Now That's One Damn Fine Wiener

When Life Presents Options, Take The Sausage



When I first glanced at the flight plan for my recent trip to Europe, I was overjoyed to see I had a change in planes in one of my favorite places, Frankfort, Germany.

Sure, airports are airports… but Frankfort is special. As the name alludes, Frankfort is home and birthplace of the frankfurter, and as you may know… I am a sausage fanatic. So true to form, the Frankfort airport has several outlets to stock up while you are waiting for your flight to faraway places.

Just as my excitment was growing, I looked at the flight times. Ouch. Fourty five minutes between flights.

Well, this is a problem.

And sure enough, as carefully as I tried to map out my strategy, the day would turn into a logistical nightmare… with the real possibility I’d be leaving Frankfurt sausage-less. A mortal and culinary sin.



As my flight from Nice rolled to a stop on the Frankfort tarmac, I glanced at my watch as if I had just began taping an episode of “Alias”. It was 9:14. Seated in the last row of an overbooked airplane, I needed to get off the plane, board a bus to the terminal, clear passport control, walk down 2 long hallways, re-enter the departure terminal, have my carry-on bags checked and pass through security, and run down two very long hallways to gate 34. Before 9:50. The flight would leave at 10:00am.

Forget shopping or going to the bathroom… just making the connection would be tricky.

Of course, my fellow passengers had no idea of the seemingly impossible task ahead as they slugged along… which was favorable. Could I maneuver around them in warp speed?

It took what seemed like an hour to reach the terminal, and get into the building, through passport control, and to the sea of people now waiting to re-enter the terminal and pass through security. With this many people, just getting to the place would be difficult. With the sizable crown growing and only a few positions available to check people through, the crowd grumbled and moaned… causing a brief meeting between the 3 officers in charge of the entry point. With my German being marginal at best, I could decipher one thing…. They we going to open 2 extra lines….. and fast.

As I observed, the crowd separated to my left, and like the Holy Grail, appeared what I had seen in my dreams. The Francfort Haus of Sausage.

Now, I am torn. Any moment several new lines will form, and with my knowledge of the plan, I am certain to be at the front of one of them… but when? 30 seconds? 1 minute?


I gazed in a painful, confused manner into the store at a female clerk that could see me agonizing on whether or not I could get in and out. I even stutter stepped twice, like the beginning of a race… struggling with a decision that could possible take me off of an international flight to New York.

Staring at the girl in the store, I mouthed the words “can you check me out in 60 seconds?”…. she paused for a moment, looked at an empty cash register at the end of a long aisle and shook her head yes.

I was off.

I ran through the store like a madman I know, but karma was on my side. I had hit the wiener mother load.

There was bierwurst, bockwurst, bratwurst. Knockwurst, knackwurst and weisswurst. Frankfurters, wienerwurst and cervelat. Rings and rings of fresh German rope sausages as well as the 2 foot long varieties you would see hanging in a butcher shop somewhere in the middle of town. I though I was going to pass out.

In the next isle are the accompaniments; sweet, hot, spicy, course and smooth mustards (or zenf), every variety of bread and roll imaginable… and jars of kraut and pickled everything to make the sausage happy. Oh yea, they had pretzels, too.

Without thinking, I began grabbing cans and packages like a contestant on “The Price is Right”. With my arms full, I ran to my girl *Inga (replace with a nicer German name please) and dumped it all on an empty counter.

I quickly began grabbing each item and asking the question, “Good… or No Good”.

As I grabbed, she nodded and smiled yes buy that, or frowned so-so you may not need that. 30 seconds later, I had a bag of snap skin frankfurters, weisswurst, bockwurst, 3 rings of beer sausage, a massive German beef log, 2 tubes of mustard and a Visa bill to sign.

Yes, believe it, within 60 seconds I had entered the store, shopped, sorted, purchased and bagged… and was now headed for a line that had not a person in it.


Before I could count to 10, a security officer made his way to my line, unhooked the rope, and pointed me to a newly opened x-ray machine and metal detector thingy.

I felt as if I had won The Amazing Race.

I quickly slipped through security checkpoint number 2, down the hallway yet again, to another ticket control point, and to the gate. She slipped my boarding pass through the computer and I walked down the jetway. It was 9:48am.

Yes, I was the last on, which yielded yet another advantage…. finding an entire row of empty seats and claiming them as my own. I stored the luggage overhead, and pulled out one of the sausage ropes to celebrate.

Settling in my seat, I tore off a piece and nibbled, laughing at the notion that the entire gamble could have gone terribly wrong. About that time, the female flight attendant noticed my snack, and leaned over to me as she looked to see if my seatbelt was fastened.

“Sehr gut, ya?”… or “That’s Good?!”… she smiled.

“If you only knew how good”… I remarked.

If in fact she only knew…..

How Do They Do It?

Two European Gems Raise The Bar…. Again


**note André is traveling the French and Italian Riviera and files this blog from somewhere in Northern Italy


Surely one of the joys of traveling abroad is pretending to be a local, and eating like one.

When visiting areas I’ve yet to explore, I tend to spend very little time in the touristy haunts and more in the back streets and neighborhoods, roaming through grocery stores and the like…. finding out what people really eat. It’s a hobby of mine. While my wife looks for shoes, I am tasting salami and buying bread. It’s sometimes more of an obsession than a hobby now that I think of it.

While I don’t have too much time to blog on, let me recap a few standout meals that you’ll need to eat in this lifetime. Amazing stuff.

Nice, France

There is lots to like about Nice as I wrote a month ago on an early trip, but there is one Brasserie that takes the cake. Brasserie Flo.

Yes, it sounds like a bad French diner located somewhere in Indianapolis, but when you get there you realize, this may be the only restaurant of it’s kind in the world.

That’s because Brasserie Flo is built inside of a dramatic old French theatre… using the theatre space for cozy banquette seating, and get this…. the stage for a kitchen.
Upon walking in the front door, the ticket booth area has been scraped for a glass enclosed seafood prep area, teaming with cold oysters, lobsters and salmon. Descending into the dining room is truly breathtaking, as the vaulting coffered ceilings reveal the thick velvet curtains that frame the busy kitchen on the stage. Behind a glass wall, the noise and hustle of the kitchen disappear into what simply becomes one of the most novel things you have ever seen…. and why not? Isn’t the food the real show?

As for dinner, it’s what we expected…. terrific. A perfect plate of warm asparagus topped with herbs and a light vinaigrette, a cucumber gazpacho with a small scoop of ice cream floating on top for pure sweetness, outstanding regional wines and steaks with locally grown potatoes, halved and pan sautéed with chives. Top it off with green apple sorbet and a perfect crème brulé and you go home happy. Really happy.

As much as I enjoy terrific French fare, I was longing to reach the Italian town of Rapallo to sample true Ligurian foods. Liguria is the northwest region of Italy many people skip over in lieu of Milano, Florence and Rome… and what they miss is gastronomic.

It’s this region (and possibly town) that invented pesto, so having a pasta dish with pesto here is an out of body experience. It is like nothing I have ever tasted, so I can only tell you that if you think you have had great pesto, think again. The subtle and fresh flavor that this sauce has here in Italy reminds me why we get on airplanes and fly until our butt burns. It’s worth every second.

On the water in Rapallo is Nattuno, a terrific local spot frequented by tourists and locals alike. They specialize in pizzas, pastas and seafood specialties, but make no mistake, it’s all about the pesto.

Our meal began with fresh buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes, a plate of homemade salami and cured parma hams, followed by two pasta dishes….
Pesto with trofie… a small, hand twisted pasta that carries the sauce perfectly, and a penne dish with pesto, tomatoes and cream. Whatever.

By the time the pizza came, we were in pain. As hard as it was, we asked for a box, drank a few cappuccinos and began a stroll along the water past the 15th Century castle that sits in the up lit harbor under the stars. It was so authentic, we laughed of how it resembled a movie set.

So, time to make a reservation. Look at the calendar, put in some vacation time, and book a trip. Anywhere. The only way to taste what’s out there is to get out there and discover…. and… uh, get the pesto.

Everyday Italian, NY Apartment Style

When All Else Fails, Cook It At Home!


Without question, moving to New York has reintroduced me to what is likely my favorite ethnic cuisine... Italian food. Louisiana, although rich with Italian immigrants and history, is not known for it’s authentic Italian fare. With the Gulf of Mexico in your backyard, who can you blame?

So, most folks in the south do their italian cooking at home. The cooking and sauces tend to be very “sicilian” in nature, with thick, rich meat sauces that cook for hours.
Homemade meatballs abound in South Louisiana.... not always headed for a gravy, but often for a meatball poboy, on fresh french bread.

I’ve said before that my simple corner Italian restaurant here in my Upper West Side neighborhood is better than the best Italian restaurant in Baton Rouge... so the quality of New York Italian restaurants should start becoming evident to you.... we are talking unreal. Outside of Italy (and sometimes inside) New York has the best Italian food in the world.

I guess my favorite part of choosing an Italian restaurant in New York is actually having the ability to choose the regional flare in which the restaurant will represent. Do they cook in a light Milanese style, or a Venetian way? Are the meats prepared in a Tuscan tradition or Florentine? Or do we look for a true Roman meal?.... or and age-old Sicilian dive?

Of course, in my restaurant world, it’s all about stealing. Yes, I steal daily from great restaurants... ideas, recipes, presentation, wine pairings, you name it. After all, they got it from someone, too... changed it, made it their own... much like what I’ll do.

I’m not into taking all the credit (although it would be fun) but we do share with our guests where the ideas were lifted.

Like a few weekends ago, when we entertained a few couples here at the apartment. We had a nice spread with various vegetables and spreads, a terrific artichoke and onion crostini appetizer with boursin cheese (I stole that one years ago) and a large plate of fresh hard Italian cheeses with dipping sauces... a dish I experience at Mario Batali’s “Otto” in the Village (I review Otto somewhere down the page, a few months back). Topped off with a few bottles of good wine.... dinner didn’t seem like such a life and death proposition.... we were enjoying the snacking.

That too is something we do a lot of here, “appetizing”. We simply load up a platter of veggies, cheeses, crackers, salami, etc.... pop open a bottle of wine... and, well, dinner is served. If we are able to clear the platter and finish the wine, dinner seems to be an afterthought.

So, if you are needing Italian “goodies”.... I mean, fantastic stuff to make your own trays and platters, I’d like to share with you my favorite haunts in New York. Even if you don’t live here, put them on your list for when you visit. You’ll be the envy of the plane on your way home.

I’ll follow my list with a wonderful, home-cooked meat ragu, that has become a staple at our house. I love his sauce, and really really love it the next day.

André’s Favorite Italian Markets and Food Shops


Balducci’s
155 W. 66th Street
Yes, I miss the Village mecca this once was, but it’s back and fighting for culinary supremacy with the others in town who took advantage of their absence. This store is still terrific, and continues to bottle their specialty sauces that originally put them on the map. The 8th Ave at 14th locale is now open as well.




Borgatti’s Ravioli
632 E. 187th, Bronx
It’s a hike, but it may be the best homemade ravioli in the city. Mr. Borgatti has been making the little gems (along with egg noodles) since 1930. Folks in the Bronx line up for them, and I can’t blame them.


Garden of Eden Market
7. E. 14th Street, others....
It’s not a hard core Italian dive, but the fare here is so fresh and so good, I have to mention it. This is a spot where you can find “hard to find” stuff... Lavazza and Illy coffee blends, great cheeses, quality meats, and your favorite european crackers and cookies. Sure you’ll drop $100 here, but you smile all the way home.


Risotteria
270 Bleeker St.
So, it’s not a market exactly, but I just had to include it, because you can take it home with you.... I have always liked risotto, but when I found this place, with over 50 risotto’s on the menu, I flipped. They are all made to order, and are fantastic. If you are headed for the subway, they’ll pack it up for the trip home.


Russo Mozzarella and Pasta
344 E. 11th Street
Yes, the pasta is terrific, but it’s the mozzarella that has had customers returning for nearly 100 years. They have other goodies here as well, including some fine sauces for that pile of fresh linguine you just bought.


Murray’s Cheese
254 Bleeker Street
It truly is my very favorite cheese shop in New York City, although I am sure there may be better. There is just something about the place that pushes my buttons... perhaps it’s the cheese vault at the rear of the store? Or maybe the t-shirts they sell that say “You Have A Friend in Cheeses”? For whatever reason, it’s the real deal, and you can likely find what you are looking for here... and a lot of what you’re not.


Faicco’s Pork Store
260 Bleeker Street
Thank god for Faicco’s. Sure, they have been open for 65 years, and yes, the cuts of meat and pork are superb.... but forget all of it. Open the door, walk to the back, and order a bag full of rice balls (arancini). The lightly fried room-temp rice balls are golf ball sized gifts from god. The creamy rice is blended with a mild goat cheese and herbs, making for an “Italian Boudin” ball I adore. I have tried to get these home without eating them all, and have failed miserably. Four times.

AND THE GET IT ALL STAND BYS



Zabar’s
2245 Broadway
We all know about Zabar’s, the mecca of all things wonderful. From fresh roasted coffees, to jewish delights, to fresh meats and pastas, to pierogies... well, you name it, they got it. Not to mention an upstairs of kitchen gadgets that will make a home cook break down and weep. Put aside a good hour, you’ll need it.


Citarella
2135 Broadway, 424 Sixth Ave, 1313 Third Ave, etc......
It didn’t take long after Balducci’s closes their legendary Village outpost for Citarella to become king of all things expensive and italian... and they did. What is left is one of the finest prepared grocery stores in America, with everything imaginable under one roof. The gourmet stuff here is not to be believed, but what I love about Citarella is the stuff you just can’t find anywhere else... like imported tomatoes (San Marzano brands I never knew existed). The fish counter is loaded with great stuff as well... enjoy.


So, planning an Italian night in your own humble abode? Here is a sauce that will make your guests sing. Adapted from a recipe I found several years ago.

André’s Favorite Meat Ragu

2 lbs. lean ground beef

2 tbls. olive oil

1 lb. ground pork or 1 medium pkg. of pork spareribs

1 medium red onion, chopped

2 cups chopped yellow onions

1 cup chopped bell pepper

2 stalks celery, chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 lb. Italian link sausage (I like the spicy here, but sweet works well, too)

2 (6-oz.) cans tomato paste

2 (6-oz.) cans tomato sauce

2 (10-oz.) cans tomato purée (San Marzano if you can swing it)

1 (10-oz.) can Rotel diced tomatoes and green chilies

4 tbls. dark brown sugar

3 bay leaves

1/2 tsp. dried basil

1/2 tsp. dried oregano, crushed

1/2 tsp. dried rosemary, crushed

1 tsp. cayenne pepper

1 tsp. Old Bay seasoning

1/2 tsp. Italian seasoning

1 tsp. Tony Chachere's Original Seasoning
(or your favorite cajun seasoning)
1 tsp. kosher salt

4 cups water (use some to rinse out tomato paste cans before adding water to pot)

6 cups chicken stock or broth

1/2 bunch fresh chopped curly parsley

1. In a large Dutch oven, stew pot or Le Creset pot, brown ground beef in olive oil. Remove browned meat from pot and set aside. If using ground pork, brown in same pot. Remove from pot and set aside.

2. Add onions, bell pepper, celery and garlic and sauté until transparent.

3. While the meats are browning and vegetables are sautéing, cut sausage into 1/2-inch pieces and cook in a 350-degree oven for 10-15 minutes. Drain oil and set aside.

4. Add tomato paste to the Dutch oven (my large le cruset pot is perfect!) with the sautéed vegetables. If using spareribs, also add at this time. Stir and blend for 10 to 15 minutes, being careful not to let the tomato paste burn or stick.

5. Add the tomato sauce, tomato purée, all seasonings and Rotel tomatoes and cook on low heat for 30 minutes, stirring gently to keep mixture from sticking. Add fresh chopped parsley, simmer on low for an additional hour. Add chicken broth to get the gravy the right thickness... the way you like it!

Take Me Out

There's More Going On At The Park Than Hot Dogs


I love baseball.

But when I say baseball, I mean all of it. Sure, the games are fun in person... and every once in a while, you get a good one (with a 9th inning comeback).... but to me baseball is much, much more. Without spending an hour paying homeage to George Will, I'll explain.


As a kid, I became infatuated with stadiums. I loved everything about them… the architecture, the sightlines, the electricity of the game, the food. I loved the smell of the fresh cut grass when you walked into the right field bleachers of Wrigley Field. The call of the 85-year-old guy selling programs at Dodger Stadium from his soap box.

I loved it all.

By the time I was 30, I had been to over 75 college and pro baseball, basketball and football stadiums. Through my journey, I was able to do something special…. I was able to put my finger on the pulse of a community just by attending a game. How were the fans? Are they respectful? Did they support losing teams? Are there families in the stands? How friendly are the vendors? All of it made sense, and I was able to garner a real opinion that most of the time was right on target. Before you move to a new city?.... attend a local baseball game.

So, since I am here to talk food, I won’t spend a lot of time on communities and stadiums, but I can tell you this. People in Seattle love their sports… and cater to families. There is astounding dedication in Buffalo, where Bills fans fry bologna in 10 degree weather. Kansas City fans tailgate NCAA style…. and Florida Gator fans?... well, they can go to hell :) .

Of course, there is nothing like Tiger Stadium in Baton Rouge on a Saturday night….. but that’s an entirely separate blog.

OK, back to food.

Each visit on my baseball travels grew into a culinary adventure, ballpark style. I have always judged a stadium on its hotdog. I have my own dream dog mind you… a natural casing snap skin wiener, steamed hot in its own freshly steamed bun, with onions and mustard. But hotdogs aside, ballparks these days offer a whole lot more than dogs.

So with the help of the USA Today, I’ve compiled the latest and greatest… with my own comments sprinkled in. If you live near one of the parks, call in sick, grab your glove, and get to the park. Sometimes, we need to feel 12 again.

In these cities, this is what I eat!

Whoever thought food would become part of a home-field advantage?

American League

Anaheim: The Angels recognize the appeal of Mexican fare and offer shredded beef tamales. Mexican beer on tap. Ole!

Baltimore: The Orioles are from crab country and serve an acceptable crabcake. It's not all lump crabmeat, but it isn't packed with filler either. It isn't a native dish, but an open-pit barbecue sometimes run by former Baltimore slugger Boog Powell is popular. Love this park.

Boston: The Red Sox serve Legal Seafoods chowder, a mainstay at inaugurations. ...
The Hilltop restaurant is famed for a steak tips sandwich you can get at Fenway Park. True local flavor, even if you hate 'em like a Yankee.

Chicago: The White Sox serve a popular Polish dog, and a kosher hot dog with grilled onions. ...They also have a Mexican cantina in center field. Nothing too crazy, and I miss the pizza from the old days.

Cleveland: The city is famous for pierogies, savory potato dumplings, sometimes filled with meat. You can find them at Jacobs Field, where the filling is potatoes and cheese with sour cream and sautéed onions on the side. ... The brown mustard at The Jake is nationally known and marketed.

Detroit: Motor City fans are devoted to Coney Islands (chili dogs) from the Leo's Coney Island stand at Comerica Park. Tigers owner Mike Ilitch owns Little Caesar's Pizza, served at the yard. Love this new park, they did a great job... and the Tigers are winning again.

Kansas City: Gates Barbecue and Arthur Bryant's Barbecue in Kansas City are national barbecue landmarks. The Royals have Gates barbecue on sale. They even scream "Hi, May I Help You".... but the way, I could drink this BBQ sauce. Check my old blogs...

Minnesota: No local specialties. Where's the Walleye Pike and wild rice?

New York: The Yankees offer knishes (rolled dough with filling) and kosher hot dogs.

Oakland: No local specialties of note beyond varied sausages. Considering the aggressiveness of A's fans, maybe raw meat should be on the menu. Stadium is horrible for all pro sports.

Seattle: You can get a rich, creamy chowder, dished up by Ivar's, a local restaurant. Tacos del Mar serves fish tacos. What would Seattle be without coffee? Tully's coffee is all over the ballpark. The Hit it Here Cafe is awesome. This may be the best designed and fan friendly park in America.

Tampa Bay: The Columbia Restaurant, anchored in Ybor City, Fla., is a Tampa area landmark. It has a stand at Tropicana Field serving Cuban sandwiches. Great food, terrible baseball.

Texas: They take barbecue seriously in the Lone Star State. So do the Rangers. They smoke brisket on site. You can smell it in the outfield, and it's enough to drive you insane.

Toronto: It's hard to identify any single food creation with Toronto. Fast-food franchises Pizza Pizza and Mr. Sub have stands at SkyDome. Otherwise this stadium stopped being cool about 10 years ago.

National League

Arizona: The D'backs don't go heavy on Southwestern cuisine. Instead they have a stand offering a specialty food from the visiting club's home. Nice in the summer evening with roof open.

Atlanta: Bison burgers from bison raised on owner Ted Turner's massive Montana ranch are an item that can't be found anywhere else. And oh yea, the Braves win a lot.

Chicago: The Cubs serve three favorites -- Italian beef, Chicago hot dogs and deep-dish pizza. Italian beef is shaved slices of well-done roast beef, with peppers and onions and plenty of au jus soaking the bun.
Take a steamed hot dog on a big, seeded bun. Add bright yellow mustard and bright green pickle relish, chopped onions, two slices of tomato, one of cucumber and a sprinkle of celery salt for a Chicago dog . Deep-dish pizza started in Chicago... and it rocks.

Cincinnati: The Reds offer Cincinnati chili, a cinnamon-scented concoction that is less meaty than classic Texas chili. Chiliheads live in Cincy and visit parlors there where it tops spaghetti or hot dogs. Skyline is my favorite, and is available at the park!

Colorado: The Rockies serve Rocky Mountain oysters, lingo for the testicles of cattle. Yummmy! They also offer buffalo dogs, burgers and brats. After that, you probably will need to drink one of the seven microbrews at Coors Field. Ready for this? They pump the beer from ice cold kegs underneath the stadium.

Florida: Think your espresso is strong? Drink dense Turkish coffee? Prefer a brew with 10W-30 viscosity? Cafe Cubano, Cuban coffee, is for you. It gives you a hair-raising jolt, especially if you let them ladle in the sugar. It's at Pro Player Stadium. ... The Marlins also offer the ubiquitous Cuban sandwiches, crusty bread toasted with boiled ham, roast pork, salami, turkey (optional), Swiss cheese and pickles.

Houston: Sheriff Blaylock's barbecue is in the Texas tradition. Rosa's Cantina fajitas, chicken and beef, are popular. If only they had the rocket pitching.

Los Angeles: The local specialty, Farmer John's Dodger dogs, can be made at home or gobbled at Dodger Stadium. They are grilled, never boiled, and the best dogs west of Chi-town... also serve great mexican food as well.

Milwaukee: The bratwurst with red sauce is a legendary item in Wisconsin.
It made the walk from County Stadium to Miller Park. Foodies nationwide are rejoicing. ... Of course it wouldn't be Milwaukee without beer. Miller Park does have beer.

Washington: Nothing going on other than dippin' dots and average hot dogs.

New York: Shea's best fare: Brooklyn soft pretzel and kosher hot dog.

Philadelphia: You can get a Philly cheesesteak at Veterans Stadium, a good one, not a cheap imitation, plus Italian water ice (frozen, flavored ices, very refreshing) and soft pretzels. ... It's a real taste of the city, short only scrapple (slices from a loaf of meat scraps and filler).

Pittsburgh: Two unique items made the move from Three Rivers Stadium to PNC Park: One is Primanti's, a cheesesteak with cole slaw and fries on it, messy and tasty; and the local favorite, Benkovitz's fish sandwich.... awesome.

St. Louis: The Cardinals offer toasted ravioli, a nationally recognized St. Louis snack food specialty, and prize-winning Super Smokers barbecue, done St. Louis style (i.e. meaty ribs). The new park is great, and the food is rockin.

San Diego: Former Padres Cy Young winner Randy Jones serves succulent barbecue. ... You can get fish tacos from the Rubio's chain. They're big in Southern California. ... Try kettle corn, sweet and salty baby!

San Francisco: The Giants have been adventurous concessionaires for some time (aromatic garlic fries and 40-clove chicken sandwich, for instance). They didn't change with their move to Pacific Bell Park. They have on the stadium promenade a fresh catch stand with Pacific seafood specialties and Orlando's Caribbean BBQ with a marinade from the family kitchen of former Giants great Orlando Cepeda. This is a great park and even with Barry Bonds, worth a trip. The bay setting is amazing.

NEXT BLOG: A report from Rapallo, Italy.... see you from the Italy next week... home of Ligurian Cuisine!

In Search of Pierogie

The Polish Obsession I Just Can't Shake


If you have been following this blog for a while, by now you figured out that I have a serious obsession with food.

Early on, it was purely taste for me. I loved to eat good food, and lots of it. But later in life, my tastes begin to change (for the better) and my interest in food deepened beyond the sensory perception of a meal or dish.... but to it’s origins. Knowing more about the history, the ingredients, the preparation... the “tradition”.... well, just makes the food taste better.

That said, I have a truly unique background that has been more than enough fuel for my culinary travels... and today, I’d like to chat with you about a food that I have a deep, deep passion for.

Pierogies.

Wasn’t expecting that, were you! Yes, I am from South Louisiana, born and raised in Baton Rouge. What you may not have known is that I had a polish grandmother on my Dad’s side (my Grammy) from New Hampshire that could make a pierogie like you’ve never tasted.

Growing up I always looked forward to visits from my Grammy. She was a ball of energy, fun-loving and always on the go. Even though I was twice her size, she could eat like nobody’s business... eat and eat and eat. Not huge amounts... just a constant nibble. She had a undeniable love for food and it showed.

Inevitably during her trips, we’d have a pierogie day... a full day of assembling these little gems, and a full evening of eating them. Now Grammy could make a serious cabbage roll as well as some of the best coffee cake you’ll ever eat... but make no mistake about it, her visits were about the pierogies. She was the pierogie master.

If you haven’t had a pierogie (and no, those nasty frozen things at your grocer don’t count) let me explain. A pierogie is a flat dumpling... half-moon shaped, stuffed with a variety of fillings. The dough is not tough and chewy, but pasta like. They are served one of two ways... boiled and pan fried (some folks deep fry theirs, but yuch... not the way to go). Hardcore pierogie folks tend to go either way... but my way is pan fried in butter until hot and crispy.

These days, you can find pierogies filled with just about anything. The most popular filling is potato, a throwback to the old days in Poland when this was just about the only vegetable you could count on. A mashed potato filling, either plain or with onions. The dish would be likely topped with sauteed onions and served with a dollop of sour cream. You can also find mushroom, spinach, cabbage, kielbasa as well as a dozen dessert types.




My favorite filling is the one my Grammy made... sauerkraut and mushroom. The filling really was kapusta... a mixture of cabbage, kraut and mushrooms, cooked down in bacon grease. Fantastic. For my brother, she’d make a meat filling... also good, but very different.

So if you’re not a pierogie eater, or wondering why you don’t see these little guys everywhere, the answer is really simple. They may be amazing to eat... but they are a pain in the #!^@%$ to make. Having a wife who is also nuts about pierogies, I get talked into making them myself about twice a year... and believe me, I clear my calendar for a day.

First, making pierogies takes patience. The dough must be made from scratch and be just the right texture. The cabbage for the kapusta filling must be first boiled, then cooled, shredded and added to the kraut, mushroom and onion mixture.... which then must cook down, and then cool. When ready, the dough must be rolled thin, and cut into circles to be filled. Once filled and sealed, the pierogies must then be carefully par boiled then removed to cool. At that point, you can place in the fridge, freezer... or go straight to a hot skillet to fry and brown in butter.

Now, a warning. If you haven’t had these, and decide to read further about how to procure your own... they can become extremely addictive. Think Polish crack.

There, you’ve been warned.

In New York, the Polish neighbors of the Lower East Side have pierogies galore. Stores like First Ave. Pierogie and Deli (130 First Ave. btw. 7th and St. Marks) have a huge variety and will package for a train ride home. Of course, stay and eat a dozen there before you leave. Also good are the polish “diners” in this neighborhood, including NEPTUNE, a favorite of mine on 1st Ave. at 12th. Their pierogies are great as well as their borsht, which has won awards. It’s a dive, but the food is cheap and the real deal. Many folks drift to Velselka, the stylish polish outpost on 2nd Ave and 9th, and open 24-hours, their food is terrific.... but the pierogie here is not my style, unless you like them boiled. Their fried variety get thrown into a deep fryer, and this changes the essence entirely.



Pieogies have stormed into the internet, and a few googles can scrape up a few quality joints. My favorite so far is Pierogies Plus, in suburban Pittsburgh. Their kraut and mushroom are excellent, and each is made by hand. Believe me, once you’ve had a sweet polish lady stuff your pierogies, you’ll never consider eating store bought again.

You can find them here: http://www.pierogiesplus.com/home.htm .

There you have it. In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing my own recipe, something I’ve never done. If you can’t wait until then, hit one of the links above... you won’t be disappointed!

Dylan Prime : Tribeca Does Steak

But Can It Compete With The Big Boys?



The Tribeca area of Manhattan is hardly recognizable from its earnest beginnings as a gritty lower west side industrial hub.

Sure the buildings remain the same, but my how the insides have changed. The development and growth of Tribeca has a direct relationship to the emergence of New York City becoming the business center of America. Tribeca was the center of the fresh fruit and produce market, the shipping capital of the United States, and the site of the first "skyscraper" in America, the Woolworth Building. It was in the Tribeca area that the textile industry grew into one of the largest employer and producer in New York.

Today, this area is loaded with trendy loft spaces, sleek bars and groundbreaking restaurant spaces. While the area prides itself on resting well ahead of the cutting edge, it also carries a charm that much of the city wishes it had…. a feeling that can only be duplicated by space, sunlight and city planning.


Tucked away in the heart of Tribeca is the funky steak house, Dylan Prime. A hip, stylish joint, Dylan attracts an upscale local clientele as well as those on expense accounts entertaining clients. Upon entering, Dylan offers a large (by New York standards) lounge area, with several beers on tap as well as a stocked back bar. Martinis feel right at home here, and seem to be the drink of choice. The main dining room is smallish but well appointed, if not a bit dark. It also features a bar area, which I am guessing serves as overflow on late weekend nights when scoring a table here becomes a 2 + hour wait.

As far as the food goes, I’d love to light this webpage on fire with glowing reviews, but in general I found the experience average. The steaks are good and well prepared… but if its meat you are craving, this certainly wouldn’t be my final destination. That said, if you live nearby and didn’t want to make the trek to Brooklyn or Midtown, Dylan Prime is just fine.

The menu is fairly simple but offers several interesting choices. We started with the fondue…. a good sized pot of bubbly hot gruyere cheese, with sliced apples, crusty bread and fresh crumbled bacon. Until the cheese cooled, the dish was good and perfect to share.

The menu is ala carte, with a decent choice of pricy steaks. I opted for a ribeye, and chose a few sides… homemade mac and cheese and green beans tossed with garlic.
The ribeye was a bit fatty… not thick and marbled as I was expecting. The meat was good, but the outside was well seasoned, a trick not needed if the meat is well aged and brimming with flavor.

The sides were solid, and the green beans stood out. Served tender crisp, they quickly became the focal point of my meal… not a good sign when plopping down over $30 on a steak.

What happened to Dylan Prime is what happens to most hip restaurant spots…. at some point, the food fades into the shadows, and the scene takes over. When I walked in the room to be seated, each and every head in the space turned to check me out… meaning this is a place to see and be seen... not to savor USDA Prime beef. That said, Dylan Prime is a cool hang and a spot I wouldn’t hesitate returning to for a cocktail or snack at the bar… just don’t waste your “steak” dollars here…. it’s worth the trip to Peter Lugar when you need a real fix.

Dylan Prime
62 Laight St., New York, NY 10013
at Greenwich St.
212-334-4783

Pastis: Deal or No Deal?

Pastis has a challenge. Does it shift gears and become a formidable top shelf bistro…. or continue to serve as the “in” spot on the southern edge of the white-hot Meatpacking District on New York’s lower west side. Does it matter?

To those seeking authentic bistro fare without the watered down versions of tried and true French dishes, yes. To those who rubber-neck in the oh-so-crowded dining room, not really. To everyone else, well it really doesn’t matter, because they can’t get a table.

My weekend trip to Pastis was done the right way… with a 3-week in advance reservation… at 6:30 on a Saturday night. We arrived and were seated in the busy main dining room immediately… a good sign. The room was washed in faded yellow and adorned with giant mirrors featuring the menu, hand painted on the fronts. Hmmm. Feels French.

The menu at Pastis is refreshingly authentic, down to the Pernod and Mint cocktail. Yes, there are steak frites (I am guessing half of the restaurant was eating beef), but just as appealing were the simple pastas, seared tuna and braised beef. With the bubbly onion soup and stinky tomato and goat cheese tart… well, it really felt like a Parisian bistro. We even had a French waitress who tried to yell the daily specials over the roar of the packed dining room. Hmmmm. Sounds French.

With thick steaks, delicious fries and gravy boats full of béarnaise sauce piled high, my dinner (the only stray) arrived. A thin sliced pork Milanese… pounded thin and fried, with spinach and mushroom salad on the side. Hmmmm. Tastes French.

My only hiccup was the service. While the waitress seemed to have her act together, busboys hovered uncomfortably over the table all night…. as they were waiting to scoop up the plates, change the tablecloth and welcome the next table. As a general rule, each time one of these guys make a motion to pick up my plate before I am finished, I tack on an automatic 10 minutes (per attempt). You can guess how popular I have become at some restaurants.

The bottom line: Not so French.

Pastis is a great spot for solid bistro food. Unfortunately the “scene” that has developed around the space now dominates the dining experience… so don’t expect any life-changing stuff here. I believe other neighborhood spots in the city (Nice Matin on the Upper West Side) have equally good food without the Trendy McTrenderson’s.

Pack up and head north…. Why travel into the deep when you can get average food and decent service at Café Luxembourg?


PASTIS
9 Ninth Avenue, (at Little West 12th Street)
New York City, NY 10014-1203

Las Vegas: America's Culinary Playground

For a real foodie, it's an edible Disneyland

Without question, no other city in America has undergone a culinary transformation like Las Vegas.

Remember the days of .25 shrimp cocktails and $1.99 steak and eggs?

Gone.

Truth be told, Las Vegas had a major problem some 10 years ago… how to compete with every Tom, Dick and Indian Reservation that offered localized gambling. It was a real problem, and the fate of sin city was in question. It could turn into a discount den… or step up to the plate and further its reputation as a worldwide destination…. and that it did.

Today, Las Vegas is a true entertainment destination for everyone (gulp, even families)… and gambling is only an attraction instead of the main show. Today’s Vegas has it all…. sprawling hotels with amazing water-park like pools, top notch Broadway entertainment, theme park areas with thrill rides, A-list music concerts…. and food. Oh my, the food.

Vegas is simply a playground for the world’s top chefs. From the Emeril’s, to the Palmer’s, to the Flay’s and Puck’s… Las Vegas may be the most exciting culinary destination in the world. Really.

Not to say that New York, Paris, London, Los Angeles, etc… don’t have amazing spots. It’s just that all of these spots are crammed into a 2.2 mile stretch of land called the Strip. Each hotel which used to have a “signature” restaurant, now has 5… and counting. You can literally have any experience you want here, and rest assured it will be fantastic.

Because it has to be. It’s Vegas.

This week I have been reintroduced to the culinary scene here, and will be reporting back about a few terrific spots… some old, and a few new, including the hip Mirage eatery “Stack”. Look for a blog in the next few days about it.

Lunching at Spago today was a joy. Yes, it’s Spago, and sure, it is a Vegas staple… but good is good. The “Rich and Famous” pizza… thinly sliced salmon and caviar layered over crème fraiche on thin, crispy dough. Homemade, hand cut pastas, freshly roasted meats…. and a Weiner schnitzel topped with capers served with tangy roasted German-style potatoes. Damn.

Puck and his team of talented chefs have figured out something that many places miss. They cook food people want to eat. Sounds silly, but the pretentiousness of the Puck empire was lost years ago, when they figured out that no matter how high brow they wanted to be, they needed to make your mouth water when you looked at the menu. This means that even a simple palate could fall in love with meatloaf wrapped in prosciutto, go home and tell 10 people. It is a genius approach, and one that Wolfie has taken to the bank. Well done.

Simplicity isn’t lost on me… as much as I like to adventure while dining out (yes, I’ve ordered a lobster corn dog or two in my day), I enjoy getting back to the basics. The Spago menu accomplished just that, in more ways than one… so make a reservation, and see for yourself…. and oh yea, you just may see a celeb or two while you are there.

So, what else do I recommend? Here are my favorite Las Vegas dining spots, in no particular order…..

Delmonico
In my opinion, one of the best steaks Vegas has to offer. Get the chocolate soufflé.

Commander’s Palace
The sister restaurant to the legend in New Orleans, they just do everything right.

Tao
The food is solid. The setting is out of this world.

Aureole
The vertical wine celler is reason enough, but Palmer backs it up with amazing dishes.

L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon
Maybe the best French in Vegas…

Le Cirque
Has never lost a step since the day they opened at the Bellagio… worth the money.

In and Out Burger
Sure, you can have a kobe beef burger at 5 different places, but where can you get a double-double animal style?

Stay tuned… there is more Las Vegas on the way……

Gumbo: Tasting Your Family Tree

Generation to Generation, The Family Recipe Is Our Spice of Life



Daily life in South Louisiana is full of intangibles. Politics, gossip, football, sorted affairs... eavesdropping at a local coffee house has become a local pastime... well, a way of life. Yet among the juicy talk and sly winks that surely ensue, the ever changing scenery of the local landscape confirms one certainty... no two pots of Gumbo are the same.

Being a southern aristocrat has afforded me one rite of passage, a jewel I hold dearly. My momma's gumbo recipe.

As with all family recipes, each generation learns from the last, adds this or that, and calls it their own. My gumbo recipe is the same. Watching my Grandfather (or my Papa) cook his gumbo was always interesting. He was big into fowl, duck and oysters... and loved a dark, rich roux that would turn the gravy very dark. This wasn't a gumbo you'd eat a gallon of.... but a delicate mixture you might enjoy before a main course. He was a terrific cook and I only wish I would have paid more attention.

My own mom mastered her recipe early on, and our household was raised on a diet of shrimp and okra gumbo. Sure, she would make different varieties with chicken, turkey and/or sausage.... but the tried and true was always shrimp and okra, mainly because of a dear woman around the corner (Mrs. Johnson) who would park her old white pickup truck and sell the most amazing shrimp out of her own coolers... shrimp her husband had pulled out of the gulf the night before. Mrs. Johnson recently passed away, and it was a day we reflected on with mountains of wonderful memories.

I watched my momma in our kitchen for years before I took a stab at the family recipe. I started getting serious about it in college, while living away from Louisiana. My first apartment as a grown-up was in Kansas City, Kansas, with a roommate while studying at The University of Missouri at Kansas City Conservatory of Music. It was significant in many ways (as first apartments are) but it did spawn something I didn't realize until the day I moved in. I had my own kitchen.

Well, it didn't take long before I was at the cheapest place in town buying pots and pans... and planning dinner parties for a group of friends, themselves self-proclaimed foodies. Within days I was cooking like mad, and having dinner parties that were labeled in social circles as "must attend". My days were filled with school, rehearsals and a great job at the Fedora Café on the Plaza as a pasta chef. At night, I practiced on my own.

Gumbo can come in many forms. The 2 that seem to be most common are roux based... and okra based. Roux is a mixture of flour and oil, slowly cooked in a skillet or pot, until a desired color is reached. Rouxs are used as soup, stew and gravy starters, because as you add water, milk or chicken stock, so the mixture thickens to a desired consistency. In Louisiana, we have a saying.... "first you make a roux".

It is a tricky skill, as over cooking your roux can and will ruin your dish. The wonderfully nutty texture turns burnt and bitter, and no matter what seasonings you add... it is a taste that you can't hide. I've included some tips below.

That said, I use a roux base.... AND add okra, which was used by the creoles as a thickening agent. Truth be told, there are a group of people who believe gumbo isn't gumbo without okra. I am one of them. For me, it's the flavor. Growing up, I wasn't a big okra fan... only in gumbo, where is was cooked to smithereens. Later in life, I fell in love with smothered okra (okra cooked down with onions and tomatoes).. and then realized that what I was eating was the backbone of flavor I had been using in my own gumbo for years.

So, breaking tradition, I pass along my own gumbo recipe to you. This is the version I make in my own home, and it is my all-time favorite. I hope you will adopt it as your own, and pass it down to your family members as well. It's exactly how I like it, so I call it....


Andre’s Gumbo Like I Like It

(Shrimp and Okra Version)

4- 5 Quarts Chicken Stock
4 pounds frozen okra
1 lrg can of diced tomatoes
1 regular can of diced tomatoes
2 large white onions, diced fine
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/⁄2 teaspoon chopped garlic, fine
1⁄/2 teaspoon salt
1/⁄2 teaspoon black pepper
3/⁄4 cup all purpose flour
3⁄/4 cup vegetable oil
3 tablespoon of lea and perrin’s
2 tablespoons crystal hot sauce (or frank’s)
1 1⁄/2 tablespoons of creole seasoning (Emerils or Tony’s or your own)
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon basil
1 teaspoon oregano
1⁄/2 teaspoon thyme
2-3 tablespoons Kitchen Bouquet
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup chopped parsley, fine
4 pounds peeled medium shrimp
Chopped green onions

In a separate pot, heat 3 tbl vegetable oil, and sauté white onions. Add garlic, frozen okra and tomatoes, season with salt and pepper, and cook over medium low heat until tender (at least an hour, if not longer). Okra should be very tender and want to break up. In a large stockpot, heat oil (3/4 cup) and add flour to make roux. Stir constantly over medium heat, making sure not to burn. Bring to desired color… peanut butter color is recommended for best flavor. Once desired color is reached, whisk in chicken stock, 4 qts first and save the rest if needed (chicken base dissolved in water can also be used , but NOT bullion). Add seasonings (wet and dry) and kitchen bouquet for desired color (a rich, dark brown is perfect). Add okra mixture and bring to boil. Reduce to low simmer, and cook for 1 1/⁄2 hours. Last half hour, add shrimp and parsley and simmer and very low temp, not to overcook shrimp. Serve in bowls, topped with a scoop of cooked long grain rice and top with sprinkle of green onion.

Gumbo is best if cooked day before. Make sure to cool completely before storing in fridge.... if not, the mixture will bubble and MUST be thrown out, as the onions will certainly turn.

*** Tips on Making a Roux

More than anything else, it's the roux that gives gumbo its particular character. Making roux is something of an art. It may take some practice to get good results. If dark specks appear, or if you smell something burning, you'll need to throw out the roux and start over. Don't try to base your gumbo on a burnt roux!

That said, let's make a medium colored Cajun roux, peanut butter in color. A Cajun roux is just flour cooked in fat until it acquires a darker color and a rich, complex, somewhat smoky flavor with nut-like overtones. Some folks have claimed that one can make a roux in the oven or even in the microwave, omitting the fat, but the one true way is to cook the roux on the stove top in a deep, heavy skillet or Dutch oven. The catch is that it will take plenty of time to cook the roux at the proper temperature so that it doesn't burn, and that you will need to stir constantly, working pretty hard the whole time. Some use a large whisk or a large spatula to keep the roux moving, but I find that a large, long-handled wooden spoon works best for me.

The choice of fat does affect the taste of the gumbo. Lard and bacon fat are the traditional choices (sometimes blended together), but other animal fats, or even vegetable oil or shortening, may be used. I prefer using a good vegetable oil. The choice of fat may be influenced by the kind of gumbo you are going to make -- duck fat for a duck and sausage gumbo, for example. You may decide to use vegetable fats for a seafood-only gumbo, and animal fats for your other gumbos.

Regular bleached all-purpose flour is fine for a roux. The proportions of flour to fat vary depending on how thick you want the roux to be. Approximately two parts flour to one part fat works well for me. If I need about a cup of roux, I use a cup of flour and about half a cup of oil, perhaps increasing the quantity of fat by a tablespoon or two depending on the result I'm looking for that day.

Bar Americain: Disappointingly Good

Sometimes good just isn’t good enough.

Unfair, don’t you think? Only in New York can a fairly good restaurant get rocked for being just… good. That said, with so many great options within a four block radius at any given time, I doubt I’ll be back to Bar Americain.

You should know, I love celeb chef restaurants. I think that the pressure put on these guys to perform can make the experience and food even better that your run of the mill joint… so in essence, you can get even more for your hard earned buck. But to do that, you need to deliver. And good doesn’t cut it.

Unfortunately, Bobby Flay’s Bar Americain is a hit and miss experience…. and the misses outnumbered the hits. It makes up its mind early in the meal, to be just… good.

The spot is a sexy, expansive space tucked into a midtown locale. The room is rich in dark woods and iron, with a beautiful mirror the size of Delaware flanking the bar. It has all the buzz of a NY brasserie, including the snobby greeters, who snicker at those who spill into the space unannounced. Attitude at the door aside, I liked the feel and design… nice job.

At first glance of the single page of offerings, the menu is exciting and full of choices.

Hearing about the shellfish sampler, I dove in head first. It was a good choice, but somewhat uneven and overpriced. The crab and mango mixture was fantastic.. full of flavor and freshly made. The lobster and avocado mixture was average. The shrimp with tomatillo sauce was delicious, but the 2 lonely shrimp hanging off the glass were begging for friends… as was the glass of unused sauce that remained.

Still optimistic, we were delivered two apps that we were excited about. Again, one a hit, and one, a terrible miss.

The squash blossoms were elegant and well prepared. Filled and lightly fried, they were a small but just right portion. Pricey, but different and… well, good.

I ordered the shrimp and grits, and was thoroughly disappointed. First, at $14, I am expecting at least 2 tablespoons of grits. I was lucky for a teaspoon. Honest. On top of my teaspoon of grits (served on a small side plate) were my 5 small sautéed shrimp. I had been duped. Even I know that this dish cost $2 to prepare… so maybe they can scoop out a few spoonfuls of grits to stretch the failure to include larger or more shrimp? I’m not a portion maven, but cheap is cheap… even in Manhattan.

The main courses are tried and true Bar American staples… the Skate, topped with capers…. and the pork loin, with corn. They took 40 minutes to reach out table after we finished our apps. Ouch.

The skate had a fishy back taste, not a good sign when ordering fresh fish at a restaurant of this caliber. Remember, any fish… ANY fish you order should not have a fishy taste. That said, this dish was boxed and headed home (or to someone who needed to eat it more than us).

The pork loin was a tremendous cut, steak-like and amazingly tender. On the side was a sauce that clashed with the dish… a soy-molasses fusion that just didn’t work. The tablespoon of corn on the side was decidedly decoration and nothing that could actually satisfy an appetite. This dish had the opportunity to shine like none other… as this was the best cut of pork I have had since a trip to Seattle’s Dahlia Lounge more than a few years ago…. but again, it failed to cross the finish line. It was just, good. Nothing else.

So my two cents? Don’t try to pretend to be something your not.

If you are going to offer dishes with regional flair, you need to deliver. Keep it simple.

…and don’t strive to be good. In this town, it just won’t work.

On Andre’s scale of 1 -10 (10 being run out of your house and eat there today)…. I give Bar American a 5.

Right in the middle, of so-so and terrific. Just, well, good.

Bar Americain
Regional American Cuisine

152 W 52nd St, New York 10019
Btwn 6th & 7th Ave

$35 to $70 pp with drink, apps and dinner

Phone: 212-265-9700

Boudin: A One of A Kind Louisiana Taste

So, what the %$#* is boudin.

First, we learn to pronounce. Say – Boo-Dan. Or like a Cajun, Boo-Deh.

What is the craze? Why are the recipes passed from generation to generation. What the hell am I talking about?

Boudin is a Cajun sausage, made by hand in South Louisiana, mainly by the Cajuns. It is a mixture of pork, rice, liver and spices. It’s the combination, process and amount of each of these ingredients that separate good boudin and the legendary stuff.

If this sounds wacko, it kinda is. Imagine rice dressing if you will, inside a sausage casing. Most Cajuns eat boudin one of two ways…. They either squeeze it out of one end into their mouths (like toothpaste through a tube), or slice it open and eat it like dressing. Either way, once you have had the real stuff… you’ll never forget it. It’s Cajun crack.

I grew up eating boudin in Baton Rouge like any other kid would go to McDonalds. That’s one thing that a Louisiana upbringing allows… lunches of fried catfish, boiled shrimp and fresh boudin. Local dives in my hometown feature daily dishes that have remained in their place for 40 years… red beans and rice, gumbo, shrimp and oyster poboys and loads of fresh seafood.

But boudin is special. First, you don’t find a lot of boudin in restaurants in Louisiana. You are more likely to find an amazing link at a gas station. No, really… a gas station (next to the cracklins… but that’s a separate blog).

The true masters of boudin are men who run gas stations, convenience stores and tire shops. They hunt and fish and cook… and share their recipes with all who care to fish a link out of a crock pot. They wrap it in foil and send you on your way.

There are seafood markets that also make the stuff. Tony’s Seafood, the largest seafood house in the southern United States invented the Boudin Ball some 15 years ago in Baton Rouge… imaging a rice dressing ball, fried like a hushpuppy. Today, they sell nearly 3000 a day…. 8000 a day during football weekends when LSU and Southern are in town. They also make crawfish boudin as well as crab and shrimp boudin.

So, for several years, I made boudin a passion…. and during this time, I stumbled upon the holy grail of boudin… that made at Jerry Lee’s Kwik Stop in Greenwell Springs, Louisiana.

Jerry Lee’s is just what it sounds… a tiny convenience store on a creek about 10 miles outside of Baton Rouge. You can get beverages, pop tarts, batteries and toilet paper. You can also pick up some sunflower seeds and an oil filer. But in the back is a commercial kitchen that simply makes the best boudin in the world. Period.

I was told about it several years ago, and brushed it off. I had tasted excellent stuff, and was sure it was all that. Truth be told, I was fairly sure that Tony’s Seafood was that place. I was told about Jerry Lee’s so many times that I couldn’t take it anymore. I made the drive, bought 3 links and headed home.

But the boudin never made it. I ate it in the parking lot. It was that good. Then I drove my wife there. She bought 2 links, and ate them in the parking lot. I went back in and bought another link. I ate it in the parking lot. See where I am going here?

Why is it so good? Because Jerry Lee uses very little liver… and just the right amount of ground pork and rice. His seasonings are delicate, and just right. It has a unique flavor that I have never grown tired of… perfect. The main problem is that once you have had it, the other stuff is average. Oh yea, I hate liver.

So by now, you are thinking, where can I get the stuff? Well, if you are traveling to Louisiana and want to make a few runs, use the link on the right side to locate dozens of stops throughout Cajun country. The stops are great, and so are the links.

But thanks to the hoopla, you can get the nice folks at Jerry Lee’s to overnight you a few pounds. It is easy to reheat (microwave until hot, or steam, or heat in hot but not boiling water, or grill)…. and keeps in the fridge for several days. You can reach them here… they ship Monday-Thursday. Remember my words… Cajun crack.

Jerry Lee’s Kwik Stop
225-272-0739

I have also included my boudin recipe below, but unless you have made sausage before, you may want to get some help. It is a messy ordeal.

Happy eating, and don’t forget, I told you so.


Here is a simple recipe from our friend, Emeril… I have adapted to my taste.

Louisiana Boudin

2 1/2 pounds pork butt, cut into 1-inch cubes
1/2 pound pork liver, rinsed in cool water
2 quarts water
1 cup chopped onions
1/2 teaspoon minced garlic
1/2 cup chopped green bell peppers
1/2 cup chopped celery
4 1/4 teaspoons salt
2 1/2 teaspoons cayenne
1 1/2 teaspoons ground black pepper
1 cup finely chopped parsley
1 cup chopped green onions tops, (green part only)
6 cups cooked medium-grain rice
1 1/2-inch diameter, casings, about 4 feet in length

In a large sauce pan, combine the pork butt, pork liver, water, onions, garlic, bell peppers, celery, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne, and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Bring the liquid up to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Simmer for 1 1/12 hours, or until the pork and liver are tender. Remove from the heat and drain, reserving 1 1/2 cups of the broth. Using a meat grinder with a 1/4-inch die, grind the pork mixture. 1/2 cup of the parsley, and 1/2 cup of the green onions, together. Turn the mixture into a mixing bowl. Stir in the rice, remaining salt, cayenne, black pepper, parsley, and green onions. Add the broth, 1/2 cup at a time, and mix thoroughly. Either using a feeding tube or a funnel, stuff the sausage into the casings and make 3-inch links. Bring 1 gallon of salted water up to a boil. Poach the sausage for about 5 minutes, or until the sausage is firm to the touch and plump. Remove from the water and allow to cool.

Dash and Dine: Loving Restaurant Row

It wasn’t that bad a walk from 75 Rockefeller Plaza to the theatre district’s “Restaurant Row”. If you didn't know, I’m not the fastest walker, so I sometimes opt out of cross town hikes. But after work, good luck finding a cab in midtown Manhattan.

Truth is, walking is good. It was after all a cool, spring Thursday evening… and I, along with 50,000 other New Yorkers in my 3 block area were scurrying across the city to get somewhere. To meet a girlfriend, catch a movie, get in on an happy hour cocktail… or in my case, to meet some friends before an 8pm curtain of the hit Broadway play, “Three Days of Rain”.

I was familiar with restaurant row from my early trips to NYC. It was on this street I recorded Madonna, Gwyneth Paltow, Harrision Ford and scores of other celebs in a great recording studio, then called The Warehouse. Down the street I heard my dear friend Julie Nemitz (Madelung) perform her flawless cabaret show at the (in)famous “Don’t Tell Mamas” and had sipped vodka and sang along with the piano player at the Russian joint a few doors down. I love this street.

So when my friends suggested the Italian spot “Orso”, I was intrigued. I didn’t know it.



My wife Jami and I arrived at almost the exact time, which was a miracle considering the traffic at 6:30… she in a cab, André on foot. But low and behold at 6:30, there we were at the door walking in.

Orso is a great call for pre-theatre meals simply because of it’s proximity to the theatres themselves. While some of the other extremely touristy spots on this street cater to nothing but visitors, Orso was loaded with locals from the neighborhood as well as Broadway cast members dining with parents and friends (the lead from Hairspray dined at the table next to ours with her folks).

Let me say that Orso is not a spot uttered with the names of the restaurant elite in New York. It’s not that place. This is your neighborhood, solid, delicious, I’ve got theater tickets kinda place. That said, there is a lot I like about Orso.

First off, any place that doesn’t have bread plates is A-OK in my book. As all who travel to Italy know, the bread belongs on the table… creating a crumb pile on the tablecloth.

The menu at Orso is printed daily, and changes often. The left side of the menu is printed in Italian, the right deciphered in English. There are no daily specials as the menu serves as an ever-changing selection of goodies.

What the menu revealed was mainly four areas… a starter/salad area with 10 or so options (salad with apples, walnuts and goat cheese, thinly sliced veal with tuna sauce, buffalo milk mozzarella)…. a good selection of authentic pizzas (sausage, basil and tomato, prosciutto)…. a strong list of homemade pastas (linguini with clams, rigatoni with meat sauce, ravioli, wild mushroom risotto)… and a gathering of hearty entrees (pan seared sea scallops, roasted pork chops, grilled lamb loin, free-range chicken).

Again, let me say that Orso is no Babbo, Po, Lupa, Del Posto or Felidia. But what I can’t do is knock the place. The food is delicious in a homespun sort of way. The service was prompt, the wine and cocktails never fell empty and the food was just right. You could do a lot worse on restaurant row.

I can’t particularly recommend one dish over another here as the menu changes so often, but I can recommend Orso as a pre-theatre, no gamble eating choice. In by 6:30, out by 7:45 with drinks, salads, entrees and desserts is truly admirable these days… and to do it without feeling rushed is pure skill. If you find yourself on West 46th looking for a nice meal with good wine and good friends… finding a table at Orso is a great way to kick off your evening.

ORSO
322 West 46th Street (between Eighth and Ninth avenues),
New York City, NY 10036-3801
1-212-489-7212

Notes:
RESERVATIONS ARE SUGGESTED AT ALL TIMES. THEY ARE TAKEN UP TO 1 MONTH IN ADVANCE STARTING AT 11:00 A.M. DAILY. PLEASE NOTE THAT PRE-THEATER BOOKS VERY QUICKLY. THE MENU IS PRINTED TWICE DAILY AND IS THEREFORE SUBJECT TO CHANGE. ORSO ACCEPTS VISA AND MASTERCARD ONLY. WHILE THERE IS NO AFFILIATION, THERE ARE TWO PARKING LOTS LOCATED ACROSS THE STREET FROM ORSO RESTAURANT.

Andre's Tip: there is no bar here, so if you are looking for a drink only, check out B. Smith's next door. Reservations are essential if you are holding tickets to a show...

It's All About the Chicken

I’d like to interrupt our regular programming to talk about a topic that demands immediate attention.

Fried Chicken.

No, I’m serious. Being from the deep South, Fried Chicken is a serious topic. It is discussed in barber shops, grocery aisles and pot luck suppers. Recipes are guarded like loose diamonds. And oh yea, my momma’s is the best.

So… how did Fried Chicken reach cult status, and where is the BEST Fried Chicken in America? (and why am I capitalizing the words Fried Chicken?)

Some think it started in 1961 when Aunt Bea bounced out of the kitchen with a platter of Fried Chicken for Andy and Opie. Remember those dinners? Aunt Bea cooked chicken for about 12 guests but somehow Andy kept squeezing in one more bite. Barney got the leftovers.

The truth is southern pan Fried Chicken has been a staple of the old south, well, forever.

When I was growing up, we had some serious choices for fast Fried Chicken. Of course, the obligatory KFC and Churchs… but also the Atlanta-chain “Mrs. Winner’s” and the usually tasty “Popeyes” (which can really hit the spot if you are in need of a bowl of decent red beans and a side of dirty rice outside of Louisiana). Then there was the 20 unnamed spots (Joe Delpits Chicken Shack, Lee’s, etc). A big notch above that chicken was the finger-licking good stuff fried up at “Piccadilly”, a southern buffet restaurant that has become somewhat famous. And oh yea, you wouldn’t believe how good the chicken is at my neighborhood Albertson’s Grocery is…. (yes, I have waited in line for it).

But let’s stray from this variety of our favorite bird, and chat about Pan Fried Chicken.

What is so different? Well, this stuff takes forever to fry up. You can’t rush it. The chicken is usually hand cut, hand battered and hand spiced. Once the chicken is fried in a black cast iron skillet, the drippings are used to make a milk gravy…. destined for your mashed potatoes and biscuits. It is heavenly stuff… and culinary legends have been born on the backs of pan friend chickens.

What do you eat with Pan Fried Chicken? Collard greens, okra, crowder peas, green beans, white beans and rice, red beans, cream style corn, rice and gravy and hot buttermilk biscuits. Hungry?

So, where are the best places in the US to eat the stuff? I have a few helpful hints for you… and my favorites. Here we go.

Babe’s Chicken Dinner House, Roanoke, Texas
OK, so Roanoke, Texas ain’t a big place. But don’t consider it in Roanoke, because the truth is that it’s rock-skippin distance from Ft. Worth. This is crispy pan Fried Chicken in all it’s glory. The wait time here can drive you mad, but it’s worth the wait. They lose a point or two with me for cream gravy (made ahead of time I think) and good but not great biscuits… but the chicken is king here, and makes the stop well worth it. Next time you are in Dallas/Ft. Worth, make the effort. And think of me…..

The Hillbilly-Hideaway, Walnut Cove, North Carolina
Now we get serious. Anyone wandering through the NC countryside can smell this place 30 miles away… and I have to tell you, I love it. You get the full monty here… a heaping platter of chicken, a platter of country ham, and five or six side dishes of sides like smothered green beans, corn, cinnamon apples, cole slaw, pinto beans…and if you are lucky, cooked cabbage with bacon. Damn. Then, you get a basket of homemade ho-cake bread, a bowl of butter and honey and a stack of wet naps. Bring cash only and save room for pie.

And Andre’s All-Time Favorite

Stroud’s, Kansas City, Missouri
As a college student, I ate my share of junk. Well, as an adult, I still do. But one of my fondest memories of my 2 years in Kansas City was dinner at Strouds. This isn’t a restaurant as you know restaurants… it feels like Sunday dinner at your Grandma’s house. Checkered tablecloths, a lazy susan, lemonade, family-style bowls of green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy… and after a 40-minute wait… the best pan Fried Chicken you have ever, ever had. Sadly, they closed the 85th Street location a while back, but the one across town continues to pack them in. Next time in Kansas City, have lunch at Gates BBQ, and dinner at Strouds.

In New York…..

Charles' Southern Style Kitchen 2837 Eighth Ave at 152nd St.
Okra and mac and cheese make this one of the NY's best spots for chicken. Get there. Open late every night and features a buffet.

Maroon’s 244 W. 16th St., between Seventh and Eighth Aves.
Good if ya find yourself downtown baby. Fried Green Tomatoes to die for.

Or… do it yourself at home.

Andre’s Pan Fried Chicken

3 pounds chicken breasts and legs
1 egg
2/3 cup buttermilk
2 cups flour
Salt, to taste
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup lard or crisco
1 cup solid white vegetable shortening

Let chicken warm to room temperature. Wipe with a damp cloth. In a wide bowl, beat egg with buttermilk.

Place flour, salt and peppers in a brown paper bag. In a large skillet (preferably cast iron) heat lard and shortening. Dip each piece of chicken into the buttermilk-egg mixture and place in a brown paper bag. Close top of bag and shake until piece is well coated. Remove, and repeat for each piece.

When shortening is hot (375 degrees F on a deep-fat thermometer), ease chicken into pan and cook over high heat, turning so both sides cook evenly. Do not crowd more than a few pieces of chicken into pan at one time. When chicken is light gold on both sides, turn down heat to low and partially cover skillet. Cook 15 minutes, turning chicken once.

Remove chicken and drain on brown paper bags. Serve warm or cold. Serves 6 to 8, or André and his brother Allen.

Vive la France: An Afternoon in Nice

I love the French.

There, I've said it. In a generation of French haters, I'm not afraid to come out of the closet. Sure, they can be mean. And yes, they can be surly. Uh, OK.... they can be demeaning and rude. But if they weren't, they wouldn't be French.

I learned a long time ago that the French just don't hate Americans.... they hate everyone. Maybe hate is too strong a word. How about... "get annoyed" by everyone.

With a beautiful country, amazing wine and fantastic food, gobs of tourists invade France on a regular basis. The Italians, Germans, Dutch, Spaniards and Danes... and don't forget the Japanese, Thai, Swiss, Canadians, Polish and Greeks. Throw in a heaping helping of non-French speaking Americans... and you get a stuffy scene.

That said, you've got to go to France.

I've been in and out of France nearly 20 times in the past 10 years... and have come to love French living. I opt out of the larger, fancy hotels and look for the quiet, boutique spots (like Caron de Beaumarchais in Paris). I've had the big, fancy expensive dinners but have come to love what I call "eating off the street". This would be ham and cheese baguettes, loaves of hot bread, gallons of coffee (café creme), light salads and plate sized bistro pizzas. I love the café and bistro life in France, and have learned that the majority of French citizens happen to agree with me.

Last week I ended my quick in and out to Europe in Nice... in the heart of the cote d'Azur. It is an amazing gem of a spot... nestled in between the overrated Cannes and the spectacular Monte Carlo. Nice is a great mixture of French heritage... flower markets, Palaces, a charming old town, a hip nightlife and a simply beautiful coastline. It is an excellent place to experience the true "French" way of life.

I was shocked to find fairly reasonable prices everywhere I went... much cheaper than those in the UK. Celebrating their Provence locale in the heart of the Riviera, you find amazing wine, olive oil, salts and spices that are worth the trip alone. But what makes Nice special are the people.

This is a place that loves NOT being Paris. Unlike the Parisian's who love to remind you how great they are as well as their fair city, the people of Nice celebrate life on their own schedule. They embrace those who come to spend their money, and love to share their knowledge of the good life. They sip coffee in sunny cafés and walk arm and arm through markets. Like the Italians, they shop for market items daily and plan on having company every night.

Few places celebrate their natural resources like Nice... a lesson the rest of the world could learn from. If you are planning a trip to Europe, plan a trip to the cote d'Azur... you'll learn to appreciate the European way of life on a whole new way.

GETTING THERE:
Air France, BA, Air Inter and many international airlines serve the Nice-Côte d'Azur airport. Rail connections from Paris via TGV, or by car on the Autoroute du Soleil, A6 - A8. Try NOT to book a tour with a car, you won't need it.

CLIMATE:
Suberb. Temperate winters are what started the Riviera craze in the 1830's; dry, hot summers; spring and fall usually perfect traveling weather. Enough rain to keep all that greenery in bloom, usually in November and February, but it rarely lasts long.

FOOD & WINE:
This is the land of the Mediterranean diet, in its best French-Provençal-Niçoise form. Fresh seafood, tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, artichokes, olives and olive oil, garlic and onions, orchard fruits, thyme, rosemary, sage, basil. Bouillabaisse has its local variations all along the coast. Nice specialties include ravioli and gnocchi; salade niçoise with tomatoes, tuna and anchovies; pissaladiera, an onion-and-anchovy pizza. Pan Bagnat is a breadroll filled with everything in the garden, drizzled with olive oil. Aïoli is garlic mayonnaise, often served with fish soup. Pistou is a version of pesto, a paste of basil, garlic and olive oil, sometimes with parmesan or pine nuts incorporated. Tapenade is a paste of black olives, anchovies, capers and oil. And of course, the lemons of Menton. Wines are fresh and fruity Côtes de Provence, Bandol, Cassis, the rare Bellet from near Nice, and local wines from the regions of La Gaude, St-Jeannet and Menton.

SHOPPING:
Provençal specialties-perfumes, honey, herbs, lavender, olive wood bowls and artifacts-are available in shops throughout the region. Biot and Vallauris are renowned for pottery and glass. Tourrettes-sur-Loup has more than a dozen real, working artisans-weavers, gold- and silversmiths, jewelers, leather craftsmen, potters-who sell their wares from their workshops.
The food markets are irresistible: Forville in Cannes, the Cours Saleya in old Nice, the Cours Masséna in old Antibes, the old town in Vence, the Halles and the Place aux Herbes in Menton. All of these have vendors of locally pressed virgin olive oil, too. Flea markets on Saturdays in Antibes, Sunday mornings in Villefranche-sur-Mer. Grasse, of course, has perfume. Carved wooden santons, traditional figures for Christmas. (Travel specific facts provided by http://town.hall.org).

London: Ghosts of A Glorious Past

I have had the good fortune of traveling the world with my work. From Bangkok to Budapest, Denmark to Rio… I have stepped foot into some 30 + countries… and honestly, I think I’ve learned something from each and every one of them.

This week there was business to be done overseas in short fashion as I made a mad dash through Europe… starting in London. Aboard the swift EuroStar train, we completed a charter trip that landed us in Cannes, France in just 8 hours. The train averaged about 185 miles an hour. On a train, that’s moving.

I’ll expound on France in a few days, but I thought I’d take a moment to salute my friends in jolly old England. This is a spot for me to air my comments on food, travel and lifestyle and London is a city near and dear to my heart, and for mainly one reason.

Tradition.

For me, much of that tradition starts with the pub. Before we dig deeper regarding the jolly pub, let me qualify a few things I’ll say about the United Kingdom.

From a travel and luxury standpoint, England doesn’t exactly jump out of the travel books at you. It’s not known for spas (although there are many), extraordinary cuisine (although they boast some of the world’s greatest chefs), extreme sports (ok, the line a Harrods can get hairy at times) or sandy white beach resorts with buff tan bodies (no comeback for that one). On the flip side, the sights are plentiful… and these are places you have been staring at in history books since 3rd grade. But why does a trip to England stick with you?

The glory of the United Kingdom is tradition. You feel it, smell it, touch it. Having only a few hours off to make a foot trip across my favorite part of town, I rediscovered London again…. for the 8th time.

My “hood” is and always will be Mayfair. Mayfair is situated south of Hyde Park, and walking distance from Picadilly Circus and Soho. It is a well to-do area with some of the world’s finest shopping, boutique hotels and art galleries. It has an abundance of public squares (Berkely Square, Grovsnor, etc) and winding streets that lead to nowhere. I love this area because I love to walk to where I’m going and hate to walk back. The trip back from Soho is just far enough to justify a ride in a black taxi ( plenty far enough at 2-3 miles).

So, let’s chat about the Pub.

First, a proper British Pub is a very different place than your local bar and grill, no matter how English they try to be. Even the Brit Pubs in NYC and Boston don’t have the feeling of an authentic pub found in London. What they lack is the heart and soul of the mere existence of such a place… a value that must be earned over time. Say, several hundred years.

The proper English pub is one built of dark woods, antique carpets or shiny wooden floors, and a long bar with many taps. It is adorned with brass and copper appointments. There is an old crusty guy with a wrinkled face along side a younger, decidedly unattractive girl who has received more than her share of marriage proposals. In the air wafts the unmistakable smell of fish and chips and bangers and mash… along side of a stale beer smell that has lingered since the late 50’s. There are stairs leading to a bathroom, either up or down. The music selection is a bizarre mix of Tom Jones and Supertramp which doesn’t really matter if there is an English Football (soccer) match on the television… we’ll soon all be singing athletic songs as the evening progresses. People are smoking cigarettes like each one may be their last.

Rules abound at a proper pub. First, many pubs don’t allow sitting at the bar, as it makes the task of stepping up to difficult when the time comes to request your pint. You’ll also notice that there is a gift to pouring a beer, and if it isn’t just right, the Londoners will let the barkeep know about it. My favorite quirk?… there is an unspoken acknowledgement that you will be having another pint, no matter how many you’ve had…. therefore you never have to ask for another, you just need to know how to say stop. Depending how many pints you’ve had, this can prove to be harder than it may seem.

The Duke of Albemarle, The Audley, The Stelly… three of seemingly three thousand pubs in and around London. What makes them so amazing?

Tradition.

Imagine the feeling of knowing the very bar you share your workday stories at, is the same bar your Grandfather discussed proposing to your Grandmother with his chums… likely drinking the same beer.

At Brown’s, a remarkable hotel situated in the heart of Mayfair, I sipped the driest gin martini known to mankind while enjoying a Cuban cigar in their small and distinguished bar, located right off the main salon where they serve high tea daily. A bowl of cashews accompanied the cocktail as a man approached me in a crisp black jacket.

“Churchill loved this bar”, remarked the elderly bartender, the son of the previous barkeep for some 45 years in the same room. I gazed at him in amazement. “He loved taking meetings here so he could come down here afterwards and hide”, he said with a wry smile.

I later learned that Brown’s has been welcoming Heads of State and Royalty to Mayfair for well over 150 years. Imagine the conversations that had happened in this room. At my table. With this martini.

Tradition.

The Complete Kitchen

Becoming a scratch cook doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time to learn what you need and don’t need to make magic happen in the kitchen… and some trial and error at that. But the truth is having a simple list of items at your disposal at all times can make a serious difference in what and when you can whip up something special.

Now kitchens vary by taste, but the list provided below is the essential items of the Southern Kitchen. I happen to think this list transforms all areas and tastes… as I use the same basic starting point for most of my cooking…. but one thing is for sure. You can’t go wrong with this stuff in your pantry and fridge.

1. Chicken Stock and/or good quality Chicken Base
I don’t know if I can stress how important this is, as many of my dishes call for stock. Hell, even if they don’t I can pretty much betcha that I’ll be adding a splash to a savory dish I am cooking. But realize the finishing of a sauce, braising of a meat, beginning of a soup, adjusting of a gumbo or ettoufee… even smothering a pot of green beans.. calls for a good stock. Base can be easy to keep around as well (without taking up the space) if you don’t mind mixing with hot water… just make sure you avoid the brands that list salt as a main ingredient.

2. Bacon
What can I say? Flavor is flavor, and pork fat is king. Emeril didn’t make all of that cash cooking veggie lasagna. As you read down the list, you’ll see where I am going with this, but in my world most savory dishes start with fresh vegetables sautéed in bacon grease. It flavors my veggie dishes, I wrap whole chickens with it and when all else is lost, crank out a killer BLT.

3. Onions, Bell Peppers and Celery
The holy trinity. The base of most all soups, stew and casseroles below the Mason-Dixon Line and for good reason. I didn’t include garlic in this group but can tell you that I have a bag of fresh garlic in my fridge almost always as well. Throw carrots into this group and you can broaden your possibilities even more.

4. Kosher Salt/Pepper Mill
Truly important as most cooks don’t realize that cooking is a layering of flavor. We many times forget to season our chickens, hamburgers, onions and peppers, etc… kosher and/or sea salt is essential as well as a pepper mill, which can really make a difference. Refined pepper may be fine for a heaping bowl of cole slaw or seasoning a platter of catfish getting ready to be rolled in mustard and fried… but everything else deserves a twist of a good pepper mill.

5. Rice and Pasta
Well, I am guessing these are two items you may have… and rightfully so. The Chinese and Italian cultures can make a meal from these two dishes in less than 60 seconds. In the deep south, we usually put on a pot of rice… and then figure out what’s for dinner. Pasta with fresh herbs, a bit of chicken stock and a splash of cream can win you accolades for it’s decadent simplicity (add an egg and really show em! ). Don’t forget… yesterday’s pot of rice is today’s Fried Rice (or rice pudding).

6. Heavy Cream or Half and Half
A rule for me. As stated above quick pasta dishes can be sinful with just a bit of heavy whipping cream.. as well as transforming that leftover spaghetti sauce into a pink sauce tossed with rigatoni.

7. Parsley
A true secret… but almost every dish I whip up needs some sort of fresh herb for an taste of authenticity… and parsley is the call for me. OK, I also love the stuff. Try on a salad, in a soup or stew, as a garnish sprinkle… well you get it. It will make your dishes feel alive.

8. House Spice
Last but not least is something you must must have, and that is a mixtureof spices I call house spice. This is the stuff our chef friends scream “BAM” when they use it…. Remember earlier when I mentioned seasoning each layer of your dishes while you assemble them to cook? Well, here is your calling card. In my kitchen I keep a ceramic jar with a lid on it… inside is my own house spice blend of salt, pepper, cayenne, garlic power, onion powder, paprika, thyme, basil and oregano. I season just about everything everyday with this stuff. It gives my dishes a unique taste that I have used now in 2 restaurants. It is a trick most folks never get… so it is my gift to you!

The recipe below has really become a family favorite, and I find myself making it every summer at our family reunion in Michigan.... great on a warm summer night with something grilled along side. You can also serve in a carved out tomato or with a sandwich.....Get your house spice ready!

White Bean and Corn Relish


2 pound white beans, soaked overnight and rinsed
4 bay leaf
4 cups freshly shucked corn (or canned shoepeg works great)
4 tablespoons chopped shallots
Olive oil for cooking
2 cups small diced cucumber
8 tablespoons small diced red bell pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
4 tablespoon champagne vinegar
8 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper
Creole spice(your house blend!)

In a small sauce pan cook the beans until tender: drain and rinse. Cooking time depends on how old the beans are. In a small saute pan cook the corn and the shallots in hot oil until tender, about 3 minutes. Season with creole spice. Set aside to cool. In a small bowl combine the cooled beans, cooled corn and shallots, cucumbers, peppers, thyme, vinegar and oil. Season highly with house or Creole spice.
Yield: 12 cups

A Dish Worth The Trip : OTTO

It’s no secret that I am fan of the Mario Batali empire, and just north of Washington Square in the heart of the NYU neighborhood is one of his most interesting and glorious creations, Otto.

Many people pronounce it “Ah-Toe”.. but think Oh-Toe as in the number 8, in Italian.

The restaurant is in many ways a simplified version of Babbo and Lupa… and is given free reign to experiment in ways the other two may get slapped for. But time and again Otto seems to work… as confirmed by my visit last weekend when I encountered a 25 minute wait at 11:00pm. Nice.

The interior of Otto is just about as fun as a restaurant can get in this part of town. The bar scene is just that, a scene… with an working European Train Marquis, that by flipping it’s black letters announcing that your table is ready (we were on the train to Parma).

So, let’s cut to the chase. As good as the dishes are here… the pizza is suberb and the pastas can be as well (if you are into very al dente cooking with a lean to sometimes gamey pork cheeks), but the stars of Otto are wine and cheese.

The wine list is really spectacular as Mario and partners have gathered a darn near completely Italian wine list that would make even the most uptight wine snob smile. Want to take wine classes?... You can. But the cheese. The cheese.

First, cheese in and of itself is magic. But when you compliment the cheese with say, condiments? Well… you get a reason to make a reservation at Otto.

The cheese platter comes with your choice of how many (3, 5, 9) from a list that features everything from Parmesano Reggiano to Manchego. But… oh yea, the condiments.

Well, when the busboy whisks by your table and drops three empty plates down, you get curious. Then they arrive. A bowl of sweet, gooey honey infused with black truffles, a jar of black cherries in their own compote and a jar of stewed apricots in a thick marmalade.

Enough said. Ya take the cheese, ya dip it in, ya go speechless. Paired with just the right wine, and you start to think differently about dinner. Hmmm, maybe we'll share a pizza... share a pasta. Maybe we'll order more cheese.

Each great restaurant has their signature dish.

At Otto, this is it. I'll see ya there.