Ruth Reichl's Blog, page 30

My Barbecue Epiphany

 
Franklin Barbecue!

About 15 years ago I stopped in Luling, at City Market, and had the best brisket of my life.  I'd never imagined that brisket could taste like that: smoky, fatty, rich and so soft that it simply melted between the slices of white bread.  I've been thinking about it ever since.

The other day in Austin, I had brisket that was even better at Franklin's. I was stunned by the flavor, the texture, the sheer amazing wonderfulness of what I was eating.  (The ribs were great too, the sausage superb, and I was crazy about the espresso-enhanced sauce.  But it was the brisket that simply stopped me cold; I'd been waiting to taste that for 15 years.)

In this case, the picture simply doesn't do justice to the food. What I should have taken pictures of was the line: people get there in the middle of the night, curl up in sleeping bags and wait.  It's that good.

The people who work there are all wonderful too. Warm-hearted.  Happy in their work. This is Benjy. He's a musician, and he's known Aaron Franklin his whole life.

And this is Aaron Franklin, barbecue pitmaster extraordinaire.  My friend John Markus told me not to miss eating his food, and I'm eternally grateful. What he didn't tell me is that Aaron is a musician - from a family of musicians - and that his grandfather was one of Bob Wills' Texas Playboys. That's royalty of another kind. 

) 

A Great Gift

How lucky am I?  Returned home to find these gorgeous dried persimmons waiting for me, courtesy of Nancy Singleton Hachisu.  She's also making persimmon vinegar, which she says is fantastic. Can hardly wait to taste it. 

Now the question is: how soon do I eat these lovely little morsels?

Last Note from LA: Another New Vegetable

Spigariello (or as it's sometimes known, spigarello). 

My last visit to the Hollywood Farmers Market, and to my great sadness the Santa Barbara fish man wasn’t there.  Of course he wasn’t; the weather had turned violent, with storm skies all week long. 

I missed the beautiful sea urchins, black prickly spines waving menacingly from their tubs of sea water. And I longed for just a few more of those ridge back shrimp which never make their way back East. 

But there are always treasures here, unexpected finds, new discoveries. Today it is this spigariello, a member of the broccoli family I’ve never encountered before.  More leaf than bud, it looks like underdeveloped broccoli rabe. I reached out, pinched off a little taste and put it in my mouth. Delicious! The leaves are sweet, with an underlying darkness, a bitter note that hits you right at the end. I wondered how the flavors would be transformed by heat.  

At home I washed the leaves, then pulled the slim branches off the thick stalks and blanched them for a couple of minutes in copious amounts of boiling salted water.  When the leaves changed color I plunked them into an ice water bath to set that shade of green.  Then I wrung them out, sauteed them in olive oil, with a bit of garlic and just a hint of chile. 

Broccoli-loathers, beware: this stuff will change your mind. 

 

More Notes from L.A.

Eating fast and furiously as I prepare to leave Lotus land. The food here is just so good now!

A few high spots. 

Shanghai #1 Seafood

Old Alley Pork: Chunks of deeply burnished pork. Sweet and rich, this amazing confection barely seems like meat; it's been transformed into something that seems to have been created by a baker. 

 

Braised Three Strings: Shredded chicken, ham and squid, that looks so innocent in its little puddle of broth. But this subtle dish is sneakily addictive: my chopsticks kept reaching out for one more bite.

  

Jar

My go-to restaurant and one of the most comfortable places in town: a seat at the bar is always waiting and the food is reliably wonderful.  With its dark lighting and deep seats, Jar has the feel of a glamorous thirties restaurant.  And should you actually want to talk to your companions - this is the place.  

A few weeks ago there was a green garlic soup so subtle and delicious I had to have a second bowl. The potato chips are famous. But what I find myself ordering, again and again, is the lemongrass chicken.  It’s the juiciest most delicious chicken I’ve ever eaten, and sometimes, when I’m not in LA,  I find myself dreaming about it. 

 

Bestia 

The sheer exuberant roar of this extremely hip restaurant in the downtown Arts District makes it difficult to concentrate on the food. If there’s a louder restaurant, I have yet to find it. Lots of offal on the menu, although some of it is underwhelming. (I found myself comparing the heart tartare to the one Chris Cosentino makes - and it’s no contest.) But I loved the tender beef meatballs with their well-braised beet greens.  My favorite dish however, was this:

Spaghetti with sea urchin,  squid ink “bottarga," chiles and breadcrumbs

 

Republique

One of the most talked-about restaurants in town, and no wonder.  The old Campanile has been lovingly refurbished, keeping the bones of the place but making it somehow even lovelier.  The entire front dining room feels like one huge communal table, open to the kitchen, and extremely lively.  In the morning it's a perfect place for excellent croissants and coffee.  

The rear dining room has the same menu as the one in front,  but it’s more grown up back there, a place to talk and sit quietly enjoying Walter Manzke’s beautifully crafted food. The menu is quirky - the chef refuses to recognize boundaries - which is rather brave.  It’s as if he’s saying, “These are dishes I like.”  I liked them too, from the wonderful risotto, the uni on toast with softly scrambled egg, and the beautifully cooked filets of branzino in an elegant Thai sauce.  

But the must-have dish is the tarte flambee, Manzke’s version of the Alsatian classic bacon tart. This one is so rich with caramelized onions and smoky bacon the tart itself seems to have vanished until all that's left  is pure unadulterated flavor. 

 

 

Things I Love: Chinese Greens

Had dinner with my cousin last night, and when he saw "sauteed pea greens" on the menu he asked if I knew what they were.  

It stopped me cold.  I've been eating dou miao  in Chinese restaurants for years - they're one of my favorite greens - but I hadn't paid attention to their slow creep out of Chinatown onto American menus. Suddenly I'm seeing them everywhere.

"They're so sweet!" my cousin said when I gave him a taste.  "Do you know where I could buy some?"

"Any Chinatown," I told him.  And then - because I couldn't help myself - I suggested that while he was there he might want to stock up on other interesting vegetables as well.  In the best stores mountains of choys fold into long beans and winter melons. There might be four kinds of chives, and yam, pepper and scarlet-freckled amaranth greens share a cooler with purple perilla. 

Here are a few favorites.

Chinese Celery

Identifiable by its thin stalks and flat, bushy leaves, Chinese celery is a punchier, sweeter cousin to the more widely available western variety. It tends to be a little less fibrous. It’s an ideal stir fry companion, especially when paired with a contrasting texture like smoked, pressed or dried tofu, bean sprouts, or barely cooked sliced chili.  I like it cut into 2-3 inch pieces, quickly blanched and then stir fried in peanut oil with smoked bean curd, thinly sliced chili, and a splash of light soy sauce. It can be served hot or cold.

And don't discard the leaves, which taste like celery. They make a great substitute for parsley.

Tatsoi/Spoon Cabbage

 

Takecai in Chinese. Tatsoi is easily distinguished by its almost cartoonish curved leaf edges and its shiny dark green color. Like other mustards, it’s got a nice zip when eaten raw. Cooked, its stems are milder; they taste like bok choy—mushroomy, a little funky. Tatsoi has a reputation for being easy to grow, which explains why it has overrun NY's farmers markets.

Not complaining. 

How to buy and cook pea leaves.

These sweet little leaves are suddenly everywhere, although the hydroponically grown variety in some supermarkets can be bland and disappointing.  The ones in Asian markets are more robust, but avoid those with even the slightest yellowing in the leaves. Don't buy the bunches overrun with curlycue tendrils either: they will be bitter.

Pea leaves are perfect cooked like spinach: quickly (to preserve their sweetness), in a relatively hot pan in neutral oil, with a little garlic. And if you throw some leaves into a spicy soup at the very last minute, their cooling quality contributes a nice balance.  

Notes from L.A.: The Meat Palace

Chi Spacca

See that innocent looking little dome in the right hand corner of the plate?  It might be the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, 'njuda,  a soft little pile of pleasure that has the texture of pudding and the bite of spicy salami.  Piled onto grilled bread, it's just one of the joys of eating at this palace of meat.

There is also this, 

a platter of Chef Chad Colby's cured meats. Colby's obsession with cured meats is famous in the food world, and from his very fine salami to the culatello to that little hockey puck of boned, fried trotter, it's all wonderful stuff. The glass jar?  That, of course, is nothing but deliciously whipped lardo.

Then on to the main events.....

The "tomahawk"  is a huge hunk of pork (42 ounces, to be exact), easily enough to feed four. What I like best is the way the kitchen coddles the bones. After slicing off fat trenchers of meat they dust the bones with fennel pollan and spices and give them another blast of heat. What you end up with is the crustiest, richest, most delicious bone I've ever gnawed on.

There's also this,

A triple rack of tender veal that's been rubbed with porcini powder and roasted to a turn.  You could also choose huge slabs of gorgeously aged beef or bone marrow pie so rich it cold probably feed a family for a week. 

Dessert?  There's this tiramisu, soaked in enough booze to make you reconsider driving yourself home. 

But if you want my advice, you'll turn the meal on its head and end with the focaccia di Recco. Meant to be eaten at the beginning of the meal, this crisp, savory cheese-filled tart seems to me the perfect way to end. The ethereal concoction is a fine counterpoint to all that meat; it's so light it seems to simply float right off the plate. 

 

Notes from LA: Tacos, Take 3

 

 
Tacos Guisados looks like a little shack on a frantic stretch of Sunset Boulevard in Echo Park.  Perched on stools outside, diners watch cooks crafting tortillas, scooping freshly mixed nixtamal out of a big bowl and expertly patting them into small rough circles.

If you walk out back, however, you find an umbrella-shaded patio. Water splashes in a fountain. Birds sing. It’s hard to think of a nicer place to eat a good lunch for less than $5. No wonder the place is packed with hipsters. 

This is the new L.A., where tacos have their avid followers, and little taco stands proudly serve Stumptown coffee.  

It’s the tortillas that set these particular tacos apart. Freshly made, they have a sturdy corn-rich character that transforms whatever's put on top.  That might be anything, from these crisply grilled shrimp in a spill of sauteed chiles and onions.....

 

....to fine black beans, set off by little frisks of queso fresco....

 

...to this stewed pork in a deeply satisfying chile verde sauce.

And then, of course, there is the wicked version at the top. When I ordered the taco de chiles torreados the woman behind the counter eyed me narrowly.  "You sure?" she asked.

I nodded.

She shrugged. She rang it up.

The taco, filled with a large variety of blistered chiles, might be the single hottest dish I've ever eaten.

You have been warned.

 

Notes from LA: Chengdu Taste

Chengdu Taste in Alhambra

Went again.  I love this little restaurant so much that I just can't stay away. There are so many flavors here I find myself thinking about, craving. 

 

Cold noodles with garlic sauce. Sprightly, springy noodles with an uneven texture and an elastic nature. The sauce is spicy, but not truly hot.

 

 Mung bean noodles. Fascinating how the soft texture of these transparent noodles makes for an entirely different eating experience. 

 

Sichuan Spring Vegetable. Looks like celery. Tastes like.... the closest I can come is chayote with a college education.  It’s soft, with a certain integrity, and it soaks up the spices in a wonderful way. 

 

Numb-taste dumplings.  If you’re curious about ma-la - the elusively sneaky heat of Sichuan peppercorns - this is the place to try it.  These dumplings have a heat very different than that of chiles.  The entire front of your mouth literally goes numb.  It’s an endlessly appealing sensation.

 

 

Toothpick lamb. Tiny squiggles of lamb encrusted in cumin and peppers until the spice seems a natural part of the meat. I couldn't help imagining that the animals spent their entire lives feasting on a field of cumin.

 

 

Ma Po Tofu: Very much like the version of this classic dish that I had in China (although it lacks the inch of oil floating on the top).  

 

Sauteed potatoes: Crisply wok-tossed with cumin, this is like an intriguing Chinese version of scalloped potatoes

 

 

Sauteed lettuce. All I can say is: why have I never done this with lettuce?  Completely irresistible. 

 

  
 Eggplant. Soft. Rich. Spicy. Mysterious. 

 

Chengdu fried rice.  Light. Lovely. With little frisks of cured ham.

 

Notes from LA: The Factory Kitchen

Driving to Factory Kitchen you have to go slowly to avoid hitting the street people. They wander into your path, wheeling their heaped grocery carts with aggressive intent: these streets belong to them. In the inky blackness of the night, the bright, buzzy room beckons like an oasis, Inside, people look at each other knowingly; how smart of us to have found this charming room, this wonderful Italian food. 

To begin. Starters include this rather brilliant beet casserole, a gluten-free lasagna of sorts, layered beets with melted asiago cheese.

And this crisp ballon of fried sage dough topped with proscuitto:

But the most-talked about dish is this focaccina di Recco, a fantastic concoction of crisp dough and crescenza cheese.  The first time I had it I fell in love. Then I went to Chi Spacca and had their version which is so much crisper and lighter that it has, I think, forever ruined the dish for me anywhere else.

 

Pastas here are superb. The signature dish, mandilli, is a huge handkerchief of pasta, as ethereal as butterfly wings, in a light basil sauce. Don't miss it.

The other not to be missed dish is casonzei, tiny packets of sausage topped with crisply fried sage, in a brown butter sauce.

Porchetta here are salty, fennel-dusted slices of pig. Roasted to a crisp, it arrives in fat, sassy, satisfying slices.  

You could go on to dessert - the cannoli are very good. But personally, I'd just have another order of mandili.  Or perhaps some more peperu, tiny sweet and sour peppers stuffed with cheese. Each one is a single bite that leaves your mouth buzzing with flavor. Ours got gobbled up so fast I never got to take a picture.

One more excuse to go back.

Dario's Olive Oil Cake

Dario's Olive Oil Cake (from Nancy Silverton)

This recipe is, more or less, the way it was printed in the Los Angeles Times.  It makes 2 cakes, and Nancy's still refining the recipe. I thought it was delicious: although it was a bit crumbly the first day, it was better the second, and by the third day it was so absolutely irresistible I could have eaten the whole cake by myself. 

1 cup golden raisins 

3/4 cup rum

3 whole oranges

3 extra-large eggs

1 3/4 cups granulated sugar, divided

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon baking soda

 1 scant tablespoon, baking powder

3 1/2 cups cake flour

2/3 cup toasted pine nuts

Fresh rosemary sprigs, for garnish

1. Bring the raisins and rum to a simmer in a small saucepan, then immediately remove from the heat. Let stand at least 30 minutes, up to overnight.

2. Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Prepare 2 (10-inch) angel food cake pans by generously spraying with cooking spray and dusting with flour.

3. Halve the whole oranges through the stem and slice into one-fourth-inch thick sections. Remove any seeds and chop into fairly fine pieces.

4. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, mix the eggs, 1¼ cups of the sugar and the leavening over medium high speed until thickened, 3 to 4 minutes.

5. With mixer on medium speed, slowly add olive oil in a slow, steady stream down the side of the bowl until emulsified. Turn the mixer back down to low and add the flour and soaked raisins (with any remaining liquid) alternately in 3 batches, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. The batter should be thick.

6. Remove the bowl from the mixer. Using a rubber spatula, fold chopped oranges into mixture. Set the batter aside for 10 minutes, then distribute evenly between the prepared pans.

7. Sprinkle the pinenuts and the remaining one-half cup sugar over the cakes, then take the rosemary, pinch off little sprigs and stick them carelessly into the cake. 

8. Bake the cakes for 10 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 325 degrees and continue to bake, rotating the cakes every 10 to 15 minutes, until golden brown and a toothpick inserted comes out clean, an additional 30 to 35 minutes.

9. Allow the cake to cool on a rack, in the pan, for about 15 minutes. Then run a knife around the inside of the pan and carefully invert it over a large plate to release the cake. Carefully turn it over and transfer it to a large serving plate.