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I'm standing in front of my favorite wine section (rose) at my favorite wine store, deciding if I want to stick with the tried and true -- and easy (screw caps), when a perky, young saleswoman asks if I need help.
I say I'm fine and continue studying the choices, which at this particular store are prolific compared to other stores. They must have at least 20 different rose wines. Only specialty stores really delve deep into the rose wines... even though everyone is writing about the virtues of a good rose. Go figure.
I guess I was lingering a bit too long, because before long, perky girl comes back and says "do you want to try a really funky, fabulous rose?" How can you say no to that pitch? Of course I want to try a really funky, fabulous rose. So she leads me to another aisle, featuring South African wines and picks up a bottle of Mulderbosch rose, 2007.
"And it's only 10 bucks!" she gushes, as she proceeds to tell me that she featured it at tasting the week before and everyone loved the wine, picking up on the whole South African terrior. OK, I bite. "What's the whole South African terrior," I say.
"It's kinda earthy, musty, you know, funky," she says, using her hands, arms and body in a back and forth swaying motion to drive home the point. Uh huh, I say. So I bought it. Now I'm sipping it and trying to pick up on the earthy, musty, you know, funky thing.
I'm getting the funky part. It's tangy, almost sour, like grapefruit, with a very dry finish. After a sip or two my mouth wants to pucker. I don't taste the traditional strawberry or cherry notes common in many roses. It's not bad, but it doesn't quite stack up to my fav five I wrote about in a post a few months ago.
Still, it's lively and goes great with the goat cheese and olive tapenade snack I whipped up to eat along with it. "Funky" is an appropriate descriptor. And, it's only 10 bucks.
Never would I have expected to have such lovely French bistro food in the land of pineapples and papayas, but that's exactly what I found at Du Vin, in downtown Honolulu.
I almost missed the chance, too. When I travel, I like to eat local, what the locals eat, and most often, that's the regional cuisine of the area.
But what do local foodies do when they've had their fill of their own cuisine? They explore other global flavors. Our host foodies wanted to take us to Du Vin. I protested because I wanted to eat something more Hawaiian, not Parisian, for goodness sakes.
When we found ourselves downtown one evening, we strolled by the little French brasserie, a narrow, dark space on Bethel Street. Past the dark lounge, way in the back is an open courtyard, even more narrow than the main room, with tables snuggled closely together. There is no way you'd know you were in Hawaii sitting in this Provencal garden. French patio chairs and tables, potted plants, antique wall hangings, and a mosaic tiled floor more than mask the Pacific Island location --they transport you to the narrow streets of Nice.
The food tastes as French as the decor looks French. We slurp a roasted tomato basil soup and devour moules & frites (pictured) -- with the most plump, tender mussels swimming in a garlicky wine broth, and lots of crusty French bread, soaking up the flavorful broth. We have a piece of Hawaiian fish (amber jack tuna to be specific) that's seared to a golden brown and bathed in an olive butter sauce, and sitting atop haricots blancs (white beans) and frisee. And finish with banana and chocolate crepes (the bananas are local)... Mon dieu! It was exquisite. And I'm really glad that I didn't miss it, even if French cafes are not de rigueur in aloha land.
Omasake means something like "trust the chef" or "put yourself in the chef's hands." Either way, you give permission to the sushi chef to whip up something special for you.
Recently, we dined at Nobu in Waikiki, Hawaii. Sitting at the gleaming sushi bar, I recognized only a handful of the slabs of fish chilling in the case, so we decide we would "trust the chef."
In return for $60, we were presented with a long narrow board of nigiri, about 10 different pieces of fish and seafood artfully drapped over an oval mound of sushi rice. We had the usual salmon, yellowtail and big eye tunas, and halibut.
We also tasted squid, octopus, scallops, shrimp, king crab and a fish called "kiss." That wasn't the name, but it's pronounced like kiss, and it tasted like a mackarel -- strong. The last one was an eel, I think. All of it was fresh, clean, and remarkable.
We were going to order one omasake each, but our sushi chef thought that one would be plenty for both of us, especially considering that we had already tasted a couple other dishes. He was right, but what amazed me is that he thought we should start with one and see if that was enough, instead of strapping us with two (and an additional $60). Our server didn't bat an eye when we ordered two. It was the chef that showed some restraint and guidance.
Perhaps omasake does mean "trust the chef."
I had heard that monkfish liver was the "foie gras of the sea." If you don't like foie gras, you can just stop reading now, because you'll have no appreciation for what I'm about to tell you.
We're in Hawaii, me for a culinary conference, him for his usual business. Carrie & Jay live here. She works with him and Jay is kind of like a client, I guess, but a cool one. Anyway, C & J are locals so they wanted to take us to someplace unique for dinner, somewhere not splattered all over the tourist map.
We end up at the most charming and hip izyaka (a Japanese drinking establishment with a heavy emphasis on food -- think Spanish tapas bar, without the Spain-part). It's called Sushi Izyaka Gaku and it is too darling for words.
The lighting is low, the chefs behind the sushi bar are dressed in traditional, bright yellow, black and red garb (they're Master Sushi Chefs, by the way) and contemporary jazz is playing in the background...or was until the evening waned and then downtempo techno lounge music kicked in as the crowd turned noticably younger.
But back to the food. C & J are adventurous sports, and so are we. So we put ourselves in the hands of our server. He looks like a kid from the Midwest, but he speaks fluent Japanese, so off and on throughout the night, he counsels us on a dish to see if it's to our liking, and then turns and shouts something inaudible in Japanese to the chefs (it's not a big place, he probably didn't have to shout but it seems everyone shouts in these izyakas.)
We start with lovely nori wrapped King crab and cucumbers. Delish. Next we have a small slab of meltingly tender butterfish, the thin strip of skin crisped over an open fire. Divine. Next is a hamachi collar -- also seared over an open flame. A collar is the jawbone of the fish, and is prized for the rich, dark meat tucked away in cartilage.
Next came the monkfish liver. Three salmon colored disks floating in a citrusy, ponzu sauce with microscopic slices of green scallion. The disk was chilled but three seconds in my mouth it started to melt into a creamy pool of fish liver.
That doesn't sound as good as it was. It's hard to describe, but if you love foie gras AND you love strong fishes (salmon, mackerel, etc.) then you would love monkfish liver. I'm not a monkfish lover...I don't like the texture of monkfish. But I am now a monkfish liver lover. Sublime.
These were just our appetizers, something for the Asahi and Shochu to wash down. I don't have enough space here to finish the meal description so I'll save that for another post. I just wanted to tell you about the monkfish liver, you know, in case you wanted to run out and get some.
Simmer sauces are the equivalent of a lifeline. Need to get dinner on the table quick? Open a jar of simmer sauce and add a protein, some veggies and call it dinner. I keep frozen shrimp in the freezer because it thaws quickly and cooks even quicker. I do the same with frozen vegetables.
I've tried two simmer sauces recently that I would buy again. Trader Joe's Simmer Sauces come in several flavors, and the Korma Simmer Sauce is a kicky blend of tomatoes, a touch of cream, almond butter and spices, including cayenne and cinnamon.
The jar says the serving size is 1/3 a cup but that's too stingy. A half cup is doable, I can easily polish off half the jar myself. If I stuck to the 1/3 cup, it would only be 110 calories and 7 grams of fat, but with my more realistic portion, it's more like 160 calories and 10 grams of fat -- still reasonable when paired with a lean meat or fish and vegetables.
I also like Seeds of Change simmer sauces, specifically the Jalfrezi flavor. The label says it's medium-hot but I'm not sure who was determining that. It's not hot at all. It too is tomato based and contains onions, red bell peppers, a touch of coconut milk and spices like cumin, ginger, and cardamom. It's exotic tasting, and I paired it with shrimp, green beans and ladled it over fragrant, basmati rice.
I think next time I'm shopping, I grab a few more and keep them in the pantry for those nights I just don't feel like putting a lot of effort into dinner.
I couldn't get past the reservation screen unless I entered my "title." Not my professional title, but my status/gender title. I was booking a hotel room on-line and the page was insisting on knowing whether I preferred to be addressed as Ms., Mrs., or Mr. There wasn't an option for "none of your business" and there was no way to get past the screen without choosing one.
I'd just filled out tons of personal information -- my mailing address, my credit card number, my bed size preference (king, even if Jeff isn't traveling with me -- I need thrashing space). Was it because my name, Gwen, could be either male or female? Or do they also refuse passage to Elizabeth and John Paul?
I found it amusing. Will it help them when I arrive to check in? Surely they have more confidence in their front desk than that. Or maybe they don't want their staff to make an on-the-spot decision about whether I am female or male. Remember Pat from Saturday Night Live? Did we ever discern if Pat was a guy or girl?
These days, we can't assume jack (or is it jill?), especially when it comes to names -- of people, of politics, of dishes -- anything really. I just ran across a dish with a name that has nothing to do with the dish. And chefs, like celebrities, are taking liberties. Gwyneth named her daughter Apple. Chefs are calling things crudo (raw fish) that are not raw and/or not fish. Everything is fair game.
So really, it's no wonder that this hotel needs to know my gender and my preferred salutation. They want to make sure they get it right.
While the government is contemplating adding more regulations to the financial industry, maybe they should consider adding regulations to the labeling of chocolate. Couldn't they slip in a chocolate rule, kind of like they slip in earmarks to save the wooden arrow makers?
It's no wonder everyone is confused about semisweet and bittersweet chocolate. Or the new "dark" milk chocolates on the market. Real chocolate is composed of two main ingredients: the cocoa mass (called chocolate liquor) and cocoa butter. Both are by products of the cacao bean.
I saw an ad recently for Ghirardelli baking chips. It was the picture of the dark chocolate cookies studded with even more chocolate that caught my eye. Ghirardelli makes a semisweet chocolate chip that doesn't specify the percentage cacao, and a baking chip that is labeled 60%.
So I am curious about how much chocolate liquor is really in the semisweet chocolate. The Chocolate Manufacturer's Association says that semisweet generally contains 35% to 45% and bittersweet contains at least 50%. Milk chocolate can contain as much as 56% chocolate liquor. And, products labeled "dark chocolate" can contain as little as 15% chocolate liquor and up to 12% milk solids. Huh? If it has milk solids, isn't it milk chocolate? Apparently not.
I really shouldn't knock something until I've tried it, but I'm going to anyway. Hey, it's my blog and you don't have to read it. Maybe I'm just a little sensitized after spending days pouring through some new books on eating local, gardening and the slow food movement (of which I am a member) for an article I'm working on.
Cruising through the coupons in the paper this weekend, I stopped on a page with a couple new products from Tyson, the largest processor and marketer of chicken in the country...maybe the world.
The one that caught my eye (and made me spew coffee all over the paper) is something called "any'tizers." And within the "any'tizers" product line, is a product called "Homestyle Chicken Fries."
I'm not kidding. The box of chicken fries shows a picture of what looks like breaded French fries, but instead of potatoes, it's processed chicken meat. Seriously? One serving (seven "fries") is 230 calories, 11 grams of fat, and 25% of your daily sodium intake. But hey, it's 13 grams of protein, or 26% of the recommended daily allowance. That makes me feel better.
Now, if you own Tyson stock (TSN) then good for you. They recently beat their numbers and Jim Cramer of Mad Money is in love with Tyson right now. Making money is good. Probably better for you than eating chicken fries. So, you might want to think about buying the stock, but your health would be better off by picking up a roasted chicken (Tyson still wins either way).
You gotta love instant access these days. Or curse it. My husband is on the road, and he, as he's prone to do, sends me a text message about where he's eating. Today he's having BBQ in Austin, TX and it...I'm quoting...."ROCKS!"
Now, he knows I'm off to lunch today at a place that doesn't "rock." How fair is that? Actually, I'm happy that he is a) having a rocking lunch, and b) loves me enough to send me a text about it with the website link so I can fully appreciate the experience he's having.
I would much rather be in Texas at the moment with him, barbecue slathered on my chin, but at least I can visualize him eating my state food...(however, instead of brisket or ribs, he probably ordered something silly like chicken or turkey... he's healthy that way. Me? Not so much.)
For anyone in Texas at the moment, he's at Ironworks BBQ. He's the only one in the joint with a plate of chicken and side of salad.
Did you know that you can pair wine with chocolate? Sure, certain full bodied red wines and dark chocolate are great palate partners, but there are other combos that are just as harmonious. If you're in the Phoenix area on Sunday, October 19, you can learn how to pair different wines with complementary chocolates, and support a great cause at the same time.
The Phoenix Chapter of Les Dames d'Escoffier, (I'm a member) is holding a fundraiser to benefit the Phoenix Downtown Public Market. Wine, Women & Chocolate promises to be a fun but educational event and includes a comparative chocolate tasting lead by Donna Nordin, a renowned chocolate expert from Tucson and a wine and chocolate pairing featuring Chatham's Fine Chocolate truffles. But that's not all.
The event is also a launch party for the Les Dames d'Escoffier's brand new, national cookbook, Cooking with Les Dames d'Escoffier, which features recipes from some of the most famous women culinary leaders like Julia Child, Alice Waters, and Florence Fabricant. Two local women also have recipes in the book, including culinary maven Barbara Pool Fenzl, who will be autographing the the book at the event.
Tickets are $75 and include a copy of the cookbook. The event is Sunday, October 19 from 3 to 5:30 p.m., at Fairytale Brownies. To reserve a space, mail a check for $75 to LDEI at 15029 N. Thompson Peak Pkwy, Suite B-111 #466, Scottsdale, AZ 85260, or call Janis Normoyle at (602) 740-8767.
Seriously, how difficult can it be? I'm on the hunt for a new coffee machine. Our Krups coffee/esspresso machine is 16 years old, and has been telling us for a while now that she's tired. Three years ago, we stayed in a bed and breakfast in Creede, Colorado and fell in love with the Saeco machine the proprietress had.
I searched for one when we returned home, but was overwhelmed at all the choices, so I did what any rational person would do. I quit searching, and basically ignored the issue. About a year ago, our little Krups started acting up again, so I went on the hunt again.
Jeff's buddy Bob, a coffee connoisseur, told us about his favorite brand. Once again I was overwhelmed so, I pushed the thought out of my mind and coaxed the Krups back into service. (A little cleaning with water and vinegar does wonders.)
Now the Krups is doing something I don't think I can fix -- or ignore. It's burning our coffee. On purpose, I think. So, I'm hunting again. And I'm overwhelmed again. Capresso, Miele, DeLonghi, Bosch, La Marzocco... what's a girl to do?
The problem with soda pops is that they are too sugary sweet, even the diet ones. So imagine my delight when I read about a new kind of soda, called Dry Soda.
Made by a Seattle company, Dry Soda is a refreshing alternative to sickly sweet sodas. It's sexy, with barely a whisper of sweetness from pure cane sugar and each 12 oz. bottle only contains 50 calories.
So far I've tried the Lemongrass flavor and the Rhubarb flavor. Next on my list are the Kumquat and Lavender flavors. I was surprised at how little sweet flavor there was, and the sodas aren't too bubbly, just enough to be refreshing.
The Rhubarb is, um, an acquired taste, but I totally fell in love with the Lemongrass. It's delicately flavored with a subtle undertone of the unique flavor of lemongrass -- not quite lemon, not quite lime, but somewhere in between.
I've heard that Dry Soda is on the verge of releasing two new flavors -- Vanilla Bean and, get this -- Juniper Berry (oh, Gin lovers rejoice!)
I found Dry Soda in 4 packs at Whole Foods. I wish they would package a variety pack, though, so you could get one of each flavor. But at least you only buy 4 at a time, so if you don't like a flavor (eh hm, Rhubarb), you don't have a whole pantry full of them.
The Dry Soda website has recipes for each flavor, and I think I'll take my other three Rhubarb flavors and make Rhubarb Mojitos out of them. Everything goes with rum, right?
Food and politics are a recipe for indigestion, but I have to mix them just for a minute. I am a flag-waving, card-carrying independent, and usually, I keep my political opinions to myself, but today, I feel compelled to say something.
I'm not sure our elected officials are in touch with reality. I interviewed a woman yesterday for a story. She owns a small food business. She had just received a letter from her bank announcing that her line of credit was frozen. Kaput.
She needs that credit to make it through the holiday season -- a significant majority of her annual revenue is generated between October and December. And now, she may not be able to hire the seasonal employees she needs, rent the extra commercial kitchen space she needs, and, and, and. And, she's never defaulted on a single payment in the past and only carries debt when she needs to.
It's frustrating to hear the media spew comments from "the general public" who feel that the current credit crisis is a wall street/rich person's problem. It's impacting everyone, some are just lucky enough not to feel it right this moment. But it will eventually touch everyone.
I hope the people in Washington wake up and smell the coffee. Soon.
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