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.

Whenever I have trouble thinking of something new and creative to make for dinner, my Irish heritage shines through and I typically fall back on a meat and potatoes dish. As beautiful as the simplicity of a great steak and a fresh spud can be, I needed to spruce up last night’s dinner with a little last minute flair.

My wife called me to suggest picking up sushi take-out for dinner while I was already in the checkout line at Whole Foods. I wasn’t planning on blogging, rather slapping two strips on the grill and calling it a night  but sitting in traffic with sushi on my mind got me thinking creatively.

I knew that I had a few sheets of Nori at home, burning a hole in my cupboard so I figured that I would incorporate a sushi ingredient into a rather boring meat and potato, weeknight meal.

Nori is the dried seaweed wrap that is typically used to hold together a Maki roll. They come in rather large sheets and when they receive moisture they loosen up and become incredibly pliable. On a nutrition level, Nori is incredibly good for you. The seaweed is ridiculously high in protein (44g. per 100 grams of Nori), and dietary fiber (36g. per 100 grams of Nori), not to mention healthy levels of potassium, calcium, zinc, iron, and vitamins A, B, and C.

In terms of flavor profile, like many Asian ingredients, Nori is a whopping mouthful of the fifth, sensory taste, Umami.

Other Umami-rich ingredients include soy sauce, fish sauce, mushrooms, fermented soybeans, and especially heavily marbled red meats. So what better way to pack a punch of Umami than to wrap an entire NY Strip in Nori? It was my own little play on “Maki”, which is the term for a sushi roll that is wrapped in Nori.

Technically, my dish has nothing to do with sushi, but the concept of wrapping, or coating my protein in seaweed was enough for me to borrow the term. I sliced three sheets of the dried Nori which looked like glossy alligator skin, into small squares and put them into my spice grinder along with a handful of whole black peppercorns.

I roughly pulsed the mixture and “dusted” my strips with the jet-black powder creating a not-so-classic, classic Steak Au Poive, or in this case, Au Nori-Poive.

The crystal-like shards of seaweed gripped and clung to the fat-laced protein and glistened in the overhead light.

While the steaks came to room temperature on the countertop and took some time getting to know their new rub, I prepped the potatoes. I freaking love potatoes. I can’t live without them. My wife is a rice girl and doesn’t understand my potato infatuation.

Although rice probably would have been more appropriate “sticking”with the sushi theme, like I said, I had already purchased some baby, Yukon Golds. I started fooling around with one of them on the cutting board, slicing them paper-thin, while considering maybe a classic baked Au Gratin, when suddenly my knife stopped about 1/16th of an inch before the base of the spud.

I continued this procedure until the entire potato kept its round shape, with hundreds of little “slits” running throughout the whole. When I fanned out the wafers with my thumb, the potato looked like a baby armadillo.

I decided to dowse them in olive oil, salt, and pepper and roast them whole, the way that I would if I were making a simple roasted potato. About halfway through the cooking process, after the slits opened up a touch wider, I topped each with a pat of butter so that it slowly dripped into each and every nook and cranny.

When the grill was hot, I tossed my black steaks on the grates and eagerly watched what would happen to the previously roasted seaweed. One thing that I noticed is that it formed an incredibly crispy crust and kept the inside of the steak impeccably juicy. The Nori seemed to lock arms with each other and encapsulate all of the beef flavor inside the strip.

I also grilled some halved, spring onions that served as a base for my beef. The charred, bright green stalks are one of my favorite accompaniments to steak. I happened to have a few jumbo shrimp in the fridge as well, so I opted for a surf and turf meal. After all, it was a sushi-themed meat and potatoes dish.

I just sautéed the shrimp in a fiery chili oil and used the langoustines to garnish my Steak Au Nori. When all was plated and devoured, I didn’t know which aspect I should rave about more… the Nori steak or the armadillo potatoes?

Both were so amazing! The steak was perfectly cooked and when I sliced it thin, the rich crust gave a beautiful texture and the juicy beef literally melted on my tongue. The Nori was subtle but completely enhanced the beef flavor without any threat of overpowering. The potatoes were crispy on the outside and soft and buttery towards the middle.

In an attempt to prolong the enjoyment, I slowly sliced each wafer off one by one and ate them individually like saving the last couple potato chips in the bag because you just don’t want it to end. The spicy shrimp was simply an over-indulgence but enjoyed nonetheless.

I paired this dish with the “hot-off-the-press”, 2010 vintage of the St. Cosme Cotes du Rhone; one of my favorite producers in the Rhone Valley because the winemaker is not afraid to bump up the levels of Syrah. In fact, I believe that this vintage is pretty close to 100% Syrah. To me, Syrah gives off an almost Umami-like flavor, with notes of roasted red meat char, bacon fat, and Balsamic vinegar reduction. These elements are exactly what I taste in this wine.

Along with some dark blackberry and blueberry fruit, balanced with some sharp acidity and silky tannin. Big enough to hold up to a grilled NY Strip, but still delicate enough to let the subtle Nori flavors shine through. There is even an intriguing taste entwined in the myriad of flavor during the finish that I couldn’t quite put my finger on; almost mushroomy, or of roasted seaweed-like but hey… my head was elsewhere. After tonight, I have a new appreciation for the intricate complexity of Nori, sushi, and a whole jar of Nori-Peppercorn dust that I’m ready to sprinkle the magic on whatever protein makes its way into my kitchen. Possibly even a late-night popcorn snack for starters. It’s good for me right?

The South End just got a whole lot more convenient… and organic! In order to prevent complete carnivorous and primal weeknight dinners, my continuous trips to the Butcher Shop were typically followed by another stop at a grocery store or market to grab some fresh vegetables. Just recently, Siena Farms from Sudbury opened a year-round Farmstore adjacent to the Butcher Shop.

This almost-one-stop shopping has made my life so much easier! It’s a tiny little shop, about the size of my bedroom closet but they make great use of the space and constantly stock fresh produce that changes with the season and whatever is fresh.

Here is their mission statement about their produce, “Siena Farms’ produce is grown using the traditionally sustainable farming practices of modern organic agriculture; free of chemical herbicides, pesticides, and synthetic fertilizers. The soil fertility of our fifty-acre farm is built annually through the use of natural composts, cover crops and certified organic fertilizer, which together supply valuable nutrients to the farm’s soil – and thus to your produce”.

The other night, I made my way over after work to find something to make for dinner. They had so much amazing produce that I couldn’t resist grabbing a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I picked up some fresh artichokes (which I hardly ever cook due to the annoying prep work), watermelon radish, and some homemade Burrata cheese. So random… I know. I felt like I had just opened my wicker basket on an episode of Chopped and had to make a decent meal out of three outrageously different ingredients.

I stepped into the Butcher Shop and gazed intently into the glass doors, mesmerized like the little girl in the Poltergeist. The wheels started turning and a few light bulbs went off before snatching a couple of homemade venison sausages. It can be quite hard to create a dish around a type of cheese but I felt that the venison sausage could work well with the Burrata.

Whenever I serve a type of game meat, such as duck or venison, I feel that it’s beneficial to balance it with something sweet on the plate. I happened to have a jar of fig jam that I thought would work perfectly with both the creamy cheese and the deer sausage.

After peeling, trimming, and prepping the artichokes, I dipped them in acidulated water to keep them from turning brown. Once they were completely dry, I roasted them in the oven until each and every leaf of the heart was brown and crispy.

I also roasted the watermelon radish which I think is one of the coolest vegetables visually and in terms of taste. From the outside, it’s white and hairy, just absolutely gross looking. When you slice into it, it looks exactly like a baby watermelon! When eaten raw, it has a fruity, spicy and peppery note to it, and when it gets roasted and sprinkled with sea salt, they become buttery and rich.

After caramelizing handfuls of onions, I placed the Burrata on top of the golden brown pile and warmed it in the oven. Burrata is a special type of cheese that I can’t resist buying whenever I see it (obviously).

In terms of how it’s made, it starts off very similar to fresh Mozzarella. When it’s still quite soft, the ball of cow’s milk cheese is actually injected with heavy cream or Marscapone to make it even richer and creamier. So when you slice into it, instead of a firm Mozzarella, the cheese is softer and oozes with an intense, rich, creamy flavor. It’s like the “over-easy” version of a ball of Buffalo Mozzarella.

I roasted the plump venison sausages in the oven gently so that the casings didn’t burst, and the delicious juices didn’t run. The outside achieved that crispy, “pop” and the inside was still moist and medium rare (being venison, it was okay to undercook the sausage slightly). The Butcher Shop added some lovely spices to compliment the game meat, such as what I believe was nutmeg, cinnamon, or clove.

I served the sliced venison sausage around the gooey Burrata, topped with a sticky, fig jam. Surrounding the meat were the crispy chokes, colorful radish, and some refreshing celery leaves.

This whimsical dish was rather hard to muster up a pairing, but I ended up popping a wine that I had been saving for quite some time. The 2005 Francois Gaunoux Pommard La Tavannes from Burgundy France was my wine of choice. Red Burgundy (Pinot Noir) is considered to be some of the most intriguing, complex, and elegant wine in the entire world. It is also extremely versatile when it comes to food pairings.

This wine was somewhat light but had tons of earthy, funky characteristics combined with ripe strawberry and raspberry fruit that balanced nicely with the gamey venison and creamy cheese. The subtle spice notes in the finish rounded out the experience and gave this seven year old wine some serious credibility. The warm ball of Burrata oozed with gooey cream that was stipend by the sticky jam and then mopped up by a slice of crispy sausage.

One amazing bite after another, concluded with a crispy contrast in lieu of a roasted artichoke heart. Surprisingly, a spur of the moment stop in my new favorite, year-round farm stand turned into an incredible meal. How could it not when the produce is this fresh? At least I’ll save money on gas because I won’t be making more than one stop on the way home from now on!

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!

This time of year, I’m lucky to have enough time and energy to turn on the stove let alone create some intricate, time-consuming blog dinner. It’s clearly the busiest time of year for retail wine sales (I’m not complaining) and it’s hard to even take a deep breath until January 1st. I still wanted to get something on the plate/blog from now until Christmas so I limited myself to just a few ingredients and just a few minutes in the kitchen.

I picked up some baby, super sweet, yellow tomatoes, spinach, and fresh diver scallops; three ingredients, relying on anything else I had leftover in my fridge and pantry. I aggressively ripped open the package of tomatoes, sliced the last clove of garlic I had, a pinch of salt, pepper and a glug of olive oil, all tossed into a small pan and popped into a 375 degree oven. I felt like I was in the middle of a Top Chef, quickfire challenge except the prize wasn’t $5,000 but rather an extra thirty minutes relaxing on the couch.

I roasted the tomatoes until the paper thin skins wilted and they started to slowly implode. Once this occurs, the pan gets filled with sweet tomato juice and it starts to reduce and thicken into a beautiful, bright orange tomato sauce.

The liquid and the extra virgin olive oil creates a syrupy, garlicky emulsion, perfect for a simple, quick sauce. In the meantime, I sautéed some baby spinach with oil and lemon zest and got my sauté’ pan screaming hot for my diver scallops. These scallops were huge and smelled incredibly fresh and sweet. Before I seared them in the hot pan, I made sure to pat them dry with a paper towel to make sure all of the excess liquid is gone to prevent the scallop from steaming as opposed to searing. This is the best way to achieve that dark brown, caramelized crust.

This literally takes two minutes. Don’t even think about turning your scallop… just let it sear until it’s cooked all the way through. You’ll appreciate the beautiful sear by demonstrating severe patience and flipping restraint.

That’s it… dinner is served. Arguably the easiest meal that I’ve ever made on the blog. I garnished the scallop with a spring of fresh chervil and dusted the pile of spinach with some lemon zest.

It took literally 12 minutes from start to finish and left my wife in shock that we weren’t sitting down to eat at ten o’clock again. To celebrate the fact that despite being exhausted, we were able to sit on the couch, watch a Christmas movie, and still be in bed by 10pm, I paired this simple dish with a bottle of Prosecco.

The Voveti is one of the few Proseccos made in the brut style, which is much drier than typical Prosecco. I wouldn’t classify Prosecco as sweet by any means, but it tends to be fruiter than a classic Brut Champagne. This D.O.C “bottle of bubb”, is bone dry and crisp with flavors of granny smith apples, lemon, and yeasty bread dough. Light and refreshing to celebrate the simplicity that was on the plate in front of us. The sweet scallop rested upon the warm, acidic yet slightly rich sauce and the bitter greens were freshened up with the hints of lemon.

Unfortunately no time to hit the kitchen means no time to hit treadmill as well, so this meal was perfect for a late December special. Stay tuned for the most decadent, lavish, over-the-top New Years Eve dinner party in the history of New Years Eve dinner parties. Happy holidays to all and may your stomachs and glasses always be full!

This past Wednesday couldn’t have been a more miserable day in terms of weather. The rain was blowing sideways, it was finally cold enough to wear a coat, and the sky was laden with dark, grey clouds. A perfect day for an adventure! I called the Butcher Shop on a whim and ordered 2 whole rabbits. A typical Wednesday afternoon right? We had dinner plans with my friend and his girlfriend that night and I wanted to put some extra work into preparing a dish that we normally wouldn’t serve.

My friend and I studied abroad in Italy together back in 2004, and I remember ordering a braised rabbit dish in the town of Trastevere, Rome and like I do more than I probably should, tried to force him to take a bite. He’s much more adventurous now and quite frankly he didn’t have a choice; I was making rabbit. I hadn’t actually cooked a rabbit since culinary school, but once I got the little bunny on my cutting board, it was just like riding a bike.

Rabbit is a pretty simple animal to understand. As intimidating as it sounds, visually it’s rather elementary. Just by glancing at it, you know where the hind legs are, you know where the front legs are, and just inside the ribcage is the loin. It’s also an extremely lean animal so there isn’t a lot of work to do in order to find the meat. Since I was cooking the rabbits whole, there was very little butchering to be done.

I removed the heart, kidneys and liver from the cavity and set them aside for bigger and better things; the liver is perfect for finishing my Bolognese sauce to give it a creamy, earthy layer of flavor.

Thankfully, we received the mothership of all Le Crusset pots as a wedding gift because these were not small bunnies and there is no chance that they would fit in the standard dutch oven. Our massive, fire engine-red, 15-quart pot can feed a family of 40 and I’m pretty sure it’s the same size as my wife’s largest suitcase. I actually had to turn on both front and back burners in order to get the entire surface hot enough to sear the bunnies.

I seasoned the rabbit with salt and pepper and sizzled them away in the pot, flipping only once, until both sides developed a dark, golden sear. I then removed the rabbits and set them aside while I built the layers of flavor, starting with the basic aromatics.

A classic mirepoix of carrot, celery and onion hit the pot along with a few smashed garlic cloves. You don’t want to rush this step, because this is where you really create the foundation for your braise.

Let the mirepoix caramelize, harmonize with the crusty rabbit bits stuck to the bottom from the sear, and sweat until completely soft. At this point, I added an entire bottle of dry, white wine and let it reduce until all that was left was about a half cup of liquid.

This burns off the alcohol, deglazes the pot, and concentrates the flavor of the wine. I decided to serve my braised rabbit in a fresh pasta with mushrooms, so in order to enhance and compliment the mushrooms I used a quick mushroom stock in the braise. I use this same technique when making mushroom risotto. I take dried, porcini mushrooms and rehydrate them in scalding hot water.

After about ten minutes the water is dark brown and rich with loads of umami.

I carefully returned the two rabbits to the pot and laid them gently on their side. All I could think of was the Bugs Bunny cartoon from when I was younger, where Elmer Fudd had Bugs in the large cauldron of boiling water. Sure enough, Bugs outsmarted Fudd by ladling the soup onto the hot coals and putting out the fire before he eventually escaped. Thankfully these guys were staying put for a solid 2.5 hours in a 325 degree oven.

I added some chicken stock, the intensified porcini liquid, and a bouquet garni that contained a few sprigs of thyme, rosemary and bay leaf before the lid was sealed and into the oven it went.

While the rabbits were braising away, I had plenty of time to get ready for my guests. I planned on serving a fresh pasta which, despite my ambition with the protein, I didn’t actually make myself.

I bought some fresh linguini from my friends at Nella Pasta, a local company specializing in fresh ingredients grown in neighborhood farms. I also picked up some golden chanterelle mushrooms, which along with morels and truffles are among the highly esteemed fungi in the culinary world. They’re meaty, fruity and woody and when cooked in fat their flavor elevates to a whole new level.

Sticking with a rustic, hunter-style meal, I chose to serve a wine exhibits that same profile. The 2008 Felsina Chianti Classico is one of my favorite producers from the heart of Tuscany.

The bright, young cherry fruit intermingles with earthy, herbaceous notes and there’s a long, dry finish that has a pleasant, wet tobacco characteristic. A simple yet complex Chianti is a perfect match for a bowl of fresh pasta with slow cooked game and mushrooms.

Once the rabbit meat was falling from the bone, I removed them from the pot to cool and this is where the real tedious part of the day started. I strained the braising liquid into a sauce pot and started reducing the rabbit/porcini stock into a sauce.

In the meantime, I hovered over the counter and began picking the tender rabbit meat from the skeleton. Everyone says that rabbit tastes like chicken and I don’t disagree completely. It tastes almost like chicken thighs that are slightly more oily and gamier. Personally, I think that rabbit has more flavor than chicken but to each his own. So it turns out that the two massive rabbits that I picked up about five hours earlier only yielded one quart of pulled meat total. HA!

Our guests arrived and there were no cute little bunnies, no remnants of rabbit, just a tupperware container filled to the brim with succulent braised meat. I opted not to show them the “before” pictures until after dinner was served. I tossed the fresh linguini into boiling water for only a few moments and warmed the rabbit meat in a skillet with some of the reduced braising liquid.

When the pasta was cooked, I added it to the pan along with some fresh thyme and a healthy spoonful of butter. Crank up the heat and the stock and fat emulsifies into a silky rich sauce that coats the pasta, causing it to glisten and causing my guests to start drooling. I finished it with some freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese for a tangy, nutty kick.

We sat down at the table, lit some candles and listened to the rain crash against the siding of the condo. At that very moment, after a warming and rewarding sip of the elegant Sangiovese, there was a sense of comfort watching the long noodles twirl around the diners’ forks. The flavor of the rabbit with the intense porcini sauce and the melt-in-your mouth texture of the fresh pasta was just what I needed on that dreary day. It turns out that instead of forcing my friend to try a bite of the rabbit, I actually had to force him not to lick his plate at the dinner table.

Christmas Season at my house starts the moment Thanksgiving ends. My wife is like a little elf, running around turning our tiny, 900 square foot condo into the North Pole. Garland, Poinsettia plants, ornaments, nutcrackers, cinnamon scented pine cones, and stockings are just a few of the decorations that transform my kitchen into Santa’s Workshop. When I get the holiday spirit flowing through my body (which it’s hard not too at home), I start thinking about meals that remind me of this time of year. A roast is something that I associate with Christmas-time because of all the warming aromas that come from the oven throughout the entire process, and they’re usually big enough to feed an entire family or large group of friends.

Not too long ago, I was leaving my friends Bachelor party in New Orleans and through my mid-hangover beer goggles, I glanced at the cover of an issue of Bon Appetit magazine while stumbling through the airport.

Anytime a crispy pork product crosses my path, I tend to pay more attention. On the cover was a massive roast, wrapped in Prosciutto surrounded by beautifully caramelized apples and fresh herbs. It should be illegal to sell magazines like this at airport terminals because there’s no food like it during my lay-over in Columbus, Ohio.

I was in a rush to catch my connecting flight so I couldn’t buy the magazine, but that photo has haunted me ever since.

The other night, I set out to recreate that beautiful image that I have dreamt about ever since. I don’t know what the actual recipe is because I never got a chance to turn the page but in this instance, beauty is only skin deep (or prosciutto deep).

I put my own spin on the cover story, Prosciutto wrapped Pork Loin with Roasted Apples with an audience of colorful, wooden soldiers cheering me on. I started by butterfly-ing my pork loin, which is essentially opening it up and turning it into a pork placemat which makes it easier to stuff.

I sautéed some baby kale and walnuts, lightly seasoned with lemon zest, salt and pepper and used this mixture as my stuffing.

I rolled the pork back up into a familiar cylinder and then wrapped the entire thing, in an even layer of salty Prosciutto di Parma. The only thing better than pork-on-pork is pork-on-pork-on-pork; but I didn’t go there.

Once you have a nice, snug and delicious package that resembles a pigskin, tie it up with butchers twine and slip some fresh rosemary in between the knots. I arranged my roast in a pan surrounded by local apples, cippolini onions, and a few garlic cloves. Into the oven it went, and before I knew it, the entire kitchen smelled like sizzling bacon, rosemary, and sage.

For my sauce, I sautéed some minced shallots and hit it with about a cup of dry white wine.

After the wine had reduced to a mere tablespoon of liquid, I stirred in a cup of heavy cream, a large spoonful of whole-grain mustard, and a pinch of nutmeg.

The sauce slowly thickened on the back burner and intensified in flavor as it simmered. The rich, creamy sauce was sharp with mustard and the hint of nutmeg made it slightly Christmas-y.

One of the reasons that I love pork so much is that it is extremely versatile when it comes to wine pairing. As flavorful as it is, it can be transformed into something light and elegant and served with a delicate white wine, or manipulated to stand up to a big, brawny red.

In this instance, I popped a bottle of the 2009 Owen Roe, “Ex Umbris” Syrah from Washington State. Winemaker David O’Reilly (who I’ve written about in the past) just got some crazy accolades for this wine.

It was rated 93 points by Wine Spectator and ranked #25 on the Top 100 Wines of the Year list. Deep plum and dark cherry perfume the nose while peppery, red fruit swarms the palate. It has a creamy, velvety texture and a resemblance to biting into a bacon-wrapped date! It’s very typical for the Syrah grape to have a meaty, bacon fat quality to it, which makes it one of my favorite grape varietals. Slight notes of anise and root beer on the finish that is breathtakingly long.

I pulled the roast from the oven and the crispy prosciutto was shimmering! I inserted a meat thermometer and the doneness was perfect, almost 145 degrees (add about 10 more degrees after resting). Slicing into this beast was breathtaking!

All of the different colors, smells, and textures were mind-blowing as ring, after ring, of pork heaven flopped onto the cutting board. Each slice was a work of art and it was so incredibly easy to assemble. I served a slice of the roast with some caramelized cipollini onions, a drizzle of the rich mustard sauce, and a sprig of rosemary.

The juicy pork was so tender and the center was filled with bitter greens and crunchy walnuts, making for a perfect contrast. The crispy outside was salty and held all of the mouth-watering juices inside. Siobhan and I (yes, it was just the two of us and our creepy nutcrackers) sat down at the table, with some Christmas music, a mammoth roast that could serve 12, and a bottle of the #25 wine of the year.

It was a perfect start to the holiday season and an even more perfect reason to get back to the gym. Hopefully the next cover of a magazine that catches my eye demonstrates some portion control.

Introducing the trendy dish of season! Pumpkin Mac & Cheese. It’s literally everywhere these days and every chef, blog, magazine, and cooking show wants to put their own spin on it; and that’s exactly what I did. I have to admit, whoever was the true Pumpkin Mac & Cheese originator was pretty brilliant.

Not only did they take one of the most iconic American, home-cooked dishes, throw in some seasonal flare, and make it unique, but they captured the culinary worlds’ attention and caused a massive, gooey, cheesy, pumpkin-y phenomenon. It’s just plain hard to read the words, “Pumpkin Macaroni & Cheese” and not stop in your tracks. The two things have never gone together before yet both sound so damn good together.

With the artisanal, gourmet mac & cheese craze still booming, and the pumpkin beer obsession on the rise, this combination of flavors, texture and spices is nothing shy of genius. I know that I am not alone when I say that when I first saw a recipe for this, I said to myself, “why the f@*# didn’t I think of that”! Okay… I’m jealous, but my stomach is now extremely full and I am completely satisfied.

I went out to buy two medium sized pumpkins because the ones that we used to decorate our front doorstep got smashed. Surprise… welcome to city living.

All I did was slice them into six equal parts, removed the seeds and guts, and roast them at 400 degrees until they were completely tender. I threw the bright orange, steamy flesh into the food processor and pulsed away until I was left with my homemade pumpkin puree.

If you’re too lazy to do this, just grab a few cans from the grocery store, and if you’re really lazy, just ask someone else to open the cans for you. I promise you that the “from scratch” method produces a much tastier and healthier pumpkin flavor.

For my macaroni and cheese, (which wasn’t really macaroni at all) I used an orecchiette pasta which in Italian means “little ears”. Every time I cook with orecchiette I can’t help myself from grabbing one of the baby ears and re-creating my favorite scene from Reservoir Dogs , screaming into the little dried pasta, “Hey… what’s goin on? Can you hear that”?

As the pasta water was coming to a boil, I diced up some applewood-smoked ham to give the macaroni & cheese some extra flavor.

I started to make a roux, which is equal parts butter and flour, whisked together in order to thicken my cheese sauce. I essentially made a pumpkin Mornay sauce which is a classic French Bechemel with the addition of shredded cheese, and of course pumpkin puree.

I specifically chose four different cheeses for flavor, balance, and texture. I used a classic Gruyere because of its impeccable melting quality and nutty flavor. I used a bright orange Vermont Cheddar for its color, and its sharp flavor. I used a smoked Mozzarella for the intense smoky flavor which I thought would work nicely with the pumpkin and the autumn spices, and lastly a creamy, fresh goat cheese for a tart punch.

All of the cheeses were slowly whisked into the Bechemel creating a thick, ultra-rich, cheesy euphoria. I finished the sauce with some minced sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt and pepper.

I had a hard time keeping my fingers and utensils out of the sauce and trust me… it didn’t suck.

I poured the sauce all over the top of the al dente pasta and stirred it around with the smoked ham. It got spooned into individual and group-sized ramekins and then covered with homemade breadcrumbs.

I took some old bread, and pulverized it in the food processor with fresh sage and some nutmeg. A little melted butter brought the crumbs together into a golden, aromatic crust for the mac & cheese. Roughly thirty minutes in the oven, and the breadcrumbs were toasty and the cheese sauce was bubbling away.

I served this American classic with arguably one of the most exciting and popular grape varietals of the times; Argentinian Malbec. The 2010 Altos las Hormigas Malbec comes from Mendoza Argentina. In 1995 Alberto Antonini, a well-known Italian winemaker took a trip to visit the major viticultural areas of Argentina. He returned powerfully impressed by the potential of Malbec in the Mendoza region. Later that year he purchased 216 hectares of vineyards and Altos las Hormigas was born.

The project has turned into a huge success and his Malbecs are some of the best in South America. This one is a deep violet, purple color and rich with peppery spices. The wine is full-bodied and marries well with the “pumpkin” spices of the dish and the sweet pumpkin flavor in the pasta.

The bold wine has notes of mocha and coconut in the finish and is actually equally as rich as the cheesy pasta. The crunchy breadcrumbs add a contrast in texture and buttery flavor to the velvety orecchiette. I love how present the actual pumpkin flavor was in the dish and how well the smoky cheese and ham complimented the cinnamon and nutmeg.

As I expected from the very beginning, the person who came up with this idea is brilliant and should be awarded for his or her ingenuity and creativity. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

For how often they’re used, onions don’t get nearly enough recognition as they deserve. They’re the workhorses of the kitchen, creating basic framework for complex sauces, stews, or braises. What would the culinary world be without onions? As common as they are, onions are probably the most complex and versatile vegetable out there.

First off, think about all different varieties there are that come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors; Vidalia, Bermuda, Maui, shallots, cipolline, Inca sweet, Heirloom Red Wethersfield, Red Zeppelin, Texas Sweet, pearl, Walla Walla, Red Baron, and French Gray Shallots are just a handful. Similarly to how Cabernet Sauvignon grown in France tastes different than Cabernet Sauvignon grown in Washington State, onions are completely different depending on where they’re grown. It all has to do with soil. Ever wonder why chopping onions make you cry?

When they’re growing, the onions take up sulfur from the soil through their roots. Then, sulphuric compounds are formed and stored inside the cells. When these cells are disrupted (via slicing or chopping), new, highly volatile sulfurous molecules are created and exposed to air which causes you to break out in tears. So a sweeter onion doesn’t necessarily contain more sugar, it was just grown in a region that had less sulfur in the soil, making it seem less pungent and harsh.

The purpose of the onion’s strong, sulfury odor and flavor was to keep animals from eating the plants. It clearly didn’t stop humans from devouring them and using technique to change the way that the taste.

There are so many different ways to eat, prepare, and serve onions and some varieties are better than others for certain culinary techniques. You can eat them raw, grill them, caramelize them, pickle them, roast them, sweat them, or fry them; all culminating in a totally different finished product in terms of flavor, appearance, and texture. Think about biting into a raw onion and how drastically different it tastes compared to a spoonful of caramelized onions.

Cooking an onion transforms the vegetable’s chemical composition. Starches are breaking down into sugars, and the sugars themselves are breaking down, with disaccharides splitting into simpler, sweeter monosaccharides. Meanwhile, the onion’s moisture evaporates too, concentrating its newfound sweetness.

Cell walls break down and the onion loses its shape, transforming into a soft, jam-like consistency. The color of the onions change because the carbohydrates and proteins interact with the sugar, creating a dark brown appearance and a rich, meaty flavor.

Now that you realize that onions contain such a complex mix of sugars and aromatic compounds, it is easy to see why they provide the foundation of flavor to so many of the world’s cuisines. It’s transformative nature of these elements in onions that makes them among the most versatile, and inspiring ingredients in the kitchen.

Now that we got the brief science lesson out of the way, I can tell you about how I prepared onions in a way that I never had before.

Just when I thought that I had maxed out every possible way to cook an onion, I stumbled upon a recipe calling for onion puree’. I thought to myself, how the hell does that work, and began investigating.

I picked up a half-dozen large yellow onions, a couple of boneless rib eyes, and a few fresh herbs at the store and I was on my way back to the kitchen to turn roughly four simple ingredients into an elegant and complex meal.

I started off by thinly slicing all six of the massive orbs, and simultaneously bawling like a baby. My wife walked in and thought that either someone had passed away or I caught the tail end of Extreme Home Makeover. But then the sulfur tear gas knocked her in the face and she had to stick her head in the freezer. These were some pungent onions!

I slid the onions from the cutting board into a large sauté’ pan with a pat of butter and let the heat do its work on making them sweet. For this particular preparation, I didn’t want the onions to get any color so I constantly stirred them and kept an eye on the flame. Once they became soft, I added some chicken stock and water, and began steaming the onions for an additional 10 minutes.

Once they tasted sweet enough for my liking, but still retained some of that raw onion bite, I transferred them all to a blender and buzzed them into a creamy puree with just a touch of buttermilk. I kept the puree warm on the stove and seasoned it with salt and pepper while I got my grill blazing hot. I took a few mental pictures of my shiny grill before it gets covered in snow. There’s nothing worse than having to shovel a frosty path, and bundle up just to cook a steak in the dead of winter.

I popped the cork on a bottle of 2005 Chateau Dauzac Margaux and poured its entirety into a decanter because despite being six years old, a wine like this still needs time to open up and breathe. I immediately got whiffs of the wine’s perfume as you would a woman’s while passing them in a hallway and I was intrigued and excited. I finished up my steaks and plated a few slices with a dollop of the silky puree.

I finished the pink flesh with a few drops of 20 year old, aged Balsamic vinegar and a sprinkle of sea salt while the onion puree got some picked thyme, parsley and chive. Extremely simple, yet a complete dish with multiple layers of flavor. The buttery meat and the drops of sticky vinegar were loaded with umami and when combined with the onion puree it was a bite of comfort and desire. The onion flavor was all too familiar yet the texture and form it came in was very new and intriguing to me. As for the wine, a perfect match for this dish.

Some sweet fruit and toasted oak on the nose. The high quality of the vintage produced some serious backbone and firm, tannic core. Loads of dark black fruit, macerated plums, and hints of licorice and vanilla ice cream. A bone dry finish was wonderful with the juicy rendered fat in each bite of the heavily marbled rib eye. My onion adventure was complete and in the meantime, learned a ton about this special vegetable and all of its crazy powers. I will never look at an onion the same way again.

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