Rooftop Gourmet

The closest I’ve come to Hawaii is spending a week at the Disney Polynesian Resort, where I got up on stage and learned to hula dance as a four year old. I have always wanted to go to Hawaii but over the years, my reasons for making the trek have changed. Growing up, I was intrigued by the volcanoes and amazing beaches, but now I find myself completely captivated by the islands’ diverse cuisine.

The wild ingredients, fresh fish, and cooking techniques all seem to be a fusion of cuisines brought together by multiethnic immigrants over the years, particularly American, Asian, and Portuguese. One of the most traditional Hawaiian dishes is a kalua pig which is the equivalent to what we know as a pig roast. The kalua pig is typically the star of a Luau and it’s wrapped in banana leaves and slow roasted underground.

I wasn’t breaking out the jackhammer in Southie and digging myselff a hole in the sidewalk, so I tried to create a pork dish that would show off some of Hawaii’s contrasting flavor profiles. I love the balance that they use between sweet and spicy, and most of their traditional recipes have great contrasting textures.

I decided to slow roast a pork tenderloin, which is the tender, most delicate part of a pig. That sounds kind of strange referring to a fat animal that snorts around in its own poop as delicate, but believe me, when a pork tenderloin is not overcooked, it melts in your mouth. Why do you think you grew up smothering your pork in apple sauce? Well for one, pork and apples taste great together (as do most fruits), but also because it was overcooked. I remember chewing my grey pork for days at the dinner table, fighting to swallow even the smallest bites.

Now a days, we don’t have to cook our “other white meat” as we do chicken, because we know where our pigs come from, and what they eat. Pork should have a slight pink hue to it in order to remain juicy. Instead of apples, I decided to use plums as my fruit to compliment the pig. I seasoned the plums with Chinese Five Spice, which is a staple in Hawaiian cuisine and now one of my new favorite “reach for” spices in my cupboard.

It’s a blend of dried star anise, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and fennel seeds. It’s very aromatic and Christmas-sy. I sprinkled it generously on top of my raw plums and then gave it a zest of fresh tangerine peel before I threw it into my oven to roast.

Roasting the plums brings out the natural sugars and juices, forming a sticky, sweet sauce that oozes out of every slice. The spice mix and citrus zest combined with the sweet fruit would have been a killer dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I also made a paste in the food processor of garlic, fresh ginger root, and tons of macadamia nuts. This was going to act as my crust over the tenderloin as it roasts, to infuse flavors, add texture, and keeping the pig moist. I turned my oven way down to 300 degrees and let the pork cook slowly and gently. As the paste started to roast, the sweet garlic and spicy ginger perfumed the kitchen as the buttery nuts turned golden brown.

Thankfully, the tenderloin was cooking in a low oven because there were plenty of other steps involved to create this Hawaiian feast. I actually learned how to make sticky sushi rice for the first time. Surprise… it’s very similar to making regular rice except it’s extremely sticky. I stuck my fingers in to taste whether or not it was over cooked and I pulled my hand out covered in white specks. Most of Hawaii’s meals are served over a simple patty of rice so my goal was to form this ball without making a huge mess.

I failed miserably and found small kernels of rice stuck all over my body (don’t itch your face when rolling sushi rice). Siobhan rinsed her hands in rice wine vinegar which completely wiped all of the stickyness away. I also made a pineapple-habanero sauce to drizzle over the juicy roast and add a slight kick to the meal. I started off by sauteing some shallots in butter along with a halved habanero chili and some cubes of fresh pineapple.

As the fiery chili roasted, you could smell the sweetness in the skin, and the burning fire in your nostrils. I tamed some of the heat with a glug of honey before I pureed the sauce. It was quite ironic drizzling the sauce over the plate because it actually looked like a thin applesauce.

When my internal meat thermometer read 145 degrees, I pulled my roast from the oven and let it rest. The meat is still cooking even though it’s out of the oven, so a ten minute nap will bring the meat up five degrees. I thinly sliced the delicate tenderloin trying to keep the crumbly, nutty crust in tact. I plated a few slabs on top of the sushi rice and adorned it with the pineapple-habanero sauce and a few slices of roasted five spice plums. I paired this Hawaiian meal with a German Riesling from esteemed producer Dr Loosen.

The 2007 Dr Loosen Ursiger Wurzgarten Kabinett from Mosel is a terrific wine with Asian cuisine and spicy food (I just spent 20 minutes trying to find out how to get those cool, German dots of punctuation over the “U’s” on WordPress with little success) Typically, you’ll see most pork dishes paired with medium bodied, fruity reds like Malbec, but in this case the pig is delicate and has lots of spicy flavors swarming around your palate. At around 8% alcohol, this Riesling is rather sweet, but not overly syrupy like some dessert wines.

The grapes are grown in red clay soil at a wicked high elevation creating a clean, minerally wine. The nose is spicy and fruity with an odor that smells like frozen honey. There is tons of acidity, with flavors of lime and tropical fruit. The touch of sweetness helps calm the heat in the sauce and wakens all of the flavors in the spice rub. I have never quite experienced an earthy white wine, but I can truly taste hints of the soil in the finish despite how crisp and refreshing the acidity is.

The juicy pork melted in your mouth and the crispy Macadamia nut crust was loaded with roasted garlic and ginger flavors. Hawaii is also famous for SPAM… ground pork in a can, which this dish was the polar opposite of. The pig was definitely still the star, but when dressed with all types of flavors from different cuisines it brought it to a whole new level… so good that I was tempted to break out the hula moves that Minnie taught me 23 years ago.

Wood has played an integral role in winemaking and in various types of cuisine throughout time. From Early Man, first learning to cook their food over a wood burning fire, to pit masters using Mesquite chips to smoke and flavor their brisket in the South. Wine would not be what it is today if it weren’t for French and American Oak barrels that add all sorts of characteristics and flavors to the juice.

Those subtle, rich vanilla nuances in your Cabernet… missing. The fleshy, buttery body that your California Chardonnay possesses… bye bye. The smoky, cedar and cinnamon stick finish in your elegant Pinot Noir… gonzo. Wood is such an important component in wine because it helps balance the fruit and tannins.

Last night I decided to make a dish, and use a technique that was said to be developed in the Pacific Northwest. The cuisine in Oregon, Washington, and Alaska is nowquite diverse but there are still many Asian and Native American influences. Pacific Northwestern cuisine contains a alot of fresh salmon and shellfish that is usually smoked or roasted on cedar planks. In one of my very first blog posts, I used this technique with an empty cigar box that I had laying around the house.

I took one whiff of the box and knew that it was made of Spanish Cedar. The smell is so distinct and rich. It reminds me of a walking into a sauna or slipping into a cedar hot tub. A while back, I bought some pre-cut cedar planks from Whole Foods, so I soaked them overnight in salted water which keeps them from burning on the grill.

Salmon is a full bodied, oily fish that takes on the smoke so well without getting over powered. This is one of the easiest preparations to do and your guests will be so impressed by how moist and flavorful the fish comes out. I removed the planks from the water and patted them dry with some paper towels. The spicy cedar notes were already perfuming my kitchen while I oiled up the top side of each plank.

 I arranged a landing pad of thinly sliced lemons on one side of the plank for the salmon to rest on. As the board heats up the zesty lemon keeps the fish moist and gives the fish some acidity.

 A sprinkle of salt, cracked black pepper, and a few sprigs of fresh thyme from my garden, and they were ready to make their way to the grill. I preheat my grill full blast, but then turn it down to about 300 degrees before I slide the planks to the back. You want the fish to cook slowly, as it absorbs all of the smoky flavors with the hood of the grill closed. Within seconds, the entire neighborhood was popping their heads out of their windows and coming out on their roofdecks to see where the smell was coming from.

The strong cedar aromas filled the air and my grill looked like it was sending smoke signals. This is something that you could prepare ahead of time if you’re having a dinner party, so when your guests arrive, all you have to do is throw the planks on the grill. Believe me, they will be intrigued by the smokiness and you won’t even need plates.

Just when the salmon filets were slightly firm, and medium rare on the inside, I finished them with some more fresh thyme and a touch of butter to add some richness and to marry the woodsy aromas. I removed the planks from the grill and took them inside to let them rest. I made a quick side dish of sauteed garlicky spinach and shaved fennel. I thought that the sweet garlic and the licorice flavors in the fennel would pair nicely with the smoky fish.

The flaky, pink flesh broke away quite easily and was loaded with cedar notes. The peppery thyme, and roasted lemons definitely lightened it up and added the liveliness that the dish needed. Since I was using wood to add flavor to the fish, I chose a wine that uses French Oak barrels to add flavor to the juice.

 The 2006 Clos du Val Pinot Noir spends one year in new French Oak which gives the medium bodied red a smoky, spicy character. The nose is full of black cherry, strawberry, and who would have thought…cedar! The silky texture of the wine in your mouth is what really impressed me the most. I wanted to swish it around on my tongue all night without swallowing because the tannins were so soft. Flavors of cherry, strawberry and cinnamon were clearly present and the finish had a slight twang of crystallized ginger.

A Pinot this multi layered and complex was reminiscent of a fine red Burgundy. It complimented the slow roasted salmon perfectly. There are some nights when a wine pairing turns out great, and then there are nights like this when the pairing is simply magical. This meal gave me a better appreciation for what wood can do for you. I wanted to run outside and hug a tree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The French have always turned their noses up at Americans for their use of processed condiments. While I can see their point about condiments masking the flavor of the actual food, that is exactly what makes jarred condiments American. America was built on making everything bigger, faster, and easier. Why waste thirty minutes in the kitchen making homemade sauce, when you can just open a jar? If opening a jar is too much work for you… squeeze some ketchup out of a tiny packet.

If fast food chains didn’t slop mustard, mayo, ketchup, and “secret sauce” all over their burgers, the consumers might realize that they’re eating crappy meat. Americans were taught that the flavor is not in the food but rather in the condiment (which depending on the cook, may be true). Now that salsa has surpassed ketchup as America’s #1 condiment, people are putting it on everything and eating it by itself. Who said a chip was a food? Chips are gross by themselves, so why not use a chip as a utensil to eat your condiment.

If your kids don’t like the food that you put infront of them, parents are telling them to just put bbq sauce on it and eat it. We’re training Americans to dislike the actual food they eat, and giving them remedies to fix that problem in jars… or even squeeze bottles! While I am an advocate for creating delicious homemade sauces and salsas, I must admit, I am also American.

 I still slather Guildens hot and spicy all over my Fenway Frank, make homemade bbq sauce with Heinz 57, and my “dipping everything in blue cheese” habit has gone Oriental in the form of “Sriracha squirting”. Recently, I have discovered my new favorite condiment which has been on tables in China for many years.

 Black Bean & Garlic sauce is a popular Chinese condiment that is widely used in its cuisine to flavor all types of foods. After blowing through two jars in the month of July, I decided it was time to make my own from scratch. I sent my daring fiance over to the Super 88 (Asian specialty food supermarket) in search of some hard to find ingredients. Believe it or not, Black Bean & Garlic sauce is not made with black beans at all, or at least not with the black beans you’re used to eating. Douchi is the name for fermented soybeans that are used to create this sauce.

Fermenting and salting turns the soybeans black, mushy, and dry and gives it a strong salty, pungent, and bitter flavor. They aren’t very visually appealing but they taste delicious. After roaming around a giant supermarket with everything written in a different language for hours, Siobhan located the douchi as well as some rice vinegar, and brown rice vinegar.

I got home from work and put the trusty blender to use. I rinsed the gunk off of the fermented soybeans and tossed them into the blender along with ten cloves of garlic, a few spicy, Thai chilies, soy sauce, both vinegars, and some hot water. In no time, the brown sauce was silky smooth and creamy. Again, this sauce is far from picturesque but believe me when I tell you that it is a whirlwind of flavors in your mouth.

I picked up some of the largest littleneck clams that I have ever seen, in order to make a classic Cantonese dish… Steamed clams in black bean and garlic sauce. We washed, and scrubbed all of the grit off the outside of the clams and if we had more time we would have soaked them overnight in cold water and cornmeal. The live clams actually eat the cornmeal and it helps them regurgitate any impurities they have inside their bellies.

Turning a mouthwatering condiment into a sauce is so incredibly simple. We basically took a few spoonfuls of the black bean and garlic paste and threw it into a warm pan with some canola oil and a touch of water. After a few minutes of whisking a smooth, bubbly sauce appears before your very eyes.

That is when I added the littlenecks and placed the lid on for them to steam. The longer the clams take to pop their lids open, the more aromatic and thick the sauce gets. It is almost impossible not to peek underneath the lid and grab a taste of the sauce.

Once the clams opened up to expose their meaty insides, I tossed them around so that the sauce snuck into every crevice. We plopped the pan down infront of us and with a sprinkle of shaved green onions, and a good tear of chewy bread we had ourselves an amazing meal. We sat at the counter, fighting over the juicy clams, and using their shells as spoons to slurp up every last drop of the black bean and garlic sauce. The rich, earthy flavors were so new and exciting, unlike any other condiment we were ever accostomed to.

It was bitter, salty, spicy and earthy all in one bite. We washed down the shellfish with a frosty pint of Japan’s oldest brews. Sapporro brewery dates back to 1876 and has been making top quality Bavarian style beers in Japan ever since. Once you dip your lip through the foamy head, the beer is crisp and refreshing with a slightly yeasty finish. Sometimes, you just need to leave the cork in the wine and bust out an ice cold beer to wash down something as salty as this dish… especially when you’re constantly licking your fingers and rifling through paper towels.

Ironically, I spooned a ton of my homemade Chinese condiment back into an empty mustard jar for later use, but I promise you that this sauce is something that even the snobbiest French foodies would appreciate.

Last week, we left the city and spent a few days house sitting in the burbs for my family. We got to spend some time with Gino, our new Golden Retriever puppy and cook an extravagant meal in my parent’s kitchen. My family doesn’t have as an adventurous palate as we do, so since they were gone, I wanted to make something that would typically never be seen in their kitchen. We walked Gino, or more like Gino walked us, down to John Dewars on Linden street, which is where I get my meat when I’m not in the city.

 They have the best quality meat around and they also stock some unusual ingredients. I went inside in search of foie gras. Foie gras is the controversial ingredient that is most commonly made in France. It is the fattened liver of a duck or a goose, and it is extremely delicate and expensive. The reason it has been so controversial is because of the process in which it’s made.

 Gavage is the technical name for the technique used to fatten the birds up when they are young. It involves jamming a tube down the bird’s throat and force-feeding it corn, five to ten extra times a day, in order to fatten the birds’ liver. Even though the technique dates back as far as 2500 B.C, and the animals don’t have a gag reflex, you can see why some people consider it inhumane.

 Whether you find it disturbing or not, the flavor of the foie gras is incomparable. Its rich, buttery yet delicate texture is a real treat, and I can see why it’s so expensive. Because it’s so rich, I only bought a small amount in order to make an appetizer portion for the two of us. Some people prefer their foie gras molded into a pate’ or a terrine, but I think it tastes the best when it is pan seared. Traditionally, seared foie is served with toast and some type of sweet sauce, usually made with berries to balance out the richness of the liver.

 Siobhan started baking early in the morning when I left for work the day before, because I had an idea in mind. She went out into the backyard and snipped a bunch of fresh sage from my mother’s garden and bought some fresh blueberries. I am not much of a baker, so I let her do her thing and I came home to a giant loaf of blueberry-sage bread. The loaf was dense and moist, studded with plump berries and swirled with a chiffonade of woodsy sage. The combination or herbs and berries was new and exciting.

I decided to dredge a few slices of the homemade bread in a beaten egg and make an insane French toast. After all, foie gras is a delicacy in French cuisine, why not let it rest on a bed of French toast? I slowly toasted the bread in a non-stick pan and got my foie gras out of the fridge. Because of its high fat content, you really don’t want to handle the liver too long because it will melt in your hands.

 Letting it melt would be an expensive mistake so try to keep it melting in your mouth and not in your hands. I let my pan get smoking hot before I even brought my foie near it. This was judgement time and I was getting a little nervous because if you sear it the wrong way or leave it in the pan it could literally disappear before your eyes. It was like trying to sear a pat of butter. The one inch thick slice of liver hit the pan and the whole kitchen started to sizzle, I quickly flipped it over after a few seconds and started basting it with all of the fat that had already rendered out of it.

 Before I knew it, the foie had shrunk in half and it was seared, and warmed throughout. I plated it atop my blueberry-sage French toast and garnished it with some blueberry compote that I had leftover in my freezer. Since the foie is super rich, I sprinkled some minced lemon zest on top just to cut through some of the fat and keep your palate fresh and clean. Our forks slid right through the warm foie and each buttery bite dissolved on our tongues. Classically Foie Gras is served with Sauternes, which is a French sweet, dessert wine. 

We opened a half bottle of Muscat de Saint Jean de Minervois or otherwise known as the poor man’s Sauternes. Just as syrupy and delicious but for a fraction of the cost. This dessert wine is served chilled, and it perfect to pair with belt-poppinly rich foods such as foie gras and Roquefort blue cheese. It is made from the Muscat blanc grape and is full bodied and sweet.

There are tons of beautiful flavors or ripe apricots, mangos, quince, and honey. It looks like a bottle of melted 24 carat gold and the finish is long and luxurious. I don’t know what filled me up more, the Muscat or the foie, but we definitely needed some time before I started our main course. Just when you thought I couldn’t make anything more intense than a foie gras appetizer, John Dewars runs a special on two pound Wagyu beef “long bone” chops! Obviously, I couldn’t pass that up so I grabbed one for myself and a more human-like steak for Siobhan.

Wagyu is one of the most flavorful grades of beef because it’s fattened and lazy, making the meat intensely marbled with flavorful fat. The cow’s diet consists of chestnuts and beer which I guess is a little bit better than corn through a tube. I obviously didn’t want to mess around with the magnificent flavors of the beef, so I simply seasoned it with salt and cracked black pepper and I rolled the bone in tin foil so that it wouldn’t burn on the grill. While I seared this giant sledge hammer, I went inside and made a quick goat cheese mashed potatoes with a sprinkle of chives. I cooked the long bone to medium and plopped it down with a mountain of mashed. I opened a bottle of 2008 Orin Swift’s The Prisoner because it it has enough raw power to stand up to this massive chop.

The red blend consists of primarily Zinfandel but also has traces of Cabernet, Syrah, and Petit Syrah. This is an explosion of fruit in your mouth! The ripe berries and the new French oak swarm your palate, followed by a soft tannic finish. If I didn’t have such an over the top steak on my plate, this wine would kick its ass and take its lunch money. If I was alone, I would have picked it up like a lollipop and eaten it like a Flintstone. Even Dino (I mean Gino) got to gnaw on the bone (that was the size of my forearm) after I was done with it. Yabba Dabba Do!