Rooftop Gourmet

If there was one word that could sum up the evening of December 31, 2011 it would be indulgence.

My wife and I held a dinner party for seven of our closest friends on New Year’s Eve to celebrate the end of what was probably the busiest year of our lives.

When it came to menu planning, I may have gotten a little bit carried away, but as the clock struck midnight, and we all sat at the table, exhausted, clutching our elastic waistbands and simultaneously picking at cheese and coconut cake, it was totally worth the effort. Everyone was happy, thankful, and over-indulged.

There’s something calming and comforting, spending the night with great food, close friends, and delicious wines rather than fighting crowds for cheap Champagne at a bar  or baring the elements in Times Square. Let’s just say that we really ended 2011 with a bang… or was that the sound of someones belt buckle popping off?

Here is a copy of the New Years Eve menu:

First Course:

Assorted Cheeses From Around the World

Foie Gras Mousee’

Marinated Olives

Duck Liver & Black Truffle Terrine

Caviar

Second Course:

Crispy Braised Pork Belly, Carrot Puree’, Pickled Apples

Third Course:

Island Creek Oysters 2 Ways

Classic Baked Rockafeller

Freshly Shucked with Ossetra Caviar, Creme Fraiche’, Tarragon

Fourth Course:

Baked Escargot Gratin; Garlic-Parsley Butter, Warm Baguette

Fifth Course:

Raviolo Uovo

Wild Mushrooms, Thyme-Butter, Parmigiano-Reggiano, White Truffle Oil

Sixth Course:

Sliced Beef Tenderloin with two Sauces;

Classic Bordelaise’ & Creamy Horseradish-Tarragon Sauce

Pommes Puree’, Roasted Butternut Squash & Raw Kale Salad

Seventh Course:

Double Coconut Cake

I get cold sweats just typing that up again! Thankfully, I received a ton of help from some of my favorite vendors and friends. I spent the last week of the year brainstorming, prepping, and and anxiously awaiting our event. Each course represents one of my all-time favorite foods, whether it is in its natural state, prepared classically, or with a new and exciting twist. Thanks to Wasiks Cheese Shop in Wellesley (http://www.wasiks.com/), I had more cheese in my 900 square foot condo than the entire country of Switzerland.

Everything you could possibly imagine, from sharp and nutty Gruyere to oozy gooey, buttery Triple Creme. I also had a pound of Foie Gras Mousse’ that I picked up from the Butcher Shop in the South End. It was so rich but light and airy at the same time.

We spread it like butter on slices of a fresh baguette and let the goose liver melt in our mouths. The texture was like whipped butter and when combined with a few crumbles of the pungent, blue cheese it was heaven in a single bite (That last phrase will most likely become repetitive throughout this whole post). After we grazed the cheese boards, everyone sat down at the table that my wife so wonderfully decorated with white roses and printed menu cards. I brought out the first course which shows off my love for the ever-so versatile pig.

I had braised pieces of fatty pork belly in winter spiced ale, soy and aromatics until it was completely tender, about 3 hours. Right before I served it, I crisped up the outsides of the pork belly in a skillet and served it atop a silky carrot puree. The bright orange color of the puree was a beautiful contrast with the rustic hunk of pig.

For a slight pop of acidity, I used my melon-baller to release little balls of granny smith apples, in which I pickled with cinnamon sticks, and cloves to infuse a wintery spice. It gave the oversized cube of bacon a familiar companion of applesauce and cinnamon aromas and flavors that it’s used to. The juicy belly meat, woven in between layers of succulent fat seemed to dissolve in my mouth. The sweet carrots and sharp pickles were exactly what the belly needed to help balance out the dish.

It was a perfect first bite to lead into an even more extravagant meal. The next course required some serious grunt work. A dinner party set to the theme of indulgence wouldn’t be complete without some fresh oysters. We picked up two dozen of one of my favorite varieties, Island Creek oysters from Duxbury, MA. They always seem to be the perfect size, not too small and not intimidatingly large.

They have striking minerality and freshness with a plump body, and a rather salty finish that I can’t get enough of. With the first dozen, we decided to bake in the classic Rockafeller style. I topped each bivalve with crispy bacon, sautéed spinach, shredded Gruyere cheese, heavy cream, Pernot, and fresh lemon juice. After a few minutes in the broiler, the cheese has melted and the contents of the deep, metallic shell was bubbling away. The rich, creamy and nutty topping had an underlying hint of anise aroma from the evaporated, French liquor.

Trying to shoot them back without making loud, and obnoxious, “mmmmmmm”, sounds was a real feat. In the meantime, I shucked the other dozen and served them on ice with a dollop of creme fraiche, a spoonful of Ossetra caviar, and a sprig of fresh tarragon. In my opinion, this could have been my favorite bite of the evening. It was simple, luxurious, and gratifying; not to mention the balance of flavors really just worked well together. As the last oyster shell was tossed into the garbage, the smell from the next course had already permitted throughout the entire house. I had a baking dish in the oven, littered with baby snails that were all bubbling away in a homemade garlic-parsley butter and topped with breadcrumbs and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

Thankfully, the couples at dinner weren’t on a first date, because this butter was garlicky! We plated this course family-style and all of us dove in with chewy bread to soak up the cheesy butter. The snails were delicate and tender, offering earthy, mushroomy flavors as they swam in the bright green butter.

The oysters and snails course was paired with some Grand Cru Chablis from William Fevre that was crisp and refreshing. Notes of butterscotch, baked apples and puff pastry came off the initial wave of aroma, but the wine was perfectly balanced, clean, and crisp on the finish. Just when everyone thought that the night was dying down, we hit them with the next course which is hands down, one of my favorite pasta dishes I have ever eaten. Thanks to Leigh from Nella Pasta (http://www.nellapasta.com/), this single Raviolo was freaking amazing!

Raviolo Uovo is only one ravioli, filled with a creamy ricotta filling and a fresh egg yolk. Leigh put some serious time and effort into not only making the homemade pasta, but shopping for the highest quality local ingredients. She rolled out the pasta into thin sheets and filled the massive ravioli with a piped, local ricotta mixture that was studded with chopped black truffles. A well was formed in the cheese and she carefully dropped in these gigantic, farm-fresh egg yolks that were so bright and orange that they glimmered through the thin sheet of pasta on top.

Leigh expressed her frustration with the delicacy of the yolks and how they kept popping on her wedding ring, and ended up thrown across the kitchen. Finally, she managed to keep ten ravioli in great shape for the walk over. We gingerly simmered the pasta for a mere minute before sautéing and basting them in a thyme-brown butter sauce. We served the Uovo on a plate with some roasted wild mushrooms and freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, finished with an abnormal dowsing of white truffle oil.

My knees began to buckle while plating due to ingestion of sensual truffle fumes. We all anxiously awaited the”ta-da”,  moment where one of our forks pierced the raviolo, displaying a slow, oozing of the poached egg yolk onto the plate. It was one of the sexiest moments and bites I have ever witnessed in all my days of cooking and eating. We managed to capture the “money-shot” of the fatty yolk swirling on the plate with beads of truffle oil floating atop the surface.

I served this pasta course with a magnum of 2004 Marchesi di Barolo Cannubi Barolo that I had been decanting for over 5 hours. It opened up beautifully and displayed delicate aromas of fresh violets, cherries, and spice. The tannins in the young Nebbiolo cut through the creamy egg yolk and the truffles and Barolo were reunited again. Believe it or not, we were ready for our final savory course of the night… and making good time thanks to our impromptu dishwashers. I had made two different sauces for the beef tenderloin the night before. One was a traditional bordelaise sauce that started off by making one of the most intense beef stocks ever. I roasted pounds and pounds of bones and made a homemade stock for an entire 24 hours, periodically skimming the fat and impurities from the surface.

Then I combined the rich stock with the reduction of two bottles of dry red wine. As the sauce slowly reduced, it thickened and intensified. The other sauce I made was a simple cream sauce with freshly grated horseradish root and sliced tarragon. The balance of spicy and savory was an interesting accompaniment to the tender beef. I simply seared the five-pound roast and rolled in on my cutting board through handfuls of smashed, whole black peppercorns. As it roasted in the oven, it gave us a chance to digest and have a little fun with my new toy that I bought for the evening… a porron!

A porron is a vessel commonly seen in tapas’ bars throughout Spain. It looks like a wine decanter with a spout, and it is filled with wine that eventually gets poured directly into your mouth from very high level. The thin stream gives you just enough time to swallow and allows for pinpoint accuracy when poured from several feet in the air. Here is a video that demonstrates how the porron is used: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCqCp1ot15A. Needless to say, we managed to keep the wine out of our clothes and our carpet, and my wife was able to take a deep breath. I pulled the roast from the oven at the perfect time, and allowed the juices to redistribute before slicing it into pieces. We served it medium rare with a creamy pommes puree’, both sauces, and a roasted butternut squash and raw kale salad with chopped hazelnuts.

We figured that we needed something fresh and green to serve after all these overly rich dishes. You could cut the tenderloin of beef with a fork it was so tender and juicy. I typically prefer cuts of meat that aren’t as lean, but with the two sauces, the flavor was still booming. For the grand finale, we popped a 3.0 Liter bottle of 2006 Ladera Howell Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon to serve with the beef. For the time it took me to pop the oversized cork on this monster, the wine better be damn good.

It was loaded with powerful blackberry, cherry, and cassis up front, and more developed, richer flavors of vanilla, toasty oak, and creamy coffee on the finish. By this time, we didn’t think anyone would be ready for dessert, but we were wrong. I ordered the double coconut cake from Sportello down the street and when we picked this thing up we didn’t realize that it weighed about twenty pounds. I’m not a big dessert guy, but whenever we eat at Sportello, I have to end the night with a sliver; it’s just that good. The shredded, toasty coconut isn’t just flaked on the outside of the frosting, but baked into each layer of cake as well. We sat around, reminiscing about the meal we just conquered, sipping on Pretty Things, St. Botolph’s Old Town Brown Ale fresh from the keg, and small glasses of 12yr old Pappy Van Winkle Bourbon.

At midnight we popped a few bottles of the 2003 Roderer Estates L’Ermitage Brut and washed back some of the leftover caviar and cheese as if we couldn’t get enough, knowing that 2012 was the start to diets and healthy lifestyles. We lasted long into the night playing silly games, picking at leftovers, and enjoying each others company. I hope that 2012 is filled with even more great food, family and friends. Happy New Year to everyone!

I apologize for the long hiatus in between posts. I have been so busy getting ready for my wedding and I feel like we have something going on every night of the week. Most of our dinners now are healthy, simple, and quick…most of the time too quick to even pull out the camera.

I made this “Fat Elvis” sandwich the week after I got back from my bachelor party in Vegas. Let me tell you…this baby can cure a three-day Sin City hangover!

It all started with a fresh loaf of sourdough and some freshly ground peanut butter. I recently started using the “grind yourself” machine at Whole Foods, which transforms a handful of peanuts, hazelnuts, or almonds into the richest butter ever.

I spread a layer of peanut butter on one side of the bread so thick, it would shut up a barking dog for weeks. The next layer was a sliced banana, perfectly ripe and mushy followed by a few girthy, slabs of crispy bacon.

To top everything off, I spread some some raw honey from Honey Gardens, in Vermont on the other side of the bread. I toasted the sandwich in a buttered skillet the way you would for a grilled cheese and watched as the innards warmed, and oozed out of the sides.

If it wasn’t for the tall pint of beer to wash each bite down, this would have been a one-hour sandwich. Every bite was rich and indulgent. The classic peanut butter and banana combo was flirting with the smoky, savory bacon and the honey added just the slightest touch of sweetness.

The Dogfish Head “Namaste” is a Belgian style ale brewed with coriander, orange peel, and lemongrass. It’s quite cloudy and unfiltered but packed with flavor. The added spices and flavors were simply background notes that contributed complexity rather than masking the true flavor of the beer itself.

It was a refreshing pint to help wash down the “Fat Elvis” and great closure to an unbelievable weekend.

Unfortunately the judges didn’t select my pizza blog (challenge #5) as a winner, so my Project Food Blog adventure is officially over. Thank you everyone for voting and supporting me from 2,000 blogs down to only 72. If you guys know me and my competitive nature, you probably realize how hard this was to swallow. Oh well… life goes on and Rooftop Gourmet will continue to produce weekly recipes and wine pairings as it did before the contest. I had prepared my next challenge before I heard the bad news so I figured that I’d post it anyway.

Challenge #6: Road Trip

Challenge Prompt: For this challenge, you’re tasked with creating a delicious meal that will travel well and still look great. From picnics and school lunches to bento boxes, or any other meal on the go, you need to whip up a entree, side, drink, and dessert to enjoy after hitting the road. Be sure that your meal fits inside the Project Food Blog Road Trip Cooler.

Talk about throwing me head first back into my comfort zone! Mobile food is right up my alley, especially when served in a concrete jungle outside Foxboro Stadium. I feel as though I have perfected my parking lot etiquette and risen to the next level of tailgating. Unfortunately, my beloved Patriots were across country this weekend battling the San Diego Chargers, which forced me to move my pigskin picnic up to my spacious roofdeck.

I love tailgating because it serves as a male bonding, guilt-free, social event where guzzling beers, belching, and stuffing our faces is completely acceptable. Now that I’m twenty-eight years old, you would think that the dynamics would change quite a bit because my good friend Mark brought his five month old daughter Bria to the party, but trust me, we didn’t skip a beat. Bria was just hanging out like she was one of the guys. We did have to change a few diapers along the way, but if you knew my friends, this wasn’t too bad compared to our college tailgating festivities.

I was a little bummed out that Tom couldn’t make it to the picnic but I understood that he had work to do on the West coast.

Keeping with the football theme, I chose to create my entire portable menu around the pigskin, or the pig itself.

I have to admit that my swine worship has officially been taken to the next level, and I am banned from bringing home any more pig paraphernalia until said otherwise.

 My main course is a Tuscan, road-side treat that is traditionally sold out of a wagon, or throw-back food truck, deep in the heart of Italy. Porchetta is a culinary tradition of slow roasting a heavily seasoned, whole pig for hours and serving it sliced into savory sandwiches.

The juicy, slabs of pork melt in your mouth and appear frequently during holiday celebrations or outdoor festivals. Think of the porchetta man as the European version of an ice cream truck rolling into the parking lot, interrupting your child’s little league game, and selling thousands of Dora The Explorer Popsicles.

I threw a million cloves of garlic, rosemary, sage, fennel seed, salt and pepper into the food processor and pulsed together a paste in which I massaged thoroughly into my massive Berkshire pork loin.

 I let the flavors marinate overnight before I slow-roasted the loin in a two hundred degree oven. Once the internal temperature of the pork reached around 145 degrees, I pulled it and let it rest (continue cooking). One thing that I can’t stand is the phrase, “the other white meat”. Pork is not white and it has been humiliated in the past by comparing it to chicken. Especially when you know where your pig comes from, do not overcook it!

Americans don’t need to continue slathering Mott’s Applesauce all over their entrees in order to make it swallow-able.

I thinly sliced my pig and layered it on top of a chewy baguette, adorning it with a classic Tonnato sauce. Tonnato is a tuna flavored mayonnaise that usually compliments cold slices of veal in an antipasto setting.

I made mine by combining Italian tonno (preserved in olive oil), anchovies, capers, homemade mayonnaise, and a splash of Tabasco.

The “hoagie” was capitalized with some thinly sliced fennel, pickled red onion, and a handful of fresh watercress. The fresh, juicy apple flavors in the crisp watercress and the subtle licorice nuances in the fennel made the tender pork melt in your mouth.

The submarines quickly disappeared leaving our suds-soaked stomachs craving something salty. When I mentioned that this was going to be a pigskin picnic, I wasn’t lying. I made homemade, black pepper bombed, pork rinds by drying out the actual skin of the Berkshire pig.

I had to trim off most of the fat (which I saved for later use) and very slowly crisped up the skins in a 150 degree oven for three hours. Three magical hours of dancing around my condo with a pig’s snout, sniffing the magical aromas of melting pork fat to be exact.

Once the skins were dark and crunchy, I tossed them in sea salt and tons of cracked black pepper, preparing them for the picnic. A tailgate without beer is like a Bar Mitzvah without Manischewitz.

I loaded my Project Food Blog Cooler with multiple cans of Pork Slap Ale; a canned craft brew sporting two naked pigs, ceremoniously belly bumping in mid air on the label.

 I put the bacon-ized twist on my beverage by rimming my pint glass with a hickory-smoked sea salt. The smoky, salty flavor encouraged us to suck down a few extra Pork Slaps at a collegiate pace.

 The amber colored ale is perfumed with caramel and breakfast cereal, while the flavor is dense with yeasty vanilla notes. Needless to say, it got the job done to lubricate our football minds and excite us for the long anticipated dessert.

I have a hard time enjoying, and endorsing desserts due to my lack of sweet teeth, but when bacon is involved, it’s a different story. This one bite, taste of heaven was something that I could actually be proud of. A flourless, chocolate cake resembling a dense fudge, receiving a drooling of homemade caramel, and a sprinkle of crispy bacon bits. The combination of rich, creamy chocolate and salty bacon was something that we all weren’t prepared for. The duet was mind blowing like Brady & Moss before we traded the bacon for a third round draft pick. 

This past week, I’ve been on vacation spending some relaxing time down the Cape with ”Hurricane” Earl and hanging out in the city. Even though Cape Cod is as far south as I’ve ventured this past week, the other night I whipped some a good ol’ southern chicken n’ biscuits to get ready for the New Orleans Saints NFL kickoff game of the week. I figured that it was blog-worthy since they are the defending Super Bowl Champions (now I’m starting to think that I jinxed myself because Tom Brady got into a car accident this morning).

Being away from work all week is boring as hell so I spent a greater portion of the afternoon making homemade pickles and braising chicken thighs.

Chicken and biscuits (or chicken and waffles) is a southern tradition that usually involves frying the chicken. I wanted to put my own spin on the dish by making it a bit healthier and a tad more interesting by taking the it to the island of Jamaica mon.

I went to the store and bought a jumbo pack of chicken thighs for about $1.69. I love chicken thighs because the meat is darker and more flavorful than the breast meat. When you slow cook the thighs in their own juices, the meat takes on a rich duck-like flavor.

I simply seasoned the thighs, with the skins still attached, with salt and fresh cracked pepper before searing them in a screaming hot dutch oven. The fat in the skin and bones releases into the pot and makes the skin golden and crispy. Just when I obtained a quality sear, and crunchy skin, I removed them from the pot partially cooked. I then cranked up the heat and threw in my mirepoix (carrots, celery, and onions) along with some smashed garlic cloves and let it sit in the pot to get some nice color.

Eventually, I was going to strain everything in the pot to make my sauce, so I wanted as much flavor to caramelize on all of the veggies as possible.

Once soft and dark, I deglazed my pot with some white wine, letting it simmer away to concentrate flavors. I did the hokie pokie and put all the thighs back in, almost covering them with some chicken broth.

A few torn basil leaves, and the basil flowers went in as well before I popped the lid on and threw it into a 325 degree oven to braise away. Slow and low with help the meat tenderize and fall off the bone with ease. In the meantime, I got started on my pickles.

I freaking love pickles… not just your typical pickles, but pickled everything. What most people don’t realize is that you can pickle all sorts of other vegetables such as onions, cauliflower, carrots, asparagus… you name it. You can even pickle fish and eggs if you want to. The act of pickling is a form of preservation as well as flavoring. Not only does it give veggies a sweet, tangy, acidic snap, but it also makes them last for weeks! As basic as possible, a pickling solution is sugar that is dissolved into vinegar, boiled, and steeped over whatever it is you want to pickle.

The proportions vary, as well as other ingredients that you can add to give your pickles flavor, spice, sweet or sour.

For this dish, I made pickled red onions, for their beautiful pink color and tang, and pickled chilies for some heat. I boiled some white wine vinegar, white wine, sugar, black peppercorns, mustard seed, coriander seed and a few dried bay leaves until all the sugar was dissolved. I tried smelling the concoction but it burns your nose and makes your eyes water.

After five minutes of simmering, I let it cool slightly and poured it over my red onions and chilies. The pickles take on the flavor of the concoction the longer they sit in the brine, and the chilies lose some of their power, but still pack a mean punch. I wanted some type of vinegary pop to the slow cooked, braised chicken that would give it some life that it needed.

 A few hours in the fridge and they were good to go. After an hour of waiting impatiently for my chicken thighs, I pulled it from the oven and threw the pieces into a bowl to cool down. I took all of the natural jus that was left in the pot and strained it through a fine mesh strainer and into my sauce pot.

The braise yielded about two cups of liquid which I was very excited about. I let it simmer away and reduce to concentrate the natural chicken flavors. Even without making a quick roux, the sauce was thick, dark and gravy-like. Instead of finishing the sauce with some Cognac (like I do at Thanksgiving) or Marsala, I opted for the Rastafarian route. My friend Chris just returned from Jamaica a few weeks ago and brought me back a rare Jamaican dark rum called Blackwells.

This rum is the brain child of famous record producer Chris Blackwell, the man who found and produced Bob Marley. From Reggae to Rum, Chris has transitioned smoothly. His rum is aged and as golden as some of Bob’s records. The smooth, fragrant rum has flavors of coconut, molasses, and flambeed brown sugar.

I poured about a half of a cup into my natural chicken jus and let it simmer away to incorporate the flavors. The result was a trip! The authentic, warming flavors of homemade chicken soup combined with some sweet island flare. I couldn’t wait to pour this all over my pulled thigh meat! I removed the skins from the thighs, and thinly sliced them into fine strips.

 I got my hands dirty, fishing around for bones and cartilage, and successfully managed to remove everything from the succulent meat. I have never seen chicken so moist and flavorful in my life. Just to add another twist on the southern treat, I folded in a handful of torn basil leaves to the chicken meat. The combination of fragrant basil and juicy chicken was awesome, especially when I dipped a chunk into the rum laced jus. The combination of basil and coconut flavors in the rum was reminiscent of a Thai curry.

Since my baker was back at school this week, I relied on the Pillsbury Dough Boy for my baking portion of this meal. One thing I am good at is following directions on the outside of a metal tube. I sliced the warm, flaky biscuits right of the oven and adorned a half with a mound of my pulled chicken thigh meat. I went into a trance while spooning the aromatic jus over the top, watching it slowly drip down the side and become absorbed by the biscuits like a sponge. Fresh from the fridge, I topped the chicken with a heaping handful of tangy pickles and cracked open a 16oz. “tall boy” of Red Stripe Lager. The braised chicken thighs literally melted in my mouth as the Jamaican Jus kept the meat damp and flavorful. By the time I got down to the foundation biscuit, it had transformed into a sponge that tasted like a rich rum drink. “Could this be Love”, I thought as I washed down my Jamaican brew to aleve the fiery kisses of the pickled chilies. Man I can’t get enough…. kinda like Chicken & Biscuits!

 On another note… my friend Leigh from Nella Pasta was selected by Daily Candy to be a finalist in a small business entrepreneur contest. Her homemade pasta company that her and her partner Rachel started about a year ago has really taken off. They focus on using all organic ingredients from LOCAL farms. If you get a chance, please vote for them here… so that their dreams of making it big can come true.

http://www.dailycandy.com/startsmallgobig/vote.html

The French have always turned their noses up at Americans for their use of processed condiments. While I can see their point about condiments masking the flavor of the actual food, that is exactly what makes jarred condiments American. America was built on making everything bigger, faster, and easier. Why waste thirty minutes in the kitchen making homemade sauce, when you can just open a jar? If opening a jar is too much work for you… squeeze some ketchup out of a tiny packet.

If fast food chains didn’t slop mustard, mayo, ketchup, and “secret sauce” all over their burgers, the consumers might realize that they’re eating crappy meat. Americans were taught that the flavor is not in the food but rather in the condiment (which depending on the cook, may be true). Now that salsa has surpassed ketchup as America’s #1 condiment, people are putting it on everything and eating it by itself. Who said a chip was a food? Chips are gross by themselves, so why not use a chip as a utensil to eat your condiment.

If your kids don’t like the food that you put infront of them, parents are telling them to just put bbq sauce on it and eat it. We’re training Americans to dislike the actual food they eat, and giving them remedies to fix that problem in jars… or even squeeze bottles! While I am an advocate for creating delicious homemade sauces and salsas, I must admit, I am also American.

 I still slather Guildens hot and spicy all over my Fenway Frank, make homemade bbq sauce with Heinz 57, and my “dipping everything in blue cheese” habit has gone Oriental in the form of “Sriracha squirting”. Recently, I have discovered my new favorite condiment which has been on tables in China for many years.

 Black Bean & Garlic sauce is a popular Chinese condiment that is widely used in its cuisine to flavor all types of foods. After blowing through two jars in the month of July, I decided it was time to make my own from scratch. I sent my daring fiance over to the Super 88 (Asian specialty food supermarket) in search of some hard to find ingredients. Believe it or not, Black Bean & Garlic sauce is not made with black beans at all, or at least not with the black beans you’re used to eating. Douchi is the name for fermented soybeans that are used to create this sauce.

Fermenting and salting turns the soybeans black, mushy, and dry and gives it a strong salty, pungent, and bitter flavor. They aren’t very visually appealing but they taste delicious. After roaming around a giant supermarket with everything written in a different language for hours, Siobhan located the douchi as well as some rice vinegar, and brown rice vinegar.

I got home from work and put the trusty blender to use. I rinsed the gunk off of the fermented soybeans and tossed them into the blender along with ten cloves of garlic, a few spicy, Thai chilies, soy sauce, both vinegars, and some hot water. In no time, the brown sauce was silky smooth and creamy. Again, this sauce is far from picturesque but believe me when I tell you that it is a whirlwind of flavors in your mouth.

I picked up some of the largest littleneck clams that I have ever seen, in order to make a classic Cantonese dish… Steamed clams in black bean and garlic sauce. We washed, and scrubbed all of the grit off the outside of the clams and if we had more time we would have soaked them overnight in cold water and cornmeal. The live clams actually eat the cornmeal and it helps them regurgitate any impurities they have inside their bellies.

Turning a mouthwatering condiment into a sauce is so incredibly simple. We basically took a few spoonfuls of the black bean and garlic paste and threw it into a warm pan with some canola oil and a touch of water. After a few minutes of whisking a smooth, bubbly sauce appears before your very eyes.

That is when I added the littlenecks and placed the lid on for them to steam. The longer the clams take to pop their lids open, the more aromatic and thick the sauce gets. It is almost impossible not to peek underneath the lid and grab a taste of the sauce.

Once the clams opened up to expose their meaty insides, I tossed them around so that the sauce snuck into every crevice. We plopped the pan down infront of us and with a sprinkle of shaved green onions, and a good tear of chewy bread we had ourselves an amazing meal. We sat at the counter, fighting over the juicy clams, and using their shells as spoons to slurp up every last drop of the black bean and garlic sauce. The rich, earthy flavors were so new and exciting, unlike any other condiment we were ever accostomed to.

It was bitter, salty, spicy and earthy all in one bite. We washed down the shellfish with a frosty pint of Japan’s oldest brews. Sapporro brewery dates back to 1876 and has been making top quality Bavarian style beers in Japan ever since. Once you dip your lip through the foamy head, the beer is crisp and refreshing with a slightly yeasty finish. Sometimes, you just need to leave the cork in the wine and bust out an ice cold beer to wash down something as salty as this dish… especially when you’re constantly licking your fingers and rifling through paper towels.

Ironically, I spooned a ton of my homemade Chinese condiment back into an empty mustard jar for later use, but I promise you that this sauce is something that even the snobbiest French foodies would appreciate.