Eating Paris 1906

I just saw this short video about the menu development underway at Next, Grant Achatz's anticipated new restaurant. The concept is innovative in that the menu theme will dramatically change every few months, with Paris in 1906 being the first.

Watching them plate this dish reminds me of my most favorite cookbook ever - the posthumous publication of Toulouse-Lautrec's personal recipes, circa 1905, entitled The Art of Cuisine. Oh Monsieur Lautrec... I could spend hours talking about how he was a brilliantly gifted misfit in search of acceptance from the Parisian women celebrities he adored from afar, and eventually made icons during his short life. Almost better, he was a sparkling wit and a skilled hunter with deep family pockets that he used to support his true love of the kitchen. Like his art, this book is an endless joy that tells so much about the person who adored nothing more than throwing an over-the-top and totally out-of-hand-party for his circle of now-famous and infamous friends. You can find it at used book dealers through Amazon.

Paramount Room on Groupon

Hustle! Ok, so it's only $15. But the Paramount Room is dark, velvety, and delicious, with a stellar food and wine menu. And despite the name, it's odd location and tiny, underground weirdness make it feel like a secret.

My New Crush

I'm officially crushing on Chef Novelli from Bravo's reality show Chef Academy, which is one of the only food shows that makes me want to cook even more - ok...just as much as - I want to eat what I'm watching. He's a master with food. He makes basic things extraordinary. And he's so French, it kills me. Sweet Jesus. Men can surf porn online - women have this.

It also doesn't hurt that Novelli's students are on a much more relatable level than the technical stars of Top Chef. Their job is to master the essentials he's teaching them, not create on their own.

Case in point on making the simple extraordinary, this cooking demo on Novelli's pea and mint soup:

NYC - Day 2

Balthazar (80 Spring St) - Large French bistro with a majorly scene-y brunch scene. My scrambled eggs in puff pastry were okay. Pretty, but otherwise nothing spectacular. I'd give the place another shot, but I'm not eager to go back. (A brunch at Bistro Zinc in Chicago is much better.)

Lower East Side Tenement Museum - Don't go on the hottest day of the year, but do go. It gives you new respect for the phrase "turn-of-century immigrant experience," by visiting actual tenement apartments reconstructed to look as they did 100 years ago. Book ahead!

Lolita (266 Broome St) - You know those simple, real, low-key hoodie bars you instantly love? This is one of those. It's right around the corner from the tenement and saved us from passing out in the heat. A nice little list of refreshing summer cocktails for $8.

WD-50 (50 Clinton St) - Just for the famous five-course dessert tasting - we sat at 6:00 pm because a) we're hardcore and b) why not? (As I texted Dar, who proposed the idea the day before, "Dinner later can just be sandwich.") All five courses were excellent. Two were transcendent. Solid dessert wine pairings that offered a few surprises, like a blend from Rhodes, Greece. The staff was surprisingly laid back and fun to chat with.

High Line - This is the new elevated rail line downtown that's been turned into a landscaped public space. I've never seen New Yorkers so chilled out and happy. Chicago will get it's own version sometime in the future on the Bloomingdale Trail, which I happen to live over.

Red Cat - Dinner? Not a sandwich. But we did go light by each ordering the special scallop appetizer instead of an entree, and each of us tried it paired with a different white wine. The wine list here is big and stellar. The place is cute as a button, but all glowy and elegant at the same time - it's style meets substance. The scallops were giant and divine - seared simply over a bed of farm-fresh sauteed veggies. It's at the top of my list to go back for dinner next time. Absolutely loved it.

Go, Don, GO!!!

Oh, the excitement! My good friend Don Sritong, the mind behind Just Grapes on Washington, found out yesterday that he's made the cut for Season 2 of PBS' reality show The Wine Makers! Contestants of the show will fly to the Rhone valley this September to compete for the honor of creating and launching their own wine brand nationwide (presumably stateside rather than in the French market). Season 1 airs this fall.

Don is on his way to California this weekend to start filming the first round of challenges and cuts. As the only person I know who's more competitive than my husband, my money says that he'll show up with all guns blazing. And a killer wardrobe.

Go, Don, go!!!

Grab Your Mallets and Your Mouse(s)

I'm stoked about Julie & Julia opening this Friday. Its timing conflict with Lollapalooza means striking a hard bargain with my husband to wedge a viewing in somewhere between Andrew Bird and Jane's Addiction over a sweaty marathon music weekend. But so be it. Madame Streep as Julia Child is simply not to be missed, and I'm absolutely giddy to have a foodie movie to sink my chops into since Ratatouille. (You can only get so much culinary mileage out of animated vermin, even if it comes from the genius pen of Pixar.)

Many of my compatriot bloggers are not however so enthused about Julie Powell's turn of fortune in all this, and we have what's left of the tattered newspaper world to tell us so. I don't mind dissent in the ranks. In fact, among bloggers I think you have to presume a certain constant dull roar of it. Snark is our favorite candy. 

It got me thinking though. Julie & Julia is a two-part story that offers up two heroines. Both are brash, fearless upstarts entering the culinary world during entirely different eras and through entirely different means. How each enters the fray is a fascinating look at how much life and popular culture have changed, but both women have the moxie to search their foodie souls in full public view. And at a minimum, isn't Powell's version of that moxie exactly what all food bloggers share? I hope so.

David Lebovitz: My Bono

Any 12-step program will tell an addict to avoid their triggers, much less invite them into your home on a live-in basis. This is why I've never allowed myself to purchase an entire box of cake mix for no specific reason or, say, date a pastry chef. Not that I haven't fantasized about those things. (Those 80s commercials about "living in the land of Dairy Queen"? They still haunt me to this day.) I just know that my personal danger zone of no-holds-barred consumption behavior is paved with butter cream frosting, so I only allow myself to indulge in limited doses, preferably with my husband or friends to serve as backup. This is a Category 5 sweet tooth I have, people.

Despite his considerable chops as a nationally-celebrated pastry chef, I'd never heard of David Lebovitz before two days ago. Alice Waters and Chez Panisse? Yes, of course. But David's fame is from two all-dessert cookbooks he wrote after spending years at Panisse, both of which I've averted my eyes from in bookstores to resist taking home in plain brown paper bags and stashing greedily under my bed. This week, however, I was in le mood for some nonfiction foodie reading and saw that The Sweet Life in Paris by Lebovitz is #6 on Amazon's Kindle nonfiction list. Now I'm in awe of this man doing God's work in France as a transplant, and dispatching books and blogs about it. Aside from Paris's art world, which I explored somewhat in my late college years, he's given me the foodie half that I just knew existed - and it's even better than I hoped.

It's been my dream to take a romp through Paris that I've very creatively entitled the "Let's Eat Our Way through Paris Trip." Despite having a willing spouse and knowing two great couples to go whole hog with me on the idea, it's still just a glimmer in my eye, thanks to the recession, the underperforming dollar, and my own career ambitions of late. So. Lebovitz's book has been an excellent substitute. He's not only a witty observer, he opens up his personal life to make his essays feel like the first-hand accounts of a friend, one with a three-dimensional life that just happens to revolve around 5 kilo slabs of chocolate.

Amazed at his description of G. Detou, the pastry-makers paradise he describes in the book, I pounced on his blog online and MON DIEU! found that he leads culinary tours through the city. The one I'm fantasizing about is this Gastronomic Adventure in October, and I swear, if I went he would certainly not need to give me the shorts and fanny pack lecture.

One day, my friend. One day.

(The above photo of G. Detou is by Jason Whittaker.)

Review: Pierrot Gourmet

It's ironic that Pierrot Gourmet is named for the jilted French clown from the Commedia dell'Arte. Because from what I can tell, everyone eating at Pierrot is really happy...and sad clowns are, well, freaky. In a tough work week last week, I decided to take myself out for a couple of nice lunches, and this was the best of the two. I'd forgotten exactly how much I adore this little cafe attached to the Peninsula Hotel. Its sunny, southern French atmosphere is welcoming and charming without being fussy, with three large communal tables down the center and rows of wine and pastries at the fringe. The service is worthy of the hotel that houses it...and the food! Oh, the food! I had the chopped shrimp salad with mangoes and peanut dressing, and it was spectacular. The perfect afternoon lunch to make me forget the relentless flow of emails and messages piling up in my office. I was a little shy of my spot at the communal table until I realized that this is one of the best and busiest of people-watching locations downtown. That, and I could totally ogle the food of my neighbors.

Recipe: Crab Quiche

Despite my Italian/New Mexican upbringing, my favorite food to make and eat at home is, without question, quiche. To me it's the perfect dish: low-effort, comforting, with seasonally adjustable ingredients, and you can enjoy it for any meal or at any temperature. All that, and it fills the entire house with a delightful smell that says something awesome is happening in the oven. When I know I'm going to have a gauntlet of a week at work, I make two different quiches on Sunday to bail me out of making dinner for a few nights. I have no idea why my mother never thought of this. A salad, or some fresh fruit, and maybe a glass of wine, and I'm happy as a clam.

Crab quiche is by far my favorite version, and I've experimented with it for a few years... beginning with a recipe that's supposedly John Travolta's fave. Surprisingly, I prefer to use at least half imitation crab meat because the whitefish in it holds the pie together well and gives it a great, meaty texture. Pure crab on its own is too rich, and this is a hell of a lot more convenient. Harder cheeses are best, like Parmesan and Swiss because they have a sharper flavor that gives the custard more dimension, but shredded mozzarella on its own does fine in a pinch.

Crab Quiche

Frozen deep-dish 9" pie shell

6 oz crab meat, picked through for shells

6 oz imitation crab meat

2 cups half and half (I always use fat-free)

4 eggs

1 cup shredded Swiss, mozzarella, and/or Parmesan cheese

1/2 tsp Old Bay seasoning

pinch nutmeg, preferably freshly grated

2 tbsp chives
2 tbsp cilantro and/or parsley
salt
pepper

Pre-bake the pastry shell for ~10 minutes, according to the package instructions. Remove it from the oven onto a baking sheet to cool for a minute and re-set the temperature to 375 degrees.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and half and half, and then add the herbs and seasonings. Blend well. Make sure the crab is completely drained, and if necessary blot with a paper towel so that it won't leach out excess water into the custard while baking. Place the crab meat in the warm pie shell, top with the cheeses and slooowly pour the custard over, so that the liquid has time to fill in all those delightful crevices before overflowing onto your baking sheet.

Bake 35-45 minutes, first checking your quiche at the 30-minute mark. The top should be puffy and kissed golden brown all around. Remove and let it cool 10 minutes so that it's easy to slice and serve.

Notes:

1. I'm sure this would be wonderful with a proper homemade crust, but due to my great aversion to anything resembling baking, I've never done it.

2. For taking this dish to parties, I've found it's best to double the recipe for a large glass or ceramic baking dish and go crustless (easy, now!), using just cooking spray to grease it. This way the crust doesn't have a chance to get soggy or crumbly between transport from your kitchen to the serving table. I let it cool completely and slice it into large square, stackable individual pieces. Every single time I've brought it, someone yells, "Crab quiche!" and a crowd gathers.

I'm sure Vinnie Barbarino would tell you, enjoy it with a Riesling, Chenin Blanc, or a Chardonnay.

Stalking the Bouchee: Part Deux

Inspired by her will to blog, Dar returned yesterday to stalking the bouche...which turns out to be a bouchee, a "mouthful" that's typically wrapped puff pastry. Put that in your French notebook. This version however skips pastry in lieu of pure coconut chocolate ecstasy.

Ok, so I just saw that I made your blog, my dear Emi, so I decided I had to brave the weather and venture out for the coconut bouchee (turns out it is spelled with a double “e”) at La Maison du Chocolat. Sometimes the very tip of Manhattan does a very good impersonation of Chicago (we have high winds and pelting sleet at the moment). But, chocolate calls.

So, luckily they had just got some of the coconut bouchees in. It rang up at $7.04 with tax. As I was fishing four pennies out of my wallet, the French shopkeeper asked me if I wanted a bag (which was his way of saying: “we both know you’re going to devour that the moment you get back to your desk, so let’s skip the formalities, shall we?”) I couldn’t agree more.

As I understand it, the bouchee is the French equivalent of a candy bar—this was a triangle about the size of my palm and a half inch thick (yes, my ruler made an appearance). It really is all about the fresh coconut—loads of it tightly packed and covered in bittersweet chocolate. I didn’t really see or taste the white chocolate and vanilla ganache—but I’m sure they were hiding there against the white coconut, tempering the bittersweet chocolate. And, oh, that chocolate—it’s the best part. Needless to say, I will be going back (I may even brave the Rockefeller location since it has a café. And, Em, it’s also conveniently located near the Japanese pastry
place…hint, hint.)

She is a natural, oui?

Return to the Elusive Violet Hour...or Not

Last night, an hour before our 9 p.m. reservations around the corner at Spring, we tried our luck again at getting into the Violet Hour. As our cab arrived, I felt sure we would finally breeze right in....until I saw the line. It was even longer than last time, and we were an hour and a half earlier.

The only thing breezing anyplace was the 20 degree chill right up my dress. Even so, we summoned our Chicago grit and joined the other hopefuls waiting to get in. (By the way, jeans and parkas, everyone? On Valentine's? Isn't winter dismal enough?) A conviction that lasted all of ten minutes when we realized the line was moving nowhere. Doesn't Spring have a bar? Sure it does.

Brilliant decision. The maitre d' at Spring welcomed us warmly. When we told him our cocktail hour issue, he grinned. "Well, you're in luck. Because the guy who does their drinks, did our cocktail list." I'm assuming "the guy" in question is Toby Malone, but I didn't really pause to confirm because my husband and I basically galloped full-throttle toward the bar.

And thus began our gorgeously impressive evening at Spring. The drinks? Amazing. We began boldly with their Sazerac, which seems to be the Aaron Eckhart of cocktails lately - all of a sudden everywhere. Theirs skips the cognac. Instead, it blends whiskey, bitters, and absinthe with a twist of orange. I tend to liken the food and drink I love with sex... so drinking this was about like making out with an exceptionally suave gentleman who has a fierce five-o'clock shadow and a formidable arsenal of moves. But you'll have to draw your own conclusions.

After that, we tried the Michel Arnould Brut Rose Champagne...which is like a big beautiful, toasty rose kiss, followed by a knife-edge clean finish.

Here's to Spring.

Stalking the Bouche in NYC

How great is it when you find a friend who lusts for food and wine as much, and sometimes even in the same ways, as you? It's a case of two of life's great joys combining together. So wonderful.

My fabulous friend Dar lives in Brooklyn. She once called to leave a message on my home voice mail simply because she was eating Japanese pastry. I get choked up just thinking about it. She's been emailing me about my blog posts lately, and this paragraph she wrote nearly made me weep with longing to be in NYC with her:

Anyway, I just went to a relatively newly opened branch near work of La Maison du Chocolat. I was trying to get my hot little hands on this thing called a bouche — they have different kinds — the one I wanted was made of bittersweet chocolate filled with fresh coconut, which is embedded in a white chocolate and vanilla ganache. They were out. But, I got a champagne/cognac truffle. It was good, but a bit too cognac-y. I’ll keep you posted on the bouche. I think this place may be my new destination for a chocolate fix.

What I love is that it sounds like she's casing the place....which is totally what I would be doing. Needless to say, I feel a need to get intimate with this coconut-white-chocolate bouche business. Dar and I will keep you posted.

Late-Night Prowling for Good Food

Hypothetical: You just left a four-hour Windy City Rollers derby bout in the West Loop. It's 10 p.m. The concessions were dreadful, and the pretzel and Twizzlers that you washed down with a diet Coke have only left you craving actual warm sustenance before calling it a night. Where to go? Keep in mind you have in tow one slightly inebriated husband (beer) and your wheels, and it's bloody cold outside. The last thing you want to do is drive around looking for options or, god forbid, parking.

I'm so out of practice with late dining, I realized last night that most of my handy picks for this situation are gone. Iggy's used to be our go-to spot, but both have closed. A good strategy is to head for an upscale, bar-dense area: plenty of drunks with money to feed at 2:00 a.m., and there's always valet parking. We ended up at the Bar Louie on Randolph. Which was fine. But it's definitely time to tune-up my list of possibilities for late Friday and Saturday nights:

Avec: Christ, I feel like whenever a restaurant question in Chicago comes up, the answer is Avec. Great food on Randolph in the near West Loop, killer wine options, open til 1:00 a.m. My only complaint is that it's a head-rattling little noise box when it's super busy, which is most of the time. However, we happen to have a monthly spot in the parking lot directly behind it, so...free parking trumps noise.

The Bluebird: This yummy gastropub on Damen in Bucktown serves its full menu until 1:00 a.m. I need to return to explore it more, but the theme is rustic, fresh Mediterranean, heavy on the Spanish and Italian, with great wine and beer pairings.

Paramount Room: This place is a hidden gem on Milwaukee in that weird zone of the West Loop where Iggy's used to be. I never hear much about it, but my wine friends like to go. The upstairs is just a tiny little dark bar - so tiny that everyone sitting inside turns to look when you open the front door. Head downstairs for a slightly larger dining area with wonderful French pub food and a great wine list. Open until 2:00 a.m.

Jerry's Sandwiches: Their deli on Division in Wicker Park serves 100+ sandwiches and craft beers until 2:00 a.m. I haven't been yet, but my downstairs neighbor Dan gets glassy-eyed just talking about the place. It's worth a go.

Nigella Complex

I've been stuck at home with a cold for the past two days. Aside from cleaning out all the cabinets in my kitchen, home office, and bathroom, I've watched about three hours of Nigella Lawson's Express series on YouTube. I don't watch the Food Network or much else on TV, but I had seen her on Oprah and knew I liked her. But after seeing this, holy hell, I think she's fantastic. Ahhh...that we could all be a famous, triple-threat kitchen bombshell with a charm-your-pants-off accent.

The recipe I'm lusting to try as soon as my sinuses give me back my tastebuds: Caramel Croissant Pudding. As in a croissant bread pudding. With caramel. All warm, and gloppy, and sweetly delicious.

Did I mention I adore her?

The Elusive Violet Hour

"The best new bar in America"
"One of the best bars in the world"
"Chicago's cocktail mecca"

This is the crazy press that the Violet Hour in my neighborhood has been getting for well over a year. Toby Maloney is the mastermind behind this swank little speakeasy-inspired lounge that took over the space left behind by my beloved Del Toro tapas restaurant. With French Directory style interiors and a literary name, how could I not love it? Clearly, c'est pour moi.

Problem is, even after all this time, there was still a line when we tried to get in last Saturday. At 9:30 p.m. (practically noon in bar-time). In the 10 degree cold. Sigh.

The next best thing is watching Tobes (I'm sure he'll let me call him this one day) on YouTube. He's done a series of how-to videos that are so homespun it's cute.

Biz Ideas for Foodie Trust Fund Babies

I have fetishes for a few things, obviously, but New York City isn't one of them. It's a wonderful place for a visit to see some jazz and a great play over a weekend, but I'll never wish I lived there. I do however keep a running mental list of ideas that I wish Chicago would import:

24-hour cheap French bistros like French Roast (this, I lament regularly)

Absinthe bars

Asian tapas

Japanese pastry shops (to be fair, I think there's only one in NYC)
Zabar's grocery store

Produce markets in the neighborhoods (we need more, Mr. Daley)

The pizza and bagels leave me indifferent. Shoot me. But the above? Oh yes, yes, please.

Citywide Prix-Fixe Deals, Deals, Deals

With restaurants hurting, tourism down, and a delightful -20F breeze in the air, you can bet Chicago's winter foodie fests are going to show you the fois gras to get your love this year.

The Chicago Originals restaurant group steps up first with their 2nd Annual Originals Restaurant Week during January 25 - February 6. Each place will offer a special 3-course menu priced at $24.09 for lunch and $29.09 for dinner. Guests will have choices for each course.

There are a lot of Frenchies on the list. I've put (*) by the places that I think are definitely worth a visit:

Bella Bacino's
Cafe Bernard*
Cafe Central
Cafe Matou*
Cyrano's Bistrot & Wine Bar
Dinotto Ristorante*
El Nuevo Mexicano
Hemmingway's Bistro
Kiki's Bistro*
Mundial Cocina Mestiza
Oceanique
Sweets & Savories
Think*
Trattoria Roma*

Next will be the city's offical Restaurant Week coming up February 20-27, which will include more than 130 restaurants offering $22 prix-fixe lunches and $32 prix-fixe dinners.

Heartbreaker: Sweet Thang, RIP

Zoiks. I just learned that Sweet Thang in the 'hood closed. Sigh. I remember my first time there...to buy Jenn this insanely decadent torte for her birthday. A tres suave fella manning the counter asked in a heavy accent, "Bonjour, mademoiselle." (Pause. Grin. Blink.) "And what... may I geet for you?" Note to the local French Chamber of Commerce: French charm + American customer service = definite upsell to the yuppie lady customer. Once I got myself back up off the floor, I ordered said cake, plus some almond croissants the size of American footballs. The ensuing hour was delightful, indeed.

Alas, no more. Apparently chef Bernard Runo decided to focus on making money with his wedding cake business. And some shady guy bought the name and opened a faux thang in Roscoe Village with shoddy pastery. Ptoo, I say. Ptoo!

This is only topped by the quick and cruel demise of Del Toro around the corner - unquestionably The One That Got Away.

Speaking of Chocolate Infusions...

Clearly we suffer from a dearth of ways to get our daily chocolate. As such, our friends the French have figured out how to infuse it with some bodacious black tea, and then spiced things up a bit for that little extra exotic kick. All of Kusmi's teas are pretty gorgeous inside and out, but this Spicy Chocolate one is something special among them.

My friend Dar is a legit Francophile, meaning she can actually speak some of language. Me, I'm more of a poser (poseur?) because I'm just too lazy. Nonetheless, when she sent me a tin of this after her trip to Paris, I nearly wept tears of joie de vivre. I keep it at work to cheer up bleh winter afternoons.