Introduction and Initiation

Hello, and welcome to Moviefone.  Okay, not really.  What’s this blog really about?  It’s about whatever I want it to be, but mostly it will be about food.  For me, food is life and life is food.  Food is central.  Food is vital.  Take the etymology of the word vital (from the Latin vita, meaning “life”) and you may see what I’m getting at.  The importance of food, however, goes beyond sustenance or its role as a substrate for exothermic reactions.  It is about Life with a capital “L.”  It’s more “Life Magazine” than Biology 101.  It’s more about Billy Joel’s “My Life” or Roberto Benigni’s “Life is Beautiful” than it is about fuel.

 

Eating is universally a social event.  Many people won’t go out to eat alone.  I’m sure that some anthropologist has studied this type of communal eating behavior and attempted to divine the purpose of it all.  I’m sure that animal behaviorists have watched prides of lions (lionesses?) hunting various larger beasts and subsequently devouring their unfortunate prey within a defensive perimeter.  I’m sure researchers have tried to figure out why we seem to eat within a social context by studying our leonine cousins.  Whatever the reasons, it is one of the rituals of life.  We eat with friends.  We eat with families.  We eat with other people for company.  We talk about how the food was at a wedding reception.  We eat with potential mates.  Some of us (myself included) try to get to know a person by what she orders and how she orders it.  I’m assessing our compatibility here.  Eating is a mating ritual whether one realizes it or not, whether one is on a date or at a party.  Isn’t mating central to life?  Isn’t good company and a great meal a wonderful way to spend an evening?  Aren’t these moments some of our best experiences in life?

 

I recently had an extremely pleasurable evening with good friends and fantastic food.  We’re talking about some of my best friends in the entire world.  We’re talking about one of the most amazing meals I have ever had in my life—whether at a domestic venue in the United States, or one abroad.  That priceless (read: expensive) experience is what inspired this blog more than anything else.  Reflections on that meal at Ken Oringer’s superlative Clio in Boston reawakened the impulse to blog.  Of course, television programs like “Top Chef” or “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations” fed the impulse its breakfast.  Currently, I live in a metropolitan area that is not known as a great destination for culinary tourism.  When I find good food in this Motor City (or elsewhere), I am, as Mr. Bourdain states in his show’s introduction, “hungry for more.”  This blog is about my quest for “more” and my enjoyment (or displeasure) on the journey of discovery.   This blog is about life’s centerpieces: the meals we eat.

Dinner Tonight: Rookie Romertopf Chicken

There’s a reason the professionals can charge a premium for their services.

The food in this picture is not it.  Above is my rookie attempt at roasting a chicken.  It should be pretty obvious from the content of this blog that I have no training whatsoever in cooking.  What little knowledge I have is haphazardly learned from books, TV, the internet, and friends.  As with any kind of learning, one has to take the obtained information with a grain of salt.  No, I’m not attempting to make some kind of cooking pun.

What started this roast chicken endeavor?  Simply, I love roasted chicken, and I’d love to learn how to make a good one.  I know people who do make good ones.  They are professionals who deserve to be paid for their cooking skills.  I’m like the guy who plays guitar at home, trying to learn how to play like his heroes by listening, looking at books, etc.  I’m doing the culinary version, I suppose.  I’m not after a practical goal like putting dinner on the table for the family.  I’m chasing a perfect roast chicken.  Perhaps, I’ll never have the chops to pull it off, but I’d like to be able to make something that will satisfy me.

How did I make the chicken pictured above?  Believe it, or not.  This has been a process that has been going on for months.  I was inspired by a local restaurant, whose roast chicken is impeccable.  I’d love to be able to emulate that recipe one day.  So, this journey started several months ago when I fell in love with that dish.  Since then, I’ve longed to be able to make chicken like that.  I took the advice of a friend who suggested I try a clay roasting pot (Thanks, Michelle!).  A few months ago, another friend gave me Romertopf clay roasting pot she found at a thrift shop after she heard me talking about using it to make some chicken. (Thanks, Colleen!)  Last night, I decided to get of my butt and try to make some chicken.  I took some inspiration from some cookbooks and YouTube videos.

First, I brined the chicken.  For the brine, I used a cup of David’s sea salt, a gallon of water, some ginger syrup (I had no sugar, and I forgot to buy some.), some Tellicherry black peppercorns, and a splash of Zingerman’s 16 year-old balsamic vinegar.  I think I could have used more salt or brined the chicken longer.  The breast ultimately needed more flavor.  I don’t see how some more pepper and vinegar could hurt either.

While the chicken sat in the brine, I chopped my carrots; half a Spanish onion; and some fresh basil, rosemary, and thyme (about a tbsp. each).  Also, I zested half a lemon.  Simultaneously, I let  125g of Life in Provence  unsalted butter sit at room temperature to soften.  After chopping all that plant life, I mixed the lemon zest and herbs with my butter.  Then, I seasoned the herb butter with some sea salt and pepper.  I eventually let the chicken sit in the brine for about two hours.  I probably should have let the chicken sit there longer.

After I felt I was done brining the chicken, I went to town with the herb butter.  I spread it under the skin, making sure to get some on the thighs and legs.  I also left a good dollop of the herb butter sitting under the skin on both breasts.  I stuffed the chicken cavity with both halves of my lemon (one zested, on un-zested) and the other half of the onion.  It looked like the chicken was going to be good.  When I was ready to try to cook the chicken, I immersed my unglazed clay pot in water for 15 minutes.  Then, I layered some onions and mushrooms at the bottom of the pot.  I placed some carrots along the edges of the pot.

Next, I followed Romertopf’s directions for electric ovens.  I placed the clay pot into the middle of a cold oven.  Then, I set the oven to 450 degrees F.  I cooked for 85 minutes.  I did not open either the oven or the pot.

Then, I took the veggies and chicken out of the pot.  I poured the juices into a saucepan for gravy-making.  I returned my chicken to the bottom of the pot.    Then, I put the pot back into the oven (without the top) to brown and crisp the skin, which was a little more blistered than I expected.  I wondered if I put too thick a layer of butter under the blisters.  While the chicken skin crisped up, I started my gravy.

I poured a cup of ruby port in with the juices.  I brought the mixture to a boil and reduced it by half.  Then, I whisked in a few tablespoons of butter.  After that, I strained out the remaining solids.  I probably should have been more aggressive with the reduction.  The gravy was a little too watery.  While I was working on this part, I took the chicken out of the oven when it looked brown.  I probably could have crisped the chicken up a little longer.  I just wanted to make sure I didn’t burn it.

How did it all taste?  The breast was somewhat underseasoned.  The chicken could have been crisper.  I could have had more veggies in there.  I would have had to have used a roaster pan for that.  The sauce could have been thicker, but the flavor was great.  I felt that the chicken certainly had enough herbs and butter involved.  It needed more salt.  I’m not completely happy with the texture of the breast.  It’s not quite moist enough.  It was a little too fibrous; I’m searching for smoother texture.  The mushrooms and carrots turned out great.  Overall, it wasn’t too bad for a rookie.

Dessert Tonight: Caramelized Peach Slices with Ginger Syrup and Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

Lately, I’ve been thinking that I haven’t been eating enough fruit.  I think that somehow my body is telling me I need fruit.  I’ve been craving it.  I bought some peaches, a plum, and some strawberries this past weekend.  Honestly, I haven’t a clue how to eat a peach.  So, I caramelized the suckers.  I took some inspiration from Eric Ripert’s videos at his website (http://aveceric.com/).  In one video he caramelized some mango and basically did what I did here.  So, I’m cribbing from Eric Ripert, basically.

I followed basically what Chef Eric Ripert did by taking my fruit slices, basting them with butter, seasoning with brown sugar, and placing them on a buttered toaster-oven baking pan.  What I did differently, was that I took my peach slices and drizzled them with some Robert Lambert White Ginger Syrup.  There’s just something about peaches and ginger that seems to work.  Think of the Republic of Tea Ginger Peach tea.  The ginger seems to add a little spicy complexity to the whole thing.  I put the pan in the toaster oven and broiled for about 5 minutes.  The peel came off the slices easily in most cases.  Then, I plated the slices.  After that, I put a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream on top and drizzled the syrup left in the pan on the whole thing.

Some rum might have made it a lot more interesting.  Maybe, I could have added some more of the ginger syrup too.

Next up, I’m going to have to do something with all the cherries and other berries out there.  I’m probably going to try Chef Eric’s Raspberry Clafouti that’s found on his website.

Five-Course Degustation Menu, The Forest Grill, Birmingham, MI

I have to say that one of the main reasons that I don’t update this blog much is that there isn’t really much material to write home about here in the Detroit Metro Area.  I’m sorry, but it’s true.  So, why am I writing now?  Honestly, one of the other main reasons that I don’t update very often is that I keep going back to the same well time and time again, The Forest Grill, Chef-Proprietor Brian Polcyn’s latest restaurant in the area.  Honestly, it’s my go-to place in the Metro Detroit Area to bring people for a meal that’s even remotely special.

In my last blog entry about the restaurant, I really didn’t give credit where credit is usually due.  I totally neglected to give credit to Executive Chef David Gilbert whose creativity and passion is a major part of what makes The Forest Grill such a great place.  His partner-in-crime Mario Plaza, GM and Sommelier, and he really make the place shine when it comes to both the food and wine.  So, apologies, David and Mario, for not having mentioned either of you so prominently in my last blog entry about The Forest Grill.

This latest dinner at The Forest Grill had me using the iPhone OS 3.0 voice recorder to pick up whatever I could of what David and Mario were telling us about the food and wine.  It’s all too much for a person like me with limited food and wine knowledge to absorb.  So, I tried to use some tools to help me out.  I found my tools hopelessly inadequate, though.  I’ve got a crappy iPhone 3G camera.  I’ve got the iPhone Voice Recorder.  That’s about all I had with me.  So, I told Mario that next time, I’m taking HD video!

The first course, pictured above, was, as best I can recall, was made with a Sweet Corn Mash with black truffles, Perigord truffles in the Ricotta Angolotti, and some Mascarpone foam.  One of the amazing things that David Gilbert is able to do is to take the limited ingredients that have been ordered for the menu and recombine them into something special for these degustation menus.  I’ve seen and eaten these Ricotta Angolotti many times.  I’ve had this Mascarpone foam again and again.  The truffles keep showing up as well.  They don’t always appear together with corn, however.  Chef Gilbert always manages to do something interesting with these old characters.  He always manages to put them into a great new situations.  Ingredients get recombined with dramatic effect. We’ve seen brothers Michael and Fredo interact in The Godfather.  It’s quite something else when Michael sends Fredo out onto a boat on Lake Tahoe to die.  It’s one thing to see Al Pacino and John Cazale playing their roles in the Godfather saga.  It’s something else to see them together in Dog Day Afternoon.  What has to be said about these novel combinations of ingredients from the Forest Grill’s pantry is that they’re great every time.  This time, the food was paired with another old favorite, the Dibon Demi-Sec Cava.  It was an impeccable pairing.

The following course featured seared foie gras, a quick bread and some strawberries.  Honestly, I can’t tell you many more details.  What I can tell you is that it was paired impeccably with a gorgeous sweet, white wine that complemented the dish masterfully.  It was around this time in the meal that I began to give up on remembering what we were eating and drinking.  Pictures ceased to suffice.  I had to start recording audio.  If I recall correctly, we were served the Mas Amiel Muscat de Rivesaltes.  Nothing short of amazing!

Next, we had scallops two ways.

We had Diver Scallops seared, finished with citrus powder, a tangerine reduction, fresh tangerine slices, and red radish.  A savory version was done as well.  A scallop was sliced and studded with Perigord black truffle and done en croute in puff pastry.  Truffle emulsion surrounded the puff pastry.  With the sweet version, a Riesling from New Zealand was served.  A great citrus note in the Riesling and the great acid made the wine a perfect pairing.  A Mawby Blanc de Blanc from Michigan’s Leelanau Peninsula accompanied the savory version.  The wine’s acid went perfectly with the scallop en croute with its hearty, earthy truffle emulsion.

Unfortunately,  I can’t seem to find a picture of the next course.  We had duck breast two ways.  One piece of breast was fabricated.  The skin was removed and made very thin.  The meat was wrapped in the skin as a ballotine and slowly seared.  Inside the ballotine was a Morel mushroom duxelle.  The other slice of duck breast was roasted.  Served with the duck were baby turnips, house-made pancetta, almond oil, and a port-wine reduction.  Served to our red wine-allergic friend was a Macon-Villages Chardonnay seasoned with earthy Thyme and Oak with great acidity to balance the rich duck.  An earthy 2005 Pinot Noir from the Cote du Beaune with red fruit notes was served to the rest of the party.  Was it magic?  As before, all the food and the paired wines were magic.

Intervening between dinner and our last course  was a small, complementary cheese plate.  We had some gruyere, cheddar (which seemed very much like an Irish cheddar), and some lovely parmesan.  This little plate was inspired by that great Pinot sitting in my glass.  Mario thought we needed some fromage to go with our remaining wine.  So, he thoughtfully brought some around.  Again, it was magic!

For dessert, a chocolate veloute came with some chocolate soup and some cinnamon gelato.  We were all amazed.  I had tried The Forest Grill’s chocolate veloute before.  This was somehow different.  If I’m not mistaken, this is the latest evolution of the chocolate veloute.  We still had the great molten chocolate veloute disc.  We still had the chocolate soup.  Maybe the cinnamon gelato made the difference.  Who knows?  It was magic.  It was insanely good.  For our red wine-allergic friend a Buller Muscat was served.  For the rest of us, a Late Harvest Zinfandel was the pairing.

This is just the latest episode out of many at The Forest Grill.  My dining companions believed that it was the best meal that they had ever had at The Forest Grill.  I have to count it as one of the best I have experienced as well.

Brunch Today: Huevos Con Morcilla De Cebolla

 

 

 

Okay, here we go with a blog update–the first in a long time.  Now, I’m no chef, and this blog wasn’t ever planned to be about my own cooking exploits.  But, who cares?

Today, I decided to cook up some Morcilla de Cebolla that I had sitting in the fridge.  I had been wanting some blood sausage for a long time.  So, when I was at Zingerman’s Delicatessen in Ann Arbor, MI, I grabbed some of the Morcilla they had there.  Today, I finally decided to do something with it.  There are two types of Morcilla of which I am aware.  There is the Morcilla de Cebolla, which is made with onions.  There is also Morcilla with rice.  Recently, I had been talking with David Gilbert, the Executive Chef at The Forest Grill, Birmingham, MI, about breakfast.  He mentioned the French variation of blood sausage, Boudin Noir.  To him the ultimate hangover breakfast is Boudin Noir and eggs.  At St. John Restaurant in London, Anthony Bourdain had Fergus Henderson’s Blood Cake with fried egg on top.  At a local Irish Bar, I’ve had their “Irish Fry,” which has ham, both black and white puddings, some other breakfast-y sausage, tomato, fried eggs, and lightly toasted Irish Soda Bread.  So, with all these culinary inspirations, I thought revisiting the blood sausage.  Thus, I purchased the Morcilla from Zingerman’s.

Today, I went out on the internet to see what I could do with this Morcilla.  I found some recipes for something called Morcilla Frita, which I guess is fried Morcilla.  That sounds great, but I don’t have many of the ingredients right now.  So, what did I do?  I went with the sausage and egg inspiration from the culinary inspiration above.  I just took one of my sausages, sliced it, and fried it Catalunyan extra virgin olive oil.  As I was frying up the sausage slices there in the omelette pan, I could see lovely reddish grease coming out of the sausage and coloring the olive oil.  It was something like the red grease that chorizo puts out, but this was a bit more subtle.  After I browned Side A, I flipped the sausage and browned Side B.  After I finished Side B, I took the sausage pieces out of the pan with some tongs, leaving the great reddish oil-grease mixture for some egg frying.  I did a hack-job over-easy on the nice organic eggs, and I seasoned with some Halen Mon organic sea salt from Wales.

This concoction definitely satisfied my blood sausage craving.  I think it needed a few things, however.  I needed some sliced fresh tomato, some bread, and maybe some lettuce to help garnish the thing.  After all, we do eat with our eyes first, don’t we?  A nice beverage would have been good.  All I had on-hand was some Lemon-Lime G2 and some water.  I think some milk might have been nice too.  A nice Rioja or other red wine, which I did have, might have worked, but I might have to work later.  So, I skipped that.  Actually, the G2 wasn’t too bad, come to think of it.  Overall, it was a great little brunch.  I love the slightly spicy Morcilla and the extra flavor that its grease imparted to my eggs.  Very tasty, but it was more subtle than I expected.  In retrospect, some freshly ground Tellicherry pepper would have been nice.  This meal was miles closer to heaven than the starting point of ordinary mass-produced breakfast sausage and fried eggs.  It was definitely more satisfying.

Some things that became apparent were the following.  After all these years, I can’t flip an egg like a pro.  I can’t take food pictures like a pro, either.  I suppose that if I had some tomato and lettuce to garnish, I would have been better off.  I would have definitely had the makings of a better picture.

Meat and Greet: Brian Polcyn, The Forest Grill, Birmingham, MI

In August 2008, I was driving through the so-called Triangle District of Birmingham, MI.  At that time, I saw a restaurant going up in an apparently new building there.  Nestled behind the large Auto Club building on Woodward is 735 Forest Avenue.  At the southwest corner of that building, which is advertised as a Green building, is The Forest Grill.  When I first drove by that restaurant, there was no signage proclaiming the advent of a new eatery.  Fast forward to late November, 2008, a green sign now proclaims the restaurant’s name, and it heralds something new (to me) and, perhaps, credible in the Birmingham-Troy-Royal Oak culinary scene.  I turned the car around and got myself a copy of their menu.  I found out that they’re also fully booked for dinner until January.  I wondered if I could get a seat at the bar.

 

I went home and investigated this seemingly new player on the scene.  Apparently, Chef/Proprietor Brian Polcyn has been on the scene in the Detroit culinary circles for decades.  As I’m relatively new to the area, he’s new to me.   Brian Polcyn has been at such standout local restaurants as The Lark.  He has also served as chef/proprietor for Five Lakes Grill in Milford, MI.  Chef Brian won a nomination for the award of Best Chef in the Midwest, 2006, from the James Beard Foundation.  The JB Foundation also nominated him for best single subject book for his book Charcuterie.  Chef Brian has also been featured in a variety of national publications.  He was also the subject of a book by Anthony Bourdain’s associate Michael Ruhlman, The Soul of a Chef.  Apparently, this is what the all-seeing internet knows about Brian Polcyn.  So, yeah.  Apparently, the guy has some chops.  No pun intended.  With my interest peaked, I had to try to get a seat at the bar.

 

I made sure to get there fairly early, just after 18:00.  There were a few seats left at the bar.  The restaurant and bar were certainly designed in keeping with the Green/Industrial Chic of the 735 Forest building.  Abundant steel and glass framed and divided the spaces.  A glass and steel partition divided the bar from the main dining area, directing traffic flow from the entrance.  Right angles and straight lines ruled in this kingdom, but it wasn’t oppressively so.  The restaurant and bar managed to remain intimate.  The space was populated by square tables, a rectangular bar, and an L-shaped open food preparation area in front of the clay oven, whose face was one of the restaurant’s few concessions to curves.  Hung on the front of the oven was a wall hanging representing a pig with topographical landmarks seemingly diagramming various cuts of meat.  I took this decoration as an auspicious augur.

 

The Dining Room

 

I took a seat at the end of the bar, closest to the dining room and open kitchen. 

 

My View of the Kitchen

 

 

I thought this would be the best place to stick close to the staff and to see what I could of the food preparation.  I was introduced to the bartenders Ron and Mitch.  Both of them would prove to be very helpful in my decision-making process.  Looking at the menu, I had no idea where to start.  I knew that I would be going for the charcuterie plate, as this was supposedly Brian Polcyn’s “thing.”  I ordered a glass of the Dibon Demi-Sec Cava, which turned out to be clean, crisp, and sweet.  I liked it so much that I couldn’t just have one.  Then, with Ron’s help and the help of one of the waiters who passed by, I settled on the Lobster Bisque in Puff Pastry and Maine Diver Scallops.

 

As I enjoyed my cava, I received some bread and butter.  A soft baguette came wrapped in a white cloth napkin.  Sesame poppy seeds adorned the bread.  The crust was firm and crisp, but it wasn’t hard and chewy like most baguettes.  My teeth reveled in the relaxing texture.  I was happy not to have to fight my bread to get it chewed.  The bread was simple, but it was flawlessly executed.

 

Mmm...warm bread

 

The Lobster Bisque was served in a tureen with puff pastry baked on top.  The puff pastry evoked the shape of the tureen’s top. This feature wasn’t just about style.  Form followed function here.  The buttery puff pastry helped the soup by giving it a richer finish, which seems to be accomplished with butter and cream in most other lobster bisques.  Many lobster bisques seem to be overpowered by the sherry as if the lobster were secondary.  In those cases, it ought to be called sherry bisque with lobster.  That wasn’t the case here.  The lobster and the rest of the soup were allowed to be the stars of the show.  The best part of the soup was the fact that the lobster was tender—not chewy.  It was perfectly done.  I went over in my mind again and again how this must have been done.  Obviously, the soup would have to be cooked.  The lobster would necessarily have been a part of that.  Then, however, one has to bake the puff pastry on the top of the tureen.  How does one keep from overcooking the lobster?  Again, I thought, these guys have some chops.  Again, no pun intended.

 

Lobster Bisque in Puff Pastry

 

The Charcuterie was up next.  With the charcuterie plate, three salads were included.  I chose marinated olives, heirloom beet salad (thanks, Ron), and cornichons.  Three meats were served: a salami, prusciutto di Parma, and sweet copa.  It was very good, but when you’ve got hand-sliced Jamon Iberico de Bellota sitting in your refrigerator, it skews your perspective a little.  Italian cured meats are fine.  Spanish ones?  Let’s just say that, to me, it’s like the difference between heaven (Spanish) and earth (Italian).  The Spanish know something about curing meats that no one else in the world can seem to replicate or to surpass.

 

The Maine Diver Scallops were done with a perfect sear and seasoned perfectly.  They sat on top of a cauliflower mousse, capers, almond slices, golden raisins, and chopped chives.  I wouldn’t have necessarily imagined to marry those particular ingredients.  It all worked wonderfully with aged balsamic vinegar balancing the all the flavors on the plate.  It was a remarkable synergy.  The whole was definitely more than the sum of its parts. 

 

Maine Diver Scallops

 

Chef Brian visited the bar on a number of occasions to talk to his old associate and former Five Lakes Grill general manager, who was sitting next to me.  At one point he brought Executive Chef David Gilbert along.  They all talked shop.  They caught up.  Every now and then, I would hear a tidbit like, “Winter menu…Wednesday…roast marrow…”  Later, I heard, “best-selling…Veal Cheeks…” At that point, I was still hankering for more.  It wasn’t that I wasn’t full.  I just wanted more.  I was consoling myself for the lousy couple of days of work ahead of me.  So, I ordered the Veal Cheeks which are served with Parisian Herb & Ricotta Cheese Gnocchi, wilted spinach, and tomato.  Think of an updated Osso Bucco without the bone and the marrow.  Bartender Ron advised me that it was going to be the tenderest meat I have ever had.  He was right.  Honestly, chewing was nearly irrelevant.  While the meat didn’t melt in my mouth, every attempt at the cutting aspect of chewing was pretty useless.  The meat just flattened.  All I could really do was just swallow.  The cutting edge of my knife?  Irrelevant.  Just pull the meat apart.  Put it in your mouth.  Mash it flat with your teeth, because it’s too tender to actually cut with your teeth.  Then, swallow.  That’s it.  Some outer bits were well caramelized, crunchy and sweet.  If the soft meat were the foreplay, the caramelized parts were the orgasm. 

 

Veal Cheeks. Leave the dentures at home. You won't need them.

 

After I finished my Veal Cheeks, Chef Brian approached me.  He seemed to notice that I was enjoying my food.  It seemed that he wasn’t the only one.  Apparently, people were wondering who I was.  I was eating quite a lot.  Chef Brian jokingly asked, “So, are you going to be getting four desserts?”  I told him that I planned to keep it to one.  I complemented him on his food and his restaurant, and I told him I’d be back for the roasted bone marrow.

 

For my one dessert, I ordered a Chocolate Pot De Crème and Warre’s Young Ruby Port.  Chef Brian’s former associate assured me that the port was going to be an excellent choice.  He was right.  The pot de crème was served in what looked like a miniature soup tureen.  This time, it had the top on it.  It was a double-shot of cold chocolate, and it was about all I could handle at that point.

 

I look forward to eating at The Forest Grill again.  The moderate pricing makes me think that I may become something of a regular.  Next time, I’m getting the roasted marrow.  Who’s with me?

Meat and Greet: Michael Symon, Roast, Detroit, MI

On a recent episode of this season of “Top Chef,” Tom Colicchio recently commented that a contestant fell in love with an ingredient, but she didn’t do enough with that ingredient to make it stand out.  He felt that it seemed that Jill chose an ostrich egg to stand out from her rivals, but the choice wasn’t enough.  Something else was missing.  I willl comment on a restaurant that failed to deliver as Jill did and some other restaurants that hit the mark as Jill probably hoped to do. 

I recently had a dining experience that  made me think the same thing about a local  restaurant.  Troy,  Michigan’s Camp Ticonderoga was the offending party.  None of the dishes were particularly inspired.  It was as if the restaurant had fallen in love with wild game, but didn’t really do much with it to make it stand out.  Similarly in love with meat is the menu of Iron Chef Michael Symon’s Roast.  The Iron Chef and James Beard Award Nominee Mike Symon and Executive Chef Jeff Rose did not make the same mistake.

The appetizer I chose at Camp Ticonderoga was named Wild Thang.  Okay, so, I like meat.  I like Jimi Hendrix.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  I was most interested in the rabbit ravioli, which I hoped would be like a similar dish at Manhattan’s Del Posto, owned by Mario Batali and Joe and Lidia Bastianich.  Actually, more than anything, I went to Camp Ticonderoga for the rabbit ravioli, because I wanted to recapture the rapture of the rabbit ravioli I had at Del Posto.  Unfortunately, the appetizer was full of disappointment.  The plate also included spicy venison sausage, duck tenders, whitefish pate, and BBQ buffalo meatballs.  Unfortunately, the rabbit ravioli was fried.  Quite simply, it was dessicated and hard.  The meat could have been anything, and I would never have been able to tell the difference.  The best part about it was the sweet-and-sour dipping sauce.  Likewise, the venison sausage was dry.  It was improved by some lemon juice.  I’m not sure if I was supposed to use the lemon wedge on the plate for that purpose, but it certainly helped.  The duck tenders were not even remotely tender.  I suppose they were meant to be like chicken tenders that one might find at a bar or a fast-food joint.  Like the dessicated rabbit ravioli, I would have been hard pressed to identify the tenders as duck.  Again, the best part of the duck tenders was the sweet-and-sour dipping sauce that I used for the rabbit ravioli.  The BBQ buffalo meatballs would have been just as dry were it not for the BBQ sauce, which wasn’t particularly inspiring either.  It’s certainly nothing like the divine but superfluous Alex’s Red Rage BBQ sauce found at Zingerman’s Roadhouse (http://www.zingermansroadhouse.com/index.php, 2501 Jackson Ave., Ann Arbor, MI 48103; Tel.: +1-734-663-3663).  I have had Alex’s Red Rage BBQ sauce on the Roadhouse’s Pit Smoked Spare Ribs.  I say the sauce is superfluous, because the ribs are succulent, tender, and tasty all by themselves.  The sauce is merely a bonus.  It’s the cherry on top of the sundae.  The sauce on the BBQ Buffalo Balls, as Camp Ticonderoga calls its meat balls, is entirely necessary.  Everything on the Wild Thang seemed overcooked.  Perhaps, that’s the danger in using wild game that’s supposedly less fatty than meats like pork and beef.  They’re going to be easier to overcook.  Maybe, that’s what happened here.

Not everything was bad, however.  I must give credit where credit is due.  I did like the whitefish pate.  I did like the Guinness BBQ chicken: a half chicken, slow roasted in Guinness Stout and broiled in Camp Ti’s BBQ sauce.  Not bad.  It was pretty tasty, but it wasn’t excellent by any means.  I did appreciate the tangy bite of the sauce and the spicy finish, which were strangely absent from the BBQ Buffalo Balls.  As I ordered chicken and ribs, the ribs also deserve comment.  The ribs were described in the menu as being everything that BBQ ribs should be.  I know opinions are like assholes in that everyone has one.  Let me show you mine: this isn’t everything that BBQ should be.  Like pretty much everything else, the ribs were dry.  Did they fall off the bone?  Sure, with a little pushing and prodding.  The Jack Daniel’s BBQ sauce was okay, but this dish is something I would have expected from a mediocre chain like T.G.I. Friday’s.  If this restaurant is striving for a national profile, that’s not the type of profile I think one ought to strive for.    The ribs at Zingerman’s Roadhouse do fall off the bone without much effort.  Recently, I saw my friend pick up the bone in an attempt to tear a rib from the rack.  The bone came right out of the rack completely clean.  My friend was holding up a bare bone in awe and delight.  Trust me, the Zingerman’s ribs are excellent.  They’re so good that one easily forgets that they serve it with the exemplary Red Rage BBQ Sauce.  You can have your Zingerman’s ribs either with sauce or without, depending on your chosen BBQ dogma.  Now, that’s everything that BBQ should be.

I don’t know if it deserves mention, but Camp Ti’s lobster ravioli was another dish I was interested in trying.  So, we tried it.  This dish sparked a little discussion on focus.  Perhaps, Camp Ti should have stayed with their specialty, which is meat.  Instead, they seemed to have this dish to try to be all things to all people.  Having variety is a good thing, I suppose, but does variety for the sake of variety excuse poor execution of a dish?  One could find this dish at a two-star motel, a mediocre pseudo-Italian chain like Olive Garden or  Maggiano’s, or in a plastic box from Costco.  It was unexciting and bland.  It didn’t even taste much like lobster.

I’ve been going on about Zingerman’s Roadhouse, but they deserve their own blog entry for their consistent excellence at providing diners with what they claim is “really good American food.”  Is there no truth in advertising?  Their food isn’t just really good.  It’s exemplary.  Executive Chef Alex Young is a recent nominee for the James Beard Award for Best Chef in the Great Lakes region.  If a restaurant is striving for some kind of notoriety, that’s the kind of notoriety it should seek.  Camp Ti has some sister restaurants in the area.  So, they seem to have at least a local profile—in contrast to national profile of Zingerman’s Roadhouse.  Camp Ti’s sisters have the same menu.  I imagine they all have the same mediocre execution.  I imagine they’re trying for something a little less than what Zingerman’s does consistently.

Where Camp Ti fails, Zingerman’s Roadhouse and Iron Chef Michael Symon’s Roast do not. Ensconced in the newly renovated Westin Book Cadillac Hotel (1114 Washington Blvd., Detroit, MI 48226; Tel.: +1-313-442-1600), Roast is one part of current attempts revitalize Downtown Detroit.  Roast has a similar emphasis to Camp Ti.  While it may not be wild game all the time, Roast does have a Roast Beast of the Day.  As you may gather, much of what is served at Roast is roasted.  (Menu .pdf: http://www.bookcadillacwestin.com/assets/u/ROASTMENU1008.pdf) Chef Symon was nominated in 2007 by the James Beard Foundation for best chef in the Great Lakes region, much like Alex Young of Zingerman’s Roadhouse.  I suppose it should be no surprise that both Zingerman’s Roadhouse and Roast are far better than Camp Ticonderoga.

We arrived early for our reservation.  So, we elected to have a drink at the gorgeous bar at the front of the house.  I started off the night at Roast with Samuel Smith’s Organic Ale, which I heartily recommend if you have the opportunity to try it.  My friend James had some Absinthe.

Chef Symon was in the house that night.  We saw him walking around talking to patrons, cooking on the line, the whole deal.  He walked by us, and I called out to him, “Chef!”  He graciously came over to us and welcomed us to the place.  I was honestly a little bit star struck having met a Celebrity Chef for the first time.  So, I can’t remember what I said, but I do remember shaking his hand.  I do remember he seemed glad to have us in the house.  I remember telling James that night that it seemed like Mike Symon was a guy kind of like us.  He seemed to be a rock ‘n’ roll-type dude who just happens to dig food in a big way.  I thought, “Hey, I dig rock!  Hey, I dig good food!  Mike Symon’s my kind of guy!”  I don’t know what part of that was serious and what part of that was Samuel Smith’s Organic Ale, but Chef Symon does seem like my kind of guy.

Restaurants that I like have the ability to make me feel like I’m going to be a repeat customer.  This feeling starts early in the meal, often with the appetizer.  Once, as with the case of Eric Ripert’s Le Bernardin in Manhattan, I felt that with the first bite of bread.  Roast isn’t Le Bernardin, but then again, who else is at that level?  It was with the appetizer that I knew I’d be back.  We chose the Beef Cheek Pierogie and the Roasted Marrow.  The Pierogie was the weakest part of the meal, but it was still good.  It was outshined by the heavenly (or is it sinful?) Roasted Marrow. 

 

Beef Cheek Pierogie

Roasted Marrow elicits a thumbs up.

 

Two halves of what I assume was a beef shank were served.  They were seasoned with sea salt, oregano, and chilies.  When Chef Symon came by to see how we were doing, we gushed about the marrow.  We all agreed that they were, “Awesome.”  I must admit that instead of having a sweet tooth, I ought to say that I have a salt and fat tooth.  The Roasted Marrow definitely hit me on both of those.  The oregano and the chilies were the perfect complement to give some complexity to the flavor.  Excellent.  I will be ordering this again, next time.  Heck, I almost ordered another one right there on the spot!

My friend James and I had been talking about getting roast suckling pig at Roast after their opening.  Heaven smiled on us that evening, because the Roast Beast of the Day was suckling pig.  It was done with a salsa verde and served with some cracklings on top.  Okay, it wasn’t a Cebuano Lechon from the Philippines, but it was still darn good.  It was moist, but not greasy.  My one criticism of the dish is that it could have used a bit more seasoning.  Otherwise, it was great.  Whether salt or a more aggressive salsa verde would have made the difference between merely very good and excellent, I don’t know.  It just needed a little more kick.  I probably should have reached for the salt shaker.  The good news is that the dish was good enough that I couldn’t stop to reach for the salt shaker.  So, was it really just “very good,” or was it something better?  Whatever it was, I’m interested in another portion.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture to show you.

Our sides were what modern American food needs to be to stand out these days.  Let’s face it.  Those of us who care about these things have probably been to our fair share of restaurants good and bad.  The good ones make us feel worse for having found yet another bad one.  With every good restaurant comes less patience for the bad ones, less tolerance for the waste of money and time that a bad restaurant represents in our lives.  Roast is definitely one of the better restaurants I’ve tried recently.  Our sides represent two more reasons why.  We ordered the Bacon Creamed Corn and Mac & Cheese with Goat Cheese.

 

Bacon Creamed Corn

Mac & Cheese with Goat Cheese

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bacon brought the salty counterpoint to the sweetness of the corn.  As you can see above, the dish brought a thumbs up.  Honestly, I don’t know why no other restaurant that I know has thought of this.  Don’t they say that bacon makes everything else better?  So, why not the steakhouse standby, creamed corn?  Thankfully, that lightbulb came on in the design of Roast’s menu.  Whether it was Michael Symon’s idea or something out of the mind of Executive Chef Jeff Rose, to me, it was an inspired choice.  Professional food writers may have had something like this somewhere else, but I sure haven’t.  I’m also interested in another portion of the Bacon Creamed Corn.

I told another friend about the Mac & Cheese with Goat Cheese.  He was inspired to make his own.  Until another recent brush with Mac & Cheese greatness (at Zingerman’s Roadhouse), Roast’s Mac & Cheese was the best I had ever had. Certainly, it was more flavorful and complex than any other mac & cheese I had eaten before.  I wouldn’t say that it was necessarily more rich, though.  The richness was just right, but the flavor was out of sight!  While it is now the second best mac & cheese I’ve ever had, it is still exemplary.

For dessert, I honestly don’t remember a thing about James’ dessert, which could be the Dark Chocolate Cream cake that I see listed in a blurry picture I have of the desert menu.  I was too enthralled with the idea of my dessert: Beer & Pretzels.  I know.  It doesn’t sound like much, but wait until you read the description.  It was Guinness Ice Cream with chocolate covered pretzels arranged like a parfait in a pint glass.

This is another one of those ideas about which I wonder why no one else thought of it first.  Guinness does have hints of chocolate and coffee flavors to it.  They make both chocolate and coffee ice cream, right? Guinness is smooth and creamy, especially the foam.  Ice cream is smooth and creamy.  Hey!  Why not make Guinness Ice Cream?  I don’t have a clue how they did it, but I loved it.  I don’t know if liquid nitrogen was involved, but who cares?  I’m having another order next time.

Corned Beef and Egg Sandwich, Stage Deli, Troy, MI

Late this afternoon, I was looking for a sandwich for a late lunch/early dinner.  I found this beauty sitting in the display case at Stage Deli at the Somerset Collection food court.  It was just the right kind of savory treat I was craving at the time.  Immediately, I ordered one.  It was the first time I had ever seen this sandwich offered there.

The sandwich was made by cooking beaten eggs on a flat-top grill.  After the egg became solid, the corned beef was laid on top.  Some sort of white cheese was placed on top of the meat.  Everything was folded up like an omelette one might find at a diner.  The cook placed the omelette on an onion roll and dressed it with some Grey Poupon Dijon mustard.  Happily, the omelette was a bit too big for the roll.  As you can see from the picture, the sandwich was served with a pickle.  By the way, I ate more than half the sandwich before I remembered to snap a picture.  It looked and tasted that good.

It all came out just like I like a sandwich: meat, cheese, egg, and condiment with a minimum of vegetables.  Actually, the only vegetable life on the sandwich were the bits of onion on the roll.  Sure, sometimes, I appreciate a bit of tomato or Romaine on a sandwich, but more often than not, I’m just interested in the meat, cheese, condiment (usually either mustard or mayonnaise), and bread.  I like that sort of Jewish deli ethos when it comes to a sandwich.  Think lox and plain cream cheese on a poppy seed bagel.  Think hot pastrami on rye with a bit of mustard. The acid for balance comes from the juicy pickle.  Wrap it up in some butcher paper.  Pack it in a brown paper bag.   It’s elemental.  It’s carnal.  It’s an umami lover’s delight.

How did it taste?  It was melt-in-your-mouth marvelous.  The only change I would consider is a substitution of a good pastrami for the corned beef.  Personally, I just prefer the stronger flavor of pastrami to corned beef.  If you love eggs, meat, and cheese, I highly recommend this sandwich.

Ken Oringer’s Clio, Boston, MA

In this blog’s introductory post, I mentioned that I was so moved by a dinner at Ken Oringer’s superlative Clio at the Eliot Hotel (Boston, MA) that I wanted to blog again.  It had been years since I’ve written about food in an abortive attempt to establish a restaurant review blog for the Detroit Metropolitan Area.  After that dinner at Clio, I felt I had to tell the world about Mr. Oringer’s outstanding restaurant and all the other great (and not-so-great) food I’ve experienced.  Admittedly, it wasn’t just the food that moved me to blog again.  It was the entire experience.  It was the joy of sharing a wonderful meal with wonderful people.  The proverbial “warm and fuzzy” feeling I had after this meal is really what influenced me to blog.  During those three hours at Clio, I felt I was experiencing the best that life had to offer an epicurean soul.

If I really dig back to the roots of this blog, I have to go back even further to a friend’s bachelor party weekend, featuring dinners at Charlie Palmer Steak and Nobu in Las Vegas and to his wedding in May 2008. While I wasn’t floored by Charlie Palmer Steak, I was blown away by Nobu.  I finally understood what my friend Eric meant by taking sushi to another level, a level beyond the standard ngiri and maki plates found everywhere else.  At the wedding reception, I sat at a table with some of the same people who were at the dinner at Clio. The three of us who were at both the reception and the Clio dinner a month later sat with about eight other people.  The eight other people at the table shared only a fraction of our zest for the ten-course Chinese feast before us.  My friends and I had most of the food to ourselves.  The eight less-adventurous souls chose to starve instead.  Fine.  More food for us.  The following day, we met other friends for brunch at Blue Water Grill on Union Square in Manhattan and dinner at Matsuri in the basement of the Maritime Hotel.  Sharing good food with good friends is what really drove me to write this blog.

With these experiences in mind, I had to share another great meal with great friends.  My college buddy Eric and his wife Myha met my friend Kristine and me for dinner at Clio in June 2008.  It was a humid summer evening in Boston.  Kristine and I grabbed a cab and headed for Clio.  We were a bit late.  I called ahead to Eric to let him know.  When Kristine and I finally arrived, we found Eric and Myha at the bar.  We said our hellos and then took our seats.

I ordered a glass of champagne to start.  Everyone else at the table agreed that the bubbly would be a good way to start.  If I recall correctly, the ladies may have ordered cocktails, which they quickly abandoned in favor of the bubbly.  So, a round of the bubbly, please!  After quickly scanning the menu, Eric found that Clio offered a tasting menu.  Immediately, I knew that’s what I wanted.  Myha commented, “Leave it to Eric…to find the tasting menu.”  Clio concocted both an eight-course tasting menu and a fourteen-course menu.  Wine pairings were available for both.  I knew I wanted wine.  I knew I wanted food.  I know I don’t know a lot about wine.  So, this kind of arrangement is perfect for me.  The first question became: Eight or fourteen courses?  Eric looked to me for my input.  I said, “Well, go big, or go home.”  We all had a laugh at that.  The next question to the group: wine pairing or no wine pairing.  Eric looked to me again.  I repeated my newfound mantra: “Go big, or go home.”  We all laughed harder.  I knew it was going to cost me, but I didn’t care.  Some of my best friends with some of the best food I could find?  How could I not “Go big?”

The menu is shown below for your reference.  We all were very impressed by the dinner and the wine pairings.  I knew that there was no way I could remember any of the details.  I think Myha felt the same way.  At the end of the meal, she asked the Sommelier, Christophe Richelet, if he could provide us with a list of the wines and the courses.  He graciously e-mailed all the information to us.  Thank you, Myha and Christophe.  As I am writing this blog entry nearly four months after the dinner occurred, the details are fuzzy, but certain courses and wine pairings stand out like beautiful carved relief on the sandblasted ruins of my memory.

We started with the Sodas Inspired by Nature.  Clio can, at times, adhere to the deconstructionist trend of molecular gastronomy.  It was highly on display in this course.  Small round-based volumetric flasks, similar to the triangular Erlenmeyer flasks you might remember from chemistry, were filled with these sodas.  With the sodas came cones made from syrup and stuffed with popcorn and powdered cheese.  We got the salty with the sweet.  What was funny but a little off-putting was that there was no neat way to eat the popcorn cones.  I got the white cheese powder everywhere.  Thankfully, the table linens were white.  Too bad my pants were black.  As they say, “It’s all good.”  The combination of the sweet, sugar cone and the salty popcorn and cheese was a fun, whimsical way to give me both the salty and the sweet.

Next, we received the Tomato Water Martini with Basil Oil, Caper Berry, and Tomato “Popsicle.”  For this course, the only alcohol to be found was in the wine pairing, listed below.  The tomato water was clear.  The basil oil sat as green drops on the surface of the drink.  The caper berry stood in place of a more traditional martini garnish, the olive.  Served on the side was a diminutive cube of a frozen tomato concoction.  The most impressive thing about this martini was that it actually tasted like a martini without the bite of the alcohol one might normally find in a cocktail.  To this day, Kristine still reminisces with me about the martini.

Ken Oringer has a little sushi bar called Uni adjacent to Clio.  The next two courses were from Uni.  We had a tiradito of fluke with spicy pepper vinaigrette, yuzu, and hishio soy followed by iced Taylor Bay scallops with rhubarb verjus, Ossetra caviar, and fresh wasabi.  The scallops were paired with the wonderful Riesling listed below.  Unfortunately, the details of these two courses elude me, but trust me, they were fantastic.  That much, I do remember.  A cold soup of cucumber with yogurt, black onion powder, and olive oil was next.  The next two courses were likewise excellent, but the details, again, are a little fuzzy four months later.  The globe artichoke “anchoyade” with chanterelles, crispy salad, and frozen goat cheese powder was followed by surf clams with stinging nettle soup, chive flowers, and crispy potato.

Next, we received a crispy-skinned striped bass with lemon balm foam, green garlic, and young radish paired with a 2006 Merry Edwards Pinot Noir from the Russian River Valley.  Though the details elude my memory, I do remember that this was a standout dish for all of us that night.  Though one might question a pinot noir with fish, I assure you that the pairing was perfect.  I think the flavor of the dish would have overpowered many whites, but the pinot was just light enough to be the right complement to the dish.  Our sommelier Christophe did a marvelous job all night.

The next course again paired seafood with a red wine.  The Clio staff served us a soft shell crab tempura with grilled ramps, wild lettuces and sauce diable.  It reminded me of a similar dish I had at Nobu in Las Vegas.  Our wine pairing was a 2002 Chateau La Rame Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont from Bordeaux.  While excellent, I didn’t find the dish particularly groundbreaking for me.  I preferred the soft shell crab tempura from Nobu.

Next up was the sweet Lacquered Foie Gras with strawberries, violet candy, and Oolong tea bitters.  Christophe chose for us a 2004 Delas Hermitage “Marquise de la Tourette” from the Rhone River Valley.  Apparently, the wine is made from the Syrah grape from a particularly notable region, which may help to explain why it was so perfectly paired with the foie gras as prepared above.  The fruity, full-bodied Syrah went extremely well with the big flavors of the foie gras dish.  For me, this course and the paired wine, were the best of the night.  After that, we had veal and sweetbreads with the same wine.  All I remember was that this too, was excellent.  Probably, the most notable dishes that night were the sea bass and the foie gras.  I remember that these two dishes seemed to impress us most.

What followed was essentially dessert.  I have written elsewhere in this blog that a meal is akin to a sentence where the dessert functions as the period.  To me, the real meaning is in the sentence.  I think I’m just predisposed to pay less attention to dessert.  I don’t know why, but that’s just the reality.  I often say that I don’t have a sweet tooth; I have a fat and salt tooth.  Perhaps, that’s why I don’t pay nearly as much attention to dessert as I do to the rest of the meal.  I did love the sherry that we had with our wild strawberries with honey lemon crème and poppy ice cream.  That much, I do remember.

Thank you to Eric, Myha, and Kristine for sharing that night at Clio with me.  Thank you for being my complicit partners in crime.  Thank you to Chef Ken Oringer, Sous Chef Andres Juilan Grundy, Pastry Chef Renae Herzog, and Sommelier Christophe Richelet.  Though it was too long ago for me to remember all the details, I do remember it as one of the greatest meals of my life.

 

› Chef’s Tasting Menu on Saturday June 21st, 2008.

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Soda inspired by nature

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Tomato Water Martini

with basil oil, caper berry and tomato “popsicle”

2006 Célestin Blondeau Sancerre “Cuvée des Moulins Bâles”, Loire

 

 

Tiradito of FLuke

with spicy pepper vinaigrette, yuzu and hishio soy›››

 

 

Iced Taylor Bay Scallops

with rhubarb verjus, ossetra caviar and fresh wasabi     

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2005 Domaine Otter Riesling Grand Cru “Schlossberg”, Alsace

 

 

Cold Soup of Cucumber

with yogurt, black onion powder and olive oil

›››

 

Globe Artichoke “Anchoyade”

with chanterelles, crispy salad and frozen goat cheese powder

›››

 

Surf Clams

with stinging nettle soup, chive flowers and crispy potato  

›››

2006 Naia Verdejo, Rueda

 

 

Crispy Skinned Striped Bass

with lemon balm foam, green garlic and young radish    

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2006 Merry Edwards Pinot Noir, Russian River Valley

 

 

Soft Shell Crab Tempura

with grilled ramps, wild lettuces and sauce Diable  

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2002 Château La Rame Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont, Bordeaux

 

Lacquered Foie Gras

with strawberries, violet candy and Oolong tea bitters  

›››

2004 Delas Hermitage “Marquise de la Tourette”, Rhône

 

Milk-Fed Veal “Scallopine” and Sweetbreads

with morel mushrooms fricassée, marjoram and aged sherry  

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La Tournette with Armagnac prunes

Fourme d’Ambert with spruce syrup and candied walnuts

Valencay with apricot and fig

Charolais with purple basil syrup and braised pear

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Wild Strawberries

with honey lemon crème and poppy ice cream

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Alvear ‘Sherry’ Pedro Ximénez Solera 1927, Montilla 

 

Milk Chocolate ‘Bonbon’

with sarsaparilla ice cream, Bing cherries and cocoa nib 

›››

Watch “Spain…on the Road Again.”

Chef Mario Batali took a road trip through Spain with his three friends Mark Bittman, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Claudia Bassols.  Mark Bittman, some of you may know, is a food columnist (The Minimalist) for the New York Times  and the author of the How to Cook Everything series of books.  Gwyneth Paltrow is the Academy Award-winning star of Shakespeare in Love.  Claudia Bassols is a divinely beautiful Spanish actress from Catalonia.

Spain…on the Road Again is a twelve-part series airing on PBS.  In this show, Mario and friends do just what I would want to do on a vacation in Spain.  They go from place to place, riding around in Mercedes-Benz convertibles, sampling the glorious food and wine of various regions of Spain.  I highly recommend this series to you, dear reader.  Check your local listings or the show’s website (http://spainontheroadagain.com/index.shtml) to find out when to watch.  This series has a companion cookbook and an upcoming DVD set.

See the video below.

You Are What You Eat: Diet and Reproductive Fitness

I think a lot of people have heard the aphorism, “You are what you eat.”  I agree.  The thought is that if one overeats, one gains too much weight.  If one doesn’t eat healthily, one is unhealthy.  Okay, fine.  I admit it.  I don’t always listen to the wisdom contained in the above aphorism.  Yes, I understand that if one eats too much, one can wake up as a diabetic.  Yes, I understand that diabetes is linked to premature deaths due to nasty things like coronary artery disease, peripheral vascular disease, renal failure, etc.  I understand that unhealthy diets are linked to other nasty things like cancer.  Fine.  We get it, right?  But, that’s not what this blog entry is about.  I believe people tell you a lot about themselves when they choose a meal or a drink.

 

Reproductive fitness is a concept in evolutionary biology that describes the ability of an individual to pass on his or her genes to the next generation.  It’s generally looked at in the following way.  Does a certain trait make an individual more likely to have mating success or to have live offspring in the next generation?  Does Brad Pitt’s attractiveness to a large segment of the female human population make it more likely that he will have offspring?  Does Angelina Jolie’s attractiveness to a wide segment of the human male population mean that she’s more likely to have reproductive success?  The concept of reproductive fitness is all about passing genes on into posterity.  What is the relationship between dietary choices and reproductive fitness?  Well, I think those intellects ruled wholly by science would argue that one has to make healthy choices in one’s diet to have reproductive fitness.  I’m sure those intellects would believe that the healthier one’s body, the healthier one’s reproductive system, and the more likely one will have live offspring who can transmit DNA further into posterity.  Understood.  I’d like to turn that thinking on its head, though.

 

My aunt once told me that she knew that her late, first husband was The One, because they liked to eat the same things.  I completely understand this point of view.  I believe that food and life are equivalent.  I believe that you are what you eat, but not in the way the phrase was meant to be used.  What I believe is that a person will telegraph who they are when they choose a meal or a drink.  It’s very revealing.  It has been written and said that a person’s appetites for food may reflect their appetites in the bedroom.  What I think is meant by that is that if one revels in the sensual pleasures of great eating, one will probably revel in the sensuals pleasures of—well—the bedroom.  Personally, I think that viewpoint underestimates the power of using a person’s food choices as a litmus test, because it refers only to the bedroom.

 

I believe that the compatibility of a pair’s taste in food says a lot about the potential of that relationship to produce offspring in this modern world.  So, in a way, it’s not diet per se that decides a pair’s reproductive fitness.  It’s compatibility.  People who are compatible when it comes to food, I believe, are more likely to be compatible in other ways, and therefore, they’re more likely to stay together.  People may have an image of Republicans as alcohol-swilling steak eaters.  Some might imagine a Democrat as an ascetic, tree-hugging, vegetarian whose idea of a naughty indulgence is a veggie hot dog.  One might imagine a Republican as a person who takes whole milk in his or her latte.  The same person might imagine a Democrat as one who takes a healthier approach with skim or soy in their double decaf latte.  While those preconceived notions may be untrue, I still believe that if two people agree on food, they’ll agree on a lot of other things.  If they agree on a lot of things, I believe, they’re more likely to stay together.  I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.  The Carl’s Jr. hamburger chain ran an advertising campaign stating that “If it doesn’t get all over the place [like their burger], it doesn’t belong in your face.”  I have similar thinking.  If we can’t agree on what we just ate, don’t expect me to ask for a(nother) date.

 

I’m pretty sure the following people are stereotypes whom I’m not going to want to be with for the long haul.  Here they are in no particular order.  (Disclaimer: Yes, I know these are oversimplifications and stereotypes, and that I’m an awful person for not giving people a chance.)

 

1. The woman who only drinks white wine.  She’s problematic for me, because I need variety in my food and drink.  I can’t imagine this woman to be an adventurous eater.  If a person’s first move is Chardonnay, I’m immediately suspicious, but I’m waiting to evaluate what she orders for food.  I’m betting she’s a picky eater.  Personally, I’m more adventurous than that.  I’m often looking for something new.  I’m looking for a partner to share the pleasures of the food that I like.  I want a playmate.  I don’t think that Ms. Chardonnay and I will find much common ground.  I don’t see us getting along as playmates.  I imagine she’ll want to play one game she always plays, and I’ll want to play another new game.  We could be sometime playmates as friends.  I can’t imagine her as my best friend with whom I’d want to play for the rest of my life.
2. The woman who orders the same thing every time she goes to a particular restaurant and has no particular need to order anything else—ever.  The problem I will face with this woman is going to be the same as the one faced with Ms. Chardonnay.
3. The woman who thinks of dessert as the best part of the meal.  I’m not that kind of a guy.  To me, dessert is the period to the sentence.  The real meaning of a meal is, for me, in the sentence itself.  To me (to use a desert analogy), is merely the cherry on top of the sundae; I’m in it for the sundae.  I have no interest in eating the cherry first; I feel the cherry should be eaten in the context of the rest of the sundae.
4. The vegetarian or the woman who says she doesn’t eat meat even though she doesn’t self-classify as a vegetarian.  I’m a carnivore.  What can I say?  I still need a playmate.  If a woman’s not up for ribs at a barbecue event, I think we may have a problem.
5. The person who doesn’t eat seafood.  Yes. They’re out there.  I imagine that the person who isn’t up for either a sushi/sashimi extravaganza or lobster with black bean sauce is not for me.

 

Okay, fine, I admit it.  I’m lumping women into various categories that are oversimplifications.  Sure.  I don’t mean to castigate women for their food choices.  One might feel that I’m judging books by their covers, but I allow women the freedom to eat whatever they want.  I’m not saying people who don’t eat the same things I do are bad people.  All I’m saying is that I’m looking for a playmate who wants to play the same games I do.  I just think that a compatible playmate when it comes to food will be more likely to be a compatible partner when it comes to other things.

 

I know a vegetarian, whom I find exceedingly attractive.  Blonde and green-eyed—Guinevere we’ll call her after the titular character mentioned in the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young song—has a beautiful face and remarkable figure, in my mind.  She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.  I can’t imagine us together, because I’m a carnivore.  We’re not going to be able to play the same games together; we’re not going to be able to share in the pleasures that I find in eating.  I just can’t picture it.  So, I appreciate Guinevere for the nice, warm person she is and for her beauty, and that’s all.  Guinevere isn’t going to be able to share in my gustatory games, in my life.  Umami—the  Japanese word for savory and delicious tastes found in meats, cheeses, broths, stocks, and proteinaceous foods—will, I imagine, mean nothing positive (and probably a lot of negative things) to Guinevere.  To me, it means everything—as far as food is concerned, anyway.

 

In my journey through life, a particular dish holds a special meaning for me.  I’m a lover of lechon, or what a Filipino or a Puerto Rican might call a roast pig.  Personally, I prefer the variety made on the Philippine island of Cebu.  I also prefer Cebuano mangoes to those found elsewhere, but that’s a topic for another blog entry.  Anyway, lechon is all about the umami.  I’m all about the umami.  The best lechon, I think, is from Cebu where my father grew up.  Here’s a little look into what goes into a Cebuano lechon.  This recipe was sent to me by my friend James from the following source: http://www.extra-rice.com/best-taste-cebu-lechon-recipe/

 

Prepare:

One whole pig (about 20 kilograms)

Salt

Black pepper

Soy Sauce

 

Lechon Stuffing:

5-10 bundles of lemon grass (tanglad)

20 pcs. Banana (saba variety), peeled then halved or

20 pcs. Taro (gabi), peeled

 

1. Clean and prepare the pig by removing innards, washing and scraping the body of bristles.  Rinse and allow to drain a bit before stuffing.
2. Rub with salt and pepper inside and out.
3. Rub soy sauce on the skin of the pig.  This will make it nicely red when roasted.
4. Stuff the belly of the lechon with lemon grass along with saba and gabi.  Sew to close.
5. Skewer the pig and split roast over live charcoal or traditionally, in somparts of Cebu, under live fire.  Roast until crisp.
6. Cebu lechon is not served with a sauce, but if a dipping sauce is requested, vinegar with scallions and pepper may be served along with it.

 

I’d like to find a playmate who’s into umami.  Lechon is a game that Guinevere isn’t going to want to play.  If a playmate asks me to eat steak or ribs with her on occasion, I think she may be able to share life with me in the fullest way.  It’s a start, anyway.  The search for a soul mate is a quest to find someone who shares the same attitudes in life, someone who is on the same wavelength?  Aren’t those good building blocks for a lasting relationship, for the reproductive fitness of a particular pair bond?  My journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step of finding someone who appreciates the umami as much as I do.