Food On The Dole

Grace, a/k/a Goosefoot

2012-02-09T16:19:00.011-06:00

Anymore, I'm not the type of guy who wants to go to a restaurant where much of the menu doesn't fall in the single digit range. It's not necessarily that I'm feeling the pinch of a soured economy (though aren't we all?). Instead, I suppose I just don't want to be impressed anymore. This is not to say I'm a curmudgeon who wants a bowl of gruel and a cup of tea in solitude before I gather my cane and cap and be on my way--on the contrary, each meal should matter in its own sense, whether it's prepared by a 3-star chef, or by some guy down the street. Lost in the current sea of chef-as-deity and food-as-gospel hype is the fact that if the love and generosity that should be in food is replaced with a love of celebrity and stripped of its story, we are in danger of losing what brought us to love food in the first place. At the end of the day, I want something that has some meaning, whatever that may be; something that says more about the skill, caring and heart behind the plate than it says about the chef's résumé, accolades or tattoo count.

The most gracefully executed food and service I have had in a very long time came at Goosefoot last week. While I was there, I never wanted for anything--a big deal for someone who is always noticing gaps in service, disgruntled about how that takes away from great food, and likewise how poorly executed food comes out on the plate as a neglected child/CTA train.

The BYOB policy at Goosefoot (no corkage fee!) makes what would require a really special occasion necessitate merely a special occasion. As the $90 prixe fixe menu begins, you are gently surrounded by that oh-so-comfortable yet uncommon feeling that the people behind the scenes really know what they are doing. You let go, and put your full trust in the chef and staff, and to wonderful results. I could rehash the menu item by item and post terribly lit photos, but the thing is, the specifics of the menu just don't matter, and even if I was the sort to take photos in restaurants, they would never do justice to the other senses invited to the party while eating here (or anywhere). I will say this: you reach a point as a chef, where you think "okay, gee, I think I can season things pretty well, and I think I can cook things pretty well, and I think I can join harmonious flavors together pretty well." Then you go eat at a place like this, and you realize just what an underachieved chump you are. How many worlds apart this chef is from you. It's like being really good at basketball in high school, then Michael Jordan shows up.

The Chef, Chris Nugent, has the pedigree. I've eaten his food once before, at one of these huge events where several chefs from around town come and set up a table and plate a thousand small samples of whatever they want; his was the only thing I've tasted at one of these that made me feel as though I was in a restaurant--not standing around on grass surrounded by pulsing hordes. As I remember telling him then, the simple custard he'd made and served in egg shells made me feel as though I'd been "hugged simultaneously by the world's top 100 grandmothers." And this is a result of a righteously high level of skill--flavors and textures are put together with an incredible combination of finesse and nuance that is unparalleled by all but a rare few in the game.

A Goosefoot dish that stays with me was the Loup de Mer fish course; a dish that seemed to be seasoned by the acidity of delicate shavings of sunchokes, and enhanced by a instructionally proportionate swirl of fennel puree (by which I mean to say the amount of the puree, as with the ingredients in all dishes, appeared on the plate in appropriate proportion to its counterparts, letting you know how much to eat with each individual bite in a way that you would think happens more often, but just doesn't). The Chestnut Soup was an eye roller--not in the teenage girl sense, but the kind where your eyes end up in the back of your head. Texture almost becomes a flavor. Flavor becomes a feeling. A single sea bean brought brilliant salinity to a chocolate course. And nothing, nothing is wasted on the plate. Everything makes sense; every shaving, every tiny green, every aroma, texture and flavor appears on the plate to play its role and enhance the role of its counterparts. No superfluous, unnecessary ingredients thrown on just because.

A criticism I have heard about Goosefoot is that it lacks a certain level of "excitement", and perhaps creativity. Which is a predictable critique in an age where dining has morphed into spectacle and the form of celebrity trumps the function of substance. It is true that here one doesn't get the feeling that staff is snorting blow off silverware (or each other) in the back, nor suspect a chemist's lab of bubbling beakers transforming what was once food into a new element. But food of this caliber makes the experience memorable--and if not, it's time to find a new dinner date.

Most importantly, what sets Chris Nugent apart from any other chef of any skill level is his sincere genuineness. I've met him a few times before, and never has anything but a pretension-free kindness come from the man. This night, at Goosefoot, he was at each table, talking with every guest. Not the generic "hey how is everything"; not making us wonder "if this guy's out here drinking all night, who's watching the cooking?", but talking with everyone in a humble, thank you for spending the evening with us kind of way. He makes you feel at home. Which brings us full circle. As much as it is the food, it isn't the food. This experience was much more than an assemblage of (perfectly cooked, seasoned, plated and presented) carrots and beef on a plate. Behind it lay an authentic, sincere display of passion from a person to whom these adjectives apply as well. Yes, this was an expensive meal, the type of meal I don't indulge in too much anymore, but we can come across this passion in so many genres: fine dining, huarache joints, small & empty Vietnamese restaurants, and hopefully most often at home. And when we find it, we have to recognize, savor and share it.

Forget the Oscars--Come To The Salon!

2012-01-25T10:50:00.006-06:00

It's that time again--I've marked four new Salon dates on the February calendar! Click on the Salon name for tickets:

Rustic Italian Salon. Rustic Italian cooking is definitely a favorite style in the Salon! We'll focus on the earthy, hearty and (most importantly) delicious foods that have made peasant-style cooking the envy of all royalty. Come warm up with us in early February and BYOB some of those big, bold country wines. Dukes and Dutchesses, check your crowns at the door! Saturday, February 4 @7pm, $50.

Mid-Winter Market Salon. Who knows what Puxatawny Phil will have told us by now? Perhaps we're in store for a long, brutal winter, or maybe some green shoots are due up out of the ground before too long. Either way, we've got a bit to wait for the asparagus and ramps to start poking up, so until then, let's use all the great, rugged produce we're able to get our hands on now! If you've ever wondered what to cook in the middle of the season of frozen ground in Chicago, come join us as we find all the hidden gems awaiting us in the market and we'll create a rich, hearty mid-winter market dinner together. Anything goes, and please note that this is not necessarily a vegetarian Salon. BYOB as always! Thursday, February 9 @7pm, $50.

No Valentine Required Brunch Salon. All the hearts and cupids and arrows and whatnot can get downright annoying this time of year, regardless of your relationship status! Come take respite from the swirling strings and cook a tasty brunch with us in the Salon! We'll focus on some brunch classics and maybe explore some new terrain as well. BYOB as always, and I promise there will be no chocolate-dipped strawberries! Sunday, February 12 @11am, $50.

Vegetarian Salon. Was George Washington a vegetarian? Well, we've never heard any debate on that subject, and it doesn't really matter. But I'll say this: in the Salon on his birthday, we're not about replacing meat with boring faux-meats. We're celebrating all the gorgeous vegetables available to us as we endure the depths of winter in several different preparations, letting each vegetable and grain be what they are--delicious and nourishing! Come explore the bounty in this highly market-driven Salon; based on what I find at the market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, please bring whatever you'd like to drink! Wednesday, February 22 @7pm, $50.

The Food on the Dole Salon is all about bringing your ideas alongside an empty stomach--all levels of cooking ability welcome, from newbie to chef! See you soon!

The Hokey Pokey

2012-01-20T10:45:00.007-06:00

An excellent Salon last night; in fact, the picture of what I intended when starting the Salons. Folks from all walks of life and levels of cooking ability arrive, wine in hand, a slight bit of anxiety in the air about being in a foreign kitchen with strangers, not really knowing what's on the menu. Then, slowly, as wine is poured, and conversation begins; the oven turned on and the action commences, those layers of initial trepidation start to melt away; bonds, if not friendships are forged and people really start to cook with each other. Sitting down to the table with the menu we just created, the conversation continues, and the meal carries on long after the delicious food is consumed. And that's the spirit of the Salon--we come together in the name of spontaneously created, seasonally appropriate food, learn a few techniques and methods along the way, and construct a certain level of kinship with others joining us. It's a great thing, and it's made great by the people who attend. Me, I just facilitate it. And it's a joy to watch.

Last night's crew made a lovely red kabocha squash soup, garnished with black cumin and the squash's roasted seeds; a salad of so-strongly-flavored-and-delicious-especially-in-the-winter greenhouse lettuce, carrots, pomegranate seeds, crisp fried garlic and shaved winter cheddar; and a knockout "root cellar" risotto with golden beets, celeriac, garlic confit, lacinato kale and Gene's oh-so-tasty smoked pork rib belly. Well executed and certainly well enjoyed, it was a great meal, and a great night. As we look ahead to next Wednesday's Pasta Salon, I offer my many thanks to those who braved the cold last night and warmed up in the Salon, and I sincerely hope to see you all again.

Everyone Needs To Know How To Do This

2012-01-18T10:20:00.006-06:00

My gastronomically demanding brother was in town over the weekend, which always sends me into a bit of a frenzy over eating options for him. He needs things to be great, but not precious; full of flavor but not stupidly busy; familiar but not commonplace. On top of that, there was a dismantling of our beloved Denver Broncos to be witnessed, which throws into the mix the inevitable need to secure a spot to watch said game, that isn't over run by thick-necked sports goons, has great beer, and food to match. A tall order for a span of time covering 3-4 meal periods. Gulp.

In the end, everything turned out great--he was satiated and returned to his food sanctum of San Francisco. The sports needs were met with a trip to The Bad Apple, a place we would have gone anyway because of their amazing inexpensive-relative-to-other-places-that-have-amazing-beer-lists beer list, a general lack of the sort of sports enthusiasts that produce caustic howls routinely every 30 seconds for oft-inexplicable reasons, and the top-top-notch burgers. But more importantly, on Sunday, we did what everyone should do now and again: we roasted a simple chicken. Here's how:

Get a good chicken, preferably one that knew--or at least saw--the out-of-doors at some point in it's life and lived a bit longer than 3 weeks.
Rinse it. Dry it.
Rub it with butter. Or, if sickened by Paula Deen's recent--and, naturally, quite profitable--revelation (or by Paula Deen in general), use olive oil.
Shower it inside and out with salt and pepper.
Cut a couple lemons in half. Put them in the cavity of the bird along with some herbs and possibly garlic.
Tie the legs together and tuck the wings behind where the neck would be to make a compact chicken that will cook evenly.
Put the bird on a roasting rack made of either metal or aromatic vegetables such as carrots, celery, onion and garlic.
Surround the bird with a few lemon wedges. Charred lemon is downright tasty on roast birds.
Put it in a 425ºF oven for an hour or an hour and a half. If you are taking it's temperature, do so in its inner thigh, and shoot for about 155ºF (as it rests, it'll hit the 165ºF the FDA has got you worried about).
When done, let it rest (uncovered unless you live in an igloo, or something like an igloo) for 10-15 minutes.
Carve it. Rub charred lemon on it.
Eat it.

Simple! It's delicious, and will satisfy the most demanding of your kin. A skill every decent cook should have in their arsenal.

Meanwhile, we move forward into a sold out Winter Market Salon tomorrow night, but have a couple of seats open for next Wednesday's Pasta Salon. Hope to see you there!

On Top of Spaghetti...

2012-01-12T11:27:00.007-06:00

I've just, just finished the last meatball from New Year's Eve. Here we are, 11 days and a freeze/thaw later and I've finally made my way through the meatballs I was worried I wouldn't have enough of that lovely night (though upon rolling and searing them off, I actually froze about a third of the mixture, which now awaits another tasty application). I've been trudging my way through them, not really eating much other than meatballs--not that there's anything with that--and admiring that particular quality that foods like this have of getting better as time goes by. They've gone in torta rolls for sandwiches, been eaten cold as I stood with my head poked in the fridge and served next to the remnants of the three color lasagna, also from NYE (and, incidentally, completely for the aesthetic of looking at the stratified layers of lasagna and squealing with delight at seeing different colors of pasta made from eggs, carrot juice and spinach rather than offering any huge flavor effect). But yesterday's incarnation was perhaps my favorite--boiled dry spaghetti in the last bits and pieces of meatball/sauce that was sitting at the bottom of the pan. I froze this most tasty and often discarded bit (not unlike a roast chicken's oyster or pope's nose, or that big piece of fat on a grilled ribeye) after harvesting the meatballs way back when, and finally pulled it out yesterday. Straight up spaghetti with meat sauce red checker tablecloth style. All that was missing was a basket of chianti.
To think, so much flavor could be extended for so long to so many people from a collection of beef scraps, pork shoulder, pork fat and salami. It all went through my grinder and was tossed with soffrito I made by slow, slow cooking onions, carrot, celery and garlic in a ton of olive oil and a bunch of parsley, fresh garlic and lemon zest. The meatballs were formed and seared in the trusty cast iron, then piled up in dutch ovens and covered with a slow-simmered tomato sauce and, for good measure, a dousing of that good ham stock. Perfect to throw in the oven as people are arriving and bottles are popping open--the meatballs will be ready when you are.

Now, as the first big, fat flakes start to fall snow globe style, I'm a bit anxious knowing that we're in for it for a few long months now. I'm looking at the snow accumulating on the empty branches outside, and find myself wishing I made more meatballs. Time to thaw that extra bit and get back at it.

Whew!, or, Welcome 2012!

2012-01-03T10:02:00.008-06:00

After a full 2-day recovery, I'm back on my feet and fully rebounded from the festivities of New Year's Eve! It was the kind of night when all of the usual happened: old friends mingling with new, tons of great food, booze and music, porch cigar smoking; and a few new traditions were born--melty raclette, a midnight Hall and Oates dance party, and this most delightful little trick.

After putting on a fancy parade of food last year (including my personal favorite--braised goat short rib tortellini in curry cream w/ mint harrissa), we returned to the simplicity of the year before that (Hoppin' John and fried Chicken) by rolling out spinach, carrot and egg pasta for a bunch of hearty lasagna to be accompanied by piles upon piles of meatballs made of beef, pork and a few salamis, braised in tomato sauce and ham broth. To offer some sense of lightness (because the cheeses, linguica, ham, pepperoni, homemade ricotta and unbelievably tasty raclette Old Crazy Hair brought surely weren't doing it), we cut up some chicory, red leaf lettuce, red dandelion greens and parsley and tossed them with pomegranate seeds, shaved fennel and blood orange segments, all doused in a sharp vinaigrette made from said blood oranges. We ate...and ate...and drank plenty. Several bottles of champagne (including a magnum for the big moment itself), wine and beer later, we found ourselves looking at 4:30am, munching lazily on lavendar sugar cookies, a bevy of delicious nuts and brittle, the occasional hunk of ham or meatball, nursing bravely poured glasses of wine or whiskey or whatever we fancied as the night came to an end. The next day would find most of us loafing around our respective little Hobbit holes, watching terrible movies and eating egg casseroles and bagel bombs so wisely made on the other side of the big night, as the year's first snow decided to flutter around us.

Now, to the year ahead! Here's to great food and drink for everyone, but more importantly, here's to the friendships that are bonded around said food and drink--whether it be gilded goat tortellini, or the simple, humble meatball. Happy 2012!

If What's Supposed To Happen in 2012 Really Happens in 2012, At Least We'll Be Well Fed in 2012

2011-12-23T13:16:00.007-06:00

*when you live in close proximity to FotD Salon leftovers, you get to wake up to croissantillas filled with braised pork belly and shoulder and pickled chiles*

Whenever we've got a lack of snow this deep in winter, I'm always suspicious as to what's going on out there--but I try to enjoy it knowing that we're going to get nailed with plenty of snow and cold weather here in Chicago soon enough, and for long enough. Yes, I know that in late April I will be trudging around, freezing, wondering when it will all end. Well, nevermind all that--we've got four new Salons for January to keep us warm--click on a link for tickets:

Brunch Salon Sunday, 1/8/12 11:00am In the Food on the Dole Brunch Salon we create a highly market-driven menu together, touring some classic dishes and exploring some new terrain as well; a perfect way to resurface after the decadence of the holiday season--BYOB as always! $50.

Ramen and Gyoza Salon Saturday, 1/14/12 7:00pm One of our favorite things to eat here at the Food on the Dole Salon, this ain't the ramen you slurped down in college! We'll hand roll and cut noodles and serve them up in a rich broth with a bevy of tasty accompaniments. Learn what you've been missing all this time eating 10-for-a-dollar packs of Maruchan, and explore one of the tastiest, most fulfilling dishes out there! Not to mention--we'll fill, fold and fry one of my favorite comfort foods--the Japanese dumplings known as Gyoza. BYOB! $50.

Winter Market Salon Thursday, 1/19/12 7:00pm We're in the depths of winter in the Midwest--what will the market have to offer us? If you've ever wondered what to cook in the middle of the season of frozen ground in Chicago, come join us as we find all the hidden gems awaiting us in the market and we'll create a rich, hearty mid-winter market dinner together. Anything goes, and please note that this is not necessarily a vegetarian Salon. BYOB as always! $50.

Pasta Salon Wednesday, 1/25/12 7:00pm Come learn how simple and easy it is to make fresh pasta as you spend an evening in the Salon kneading, rolling and cutting for a lovely winter feast! We'll share stories of our experience with pasta, learn about what makes this simple food so comforting and dig in to a hearty and soulful meal together. The Salon is, as always, BYOB, so bring those big Tuscan wines to enjoy as we cook the evening away. Come with questions and an empty belly; leave with technique, a sense of community and a snapping waistband. $50.

We're rolling off the great Beer Salon and Pasta Salon that finished out a great 2011, and moving full steam ahead into 2012 with another year of great Salons--hope to see you at one soon!

Beer Shall Keep Them Warm

2011-12-21T12:47:00.007-06:00

After a top-notch Beer Salon last Saturday night we're all set to roll into (out of?) the holiday season and into January. I'm putting together Salon dates for the cold months ahead, all certain to warm us up just when we need it the most. Meanwhile--that Beer Salon. What a great night, with really good food and beer brought out by the Saloneers. Stateside Saison from Stillwater, Supplication from Russian River, Avec Les Bons Voeux from Brasserie Dupont, and of course the delicious if big Bourbon County Brand Stout from Goose Island, made in 2008. Lots to try, and an enormous thanks to everyone for sharing in the true spirit of the Salon. But perhaps the beer that will stay with me was one that a Saloneer made himself using Citra hops, something he calls the Blasted Heath IPA, which--if I had to compare it to something--reminded me of the wonderfully un-syrupy, un-sweet Zombie Dust from Three Floyds I stumbled upon early in the year. Anyway, Blasted Heath was a real treat, and the thought of this happening in someone's home thrilled me to no end.

The food we made stood up to so many beers, and after a day of drinking beer and judging chili at Graze Magazine's Chili Home Companion fundraiser down at The Empty Bottle, you'd think I would be knackered and ready to call it a night. On the contrary, the energy of the Salon and those attending simply brought me back to life and so we steamed some mussels in a strong ham broth with leeks, celery and wheat beer; we dove into a crock full of pork rillettes with homemade epi bread; we rolled out some buttery flatbreads I stole from the fine Mission Street Food Cookbook that eat like a tortilla crossed with a croissant, and topped these with briased pork shoulder and crispy pork belly, with sauce options of Oarsman-braised cherries and apricots or nam prik pao pickled chiles. A huge bibb leaf salad--upon which we rained just-fried pork rinds from the belly skin--served to cut through all the decadence. And, as we finished our beers, the caramel ice cream bombe made it's way to the table, capping a very indulgent day.

I sat back after everyone had made their way back out into the cold, fortified by all that food and beer, and drank the remainder of the Bourbon Stout left by the home brewer. To me, that was a holiday celebration--not centered around a holiday--for the ages.

Strawberries? In December?

2011-12-07T11:12:00.002-06:00

Strawberry. Plantain. Syrupy. So read the description on the package of Metropolis' Costa Rican Perla Negra I'd just picked up. I worried they'd gone sappy up there in Edgewater. I mean, I understood the decision to move from more prose-like descriptions to the hard and direct system of few words as indication of what one might expect from a certain coffee, but this was too much. This described a smoothie--or worse: a slurpie.

But then, at home later, I boiled some water and ground some of the beans. And as soon as the hot water hit the grind, I said to myself, "why do I smell berries? It's December!" I looked in the fridge, trying to remember if I had something berry-laden left over from a Salon. No. I scanned the countertop, thinking something must have been left out, some jam, or the kombucha had picked up a weird strain perhaps--or wait! The Super Bubble in the cabinet! No. And finally, looking at the brew sitting on the counter I recalled the words from the bag. I approached the thick mix of ground beans and hot water, and yes indeed...the strawberry aroma was steaming up from the coffee! Weird! And behind it--the rich, almost sticky aroma of banana...but earthier, and not quite as sweet...perhaps a touch greener. Plantain!

Feeling embarrassed at my excitement over something I usually try to avoid--bypassing actual multi-sensual enjoyment of food, wine, beer, and yes, coffee for esoteric, cerebral reasons as the food/drink gets cold or flat (second only to relentlessly taking cell-phone photos while forgetting to actually experience the food)--I poured the coffee, kept with the usual gameplan of sticking my nose in the cup, and enjoyed the aromas, not to mention the astute olfactory palates of the fellows up at Metropolis. Well done guys!

Comfort, In Food and Place

2011-12-06T10:50:00.006-06:00

Just read a great article about the Supper Clubs up in Wisconsin in the NYT--places whose appeal and quality stand frozen in time from nearly a century ago, aptly captured by the author David McAninch in the following, lovely paragraph:

Imbibed in this north woods sanctum, Tom Kelly’s cocktails are a potent tonic for body and spirit alike. It helps, perhaps, if you’ve spent the day hiking amid the magnificent birches and pines of the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, which extends in a vast patchwork across this lake-studded swath of northern Wisconsin. It also helps to know that a thick slice of prime rib is waiting for you at the end of that drink. You know this because the hostess, dressed in a prim black waitress uniform with white piping, has already appeared alongside you at the bar unbidden, pen poised over order pad, asking what you’d like for dinner and informing you that your table will be ready whenever you happen to be — no sooner, no later.

No schemes here, nothing to make you think you're somewhere you're not. It's Wisconsin. It's 2011. But none of that matters, because you are well-fed, well-oiled from the drinks, and you have that pleasant sense of physical exhaustion smoothed over by these things. I think this is something we can all appreciate.

Looking ahead, we've got a couple Salons with some well worn seats and tasty food yet available, and I'd love to see you there! Click on a Salon to purchase tickets:

Brunch Salon Sunday 12/11/11 @ 11am
Beer Salon Saturday 12/17/11 @ 7pm (attended by, it is rumored, Michael Roper, proprietor of The Hop Leaf)

See you then!

WARNING: Butcher's Shops May Contain Meat

2011-12-04T15:53:00.005-06:00

I was preparing for a private catering gig on Saturday when I stopped in to Gene's Sausage to get some pork and beef and salami for what would be tasty little meatballs. As she was getting me the meat, my friend behind the butcher's glass told me tale of dastardly proportion. You see, Gene's currently has hanging in their windows a few quarters of beef; immense, big slabs of shoulder and flank waiting to be cut into more manageable pieces (though wouldn't it be wonderful to build a great fire and somehow fashion a spit large enough to spin a side of beef and roast the whole thing medium rare?). I relayed my excitement to my friend and she told me how they'd received a comment card condemning the beef; that perhaps that sort of display might fly in Europe, but that "this is America", and it was in exceedingly poor taste for a butcher shop to, um, display meat.

Yep.

This certainly wasn't the same blood thirsty person that ordered three turkeys from a local farm for Thanksgiving, then once they were slaughtered changed their mind, leaving the farm holding three dead turkeys (which, incidentally, found their way to a table via some good-spirited folk). Both examples remind me of the great Max von Sydow in Woody Allen's Hannah and Her Sisters, talking about the inanity of television: "Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling?"

ANYWAY, this is all clearly a matter of opinion. For those who do, stop by Gene's and get a big slab of that meat. For those who don't, stop by anyway and get a jar of Biscoff Spread before it's only available at precious little boutiques--just be sure to shield your eyes while walking by the butcher case.

Back Inside, and Stolen Yiayia

2011-11-28T11:32:00.004-06:00

Back from yet another splendid trip yonder to the Mississippi River area, where the usual Thanksgiving feast and festivities throve, including the traditional bourbon in the morning, followed by bloody marys and goose right out of the smoker, creekside campfires every night, great slabs of rib roast cooked over said fire, tons of wild geese bestowed upon me by a hunter in the area, and of course, the overwhelmingly delicious Thanksgiving feast. A top notch time and a huge thank you to all those involved. It's always so nice to get out for a bit--in the city, when people ask the obligatory small talk question "what do you do?", and you say you are a chef, they immediately, almost desperately respond with "WHERE?" In the country, when you say you are a chef, people almost always respond "Oh, that's nice. What do you like to cook?"

So refreshing.

Anyway, upon returning home, I combined the two obsessions--that of where and what and made what I've loved so long and have touted as the perfect way to get children into some more advanced flavors: Pasta Yiayia, stolen straight from the playbook of the great Lula Cafe. Noodles (they use a great big bucatini noodle, but I had spaghetti on hand, which is absolutely fine) tossed with thinly sliced garlic that has been browned nice and crisp in butter (I added a good deal of olive oil and a couple arbol chiles) as well. Topped with crumbled feta cheese and a good dose of cinnamon, this is the classic, comforting noodles and butter, but with some pretty delicious kid-friendly-but-loved-by-adults flavors thrown in. Real easy riding after a long trip home.

Meanwhile, I've had a couple seats open up for Thursday's Vegetarian Salon, and would love to get them filled. Tickets can be had here--I'd love to see you there!

In The Spirit of The Holiday Season, a Re-Run

2011-11-23T08:44:00.004-06:00

I was reading over what I wrote after last year's Thanksgiving, and I got all excited in hoping that this year's will be much of the same. In fact, in my child-like holiday head, every single thing is going to happen, in sequence, again this year. So since I've got a foot out the door to head towards the Mississippi, leaving all electronic devices behind, what say we revisit yesteryear in a trip down memory lane, shall we? Here's what happened last year on Thanksgiving for F.o.t.D., as belatedly written on December 6, 2010:

When a Guy Gives You a Duck That Was in the Air That Morning, You Cook it Up and Eat It

I had the extreme fortune of traveling to the banks of the mighty Mississippi River over Thanksgiving. Included in this trip:

Outfitting in new winter gear (just in time) via Farm King, a store full of Carhartt and the like, luxuriously empty on Black Friday when I went. (What am I doing in the city?)
Eating a delicious huarache (a big huge disk of masa topped with good things I wrote about here) in a curious and unexpected Mexican restaurant, one of a few, in a small midwestern town of less than 10,000, which were all attached to pretty well stocked Mexican groceries, on par with what can be found in Chicago.
The obligatory Thanksgiving feast, complete with traditions such as corn pudding, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. We brined a turkey for a few days and roasted it, of course--and had a couple extra breasts in the brine that we rolled and smoked a couple days later over what could be one of the greatest backyard, creekside, all-year-long firepits I've known. When the breasts were finishing up, we grilled a huge bone-in ribeye, I'm talking a couple of inches thick, and roasted some vegetables in foil as well. Where'd we get the vegetables? We got them the night before when dining at a place in Peoria, IL, called June, where the chef (a guy by the name of Josh Adams who is more enthusiastic about farms and farmers and vegetables than the oxyclean guy is about soap) came out to chat and wouldn't let us leave without a big bag full of crazy vegetables for us to cook. Ahh, the benefits of being in the industry. Oh, and did I mention this bonfire took place around 33 degrees or so? Fire warm. Carhartt, too.
Whiskey at 8am Thanksgiving morning in a small bar full of smoke on said Mississippi River. Tastes good. Too good. Too easy. So we left after one and went to a friend's cabin on the river. This man, a science teacher, is also quite the hunter/fisherman/maker of bloody marys. Stories were exchanged in the taxidermy-filled cabin, cigars blazing, deer sausage on the cutting board and in the belly. Toasty from the wood burning stove (and booze, I suppose), we decided to go out on the river on his boat. It was that good kind of really cold that I like so much walking along Lake Michigan in the winter--no one else around, really biting and invigorating and cleansing. We spotted a few bald eagles, so much larger than the back of any dollar bill has ever led me to believe; a woodpecker (also really huge) whose breed, I was told is that of the Woody Woodpecker; and a few ducks here and there hiding from the hunters. Back in the cabin, I asked how a city guy who might be interested in tasting one of the ducks shot that morning might be able to acquire one. Thankfully, instead of handing me a shotgun (yeah, I grew up in Colorado, but no, I never learned to hunt), he took me outside and pulled out a duck he had shot that morning before our arrival. It was a diver duck, he told me, and as such had very small parts. He easily plucked the feathers and removed two tiny breast for me. The legs on these guys were really scrawny and do not lend themselves to cooking very well, nor did the organs--but the breasts, he told me, were strongly flavored. "Livery" was the term he used. I licked my lips and thanked him. Seeing how it was Thanksgiving, I held off cooking the duck that day. But when the time came a couple days later, I got a pan hot with some butter and fried those two breasts, getting a nice dark sear on one side, flipping them, and spoon-basting with butter. They came off nice and medium-rare. I gave them a rest, then sliced. Delicious. Strong. Ducky. Just as a heritage breed turkey tastes like turkey, as opposed the the tastes-like-chicken-bred broad breasted white, this duck, flying in the midwest just days earlier tasted like duck is supposed to taste. I recommend it. Just be sure to remove any shot left in it.

All in all, it was the kind of trip that makes a city dweller wonder what he's doing in the city. But I suppose proximity to this sort of thing is, for now, good enough. I know a guy here who is out hunting before showing up to work in the absolute middle of Chicago at 5pm (to be clear, he is hunting in rural Illinois; working in Chicago). That lovely winter isolation can be had out on the lake during the coldest times. And sometimes, sometimes the city skyline on a blustery, wintry night can be as stunning a a sky rich with glowing stars. And where else am I going to be able to wake up to Metropolis, eat at Anteprima or Schwa, drink at the Hop Leaf, shop at Reckless and Myopic, create with crazy-haired guys, and see that noisy Hanukkah truck driving all over the city, all in the same week?

Duck is Delicious, and, If You're Gonna Kill a Turkey, You Gotta Be Sure You Want To Eat It

2011-11-21T13:09:00.006-06:00

What a great Salon on Saturday night! We hit the Pre-Thanksgiving pavement, picked up a duck and made some Mission Street Food inspired flatbread--think tortillas laden with butter and duck fat--into which went duck confit, pickled thai chiles, cucumber, cilantro and radish for a decadent first course. From there, we made celeriac puree-filled tortellini, and served these creamy little nuggets in a rich duck broth with pea shoots and black cumin. And finally, a big fall/winter salad of chicory, watercress, Brussels sprout leaves, pomegranate, oranges and seared duck breast all rained over with crispy duck skins. Oh, and a caramel ice cream bombe with brown sugar and butter roasted honey crisp apples. Some beautiful food with a great, lively bunch! Thanks, all!

Moving on, in anticipation of the shopping madness that begins this time of year, I'd like to say that Food on the Dole Salon Gift Certificates are now available in any amount you like. Click on the link for details.

And one final anecdote--a friend who was acting as middle (wo)man for the great Gunthorp Farms and selling their turkeys received word from someone who put in an order for 3, yes THREE birds, that "oh, nevermind, I guess I don't want those anymore." Problem is...gulp...the birds have already been slaughtered, and are not returnable as are, say, a pair of suspenders you just don't like. So, my friend is left holding these three great turkeys in an understandably furious fashion (on so many levels). SO, if you find yourself without a great turkey (or three) for Thursday, send me an email at hughamano@yahoo.com and I can point you in the right direction. Thanks!

May the Frigid Month of December Find You in the Salon

2011-11-15T12:02:00.007-06:00

We've got a new round of Salons to warm you up in the chilly month of December, and I hope to see you there! Remember, all events are BYOB and tickets can be had by clicking on the name of the desired Salon:

Vegetarian Salon As you know, we're not about replacing meat with boring faux-meats here at Food on the Dole. We're celebrating all the gorgeous vegetables available to us as we enter the depths of winter in several different preparations, letting each vegetable and grain be what they are--delicious and nourishing! Come explore all of the bounty from the local farms in this highly market-driven Salon; based on what I find at the market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, please bring whatever you'd like to drink! Thursday, 12/1/11, 7pm. $50.

Seafood Salon We're paddling ahead into another Seafood Salon! Depending on what the market is providing, we'll cook up the freshest fish around, and definitely crack into some top-notch oysters. We'll keep everything light yet warming, and don't forget to BYOB those crisp white wines! Saturday, 12/3/11, 7pm. $60.

Parisian Bistro We're bringing back the Bistro Salon! Last time we discovered that these are the picture perfect foods for the Salon, so come back as we revisit some classic, simple favorites like steak frites, pork rillettes, and big bursting salads on a festive evening in the Salon. Come discuss your love of bistros, or come find out just what makes them and their style of food so important and well-loved. Wednesday, 12/7/11, 7pm. $50.

Brunch Salon We're putting on a brunch! In the Food on the Dole Brunch Salon we create a highly market-driven menu together, touring some classic dishes and exploring some new terrain as well; a perfect way to resurface in the middle of the decadence of the holiday season! Sunday, 12/11/11, 11am. $40.

Beer Food Join us in this rollicking BYOB Salon as we kick back and make some simple, completely from scratch food to go along with your beer. We'll steam some mussels, roast some sausages, and who knows what else? Bring whatever style beer you like--this food goes well with anything from the lightest swill to the heartiest Belgian! Teetotalers not allowed! Saturday, 12/17/11, 7pm. $50.

Pasta Salon Fresh pasta is one of my absolute favorite things to make, so come spend an evening in the Salon kneading, rolling and cutting fresh pasta for a lovely winter feast. We'll share stories of our experience with pasta, learn about what makes this simple food so comforting and dig in to a hearty and soulful meal together. Come with questions and an empty belly; leave with technique, a sense of community and a snapping waistband. Wednesday, 12/21/11, 7pm. $50.

As always, thanks for your support--and for making the Salon such a wonderful place to cook and eat!

All Hail Cast Iron

2011-11-14T16:07:00.008-06:00

A friend asked me about cast iron and my seemingly unnatural love of it recently. Specifically, she asked me about "curing" or "seasoning" it, a question most common among folks who have cast iron but don't use it too much. Simply put, curing or seasoning cast iron simply refers to the application of a small amount of fat to the pot or pan, then heating it for awhile to set the fat into the pan. Scientifically speaking (and thus quoting Harold McGee in On Food and Cooking): "The oil penetrates into the pores and fissures of the metal, sealing it from the attack of air and water." Furthermore, the fatty acid chains oxidize and bond to form to form a hard, protective layer on the surface of the pan, "just as linseed and other 'drying oils' do on wood and paintings". To put it simply: the fat bakes into the pan, sets, and protects it from rusting, while creating a surface that, when heated thoroughly, is essentially non-stick.

Of course, one wants to preserve this seasoning. To begin with, many cast iron pans sold these days are "pre-seasoned" and are all set to go. However, if you are surfing the thrift store and yard sale circuit, and find a great pan for a couple bucks that is all rusty and beat up (or if you have this very pan hidden away in the depths of your lower cupboards), never fear, for it can be salvaged by scrubbing all of the rust away with an abrasive metal scrubbie, drying it completely, then rubbing it with some fat. Canola oil is fine. Pop it in to a 350° oven for an hour or so. It'll smell weird, but don't worry. Then, turn off the heat and leave the pan in the oven overnight. Good as new. As far as maintenance: DO NOT USE SOAP on the pan. This will remove the protective fatty later described above (which can be replaced using this same process when, unavoidably, someone comes over and "helps" with the dishes, but really--you don't want to do this every time). Instead, scrub it out the same way you normally would, just don't use soap. If anything gives you a hard time coming out (a result of food sticking due to not giving the dense cast iron plenty of time to heat up before cooking--i.e. 5 solid minutes over at least a medium flame), pour in some kosher salt for added abrasiveness. Just don't lose that fat layer. Dry it thoroughly and store (I actually keep mine in the oven sometimes, as the pilot light provides enough heat to ensure it is always dry). You shouldn't need to re-season it; in fact, the fat used each time you cook will build on the coating already present, creating a slick layer of seasoning that should last forever. This is one reason things cooked in cast iron always taste so great: the subtle flavors of a thousand meals past.
And how about a quick, easy, one-pan route to killer tri-tip (or any steak for that matter) with romesco sauce inspired by Mr. Mark Bittman:

Get a cast iron pan smoking hot. Get an oven to 450°.
Season a hunk of meat. Add a touch of canola oil to said pan. Add meat. Throw some whole almonds and grape tomatoes in the pan next to the meat.
Get a lovely sear on the first side of the meat. Nice, dark golden brown. 3-4 minutes. Flip meat and remove almonds and tomatoes. Replace them in the pan with some chopped shallots and move the pan to the oven.
In a food processor, mince 2 cloves of garlic. Add almonds and tomatoes. Puree while drizzling in some olive oil until it tastes good. Season with salt and pepper and perhaps some red wine vinegar.
Remove steak from oven when it is done to your liking. Let it rest. Slice and serve with the sauce and what are now carmelized shallots. (Admittedly, the pictures prove that my appetite is matched by only my impatience as a long rest prevents some of the juice from escaping. But hey. Do as I say and not as I do, kids.)

Moral of the story here: use that cast iron! It's cheaper and better than pretty much all other cookware out there. And don't forget to remember meals past while cooking new ones in this beauty.

A Brief History of Cheesemaking

2011-11-09T00:03:00.007-06:00

Warning: This post contains graphic vomit-related material. Not for those easily made queasy, or those who do not have cats.

I just heard a story about a woman returning milk to a store insisting that--despite the fact that the expiration date on said milk was nowhere near happening, and despite the fact that the milk smelled fine, and despite the yet more bewildering fact that one of the two bottles she was returning was not even open--the milk was bad. Her reason: her son, who apparently has never been sick in his life, drank the milk, then vomited awhile later. In this vomit, there seemed to be chunks of curdled milk. Yes, the milk had curdled in the stomach of this boy (who may or may not also lay golden eggs). In the head of this woman--who I'm sure is a lovely person--this meant the milk was somehow bad.

Nay, fine woman! Instead, you have bore witness to a magical feat indeed, for this lad had made cheese right in his stomach!

Well, as you may have guessed, the milk was not bad, or at least if it was this is not what made it curdle. For inside the brave young boy's stomach was a complex of enzymes and acids, not unlike the rennet (harvested from the stomach linings of young animals, as well as some vegetarian-friendly sources) that cheesemakers use to separate milk into curds and whey. That milk, good or not, inside a warm stummy with all kinds of digestive acids floating around gets broken down into parts that look a lot like this curds and whey situation in the cheesemaker's pot, making the milk digestable and the nutrients absorbable, and this lady simply was lucky enough to see it up close. Could have been a good teaching moment. But hey, she got her seven bucks back, and junior got out of school. Of course, if that milk is curdled before drinking, that's a different story...but here's trusting our senses to protect us from that one.

The Big Misunderstanding That Causes Winter

2011-11-01T12:08:00.016-05:00

One of my great Southerner friends brought me a pomegranate from her grandparent's Alabama backyard, where they apparently litter the ground in much the same fashion as the oranges in Florida and grapefruit in Arizona, a problem I'm not sure is a problem. The tale of the pomegranate is one of my favorites, where the lovely Persephone is captured by Hades and whisked away to the underworld, sending her mother--who happens to be Demeter, goddess of the harvest and earth's fertility--into a deep depression. Well, Zeus just couldn't have this, what with Demeter all mopey all the time and the earth basically dying because of it, so he commanded Hades to return Persephone back upstairs. Unfortunately, this didn't happen until after she had eaten six pomegranate seeds and--a well known fact when visiting the underworld--eating or drinking down there means you stay down there. Forever. There are signs all over the place. So, Zeus had to compromise his demands for her return so as not to contradict The Fates, and Persephone was doomed to spend one month each year in the underworld for each pomegranate seed she ate. Which translated to Demeter's depression for half a year, every year. Which translates to this terrible winter we're about to face. But it does make it easy to remember when this delicious fruit is in season. So, not a bad trade-off.

ANYWAY, the pomegranate may seem difficult to deal with, but it really is quite simple. The gentle way is to cut it in half and coax the seeds out in a bowl of water, where they will sink and the foamy, inedible membrane around them floats, making it quite simple to separate them. I find a much quicker and effective method is to score the pomegranate about 6-8 times from top to bottom, cut it in half, and whack it on the skin side with a wooden spoon handle.
They'll rain out, and if you get stuck at all, just give the fruit a squeeze to loosen the seeds, and continue whacking it. No problem, and the seeds are delicious with yogurt and pistachios and honey, in savory braised-meat pasta dishes, or just by themselves. Special thanks to Hades, Persephone, and that little backyard in 'Bama for making it possible.

The November Salons Cometh!

2011-10-23T17:22:00.012-05:00

We're already rolling through Halloween and into November--spooky scary indeed. So I've decided on four Salons for November, and I think we've got several bases covered in this line-up. If you are new to the Salon, read the Food on the Dole Salon manifesto here for more information. Repeat guests, welcome back! To purchase tickets, click on the desired Salon name, and remember, the Salon is always BYOB. Come cook, learn and eat with us!

Vegetarian Salon I'll be picking up some great produce from our surrounding farms in the day or two leading up to this Salon, and we'll be cooking some delicious food in honor of this bountiful time of year! As some of you know, I tend to stay away from faux-meats--like tofurkey--in order to truly celebrate all the great produce we have available. Meat lovers, never fear--you'll love this one too! Thursday, November 3 at 7:00pm. $50.

Pizza Town Salon Stop by the Pizza Town Salon and throw some dough! F.o.t.D. wants you to learn how simple it is to leave the pizza guy out in the cold and build top-notch pies from scratch. We'll put together a ton of great homemade toppings and bake pizza after pizza, not to mention a couple of great accompanying salads! Saturday, November 5 at 7:00pm. $40.

Cold Weather Quickies Salon I usually espouse the "lower and slower is better" theme in all walks of life, especially cooking. But sometimes, it's Monday night, and it's cold outside, and you just want to get something warm to eat without it taking all night. This Salon will be all about leaving the microwave alone and cooking up hearty, delicious and whole food in careful yet swift fashion. Monday, November 14 at 7:00pm. $50.

Pre-Thanksgiving Salon This Salon is not about roasting a turkey and plopping cranberry sauce out of a can, and is not a crash course for cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal--though many of the things we make could be recreated the following week to impress at Thanksgiving. We'll be cooking up some fall favorites, using everything that is available at the market at this wonderful time of year, creating a deliciously seasonal menu to help stretch that stomach for Thanksgiving day that we'll share over a discussion of all things food--and of course, questions about the upcoming big day are welcome! Saturday, November 19 at 6:00pm. $50.

The Salons have been fantastic in their six months of existence, and I've loved meeting so many of you and watching the evening unfold in an always different, always delicious, entertaining and fun way. I hope to keep this going strong as we enter fall, and hope to meet many more of you. Naturally, questions can be sent to me at hughamano@yahoo.com. Thanks very much!

Hobo with a Po' Boy

2011-10-22T11:30:00.005-05:00

Few things are better than finishing up a long frigid fall night working outside, then getting a call to stop by a friend's house because he's making a big batch of venison stew. You show up with some beer sometime after midnight, and find a kitchen table full of fresh oregano and parsley hanging out with mysterious chiles and the most tender baby green onions from someone's garden; a hunk of deer sausage sitting next to a bowl full of romanesco cauliflower; a po-boy filled with halibut cheeks crispy from a corn-meal deep fry and a spicy remoulade; a corn bread-spoon bread-scrapple-like thing full of corn and chives and wrapped in bacon; and the enormous crock pot full of the promised stew--rich and flavorful, spicy and the deer just downright tender. And enough to last for weeks. And then a guy you just met mentions something about porchetta, and how he's been hiding one in the fridge because he, too, was on his way home from work and planned on spending the weekend eating it. Your head comes out of the steam of the stew and your ears perk up, and you mention that it's been some time since you've had porchetta, so he immediately takes it out, slices you some, heats it up and garnishes it with a tangy mostarda including stone fruit and roasting juices, and puts a salad of fennel and tiny little greens on top. First of all, it's gorgeous. You stick your nose in it and absorb all that amazing-after-all-these-years aroma, then you demolish every last sweet/salty/porky bite. It's ridiculous how good it is, and it settles in to the happy little party of stew and po-boy and corn bread down below in the best of ways.

Sometimes--no, always--the best meals are had unexpectedly, without pomp and spectacle, without anything other than a here, I made this and it's good and I think you might like it kind of attitude. To have this many great things to eat after the midnight hour standing around hanging out in a friend's apartment--I'd take this over a 3-star meal any day.

Jeri's, or The Importance of All Night Diners

2011-10-20T10:36:00.008-05:00

*French Chef/Short Order Cook by Mark Laita*

When people come to the Salon they invariably ask what my favorite restaurants in town are. Predictable (for me) answers like Anteprima and The Hop Leaf, as well as typical answers like Lula Cafe and The Publican abound. But one I always throw in is this little joint at the corner of Montrose and Western called Jeri's. I get plenty of gruff for this in my circle of friends, but let me say this: short-order diner cookery of this sort is a form of cuisine quite unique to the United States, and one that has fed a lot of people. Sure, they don't sous-vide anything there. Sure, they don't use every farm in the land (though I did see the busser up at the Lincoln Square Farmer's Market over the summer buying a huge box of tomatoes, so who knows). Sure, they're rough servers in there. Sure, every time Old Crazy Hair goes there I get blamed by his old lady. But man, these cooks have been doing it for years, and efficiency and speed-wise, could cook most fancy chefs out of their hundred-and-fifty dollar Dansko's in a flash. And the food is good, and real. No triple-organic figs on a plate here. And hey--Jeri's has been here for 50 years. In the same spot. Name many other joints that can claim that.

So, when driving by next time, put the nose down, get yourself in a booth and order yourself a patty melt. Hot, salty onions over cheese and a burger patty and ice cold pickles, and a load of fries. Get one of their great milkshakes, too (if the server is one of the good ones who doesn't bellyache about making you one). We were in there one night, the night of the boot mill incident in fact, and we decided we needed yet more salt and fat and whatever else might be lurking in there. Well, we got the waitress who hates making shakes, but between the six of us, we must have ordered four of them anyway. The faster-than-ever cook delivered our six patty melts in no time, while the grumpy waitress struggled with the shakes. But as she made them, a googly-eyed old timer, helping himself to Old Crazy Hair's fries, announced, "They're worth the wait. I've been all over the world, and no one makes a cookies and cream shake like Jeri's."

Indeed.

Autumn!

2011-10-14T09:38:00.006-05:00

Finally. We're starting to feel that autumnal chill in the air--not that I'm complaining about the prolonged summer, or looking forward to what I hear is going to be the nastiest winter ever--but it's nice when the seasons act like seasons. The ground is crunchy and yellow with leaves everywhere we go, and burning fireplaces fill the cool evening air. This means it's time to act like Carl Weathers and get a stew on.

Or a soup. Just something warm, and tasty, and preferably made with an old ham bone. I'm now in possession of several of these smoky salty hunks of magic, and for some reason, the place I got them from (brought to me from Tennessee by a buddy) leaves all kinds of meat on these bones. I'd love to be a dog that got these bones. Anyway, we trimmed off some of the meat, crisped it up with carrot, celery and onion, then threw in the bone itself with water and some pearl barley. Finished it with some green lentils which thicken things up a touch and man, you've got a smoky, salty soup goin'. Oldest trick in the book--people have been using ham bones to flavor soups forever. And now's the perfect time to give it a try.

Meanwhile, we've got a great sold-out Brunch Salon happening on Sunday, but have a few seats left for the Welcome Autumn Salon next Saturday 10/22. It's going to be a warm, hearty, festive one, and I hope to see you there!

A Birthday that Fred Berry Could Get Behind

2011-10-11T11:06:00.006-05:00

*not the friend in question*

It's a good friend's birthday, the kind of friend that goes to Tennessee to visit kin and comes back with some of the country's best ham for you. The kind of guy who brings a big bucket of pate with a bottle of Chartreuse to your New Year's Eve party just 'cause. Who isn't a chef but has as much (if not more) passion and knowledge of food than so many chefs out there. The kind of guy who brings a Time Life American Cooking Southern Style book to you for your birthday, if only to point out the picture of the 30-foot-in-diameter-cast-iron-pan-frying-ungodly-amounts-of-chicken.

So, what do you get this guy for his birthday? Well, you don't really get him anything. No, you take him to revel and possibly gorge at Huaraches Dona Chio. And you repost something you wrote about the place a couple years ago in his honor. So, happy birthday, my dear grub-loving friend:

Excerpt from F.o.t.D. 1/4/09
Huaraches Dona Chio has ridiculous Huaraches for super, super cheap. A Huarache is most popularly known as a kind of sandal; what I'm talking about is a sandal shaped wad of masa that a wonderful woman, shaped not unlike a thick Huarache, makes from a fresh tub full of the stuff. She presses it on this enormous old press and throws it on a flattop griddle, and ultimately tops it with whatever you like. The al Pastor was wonderful, everything done in big pots on a few burners in the tiny, exposed kitchen, as cramped as the dining room, which consists of 3 tables, 8 seats, a few stools at the bar overlooking the kitchen, and one large television blasting novellas. It's the kind of place that people of my "demographic" tend to get nervous being in, trying to act as natural as possible and trying to pronounce things properly without sounding patronizing, and as we all know, these are the places that the best food can be had at. The great food writer Calvin Trillin, in his essay Divining the Mysteries of the East, writes about his difficulties in eating at Chinese restaurants and his displeasure in receiving the dumbed-down menu given to most Americans when what he really wants is the "off the menu" type items, usually displayed in Chinese prints on the wall, available only to those speaking and reading the language. He's not scared to ask. I still kind of am. ANYWAY, the Huaraches at Dona Chio are delightful, and plenty for two, even when one of those two is a race-to-the-finish, eat-it-all-before-anyone-else-does hog.

Kegs for Kids!

2011-10-03T10:51:00.005-05:00

Well, now that the Red Sox have completed their historically sickening collapse, we can return all of our attention right where it belongs: fall food and drink. Use that oven to heat the place up and braise those hearty dishes; pick up those big red wines and strong beers. And don't forget to indulge in it all this Saturday, October 8 at Kegs for Kids, put on by two of my favorite places, The Hopleaf and Metropolis Coffee. It's 65 clams to get in, but oh me, oh my, there'll be more than 50 craft beers to drink, food of all kinds, and a special brew by Metropolis. Can't make it? There's a silent auction of all kinds of stuff, one of which just might be a dinner from yours truly paired with wines by Alpana Singh. That particular item may be a bit pricey, but hey--all the proceeds go to the Pierce Elementary School in Andersonville. It's a good cause full of great food and drink--and a great way to kick off fall!

The Red Sox Are Leaving That Bitter Broccoli Rabe Taste In My Mouth

2011-09-28T10:35:00.007-05:00

I was on my way to watch the Red Sox try to stop the bleeding that has been their pitiful September last night when a friend called me with questions about broccoli rabe. Also known as rapini, this cousin of broccoli in the brassicaceae family often draws complaints of bitterness. Which is exactly why I love it. The taste known as "bitter" is misunderstood in my book; we're taught to not eat bitter things when we get lost in the woods for fear that they are poisonous. Perhaps, but bitter is also the taste of things good for us--vitamins and minerals--and it also offers us a sharp contrast to the rich dishes it may accompany. And besides--eating bitter berries is merely one of a number of problems that may arise when lost in the woods .

SO, broccoli rabe. Saute it with some garlic and chili flake in olive oil until tender. Blanch it first if you're that kind of person--but me, I get it going in a pan with the other ingredients, then add a splash of water here or there as I cook it if it needs more time to become tender. Perhaps I'm lazy, but to have a pot of boiling water, then a strainer, and an ice bath, well, this just makes too much clutter in a kitchen. Finish it with salt and pepper and lemon, and you're set. Quick and easy. You could also roast it--the slow, dry heat of the oven will rob it of some color but give it some nice brown roasted bits, which will lessen the bitter taste. An article in the current issue of Saveur (October 2011) praises the act of what many perceive as "overcooking" vegetables, that is, cooking them past the popular point of crunch and vitality into a soft, warm hug. Said article has a recipe for broccoli rabe, in which it is cooked with olive oil and water until tender as all get out, and hey, I can get behind that. After all, there's more than one way to skin a cat.

One note--don't be fooled into thinking broccolini is the same thing as broccoli rabe. It'll often get served and sold as such, but it ain't--it's a hybrid of broccoli and Chinese broccoli, and is much more sweet and far less bitter than broccoli rabe. If you eat it and like it, fine--it's delicious--but don't let it go on masquerading as something it's not. Serve broccoli rabe with rich pastas and braises, and let it be it's bitter self. I'll need a like-minded friend after this baseball season.

Welcoming Autumn in The Salon

2011-09-23T14:10:00.007-05:00

When autumn rolls around and that feeling of nostalgia starts to seep in, that cool, crisp air always reminds me of my childhood in Colorado. The whole back-to-school thing which I hated then and yearn for now; the changing colors of the trees that had no impact on me as a kid, then, as an adult living in New England I couldn't be without; the sound of the announcer at the college football stadium nearby as we kids played our own game of football in the churchyard across the street. And the food. The braised meats, and the fall squashes. Pumpkins and candy and cider and everything in those earthy tones of autumn. Well, it's here again, and I've got three Salons to greet it:

Autumn Vegetarian Salon. We've been lovin' the Food on the Dole Vegetarian Salon! As you know, we're not about replacing meat with boring faux-meats. We're celebrating all the gorgeous vegetables available to us as fall gets underway in several different preparations, letting each vegetable and grain be what they are--delicious and nourishing! Come explore all of the bounty from the local farms in this highly market-driven Salon; based on what I find at the market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, so please bring whatever you'd like to drink. Wednesday, 10/12/11, 7:00pm. $50.00.
Autumn Brunch Salon. The Food on the Dole Brunch Salons have been wildly popular so we're going to keep it rolling. As always, we'll visit old classics, and brave some new terrain in our market-driven menu; a perfect way to welcome Autumn. BYOB as always! Sunday, 10/16/11, 11:0oam. $50.00.
Welcome Autumn! Salon. We're easing into the Autumn season--and how! Leaves falling and lovely crisp weather to go with roasted apples and braised meats. Hearty vegetables keep coming out of the ground and we're set to welcome Autumn in the Salon tonight! BYOB as always, so bring nice big red wines, or even hearty beer. Saturday, 10/22/11, 7:00pm. $60.00.

So if you can, find some time in between your Apple & Pork and Pork & Apple Festivals and make a Salon! We'd love to see you.

Hark! A New Menu There Be!

2011-09-16T22:32:00.008-05:00

I'm just finishing up some menu work for a place whose mission and product I truly believe in. The place? Metropolis Coffee, with a cafe in Edgewater on Granville featuring the aforementioned menu and a roasterie that keeps Andersonville smelling great on Clark. Metropolis sources and roasts some of the best coffee around, and deserves the majority of credit for my interest in and (very) limited knowledge of coffee. The passion they put into their product really shines, and for that reason, I'm proud to be behind the conception, sourcing and implementation of a like food program.

It's a challenge, spending but a month creating a menu and a functional kitchen; sourcing the right product and staff; then getting it all up and running. But that's the easy part. Letting go of the program, walking away and leaving it running--in capable hands, it should be noted--will be the true test. I'll admit, I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to things like this. But hey--the food is simple yet well prepared, which should make sense to those of you familiar with the F.o.t.D. ethic and my style of cooking. And it is a cafe, after all. I understand the coffee has to come first, and the food should complement that. After all, they go to great lengths (quite literally--one of the owners just returned from a trip to Brazil to source great coffee) in the sourcing and production of their coffee, and to them, it's all about guiding one of the world's great natural goods into a cup, relying on the quality of the coffee rather than manipulation in the roasting process. There's a good deal of the terroir concept in their work, and we, as humans, are simply guides, or more accurately, transporters in the process. By now you know that's my belief in food as well. So if you're in the neighborhood, please stop by the cafe. We serve from 6:30am-2:00pm; if not, keep cooking that good food you know and love.

Indian Tacos and The Primest Beef

2011-09-09T15:38:00.006-05:00

On my way--making a mad dash across the state to hit up the Warren County Prime Beef Festival, which will prove to be this summer's only excursion into the beautiful, unhealthy world that is fair food. Indian tacos, a wonder of dough filled with ground beef, cheese and various other things gets all wadded up and deep fried, nice and crispy and clogging. All kinds of pie, which can be more difficult to navigate--pie is one of those things that despite everywhere advertising it as "homemade", it rarely is. Unless you, like the purveyors of said "homemade" pie, find that label appropriate as long as the can of horse phlegm was opened on premises; the heat applied in your oven. But here, I have it on good authority that at least some of the pies are actually homemade, meaning there was a rolling pin and raw fruit involved at some point. And there's a demolition derby. A demolition derby! Safety way out the window (a most welcome place for it to be in this day and age of soft-foam and brightly colored plastic playground equipment), mud flying everywhere, plastic sheets being held up when the action comes to your end of the track. Or be like one of the tough kids and let the old beat-up derby cars paint it all over your face. It's worth it. It'll be a hearty weekend, to say the least, but there'll be plenty to wash it down, to thin the blood back out a bit. Put some water on that track and grab an Indian taco, and I'll see you at the fair.

Why Brunch? (with full acknowledgement of the bourgeois nature of the question)

2011-09-05T10:05:00.005-05:00

A fascinating question: why do we like brunch? No no, that's not right. Brunch in the home is actually pretty wonderful so, more specifically, why do we like to go out to brunch? I don't really know, as the brunch conundrum goes round and round like so: over-crowded restaurants + long waits + hungover customers + hungover staff and not enough of them + marginal food + a turn and burn, fill those seats as many times as we can then get them outta here attitude + a general "it's good enough so leave it at that" vibe + tepid coffee served in cold mugs - a lot of money = a downright nutty meal to seek outside of the home. It's frustrating, like reading a James Joyce book, only with no reward or enrichment.

Yet somehow, it remains one of the most popular meal periods of the week. Clearly, the main draw is the stumble out of bed/put on brunch uniform of cap, t-shirt, cargo shorts for guys, yoga pants for gals/sit at a table where everything is brought to you and you don't have to do anything aspect of it. But, in the name of good food, and a much better time, can I encourage us all to prepare some things the night before, then roll out of bed to easily do it all at home? I promise that the food will be better and the service unspeakably superior, plus you can do the whole thing naked if you want.

The Atlantic Ocean, Irene, and Stomping Grounds Revisited

2011-08-31T09:10:00.007-05:00

I just got back from a great trip to New England, visiting some old haunts from my time living in Boston, Providence and Vermont, as well as getting to know Portland a bit. For some strange reason, during all of my time in New England, I never set foot in Maine, which has always been a regret of mine. And these days, it seems like everyone I know is moving to one of the Portlands; I can totally agree with the desire to move to Oregon, but since I didn't know anything about what it's like to be in Maine, I thought I'd better find out. It was touristy this late summer, but beautiful, and ocean-sea-coast-y, and Portland itself has some pretty great restaurants (and, of course, its share of downright terrible ones: $50 for a gloppy crab roll and some fried clams? Gulp.). Initially, the idea in my head was to go to Hugo's in Portland or Arrows in Ogunquit, since these seem to be the great restaurants of Maine, and many of my fellow NECI alumni work in these places. But as the reality of just wanting to take it easy, nice and slow, not having to worry about making reservations anywhere, and not wanting to break the bank on a meal or two set in, we decided to not do too much planning, and fall into wherever we might fall in to. One great, great success was a bistro called Petite Jacqueline, with a head spinning foie gras terrine and solid bistro food everywhere you looked. Complete with the zinc bar, I was in heaven: steak tartare, the ripest tomato salad, beautiful cheese, etc. I can't say too much was unique to Portland, but give me a good Bistro, and you have my heart. And the $1.95 "domestic" beer down the street wasn't bad, either. 'Cause you see, they consider Allegash and the like domestic.

Problem is, I don't think I got a great feel for the character of Portland in the short amount of time I was there. Hurricane Irene moved in and pushed the flight out of Boston back a couple of days, but we thankfully made it to Vermont a day ahead of the storm and were able to go to American Flatbread, site of so many great meals for me: a nice, long sit with a beer by the bonfires in the lush valley, then kiln-fired pizza of the tastiest variety. This is a place where every morsel of food need not be described--a place where the convergence of atmosphere and food, done properly or, more importantly, with oodles of heart, makes the entire experience memorable.

We stayed in Vermont a couple more days with the storm delay, and this allowed me time to see some people I needed to catch up with. As the storm hit I met a former chef of mine in a bakery run by an old classmate; we chatted and drank coffee as the rain built up. From there, I made a visit to a dear friend who introduced me to the world of wine while I was at school in Vermont. He made a lovely dish of rabbit braised in cream and mustard, porcini risotto and roasted eggplant to go along with a couple great bottles of wine from the Loire Valley. We ate and caught up, watching the storm develop in a rather picturesque setting. From there I made a move to Burlington to look at the stormy Lake Champlain, thinking Champ would be enjoying the storm. If he was, we weren't able to see him, so as the worst of the storm hit, we made it back to the hotel and waited it out. The next morning greeted us calm and clear, but unfortunately, much of the damage was to come to those in Vermont, and became evident as we made the move down to Boston for the flight out: flooding like I've never seen before in the many valleys of Vermont; rivers running high, dirty and angry; bridges taken out and entire sections of road missing; farms and crops buried under water. Some people have been stranded without running water or power, homes ruined, for the past few days. It's devastating for sure, but the people of Vermont and all over New England are resilient. The rebuilding will be expensive, and will take time, but Vermonters will (and already have) come together to pull themselves out of the disaster.

All the extra time afforded a trip down to Providence for the evening, and while there, I was able to visit some old places I used to frequent: a great bar named The Wild Colonial, where I used to go with friends to be demolished at trivia, Thayer Street, where all the kids from Brown University and Rhode Island School of Design hang out, and just a general walk about of the entire east side hill of the city. The enjoyment of the extra time turned into a killing of the extra time, as we decided to forgo the hotel room that night as the flight out would happen at 5am, making the room a bit moot. This meant a midnight visit to Fenway Park in Boston, then a reluctant return to Logan airport to wait it all out. And take it from me: food options aren't all that great in an airport in the midnight to 5am stretch. Thus, a return to the nostalgia of Dunkin' Donuts: terrible, terrible coffee, but made so, so good when ordered "regular" (read: reg-yuu-lah in Beantown), where they add about a cup each of cream and sugar to the coffee, making it more milkshake-like than anything else. I used to drink this all the time out there, and kind of separate it in my head from coffee--Dunkin' Donuts is something all to its own, special in its own way.

The return to Chicago has found a very relaxed and (now, after a good night's sleep after skipping one) well-rested me, and I'm ready to dig my feet back into the midwestern soil and continue on my quest to eat the best food of all levels, be it the solid patty melt at the diner down the street, or 3-star cuisine way beyond haute (incidentally, while driving through Massachussetts, I heard a captivating interview with Alinea's Grant Achatz that reminded me that on all levels, we (should) cook and eat because we love food at it's most basic, sensual level). And of course, to continue on with the beloved Salon. This month, I'm busy with a side project, but am offering two Salon dates as of yet. I still have a couple seats open for this Saturday's Vegetarian Salon, and I'd love to see those seats filled--tickets available here. Otherwise, here's to New England, and a speedy recovery to those affected by Irene, and to the good food that brings us all together!

A Trip, A Sabbatical, A Coupla Salons

2011-08-22T13:31:00.009-05:00

Last night we had a great Late Summer Salon--we cooked up a bunch of beautiful food from the area and got to know some really great people. This menu was inspired by an upcoming trip I'm taking to New England, and thus included two of my favorite things from my time living out there: Italian sausage and maple "creamies". Outside of Fenway Park in Boston, whether you're lucky enough or not to be heading inside to watch the Red Sox win, all kinds of stands are grilling sausages and then piling them into buns with grilled peppers. Simple, right? But so good--and the atmosphere makes it all complete. Last night, we braised ours--searing them first, then adding peppers of all kinds, onions and garlic; a little red wine and some stock. All those flavors melted together and--well--good things happened. Moving on, the creamie is something I discovered during my time living in Vermont--basically maple soft-serve. The taste of maple and cream together is seemingly made for each other, and last night was a happy improvisation from the original plan to make a honey tangelo ice cream. I'd made my ice cream base, and when I went to spin it, I found that my ice cream maker was kaput! I was distressed, and slurped down a few spoonfuls of the sweet cream base, pondering my next move. I decided to line a shallow, wide bowl with plastic wrap, pour in the base then freeze it. When we were ready, I turned the frozen "bombe" onto a cutting board, sliced it into wedges and drizzled it with some really good maple syrup--instant creamie, and so good. I led all the Saloneers in licking the plate.

Moving forward, this week will take me to New England to visit these favorites in the flesh in Boston, Portland and my old stomping grounds of Montpelier, VT (where I will be visiting my favorite restaurant in the world--no hyperbole there--American Flatbread). It'll be a week of eating and notalgia-izing and general relaxing. I'm also hereby announcing two new Salon dates for September, a month that will find me stepping back a bit to focus on another great project that has arisen for me here in Chicago. But never fear! The Salon remains a strong focus for me and I hope to see you at one soon. Click on a link for tickets:

Vegetarian Salon: It's high time we run another one of these--as you know, we're not about replacing meat with boring faux-meats. We're celebrating all the gorgeous vegetables available to us here in the late summer in several different preparations, letting each vegetable and grain be what they are--delicious and nourishing! Come explore all of the bounty from the local farms in this highly market-driven Salon; based on what I find at the market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, please bring whatever you'd like to drink! Saturday 9/3/11 at 6pm. $50.
Tuscany Salon: Come join us and those tall Chianina cows in the Salon as we go under the influence of one of the great food regions of the world, Tuscany. The menu will be set the day of the Salon, but count on some big, hearty fare to go along with your big red wines--BYOB as always! Saturday 9/17/11 at 6pm. $60.

Here's to New England and the late summer, and see you soon!

Let's Squeeze Another Salon Outta August, Shall We?

2011-08-15T12:15:00.008-05:00

Summer is pretty much at its peak, produce-wise, and I'm getting an overwhelming amount of great stuff coming through the Salon. It's amazing how good everything is, and it's high time to appreciate it all right now. That said, I'm taking a week or so to go back east (Boston, Maine and Vermont), and since that means that the Food on the Dole Salon is going to take a bit of a hiatus, I've decided to squeeze one more date into August before I leave (new September Salon dates to be released soon). We're going to cook a great summer evening meal this Sunday, August 21st at 7pm in the Salon; this will be highly market based with no set theme other than the enjoyment of all that nature is giving us right now. It'll be BYOB as always, $50, and since it is such a late add-on, we'll only run it if we sell all 6 seats by this Friday. I'd love to get some of you who've been wondering about the Salon in here, and even some of those of you have already been--come on back and let's just cook some really great food together! Tickets can be purchased here. Hope to see you soon!

Oh Joy, It's Happened Again, or, Food Like a Grandmother's Hug

2011-08-05T11:34:00.010-05:00

Lucky, lucky me. I recently celebrated a birthday, and the epic weekend of friends and food and, of course, plenty of drink was marked by so many great things--a top notch dinner of lots of different plates at a nearby kitchen; a surprise gathering at a favorite bar; a lazy day of eating a huge Hawaiian box lunch at one of my favorite hangover cure places, Aloha Eats in Lakeview; a lazy slither into a movie theater to cool off. But the big highlight was the much anticipated celebration of food and drink at what is one of my favorite places in the city; the place I say first when people ask me what my favorite restaurants are; the place I think of first when I want to take guests to a great spot. The place? Anteprima in Andersonville. SO devoid of pretense and anything other than solid, soulfully crafted, thoughtful food; a menu that stands on its own without succumbing to the name-every-single-farm-that-every-single-item-came-from craze, despite the fact that they utilize more local farm produce than many of the restaurants in the city; a beautifully simple dining room that, like the food, relies on human touches and the quality of what is being offered above any over-the-top rock star touches or minimalist lack thereof. A great review I read just after it opened in 2007 stated that "despite having just opened, Anteprima has the kind of servers who seem like they've been there for years"--and this, of course, was meant in the positive--the place just has that warm, welcoming, giving atmosphere. Dishes are presented with an emphasis on the food being the food--not some sort of esoteric art display. In a city and time of so much overthinking happening about food, Anteprima is real.

So, what did we have? Well, I had more help this time, and we made our way through:

a cold antipasti of olives, stuffed baby eggplant, glazed carrots, beans, farro, radishes and chiles;
proscuitto di Parma with melon;
tuna carpaccio;
bruschetta with sweet corn;
the crispiest stuffed and fried zucchini flowers with tomato;
big, chubby pork meatballs;
grilled octopus with potatoes and chiles;
fried duck egg on tomato;
the long-time favorite orecchiette with lamb sausage and bitter greens;
ravioli stuffed with beets and ricotta;
spaghetti with anchovy and chiles;
trofie (short, thin, delicate spiral pasta) with green beans, tomato and pesto
braised goat (good lord, get me another!)
arctic char with salsa verde
bison flank steak;
lemon panna cotta, so well done, smooth, with a birthday candle in the middle;
apricots poached in amaretto with crushed amaretti cookies;
peach crostata
...and of course a whole tub full of drinks and wine.

You'll notice my lack of detail above, mainly because these dishes really do speak for themselves and require no embellishment. When composing dishes for the Salon, or any restaurant I've worked in, I always seek to make the elements on the plate complement each other. Like a good pasta dish, there should really be no filler--no ton of noodles with a ladle of sauce on the top. No, these two elements should be tossed together, with equal billing. And this is how things have always gone for me at this restaurant. The service doesn't distract from the food; the wine doesn't overshadow the service; everything is in its place and plays its role in support of the other. And they all do it to such a high level, the result is one of the more relaxed, loving meals that one can experience. And the other important part of the equation? Those eating it. In this case I had some of my closest friends there with me--people who I'd eat anywhere on earth with without the fear of someone not liking something or someone wanting to have the server split the check 10 ways or someone doing anything other than just straight up enjoying themselves and each other. Maybe it's the marking of another year of my life talking, but you can keep your rock-star chefs with their haircuts, tattoos and jewelry; I'll take the warm hug of a loving grandmother over that every time.

Bottles of Cava and The New Salon Dates

2011-07-27T10:23:00.011-05:00

We're taking a second to breathe in the nice cool(ish) air that has finally arrived here at the F.o.t.D. Headquarters in Chicago, and have put together some new Salon dates for the first couple weeks of August. The first day of August is, of course, always reserved for gastronomical feats of great proportion; as the month moves ahead, here's what we've got lined up. Click on a Salon name for tickets (and if you are new to the Salon, read about it here or here, or watch it here):

Seafood Salon. The first two Seafood Salons were great successes, so we're going to paddle ahead into another! Depending on what the market is providing, we'll cook up the freshest fish around, and maybe serve some cool, refreshing seviched fish. We'll keep everything light and summery, so BYOB those crisp white wines! Wednesday, 8/3/11 at 7:00 PM, $60.
Parisian Bistro Salon. We're bringing back the Bistro Salon! Last time we discovered that these are the picture perfect foods for the Salon, so come back as we revisit some classic, simple favorites like steak frites, pork rillettes, and big bursting salads on a festive Saturday evening at the Salon. Come discuss your love of bistros, or come find out just what makes them and their style of food so important and well-loved. BYOB of course, so break out those hearty red table wines and grab a seat for a Salon that is sure to last deep into the evening. Saturday, 8/6/11 at 7:00 PM, $60.
Sweet Brunch Salon. We've had some great meals at the popular Food on the Dole Brunch Salon, so this week, I've decided to make the Brunch all about the sweet stuff. You know--along the lines of french toast, pecan rolls, maple glazed bacon and the like. Next week's Brunch Salon will be all about the savory side of things: frittatas, sausages, english muffins and all their friends. Are you one or the other? Or both? Come see either Sunday, and BYOB! Sunday, 8/7/11 at 11:00 AM, $40.
Castilian Tapas Salon. We're taking the Salon to Toledo, and we ain't talkin' Ohio! Join us as we explore the tapas dishes that originated in the Castile region of Spain, where over seven centuries ago a king fell ill and was revived by eating little bites of food between drinks. We'll go back to the roots of this food and explore its evolution made possible by traveling marauders. BYOB, so bring your Albariño, Sherry and Cava! Thursday, 8/11/11 at 7:00 PM, $50.
Savory Brunch Salon. As you know, we're pitting sweet vs. savory in the first two brunches of August! Last week's Sweet Brunch Salon took a long look at things like french toast, pecan rolls, maple glazed bacon and the like. Today we will be on the savory side of the moon with things along the lines of frittatas, sausages, english muffins and all their friends. Join us this BYOB Sunday and get your savory juices flowing! Sunday, 8/14/11 at 11:00 AM, $40.
Ribs 'n Sides Salon. We're gonna slow cook some pork ribs and finish 'em on the grill in this smoky, sticky Salon. Maybe Spare, maybe St. Louis, maybe Baby Back--only time and the market will tell. But come talk barbecue, one of the most affably contentious topics around as we complement the ribs with a good deal of tasty sides, and BYOB that cold beer! Note: you will leave with that great smoky smell all over you. Friday, 8/19/11 at 7:00 PM, $60.

August is always a great month around the F.o.t.D. headquarters--as you head out of the manic excitement of it finally being warm into the melted brain yearning for it to just be a little bit cooler, come put some great food in front of yourself alongside good company, and pick up some skills along the way. Hope to see you soon!

Where Do Big Old Tough Chickens Go?

2011-07-25T10:16:00.010-05:00

There once lived a huge chicken on a friend's farm in Iowa. When said chicken finally kicked the bucket a few years in, my friend gave it to me, thinking it too huge and tough to do anything with. You see, conventional chickens are slaughtered just weeks into their lives, before anything really develops too much. Well, this guy was huge, and rough, and tough, but I thought it necessary to use his ample supply of meat and flavor. So, on the first annual "Chicken Day", I did. Here's what went down:

I removed the meat from the carcass and made stock with the carcass;
I ground one of the huge legs and made an Asian-influenced filling for ravioli with scallions, sesame oil, cane vinegar, ginger, garlic and who knows what else, and served the ravioli in that chicken stock;
Stuffed one of the enormous breasts with a mixture of sweet corn, shallots and mushrooms, wrapped the entire thing in a bunch of bacon, and pan roasted it with little knob onions;
Cut the rest up, soaked it in buttermilk and deep fried it;
Made a bit of orzo salad with olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, lemon zest, vinegar and feta cheese to go with it all;
Figured that wasn't nearly enough so decided to make a rhubarb pie to go along with it all.

It was a good, if heavy meal--one that could have fed 10 people, easily. The flavor of the chicken was so big, so pronounced, that it hardly seemed like the chicken we've grown used to, so young and tender. I don't foresee ever being privy to another bird this big that isn't a turkey, but if I am, I'm going to invite a whole lotta folks over the the homestead and do it up pioneer style like we did that day of all days: Chicken Day.

Ribs, Kraut and the Hot Hot Heat

2011-07-21T11:23:00.007-05:00

Last night I went down to Honky Tonk BBQ in Pilsen and reveled in some solid barbecue and cold Lone Star beer in a non (or at least really, really faltering) air-conditioned space, and absolutely loved it. Sitting there, slightly sticky from the humidity, thinking that the barbecue itself was is fine, the service serviceable at best, and boy-oh-boy it's all hot and sweaty, I was really loving it. And that's the truth. Seems you've gotta have a bit of sweat on your lip if you're biting into some chewy St. Louis ribs, the sounds of a just-moved-here-from-Georgia singer wailing on a guitar in the heavy air. That's what the beer's for. If it was a perfectly clean, air conditioned, stark white room with, say, Kraftwerk piped in through some jerk's iPod as you eat ribs sous-vided at whatever temperature for however long with triple organic vodka tonics served to you by a gnome in white gloves, well, it wouldn't be quite the same, would it? Let it be known that I'm a big fan of Kraftwerk, and cooking things under a vacuum seal sure does work wonders, but there's a time and place for everything. And what an important part of food and eating--not just this "what farm did every single thing on my plate come from" and "are these wet-naps sustainably produced" business, but the actual time and place of it all--the sights and smells and feel of it all. The guts and soul of the experience. After all, it'll be winter soon, and we'll be listening to Nick Cave wishing for that sweet sweet sweat.

I Got AP and Harrison On My Mind

2011-07-18T14:48:00.007-05:00

I'm not really into re-runs, and I'm going to guess that you don't come here to read things you've already read. But I'm also going to guess that there are a lot of new readers since two years ago, when the post below was published, and since it's about that time again, I want to explain just what happens on my birthday each year, 'cause it just gets me so dang excited. It goes something like this:

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(first published 8/7/09)
It's been an interesting week, culinarily speaking. Last Saturday I was lucky enough to engage in a stellar and legendary birthday meal with a friend at the wonderful Anteprima in Andersonville--food there is always solid if not spectacular, presented non-esoterically and simply by a food runner who knows what it is he is serving to you, and the service is always completely gracious and comfortable. In fact, I have the strange honor of having never left the restaurant without being the last table in the entire place. They do a good job of making you feel at home.

BUT this is not about promoting Anteprima. Let us begin with a bit of backstory. In the book Heat by Bill Buford, he tells of the great writer Jim Harrison and the chef Mario Batali consuming, over the course of one evening, a formidable amount of wine:

Mario reminded Harrison that they'd drunk twenty-eight bottles when they'd last met. "There were other people," Harrison protested unconvincingly. "They weren't drinking," Mario corrected.

This exchange occurred at the Blue Ribbon Brasserie in Greenwich Village in New York, a bit of a chef's Mecca, open all night, serving top-notch food (somewhere I was lucky enough to go at 3:30 am one fine January morning and consume sweetbreads, bone marrow with oxtail marmalade, escargots and perhaps several oysters along with several bottles of wine (sadly, not twenty-eight) with two friends and a woman who, in a flash of human decency, I had invited along with us, as she was standing at the entrance, hopelessly waiting for a spot for one person, much as I had done the evening before. I asked if she'd like to be the fourth in our group, which she immediately jumped on...given the moment back, I'd have not taken the chance as she ended up being one of the more obnoxious people I've ever met.). But reading about this huge consumption (talk about obnoxious) inspired the desire to "accomplish" similar feats, though I feel it's pretty impossible for a couple of relatively normal guys to drink even a case of wine and eat all the accompanying food as well. So we thought it best to get a group together and order one of everything off of the Anteprima menu, something that's been in the works for a couple of years now. This year though, due to our judgmental exclusion of those deemed not up to the task, as well as the fact that my birthday was on a Saturday and everyone I know works in the restaurant industry, it was just my friend and I, a lone duo against the odds. We didn't manage the whole menu, but boy did we feast:

-Homemade testa (a sort of headcheese, testa being the Italian word for head);
-Pan-fried sweetbreads with capers, parsley and lemon--my favorite protein ever;
-The obligatory veal meatballs in saffron-tomato sauce;
-Deliciously spicy orecchiette (ear shaped pasta) with homemade Merguez and dandelion greens (named for their shape: dent de lion, or, "lion's tooth" in French);
-Bucatini (tube shaped pasta, buca being Italian for "hole", with house made guanciale (basically a bacon made from the jowls of a pig);
-A crab and sweet corn risotto;
-Another order of sweetbreads, thank you very much;
-A hanger steak grilled over wood, served with simple wax beans and a salsa verde (a great sauce for meat made from a variety of things including parsley, vinegar, garlic, olive oil, sometimes anchovies);
-Wild Alaskan Salmon served with a smoky ragout of sorts of chanterelles (a type of wild mushroom) and corn;
-A whole roasted Porgy with tiny little roasted potatoes;
-The Cornish Game Hen, something I insist on having each and every time I am at Anteprima, simply grilled with a brick on top of it and served with a spicy rapini (otherwise known as broccoli rabe, nice and bitter and sour) and a couple of lemons. Simple simple simple, and one of the best dishes in the city in my estimation;
-Why not throw on another pasta, this time the tagliatelle (long strips of pasta, much like fettuccine, the name coming from the word for "cut" which serves as a root word for the term "tailor") with a proscuitto ragu;
-And dessert: a perfectly creamy lemon panna cotta (so hard to hit that perfect spot without too much gelatin);
-Creme di Lampone ("raspberry cream") with berries and almonds--a delight;
-And what better to finish with than two glasses of what was called "Greek Moonshine" sent to us by the restaurant. Indeed, it was a bit blinding and scorching and all that makes a moonshine great. (I used to go to a winter party each year when I lived in Boston; and every time, the same bottle of "WV Shine"--moonshine made in West Virginia and bottled in an old orange juice bottle--made its way up from the basement and got passed around. I think only about a couple of tablespoons were drank each year amongst about 10 people--only those brave enough to drink it and even they pretty much just touched it to their lips.)

And did I mention we got cannoli on the way to the restaurant at the Sicilian pastry shop Pasticceria Natalina just down the street? I mean, it was gonna be closed by the time we got out of dinner!

All in all, it was a tremendous way to spend the evening and after a bit of a walk, the ol' stomach was fine and ready for some late-night birthday libations. Which I indulged in. All in a night's work of building up to the legend of Jim Harrison.

---------------------------------------------

Whew. It's impressive, reading back over that. Moreso, it's making me really pumped up and hungry. And it isn't all about gluttony; it's about having a really good time with people you care about, and enjoying some of the fine, edible crafts we have available. A couple years later, Jim Harrison is still cranking out books, I'm still reading them, and I'm still nowhere near his formidable skill level, in a literary or gustatory sense. Good thing I've got a birthday every year.

Generosity, Texture, Frying, and a Little Bit of Philosophy

2011-07-14T12:18:00.008-05:00

I was at work the other day, and famished. The usual overload of food laying about just wasn't happening, and I had about 5 minutes before I had to be back at it, present and "on", without specks of food in my teeth. At that moment, a co-worker came in the back kitchen, in the same situation, with a plastic bag and a couple tupperware containers. She asked if I was hungry, then proceeded to fry corn tortillas in a copious amount of oil, spread them with black beans and salsa, and top it all with cheese, another tortilla, and flip the whole thing in the pan. Yes, she was making us decadently fried quesadillas, and as she so givingly shared her lunch with me, we talked about how important that good fry is: the crisp texture yielding to the soft insides is what childhood food memories are made of (another friend's quote: "There are two types of people in this world. Those who put chips in their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and those who hate life."). Not only was the snack technically flawless, her act of feeding us was just so kind. That little bit got me through the rest of the afternoon, specks in teeth or not.

New Salon Dates for Late July!

2011-07-11T07:50:00.011-05:00

Now that the madness that is July 4th is behind us, we've been able to put together some Salon dates for the last half of July. As always, thanks to those who have joined us already, and I hope to meet many more of you. We'll be following some popular themes and introducing a couple of new ones as well--click on a Salon name for tickets:

F.o.t.D. Brunch Salon. One of our most popular Salons will continue as we make our way through another lovely Sunday morning into the afternoon over some beautifully crafted food. In the past, we've made jam, scones, homemade English muffins, poached eggs, hollandaise sauce, hash, frittatas and so much more--come join us to keep the tradition going! BYOB as always. Sunday, 7/17, 11am. $40.
F.o.t.D. Charcuterie Salon. Time to celebrate all things charcuterie! Tonight we'll be working with cured meats and sausages to explore all the dimensions and flavor they have to offer, complemented with produce fresh from the region's finest farms. I'll hit Gene's Sausage Shop and Paulina Market and we'll cook up and dine on these wonders of preservation and craft because, in the words of the venerable Doug Sohn, "There are no two finer words in the English language than 'encased meats,' my friend." This one will be hearty, and calls from some big beers and red wines--BYOB as always! Wednesday, 7/20, 7pm. $60.
F.o.t.D. Pasta Salon. Fresh pasta is one of my absolute favorite things to make, so come spend a Saturday evening in the Salon kneading, rolling and cutting fresh pasta for a lovely mid-summer dinner. We'll share stories of our experience with pasta, learn about what makes this simple food so comforting and dig in to a hearty and soulful meal together. The Salon is, as always, BYOB, so bring those big Tuscan wines to enjoy as we cook the evening away. Come with questions and an empty belly; leave with technique, a sense of community and a snapping waistband. Saturday, 7/23, 7pm. $50.
F.o.t.D. Southern Staples II Salon. We had a great first Southern Staples Salon, and it's just about that time to fire up the cast iron again and get some friend chicken going. During my time in Atlanta, I ate some of the most memorable food of my life. Southern food has a certain soul to it, and we'll be recreating some of that here at this Sunday Salon, so come join us as we celebrate the simplicity of one of the truest cuisines we can call our own. This one will be hearty and is BYOB as always, so bring some moonshine! Sunday, 7/24, 3pm. $40.
F.o.t.D. Vegetarian Salon. In the Food on the Dole Vegetarian Salon, it isn't about replacing meat with boring faux-meats. We're celebrating all of the gorgeous vegetables available to us here in the mid-summer in several different preparations, letting each vegetable and grain be what they are--delicious and nourishing. Come explore all of the bounty from the local farms in this highly market-driven Salon; based on what I find at the farmer's market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, please bring whatever you'd like to drink. Thursday, 7/28, 7pm. $40.
F.o.t.D. Campagne Française Salon. I'm really excited about this one! When people ask me what my favorite type of cuisine is, my thoughts always turn to the countryside and what the paysans are eating. Yes, peasant food is, to me, some of the most delicious food out there--hearty and simple, and always so aware of what is available year round. This late afternoon Salon will celebrate the ethic of the French farmhouse, with beautiful and simple food to be had with great company and your BYOB saison beers or red wines. Please note that this is definitely not a vegetarian meal! Sunday, 7/31, 1pm. $50.

I hope everyone's summer has been going great; come join us in the Salon and share some great food while picking up a few techniques and building some community!

Boom!

2011-07-06T11:21:00.007-05:00

What a great (if pickled) Fourth of July weekend. I got to explore a new neighborhood in Chicago--West Town--somewhere I really had no exposure to before this weekend. But while down there, I ran into a friend, and through the magic of friendly people being, well, friendly, was invited to her friend's great 4th cookout (I say cookout as I fear my Southern friends' wrath for calling anything not involving smoking a huge piece of meat for several hours a barbecue) on the roof of a building that has an unblemished view of Chicago's skyline and, thus, a 360° view of the fireworks in all of our neighborhoods all over the city.

That day was absolutely gorgeous, and beyond the amazing weather and top-notch food, I was most impressed by the grace, hospitality and generosity of those hosting and joining the party. There are times that, as a chef, it can be hard to get an invitation to share food someone has made; chefs never get invited to dinner! But let me say, that when I do, it's all about the fact that you are sharing with me something you created, and critiquing or criticizing that would be the absolute last thing I would ever do. So, a huge thank you to the hosts this last weekend, and everyone there for that matter. There were beautifully grilled sausages, farro salad, steak and chimichurri, cakes and the fudgiest brownies. Home brew was shared and mixed drinks were invented, and we watched some solid fireworks. What did I contribute? Well, other than my usual ability to make food disappear, I brought a little salad I love made with shredded mango, cucumber, carrot and red pepper, doused with a dressing of sliced serrano chiles and shallots soaked in a ton of lime juice and cane vinegar, brown sugar and a touch of fish sauce, topped with crushed peanuts. It reminded me of why I love southeast Asian flavors so much, and why I am terrified of mandolines. Anyway, as we return to a bit of normalcy, and the last few hangers-on light their last few fireworks, I'd like to offer a big thanks to the hosts of the world for sharing a bit of yourself with and opening yourself up to the rest of us!

Vegetarian Cooking for the Non-Vegetarian

2011-07-01T10:19:00.009-05:00

Last night's Vegetarian Salon welcomed 6 great Saloneers, none of whom are vegetarian, and only one of whom is pescatarian. To me, that's a positive sign that folks just want some really good food, and if there's meat, great, and if not, that's great too. As one of the world's bigger carnivores, I've always found it to be a great and fun challenge to come up with creative vegetarian dishes--those that showcase, um, vegetables, rather than trying to emulate meat in any way. Don't get me wrong, I actually love a good veggie burger here and there, but you can keep the seitan hams and tofurkeys and tempeh McNuggets.
Anyway, I hit the Green City Market and Green Grocer on Wednesday, and here's what we made:

Iron Mountain tomatoes, roasted and concentrated with olive oil, garlic, fresh oregano and garlic chives;
When the above was done, we used that tomato-ey, garlicky, herby olive oil to marinate some goat cheese, and threw it in a hot oven right before we were ready to eat;
Some lovely Charleston Favorites grits, brought from South Carolina by a southern friend, cooked slow and finished with butter, a touch of cream and some maple syrup;
We topped the grits with a sauté of a load of vegetables: roasted golden beets, kohlrabi, the greens of both of these guys, spring onions, fresh shelled English peas and fava beans. Soffrito was folded in at the very end with the peas and favas, leaving things nice and colorful right on top of the grits. Of course, a poached egg from Genesis Growers was put on top, with a small drizzle of that maple syrup, holding back from getting all Walter Cunningham on it;
We ended things with tiny little cherry pies I made earlier in the day, with a rich, buttery crust and the first cherries of the season from Seedling.

That huge, noisy hailstorm struck right as we sat down to eat, so, in the candlelight, we shared stories and tucked in to our plates as thunder crashed around us. This morning, as I started writing this, I got really hungry. So what does one do in that situation? Well, this one fried up some kielbasa with the leftover veggies, and put it all over some of those grits. That'll get me through to this heat wave about to hit.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

2011-06-30T12:05:00.004-05:00

It's summertime in Chi-Town and it looks like tomorrow's weather is going to prove it, just in time for the Fourth, when everyone decides it's a great time to cook over a live fire and hang outside. And even though the city is no longer sponsoring the beloved-by-Kanye-West Fireworks at Lake Michigan, I'm betting there will be plenty of (hopefully) controlled explosions to be heard and seen in all of our great little neighborhoods.

I've got a lot of great memories on this holiday, from the firework spectacle put on by the college in my hometown, right in the football stadium, where the entire town would gather and watch the lights; to a trip to Western Iowa where I was privy to the biggest home-fireworks scene I've ever been around, with a mortar that fired all kinds of things into the sky that we threw into the fire pit--once we were sure (or at least hopeful) that all the rounds had ignited. But as always, food comes front and center to my mind: the watermelon mom would cut up for us as we geared up for the firework spectacle and lit sparklers in the front yard, scent of lilacs hanging everywhere in the nice, dry heat of Colorado's mountains; hot dogs and hamburgers grilling in the park as we slowly waited for the sun to go down and fireworks to start; cold beer on the hot roof of my place in Boston when the electricity went out before fireworks started; fishing in the gulf of Mexico and tasting the freshest grouper (or any fish for that matter, short of the trout we'd catch in the rivers and reservoirs back home) ever, then sitting on the boat in the gulf watching the fireworks on shore. Yep; it's a good time of year, and everything great about summer, and here's to enjoying it with those around us, old friends or new. Smell that smoke from the grill, run through a sprinkler and enjoy those burgers, and a Happy 4th, y'all.

Mid-Summer Soliloquy

2011-06-28T10:23:00.007-05:00

As we crank through the summer, rejoicing at the temperate weather when we get it, the Salon is welcoming so many new and interesting people. And while the food is great, what I'm most thrilled about is the bit of community being formed--however small--amongst those that attend. Which is one of the main ideas behind the Salon: a simple cooking lesson can be had anywhere, and the city is full of great underground dinner options, but what we're really trying to foster in the Food on the Dole Salon is a community-based return to the kitchen and table, all based around really good food. A huge thanks to those who are committed to that, and to those who have, at the very least, given it a shot.

I'm loving the challenge it's presenting me with as well. The day-of shopping for a dinner for seven people, the spontaneity of menu writing once said shopping is done, the introduction of new techniques to those wanting to learn them. The exposure to so many new people and seeing them meet for the first time. The witnessing of a small bit of community unfolding. And knowing that however crazy the city gets, with all the summer construction, traffic, heat, noise and so much else pushing us away from one another, we can still turn to a tiny oasis of serenity and connection at a table, over well-crafted food, to bring us back together.

I'd like to offer a sincere thank you to the support I've gotten in this venture so far. From it's conception with Kristen Jones, who also does the beautiful graphics work for me, to those close to me who have offered advice, ingredients and the occasional car to scoot around town picking up ingredients in, and, just as importantly, to those of you who have taken the chance of coming to a stranger's Salon, and contributing a bit of yourself to its success. The Food on the Dole Salon is still an infant, but here's to the love and support it's gotten thus far!

New Salon Dates!

2011-06-24T00:11:00.007-05:00

Greetings all! Just a quick post to formally announce four new Salons for the first half of July, with more soon to follow. After the enthusiastic responses to the past Market and Brunch Salons, we've decided to offer two of each for the beginning of the month.

The Brunch Salon is a great way to continue the wind down of the weekend--we bake, fry and poach together as a lovely Sunday morning turns to afternoon. We'll navigate our way through some beautiful market produce to a destination of lovely and delicious food. Past dishes have included homemade English muffins and scones, hollandaise sauce and farm potato hash. $40 each:

Brunch Salon: Sunday, July 3 @ 11am
Brunch Salon: Sunday, July 10 @ 11am

The Market Salon is an evening of foraging through just-harvested summer produce from the area's farms. I'll hit the farmer's markets in the morning to find the best stuff available and we'll guide these beauties to our table in the most tasteful (and tasty) way. Please note, this is not necessarily a vegetarian Salon. $50:

Market Salon: Wednesday, July 6 @ 6pm
Market Salon: Wednesday, July 13 @ 7pm

We have six seats available per Salon to ensure a great, community-building dynamic in the kitchen and at the table. The Salon is always BYOB, so please feel free to bring anything you like to drink. I've been thrilled with the turnout so far--lots of folks who love food and want to share in it with others as I guide us through the spontaneous menu. If you have any questions about the Food on the Dole Salon, please email me at hughamano@yahoo.com. Otherwise, click on a link above to grab a seat and we'll make a great thing happen! See you soon!

What's Been Hoppin'?

2011-06-21T11:33:00.015-05:00

Gorgeous weather, a friend's birthday, two Salons and a very lazy writer make for a slow update schedule here at Food on the Dole. However, this also makes for some very good eating. Don't get me wrong--I love to write--but cooking and eating always seem to take precedence. So, with hands still smelling of Old Man Kazaam's Gillion Spice Rub and smoke from yesterday's spare ribs, here's what we've been up to at the F.o.t.D. Headquarters lately:
We had a great, great Market Salon last Wednesday. All lovely produce from Green City Market, with wonderful people to match. Folks from all walks of life. One person came down from Madison, WI; another reads Sanskrit for crying out loud. Top-notch food created as well by these Saloneers:

lovely and simple asparagus soup with a crouton of fresh chevre, chives and panko;
red leaf and spinach salad, with flavorful and nourishing spinach, so vibrant and tasty, from Tomato Mountain Farm, crispy double smoked pork loin lardons, and a poached egg;
spring onion, lamb's quarter (a leafy weed of sorts, not the four parts of a young sheep) and pea tendril risotto;
homemade rhubarb ice cream with strawberry compote.

The night was rainy but the cheer inside the Salon was not. Well done, everybody!
The next night just happened to be Old Crazy Hair's birthday. This is a guy who spends every waking moment (and most sleeping moments) planning, running around and simply doing things that makes one's hair crazy. Thus, we thought it would be nice to take the thinking off his mind for a day, and take him to Montrose Harbor to grill, drink some illegal beers and just enjoy the gorgeous weather. Foodwise, we created a tribute to a sandwich notorious in the most industrial part of Massachussetts, and beloved by O.C.H. called the Boot Mill Sandwich. It's usually a breakfast-y type sandwich but hey, we bumped it up to a ridiculous dinner sandwich. Here at the headquarters, we cooked up some home fries with plenty of lard. At the lake, we grilled two hamburger patties and a bratwurst and piled the following onto a poor, overstressed bun: homefries, burger patty, some kind of fancy cheese no one remembers the name of, bratwurst, homefries, burger patty, colby cheese, and two eggs lovingly fried up in the beloved campfire bean pot in plenty of lard. Wrapped that sucker in the mezzanine-like cardboard that separates a 30 pack of beer and delivered it into the capable jowls of O.C.H. He dubbed it the FrankenBootMill and nearly finished it. Whew.
Saturday found the Beer Food Salon moving ahead at full force, and what a tasty Salon it was (despite, unbeknownst to me until the Salon schedule was out, the fact that Two Brothers here in IL was having a Hop Juice beer event that day. D'oh!). Heavy indeed, with all kinds of beer brought from Great Lakes Brewery in Cleveland, North Coast Brewing in California, Founder's in Michigan, Allegash in Portland, ME, my newly beloved New Glarus in Wisconsin and Uinta Brewing from, of all places, Salt Lake City. I'll spare you reviews on the beer aside from saying they are all delicious, and focus on the food here:

We started out by deep frying some risotto balls, stuffed with cheese, called arancini (Italian for "little orange" due to their color and shape when they come out of the fryer) and dipping them in a quick puttanesca sauce we whipped up;
mussels steamed with a bit of white wine (the beer we had, I thought, should be saved for drinking, and would result in too bitter and hoppy of a taste in the final product) with celery, shallots and all kinds of butter;
frites, double fried in shortening (well known to to reduce the stink of frying in the place), served with a rich, garlicky aioli;
my beloved sausage plate (long ago, I got this on every trip to The Hop Leaf--it has changed since those days, so I usually stick to the delicious sandwiches and/or steak frites, but my memory and love of that original sausage plate lives on) of a few kinds of bratwurst, veal wieners, mettwurst, kielbasa, seared and stewed in a bunch of beans, crispy Benton Ham lardons, Wild Turkey bourbon and maple syrup;
to bring us back up to the land of the living, a simple and crisp bistro salad with butterleaf lettuce, chives, parsley and orach greens.

Now that was a solid meal. One of my favorite topics to eat. Beer was great, company even better--a couple from way up in Wisconsin came down and we couldn't have been more pleased with their presence. So glad we're getting folks from all over!

Anyway, we're gearing up for the Seafood Salon tomorrow; I'll be shopping for that tomorrow so if anyone wants to snatch up the last two seats, do so by then! Oh, and those spare ribs? Well, I was walking past the great Paulina Meat Market yesterday and got my hands on some lovely pork spare ribs. Made up a rub for 'em with all kinds of spices, then smoked them until the meat was juicy and thinking about coming off the bone, but still somewhat chewy (gotta have that chew in my opinion--it is meat being pulled off a bone with teeth, after all), outside nice and charred and so smoky in taste. Served them on top of some beans leftover from the Beer Food Salon and drank a couple beers to wash it all down. Nice way to end a crazy week.

Brunch, Beer and the Importance of Contrast

2011-06-13T14:19:00.007-05:00

Yesterday found 6 new folks in the F.o.t.D. headquarters at the second Brunch Salon, and we spent a lovely Sunday afternoon cooking some great things together. After everyone arrived, we moved from mimosas on to making more substantial things, including:

cranberry scones with a quick strawberry-rhubarb jam;
farm potato hash with melted onions and smoked rib belly;
homemade english muffins with whipped maple butter;
poached eggs with double smoked pork loin and garlic scape pesto;
pea tendril and arugula salad with tiny, tiny little baby carrots and a chive vinaigrette.

One of the saloneers grew up in England, and I'm happy to report that he was ever so pleased with the scones. As I wrote here, a traditionalist such as myself believes that scones are meant to be eaten with something: clotted cream, a cup of coffee or, as in our case, butter and warm, just-off-the-stove strawberry-rhubarb jam. These days, one is hard pressed to find a good, solid scone rather than a muffin in scone's clothing; they become so filled with eggs and butter (wait--I'm actually complaining about this?) that they become little cakes, all springy and moist. I know, I know--isn't this a good thing? Well, if it were a cake or muffin, yes. But in this case, I'm slathering the thing with butter and that jam, and gulping it down with some hot coffee. And each element plays a note in the experience. Are cakey scones terrible? No way! But does a crisp outside giving way to a flaky inside complement luscious toppings? You bet.

ANYWAY, we're looking forward to Wednesday's Market Salon; some good things have been slowly trickling into the rotation at the farmer's markets, and I'll be there Wednesday morning to fill the Salon's larder. And hey! We've still got a couple seats open for the Beer Food Salon this Saturday where we'll be exploring different types of food to go along with our sudsy favorites. Pick up a ticket and bring some beer, home brewed or otherwise, and we'll see you then!

That Ain't Pizza Burning--That's My Hat!

2011-06-10T21:35:00.010-05:00

After a nice, relaxing couple of days in the hills of Wisconsin camping--which included plenty of good beer from the lovely New Glarus Brewery, a bottle of Wild Turkey, brats on the fire from Gene's (yes I took brats to Wisconsin from Chicago), scrambled eggs cooked in plenty of bacon grease and a big juicy ribeye in my cast iron pan (geez, I love that thing; it goes right in the fire!)--I returned cleaner than usual (despite a very smoky hat) thanks to the nearby lake with pizza on the mind for the F.o.t.D. Pizzaland Salon. So, I cleansed myself with some really good greens and radishes from a friend's roof:
...and threw a bunch of pizzas with some lively people at the Salon. Various toppings included crimini mushrooms, crispy bacon, salami, cheddar cheese, parmigiano reggiano, baby greens, olive oil, tomato sauce and, perhaps most importantly, a really flavorful crust made from Flyod, the beloved bread starter given to me by old crazy hair, that got nice and crusty when rubbed with oil and cooked hot and heavy in the oven--an oven that was most welcome on the suddenly cold night, and just the right liason between the campfire and the home kitchen. Thanks to those who made it out, and we're gearing up for the Brunch Salon on Sunday! Good things in the works, including a melted onion potato hash and some tasty maple butter we're getting whipped up. See you all soon!

Whew!

2011-06-06T13:09:00.009-05:00

It's been a whirlwind weekend here at the F.o.t.D. Headquarters! Three Salons happened--one was filmed by a four-person camera crew--and we've had chicken frying and compotes bubbling, bread rising and clams shucking, risotto waving and many trips to and from the markets. Everything went great and we made some absolutely lovely food, including:

Stinging Nettle Soup
Risotto alle Vongole e Asparagi
Cured Copper River Salmon
Huge Rooftop Salads
Lard-Basted Epi Bread
Ham Hock Collard Greens
Rhubarb and Cornmeal Crostadas
The First Strawberries of the Season
Buttery Hoe Cakes
Gut-Busting Mac and Cheese

As you can see, we've really run the gamut from light to heavy, and there's so much more to come. But now, I'm really ready to get a bit of a break from it all, from the noodle-rolling madness of Flour and Bones to the first few months of the Salon's life. Thus, I'm headed up to Wisconsin for a few days of camping, tree hugging and talking to streams and lakes. But never fear, the salon is in full effect upon my return with this week's Pizzaland Salon and Sunday's Brunch Salon! These are sold out, but we do have seats available later in the month for the Beer Food Salon on Saturday the 18th and the Seafood Salon on Wednesday the 22nd. As always, thanks to Kristen Jones for the lovely poster at the top of the page, thanks to all those who have joined us in the Salon, and I hope to meet more of you soon!

The Salon runs from North to South This Week

2011-05-31T14:29:00.006-05:00

Well, the Copper River in Alaska is running strong, and I've been lucky enough to fall into a bit of its wild salmon recently. Truly one of the North's spring treats. Makes me wish I was a bear. Tasted raw, the flavor made me think of spring peas, so fresh and almost green; a small little chunk, grilled hot and quickly so that it remains nice and rare was absolutely perfect with some grilled asparagus--a true spring/summer/whatever this season is dish. The cleanest and purest of flavors. Just look at the definition of colors, textures and flavors in the fatty piece taken from the belly in the photo above.

I took a good chunk from the mid-section of the fillet and put it into a simple cure of salt, brown sugar, fennel seeds and lemon zest; that may make an appearance at Thursday and Friday's Salon; sliced nice and thin, this gravlax would last for a few weeks, though I doubt it will make it past Friday.

In other news, looking for inspiration for Sunday's Southern Staples Salon (and overlooking my sorrow of missing a crew of Southern friends' Memorial Day Feast yesterday), I need not look further than my memories of places like Carver's and the now closed Son's Place in Atlanta: Fried Chicken, Collard Greens, Black Eyed Peas, Mac and Cheese, Peach Cobbler, Okra, Hoe Cakes and Sweet Tea...the challenge here will be paring this down into something reasonable for the folks on Sunday! Looking forward to it!

On Top of Spaghetti...

2011-05-26T09:00:00.007-05:00

So! I was able to score some great bunches of veggies before all of the farmers packed it in early at Green City yesterday. I was down there by about 9:30, kind of late but hey--it was Wednesday (vs. the mayhem of the Saturday market) and pouring rain so I wagered that the crowds would be bundled up inside, not willing to brave the rain. That bet went a bit too far as most of the farmers were headed out as well just as I arrived, not just to get out of the elements but to tend to things back home--I even heard talk of a tornado hitting near one of the farms. Gladly for me (and tonight's Vegetarian Saloneers), Green Acres and Mick Klug Farms were toughing it out in the mud pit that was Lincoln Park, and I was able to get a few things, supplemented later in the day by that great little indoor farmer's market, the Green Grocer. Thus, we've got some good lookin' food on the menu for tonight.
Meanwhile, coming back in, soaked through from the rough weather, I needed a serious dose of comfort. I had a bit of ground beef and pork left over from a burger party with Old Crazy Hair and his crew the night before, so I sauteed that up with some garlic and chile flake, added some red wine and crushed tomatoes, and made the quickest, easiest bolognese sauce of all time and tossed it with a mish-mosh of dried pasta--spaghetti and bucatini. As much as I love fresh pasta, this is why I keep dried pasta around. Showered with parmesan cheese, this is the quick pasta dish we turn to for some of that rich comfort. With leftover epi bread on the side, I was all set to continue my venture.

In other news, due to popular demand, we've added another "Spring, Where Are You?" Salon on Friday, June 3, and we have one seat open for the Salon of the same name and theme the night before on Thursday, June 2, as well as seats available towards the end of June for the Beer Food Salon on Saturday June 18 and the second Seafood Salon on Wednesday, June 22. Hope to see you soon!

There's a Bistro Ethic In These Here Parts

2011-05-23T11:51:00.011-05:00

Saturday’s Bistro Salon found six new folks on the doorstep of the F.o.t.D. headquarters (one of whom admitted that he had no idea what he was coming to, and only realized it wasn't a restaurant as he entered the space!), ready to cook and eat and drink some wine. I'd spent the morning at the Green City Farmer's Market checking the ever increasing amount of goods (though it seems like this is really the first week the weather is beginning to cooperate), then down at Peoria Packing looking for the right steaks, of which I found none, so over to Paulina Market I went, which is really where I should have gone in the first place. Don't get me wrong, good things can be had at Peoria Packing, but man oh man is it packed on Saturday, and the meat is cut in such volume that the level of love and care just isn't there like it is at Paulina. At Paulina, I was able to score the Flat Iron steaks I'd been coveting, of top-notch quality, perfect for the Steak Frites we'd be making.

Loot in hand, preparations complete, we started cooking, and here's what we ate:

A couple of usual suspects: homemade epi bread and pork rillettes, with a savory apricot jam (I fell in to an inordinate amount of apricots recently, and being out of season and not the strongest in flavor, I cooked them down with some shallots, vinegar and chives, which really brought out their apricoty-ness and served as a tart foil to the rich rillettes);
Moules marinières: mussels from Prince Edward Island steamed open with shallots, butter, white wine, tarragon and parsley--so simple and delicious, the only way these can go wrong is if bad mussels are bought;
Steak frites and maitre d' butter: the aforementioned Flat Iron steaks, a cut from the chuck/shoulder of the cow, is the perfect cut for steak frites. Beefy and huge in flavor, nice and chewy without being too chewy, this relatively inexpensive cut used to be a throw away cut. Big mistake that. This dish calls for a working-class steak, and something like ribeye or--gulp--the filet mignon would be way too fancy. The steak was pan seared, some on cast iron, some on and stainless steel; flipped and joined in the pan by copious amounts of butter and shallots, cooked to medium rare while the shallots carmelized. This all went on top of the frites: russet potatoes cut in roughly 1/4" x 1/4" strips, set in cold running water until the water runs clean to rinse off excess starch, drained, blanched in 320 degree canola oil for five minutes or so to cook them through, then re-fried in 375 degree oil to crisp them up, tossed in kosher and truffle salts. A big pile on the plate, then that steak right on top. Topped that with the maitre d' butter (a compound butter made with tarragon, parsley, lemon zest and microplaned garlic, all mixed up and rolled into a tube in parchment paper, chilled and sliced), and the shallots right on top. Yes, fried potatoes, then steak, then butter, then carmelized shallots. Mmmmm...one of my favorite all time dishes;
A big bistro salad, made with the whole leaves of the beautiful green and red leaf lettuce I'd scored that morning. Stacked up to obnoxious heights with a vinaigrette heavy on whole grain mustard and shallots, doused with the fresh tarragon, parsley and chives. I encouraged the crew to eat that after the steak frites, using it to simultaneously sop up all the great butter and juices from the steak on the plate, and to clean and lighten things up a bit at the end of the meal, French-style;
Lemon sabayon tart with a pine nut crust, cream and rhubarb compote. My farmer friend had some great rhubarb, so we just cooked it down a bit with some lemon juice and sugar. Nothing else. On top of the tart it went, which had a crust of pine nuts, sugar, flour, butter and egg; the sabayon was simply eggs, sugar and lemon juice whisked over a double boiler. Somehow light and decadent at once. And we devoured that thing.

The wine flowed as did conversation; it was a lively night to cap off an absolutely gorgeous day. The Bistro Salon is definitely coming back soon, without question. I'd like to thank the bistros--not only of France but here in North America as well--where I've drawn inspiration for this and so many other meals, and for the superb book Bouchon by the untouchable Thomas Keller for some really solid inspiration. And of course, my six great Saloneers. Until next time, bon appetit!

From the Depths of The Fridge, or, Let's Keep This Going!

2011-05-20T11:22:00.005-05:00

Thanks for all the great support of the Food on the Dole Salons, everybody! Seats are filling up fast and it looks like we'll have a busy June on our hands, full of tasty food and good folks around the table. We still have a few spots open, though, so be sure to grab yours soon here. Right now, we're gearing up for the Bistro Salon tomorrow night--I'm thinking mussels marinières, steak frites and the beloved rillettes, with a couple of spring market items to lighten things up a bit as the red wine flows. So, I'm off to shop; better eat something first. Kicking around the fridge I found some roasted beets, green garlic hummus, roasted chicken, green garlic pesto, whole grain mustard and some really good grainy bread. Three pieces of bread got the F.o.t.D. one-side toast (the crisp, toasted side goes on the inside of the sandwich, providing crunch while leaving the outside nice and soft) and everything was piled up with a dose of sriracha for good measure. Oh! And there's a pickle! Perfect. I'll see 6 of you tomorrow at the Salon and perhaps some of you at the market in the morning!

June Salon Dates Are Here, and a New Logo!

2011-05-17T10:20:00.009-05:00

I'm thrilled to be able to offer eight Food on the Dole Salons in June! We've had such great Salons so far, so let's keep it rolling into the summer (which hopefully is somewhere around the corner). The Salons are open to all, regardless of cooking ability, and are a place to not only learn from a chef, but to learn from each other and create a bond of different folks who love food. Come one, come all! Tickets can be had by clicking on the name of the desired Salon:

Spring, Where Are You? It's nearly June, and we're wondering where spring is! Luckily, the farmers have been working their hardest to bring great things out of the soil in these parts, so this weeknight Salon will feature a bevy of top-notch produce from the farms in the area. Please note: this is not a vegetarian Salon. Come join us as we create from fresh goodies picked up at the market by yours truly the day before. No menu will be set until the goods are in hand, so be ready for some deliciously spontaneous cooking and eating! BYOB, $40.
Southern Staples During my time in Atlanta, I ate some of the most memorable food of my life. Southern food has a certain soul to it, and we'll be recreating some of that here at this Sunday Salon, so come join us as we celebrate the simplicity of one of the truest cuisines we can call our own. This one'll be hearty--greens, casseroles, and we'll most definitely break out the cast iron for some fried chicken. BYOB as always, so bring some moonshine to put in that sweet tea! $40.
Pizzaland Stop by the Pizzaland Salon and throw some dough! F.o.t.D. wants you to learn how simple it is to leave the pizza guy out in the cold and build top-notch pies from scratch. We'll put together a ton of great homemade toppings and bake pizza after pizza in this casual weeknight salon. BYOB as always, so bring some cold brews or that wicker basket wine! $30.
Brunch II The first Food on the Dole Brunch Salon was so successful we've just gotta do it again! Like before, we'll visit old classics, and possibly brave some new terrain in our market-driven menu; a perfect way to resurface from the weekend's debauchery. BYOB of course, and I'll throw in a mimosa as well! $40.
Farmer's Market Salon The summer brings us an ever growing bounty of gorgeous produce at the markets, and that fills us with inspiration when cooking! Come add to the spontaneity at this weeknight Market Salon, where we will create a delicious meal from produce picked up by F.o.t.D. that morning from the Green City Market. Anything goes, and please note that this is not a vegetarian Salon. BYOB as always, $40.
Beer Food Salon Join us in this rollicking BYOB Salon as we kick back and make some simple, completely from scratch food to go along with your beer. We'll make some mussels, frites and aioli, grill some sausages, and who knows what else? Bring whatever style beer you like--this food goes well with anything from the lightest swill to the heartiest Belgian! Teetotalers not allowed! $50.
Seafood Salon II The first Seafood Salon was a great success, so let's do it again! We'll lock down the freshest available seafood and complement it beautifully with what the markets have available. This time around I'm thinking about the beautiful trout available from Idaho and Wisconsin, and you know it wouldn't be a Salon without some oysters! BYOB as always--crisp white wine, anyone? $60.
Vegetarian Salon II Consistent readers of Food on the Dole know that I am a boisterous carnivore. Despite that, I absolutely love creating fulfilling meals without using meat, and have always found this to be one of the more rewarding challenges as a chef. So, let's explore the late June options that are coming from the local farms and celebrate the beauty of vegetables for what they are, as opposed to finding ways of making them emulate meat--you won't find any seitan or tempeh at this Salon! It'll be highly market-driven; based on what I find at the farmer's market, we'll prepare a full and delicious meal. The Salon is BYOB, so please bring whatever you'd like to drink! $40.

An enormous thank you to all the support we've gotten so far--from saloneers to advice givers to the lovely and talented Kristen Jones who does all of my artwork including the perfectly stunning new logo above to the markets to the press and beyond--I look forward to meeting many more of you and connecting over some great food!

Hasta la Pasta, and New Salon Dates Soon!

2011-05-16T11:48:00.008-05:00

We had a top-notch Pasta Salon here at the F.o.t.D. Headquarters on Sunday, rolling all kinds of dough on the best little pasta roller ever (which was the last one standing after Flour and Bones last week). Six Saloneers brightened up an otherwise grey day as we turned goods from Green City Market into some really nice dishes:

-I started the crew off with two of my all-time favorites: homemade Epi bread and pork rillettes--we needed some brightness to go along with that, so I made a tapenade out of kalamata and castellano olives, shallots, preserved lemon, capers, garlic and olive oil;
-We kneaded the dough by hand and got busy rolling, first making 3" circles for our tortellini en brodo, filled with ground market chicken, green garlic and romano cheese, hand formed and served in a broth made from the carcass of said chicken and green garlic with asparagus, chive flowers, and garlic mustard greens;
-Next was a bright shallot vinaigrette over a salad of simplest form with gorgeous greens from the farm and crunchy french breakfast radishes;
-Thick, fat tagliatelle was hand cut and we tossed it in a pork ragout made from braised pork, onions, green garlic, artichokes and tomatoes. Cooked long, low and slow, the pork was meltingly tender and was punctuated by the artichokes and brightness of fresh parsley, chives, orange zest and olive oil.
-A little dessert bite was offered up a la minute: greek yogurt with shaved tangelo granita and local honey--a small little cap to a big, hearty meal.
This was a great Salon--everyone got involved, and we even had little assembly lines down for rolling pasta, cutting it, and forming the beautiful tortellini. We exchanged ideas and stories about food, and someone even went home with one of my kombucha scobys. It was a real nice ride through a Sunday afternoon, and a bit restorative after the monster two weeks we've just had at Food on the Dole. A big thanks to Sunday's crew, and stay tuned for June Salon dates this week!

Back-Breaking Yet Crew Bonding

2011-05-12T14:32:00.000-05:00

Whew. It's amazing the energy it takes to run a restaurant. Even more amazing is the energy it takes to run a restaurant at the same time as putting out 3 highly creative underground dinners. Add to that an absolute lack of sleep and, well, let's just say we're all very lucky no one lost their mind last week. For the past ten days, the Xmarx crew put out Chinese noodles and dumplings of the highest order--based upon extensive culinary research deep in the heart of Chengdu--under the guise of Flour and Bones. The food was solidly amazing, honest and nurturing, and on top of it all, they put out 3 of their deliciously inventive underground dinners on 3 of those nights. I only worked 4 of Flour and Bones' ten days, rolling noodles, making dumplings, expediting the line and contributing wherever I could to those 3 dinners, and I am absolutely beat. I only worked 10am-1am most of those days, and sure, that's a 15 hour day, but the rest of the crew was at it pretty much non-stop, basically only napping here and there when time (and mental state--you'd be amazed at how difficult it is to sleep in this state) allowed it.

This is what happens in so many restaurants all over the world, and it is at once evidence of a certain level of insanity, and of great passion; unhealthy yet so creatively fulfilling it's no wonder that those who get it do it. From the dishwashers in the back of the house to the line cooks to the top guy, these people are driven if crazy, focused though chaotic and the good ones, well, they have a way of squeezing the most delicate, balanced flavor out of what appears to be sack of stones and fish guts. I'd just like to pay tribute to these people--the ones who don't have book deals, the ones who don't have tv shows, the ones who don't have shiny new restaurants greased by the oil of celebrity. So, as I raise a shot of Jameson and an Old Style tall boy, here's to the chefs, cooks and kitchen crews that have each others' backs no matter what--those who grind it out everyday.

Should you find yourself in Budapest...

2011-05-09T15:08:00.007-05:00

I had the good fortune of being able to visit Budapest recently, and let me say, it was a beautiful trip--and the city itself one I wouldn't mind calling home for awhile. It's a gorgeous, bustling metropolis of two sides--Buda and Pest-- split by the beautiful blue Danube, full of intricate architecture, art and spas; bustling nightlife and aromatic bakeries. But most importantly, it's home to one of the great markets I've been able to experience (with Cleveland's--yes, Cleveland's--West Side Market ranking up there as well).
Budapest's Great Market Hall is huge and full of everything one would need, all under one roof. But not in a Costco (ugh, did that word really just appear in the Dole?) kind of way; this has beautifully crafted sausages, fresh meats and cheeses made by skilled craftsmen and women alongside the freshest produce; baked goods and the morning's milk; heaps of spices and beans and, importantly to a guy like me, a kiosk on the mezzanine overlooking the entire thing serving sausages, buttery pastries, coffee and beer. And for the tourists, they've got big ropes of garlic and paprika to smuggle back with a bottle of tokaji.
What did I do? Naturally, I hit those sausage kiosks and drank a beer as a mid-roam break. Espresso for the road to continue my exploration of this wonderful market and wonderful city. A long soak in one of those spas at the end of the day, and huge meals and drinks to begin the night, on one of which I met a one-armed trumpet player in a smoky bar over some absinthe. Yeah...I need to get back to Budapest, and soon.

I Never Realised Brunch Was So British

2011-05-04T13:50:00.016-05:00

We had a lovely little Brunch Salon here on Sunday, with 6 folks joining me at the F.o.t.D. headquarters to cook and eat with each other. I greeted them with some coffee from a friend's roasterie (which, in my opinion, is the best around) and a bloody mary using vodka I'd soaked cucumbers in, bringing a nice freshness to the drink. For the garnish, I pickled some stems of those great ramps my friend brought me in some red wine vinegar, cane vinegar, coriander, mustard seed, ajowan, salt and sugar and added them to a colorful skewer of yellow pepper, Persian cucumbers and piquillo peppers. Then we got to work.
We made:

Cranberry Cream Scones. Rich and delicious, served with Devon cream, tart cherry preserves, and the bacon jam we made in the Pork Salon;
Homemade English muffins. The night before the Salon, I made a rather moist dough using the starter I got from old crazy hair and let it rise overnight. Then, the Saloneers shaped it into rounds, let it rise again, and we griddled them, giving them that distinct English muffin char and shape.
Sauteed ramps. Oniony and representing everything good about Spring.
Hollandaise sauce. A quick step by step demo was given on making this rich sauce, loved by many, made by few. Easy, wasn't it guys?
The F.o.t.D. Ramp and Double Smoked Pork Loin Benedict. We warmed and sliced a smoky loin I picked up at Gene's, and the Saloneers learned how to poach eggs properly. I've gotta say, they did a pretty good job, too. Nice and creamy yolks. We sliced the English muffins in half, griddled them again and topped them with the sliced loin, poached eggs, ramps and Hollandaise sauce.
Homey Fried Potatoes. Chunks of potatoes cooked with red and yellow pepper, jalapeno, onion, garlic and plenty of lard.
...and we rounded things out with a platter of sliced pineapple, blackberries and the mysterious supreme of orange.

All in all, it was a great late morning/early afternoon, with some terrific participants who learned some technique and created a tasty meal. A big thanks to those who came to the Brunch Salon, and we're looking forward to the next one: Pasta!

Flour and Bones: A Pop-Up Noodle Joint

2011-05-03T08:54:00.006-05:00

Starting today, I'll be joining old crazy hair down at X-marx' 10-day-only noodle house, Flour and Bones, down at Dodo at 954 West Fulton Market. For those of you getting blocked out of Next and Aviary, we'll be directly across the street cooking up a simple but way-out tasty menu of housemade noodles, dumplings and pickled sides fully pushing the circle of deliciousness. Beer and cocktails available, kitchen opens at 5pm, and no reservations (or tickets) required. Through May 11. They fed me late last night, and I gotta say, it's something special; F.o.t.D. fans, come say hi! Needless to say I'm going to be a bit occupied over the next week or so, but I promise to report on the lovely Sunday Brunch Salon we had here at the Food on the Dole headquarters. Now--I've got to slurp down this scone the Sunday Brunch Saloneer crew made and beat a path down to Fulton Market. See you all down there!

My Butty, or A Really Good Bacon Sandwich

2011-05-02T13:35:00.006-05:00

I found myself with a good bit of smoked pork belly while planning yesterday's Brunch Salon (more on that soon) and, having had sandwich on the brain for a while, sliced it thick and threw it in the trusty cast iron with some sliced onions to make that great British bacon sandwich sometimes referred to as a butty. When nice and seared, I took the belly and the soft, sweet onions out, and slapped in a couple pieces of that great miche bread from Bennison's in Evanston to fry up in the remaining fat in the pan. I like to toast/fry only one side of the bread, and put this fried part on the inside of the sandwich--keeping the outside soft while still offering that great crunch of fried bread. Keeps it a bit neater as well, though with this edition of sandwich I subbed whole grain mustard for the butty's usual butter and, as you can probably tell from the picture above (Click on it. Get closer.), it became a delicious mess pretty quickly. But as you can imagine, that is scarcely a problem at the Dole headquarters.

When Life Gives You Ramps...

2011-04-29T12:40:00.008-05:00

Last night a friend of mine brought me some ramps he'd dug up in Michigan a few days ago. Rarely, especially these days, is one privy to such an act of culinary generosity--seems like these days, with the ever growing popular frenzy of ramps, morel mushrooms and fiddlehead ferns come springtime, everyone turns all "Mine! Mine! Mine!" about them. Or just charges you a king's ransom to get some. Well, like I said before--sometimes it's nice to know some real people who don't mind getting their hands in the dirt, as is the case with my new found ramp fortune.

I think I'm going to use the ramps in this Sunday's Brunch Salon, but I excitedly ate some today. It isn't that ramps are so particularly thrilling or amazing you see (though they are quite tasty); it's that they represent spring, and things starting to grow again, and being able to be outside without shivering again. They are, in food form, that first warm day of the season, and there's a certain charm that goes with that. So, I chopped some stems up, sauteed them with some ground pork, onion and pinenuts, added a touch of crushed tomato, and one of my magic pork flavor cubes. I finished the sauce with the torn leaves of the ramps whose stems I'd used, boiled some good noodles I got up at H Mart and slurped it all down. Quick and top-notch.

I'd also like to say welcome to all of you who joined us after the recent/couple/of/articles--it's nuts how powerful that can be. Welcome aboard, and hope to meet you all soon!

April Showers Bring May Salons, Noodles and Dumplings!

2011-04-26T12:01:00.025-05:00

We're gearing up for a busy month here at Food on the Dole, with four Salons planned for the month of May, plus I'm going to be cooking with my good friend Crazy Hair from X-marx at his spot on a few nights. More on that in a bit. As far as the Salons go, we've got some great ones to look forward to:

The Food on the Dole Brunch Salon Sunday, May 1 at 11am. We'll get all Jacques Pepin on it and visit old classics, and possibly brave some new terrain in our market-driven menu; a perfect way to resurface from the weekend's debauchery and all those Cadbury Eggs from the week before. BYOB of course, and a bloody mary'll find its way into your hand. $30.
The Food on the Dole Pasta Salon Sunday, May 15 at 3pm. Come spend a Sunday afternoon in the Salon kneading, rolling and cutting fresh pasta for a simple early spring dinner. We'll share stories of our experience with pasta, learn about what makes this simple food so comforting and dig in to a hearty and soulful meal together. Come with questions and an empty belly; leave with technique, a sense of community and a snapping waistband. $40.
The Food on the Dole Bistro Salon Saturday May 21 at 6pm. Join the bon vivant lifestyle--if just for a night! Okay, okay, so perhaps the rich foods of Parisian bistros aren't exactly in tune with the Dole ethic--or are they? We'll prepare some classic, simple favorites (think along the lines of steak frites) of the heartiest and warmest of restaurant styles on a très joyeux Saturday evening at the Salon. Come discuss your love of bistros, or come find out just what makes them and their style of food so important and well-loved. $60.
The Food on the Dole Spring Vegetarian Salon Thursday May 26 at 6pm. We've been cooking and eating a lot of meat lately at the Salon, so what better time to shift gears for a bit and explore the bounty that Springtime in the Midwest is producing? Believe it or not, as such a carnivorous chef, I've always enjoyed cooking vegetarian food, and love celebrating the beauty of vegetables for what they are, as opposed to finding ways of making them emulate meat--you won't find any seitan or tempeh at this Salon. This Salon will be highly market-driven based on what I find at the farmer's market. All are welcome--come discuss your views on food and share stories of your memories of the first produce of Spring, and come ready to eat some tasty food. $40.

The current offering of Salons will always be listed on the right side of Food on the Dole. To reserve seats, simply click on the desired Salon. And, as mentioned during the first couple of weeks of May, I'll be cooking with X-marx at their pop-up noodle joint, Flour and Bones, down in Fulton Market. I'll be there May 5th, 7th and 11th, but be sure to stop by anytime May 2nd-11th from 5pm-1am for some top-notch homemade Chinese-style noodles and dumplings. 954 W. Fulton Market in the Dodo space.

As always, any questions can be directed to me at hughamano@yahoo.com. Want to get updates as they are posted? Just "Like" Food on the Dole on Facebook, or sign up for email updates on the top left side of F.o.t.D. I'm looking forward to these upcoming salons, and be sure to stay tuned for more Food on the Dole adventures!

The War of the Roses is Happening In My Mouth, or, Did We Really Just Make All That?

2011-04-22T11:52:00.012-05:00

The sizzling of the Taco Salon has nearly subsided, though I found myself with some leftover carnitas and a raw serrano chile last night. If you've never just crunched into a raw chile of moderate to high heat, give it a try sometime. The crisp brightness is followed by the heat and somehow, that just goes hand in hand with taco-style food. I learned this bold move from a guy I used to work with named Onofre; he would walk around the kitchen, carrying at all times a raw jalapeno in the pocket of his chef coat. He would gnaw away at that thing and replace it hourly--the guy ate several jalapenos per day. One day, after realizing the value of this and finding a spot for it in my daily routine--to a much lesser degree, of course--I undertook an ill-advised, though heavily encouraged and cheered-on jalapeno eating contest with him. I lost in rapidly drastic proportion, going down about one crunch into the second chile. He did that weird creepy showdown staredown like that guy in Indiana Jones in the first ten seconds of this clip. I was the quivering, cowering Marion Ravenwood. Only instead of a burning hot stake, Onofre was holding a burning hot jalapeno, right in my face. Lesson learned: don't go toe-to-toe with a guy from Veracruz in a jalapeno eating contest.

Moving right along, a quick synopsis of the F.o.t.D. Taco Salon:

Queso fresco, made the night before: two quarts milk, heated to just under boiling, a few tablespoons of vinegar/lime juice/any sort of acid added, stirring as the whey gradually separated from the curds, straining into cheesecloth, adding salt, pressing overnight. As the name implies, this fresh cheese is just that--pure dairy goodness to combat the heat and sharpness of other flavors in the tacos.
Carnitas, also started the night before: seared pork butt, braised in pork fat with garlic, orange, ancho and guajillo chiles, leeks ('cause I had 'em around), tamarind and tamarind soda. Also some pork stock I had left from the Pork Salon. The meat was removed when falling apart, and a saloneer completed this task while we reduced the braising liquid to add back in for a lovely dose of moist succulence. The tamarind soda is full of sour sugary-ness, which reduces down to a really luscious sauce.
Al Pastor: adapted from Middle-Eastern immigrants to Mexico, the idea is similar to shawarma, in that meat is marinated in chiles and often times pineapple, then piled onto a spit. Rather than the lamb used for shawarma, pork is used, the meat-spit is fire roasted, then sliced off into a tortilla. Since we don't have spit-roasting capabilities (yet) at F.o.t.D., we marinated pork loin in a puree of pineapple, orange, lime, ancho chile powder, onion and garlic, then grilled it lightly. When charred, we removed it, chopped it, then pan fried it with some of the leftover marinade and a touch of the chile salsa we made, described below.
Carne Asada: Skirt Steak, a quick marinade (and I do mean quick; don't overcook this in a marinade before you even apply heat to it) in olive oil, lime juice, garlic, salt and pepper. Then grilled nice and medium rare, and sliced.
Roasted Poblanos: just that--poblano peppers roasted on the grill, peeled, and cut into smoky little strips.
Grilled Tomatillo Salsa Verde: tomatillos grilled, then pureed with lime, serrano chiles, garlic cilantro. Tangy and sour, with a bit of heat.
Simmered Chile Salsa Roja: tomatoes char-grilled, then simmered to reduce with dried and fried ancho and guajillo chiles, onions and garlic. Pureed, with a nice smokiness and depth of flavor from the chiles. Hot, too.
And Guacamole! Diced avocado (well, avocado pressed through my cooling rack, which has wires creating squares about 1/3"x1/3". Just peel your avocado and press it through for the easiest way to get the perfect size and amount of squished-ness. This will allow you to keep some texture in your guacamole), onions, cilantro and a good bolt of the tomatillo salsa.
Hand Pressed Tortillas: Masa, lard, hot water, salt. Pressed and griddled. So superior to packaged tortillas, the way fresh pasta is to dried.
Refried Beans: Cooked black beans (simmered in just water until tender, no crunch remaining at all, but not falling apart into mush). Onions, jalapenos and garlic fried in lard, beans added to the pan and then mushed up, reserved cooking liquid added as needed.
Garnishes including crema (sour cream), chopped white onion, cilantro and chayote, that funny looking member of the squash family that crunches like an under-ripe pear and doesn't have a ton of flavor, but adds a great texture to the softness of tacos.
And of course, those Margaritas: equal parts fresh squeezed lime juice, tequila, and triple sec/Cointreau/Grand Marnier, shaken and topped off in chilled glasses with a touch of special and smoky mezcal from Oaxaca.

Is that it? I think that's it. Seemed like, for this Salon, this list format was the best way to fit everything in. Otherwise, I'd fill up page after page with silly descriptions that might not be that necessary. We'll save that for more simple topics. Perhaps the Brunch Salon? If interested, I have a couple of seats left on May 1--the Sunday after Easter, 11:00. $30, byob with a Bloody Mary included. Seats can be reserved here.

A big thank you to the Taco Saloneers who made it out despite the--sigh--still cold and rainy un-Spring-like weather. I think we were able to capture, for however short a time, a touch of summer together. Here's hoping Mother Nature catches up, and soon!

Homemade Bagels, Leftovers and a Devil-May-Care Attitude Towards Grammar

2011-04-21T10:44:00.007-05:00

Last night's Salon--despite the frigid weather--was a success (so happy was I to hear, repeatedly, "that smells/tastes like summer!), and beyond my being comforted that my oft-used dash-dash is the new semicolon by a bunch of English-y types, we made some really great food (carnitas, al pastor, carne asada, rajas de poblano, queso fresco, lard & jalapeno-refried beans, homemade tortillas, roasted tomatillo salsa, simmered ancho/guajillo salsa, guacamole) which I will report on shortly. Meanwhile, I'm off to ponder the great meal last night and the upcoming F.o.t.D. Brunch Salon the Sunday after Easter in this chilly but sunny weather, fueled by the beautiful bagels above (yes, two lovely Saloneers brought me bagels, still warm, that they had made!), one spread with blueberry jam my Tennessee ham connection's mother in law made, one spread with queso fresco and carnitas from last night. I used to think it was sweet to have connections in the restaurant world; now I realize it's vastly better to have connections in the homemade world.

Tacos! Tacos! Tacos!

2011-04-20T08:56:00.004-05:00

Carnitas bubbling away, pork loin in a juicy, citrusy, pinapple-y marinade, masa awaiting lard and a hot griddle, skirt steak hanging out in lime, beans asking to be fried, tomatillos demanding to be roasted, homemade queso fresco begging to be slathered on top of tacos, 6 bellies ready to be filled...and of course, limes ready for juicing and tequila ready for pouring...it's the Food on the Dole Taco Salon tonight! More on how it went down soon!

All'onda, But Not In That Bad Baseball Stadium Way

2011-04-18T10:55:00.010-05:00

Despite the appearance of frost (or possibly snow?) on the ground this morning in Chicago with memories of 80 degree sunsoaked days a mere week ago still in the forefront of our minds, we've got to muscle through to spring. Like so many of the buds on trees, daffodils and tulips that thought it was time to wake up, let's make it through this lingering cold unscathed, protected by thoughts of what lies ahead.

I received help towards this in the tiny form of young green garlic from Videnovich Farms in Michigan. Still quite small and delicate, the flavor and texture at the root end stood up to light frying in a pan with some soffrito, sunchokes and preserved lemon. I added some arborio rice on the path to risotto and--17 minutes of gentle stirring and several additions of stock later--we had risotto. I folded in butter, parmigiano-reggiano cheese, piquillo peppers, parsley, butter and some of the shoot end of the green garlic, saving more to garnish with on top.

Risotto is, in a world where cooking means more than pushing some buttons and hearing a dinner bell-like beep, quite simple and quick to make. Don't be intimidated. This was a cheap, filling meal, full of clean flavors, appropriate for the season. Stir the whole while you are making it, brushing the grains of rice against each other to release their creamy starches. Add stock when the risotto asks for it--draw your spoon through the center of the pan, and when liquid isn't rushing back in to fill the ditch you just created, but is rather slowly seeping in there, add a little more. And cook until the rice has just a touch of tooth to it--not grainy grittiness, but just a bit of firm texture--realizing that a touch more cooking and absorption of liquid will happen once the process is complete and the pan is off the heat. And so very importantly, look for the condition of what Italians call all'onda, or "of the wave". See the video below to grasp what I'm talking about. Pull the risotto to one side of the pot. When it ever so slowly oozes lava-like to the other side of the pot, you have all'onda. This, plus the texture we just talked about, makes top-notch risotto. But above all else, do not neglect your risotto--unlike a stadium where the only thing necessary is a drunk fat guy with no shirt on--it takes love and attention to get the wave in a pot of risotto.

Susie's Noon Hour Grill, or Thanks To My Young Skinny Friend

2011-04-15T12:28:00.011-05:00

Last year I was introduced to Susie's Noon Hour Grill, tucked away in the alley-like portion of Glenwood Avenue in Rogers Park by a young, hip-skinny buddy of mine. I'd walked past it a hundred times and never noticed it; don't make that same mistake. It's run by Susie--a sweet little elderly Korean lady--and to say it is a Korean restaurant would be way off. Sure, the bi bim bop comes out later in the day, but there's Japanese Ramen on the menu (that I'm anxious/nervous to try), and really, I see its strength as being a place for rolling into in the morning, or whatever part of the day one wakes up. You see, that's when Susie makes things like Korean Pancakes and Bulgogi and Kim Chee Omelets. I know what you're thinking. Kim Chee in an omelete? But hey--it really works, and so does the chile/soy sauce for those pancakes--so savory and glutinous and chewy. Cheap as all get out as well, and Susie is just such a cutie. She's the only one there, so maybe avoid it if you're the type to write negative Yelp reviews about a place with only one host, server, cook, busser, cashier, etc. But if you can appreciate the power of one little lady in a sparse, diner-like spot making you feel warm and full of delicious and different yet somehow familiar food, go to this restaurant. 6930 N. Glenwood in Rogers Park, on the part of Glenwood headed south, next to a comic book store.

Tacos! Brunch! Top-Notch Food Found Here!

2011-04-13T00:20:00.013-05:00

The nice weather--combined with making all those tortillas at the last Salon--has inspired our next event. We'll be bringing the food of the Taco Trucks of Oakland inside to the Food on the Dole Oakland Street Taco Salon. We'll press and throw down all our tortillas, make a few sauces and generally create tons of tasty taco fillings a la the taco trucks in Oakland, CA. I'll even go a step further and shake up a round or two of margaritas as we cook, eat and learn together. Bring your questions, bring your appetite, bring those thick bottles of Mexican Coke; just bring your self--it's coming up soon: next Wednesday April 20 at 6pm. $40 and BYOB. Sign up here.

If you can't make the taco-fest, rest easy; we're putting on a brunch: the Food on the Dole Brunch Salon. We'll get all Jacques Pepin on it and visit old classics, and possibly brave some new terrain in our market-driven menu; a perfect way to resurface from the weekend's debauchery and all those Cadbury Eggs from the week before. BYOB of course, and a bloody mary'll find its way into your hand; Sunday, May 1 at 11am, $30. Tickets can be found here.

So far, we've had a great, rollicking time with the Salons. Thank you to all the supporters, and welcome to all new friends!

That First Day That Leads Us Into Thinking Summer Is Here, or, Salon III

2011-04-12T13:01:00.011-05:00

Sunday greeted us with temperatures in the 80s, and as I lit up my tiny Smoky Joe to smoke some pork belly, I thought with amazement about how just a couple of months ago snow was howling sideways down this very street, complete with lightning and ridiculously huge accumulation. So, clearly, everyone in Chicago was in love with this first really warm day; people were finally smiling on the street, cars weren't honking except for those friendly, short little "thank you for letting me in" honks, and yours truly was gearing up for the Salon featuring pork. Specifically, a lovely bit of pig from my friend over at X-Marx, who had just finished butchering a whole pig for his highly recommended head-to-tail dinner tomorrow night. For the Salon, we'd be working with belly, hock, shoulder, tail, flank and skin.
We started with the flank, a tiny little cut suitable for a quick grill, aiming to make Matambre de Cerdo, an Argentinian dish based on Matambre, a stuffed and rolled beef flank steak. Cerdo means pig, and in this version, nothing gets stuffed or rolled--just salt and pepper, then a hot, smoky grill. I've read differing accounts--that matambre, translated, means "shoe leather"; another story is that the word is a mash up of the words "matar" (to kill) and hambre (hunger). Who can say which story is legit, but my intention was to use it as the latter: a quick bite to satiate the hungry pack who showed up to the Salon. So, we made tortillas, hand pressed and cooked on a slick cast iron skillet, and a chimichurri, with parsley, cilantro, marjoram, garlic, lemon, lime, a tomatillo, vinegar and plenty of olive oil. In place of the ubiquitous iceberg lettuce so seemingly beloved in South America, I used a crisp asparagus lettuce tip, very similar to romaine lettuce in texture but a bit more flavorful. Grilled that flank, chopped it up and into the warm tortillas it went, topped with the lettuce and chimichurri.

Hock Before Braising

Then we wanted to make rillettes, so we moved on to the hock; I'd braised this overnight with thyme and garlic so it was soft and fell right off the bone. There was a good bit of flavorful liquid left from the braise, which turned into a nice pork jelly as the hock cooled in it. We picked the meat, minced a shallot, and beat it with some mustard, vinegar, and lard rendered earlier in the day. Plenty of salt and pepper, a touch of the pork jelly, and we packed it into a little pot. Served it as a spread of sorts with some epi bread I'd made and the pork belly jam we'd make next.

Hock After Braising

For the belly jam, I did a quick cure, just overnight (as opposed to the several day cure bacon gets), with brown sugar, salt, star anise, fennel seed, black pepper, ajowan and cumin. Took it out in the morning, rinsed it, patted it dry and placed it on a rack in the fridge to dry out as much as possible in order to get the important pellicle formation--that dry, somewhat sticky outer coating of meat left uncovered in the fridge--that helps the meat absorb smoke. This usally takes more time as well, but hey--the Salon was that day so we did what we could. I then smoked it for a few hours on said Smoky Joe with some hickory chips; it got nice and smoky, and deliciously crisp on the outside. It was all I could do not to eat it all right when it came off the grill. So, when the time came, we cut it into little chunks, and fried them in lard in a pot, sort of mashing them around as we went, letting them crisp up, then we deglazed with red wine, red wine vinegar, and threw in some blueberries and mango and a bit of sugar. This cooked down for a bit, the berries popped, and we had ourselves a real nice, smoky yet bright accompaniment for the bread and rillettes.
I just had to pull out that salty Bentons ham as well, so we cubed it up, fried it in that lovely lard, then added big wedges of red onion. Got these nice and charred, deglazed with sherry vinegar, drizzled in plenty of olive oil, and tossed it all with adult spinach. Baby spinach has less flavor, costs more, and would just wilt immediately; the adult spinach kept a nice in between of wilting and staying crisp. This decadent salad was intended to be served with a garnish of pork rinds, but hey--we were drinking beer and just plain forgot. But the pork rinds would be made. Oh yes, they would be.

I cleaned the skin of the pig as much as possible, removing fat and meat. Then I boiled it for a few hours, the heat removing any fat I missed and breaking down the tough protein; then I used the back of a knife to scrape it clean again and put it in a low, low oven to dehydrate it more overnight. I then repeated the process all over again, making these guys really, really dry and tough. We heated canola oil to around 350 degrees or so, then threw the chunks of skin in; they puffed up light and crisp in seconds; we tossed them with bacon salt, a mixture not containing any bacon, but lots of salt and smoked spices that emulate bacon. Crispy, crunchy, oh so porky.

At this point people were getting pretty full, but we had to make the entree, so I gathered the troops and we made a pasta dough, then made a loose sausage as it rested. We used chunks of shoulder for this; nice and fatty and through the grinder they went. We mixed the meat with all kinds of things--garlic, marjoram, oregano, cayenne, isot pepper, red stamp pepper, cumin, coriander, red chile flake, black pepper, salt, red wine, mezcal, and the list goes on and on--then friend the spicy sausage with leeks, roasted golden beets, more pork jelly, and preserved lemon. The pasta was rolled and cut into fat thick noodles; after boiling, everything was tossed together, a bit of orange zest on top and a good dose of olive oil as well.

To finish, we whipped egg yolks and maple syrup into a sabayon--a light, foamy mousse of sorts--then folded in whipped cream, crispy bacon we'd cooked earlier and the fat that rendered out of it. Gave it a light freeze, then gobbled it all up--a nice little bacon semi-fredo.

It was a great Sunday afternoon that turned into evening that turned into night; we discussed food, the south, and demented haunted houses. I got to meet some new interesting friends, and we all ate copious amounts of food. This was a happy incarnation of the Salon, and I look forward to many more. Which reminds me--I was at a benefit last night at Kith and Kin in Chicago and ran into someone who attended the Seafood Salon by the oyster bar (where I spent much of the night parked). She proudly declared that she'd been eating the oysters bare, and chewing them, ever since the Salon. I beamed, and happily ate another with her.

Pork Rinds Popping Like Mad

2011-04-11T08:37:00.007-05:00

We had a great F.o.t.D. Salon yesterday--7 of us cooking several different pig parts--and with the beautiful 80 degree weather, the menu rapidly morphed from a roast focused day to one incorporating the happy little Smoky Joe above. More details soon, but back inside, we made some tasty pork rinds, and took a video to show you--these things (after a long couple of series of boiling and drying) puff up in an instant and, tossed with bacon salt, are pretty porky and tasty. Big thanks to the energetic group of Saloneers yesterday!

When a Lunatic Offers You Pork, You Take It

2011-04-08T14:51:00.006-05:00

(not the pig in question; this guy's just sleeping)

Old Crazy Hair just made his way back from China, and cyclone of energy that he is, has already procured a whole pig from Susanna Farms for a dinner he's doing next week. Luckily for us at F.o.t.D. and those attending Sunday's Salon, he's letting us share in the pig, so I'll be picking up several parts tomorrow morning for our feast. I've got my mind set on some items (rillettes, crisped belly jam), and others will be decided once I get my hands on this good stuff and hit the markets for some early spring veg, keeping the menu nice and spontaneous. Big thanks to crazy hair for the spirit of communal pig enjoyment, and big thanks, of course, to the pig itself.

Give Favas a Chance

2011-04-07T16:42:00.007-05:00

Made famous by one cannibalizing psychopath a ways back, Fava Beans are something to look forward to in the spring, and though they can be a bit of a chore to clean, imagine what poor, poor Hannibal Lecter had to go through to prepare the rest of that meal. While cheffing, I've always enjoyed the power favas had to clear my kitchen of bored, chatty servers--anytime I've had them on a menu (favas, not servers), there's always a bowl of them floating around, and the dictum "you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean...favas" rules. Yes, they need to be peeled twice (the pod has to be opened, then the beans themselves have skin that needs to be removed), and yes, this takes a lot of time. But you know what happens when things take a lot of time in the kitchen? People start talking to each other. People start telling stories. It's like when people find out you don't have a television. "What on earth do you do with your time?" they ask, wide-eyed. Me, I'd take a half hour peeling favas over half an hour of pretty much anything on tv. Unless it was Silence of the Lambs.

Get It While It's Cold!

2011-04-06T08:56:00.006-05:00

Believe it or not, the season where putting your face in a bowl of hot soup is more inviting than putting your face in a freezer is rapidly coming to a close. It isn't exactly sweltering yet, and North Avenue Beach has yet to turn in to a seething ant hill, but hey--Soup and Bread only has two more dates left--tonight and next Wednesday, so get yourself down there to the Hideout in a hurry. If you were one of those who made it down there a couple of weeks ago and had yours truly's version of ramen (with a broth made of pig trotters and necks, chicken feet and backs, and beef necks, not to mention those deliciously smoky bacon ends) and have several dozen hours to kill but are painfully aware of the fact that I'm not crazy about posting recipes, the recipe is up at the Soup and Bread site. Meanwhile, pig parts are en route to the F.o.t.D Salon, a couple of seats have opened up, and we're gearing up for a delicious Sunday evening.

A Return to Normalcy in Trieste

2011-04-04T09:51:00.010-05:00

A great memory popped in my head this morning a trip through Trieste, Italy. We'd been back and forth to the airport a couple of times in the hopes that our lost bags would have arrived; due to my less than rudimentary Italian language skills, the only way to really be sure that the bags weren't there was to go see for ourselves. The strange thing was that I really didn't mind the hour bus ride each way to the airport, as the route went right along the Adriatic Sea, it was a gorgeous day, and everything was simply stunning. Each trip allowed me to notice something I hadn't before, and expand on my little mind-movies of what was happening in each gelato shop, every mechanic's garage, the sea below.

Nevertheless, this much back and forth after a trans-Atlantic flight and another from Rome (which, low and sunny over the sea with the stormy Dolomites in the distance was pleasant in its own right) was exhausting. The bags were not there on the second trip, which would mean another trip back in the morning, and more painfully important, I'd have to make the decision to leave my contact lenses in my already straining eyes overnight, or bite the bullet of soaking them in tap water overnight as nary a pharmacy could be found on this otherwise lovely Sunday. These thoughts were shoved to the back of my mind as we entered a sparse little cafe/restaurant called Buffet Clai on via Ugo Foscolo in Trieste. Immediately greeted with a carafe of red table wine, we ordered some food, so simple and so delicious and comforting after the long trip: Polenta e Baccala and Gnocchi con Goulasch. The food in Trieste really seems to stand with one foot in Italy, one foot in Eastern Europe with a good deal of Hungarian and Slavik influence. These two dishes were, like I said, so very simple: the salt cod braised in a ragout of tomatoes, maybe some cream rounding things out; the polenta cooked all day, then placed in a dish to cool, be cut into squares, and reheated; the generously sized gnocchi folded into a rich goulash of beef and tomatoes. The place itself was welcoming, too, but not in an extreme way--they brought us our food and wine, and went about their business. No pandering to the tourists, just making sure we were alright; as basic and loving as the food.

I'll spare you the story about what happened with my contact lenses; it's gruesome for sure. But let's just say that if you find yourself in Trieste like James Joyce (or other, more meager writers), take a spin around and find yourself down a side street that leads to places like this.

Rebel in Manhattan

2011-04-01T11:48:00.006-05:00

When I was younger, I had the good, good fortune of being introduced to what is now one of my favorite cocktails (close behind the mighty Negroni)--the Manhattan. Named perhaps after a club in NYC, or, in a more interesting version of the story, after the water of the city due to its dark brown color, it has certainly had a bit of a comeback in this cocktail crazed era. Traditionally made with rye (as far as I can tell, though just like anything, we could find hundreds of "true" and "traditional" recipes and stories of its origin), lots of places now make it with bourbon, and I think that's just fine. After all, that's how I first learned it, and thus will always make it.
On a recent visit to my wellspring of Manhattans, I picked up a bottle of the very affordable and passable Rebel Yell bourbon, which was quickly mixed with vermouth and stirred with ice. Into a chilled glass it went with a cherry (maraschino in this case, though if you can get your hands on the good but cheap jarred sour cherries in stores like HarvesTime in Chicago, even better--such a nice balance of sweet and sour). Dash some bitters on top if you like. Perfect way to warm up in the winter, or cool down in the summer.

Meanwhile, we're full steam ahead for the next F.o.t.D. Salon, featuring all things pork. If you haven't signed up yet, you can do so here. Until then, cheers to the Manhattan!

Salon III: The Wondrous Pig

2011-03-30T21:28:00.008-05:00

On heels of the delicious pescetarian dinner we created at the second Food on the Dole Salon, I've got a hankering for pork. Therefore, I'd like to announce the next Salon coming on Sunday, April 10 at 5:00pm. What better way to spend Sunday than exploring our good friend the pig through numerous creations while cooking and eating a great end-of-weekend meal together? Come with as many questions as you like and get in and get your hands dirty; come to relax and enjoy the sights and smells and enjoy the results; just come! Six seats are available for a donation of $50.00 each, and can be reserved by clicking on this link. The event as always is byob, so bring your pork friendly wines and beers, which, naturally, includes pretty much anything. Of course, if you have any questions about the event or the Salons in general, email me at hughamano@yahoo.com. Thanks again to those who played a part in making the first two Salons such a success, and I look forward to cooking with you soon!

Salon II: Oysters, Clams, and a Real Big Fish

2011-03-29T10:51:00.013-05:00

Saturday night's Food on the Dole Salon found six food enthusiasts in my kitchen staring down a lovely mountain of seafood. Building that mountain were Bras d'Or Oysters of Nova Scotia, Californian Hama Hama Oysters, Manila Clams (from Washington, not the Philippines, much to the chagrin of one attendee), salt cod brandade, and a gorgeous wild striped bass, whole and weighing in over five pounds. Rounding out said mountain was homemade epi and baguettes, my beloved bibb lettuce bistro salad, "teenage" artichokes and a bright salsa verde for the bass. With six of the city's best eaters in tow, we forged ahead, and we conquered this mountain.
I started with the salt cod by soaking it in cold water for about 24-36 hours, changing the water every 4-6 hours or so. This food, which is discussed at length in Mark Kurlansky's two remarkably informative books, Salt and Cod, offered the preservation (salt) of the nutrition (cod) necessary for long sea voyages and thus global expansion way back when. Seeing it these days in a store, one wouldn't realize the enormously important role it played in the development of civilization--it's just a crusty looking piece of old fish. BUT, it can be transformed into something delicious and hearty and filling; in this case, brandade. After the above soaking to remove all the excess salt, I briefly poached it in milk, at which point it was, relatively, tender and flaky, not too different from fresh cod. I gave it a few pulses in a food processor with some roasted garlic and lots of olive oil, then folded in potatoes that had been baked, then pushed through a ricer. Salt, pepper, more olive oil, and a bit of the poaching milk, then it was spread into a baking dish, topped with some panko bread crumbs, more olive oil, then baked 'till crisp. Stick a spoon in it and put it next to a few loaves of bread, and it's gone like that.
I shucked some of our oysters, but wanting the saloneers to get the full experience, I left quite a few for them to do. Some did one or two; one guy, a navy man from New Orleans, blew through them like he'd been doing it his whole life. Well, maybe not quite that fast, but his claim that he had never shucked oysters didn't line up with the speed at which he did it this night. That's the funny thing about oyster shucking--there's always someone in a group who just kind of "gets" it from the start. The rest of us don't, and have to practice and practice. Either that, or there's a band of underground oyster shucking hustlers walking the streets.
I encouraged all guests to eat the oysters nude, by which I mean to say I asked them to try the oysters without the assistance of sauce and to chew them, while remaining fully clothed. I've written before about the importance of understanding and enjoying the terroir of oysters; despite mignonette's acidity being one of my absolute favorite flavors, I feel it masks the great things about oysters, and chewing allows us to enjoy their texture, and to release some more of the tasty liquid inside. Happily, everyone tried this, and though I offered a tangelo granita as a more subtle topping, the oysters were eaten on their own. Perhaps it was politeness, or perhaps it was the fact that sparkling wine was flowing pretty freely at this point, but I was glad to see them gobbled up so enthusiastically.
We prepared our bass in the spirit of good timing; it would be thrown in the oven as we sat down to eat our clams. Guests chopped leeks, fennel, lemons and green garlic, all of which went into the fish's belly cavity after it had been rubbed inside and out with olive oil, salt and pepper. We laid it on a bed of fennel fronds and leek ends and set it aside as we moved to the clams. So very, very simple.

For the clams, I had prepared a version of soffrito--found the world over as a flavoring agent made of simple ingredients (in this case onion, tomato and olive oil) transformed through heat and time. I minced an onion, put it in a pot over low, low heat with a bunch of olive oil and let it start to brown. Since good tomatoes are in super short supply right about now, I used some nice canned tomatoes; chopped them up fine and added them to the mix, letting the olive oil-covered soffrito go all night in my oven, as low as it could go. The result is a highly concentrated, reduced little mishmosh of flavor--keep it in a jar for weeks in the fridge, and add it to anything for a burst of flavor. We sauteed some of the leeks and fennel we'd sliced for the fish in butter, added a few good dollops of the soffrito, then the clams (purged in salt water for an hour or so to help remove any sand), hit the pan with some white wine and threw a lid on. These little guys steamed open in a few minutes (manila clams open much more quickly than most other clams) and we were set. Toasted some baguette slices and spread them with aioli, dished up the clams into bowls, and tucked in.

To serve with the fish, artichokes I like to call "teenage"--not baby, but not so adult that the choke has developed into something inedible yet--were cleaned and quartered, tossed with more fennel and leeks in the same pan the clams were cooked in, a few juices remaining--and put in the hot hot oven along with the fish as we ate. The bibb lettuce (good hydroponic stuff) was tossed with a sharp shallot vinaigrette and tarragon, basil and parsley leaves. We finished the clams, moved to the salad, then the fish was ready--soft and moist, with a few crispy points on the top half--the bottom rich and succulent, braising in the juices created through cooking. I made a quick salsa verde: parsley, tarragon, basil, garlic, capers, olives, a couple anchovies, sherry vinegar and a good bolt of olive oil pureed together. I was thrilled that this group was so comfortable with each other--people were, without abandon, picking at the fish on the pan after having eaten a few helpings; an eyeball was eaten for the first time, we discussed the benefits of the top (crisp) vs. the bottom (succulent and juicy), and how flavorful the juices in the pan were. We talked and talked, food and more, well into the evening. And yours truly was thrilled when the offered whiskey was taken late in the night/early in the morning.
It was a truly vibrant group, a simple yet beautiful meal, and I am ready to parlay this energy in to the next Salon. I will release details of that in the coming week--most likely the event will be somewhere around that second weekend of April, not far away at all. Of course, a huge thank you to the guests who have attended so far, and here's to great cooking, food and company!

Great Soup and Bread, and a Couple Seats for Salon II

2011-03-25T13:13:00.006-05:00

Yet another great night of Soup and Bread happened on Wednesday; nine people showed up with soup, a few more with bread, and some serious cash was raised for the Marjorie Kovler Center. It's amazing to see how much this has grown from year one with two other soup makers on the night I cooked, to year two, where there must have been five of us, to this, the third year, with the mentioned nine cooks and a ton of people filling the room. It's a special thing Martha Bayne has created down there, and I encourage each of you to check it out each Wednesday.
Moving right along, The Food on the Dole Salon II is tomorrow night, yes, Saturday night, with a focus on seafood. I've got some great things in store (that may or may not include that wonder of gastronomic alchemy, baccala and/or some honey tangelos), and a cancellation has opened up a couple of seats. If you are interested, we'll be cooking together, eating together, and discussing all things food and beyond--email me at hughamano@yahoo.com to nab the seats. Hope you can make it!