Shelburne Farms at the Butcher Shop and the “taste of place” movement

One wedding and a doctorate later, I am ready to get back on the blogging saddle - particularly after our experience at the Butcher Shop Tuesday night where Rick Gencarelli, the chef from Shelburne Farms in Vermont, was in the house to discuss his new book and cook up a delicious three course meal with wines paired by Cat Silirie and her troop from The No.9 Group.

I want to talk less about the meal, which was very good, and more about the impression it left me regarding the direction of the “taste of place” food trend that seems to be sweeping the nation. Words like local, organic, artisan, farm-fresh, etc. are thrown around fairly fast and proud these days, with restaurants vying to prove their ingredients come from the closest and most regionally authentic source. This trend has not only affected the quality of the ingredients (for the better, I think) but also the techniques applied to the food itself. Simplicity has become a virtue, allowing the taste of the ingredients to show through by using basic preparation methods. In short, the “taste of place” trend wants to bring back the pre-industrialized way of cooking and eating. You eat what you grow, you grow it “organically” (whatever the hell that means at this point), and you cook it simply. Peasant food has become chic - it’s now a reflection of the way meals ought to be, some form of culinary authenticity.

Shelburne Farms in Vermont exemplifies this style and mentality. They grow their own produce and raise their own animals, so the transition from birth/seed to product to plate is on display. A total transparency of process. And the food, at least from what I could tell last night, also reflects this mentality: garden fresh raw ingredients for a salad, simple grilled meat with roasted vegetables, fresh pasta with Vermont creme fraiche, garden peas, and Vermont morels.

There is something troublesome about this trend, though. As I looked around and saw a room full of wealthy and well-dressed thirty- and forty-somethings clinking glasses of expensive Bandol and musing on the authenticity of the culinary experience they were having, I had the same awkward and slightly disgusted sensation that I do when I see tourists in small Italian towns taking pictures of the townsfolk as if they were on display for them. We weren’t buying the food, we were buying the ability to be psychologically transported to a place from which our cosmopolitan life is very far removed - a place where we live in harmony with the environment and extravagance is demonized. But there we were paying $125 a head for the experience. Quite ironic. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were all being duped.

I surely haven’t seen a reduction in restaurant prices as the techniques become simpler and the menu options become more limited (because, come on, they only buy local). So where does the money go? I wonder if those most responsible for the taste of the food we are eating in this new era of local/artisan products (i.e the farmers) are directly benefiting - something tells me they are not.

It would be quite a trick indeed if restauranteurs are able to continue this food trend deifying a return to simplicity and regional authenticity of ingredients while reaping the benefits of saved time, energy and cost. I am not complaining, I like the dishes that are being produced, but I fear the day when a braised Boston pigeon plucked fresh from City Hall is served to me on a bed of organic Public Gardens grass for $40 and I actually believe that it is worth paying for.

Rendezous, Central Square, Cambridge

Liz convinced me and a friend of hers to try Rendezvous last night before a concert in Central Square. It was convenient to where we were going and someone told her it was good. I don’t totally regret it…

We have seen and heard some good things about Rendezvous recently, particularly in Gourmet and Boston Magazine, but for some reason I just could not get myself excited to go, and the menu didn’t help. Of the appetizers the gnocchi and the chicken livers looked good, but nothing else stood out. Of the entrees, the duck and the meatballs, I suppose - but restaurant meatballs? What was I thinking? We started with a charcuterie plate that was actually quite good. A chicken liver pate, some housemade lardo, and a pork and veal terrine. For appetizers I was forced into getting the scallops, since Liz wanted the chicken livers, and then the gnocchi as a main course. The sauce for my scallops had “Moroccan spices”. Apparently, Moroccans go wild for tons of cumin. After scraping that off, the scallop tasted fine. Liz’s chicken livers were overcooked - they had turned the tender and fatty texture of a well-cooked liver into the grainy and mealy texture of an icky one.Things didn’t get much better with the entrees. The meatballs were served over toasted orecchiette, kale, and piave cheese. The toasted orecchiette were nice - I enjoyed the contrast between the chewiness of the pasta and the crispiness of the crust. It’s too bad they were served with totally lame meatballs. There was just nothing interesting to these balls of ground meat. The only seasoning I could detect was garlic - and poorly chopped garlic at that. I bit into at least 3 significant chunks, and I was not the only one to suffer the consequences. Let’s just say that Liz wasn’t giving me much affection for the 24 hour period following our meal. Liz’s gnocchi were the real train wreck though. They were homemade, so I guess you have to applaud the effort, but they were very mushy and contributing to the mushiness was the fact that they were served in essentially a soup of oily mushroom-water. The gnocchi were submerged in liquid, which is something I have never seen before and don’t recommend. I’m fairly sure that if they sat in that broth for a little while longer they would have dissolved into a potato porridge. The dessert we had was excellent - a lemon-buttermilk pudding with huckleberry sauce. Definitely try it. My overall impression of Rendezvous was negative, but I think we ordered poorly. The overcooked liver was their mistake, the gnocchi and the meatballs ours. It’s just hard to make these well, and my expectations should have been low. I’m confident that sticking to more traditional bistro items like duck and fish would have been the better call and the more satisfying meal.

L’Espalier Monday Wine Night (Gloucester St, Back Bay)

After having two bad experiences at L’Espalier, I had assumed I’d never go back, but Monday night I found myself there for L’Espalier’s weekly wine night. The other two bad experiences involved their parallel weekly cheese night in early 2007 and then a birthday tasting menu dinner in late 2007. I don’t remember anything about the food and wine at Cheese Night; all I remember is being forced to pretend to sing and Carlo leaning over and whispering, “Which of our tablemates is most likely to be a serial killer?” We couldn’t decide; it seemed that they all had potential. After having time to recover from that, Carlo and I decided to go there for a tasting menu for our shared birthday in December. We had just done the same at No. 9 Park two weeks earlier so it was hard not to compare. No. 9 had better food, better wine, and better service. We thought the food at L’Espalier was boring and dry, and to top it off our cheese plate, which they selected for us, to our chagrin, had been sitting so long that all of it had congealed to the plate and hardened.

So like I said, I was surprised to find myself back there. This time, it was for a work event. Despite my misgivings about L’Espalier it is not so bad that I would pass up a free visit. Plus, I knew I would know everyone at the table and they don’t sing on Wine Night, so it didn’t seem that it could be that bad. It wasn’t. It wasn’t that good either, but I had fun and didn’t pay for it so all was not lost. The $60 menu, which was called “Summer Sippers” was as follows:

2007 Fairhall Downs, Sauvingnon Blanc, Marlborough, NZ paired with Chilled Melon Soup with Duck Confit

2007 Gai’a, “14-18H”, Rose, Agiorgitiko, Greece paired with Squash tagliatelle salad with feta, almonds and tahini dressing

2006 Montinore, Pinot Noir, Williamette, Oregon paired with Raspberry barbequed chicken with collard greens and potato salad

2006 Burgaud, “Vieilles Vignes”, Morgon, Beaujoulais pair with L’Espalier’s cheese course: Manchego, Taleggio and Bayley Hazen Blue Cheese from Vermont

The best thing I can say about this menu is that the pairings were done well. All of the wine and food together were more than the sum of the parts. That said, the parts weren’t all that good. The Sauvignon Blanc was the best stand alone wine and it was nicely chilled and probably would be good with any sort of light food in the summer. Still, it was not very complex or interesting. It was a little grassy, a lot of tropical fruit and citrus, etc–everything you’d expect in a decent NZ Sauvignon Blanc. It went well with the soup, though the soup was just so-so. I don’t know why: the mix of the duck and the melon just didn’t work. It didn’t even look that good.

Next, we had the tagliatelle, which for the record, was not tagliatelle. It was shredded squash with a pretty good dressing. And as for the rose, it was like sickly sweet candy. And I’m not saying that because I’m a rose-hater. In fact, I tend to like roses and I’m always excited to try Greek wines. This just wasn’t good. Maybe it was meant for food and again, together the squash and wine were pretty good. I was still mad about the tagliatelle though. I thought I was getting pasta with squash, not squash unsuccessfully mimicking pasta.

Next, the barbequed chicken was good, moist, but maybe not something I’d expect to get at L’Espalier. I know they are trying to show they are versatile and can do barbeque just as well as they can do duck confit, but they didn’t really impress me. Throwing raspberry on barbeque doesn’t make it clever.  The wine was okay. I normally love Oregonian Pinots, but this one was just okay. I can’t really remember much about it, and my distaste for it might have been caused by having three wines in quick succession. Together though, the food and wine blended well.

Finally, the cheese was good. But I love cheese and I would think it was good in almost any form. The thing I didn’t like was that the portion sizes varied considerably. I probably only noticed this because mine was considerably smaller than everyone else’s, but whatever, it wasn’t fair. The Beaujoulais was like the perfect table wine: quaffable, nothing challenging or sharp. Pleasant plain red wine.

And finally, we had some petits fours to send us off, for those who didn’t stick around for dessert. I ate two chocolate ones. One was okay, a sort of tiramisu cake with a hint of raspberry. It was kind of soggy but tasted good. The mini chocolate cake I ate was dry and flavorless. I didn’t try the others, an orange thing and a madeleine, but one of my colleagues said jokingly that the orange thing ruined what had been a great night. So there you have it. L’Espalier is overrated despite their charming quintessential Boston townhouse location, which they are soon leaving for the “grander” Mandarin Oriental. Don’t waste your money. Go to No. 9 if you want to drop your paycheck on a fancy meal.

M&M BBQ: corner of Hampden and Norfolk, Dorchester

I speed down the side streets of Dorchester, my friend Scott in the passenger seat, looking for anything that might resemble a bbq truck. A food truck for workers brings me to a screeching halt, but we drive on disappointed. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see it. On the other side of a chain link fence a large letter M amidst the abandoned semi’s. M&M BBQ. Or Big Moe’s BBQ, to some. Hidden in a dirt lot is what is hyped up to be one of the better BBQ spots in the Greater Boston Area. We pull up on the curb outside the lot and head over to the tent from which emanates the most intoxicating smell of charred meat, frying oil, and spicy sauce. The menu isn’t large, but includes all bbq regulars (ribs, chicken, brisket, etc..) with a few interesting additions (pig’s feet, ox-tail; pig’s feet available on fridays and saturdays, ox-tail depends on the market). Scott and I both went with the $10 combo plate of ribs, chicken, and a choice of two sides. I opted for the potato salad and spicy rice and beans, Scott for the mac and cheese and collard greens. The woman who served us, who I believe is Little Moe, Big Moe’s daughter, was very sweet and happy to see us salivating over the metal trays she was filling with meat. Our only option was taking the food to go. Moe’s doesn’t have indoor seating, and it didn’t have any outdoor seating today either, though it was raining out and I hear there is occasionally a picnic table or two lying around the lot.

The food was damn good. Ribs nice and tender, chicken had been deep-deep fried, and both smothered in a flavorful bbq sauce with a kick that crept up on you at the end. Best wings I’ve had. They somehow maintained their crispiness even while under a lagoon of sauce. There were a few hairs still on them, but at least they weren’t Little Moe’s. And if you’re squeamish about that then maybe you shouldn’t be getting your bbq from a truck in a dirt lot. Scott’s sides were forgettable and mine were solid, but honestly, that didn’t matter. I don’t go to a bbq truck for the veggies, and neither should you. I go for the kind of food fit to put me in a coma on my couch. And that it did. So here I sit, belly swollen from the best bbq I’ve had in a good long while. The truck has been known to move around from time to time, so do a little research before heading over, but it’s definitely worth the hunt.

The Beehive (Tremont St. South End)

Recently, Carlo and I have heard a lot of chatter about the good food and great atmosphere at The Beehive in the South End so this Friday night we decided to check it out. We arrived around 7pm to be greeted by two smiling and friendly hostesses, one of whom led us down a staircase decorated with an oversized photograph of girls in 70s-era track outfits, leaving the bustling and pub-like upstairs. Downstairs was darker and felt more like the jazz club that it turns into later at night. There was a small stage with a vintage-looking curtain, big chandeliers, and abstract paintings on the exposed brick walls. Carlo immediately remarked that he could see why people like the Beehive, as it has a very relaxed, welcoming feel. The music is good, but not too loud, the decor is whimsical, and the staff is hip but extremely friendly. All this leads to a Friday night packed with people appearing to be of all ages and backgrounds, couples and friends alike, and it definitely didn’t feel like a pick-up joint.

We were approached immediately by our very attentive but not overbearing waitress, who offered us water or cocktails or both. We took the water while we perused the wine list. The wine list is really cool. There is American, French, and Italian mixed in with Canadian, Uruguayan, Greek, Israeli and Lebanese, etc wine. We went with the Canadian, which was Baco Noir Reserve, 2004, Henry of Pelham, Ontario Canada. Our waitress said it was really good, throwing in something about berries. It’s not clear whether she actually knew anything about the wine, but it was very good, refuting any skepticism I had about the Beehive wine buyers selecting from random countries just for the sake of being different.

On to the food. We decided to get a variety of small plates rather than entrees, as the entrees did not look particularly interesting and the plates did. A lot of the food looked good, though most of it was pretty heavy, and it seemed difficult to avoid cheese in every course. I love cheese, but there was definitely too much of a good thing on this menu. We decided on Ricotta-stuffed piquillo peppers, the grilled fontina and chedder cheese sandwich with shortribs, and the poutine, which is a popular Quebecois streetfood made up of french fries doused in cheese and gravy.

The peppers came out first, and I hated them. The marinated peppers were fine, but they were copiously stuffed with ice cold mediocre Ricotta cheese. I feel queasy thinking about them.

The rest of the food was much better though extremely heavy (that’s our fault for ordering so much cheese, though like I said, it was hard to avoid). We had planned on ordering more after we went through our first plates, but could only muster up enough energy for dessert. The grilled cheese shortrib sandwich was amazing. The short ribs were delicious, perfectly complimented by the cheese and the thick soft brioche that they were served on. I couldn’t eat more than the half I was allocated, but it was delicious. The only complaint Carlo had was that he wished there was more meat and less bread, but the bread was so good that I didn’t care. The poutine was also really good, if a little over-cheesed. I have never had authentic poutine so I have no idea how this stuff measures up, but I thought it was great. The potatoes were paper-thin and engulfed in cheese and gravy. I think it got worse as we went through it and the cheese started to accumulate and cool down a little, but the first few minutes of devouring the top were well worth it.

Finally, we got mocha bread pudding with vanilla ice cream and rhubarb compote for dessert. It wasn’t very good. The ice cream and rhubarb were tasty but the bread pudding was kind of dry and there wasn’t even a hint of mocha. Carlo had all sorts of negative things to say about it, but mostly it was flavourless, dense, and dry. I don’t recommend it.

In sum, our food review was mixed, but we enjoyed the experience nonetheless. The atmosphere was great, and we agreeed it would be fun to return for jazz, which does not start until 10pm on weekends. I think next time I would go for the shortrib grilled cheese and poutine and skip anything resembling a vegetable.

Brooklyn Pigfest

There are moments when I envy New Yorkers. They are few and far between, but this is most certainly one of them.

My fiancee complains about Christopher Hitchens complaining about wine in Slate

Elizabeth must have stubbed her toe on a bedpost immediately before reading Hitchens’ recent Slate column, otherwise I can’t see why she would use this blog as a forum to rant and rave about an article that I thought highlighted an important point about wine service in restaurants. Let me preface this by saying that I have no expectations regarding the content of “Fighting Words” so I can’t speak to whether or not it is a serious departure from his normal musings. Certainly if i was accustomed to a journalist writing within a particular genre I would be annoyed by any egregious changes as well. If Bill Simmons starts blogging about the Democratic Primary I’ll tune out in a heartbeat.

That said, Hitchens makes at least one legitimate point. Waiters should always ask before pouring. I don’t need or want to pour wine myself, but I’d appreciate the wine not being needlessly dumped into the abyss that is some female to remain un-named’s glass. Hitchens’ complaint about having conversations interrupted is less interesting. Annoyance with this act will increase in direct proportion with the arrogance of the speaker. But I think it’s important to understand that waiters are there to sell you wine and that they have occasionally obnoxious techniques that they employ to do so. If a few acts of defiance would curb this practice, then I’m all for it.

Christopher Hitchens Complains About Wine Service In Slate

Christopher Hitchens must have been in the middle of telling the joke of a lifetime when he was rudely interrupted by a sommelier eager to fill his glass. Otherwise, I can’t see why he would use his weekly Slate column to criticize waiters and wine pushers at restaurants. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Hitchen’s Slate column, “Fighting Words,” it is usually dedicated to politics, human rights, religion, or other seemingly important topics. This week’s column called, “Wine Drinkers of the World Unite,” is a meditation on how waiters inappropriately interrupt people in restaurants. They rudely ask people if they want more wine, or, even worse, just pour it without asking and then ask if they’d like another bottle. Hitchens feels this is intrusive, sleazy, and a whole host of other bad things. He acknowledges that there are worse problems in the world, but feels that this one could be solved so easily, that we should unite behind a cause and put waiters in their place. As a regular Hitchens reader, I’m a bit taken aback. This might be annoying for Hitchens, but is he serious? First of all, this is not an important issue. I love wine as much as the next person (though perhaps not as much as Hitchens, who is known to be a bit of a drinker), but I couldn’t care less whether the wine is poured for me or I pour it myself. Second of all, some people want to be served wine. That’s why they went to a restaurant and didn’t eat at home. Some people actually hold off on pouring wine so that the waiter has the opportunity to do it for them. I guess my conclusion is that Hitchens should start a blog for these mundane gripes. He sounds a little too Seinfeldian for a highly-read column in Slate.

Angela’s Cafe (Lexington St. East Boston)

A splendid spot. I went with three friends last night after reading nothing but rave reviews all over the internet. Don’t be intimidated by venturing into a different area of town. Angela’s is easy to find and a very quick ride from downtown. It’s a bit tricky to park close by (mostly resident), but you’ll be thankful for the walk back to your car after you eat the quantity of food that you ought to. Angela’s seats about 20-25 diners and, understandably, they like to take their time eating. After poking my head in to see what the story was, an older gentleman took my name and approximated that it would take around 25 minutes for a table of four. Having read that Angela’s closes at 9pm I was a bit concerned, but came to the conclusion that this meant they stopped seating at 9 rather than closed the kitchen at 9. So we hung out on the corner until our number was up (the restaurant is in a very residential part of town so you will have nothing to do but hang on the corner). It took a bit longer than expected (45 minutes or so), but when we were seated we were presented with a complimentary order of homemade chips and guacamole in apologies for the wait - unanimously the best guacamole we have had. Indeed, it was the first guacamole one of my fellow diners had ever enjoyed -absurdly creamy with a slight kick of lime and served in the molcajete it was made in.

We started off with several smaller plates (tacos, gorditas, tostadas, etc..) all ranging from $2 - $4 each. The chorizo gorditas with queso fresco won the night in my opinion. A thick and chewy tortilla layered with red or green salsa (the waiter suggested the red because the green wasn’t “as good as usual”) and topped with either chorizo or chicken and chunks of queso fresco. This is not to disparage the taco al pastor or chicken tostada that I had, they were delicious as well. In all honesty, when you go you should have as many things as you can. Suck it up and put yourself in a food coma. It will be worth it, if only in retrospect, since unless you live in Eastie you probably won’t be going back every week.

The one thing you certainly should not miss is the mole (entrees go for around $12-$20). Hard to describe. Just know this: it takes a lot of effort and experience to make this sauce. The chef, Angela Atenco Lopez, cooked professionally in Puebla, according to The Globe, and has channeled all her expertise into this mole. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I can fully appreciate it yet. Right now, it just tastes really good to me, but I think it deserves more than that. It deserves a story, some sort of lore that lifts it to a mystical level. Maybe I’m exaggerating. But it is damn tasty. The meat it came over was a bit dry, but I didn’t particularly care. I finished off with a chocolate bread pudding. The gratuitous addition of an anglo dessert might compromise Angela’s authenticity to the observer, but it was yummy, so lay off. Next time I’ll have the flan.

I ordered strictly off the menu this time, but a chalkboard above the kitchen details daily specials and I’ll be sure to dig into those on the next visit. It’s hard to imagine anyone not enjoying their meal at Angela’s, and considering the cost, it’s one of the best values in the area that I know of. Go often.

Blue Ribbon BBQ (Washington St. West Newton)

Yesterday I decided to treat myself to a BBQ lunch at Blue Ribbon in Newton. Realizing that this would be a bit on the heavy side for midday I decided to put in some hard exercise beforehand to justify the trip, so I biked along the Charles from downtown Boston - about a 10 mile ride. Upon arriving I had built up quite the appetite and was ready for what I anticipated would be some delicious ribs.

Now I don’t claim to be an expert on BBQ. I haven’t tried many establishments in Boston and I have been to the South on only a handful of occasions. Here’s what I do know. I can make better ribs than Blue Ribon BBQ, and without much effort at that. I ordered a half rack that came with cornbread, collard greens, and baked beans. The ribs were dry, the beans were undercooked, and the collard greens -well, I think I just don’t like collard greens so we’ll leave them out. I actually did not finish my ribs. For those who know me, it is the rare occasion when I don’t finish what’s on my plate, as well as the plates of everyone else sitting around me. So to leave ribs on the plate, especially after biking ten miles, is a powerful comment on their quality.

I’d much rather devote the very little effort necessary to make my own ribs than return for these. In fact, Mark Bittman has a simple recipe for doing exactly that in a recent column. I hear that the other dishes at Blue Ribbon are supposed to be better (pulled pork, pulled chicken, burnt ends, etc…) and I might go back to try these at some point, but I’m in no rush considering the disappointment of the ribs.

Blue Ginger (583 Washington St, Wellesley)

Last night Liz and I, and our friends Simon and Vicki, attended a high school alumni event at Blue Ginger in Wellesley which doubled as a celebration of their newly renovated function hall. A 4 course dinner with wine pairing and Ming Tsai was on hand to talk about it all. Here is the menu:

Shiitake- Leek Springrolls with Three-Chile Dipping Sauce, Crispy Calamari with Thai Dipping Sauce N.V. Chateau Moncontour Sparkling Vouvray

Sake-Miso Marinated Alaskan Butterfish, Wasabi Oil, Soy-Lime Syrup and Vegetarian Soba Noodle Sushi 2005 Qupe “Y Block” Chardonnay

Aromatic Braised Beef Shortrib, Scallion Mashed Potatoes and Green Papaya- Thai Basil Salad 2004 Bodegas Nieto-Sentiner “Don Nicanor”

Tahitian Vanilla Creme Brulee and Bittersweet Chocolate Cake 2004 Jorge Ordonez Co #1 Seleccion Especial Moscatel

Every dish is served in the restaurant except for the shortrib, so most of my ramblings will be relevant to an experience in the main dining room. Everyone enjoyed the spring rolls and calamari, but primarily because of the incredible dipping sauces. Both had a soupy consistency, which I much prefer to a thicker dipping sauce, but packed as much flavor as even the most reduced sauce. The spring rolls and calamari themselves were more of a conduit for these truly delicious sauces. I thought the calamari were a bit too far removed from the fryer to be great, but I am sure this is a result of the fact that they were serving a party of 85, and a normal dining experience would have the food go from stove to table much quicker. The Vouvray was interesting on its own but lost something with the food. I’m not sure that any other pairing would have worked, however, seeing as there were so many flavors packed into those sauces (we kept them after the empty plates had been taken away to have on their own).

On to the butterfish. This dish was perfect. Ming came out of the kitchen to describe the evolution of the dish - a concept he borrowed from Nobu Matsuhisa. It was hearty, and delicate, and interesting and absolutely delicious. Every plate was cleaned. I strongly recommend someone at your table getting it should you go, and it alone is worth the ride to Wellesley. From the silky texture of the fish, to the wasabi oil, to the roe, to the surprisingly good noodle-sushi, there is nothing I would change about it and I hope it stays on the menu indefinitely. Meh on the chardonnay. When people describe the stereotypical california chardonnay this wine is what I picture- buttery, oaky. The fish made it taste better, but the fish made water taste better too.

The shortrib with mashed potatoes was solid, but nothing special. You can’t really go wrong by braising a shortrib, but there’s a ceiling on what simply braising can do for you. I like a melt in your mouth tender piece of meat as much as the next person, but it was a much simpler creation and so a bit of a downer, at least relative to the butterfish. Also, I am beginning to wonder about the texture of short ribs in general. Often times when I have had it in restuarants, or made it myself, the short ribs have layers of fat not surrounding the meat, but within the meat. I’m not sure if this is the norm, or if the fattiness of a short rib is a signal of quality. The wine was a cabernet sauvignon and malbec blend, so great with the braised meat.

The desserts satisfied. Not much to say about them. The bittersweet chocolate cake wasn’t overwhelming, as they often times are, which I appreciated. Likewise for the creme brulee - not as viscous as most creams so a bit more refreshing than your typical creme brulee.

Overall, Blue Ginger is definitely worth the time and effort to get there from the city (traffic can be horrible on route 9 and 16 particularly from 4 to 7). Stick with the fish dishes and you can’t go wrong. For example, in glancing at the menu you see things like hangar steak with red wine sauce and new zealand rack of lamb with garlic demi glace. I am sure these are good, but they look like throw ins to satisfy the meat-eaters and will not be what brings you back to Blue Ginger.

The Farm Bill

In honor of the recent presidential veto, and subsequent congressional override, here is Michael Pollan on the sad state of the farm bill as of a year ago. This is a glimpse into some of the details of the current farm bill, and the full text can be found here. Here’s to the transparency of government.

Breeding sweeter tomatoes

Interesting NPR story on the Heinz company’s attempt to breed sweeter tomatoes as a response to the increasing costs of corn syrup. They seem to be doing the hard work of cross-breeding different plants as opposed to relying on genetic modification, but I wonder what effect tampering like this will have on the future of the tomato. Let’s assume Heinz succeeds in creating a super-sweet tomato. No doubt other characteristics of the tomato would be bred out, and we will be left with a one-dimensional fruit. This must have consequences for its uses in cooking. For the better in some cases, I’m sure, but not in others. Ketchup might improve, but caprese salalds would never be the same. We would have to redefine our understanding of the tomato. Age old recipes would have to be altered as the characteristics of these most basic ingredients fundamentally change. While I haven’t thought through all the implications of such modification and whether the benefits outweigh the costs, there is certainly something sad about knowing that my grandmother’s recipes are being tampered with from the inside out.

Mark Bittman on the history of food in the U.S.

Mark Bittman, food writer at the New York Times (aka the Minimalist), gave a great speech giving an overview of the evolution of the food industry in the U.S. and its implications for everyday eating.

Sel de la Terre - 255 State Street, Boston

This review of my recent lunch at Sel de la Terre should probably be taken with a grain of salt. I would give it a B/B-, but my vote is skewed for two reasons. First, it is only based on what I ordered. I was with colleagues, and I felt a little odd asking to try their food or surveying how they felt about it. Second, I can’t actually remember everything that I ordered. I remember what I ate, but my appetizer was a “daily” charcuterie plate and I’m not entirely sure what was on it. That said, I did eat there, and I ordered as much as I could (three courses) without raising suspicion that I was planning on “rating” the food.

To begin, the decor and service are both nice. The decor is pretty basic, and it’s not very romantic, but I think it’s the ideal place for lunch. It’s bright and sunny and bustling without being loud. I have been there a couple times, and the service has always been extremely friendly, reliable, and unobsequious. Next, the menu is varied without being overburdensome. They offer little tastes you can order as a pre-appetizer to go alongside the complimentary rustic bread and butter. They have nice salads (e.g. I once ordered a nicoise that I remember thinking was good). They have good-sounding sandwiches.

I went awry when I ordered one of the main courses. And I went further awry when I ordered the pasta main course. What was I thinking?? I go to a rustic French/New England lunch spot and I order gnocchi . I guess I was still dreaming about Carlo’s gnocchi the other night, and thought this would compare. I was sucked in by the words “foraged” and “hazelnuts” all in the same menu option. I have no idea, but that’s what I ordered, and I lived to regret it. The gnocchi themselves were actually okay; not spectacular, but had the sauce been good, I might have given it a B. Instead I’m forced to give it a D-. It was drenched with red pepperness. It was drenched in cream sauce. It did not taste like truffles and there were no hazelnuts to be found. I took a few bites when it first arrived and then made the mistake of taking a minute break from eating. By the time I was ready to start again, I was so disgusted that I couldn’t take another bite. I blame myself for misordering, but then again, I do expect restaurants to make well anything they put on their menu. Everyone seemed to like the salmon they ordered so maybe that would have been a better bet.

The charcuterie plate merits a B+/A-. It was basically three pates. One of them had a fig paste in it; one had some nuts in it; and one was like a creamy foie gras paste. The latter was really good and the others were decent–very rustic. The little brioche and apple compote and cornichons were all good. It was what I expected and have no complaints.

The dessert was delicious and saved the meal from a much lower grade. I didn’t actually get what I ordered but I didn’t care. There was some sort of peach, berry something or other bread pudding on the fixed price menu and I asked if I could have that instead of the regular bread pudding. The waiter said that it was no problem at all and then brought me the regular bread pudding: “warm brioche bread pudding with black currants, spiced anglaise and pineapple compote”. Either way, it was fantastic, perfectly cooked: moist without being soupy. The pineapple compote was so good that I had to apportion a little bit to each bite of bread pudding or else I would have eaten it at all at once missing out on the harmony between the compote and the pudding. The spiced anglais had no flavor, but it didn’t matter. I would go back just for this dish.

So in sum, Sel de la Terre has great desserts (everyone else got watermelon sorbet and loved it), good salads and good-sounding sandwiches, and terrible entrees (I am writing them all off because that sauce was so bad). I will have to go again and try more stuff before making a judgment, but at this point, I recommend going there for a salad and burger and bread pudding.

Excellent gnocchi recipe

Larousse Gastronomique has an excellent gnocchi recipe that I tried out last night for a family dinner. The trick with gnocchi is always the consistency, which is determined in large part by the flour to potato ratio, and these came out as well as any I’ve had. Here’s the recipe:

“Cook 3 medium-sized potatoes in boiling salted water for about 20 minutes. Meanwhile grate 6-7 medium sized peeled potatoes and squeeze them in a cloth to extract as much water as possible. Peel and mash the cooked potatoes, then mix with the grated raw potatoes. Add 1 cup all-purpose flour, a little grated nutmeg, salt and pepper, then 2 whole eggs one after the other. Mix thoroughly. Boil some salted water and use two spoons to shape the paste into small, round portions. Drop them into the water and leave to simmer for 6-8 minutes. Drain the gnocchi and place them on a cloth.”

Some other guidelines. I used 7 regular old yellow potatoes. The recipe says to squeeze as much water as possible from the grated raw potatoes, so grate directly onto a kitchen cloth and then use the cloth to get rid of all moisture by wrapping up the potatoes and squeezing it all out. What you are left with should be a very silky smooth dough of pure raw potato. After you have mixed all the ingredients together you will be left with a very sticky pasty substance. I was concerned that this would not hold together at all because previous gnocchi recipes I had used resulted in a dough that could be rolled out and cut into little dumplings. This dough will not be in any shape to be rolled out, it is far too wet.

Because I had a little time, I decided to test out the gnocchi at various consistencies. I made just one gnoccho, boiled some water, plopped it in and waited.  I have typically heard that when a gnoccho rises to the top of the water, it is done. Not the case for these. Because the mixture is mostly raw potato you must cook it the 6-8 minutes that are recommended. The single gnoccho held together for the most part but lost its shape a bit along the outside, fraying out into whispy potato fractals. I decided that they needed a touch more flour to keep them together, but rather than adding flour to the mixture I threw a bunch of flour on a cutting board, used the spoons to shape a gnoccho from the mixture, plopped them on the flour, rolled them several times until the outside was lightly coated and then put them on a lightly floured baking sheet. This will take some time but it will create wonderfully delicate gnocchi which will keep whatever shape you decide to give them when they hit the water. I chilled the gnocchi in the fridge for several hours - I dont think this is necessary but I just had some time before dinner. When their time came, I plopped them in boiling salted water, let them cook for around 7 minutes, then retrieved them with a slotted spoon and put them in a bowl. Meanwhile I melted some butter in a saucepan and for the finishing touch fried the gnocchi in the butter sprinkling a little more nutmeg over the top. This will give the outside of the gnocchi a nice thin crispy texture.

Served them with the sauce from this recipe, substituting the pancetta for guanciale because guanciale is superior in all respects. Damn good.

Stix - 35 Stanhope Street, Boston

Last Friday night, I met a friend for dinner at Stix, the new “concept” restaurant by the 33 Management Group. Stix’ website claims that diners will eat global cuisine in a chic space with awe-inspiring architectual design. The description actually uses the word “revolutionary” to describe the concept. I am going to make a grand assertion and may live to regret it, but here goes. Unless you are in Disneyland (and even then I’m not sure), “concept” dining is a bad idea destined for failure, especially if you promise your patrons a revolutionary experience.

Stix’ “concept” seems more like a “gimmick”. Basically, all of their “signature” dishes, which consists of half the menu, are little bits of protein or vegetable cooked on a flavored stick. Our waitress explained that the flavored stick would infuse the protein/vegetable bit with the flavors of the stick. For example, the Grilled Lamb on Citrus Rosemary is a small piece of lamb (a bite or two) cooked on a stick that has been infused with Citrus and Rosemary and in turn, the stick should infuse the lamb with those flavors. It doesn’t work; it’s stupid.

We ordered four of the Stix Signature plates:

Shrimp on Thai Coconut Lime STIX
flavored with lime, pineapple and sesame (Thailand)

Duck on Citrus Rosemary STIX*
honey, lime and ginger glaze (Asia)

Seared Scallops on Ginger Mango STIX*
orange oil and sesame (Australia)

Grilled Lamb on Citrus Rosemary STIX*
with cucumber raita (Greece)

None of the protein bits absorbed the flavors of the stick. One of them had decent flavor (the scallop), but it seemed to come from the sauce or seasoning on the actual piece of scallop (ie outside of the food, not inside). The rest of the food was mediocre. The duck was totally flavorless (we actually left one of our three bits). The shrimp tasted like shrimp with nothing on it, and the lamb was dry. The aforementioned scallops were actually really good until my friend bit into one only to crunch down on something very very hard. She looked shocked, said nothing for 15 seconds, then spit out her mouthful of food and explained, “sorry, I thought I broke my tooth, but I think it’s okay.”

Furthermore, none of the dishes tasted like the place with which they were labeled. Stix boldly labels the dishes with the country after whose cuisine they are modelled, just in case you want to know in which country your revolution is taking place. I wanted to be transported to Thailand, Australia, Asia, and Greece, and instead I was left sort of hungry in a bar with decent atmosphere (certainly not awe-inspiring).

I was hungry because there wasn’t very much food. Each plate comes with three stick/meat bits, so approximately 3-6 bites per Signature Dish. First of all, this “group of three” was annoying. Stix seems like the ideal venue for sharing with your dinner compatriots (since everything is pre-apportioned), but how many people go out in groups of three? Certainly this does happen, but I would bet that most diners come in groups of two or four, and having three bits makes sharing awkward. Second of all, I would have had to eat at least 4 of the $9 plates to feel reasonably satisfied (and I’m not very big), and at that point, I might as well have gone to a good restaurant and gotten a $40 entree. So anyway, after I’d eaten my twenty bites of mediocre food, I was still too hungry to get dessert and decided to get the cheese plate. It was fine, totally forgettable.

In sum, if you’re stranded on Stanhope Street some night and you’re not hungry but you’re looking for a bar with a nice, but not awe-inspiring atmosphere, Stix would probably work for you. Under any other circumstances, I would avoid it.

Effect of music on wine preference?

Does music affect our wine preferences, as researchers in Scotland are saying?  My guess is that this effect is being driven by differences in emotional states (i.e. different songs elicit different emotions which in turn affect sensory experience), but it’s hard to say without seeing the data. Either way, it’s fun to think about song-wine pairings. Perhaps bottles should be served with headphones and a cd player. Or, perhaps, I’ll never think about this article again.

Ten Tables - Centre St. Jamaica Plain

In the TW Food entry I made passing reference to my fondness for Ten Tables. It holds an almost mythical status in my mind - that charming, affordable, delicious neighborhood bistro that I’ve never had. So it is with some sorrow that I can’t give it an unqualified ringing endorsement after our recent dinner there. Aside from a beef dish that was far too dry (for medium), the food was solid. But only that. Nothing impressed or inspired. In addition to the steak, we sampled a charcuterie plate, red pepper and smoked mozzarella soup, steamed mussels, fideos with pancetta, and chocolate pudding with banana whipped cream, and all were run of the mill incarnations of the dishes. Satisfying, but totally forgettable.

The limited menu has 5 appetizers and 5 entrees, which is fine so long as those 10 dishes reflect the added time and effort afforded by having such a small menu. To my mind, they did not. All of us mulled over the menu longer than usual because nothing really sounded that appealing; nothing sounded bad, just boring.

David Punch, the head chef, was not in the house which could account for some of the issues, but would it affect the creation of the menu itself? Maybe certain dishes are only made when he is around, which would explain the modesty of the options.

Punch’s mustached replacement was disappointing on another level. Ten Tables is an incredibly small restaurant (300sf?). The kitchen is wide open and very visible to customers. In other words, the chef is on display and must act accordingly. Don’t cook like you just got dragged away from your favorite television show and are pouting into your ingredients. Upon receiving an order, Mustache placed his hands on his hips, closed his eyes, tilted his head back and let out an exasperated sigh, as if saying “You want me to make more beef?” Well, considering the universe has been limited to 10 options, yes. You will be making the same thing over and over. These nonverbals combined with several failed attempts to mute heated conversations with the waitstaff led me to conclude that the kitchen was the last place he wanted to be. This is not a good image to project to a diner sitting 10 feet away.

Hopefully all these issues resolve when Punch is back in the kitchen, but my illusions of Ten Tables have certainly taken a hit. I would return if I knew the head chef was cooking, but if problems arose again then Ten Tables would stop meriting the drive out to Jamaica Plain.

B&G Oysters - Waltham St. South End

Oh Barbara Lynch, we have a middle school crush on all your establishments. Liz and I went to B&G for dinner Saturday night after an anxiety-provoking 4 day absence from the little epicurean vortex that is the corner of Waltham and Tremont. First off, no restaurant beats B&G in terms of atmosphere. A casual and modern design, long bar wrapped around a pristine open kitchen busied by tidy and dilligent chefs (not to mention an awesome outdoor patio), and the best music selection in Boston. Any restaurant that mixes Elvis, Neneh Cherry, and Bel Biv Devoe without a hint of cheesiness is a place I want to be. Each song will tap into some long-forgotten association buried deep in the back of your brain waiting and hoping to be unearthed. The wine list, always interesting and reasonably priced thanks to Cat Silirie, had a 2006 Nusserhoff Blaterle from Alto Adige. I had never heard of this grape and having very much enjoyed the Hofstatter Gewurztraminer from Alto Adige the previous week, I thought we’d give it a shot. Another winner. Apparently, Blatterle is a very old white varietal that is exclusively grown on the 6 acres of the Nusserhof vineyard. The Hofstatter and the Nusserhoff had a lot in common, smelled sweeter than they tasted with a nice dry kick at the end.

Like most good seafood places, the food is simple in design. For example, my monkfish came with just some sauteed morels, fava beans, and pancetta. But the freshness, skilled handling, and flavor combination of the ingredients lifts B&G above most if not all other spots in the South End. Finally, whatever variant of fried dough with chocolate sauce happens to be on the menu is a must for dessert, just don’t expect to be able to finish it yourself. Half a dozen hot golden balls of delight accompanied by a pot of hot chocolate will give your stomach the weight you need to sleep well. In sum, go to B&G. Go there for dates, go there for celebrations, go there for the music, go there for the oysters, go there to watch the chefs, go there to contemplate why you aren’t there more often. Just go.