Hello And Goodbye. . .

I have a few minutes at my desk this morning before I jet back out the door to Lord knows what kind of contractor stupidity today, so I thought I'd share something special with you.

Mayonnaise.

Many years ago, and in a different life, I used to cook professionally and sometimes unprofessionally but that's another story. We were readying for Thanksgiving at the Ritz-Carlton and this particular hotel, and maybe others within the chain, offered a full take-away turkey dinner complete with all the accoutrements for the low, low price of about $12499. No, it was a couple of hundred, but frankly I always felt it was ridiculously over-priced for what you ultimately took home. However, it was in Palm Beach and those folks have some serious money, even though the better deal was across the street at the Publix grocery store.

Alas, I remember standing in the banquet kitchen looking at the length of the preparation tables which were studded with dozens of pinkish-white, glistening, slimy, and smelly turkey bodies all being salted and peppered for eventual roasting. The banquet chef Kristoff, a portly German fellow with a shiny bald head barked loudly across the way, "Bring the 25 gallons of mayonnaise!"

Do you remember the old Scooby Doo cartoons when a ghost would sneak up behind Scooby and his head would spin around with the classic Scooby refrain, "Auuuurrrruuuuu?" That was exactly my reaction, but who was to argue with a hulking German chef?

Kristoff spun the lid off the first gallon and plunged his mighty hamfist inside, scooping out a huge mound of the pale white gelatinous goo and began slathering it all over the nearest bird. Before you knew it there were dozens of hands at work smearing the turkeys with the most unlikeliest of ingredients.

Much of the time in a banquet kitchen is spent completing mindless tasks like prepping vegetables or tending to large vats of bubbling animal bone reductions. During those quiet hours is when I would usually get my best thinking done such as conjuring up my next complex scheme to get the crystal green-eyed banquet server from Vermont to dump her douchenozzle boyfriend and go out with me instead. Yes, these were matters of the utmost importance of that time and eventually my well-defined and carefully crafted planning worked in my behalf. But on this day, all I could think of was the smearing of mayonnaise on turkeys and how utterly absurd it seemed to be doing such a thing. I mean really, mayonnaise??

Luckily, I am one of those fools who keeps his mouth shut lest I prove to the world how much of an idiot I truly am and in this case I was happy with my restraint to not question Kristoff's decision-making. Because, and I say this with complete sincerity, once those turkeys emerged from the humming bank of convection ovens they were the most golden brown and glorious looking roasted birds I had ever seen in my life. They were almost regal, nearly majestic, with crisp, brown caramelized skin and abundant juiciness of which I had never seen before.

Those birds were simply spectacular! It was as almost if they had spent a leisurely week drinking mojitos and lounging around the pool at some posh South Beach Miami hotel. It was like they were tanned. And with that notion, a giant mayonnaise filled lightbulb went off in my head. It was like they were tanned. Kristoff, you mad fucking German genius! You gave those birds a tan!

And indeed, that is exactly the function of the mayonnaise. It serves as a moisturizer as the fat within the mayonnaise renders, much like a tanning oil or lotion would on a person. Those fats help maintain the natural moisture of the bird, allowing the sugars present in the skins to caramelize into a nice, evenly brown hue.

I laugh about that fateful day, but I learned a wonderful lesson from Kristoff and every holiday before I cook a turkey I lather that son of a bitch up in mayonnaise just like old times and it has yet to fail me. However, I do modify the recipe somewhat, simply because I cannot leave a good thing well enough alone.

Thanks Kristoff, because of you my holidays are filled with friends, family and. . .mayonnaise.

A word of caution, as the birds below indicate, mayonnaise is flammable, especially if you leave the birds in the oven at 550 degrees for about 5 hours. But you know, this was the work of a French chef, not a German one.

Sometimes it doesn't hurt to step away from tradition like I did this year.  I made chili.  And without mayonnaise.

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Early Morning Culinary. . .

As yesterday's breakfast post highlighted my occasional, inherent laziness when it comes cooking, this morning's preparation follows the guideline theme of using what you have, with a little more flair and effort.

A frittata is an interesting and relatively easy way to spice up the old standard scrambled egg or for those more advanced cooks out there, the omelette.  In reality, the frittata is basically a lazy-man's omelette with all of the yummy items baked inside of it.

Whip your eggs with a little cream or milk, I usually use 4 eggs to 1/4 cup or cream or milk.  Whip this as much as possible because the more air you incorporate, the lighter the finished frittata will be.  In a saute pan of appropriate size, in this case an 8" non-stick saute pan, heat a tablespoon of butter over medium high heat and saute whatever vegetables you desire until some/most of the liquid is removed from the vegetables.  This is especially important for things like mushrooms, broccoli, spinach, zucchini, items that contain large quantities of water.  If this water is not removed it will impede the souffle of the eggs somewhat and when you slice the eggs open for serving, a waterfall of goo is likely to run out of the center.  I know this from experience.

So cook your vegetables appropriately.  Once you have done that, add the eggs to the pan, they should begin bubbling nicely and the bottom should start to set almost immediately.  Leave on the stove for thirty seconds or so and then put the pan in a 450 degree oven for 10 minutes or so.  Check it after 10, shake the pan a little, if the center is still jiggling, leave it for a few minutes longer.  But move quickly, you do not want to lose the residual heat of the oven, this will also flatten out the souffle.

Once your frittata is done, it should be browned nicely and set firm in the center.  Remove it from the oven, turn it out to a cutting board and slice to serve immediately before the eggs fall.  Your finished product should look something like this:

This one is slightly overcooked by a few minutes, but it has a nice color and is obviously set.  Notice the pulling away from the edges of the pan, yours, if cooked properly, should be slightly less so.

The one I prepared this morning contained stewed squash and tomatoes, edamame (soybeans), corn and sharp cheddar cheese.  I served it over a lemony spinach, artichoke and yogurt dip I made yesterday, garnished with purple basil, sliced grape tomatoes and a stripe of chipotle Tabasco sauce for a little smoky heat.

Sometimes I still feel the thrill of making great food and making it look pleasing to the eye.  But then I think of the night that two plates of sauteed scallops fell out of the broiler at the Ritz-Carlton and exploded into a million pieces ruining basically every food product within a 10 foot radius.

Or the time the lamb chops caught the oven on fire during the first sitting of a New Year's Eve dinner service at the Ritz, requiring me to unload a chemical extinguisher into the oven before the overhead system went off and shut down the whole operation.

Or the time, on July 4th in Costa Rica, I sliced my middle finger to the bone trying to split a partially frozen lobster and was rushed to the "clinic" in Huacas where the young doctor's? nurse's? paramedic's? maid's? hands were shaking so badly while holding the needle of  Lidocaine she intended on jamming into my butterflied finger that I was almost convinced I was going to have to do it myself.

Or the time. . .

. . .ah forget it.

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Now That's I-talian. . .

I pulled some ground beef from the freezer yesterday before work with the whole intention of making my grandmother's lovely meatballs simmered in a spicy tomato sauce, but with the arrival of unexpected company yesterday, I decided to cook one of my all-time favorite preparations, ragù alla bolognese also known as spaghetti bolognesa.

A little explanation about ragù, which isn't just a pre-prepared sauce in a jar.  Ragù comes from the French word ragoût and in Italian cooking this is typically a slow simmered meat sauce served over pasta.  Bolognese sauce is usually a mixture of meats like veal, pork or beef and sometimes sausages, but in the following recipe I will stick with the Americanized version that I was taught by a good man, friend and nine-and-a-half fingered cook named Jose.  You may remember Jose from this story I wrote last year about Sancho.

Bolognese sauce is easy to prepare and the real key is the slow simmering which gives the meat a very soft and succulent texture.  Also, bolognese sauce has a secret ingredient that turns the final product from the average spaghetti sauce into something far more divine and satisfying.

Ragù alla Bolognese

3 Lbs. Ground Beef
2 medium onions, small dice
2 carrots, small dice
2 ribs celery, small dice
6 cloves garlic, minced
28 oz. crushed tomatoes
28 oz. tomato sauce
14.5 oz. diced tomatoes
56 oz. chicken or beef stock, or water
1 cup dry white wine or dry red wine
2 Tbsp. Italian Herbs (I used a McCormick brand which has basil, oregano, thyme, marjoram, savory and rosemary)
2 bay leaves
3 Tbsp. sugar
1 cup milk or 1/2 cup heavy cream
Salt and pepper, to taste
Olive oil, as necessary

In a large pot, heat to medium high heat and add sufficient olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan, add the meat in batches to brown and strain away the fat as the meat loses its pink color.

In the meantime cut your soffrito (same as the French mirepoix) into small dice and once all the meat has been browned, add a little more olive oil and the vegetables to the pan.

Cook this for 6 to 8 minutes, then add the garlic.  If you have a good crusty buildup of fond in the bottom of the pan as the photo below demostrates add a little water or stock and scrape the bottom to help lift it from the pan so that it becomes a beautiful part of your sauce instead of a useless scorched business forcing you to start over.

Add the garlic and saute a few minutes more, then delgaze with the white or red wine.

I have read and it was insisted upon by Jose that a white wine be used as is stated in most classic recipes, but I only had red (pinot noir) in the pantry so it will have to do.  Reduce this until the alcohol odor has been removed.  Also a note about tomato products:  Please do not use any products made by Heinz.  If you ask why, this is why.  Enough said?

Add the remainder of the ingredients: tomato products, herbs, sugar, salt and pepper, everything except for the milk.

Bring to a boil, skim the fat and reduce heat to a medium low simmer and cook for 1 to 1.5 hours, tasting occassionally for texture and seasonings.  Adjust salt and pepper and possibly the sugar to balance the acid as necessary.

Once this mixture has simmered for sufficient length, the meat should simply melt in the mouth, but not be some mushy goo that totally lacks texture, like a meat milkshake.  Here comes the secret ingredient. . .add a healthy cup of milk or 1/2 cup of heavy cream to help smooth the sauce out.

And for heaven's sake, please don't use any 2% or skim milk, if you do that you might as well be blowing bubbles with a straw into the sauce.  Useless.

Cook up your favorite pasta, the classic being spaghetti, but tagliatelle or ziti or really any long pasta of tube pasta will do, shave some aged parmesan or pecorino over the top, garnish with basil and a wedge of good, crusty Italian bread and you have a meal so satisfying that I dare you to keep your eyes open long after eating it.  I know I didn't.

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Surprise!!!

Ha!!  And you thought I was gonna put a piece of fish on it!

Well, if the truth be known, I was gonna put that London Broil on it, but I know better than that after some careful culinary thought that I will share in another post.  But I did get the benefit of the cedar for both items and I even let the London Broil take a ride on top of the peppers, onions and sausage for a little extra uh huh.

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Innovation!

Last week or maybe it was this week, I wrote about the glories of cornbread and purple hull peas.  It remains one of my favorite Southern traditions and I can eat several helpings of both with a bottle of hot sauce, preferably Chipotle Tabasco or Trappey's Red Bull, until I am a bloated old goat.

My dear friend and reader Jenny sent me an email a couple of days ago and suggested that while cornbread and peas eaten together is a fantastic and satisfying meal, why not put the peas in the cornbread?  Well hell I say, why didn't I think of that??

Here is her recipe, with lots of other tasty stuff cooked inside the perennial peasant food of the South.

Purple Hull Pea Cornbread

1 lb. bulk pork sausage (use the HOT sausage for some heat!)
1 onion, chopped
1 cup white cornmeal
1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 4-oz. can chopped green chilies, drained
3/4 cup cream-style corn
2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
2 cups purple hull peas, cooked

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a 13-by-9-by-2 inch pan.

Cook sausage and onion in large skillet until sausage is browned. Drain and set aside.

Combine cornmeal, flour, salt, and soda in large bowl.

In another bowl, beat eggs, buttermilk, and oil together. Combine with dry ingredients using a few quick strokes (batter does not need to be blended until smooth.)

Add sausage, onion, chilies, corn, cheese and purple hull peas.

Pour into prepared pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes, or until knife inserted in center comes out clean.

Cool and cut in pieces.

Serves 8 to 12

I don't know about you, but I'm headed straight to Kroger tomorrow with my shopping list!  Thanks Jenny!

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Taters. . .

Everyone loves potatoes and they can be prepared in a number of delicious and satisfying styles, but here in the South at a bar-b-que you are more than likely to find potato salad.  I love potato salad.  I love to put lots of crunchy aromatics in the variety of versions that I like to prepare, but a few weeks ago I decided to ditch the mayonnaise (and scorn the Miracle Whip) in finding a new ways to prepare a common favorite.

During the recent heat wave we've been having, who wants gobs of emulsified egg yolk and oil sloshing around in the gut?

So here we go. . .

Red Bliss 'B' Potatoes in Vinaigette Piquant

2 Lbs. Red Bliss 'B' Potatoes, partially peeled
1 small white or red onion, medium dice
1/3 each red, yellow and green bell pepper, medium dice
1 stalk celery, medium dice
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. Olive Oil
2 Tbsp. Fish Sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp Worcestershire Sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp. Red Wine Vinegar
1/2 Tbsp Sugar or 1 Tbsp. Honey
Salt and Pepper
Bay Leaf
1 Sprig of Thyme

Peel the potatoes along their circumference and place them in cold water.  Add a healthy pinch of salt.

Add the bay leaf and thyme and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat and simmer over medium heat until the potatoes have softened.  Check periodically with the tip of a sharp knife until they are tender, but do not overcook  Strain the water and allow the potatoes to cool in a colander.

While the potatoes are boiling, practice your knife skills on the onion, peppers and celery.  Combine these with the minced garlic and the liquid ingredients.  Let this mixture macerate until the potatoes are done.

Once the potatoes have cooled, place them in a sealed container with the vinaigrette and let marinate for several hours, turning the container often to evenly distribute the vinaigrette.

Should look something like this after a few hours.

Serve with your favorite grilled meat and don't forget to spoon a little of the flavorful marinade over your meat too.

Oh yeah, and fish sauce on potatoes?  Trust me folks.  I was once a professional and you ain't seen nothing yet!

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Restored. . .

After a weekend of fun and sun, and beer, I got home today feeling a little, how do we say?  Funky?  Yes, funky.  I felt the funk.  I was all funked up!  So with that I knew that my body was asking for something specific, something restorative.

While browsing the kitchen staples it occurred to me that I am overrun with tomatoes (yes, I am Sherlock) and I can only eat so much tomato and cucumber salad.

I peeped in the freezer and found a half gallon of chicken stock, so hey I made some tomato soup.

But before I dispense with the recipe, let's take another look at that word "restorative."  The word restaurant comes from the French word "restaurer" which means "to restore."  A restorative several centuries ago was generally a soup or stew that was served in these early restaurants.

Today's restorative takes into account the long lineage of cooking history and pairs it with the simple tomato, a food source as old as time itself.  And in this version, we leave the heavy thickener of roux behind and rely solely on the tomato itself, a smidge of heavy cream and a light cornstarch slurry to add the necessary body to the soup.

Garden Tomato Bisque with Thyme and Basil

5-6 lbs. Tomatoes, chopped

1 medium onion, large dice

1 stalk celery, medium dice

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 Tbsp. Red Wine Vinegar

3/4 Tbsp. Worcestershire Sauce

1/2 gal. chicken stock

1/2 - 3/4 cup heavy cream
1 tsp. Thyme

1 Tbsp. Basil

Salt and Pepper, to taste

(Optional:  a little sugar to balance the tomato acid if the tomatoes aren't ripe like these)

Add a bit of butter to a pot of adequate size and saute the onions and celery for 6 to 8 minutes over medium heat.

Add the garlic. . .

and saute for 4 minutes more.

While this cooks, core the tomatoes and chop them anyway you please.  No need to get fancy here, just need to open the babies up so all that good flavor comes out.

Add the tomatoes, thyme, basil and bay leaf, saute for a few minutes until the tomatoes begin to release their juices.  Add the red wine vinegar (or substitute 1/2 cup of white wine), Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper.

Add the chicken stock. 

Bring the mixture to a boil and as with all boiling operations, a nasty scum will rise to the top which we shall ladle away, right?  The French call this "depouillage" which sounds so much more beautiful than the English "skimming the scum."  Oh well.

Let this cook for about 30 minutes or until you get a reduction of about 1/4 the volume.  Remove from the heat and in batches, blend in your blender to puree the soup.  Now, here I will diverge a bit from typical French cookery.  I only pulsed my tomato mixture for a few second for each batch.  I like to have all the "debris" in my soup, but should you require a finer mixture, simply blend longer.  If you want it to be ultra fine and smooth, pass the pureed mixture through a fine sieve Like a good Frenchman would, which will remove all of the skins and seeds, but also a lot of the body of the soup.


Alternatively, you can peel and seed the tomatoes beforehand, which is a real pain in the nether regions, but you will still have the benefit of the pulp of the fruit that adds body to the soup.  I like it full of stuff, seeds, skins, whatever, it's a personal choice.


Return the mixture to the pot and over medium heat, add 1/2 to 3/4 cups of heavy cream.  Let this cook for about 10 minutes longer until it reduces further and thickens. 
 

Check the consistency and if it is lacking, mix equal parts of cornstarch and cold water to create a slurry. 

Bring the mixture to a boil and add the slurry a little at the time until the desired consistency is reached.

Serve your soup with garlic croutons or even better make some grilled cheese mini-sandwiches to go with it.  Or even a step further, mix 1 part of gorgonzola with two parts butter, smear that on some crostinis and bake in the oven until brown and bubbly.  Add a few tender basil leaves to your soup and you have food fit for a king or a partygoer in need of the recuperative powers of soup.  Enjoy!

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Shroomin'. . .

Mention mushrooms to a lot of people and watch them scurry for the shadows, adults and children alike.  And with all honesty, I was never a fan of mushrooms as a child and I had to "get all growed up" before I realized how wonderful these delightful little morsels of fungi truly are.

The diversity of mushrooms is as infinite as the mind's eye, but most of us are familiar with the common "button" mushroom or white mushroom as it is also known.  Other common varieties include wood ear, shiitake, enokitake, cloud, morel, chanterelle, cep and boletus.  Less common varieties and some that are most prized by crazy, dope-smoking, hippe mushroom hunters are ox tongue, Ceaser's mushroom, Giant Puffball, Dryad's Saddle and Sulfur Shelf.

Today we focus on the simple, but tasty and mildly delicate white mushroom.  We are going to pair this with spinach, a little cream, basil pesto and tomato straight from the garden out back.  This preparation is useful in that it can be used as a delicious side preparation and also as a sauce for a nice piece of sauteed fish or medium rare beef or even chicken or pork.  You can even slather it on your cat and watch the dog go berserk trying to lick it off.

Let's begin shall we, as we bastardize a French word in the process.

Ragoût of White Mushrooms and Baby Spinach in Basil Pesto Cream

1 pint of white mushrooms, sliced
1-6 oz pkg. baby spinach
1 medium onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 ripe tomato, large dice, or halved cherry tomatoes as a subsitute
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup chicken stock or water
1/2 Tbsp. basil pesto
1 Tbsp. butter
salt and pepper, to taste

Begin by sauteing the onion in butter over medium heat for five to eight minutes, stirring often.

In the meantime, slice the mushrooms thinly or not so thinly depending on the texture that you prefer and see if you can slice a pint of mushrooms in the amount of time it takes the onion to cook.  I like a challenge, don't you?

Add the mushrooms to the pan and cook over medium to medium high heat until the mushrooms give off their waters and this cooks away.  You should begin to hear a nice sizzle, which is what you want because we are going to caramelize the mixture to a nice golden point as shown below.  This should take about ten minutes.  Add the garlic and cook two minutes more, then add the juice of half a lemon to deglaze the pan.

At this point, add the spinach and saute to wilt the leaves.  Cook for two or three minutes and add the basil pesto, cream, chicken stock and salt and pepper.

Simmer this until the cream reduces slightly and thickens.  Add the tomato last and continue to simmer for not more than two minutes to heat through the tomato.  Ultimately, you want the tomato intact and bursting with it's natural juice to cut all of that beautiful dairy fat on the palate.  Cooking it to death will do you no good at all.  You'll end up with a mouthful of mushy, unidentifiable junk and who wants that?  Adjust your seasonings and apply to your mouth for an enjoyable and flavorful diversion from the norm.  This is a Beatrice favorite and mine too.  Enjoy!  And if you want to make it even more sublime, add a handful of grated aged pecorino at the end.

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Food And Wine. . .

I haven't done a whole lot of food blogging lately, so I know I'm owing you guys one and here it is.

I learned the hard way in cooking that simple is sometimes best. Everyone, including me, is guilty of throwing every spice, herb, mustard, wine imaginable into a pot and cooking the shit out of it and it really doesn't have to be that complicated.

For this reason, I remember a particular appetizer course of a seven course prix fixe dinner I had at The Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco years ago and remember nothing of the rest of the menu.  Well, except for the 60-year old port wine I had with the cheese course. The appetizer was four types of heirloom tomato concasse (peeled, seeded and diced) that had been pressed into individual ring molds along a rectangular plate leaving behind four distinct round disks of beautiful tomato. There were purple tomatoes, probably Brandywine, a yellow variety, a typical red tomato and a green one. Accompanying the tomatoes were several slivers of dried prosciutto ham and nothing more. The tomatoes had hardly been doctored beyond peeling and seeding; there were no pungent olive oils or tart balsamic reductions on the plate. Not even an herb garnish. It was simply tomato and salty ham and it couldn't have been more divine. Each of the tomatoes differed so greatly from one another in texture, acidity and sweetness which all balanced perfectly with the savory and crisp prosciutto. Simple perfection.

Today we visit that same principle, but with the classic combination of beef and red wine.

Braised Beef Short Ribs in Pinot Noir, carmelized onions and rosemary

1.5 lbs. beef short ribs
1 medium onion, sliced
3 large cloves of garlic, sliced
2 cups of Fat Bastard pinot noir
1-2 cups of chicken stock or water
1 TBSP sugar
1 TBSP honey
1-2 inch spring of rosemary, bruised
2 bay leaves
olive oil
butter
salt and pepper, to taste
flour, for dredging

Season the beef with salt and pepper and dredge in seasoned flour, dusting off excess. Brown the beef in olive oil on all sides until colored brown nicely, place browned beef in deep casserole or pot.

Should look something like this:

After browning all of the ribs, add 1/2 TBSP of butter to the pan and saute the onions over medium high heat for 4 minutes, reduce heat to medium low and allow the onions to caramelize slowly. Stir them frequently. After 8 minutes add the sugar and continue to slowly caramelize the onions. Do not let them burn, reduce heat even lower if necessary.

Once the onions have caramelized, slide them to one side of the pan and add another 1/2 TBSP of butter, then add the garlic. Slide the pan so the side with the onions is off the burner slightly and increase the heat to just above medium low. Allow the garlic to brown as shown in the picture below. Please do not burn the garlic as the only thing in a kitchen that tastes worse than burnt garlic is burnt beans.

Once the garlic has browned, deglaze the pan with the red wine. Reduce this by half and add to the pot with the beef. Add 1 to 2 cups of chicken stock or water to the pan until the beef is about half to two-thirds covered. Bruise the rosemary with the back of a knife and add it, the honey, bay leaf, salt and pepper to the pot. Skim as much fat as possible from the surface as you bring to a boil, cover and place in a 325 degree oven for 1.5 to 2 hours.

When it is done cooking there should be a reduced and thickened jus of sweet and sour goodness in the bottom of the pan and the meat should be fork tender. If it's not tender enough, cook a little longer.

Serve over rice or risotto or do like I do and eat it right out of the pot.  Enjoy and bon appetit!

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Slaw That Kills. . .

Last week, we visited a simple "time saving" recipe hosted by our friends General Electric. I estimate that a whole five minutes would be saved by purchasing pre-chopped or sliced broccoli in a bag. Ok, maybe ten minutes if it had carrots, peppers and other aromatic vegetables.

But really, borccoli slaw in a bag? C'mon people.

I think GE needs to stick with making lightbulbs and turbine engines.

Here is an easy, quick and delicious take on cole slaw that'll have your family and friends saying, "Domo arigato Mr. Roboto!"

Quick and Easy and Tasty Asian Slaw

1 half head of cabbage (green, savoy, bok choy or a mixture), shredded or sliced thinly
2 carrots, peeled, quartered lengthwise and sliced
1/2 large white onion, sliced finely
1/3 red, green and yellow sweet pepper, sliced thinly
3 stalks of celery, halved lengthwise and sliced

Do all your slicing and dicing here. Combine the ingredients and mix thoroughly. You don't have to follow the knife skills as directly as written, but it's nice to make the colorful items look interesting.


Ginger and Soy Dressing

1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup white vinegar (better with rice wine vinegar if available)
4 TBSP. sugar
2 tsp. horseradish mustard (a wasabi mustard works well too)
Juice from whole orange
Zest from half orange, pith removed and minced finely
3 TBSP. fresh ginger, minced finely
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp. sesame oil
1/4 tsp. or less of Hoisin sauce (be careful, the Five-Spice in this can easily take over)
1 cup of vegetable or safflower oil (something rather flavorless)
4 sprigs of cilantro, chopped

Add soy, vinegar, sugar, orange juice and zest, mustard, ginger, garlic and Hoisin to a blender. At full speed, drizzle in the sesame oil and vegetable oil to form an emulsion. Stop before the addition of all the oil and check for balance. Add the chopped cilantro and whizz a little longer and add any remaining oil should the dressing be too strong.

This recipe is not perfectly proportioned, but should get you pretty close. I was just winging it yesterday. I prefer this dressing to have plenty of zippy punch on the front end, sweet, yet sharp from the citrus and vinegar and a nice, musky salt component. Plus plenty of ginger goodness. Adjust to your liking at this point. For the amount of liquid ingredients (vinegars, juices, et al.) you can use up to about a cup and a half or oil. More than enough for this slaw recipe.

Add the dressing to your bowl full of chopped, sliced, slivered, and minced goodness, coating lightly, taking care not to drench. Reserve extra dressing for another use, like drinking straight from the bottle.

Some other goodies you might consider adding to your slaw: baby corn, water chestnuts, edamame (shelled of course), julienned snow peas, zucchini or yellow squash, any variety of toasted nuts (Macadamia, peanut, cashew), daikon radish, green onions, toasted white and black sesame seeds and even broccoli.

Sharpen your knife and get creative! But for heaven's sake, don't buy slaw in a bag. It's just unnatural and Escoffier is tired of rolling over in his grave.

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Salt. . .

Cooking is both an art and a science and there are few ingredients that a cook, amateur and professional alike, cannot live without. At the top of that list is salt.

Sea salt, rock salt, kosher salt, iodized salt, no matter the form, the importance of salt in cooking and health is understated. Not only does it intensify flavor, it also adds a necessary mineral composition for healthy life function.

Needless to say, to improve salt from it's basic form would be a difficult proposition.

Right?


Ok, maybe not!

Somewhere on the planet, a Muslim is outraged.

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Validated!

Only took about ten years, but you're getting the idea, aren't you?

A long time ago, in a lifetime far, far away someone left me in charge of the kitchen. And one night, in a fit of creative frustration over the evening's seafood special, I dug deep in the ol' tool chest of the gray matter and came up with (in my own mind) a genius idea.

We were heavy on Chilean Sea Bass and needed to move some product. I racked my brain and the brains (arguable) of my line cooks for a great idea to no avail. Time was running out quickly and I needed to turn over the specials to restaurant manager/goombah/resident slapdick, Tony, so we could collectively memorize the line of bullshit that would be floated tableside.

Something like this:

"Tonight's fresh fish presentation is fresh, line-caught Chilean Sea Bass, sauteed perfectly to a crisp crust and moist, flaky interior served over a warm gathering of fresh braised doodads, fresh flash fried dilly-dallies in a warm foamed emulsion of fresh micro whatchamacallits, organic thingamajigs and farm fresh gizwhammies.

And during the zen which is the clusterfuck last hour of prep before restaurant service, my great idea was born. What would the toothless old Palm Beach geezers who frequent our restaurant like to eat more than anything with their crispy fresh line-caught sauteed sea bass?

Braised Belgian endive?

Organic cherve and tomato confit tartlet?

Ragout of white beans, wild chanterelle mushrooms, pearl onions and arugula?

How about a big ol' helping of fresh fucking macaroni and cheese! Jesus, I was a bloody genius.

When I finally turned over the menu to Tony, he read through it slowly, mumbling the prose as I picked over a bag full of chervil for garnish at my station. I kept a quiet eye on him as he got to the bottom of the menu and I saw him seize up in his stance when he read the sea bass creation.

Slowly and with his thick Brooklyn-Italian accent he said, "Fucking macaroni and cheese? You can't serve no fucking macaroni and cheese in dis' here fucking Ritz-Carlton."

"Yes Tony, we will be serving macaroni and cheese," mimicking his accent, "in dis' here fucking Ritz-Carlton."

His face flushed and he stormed away muttering something about finding the executive chef to stop me. Yeah ok, whatever. I didn't say it, but I thought, "you'll probably find him doing rails of shitty cocaine off the boxes of whole canned tomatoes in the back of dry storage."

I knew it was going to grind Tony's gullet to approach the tables of the rich, ultra-rich and walking dead of Palm Beach and give his nightly special spiel, ending it with macaroni and cheese. Ahhh, the sweet justice.

The front of the house/back of the house feud has been going on for as long as restaurants have existed and the battle between us and them was no different. FOH and upper management didn't, wouldn't and couldn't see it our way and although we, the chefs and cooks, were generally treated with kid gloves on most occasions, there were some things, no matter how innocuous we may have viewed them, that were clearly unacceptable in a five-star, five diamond hotel. Macaroni and cheese must have been one of those assaults against the sensibilities of a fine hotel.

Anyway, Tony The Blowhard we called him, was a real dickhead and he adapted the art of back-stabbing to levels unknown to man and alien alike. I had myself convinced that he was connected, so there was no direct threat you could make to cool this guy off, thusly, we crafted and perfected a new art of subversive retaliation within the daily specials menu. Every now and then we would slide in some cockamamie creations just to get his wheels burning and then at the last minute, provide him with the real menu, items that gilded well with the staid luxury of our hotel.

Nils and I used to do the same thing at my restaurant, thinking up the wildest names for our nightly culinary delights. The only difference is we actually used these names on the chalkboard menu.

Examples:

The obvious: There Is No Pot In The Pot Roast

A meat and potatoes spread: Evel Knievel Never Made It

Or for the salad: Ruffage, Just The Way Your Mother Likes It

Or the vague: Dorado GPS, which was Mahi Mahi served with a green pea sauce. And when asked by staff or patron what GPS meant, Nils or I with a deadly serious straight face would reply in slow cadence, "Boop. Boop. Boop."

Now, I know some of you are thinking, what kind of an idiot serves macaroni and cheese in a place with an average check of roughly 70 dollars? Well, here he is right here.

I got to work on my mac 'n cheese while Tony pouted downstairs in search of our fresh in from the Kapalua property, alcohol-fueled and drug-addled executive chef. Jacques? Jean-Michelle? Fuckhead? Can't remember.

So, the base for mac 'n cheese is the classic mother sauce Bechamel to which, once cheese is added, becomes Mornay sauce, which for some reason always makes me think of Rebecca de Mornay. Go figure.

To my Bechamel and in keeping with the Ritz-Carlton standard of making shit really expensive, I added 5 cheeses: creamy Fontina, $300-a-wheel pecorino sardo (not casu marzu, mind you), tangy fromage de chevre, zippy aged "Extra" Appenzeller and a slight smattering of smoked gouda. Cause Gouda is gooda! I also spiked the cheese sauce with some delicious Armagnac, nutmeg, fresh ground black pepper (dead French people are convulsing in their graves on that note) and finished it off with mother nature's greatest flavor enhancer, truffle oil. Add that to some whole-wheat rotini and you've got mac 'n cheese fit for a king. Or someone with no teeth.

Tony never got his wish to rat on me. Jean-Claude was probably passed out somewhere after slamming a bottle of Pernod, so I proceeded with Plan X.

We prepared the proper garnishes for the dish, a subtle, herbed bread crumb topping that would be applied to the mac for the short ride in the salamander, a red and yellow heirloom tomato relish to top the bass and balance the creaminess of the cheese. And the final gaaarneeeesh, an herb salad of micro beet tops, micro red amaranth and micro basil for some color balance and a nice blast of earthiness to go with the tang of the tomato, cream of the cheese and sweetness of the sea bass. Solid gold baby. Five-star comfort food, whether the FOH liked it or not!

About 5:30, we mocked up our daily specials for the waitstaff to try and I swear to God even though I'm not supposed to, that waiter Bart, my main man and Rush Limbaugh's long lost Puerto Rican brother, picked the deep bowl up and licked the cheese sauce out of the bottom.

Tony was nowhere to be found and I assumed he was still hunting our perennially-MIA executive chef Marcel Claude or whatever. Had I seen Tony again before service I would have suggested he check the hedges north of the main entrance to the hotel. That's where they found the executive chef's running buddy, chef de cusine Mike, after a night out with a couple of hotel guests. Passed out in the daisies, 9:30 in the a.m. In his chef whites, no less.

The orders started rolling in around 6:15 with the earlybirds that cohabitate in South Florida. Golden Corral or Ritz-Carlton, doesn't matter, some people need to be in bed by 7:30.

Fire that well done Chateau!! On fire chef!

Has a well-done chateaubriand taken a ride in the deep fryer at a high-end hotel before? Ummm, could be.

I also seem to remember four frozen turkeys doing the quick-fire deep fryer ride under careful instruction from our resident-drunk executive chef.

The first mac 'n cheese order came in a little after 7:00 and that made me feel a little better. You never want to strike out on your specials, it gives you a way to depart from the mundane repetition of the dinner menu and to showcase your creative inventiveness. I was getting worried early on though because I expected the Poly-Grip crowd to go nuts on the easy chew food. I felt a little better after the first order came through and like magic, once the first one went out and the other patrons caught a whiff of the pungent cheese augmented by truffle, the dominoes fell. And rapidly.

We sold 37 sea bass that night. And on a 85 cover night, that's one helluva statement. And at $33.50 a plate, not a bad bottom line either.

Proudly, when the printer would spit out another order, I barked it out as loudly as I could:

ORDER IN: 2 MAC AND CHEESE!!!!

The line: 2 MAC AND CHEESE HEARD!!!

We made it a point to be particularly loud and annoying when Tony would pass through the kitchen. You could feel his disgust with our revel and celebration and we were awash in the happiness of his unhappiness. His shoulders hunched ever more as more orders rolled in and eventually he hunched his way right out of the kitchen to never return for the remainder of the service.

One word: panocha.

So, I shared this story with you to share another story. About an hour ago, I was watching RFD channel on the tube and there is a program called California Country and on today's broadcast they highlighted a goat cheese production farm of which I have an interest in, but shortly thereafter, they featured a chef from the Ritz-Carlton Marina Del Ray property making none other than truffle infused macaroni 'n cheese.

A little behind the curve fellas, a little behind the curve.

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A Tip, A Tri-Tip, A Trip-Up. . .

"Glory be to the God that invented cows. Cuz them bastards taste good!" -- burnt toast, November 2008

Saturday there was a sale and Beatrice and I took advantage. It appears that the Linens N Things store in Sugarland is closing and they had 40% off stuff sale, which brought everything down to what the normal price is everywhere else. A bloody bargain!

We bought an 11" tart pan, a Calaphon saute pan set (really cheap) and the tiniest santoku chef's knife you've ever seen! All for the low, low price of $3,000,000. Oh, and a bag of candy, because hey, who knows candy better than Linens N Things?

Sunday, we cooked.

We had grilled tri-tip roast, lemon and herb baked red potatoes, steamed asapagus with roasted red and yellow pepper coulis, mint, parsley and cashew pesto. Freakin' yummy, right?

Maybe.

First, I marinated the tri-tip in lemon juice, garlic, onion, Old Bay, rosemary, thyme, bay leaf, olive oil, a splash of honey and some rich dark roast coffee.

Coffee? COFFEE?? Why coffee? Well, cause I had a cup of it in my hand and I needed a little liquid in the marinade. I like my meat to be nervous.

Anyway, let that lay around in a bag for a few hours. In the meantime, fire up your grill to roast the sweet peppers. Coat the peppers in olive oil, salt and pepper and put on the very hot grill. Turn occasionally until the skin has completely blackened. And by blackened, I mean burned. Once the peppers are black all over, pop them into a bowl, cover and let them stew about in their own steamy goodness. This facilitates removal of the skin.

Once you've removed the seeds, pith and charred skin, puree the mixture in a blender with seasonings of choice and introduce a fine stream of olive oil to create a light emulsion. I used lemon juice, a nib of garlic and some white onion. I really didn't want to interfere with the natural flavor of the roasted peppers.

For the potatoes, I quartered them, tossed them with some salt and pepper. I began in a large saute pan some sliced white onion over medium heat in olive oil. I added garlic and the potatoes, then cranked up the heat to get some real cooking going. Once you hear the sizzle sizzle spatter pop pop of the saute, slip the potatoes in a 425 degree oven. Turning the potatoes occasionally so the browning is consistent. Once the potatoes are done in about 15 to 20 minutes, squeeze one half of a lemon on them, a drizzle of high quality extra virgin olive oil and toss with some roughly chopped parsley. Easy and good.

The pesto? Well, c'mon folks, it's freaking pesto. Read a book why don't ya.

So, we grilled the meat to medium, we studied our Scrabble board, drank some cheap shit Merlot and, huh? What was that?

Oh. Yeah, yeah. It's what you come here for. . .

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A Quick Recipe. . .

This weekend I cooked some chicken.

Why?

Well, because I had a freezer full of leg and thigh sections and I needed to make room for my bottle of Jagermeister and I knew that my folks with the Ubon's BBQ team needed some telepathic spirituality as they competed up in Whiskeyville at the Jack Daniel's World Championship Invitational. I'm working on getting the results as we speak, from the piggie's mouth of course.

Anyway, I had some chicken and I didn't want to put the full-on, kung-fu barbeque sauce on the bird, so I went with a lighter glaze instead. Here is the recipe for 8 leg/thigh pieces:

1 cup kectup, (Hunt's, not Heinz)
1/2 cup white rum (thankfully Beatrice isn't a lush like me and left me half a bottle)
1/2 cup lime juice (leftover from key lime pie recipe)
1/2 cup Mississippi clover honey
1/4 cup olive oil
1 red onion, coarsely chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. ground chipotle pepper
2 Tbsp. Hungarian paprika
1 Tbsp. medium heat curry powder
salt and pepper, to taste

Mix all ingredients well, except for ketchup and add to chicken. Marinate for as long as you like, but at least 6 hours. Fire up your grill and have your mesquite chunks handy for some good smoke. Drain the marinade from the chicken well and reserve and as the chicken cooks, whisk in the ketchup into the marinade. Be careful with the fire. The marinade has plenty of sugar and will burn easily. Use medium indirect heat or medium-low direct heat if grill space is an issue.

When the chicken is about half-cooked, about 30 minutes or so, begin basting with the reserved marinade. The fire should be low enough that flare-ups shouldn't be an issue. Continue basting every so often until you are out of juice and in about 30 more minutes, you should be removing beautifully grilled, smoked and glazed chicken.

Serve with some homemade mac and cheese, black eyed peas and cornbread. Double yum!

Sorry that there is no picture, I think the Jagermeister had something to do with that. So instead, I'll provide you with a picture illustrating what life with Barack Obama as president will look like:


Empty.

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Sunday Recipe. . .

This past weekend the gals of the Sassy Sows BBQ cooking team took their traveling road show down to Vidalia, Louisiana to open up a can or two of whoopass on the competition at the Jim Bowie Festival. Stop by Torture and Bliss for a wrapup of the challenge.

Linder was nice enough to invite me along and were I not up to my elbows in brown, tan and gray sandy, silty clay this weekend, I would have tagged along happily. Maybe I'll attend the Heavenly Hogs Championship Contest this weekend up in Madison.

Anyways. . .in honour of my favorite gals, I whipped up a few ribs of my own using my time tested cheating ways to produce fine, top-quality BBQ ribs in about 1/3 the time. Cheater cheater pumpkin eater, yeah I know. . .screw you.

I'm not going to give away my recipe as I would never share anything I've ever learned watching the Sassy Sows or Brian, Leslie, Gary and the gang with Ubon's, so a quantitative recipe for my sauce you will not find, but a damn quick technique for making fine succulent ribs you will find.

Here we go. . .

This time I felt taking the sauce in a bit of an Asian direction as I think the bright and sweet qualities of the ginger and soy meld quite well with a 1 hour ride over a little hickory wood and charcoal. For the sauce I might have used the following ingredients, quantities not included:



ginger
garlic
soy sauce
lemon juice
orange juice
white vinegar
sugar
fish sauce
hoisin sauce
cilantro
onion
carrot
celery
ketchup
whole grain mustard
and for ambiguity. . .various natural flavors

More or less, I sauteed the ginger and garlic in a large pot and as you can see I used a quite low-sided and wide pot. This style of cooking vessel facilitates evaporation and improves our cooking time, which is our goal because we are lazy, right?



Add the oil to a hot pot, add the ginger and garlic, saute briefly to release the aromatic oils and add the mirepoix. Be careful not to burn the garlic and ginger. If you do, start over and spank your own ass for being too lazy. Mind your business with a wooden spoon as I have done. You see that spoon, don't you Beatrice?

Saute the mirepoix for several minutes, you know, translucent onions and such. You know that don't you? Add the wet ingredients, lifting any fond you may have created, then add the ribs, cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, skim the inevitable scum that will rise and simmer your ribs for about an hour.


Keep an eye on them at this point, stick a fork in them, when the meat just starts to release from the bone with some force on your part, remove them from the liquid. Remember, you'll still need some time on the grill for these babies, don't overcook them.

After removing the ribs, continue to reduce the cooking liquid, constantly skimming for fat and coagulated meat junk. It's there. Get it.

When your sauce has reduced by half and begins to thicken, now is the time to correct the balance. A little sugar here, a little vinegar there, maybe some more soy for salt. Fix it here and reduce a little bit further. It should be the consistency of a glaze and not nearly as thick as a BBQ sauce. This reduction will serve the dual-purpose of basting and saucing at the same time on the grill.

In the meantime, make your fire in the grill for indirect heating and let it burn down to medium low heat. We will control the cooking temperature by the addition of the hickory chunks every now and then. Slather a little oil on your ribs and ease them onto the grill. Close the cover and go get a beer. If you're lucky like me, the two mental giants who like to come by and kill deer at your place will stop by and irritate the crap out of you to the point where you want to go hide in the bathroom for an hour.

But don't do that! Keep an eye on your ribs, but don't be impatient either. Let them smoke over that low heat and keep the smoke rolling. Flip them over occasionally, move them front to back, stack them, keep them happy.



Baste every 15 minutes. . .more if you like, but 15 is a good tempo. We don't want to interfere with the fire too much. After about an hour, I like to open the grill, heat the fire up a good bit to get some nice caramelization for the last couple of bastings. And if the gods of cookery are with you, your ribs will look something like this:



Slap them puppies on a plate with some Asian-inspired cole slaw, then go slap yo' momma. She'd be mighty proud.


Now, where's that wooden spoon? And has anyone seen my whisk?

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You Know. . .

. . .just the menu item Moons Over My Hammy is enough to make me amputate an appendage.

Fucking cholesterol.

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What Could It Be?

It's been far too long since I've created a Sunday recipe and hopefully today, should the beer not interfere too much, I will create another heap of goodness.

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A Pleasure Within A Pleasure. . .

This past weekend I was lucky enough to host an out-of-town accomplice who was irrational enough to take up my last minute offer of a fun-filled weekend of food, casual banter and hurricane. I mean really, who could ask for more? It's not often that she has time off from her executive industrial espionage position with a large, nationally-known health care provider and I think she as well as I needed a break from our collective norms to satisfy simple urges such as dining, laughing and being unique.

Saturday afternoon we dined at Mary Mahoney's, which is a bit of a tradition here on the coast and to be honest, other than the ambiance, there weren't many highlights to speak of. Seems everything came covered in what looked like biscuit gravy (aka groovy gravy), including the bread pudding. And my guest, bless her clandestine little heart, set a trend of being dripped upon by air conditioner vents which would become thematic as the weekend progressed. If you go to the Mary Mahoney's website, we sat at the window table in the first picture you see, frame right.

For our evening dinner I offered that we dine at 32 which is the steak/seafood house that sits atop the 32-story Imperial Palace casino/hotel in Biloxi. The current executive chef there cut his teeth in the Ritz-Carlton franchise, as did I, and had I known that beforehand I would have asked him out for some polite conversation as well as a trade or two of insider Ritz secrets and gossip.

I made reservations for 9:00, late yes, and we were delayed by countless obstacles and intrusions that kept us slightly askew from meeting our hard timetable. We called again to the restaurant informing them of our tardiness and they were more than accommodating.

We made our reservation under the name of Russell Jemson, as it is best to remain anonymous when traveling with my friend, who I shall refer to hereafter as Beatrice. There are many who know her, plenty that want to know her and few that REALLY know her.


Beatrice and Russell Jemson we were. And a fine looking couple we made, dressed to the max in our slacks, skirts, button downs, fancy socks and jewelry. The poor staff of 32 had no idea what was in store and frankly, neither did we. We arrived at 9:30, pensive and our ears popping after the rapid ascent in the elevator.

The dining room at 32 is built around the focal point of a glass and stainless wine storage room of some 5000 bottles outlined in burgundy-stained wood. Even at that late hour, the place was still jumping, roughly at 60 percent capacity, and several big-top tables were dining which added a nice jolt of energy to a rather dark and refined ambiance. There was a somewhat raucous nine-top right next to us with an old geezer who kept commenting on the young girls and their skirts at the Michael Bolton concert and the legs that were "up to here" gesturing around the chin area with his hand as he spoke. Free entertainment from the old folks home. What ambiance!

The maitre'd, whose name I don't recall was very accommodating and polite as we joked about a busy night and the unknowns of the restaurant business. She seated us at a spacious 4-top table, not with a window view of the vista, but hey, it's not always about vertigo. Soon after her departure the back waiter arrived taking away the extra, unnecessary dinner plates, glasses and flatware and offered us an option of tap or bottled water. We chose bottled and they served Acqua Panna.

The front waiter or maybe he was a captain named Tom, arrived to take our drink order and after a perusal of the wine offerings of which there are many, we settled on the 2002 Vine Cliff Merlot. The sommelier came with the bottle commenting that we picked the best Merlot in the house, either a lie or my dumb luck, and he opened the bottle expeditiously, poured a taste that I sampled.


The wine was full of tannins, but also a rich and complex flavor of coffee, berry, ash, charcoal, jujubees, currants, filibusters, galapagos turtles, sand, coriander, bilge water and earth. What the hell do I know?? It was a nice wine, just needed some time to breathe off the weird gases that collect inside. 45 minutes later, it was superb.

We chatted and laughed, gossiped and people watched. The ambiance was simply perfect. The tiny lights of the cityscape sparkled below and we listened intently at the the bellowing of the old pervert at the next table. The wait staff was smart enough to leave us alone for a while as we studied the menu which is beautifully ensconced inside of a brushed aluminum cover.

The selections were fairly typical for a steak/seafood house, yet a couple of items still managed to catch my eye like the Anise and Basil crusted tuna appetizer and the foie gras, but I was in the mood for flesh. I ordered the beef carpaccio. My accompa. . .my accompan. . .the woman with me ordered the lobster bisque. I also ordered the "thirty-two" salad informing the waiter that we were to share and finally, a medium filet mignon for her and a 2 minutes past medium-rare NY strip for me. Sorry, it sounds picky I know, but it's a chef thing.

As in all upscale restaurants the first course is actually a small gift of food from the kitchen known as the "amuse bouche" that translated from French means to amuse or please the mouth. The amuse bouche is usually some small item of food to tease and tantalize the taste buds prior to your meal, it's also a neat way for the chef to welcome you into his restaurant and a good indicator of things to come. If the chef can excite your mouth in one bite, there must be more good flavors on the horizon. Our amuse bouche was a simple preparation of tuna tartare on a crisp wafer of crostini. The tuna was delicately seasoned with ginger and garlic and had crunchy bits of red sweet pepper, onion and a leaf of cilantro as a garnish. Perfectly sublime and the essence of the amuse bouche. My guest, not normally one to partake in the consumption of raw foods was taken away to another world by the tuna. Good job chef!

The appetizers arrived about ten minutes later and this gave us plenty of time to enjoy the freshly baked bread basket that contained sun-dried foccacia, crusty ciabatta rolls, sliced baguettes and a sesame-crusted cracker-style flatbread. Very nicely done.

The appetizers came and the bisque was poured at the table immersing the lobster, brandy and herb garnish in a thick creamy deluge. My carpaccio was plentiful, served with crusty toast points and nice garnishes of sliced cherry tomato, petite cucumber orbs, mustard vinaigrette, fried shallots and what was pure ecstasy for me, beet sprouts. Phe-nom-enal! The bisque was also very well prepared, albeit maybe a little too thick, but hot, flavorful and rich as it should be. No complaints.

We ate and laughed, joked and told stories, shared our food delights, drank our wine and water and enjoyed what had begun as a beautiful evening of fine dining. Beatrice was trooper enough to again eat some raw foods by trying the carpaccio. The beef was just divine, fresh and heavily marbled, the subtle flavor of the meat not overpowered by the garnishes or the sauce. Very well done.

The waitstaff kept a close, but distant eye on us. Never intruding, but keeping glasses of water and wine full and only when it appeared that we were finished with our appetizers, did they approach and ask. The plates were cleared, appropriate flatware replaced and we waited for our next course. And this is where is gets important sports fans.

I asked for the "thirty-two" salad to share. Simply that. When the salad arrived, it had already been split for our convenience onto two separate plates. At this level of dining, this is what is referred to as "guest anticipation." I didn't ask for the salad to be split, I only admitted that we were to share. Good job Tom, damn good job.

The salads were beautifully composed, nested high on very cold plates and quite refreshing after the weight and substance of our appetizers. The "thirty-two" salad consists of mixed baby greens, including arugula, dressed in a simple and slightly sweet champagne vinaigrette served with Maytag blue cheese, candied pecans, grapefruit wedges. The greens were perfectly dressed, garden crisp, fresh and the simplicity of the vinaigrette really let the individual earthy flavors of the greens dominate the palate. Not just sayin' it to say it, but again a perfect accomplishment, plus bonus points for guest anticipation.

Again our plates were cleared, the table de-crumbed, and glasses refilled. As if on cue our entrees arrived. The steaks were plated nicely, centered on the plate with a garnish of steamed, sliced yellow squash and zucchini at the 12 o'clock position a stripe of the thick, house steak sauce along the 6 o'clock position and a drizzle of balsamic reduction and either basil or extra-virgin olive oil at 3 o'clock. They looked thoroughly delectable. I also ordered a side of haricot verts that arrived steaming hot, perfectly cooked and seasoned with coarse salt and olive oil. The only thing I forgot to ask for was a side of Bearnaise sauce. Tom, ever accommodating, returned promptly with a ramekin full of the beautiful, partially coagulated egg sauce known as Bearnaise. A sin within itself is Bearnaise and no fine piece of prime beef should be eaten without it.

The steaks were cooked perfectly. Beatrice's filet to medium and my NY strip to 2 minutes past medium-rare. Just perfect. Perfect. Perfect. I can't say anything more. The meat was soft, again heavily marbled, delicious, seasoned correctly. Again, they nailed it. The bearnaise was outstanding, the green beans perfect, the service exceptional. Can't say enough.

Our bellies were so full from all the great food that we could barely work through half of the steaks, but every bite was juicy, tender and satisfying. Tom approached after he noticed we stalled and jibed us a bit about our full plates, yet we had to decline a further bite.

After our plates were removed I ordered an espresso for a night cap and it arrived piping hot with a garnish of lemon zest and a swizzle stick of coarse brown sugar. The rich and thick espresso was just what I needed and I offered to Beatrice to race her downstairs. She in the elevator and I by stair. I think after that coffee I could have won.

Nights likes this almost, just almost make me long for the days of the white cloth of my chef's jacket and a kitchen to stand master over. Then I remember how pissed off I used to get when some smug bastard and his old lady would roll in late wanting a four-course meal at 10 o'clock at night. Ah, the fresh taste of hate! Nothing like it!

But before I digress too far into the complex world of chefdom, let me just say that our meal was as close to perfect as it could have been. The service, the ambiance, the wine and to food were all five-stars, 12 stars actually. To the staff, front and back, of 32 I say thank you and thank you and thank you for a job very well done. It's been a long time since I had a meal of such quality and service beyond expectation and to some of you long time readers, maybe this explains my disgust when some motorhead at McDonald's can't seem to get the cheese onto my biscuit in the mornings.

The stark and brutal difference between cooking, cooks, chefs and shoemakers.

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