Rooftop Gourmet

Challenge ONE: For the very first Project Food Blog Challenge, we’re asking you to create a blog post that defines you as a food blogger and makes it clear why you think you have what it takes to be the next food blog star. Consider what makes your blog unique and sets you apart from other food blog brands: is it your foolproof recipes, your mouthwatering photos, or your perspective on family meals? Write a post that comes from the heart and is true to you and your blog.

I was walking off the golf course today, kicking myself in the ass for three-putting the eighteenth green, and a friend of my father whom I haven’t seen in at least five years approached me and said, “Hey Mike… I’ve been reading your blog religiously. Awesome stuff! But why do you put yourself through all that? It seems like a lot of work”? I thought for a moment and then looked him dead in the eye and said, “practice makes perfect”. Ever since I was young, I’ve wanted to be the best. The best at every single thing I did. I wanted the best score on my spelling test and the coolest book report diorama. In high school, I wanted the the lowest ERA and the hottest girlfriend. In college, I was probably the best at chugging beer and polishing off an entire large pizza at two in the morning. Now that I’ve grown up, my priorities have changed, but my cut throat mentality has not left my soul. I ran a marathon because I wanted to impress a girl, and now she’s my fiance’. My new goal is to be the best possible husband I can be, but I know that it’s not possible without practice. Nothing is. Tom Brady doesn’t get thrown into the starting roll, win a Superbowl, and then just fall off the deep end. He works at it day in and day out, studies film, takes care of his body, because he wants to be the best quarterback that ever lived. That’s exactly the reason why I have what it takes to be the next food blog star. There are one million different food blogs out there today, and they’re all a dime a dozen. What separates me from all others is that I want it more. I can say that food and wine is my passion until I’m blue in the face, but my blog says that for me. I need to go out and make a reservation in Chinatown, study the pH levels of soil, taste two different Syrahs from different countries, and stay up all night reading about how to make calves brains delicious. It’s my relentless desire to learn, and my wacky imagination that sets me apart from other food bloggers. I push the envelope with every blog post, whether I’m making my first ever bowl of Vietnamese fish head stew, or pimping out your grandmother’s meatballs. No matter what crazy idea I submit to Rooftop Gourmet tomorrow, I promise you that there will be something for everyone. Some people enjoy the creative writing, the flow, or the goofy ways that I describe a hunk of pork fat. Others learn from the techniques, flavor profiles, or wine knowledge that I’ve acquired from culinary school, restaurant life, and working in the wine business. Most of my friends enjoy the inside jokes and pop culture references, when secretly I’m trying to teach them how to maneuver around a great bottle of Pinot Noir. Heck… some people don’t even know how to read, but they know that there’s always a hefty dose of food porn in each post. Dropping my old camera into a pot of simmering Bolognese was the best thing that ever happened to my blog. I bought a new one, read a book on food photography, and now even I can’t believe some of the shots that seem to magically appear on the lens. I strive to make every single post drastically different and better than the last. It definitely doesn’t feel like work to me when I’m learning, having fun, and writing in a tone that is true to my own voice. My rooftop kitchen and gorgeous roof deck are my culinary sanctuaries. In the words of Carole King and the Drifters,

“When I come home feelin’ tired and beat
I go up where the air is fresh and sweet (up on the roof)
I get away from the hustling crowd
And all that rat-race noise down in the street (up on the roof)
On the roof, the only place I know
Where you just have to wish to make it so
Let’s go up on the roof (up on the roof)

I have accepted the fact that I’ll never be perfect but I refuse to stop practicing no matter how many beef consomme’s I have to clarify or how many bottles of Premier Cru I have to drink. The following is a compilation of photos from some of my most memorable blog posts and why they made an impact in my mind.

Green Tiger Tomato Salad: This really opened my eyes to how amazing a backyard tomato off the vine really tastes.

Pretty much speaks for itself… 3-inch thick, Prime, Bone-In Ribeye that would make Flintstone jealous.

Local Coho Salmon Roasted in a Cigar Box (Cedar Plank): Here I utilized an old cigar box and discovered the amazing pairing of smoky salmon with stellar Pinot Noir.

One of my most memorable food blogging moments. I made a “heart attack” bacon wrapped meatloaf with creamy Gorgonzola sauce paired with Chris Ringland Shiraz. Chris Ringland himself, arguably Australia’s most famous winemaker, got a hold of the post and recreated the entire dish in his own kitchen 10,000 miles away and sent me the pictures!

Roasted Littlenecks in Homemade Black Bean and Garlic Sauce: I really stepped out of my comfort zone and bought some fermented soybeans to create this classic Cantonese comfort food.

Mmmmm….. Bone Marrow! I made a rosemary-bone marrow compound butter to compliment a dry aged sirloin that was perfect with a 2005 Bordeaux.

One of our first meals on our new roofdeck. Chili rubbed Ahi Tuna with Seaweed Spaghetti Salad.

Used my favorite vegetable (broccoli rabe) and made one of the best pizzas ever!

I live in Southie! St. Patrick’s Day is insane. I made a twist on corned beef and cabbage by spooning over an Irish Whiskey Zabaglione.

One of the many nights I spent in a food coma on my couch… I made three different gourmet grilled cheeses and paired them with three different craft beers. Seen here is the Gorgonzola Pumpernickel.

Siobhan wanted Ceasar Salad… I deconstructed it…

I don’t know why, but this open faced, Chili rubbed Salmon sandwich with Lime Yogurt hit the spot in my food memory bank.

I perfected my wild mushroom risotto by rehydrating  dried porcinis, and using the “stock” to flavor the dish. Not to mention the 2004 Barbera was a hit.

I will never forget my first trip to the Super 88. I made a Beef Shabu Shabu hot pot with a scalding hot Dashi broth. Siobhan and I huddled over this baby with our chopsticks and slurped the night away.

One of my most detail oriented, refined dishes. Proscuitto wrapped Lobster Tail with Vanilla Bean scented Turnip Puree paired with a French Viognier.

Rosemary Rack of Lamb with Lemony Chick Pea Puree and Spring Herb Salad… great way to kick off the season.

My first ever 100% Kosher dish. Eggs Benedict for Passover.

One of the many snails that went into my baked Escargot Gratin for Valentine’s Day. Too bad there was too much garlic butter involved to get a kiss in afterwards.

Grilled Shrip Tacos with Watermelon-Feta Salsa: I love street food, and I love fish tacos.

Potato Gnocci with Braised Oxtail Ragu: Rich, comforting, and shows off my obsession with “low & slow” braises.

One of my most memorable food and wine pairings. Slow Roasted Porchetta with Fennel Salad and Apple Brandy Sauce paired with one of my favorite wines. Avignonesi Vino Nobile di Montelpulciano. A match made in heaven!

Best Christmas Present Ever! My father “over-nighted” a fresh white truffle from Alba, Italy. I spent the next week shaving it all over everything in sight!

Pan Roasted Black Cod in Saffron Chowder and Crispy Proscuitto: My first time playing around with different textures and flavors from Spain.

My favorite Italian pasta dish… Carbonara with my own butter poached lobster twist. The Pouilly Fuisse was a great match.

The first time I truly felt confident cooking a piece of fish to perfection. Pan Roasted Cod with Tarragon Hollandaise.

Linguini with Fresh Fava Bean and Lamb Ragout. A hearty red from the Rhone during a snow storm and I turn to mush.

Asian Beef Tacos on my birthday. This shows off my love for entertaining and feeding the friends and family that I love to be around.

Check Back for Details on How to Vote for Rooftop Gourmet in the Foodbuzz “Project Food Blog” Challenge.

This past week, I’ve been on vacation spending some relaxing time down the Cape with ”Hurricane” Earl and hanging out in the city. Even though Cape Cod is as far south as I’ve ventured this past week, the other night I whipped some a good ol’ southern chicken n’ biscuits to get ready for the New Orleans Saints NFL kickoff game of the week. I figured that it was blog-worthy since they are the defending Super Bowl Champions (now I’m starting to think that I jinxed myself because Tom Brady got into a car accident this morning).

Being away from work all week is boring as hell so I spent a greater portion of the afternoon making homemade pickles and braising chicken thighs.

Chicken and biscuits (or chicken and waffles) is a southern tradition that usually involves frying the chicken. I wanted to put my own spin on the dish by making it a bit healthier and a tad more interesting by taking the it to the island of Jamaica mon.

I went to the store and bought a jumbo pack of chicken thighs for about $1.69. I love chicken thighs because the meat is darker and more flavorful than the breast meat. When you slow cook the thighs in their own juices, the meat takes on a rich duck-like flavor.

I simply seasoned the thighs, with the skins still attached, with salt and fresh cracked pepper before searing them in a screaming hot dutch oven. The fat in the skin and bones releases into the pot and makes the skin golden and crispy. Just when I obtained a quality sear, and crunchy skin, I removed them from the pot partially cooked. I then cranked up the heat and threw in my mirepoix (carrots, celery, and onions) along with some smashed garlic cloves and let it sit in the pot to get some nice color.

Eventually, I was going to strain everything in the pot to make my sauce, so I wanted as much flavor to caramelize on all of the veggies as possible.

Once soft and dark, I deglazed my pot with some white wine, letting it simmer away to concentrate flavors. I did the hokie pokie and put all the thighs back in, almost covering them with some chicken broth.

A few torn basil leaves, and the basil flowers went in as well before I popped the lid on and threw it into a 325 degree oven to braise away. Slow and low with help the meat tenderize and fall off the bone with ease. In the meantime, I got started on my pickles.

I freaking love pickles… not just your typical pickles, but pickled everything. What most people don’t realize is that you can pickle all sorts of other vegetables such as onions, cauliflower, carrots, asparagus… you name it. You can even pickle fish and eggs if you want to. The act of pickling is a form of preservation as well as flavoring. Not only does it give veggies a sweet, tangy, acidic snap, but it also makes them last for weeks! As basic as possible, a pickling solution is sugar that is dissolved into vinegar, boiled, and steeped over whatever it is you want to pickle.

The proportions vary, as well as other ingredients that you can add to give your pickles flavor, spice, sweet or sour.

For this dish, I made pickled red onions, for their beautiful pink color and tang, and pickled chilies for some heat. I boiled some white wine vinegar, white wine, sugar, black peppercorns, mustard seed, coriander seed and a few dried bay leaves until all the sugar was dissolved. I tried smelling the concoction but it burns your nose and makes your eyes water.

After five minutes of simmering, I let it cool slightly and poured it over my red onions and chilies. The pickles take on the flavor of the concoction the longer they sit in the brine, and the chilies lose some of their power, but still pack a mean punch. I wanted some type of vinegary pop to the slow cooked, braised chicken that would give it some life that it needed.

 A few hours in the fridge and they were good to go. After an hour of waiting impatiently for my chicken thighs, I pulled it from the oven and threw the pieces into a bowl to cool down. I took all of the natural jus that was left in the pot and strained it through a fine mesh strainer and into my sauce pot.

The braise yielded about two cups of liquid which I was very excited about. I let it simmer away and reduce to concentrate the natural chicken flavors. Even without making a quick roux, the sauce was thick, dark and gravy-like. Instead of finishing the sauce with some Cognac (like I do at Thanksgiving) or Marsala, I opted for the Rastafarian route. My friend Chris just returned from Jamaica a few weeks ago and brought me back a rare Jamaican dark rum called Blackwells.

This rum is the brain child of famous record producer Chris Blackwell, the man who found and produced Bob Marley. From Reggae to Rum, Chris has transitioned smoothly. His rum is aged and as golden as some of Bob’s records. The smooth, fragrant rum has flavors of coconut, molasses, and flambeed brown sugar.

I poured about a half of a cup into my natural chicken jus and let it simmer away to incorporate the flavors. The result was a trip! The authentic, warming flavors of homemade chicken soup combined with some sweet island flare. I couldn’t wait to pour this all over my pulled thigh meat! I removed the skins from the thighs, and thinly sliced them into fine strips.

 I got my hands dirty, fishing around for bones and cartilage, and successfully managed to remove everything from the succulent meat. I have never seen chicken so moist and flavorful in my life. Just to add another twist on the southern treat, I folded in a handful of torn basil leaves to the chicken meat. The combination of fragrant basil and juicy chicken was awesome, especially when I dipped a chunk into the rum laced jus. The combination of basil and coconut flavors in the rum was reminiscent of a Thai curry.

Since my baker was back at school this week, I relied on the Pillsbury Dough Boy for my baking portion of this meal. One thing I am good at is following directions on the outside of a metal tube. I sliced the warm, flaky biscuits right of the oven and adorned a half with a mound of my pulled chicken thigh meat. I went into a trance while spooning the aromatic jus over the top, watching it slowly drip down the side and become absorbed by the biscuits like a sponge. Fresh from the fridge, I topped the chicken with a heaping handful of tangy pickles and cracked open a 16oz. “tall boy” of Red Stripe Lager. The braised chicken thighs literally melted in my mouth as the Jamaican Jus kept the meat damp and flavorful. By the time I got down to the foundation biscuit, it had transformed into a sponge that tasted like a rich rum drink. “Could this be Love”, I thought as I washed down my Jamaican brew to aleve the fiery kisses of the pickled chilies. Man I can’t get enough…. kinda like Chicken & Biscuits!

 On another note… my friend Leigh from Nella Pasta was selected by Daily Candy to be a finalist in a small business entrepreneur contest. Her homemade pasta company that her and her partner Rachel started about a year ago has really taken off. They focus on using all organic ingredients from LOCAL farms. If you get a chance, please vote for them here… so that their dreams of making it big can come true.

http://www.dailycandy.com/startsmallgobig/vote.html

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salsa Verde or “Green Sauce” is something that is used in many different countries and cuisines. The green-ness refers to the color of the ingredients in the sauce, rather than the sustainability of the ingredients. Italian salsa verde is like a chunky pesto with the addition of capers and anchovies, while Mexican salsa verde is made from roasted tomatillos and jalapenos. Every country has their own version of “green sauce” and it’s a great way to freshen up any dish.

Consisting mainly of fresh herbs, and some type of acid, the sauce can transform a rich, hearty ingredient into a light, summery meal. With a heat wave upon us, I was craving a dinner that would satisfy my red meat craving, yet keep me from sweating and feeling gross. I decided to make my own, “not your average” salsa verde by combining different green ingredients from all different cultures. Basically this was an American Salsa Verde because it was new, fresh, and a giant melting pot of ingredients.

I started out a base of finely minced shallots and garlic. This sauce is served raw so make sure to get those knives working hard because no one wants to bite into a large piece of raw garlic. The next ingredient I tossed into my mixing bowl was edamame. Edamame is a Japanese, immature soybean that is boiled or steamed in the pod. You usually see them on the tables of sushi joints, served as an appetizer because they’re a simple snack that is packed with nutrients. They have the texture of a fresh lima bean and the color of Kermit the Frog. The next ingredient I added to the mix was some thinly sliced haricot vert; France’s elegant version of green beans.

 Haricot vert is the fancy term that the French gave to the slender, chop stick sized green beans. Unlike the American version, the haricot vert are half the size and uniformly straight. I thinly sliced the long beans and added them to the bowl to give a slightly firmer texture and flavor.

 I then rinsed off some capers (a component in the Italian salsa verde) and tossed them into the mix to bring a salty, briny pop to the sauce, along with bunches upon bunches of chopped fresh, Italian flat-leaf parsley. The parsley really brings all of the ingredients together and makes the sauce light and fresh.

 Lastly, I chopped up a handful of fresh mint to add another element of flavor and freshness. Mint is to the Greeks, what basil is to Italians… they put it in everything! I rounded out the sauce with some high quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil, fresh lemon juice, salt and pepper. I stirred it up until it reached the salsa-like consistency that I was looking for and I let it hang out on the counter for a while so that all of the flavors could meld together and meet one another.

 In the meantime, I boiled some baby Yukon Gold potatoes and tossed them with some butter and sea salt as well as prepared my skirt steak. As you have probably noticed, I eat a lot of skirt steak. It is clearly my new favorite, wallet happy, flavorful alternative to pricey rib eyes and dry aged sirloins. It looks like an accordion and is sometimes referred to as the beef diaphram.

 It comes from the “plate” section of the cow, right below the ribs of the animal. What is lacks in tenderness it makes up for big time in flavor, you just need to learn a few simple tricks in order to make it seem tender. Skirts are usually marinated, pounded, or slow-cooked to tenderize them, but simply grilling and slicing on the bias works just fine. If you picture the long, stringy grains of muscle all flowing in the same direction, you want to hold your knife perpendicularto them. Breaking up the strands by thinly slicing makes it easier to chew as opposed to a mouthful of rubber bands. I seasoned my skirts with salt, freshly cracked black pepper, and some balsamic vinegar for some sweetness. They only take a few minutes on the grill, so you really have to let your grates get glowing hot before plopping them down.

 Once the steak had some time to rest off the grill, I sliced it and poured my beautiful, bright green salsa verde all over the top. Each random component glistened in the golden olive oil and slid down the side of the skirt. I topped it with a small salad of picked whole parsley leaves, mint leaves, lemon zest and sliced Fresno chilies. The Fresnos gave the dish a touch of heat that balanced out all of the other bold flavors in the sauce. I chose to pair this steak dish with a unique wine from an up and coming growing region in the United States.

The 2007 NxNW Walla Walla Cabernet Sauvignon sounds like it would come from a place the Muppets would live, but Walla Walla is actually a grape growing appellation of the Colombia River Basin in Washington State and Oregon. The NxNW stands for North by Northwest, and is a collaborative project created by four distinct wine makers who are blending grapes from different plots of land in the area.

The idea is to focus on a single grape varietal and showcase the different ways it is affected when grown in different terriors. It’s a perfect wine for this “not your average” salsa verde because just like the sauce, it has Cabernet grapes that were grown in all different vineyards blended together to create something magical. Of all the wines, I have ever seen, NxNW hands down has the most informative label. It has everything from the select vineyard sites and percentage of grapes from each, to the type of soil and dates of harvest. The wine was a dark purple color and surprisingly chewy for a low alcohol Cab. It was apparent that the fruit was the main focus in this wine.

Cherry, plums, and black raspberries flood your palate with hints of oak and roasted red peppers. After the third or fourth sip, the wine opens up and takes on a sharp cola flavor. The intense fruit played nicely with the char from the grill and the tannins were smooth enough not to overpower the light salsa verde. Thankfully we weren’t eating outside on deck in the 100 degree heat because this wine was big… too big to drink when sweating through your clothes, but perfect with this dish in the air conditioning.

Last week, I had a few friends over for a family style dinner including my friend Dave who recently moved to Chicago. I wanted to make something that had a connection to his new city and to the unforgettable, family-style Italian dinners thrown by his grandfather… some of my earliest food memories. Growing up with Dave was great, because every so often he’d call me up and say, “hey… want to go eat at Pa’s”? It was one of the most exciting events of the year.

If you’re eating at Pa’s… you better bring your appetite because there is never any shortage of food. We would roll into his Italian Cantina, or private basement kitchen with six hungry guys, and he’d have enough to serve twenty. The entire industrial range would be swarmed with pots and pans, filled with homemade sauces that had been simmering for what seemed like days.

Platters of Italian cold cuts, antipasti, and freshly baked bread covered the giant oak table in the heart of the kitchen. The smell of his signature Amatriciana sauce catches your nose, he greets you with a smile and a hug, and instantly you feel like part of the family. Pa is an amazing cook but when I think back on the countless feasts I’ve endured in his kitchen, it’s not the amazing food that sticks out in my mind.

 Rather, it’s his demeanor in the kitchen. He is an entertainer, and you can see it in his eyes, he truly loves having everyone around. His generous warmth and love for sitting down at the table and eating, laughing, and drinking together is so apparent. Pa’s Cantina is definitely where my love for cooking and entertaining developed. Being around family and friends and watching them eat and enjoy your food is one of the most rewarding feelings for me.

No wonder Pa would plop another bowling ball-size meatball on my plate, even after I loosened my belt. Now that Dave was stopping by, it was my chance to recreate that family-style dinner feel in my own kitchen.

 It appears that Dave brought some of the windy city with him to Boston, because the monsoon-like conditions outside made a slow cooked meal sound even more enticing. When I think about Chicago cuisine, it’s all about the sausage. From Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago, to Upton Sinclair’s shocking novel, The Jungle, about the citys’ meat packing district.

 I immediately ran over to the Butcher Shop in the South End to pick up a few links. The Butcher Shop makes their homemade sausage the old school way. They buy whole hogs, grind up the pork and spices, and pipe the mixture into the natural casings… absolutely delicious!

I love that they link the sausages together they way you’d see them hanging in a storefront in Italy, or toying with a dog in an old Tom & Jerry cartoon. I brought the links home and hung them from my kitchen cabinet where they dangled away like a savory wind chime. I wanted to keep everything whole, and rustic, all roasting away together in one pan so I didn’t do much to my ingredients.

I gave my roasted tomato sauce a simple base of garlic and shallots, which I smashed, and sliced. I set my oven to 350 degrees and the stage was set. I pulled out my giant roasting pan, big enough to fit a suckling pig, and gave the smashed cloves and sliced shallots a head start in the oven. I wanted to ensure that the sweetness of roasted garlic and caramelized shallots came through in my sauce. Once they obtained a rich caramel color to them, I tossed in three dozen vine ripe, cherry tomatoes that were about the size of a Titleist Pro V1.

 Roasting whole tomatoes in the oven brings a whole new flavor to the ballgame. It’s so much different than making a sauce from a can because you’re using fresh tomatoes that pop, wilt, and stew in their own natural juices. When you throw in a few other simple ingredients, like shallots, garlic, and fresh herbs the result is comfort food at its finest.

After the tomatoes had popped and softened up, I took the pan from the oven and gently pressed down on them with my tongs, just to release the rest of the liquid. I placed the entire chain of links right into the roasting pan along with some fresh rosemary, oregano and thyme that I snipped from my garden. Back in the oven it went, where we could forget about it for an hour, giving us more time to catch up. The woodsy aromas of the fresh herbs and sweet garlic filled the kitchen as we poured some more wine and hung out over the stove. Typically, you wouldn’t think to use such strong herbs such as rosemary and oregano in a tomato sauce, but in this case, the dish is hearty and rustic. Save the basil for the delicate marinara sauce.

As the sausages roast in the bed of tomatoes, they release their flavorful pork fat drippings into the pan and add another element to the sauce. When the links were cooked through, I removed the pan one last time and finished the sauce with a healthy glug of 25 year old Balsamico. The syrupy vinegar adds more depth and sweetness as well as some striking acidity to help cut through the pork fat. I dumped the sauce onto a platter, and gave everyone a plate and a tear of chewy bread. The skins of the sausage were nice and crispy, perfectly encasing the moist, juicy meat. That signature “pop” of every bite made me smile. The sauce was packed with flavor, totally deserving an equally special wine.

I opened a bottle of 2004 Col D’Orcia Brunello di Montalcino, a wine that I have a special connection with. During my first trip to Italy in 2001, my family visited the small town of Montalcino and got a chance to swing by the hillside, Col D’Orcia estate. There we met with the winemaker, and got a tour of the facility followed by an amazing lunch on the back porch. We were privileged to be able to taste the highly acclaimed 1997 Brunellos before they were even released to the United States. Spending four hours at the table with my entire family, throughout a twelve course meal in the heart of Tuscany wasn’t a bad afternoon. Brunello translates to “nice dark one”, in the local dialect and is the unofficial clone of the Sangiovese grape. It is known as the King of Tuscany due to it’s complexity, power, and price tag.

 Brunellos are often compared to the fine Pinot Noirs of Burgundy because of their smooth tannins, and ripe, fruit driven character. The wine is a deep ruby color, with loads of plum and raspberry fruit, impeccably balanced with slight nuances of oak. The tannins are so smooth, that the wine just rolls off your tongue as masterfully as the Italian language. The wine’s striking acidity makes it food friendly and inviting. As most great Tuscan wines do, this Brunello has faint aromas of cherries and fresh herbs, and a sneaky licorice taste on the finish. This mini family-style feast would make Snooki and the cast of the Jersey Shore jealous…. and the Brunello is far better than Ron-Ron Juice. We even had a slight “Situation” when I burnt my arm on the roasting pan, and I dropped my camera into the bubbling, hot sauce (thank God I bought the warranty). Just like in Pa’s Cantina, it wasn’t about the food we ate or the wine we drank, it was all about the great company we did it in.