Cheesy Meal

My friends R and S, of the Night of Two Souffles and the 2016 Ottolenghi Dinner, and I had been kicking around ideas for another themed feast for a while now.  S mentioned she'd been wanting to make a feta cheesecake from Honey & Co. and I said, half jokingly, well, we could do an entire meal around cheese.

And then that's what we had to do.

I'd been wanting to try making gnocchi for a long time. I recalled a Cook's Illustrated ricotta gnocchi (or in Italian, gnudi) recipe that sounded fun and cheesy.  Like the insides of ravioli, without the outsides.  Or, "nude" ravioli.

I made the dough, and we did the cutting and cooking together.  It was sticky, and I can't say they were terribly pretty.  And in another strategic error, we were pretty hungry, so I think overly enthused about dumping a whole lot in the pot at once rather than a few at a time. So while the batch you see cooking here turned out great, many of the ones after this ended up a bit clumpy.

Still, though, with a brown butter, shallot, herb sauce, it's hard to find any nits to pick. 

 Here's the final dish.

 

I started with the gnocchi because it was the main event, but for an appetizer we made a very cheesy stuffed mushroom recipe -- melty taleggio, Parmesean, etc., from Ottolenghi's Plenty.  I think I went too easy on the taleggio -- the picture in the cookbook is definitely way more cheesed over than ours turned out.  Lesson learned.  Also, the recipe didn't call for scraping out the portobello, just piling the filling on top of them.  I think it would be better with some scraping out.  So I'll try that next time.  



It must be said though that the stuffing was amazing. I was skeptical reading the recipe, along the lines of "you want HOW MUCH sun dried tomato in there???" But it was rich and flavorful and the leftovers made some tremendous scrambled eggs the next day. Definitely the kind of thing I could see just making and using kind of like a condiment.  I feel like it would improve everything it touches.

There was also a very nice, simple goat cheese salad, which I didn't take a picture of because even in these photo-happy food memorializing times, sometimes I just forget.  And a small cheese plate to start.

And finally the cheesecake.  It was beautiful and utterly light and divine.  I quibble just a little bit with calling it "cheesecake," I think it was more of a mousse.  But whatever one calls it, it was definitely the high point of a very cheesy evening.

The Christmas Babka

 

Way more photos than usual in this entry, but (a) this was a pretty involved thing, (b) I'm inordinately proud of my Christmas babka achievement, and (c) I was joined by a very special sous chef for this Hawaiian holiday cooking adventure, my niece Bella, who is 5 and a half.

Let's rewind.  When I first saw Ottolenghi's Krantz cake recipe in Jerusalem, it was the kind of recipe where my immediate reaction was "no way will I ever cook that."  Partly that's because I don't have a stand mixer, but partly it just looked hard.  And for all that I'm an ambitious and sometimes even daring cook, I'm also fundamentally a pretty lazy one.  Hence no-knead bread.

But I'd had it in mind, and when I was thinking about what I might want to try out on my family over the holidays, and my mom said we were volunteering to bring dessert for Christmas dinner, it seemed an opportune moment to attempt the Ottolenghi babka.

I don't know why I do these things, it's the height of arrogance or dumbness to try something, especially something complicated, for the first time for other people.  But, I was on the hook, so away we went.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and dough needed making.  

Were it not for the Kitchenaid, much time 'twould be taking.

Here it is freshly mixed, and again after resting

With much sugar and flour and some lemon from zesting.

We'd be making two babkas, not three and not one,
The first filled with chocolate, the other, cinnamon.



It was Xmas day and the babka dough rolled
When into the kitchen my little niece strolled.

She surveyed the scene and my own furrowed brow,
And she said "Uncle Joe, can I help you somehow?"

So together we decorated the freshly flat dough
With nuts and the toppings strewn to and fro.

And carefully I rolled a tight babka cigar,

And a split and a twist and voila there we are.

Into pans for a rest and a rise then the fire

All the work and attention had caused us to tire.



It was messy but easy, well, less hard than I thought,

And in the end vastly better than had we store bought.

Admire the crumb, look at that great braid
And this my dear readers, is how a babka is made.

Humble apologies to Clement Clark Moore and Dr. Seuss both.  I didn't really think I was going to end up in verse the whole way through.  And thank you to my sister Joelle, who documented the event.  And to Bella, for being a great assistant. Merry Babka!

Nomadic Lunch

Lunch. An underrated meal, sometimes. And too often eaten hurriedly at one's desk. But my very good friend M. was in town from LA for work and asked about having lunch. Normally in my work neighborhood that would be Curry Hill, or Dos Caminos, or Hillstone.  Or Resto if I'm feeling conventionally decadent.  But as it was a Friday and I could escape and I was feeling splurge-y I suggested Nomad, Chef Daniel Humm's restaurant at, well, the NoMad Hotel, which is located in, well, the NoMad District.

If this was a real estate blog I'd be talking about how fascinating it continues to be to me that a neighborhood that used to be just chockablock with tawdry wholesalers is being transformed by a whole set of very cool boutique hotels and their associated shopping and dining venues.

But that's not my story today.

My story today is my three-course lunch at the Nomad, which included the most decadent, wonderful, memorable burger of my life, and it was a chicken burger at that.

I started with the salmon; a sort of terrine or pate, with a mustardy sauce, a quail egg yolk, and rye crisps (and some greens--pea and lettuce).  This was fantastic. Rye and salmon go so well together, and this was an incredibly refined way to combine those flavors.  And the egg yolk added just the right amount of heaviness to what was a very light terrine.  Just great.

But nothing compared to what came next.  Nomad is famous for a spectacularly expensive whole roast chicken, which is enlivened by foie gras and truffles under the skin while it's roasting. For frugal lunch diners, they make a burger version of that.  Yes, this is the chicken burger at Nomad:

I realize, retrospectively, that you can't actually see the burger in this picture.  You'll have to take my word, it was beautiful, and the ground chicken includes a fair amount of skin, along with the foie and the truffle, which should be gross but in fact made for the moistest, most flavorful burger imaginable.  And the fries were top-notch as well.

This is one of those dishes that I ate it and I was full and content and yet I still immediately wanted to eat it again, just so I could keep tasting it. 

I mean.  Really.  Go eat this burger sometime in your life.  Hopefully soon.

Followed that with an espresso and the light and terrific "milk and honey" dessert, with shortbread crisps, crunchy milk bites, and the distinctiveness of buckwheat honey.

 

I can't say enough good about this lunch.  Though full disclosure, wine was involved as well.

Speaking of which, the guy taking care of us was terrific.  I had mentioned I kept an eye out for Corsican wines ever since my trip there last year, and M and I were drinking a Corsican white they ahd, and so he brought me over a taste of their red from Corsica, just so I could give it a try. So nice!

Actually the whole staff was wonderful.  M and I were both late for our reservation, and yet they could not have been more accommodating.

And you may note that the lighting of these photos is amazing (I mean, if I do say so myself).  Partly, that's just lunches--natural light is around in general in the daytime--but mainly it's because the Nomad dining room is under an opaque but very bright skylight.  It's a beautiful room.

So, in conclusion, go have this burger!  And I need to go back for the whole chicken.

Second Souffle Night--Just One This Time

December 6

This will be remembered as the year of two soufflé nights, for, inspired by the previous one, I had some friends over on 6 December for my first ever cheese soufflé.  Julia's recipe, naturally.  And once again it's hard to believe that something so simple can be so elegant and delicious.

Also roasted some new potatoes and made my favorite salad.  And my friend H. brought over some chocolate pots de creme for dessert, too.

Here's the view fresh out of the oven.  You get a good view of the height in this one.  In the moment I was thinking "God I hope I don't drop it."  Seeing the photo after, I think "God I need a haircut."  But that's a topic for a different, more sartorial, blog.

Anyway, one last "hooray for soufflé!"

Night of Two Souffles

I've known my friend S. for decades--she was a few years behind me at Columbia.  For years know, we've reliably met up every year at Homecoming to watch the Lions lose to whoever they were playing, and catch up.  This year, she and her husband and I got to talking about food. They are totally into bread, and canned a bunch of tomatoes this summer, so we had quite a bit to talk about. And somewhat randomly the topic of souffles came up, and S. said she'd always wanted to make one, and I said I've been wanting to for ages.

And it just seemed to make sense that we'd get together for a Night of Souffle.  S. & R. were kind enough to invite me over to their place.  I brought the ingredients for a chocolate souffle (plus my souffle pan), and they put together a cheese one before I got there.

 

 
So, yes, two souffles in a single meal. Along with a salad and a nice sancerre.  And good company.

What a great meal!  I totally think more people should make souffles more often.  They are easier than you think, delicious, versatile, fairly light, and yet decadent and dramatic at the same time.

In the spirit of full disclosure, the chocolate one got a little over-blown in the oven and started to drip a bit, causing a minor smoke condition partway through cooking.  But it still turned out beautifully and tastily in the end.

Sometimes I cook things and think "well that was a great experience and I never want to do it again."  And sometimes I cook things and think "I can't wait to cook that again!"  This was definitely one of the latter occasions.  Looking forward to the next Souffle Evening.

Dinner at the Metropolitan Opera

A good meal anytime is a joy.  But a good meal when you weren't really necessarily expecting one is especially nice. This is relevant because a few weeks ago, I had dinner at the Met's glitzy Grand Tier Dining Room, a true New York capital-I Institution, and someplace I've wanted to eat for as long as I've been a cultural aficionado in this great city. 

But really, being where it is, I wasn't expecting much out of the Dining Room.  I mean, it's in the MET! People go there because it's part of a night at the opera, not because the food is any good. Also, consider the average age of a patron! Mushy pablum and geritol were about as much as I expected from the menu.

So I was pleasantly surprised, indeed, that the menu had some interesting things going on, and more than that, everything we ordered was really well executed, especially given that they are on a super-strict timetable to get patrons fed and in their seats in the auditorium in time for the curtain.

 

That said, I am compelled to point out the caviar options at the top of the menu, going up to the $135/30g Royal Belgian Osetra. We opted out of a caviar course.

To start, we got the octopus and the chicken liver mousse (with port gelee and fig marmalade..mmmm). I try to avoid eating octopus because I think they're cute and they are undeniably very smart. But they are also undeniably very delicious, so once in a while I give in.

This particular cephalopod was fantastic, a single tentacle, and whatever they did to it left it perfectly cooked and amazingly tender. A little romesco and some herby yogurt were nice complements. The mousse was super-rich--I was glad we were sharing because I think a whole serving would likely have proven lethal--to my ability to stay awake through Act I, if not to my actual life.

For the main, we shared again, going for the Branzino "from the plancha" accompanied by the wild mushroom+leek bread pudding and the corn risotto. The branzino was done to a T, tender and moist and not at all overcooked, and the squash and roasted romaine on the side were very nice as well. And the sauce, not pictured, was a treat. Super fresh salsa verde, bursting with herby flavor.

I love a savory bread pudding! It's like stuffing, but classier. And this one was quite pretty, to boot.

With that, we were off for the first part of Donizetti's "Anna Bolena." But we placed an order for dessert before our departure--  "Otello's Bitter End," the thematic dessert of the season. And, lo, when Bolena was spurned by Enrico Otto and intermission rolled around, we returned to our table to find dessert awaited us as surely as the executioner awaited Anne Boleyn. But much more sweetly.

This, unfortunately, was not a great success. Pistachio cake with "orange blossom water mousse," phyllo, and sesame creme. It's clear what they were trying to do with it-- Mediterranean/ Turkish flavors done in a Western/Italian mode, much like Cyprus or poor Otello himself, trapped between worlds. But in practice the phyllo was spiky and disruptive (maybe it represents Iago??), and the cake+mousse didn't quite come together--kind of a not-so-great cheesecake. Still, I give them credit for trying to tie something into the season's repertory.

In happier dessert news, there's a chocolate souffle on the menu!  I'm all about bringing souffle back (foreshadowing a future post) so was glad to see that.

Finally, all of the staff were just lovely. We felt very well taken care of, and when we had a bit of drama (the woman sitting next to us accidentally took my friend L's coat along with her own) it felt like the whole of the dining room were mobilized to recover it. And sure enough, when we returned for dessert, L's coat was safe and sound, right at our table. Drama averted.

So, consider this one a surprise and a delight. All credit to L., who suggested the Dining Room when she agreed to see the opera with me. After all these years of looking down from on high at patrons having supper there, now I know what it's like!

I'd gladly do it again, and highly recommend it as a way to make a night at the opera even more memorable.

Gramercy Tavern, With Mom

Mom came to town a few weeks back. It was the run-up to our fantabulous week in Norway over Labor Day. But to break up the trip and visit New York (and her favorite son) she decided to visit for a few days.

Ever since she retired, she’s come to NYC annually. I always try to show her a good time, take her cool places. This time around, I thought about it far enough in advance that I got a reservation at Gramercy Tavern. We met up with my friend M. for a truly great meal.

What can you say about Gramercy?  For me it’s the most consistently wonderful restaurant in a city full of them. It’s got the razzle-dazzle, the name recognition, the decor, the history, and even after all these years the food still consistently knocks it out of the park. There’s more decadent, definitely more fancy, more adventuresome for sure, and in other ways better places along some axis or another. But in terms of the total package, classic New York restaurant, I have to think it’s the best.

I love just walking into Gramercy.  The theater of it.  Per se is like walking into a temple; Gramercy is like walking into a very sophisticated party. The exterior is so very much this city, and you hit dark wood and tons of flowers and the hubbub of the barroom…atmosphere to spare. But then you walk through to the dining room and it’s like magic the noise level drops (how DO they do that?) and you’re in this fancy and yet comfortable and intimate space.

Mom and I relaxed with a cocktail while waiting for M. to arrive, and then we got down to the serious business of considering the menu. I talked us down from the tasting menu, which seemed extreme.  We got the 3-course instead.  More than sufficient.

The playlist went like this:

Amuse was a spoonful of what was basically a bean salad, finely chopped, slightly spicy, with some seeds and such.

For my starter I got the corn and grain salad, with tomatoes, almonds, and Pecorino. Light and summery.













 
  
My main was sea bass with shiitake mushrooms, a cucumber based dressing, and black garlic.  I love the fish-and-mushroom combo, the umami makes the fish seem a lot more like a land animal.  It’s a neat trick.















Then came a palate cleanser, which had a little coconut and yuzu and mint going on.  Well, actually I don’t remember what it had going on, but that seems plausible enough.









And then came dessert.  There was actually quite a conversation about dessert.  We got it down to four things and Allan, the wonderful guy taking care of us was like, “don’t worry, I’ll solve this problem.”  And sure enough he shortly thereafter reappears (with associates) bringing all 4 of our finalist desserts.

Chocolate, Black Currant Jam, Milk Crisp and Cocoa Nibs; Huckleberry, Vanilla Cheesecake Tart; Mango Pavlova with Raspberries, Brown Sugar Jam and Coconut Ice Cream; and Raspberry Panna Cotta.

They were so good I needed to take “after” pictures of them, so here those are.

The huckleberry thing was the surprise for me.  It was incredibly good.  I think I reacted the same way the last time I had a huckleberry, like “holy mackerel these are fantastic!” But I forgot.  The chocolate was pretty sensational too.  But really, not a weak dessert in the bunch.

And inevitably there were some petit fours after, too.  Because that's how they roll at Gramercy Tavern.

I don’t go to there very often.  I really should. But I’m always exceedingly happy when I do. Utterly wonderful meal.  I’m sure one mom will remember for a long, long time.