Category Archives: de cibo

James Beard Meat Loaf

Posted on by

Following my post on the The Reification and Hierarchization of Wine (which included a note on my mom’s James Beard meat loaf recipe), a lot of friends and readers wrote me saying they hoped that mom would indeed make a meat loaf while I was out in California for the holiday.

Luckily, mom was reading and planned the meat loaf for Sunday night (I am flying back to New York, tomorrow, Monday).

We paired with a 2002 Chambolle-Musigny Mommesin, earthy, tannic, and with nice fruit to go with the rich, irresistible meat loaf — a standby, comfort-food dish that brings back good memories of childhood while rewarding even the most discriminating palate.

Above: Ecce panis caris! James Beard meat loaf with roast potato and carrot, homemade coleslaw, and secret chili sauce.

Today’s secret ingredient? “I didn’t have any bread crumbs so I used matzoh brie,” my mom said.

As per James Beard’s recommendation, the cold meat loaf makes for great sandwiches the next day (see below).



My mom also made a great baby arugula, shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, and pine nut salad.

Beard, James, James Beard Cookbook, New York, Marlowe, 2002 [1970], p. 220.

Thanksgiving 07 (Palm Springs, CA)

Posted on by



My niece and nephew Amalia and Abner.

“Don’t carve the turduckenTM without me!!!!” (nephew Eli, bro Tad, and mom Judy)

It was the first time we’d all spent Thanksgiving together in many years. Brothers Micah and Tad made toasts about how lucky we all are to have never known truly hard times in our lives. We all remembered how our “poppa,” our grandfather (our mom’s dad), grew up poor and made it his life goal that his children and grandchildren would never face the troubles he did. He made it…

It all helps to put this year’s trial and tribulations into perspective.

In my toast, I told everyone how happy I was for the support and love they’ve given me over the last four — very (emotionally) tough — months. It taught me, I told everyone, that it doesn’t matter how good or bad the wines you drink and the foods that you eat (even though I make a living writing about that stuff)… all that matters — I know now — is the people with whom you break bread and the folks who share your cup of wine… “Family,” said Micah, “that’s the most important thing…” Thanks to Micah for hooking up our Palm Springs family Thanksgiving. I even got a tan!

Nephew Cole is a rockin’ guitar player (and I mean that… we made a recording of us playing some blues).

Nephew Eli and his dad (my bro) Tad. Eli told me that he is a “fiscal conservative.” He’ll be able to vote next year… amazing…



Tad and my sister-in-law Diane.



The 97 Leroy Bourgogne Blanc was corked (damnit!) but the 99 Quintarelli Valpolicella was a treat, the 04 Roty Gevrey-Chambertin perfect with the meal, and the 03 Barbaresco by Produttori del Barbaresco (opened 3 hours before we drank it at the end) was heavenly.

Mom Judy and sister-in-law Marguerite (she’s expecting… Marguerite, that is…).

Bro Micah wrastles the turduckenTM.

Out in the Dessert

Posted on by

Yesterday, my mom and I stopped for lunch in Temecula on our way out to Palm Springs. I had a classic ranchero burrito (also called a “wet” burrito or burrito ahogado, a “drowned burrito”). I’m not sure but I believe that the burrito and the ranchero burrito are Californian inventions since I’ve never seen burritos served in Mexico (where smaller-sized tortillas are always served warm alongside grilled and roast meats and fish).* It wasn’t bad, actually.

Click here for my post on the burrito’s origins.

Old Town Temecula is a touristy shopping district.

The main street is lined with tchotchke stores and speakers that play country music. There was a wine store but it was closed.

Made it out to Palm Springs. The house where Micah (my brother) and Marguerite vacation has a salt-water pool. It’s really nice.

Micah’s grilling up some sausage and my other brother Tad cracked a beer open.

Sweet potato, bourbon, and spicy Italian sausages from Siesel’s Old Fashioned Meat and Deli in San Diego (where Micah and Marguerite also got the turduckenTM that we’ll be eating tonight for Thanksgiving).

El Pescador (back in California for the Holiday)

Posted on by

El Pescador on Pearl Blvd. is the classic La Jolla (CA) fish monger. They have a grill behind the counter and there are few seats in the front of the store where you eat facing the display cases filled with fresh fish. Everything about this place — from the freckled-faced, sun-bleached kids that work behind the counter and grill to the laid-back sleepy-beach-town vibe — says Southern California. I had a grilled California yellow tail sandwich with avocado. It was awesome… Tom Wolfe didn’t know what he was missing.



I don’t know why but I love looking at raw seafood displays. I just find the patterns hypnotizing.



Note how the California “spiny” lobsters don’t have the big claws like the east coast kind.



They also have New Zealand salmon (left) and Idaho trout (center) but the yellow tail is always local. Those tuna steaks looked pretty good, too.

Later today I’ll be leaving for Palm Springs where I’m spending the holiday with my whole family…

In other news…

I really like what Eric Asimov said in this interview: “in my blog I’ve tried to take a stand against the tyranny of tasting notes that has overtaken the wine-drinking world. I don’t write about wines that I’ve tasted and spat, I write about wines that I’ve drunk, most often in the context of a meal. So I feel that I’m giving a more complete picture of the pleasures of wine drinking than you get reading the usual litany of wines and scores…”

“You’ll have to have them all pulled out…

Posted on by

…after the Savoy Truffle.”

Above: this 26-ounce truffle fetched a whopping $208,000.

George Harrison’s song “Savoy Truffle” has nothing to do with Piedmont truffles. In fact, it was inspired by a box of chocolates:

“Savoy Truffle is a funny one written whilst hanging out with Eric Clapton in the sixties,” wrote Harrison. “At that time he had a lot of cavities in his teeth and needed dental work. He always had a toothache but he ate a lot of chocolates—he couldn’t resist them and once he saw a box he had to eat them all.”

“He was over at my house and I had a box of ‘Good News’ chocolates on the table and wrote the song from the names inside the lid…” (Harrison, George, I, Me, Mine, San Francisco, Chronicle, 2002 [1980], p. 128)

The “Savoy” in the Good News chocolates box probably referred to the famous Savoy Hotel and Restaurant in London, where celebrity chef Auguste Escoffier began cooking in the late nineteenth century. The hotel and restaurant get their name from the Savoy theater, which in turn took its name from the nearby Palace of Savoy, built by Peter Earl of Savoy in the thirteenth century. Since the middle ages, the House of Savoy has been closely linked to Piedmont (where white truffles are hunted) and in the early eighteenth century, nearly all of the region came under control of the House of Savoy. In 1861, Victor Emmanuel II of Savoy became Italy’s first king.

Though George calls the song — based on an affectionate anecdote — “a funny one,” the colorful chocolate-inspired lyrics of “Savoy Truffle” also address the issues of excess and over-indulgence in modern-day society. After all, the singer reminds us, “You’ll have to have them all pulled out after the Savoy Truffle.”

This year’s truffle season in Piedmont hasn’t been great and I’ve heard that many NYC restaurateurs have had to discard their truffles after the tubers arrived in bad shape. I had some white truffles at a Piedmont-themed dinner where I spoke at the end of October. They were pretty good but not phenomenal. Frankly, white truffles never seem to taste the same outside of Piedmont. I wonder how the lucky owners of the above truffle — a group of Hong Kong businessmen — will serve it.

When my friend Steve sent me the link to the story above about the 26-ounce truffle, I thought to myself, “does anyone really need a truffle that big?”

Me? I’d rather keep my teeth.

Above: an early draft of George Harrison’s lyrics for “Savoy Truffle.”

Creme tangerine and Montélimar
A ginger sling with a pineapple heart
A coffee dessert–yes you know it’s good news
But you’ll have to have them all pulled out
After the Savoy truffle.

Cool cherry cream, nice apple tart
I feel your taste all the time we’re apart
Coconut fudge–really blows down those blues
But you’ll have to have them all pulled out
After the Savoy truffle.

You might not feel it now
But when the pain cuts through
You’re gonna know and how
The sweat is going to fill your head
When it becomes too much
You’ll shout aloud.

But you’ll have to have them all pulled out
After the Savoy truffle.

You know that what you eat you are,
But what is sweet now, turns so sour–
We all know Obla-Di-Bla-Da
But can you show me, where you are?

Creme tangerine and Montélimar
A ginger sling with a pineapple heart
A coffee dessert–yes you know its good news
But you’ll have to have them all pulled out
After the Savoy truffle.
Yes, you’ll have to have them all pulled out
After the Savoy truffle.

— “Savoy Truffle,” George Harrison

The Reification and Hierarchization of Wine

Posted on by

With his customary stinging wit, Franco Ziliani — the top Italian wine blogger in my book — posted this insightful and hilarious post on The Wine Spectator “Top 100 Wine Countdown” in which he aptly compared the marketing ploy to a striptease.

I greatly appreciated the analogy because it captures the absurdity inherent in the hyper-commercialization of wine in our country. After all, at the end of the day (literally), wine is something that we put into our bodies. Beyond its inebriating effects (which many of us enjoy), it is a source of nourishment that complements the food we eat (at least for those of us who drink food-friendly wines, i.e., wines with reasonable alcohol content and healthy levels of acidity that stimulate our digestion).

Just as the striptease represents a reification (read dehumanization) of the female body, so The Wine Spectator “top 100” list and “countdown to the wine of the year” represent a hierarchization of wine. This hierocracy reifies wine by telling us that there is one wine superior to all others and by implying that the so-called superior wine is the one that all other wines should aspire to. Such static quantification opposes the very nature of wine: the quality of wine lies in the foods with which we pair it, the ways in which and places where we consume it, and — most importantly — the people who make it and the people with whom we share it. Wine is a dynamic “living” substance. It evolves with time (and changes radically from the very moment a cork is pulled and the liquid begins to oxygenate). The intrinsic value of wine exists not in an abstract hierarchy but rather in the moment that we drink it — whether an under-$15 bottle of young Chinon or a 1990 Bruno Giacosa Red Label Barolo.

Time for me to stop pontificating? Yes and thanks for reading.

In other news, I gave a talk on Italian Renaissance cuisine Monday night at a Beard Foundation event.

Above: a scene from the Beard House. I will always think fondly of James Beard. I never met the man but my mother (an excellent cook) loved his cookbooks and crafted many of her best dishes from his recipes. Her “James Beard” meatloaf is always great. We won’t be eating meatloaf at Thanksgiving this year — my first time back for the holiday in more than six years! But maybe I can talk her into making it on another night while I’m in Southern California next week.

*****

“Will you take me as I am?”

Sitting in a park in Paris, France
Reading the news and it sure looks bad
They won’t give peace a chance
That was just a dream some of us had
Still a lot of lands to see
But I wouldn’t want to stay here
It’s too old and cold and settled in its ways here
Oh, but California
California I’m coming home
I’m going to see the folks I dig
I’ll even kiss a Sunset pig
California I’m coming home

I met a redneck on a Grecian isle
Who did the goat dance very well
He gave me back my smile
But he kept my camera to sell
Oh the rogue, the red red rogue
He cooked good omelettes and stews
And I might have stayed on with him there
But my heart cried out for you, California
Oh California I’m coming home
Oh make me feel good rock’n roll band
I’m your biggest fan
California, I’m coming home

CHORUS:

Oh it gets so lonely
When you’re walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
Just gives you the blues
Just gives you the blues

So I bought me a ticket
I caught a plane to Spain
Went to a party down a red dirt road
There were lots of pretty people there
Reading Rolling Stone, reading Vogue
They said, “How long can you hang around?”
I said “a week, maybe two,
Just until my skin turns brown
Then I’m going home to California”
California I’m coming home
Oh will you take me as I am
Strung out on another man
California I’m coming home

CHORUS:

Oh it gets so lonely
When you’re walking
And the streets are full of strangers
All the news of home you read
More about the war
And the bloody changes
Oh will you take me as l am?
Will you take me as l am?
Will you?

— “California,” Joni Mitchell

Andy Warhol at JG Melon

Posted on by

Above: Andy Warhol at JG Melon. Campbell’s is the secret ingredient.

Snapped this pic late last night at JG Melon, the classic Upper East Side haunt, famous for its burgers and Bloody Marys. The bartender explained that the beef broth is used in Bull Shots and Bloody Bulls — variations on the Bloody Mary.

JG Melon
1291 Third Ave.
at 74th St.
New York, NY 10021
212-744-0585

Italian Lessons

Posted on by

Above: the upstairs bar at Accademia di [sic] Vino. “Talk to my agent before you take another one,” snapped the bartender after I snapped this pic. “Don’t quit your day job,” I thought to myself.

It is my steadfast conviction that food and wine professionals have a responsibility to divulge and disseminate correct information. Just as practitioners of medicine take the Hippocratic oath, practitioners of the culinary arts enter into a social contract with restaurant-goers, a Gastereic vow, if you will, whereby they swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth (to borrow from Brillat-Savarin’s tenth muse, Gasterea).*

And while none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes (myself included), egregious transgressions of this unspoken pact are committed freely on a nearly daily basis by insouciant restaurant owners, chefs, sommeliers, maîtres d’hotel, and waiters.

The Accademia di [sic] Vino in Manhattan seems to bill itself as a would-be “Italian Wine Academy” (at least that’s what I’ve read in The New York Times. I can’t seem to find the academy’s website). Evidently, they offer wine classes and seminars there and the space itself is dressed as a classroom: the walls of this beautiful restaurant are adorned with wine-related images and their Italian translations and there are chalkboards in the bar and the dining rooms with explanations of the Italian appellation laws etc.

There’s only one problem (two, actually): the name of the restaurant. In Italian you don’t write/say “accademia di vino.” You correctly write/say “accademia del vino.”

And it gets worse. Last night, when I sat down for a glass of wine with a colleague in the downstairs bar, I was handed a wine list that read: “vini a bicchiere.” I hate to be a stickler but… in Italian you correctly write/say “vini al bicchiere” (“wines by the glass”).**

It reminds me of a joke from the 1999 parodic mafia movie, Mickey Blue Eyes, where Hugh Grant’s character points out to his fiancée that her father’s restaurant is called “The La Trattoria,” or “The the trattoria.”

Although our hosts were exceedingly gracious (and the overwhelmingly gorgeous space was jam-packed with patrons), I’m sorry to report that the diced prosciutto on our grilled, “seasonal” pumpkin pizza was so hard I thought I was biting into stone.

The wines-by-the-glass list offered a wide range of price points and I had a glass of Inzolia by Valle dell’Acate and my friend a glass of Pinot Bianco by Hofstätter and the pours were generous, I must say.

The Accademia had been on my list of new places to try for a while. But when I got off the 6 train at Hunter College and walked down to 3rd Ave. and 64th St., I just couldn’t believe my eyes when my gaze fell upon the restaurant’s marquee: ACCADEMIA DI VINO.

Ask me “what’s in a name?” and I will tell you that a “Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.”***

But “Accademia di Vino”? Give me a break.

—

Notes:

* Brillat-Savarin’s “tenth muse,” Gasterea, first appeared in 1825 with the publication of his Physiologie du Goût, ou Méditations de Gastronomie Transcendante (The Physiology of Taste; Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy):

“Gasterea is the Tenth Muse; the delights of taste are her domain.

The whole world would be hers if she wishes to claim it; for the world is nothing without life, and all that lives takes nourishment.

Her chief delight is to linger on hillsides where the vine grows, or the fragrant orange-tree in groves where the truffle comes to perfection, and in regions abounding in game and fruit.

When she deigns to show herself, she appears in the guise of a young girl; round her waist is a flame-coloured girdle; her hair is black, her eyes sky-blue, and her figure full of grace; as beautiful as Venus, she is also extremely pretty.

She rarely shows herself to mortals.”

Brillat-Savarin, Jean-Anthelme, The Physiology of Taste, translated by Anne Drayton, Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England, Penguin, 1994 (1970), p. 287.

** del and al are articulated prepositions, di + il and a + il, respectively. The usage of articulated prepositions is always tough for students of Italian (I remember well from my days teaching Italian language at UCLA). In many cases, usage is idiomatic. In the instances cited above, however, the definite article is necessary because the terms vino and bicchiere refer to wine and stemware as general concepts.

*** Gertrude Stein, Sacred Emily, 1913.

Made it to Momofuku

Posted on by

Sunday evening, I finally made it to Momofuku Ssäm Bar in the East Village. I’d been inspired by two of my favorite bloggers. Winnie, a great food writer and friend, is an expert on all things pork in NYC and she has often remarked that Momofuku is one of her favorite places (I love the motto of her blog, ad astra per alia porci). The other is Lyle Fass, whom I really only know through the blogosphere and a few emails we’ve traded but whose wine knowledge I really admire and whose sometimes stinging straightforwardness and genuine humor I greatly appreciate.

I’d learned that Momofuku allows corkage (thanks to Lyle’s blog), and so Winnie and I made a plan to meet there, me with a bottle of 2003 Trebbiano d’Abruzzo by Edoardo Valentini in hand.

Above: spicy squid salad and Trebbiano d’Abruzzo… the wine held up well with the spiciness and intense flavors of the dishes we ordered.

Menu as follows (I asked Winnie to order):

steamed buns stuffed with pork belly

these were great, the buns warm and puffy, the hot pork fat melt-in-your-mouth gelatinous…

spicy squid salad

this was also very good, and, if I recall correctly, there was also some tasty baby octopus in this dish…

Mutsu and Macoun apple kimchi with crispy pork jowl and arugula

here we began to veer slightly into NYC too-precious foodland… the dish wasn’t exactly unforgettable and Winnie explained “kimchi” was a little bit of a misnomer since the apples weren’t really fermented…

báhn mì

from what I could glean, this is the classic Vietnamese sandwich and it was fantastic… highly recommended… it was billed as a “three terrine sandwich”… I’m not sure of all the ingredients but this is rightly one of the joint’s signature dishes…

chicken ballotine

underwhelming, flavorless, and hard to eat with chopsticks!

spicy honeycomb tripe with poached egg and frisée

I loved this dish and its harmony of flavors and textures — caramelized tripe, poached egg, and the crisp bitter frisée lettuce — came together gloriously…

Above: seems that tattoos are not required but encouraged for staff at Momofuku.

Our servers were polite and attentive and all sported impressive tattoos and piercings. The decor is modern downtown chic and the atmosphere is New York hip.

I’ve read on Lyle’s blog that he has opened old Nebbiolo there (even some 1950s Oddero). I’m not sure that I would go that route at Momofuku since the cuisine is so spicy and the stemware is cheap (the glasses arrived at our table warm, right out of the dishwasher).

If you’ve ever had Valentini’s Trebbiano d’Abruzzo, you know that this is no ordinary white wine. Its rich mouthfeel, its subtle tannin (yes, in a white wine), and its intense aroma and flavors sang out over the medley of ingredients that tap-danced their way to our table. Winnie said it was probably the best white wine she’d ever tasted and I believed her… it’s certainly one of the best I’ve ever had.

When we stepped out on to Second Ave., we were both surprised by how cold it is already (or suddenly) in NYC. Fall has finally arrived. Me? I’m California dreaming right now.

*****

I’d be safe and warm
if I were in L.A.

— The Mamas and the Papas

sento solo freddo
sento tanto freddo
fuori e dentro me
fuori e dentro me
ti sogno California
sogno California
e un giorno io verrò

— Mogol

Amphoras vini aperio: the band is back in town

Posted on by

Nous Non Plus has been back in town for the College Music Journal festival and the sexy sixsome played three shows (a showcase and a couple of parties). And we’ll be playing a Halloween show at Rubulad (undisclosed location in Brooklyn) on Friday.

Above: Our track “Lawnmower Boy” was just used in a TV commercial in Slovenia. The spot is a lot of fun…

In other news, bassist and singer Jean-Luc Retard (aka Bjorn Turoque) and our track “Château,” a song about the Château Marmont in Los Angeles, were recently featured in The Los Angeles Times (click to read).

giusto_prod.jpg

Last night we took time out to enjoy steak and wine chez Céline. Our friend Patrick Woodcock, a former member of the French band Air and the founder of Mellow, was in town. Patrick is always very generous with us when we play in Paris, giving us a hand with gear and transportation, etc. We always try to do something special together when he’s in NYC (and he loves steak and red wine).

steaks.jpg

Above: Jean-Luc was in charge of searing the shell steaks. Like Patrick, the band likes its steak rare (although Bonnie Day is vegetarian).

Since my living situation changed this summer and I no longer have anywhere to store my wine, there’s really nothing left to say or do but to drink the wine.

We opened two bottles of one of my favorites, 2001 Barbaresco by Produttori del Barbaresco. This wine has many years ahead of it but was drinking great nonetheless. As Patrick noted, this very traditionally made wine had a wonderful “chewy” mouthfeel and its tannins cut right through the nicely marbled fat of the shell steaks. As go I through the “cellar” (essentially a bunch of cardboard boxes), I’ve stumbled across a few surprises, like the 2002 Giusto dei Notri by Tua Rita above. I know that Patrick likes wines from Bordeaux and everyone enjoyed this opulent Bordeaux-style Cabernet and Merlot blend from Bolgheri (Tuscany).

With all this recent talk of oak vs. no oak, I thought it only right and fair to open this modern-style bottle and reflect on the dialectic from the other side of the table, so to speak. Of the many famous Bolgheri producers, Tua Rita and Grattamacco seem more reserved in their style. I’ve met Rita at Vinitaly… she’s a nice lady.

patrick_celine.jpg

Above: Céline and Patrick on Céline’s terrace.

The tannin and the wood on the Tua Rita weren’t entirely “integrated,” but I liked the goudron, tar notes on the nose. However you feel about oak and/or international grape varieties grown in Italy, no one can deny that Tua Rita’s wines are very well made. It’s only a pity it couldn’t have laid there forgotten for another 5-10 years in the back of the closet where I used to store my wines. But then again, there seem to be no certainties in life these days and while some people might advise carpe diem, my thought is aperi amphoras vini.

mash.jpg

Above: you wouldn’t think it but Céline is an excellent cook and made fantastic mashed potatoes, roast carrots, and wilted spinach.

In other news, the fires in California continue to burn out of control. My family is fine but the air quality is getting really bad. My brother Tad and his wife Diane have been housing some evacuees and it’s still not clear whether or not my friend Charlie lost his house. I found this map, updated regularly, of the fires and evacuation sites.