Seattle Foodies

How bizarre. A woman is suing The Herbfarm after being bitten by a potbelly pig. (Disclaimer: I should mention, for the obvious reasons, that this blog entry is based solely on online news articles, and therefore is pure fiction or opinion or both.)

Ostensibly hoping to add some “cute” to an intermezzo in her feast, and having received both a pan of food and the usual farm-animals-are-dangerous warning from the kitchen, the woman wandered to the pen. It was a dark January night. And Sue (not her real name) couldn’t see the pigs.

Naturally, she did what any of us would do under such circumstances, after several wine-paired courses. She scooped up some slops and extended her hand into the darkness. One of the pigs accepted the offering, but in the dark and aiming by smell, failed to distinguish Sue’s hand from the slops. We don’t know if it was Basil or Borage that bit her, as it was too dark to get the license plate.

And now, suffering complications from infections, Sue is seeking medical expenses and “unspecified special damages.” Unable to go after the piggy perpetrator, she’s heading for a deeper trough: the restaurant.

What a shame. Her husband should make her watch the pigpen scene in Snatch. She’d realize how lucky she really is.

My sister (the notorious environment-saving Crunchy Chicken) has discovered a way for me to drastically reduce my carbon footprint. No longer will I need to drive all the way to Portland to buy Everclear to make Limoncello. It’s now available in Washington State liquor stores!

Happy zesting, and remember to pick up the 190 proof (and not the “watery” 151).

Does this finally make me a locavore?

Having just (happily) blown a wad on $30/pound morel mushrooms this weekend, imagine my envy when Crunchy Chicken sends me this link to forager Langdon Cook’s blog Fat Of The Land showing off big, beautiful bowls of morel mushrooms, with a bonus embedded YouTube video of the author snapping them up in a way-better-than-Easter-egg hunt. Somehow his soundtrack captured only the crunch of fallen leaves, and no excited, rapid breathing, as I would have done.

With the small supply of dearly purchased mushrooms in my kitchen, I made a quick morel butter (from James Peterson’s Fish & Shellfish): Saute 1/4 pound sliced fresh morels in a tablespoon of unsalted butter until dry. Salt and pepper to taste, and food process, adding a 1/4 pound butter until mixed. Super simple, and refrigerates for weeks, or freezes for months. We’ve been stretching our mushroomy investment by melting small dollops on grilled halibut, grass-fed hanger steak, and roast Cornish-Cross chicken. Can’t wait for tomorrow.

Oh, and I nearly died when I read Cook’s monster puffball post, complete with pictures of his nearly ten-pound western giant. Not sure what shocked me more: its size, or the beast’s take-me-to-your-leader-style landing–on a slope overlooking MLK Jr. Blvd. in Seattle.

No wonder the bears are moving to Seattle.

My excitement to try Ethan Stowell’s new Anchovies & Olives trumped the freezing weather last night. Crying “uncle,” we hailed a taxi after shivering for two blocks, and arrived at 15th and Pine wondering if we were at the wrong place. We were about to charge up the hill in search of it, when I noticed the very understated sign right in front of us: simple letters stenciled on the door (SE corner, the door opens onto 15th). The interior is not large (about 40 seats), and the kitchen is right there. Cool and sexy interior, with 70’s hits cranking just a bit louder than we’d have liked but, hey, it’s a happening Capitol Hill joint. And the food was completely on par with Union (my current fave restaurant), which might have had something to do with Ethan’s presence in the kitchen, watching over his crew. The menu structure was similar: smaller portions to allow a full tour without blowing a gasket, although it seemed a tad more expensive. And it’s all about fish here.

We started with Montellvini prosecco and the marinated castelvetrano olives, which were served in a cute little jar with a wire-bale sealed lid (like you’d find in your pantry). They were green, round, luscious, nutty, brightened with citrus and just a touch of chili flake. If you’re in the neighborhood and only have fifteen minutes, stop in to grab them at the bar. And don’t forget the bubbles: it paired wonderfully.

The top left of the menu is all about raw fish: four kinds of crudo (Italian for sashimi) and four kinds of oysters. We ordered the hamachi (blood orange, shaved marinated fennel, and fennel pollen) and half dozen kumomotos (small dice roasted and pickled yellow beets). The first was awesome, and the oysters were impeccable. But we found the earthiness of the beets a bit overwhelming for the delicate kumomotos (which are a tiny variety as well). Perhaps two or three dice, rather than the dozen would have helped. (Warning: I’m usually hostile to anything getting between me and that fresh oyster flavor.)

Next up, we had squid (controne beans, goat horn peppers, escarole) and anchovies with prosciuitto (you can’t not try the anchovy and olive dishes, right?). The squid was incredible, served in a simple reduction of the bean broth (I think with a swirl of finishing butter) that was immensely satisfying, especially with the escarole flavor. And the prosciutto was nicely shaved, traced with olive oil, and laced with juicy anchovy filets (obviously restored from the salted and canned variety–if you haven’t done this at home, consider trying it: it’s a bit of work, but you end up with gorgeous anchovies that are meaty and tender, and not overly salty and fishy like the little cans or jars containing a few filets in oil of marginal quality. I can post more about that if anyone’s interested. End of digression.) It was humongous, definitely justifying the $14 ticket. Half the amount would have been terrific.

We skipped the pasta course (what were we thinking?) and had branzino (hen of the woods mushrooms, pistachio, cauliflower, currants) and monkfish (speck, ham hock, sauerkraut), both of which were amazing, and definitely up to Ethan standards. The branzino had a wonderfully crispy skin, and the monkfish was lobster-juicy as only monkfish can be.

Dessert options were more limited (no menu, just peach sorbet or caramel gelatto) and just two dessert wine options. We had the caramel gelatto, which was a very generous dish and served with a small biscotti, which was light and shattered wonderfully on your teeth. And while the gelatto was amazingly rich and creamy, the caramel flavor was too subtle. Another disclosure: my prejudice is to skip dessert unless it’s going to be divine, and simple sorbet or gelatto rarely reaches that for me.

I am spoiled by Union’s PhD-level foodie dining room staff, so it might be unfair to say we were underwhelmed by our server. The dishes from the first two courses were each served at least five minutes apart, which might have been the right approach to making it four courses, but that wasn’t the plan. Every question sent her off to ask the kitchen, or consult a wine bottle. Nor could she recommend a wine to pair with my first course. But she was attentive, friendly, and enthusiastic, and perhaps my expectations were too high for a place that’s been open for just a few weeks.

Speaking of wine, the list was up to Ethan’s standards. An Italian focus, with interesting and affordable choices. And a terrific by-the-glass list. The only thing missing was guidance. Okay, that and the lack of half pours, so I couldn’t pair a different wine with each course (which is something I love to do at Union) and stay reasonably sober.

But should any of that should hold you back? Absolutely not. And another great feature: Anchovies & Olives is open until midnight everyday, and it’s on our regular evening walking route. So we’ll be back soon!

It’s no secret that I’m not a big fan of Starbucks coffee (Vivace and Fonte, the latter served at Uptown, are my faves). In fairness, it was Starbucks that lifted me and millions of others from the robusta dungeons made of old Folgers cans. And for that I’m grateful. But then either Starbucks quality slid in its quest for mega-market share (it did) or other, more careful artisans raised the coffee bar, so to speak (they did).

And then today Starbucks (why do I feel compelled to add the SBUX ticker symbol?) announced their twenty-years-in-the-making instant coffee. Be still, my caffeinated heart. A senior veep boasted that Starbucks now has the technology to “absolutely replicate the taste of Starbucks coffee.” Why can’t I stop giggling at the double meaning in that? Did it really take 20 years for Starbucks quality to intersect with instant coffee?

But there is an explanation: turns out instant coffee is a $17 billion market. Hmm. I remember when Howard Schultz was re-inserted as CEO in 2007, with all the fanfare about his zeal for returning to “the passion that we all have for the true Starbucks experience.” But with Ronald hawking “large is the new grande” lattes to moisten your mouthfuls of Big Mac, nibbling at Starbucks market share, what’s a CEO to do?

Fight back with instant coffee, that’s what.

Not exactly my idea of reclaiming the high ground. Let’s just hope their passionistas don’t call it Coffee McDust …

Is it the bright sunny color laughing at gray Seattle skies? The unbelievable pure-lemon infusion that explodes on your senses? The dazzling contrast of alcohol heat against the icy sweet viscosity? The thrill seeker’s rush from working with ingredients plastered with red warning labels appropriate to incendiary devices? Or maybe the simple irresistible economics of owning five bottles of exquisiteness at half the cost of one imported bottle of mediocrity?

It doesn’t matter. Homemade limoncello is so easy and delicious it must be done, and here’s an authentic version of the Italian digestivo that warrants a permanent niche in your freezer. Oh, and while the lemon rinds are steeping, hunt down some decorative bottles so you’ll have gorgeous bottled gifts for your friends.

A couple notes:

1. It’s really important to get Everclear (or Clear Springs, or whatever 190 proof grain alcohol you can find). By the time you add the simple syrup, this recipe dillutes down to about 80 proof, and that level of alcohol is essential to get the heat that characterizes this drink. (If you’re lucky enough to live in Washington, you may protest that you can’t buy it here. But a sympathetic soul at one of the state-run liquor stores suggested Portland as a reliable source. Remember the ‘99 WTO protest riots in Seattle that was blamed on the Oregon anarchists? What do you think were in those Molotov cocktails, anyway?)
2. Keep a bottle in your freezer (allow it to chill overnight before serving), and sip it from your favorite aperitif glasses.
3. Simple syrup is easy to make, just combine room temperature water with the sugar and shake until the crystals are dissolved. No need to boil it, but the warmer the water, the faster it dissolves.
4. Before you ask how many cups is 38 ounces of sugar, the problem is that sugar volume varies. I’ve had sugars ranging from 6 to 7.5 ounces per cup. You do have a kitchen scale, don’t you?
5. Yes, experiment with other citrus and beyond. Try eight oranges instead of lemons for arancello. Or a like number of limes for–what? Isn’t lime Italian for lime? So would that be limecello? Somebody help me out here. At Nostrana in Portland, I once enjoyed the last of their terrific bartender’s house-made beetcello. No kidding. Beets infused with caraway. It was wonderful. So free your mind. Anchovicello, anyone?

(Makes about 2.5 liters)

1. Using a vegetable peeler, peel zest only (as little white pith as possible) from:
   • 8-12 lemons (depending on size)
2. Macerate (soak) the zest for two weeks in:
   • 750ml 95% (190 proof) grain alcohol
3. Make a simple syrup using:
   • 38 oz. filtered or bottled water
   • 38 oz. sugar
4. Strain the alcohol into the room-temperature simple syrup and stir
5. Bottle and freeze, serve neat from freezer

So what are you waiting for? Chill a ‘cello! And let us know what you think. Meanwhile, I’ll be experimenting with limoncello lemon drop martinis, an idea I’ve seen on a couple of the better bar menus around town.

I love vegetables. Your everyday carrots, onions, celery. Seasonal asparagus, peas, fingerling potatoes, ears of sweet corn. Rich, leafy spinach, kale, brightly colored Swiss chard. Pretty vegetables like eggplant, red bell peppers, heirloom tomatoes. Winter brussel sprouts, squash, turnips. And even the scary monsters like kohlrabi and celeriac, the stuff of childhood nightmares when spied unwashed on the drainboard.

And I love nosing around Frank’s Produce in the Pike Place Market, asking what’s new, what’s good right now, when to consider waiting a few weeks for the really good stuff to arrive. Walking home with stuffed market bags, tops overflowing with fronds of fennel, carrot tops, beet greens.

And I don’t hesitate to buy what I don’t yet understand, because at home I keep my secret weapon: Vegetables by James Peterson.

For me, there are two things that destroy a cookbook focused on vegetables: the assumption that readers are vegetarians, and the idea that readers are looking for “healthy” recipes. Either one of those present, and I lower my sights from pursuing the sublime, to pursuing the merely “tasty.” Which makes me want to eat fewer veggies, and how healthy is that?

Fortunately, Peterson’s book is neither. Rather, it’s an encyclopedic exploration and celebration of the glories of vegetables, as main dishes or sides. Whether lightly treating baby carrots or shelled peas to let flavor and texture shine, or sliding in a bit of duck fat or prosciutto and champagne vinegar to enrich and elevate lowly cabbages and leathery, bitter greens. You’ll never again be without a strategy for those oddball surprises hiding at the bottom of the CSA produce delivery box.

If you’ve eaten at Tom’s Dahlia Lounge in recent years (you should) you’ve probably seen the “Little Tastes From The Sea Bar” headlining the menu. And if you’re like me, you always order the sea bar sampler so you can have them all. An assortment of whatever is excellent from Mutual Fish (a must stop if you love fish) plus a pair of chopsticks, each fish is paired with amazing sauces and condiments, their flavors and textures playing and contrasting with each wonderfully. (Hint: if you’re sharing, practice with chopsticks before you arrive at the restaurant.)

Laid out before Tom and Eric, a whole sockeye salmon quickly becomes gravlax (its fillets are packed between two sheet pans in a mixture of kosher salt, white and brown sugar, and ground paprika, juniper berries, fennel seeds, and cayenne; the pans are weighted and left to sit for 1-4 days, depending on the thickness of the fish). While breaking down the salmon, Tom explains that the salmon belly (usually with a white inner skin) is sometimes trimmed and discarded by people who don’t realize it’s the fattiest, and the best tasting, part of the fish. (In fact, salmon belly is prized for its richness among sushi aficionados.) He also slices off the collar, the forward part of the fillet just behind the head, but don’t discard that either. It’s also choice eating, and great marinaded for the grill. Finally, he skins the fillet and holds up the beautiful dark silvery strip. If you have the fish scaled before filleting, you can make salmon skin cracklings under the broiler (add some Japanese furakake seasoning, and don’t let it get too dry; you want it to crunch, not shatter). Is it any wonder Tom and Eric defeated Iron Chef Morimoto when they battled with secret ingredient wild king salmon in 2005?

For a quick-to-make sea bar bite, cut small chunks of smoked salmon purchased from Uwajimaya and serve with a dab of hot mustard (dry hot mustard, water, rice wine vinegar, and soy sauce).

That mustard, by the way, also pairs with honey soy cured mackerel. Fillets of Atlantic mackerel are marinaded (soy sauce, water, sake, brown sugar, garlic, ginger, scallion, and orange slices), grilled, and then served with sesame seeds, ocean salad (prepared seaweed, sesame oil, and rice wine vinegar), and mustard. The marinade is highly recommended for use with the salmon collar mentioned above. Tom also notes that mackerel is one of the high-fat content fish, which means it also freezes well.

We’re just getting started. And with all this fish being served, Tom suggests keeping an eye on the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch’s sustainable catch list. After all, who wants to spend time learning to cook something that won’t be around tomorrow? (Not to mention the ethical problems with eating something to extinction…)

For something lighter, try citrus cured halibut (a ceviche-like dish of diced raw halibut marinaded in lemon, lime, grapefruit, and orange juices, Saigon cinnamon, salt, and pepper) with avocado sorbet (pasilla and anaheim peppers, cayenne, cilantro, lemon or lime juice, salt, and pepper). Two secrets: Saigon cinnamon is spicier and can be found at World Spice Merchants, and to make the sorbet, you’ll need to spend $3,500 to buy the amazing Pacojet plus upgrade to a four-star freezer (capable of -4 degrees F). The reason is the sorbet has no sugar, so it won’t freeze properly in a regular ice cream maker (sugar allows ice creams and sorbet to freeze soft and smooth, not icy). Those not inclined to spring for the Pacojet can simply spoon some of the chilled avocado puree with the halibut.

Another light dish is yellowtail sashimi with coriander oil (crushed and toasted coriander seeds macerated in grapeseed oil) and radish salad (julienned radishes tossed with celery leaves, daikon sprouts, and lemon) sprinkled with sea salt and aleppo pepper (to buy the latter, either go to Syria or World Spice Merchants).

Now take a deep breathe and keep eating.

Next, you’ll want to serve unshelled Alaskan spot prawns (sauteed in shallot and white wine) with Red Eye cocktail sauce (espresso, horseradish, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and ketchup).

Hold the bus.

Tom’s using ketchup? Actually, no. He’s using one of his secret cheats: Heinz Chili Sauce. (For a simpler, quick cocktail sauce, just mix it with a bit of horseradish and soy sauce. And for God’s sake, don’t tell your dinner guests.)

Spot prawns. We were doing spot prawns. Arrange the prawns on a mound of lemon ice (lemon juice, sugar, water, lemon thyme), top with a little more lemon ice, and serve with a ramekin of Red Eye cocktail sauce (shhhh).

And to finish off your sea bar, try some tuna poke. Dice raw tuna or hamachi and toss with poke dressing (sesame oil, soy sauce, sake, garlic, ginger, sugar, chile oil, ogo or nori seaweed, scallion, sweet onion, and Hawaiian sea salt). Serve garnished with shredded daikon and shredded jalapeno, or fried julienned wanton strips.

Chopsticks ready. Set. Go!

Ordinarily, when a presentation on salads opens with a pan of carrot juice, one might be tempted to do something drastic (like thumbing last quarter’s bus schedule fished from your backpack) to stay alert. But when master chef Jerry Traunfeld began reducing a saucepan of carrot juice (with shallots and salt), I slid to the edge of my seat. I’ve been a huge fan of his herbal wizardry, inspired for years by his first book, The Herbfarm Cookbook. Do yourself a favor and find a copy. But be warned: you will be compelled to plant a new (or radically expand your existing) garden, and risk becoming an herb zombie.

While the carrot juice boiled, he whisked together lemon juice, olive oil, and minced red onion before tossing with fresh-picked Dungeness crab meat, diced avocado, shiso leaves, salt, and pepper. A quick emulsion of the carrot reduction with Champagne vinegar and olive oil (scant thanks to Tom’s red blender: Jerry thinks it sucks), and the carrot vinaigrette is ready to spoon around the salad on a plate or in a martini glass.

About that time, small plates of the salad, prepared by Tom’s secret elves in the adjacent kitchen, start appearing on the table in front of each camper. Moans of delight circle the room. It’s marvelous.

But time is limited, and Jerry has been working simultaneously on a lemon verbena fruit salad (honey, lemon verbena, lime juice, and sliced ripe fruit and berries), as well as a spiced chickpea-yogurt salad. For the latter he demonstrates one of the techniques he picked up during a year traveling India to research spices for his new restaurant, Poppy (slated to open this September on Capitol Hill).

The technique: heat peanut oil (hot) and toss in brown mustard seeds. Off the heat, when they stop sputtering, add chili flakes and two types of seeds: cumin and ajwain (smelling something like parsley, thyme, and caraway), and wait only 10 seconds before pouring over cooked chickpeas. (Jerry says canned are just fine, flinging my prejudice out the window.) Toss with lemon juice, salt, whole yogurt, chopped cilantro, mint, and green onion, and it’s ready. (Another hint: Tom suggests draining yogurt in cheesecloth for an hour to intensify it.)

The elves are keeping up with Jerry and two more plates arrive. A few bites later, and I don’t think I can wait until September. I refocus to hear him finish a plug for using rose and lemon scented geraniums. (Makes an amazing cream infusion for use in creme brulee, for instance. See his first book for an awesome rose geranium and raspberry version.)

But we’re not finished yet…while Tom’s staff do kitchen duty, Jerry moves to another table to autograph copies of his latest book, The Herbal Kitchen, that Tom has bought for all the campers.

Any ideas for what I should do with my other copy?

I always get nervous when a group is told to count off A, B, A, B, and so on, to split into two groups. I get even more nervous when the other team wins the coin toss. Okay, it wasn’t a coin. It was a Tom Douglas’ Rub With Love spice jar, with his picture glued to the lid, and a picture of Eric Tanaka, executive chef for all of Tom’s restaurants, glued to the bottom. In the air, you call it: Angel or Devil. (You guess who the Devil is. Hint: he sleeps a lot. A LOT.)

As a member of losing Team B, we go first. Tomorrow morning, we head to Etta’s at 8:00am, where we will be given breakfast, $500 cash, and Eric Tanaka to answer questions (but NOT to help). During breakfast we will need to plan. After breakfast, we head to Pike Place Market to shop. And finally, on to Palace Kitchen where we are expected to prepare a three-course lunch (including paired wines) for 22 people: the other team plus four judges, including Tom, Jerry Traunfeld, former executive chef of The Herbfarm (gulp!), plus two others TBD. Wednesday the tables are turned and Team A gets to feed us.

Lunch will be judged by five categories: Taste, Presentation, Restaurant Name & Menu Board, Use of Budget, and Originality. Lunch is to be served on a strict schedule, beginning at 12:30. Points will be docked if courses are late. And each member of the winning team gets five points add to his/her weekly total. Oh, and, no screaming.