. But there’s so much going on right in front of you, both behind the bar and on your plate, that you completely forget they’re there.
The consensus after our hour-long meal (which felt like about 15-20 minutes) was that “it was like doing drugs.” They didn’t speak English, we didn’t speak Catalan (and only Katie spoke some Spanish), but we got along just fine. People threw plates of food at you and half of the time you didn’t quite know what you were eating, but they said “it’s very good! Try it, you’ll like it!” (Or at least that’s what they seemed to be saying.) Eventually, with or without prompting from your dining companions, you just put it in your mouth and discovered that yes, you really did like it. Even if you weren’t sure what it was. Things were very hot, sometimes greasy, deliciously salty, and very fresh.
Everyone starts with a plate of olive oil and tomato-smeared toasted bread (yum) and then moves on from there. We didn’t know what to order, so there was lots of pointing and requesting what other people had, and they did a fair amount of just putting stuff in front of us. The food was nicely complemented by the two or three cervezas we each had.
The first thing we ate, other than the olive-oil-tomato-bread, was small roasted peppers. They were roasted whole, dumped on a plate, and salted before being placed in front of us. They were amazing. Each one was lightly charred in a few places, and they were best before they cooled and went limp (but even then, they were wonderfully tasty).
There was also fried calamari, which was delicious. I’d never been brave enough to try it before, but I figured if I didn’t like it here, I wouldn’t like it anywhere. The breading was a very light (finely ground cornmeal, I believe) and we saw the whole process from beginning to end. The squid were sliced at a prep table, dredged in the cornmeal, and tossed in the fryer, all right in front of us. They came out of the fryer and went right onto the plate, got a generous few pinches of salt, and were passed right over to where we were sitting. There were also small shrimp, also dredged in cornmeal and fried whole—and you were meant to eat them whole, head included. I ate a few and they were a little fishy for my taste, but Katie and Mama S. really enjoyed them (Sister S. is vegetarian). We also got a spinach and chickpea sauté for Sister S—we had asked for something vegetarian, but amusingly enough (at least to everyone except Sister S.), they put bits of bacon in it.
There were fried artichoke hearts, which were awesome, especially because they were fresh artichoke hearts, not the canned kind. They gave us some sort of potato, egg, and cheese galette that was smeared on top with a garlic aioli. And one of the best dishes of the evening was pork sausage with white beans, cooked in and drizzled with a port reduction. We also got to try the tuna tartare that the Boston folks (seated next to us) ordered. It was excellent. Finally, dessert: fresh woodland strawberries (the little ones) in a liqueur and topped with fresh whipped cream. Yummm. All in all, an exhilarating experience in sight, sound, and taste.
Three nights later, our last night in Barcelona, we went back—this time “we” being Katie, Papa S., and I. We arrived somewhat later (10pm), and stood around behind the diners drinking a great wine (another Vega Sicilia Unico, a nonvintage one that—if I understand correctly—is only available in Spain), and eventually were seated at the counter. This time we had a better idea what to order, and we also had Papa S. with us, so the meal was somewhat less chaotic in terms of what we were eating. We had the peppers, of course, as well as the potato galette, the calamari, and the sausage with beans. But we also had some awesome potato croquettes and some enormous prawns that were grilled whole, with the head and shell and everything, and then served for us to disassemble ourselves.
We also ended up with some tiny little smelt that had been breaded and fried, and were surprisingly fun (and tasty) to eat. They were like little French fries, except that they were fish. We shared the prawns and smelt with the women seated next to us, who in turn shared their dish of baby octopus with chickpeas (not my thing—too fishy—but I can understand how it would have tasted good to folks who didn’t mind the fishiness). Once again we got the strawberries with cream for dessert, but this time they gave us a little something extra: three espresso cups filled with different kinds of whipped cream. One was lemon, one coffee, and one seemed more like a custard that had been whipped. All were delicious.
If you are ever in Barcelona, I highly, highly recommend that you stop by Cal Pep for an evening. It’s not a fancy dining experience (the placemats are paper, and the service is very rushed—but in a fun way), but you’ll have a great time and eat some fantastic food.
Our first night in Paris Katie and I went to la Petite Chaise, which is where my grandparents and I ate one evening when they visited me during my time studying abroad. The second night, though, Katie's dad got us a table at l'Ami Louis. That meal was by far the better (and longer) of the two, though I'm still fond of the soupe à l'oignon gratinée at la Petite Chaise. It's a tiny restaurant, very cozy, and a lot of fun.
We started off with the terrine of foie gras. Now, I'd had foie gras several times before, and always felt rather iffy about it. It's one of those things where I knew it was widely acknowledged to be special and tasty, but I couldn't really bring myself to embrace it fully--I just didn't think it tasted all that great, but I would eat it when it was put in front of me. This, however, was another story. Maybe it was the delicious toasted bread that made it for me, but it was like no other foie gras I've ever had. My rather hesitant enthusiasm was nothing to Katie's, though, and she ate two slices to my one.
Next up was the roast chicken, which we split. What an awesome bird that was. I have a new standard to live up to with my own roast chicken efforts. They brought each of us a leg and half of the breast, and what with the sides of mushrooms (the most delicious sautéed whole mushrooms I've ever had--they must have used an obscene amount of butter) and frites (a veritable mountain of them--we only managed to finish half), by the time we finished our plates of chicken we were thinking it was a good thing that we only had dessert left. (Katie was joking that they'd have to get a dolly and roll her out of the restaurant and back to the hotel.) But no! When they said it was a whole chicken, they really meant it was the whole chicken, and they came back with the wings! And this was not a small bird, either. It was a good thing the chicken was so delicious, because otherwise I don't think we would have managed it. But we did--after all, we were in training for lunch at El Bulli (which would take place three days later), and we had to be sure that our stomachs wouldn't cry "uncle" midway through that much-anticipated meal.
Finally, though, it was time for dessert. We didn't skimp, we ordered the chocolate cake AND the fresh berries. The cake wasn't so much a cake as a thin dacquoise with a thick layer of chocolate mousse on top, dusted with cocoa powder. Yummmm. The berries (blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries) were the most delectable ones I've had since picking fresh ones in my parents' garden last summer. And we got a little bonus when we asked the table next to us what on earth they were eating. Katie and I had never seen such things before, but apparently they were mangosteens, and the people at that table generously offered us a couple to eat ourselves. They were amazing. Talk about a transcendant fruit. I would love to find them again, but I have no idea where to get them in the US--or even if they can be found. Anyone have ideas?
Yes, I really went. And yes, it really was life-altering. It was like nothing else I'd ever experienced, and there's no hyperbole in that statement. I have, in fact, never seen, felt, heard, or tasted anything else like it.
First, the cast of characters. For purposes of (relative) anonymity, and because I don't have the participants' permission to use their real names here (with the exception of Katie, who comments here), we'll use the last initial. I was traveling, mostly, with my dear friend Katie and her family: Sister S., Mama S., and Papa S. Their good friends Mr. and Mrs. B. joined us for lunch at El Bulli.
We were staying in Barcelona and drove up to Roses the morning of June 3, to arrive at 1pm for a 1:30pm lunch reservation. Once we passed through the town of Roses (which appeared to be a beach town much like Santa Cruz, CA) the road got a bit more interesting. It was one lane (but two-way traffic) winding its way up and along a hillside. There were also a few bicyclists and hikers to contend with on the road. It was beautiful countryside, though, and reminded all of us of California. Lots of chaparral, with a few vineyards here and there. We were also right on the coast, so there were some lovely views:
We arrived early enough that we were able to take a peek into the kitchens and see the staff at work. Now, I haven't seen many kitchens at high-end restaurants (just the one at Chez Panisse), but the one at El Bulli was impeccably clean, calm, and orderly. I was impressed. The rest of the restaurant was beautiful. There was gorgeous stonework and ample natural light, and we had the pleasure of beginning our meal out on an idyllic little patio. Our table was sheltered from the wind, the star jasmine was blooming, and the weather was perfect.
Okay. Now the food, in the order in which we had it. For each item/course/dish I'll give what it was called on the written menu (which we received only at the end--everything was a surprise), some description, and whatever other thoughts I have. At the end I'll list the wines, which were also written up on the menu we received (good thing, 'cause my notes didn't write down all the vintages, etc.). We started out on the patio, and had the first several courses before going to our table inside.
1. "Cosmopolitan-mallow." Quite a start to the adventure. They put in front of each of us a small bowl with several little dollops of what looked like beaten egg whites. Each dollop had some lime zest on it. We were all about to pick up our spoons when someone came around with little carafes of slightly thick, reddish liquid and poured some into each bowl. We were informed that the dish was a cosmopolitan. And indeed, it was. The red liquid was cranberry puree with vodka, and quite possibly some orange liqueur as well. I have no idea what the white dollops actually were, but they were pretty cool, and it all tasted great. The vodka was quite strong, and we were already drinking champagne, so by the time we finished some of us were feeling a bit woozy.
2. "LYO fruits." These were actually freeze-dried Chinese gooseberries. Very light, very tart, and rather strange-looking. Some of us loved them; others didn't like them so much. Personally, I thought they were great.
3. "Golden nuggets." These were amazing. Definitely in the running for favorite dish of the afternoon. We were instructed (yes, they told us how to eat everything) that they must be eaten in one bite. They had a shiny, golden coating that looked a lot like (and actually was) caramelized sugar. I don't know what I was expecting to taste/feel when I bit into the "nugget," but it wasn't what I got. It was crunchy, but not uniformly so--it had little bits of something in it. And it tasted like--get this--cumin and coriander and other spices that go into curry powder. The sweetness of the caramelized sugar coating very nicely balanced the spice and slight saltiness of the inside. Awesome.
4. "'Tile' - sweet corn and banana." Essentially a very thin, lacy, rather crisp crepe that tasted like banana. Delicious.
5. "Beetroot and yogurt meringue." These things were very interesting. They were little magenta-colored, donut-shaped things dusted with powdered sugar. They looked like they'd probably be cakey (we didn't know about the "meringue" part of the name at the time), or maybe a bit gummy. Nope! They were very light, and when you put them in your mouth (whole, as instructed) they were the airiest, most delicate meringues I've ever tasted. There was sweetness and red flavor from the beets, and tanginess from the yogurt.
6. "Salta 'catanias.'" Mmm, chocolate. Little truffle-looking things dusted in cocoa powder. They had a solid shell, so they felt like truffles, but they weren't exactly truffle-like inside... they were liquid! With bits of walnut. Very, very surprising. And yummy.
7. "Salty chocolate with cassis, yoghurt, and pistachio." These were little tile-like things, with dots on the top that made them look like oversized flat Lego pieces. I don't think I tried the pistachio one, but the yogurt and cassis ones were quite tart, especially the cassis one.
8. "Parmesan 'airbag.'" I loved this one. It was, essentially, a large, smooth, ultra-refined cousin of a Cheeto (without the weird cheesy dusting). Crispy on the outside and hollow on the inside, with a fantastic flavor of Parmigiano Reggiano.
(At this point we headed to our table inside. A number of us commented on how nicely things were spaced out inside the restaurant. Nothing was cramped, and there were only a few tables in our room.)
9. "Pistachio sponge cake with acid milk mousse." We were instructed, again, to put it in our mouth in one piece. It looked soft and squishy, but when we bit into it, it crumbled and was quite dry. The acid milk mousse was spooned on top and eventually made it less dry. Pretty good, but I think this one was heavier on the interesting texture than the intense flavor.
10. "Sesame brioche with miso." This looked like a greyish brown sea sponge, and had a dollop of miso paste on top. It was soft and spongy, and had a great toasted sesame flavor to it.
11. Grapefruit sections. This didn't end up on the written menu, so I don't know what they were called. But they were grapefruit slices, frozen on the inside and dry (but starting to melt) on the outside. They still held their shape and definition (even the little vesicles inside), so I sort of wonder if they weren't frozen by being dunked in liquid nitrogen or something. I certainly wouldn't put it past them to use that sort of method!
12. "Fresh pine-cone and pinions dacquoise." If I remember correctly, the pine nuts were locally grown. The dacquoise was more like a meringue, and it was piped into two large disks that sandwiched a layer of pine nut butter. Pretty tasty.
13. "Flowers paper." This was quite possibly my favorite item. When we went into the kitchens before we began lunch, Mama S. and I both noticed what we thought looked like a cotton candy machine. Sure enough.... a large folded piece of beautiful paper was placed on each of our plates. We were told to eat what was inside right away. What was it? Two sheets of cotton candy, with edible flowers in between. Amazing.
14. "Tiger nut milk flowers." Mr. B.'s guess was that these were done with a pacojet, and I think that's pretty plausible. It was some sort of liquid (hmm, maybe tiger nut milk???) that had been frozen, but not entirely frozen solid. It seemed like it had been frozen, shaven into tiny bits (hence the pacojet speculation), and then pressed into a little flower-shaped mold. It melted pretty much as soon as you put it in your mouth. I was a little so-so on the taste, but the concept was cool.
15. "Tangerine bonbons, peanut and curry." If I remember correctly, this consisted of two little bonbon-type things, one peanut & curry flavored and one tangerine flavored. Excellent pairing.
16. "Raspberries fondant with wasabi and raspberry vinegar." These raspberries were frosted in some way and had wasabi bits on top. Again, an excellent pairing. The raspberry vinegar was drizzled over the top by the staff.
17. "Oysters yoghurt with px in tempura." I'm proud of myself for finishing this one. I am finicky, and often often squeamish, about seafood, and I've always shied away from oysters as the sort of thing that I would really dislike. But my policy at fabulous restaurants is to eat (or at least try) whatever they put in front of me. There were two parts to the oysters: the first was three oysters on a mini skewer, grilled with elderberry juice. Those were actually not half bad. A bit gummy in texture, but the flavor wasn't very fishy. The oyster yogurt, which came in a little espresso cup, was a different story. It was definitely a stretch to finish it, but finish I did. And then I gladly moved on to the little tempura bite, which despite saying "px in tempura" was actually, according to what they said when they put it in front of us, sherry tempura. I quite liked it--but then again, just about anything would have tasted good after oyster yogurt.
18. "Haricot bean with Joselito's iberian pork fat." Wow, this was good. This got many people's vote for best dish of the day. The texture was incredible. The "bean" couldn't possibly have been individual beans. There were two bean-shaped things, but they had to have been formed in the kitchen (rather than in the pod). They were larger (2"?) than any beans I've ever seen, and very smooth and soft. The pork was in thin slices on top of the beans, and added a nice saltiness.
19. "Dashi with miso caviar." Apparently "dashi" is a kelp-based broth that's used in miso soup. The "caviar" were not, in fact, caviar... but you wouldn't have known it based on how it was served, and how it felt in the mouth. They served it out of a caviar tin with an ivory spoon, and I have no idea how they did this, but it really did feel like caviar. Pretty amazing.
20. "2m parmesan spaghetto." This. Was. Awesome. It was part of the repertoire some years back, and despite the fact that they never repeat dishes from year to year, Papa S. (who had had it when it was on the menu) managed to get them to bring it back for our meal. It was fantastic. A 2 meter long noodle made of Parmigiano Reggiano! I found an archived picture on their website:
21. "Anchovy and ham with yoghurt yuba." Not a huge fan of this one, I have to admit. Anchovies are really not my thing--I suspected as much before I tried them here, and this dish confirmed it. I remember not being sure where the ham was in the dish, but the yogurt "yuba" (which is a soy product) was kind of interesting.
22. "Tomato couscous with oil-olives, basil, and parmesan cheese." Pretty cool. The "couscous" was a little dry, but intensely flavored. The basil element was actually something frozen and partially melted... no idea what it was, but it was delicious. And the parmesan? That was the most puzzling element of the entire meal. It was parmesan water. A little flute of pale, cloudy liquid that tasted like Parmigiano Reggiano. Wow. None of us could figure out how they did it, but it was very impressive.
23. "Risotto of citrics." It seemed to me that the "risotto" wasn't a true risotto at all (there wasn't even any rice in it) but rather a small puddle of the little vesicles that make up a section of a citrus fruit (in this case, mostly grapefruit. They must have been meticulously separated one by one, and then heated so that they were warm, but not to the point of breaking. And there was also some coconut mash dabbed along the edge of the plate, along with some sesame seeds. Very interesting combination of flavors.
24. "Gnocchi of polenta with coffee, safran yuba and daisy buds." I loved these. The gnocchi were excellent--a fantastic texture--and the bits of coffee sprinkled on top worked very well.
25. "Asparagus in different cooking times." Very interesting. Five little white asparagus tips (~2" long) all cooked to different degrees, and all with different flavors/sauces. In my notes I only wrote down the three flavors I could readily identify: lemon, anchovy, and peanut. The peanut one was actually my favorite!
26. "Liquid won-ton of mushrooms." The best part about these, aside from the interesting texture of ravioli-type things that were actually liquid inside, was the tiny mushrooms that were scattered on top. They were baby Basque mushrooms that were no more than a quarter inch in diameter. Very cool, and very tasty.
27. "Almonds ravioli." The ravioli (which none of us could say really tasted a lot like almond) were accompanied by a single half cherry with a dab of hot mustard where the pit would be. Yum.
28. "Sea cucumbers with kalix - sea lettuce and salicornia." I was surprised by how much I liked (or rather, didn't dislike) the sea cucumber. It was probably the most random food I've ever eaten.
29. "Shark fin with shimensi." If I remember correctly, it wasn't actual shark fin, but something made out of chicken stock.
30. "Eel-beef marrow with mustard leaf." Wasn't such a huge fan of the eel, but the beef marrow was interesting, and the accompanying cucumber seeds wrapped in mustard leaf made for a nice pairing.
31. "Hare juice." Salty, earthy, gamey, and yummy. There was an apple gelée in the center that went nicely with the hare flavor.
32. "'Torta Canarejal' with red fruits." I had to consult my notes to remember which one this was, because there was little that was torta-like about it. There was kirsch air (yes, air--it was very foamy), warm sheep's milk cheese that was spooned onto the plate at the table, raspberries, and little bits of fennel paste at opposite sides of the plate. Yum.
33. "Sweet frost fruits." I quite liked this one. It was blackberries in a light, soft, meringue-like pillow that had been cut open to reveal the fruit. Then at the side there was a little eyedropper of blackberry alcohol that we were meant to drizzle over the rest of the dish. The blackberry flavor was lovely, and the texture of the meringue was great.
34. "Moon." Another one of my favorites. It was a 4x4" square of what looked like chocolate mousse, but it was dusted with cocoa powder and had an imprint in it... that looked like it came from a moon boot! And off in a corner there was something that looked like moon rocks, etc. It was delicious. And at various points underneath the mousse there were different flavor enhancements, like raspberry, mint, peanut, and cardamom (my favorite). Cardamom + chocolate = awesome combination. I am totally going to make cardamom truffles.
(For the rest of the meal we were back outside on the patio. These last two dishes weren't on the menu, but they're in my notes so I thought I'd include them.)
35. Tangerine jelly square with green tea and mint. This was a green tea biscuit-like piece (I mean biscuit the way Brits mean it, not the way folks from the South mean it--it was sort of a thick wafer type thing). It had a little tangerine gummy/jelly square on top, and a bit of mint. Delicious. I do love tangerine...
36. Hands. Little stainless steel bowls with chocolate-covered dried fruit inside, and with inflated latex gloves fitted over the rims. When the bowls rocked from side to side, the hands waved "goodbye." Very cute.
And that, after about five hours, was it! Now for the wine list:
Clos du Mesnil 1992
Krug @ Champagne-Reims
Que bonito Cacareaba 2005
Benjamin Romeo @ Rioja
S le Mesnil 1982
Salon @ Champagne-Le-Mesnil-sur-Oger
Corton-Charlemagne 2000
Jean-Francois Coche-Dury @ Corton-Charlemagne
Meursault Les Perrieres 2000
Jean-Francois Coche-Dury @ Meursault
Vega Sicilia Unico Gran Reserva 1987
Bodegas y Vinedos Vega Sicilia @ Ribera del Duero
PX Solera 1830
Alvear @ Montilla-Moriles
Each and every one of the wines was fantastic, as they always are when Papa S. (and I assume Mr. B.) has anything to do with it. Katie and I were fortunate enough to be born in what was a very good year for wine, and although Sister S. has a less wine-friendly birth year, Papa S. was still able to find a fantastic wine in honor of that year. I should note that the year on the Solera is not, in fact, the vintage. There really isn't a "vintage," per se, for that one. According to Papa S. and Mr. B., the 1830 really only has a minute amount of the actual 1830 in it. They've been adding to it every year since then, so it's largely made up of more recent years. But it was like no other wine I've ever had. It tasted like very rich raisins, and was very thick, sort of the consistency of chilled maple syrup. Delicious.)
I should start off this post by saying that this most recent trip to New Orleans improved my opinion of the city in one respect, and probably only one respect: food. The city is still as smelly, sleazy, hot, and humid as I remember it being; but my verdict on the city's restaurants has experienced a major shift. My only other visit to the city was for a volleyball tournament when I was 15, a point at which I was a very picky vegetarian, wouldn't touch seafood with a 10-foot pole, and was going through a thoroughly anti-fried-food phase. Needless to say there wasn't much for me to eat, especially at the restaurants we (we = 10 teenage girls, two coaches, and a smattering of parents) frequented.
Now a confirmed foodie who will try anything at least once and actively seeks out interesting food, I had a very different dining experience this time around. Armed as I was with Gourmet's restaurant picks for New Orleans (organized in four categories for your convenience: high end, budget, hot spots, and local favorites), more often than not I was the one who got to decide where we were eating dinner. Gourmet did not disappoint, and on more than one occasion I was seen with a decidedly euphoric look on my face--in other words, grinning like an idiot. I've listed the restaurants I liked and would recommend. A few of them (e.g. Cuvée) also deserve their own review, so stay tuned for some pure foodie bliss.
Court of Two Sisters (recommendation from Antoun, not Gourmet)
613 Royal St.
French Quarter
504-522-7261
Lola's (Gourmet listing here, and my own review coming soon)
3312 Esplanade Ave.
Mid-City
504-488-6946
Cuvée (Gourmet listing here, and my own review coming soon)
St. James Hotel
322 Magazine St.
Central Business District
504-587-9001
What I ate:
Napoleon House (Gourmet listing here)
500 Chartres St.
French Quarter
504-524-9752
La Côte Brasserie (Gourmet listing here, and my own review coming soon)
Renaissance Arts Hotel
700 Tchoupitoulas St.
Warehouse District
504-613-2330