Rooftop Gourmet

Octopus is the new trendy ingredient to throw into a restaurant menu and I’m baffled that it’s taken this long to thrive. These delicious creatures have been the stars in places like Greece and Spain for years. It probably has to do with the American perception of octopus; slimy, fishy, gross. In fact, octopus is none of those things (well, it is quite slimy before it’s cooked).

Whether you have large or baby octopus, they typically need some type of tenderizing method prior to serving. There are so many ways that you can go about this, from braising to pounding.

There is actually a purveyor in New York City called the Brooklyn Octopus Garden that supplies top restaurants with their delicate and tender ‘pus. Their secret? … A basement filled commercial clothes dryers. They source the finest octopus around and toss them into the clothes dryers like a pile of wet underwear. These eight legged creatures get tossed and slammed around for a solid ten loads and by the time they come out, they are completely tender and ready to cook.

Pretty unique and thoughtful business idea if you ask me. I wasn’t fortunate enough to get my octopus from Brooklyn, but Whole Foods did have flash-frozen octopus that was already cleaned.

I used to make a grilled octopus salad when I worked at Via Matta and let me tell you, prepping the octopus was one of the most tedious and messiest jobs that I’ve ever had. The massive box of octopi would arrive and they were like creatures from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

I could barely even pick them up, and their legs were sometimes as thick as my forearm. My first task was to pound them with a tenderizing mallet. I often had to place two giant cutting boards together just to lay the beast down flat. I covered them in kitchen towels and start smacking away, like Bam Bam in the Flintstones.

I was the most hated chef in the kitchen on octopus day because the constant pounding rapidly intensified a hangover. After about a minute, the kitchen towels slid off and gooey, purple slime would backfire right into my face. I learned quickly to pound octopus with my mouth closed.

Once it was tender, I cleaned it and brined it overnight. The next day we would braise it for hours and then peel the purple slime from the head, body, and legs. After it was all clean, we’d season it and grill it before serving it with our olive oil-poached potatoes, haricot vert, chilies, and frisee’.

You probably don’t believe me but the effort it took to make the salad was totally worth it! That was when my love for octopus began.

For my version of octopus salad, I just boiled the baby octopus for about 2 hours with some garlic and fennel fronds to tenderize it. After it cooled, I peeled the dark purple gunk from the meat but made sure to keep the “suction-cups” in tact. I seasoned the octopus with some smoked paprika and then flashed it on the grill for some char.

The smell of grilled octopus is nothing like you would expect. Once cooked, it has zero seafood-like qualities. It actually smells like grilled meat. The texture is meaty and white, very similar to grilled chicken and when cooked right, not chewy in the least.

I even sliced up the head, which looks like… well… an octopus head I guess. I tossed the charred meat with some gigante beans, smoky chorizo, shaved red onion, shaved chiles, and frisee’ lettuce. Traditionally, octopus pairs nicely with beans or potatoes, and spicy, vinegary foods.

To really give my salad a pop of zippy citrus I squeezed the juice from fresh limes and added a touch of Dijon mustard and extra virgin olive oil for a fresh vinaigrette. A sprinkle of smoked paprika around the plate to garnish gave my salad a Spanish flair. The combination of the meaty octopus with the spicy chorizo sausage and the fresh lime juice was tantalizing.

The frisee’ was a nice firm filler, and the creamy beans helped balance the heat from the chilies. I served this salad with a fun little wine from Spain called Ludovicus. This peppery blend of Grenache, Syrah, Carignan, Tempranillo, and Merlot is made from 100% organically grown grapes in the high-elevation region, Terra Alta, just south of Barcelona. “Ludovicus” is the name of the Roman soldier who planted these vines in this region hundreds of years ago.

This is a pretty serious wine for such a low price point. It has aromas and flavors of fresh strawberries and cherries, with a touch of black pepper from the Grenache. Despite starting off light and fruity, it finishes with a rich burst of cedar and vanilla. Well balanced acidity and mineral component makes it work well with a wide variety of foods, especially my “full-bodied” salad. After dinner, we washed up and my wife asked me to switch the laundry, and I couldn’t help but smile while stuffing the dryer with damp towels.

This past week got me thinking about lobster for a number of reasons. My mother-in-law asked me for a photograph that I took about a year ago for the blog, when I made a Prosciutto-wrapped lobster tail. She wanted to blow it up on a canvas and hang it in her new Cape house. I was flattered by the idea, and even threw my artistic spin on it, changing it to black and white, with the exception of the giant red claw, restrained with a turquoise rubber band; which just so happened to be the color that matched everything else in the kitchen.

I’m very proud of my first photograph hanging as a piece of art in someone’s home  and I plan to deck my kitchen out in tantalizing photos now as well. (If anyone is interested in me blowing up a picture for them, I’m very cheap)! So I started thinking about the Cape, with lobster on my mind and for the past three years that I’ve been visiting my wife’s Cape house in New Seabury, no trip is ever complete without a visit to the Raw Bar.

Since my first encounter with the Raw Bar, I will NEVER order a lobster roll anywhere else in the entire world.

They make hands down the best lobster roll in the history of lobster rolls. As massive as the roll actually is, they keep it as simple as can be. One roll has the equivalent of lobster meat of anywhere from 3 to 4 two pound lobsters.

Yes. That was not a typo. You buy a lobster roll, you eat the meat from roughly four lobsters, gently tossed in a light mayo, and jam-packed into a measly hot dog bun.

The picture that I posted doesn’t even do it justice because I think I ate at least nine claws that were dangling off the top of that mound! If you finish this thing after a long day at the beach, washed down with a couple of beers, it is nap time.

With all of these lobster ideas and cravings running through my head all week, I had to make a lobster dish that was rich and hearty enough for the winter months. I decided on a classic lobster risotto with a saffron base.

I picked up two pounds of fresh lobster meat from the dock at Yankee Lobster (major shortcut) and a few other ingredients from Whole Foods, and in no time my dish would be assembled.

Since risotto is pretty rich and heavy, I decided to make a quick salad to go with it to keep my spirits up regarding my new early morning gym workouts. I wanted some fresh and bright ingredients that were simple and worked well together.

I shaved some fennel bulb, and celery stalks and tossed them with freshly picked parsley and celery leaves, along with some tangerine supremes. When sliced paper thin, the celery and the fennel work amazingly well together, and the oranges are a classic combo for the licorice-flavored fennel.

I drizzled a simple vinaigrette over the top and the abundance of parsley leaves made the whole salad come together.

As for the risotto, I just started off the way any risotto would go; sautéing minced shallots in butter, and then toasting the Arborio rice in the pot. I hit the pot with a good dose of dry white wine as well as glug of Cognac to add some serious richness to this risotto.

After the alcohol burnt off, I started adding my stock which was a combo of chicken stock and fish stock. Ladle by ladle, as it simmers I stood over the steaming pot, stirring constantly. About ten minutes in, I started to add my saffron.

Saffron is the most expensive spice in the world. It’s actually the tiny threads picked from the insides of certain flowers, and it has an extremely unique flavor.

It looks like clown pubic hair but it has remarkable coloring ability and a flavor and aroma that is to die for. It is traditionally used in risotto a la Milanese and in the Spanish staple, Paella. It’s golden hue is absolutely mesmerizing.

I crushed up the burnt orange threads in my palm and dusted them into the pot and almost immediately the color of the risotto went through a Midas-touch makeover.

The texture of the rice was getting softer so I started to add the chopped pieces of succulent lobster to keep them warm. Just before the rice was al dente, I pulled the pot from the burner and tossed in some finishing butter, and a touch of cheese.

Once I impatiently waited a few minutes, I vigorously whipped the risotto with a wooden spoon to achieve the texture that I wanted. A handful of sliced chives and it was complete. I love my risotto with a nice “wavy” characteristic to it. I hate when risotto is so starchy and sticky, that it can be formed into patties.

I want it to be almost, borderline soupy, but with a slight crunch to the grains. I felt that this dish was bold enough to embrace a bottle of red wine, so I picked a fantastic Super Tuscan that I got a great deal on. A Super Tuscan is just a silly term that Italians made up to help market their wine to the American palate.

There are really no rules for Super Tuscans, despite the many rules involved in Italian winemaking. A Super Tuscan is just a term for any wine that is a blend of different grapes grown in Tuscany, that is a de-classified Italian wine.

If it was a classified wine as say a Chianti Classico, it would have to be at least 80% Sangiovese grape grown in the town of Chianti. There are so many laws (I.G.T, D.O.C, D.O.C.G, etc) in Italy classifying wines, but Super Tuscans, are generally a blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah, or any combination of these grapes.

The 2007 Valdisanti is a blend of 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Sangiovese, and 5% Cabernet Franc. It is am amazingly aromatic wine. It exudes aromas of dried figs, muddled black cherries, smoke, and roasted herbs.

On the palate, it’s big and full-bodied, with dark fruit, earthy undertones, and a finish that gives off a flavor of a sweet Balsamic vinegar reduction.

The wine is so perfect with the complex saffron notes and the rich risotto, with just enough acidity to cut through the creamy rice. Going back and forth between the savory risotto and the fresh salad was a beautiful contrast.

I was so happy thinking about the Cape in the dead of winter, and as we were washing dishes and cleaning up on a full stomach, it started snowing. Immediately my dreams of a Raw Bar lobster roll were put on hiatus for another couple of months. Leftovers will have to do for the time being.

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!

Since this was the first year we had our new roofdeck, we wanted to get a feel for what types of vegetation grew best in certain areas. We have every herb imaginable, tons of different peppers and chiles, and some scattered flowers. The one thing we don’t have are tomatoes. Thankfully, my co-worker Doug overplanted his garden and has a surplus of fruits and veggies that he doesn’t know what to do with.

 Last week I walked into work and spotted a half dozen, unidentified orbs sitting on the counter. They were about the size of a lacrosse ball, lime green in color, with dark green stripes. It felt, and smelled like a regular tomato except it looked as if Jessie James had given it a paint job.

I inquired about the tomatoes, but even Doug had no idea how these rare fruits popped out of his soil. After some further investigation, I realized that this “Tiger Tomato”  is actually British. Back in 2006 a specialty foods supermarket called Marks & Spencer created this cross-bred fruit and now varieties of it are “popping up” all over the United States. It looks and tastes like a green heirloom tomato and a tiny, flavor packed cherry tomato all in one. If you let the bright green Tigers sit on the vine a tad longer, apparently they turn a dark, brick red color but still maintain their olive green stripes.

I was so excited to bring these home and compose a beautiful salad because their appearance was striking. Once I sliced a few open I realized that their flavor was equally as impressive. The flesh is quite firm and shiny, but the inside was ripe and juicy… a perfect canvas for me to paint a mouth watering picture. I felt like I was running my knife through a green Cincinnati Bengals helmet.

 I chose six different ingredients to add flavor, balance flavors, and help bring out flavors of the tomatoes. The first thing I did was start slicing up some slab bacon, to add some rich, smoky flavor and texture to the salad (I knew Doug would be proud). Pre-cut bacon can be too thin for certain things so I either have my deli slice me some slabs of pancetta or track down a brick of bacon. My slab bacon is maple and corn on the cob smoked, giving it amazing flavor. The sweetness of the corn and maplewood pair nicely with the pig.

 I cut it into thick match sticks because once you slowly render out the fat, the pieces shrink significantly, and I wanted a solid mouthful in each bite. The next ingredient in my salad was finely minced red onions to balance out the sweetness of the tomato. Something pungent like a red onion is the perfect culprit to do the job.

Then I added some crumbled goat cheese to cut through the acidity in the fruit and bring a tangy, creaminess to the dish. So far, this tomato salad was shaping  up like your classic steak house appetizer, but not for long. We all know that traditionally, tomatoes and fresh basil are the perfect marriage… not in this salad however.

 Lately, you don’t put the words “Tiger” and “marriage” in the same sentence. The basil kicked the green Tiger tomatoes off the plate so I sprinkled the dish with the more exotic, freshly picked tarragon. The long, thin herbs draped gently over thick slabs of fruit and gave the salad a taste something different.

The faint, anise flavor in the tarragon was foreign to the tomatoes but unique and delicious. To give the salad that final “pop” it needed, I finished it with tons of fresh orange zest that I spritzed over the top. The tarragon has a flavor similar to fennel, which is a perfect match for orange supremes, so it only seemed fit to bring the two flavors together in this salad.

 A tiny sprinkle of coarse Celtic sea salt, some fresh cracked pepper, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and this baby was ready to be devoured. This salad was so bright and colorful, I almost didn’t want to touch it. I managed to slice the Green Tigers thick enough so that the cool racing stripes were still visible. 

As complex as this tomato salad was, it clearly wasn’t going to be sufficient for my whole dinner. I quickly made some wild rice and poached a few pieces of tilapia in some white wine, orange slices, and parsley. I placed the delicate fish on top of a mound of earthy rice and took some leftover fennel that I had in the fridge.

I made a quick salad of thinly sliced fennel stalks (not just the bulbs are edible) and garnished it with the fluffy fennel fronds and some kalimata olives. I popped open a bottle of 2009 Burgans Albarino from the Rias Baixas region of Spain. This wine was young and fresh, bursting with acidity.

 It was light golden in color and had aromas of white flowers, orange peel, and a freshly cut apple. On the palate, the wine is lively and medium bodied with traces of orange marmalade, peach pit, and minerals. It was so crisp and clean that it was a refreshing match with the garden tomato salad. Together, the two absolutely hit it off.

 The Green Tigers were smothered with all different mistresses of flavor, all balancing each other out in your mouth. The rich smoky, bacon…the unusual tarragon presence… the zingy orange zest… and the creamy goat cheese all came together to showcase the beautiful tomatoes, which were clearly the highlight of the dish. I don’t know where Doug got these tomatoes, but hopefully they come back in next year because they were definitely worthy of a (striped) Green Jacket.

After scouring the Internet for possible honeymoon destinations, an image of the Greek Islands was stuck in my head all day. A gorgeous view from a balcony, surrounded by ivory walls overlooking crystal clear waters inspired me to make some Mediterranean fare. I picked up some lamb loin chops and baby lamb lollipops from the store and brought them home to spice them up.

 The lamb lollipops come from the rack and the loin chops look like mini T-bone steaks. Grilled lamb chops really don’t need a ton of heavy seasoning because there is so much flavor in the fat and connective tissues around the bones. When that fat hits the grill and gets charred, the result is pure heaven.

 I toasted up some whole coriander seeds, which is the seed of a plant very similar to cilantro that has roots that trace back to Greece and Asia. Toasting the spices releases all of the natural oils and brings out the essential flavors and aromas. I sprinkled the chops with the coriander seeds, a few fennel seeds, and some dried chile flakes before marinating them in lots of extra virgin olive oil.

I let the chops sit, covered in the spices and oil for at least two hours to really take in all of the flavor. The coriander provides a smoky/nutty flavor, the fennel brings some anise flavor, and the chile flakes bring a touch of heat… all flavors that work nicely with lamb.

 My herb garden is overgrown and creeping up the side of the house, so it was a great time to snip off some fresh oregano and mint. With the flavors of a well dressed, Greek salad in mind, I composed a salad around the huge bushels of mint.

Lamb chops have outgrown their mint jelly from a jar companion, but still taste delicious when paired with the fresh herb. I minced up a few cloves of garlic, and shallots and combined them in a mixing bowl with the juice of three lemons and some extra virgin olive oil. I whisked it into a classic vinaigrette before I tossed in some sliced Fresno chilies (red jalapenos), pitted Kalimatta Olives, garbanzo beans, and chopped oregano.

When I think of Greek flavors, I imagine a combination of fresh, acidic, briny, and of course salty. I brought the salty element into the salad in the form of Greece’s famous cheese. Feta is a brined and cured sheeps milk cheese that is typically seen crumbled in salads.

 The feta is produced in blocks and brined and cured in a salted water. If you can, buy the fresh feta when it’s still in the water as opposed to buying it in a package. Once it’s removed from the brine it dries out quickly. At the last moment before the salad was ready to be plated, I sliced the Feta and folded it into the vinaigrette along with handfuls of fresh mint leaves.

 I piled the oily chops onto the grill and the flames began to rise. I let lamb gets a nice char on the outside before I move them out of the flame and onto a tamer side of the grill.

The toasted seeds on the exterior of the chops added some texture and wonderful licorice and woodsy aromas during the cooking process. I plated the chops “family-style” on a large platter and poured my mint and Feta salad all over them.

 A little splash of lemon zest was the finishing touch that helped wake up all the amazing Mediterranean flavors. As the chops were resting, I put a quick chill on a bottle of 2007 Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir from South Africa. I like my Pinot Noir to be served slightly below room temperature, and a good ten minutes in the fridge does the trick, especially before drinking it on the hot roofdeck.

This wine comes from Walker Bay, South Africa, which is one of the world’s most up and coming wine regions. Hamilton Russell’s Pinot is exceptionally well made and is a great food wine. Unlike fruity Oregon Pinots, this wine is big and bold, with tons of black cherry, cedar, tea and notes of Asian spices. The acidity was off the charts, which was a great compliment to my succulent lamb and wild salad. Despite the wine’s high alcohol content (14%) it was barely detectable, showing that it could put up with a few years of cellaring. The finish was full of energy, with all sorts of flavors and perfumes lingering forever.

The chops were cooked to temperature, a warm pink center, and the subtle gamey flavors were balanced with the salty Feta and the minty aftertaste. Even the slight kick from the chilies were tamed nicely by the meaty garbanzos. With a platter straight from the Greek Islands, and a beautiful Pinot Noir from South Africa, this was quite the worldly feast. If only, Greece had made it to the finals of the World Cup, hosted in Africa’s tip, this would have been the perfect fusion meal.