Rooftop Gourmet

Dashi is as fundamental to Japanese cooking as Escoffier’s mother sauces are to fine French dining. What most home cooks don’t realize, is how much stock is used in restaurant kitchens. Homemade stock is made, and simmered overnight at least twice a week and used in just about every dish. It serves as the base for a multitude of soups, sauces, and pasta dishes. In Japan, Dashi is used very similarly, flavoring miso soups, simmering liquids, or noodle dishes.

My somewhat recent dashi discovery has elevated our simple weeknight meals, offering a speedy and healthy alternative to take-out. Just like there are many different types of stock, there are numerous varieties of dashi.

Three of the most common are Kombu (rehydrated sea kelp), Niboshi (sardine heads and entrails), and Shiitake (rehydrated mushrooms). Now a days, there are instant dashi broth packets that are sold throughout Asian markets and can be utilized within seconds. The common denominator with dashi is the unusual, strong flavor that was identified in 1908 as umami, or the “fifth flavor” attributed to human taste.

With the insane popularity of soup in America, especially this time of year, I am shocked that dashi soups and noodle dishes haven’t blown up in major cities (Chinatown excluded) yet. Sushi joints are a dime a dozen, and I predict that Shabu and noodle bars are the next craze to sweep the nation.

Humorously inexpensive Asian comfort food at it’s finest… a bowl (or plastic quart container) filled to the brim with the richest, piping hot broth you’ve ever tasted and stuffed with fresh noodles. It’s cheap, it’s healthy, and most importantly… it is delicious and satisfying. The other night, I combined a few of the different dashi making methods as well as tossing in a little surprise of my own.

 I started off by rehydrating some dried Shiitake mushrooms and Kombu (dried sea kelp) in some steaming hot water. You can buy Kombu at an Asian market or even Whole Foods has multiple varieties. Out of the package, it looks like a big, dark green piece of plastic that chipped off a little kid’s Big Wheel. Once you soak it in nearly boiling water for about ten minutes, it comes back to life and flavors the water. The mushrooms do the same, and before you know it… the liquid left inside the bowl is good enough to be slurped up as is.

In a large pot, I sauteed some sliced lemongrass, onions, garlic and some dried Thai chilies for the base of my dashi. Once they were soft, I added the residual liquid from the Kombu and Shiitake as well as a few more quarts of scalding hot water.

This is where you want to flavor your broth to your liking all while tasting it continuously. I just so happened to have a few packets of Bonito flakes in the cupboard from a previous Shabu Shabu meal so I ripped one open and tossed the contents into the steaming cauldron. Bonito flakes are dried fish flakes that are pre-packaged and used in Japanese cooking to flavor dishes like this. I really have no possible way to describe the flavor because it is unlike anything I had ever been exposed to. All I can say about it is that it doesn’t taste “fishy” at all (a term that has negative connotations that I don’t like using and that was probably created by picky eaters who were at one point in their lives exposed to non fresh fish. “Fishy” to me is delicious… “fishy” to someone who doesn’t like fish is terrible).

After the broth simmered for a few minutes, I added a spoonful of white miso for some protein and flavor, as well as the rehydrated Shiitakes, sliced seaweed, and some fresh mushrooms. Cooking the Udon noodles is like cooking pasta directly inside of your tomato sauce; it’s unheard of but in this case it’s perfectly normal. As the noodles were cooking, I added a few slugs of quality soy sauce for some additional flavor and salt content.

A few more stirs, and a couple more slurps and the broth was perfect! Inside my trusty, plastic quart containers (which are FREE by the way at Whole Foods salad bar… up to five per visit) I placed a few surprises at the bottom. Three fresh oysters per serving that will eventually cook when the hot broth is ladeled over them, but will undoubtedly squirm up to the surface and present themselves as a deliciously, sneaky treat.

I portioned out the noodles into each container and then ladeled the remaining dashi over the top. A handful of sliced green onions and a set of chopsticks and we were ready to dive right in. The constant steam emitting from the quarts was unbearable at first, but then became addictive once the aromatics hit your face. For something that was so simple to create, it had an insane amount of complexity and layers of flavor. Once the broth cooled slightly we sat infront of our favorite t.v show and slurped away, trying to dodge the slippery noodles that slapped across our cheeks.

Alternating between chopsticks, and soup spoons, back and forth until we reduced the contents by at least half. It was then, when my first bivalve managed to float up to the surface and weaved its way into a tangly nest of noodles. That one bite of Udon, Shiitake and a plump, juicy oyster was one that I will remember for a long time. The rich, umami broth and the briny oyster was like earth and sea coming together as one inside of a cheap plastic bucket, resting in my lap. An ice cold Sapporo beer would have hit the spot, as well as the 2009 Husch Vineyards Chenin Blanc that we chilled and popped to compliment our dashi. Chenin blanc is one of the most versatile white wine grapes that is most commonly grown in the Loire Valley France.

Chenin can produce sweet, dry, and even sparkling wines. In Mendicino County, this vineyard produces an off-dry Chenin Blanc that fresh and vibrant. The honeydew melon and white, stone fruit flavors create a luscious, round mouthfeel followed by a finish full of acidity. The wine has a mysterious spicyness to it that I can’t quite put my finger on but it compliments the rich flavors in the dashi perfectly. Now that it’s getting colder out, treat yourself to a big bowl of comfort dashi and experience what Japan has been doing for centuries. It may not be your American comfort classic and wind up on your Thanksgiving day table, but I guarantee that you will be pleasantly surprised. Slurps up!

Robert Atkins eat your heart out! Carb-phobic consumers, cover your eyes. This whopping mouthful of an appetizer is my submission in Davio’s Boston’s Spring Roll Creation Contest. Davio’s is famous for their Philly Cheese Steak Spring Roll, which my tastebuds first got the pleasure of devouring six years ago at Spinazola, a foodie-centric Boston fundraiser. Since then, reminiscing that magical experience has led me to their downtown restaurant, and urged me to wolf down about fifteen during halftime at Gillette Stadium. These spring rolls are everywhere!

I stumbled upon this exciting contest on Facebook last week and noticed that I only had one night left to submit my recipe. My competitive nature led me to the Super 88 Asian Market in search of spring roll pastry dough because I wasn’t going down without making them for real in my own kitchen. The winner gets their spring roll creation on the Davio’s menu along side the gold medal winner from Philly.

Trying to stay within the same “comfort food” genre that Davio’s spring rolls fall into, I decided to give Vietnam a taste of the Deep South. Good old fashioned, homemade macaroni and cheese was the poison that I picked to become gift wrapped and fried. In the past, I have made several versions of homemade macaroni and cheese but I wanted to stick with something basic for this contest. I started by creating a light roux (equal parts butter and flour) whisked over medium heat to act as the base for my cheese sauce.

 Once the flour taste is cooked out, and a golden blonde paste is formed in the bottom of the pan, I poured in my milk and kept my forearm busy whisking away. The three cheeses I picked were Gruyere, Fontina, and Parmigiano-Reggiano because they are amazing melting cheeses, and they all have distinct, pungent flavors.

The Gruyere is funky and creamy, the Fontina is sharp, and the Parm is nutty and salty. I slowly added all three cheeses into my Bechemel and let them melt away and thicken the sauce. After everything was incorporated, and I needed to put yellow police tape up around my stovetop to keep me away from licking the spoon, I boiled my pasta.

I chose Ditalini because it was a micro-macaroni, perfect for stuffing inside of a spring roll wrapper. Once the mini tubes were al dente, I drained them and tossed them into the bubbling cauldron of cheese sauce. I was tempted to grab a fork and dig in, but this was a competition and I needed all the product that I made to practice my rolling technique.

Spring Roll pastry is different from spring roll wrappers, which I learned the hard way, after Siobhan came home with the transparent rice noodles. The transparent variety is typically eaten raw and stuffed with seafood and julienned vegetables, but in southern Vietnam, the deep fried pastry is more common.

 I finally found them, tucked away in the frozen section of the market and thawed them out on my countertop. To keep the pastry moist, I topped it with a clean, damp kitchen towel, which helped prevent the sheets from cracking.

These sheets are paper thin, and need to be peeled away one by one while you’re rolling them up. I gently brushed them with egg wash, which acts as a glue, and dropped a handful of macaroni and cheese in the center of the square. I made sure that I let the mac and cheese cool down before rolling them because the heat wouldn’t be good for the delicate pastry. Pinching, rolling, tucking, and folding… roll after roll until I reached my capacity and figured I’d have a heart attack if I made one more. I felt like I was smuggling pasta from a buffet into my neatly folded handkerchief.

 Once my makeshift deep fryer full of vegetable oil came to temperature, I started dropping these cigar-like tubes of deliciousness in one by one. The frying process was long and grueling, but my skin, and kitchen survived the trauma. I dissected my test victim and sliced it in half, revealing a gorge of flowing cheese sauce and a perfect bisection of tiny noodles. 

Threre wasn’t even enough time to blow on it to cool it down, before my brain told me to dive right in and take a bite. They were like Russian Matryoshka dolls of fried cheese… cylinders inside cylinders of mouthwatering, cheesy, euphoria. Just to add an orgasmic punch to the appetizer, Siobhan separated some eggs, and made a quick aioli laced with tons of white truffle oil. The three cheeses alone were something to ogle about, but when dipped in the aromatic truffle sauce, it was time to bring out the bibs. The crispy, thin skin of the spring roll wrapper was the perfect vessel to hold this down home, comfort classic.

 I ate two spring rolls and then took a break to watch some t.v, but I kept finding myself sneaking back into the kitchen for more carb on carb lovin’. I would pair this dish with a dry, crisp Sauvignon Blanc and a trip to the cardiologist. You will need a fresh wine, with triumphant acidity to cut through the richness in this spring roll. The other Davio’s fans have some great ideas, so it will be a true test to see if these fried, steakhouse sides hold up in the spring roll battle. Win or lose, I now have my go-to appetizer recipe for the start of the 2010 Patriots season.

Over the weekend, I got a chance to slip down to Cape Cod for a few days and enjoy the warm weather at the beach. We set up shop at Dowse’s Beach in Osterville, a two minute walk from my grandparents house. The beach was packed with families and young kids boogie-boarding in the waves, which was a good sign that the water was warm. I sat down with, surprise… a non-food related book for the first time in ages, and soaked up some sun. The ninety degree heat was almost unbearable after an hour and it was time to jump in the ocean. The luke warm, salty bathtub water felt amazing despite the swarms of seaweed floating on the surface.

After all the fake mustache and arm pit hair jokes weren’t funny anymore, I started to examine all the different species of seaweed that floated by, and the foodie side of my brain kicked into overdrive. I thought about an article I read recently on the health benefits of seaweed and the many bowls of perfectly seasoned seaweed salad I’ve slurped up at Japanese restaurants.

 It turns out, that “vegetables of the sea” contain sufficient amounts of calcium, sodium, magnesium, potassium, iodine, iron, and zinc, along with tons of other vitamins that human beings require, but most of the time lack. Specific types of seaweed, in particular the Wakame variety which is most commonly seen at your local sushi joint, has been known to flush the body of toxic pollutants, promote youthful skin tones, and keep your hair healthy.

After floating around the Atlantic ocean amidst all of these slimy creatures for about an hour, I finally concocted a dish in my head that incorporated all of this mineral-rich kelp. It was the first time I’ve ever used seaweed in the kitchen but I was fairly certain that my idea had promise. I was leaning towards an Asian theme due to the seaweed but I also incorporated some Italian and southwestern flair to the dish.

I fine tuned all the parts while sitting in bumper to bumper traffic in my wet bathing suit, anxiously awaiting the kitchen. I stopped off at the grocery store and picked up some sushi-grade tuna that was bright purple in color and impeccably firm.

I also grabbed two containers of Wakame seaweed, which slightly resembles an over dressed, salad of fresh cut grass. The sea “noodles” have a briny, sweet flavor and a great pop of texture. When I got home, I prepared the seaweed salad the same way a Japanese restaurant traditionally would. I dressed it with rice wine vinegar, a touch of sesame oil, sesame seeds, and chili flakes. Since it was still incredibly humid outdoors, I was planning on eating on the roofdeck so I decided to serve the dish cold.

 I made an Asian pasta salad using a specific Italian variety of spaghetti made from ground Farro wheat. Farro is similar to barley or a wheatberry, which looks like a big, brown grain of rice (sometimes it’s furry). In Italy, people soak the farro and then cook it in the style of pasta to make farro salads, usually tossed with vegetables. I had this really cool, dark brown spaghetti in my pantry that I found in an Italian specialty market, that ground up the farro and turned it into pasta. I thought that the contrast of the dark spaghetti and the bright, lime green seaweed would look beautiful on the plate as well as acting as the healthiest pasta salad known to man.

Where else can you get all of these oceanic vitamins and minerals, as well as healthy carbs? I simply cooled down the spaghetti and tossed it with the salad, watching the long slivers weave together into one nest of deliciousness. As for the tuna, I wanted to spice it up a little bit with the heat of some Mexican Chili powder but I was afraid that if I rubbed the spice on before searing it, it would burn.

I heated up my skillet until the smoke alarm was just about to ring, before I quickly seared all for sides of the fish evenly. Immediately after I removed it from the pan is when I decided to roll it up and cover the entire eight inch block with this rich, rusty brown colored, chili powder. The heat that was still lingering in the outskirts of the fish heated up the powder and released all of its aromatic oils.

I popped it into the fridge for it to chill and firm up before I sliced it. I plated the seaweed pasta salad and made sure to sharpen my knife, because any sushi chef will tell you, the key to slicing raw fish is a sharp blade. Long fluid motions, without sawing, will keep the flesh in tact and make the dish presentable. I fanned the sashimi out over my nest of pasta and adorned the dish with some drops of ginger-wasabi cream that will bring a whole different type of heat to the party. I marched upstairs and plated this healthy dinner on the table right next to an empty ice bucket that needed a clean, crisp white to wash this food down with.

 I opened a bottle of 2008 Quinta de Azevedo Vinho Verde from Portugal. Vinho Verde translates to “green wine”, referring to its youthfullness rather than its color or organic benefits. The Vinho Verde is light and fresh, with less than one bar of CO2 pressure, it doesn’t quite qualify as a semi-sparkling wine but definitely has some fizz. The hazy straw color foams up in the glass from the tiny little bubbles and gives off aromas of stone fruit and flowers. This was one of the most refreshing wines that I’ve ever tasted and a great compliment to such profound flavors and textures in the dish. The strong, natural acidity cleans your palate and leaves you with flavors of Granny Smith Apples and peaches.

 If you close your eyes, it almost seems like you’re drinking a very strong Bellini (Prosecco and white peach puree). Despite the low alcohol content, this wine was bone dry, leaving no traces of residual sugars. We left the forks in the drawer and cracked apart a few sets of chop sticks like wishbones and devoured this meal as the sun went down. The meaty tuna was so fresh and delicate, it seemed to melt away on your tongue. The contrast in texture in the pasta salad was exciting and the two different genres of heat from the chili and wasabi played nicely with each other. Even though there was a lot of food, it was such a healthy dinner and I felt great afterwards; almost light enough to float in the ocean again without sinking to the bottom.

While walking through Whole Foods the other day, I noticed that garlic scapes had made their annual debut. For only about two weeks of every year, farmers markets, and some grocery stores are flooded with these curly-Q link delights. Once upon a time, these scapes sat on the top of every farmer’s compost heap, but now they are making their way into the kitchens of garlic lovers everywhere.

 Garlic as we know it, starts its journey underground as a soft bulb. Once it grows and hardens, a bright green shoot pokes its head through the soil and curls into a beautiful tendril. If these pliable garlic scapes are left unattended, they will harden and stop the growth of the bulb, making it a no-brainer for farmers to start snipping away.

Now that chefs and foodies are fighting over these once a year treats, farmers are getting a two for one deal by selling them off along with their more commonly seen bulbs. In my opinion, garlic scapes are best when eaten raw. Unlike raw garlic cloves, the scapes are far less pervasive and pungent.

Their flavor is a gentle and mild, almost a cross between garlic, green onions, leeks, and asparagus. When you snap into one, you can immediately smell garlic but the flavor is tame and almost grassy. When I saw a pile of the scapes sitting in a basket at Whole Foods, I got really excited and bought them all because who knows when I’ll ever see them again. People thought I was walking out of the store with two coiled garden hoses.

 I got home and decided to make a giant batch of garlic scape pesto, which is the best way to utilize two pounds of scapes because the pesto is freezable.

I sliced them up and tossed them into the food processor along with lemon juice, Spanish Marcona Almonds, and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.

I decided to use marcona almonds instead of pine nuts in this pesto because the strong flavors of the scapes needed something a little nuttier than pignoles. I drizzled in a thin stream of extra virgin olive oil as the motor roared away, and in no time I had a huge batch of pesto.

The color was so bright and vibrant, it looked like a giant bowl of Chlorophyll! At least I know that my fiance isn’t a vampire because she couldn’t stop dipping her bread into it.

 I tossed some Perciatelli pasta into a pot of boiling water and waited patiently for it to cook. Perciatelli is like a thick Bucatini but with a hole in the middle… kind of like a curly straw or a garlic scape!  When the pasta was just undercooked, I tossed it in a skillet with a blob of pesto, some baby sea scallops and a ladle of the pasta water. The baby sea scallops were so fresh, I was eating them raw while the pasta was cooking.

They only need about a minute and you don’t want to overcook them. Unlike the large sea scallops, the babies are mild and sweet. The lime green pasta started to come together and I plated it with a fresh garlic scape and a torn piece of chewy baguette. If you’re curious about the Japanese anime character hiding amidst the jungle of scapes, that’s just the crazy wine label from Fetish “the V Spot” Viognier from the Barossa Valley, Austrailia. This 100% Viognier is as light and vibrant, as the pesto is. It’s wonderfully aromatic, with nuances of lime zest and fresh flowers. The acidity and crsip finish make this wine perfect on its own or even better with food.

Flavors of honeydew melon and citrus didn’t overpower but rather complimented the humble garlic flavors in the dish. We sat the dinner table, twirling and slurping away until our cheeks were green and our breath was deadly. During the two week long garlic scape season, it’s acceptable to have garlic breath because the scapes are just too delicious.

Getting my haircut last week unexpectedly turned into a culinary adventure. It was like digging out your winter coat for the first time of the year and discovering a twenty dollar bill inside of the coat pocket. Some things just pop up out of nowhere and seem too good to be true.

My barber switched locations and last week was my first visit to the new shop. Turns out, the new shop is located right next door to this amazing Italian Food Store called La Romagnoli & Son. Italian food store doesn’t even begin to describe what goes on behind the doors of this quaint, authentic, foodie dreamland.

After a quick fade, I shed the smock and strolled next door to take a peek inside. I was immediately overwhelmed with charcuterie, olive oils, wheels of Pecorino, a pyramid of antipasti platters, and a little old woman in the corner, hunched over a cutting board rolling out sheets of fresh pasta. I picked my jaw up off the floor and strolled over to the counter to peek at the menu. It was like I wandered into a tiny market down an alley in the town of San Gimagnano.

 I could get everything from fresh Pecorino Toscano to a special kind of pancetta made from a black pig that fattened up on a strict diet of acorns (I’m sure their house made sauce all’amatriciana is loaded with it). The display case infront of me was full of marinated olives, artichokes, and roasted peppers as well as a gorgeous potato-leek frittata. Off to the side was a table with imported Extra Virgin Olive Oils, aged Balsamic Vinegars, and jars full of tiny Italian candies. In the center of the room, were five rustic looking tables overlooking the open kitchen, where pedestrians could stop in for an espresso or a bowl of fresh tagliatelle bolognese.

 Some people say you can judge how great an Italian restaurant is based on how few tables they provide. Since my first experience at la Romagnoli was unexpected, I didn’t have time to sit down for my all time favorite dish, spaghetti alla vongole (which forced me to wipe the drool off my chin when I saw that on the tiny menu), so I headed over to the fresh pasta section.

Infront of me was a tower of cookie sheets, displaying beautiful golden nests of fresh black pepper linguine, egg noodle paparadelli, and the ever so delicate angel hair. I decided to splurge on the stuffed pasta of the day, which just so happened to be lobster-saffron tortelloni. These tortellini on steroids were made from saffron infused egg noodle pasta dough and stuffed with golf ball sized lumps of fresh lobster.

 I drove home with a huge grin on my face, calling my friends and family to tell them about this hidden gem that I just stumbled upon. It was torture waiting for Siobhan to get home from work before dunking these babies into boiling water, but I showed some self restraint.

Luckily, I didn’t throw out the lobster carcasses a few weeks ago when I made my Prosciutto Wrapped Lobster Tails, because waiting for me in the freezer were perfectly portioned, cartons of frozen lobster stock. I quickly defrosted one of the massive cubes of flavor and got it ready for my simple lobster chive sauce.

I got some good advice before I left the shop from chef and owner Anna Romagnoli about how to cook the tortelloni without having them burst open (which apparently can happen quite easily due to how much filling they cram into each perfectly sculpted bellybutton). Once you drop the pasta into a pot of water at a rolling boil, turn down the heat and let them gently simmer for an additional 4-5 minutes. I pulled them a tad bit early because I knew I was going to finish them in a saute pan, which is where I was building my sauce.

I quickly sauteed some sliced shallots and paper thin slivers of garlic before I hit the pan with a splash of dry white wine. I let the mixture reduce along with a few ladles of my homemade lobster stock, which smelled absolutely delicious. Once the liquid reduced by about half, I cranked up the heat and finished the sauce with some butter and chives.

I quickly spooned the emulsified sauce over the plump tortelloni and opened a bottle of 2008 Feudi di San Gregorio Falanghina from the Campania region. This wine is made from 100% Falanghina grapes indigenous to southern Italy. It’s golden in color and gushing with bright apple and tropical fruit aromas. Medium bodied and full on the palate, traces of Granny Smiths and pineapple fill your mouth along with a hint of banana on the finish. The fresh acidity and minerality make this white a great match for seafood filled pasta in a rich, buttery sauce. When our forks split the tortelloni down the bias, mounds of pink claw meat oozed out into the silky sauce. This dish was extravagant and rich, leaving us completely satisfied.

 Thankfully, I get my haircut every week because Wednesday night is now officially pasta night in our house. Getting a fade and picking up some fettuccine and a half pound of guanciale (cured pigs jowl), is the equivalent of getting a “little boys regular” and leaving with a watermelon Dum Dum. It doesn’t matter whether I’m 3 or 27 years old, I am leaving the barbershop a happy camper.

La Romagnoli & Son is located at 584 Mt. Auburn Street, Watertown, MA. Check them out at www.laromagnoliandson.com