Category Food

Entries 26 Total

Unpacking at the new place…

Aug 12, ’06 1:58 PM

I’m getting unpacked at the new house and have almost finished the kitchen and other essentials.  Putting up bookshelves and attacking the massive stacks of book boxes will have to wait just a bit,Dsc_0062
because the electrical & network wiring guys haven’t finished their work yet.  After a brief flurry of activity while I was doing the move in Seattle, they’re nowhere to be seen (again). 

Much of the rest of my "home improvement" project list is done at this point — "creative" paint jobs are gone, in favor of a Linen White with bright white trim (accent walls to be chosen later after I get a sense of how furniture and the rug collection fits); the deck is complete, roof replaced with a nice forest green metal roof, crawl space and undercarriage of the house has been cleaned out, insect sprayed, and re-insulated in spots, and a nice bamboo hardwood floor installed in the guest bedroom.  Pretty much all that’s left is minor touch-up painting, some cabinet touch-up in the kitchen, replacement of the chimney for the wood stove, and of course the darned electrical and network wiring.

Because of the latter, I’m currently without TV and haven’t really set up my other computers yet.  I expect that happen in a week or so.  Then I can set up a working environment and unpack some office stuff.  Office furniture doesn’t arrive until the end of the month or so, because like much furniture, they don’t really build it until you order it.  The upshot is that I figure mid-September will be about when I’ll be fully unpacked and have access to whatever I’m trying to find.   

I need to find a dining room light fixture — there’s a spot for installation and the wiring’s all there but the previous owner took her antique chandelier (which she told me about, it’s not a problem), but I haven’t had time to find a new one yet.  Next time I’m in Seattle I’ll find something, before it starts getting dark early. 

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Went to the farmer’s market again today, and picked up a wide assortment of produce, including some terrific "torpedo" red onions, ultra-fresh cabbages, shallots, heirloom tomatoes in five varieties, potatoes, heirloom carrots, fresh salad greens, green beans, and basil, all from Waldron Island except for the potatoes and tomatoes, which were grown here on San Juan.  I also picked up fresh sockeye salmon fillet, and tomorrow night I’ll likely do a shallot preparation on the grill with roasted potatoes and a salad. 

I also pre-ordered pickling cucumbers from Nootka Rose Farm on Waldron, along with fresh dill heads.  They’ll be picking ‘em for next Saturday’s market, and I’ll have 10 pounds to pickle shortly thereafter.  I’ll probably also do a big batch of pickled green beans at the same time.   

After a couple of days of drizzly, slightly rainy weather, clear skies and beautiful sunsets arrivedDsc_0058
again yesterday, and I spent much of last evening sitting on the deck with a glass of Chablis (2002 Servin Les Pargues), a dish of olives, and two books:  Nigel Slater’s "The Kitchen Diaries: A Year in the Kitchen" (not published in the USA yet but available now from Amazon UK), and a book of essays on Richard Rorty’s work:  "Rorty and His Critics (Philosophy and Their Critics)" Both are fascinating, and I ended up reading until the last light of sunset disappeared (outdoor lighting on the deck is another project, but my electrician claims it’s a tough one because of the solid walls on the north face of the house). 

Now that I’ve got the kitchen unpacked, dinner was a brown rice stir fry of fresh vegetables and chicken marinated in chili sauce, soy, and a hint of star anise.  I’d set up the wok stand burner on the new deck, and the whole thing was a pleasure — prep work in the new kitchen to stir frying on the deck.  I wish there was an easy way to put a partial roof on part of the deck so I can keep doing this all year, but maybe next year.  At the moment I’m ready for projects and contractors to be finished so I can begin to build a "routine" here on the island. 

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Chez Panisse last Friday

Jun 26, ’06 7:59 PM

I had a great dinner last Friday at Chez Panisse, with Bryan, his wife, and mother-in-law. It had been quite awhile since I’d been to CP, given everything that’s been going on over the last 18 months or so. It was definitely terrific to be back, and to find that the restaurant was as wonderful as one remembers. Critics who claim that it’s become boring are missing the point: Chez Panisse isn’t about novelty for novelty’s sake, or flash, but about amazingly subtle renderings of absolutely first-rate ingredients.

Case in point – the starting dish: an antipasto of eggplant caponata, slices of Parma proscuitto, and wild rocket (baby arugula) salad. Simple, utterly lacking in the novelty we often expect from “great” chefs, the dish was a triumph of simplicity and flavor. The caponata was the best rendering of the dish any of us had had (and my friend Bryan is quite exacting as a foodie-chef). It’s hard to explain — it lacked anything I can point to except that it was just amazing caponata.

The second dish was even better. A simple “ravioli al brodo” preparation typical of northern Italy, the “raviolini” were stuffed with a sheep’s milk ricotta with very subtle flavor and the pasta were floated in a sage-spring garlic brodo which was incredibly rich in flavor, yet utterly clear and pale. Bryan and I spent much of the dish trying to figure out how the broth was done — double stock, consommeed, etc. Again — it’s hard to explain, because there really were only a couple of ingredients here, and no flavor explosions, weird juxtapositions of preparations, or “deconstructions” that are so popular today. There was just amazing broth, and perfectly cooked subtle pasta with subtle ricotta cheese.

The main dish pleased everyone – Paine Farm squab with squab liver toast and a salad of endive, romano beans, and porcini mushrooms. Bryan’s wife Liza really likes liver, as does Bryan, so this dish was right up their alley, and I love grilled small birds.

I’d brought wines for the preceding courses: Raveneau 1988 Butteaux, and a 1991 Henri Bonneau Chateauneuf “Marie Beurrier.” The former was amazing — approaching maturity with lots of lemon cream, but still plenty of acidity and structure. Fortunately I have one more 1988 left — a Vaillons — which I’ll probably try in the next year or two. The Bonneau was incredible, especially for a tragically bad year like 1991. But then, Bonneau tends to do really well in many “bad years” due to ruthless selection and singular winemaking skill. The 1991 MB was beefy and dark, with barely hints of maturity in the secondary “spices” showing in the nose. Not even a hint of bricking or orange color even given the vintage. The wine had tremendous length and I could have sat much longer and just smelled its combination of beef, blood, and herbs. If this is the 1991, I can’t even imagine what the 1989 and 1990 MB and Celestins are like. Or when I’d open any of the latter. Fortunately, medical science is on the side of Bonneau fans.

The dessert was peach leaf, boysenberry, and nectarine ice cream “bombe”, presented in three stripes on a plate. Given the strict two-bottle wine policy (which we tried but were unsuccessful at circumventing), we were unable to try Bryan’s 1989 Chave Vin de Paille with this, but there will be other nights and other dinners.

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Restaurant review: Coi, 373 Broadway, San Francisco

Jun 23, ’06 11:30 AM

Coi is the new project of Daniel Patterson and my friend Paul Costigan, located in a happening location on Broadway just east of North Beach. The name is pronounced (roughly) “kwahhh”, and I believe is an Old French word meaning “tranquil.” The restaurant certainly is that — superb and innovative food, mellow atmosphere, and friendly staff. I’d recommend visiting now before the reviews start rolling in and people “discover” Coi, because in six months it’s going to be tough to walk in the door and get a table.

Daniel Patterson is the former chef at Frisson, and Paul is coming from years of experience running Rare Wine Company in Sonoma, where I met him as a client. Paul also is an expert at jazz and blues history, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of both. His skills at creating atmosphere with the Jazz blend of structure, elegance, and yet studied casualness show in the casual yet beautiful decor, the music selections, and the wine list. Instead of aiming at the types of wine I’d typically purchased from Paul at RWC, the list is designed to present diners with wines which highlight the food but provide accessible prices. Paul is a master at explaining how the wines are selected to match the food, and if you’re wondering what to have you really should let him select a wine for your meal or course.

I went to Coi on two consecutive nights, to sample both the fixed-price dining room menu and the more relaxed (fuzzy pillow cushions!) lounge with its ala carte menu. I recommend doing both (especially if you’re local) because there are gems on both menus. In the dining room, a deconstructed ratatouille soup (with concentric rings of eggplant, red pepper, tomato) was excellent, but the highlight for us was the coriander-crusted duck breast, cooked sous vide and then finished off, with a reduction sauce. In the lounge, I strongly recommend the grilled vegetable bread salad, and the signature pork cheek stew. The latter went well with a Burgundy selected by Paul, and I finished with a Spatburgunder eiswein that was glorious — tart, sweet, with massive acidity on the palate.

Both evenings were terrific, and they’re just getting started. If you find yourself in San Francisco (or are a local), try Coi while it’s still possible to get a reservation!

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Adventures in Culinary San Francisco

Jun 22, ’06 8:44 AM

I’m down in San Francisco for a couple of days, having a few meetings and seeing some friends. While here, I’ve had the pleasure of a couple of great meals, with more to come.

After arriving, I checked on Jardiniere, the French/Californian restaurant by Traci Des Jardins. Traci is probably familiar to fans of Iron Chef America, where she appeared in a battle this last season (and did some very interesting dishes). I’ve been going to Jardiniere since shortly after it opened, having experienced her cooking at a private dinner party and Chave Hermitage tasting back in 2000. I wasn’t disappointed – the food is still excellent at Jardiniere, and the wine list is superb: four separate Raveneau Chablis selections are available, for example. I was a little less thrilled by the signature short ribs, but I think this is mostly my issue: braised fatty meats, which can be incredibly tasty, are now the French equivalent of fugu for me — it may be a delicacy, but it can also kill me. So I tend to eat very small portions of it, and feel guilty the whole time. I suspect if I’d ordered the risotto I’d have been happier.

Tuesday I stayed with a friend up in Sonoma, who (despite a full-time career in the software industry) is one of the best Chinese cooks I know. He writes Soup Noodles, an occasional journal (with pictures) of his attempts to interpret and perfect various dishes. If you’re not hungry by the time you read his essay on Chicken with Red Pepper Shreds, there’s not much hope for you. His kitchen was recently remodeled to provide massive BTUs in the stove and dedicated wok burner, and to give him an excellent work flow. We relaxed a bit with the remainder of Monday’s 2003 Raveneau Butteaux from Jardiniere, and then he made a superb spicy halibut with ginger, garlic, hot peppers, and a simple soy/vinegar/rice wine mixture. Gorgeous despite its simplicity. He also marinated cornish game hens (knowing my weakness for small birds) in a big pot of “master sauce” (a topic about which I’ll be researching!), finished with some organic chicken livers to give the sauce body. We drank a 1971 spatlese with this (which regrettably I forgot to write down), and the dregs of the Raveneau.

Tonight, he and I, his wife and her mother are going to Chez Panisse for downstairs dinner, accompanied by a couple of wines I brought for the occasion: 1988 Raveneau Butteaux and a 1991 Henri Bonneau Marie Beurrier Chateauneuf. The latter is a weak (to say the least) vintage in CdP, but in the hands of Bonneau we’ve had great wines and more to the point, they’re actually ready to drink — unlike his 1989 and 1990. The official menu for tonight at Chez Panisse is as follows:

An apéritif

Antipasto of eggplant caponata, Parma prosciutto, and wild rocket

Raviolini with ricotta, pecorino, basil, and yellow tomato sauce

Grilled Paine Farm squab with squab liver toast and warm salad of curly endive

and porcini mushrooms

Peach leaf, boysenberry, and nectarine ice cream bombe

We’ll see what last-minute modifications arise but altogether it looks like a terrific evening.

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Restaurant review: Steps Wine Bar & Cafe, Friday Harbor, WA

May 29, ’06 11:58 AM

On this weekend’s trip to San Juan Island to look at houses, I had the good fortune of stumbling into Steps Wine Bar & Cafe, in downtown Friday Harbor next to Pelindaba (the lavender store and internet cafe). Steps is the project of Madden Surbaugh, a graduate of the New England Culinary Institute. His mission is to present local ingredients and change the menu daily, pairing the food with an excellent wine list. Although the list naturally has a full spectrum of Washington and domestic wines, Madden stocks white burgundy and Chablis, Bordeaux, red Burgundy, Rhone wines, and even the Rare Wine Company “New York” Madeira bottling.

I discovered Steps while looking through real estate listings online at Pelindaba, next door, and when I poked my head in during the afternoon to make a reservation (they only take reso for large tables, btw), Madden and company were busily prepping for the evening meal. I got a look at the wine list, and spied a large pan of Swiss chard being prepped for greens. I was hooked, and went back that evening. Madden and his staff took care of me, serving the last bottle of the Dauvissat Vaillons 2000 Chablis (turned out to be Jean Dauvissat, not Rene & Vincent, but it was still terrific with the food), and several tasty dishes. I started with the mixed greens dressed lightly with a thin gorgonzola, walnuts, and cranberries, and Madden followed this up with two perfectly tempura-battered Westscott Bay oysters presented on a drizzle of shoyu cream sauce. This was followed by the “main course”: two small plates of asparagus risotto (perfectly done, with local asparagus and the right balance of cheese and vegetables) and sauteed Swiss chard with sesame and shoyu (which was amazing — and I’m not a greens fanatic normally). I finished with a wonderfully flavorful scoop of orange marmalade ice cream, and staggered back to the Friday Harbor Inn.

Saturday night, after looking at property all day, dinner was a half-portion of the salad, grilled asparagus with a lemon-tarragon mayonnaise, and a “turnover” of Albacore tuna, orange oil, and olives inside puff pastry. I also snagged a little taste of the prawns with cardoons and artichokes, which I liked better than the turnover, and is something I hope to have next time I’m in town if Madden has it on the menu. The lime soup and a glass of the New York Madeira made an excellent finisher, after accompanying the meal with the Jasmin Cote Rotie (vintage 1999, if I recall correctly, and terrific after half an hour of decanter time — very meaty and roasty on top of the sweet black fruit core).

Friday Harbor has come a long way in culinary terms — from Herb’s and the Downrigger (both of which still exist) or the Pizza place (which no longer exists in the same form) near Jim’s Meats (“You can’t beat Jim meats”) — to places like Madden’s Steps. No longer is the Duck Soup Inn the sole culinary destination on the island, and that’s a great thing, especially if you like good food and find yourself in the islands. I’ll be back, and I’ll be encouraging all my friends to go when they’re in the islands.

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Quilceda Creek vertical tasting (1/21/06)

Jan 27, ’06 10:25 PM

Sorry I haven’t written much lately. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a friend visiting for part of the time and I’ve been super-busy with the new job for the rest of the time. My upcoming post on Fukuyama and stage-schemes of historical progress is coming along slowly — somehow I allowed myself to fall for the oldest excuse in the book: “I’ll just read a couple more references before writing the next section and it’ll be better.”

For now, I’ll have to content myself with writing up our vertical tasting of Quilceda Creek cabernet. Last Saturday, we held a long-planned tasting of these cabernets — the best in Washington State, in my opinion. Between my friend Wayland Wasserman and I, we had QC in the cellar from 1987 through 1997 (except 1994 for some reason), and a bottle of 2000. Harriet Wasserman hosted the event, cooked a terrific dinner of beef braised in port, wild rice, bread pudding, and others brought salads and side dishes. I kicked things off with my first olive tapenade of 2006 and James and Kate brought an extensive cheese selection.

The wines were in great condition. One wine, the 1991, was probably very slightly corked. Not enough to destroy the palate, but enough that you’d occasionally get a whiff of cardboard. The 2000 was simply too young to evaluate, except that it seemed a bit overripe for my tastes. Overall, I don’t think any of these wines are mature yet. Even the 1987 was still fairly “adolescent,” with only a hint of old-wine spice. The 1988 and 1989 were still quite unevolved and tannic, though the 1988 had a hint of tobacco after about half an hour in the glass.

Among the 17 of us at dinner, the 1993 was the unanimous favorite — a dead ringer for an adolescent Graves. Pipe tobacco, herbal notes, graphite, and sweet juicy fruit. For me, the 1990 was next, with incredible balance but still very youthful (the next day, during the Seahawks playoff game, a different group retasted this alongside the 1990 Reserve and there’s no contest — the Reserve is a phenomenal wine and the regular merely very good). Finally, the 1996 and 1995 both terrific wines as well. The 1996 in particular, with its high proportion of cabernet franc, has a very different nose but will be a beautiful wine. Probably the least favorite wine of the night was 1992, which seemed thin and plummy, but without a lot of complexity.

A few of these wines (1991, 1993, the younger ones) I’ll have more chances to taste out of the cellar, but sadly this was the last of my 1980′s vintages. Probably should have held them another 5 years before drinking, which is what I’d recommend for anyone who has well-stored bottles.

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