Rooftop Gourmet

On Sunday we drove to Dedham to check out the new Whole Foods at Legacy Place because we heard it was out of this world. I’m surprised Siobhan let me go knowing how I am in a regular Whole Foods, let alone an oversized culinary kingdom. I could tell she was getting a bit nervous on the drive over because she started firing out dinner ideas, hoping that one would click and we wouldn’t spend four hours wandering down every aisle.

I could tell she was getting even more nervous, almost desperate, when she said she was craving a big chicken Ceasar salad. This was coming from the only person I know who doesn’t like chicken.

At first, I tried to remember the last time I actually had a Ceasar Salad; probably at least ten years ago when a Ceasar salad was like a prerequisit for every entree I ordered. I thought about all of the wild things I’d find in this massive culinary Disneyland, and Ceasar salad sounded a little too “blah” for me. 

After wandering around aimlessly for about an hour, completely overwhelmed, and full from all of the sample stations, I admitted defeat. I was completley stumped as to what to make for dinner. I started grabbing Ceasar salad components and sadly tossing them into my basket. It wasn’t until I made it to the cheese department before a light bulb went off in my head. I could make the boring, old Ceasar salad fun again but deconstructing all of the salad’s and the salad dressings’ components, and putting a slight twist on the traditional recipe.

All of a sudden, I sprung to life and started floating through the supermarket tossing all sorts of items into my basket. I was a little disappointed that they didn’t have fresh sardines to grill, but the white anchovies were a decent substitute.

We left the Whole Foods monstrosity and headed home to bring this dish together. The first thing I did when we got home was get the chicken breasts marinating in tons of fresh lemon juice, Dijon mustard, salt and pepper.

 This has always been my go-to grilled chicken marinate because it brings tons of flavor and lemons and Dijon are typically always in my fridge. I cheated and brought out the blender to make the dressing. I dunno if I was just too exhausted from Legacy Place or what, but the whisk was giving me an evil look all night. I tossed all the ingredients in at once (one raw egg, a few anchovies, lemon juice, olive oil, a clove of garlic, dash of Worchestire, salt and pepper) and let the motor do the work. In no time, the Ceasar dressing was thick, flavorful, and set aside while I fooled around with the other ingredients.

I knew that I was going to be out on the grill with the chicken breasts anyway, so I figured that I’d grill the bread and the lettuce as well. Yes, I said grill the lettuce. This isn’t as strange as it sounds trust me.

Italians have been grilling leafy greens for hundreds of years. Grilled radicchio or endive with a simple viniagrette is excellent for antipasti. I broke down the major components that make a classic Ceasar a Ceasar… an egg, garlic, anchovies, Parmesan cheese, and croutons. At least that’s what I think of when I picture a Ceasar salad. I hard boiled a few eggs, I reserved a few halved cloves of garlic to rub or grate into my warm, grilled croutons, and I set aside a few more white anchovies to garnish the dish with. I spread the cheese out on a baking Silpat sheet in a flat circle and baked them slowly until they were crispy, but still pliable.

When they were still warm out of the oven I molded them around these cool glasses that were in the cabinet so that they would set in a wavy bowl shape. I headed out to the grill and as soon as it was as hot as can be, I threw on the chicken, bread and finally at the last minute, the whole heads of Romaine. The lettuce only takes a minute and the grill has to be extremely hot. Back inside, I started assembling like an artist would on a blank canvas.

I put all of the deconstructed components onto a bamboo serving platter, topped with the sliced chicken breasts and a drizzle of the homemade Ceasar dressing. This was a really fun dish to eat. Everything tasted very good separately, but when you started to combine different components, all the classic flavors of Ceasar salad started to come together. I contrasted this playful dish with a really serious white wine. The 2008 Rustenberg Stellenbosch Chardonnay from Stellenbosch, South Africa is one of my new favorite whites. This wine reminded me of a fine White Burgundy, but coming from one of the rising star, wine making regions of South Africa.

It was beautifully balanced with oak, minerals, acid and fruit. Tons of orange and lemon peel flavors, as well as nectarines and apricots. The oak isn’t too overbearing, but makes its appearance in the finish with a slight toasted almond flavor. It is elegantly creamy, but still has enough acidity to make it a great food wine. Certainly all of the components in this wine come together and merge beautifully, I wouldn’t dare try to take them apart.

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

I’ve never quite understood the motive behind an open faced sandwich. What is the point of removing the top layer of bread that classifies it as a sandwich in the first place? Is it a precautionary move for sandwiches with too much sauce? Was it created by someone who was trying really hard to stick to the Atkins diet? In Austria and Germany, where open faced sandwiches are common, liver, beef tongue, and head cheese are piled on top of slices of white bread. Wouldn’t you want to hide those stomach turning proteins with an extra slice of Wonderbread?

The reality of the open faced sandwich dates back to the Middle Ages when huge slabs of stale bread known as “trenchers” were used as dinner plates. After the meal, the food-soaked “trenchers” were fed to the dogs or to beggars.

Sunday afternoon was my last chance to have full access to my grill because the builders were coming Monday morning to start constructing our new and improved roofdeck, so I took full advantage of the space and cranked up the propane.

I gave some salmon filets a heavy dusting of ancho chili powder until the already pink flesh turned a deep brick red. The particular chili powder I used had a moderate amount of heat to it so I needed a sauce that would cool down the tastebuds without masking the flavor. Instead reaching for the sour cream, I chose the healthy alternative; 0% fat, plain Greek yogurt. Plain Greek yogurt is like a blank canvas that can transform into any type of flavor imaginable depending on what you add to it.

I have a slight obsession with the combination of chilies and limes. I snack on chili-lime almonds, I dowse my corn on the cob in homemade chili-lime butter, and I add a sliced Serrano chili to my Coronas. That being said, I decided to infuse the yogurt with the zest of six limes and the juice of one lime. After some salt and a slight whipping, the creamy yogurt was speckled with Celtic green and tasted citrusy and tangy.

As soon as my grill was preheated, I wiped down the grates and oiled them, which I usually do when I grill fish. It’s just an added security measure that I take to ensure that the fish doesn’t stick to the grates. Nothing frustrates me more than prying a beautiful piece of fish off the grill, only to watch half of it flake off into a pile of ashes.

 Smoky chili powder aromas filled the warm air as soon as the salmon hit the grill. I closed the lid and let the mouth watering smoke permeate the cast iron drum while I went back inside to slice the bread. Once the fish was flipped, I grilled some slices of Italian Ciabatta bread until the top was charred and crusty. I topped my trencher with a drizzle of quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil and my chili-rubbed salmon filet.

While the fish was still smoking hot, I drizzled the creamy, lime-yogurt sauce over the top and let it run all over the plate. I wanted to eat this sandwich so bad, I almost forgot to take pictures. Thankfully, the wine I chose had a screwcap because I wasn’t wasting any time with a cork screw. The 2007 Chateau Chateau “Skulls” Grenache-Mouvedre is quite the amazing wine. I can’t decide what’s cooler… the wine itself or the artwork on the label.

The optical play on the label is an illustration called, “Ship of Fools”, by artist Istvan Orosz. Up close, you see a black and white sketch of a man adorned in a robe, struggling to climb up two separate trees. His limbs are flailing just as much as the limbs of the trees are and he is dangling along the coast of some body of water. In the background, there is a tiny ship that seems to be transporting a nest of eggs in the water, but it also appears to be attached to the tree by a rope.

This is one of those optical illusions because when you back away from the bottle, all you can see is a giant human skull. If Salvador Dali and Robert Mondavi had a child, this is what it would look like. When I was done getting hypnotized by the label, I actually took a sip of this wine and was blown away. The way it felt on my palate was sleek and sexy. The texture was so smooth and velvety, and it was bursting with earthy cherry, and cranberry fruit. The color of the wine is ruby-red and it is medium to full bodied. The Chateau Chateau project is all about the study of soil and location. This wine was aged in 100% stainless steel in order to show off what Grenache tastes like when grown in the Barossa Valley, Australia.

This was definitely not the typical “fruit bomb” that I was used to when opening a Barossa Valley red. It has some serious Old World flair to it that is pleasantly approachable. Even though there is tons of fresh fruit up front, there is this underlying, earthy, mushroomy, forest floor thing going on in the background. Kind of like the illustration, there is something obvious in the foreground, but when you take a step back and really look at it, there is more complexity that is hidden in the wine.

It was perfect with the grilled salmon because it stood up to the bold flavors in the dish. The char from the grill was a great match with that earthy component in the wine. Every bite of salmon melted in my mouth and left my lips tingling, which was quickly cooled down by the zesty yogurt sauce. There was so much flavor in this open faced sandwich, you couldn’t have paid me to throw my trencher to the dogs.

Five years ago, I rarely ate seafood. I enjoyed it from time to time, but I never craved it like I do now. Probably because we didn’t eat much fish growing up, and I never really ventured out to cook it when I was living on my own.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when it was that I transformed into this seafood crazed diner but I have been much healthier because of it. Having a local fish monger that you trust is a big part of it too.

 I think that the reason most people say no to fish is because they’ve never bought, cooked, or eaten fresh fish. Whenever I leave the dock at Yankee Lobster in the seaport, I know for sure that I have the freshest fish possible.

After a week of red meat, take out, and dog food size bowls of pasta, I was craving a light, but flavorful dinner. I picked up two filets of freshwater trout, which is member of the salmon family even though they don’t have that distinctive pink hue to the flesh. I would classify trout as an oily fish as opposed to a light, flaky fish such as Cod. 

It’s texture is slighty firm and it has tons of flavor. Instead of pan roasting the fish in oil, I decided to poach the fish in a sweet Riesling wine. I tossed in a whole bottle of German Riesling, a few cloves of smashed garlic, some black peppercorns, parsley, thyme, and a few lemon slices. I simply brought the shallow pan of wine up to a slow simmer (roughly 220 degrees) and submerged my fish.

 I left the skin on one side of the filet to make sure it held together in it’s luke warm, wine bath.

 As the poaching liquid came up to temperature, it absorbed the flavors from all of the aromatics which get imparted into the fish.

 It was a relatively thin filet so it only took a few minutes for the fish to turn opaque. I removed the fish with a slotted spoon and tented it with tinfoil to keep it warm. In another skillet, I toasted some thinly sliced garlic and tossed in a whole bag of baby arugula. The bitter garlic and bitter greens wilted quite quickly and I finished it with a squirt of lemon juice and a pinch of salt.

I served the fish on top of the bitter, garlicky arugula and threw some boiled purple potatoes on the side. Purple potatoes are from South America and have the same flavor as a Yukon Gold, but for some reason they’re bright purple. This meal was about as light and healthy as you can get.

The flesh of the trout was a touch sweet from the Riesling and was perfect when combined with the bitter arugula. We opened a bottle of Chateau Ragotiere Black Label Muscadet to serve with this dish because it is an equally light, and delicate wine. It comes from the west coast of France in the Loire Valley, and is traditionally served with light seafood, and in particular, oysters. It is made “sur lie” which means it was bottled directly off of the natural yeast bodies or “lees”, without racking.

This means the wine is young, and fresh, and still has traces of carbon dioxide in it. The color of the wine is lemony, gold and it is full of chalky acidity. The flavor tastes like meyer lemons, limes, and wet stones. It is such an elegant, and delicate wine that pairs beautifully with poached fish.

I’ll admit… I used to walk by packages of dried Porcini mushrooms in the grocery store and think to myself, “WHY would anyone want to eat a nasty, crunchy, dried mushroom”? They looked like little satchels of bark mulch that I used to stomp around in at recess.

Then one day in culinary school, I actually learned how to prepare them the right way. From that day on, I realized that it is virtually impossible to get as much mushroom flavor and essence out of a fresh mushroom than it is from a dried one. The intensity of woodsy, earthy, fungus-y deliciousness is multiplied and compact into a gnarly little dried root looking thing that comes alive in hot water. It reminds me of the little 25 cent toys I used to beg my mother for on the way out of the supermarket that you dropped into hot water and they “magically” transformed into a dinosaur or a washcloth.

 The onset of Spring jam-packed our calendar this week so once we were able to finally take a deep breath, we sat down for a simple, yet comforting dinner.

For most people, risotto is a long, grueling task that quickly turns into an afterthought in the 7 minutes it takes to make rice pilaf. For us, it’s a slow paced, relaxing dinner that requires essentially no prep work and minimal clean up. On the way home from work, I picked up some fresh and dried mushrooms, and a few sea scallops to combine the fruits of the land and the sea into one nourishing dish. Everything else I needed was already a staple in my kitchen, including my loving risotto stirrer.

I always have a jar of risotto rice on hand in my pantry for times like these. Risotto rice is a very specific type of rice called either Arborio, Carnaroli, or Vialone Nano.

The name risotto translates to “little rice” because it is short-grained and extremely high in starch. These rices have the ability to absorb liquids and release starches so that they are stickier than other long-grain varieties. Unlike other freelance Italian cooking techniques, perfect risotto requires extreme precision and care.

While Siobhan started the sofrito (sauteing finely chopped onions in butter), I quickly sauteed a variety of wild mushrooms in a separate pan with some freshly snipped thyme from my rooftop herb garden. I also soaked a handful of the dried Porcini mushrooms in hot water and let them rejuvinate. This technique not only produces rehydrated mushrooms, it leaves you with a rich mushroom broth, that’s dark as night.

Once the Porcinis have come back to life, I remove them from the broth with a slotted spoon and transfer them to the food processor for my secret trick. I pulse the dried mushrooms into a thick, dark, mushroom paste that gets stirred into the risotto about halfway through the cooking process to intensify the mushroom flavor. This extra burst of flavor is what turns great mushroom risotto into incredible mushroom risotto. After the onions become translucent, Siobhan added the Carnaroli rice straight to the pot and stirred it around so that each and every grain gets coated with the butter.

This step in the process is called tostatura, because you’re essentially toasting the short, chubby grains before the liquid is added. Next, you want to hit the pot with some type of liquid, typically white wine because it adds flavor, and acidity.

We added some dry white wine, along with a splash of nice Cognac because we wanted to infuse some of its rich, caramel, vanilla undertones into the earthy dish. This is when you crank up the heat a bit and let the liquid reduce before slowly adding the broth, ladle by ladle. Siobhan used the leftover broth from the dried mushrooms, along with some canned mushroom broth that we had in the back of the pantry. This is the part of the process where you literally have to glue your feet to the floor below the stove and never walk away.

Gently adding hot stock to the pot and constantly stirring, loosens up the starch molecules on the outside of the rice grains and ships them into the surrounding liquid, creating a smooth, creamy texture. During Siobhan’s forearm workout, I added the homemade, dried mushroom paste to the pot, which instantly gave the risotto to a dark, mocha hue to it. After about twenty minutes, and constant seasoning and taste-testing, the risotto was almost al dente. At this point, I added the fresh mushrooms and removed the pot from the heat to prepare it for the mantecatura stage.

This consists of the addition of butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano, along with vigorous whipping to make the texture as smooth and creamy as possible. While my stirrer was whipping away, I seared a few fresh sea scallops in a skillet until one side caramelized and sweet. We plated the wavy risotto in a tiny bowl and topped it with a perfectly seared scallop and a tiny drizzle of the ever so aromatic, White Truffle oil. This earth meets sea comfort delight was steaming and begging me to dig right in. The truffle awoke all of my senses, and the first bite seemed to magically dissolve on my tongue like a thin piece of edible silk.

The mushroom flavor was predominant, but the nutty Parmigiano and rich Cognac were not far in the background. I popped a bottle of 2004 Cascina Roera Vigna San Martino Barbera d’Asti from the Piedmont region of Italy, where risotto is most abundant. From the second the cork slipped out of the neck, the Nebbiolo smell was permeating the room. This is one of those wines that is so proud of its roots that one whiff of the glass, and you just know where it came from. Aromas of black cherry and herbs, with a brick red color to the wine are pleasantly inviting. The alcohol percentage on this wine is surprisingly high, but after it’s open for a while, the boozy taste blows off, leaving you with soft tannins and gorgeous fruit. There is a decent amount of acidity, and the flavors are a combination of cherries and cranberry, with a gutsy, mocha finish.

This wine was excellent with the risotto because of its natural flavors and because some bottle age added to the earthiness of the dish. The risotto was so lavish and rich that I wanted more but couldn’t possibly take another bite. It was probably a good thing that this risotto sent us both into a food coma on the couch because we missed all of the Boston sports teams get their asses handed to them.