Rooftop Gourmet: Second Course

It’s about time! After a six month hiatus, I am officially back for a “second course” of intense food blogging. I have notepads, scrap paper, and areas of my brain overflowing with new ideas, original recipes, and mouthwatering wines to throw your way. You’re probably exhausted from checking the site and staring at the same piece of Halibut over and over again; I know I sure am. I promise you that I will continue to keep it fresh and exciting on a weekly basis. This is actually the last meal that I never posted back in June, just a few weeks before my wedding. Try not to get depressed by the beaming sunlight, bountiful herb gardens, and refreshing Rose’… spring is right around the corner.

While wondering around the market six months ago, head clouded with wedding preparation and anxiety, I attempted to put together a simple, healthy, yet flavorful dish. I believe that the first ingredient I grabbed that day was a bag of Key limes. Probably because I was shocked to see them, and also because we had just booked our honeymoon to Key West, Florida.

I was intrigued, having never cooked with Key limes before, and slightly curious about their flavor compared to their big brother, citrus staple. The only real difference is the stronger flavor, higher acidity and thinner skins (as well as their obvious “honey I shrunk the citrus” appearance).

I got to thinking, that in the culinary world, size really doesn’t matter. In terms of chili peppers, the smaller the spicier, in terms of winemaking, the smaller, compact clusters of grapes produce much more intense fruit when extracted, and in terms of citrus (including Meyer Lemons), the babies are intensified. As I walked by the seafood section, these long, zebra-looking whole fish seemed to be staring me down. As I peered closer, I realized that they were fresh Mackerel, a fish that I love but rarely cook at home.

You’ve probably heard one of your cheesy, old relatives use the term “Holy Mackerel” (usually the same guy that says “Jeepers Creepers”) and wondered what the heck they were talking about. The term is an ancient euphemism for Holy Mary, with Mackerel referring to Catholics because they ate fish on Fridays. One of the best parts about Mackerel is the fact that they don’t have scales. It makes home-cooking much less labor intensive.

I understand that most people make that retched “gag-reflex” facial expression when confronted with the word anchovy or sardine, but they are one of my all-time favorite foods, especially fresh sardines! Not to mention how great they are for you. Mackerel has a very similar oily, meaty texture and when simply grilled to the point where the skin gets crispy and crackles, is sheer perfection.

When on the hunt for a simple, healthy, meal that’s loaded with flavor, I usually turn to hot chilies because I am a sucker for heat. It’s sick really, the way that I crave that tongue swelling, profuse sweating, and temple-throbbing reaction. When I got home, I did very little to prepare the fish that were going to get tossed on a hot grill. All I had to do was remove the dorsal fins and they were ready to roll. I halved a bunch of fire engine red, Fresno chilies along with some homegrown Serranos, picked from my roof deck garden. I flash-sautéed them in a healthy dose of extra virgin olive oil, thinly sliced garlic and some Key Limes.

As the wafer-thin garlic toasted into crispy chips, their intense and pungent flavor infused the oil along with the blazing hot seeds of the chilies. As the heat from the pan extracted the juice from the limes, it created a deliciously spicy Key Lime & hot chili vinaigrette with just a quick shake of the skillet. The acid, oil and flavors seemed to infuse and hold beautifully, ready to drizzle over my grilled fish.

The grill was smoking hot and I gently laid the morning catch on the grates and waited for the skin to start sizzling. The Mackerel isn’t a very large or dense fish so it only takes a few minutes of cooking on each side. I plated the Mackerel with some grilled Key Limes, and tossed the contents of the sauté pan over it, carefully drizzling the vinaigrette around the flesh. A few sprigs of fresh cilantro and I was ready to dig in. Another positive of eating whole fish, is that it keeps your patience in check. If you’re like me, sometimes you can’t help but devour the food in front of you. When you’re carefully picking succulent meat out of tiny little bones it forces you to consume at a slower pace, which is healthier and doesn’t make you look like a hog; a Neanderthal or a European maybe, but definitely not a hog.

The juicy flesh literally melted in your mouth and the crispy skin and garlic chips gave great contrast in texture followed by a pleasant burn. Another important ingredient in whole-fish dining is a fun and interesting wine. I guarantee at some point, there will be very little meat left, and lots of downtime intertwined with a tiny amount of frustration trying to find more, so an interesting wine is great to keep your mind off of it. It was a steamy summer day, so I chose a refreshing Rose’ of Syrah from Washington State.

Ironically enough, we served this exact Rose’ at our wedding cocktail hour because we both fell in love with it (and it apparently matched our wedding colors). It’s made by Charles Smith, one of the biggest names in Washington State winemaking and just an absolute rockstar of a guy. I got the chance to meet him at a Wine Spectator event and that was an experience in itself. Despite his eccentric personality, the guy can make some serious wine. This Rose’ comes from 100% Syrah and has a significant amount of weight and body compared to the classic French Rose’s of Provence and Languedoc. Rose’s are made from red grapes, but by using white winemaking methods. The skins are removed at a certain point either before or after the pressing to determine the shade of pink, or sometimes orange hues in the glass.

The wine has a huge nose of strawberry shortcake ice cream bars and rose petals and on the palate, the wine is loaded with fresh strawberries and white pepper. Despite what most preconceived notions about pink wine refer to, this Rose’ (as is most) is refreshingly dry. The upfront, fruit-forward style helped balance the heat from the dish and the flavors didn’t overpower the oily fish the least bit. A few weeks later, the wine performed again, pairing beautifully with adrenaline, wedding cake, and insane chaos on the dance floor. Sadly enough, that day went by so fast, as did the summer weather but I look forward to creating some hearty, winter fare in the weeks to follow. Thank you to everyone who religiously read my blog in the past and again, I apologize for the break in action. Get ready for the Second Course!

Wow. I finally found some time in between the hustle and bustle of the last few months to pull out the camera. I’ve been itching to post another meal for quite some time, but my schedule just hasn’t permitted it.

The other night, I was craving two of my favorite things… pork and clams. Tasty on their own, but euphoric when eaten together.

I had a few links of chorizo on hand and I picked up a dozen cockles from the new Legal Harborside Market. Chorizo is a cured, Spanish pork sausage that gets its brick red color and its intense smokiness from dried, smoked red paprika.

Cockles are tiny, saltwater clams that are sweet and briny. I tossed the chorizo into a food processor and made “chorizo-bits”, and then gently sauteed them to make them nice and crispy.

As I tried to restrain myself from nibbling on all of the “bits”, I made a silky, white bean puree. I simply simmered some white beans in vegetable stock and fresh thyme before breaking out the boat motor blender. I let it simmer on the back burner with a splash of cream to to add richness and to thicken it just a bit.

Finally, I got to my main protein… the halibut. I seared the fish in a skillet, skin-side down and let it get nice and crispy.

As soon as it was almost halfway done, I finished it in the oven and poured a glass of 2007 Vincent Girardin Rully “les Cloux”, a Premier Cru White Burgundy. The wine is 100% Chardonnay and is a beautiful golden color in the glass. It exudes intense aromas of cold butter and hazlenuts followed by flavors of green apple, custard, and a signature lemon finish.

The wine is medium bodied and chalk full of acidity which makes it perfect for this rich dish.

When I pulled the fish from the oven, I transferred it to a warm plate and started a quick pan sauce. I added some white wine, butter, parsley and the cockles and let everything reduce while the clams steamed open. Towards the end, I tossed in a few morel mushrooms and a spritz of lemon.

Morels are like the Lamborghini of the fungal world. They have a unique flavor and look like something out of a Super Mario Brothers game.

Their sponginess soaks up all of the sauce and flavors that you cook it in. I drizzled the morels around the pan roasted halibut with the steamed cockles and topped the fish off with a dusting of the chorizo crumble. Each bite of the moist, flaky halibut gently slid off into the creamy bean puree and sopped it all up.

A crunchy bite of salty chorizo adds extreme texture and flavor and is cut by the lemony sauce and fresh parsley. Just as I had anticipated, the succulent clams were drop-dead delicious when combined with the smoky pork sausage and the morels were a bonus treat.

Oysters rank pretty high up on my list of favorite things to eat. They’re fresh, simple, complex, exhilarating, refreshing, and fun. Maybe not the first half-dozen adjectives others would use to describe the slimy bivalves, but to each their own. You either love them or you hate them (unless you’ve never tried one…. then your opinion doesn’t count). Like wine, or anything else grown on this planet, the product can and usually does taste completely different depending on where they’re harvested and the process in which they are farmed. An oyster that was raised in the cool Pacific waters of Kumamoto Bay in Kyshu, Japan tastes nothing like an oyster from Cape Cod.

On an even smaller scale, an oyster from Wellfleet, MA differs profoundly from one raised a mere 50 miles away in Duxbury Bay. These creatures are products of their own terroir. Similarly, when Grenache grapes are grown in the southern Rhone Valley, France, the wine produced tastes nothing like Grenache grown in the Barossa Valley, Australia. If I was raised in Vietnam, I wouldn’t be the same person I am today. It’s just a fact of life. Winemaking and I guess oyster farming is a perfect combination of nature and nurture.

I recently got my hands on a few dozen Island Creek Oysters, which just so happen to be one of my favorite varieties.

There’s nothing better than lugging a big net of oysters up to the roofdeck on a sunny afternoon with nothing more than a bottle of wine and an oyster knife.

Typically, I enjoy my oysters naked, or with a splash of mignonette (in its simplest  form: vinegar, shallots, peppercorns) in order to savor the oyster itself and to enjoy everything it has to offer, rather than masking the natural essence with a massive dollop of cocktail sauce.

Today though was different. I wanted to add a little extra flair to my calcareous creatures to celebrate one of Springs most exciting libations…. Rose’. Don’t let the color fool you! Rose’ is not a cheap, sugary wine like White Zin or the Blush that you played “Slap the Bag” with back in college.

Most Rose’ is classified as a dry wine made from classic, red grape varietals. It gets its shade of pink by allowing longer skin contact with the juice during the fermentation period. The folks at 90+ Cellars have hit another home run on their recent purchase of the Lot 33 Rose’, from the Lanquedoc, France…. just in time for the warm weather! I kicked the season off on the right foot by shucking the Island Creek Oysters and balancing out the intense briny and buttery flavors with a small dollop of creme fraiche’ and some juicy watermelon.

The creme fraiche’ was a perfect balance with the salty “liquor” inside of the shell and the fruity watermelon was as refreshing as they oyster itself. Just a tiny sprinkle of finely sliced chives and the one bite wonder was complete. I tossed a few dozen down the hatch, firing the empty shells into the garbage just as fast as I could shuck the next batch. The subtle flavors in the topping paired tremendously with the 90+ Cellars Rose’. Its color is a dark shade of pink, reminiscent of freshly squeezed blood orange juice- and yes… it is as refreshing as it looks!

This medium-bodied, dry rose’ is aromatically flirtatious with tons of fresh strawberries, juicy candy, and toasted peppercorns. Each sip is voluptuous and sexy with flavors of melted watermelon sorbet and toasted nuts on the finish. It can be as fun or as serious as you want it to be but be careful… mixing the Island Creek aphrodisiacs with the Lot 33 Rose’ can be a dangerous pairing.

“Real Men Drink Pink”

A couple of weeks ago, my friend sent me a fresh copy of the Sriracha Cookbook because of our shared addiction to the fiery condiment.

Sriracha, pronounced see-RAH-chah, is a seaside town in the Chonburi province of Thailand that is known for its tropical beach landscape, exotic tiger zoo, delectable seafood restaurants, and an affinity for hot chili pastes. The most famous is the Nam prik Sriracha which is a glowing red paste consisting of nothing more than piquant peppers, garlic, vinegar, sugar, and salt.

Once they began bottling the Sriracha, it boosted its popularity and spread to other countries such as Vietnam, which was a key step to starting its voyage to becoming an American obsession. In the late 1970′s, a man named David Tran came to America from Vietnam as a refugee seeking asylum from the post-war regime. He boarded a crowded Taiwanese freighter named Huy Fong and started his journey to America, months before arriving in Boston.

With very little money, Tran made his way out to the West Coast, and began making his version of chili paste in Chinatown, Los Angeles. He started a business called Huy Fong Foods and began selling his bottled chili paste to local restaurants and Asian markets in the area. The flashy red squeeze bottle adorned with a giant rooster to represent Tran’s zodiac sign, and a bright green top started to catch consumers’ eyes and by 1987, Tran’s Sriracha sauce had outgrown its Chinatown outpost.

At under $3 for a 17-ounce bottle, the hot sauce was an easy sell to tourists and visitors in L.A, that shortly took it home to show their friends. Surprisingly, the now famous Sriracha”rooster sauce” has never been advertised but has become a household name and a pantry staple, with production now exceeding 14 million bottles a year.

Once you taste it, there’s no wonder why it has such a massive cult following. It wakes up your taste buds without being overbearingly spicy. As the foundation of Thai cuisine has traditionally been focused on the delicate harmony of the four senses: spicy, salty, sour, and sweet; the Sriracha sauce is nothing short of just that. Now that I’m rifling through about a bottle a month for my own consumption, I decided to attempt making my own, homemade Sriracha.

Although I don’t recommend messing with perfection, the homemade version is rather gratifying once all said is done, because you can adjust the seasoning to your own personal preferences. From start to finish, it’s a week long process so don’t expect to rush home from the market and taste your own Sriracha tonight. I started off by slicing the tops off about two dozen Fresno chilies (red jalapenos) and peeling six cloves of garlic. I tossed them all into the food processor along with 2Tbs of garlic powder, 2Tbs of granulated sugar, 1Tbs of salt, and 1Tbs of light brown sugar.

I pulsed the machine until a coarse puree formed and the natural juices and liquids from the peppers were released. I transferred the mixture into a glass jar and left it on the counter at room temperature for one week. During this time, the mixture is sort of pickling and sort of fermenting, allowing all of the flavors to bind together to their maximum potential. After seven days of mouth watering anticipation, dump the mixture into a sauce pot with a 1/2 cup of distilled white vinegar and bring it to a boil. I simmered the mixture for about 5 minutes and then pureed everything in the blender until a smooth texture formed.

Once the sauce cooled, I poured it into a glass jar and sealed it tightly. My mission was finally complete. Homemade Sriracha will last up to six months in the fridge but I guarantee you that you’ll never be able to make a batch large enough for it to ever last that long.

I wanted to create a unique recipe using my homemade Sriracha that wasn’t in the cookbook, so I made a spoof on southern classic, shrimp and grits.

I started by making some rich and creamy polenta that was spiked with fresh, roasted corn. I figured that the sweetness of the corn would help balance the heat from the Sriracha. I roasted four ears in the oven and then sliced the kernals from the cobs before adding them to the food processor with my polenta.

I tossed in some milk and a handful of Parmasean cheese to get the polenta to a creamy consistency that I was looking for.

After peeling, and de-veining the jumbo shrimp, easily the most tedious kitchen task in the history of kitchen tasks, I flash sauteed them in a hot pan that I used to simulate a wok (probably the only kitchen tool that I can think of that isn’t in my kitchen).

In merely seconds, the crustaceans turned from a loose opaque color to a bright, juicy pink. During that transformation, I added a few heaping spoonfuls of my homemade Sriracha to the pan and tossed the shrimp around in the fiery sauce, which immediately clung to the shrimp. I served the shrimp in the center of a big mound of the creamy, roasted corn polenta and I topped them with a fresh salad of thinly sliced, sugar snap peas, sesame seeds, and sesame oil. The cool and refreshing, raw salad was a great contrast in temperature and texture from the polenta and the three components worked together in harmony.

I decided to serve a white wine with the dish as opposed to a red because I find that strong tannins in red wines typically clash with spicy foods. A fruity white is a much better match so I opened a bottle of the 2007 Mer Soleil Silver which is an unoaked Chardonnay from Santa Lucia Highlands, California. Despite the lack of oak, which usually gives a wine body and weight, this Chardonnay was naturally viscus and creamy.

It displayed aromas and flavors of ripe nectarine, tangerine and peach along with a zesty, spice finish. It was a perfect wine to celebrate one of America’s newest, most popular condiments and what sounds like a very interesting town in Thailand.

The holidays are such a busy time for me, as you all have probably noticed due to the significant increase in time in between blog posts. One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to return to my frequent posting schedule because it keeps things interesting, and I have a million new ideas for recipes and a lot of great wines to taste.

I did make a Christmas themed meal the week before the holiday but I was too busy to post it and my laptop was acting funny as usual. Thankfully, the day that I tried to post my “Christmas Present” blog I received a brand new laptop as my Christmas present. What I’ve noticed over the years of celebrating, is that everyone opens presents differently.

 I like to open Christmas presents early because I have zero patience, and even though I love surprising people, I can’t hold in the suspense. If I can’t make them open presents early, I will most likely tell them what I got them. \

Siobhan is a neat freak and slowly peels off the tape, and folds the wrapping paper into neat little rectangles, driving everyone crazy who is watching her. My brother rips through everything like the Tasmanian Devil, crinkling, tossing, and destroying everything in sight, sometimes cards included.

I decided to make a Christmas present themed dish by blanching some giant swiss chard leaves and using them as wrapping paper for some fresh trout filets.

I seasoned the white trout pieces and wrapped them in the dark green leaves, tying them with a bow of nori seaweed. I steamed the gifts in my three-tiered bamboo steamer, gently cooking the fish inside of the leaves, which ensured a moist piece of fish. I plated the tiny packages atop a slice of roasted eggplant and finished the dish with a “festive slaw”, made of julienned radish and Granny Smith apples. The combination of the spicy radish and the sweet, and juicy apple was a refreshing garnish for my delicate fish.

The earthy egglplant was a great base for the trout, especially with the dash of salty, umami-rich soy sauce that I drizzled on top. I opened a really cool wine called Jack, which is a French Chablis style wine made from California Chardonnay.

Only 100 cases of this wine is made per year. It’s a lightly oaked, high acidity, white wine with tremendous minerality and structure. The nose is filled with roasted pears, wet limestone, and citrus and the palate is round and fat with flavors ranging from apple sorbet to creamy Zabaglione.

 Now that 2011 is approaching quickly, I will have much more time to experiment more in the kitchen and update the blog on a more regular basis. Enjoy the holiday season and I wish for a healthy, happy, and hungry New Year for everyone! Cheers!