Recipes for restaurants
March 6, 2017
Yes, that is a mountain of caviar – excellent Bulgarian caviar – in a block of ice. Just one of the many luxurious offerings at the afterparty William Sonoma threw at the Charleston Wine and Food Festival on Friday night. The party felt like a return to the excessive eighties… The chef guests strolled about sipping Champagne while nibbling on an endless parade of sea urchins, giant langoustines, shockingly large lobsters
fist-sized truffles, cured meats, wagyu beef… I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. (These luxuries were sourced by Ian Purkayastha, who is also known as Truffle Boy.)
But the entire festival was a trip on the excess express, a rolling journey of wine, food and fun. A few highlights….
A meal at Husk, which began with two kinds of chicken wings…
and included (along with some fifteen other dishes), this gorgeous pan of cornbread
exceedingly rich shrimp and grits edged with hints of onion…
sauteed shishito peppers
extraordinary fried chicken on a bed of seductively smoky beans…
One of my favorite meals was at the much-loved The Ordinary, which included towers of seafood, piles of shrimp, a fantastic razor clam salad and these tiny uni tacos…
and oyster sliders…
One morning a breakfast for Daniel Boulud at Le Farfalle included a dozen or so courses, including these fried chicken biscuits
and ending with the most luxurious eggs it has ever been my pleasure to eat. Gently scrambled, they were glazed with butter and buried in black truffles.
One of the final highlights of the event was a dinner honoring Chef Boulud. The dishes, prepared by high profile chefs who’ve worked for him were paired with special wines. More on that tomorrow, but here’s a little teaser…
March 1, 2017
Fresh sea cucumber. Hairy crab. Cod sperm. Huge live shrimp, legs wiggling. Marinated mackerel. Fresh bamboo shoots…
Yesterday I had a truly memorable meal at the venerable Kiriko in L.A. It’s the kind of meal I wish I could go back and have again today. And I would – if I weren’t on my way to the Charleston Wine and Food Festival.
The Japanese call shirako – which is milt, or the sperm sac of the male cod- “children of the clouds” a euphemism that always thrills me. The substance itself also thrills me. It has an extraordinary texture – pillow soft, tender, almost liquid but yet not – and a rich, gentle taste. That’s it in the bowl above, lightly poached.
Kiriko also sets it on sheets of kelp and grills it. The result is a kind of savory marshmallow; utterly irresistible.
But everything we ate was memorable, from this fresh hairy crab
to these crisp, slightly crunch slices of lotus root
and these firefly squid – no bigger than a fingernail but packing big flavor.
I love the giant shrimp, the flesh translucent, the flavor clean, bracing and yet sweet…
And it’s head, fried, all crackling tentacle and soft fat
Fresh sea cucumber is quite a change if you’re accustomed to the dried version served in Chinese restaurants. This has the most astonishing texture, simultaneously soft and chewy. (It’s all texture, very little taste.)
And if you’re a lover of saba – Japanese mackerel – don’t miss Kiriko’s version.
We had some traditional sushi as well. Wonderful uni. And this sparkling kohada, all shiny silver scales and deep, full flavor.
To finish up? You might opt for the traditional tamago. As for me, please give me a handroll with cucumber, shiso and umeboshi. The perfect finale to a pretty perfect meal.
February 28, 2017
“I want to knock your socks off!” Michael McCarty declared when he opened his restaurant in 1979.
I have a special place in my heart for Michael’s in Santa Monica: before it made its debut I persuaded my editors at New West Magazine that it was going to revolutionize restaurants. It was, I insisted, brash, exciting and utterly new. I then spent a few days a month for almost a year hanging out with Michael and his chefs as they built the place.
It WAS revolutionary: the chefs were all American (unheard of in those days), young (they were all under 25, equally unheard of at the time), and college educated. On top of that they were using American ingredients and showcasing American wines.
There were other innovations: Michael was one of the first restaurateurs to computerize his kitchen. He filled the dining room with great modern art (still there), and dressed his waiters in Ralph Lauren. He created a garden so lovely that eating among the plants was reason enough to entice many people through the door. But the food was the main draw. Michael had an eye for talent: the first chefs – Ken Frank, Jonathan Waxman, and Mark Peel- all went on to distinguished careers.
I’ve been back many times over the years, but my last visit left me with a sinking feeling. Nearing forty, the place felt like a tired old star limping along on its last legs.
So I was thrilled to walk in a few nights ago and find the place packed to the rafters and filled with energy. I was even happier to look at the menu and find that I was eager to taste every single dish. This is the old age we all yearn for: the rooms have been spruced up, but the basic bones are so good they don’t need a face lift. As for the garden – it has only grown more graceful over time.
The energy comes from the new chef, Miles Thompson (he worked at Animal, opened Allumette and then went north to work at Shed). His menu is pure fun.
Consider that barbecued quail up above, the flavors amped up with tangerine, miso and plum vinegar. Plain delicious.
Octopus with lime curd, chrysanthemum and a shrimp vinaigrette: a few irresistible little morsels.
The most wonderful squid, the flavor underlined by a devilish smudge of burnt eggplant puree and the gentleness of maitake mushrooms.
Chawanmushi – but a bracingly clean version – flooded with the voluptuous flavor of crab and sea urchin and sparked by a flash of ginger.
Hiding somewhere under all that greenery are light little ricotta gnudi
The entrees are more straightforward – although they do their best to startle with strangeness. This tiny, juicy little chicken – beautifully cooked – arrives embellished with both head and feet.
A righteous steak: big, bold, meaty. Something for everyone.
This branzino was delicious – but that black carrot puree? Over the top. Addictive. Enough, all by itself, to bring you back.
The excitement over the food has also infused the staff: they’re young, pumped, eager to make you happy. It’s really good to see Michael’s come roaring back.
February 23, 2017
Here’s the problem: the first courses at Michael Voltaggio’s Ink. are so sneakily delightful that by the time the steak arrives, you’re unable to give it the respect it deserves.
For this is a great piece of meat, beautifully aged and gorgeously seared, filled with that elusive primal beef flavor. (That little frill of puffed tendon is a nice touch.)
I was also taken with this Japanese red snapper, cunningly peeking out of the mushroom pepper pancake in which it was swathed. The flavor was intense, the textures exciting.
But alas, I could not do justice to either dish; I’d been too excited by everything that came first.
Voltaggio treats temperature as the third element in his cooking (along with taste and texture). His endive and blue cheese salad is a perfect example:
This is a simple dish, a familiar combination, but in Voltaggio’s hands it’s entirely new. He’s frozen the cheese, and as it slowly melts in your mouth, you experience the flavors in entirely unexpected ways.
He does something similar with foie gras, freezing it into lovely little curls, then setting it atop radishes and setting it on hazelnut butter.
Served like this, you experience foie gras as if you’ve never encountered it before. At first you taste only the hazelnut, but as the foie gras warms up, its flavor leaps forward. There’s a similar textural effect when the crisp crunch of the radish is overtaken by the increasingly soft and seductive foie gras.
The chef also has his way with fried calamari, which arrives looking like some sinister sea monster. But this is the crispest calamari you’ve ever eaten, and after one bite it becomes so irresistible you simply keep on eating.
Voltaggio’s signature dish is the egg yolk gnocchi, another textural tour de force that goes somersaulting through your mouth, changing with each bite.
There’s so much here – melting onions, tiny crisp croutons, shaved appenzeller, and then those little gnocchi, which evaporate as your mouth closes around them. This is like onion soup gratinee on steroids – and very hard to stop eating.
Ink. serves exciting food, and it’s a perfect place to consider when you’ve got a group that includes people with traditional tastes (those steaks!) along with extremely adventurous eaters. The room is dark, casual, and a bit noisy – but the service could not be sweeter.
February 19, 2017
You’re unlikely to find prettier food than what they’re serving at the ultra-hip Destroyer in Culver City; it’s a true feast for the eyes. Whether you will consider it an actual feast is another matter. The chef Jordan Kahn (his previous restaurant was Red Medicine), likes to introduce odd ingredients to one another, and my own sense is that they often don’t get along. English peas, job’s tears, gooseberries and frozen cream made an exquisitely interesting salad, but I found his take on the now-ubiquitous steak tartare, despite its delicate airs (that’s it down below)…
rather heavy. Beneath those feathery vegetables was ground beef (along with a fair amount of naked beef fat), blobs of smoked egg cream, oddly slimy pickled mushrooms and radishes.
Here’s how he serves roasted baby yams:
wrapped up in lettuce, with avocado, yogurt and lemon and dusted (like so many dishes) with tarragon powder.
To be honest, my favorite dish (the one that seemed most conventional, and most like a meal), was the least photogenic: a big bowl of riced potatoes with chicken confit, roasted lettuce and hazelnut splashed with yuzu. I will leave it to your imagination: it was both delicious and substantial.
Had a really wonderful dinner at Wally’s in Beverly Hills, that began with these adorable mini-bagels (the bagels were remarkably light, and spread with sprightly lemon ricotta rather than cream cheese), and smoked salmon.
Then there was this spectacular salad. The burrata, persimmon, beets and pomegranate were very content to snuggle up witheach other.
I loved the pot of clams and spot prawns, roasted in a wood-burning oven and topped with curried lobster butter. As you might imagine, Wally’s has a memorable wine list. (No wonder Beyonce and Jay Z like to dine in the private dining room!)
Had a lovely meal in the high airy atrium at Spring. It’s the perfect place to lunch downtown: I can’t get this textbook version of salade nicoise out of my mind. Yes, it’s a simple dish, but it was in perfect balance, a tangle of yellowtail tuna, olives, tomatoes, anchovies, green beans, tiny potatoes, celery and fennel that made each bite distinct and different from the one before.
Lovely dessert too:
Two more little tidbits. I couldn’t stop eating the red endive and fennel salad I had one night at the counter at Osteria Mozza; A few shards of cheese, and then the sweet and sour dance of a date and anchovy dressing. I liked it even better than the endive and blue cheese salad at Flora in New York, and that’s saying something.
Finally, I have to mention the completely appealing smudge of fresh English peas at Jar. (I’m so partial to the restaurant’s Jidori chicken, rich with lemongrass and garlic, that I dove in before I remembered to snap its picture.)
The peas reminded me of a dish the late Michael Roberts pioneered (at the LA restaurant whose name will now not be mentioned). Long before the current craze for innovative guacamole he was constructing his own sly version out of frozen peas. Jar uses fresh peas, which is even sweeter.