NYC restaurant round-up

In addition to the sightseeing (the Guggenheim), the theater (Spring Awakening), and shopping (ABC Home, Fish’s Eddy, The Strand, countless shops in the West Village), food was a major highlight of this long weekend in New York City. Not pictured is a fantastic pizza at John’s on Bleeker.

Katz’s Deli outside


Katz's Deli inside


pastrami on rye

pickle platter (sours, half sours, and green tomatoes; the half sours were a revelation)

The Red Cat for dinner on Friday night (be prepared for a dose of Johnny Cash when you click on the link)

starter: pumpkin and cornbread panzanella with parmesan, arugula and pomegranate vinaigrette (Nothing about this incredibly flavorful salad resembled panzanella—here, the bread was but a garnish. To me, panzanella is one of those rewards of leftovers and high-quality ingredients from the garden—stale bread and ripe, juicy tomatoes. Each ingredient in the pumpkin-cornbread version was outstanding, the pomegranates especially were surprising. I just wish the kitchen would call it something else.)


main: grilled double cut pork chop with wilted romaine, dates, feta, gigantes and pumpkin seed pesto (somewhere in this tangle of perfectly grilled pork chop, warm greens, and creamy beans was one lonely date—would have loved at least one more)


side: light tempura of green beans with sweet hot mustard (I'm serving these at book group in January)

wine note: Benegas 2005 malbec

Raoul’s in Soho for dinner—still one of my favorite NYC restaurants. I love everything from the menu written in French to the occasional indifferent French waitstaff (our server looked down his snooty nose and asked me if I wanted gin in my Negroni. As opposed to what? Apparently some New Yorkers order Negronis with vodka. I'd like to see our server's withering glance at that.)


starter: pate maison with baby spinach, walnuts, and olives


main: cassoulet with confit duck, garlic saucisson, lamb, and tarbais beans (I thought I'd died and gone to wherever you go)


dessert: warm chocolate cake with hazelnut ice cream and salted caramel, profiterole with ice cream and chocolate sauce, and a plate of little cookies (the profiteroles were classicly elegant; the salted caramel with the molten chocolate cake was perfection)

Brunch at Prune
I was glad to finally have an opportunity to eat at Gabrielle Hamilton's jewel box of a restaurant. Since the restaurant doesn't take reservations for brunch, we stood in the line that had formed before the doors even opened so that we might get one of the first tables. We didn't make the cut, but only had to wait—with a New York Times—for about 45 minutes. And, the wait was well worth it.


starter: merveilles (Our server compared them to beignets so I was expecting something pillowy soft. These merveilles were fried dough, but that's where the comparison ends. They were crisp, not too sweet, and utterly delicious.)

main: soft-scrambled eggs, smoked bacon, potatoes rosti, and English muffins (Looks like something I could make at home, but tastes so much better. The rosti consisted of dainty potato shreds, cooked until crisp on the outside, tender and ethereal on the inside.)


side, shared with table: housemade lamb sausage

Tasty Combo Platter

My friend Tracy sent me a link today, one with which I was previously unfamiliar—Homer's Food Blog. Homer is the drummer in the Dap Kings, Sharon Jones’s awesome backing band, and he’s blogging about the food he’s eating while on tour.

I like Homer's friendly writing style—he's utterly unpretentious, which is pretty refreshing. And, I love the blog's banner photo of Homer surveying the rooftops of Paris. Since Jones seems to be on tour almost every day of the year, Homer should have plenty of material for some time to come, and I look forward to it.

Hambone and I are going to see Homer (and Sharon Jones—110 pounds of soul excitement) tomorrow night at First Ave. Can't wait.

long weekend

In a few hours, I'm leaving, with some girlfriends, for New York City—shopping, eating, sightseeing, gabbing.

Here are a few tidbits until I return:

Dara Moskowitz revisits Mission American Kitchen where acclaimed local chef Doug Flicker has finally rolled out his own menus.

The New York Times has a great, timely piece on heritage turkeys and an article on Michael Hebberoy, whom I've been following since he and his ex-wife were getting buzz for throwing underground dinner parties in their Portland, OR, home.

Hambone and Spice friend Tim Teichgraber offers a "hot tip for a good sip" in the Star Tribune: Sicily's climate has long produced great grapes; now winemakers are turning out great wines to prove it.

No Cal 07: the rest

Food was one of the driving forces for choosing Northern California as the destination for my milestone-birthday vacation. Chez Panisse and The French Laundry, whose reputations are deserved, offered incredible multi-course meals we’ll not soon forget. Equally memorable, though, were other restaurants and eateries where we took meals.

On our way up to Napa, we stopped at the Ferry Building Marketplace to get picnic fixings. Hambone wanted to get some dry sausage at Mastrelli’s Delicatessen, but when we saw the sandwich board, we could not resist ordering a few to go. At Mastrelli’s, whether you’re ordering a sandwich from the menu or selecting your own fillings, you first choose your own bread—using tongs to lift the large buns out of the acrylic bin, which lets you look before you leap. I opted for the North Beach sandwich with layers of salty prosciutto, provolone, and sweet roasted red peppers, while Hambone’s sandwich packed in fresh mozz, pesto, and roasted red peppers.

We both have a weakness for Italian deli sandwiches, and these did not disappoint.

Hambone and I also stood in line for at least a half hour to order burgers at Taylor’s Refresher, a St. Helena institution and an inspired place to fill your belly between vineyard tastings. Now owned by the Gott brothers, this walk-up drive-in has an extensive burger-fry-shake menu, but also offers chicken sandwiches, a rare-seared ahi burger, and a monster Cobb salad, to name a few non-beef items. The burgers were solidly good and the sweet potato fries were stupendous. Really, I'm still thinking about the sweet potato fries.


Besides, milkshakes and sodas, the beverage menu offers beer and wine, including the 2004 Karl Lawrence cab half-bottle that we paid twice as much for the night before at the French Laundry. Price aside, I'm amused by this fact: in Napa can you find the same bottle of wine at a roadside burger joint as at the very finest restaurant.


Rounding out our meals, we ditched our reservations at Zuni Café and Piperade (yes, I double-booked) to eat sushi at an incredibly hip Japanese restaurant that had a technobeat, Ozumo. We sat at the sushi bar and were served an amuse—a first for us at a sushi bar—of tuna “salad” on cucumber wafers. To start, we ordered hanabi (slices of hamachi and avocado with a warm ginger-jalapeno ponzu sauce). We ate the following nigiri—maguro, mushi ebi (tiger prawn), hamachi (as always), sake, kampachi (amber jack, this is the same fish I had at The French Laundry where it was called kahala), and kaki (kumamoto oyster). We had rolls—yokozuna (grilled unagi, crab, tobiko, avocado and asparagus), spicy scallop (scallop, kaiware, cucumber). All the fish was wonderfully fresh and the slick ambience was quite a change of pace from upscale-rural Napa.

French Laundry

After celebrating Hambone’s 40th birthday, by lying on a beach in Costa Rica eighteen months ago, I started give serious thought to how I might like to spend my 40th. Lots of destinations came to mind, but each seemed rather extravagant. At some point, Hambone suggested visiting Northern California and eating at the French Laundry. Didn’t take much to convince me that dining at one of the country’s best restaurants would be a fitting celebration for a milestone birthday.

In August I began the process of securing a reservation, which you can read about here.

Fast forward to October 5. Hambone and I drove up to Napa Valley from San Francisco in our rental Sebring convertible, stopping occasionally to follow a whim. Eventually we found our hotel in Calistoga and had a little time to walk around town, read/nap, and dress for dinner. Then, we made our way back to Yountville for our 5:30 dinner reservation at the French Laundry.


Housed in a stand-alone building with a beautiful courtyard garden, the restaurant has two dining rooms. We were the first diners to arrive and were seated immediately in the downstairs dining room, which had six or seven tables in the main area. The room, crowned by a heavy-beamed ceiling, was painfully quiet and empty—though we knew it wouldn’t be that way for long. That six-top in the middle of the room? It was soon occupied by a loud group of diners.

Our server walked us through the evening’s menu and explained the couple of courses that had options, thus choices to be made. We ordered a glass of champagne to accompany the treats coming from the kitchen: warm gougeres (pastry filled with gruyere “sauce”) and the salmon “ice cream cone” (a French Laundry trademark, it's a wafer rolled into a cone, which is then filled with crème fraiche and topped with salmon tartare). The salmon cone was amazing, but I could easily have eaten many more gougeres.

I wish I had a picture of each course because everything was plated and presented with the utmost care. Many plates were spectacularly artful.

We were also offered beautiful breads (multigrain batard, miniature baguettes and ciabatta, dense raisin and walnut). Two pots of handmade butter were placed on the table, one of which was salted, the other not. The unsalted butter was made by a family that only produces butter for the French Laundry. Can you imagine being that specialized?

At the end of the evening, Hambone and I had eaten one of the best and certainly most memorable restaurant meals ever, as well as the most expensive. Was it worth $240 a person? Possibly. It's really hard to put a price on an experience like this. We did get nine exquisite courses plus many extra goodies and impeccable service.

The wine list was daunting. We are used to seeing the same bottles all over town, but here in Napa, many on the list don't get distributed outside of California. Needless to say, but I will, I thought the mark-up was excessive. The list boasts a healthy selection of half bottles, which allowed us to have a white for the first fish portion of the meal, and a red for the meatier portion.

We wanted to drink locally as much as possible—not a difficult task—and were treated to some small producers we’re not likely to find at home: a Robert Hoff chardonnay from Carneros and a Karl Lawrence 2004 cabernet sauvignon ($70, yes for a half bottle). Both wines were pleasantly complex and well suited to our meal.

Even though Thomas Keller isn’t in the kitchen, his influence is undeniable. We’re going to keep an eye on Chef Cory Lee. Here are details from the nine-course meal:

“Oysters and Pearls”
“Sabayon” of Pearl Tapioca with Beau Soleil Oysters and White Sturgeon Caviar
A clever and “classic” Keller concoction. The oysters were trimmed so only the ball of the heart was served.

Salad of Hawaiian Hearts of Peach Palm*
Compressed Cucumbers, Perilla and Umeboshi “Coulis”
Hearts of palm (here, according to our server, from a "smaller, squatter" palm tree) were cut into small squares and cylinders. These somewhat architectural shapes were juxtaposed against a quenelle of hearts of palm that had been gently pureed. Compressed cucumbers were peeled into ribbons, which were then draped on the plate.

Sauteed Fillet of Pacific Kahala
Tokyo Turnips, Bartlett Pear, Watercress and Whole Grain Mustard Emulsion
Fish and turnips—a highly unusual, but very delicious combination. Kahala is a firm white "reef" fish, usually tossed back by fishermen.

Hambone opted for the “Tartare” of Atlantic Bluefin Tuna with Baby Romaine Lettuce, “Cornichons,” Eggs Mimosa, Crispy Potatoes, and Bottarga Vinaigrette, which was outstanding, especially the eggs mimosa.

Sweet Butter-Poached Maine Lobster “Mitts”
Cauliflower, Pomegranates, Toasted Almonds, Sunchoke “Puree” and Truffle-Lobster Sauce
Evidence that each course was becoming more complex and unique. The lobster was impeccably cooked and presented as three very tender medallions. The cauliflower was a scattering of teeny floret portions. The tangy pop of pomegranate and the salty crunch of almond was an unexpected combination and played nicely with the lobster. Seriously, is lobster ever not good?

Liberty Pekin Duck Breast “Confit a la Minute”
Brussels Sprouts, Cranberries and Chestnut Sauce
Best. Duck. Ever. Every single bite of duck breast was tender and richly gamy. Each Brussels sprout was deconstructed, the "leaves" sauted. The cranberries were tart and sweet, as they should be. And, the chestnut sauce was wonderfully earthy. All these incredible fall flavors made me remember the venison and chestnuts I ate, ten-plus years ago, at the Pan Am Building's Sky Club.

Elysian Fields Farm “Selle d’Agneau Rotie Entiere”**
Bluefoot Mushrooms, Golden Corn, Fennel Bulb and “Sauce au Piment d’Espelette”
I love lamb and this was very good. The mushrooms were meaty, the corn was impeccable, the baby fennel bulb slightly anisey—all touched briefly by the spicy, rustic sauce (again, transporting me, this time to the Basque Country of France, where these Espelette peppers are hung to dry on whitewashed buildings).

“Brin D’Amour”
Grilled Baby Artichokes, Tomato Jam and Arugula

Jacobsen’s Farm Apple Sorbet
Andante Dairy Cultured Cream and Ginger Foam
I so seldom see apple sorbet. Its sweetness was tempered by tangy cream and spicy foam, a nice play of textures.

Candied Cashew Nut Tart
Salted Cashew Ice Cream and Concord Grape Jam
The tart was very good, and I loved the salty-sweet ice cream, but I didn’t love the concord grape jam. In all, a clever take on pb&j.

Hambone had “Delice au Chocolat et a la Menthe” with Amedei Chuao Chocolate-Mint “Parfait” and Mint “Gastrique”. Something about this was crispy in a way to which I could easily be addicted. Pleasantly not too minty.

Mignardises
~miniature crème brulee and miniature raspberry trifle
~white china dish set on the table, lid removed to uncover macadamia nuts with toffee shell, dipped in chocolate and dusted with cocoa (one of the most amazing things I’ve ever put in my mouth)
~chocolate box with five types, each hand-dipped and some dusted with gold leaf
~container with three compartments: 1) mango gelees, 2) calissons, 3) one other delight I cannot remember
~shortbread cookies and Valrhona chocolate bars with shards of brittle, each packaged in cellophane to take away

*Moulard Duck “Foie Gras En Terrine” ($30.00 supplement)
**Grilled Sirloin of Japanese “Wagyu” ($100.00 supplement)

Wouldn't it be lovely to make this an annual event? Care to join us?

weekend report

From top to bottom:

tossed salad
red romaine lettuce with pear, blue cheese, toasted walnuts, and a champagne vinaigrette

butternut squash risotto with sage
This super-easy recipe from Everyday Food has you saute chunks of butternut squash in butter from the start, where you would typically saute onion or shallots. Stirring in the stock is a tad bit challenging with the squash jostling the rice for attention, but eventually the squash chunks reduce in size, thus contributing to risotto’s inevitable sauciness.

braised pheasant with polenta
My childhood was marked by the South Dakota pheasant opener (October 20 this year), which my parents approached with all the ceremony others reserve for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Pheasants define the fall so it only seems fitting to start clearing the freezer for more! While visiting my mother-in-law this past August, I found a copy of John Ash’s American Game Cooking among her wonderful cookbook collection. The pheasant recipes were especially appealing to me so she graciously allowed me to borrow the book. The rustic-Italian braised pheasant with polenta is adapted from a Lidia Bastianich recipe. I shredded the pheasant, which is the easiest method I’ve found for removing the lean meat from this tendon-laden bird. Hambone plated by piling the pheasant on a mound of creamy polenta. The pan sauce was strained and enriched with butter, then spooned over the plate, napping pan-sauted brussels sprouts along the way. Since food does not mix in the four separate chambers of our children’s stomachs, and since their alien race does not digest any sauce other than cheese sauce, Hambone did a “four squares” presentation for Alpha and Beta.

wine
Claudia Springs, a Mendocino County winery, makes one of our favorite pinot noirs. Their ’03 zinfandel was exceptional, and I look forward to replenishing our supply.

No Cal '07: Chez Panisse

It has long been a dream to eat at this seminal restaurant, and sharing a meal with my handsome husband on a special birthday was ideal. A lot has been written about Chez Panisse and its owner, Alice Waters, and there isn’t anything meaningful I can contribute to that body. However, I want to say that I think Waters is brilliant. I applaud her advocacy for organic, locally grown, and sustainable food and for supporting the family farmer. But I am most awe-struck with this singular fact—her restaurant has thrived and remained relevant for thirty-six years.

Here is an account of my birthday dinner: Finding the restaurant wasn’t easy. I’m not completely incompetent as a copilot, but I do have lousy night vision. The building is located on a bustling commercial street, and there is no obvious sign identifying the place. Even though I knew this, we still drove by restaurant a number of times before we parked and walked a few blocks.

We ate in the main-floor restaurant where a four-course prix fixe meal is served nightly (there is also an upstairs café featuring an a la carte menu). A confluence of elements—walls clad in dark-wood paneling, brass wall sconces and ceiling lamps with Arts-and-Crafts styling, hand-tinted woodcuts of fruits and vegetables, and intimate seating arrangements—all make for an elegant and comfortable dining room.

The kitchen sent out a bowl of olives with fresh thyme. For some reason, Chez Panisse olives taste better than almost any other olives I ever eaten. We nibbled on these and sipped champagne (Pierre Peters, the house pour), toasting the best birthday ever (so far). That evening’s menu was a farewell to summer and previewed the wonderful fall produce trickling into California markets:

slow-roasted king salmon with green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, and fennel This composed salad boasted exquisite, large flakes of salmon, adorned by perfectly sweet and tiny cherry tomatoes, tender-crisp baby fennel, cucumber ribbons, and slender green beans.

chanterelle mushroom soup No one loves mushrooms more than Hambone does. Yet we found this course a little lacking. For starters, the enormous, odd-shaped bowls in which the pureed mushroom soup was served were less than optimal. Then, the soup was missing something that may have been as simple as salt. We did like the meaty whole mushrooms around which the soup had been ladled and would happily have eaten more.

spit-roasted loin of Laughing Stock Farm pork with fig chutney, sweet corn, and fried onion rings I’m sure you know that identifying the source of Chez Panisse’s food was started and made practice by Jeremiah Towers. Now everyone does it, even food bloggers, many of whom label the provenance of their greenmarket finds. I love pork loin, especially when someone else is cooking it. The spit left a tiny hole, which was encrusted with rosemary, and the loin was moist and beautifully porky. On the side, lightly battered onion rings and a fresh fig chutney and sweet corn, which was my favorite item of the entire meal. I could have eaten four courses of the corn. This course neatly bridged the seasons. Since it's important to know where our food comes from, here's more on Laughing Stock Farm.

apple and quince galette with burnt honey ice cream The burnt-honey ice cream was moderately addictive. Once I figure out how to approximate the caramelized honey, I’ll be making this ice cream at home as often as I can. My dessert was presented with discreet fanfare—a candle and happy-birthday wishes from the kitchen.

wine: Joseph Swan Vineyards ’02, zinfandel We managed to stretch out a bottle through the entire meal. The wine can be characterized with big berry flavors and a mellow, long finish.

Following dessert and a pot of French-press coffee, a small plate arrived with more gifts from the kitchen: tangy candied orange peel and chocolates with pistachio cream centers, dusted with gold leaf. I'm still thinking about the orange peel and wondering how fussy it is to make as I wouldn't mind having a stash. In all, the meal was simply amazing.

We experienced local, seasonal, and fresh—and we were not disappointed.

back from Cali

Wow, what I wouldn’t give to be back on vacation. Hambone and Spice have been home now for five days, but our heads, hearts, and stomachs are still in Northern California. The week has been a blur of deadlines, faces, and other obligations. I’m just getting caught up on mail, email, phone calls, and blog reading, so soon the food highlights from a long, wonderful weekend will follow.

Until then, Dara Moskowitz recapitulates the ever-changing restaurant scene in St. Paul—and previews a new, top-secret restaurant in Minneapolis, featuring Steve Brown!

California here we come

T minus 50 hours until Hambone and Spice are seated at the French Laundry for a very special birthday meal. Spice couldn’t think of a more fitting celebration for a milestone birthday. She’s also thinking about flying without a net—no camera, no notebook—just five senses to imprint a memory.

The French Laundry isn’t the only exceptional restaurant we’ll visit while in the Bay Area. Tomorrow night we’re dining at the Chez Panisse restaurant. Either Zuni Cafe, which is on my 2007 food resolution list, or Piperade for Basque on Saturday night—we have reservations at both and will see what mood strikes us. And, for our final meal: dim sum at Yank Sing, which comes highly recommended by bloggers and the Chronicle.

Mignardise: [The posted menu] was irresistibly ambitious, full of things you never see, like local chèvre dusted with zahtar (a Middle Eastern spice blend based on sumac), house-made chorizo, and—be still my beating heart—a ragout of Wisconsin rabbit. Dara Moskowitz is wowed by the Napa Valley Grille in the MOA, where I have had my share of subpar meals during my job-with-an-expense-account days. Read her review, and tell me you’ve had a change of heart too. This gives me something to look forward to upon my return home.

october on my mind

For the record, October is my favorite month of the year. I love the crisp weather that allows me to wear lightweight sweaters. Lining Summit Avenue and River Road, trees ablaze in red, orange, and yellow offer a breathtaking sight. I can revel simultaneously in warm, sun-dappled afternoons or in cold rainy days. I love curling up on the chaise lounge in the screened porch or on the couch in the den, getting lost in a thick, narrative-rich novel.

But, my favorite part of fall is the change in the menu. By this point in the year, I cannot face another bratwurst. Meals that required little or no cooking hold no appeal. I’m hard-pressed to find yet another marinade or rub to enliven the chicken breasts, pork tenderloins, or flank steaks we like to throw on the grill. I long to turn on the oven, allowing complex aromas to waft out of the kitchen and the residual heat to warm our home’s core.

The first two weeks of fall are usually quite warm here, and I try to eek out another summery meal on the grill. We savor the last time we eat an ear of corn, a ripe red tomato, garden-fresh green beans or zucchini or pungent melons. When the squashes and local apples make an appearance we proclaim we’re not ready.

Then October arrives and we give ourselves over to that which we can no longer deny. It’s time to turn on the oven, spend Sundays tinkering in the kitchen, and linger over hearty meals. Hambone and I are anticipating many favorite meals and food items—chili, soups, osso buco, risotto (butternut squash, wild mushrooms), lasagna, polenta or pasta topped by thick sauces, goulash and beef stroganoff with luscious egg noodles, pheasant and other game, quick breads (banana, pumpkin), crisps (pear, apple), just to name a few. And, we’re looking forward to trying our hand at some new dishes—I’m looking at you cassoulet.

Braising and roasting and baking, oh my.

We toast the a new month with this chicken pot pie, which I love for its old-school flavors, including sherry in the cream sauce.

Chicken Pot Pie with Corn and Bacon
The Best Recipe (editors of Cooks Illustrated)

1 recipe pie dough or biscuit topping
1-1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 cups homemade chicken broth
6 strips bacon, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch strips
1 medium onion, chopped fine
3 medium carrots, peeled and cut crosswise 1/4-inch thick
2 small celery stalks, cut crosswise 1/4-inch thick
Salt and ground black pepper
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup flour
1-1/2 cups milk
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
3 tablespoons dry sherry
3/4 cup frozen corn kernels, thawed
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Put chicken and broth in small Dutch oven over medium heat. Cover, bring to simmer; simmer until chicken is just done, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer meat to large bowl, reserving broth in measuring cup.

2. Cook bacon in now-empty pan, over medium heat, until fat is rendered and bacon is crisp, about 6 minutes. Remove bacon from pan with slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Increase heat to medium-high. To the bacon fat, add onion, carrots, and celery; sauté until just tender, about 5 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. While vegetables are sautéing, shred meat into bite-sized pieces. Transfer cooked vegetables and drained bacon to bowl with chicken. Set aside.

3. Heat butter over medium heat in again-empty skillet. When foaming subsides, add flour; cook about 1 minute. Whisk in chicken broth, milk, any accumulated chicken juices, and thyme. Bring to simmer, then continue to simmer until sauce fully thickens, about 1 minute. Season to taste with salt and pepper; stir in sherry.*

4. Pour sauce over chicken mixture; stir to combine. Stir in peas and parsley. Adjust seasonings. Pour mixture into 13 x 9-inch pan or shallow baking dish. Top with desired pastry dough; bake until pastry is golden brown and filling is bubbly, 30 minutes for large pies. Serve hot.

Note: *The recipe suggests we might cover the filling and refrigerate it overnight at this point, which we did. We also reheated the filling, as the recipe said to do, before we topped with the pastry and baked. The filling was pretty soupy and I would refrain from heating twice if you go this route. Half an hour in the oven should be plenty long to heat through.

local food round up

Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl visits Big Daddy's BBQ :This story is for people who love cupcakes and ribs so much they won't mind spending their Saturday pursuing the best iterations of the genre currently, or possibly ever, available in this great state.

The Star Tribune welcomes fall with pork roast recipes and salutes Dayton's Macy's (it will always be Dayton's to me) 60-year-old Oak Grille, a Minneapolis institution.

Not local, but relevant. In my next life, I’d like to be the cheese columnist for whichever paper has the best food section. The San Francisco Chronicle is my inspiration. Earlier this week, the food section ran a short article about a tomme made in Thomasville, GA. Tommes are easily my favorite cheese, and I'm happy to see American cheesemakers making them.

Resolution 07: Clancey's Meat and Fish

For a while now, our friend Apur, a dedicated foodie who always prepares a serious haunch of meat when he feeds us, has been urging Hambone and Spice to visit Clancey’s Meats. Apur and his little family are lucky enough to live in the Linden Hills neighborhood where Clancey’s is located, so they can walk over to the shop whenever they want. Hambone and Spice live all the way over in St. Paul. Visiting Linden Hills, tucked into a quiet pocket of Minneapolis, means crossing The River so we don’t make it over to this gem of a neighborhood often enough.

Hambone and Spice (mostly Spice) resolved to remedy the situation by paying a call on the store. So we visited. As with so many things, I’m wondering how we have managed as long as we have without Clancey’s.

The glass-fronted cases are filled with such gems as assorted cuts of crusty dry-aged beef, ropes of fresh sausage in transparent natural casings, creamy duck rillettes, and vacuum-packed legs of duck confit. Behind the counter, you’ll find owner/sausage-maker Greg Westergreen and Kristin Tombers*. I know their names because they introduced themselves when they heard I’d come all the way from St. Paul to buy meat from their shop, but I think they would have introduced themselves no matter where I’d come from.

The worth of your neighborhood should be measured by places like Clancey’s where the proprietors want to know your name. They’re interested in what you’re eating for dinner and how you’re going to prepare their products. The world needs more places like this.

The sausages here are amazing—filled with only the highest quality ingredients, made on the premises. They boast flavor combinations you haven’t seen anywhere else. On our first visit we picked up turkey-apricot, duck five-spice, and lamb-pine nuts-dried blueberries—each of which we roasted in the oven with quartered red potatoes and served with braised red cabbage and a medley of mustards.

Last night we used a package of Clancey’s pork-shallot-garlic sausage to put one of Mark Bittman’s 10-minutes meals to the test. Using the guidelines set forth in the NYT article, I cut five sausages into chunks and then sautéed them in a bit of olive oil. When the sausages were nearly cooked, I added a bunch of red seedless grapes and a few cloves of garlic, thinly sliced. After the grapes were heated through, about 10 minutes, I ladled the mixture onto creamy, soft polenta, enriched with butter and parmesan. What does one drink with porky, garlicky goodness that has mingled with sweet, warm grapes and salty, buttery, comforting polenta? A red fruit-laden, slightly spicy Jaboulet Parallele "45" Cotes du Rhone.



We haven’t yet made a dent in Clancey’s vast meaty offerings so we’ll be returning soon and often. And so should you—it’s my personal mission to send everyone to Clancey’s. Go. Buy sausages and free-range chicken and lamb chops and dry-aged hangar steaks. Introduce yourselves to Greg and Kristin and Erik.

*Partner Erik Sather wasn’t in on my visit.

Happy Autumn!

Even though temperatures in Minnesota have been hovering above 80 degrees, the leaves are changing colors, the squirrels are burying nuts, and the mice are looking for winter homes—all right on schedule. While we could just as easily have grilled, Hambone and Spice got a jump on the new season by fixing a fall dinner last night.

The meal preparation was sort of fussy and protracted by a much-appreciated phone call from a sibling so I set out some nibbles to tide over Hambone and our guest, my brother Nik. We spread a pungent taleggio cheese on Lesley Stowe's dried cranberry and hazelnut-studded Rainforest Crisps and sipped Campari cocktails (equal parts Campari and Punt e Mes vermouth with a splash of soda water).

I pulled together a pear crisp by peeling, coring, and slicing four Comice pears, which went into a 9 x 9-inch baking dish. The pears were tossed with about a quarter cup of crystallized ginger. Fresh ground nutmeg over the pear-ginger mixture. One cup of flour, a half cup of rolled oats, a quarter cup brown sugar, and six tablespoons melted butter were mixed by hand to form a crumbly dough, which blanketed the pears. The crisp baked in 350 degree oven for an hour.

Red romaine leaves and Mark Bittmans' classic vinaigrette recipe with balsamic vinegar constituted the base of a tossed green salad with toasted pine nuts and orange segments. I love sweet, salty, and nutty in my tossed greens.

Our main course was a rich, satisfying wild-mushroom risotto. The weekend prior, Hambone and I had picked up some fresh, vibrant golden chanterelles and a package of mixed, dried woodland mushrooms (from which I mostly used the morels). Martha Stewart has a recipe that calls for both fresh and dried mushrooms, and uses a pretty classic prep with shallots, Arborio rice, dry white wine, and chicken stock and butter and Parmesan cheese to finish.

Hambone and Spice were reminded of how much they each love risotto and vowed that this would be the first of many risottos in the coming months.

A Domaine Lafond cotes du rhone accompanied our meal, which was, by all rights, a fine how-do-you-do to fall.

Local food writing round-up

Invented by the rice reapers in the Albufera region near Valencia, traditional paella basically consisted of rabbit, snails, duck and beans. In a special article for the Star Tribune, Donna Tabbert Long writes about paella and offers an easy recipe for home cooks. Paella is one of the one-dish meals I'm looking forward to making as the coming colder weather suggests warming, comforting food.

Three words: Lamb. Curry. Meatballs. Dara Moskowitz reviews Blackbird Cafe in south Minneapolis, which is run by Table of Contents alum: if you love people, and restaurants, and enthusiasm, and not spending too much on a good dinner, you are going to just love it.

what's not to like about bacon

The geniuses at Vosges Haut-Chocolat, my favorite chocolatiers, have possibly one-upped the nearly perfect savory-sweet combination of their Barcelona bar by adding bacon to chocolate. The new Mo's Bacon Bar features applewood-smoked bacon and alderwood-smoked salt in deep milk chocolate. I can't wait to track a bar down...

Recent meals

1. Chicken breasts marinated in lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, and garlic, then grilled; grilled zucchini; chimichurri, which is, hands down, the best chimichurri recipe. It comes from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, and it's very flexible. You can use parsley or cilantro, or a combination of both. For the acidic note, you can use lemon juice or vinegar. No matter which green leafy thing we have on hand to use, we always use sherry vinegar, as well as red pepper flakes, good-quality olive oil, garlic, and plenty of kosher salt. Even though we're fans of rustic chopped herb sauces, chimichurri has so many strong components and a fair amount of oil to bind them that the way it works best is to emulsify in a food processor or blender.

2. That pasta I only ever make in the summer when I can get garden-fresh ingredients. I've never written down the recipe, and occasionally have very mixed results, such as when the tomatoes aren't very juicy and I've thrown out all the pasta water so the vegetables aren't very saucy. Last week I made a note to pay attention to the process so I could at least get that down here. Quantities, of course, could vary according to taste, but here's the basic method: saute minced shallots in equal parts olive oil and butter until soft. Add fresh corn kernels from a few ears; incorporate corn with shallot mixture and saute for a few minutes. Add a centimeter of white wine and cover pan to allow corn to steam for a few minutes (Hambone prefers his corn less al dente). Remove cover and add diced zucchini. Season with salt, pepper, fresh thyme, and red pepper flakes. Allow zucchini to brown a bit before adding diced tomatoes. Cook for about five more minutes. Toss sauce with pasta (I used farfalle here, but I prefer orecchiette or conchiglie—something with a cup to hold the goods). This time I added a barely discernible splash of cream to the vegetables before tossing with the pasta, which, beyond a little gussied-up richness, gave the dish a depth of character I hadn't noticed was lacking.

3. Steamed clams, another quick and dirty dish lacking a recipe: I sauteed a quarter cup diced chorizo in a dot of olive oil (just to get it started), then added minced shallots, which I gave a quick swirl in the smoky, densely red oil. Roughly two minutes later I poured a quarter cup white wine (Salvenal Albarino 2004), then added 3 pounds clams (manilas and another larger variety purchased from Coastal Seafoods); covered and steamed for ten minutes. We devoured the sweet, minerally clams, swiping crusty baguette hunks through the rich (slightly briny) juice, all accompanied by the remaining Albarino.

4. Evidence of another sausage fest with the Harrisons, in which we grill a variety of sausages and try a range of mustards. This really deserves a fuller post—especially for the hospitality of our friends not to mention the places where we each sourced our meat—so more sausage news to come. Here, from left to right: asiago-wild rice bratwurt from Kowalski's; lamb-dried blueberry-pine nut sausage from Clancey's Meats and Fish; chicken sausage with spinach and feta (source unknown); and Summit Maibock bratwurt from Kowalski's.

pheasant fajitas

Growing up in the midwest with a Father Who Hunts meant that we had a deep freeze full of wild game not unlike other homes where the deep freeze contains whole chickens or sides of beef or convenience food from Schwan's. More often than not our grilled burgers were made from ground elk rather than ground beef. Pheasant became a substitute for chicken in dishes ranging from stir-fries to soups. It's not such an exotic or even special thing to eat game where game is plentiful.

As an adult who does her own grocery shopping, I've priced farm-raised pheasant. Suffice it to say, I'm hard pressed to pay over $20 for a three-pound bird. Every bird my father sends my way is a gift. That said, the birds tend to languish in the freezer. For a while in the early-nineties we made the pheasant-lentil soup from the Silver Palate Cookbook, but I've never really found a pheasant recipe I'd like to eat on a regular basis. Come to think of it, I don't really notice many to clip from the culinary magazines I read, nor do I see many recipes in the cookbooks I buy.

I'm not a fan of using pheasant as a substitute for chicken as it often becomes dry and tough quickly. Searches for pheasant recipes online tend to involve unhealthy amounts of bacon or (gasp) cream of mushroom soup, both treatments meant to give the meat fat where it has none. I'm also not crazy about roasting pheasant with fruit.

Recently, it was my pleasure to reconsider the pheasant in place of chicken or another red meat. My youngest brother made dinner for Hambone and Spice and knocked our socks off with pheasant fajitas. Because pheasant is so naturally lean, I didn't have much hope for the dish being anything other than a disaster (sorry Nik). But, we were pleasantly surprised that the pheasant yielded a somewhat rich and complex fajita.

Here is Nik's basic method:

After deftly boning two 3-pound pheasants (Nik labels his packages so he knows where he shot the birds; these came from Winner, SD) and cutting the meat into strips, Nik heated a glug or two of olive oil over medium heat. He sauted the meat very carefully, watching the heat so as not to cook to fast.


Surprisingly, the pheasant gave up quite a bit of liquid, which Nik retained. He seasoned the meat with cayenne, salt, and some green herbs (these are not your traditional fajitas). When the meat was just shy of cooked through, he turned off the heat and put a lid on the pan.

Because he had a large quantity of meat for a medium pan, he opted to fry the vegetables (assorted bell peppers and red onion from the St. Paul Farmers Market) in a separate pan, again in olive oil. When the vegetables were bright and glistening—not even five minutes—he threw them into the pan with the meat and added a little canned green chile for kick and sauce. We ate Nik's concoction with a sprinkle of Mexican "quesadilla" cheese, wrapped in flour tortillas (my preference over corn tortillas).

Local food writing round-up

Bored with going to the same old restaurants? From Formica to four-star, here's a foodie checklist. Book now. Many of the items on this list are already Hambone and Spice's "same old restaurants," but we've never been to the Tea House, Krua Thai or Pho Quan, and I'm pleased to add them to my personal list.

In the "who knew" category: When she's not running the 22-year-old Uptown Minneapolis restaurant that bears her name, Lucia Watson is, among other things, the "Taste Tempters" columnist for Brainerd-based In-Fisherman magazine, where her recipes have been a reader favorite for 17 years.

Dara Moskowitz visits Surly Brewing Company, the Brooklyn Center-based craft beer brewery. Hambone and I bought a four-pack of Furious and thought it was awful to drink, but made an incredible marinade for chicken (Steve Raichlen's Brazilian Beer Marinated Chicken).

We're off to Princeton, NJ, for a family visit. Back on Monday.

Spicy Cauliflower Pasta—minus the cauliflower

Last night I had planned to make the spicy cauliflower-broccoli pasta from Judy Rodgers' Zuni Cafe Cookbook, which I prefer without broccoli. We had a nice head of cauliflower from the St. Paul Farmers Market that I planned to use.

After I minced six cloves of garlic and six anchovy fillets, pitted and chopped one-third cup tiny nicoise olives, chopped a half-cup parsley leaves (also from the farmers market), and rinsed the last tablespoon of organic capers, I started to prep the cauliflower head. I was just getting into a groove cutting cauli cross-sections into 1/8-inch slices when I noticed the cauliflower was moldy throughout.

I tried to hide my disappointment, because this is one of my favorite ways to prepare cauliflower and because I hate throwing out food.

Hambone suggested a hot oil and garlic sauce for the penne, but as we stood staring at the mise en place*, it occured to us that we could use most of the ingredients for the pasta sauce. Who needs cauliflower?

I heated a couple tablespoons oil and added the minced garlic, anchovies, and a few (too many) generous pinches of red pepper flakes. As soon as the anchovies had dissolved, I added some pasta cooking water (about one-quarter cup) and one-half pound cooked penne, tossing to coat. We finished the pasta with a handful of parsley and a handful of homemade bread crumbs I keep in the freezer, though I think toasted chopped almonds would have been really nice.

(I nixed the olives and capers because I didn't want a briny sauce, but they'll make a great excuse for tapenade later this week.)

Accompanied by a buttery, chilled chardonnay, our pasta was fantastic—especially as we'd just had an hour bike ride with the boys, each of us pulling 45-50 pounds on a Burley Piccolo. We were ravenous. I can always count on Hambone to save the day with his quick thinking. Though he was never a Boy Scout, he has a certain Scouts in Action drive.

*Pardon the pretention, but I really was unusually organized with all the ingredients lined up near the stove in ramekins.

Menu for week of August 13

Monday: Judy Rodger's spicy cauliflower-broccoli pasta from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, green salad

Tuesday: grilled chicken breasts, chimichurri, locally grown green beans

Wednesday: grilled hamburgers (Buescher brothers' ground beef), basil pesto, zucchini (my mother's garden)

Thursday: Hambone, Alpha, and Beta fend for themselves while Spice noshes at book group

Friday—Sunday: Hambone, Spice, and boys enjoy NJ's bounty in Princeton

With thanks to my mother: late summer gratin

I had the extreme privilege of growing up in a household with a mother who not only put nutritious, delicious home-cooked meals on the table seven days a week, but who also planted and maintained a very large vegetable garden. The lettuce, green beans, zucchini, carrots, beets, tomatoes, corn, ground cherries, herbs that Hambone and Spice seek out at the farmers market each summer weekend were but a stone’s throw from my childhood kitchen. My mother would have me—or one of my three siblings—dash out and pick vegetables as she was fixing dinner. She still keeps a garden, planting heirloom varieties of her favorite vegetables. Although we live 200 miles apart, she kindly shares her harvest with me when she can.

As the recent recipient of one of her many zucchini bumper crops, I’ve been working my way through easy preparations that mostly include zucchini in every one-dish meal (stir-fry, risotto, pasta sauce) that we make. Or we slice zucchini lengthwise or in quarter-inch-thick medallions, brush with olive oil, and sprinkle with s-and-p and dried green herbs before tossing on the grill, where the zucchini is allowed to reach a sultry caramelized finish.

Now that I’ve pulled most of my trump cards and still have plenty of zucchini to eat, I’m working my way through favorite preparations from my childhood, including a certain late summer gratin.

Even though our home is air-conditioned, I’m reluctant to turn on the oven during the heat wave we’re experiencing, but it’s worth it for this dish. My mother likely never made it the same way twice and certainly wasn’t operating from a recipe, but it’s a simple dish to prepare.

For this late summer gratin, I line a baking dish with alternating layers of thinly sliced vegetables, starting with tomatoes, then red onions, and zucchini until the dish is full. Occasionally a layer will receive a sprinkle of kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper and herbes de Provence; then I’ll dose another layer with a bit of olive oil. The top is sprinkled liberally with grated cheese (gruyere is my favorite), then with bread crumbs, and it’s baked at 375 degrees F. for 30 to 40 minutes.

Many may recognize this dish as the tian Provencal, which has as many variations as any French regional food item, but typically consists of tomatoes, zucchini, onions, olive oil, salt, pepper, and herbs. I've seen many recipes that also include eggplant and anchovies.

I love the way the vegetables still hold their form when cooked and how they take on the fruity flavor of olive oil and the savory taste of cheese. I also appreciate the flexibility of the dish—you can use any dried or fresh green herb, as well as any cheese that melts well. When Hambone was riding RAGBRAI, I made this gratin with the intention of taking the leftovers to lunch, but I ate the whole thing, remorselessly, in one sitting.

Mission accomplished

After a day and a half of simultaneously speed-dialing on a cell phone and on my work land line, I finally got through the endless string of busy signals to reach a live body at The French Laundry. Getting that far is just the half of it. Then, you have to be willing to face outright rejection because all the tables are booked for the evening(s) on which you'd like to have dinner, oh, two months from now. Or, you'll be offered a table at lunch: "We have a table at eleven and at eleven-thirty." As if you'd settle for lunch to celebrate your milestone birthday.

Persistance with the humorless reservationist—Iris—yielded at 5:30 p.m. reservation on October 5, 2007.

A debt of gratitude to you Iris!

Reservation update, continued

I'm heading into the fourth hour of speed-dialing The French Laundry for a reservation, using land line and cell phone simultaneously.

Stop laughing at me—Megnut claims it worked for her.

Reservation update

I have been speed-dialing for a half-hour, and the line has been busy the entire time. In between dials, I have attempted making a reservation online for each of the nights we'll be in Northern California—and for any hour, as early at 5:30 p.m.

Can you sense my anxiousness?

T minus seven minutes—and counting

Today is the day on which I am allowed to make a reservation for my October birthday meal at the French Laundry. According to the restaurant's website, you can make a reservation no earlier than two months to the date you wish to dine, which in my case was August 6. When I phoned on August 6, a message informed me that the French Laundry was observing their annual summer vacation, which is very civilized and I applaud them for being so French.

Wish me luck, I'm calling now...

Lucky 13

Over the weekend, Hambone and Spice celebrated their 13th wedding anniversary—that would be the lace wedding anniversary if you follow the traditional gift table, or leather or fur if you’re on the modern track. Long ago Hambone and I decided to relieve the pressure of another gift-giving occasion by opting not to buy each other presents for our anniversary. Instead, we treat ourselves to a lovely meal in a restaurant, where we gaze into each others’ eyes. Just as we did in 1994 while on our honeymoon in Bariloche, Argentina.

While we love to do a little reminiscing, we’re also very cognizant of enjoying the moment, which found us celebrating at a two-top in the midst of a bustling, cozy restaurant—Muffuletta’s in the Park.

Hambone and I had eaten at Muffuletta’s over ten years ago. I’m remembering that we had an okay meal, but nothing about it made us want to return. In fact, until I received some reports from friends who’d eaten there within the past year, I hadn’t realized Muffuletta’s was still in business. It’s amazing how a new chef can inject just the right energy to transform a place. In addition to the word of mouth, a little research turned up solid accolades for chef J.D. Fratzke’s local- and seasonal-driven menu.

I always enjoy an opportunity to visit St. Anthony Park, the wooded St. Paul neighborhood where Muffuletta’s is located. The little shopping area has an upscale clothing store, a Carnegie library in a spectacular brick building, a hardware store, a Post Office branch, a wine shop, a Finnish bakery, and an independent bookstore. So, when my mother and sister were visiting in June, we headed over (actually due north of my St. Paul neighborhood) for lunch. My meal was fantastic, and I couldn’t wait to return with Hambone.

After Hambone and I were seated, we were treated to a basket of house-made flatbreads accompanied by a garlic puree. We also were given an amuse-bouche of basmati rice on flatbread—a little odd, basically a pile of rice on a cracker, but tasty.

The menu is written with great care, describing not just the food preparation, but sources for raw ingredients—farms and fields and streams. An obvious dedication to local and seasonal foods goes beyond what I’m accustomed to seeing on menus around town, and it made me very happy.

Here is a sample from the August menu:

Farmer’s Markets, Ballparks and Beer—Though July and August in Minnesota tend to take us on a roller coaster ride of wet blanket heat and humidity, sudden severe downpours and everything in between, Muffuletta’s crew rejoices as the season kicks in to high gear and spills a cornucopia of ingredients grown by our friends in the sustainable agriculture community.

Vendors like Hidden Streams Farms, the Southeast Minnesota Food Network, Tim Fischer and Thousand Hills Cattle Company supply us with the best fresh and locally produced ingredients that will help us sing the praises of our great state’s outdoor culture. Influenced by our love for everything from Boundary Waters canoe fishing and Metro Area Farmer’s Markets to softball tournament tailgating outside of Pipestone, the fruits, vegetables and proteins supplied us by the aforementioned producers will take top billing and help us celebrate the good life we lead in L’Etoile du Nord.

Our dinner was superb. We shared a caprese salad (thick slice of a Minnesota-grown tomato topped by a thick slice of fresh mozzerella and adorned with a sprinkle of rose salt and a swipe of a balsamic reduction) while we read the menu.

Here's what we ate:




Spice started with salmon rillettes (wine-poached Scottish salmon and Nova Scotia smoked salmon folded into creme fraiche and aioli, served with toasted crostade and tossed greens)


Hambone started with cornmeal-crusted calamari with preserved-lemon aioli



Spice's main: gnocchi with roasted tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a pistachio-almond pesto



Hambone's main: fresh tagliatelle with preserved lemons, green olives, and seared ahi tuna.

Wine: Croix du Verre, Crozes Hermitage, 2001 (redolent of black currant, dark berries, and a bit of spice)

I have two tiny quibbles. First, portions are too big. Neither of us was able to finish our main course, and we had to pass on dessert. Which is just wrong. Last, the wine list had far too many familiar bottles, which made the mark-up hard to take. That valpolicella on the wine menu for $36 costs $11 at my local wine shop. It’s a good wine, but we also drink it regularly when we grill burgers. When I’m at a restaurant, I want to stretch my palate, trying new wines or drinking something special that I can’t get at my wine shop.

Items on the menu remain—a German-style sausage platter and beer cheese soup caught our attention, so we’ll be back. I look forward to seeing the kitchen’s fall offerings!

Easy Friday Nights

For the past few months, Hambone and I have chosen to inaugurate the weekend with Friday night cocktails, which has become a very civilized way to wind up the work week. Beyond the beverage at hand, we try to pull together a substantial nibble that we inevitably call supper. Once we start to sink into the cushions of our porch furniture, drink in hand, it's a very slippery slope to complete relaxation. And after that, who needs a proper meal?

Tonight we celebrated the beginning of tomato season by chopping up our farmers market haul, which we then drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt, and mixed with minced garlic and basil chiffonade. While this mixture came together at room temperature for a bit, Hambone whipped up some Beefeater gin and tonics. We cranked up the Budos Band; took our bruschetta topping, a goat cheese crottin, and our cocktails out to our patio; and offered up a toast to many more gorgeous August evenings.

Thursday Local Round-up

Dara Moskowitz reports in the City Pages that Steve Brown has a new kitchen. She hasn't even eaten at Harry's, Minneapolis' newest gastropub, but feels pretty confident that it can be nothing short of outstanding. Quite frankly, I'll eat at Harry's knowing only that Steve Brown, former chef at now-defunct Levain, is at the stove.

Both of the local newspapers highlight single ingredients from Minnesota's summer bounty. The Star Tribune offers green bean recipes and the Pioneer Press showcases melons.

Also, this Strib article about noteworthy restaurants in small southeastern Minnesota towns is worth filing in your travel folder. I see some road trips in my near future.

Welcome Home Pizza

Last night Hambone and Spice celebrated Alpha's homecoming after spending twelve days with his grandparents, part of which included driving to Montana from South Dakota. During his three days at 7,000 feet in Big Sky, Alpha tried his hand at fly fishing, did some hiking, and took a daytrip to Yellowstone—lucky, lucky boy.

Astonishingly, he didn't eat any pizza while on his trip. So upon his return, and at his request, we made homemade pizza together—homemade in so far as it was assembled and baked at home. I am not at all ashamed to say that I purchased our raw ingredients from Cossetta's, our favorite Italian deli—all authentic and high quality and utterly delicious. I picked up disks of dough, tubs of rich red sauce, creamy balls of fresh mozzarella, a hank of bulk Italian sausage, and countless other goodies that went directly into my handbag's zippered compartment.

Now, Hambone and Spice have tried our collective hand at pizza from scratch many times, and we have yet to hit upon a dough recipe we like well enough to use regularly. I thought we'd found a serviceable tomato sauce in Lidia's Italian American Kitchen—basically blitzing a can of San Marzanos in a food processor with garlic, olive oil, and salt. But, too often the sauce turns out thin and salty, almost to the point of being briny.

Recalling that Cossetta's had ready-made pizza dough (which, by the way, comes in a plastic bag with enough flour to toss down on your counter), I decided to test it out. The result: two of the best pizzas we've eaten in a very long time.

The boys' pizza was a traditional cheese number, while Hambone and I doctored our crust (pictured above) with Italian sausage, red onion from the farmers market, roasted red peppers, and fresh mozz. Cooked on a pizza stone at 475 degrees for 15 minutes, the crust was crispy outside and tender with air pockets inside, which is an affect we strive for but have never been able to achieve. The sauce was tomatoey and perfectly seasoned.

Swinging by the shop on my way home from work was easy and the results were very satisfying and the price so right—each disk of dough, for example, was $1.59—that I may never again bother making my own dough.