Hot Box Grill | Sonoma

By biteclub

CLOSED
Though Sonoma’s cozy Hot Box Grill glided almost imperceptibly onto the Wine Country culinary scene in August, there’s no mistaking an impending crackle and hum all around the place — a contagious electricity that makes eaters’  “Next Big Thing” Spidey sensor tingle.
For good reason. At the helm is Chef Norman Owens, a young gun whose two-year stint at Cafe La Haye repeatedly landed it on numerous Wine Country Top 20 lists. His previous kitchens have included Seattle’s Canlis (often called the birthplace of Northwest cuisine), Jeanty at Jack’s and Aqua in San Francisco. After leaving La Haye, Owens spent time at Bottega in Yountville.
The Spot: With help from his brother Will Forbes and wife, Addie, Owens spent the summer gutting the once-dreary Thai restaurant in the upcoming “gourmet gulch” of Boyes Hot Springs. It’s now an airy, open eatery with chalkboard paint on several walls with handwritten daily specials. Everyone continues to man the kitchen, with Will as Norman’s kitchen-twin and Addie’s pushing the guys aside when it comes to dessert.
The Style: Despite his cherubic looks, Owens has chops. The basis is Classical-French (and this boy knows is sauces, whipping up a complicated Bearnaise as French Fry dunking sauce — no mean feat). Norman gives it a Wine Country twist paying homage to his favorite local farmers and purveyors and fusing some Italian and Mediterranean flavors into the mix. Recognizable comfort-foods (twice baked potatoes, fried chicken, daily pasta specials) make Hot Box a returnable weeknight favorite rather than a just-for-occasions eatery.
 
 
Fried Cornish Game Hen at Hot Box Grill in Sonoma
 
Eat This: There’s so much to love about this menu. Duck fat fries with Bearnaise sauce ($6); Ricotta gnocchi with golden beets, pea shoots and oregano oil ($9); fried Cornish game hen with sweet potato gratin and Hot Box Hot Sauce ($20); the porktactular Cider-brined tenderloin with apple/bacon pan sauce, butternut squash and Brussels sprouts ($21). Desserts change up frequently, but roasted pumpkin creme brulee with honey-glazed hazelnut pumpkin cake ($8) was a warm, fall hug of a dessert.
Daily Wow: Here, it’s really worth checking out what Norm and his crew are featuring on the hand-written daily specials wall. From wines by the glass to daily pasta specials, appetizers and entrees, they’re solid selections.
The Smooth Operator: The date-night grilled cowboy steak is a 32oz bone-in ribeye for two with horseradish creme fraiche, Brussels, twice baked potato, crispy onions and red-eye gravy. Easily feeds three, or one really hungry person. $60.
The Wow Factor: Presentation is everything, and even simple comfort classics and humble desserts get a serious spiffing in the kitchen. Expect to be impressed at the plating, and doubly wowed with the flavors. Service is spot-on.
 
 
Not perfect, but pretty darn good
 
Nobody’s Perfect: We loved the idea of the Chocolate Peanut Butter Mouse, brownie, Captain Crunch Anglaise dessert, but the brownie was a bit too dense. Bonus points, however for the creativity, and make no mistake, we ate it all.  Seating can be a bit tight on busy nights.
Hot Box Grill: 18350 Highway 12, Sonoma, 939-8383. Reservations recommended.

What’s up with the high price of lemons?

By biteclub

This thread didn’t originate with me, so herewith a 10-gallon-hat tip to fellow PD blogger and food writer, Michele Anna Jordan, who posed the question in her weekend post and has talked about the high cost of lemons before.
From my perspective, as an economist, I tend not to worry overly much about the “fairness” of prices, preferring instead to think of the price of a thing as a function of market forces, in which the cost of production battles it out with consumer preferences: Too high a price, and people will buy less, companies will produce more, and prices will fall; too low, and people will buy more, companies will produce less, and prices will rise. In the case of lemons, however, I have long shared Ms Jordan’s intuitive sense that the better part of a buck for a commercial lemon just seems expensive and, like anyone over the age of 5 and not in a coma, I am painfully aware of the economic date rape perpetrated by such noteworthy offenders as high-speed cable and internet, public utilities, and – the topic at hand – large scale agri-business, which got me thinking: Is the market for lemons competitive, or just another special-interest screwing?
As a rule, agricultural prices are distorted by fiat – special-interest tariffs on international trade; a perverse system of farm subsidies and price controls; dangerously misguided food-for-fuel mandates – so when I pay a dollar for a lemon that was probably grown right in the San Joaquin Valley, I start to wonder whose wallet I’m padding. Now, you may object – not entirely unfairly – that my research is about deep and exhaustive as an online dating profile, but from what I turned up, and to my surprise, the bulk of the evidence suggests that lemon prices – as annoyingly high as they may be – are really just a function of supply and demand:

  • Supply is under pressure. Domestic supply – over 90% of which comers from CA and FL – has been falling sharply for at least a decade due to fewer planted acres, possibly because producers have been reallocating their arable land to nuts. (I don’t know why this should be: possibly, nut oils have risen in value as another unintended consequence of food-for-fuel policies, or perhaps it’s something else, but it is clear that nut acreage has been increasing at the expense of citrus acreage.)
  • Recent weather patterns have exacerbated the problem. Producers in CA and FL, as well as those in Chile and Argentina (both important international suppliers), have drawn the short straw on temperatures again (this happened to the domestic 07/08 crop as well), and lemons are particularly sensitive to frost.
  • The supply response to rising lemon prices may be muted, at least in part, because lemons are much more sensitive to frost damage than oranges, and I’m guessing that farmers don’t like that extra volatility in their income streams. Thus, despite high lemon prices and apparently superior returns relative to oranges (c.f. recent cost and return studies from UC Davis, here and here), orange farmers may be reticent to replant their orchards with lemons.
  • Demand has increased, largely because of consumer support for the food service industry, which purchases about half of all lemons consumed in the US, putting further upward pressure on prices (the deep-recession conditions of 2009/09 were particularly acute for restaurants).
  • Trade distortions are minimal. Unlike, say, sugar – domestic sugar producers have been delivering a Herculean shafting to the American consumer (and, for what it’s worth, to our poorer, sugar-producing neighbors in the Caribbean) for about 200 years and counting – citrus crops receive very little trade protectionism. The typical duty on fresh citrus entering the US is 1-3%, which hardly seems sufficient to deter imports in the event that domestic US prices were high enough to represent egregious profit margins; in other words, even if the domestic citrus industry were uncompetitive, imports would (and in fact do) fill the gap.
  • The supply chain favors the consumer. Even setting aside imports, domestic citrus producers face an uphill battle in setting prices because of consolidation in their retail markets (Walmart alone accounts for some 10% of all of Sunkist’s sales). Although producers certainly try to collude (they would use the term “cooperate”) when marketing their crops, mainly via the Sunkist brand, they do so in the face of a the very harsh reality: Inasmuch as there is pricing power, it favors the large grocery chains (who, taken as a whole, represent perhaps half of all citrus fruit sales).

My advice, if you’re lucky enough to be reading this at a Sonoma County address? Plant one Eureka, a couple of Meyers, and grow your own, because prices are unlikely to persist at lower levels.

Fresh Grand Opening Events

By biteclub

Fresh by Lisa Hemenway is celebrating their Grand Opening all this week with treats, tastes and events. Check out the lineup.

Monday Nov 1, 2-6 PM treats and tastes
1. Blankety Blank potatoes, Denny Hunt and his donkey
2. Village Bakery, Stellar baker Pat Lum
3. Hare Hollow gourmet olive oils & infused vinegars
4. Brie, Jimtown spreads, Columbus salami and Toma, thanks to Mike Hudson in Petaluma.
5. Meet the winemaker Mike Lee from Patianna tasting Sauvignon Blanc
Nov 2, 1-4 PM treats and tastes
1. Ginger bread cookies from Cobblestone Cookies
2. Smoked Olive Oil from the Smoked Olive
3. Flying Goat coffee serving espresso & cappuccino
4. Meet Shawn Sullberg of Sullberg Wines tasting Chardonnay, Merlot, & Cabernet
Nov 2, 4-7 PM treats and tastes
1. Peters’ Chocolates truffles & more. Local Sebastopol chocolatier
2. Smoked Olive Oil from the Smoked Olive
3. Mary’s air-chilled Chicken from the Pitman family
4. Madame Preston Rhone-style white wine tasting
Wednesday Nov 3, 1-4 PM treats and tastes
1.  Hummus and pitas from the Hummus Guy
2.  Butterfi Cinnamon toast spread, crackers w/ handmade butter
3.  Nana Mae’s hot mulled apple cider
4.  Snake River Farms Kobe beef brochette
5. Leveroni Vineyards owner Pat Stornetta tasting Merlot and Sauvignon Blanc
Evening Soirees
Wednesday & Thursday, Nov 10 and 11, 6-9 PM, $50 per person per night
5 satellite serving stations placed throughout Fresh presenting voluptuous cuisine paired with Harvest Fair winning & other local favorite wines.  Meet the winemakers and local food growers, bakers and makers.
Music: Accordion – French provincial
Special gifts including treats for your body and soul
Serving station details
1. Savory Salads including spinach, Caesar, mixed greens, roasted vegetables, Soo Foo multi grains from Forestville with duck.
Paired with Trecini Sauvignon Blanc (Honorable Mention 2010 Harvest Fair), Mayo gold medal Brut from Laurel Hill vineyard
2. Favorite Locally-produced Breads, spreads and cheeses, featuring Hummus Guy’s Hummus, Nana Mae’s Mastarda, Smoked Olive’s Smoked Olive Oil, Hare Hollow’s gourmet oils and infused vinegars, large selection of local cheeses such as Point Reyes Bleu, Bo Poisse from Bohemian creamery, and charcuterie platters
Paired with Selby Sauvignon Blanc bronze medal at the Sonoma Harvest Fair, meet the winemaker Nov 11;  Toad Hollow Reserve Pinot Noir and/or Jules Taylor Pinot Noir from New Zealand,
3. Wood-fired Pizzas Galore featuring treats like salmon with chives and mascarpone, sausage and roasted artichoke, margarita with fresh mozzarella and basil, and roasted peppers with zucchini, caramelized onion, and feta cheese

Paired with Gary Farrell’s newest label Alysian Chardonnay and/or TR Elliot Pinot Noir gold medal award winner poured by TR Elliot
4. Delish Deli Delights such as BBQ tri-tip, Roast beef, Wood-fire-roasted Willie Bird turkey and Petaluma Poultry chicken, smoked mashed potatoes with asiago cheese, spinach pastry, and ham & Vella cheese of Sonoma pastry with Mendocino mustard.
Paired with Ridge East Bench single vineyard Dry Creek Zinfandel, and/or Trecini Merlot (2010 Harvest Fair Gold medal winner); Chris Taddei winemaker presenting Super Sonoman Cabernet Franc
5. Decadent Desserts including an assortment of cookies, cakes and chocolates
Paired with Pedroncelli Port made from 4 varietals of Portuguese grown here in Sonoma, gold medal at the Sonoma Harvest Fair and/or Carol Shelton’s Tawny Monga old vines Zinfandel Port; Flying Goat espresso and cappuccino, and Numi teas
Tickets available for purchase online
Nov 10  http://freshparty.eventbrite.com/
Nov 11 http://freshparty2.eventbrite.com/

The Pirate Lord of the Hot Line (Book Review)

By biteclub

(Prologue: Two cross-country flights with three young children and unavoidable transfers in both directions, separated by less than 72 hours in-country, on my non-native Right Coast, for a theocratic church wedding packed with in-laws and people I don’t know well enough to drink with (or, at least to drink enough)… A compelling argument for reading material but, naturally enough, I make it through security at SFO without so much as a day-old copy of the Times, and why I purchase – at prices inflated by profit margins that only airport monopolies and cable companies can dream of – two books, one of which is Jason Sheehan’s Dirty Cooking, and which turns out to be an excellent little book about one man’s particularly hot, dangerous, sweaty and chemically-enhanced life on the hot line. )
I exaggerate, slightly: Not with the horrors of the 15 or so hours my family would spend in the care and company of commercial air carriers, not with the other factual particulars, but with the implication that I forgot to pack something to read. I spent many years traveling for work in a previous life, mostly long-haul, and, while I have forgotten virtually every essential item that one can forget at one point or another (to wit: a passport in London, socks in Moscow, and foreign currency everywhere from Cape Town to Mumbai), I have learned – the hard way – never, not ever, to travel without a book. No, in fact I left our house without a book on Thursday morning precisely because I knew we’d be at the airport with loads of time and access to a passable bookstore, and I really, really like picking out new stuff to read with my hands: The tactile sensation of the pages, their weight in one’s hand, even the font chosen for printing – all these things matter. While I, like most of you, buy most of my books online for convenience and price, I will mourn the inevitable death of the physical bookstore, and I regret that my children will, in all likelihood, never even know what I’m talking about.
In the event, I took my seat in the company of a copy of All The Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy (arguably America’s greatest writer of fiction and whose work I carefully ration in order to extend for as long as possible the literary cherry-popping that only a McCarthy first page can deliver), and the subject of this missive (Sheehan, who writes for the Seattle Weekly and contributes to NPR amongst others, is a food writer I had not previously heard of – I bought the book largely on a whim). Sheehan’s book is a revelation if only because, like food itself, so much of what is produced is irredeemable swill, the literary equivalent of an Applebee’s salad bar, that one often forgets how much fun the real thing, done properly, can be.
Sheehan writes well. Not just “well-enough”, mind you, but rather the sort of writing that makes you wonder how he ever got that good, that seems somehow unfair. He also happens to have a vast wealth of personal stories about working in kitchens that, for the most part, strike just the right balance between making the reader cringe and laugh out loud. And, he knows an awful lot about professional cookery at all levels, in and of itself a worthy diversion, because it’s not every day that you get to hear a cook talk intelligently about the short-order counter at Waffle House and Escoffier’s preparation for oxtail consomme with equal measures of respect, enthusiasm, and first-hand knowledge of both. And the book is dirty: Filthy, in-the-gutter, foul-mouthed, grossly-inappropriate, richly-laden-with-highly-questionable-lifestyle-choices dirty. And still you can’t help but like him, in spite of all his Himalayan faults. Did I mention that he’s funny? I’ll say it again: You’ll cringe, but you’ll be laughing. Out loud. He’s the perfect antidote to a foodie culture that considers the candy-ass veneer and slapstick cookery of Guy Fieri or Rachel Ray in any way relevant to the actual preparation of real food.
The other thing, maybe the thing, that makes the book so successful is that, despite taking place almost entirely in kitchens, it is really about everything but cooking. It is kitchen-as-parable: His career in the kitchen, while fundamental to the story line, includes a descent toward near-dearth and and eventual righting of his life, and serves as a means of explaining what I took to be much larger truths about the choices we all make in our lives, loves, and work. The point is made most succinctly and directly when, near the very end, he tells us that the most important thing for any would-be restaurant critic to understand is that the food is always the least interesting part of the review. The only downside is that it gets a bit tired toward the end, amidst a few too many pages, too heavily laden with personal-growth moments, but that section is mercifully short, and even then, the happy ending is largely worth the price of admission.
Highly recommended.
(Postscript: For the record, any insinuation that either my in-laws, or the family they’re marrying into, were anything other than lovely would be grossly unfair: They turned out to be, to a name, lovely people who had the foresight to cater cute little mac-n-cheese ramekins and fried chicken in zinc buckets for the kids, alongside plenty of booze for the grownups. I can’t speak to the wedding cake, except to say that it looked very classy, without so much as a single square meter of overworked fondant in sight, and it got raves from the munchkins. Even the church service was manageable, and I say that as a non-practicing and Jew: I don’t think we had to spend more than a few hours on our knees or otherwise flagellating ourselves. I’m kidding.)

The Costco Report

By biteclub

The Costco Report: Episodic observations on where to port safely, and what to avoid like a pestilence, when navigating the oceans of consumer non-durables down in The Belly of The Beast… (with a pissing-down-rain, Halloween-Friday hat-tip to Glenn Danzig…)
I sometimes (often, in fact) feel the need to justify shopping at Costco. I’m not sure why, exactly, but one could speculate: Controversial labor practices, the impact of category killers on local businesses and, like any sane Northern Californian, an ingrained fear of the tyrannical politically correct; the inherent tension between shopping at mega-marts and writing a local-food blog; a  misplaced snobbishness and the “I’m not the sort of person that…” complex. Ultimately, I suspect, it’s the sheer aesthetic offense of the experience itself that gives me pause, but the good news/bad news, being an economist rather than a therapist, is that I get to worry more about whether the practice makes sense, and less about how it makes me feel. As I assiduously pontificate in my “Defense of Costco” post, sailing forth unto the treacherous waters of the Big C can still make economic sense, for some things, some of the time, even for the proximal cook – buying local wines and cheeses, for example – and so I decided to write an occasional column devoted to ferreting out the more promising offerings, as well as to warding off the worst of the hazards.
To wit, this week’s Costco Report, for 10/28/10:

  • The Good. My best and most unexpected find was Organic Blue Agave nectar, 100% pure, two 23.5-oz bottles at $7-something for the pair. I’m not really up on the dietary implications of a low glycemic index , but I gather that Agave is a really good alternatvei to more common sugar-, corn- and honey-based derivatives, if low-glycemic-index is your thing. What I do know, and which I put to good use within minutes of unpacking said nectar, is that nothing makes a better Margarita.
  • The Bad. The entire “artisan cheese” section had been dismantled and the vast majority of their best cheeses was out of stock. Normally, I think the cheese case is one of the better arguments for suffering Costco, partly because of very good prices on high-quality versions of Parmigiano Reggiano (which was in stock) and Comte, but mainly because of the stuff from producers like Point Reyes (creamy bleu), Fiscalini (aged cheddar and smoked mozzarella), and Redwood Hill (goat cheddar) – not one of which was in stock. I was so bummed out about the lack of cheese that I spoke to customer service and, to be fair, they were knowledgeable and quick to reply, and assured me that “we wouldn’t stop carrying good cheeses in wine country”. We’ll see, and I’ll report back next time.
  • The Ugly. Three words: Flauta, Chimichanga, Taquito. Deep-fried, frozen, and amassed in the sort of sacks that would make Jack’s giant proud, re-heated to a thoroughly disgusting, barely-thawed-in-the-middle, and encased in a cool, greasy sheen – free to sample, as many as you dare. Three more words: Just Say No. Seriously. In a moment of slack judgment and hunger-inspired weakness, I tried one – I have no idea which, and I’m certain it doesn’t matter – and literally spat it at the nearby trash can. I like junk food, but take my word for it, you don’t want to eat these, much less feed them to your children.

Loka-Toka-Vores: Pot Eats & Prop 19

By biteclub

It’s no secret that more than a few chefs have been known to embrace the 420 lifestyle. The combination of late nights, a walk-in full of leftovers, creative personalities and the need for a wind-down after nine hours of aorta-bursting adrenaline makes after-work tokage pretty standard fare. Not for everyone, of course. But suffice to say it’s not just the salmon that’s smoked.
So it should come as no surprise that a lot of food folk are pretty interested in the fate of Prop 19, and specifically, what a greener California would mean for eaters. There’s little doubt that post-spliff munchies could be a serious boon not only for the snack-chip and fast-food industry, but for toques as well.
With the passing of medical marijuana laws, cannabis bakeries are cropping up with increasing regularity. Some with serious cooks creating everything from buzzed-up vanilla truffles, red velvet cake and strawberry cream cheese brownies to Crunch berry marshmallow treats. A new line of THC-juiced sodas recently made their debut and fat-laden food is a natural delivery system for many of the new high inducing sprays and powders.
Long story short: There’s clearly an interest in the business and culinary opportunities that come with relaxing laws against marijuana usage, whether you agree with Prop 19 or not.
Which lead to some interesting questions that I’ve been asked lately about how Prop 19’s passing could affect restaurants…
1. If passed, would cafes and restaurants allow patrons to light up?
2. Could restaurants use marijuana as a cooking ingredient?
Answer: Finding a plate of pot brownies for dessert at your favorite restaurant or lighting up on the patio isn’t very likely in the near future.
If you read through the actual proposition( http://yeson19.com/node/6), it states that marijuana use be prohibited from use in public or smoking while minors are present. In addition to that, there are rock-solid state laws that prohibit smoking in restaurants, bars and taverns. Local ordinances that prohibit smoking in public areas outdoors, so its unlikely that Santa Rosa or Sebastopol will suddenly approve of toking up on the sidewalks. Santa Rosa City Attorney Caroline Fowler backed that up saying, “Smoking “ is defined in Section 9-20.30 of our ordinance to include  “lighted pipe, cigar or cigarette of any kind”—so yes it would be covered.” So that pretty much answer that question.
As for cooking with pot? Although the Proposition is written in a manner that at some level equates its regulation to that of alcohol, there are a number of checks and balances in control that would require additional legislation to make it consumable in public. Not to mention liability issues restaurants would face. So don’t hold your breath on that one either.
What’s a local smoker to do? Bake at home (disclaimer: assuming of course that you have a medical card for usage and would ONLY use these for yourself and NO ONE ELSE, even accidentally).
A new booked called “Baked: 35 Marijuana Munchies to Make and Bake” (Chris Stone and Gordon Lewis, Tenspeed Press, $12.99) gives detailed instruction on cooking with wacky tobaccy.
Just in case you were curious (and didn’t come of age in the 60s and 70s), the authors discuss at length how ingesting marijuana affects the body, how to make “boosted butter” for cooking, along with olive oil and powders. According to the authors, fat is an ideal conductor for the feel-good chemicals in marijuana and hash. And so as not to make yourself feel waaaay too good, they offer up a handy dosage guide and pot-leaf stars to guide your highs (mild to woweeee!)
Recipes include Boom Boom Biscuits, Alice B. Toklas’s Cookies, Cocoa Puff Cupcakes, Sticky Ickies, Baked! Potatoes and Mighty Marijuana Meatloaf. As to whether or not these sugary, buttery, munchie-time foods actually taste good? Well, that’s not really the point, is it.
What’s your take on weed-laced eats? Sound off..
*Oh, and by the way…I totally stole the Loca-toka-vore thing from “Tortoise Versus Hare” over on Watch Sonoma County. You knew I would.  Thanks dude, you’re famous!

In N Out | Santa Rosa

By biteclub

For two hours, Scott Wallach, 20, of Santa Rosa and his friend Will Brown, 21, of Santa Rosa, patiently waited to be In-N0Out store 249’s first customers.
They would have waited longer, they said, having arrived the night before with blankets and chairs — willing to spend the night outside the doors. Unfortunately, restaurant management, who were hosting friends and family at the store last night wouldn’t let them stay on the property overnight.
Undaunted, the two friends came back at 7am to wait in stadium chairs. The effort paid off at 9am when the students were ceremoniously ushered in as the store’s first official customers. “I love this place more than the world,” said Nick.

Their order? What else. A Double Double. This classic combination of two hamburger patties, cheese, toasted buns and freshly made fries is what’s helped but In-N-Out on the map.
Like much of Santa Rosa — at least the burger-eaters among us — Wallach and Brown have been eagerly anticipating the Santa Rosa opening for months. The nearly 250-restaurant chain has locations in Rohnert Park and Petaluma, and a cult following throughout California. Best known for its dead-simple offerings (along with its lesser-known secret menu) and fresh-made fries, the restaurant was ranked among the nation’s best hamburgers by Consumer Reports.
Located just off Steele Lane near Hwy 101, there have been concerns about the notoriously busy restaurant causing traffic disruptions at the busy intersection. Opposition also lamented the potential for greenhouse gas emissions from idling drive-up cars and obesity concerns for children.

Nick and Scott with their Number 1

That didn’t seem to phase Nick Schulz of Santa Rosa, who was first in the drive-through line this morning. Nick said he was a regular at the Rohnert Park location and came early to get the prime first spot (he got a t-shirt for his efforts).
“I’ve been going for years, and I can tell you this is the best hamburger under $5 in the world.”
Staffers say more than 3,000 people applied for jobs at the Santa Rosa burgery, 1500 were interviewed and just 42 made the final cut.
The restaurant will be open Sunday – Thursday 10:30 a.m. – 1:00 a.m’ Friday 10:30 a.m. – 1:30 a.m.  and Saturday 10:30 a.m. – 1:30 a.m.
In N Out, 2131 County Center Drive, Santa Rosa
BTW: Six lucky BiteClubbers got a VIP pass to the restaurant at 9am this morning after guessing the opening date correctly. Congrats to Rob, Cheryl, Noemi, Joni, and BC pals Shana Ray and Christopher Hanson. Woop!

Mac-n-Cheese, Cheese, & More Cheese (v2.5)

By biteclub

Mac N Cheese with Lots and Lots of Cheese
Mac-n-Cheese, Cheese, and More Cheese

I think all cooks, from the diligent amateur to the dedicated professional, have at least a little bit of OCD in their bones. The commercial cook exemplifies this: Why else would someone repeatedly construct the same thing, in precisely the same manner, under extreme and unrelenting pressure, with the specific aim, not only of doing it well, but of doing it the same way, every time that knife meets board or a pan clangs down on a flat-top? Not that that’s a bad thing. To the contrary, that trendy new place you’ve been gagging to try, the innumerable souls saved by much-needed hangover brunches, and every great sushi bar all depend on it. Can you imagine playing Russian roulette with the crust at your favorite pizza joint, the done-ness of your steak, or the hardness of your egg? Take away the obsessive cooks, and we’d all be eating Swanson’s Hungry Man or instant ramen with a spork.
All of which is by way of an introduction to our latest installments of Why I’m Trying To Make Perfect Mac-n-Cheese (earlier attempts: here and here). My wife will testify to the mountains of grated cheese, the errors like some pagan fortune engraved in burnt milk at the bottom of sauce pots, the sweet, nutty smell of flour frying in butter that fill the house, and – finally – to today’s lesson, in which I learn that, unlike Crisco or tickling, if some is good, then more is better.
I can’t claim that my perfect mac-n-cheese will also be yours – we may, and likely do, have different ideas about the Platonic ideal of this American classic, as heterogeneous as it is both ubiquitous and variously successful – or even that I’ll leave well enough alone; as it happens, I’m still not entirely convinced of the winner of the Great Bechamel Debate, and I’ll be back here next week, working on some flour-free derivatives, specifically for that reason. I can, however, state definitively that this bad boy – all gooey, creamy, sharp, melted, cheesy goodness, with layers of richly textured pasta, glowing with a naturally-infused orange that Kraft’s chemical engineers would envy, and infused with a distinctly adult intensity and depth of flavor – is fairly serious stuff. If your ideal steak is warm in the center, or you’re certain that chocolate pudding should only be made with milk chocolate, then I probably can’t help you, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying to perfect it anyway; there may be objective standards of taste, but you still have little choice but to cook to your own palate – you just need to accept that, like my image of the ideal my mac-n-cheese, the elusive version casting shadows on the cave wall remains intensely personal.
This particular one is a bit of a pain in the ass, particularly for so pedestrian a dish, and one for which a more modest effort will still produce acceptable results (you could skip the onion brulee, the milk-poaching, and the AR noodle arrangement, for instance). But this isn’t about acceptable, it’s about perfecting something, and that means there are more corners not to cut, some longer blocks to traverse.
Mac-n-Cheese, Cheese, and More Cheese (v2.5)

  1. Onion Brulee in Pan
    Typical Onion Brulee

    Bring a gallon of salted whole milk to a gentle simmer (don’t scorch it – if you do, throw it out and start over, it will be irredeemable and will ruin the entire dish) in a pasta pot and prep a half a sweet (Vidalia, Maui, Walla Walla) onion and make an onion brulee: Stud the onion with a few cloves, put a single bay leaf in a knife-slit in the top, and grill it in a plan until the onion begins to soften and the underside turns a deep caramel color. Preheat a 350F oven. (The milk-poaching comes courtesy of a recipe from Alain Ducasse, but I can’t find the link.)
  2. Grate 1+1/3 pound of aged Mimolette or Cheddar, plus 1/3 pound each of cave-aged Gruyere, Appenzeller, and yellow American cheeses (other “fondue” style cheeses would work just as well; and you can grate the American off a block, or just tear up slices). Once the onion is done, add it to 6 cups of whole milk and warm it up (it doesn’t need to boil but it does need to be hot, or the sauce will get lumpy). While the milk and onion are warming, cook 1/2 cup of flour into 3/4 cup of butter for a light blonde roux in a sauce pot.
  3. Add two pounds (it might be 1kg, depending on the brand) of high quality boxed penne (preferably not regate), three whole, peeled cloves of garlic, and some white pepper corns to the pasta pot and poach the pasta until just shy of al dente, stirring to prevent sticking. If it’s a good Italian brand, you’ll want to take it off about 1 minute before the lower end of their suggested cooking range (it should be just barely too undercooked to eat, as this will allow it to finish cooking in the sauce). Stir the pasta from time to time to prevent the noodles from sticking to each other (the milk makes this a little trickier than normal).
  4. While the pasta is cooking, make the cheese sauce; Whisk the hot, onion-infused milk into the roux, in order to make a thick bechamel. If it lumps a little, don’t stress, we’ll strain it out later. Bring up to a gentle boil, back off the heat, and season with salt, white pepper, and nutmeg (something like a and 1/8 teaspoon each nutmeg and pepper, bu you’ll need to adjust to taste – it should be neither salty nor peppery nor bland, with just the slightest background note of baking spice from the nutmeg). Whisk in 1 teaspoon each of mustard powder and sweet (not hot) paprika (the paprika should have a rich, dark red color; if it looks dark brown and dirty, it’s either too old or of poor quality). Grind a small pinch of saffron threads between your fingers and stir in. In addition to flavor, the mustard-paprika-saffron seasoning is the secret to a great color. Finally, once the base for the sauce has been finished, stir in 1lb of the Mimollette or Cheddar and all of the Gruyere, Appenzeller, and American cheeses, working in large handfuls. When the sauce is uniformly blended and smooth, check the seasoning, and turn off the heat. If it has any lumps, or hard ends of cheese, or anything else that is not uniformly smooth, run it through a chinois or fine-mesh strainer.
  5. Either during or after making the sauce, drain the pasta when finished, making sure to remove the garlic cloves and peppercorns. Shake the noodles gently so that they don’t clump together.
  6. Assembling Mac n Cheese
    Layering the pasta and sauce

    In order to assemble the casserole, lightly butter a 9×13 baking dish, and alternate single layers of pasta and sauce, and beginning and ending with a layer of sauce. When laying down the pasta, line up the little pencils end to end in neat, parallel rows, alternating direction by 90 degrees – check out the picture. (Yes, it’s a pain, but it looks really cool and, more importantly, allows the final product to set up and to be cut in neat shapes for service.) After the last row of pasta, add an extra thick layer of sauce, and then top it with the final 1/3lb of the grated Mimolette. (Note, based on your exact baking dish, pasta quantity, evaporation while cooking, and personal touch, you may or may not use all of the pasta, sauce or both – it’s not a big deal, just make sure that each layer of pasta is covered and that you begin and end with sauce, the rest will take care of itself.)
  7. Bake at 350F for 20-25 minutes, until bubbling up the sides. Remove, let rest for 10 minutes, return to the oven and broil the top until golden brown and bubbly – this will ensure that you can serve neat, “set” pieces, that they food is piping hot, and a cheesy crust on top, all important features, as long as we’re going for “perfect”.

Worst Halloween Candy

By biteclub

This is not okay. Ever.

Okay, so we all know that Reeses and Milky Ways and Snickers rock. There’s no question that the Hershey’s Miniatures have a place in our hearts. But what about the stuff that you HATE. The nasty, questionable, inedible, turn-up-your-nose-even-if-it’s-free candy?
Every Halloween some lug nut has to give out pennies. Some well-meaning granny gives you linty gummy bears, the neighborhood do-gooder gives out tooth brushes and the dude who spends most of his time smoking on the front porch digs up last year’s Easter goodies and hands ’em out between puffs. Ick.
What are you LEAST favorite Halloween treats? Vote now and let ’em know we’re not gonna take those Airheads anymore!
[polldaddy poll=”3995179″]

A Plate of Strange Bedfellows

By biteclub

bitter chocolate, strong cheese, dill pickles
Which of these does not belong?

Pickles, cheese, and chocolate: Three ingredients, three possible pair-wise combinations, two really good and interesting tastes, and one impossibly disgusting mouthful of gag reflex. If I like cheese with pickles, and (somewhat surprisingly) I like chocolate with cheese, then why don’t I like chocolate with pickles? I mean, other than the painfully obvious – in point of fact, it tastes even worse than it sounds – why the apparent lack of transitivity?
As an amateur cook and a professional economist, I find the logical inconsistency of the human palate fascinating. If you ever signed up for an econ course – or, like my family, found yourself living with an economist – then one of the very first things you learned was how economists think about consumer choice, what it means to assume that people behave rationally, and the behavioral implications of that basic assumption. If you study economics for long enough, you’ll find that a few, simple, first-semester models form the bedrock for pretty much everything that follows, from the ubiquitous demand curve to sophisticated models of the macroeconomy. Grouped under the catch-all heading of “choice theory“, these models are simple, elegant, and powerful. However, just like the Brooklyn Bridge, Newtonian physics, and portfolios of residential mortgage backed securities, they tend to fracture if you tinker too much with the underlying assumptions.
Newton needed his Three Laws of Motion: Bodies at rest tend to stay at rest; for every application of force, there is an equal and opposite reaction; and of course, the simple little formula that put man on the moon, Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration. That bridges generally remain standing and astronauts usually return to earth constitutes a powerful argument in favor of Sir Isaac; less so, the big banks: To nearly everyone’s (although, importantly, not absolutely everyone’s) surprise, home prices actually could go down as well as up, the Upper West Side and Upper East Side of Manhattan, despite the fact that New Yorkers think you need a visa to travel between them, were not, in fact, two uncorrelated real estate markets separated by a big lawn, and – this being one of the Big Lessons of the past two years – if you violate these two basic assumptions, then a multi-trillion-dollar edifice will collapse on your collective heads like the crescendo of a James Cameron movie.
Economists, for their part, require “reflexivity” (if items A and good B are identical, I will be indifferent between them), “monotonicity” (if I like A, then I prefer more A to less), “completeness” (faced with a choice of what to consume, I am capable of making a decision), and – the centerpiece of today’s conundrum – “transitivity” (if I like A more than B, and B more than C, then I also like A more than C). Transitivity, at least, seems not to apply to the sensation of taste. But why? I recently read a review of The Flavor Thesaurus by Niki Segnit, who breaks down as many foods as possible into 99 distinct components (grassy; fruity; earthy; zesty…), and then considers, on a molecular level, why some of the 4,851 possible combinations thereof taste good, while some – like chocolate and pickles – make you wish, and I now know this from bitter, personal experience, that you were sucking on a day-old sock, or worse. I believe her idea is to provide a  molecular basis for food pairings and, in the process, explain the classics and encourage new and interesting things to try together, with a more scientific roadmap than my usual home-cook’s idea closet, filled as it is with ideas spun from too much wine and half-remembered meals prepared by chefs of “cutting edge” status, or some such.
I can’t say whether the intransitivity of taste will ultimately figure prominently in the theoretical foundations of classical microeconomic theory, or whether we could have avoided the mortgage meltdown simply by acknowledging that pickles and chocolate really suck when you put them in your mouth at the same time. Sociologists and psychologists (and – increasingly – behavioral economists as well) will debate the appropriateness of the “rationality” assumption, and – increasingly – it seems to me that they have the data on their side. Certainly, I’ve come across legions of irrational fools in my life, and that is only speaking from direct, personal experience; I’ve not entered so much as a footnote for broader historical record of human folly. I can say, however, that I would like to know a bit more about how our sense of taste works, and why I nearly vomited cheese, chocolate and pickles all over the butcher’s block. I’m hoping that the book is really cool and I get to do a bit more of this.
Just Three Ingredients, and the Intransitivity of Taste: Pickles, Cheese, and Chocolate

  1. Secure a few chunks of bitter chocolate (I used 85% cacao), something very dark, with no milk – dairy is a different cup of tea entirely.
  2. Choose a stinky, wash-rind cheese (I used French Raclette).
  3. Slice up a good dill pickle (I used Alexander Valley Gourmet’s Spicy Bread and Butter pickles – the sweet, hot, vinegar-y tastes made the results literally pop on your tongue).
  4. First try the two combinations with cheese (doesn’t matter which, but cleanse your palate in between). The stinky cheese and pickle is just awesome – the acidic, sugary crunch of the pickle really contrasts nicely with the musty, creamy cheese. Now try the pickle-and-chocolate. Sounds weird, but really it isn’t (even somewhat “conventional” – here is a blog that describes a whole “tasting” of cheese, chocolate, and wine at a well respected restaurant); the bitter, earthy chocolate fits nicely with barnyard impression from the cheese. Finally, steel  yourself, and take a bite of the pickle and chocolate together.