2.24.2004
Alex: Pizza Savior
Last week, the Bistro Hugo hosted a political salon to discuss the various ballot measures that demand our vote March 2. Dan Becker cited the tough love principle as a reason to vote no on the $15 billion Arnold bond; Barry informed us that San Francisco Planning and Urban Research, or SPUR, has declared itself neutral on the workforce housing issue; the Fanch said SF shouldn't fund its own school system because that's the state's job; and we all wondered why we had to get involved in city employee pension decisions.
Most important, we ate lots of pizza. I bought five light-baked Arizmendi pies, topped with roasted eggplant, red onion and red-pepper pesto. They needed only 10 minutes in the oven and emerged crisp and light and flavorful. I embellished a couple of them with prosciutto and set out feta and marinated red pepper strips as extra toppings.
That's the solution to our neighborhood pizza problems. $13 per half-baked pizza. You can call ahead or check the Web site if you want to know in advance about the toppings of the day.
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Last week, the Bistro Hugo hosted a political salon to discuss the various ballot measures that demand our vote March 2. Dan Becker cited the tough love principle as a reason to vote no on the $15 billion Arnold bond; Barry informed us that San Francisco Planning and Urban Research, or SPUR, has declared itself neutral on the workforce housing issue; the Fanch said SF shouldn't fund its own school system because that's the state's job; and we all wondered why we had to get involved in city employee pension decisions.
Most important, we ate lots of pizza. I bought five light-baked Arizmendi pies, topped with roasted eggplant, red onion and red-pepper pesto. They needed only 10 minutes in the oven and emerged crisp and light and flavorful. I embellished a couple of them with prosciutto and set out feta and marinated red pepper strips as extra toppings.
That's the solution to our neighborhood pizza problems. $13 per half-baked pizza. You can call ahead or check the Web site if you want to know in advance about the toppings of the day.
2.23.2004
Alex: French Lesson
In response to my previous post, Martine writes:
Oui, "chapeau!" est une expression qui veut dire: "bravo", "bien joué", "bien réussi", "impressionnant". Ce n'est pas employé très couramment mais c'est une expression bien connue à la fois des français et des québécois.
First, the Google software translation:
Yes, "hat!" is an expression which wants to say: "cheer", "well played", "well successful", "impressive". It is not employed very usually but it is a well-known expression at the same time of French and québécois.
Hey, that's not bad. Just a few tweaks:
Yes, the expression "chapeau!" means "Bravo!," "well-played!," "well done!," and "impressive!" You don't often hear it these days, but it's well-known among both the French and the Quebecois.
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In response to my previous post, Martine writes:
Oui, "chapeau!" est une expression qui veut dire: "bravo", "bien joué", "bien réussi", "impressionnant". Ce n'est pas employé très couramment mais c'est une expression bien connue à la fois des français et des québécois.
First, the Google software translation:
Yes, "hat!" is an expression which wants to say: "cheer", "well played", "well successful", "impressive". It is not employed very usually but it is a well-known expression at the same time of French and québécois.
Hey, that's not bad. Just a few tweaks:
Yes, the expression "chapeau!" means "Bravo!," "well-played!," "well done!," and "impressive!" You don't often hear it these days, but it's well-known among both the French and the Quebecois.
2.20.2004
Alex: Hat Trick
For a post-Valentine's dinner, the Fanch and I supped last night at Chapeau!, a French bistro on Clement and 15th. The exclamation point is necessary, turning the word "hat" into an expression that means "Wow!" (Or so they say at Chapeau!...perhaps our more au courant francophone members can elucidate...)
Be it truth or be it marketing, it's apt. Chapeau is fantastic. For a $30 prix fixe, both of us had meals that probably could rival a $100-a-person fancy tablecloth kind of place. I've never been to the French Laundry, but I've heard that, for its rep and its price, it can be underwhelming. I don't see how it could be much better than Chapeau.
The $30 menu allows the diner to choose one appetizer (of at least 7 or 8), one main course (of 7 or 8), then a dessert from, again, several choices. (It doesn't include wine.) The $36 menu adds a "taster fish" course, which was a single day boat scallop with something or other. We both opted for $30, as it seemed plenty of food.
Before our appetizers came, the patron Phillippe, a short, charming man, who with his close cropped gray hair could have been a mischievous retired French colonel, brought our wine selection--a half bottle of Chinon red, more details of which I can't remember. He tasted along with us. Before we could say anything, he shook his head. "Mais non, eet ees corked. No good." He whisked it away.
A few minutes later he returned with a fresh bottle and fresh glasses (very classy). Pop went the cork; we all tried it again. "What do you think?" he asked. It was still light, closer to blush than red, but with a much fuller body and rich, resonant afterbite. "Exactement," he agreed. He explained that the cork of the other bottle had a "sickness"; that wines were like people, you cannot get to know them by looking at the outside. (To further the analogy would be to say that you must open them up and taste them, but I just nodded and smiled.)
Settled with our wine, we were then treated to an amuse-bouche -- a demitasse of tomato bisque swirled with creme fraiche. Out of this world. I realized at that point that these guys know they're good, and aren't afraid to raise expectations, the way hot-ass bands lead off an album with a killer song. I felt I had just come home from the record store in 1967, dropped the needle on Sgt. Peppers for the first time and heard those first few power chords.
Appetizers: I had the crab and avocado salad, constructed in a small tower with microgreens on top; the plate was garnished with roasted pine nuts and grapefruit sections. The tower was deceptive; what seemed petite was in fact a generous portion. Fanch had the duck and frisee salad with two melba-wafer sized slices of pan-seared foie gras. Unbelievable. Even the first speed-bump of the night -- her salad was overdressed -- was forgivable, because it was overdressed with a salty, tart, pungently yummy bacon vinaigrette that deeply satisfied my sour tooth and my caveman urge for the richness of animal fat. How often does a salad dressing make you want to go gnaw on a bone?
Entrees: I had the sweetbreads, not because I love sweetbreads but because I couldn't remember if I liked them or not. Sweetbreads are the thymus or pancreas of a young animal, probably a calf. Like other organ meats, they are rich and nutty, but these didn't have the usual musty, earthy quality of organ meats. They were breaded and served in a rich mushroom gravy and with sliced wild mushrooms, turnips and carrots. A bit salty, but excellent. Emily had the lamb shank; I only had a small bite, but it was as shank should be: succulent and tender.
For dessert, I went value-added: for a couple extra bucks I ordered the cheese plate. Four small samples: a blue, a chevre and two others I don't remember but which weren't nearly as remarkable. The blue and chevre were heady -- they demanded the use of several senses, because with each taste I rolled my eyes and said "mmmmmmm." In the center of the plate were seedless purple grapes, cut in half and drizzled with cilantro, salt, pepper and walnut oil. These, Phillippe explained, were the palate cleansers in between bites of cheese. I also sprang for a reasonable glass of French dessert wine, the name of which escapes me. I don't remember Emily's dessert; by that point I realized I had eaten too much. Perhaps she can add to these comments...
All in all, a wee splurge, but at $50 a person, including tip, I feel like we made away like bandits.
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For a post-Valentine's dinner, the Fanch and I supped last night at Chapeau!, a French bistro on Clement and 15th. The exclamation point is necessary, turning the word "hat" into an expression that means "Wow!" (Or so they say at Chapeau!...perhaps our more au courant francophone members can elucidate...)
Be it truth or be it marketing, it's apt. Chapeau is fantastic. For a $30 prix fixe, both of us had meals that probably could rival a $100-a-person fancy tablecloth kind of place. I've never been to the French Laundry, but I've heard that, for its rep and its price, it can be underwhelming. I don't see how it could be much better than Chapeau.
The $30 menu allows the diner to choose one appetizer (of at least 7 or 8), one main course (of 7 or 8), then a dessert from, again, several choices. (It doesn't include wine.) The $36 menu adds a "taster fish" course, which was a single day boat scallop with something or other. We both opted for $30, as it seemed plenty of food.
Before our appetizers came, the patron Phillippe, a short, charming man, who with his close cropped gray hair could have been a mischievous retired French colonel, brought our wine selection--a half bottle of Chinon red, more details of which I can't remember. He tasted along with us. Before we could say anything, he shook his head. "Mais non, eet ees corked. No good." He whisked it away.
A few minutes later he returned with a fresh bottle and fresh glasses (very classy). Pop went the cork; we all tried it again. "What do you think?" he asked. It was still light, closer to blush than red, but with a much fuller body and rich, resonant afterbite. "Exactement," he agreed. He explained that the cork of the other bottle had a "sickness"; that wines were like people, you cannot get to know them by looking at the outside. (To further the analogy would be to say that you must open them up and taste them, but I just nodded and smiled.)
Settled with our wine, we were then treated to an amuse-bouche -- a demitasse of tomato bisque swirled with creme fraiche. Out of this world. I realized at that point that these guys know they're good, and aren't afraid to raise expectations, the way hot-ass bands lead off an album with a killer song. I felt I had just come home from the record store in 1967, dropped the needle on Sgt. Peppers for the first time and heard those first few power chords.
Appetizers: I had the crab and avocado salad, constructed in a small tower with microgreens on top; the plate was garnished with roasted pine nuts and grapefruit sections. The tower was deceptive; what seemed petite was in fact a generous portion. Fanch had the duck and frisee salad with two melba-wafer sized slices of pan-seared foie gras. Unbelievable. Even the first speed-bump of the night -- her salad was overdressed -- was forgivable, because it was overdressed with a salty, tart, pungently yummy bacon vinaigrette that deeply satisfied my sour tooth and my caveman urge for the richness of animal fat. How often does a salad dressing make you want to go gnaw on a bone?
Entrees: I had the sweetbreads, not because I love sweetbreads but because I couldn't remember if I liked them or not. Sweetbreads are the thymus or pancreas of a young animal, probably a calf. Like other organ meats, they are rich and nutty, but these didn't have the usual musty, earthy quality of organ meats. They were breaded and served in a rich mushroom gravy and with sliced wild mushrooms, turnips and carrots. A bit salty, but excellent. Emily had the lamb shank; I only had a small bite, but it was as shank should be: succulent and tender.
For dessert, I went value-added: for a couple extra bucks I ordered the cheese plate. Four small samples: a blue, a chevre and two others I don't remember but which weren't nearly as remarkable. The blue and chevre were heady -- they demanded the use of several senses, because with each taste I rolled my eyes and said "mmmmmmm." In the center of the plate were seedless purple grapes, cut in half and drizzled with cilantro, salt, pepper and walnut oil. These, Phillippe explained, were the palate cleansers in between bites of cheese. I also sprang for a reasonable glass of French dessert wine, the name of which escapes me. I don't remember Emily's dessert; by that point I realized I had eaten too much. Perhaps she can add to these comments...
All in all, a wee splurge, but at $50 a person, including tip, I feel like we made away like bandits.
2.18.2004
Alex: Headline of the Day
Martha Stewart Witness Grilled After Being Marinated Overnight
And if you don't like that, have an anchovy and shut up.
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Martha Stewart Witness Grilled After Being Marinated Overnight
And if you don't like that, have an anchovy and shut up.
2.17.2004
Elbo: Mo' Avgolemono
Truth be told, I know I can do better than that batch. And you really must taste the cold soup the next day too. There will surely be another soup brewing one day soon, I promise, and I'll be happy to share with whoever wants some.
But let me clarify one thing: the lemon (juice) goes into the eggs, not into the broth. You can put chicken into it too, and you can substitute rice for orzo.
Anyway I promise to share soon. Alex's fishes and greens were fabulous too.
pb
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Truth be told, I know I can do better than that batch. And you really must taste the cold soup the next day too. There will surely be another soup brewing one day soon, I promise, and I'll be happy to share with whoever wants some.
But let me clarify one thing: the lemon (juice) goes into the eggs, not into the broth. You can put chicken into it too, and you can substitute rice for orzo.
Anyway I promise to share soon. Alex's fishes and greens were fabulous too.
pb
Avgolemono de Elbo
As Paul B. hasn't written here yet about his now-famous (at least around my house) avgolemono soup, I will humbly do so. Avgolemono is a Greek soup that Paul's mom taught him. It's deceptively simple: chicken broth, raw egg, lemon, and orzo pasta.
The trick is to cook the soup without solidifying the egg. We had some folks over for dinner Saturday night before the Knitters show: I baked fish and served up some Southern greens, while Elbo brought the fixins for avgolemono and put it all together on our stovetop.
I won't attempt to repeat the recipe; I only want to point out that I was mightily impressed with the technique--boil the chicken broth and lemon and pour it, bit by bit, into the raw eggs while whisking. The hot broth, not the stovetop flame, cooks the eggs.
Paul's warning: don't try to heat it up the second day. Better to eat it cold. I heeded not, thinking that if I heated it up really slowly while whisking, I could avoid solidifying (colloidizing?) the egg....and then the phone rang and I got distracted, leaving me with scrambled soup.
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As Paul B. hasn't written here yet about his now-famous (at least around my house) avgolemono soup, I will humbly do so. Avgolemono is a Greek soup that Paul's mom taught him. It's deceptively simple: chicken broth, raw egg, lemon, and orzo pasta.
The trick is to cook the soup without solidifying the egg. We had some folks over for dinner Saturday night before the Knitters show: I baked fish and served up some Southern greens, while Elbo brought the fixins for avgolemono and put it all together on our stovetop.
I won't attempt to repeat the recipe; I only want to point out that I was mightily impressed with the technique--boil the chicken broth and lemon and pour it, bit by bit, into the raw eggs while whisking. The hot broth, not the stovetop flame, cooks the eggs.
Paul's warning: don't try to heat it up the second day. Better to eat it cold. I heeded not, thinking that if I heated it up really slowly while whisking, I could avoid solidifying (colloidizing?) the egg....and then the phone rang and I got distracted, leaving me with scrambled soup.
2.10.2004
Alex: L.A. Food
La Fancherita and I just returned from a weekend in Los Angeles to celebrate Grandma Ida's 90th birthday. The food highlight, however, happened nowhere near L.A.
On the way down Friday (we drove), we stopped in Santa Maria for dinner at a place recommended by a friend who's had plenty of occasion to explore the culinary landscape of the Central Coast, as it's called. It was Lo Mejor de Jalisco, a family-run cafe that specialized in seafood. Tucked in next to a gas station, we found it completely by luck.
We shared the giant's-fist-sized goblet of seafood cocktail (shrimp, abalone, octopus) for the appetizer, then moved on to the entrees: a steak, fish and shrimp combo for me, a fish with peppers and onions for the Fanch. Oh man. I'm not sure how I got back behind the wheel and drove for 3 more hours, but we made it to LA by 10.30.
Once there, our only real meal out on the town was Sunday brunch with Shirley (my other grandma) and my uncle Drew, both of whom live near Factor's, a high-priced Jewish deli on Pico near the Simon Wiesenthal Center. So to Factor's we went. Eh.
At brunch a lively topic of discussion was why S.F. doesn't have any good Jewish delis, which is mostly true, but a bit disingenuous given that Factor's and its ilk (Junior's on Westwood, for example) really aren't any great shakes. Lots of pictures of sports stars and movie stars and movie posters on the wall, then a workmanlike $10 brisket sandwich on the menu. I had the tongue and scrambled eggs, which was OK but not easily distinguishable from the corned beef and scrambled eggs or pastrami and scrambled eggs. The home fried potatoes were good, though. And the pickles they brought on the side.
Fanch had the chopped salad, which was OK. Grandma had the brisket sandwich, which was OK... do I need continue? Find me a deli with a *good* -- not just OK -- brisket sandwich for $7 or $8, and then we can talk. Until then, I'll fly to Montreal for a smoked meat at Schwartz's.
One last thing: as some of you know, the SF Board of Supes (Chris Daly, in particular) wants to institute a public grade system, a la Los Angeles, for its restaurants. This means every restaurant would have posted in its window a letter that corresponds to its public hygiene rating. A is the best. L.A. has had this system for years. According to its public health dep't, three-quarters of its restaurants now sport an "A."
I read this in the LA Weekly, which just ran a very interesting Q&A with the public health dep't official in charge of the grading system. I've just spent 15 minutes on their Web site but couldn't find the story, unfortunately... but one thing he talked about was how the political power of ethnic groups affects the public health code. For example, for many years Chinese butchers/restaurants weren't allowed to hang duck to cure unrefrigerated (i.e., to make Peking duck). As the Chinese population and its political muscle grew, the public health dep't was persuaded to make an exception. This came up in reference to another ethnic group whose food-prep traditions are coming under scrutiny, but I can't remember which....and I can't find the damn article.
Anyway, what do you guys think? Should food grades be posted in local restaurants? Would they cut down on food poisoning? Would they add a layer of incompetent bureaucracy? Would the grades be fair?
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La Fancherita and I just returned from a weekend in Los Angeles to celebrate Grandma Ida's 90th birthday. The food highlight, however, happened nowhere near L.A.
On the way down Friday (we drove), we stopped in Santa Maria for dinner at a place recommended by a friend who's had plenty of occasion to explore the culinary landscape of the Central Coast, as it's called. It was Lo Mejor de Jalisco, a family-run cafe that specialized in seafood. Tucked in next to a gas station, we found it completely by luck.
We shared the giant's-fist-sized goblet of seafood cocktail (shrimp, abalone, octopus) for the appetizer, then moved on to the entrees: a steak, fish and shrimp combo for me, a fish with peppers and onions for the Fanch. Oh man. I'm not sure how I got back behind the wheel and drove for 3 more hours, but we made it to LA by 10.30.
Once there, our only real meal out on the town was Sunday brunch with Shirley (my other grandma) and my uncle Drew, both of whom live near Factor's, a high-priced Jewish deli on Pico near the Simon Wiesenthal Center. So to Factor's we went. Eh.
At brunch a lively topic of discussion was why S.F. doesn't have any good Jewish delis, which is mostly true, but a bit disingenuous given that Factor's and its ilk (Junior's on Westwood, for example) really aren't any great shakes. Lots of pictures of sports stars and movie stars and movie posters on the wall, then a workmanlike $10 brisket sandwich on the menu. I had the tongue and scrambled eggs, which was OK but not easily distinguishable from the corned beef and scrambled eggs or pastrami and scrambled eggs. The home fried potatoes were good, though. And the pickles they brought on the side.
Fanch had the chopped salad, which was OK. Grandma had the brisket sandwich, which was OK... do I need continue? Find me a deli with a *good* -- not just OK -- brisket sandwich for $7 or $8, and then we can talk. Until then, I'll fly to Montreal for a smoked meat at Schwartz's.
One last thing: as some of you know, the SF Board of Supes (Chris Daly, in particular) wants to institute a public grade system, a la Los Angeles, for its restaurants. This means every restaurant would have posted in its window a letter that corresponds to its public hygiene rating. A is the best. L.A. has had this system for years. According to its public health dep't, three-quarters of its restaurants now sport an "A."
I read this in the LA Weekly, which just ran a very interesting Q&A with the public health dep't official in charge of the grading system. I've just spent 15 minutes on their Web site but couldn't find the story, unfortunately... but one thing he talked about was how the political power of ethnic groups affects the public health code. For example, for many years Chinese butchers/restaurants weren't allowed to hang duck to cure unrefrigerated (i.e., to make Peking duck). As the Chinese population and its political muscle grew, the public health dep't was persuaded to make an exception. This came up in reference to another ethnic group whose food-prep traditions are coming under scrutiny, but I can't remember which....and I can't find the damn article.
Anyway, what do you guys think? Should food grades be posted in local restaurants? Would they cut down on food poisoning? Would they add a layer of incompetent bureaucracy? Would the grades be fair?
2.01.2004
Alex: One Failure, One Success
It's late, so I'll make this sort of shorthand. A strange thing happened on the way to a good soup: on the second day, a good soup, made from a hearty homemade veggie stock, turned bad. With the broth ready, we added fresh spinach, farfalle, carrots and cannelini. (The farfalle were boiled to al dente separately and rinsed of extra starch before inclusion.) First day: very tasty, made better with a schpritz of salt and a spoonful of plain yogurt. Second day: something happened overnight. The farfalle got soggy, the taste became metallic and diluted. I've added pasta to a soup before and not had the sog problem after the first day. Maybe it was the combination of spinach and pasta??? Weird.
On to the success: Tonight I stir fried tofu, bok choy, and leeks. I don't really have a recipe, other than cube the tofu into roughly 1-inch cubes; marinate in soy, fish sauce, lime, ginger, garlic to taste.
Fire up the wok. Make it HOT. Use peanut or soybean oil. to make sure it's ready, drip a small (small!) drop of water into the oil. If it sputters and pops into your face, it's ready.
First stir-fry the tofu until cubes are toasty brown, even crispy, on most sides: this requires gentle fine-tuned turning of each cube with a fork or other precise instrument so the uncrisp sides are exposed one by one to the wok surface.
Remove tofu, scrape the gribbons from the wok, add more oil and add leeks (or onions, if that's your pleasure). But try the leeks! Leeks are great! Love them, respect them, eat them. And don't forget to soak and clean them thoroughly. Let em get translucent, then add chopped bok choy. (The size of chop is very important in stir-fry, but I won't get into it here because I haven't quite figured it out.)
Pour rest of marinade left over from tofu into wok. If there's not much, add a bit of soy, vinegar, whatever cooking liquid you like. A little cooking sherry is nice, and it deglazes. When the bok choy and leeks are ready, reintroduce tofu, toss in wok, turn off heat and cover for a few minutes.
Final step: boil two sheaves of soba noodles; add a dribble of oil to the pot. Drain, rinse in cool water. Arrange noodles in bottom of bowl; add stir fry; pour at least a few generous tablespoons of the juice from bottom of wok into bowl. Not enough to make a soup, but enough to keep the soba from getting sticky.
Augment, only if necessary, with a bit of soy and red rooster chili sauce. But don't drown the flavor of the leeks, which have a sweet, nutty quality that's hard to find in onions.
It's also nice to have a few teaspoons of broth left in your empty bowl so you can irritate your dining partner by lifting the bowl to your lips and slurping...aaaah.
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It's late, so I'll make this sort of shorthand. A strange thing happened on the way to a good soup: on the second day, a good soup, made from a hearty homemade veggie stock, turned bad. With the broth ready, we added fresh spinach, farfalle, carrots and cannelini. (The farfalle were boiled to al dente separately and rinsed of extra starch before inclusion.) First day: very tasty, made better with a schpritz of salt and a spoonful of plain yogurt. Second day: something happened overnight. The farfalle got soggy, the taste became metallic and diluted. I've added pasta to a soup before and not had the sog problem after the first day. Maybe it was the combination of spinach and pasta??? Weird.
On to the success: Tonight I stir fried tofu, bok choy, and leeks. I don't really have a recipe, other than cube the tofu into roughly 1-inch cubes; marinate in soy, fish sauce, lime, ginger, garlic to taste.
Fire up the wok. Make it HOT. Use peanut or soybean oil. to make sure it's ready, drip a small (small!) drop of water into the oil. If it sputters and pops into your face, it's ready.
First stir-fry the tofu until cubes are toasty brown, even crispy, on most sides: this requires gentle fine-tuned turning of each cube with a fork or other precise instrument so the uncrisp sides are exposed one by one to the wok surface.
Remove tofu, scrape the gribbons from the wok, add more oil and add leeks (or onions, if that's your pleasure). But try the leeks! Leeks are great! Love them, respect them, eat them. And don't forget to soak and clean them thoroughly. Let em get translucent, then add chopped bok choy. (The size of chop is very important in stir-fry, but I won't get into it here because I haven't quite figured it out.)
Pour rest of marinade left over from tofu into wok. If there's not much, add a bit of soy, vinegar, whatever cooking liquid you like. A little cooking sherry is nice, and it deglazes. When the bok choy and leeks are ready, reintroduce tofu, toss in wok, turn off heat and cover for a few minutes.
Final step: boil two sheaves of soba noodles; add a dribble of oil to the pot. Drain, rinse in cool water. Arrange noodles in bottom of bowl; add stir fry; pour at least a few generous tablespoons of the juice from bottom of wok into bowl. Not enough to make a soup, but enough to keep the soba from getting sticky.
Augment, only if necessary, with a bit of soy and red rooster chili sauce. But don't drown the flavor of the leeks, which have a sweet, nutty quality that's hard to find in onions.
It's also nice to have a few teaspoons of broth left in your empty bowl so you can irritate your dining partner by lifting the bowl to your lips and slurping...aaaah.
