H&S Restaurant Week: 112 Eatery

On the Monday night of H&S 3rd Annual Restaurant Week, we visited an old favorite: 112 Eatery. It had been awhile—over six months—since we’d last eaten here. The food had begun to seem predictable and a little heavy. But I was craving the ambience—exposed brick walls, warm lighting, shotgun-style layout. Another reason 112 was an inspired choice: executive chef/owner Isaac Becker had recently been nominated for the James Beard Foundations’ Best Chef: Midwest award. The strength of Becker’s menu lies in upscale but unpretentious food, such as blue prawns with rooster mayo, grilled lamb scottodito with goat’s milk yogurt, steak tartare, a Vietnamese-style duck pate banh mi, and more.

This snowy, windy, cold April evening invited the comfort of my all-time favorites.



To start, I ordered the radicchio and duck salad—crispy, bitter radicchio and supple, dreamy duck confit are each shredded and dressed with a miso vinaigrette and garnished with slices of hardboiled quail eggs and buttery breadcrumbs. The kitchen used to send this salad out in a cup, but the portion has recently grown to fill a bowl. I shouldn’t complain about getting more of a good thing, but the cup was more elegant and better suited to being a starter—i.e., piquing the appetite rather than serving as a small meal.



Hambone took the white anchovy crostini with avocado, as beautiful and delicious as always.



My main was the stringozzi with lamb sugo—handcrafted, shoelace-thick pasta tangled in a rich, long-cooked sauce.



Also enamored by the pasta offerings, Hambone ordered the tagliatelle with foie gras meatballs. You heard correctly: Foie. Gras. Meatballs. The meatballs were so meltingly rich, the noodles seemed like a silly addition.

We shared the tres leche cake, to fortify ourselves for the treacherous drive back to Saint Paul. Wink, wink.

Chef Becker and 112 Eatery still deserve the accolades. Occasionally I feel as if we’ve eaten everything that interests us on the seldom-changing menu. Then I’ll take a closer look to see that there is an entire section I’m missing—the tweaked bar food, which includes the 112 cheeseburger with Brie, the bacon egg harissa sandwich, the gougère and fried mortadella sandwich, Chinese eggs, and, well, that should keep us busy for awhile.

H&S Third Annual Restaurant Week: An Amuse Bouche

In early April, Alpha and Beta spent their spring break at Grandpa and Grandma’s house in South Dakota. While they were away, Hambone and Spice imposed a restaurant week upon ourselves—an extraordinary treat with no need to pay a sitter ($10/hour is the going rate in these parts) or mind the sitter’s curfew. We dined out each night, in as leisurely a fashion as possible, and were able to snag a table wherever we chose, making the Cities’ hottest reservations more attainable.

Since Hambone and Spice have been on a tear lately, ticking off line items on our list of the newest and/or most popular Twin Cities’ restaurants, we decided to address our cravings and revisit our favorite restaurants. Herewith, a teaser (sorry, no photos):

La Cucaracha
After handing over the boys to Gpa and Gma, Hambone and Spice made a beeline to the Mexican restaurant nearest our house. As we pulled into La Cucaracha’s “parking lot,” we tried to recall when we ate here last. It had been a long time—late August 2006—and we had such a disappointing meal, convincing me that the end had finally come to decent Mexican food in St. Paul.

Serving solid Mexican fare—enchiladas, burritos, tacos, margaritas, and cervezas—La Cucaracha is a St. Paul institution. Hambone and I have been eating here for a long time. We'd started dating when we were each just out of college, biding time at trivial jobs during the first Bush recession, which left us plenty of time to have existential conversations at the coffeehouse. Spending $10 on an entree and $1.50 for a cervesa at La Cucaracha would have signaled a splurge.

The menu, which hasn’t changed much in twenty years (though, yes, inflation has driven up the prices slightly), still holds a few go-to items for me. Dishes such as Gina’s Yucatan tostadas—corn tortillas layered with savory black beans, sprinkled with tangy feta cheese and crisp onion slices, then garnished with creamy avocado slices—are pure heaven to me. That said, there is only one way to start a meal at La Cuc—warm, salty queso dip, slathered on homemade tortilla chips and chased by large, sweet margaritas. On this visit, I tried an item I've never before ordered: the pork guisado burrito with tomatillo sauce. Perfect in its porkiness, brightened by the salsa verde, this burrito has quickly catapulted up my list of favorites at La Cucaracha.

The decision to eat at La Cucaracha was spontaneous. I didn't have my camera with me. I didn't pull out my notebook to capture the subtleties of the meal, the ambience, or the service. And what I took away from the experience was a reminder that La Cucaracha remains a lively, comfortable restaurant, serving delicious, uncomplicated food. My faith has been restored, and I look forward to returning with Alpha and Beta.

local food writing roundup

Dear Dara reports that, like D'Amico & Son's family-friendly Sunday dinners, the Parasole Group has rolled out an $8.95-a-person, kids-eat-free Sunday supper at three of their restaurants: Salut Bar Américain in Edina, Pittsburgh Blue in Maple Grove, and Figlio. Works for me, as the Grand Avenue location of Salut opens in June!

Also, check out Dara's eloquent review of The Strip Club. She's spot-on about the duck, and I couldn't have said it better myself.

At City Pages, Rachel Hutton has a delightful look at Lynne Rossetto Kasper's new book, How to Eat Supper.

At the Star Tribune, fourteen local restaurants join the tap water brigade and Rick Nelson profiles local CSAs.

Saga Hill Cooking School

Marianne Miller, the former executive chef at Bobino and Red whom I recently learned about on Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl's blog, sent me an e-mail, with encouragement to check out the April schedule for Saga Hill Cooking School, which she runs in Wayzata.

Now you have to go check it out, too, because what Miller is doing is very interesting and smart. This is not your mother's cooking school. One of the coolest things SHCS offers is corporate team building through cooking. Sessions include a wine and cheese tasting and a timed, Iron Chef-style competition, which sure beats a relay race of coworkers waddling down a beach with an inflatable between their legs. The April schedule includes a mother-daughter high tea, a kitchen basics class targeted to girlfriends (clever and timely), a class featuring French wine and cheese pairings, and a class celebrating the eight hottest ingredients for 2008.

I've taken a few cooking classes around town, and while they've generally been good, a certain element of fun is missing. Participants are quiet. Instructors often seem like they just want to get through the long list of things they're hoping to teach you. Miller's innovative cooking school clearly puts fun and camaraderie at the heart of learning.

Alpha and Beta, if you're looking to give something to someone who has everything—your mother, for instance—consider the gift of a cooking class. Let me be less subtle: I'd love to take a cooking class from Marianne Miller in that beautiful space overlooking Lake Minnetonka.

~
Saga Hill Cooking School
307 East Lake Street
Wayzata, Minnesota 55391

back in the saddle

It’s 10 p.m., and our house still smells really amazing. Rich, meaty, warm. Here in St. Paul, we had our first rainy day of spring, and I took an opportunity to braise some meat. I had two very pink veal shanks, each weighing in around a pound. They were dredged in flour that had been seasoned with s & p, and then browned on all sides in a few glugs of olive oil and butter. When the shanks had reached a golden caramel color, I removed them from the Dutch oven and added the aromatics—chopped onion, carrot, and celery, parsley, bay leaves, and thick strips of lemon peel.

After the vegetables had softened, I made little nests for the shanks and added them back to the pot, covering the mixture with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and setting to simmer for half an hour. Beef broth, hand-crushed whole tomatoes, and salt and pepper went into the pot before it was covered with a lid and placed in the oven at 375 degrees for an hour and a half. The lid was removed and the shanks remained in the oven for another thirty minutes, during which time I made a gremolata* (toasted pine nuts, garlic, an anchovy filet, orange zest, and parsley) and Alpha made perfectly creamy mashed potatoes.

While the veal shanks were doing in the oven, Hambone and I watched the Tour of Flanders, a one-day cycling race set against a backdrop of falling snow and slick cobbled hills. But mostly we participated in aromatherapy, breathing deeply the scents wafting from the kitchen. It felt so good to be cooking again after more than a week of eating in restaurants.**

As for the osso buco, I shredded the meat from the bone to make serving four people easier and to appease two children who were a little uncertain about the large bones and the rustic sauce. The mashed potatoes were a great vehicle for the silky meat and the delicious gravy, which positively glistened. And, we drank an outstanding 2003 St. Emilion from Chateau Gaillard. Still, Hambone and I concurred that for the expense and the reputation of veal shanks, they should be better, less scary. Even after nearly three hours of cooking, the veal shanks still exhibited a fair amount of connective tissue, which I did my best to remove. But fat is fat—and it wasn’t great.

I’d like to eat osso buco in a restaurant, where I imagine the dish would be a little more refined, but I’m not likely to make them at home again. Pork shanks and lamb shanks, however, may get a nod.

*I loved the gremolata. The little bit leftover will garnish another meal this coming week.

**The kids were at my parents’ for spring break and while they were away, Hambone and I partook in our third annual restaurant week. More to come.

local food writing roundup

Rachel Hutton reports on Pan-Asian Otho in City Pages: The first fine-dining restaurant in a gentrifying neighborhood has its share of hits and misses.

Dear Dara has the best news I've heard this week. She says that spring starts this Friday—because that’s when Sea Salt, the wonderful seafood restaurant in the Minnehaha Falls Park Pavilion, will open. Hambone and Spice and their offspring had some of their best meals of 2007 at Sea Salt. And, some of their best memories as it's where Alpha fell in love with calamari, tentacles and all. Forget about all the fancy and hip restaurants where we've dined this week, just give me Sea Salt. Oh, happy day!

Eating out: Heidi's

Hambone and I recently ate at Heidi’s, Stewart Woodman’s new south Minneapolis restaurant. A few years ago, we had a really memorable meal at Woodman’s last restaurant, Five—housed in the former Fifth Precinct building in Minneapolis. I still dream of the “Bhopal style” lamb loin in yogurt-cilantro sauce, essentially a deconstructed but refined Indian “curry,” as well as the lemon crème brulee with candied pink peppercorns, one of the most unusual and refreshing desserts I have eaten in a Twin Cities restaurant. With our coffee, the chef sent out house-made mini donuts, an homage to the building’s origins as a police station.

No sooner had Hambone and I vowed to return than Woodman was bought out by his partners and shown the door. The restaurant closed soon after as part of the Great Restaurant Massacre of 2007, which has been detailed by others, so no need to dwell. Good news: Stewart Woodman is back with Heidi’s.

The restaurant, named after Woodman’s wife (who is also the pastry chef), occupies a tiny space in south Minneapolis (next to the [also] very hot Blackbird). To say it’s a jewel box would seem a little clichéd, and nothing about Heidi’s is clichéd.

The concise seasonal menu offered approximately eight appetizers, eight entrees, and a handful of sides, including such items as stewed mustard greens and buttered papparadelle. The wine list boasted intriguing bottles in a range of prices, some under $30, as well as a handful available by the glass. The dessert list featured the gamut from creamy (“dreamsicle” crème brulée) to chocolate (cake), with fruit in between. There’s even a cheese trolly [sic] ($17 for a "selection") for those who don’t require a sweet to end the meal.

For the sake of not making a circus out of our meal, I left my camera at home, so you’ll have to trust that every dish was gorgeously presented.

We shared this wonderful meal with friends, Tracy and Bill.

To start, I took the warm fingerling potato and raclette salad with leeks, mustard sauce, cornichons, while Hambone ordered crepe with foie gras, curried Beluga black lentils, hibiscus syrup, which I didn’t try but trust was delicious from Hambone’s discrete groans. I wish I had brought my camera if for no other reason than to document the exquisite presentation of Tracy’s butter lettuce salad. The leaves of which were removed and arranged to resemble a flower. Bill’s crab spring rolls were garnished with jalapeno “jelly beans,” a nod to molecular gastronomy. We drank a Gruner Veltliner (Anton Bauer Gmork ’06), which paired nicely with all entrees, but especially well with my potato "salad."

Each main course was stunning. My off-menu lobster in a parsnip puree and ginger emulsion, offered unique flavors and textures that were at once innovative and comforting. Hambone’s sautéed Australian sea bass was perfectly prepared, the flesh fluffy and soft between a nice pan-seared crust. Tracy’s homemade ravioli stuffed with beets, goat cheese and chives were singular though. The wrapper was whisper thin and held a beet slice, which was surprising as we all imagined the ravioli filling would be a puree. The truffle foam surrounding the ravioli felt essential, not gimmicky in the least. Bill’s anise-scented lamb shank on a wild rice salad was priced cheekily at $17.76. With our mains, we drank a well-balanced and flexible French pinot noir (Domaine Joseph Drouhin “Laforet”, ’05).

I’m looking forward to returning so I may order my own portion of lamb shank or the grilled lemon fish on stewed mustard greens in a bacon fumet. Bacon fumet, say no more.

The table shared an outstanding chocolate dessert—in fact, the best chocolate dessert I’ve had in an MSP restaurant, in a long time. This flourless chocolate cake had a dreamy, boozey finish. A quenelle of luscious espresso ice cream on the side was unnecessary but much appreciated.

The only misstep in the evening was the thirty minute wait for our reservation. Even though we were twenty minutes late, our table wasn’t ready for us. The front of house was backed up, packed with a couple four-tops waiting to be seated. You can do the math. I know that Heidi’s has been booked solid practically since the restaurant opened last fall—because the food is amazing. Kudos! But there is no bar and no comfortable sitting—or standing—area in which to wait for your table. The Woodmans absolutely have to figure out how to handle reservations or the effect of small, charming, and exclusive is totally ruined, and the food may not be worth the inconvenience.

That said, I will be back as soon as I can secure another reservation!

delivered

My Rancho Gordo order arrived today. I can't wait to curl up with my cookbooks and research recipes for the giant limas, marrow beans, and eye of the goat.

local food writing round-up

Dear Dara blogs about Marianne Miller—a hot local chef whom no one knows by name—and her new Wayzata cooking school, as well as a tip on a cheap, tasty, secretly located Indian buffet.

More Dara: a cool round-up of six no-guilt meals from some of MSP's hottest chefs. Fugaise has been under my radar, with absolutely no word of mouth from my foodie friends, but I've vowed to remedy the situation by checking it out for myself.

OMG—a local Easter candy survey at City Pages.

If you're in town this Easter weekend, looking for a special brunch, try one of these recommendations from the Strib's Rick Nelson. I'd put my money on the Red Stag or Grand Cafe.

reading: Service Included

One Sunday morning, when the boys woke me up early to watch cartoons with them, I took an opportunity to sample a few pages from each of the books piled on my coffee table. It didn’t take long to get totally hooked by Phoebe Damrosch's Service Included, an account of the author’s time spent as a captain at Thomas Keller's New York restaurant, Per Se.

I had the great fortune to celebrate my most recent birthday at Thomas Keller’s Napa restaurant, The French Laundry. In addition to the outstanding meal, I noticed that the service was different from that which we are accustomed to receiving at higher-end restaurants. Unlike the excellent NYC restaurant, Jean-Georges, where a squadron of servers descends upon your table for every single course, administering sauces, cracking pepper, and applying other touches to your plate that, quite frankly, should have been done in the kitchen, the French Laundry’s service is designed so as not to be noticed. Servers are out of your way, but are also attentive to your needs, trying to anticipate what you might want before you have to ask.

In Service Included, Damrosch writes about taking a position as backserver—serving bread, replacing silverware, refilling water glasses—at Per Se, before the restaurant opens to the public. She details the lengthy training she and the staff receive. Her aptitude earns her a quick promotion to captain, presenting the menu and managing the multitude of servers assigned to a number of tables.

The training is intense. Keller is exacting—always described as a perfectionist—and the stakes are high for his new restaurant’s success. In addition to knowing which silver or crystal to set with particular food, the servers can tell any inquiring diner where the tiles covering the floor came from or who sculpted the statue in Central Park marking their view. And Keller has many rules, such as “No cologne, scented lotions, scented soaps, aftershave, or perfume are to be worn during service,” and “If you’re going to be more than five minutes late for your shift, you must call—even if it means getting off the subway to do so.”

Damrosch is smart and has a great sense of humor, and both qualities clearly come through in her writing. She leaves tips for diners at the end of most chapters, such as “Please do not ask us what else we do. This implies that (a) we shouldn’t aspire to work in the restaurant business even if it makes us happy and financially stable, (b) that we have loads of time on our hand because ours is such an easy job, and (c) that we are not succeeding in another field.”

And, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that there’s a lovely little romance. Damrosch finds herself drawn to a wine captain who has come from The French Laundry to help with the training. The attraction is mutual, even though he’s come to New York with his girlfriend, who also happens to work for Keller. A messy, forbidden affair ensues, and I found myself rooting for Damrosch, who gets the guy in the end.

Service Included is a great read for anyone who dines in restaurants as well as for anyone who enjoys culinary essays, such as Bill Buford’s Heat or Tony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential.

Dining out: The Strip Club

Hambone and I eat out a lot, but I do a pretty lousy job of blogging about our restaurant meals. Each time I sit down to write about that great meal we had the previous night, I always remember the three or four restaurant meals that I haven’t written about yet. Would it be fair to them if they were never mentioned before I pressed on?

Well, no more.
Last night Hambone and Spice ate at The Strip Club, a sizzling new St. Paul restaurant. For the record, I love this restaurant’s name, which definitely has sass, but mostly refers to the house special, a NY strip steak. The owners are Tim Nivers and Aaron Johnson, the dynamic duo behind the Town Talk Diner, the hip, no-reservations Minneapolis joint. J.D. Fratzke, whose menu we enjoyed last August at Muffuletta, is in the kitchen. At The Strip Club, as at Muffuletta, Fratzke offers as much local fare as he can, including grass-raised beef from Thousand Hills and beer from the Summit Brewing Co., which is the vehicle for steaming mussels.

The Strip Club is in a highly unlikely location—the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood of St. Paul. But this location grants an unexpected, well-framed view of downtown St. Paul—certainly one of the restaurant’s best assets. Inside, exposed brick walls have been painted a cream color, the ceiling and most trim is black. A brass-trimmed railing lining the upper-level balcony nods to the building’s Victorian (1885) roots. It’s a fun, if not a little dark, revamp of a mom-and-pop restaurant, located in a working-class neighborhood that is gaining popularity for the affordable housing it offers young families.

In addition to the NY strip steak, the dinner menu features a few salads, a long list of small plates, a handful of upscale burgers, and six or seven entrees. In our opinion, the small plates are the stars of the menu. We enjoyed the mussels, which were steamed in Summit pilsner and studded with crumbles of spicy, fennel-spiked sausage. Hambone and Spice make mussels from time to time and found this treatment to be a neat alternative to the Albarino and chorizo that we typically use. I’d love to try these at home.

The other small plate we tried, I’m not likely in this lifetime—the lifetime with small children—to make at home: duck confit. This meltingly soft duck was served no-frills—a whole leg for the diner to pick over, adorned with a simple, bitter frisee salad (that we ignored) and sweet roasted grapes, which served a near-perfect counterpoint to the salty duck. Hambone and Spice had a Proustian moment over that duck confit. We were transported to Bordeaux, France, December 1995 and a post-holiday, restorative meal of sautéed goose liver and grapes.

But I digress.

As for the entrees, they need some work. While tempting, to be sure, we passed on the romantic pork loin for two with mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Hambone took the strip steak with which you’re encouraged to order a topper, at an additional charge. He selected a compound butter studded with chopped escargot and garlic, an amazing way to enhance an entirely lackluster steak. The side-order fries could make a best in the Cities list, and if there was a best ketchup category, the Strip Club’s bacon version would win, no contest. Yup. Bacon. Ketchup.

I had the ahi tuna, which was cooked rare as I asked. Points awarded for execution, sure, but I didn’t love it with its accompanying barley risotto. The risotto was soupy, which is a desirable quality when Arborio rice is the main grain, but didn’t work with the barley. I would have preferred brighter flavors, such as citrus, with my ahi, rather than the earthy version, rich with mushrooms, on the menu.

There were a few low points. The wine list had many unfamiliar selections, which isn’t bad, since we enjoy an introduction to new bottles, but the markup was steep, killing our adventurous spirit. The desserts don’t merit further mention. Service was slow, which was fine since we didn’t mind lingering over dinner and each other’s company, but it would be an issue for the less forgiving. I forgot to request my negroni up, so it came in a lowball over ice.

The restaurant has only been open since mid-January, still it was packed and many walk-ins were chancing a table. The reviews have been fairly glowing, so who knows if the shortcomings will be addressed.

We will return, with friends in tow. We’ll request the table(s) in front, with the picture window and the great downtown view. We’ll order a bunch of small plates, including the deviled eggs and the foie gras and the fries with bacon ketchup, and we’ll drink local beer. My office is just a few minutes away in Lowertown, and Hambone’s office just a few minutes away from mine. And, I look forward to trying the burgers on the lunch menu.

reading: Trail of Crumbs

For the past couple of weeks, I have been dipping into Kim Sunée's Trail of Crumbs. The New York Times called this a "compelling, confessional memoir," to which I take no exception. Part of the confessional is a coming-of-age, much of which centers around an intense affair with Olivier Baussan, the founder of L'Occitane, but also details a young person's universal search for a place in the world. Sunée was abandoned by her mother in a South Korean market at the age of three, giving her search additional meaning.

Nearly every page of Sunée's story is made compelling by her confident and luscious writing. Descriptions of landscape, of meals prepared and eaten, of friends, of pain, and of love are ripe, full to bursting.

Most chapters end with recipes. I've never liked the use of this device in prose, even in culinary mysteries. I think it can make things a little precious, but something about Sunee's recipes caught my eye. Perhaps it was the spirit in which they were presented, as well as a nicely conversational tone. I flagged Wild Peaches Poaches in Lillet Blanc and Lemon Verbena, Quick-Fix Kimchi, Croque Madame, Jansson's Frestelse (Jansson's temptation—potatoes, cream, garlic, and anchovies—my favorite Swedish food), Almond-Saffron Cake (inspired by Santa Lucia buns)—among others. But, Uncle Kerry's Monday Red Beans and Rice forced me to run out and buy dried beans and a ham hock.

Midwestern born and raised, I'm about as far from the South, geographically and metaphysically, as you can get. But last April, I got a healthy dose of Creole food on the Mothership—for my money, and yours, New Orleans Jazz Fest has best festival food in the U.S.—and I haven't been able to get the meaty white beans off my mind since then. Now I know that meaty white beans are a different thing from red beans and rice, but when I found this recipe in a section nostalgic for food from Sunee's, I was inspired to make and eat something similar.

If you follow the recipe, which I did since I have no experience cooking vats of beans, it takes about two hours to cook. While I was cooking, Hambone spoke to his Southern-born father, who, in addition to being thrilled that I would endeavor to make red beans and rice, advised that I let them cook a good long time so all the marrow would melt out of the ham hocks. So, although it hadn't been my plan, I let the beans cook for closer to four hours, occasionally adding water to keep the beans from getting too thick.

I thought the beans were heavenly—creamy and smoky and soul-satisfying. In her notes, Sunée says you don't need to soak the beans, but I will next time as some were tough and undercooked—even after four hours. And next time, I'm going find some nice heirloom beans, for the sake of experimentation. (I'm sorry that my photography skills are sorely lacking so that these beans don't appear as appetizing as they could—you'll just have to trust me!)



Uncle Kerry's Monday Red Beans and Rice
Kim Sunée (Trail of Crumbs, Grand Central, 2008)

1-1/2 tablespoons butter
1 medium yellow onion, chopped (about 2 cups)
1 green bell pepper, chopped (about 1-1/2 cups)
4 celery ribs, chopped (about 1-1/2 cups)
3 garlic cloves, smashed
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh-ground black pepper
1 smoked ham hock (about 3/4 pound) or pickled pork
1 (1-pound) bag dried kidney beans (soaked, if desired)
1 teaspoon liquid crab boil
1 teaspoon Creole seasoning
2 to 3 sprigs fresh thyme
1 pound smoked sausage (such as andouille or kielbasa)
2 tablespoons cornstarch (optional)
Hot sauce, to taste
Garnishes: green onions, shallots in vinegar, parsley

Heat butter on medium high in a large pot or Dutch oven. Add onion, bell pepper, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, about 7 minutes or until soft. Add garlic, salt, and pepper and cook 3 more minutes. Add smoked ham hock, beans, liquid crab boil, Creole seasoning, and thyme and stir. Add enough water (about 2 quarts) to cover beans. Stir, bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium, and let simmer stirring occasionally, about 1-1/2 hours.

If beans get too thick, add more water, about 1/2 cup at a time. Add sausage to pot and let beans cook another 30 minutes or until tender. (For creamy beans, Sunée like to smash some of them on the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Her uncle Kerry mixes 2 tablespoons cornstarch with cold water and adds to sauce.) Season to taste with more salt, pepper, or hot sauce. Garnish, if desired. Serve with hot boiled rice and shallots in vinegar (combine 3 to 4 tablespoons rice or white wine vinegar, 2 thinly sliced shallots, and herbes de Provence or fresh thyme leaves in a bowl and stir to combine.)

local food writing round-up

I haven’t rounded up restaurant reviews in a while, largely because there has been a slight lull in local food writing as well as a changing of the guard. Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl, who left the City Pages a month ago is now at Minnesota Monthly. She has been replaced at CP by Rachel Hutton, who was at MM previously. Twin Cities magazine publishing proves to be as soap-operatic as what I have experienced in book publishing.

Check out Dara’s blog. She is also editing Real Food, a Greenspring (MM’s parent company) publication that is available nationally (grocery store freebie), and at Lunds and Byerly’s locally. Did I ever mention that I wanted that job?

Over at City Pages, Rachel Hutton is reviewing the “restaurants of the moment,” including Nick and Eddie and Meritage. Nick and Eddie’s is the new restaurant from the folks who ran Au Rebours, the brasserie-style restaurant that, last year, vacated the Hamm Building in St. Paul. Meritage continues the brasserie spirit of Au Rebours in the same physical space. The local restaurant scene proves to be no less soap-operatic than publishing.

At the Strib, Rick Nelson reviewed Meritage a few weeks ago, and this week tackles Red Stag, another well-buzzed restaurant.

My restaurant list grows exponentially!

Friday Night Light

Somewhere along the line, I’ve had to admit that Friday nights are all about not cooking. Or, for cooking the least amount possible and taking a breather after a long workweek and the obligations to school-age children.

Recently I surveyed some of our foodie friends who are also working parents. When asked what they serve for dinner on Friday nights, each said delivery pizza or take-out. Not bad choices, except that we’re typically already feeling a little gross from having exercised that option at least once, earlier in the week.
Our summer solution is cocktails and nibbles, such as handmade guacamole and chips with a margarita, or our favorite saucisson sec and a wedge of cheese with gin and tonics or chilled rosé. For some reason, in the dark of winter, these options don’t seem very substantial.


A few weeks ago, Hambone suggested working our way through Bittman’s 10 minute meals. We clipped the article way back in July, when it promised to get us out of the funk of summer heat. We tucked the clipping away for future reference, and, quite frankly, there's little difference between the rut one falls into during the dog days of summer and trying to keep hearty cold-weather cooking lively and quick.


We’ve cooked #5 (steam mussels in white wine with garlic, basil, chopped tomatoes until the mussels open, then serve with crusty bread) and #11 (sauté shrimp in olive oil that has been warmed with sliced garlic, cumin, and pimenton, then garnished with parsley and a squeeze of lemon and served with crusty bread). Not quite a full meal but more substantial than cheese and bread. Both items packed fresh flavors into their small packages and proved warming on cold winter Friday nights. I sourced my seafood at a local fish market, Coastal Seafoods—went in for the mussels (PEI) and was seduced by the wild brown Mexican shrimp (in the 16/20 neighborhood and very sweet).

I’ve marked a few more to try in the near future: #8 (littlenecks, olive oil, and garlic with angel-hair pasta or bread), #14 (prosciutto, olive oil, bread crumbs, garlic, red pepper flakes on pasta), #15 (grilled cheese sandwich with prosciutto, tomato, basil), #31 (quick chile relleno, using canned whole green chilies), #70 (sauted squid rings with a garlic/pimenton/mayo sauce), #80 ("not-quite merguez": seasoned ground lamb burgers served on couscous with a side of bottle harissa), and #86 (smoked trout fillets with toasted almonds, shredded fennel, and olive oil/lemon juice dressing).

nibbles

Last week I hosted my book group, which is comprised of some really good cooks. Each member works in the publishing industry. Those who work for publishers regularly wine and dine their accounts, while the booksellers are, well, wined and dined. Everyone has access to great cookbooks. And, everyone likes to eat and talk about eating. I wouldn’t want to join any other book group, but they do make for a tough audience when it comes time to host them. No pressure.

From the moment I volunteered my house for the next discussion—way back in November—I started planning the menu. Typically, the host serves appetizers, usually casual but rarely simple. In the past year alone we’ve been offered chicken satay, Vietnamese-influenced spring rolls, a mountain of tuna tartare, a luscious lemon-glazed pound cake, and, always, countless cheeses.

Initially I intended to make a Southern-themed spread of hors d’oeuvres—pimento cheese with crackers and celery, spiced pecans, and a spicy shrimp cocktail. But when the week of our discussion rolled around, I had a complete change of heart—and palate. Perhaps the shift had something to do with the impossibly cold weather or with the malaise I’ve been feeling lately.

At any rate, I was in need of shaking things up so pulled out some recipes I’ve been meaning to try for some time, starting with Judy Rodgers’ herb jam (spinach, cilantro, parsley, garlic, and olives, cooked slowly and mashed with smoked paprika and cumin, then given a blast of lemon juice before serving), served with pita chips.

I can’t get enough of one of the top 2007 food crazes: meatballs. The February 08 issue of Bon Appetit featured a recipe for bison meatballs and a cilantro-yogurt sauce, which sounded very appealing to me. At the grocery store, however, I chickened out and purchased lamb rather than bison. Few people I know share my love for bison, so I swapped it out for the authentically Middle Eastern—and still assertive—flavor of lamb.


The herb jam was really good, but it went largely untouched. The smoked paprika and oil-cured black olives lurking amid the dark green spread were a little intense even for the foodies in our group. The meatballs, however, were devoured handily. You’ll want to make these as soon as you can. Don’t wait to share them with anyone. The cilantro-yogurt sauce makes these meatballs extra delicious and would be great on pan-seared lamb chops or grilled fish. I’m linking to the recipe because it’s long—really, it’s two recipes—but don’t let that discourage you because the directions aren’t difficult and you are in for a treat.

In addition to the food I made, Chowgirl Amy, who traded in her publishing job to become a caterer, arrived bearing killer goodies from her professional kitchen: duck pate with shallot and golden raisin marmalade, roasted vegetables (carrots, green beans, baby bok choy) with a ginger-soy-sesame dressing, and an artichoke heart tapenade.

(ETA photo)

local food writing round-up

A memoir—and farewell—from Dara. Can't wait to follow her next chapter.

The Star Tribune has a short piece on the Egyptian spice blend, dukkah. My sis recently sent me a package of dukkah that she picked up at the Oakland farmers market but I’ve been thinking about making my own and the recipe for the dukkah with pistachios and cocoa nibs especially appealing.

GFCO and KITK

Consider this a joint venture between The Great Freezer Clean Out and Kids in the Kitchen: bangers and mash.

The package of lamb sausage from Clancey's was the first candidate from the freezer for consumption. These aren't just any ol' lamb sausages either. Rich and meaty, they get a little earthiness from pine nuts and a complementary sweet bite of blueberry to cut the lamb's richness. While the sausages were roasting in the oven, Alpha treated us all to mashed potatoes.


















Following the directions in his Williams-Sonoma Kids's Cookbook, he selected enough small Yukon Gold potatoes to fill the bottom of a large saucepan. We covered the potatoes with water, threw in some salt, and set them the boil. About fifteen minutes later, Alpha stuck a knife tip into the largest potato and claimed them done. I drained the potatoes (heavy, hot pan), then turned Apha loose to mash and add half a stick of butter and Cedar Summit Dairy organic half-and-half—to his preference. Which is to say, I turned a blind eye. The potatoes were some of the best I've had in a long time—really rich and creamy. You can make these any time you want!

The Great Freezer Clean-Out of 2008

When I was a kid, my family had a deep freeze in the garage. During the fall and winter hunting seasons, my father did his part to keep the freezer filled with pheasant, duck, grouse, goose, deer, and elk. In the summer, walleye from the lake we lived on found its way into the freezer. A family friend would often keep us fed with half a cow. My mother maintained an incredible garden, and the freezer held the green beans, corn, and peas she’d bag. She'd also keep tins of cookies and other goodies around the holidays, and frozen treats (popsicles, ice cream bars, and the like) during the summer. I can see the virtue of a deep freeze, especially if you have a large family or if you "put things away," but I really don’t have need for one.

Except for the summer when the farmers market is in full swing, my shopping style is to stop at the grocery store frequently, daily if necessary, and pick up the freshest ingredients I can for dinner in an effort not to horde or stockpile food. I'm also not big on thawing meat or fish. In my limited experience, when I follow the safe thawing method in the fridge, I tend to underestimate the length of time it takes so I'm often left with still-frozen items when I'm ready to cook. Yes, I know there are ways to overcome this deficiency, but I prefer to cook my meat and fish the day I bring it home from the store.

Our side-by-side refrigerator and freezer, which came with the house, is less than optimal for a family with two growing boys. Both components are just too narrow, cramped, and claustrophobic, but the freezer especially so. It's impossible to store much in here, and unless the item comes in a box, most packages end up being a little awkward to fit. Inevitably, something frozen, solid, and toe-crushing falls off a shelf each time the door is opened. Plus, the water dispenser sucks up a bit of room that could be given over to a stash of nuts or more pints of ice cream.

But, it looks jam-packed, you say? In the past six months, the freezer has filled itself with food—and I'm not quite sure how it happened. Perhaps our sausage love from the summer of 2007 had something to do with it. We started hording packages. Friends who knew of our passion would bring us sausages from their travels to far-flung Minnesota towns that still boast meat lockers. I cannot complain about that measure of generosity.

Perhaps the full freezer has something to do with access to locally raised meat. I have a coworker whose brothers are raising grass-fed, organic beef and veal, and I have a hard time resisting the regular e-mail notifying me of his inventory. A friend's sister raises free-range, organic chicken, and we like to order one whenever she has birds ready. My father and brothers hunt and provide us with pheasant and deer.

My freezer holds some gems. To whit:

~ one smoked pheasant
~ a few packages of venison cuts
~ one pound Buescher Brothers' ground veal
~ one pound Buescher Brothers' ground beef (one pound)
~ two Buescher Brothers' T-bone steaks (one pound each)
~ three packages of sausage from Schmidt’s (Nicollet, MN)—jalapeno brats, Cajun brats, wieners
~ two packages of sausage from Clancey’s Meat and Fish (Mpls)—lamb-dried blueberries-pinenut, pork with jerk spices
~ two packages of meat from St. Joseph Meat Market (St. Joseph, MN)—(hot) fresh andouille brats, Swedish-style meat balls
~ one free-range chicken from a friend’s sister who raises them (6 pounds)
~ one pound lamb chops
~ two pounds shrimp
~ packages of frozen strawberries and blueberries for smoothies
~ assorted white boxes of frozen Indian food

I know there may be a few more things kicking around that I’ll unearth and salvage as I can. And, I'd like to find a new home for or a way to organize the nonedibles—the ice packs and the drum to the ice-cream maker, ready to be pressed into action whenever the urge for homemade ice cream strikes—seemingly necessary, but taking up prime real estate.

So, yes, perhaps I could use a deep freeze. However, I will resist and, instead, set a challenge. My immediate goal for the beginning of this new year is to clean out the freezer. No new items until the list above is dwindled. Okay, true confession, I just purchased a pint of vanilla ice cream and a pint of mango sorbet, but don't worry, neither will last long.

Up first: Clancey's lamb-dried blueberries-pine nut sausage

local food writing round-up

Ever since November, when Russell Klein's new French brasserie-style restaurant, Meritage, opened in downtown St. Paul, I have been looking forward to eating there. Patiently I wait to hear something favorable about it. Kathie Jenkins at the Pioneer Press reports mixed results (but—I'm scratching my head over this—still gives the restaurant 3 of 4 stars). Has anyone eaten a good meal at Meritage?

One more column from Dara. What a treat! This week she gives a predictably gushing review to Stewart Woodman's new restaurant, Heidi's: It has only 40 seats, but Heidi's is interesting enough for a lifetime.

And at the Strib, Rick Nelson urges readers to break out the bundt pan—a Minnesota invention—and bake. Nelson also reviews a trio of new Asian restaurants. Obento-Ya Japanese Bistro makes my list of restaurants for '08.

local food writing round-up

In what must be one of her final columns at City Pages, Dara Moskowitz looks at a Mpls restaurant that offers Mexican street food: I'm never going to be able to cross the threshold of Los Ocampo without ordering some antojito or other, and my advice is that if you only learn one new word in 2008, let this be it.

The Pioneer Press offers has the list of forthcoming Twin Cities restaurant openings that any foodie with a pulse should covet. It should come as no surprise that I'm looking forward to Steve Brown's new place, Porter and Frye. Red Stag Supper Club, where we've already had a reservation that we had to cancel, is finally starting to get some mention. St. Paul locations of Pop! (picadillo empanadas) and Salut (I love a good brasserie for mussels or steak frites and bearnaise and oyster towers) will be convenient for H&S's family outings.

But, I think the opening I'm most excited about is Senor Wong's, a neighborhood Vietnamese restaurant/Polynesian cocktail place by the Truong family. Opening February 4. In downtown St. Paul. Two blocks from my office. Described in the Press article as a place where people can go everyday. And, I will if it's even half as good as today's lunch at Ngon.