Gotham Gastronomy

A Virtual Vase for the Flowers of Food and the Whorls of Wine...

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Egg, Simply

Ahh, the Egg!
How shall I sing your praises?
The egg is the source of life speaking biologically and culinarilly*; they are necessary to the procreation of a species, and the creations of a chef. Samuel Butler wrote, "A hen is only an egg's way of making another egg." Be it said humble Hen's egg or those garish grenades of flavor we call caviar, the egg is a peerless staple.
Time and again, this blog shall revisit the wonders of the ova, but for today, we shall focus on that most basic task, frying the egg. I am talking about that edible artist's palette, that postmodern sunrise, a delightful dome of beautiful bisque perfectly positioned atop an alabaster cathedral. (Or on a folk level, "your brain on drugs.")
Alas, dear readers, public perception is that the act is so easy that it does not warrant explanation! America's ironically named, seminal text, Mastering the Art of French Cooking does not even goes so far as to devote a single word to the action, so simple it seems. Most peer publications follow their lead. However, the act is anything but simple!
In fact, legend has it that culinary giant Ferdinand Point of La Pyramide accompanied by his three proteges, the brothers Troisgros and Paul Bocuse-- (Wow! Damn! Did I just type those names in the same sentence; they must have cooked one hell of a dinner!) Pardon the interruption, I was typing that according to Rudolph Chelminski's research, Point and company would use frying an egg as an audition of sorts for potential employees.
Hence a few culinary classics (most Gallic) such as Larousse Gastronomique touch on the topic, devoting little detail, but offering us a bit of basic background. So, we can see some simple rules emerging.
- Season with salt and pepper.
- Do not break the egg directly into the pan.
- Butter is always better. (I am partial to the fabulously fatty Normandy variety!)

Amongst the gastronomical elite, additional themes can be seen.
- Keep the heat low, very low! (Bocuse went so far as to advocate placing the pan atop a pot of boiling water and avoid direct heat!)
- Do not damage the aesthetics of the yolk with pepper. (That's why these guys get three Michelins!)

Some advocate cooking the whites and yolk separately. Others finish in the broiler. Point topped the assemblage with even more butter.

Non Sequitur...
Since we've begun discussing eggs, I can't restrain myself from including the punch line from Annie Hall. Here it is kids, Woody at his best...
I thought of that old joke. You know, this guy goes to his psychiatrist and says "Doc, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken." And the doctor says "well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational, and crazy & absurd, but uh, I guess we keep going through it because most of us need the eggs.

*I am well aware that this isn't a word, but, hey, writing on the web affords some liberties!

Monday, February 27, 2006

ICA, Iko

Last night marked the start of Iron Chef America's third season, and I was able to catch the program's late night/early morning showing as God and Nielsen intended. Yes, the program also airs earlier, but watching Iron Chef before midnight really neglects the full flavor of the form, like drinking a red wine that has been refrigerated.
Surprisingly, ICA is actually improving with age! For starters, the Challengers can now actually choose their opponents like their predecessors in the Japanese original. In the most recent episode, Challenger John Besh declares his intent to beat the "best chef in America" before selecting Batali.
(NOTE: I think that Lupa's a good time and all, and Otto is the only singles bar specializing in Italian Wine, not to mention the loudest; Babbo is nice, but even with the finite realm of the West Village, the establishment loses out to Il Mulino... point being, there is no way that Mario is even close to said superlative!)
Regardless, Besh's selection marked the return of "trash-talking" to the program; not since the notorious cutting board incident have we seen anything resembling a real rivalry. Instead, we are often subjected to a competition so benign and banal that I wonder if the chairman will conclude with some cheesy affirmation a la, "We're all winners tonight." Besh, a former marine, had the Iron Chef in the Bruni-esque crosshairs. The French Chef from the Big Easy casually continued his crusade throughout the remainder of the program tossing verbal volleys across the stadium much to my delight.
Another major improvement to the show included new camera angles, including a cool sky-cam type shot. Kevin Brauch's airtime has been reduced which is a necessary amputation. Further, I believe that the producers have opted to devote more time to the battle and less time to the judging; this decision is much needed given the latter segment is still maddeningly bad!
In last night's episode, the panel seemed baffled by a dish served "en gelee" devoting far too much time to a metaphor involving a treasure chest. Ahoy Polloi! Maties, Aspic is fairly common in French cooking; it is a standard at Daniel, and I even encountered it during my ill advised "incident" at Ninja. How the method appears foreign to alleged authorities on food is beyond me! Melissa Clark, a chef and author, displayed an embarrassingly inadequate knowledge of both gastronomy and the English language, but then again, I expected little more from anyone who titles a book, "Chef Interrupted."
(And yes, Bobbly Flail and Cat Cora are both still there, but at least the former is helpful in the J.R. Ewing-Love-To-Hate-Him role; as far as Sue Ellen is concerned, we can only hope that the new self-selection method of challenge reduces her appearances. )

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Some Textual Tapas to Tide You Over

Well, the weekend will be busy as we plot and subsequently commence our mission to finally answer the burning (well, actually baking,) question, "Are there any good bakeries left in the City?" Reader help is encouraged!
In the meantime, here are a couple points of note to keeep you occupied.

- The NYT (of course in the Style, not Dining Section) presents a great piece about, porn star, Savanna Samson's efforts at winemaking and the 91 Points that Parker awarded her first effort. (In this case, Bob's swishing increases the already cliched semiotics of Deep Throat.)
Naked Comes the Vitner

- Another great page! This one requires a bit of exploration with that shucking knife which is the mouse before she'll open up her secrets, but like any good dish, the results are well worth the effort.
She Loves New York

Friday, February 24, 2006

A Stem by Any Other Name Smells as Sweet?

Prerequisite Preface...
Discussing stemware without mentioning Riedel is like eating an ortolan while unveiled. So, for starters, I'll preface by reminding y'all that it's pronounced Ree-dul, rhymes with needle. And yes, these glasses really are that great; the wine does taste better. Hell, I even take care to follow the instructions and steam 'em after washing. On the other hand, buying a name is never wise and this case is no exception! While self absorbed, self-professed gourmands such as myself lamented the introduction of stemless stemware in the form of the O series, the brand has been diluted and exploited even more than the Mondavi name (not that the latter was too impressive to begin with.) In the crystal equivalent of Mondavi BV (or Mouton Cadet for that matter,) they have now foolishly featured a fourth, little known, lesser legion to the legendary line; I discovered said product last week when I had the (mis)fortune of visiting of a Target store in New Jersey. Apparently, Riedel has joined the dubious ranks of Michael Graves and Moschimo in creating a low-end line specifically for these store. The result is crap, and the simple banging of my nail against the rim leads me to doubt whether the product is even crystal. However, the Vinum and Sommelier series remain unparalleled!

Pith and Pity...
But, enough of that!
While reading the Old Testament by "God" (see below,) I became aware of a product known as Les Impitoyables or The Pitiless. (Many translate the French name as the Merciless as it sounds cooler, but that is linguistically incorrect, and we needn't anger the likes of Christopher Prendergast or Nicole Kidman.) According to my own attempts to translate the company's propaganda, the crystal is pure (100%) and "hand" blown in the fourteenth Century style by eight French artisans. (Have fun with that sentence kids!) Regardless, the glasses are superb; they are a bit sturdier than Riedel and feature an arguably superior system of curves and angles to ensure that no aroma or taste is neglected. On the downside, no pity was taken on aesthetics either, and the glasses are awkward to handle in addition to their, well, less than pleasing postures.

Going Down the Line...
The No. 1 is a squat little fella resembling a brandy snifter more than a wine glass; we are told that his purpose is young red wines. Likewise, there is also No. 2 model for all white wines which stands 9.84 inches tall and looks like a champagne glass with a greater diameter. This model is not to be confused with the ornate, bubbled No. 4 for champagne. (I found little advantage to this variety.) As the linear logic dictates, there is also a No. 3 for mature reds. The No. 3 is a bit over eight inches in height and looks more than a little like a Riedel Vinum Burgundy glass.
The parallels to Riedel actually continue with Les Impitoyables' own version of the stemless stemware; The Taster Glass one-ups their famed freres featuring nooks on the bottom and side for the thumb and index finger. I found this glass to be wholly inadequate; the side nook interfered with the symmetry of my swish, the lack of stem caused hated heating, and the wine, itself, was shown much mercy.
Now, some may disagree on this last point.
Those "some" are apparently the folks at Myriad who boast of featuring the TG's in the tasting room of Crush. On their website, a prominently posted article on their website discusses the TG's at the store/bar and their exposure of "wine's every flaw and asset."
Please!
Look, we humored the whole IWM knockoff goes avant-garde concept without so much as a guffaw or snicker, but really, you are pushing the line of contrarianism for it own sake. With Daniel J at Daniel B's, and these tchotchkes in your patrons' hands, I must wonder if this time the Wellington-esque DN will lose at 'loo.

Coming Soon...
LabCabin California or How Oeno Drank a Pinot and Lived!

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Book 'Em, Wino!

Several sommeliers that I’ve spoken with have explained that the best way to understand wine is simply to drink as much as one can. Sadly, said formula presents some serious setbacks. Not the least of which is the vast chasm of access between them and I.

Hence, I am left to my own devices (which generally results in disaster… make that adventure!) Much of my wine knowledge is garnered from books, and then applied in public. My latest two acquisitions of pulp and print are Willliam Echikson’s Noble Rot: A Bordeaux Wine Revolution and Robert Parker’s seminal work, Wines of the Rhone Valley. The latter will take me a lifetime to process and the former took me about two trips on the C Line to read.

On Wines of the Rhone Valley
I want to dislike Robert Parker. He exceeds 800 Pound Gorilla status; the man has been downright deified. (Really, his nickname is “God” Parker!) Supporting Bob feels like rooting for the Dallas Cowboys.

The problem is that Parker is perplexingly proficient at his preferred profession.

- Parker is good, really good. Those individuals fortunate enough to see him at work describe having their doubts washed away by a machine who can blindly identify dozens of wines consecutively.

- Parker is actually fairly humble, living in a modest home in Maryland and not causing much of a stir outside of the Sixty Minutes piece, and, ohh, that Shovel-eer business with Chirac.

- Parker really does his best to look out for the little man. Echikson describes his disgust with ’79-Oil-Crisis-Style of price gouging following his rave write-up of Bordeaux’s millennial harvest. “God” readied his bolts demanding an adjustment and declaring, “I don’t write for rich businessmen. The consumer is getting screwed by all this market manipulation.”
(If Melvin Van Peebles were a wine critic, he couldn’t get much more badass!)

As you’ve probably inferred, the book itself is must-buy. For starters, the subject matter is oft neglected, but vital; the Rhone Valley is widely regarded as possessing the best price to quality ratio of any region in the world and some knowledge is nice. Unlike the author’s recent forays into coffee table books, this work is all meat. Parker provides explanations of the major regions and producers, some faux-vintage maps, tasting notes, and a little history, personal and oenological. No, he does not write like Clive Coates, far more sanitized, yet, Parker succeeds in packing a tremendous amount of information into the volume without turning his diction too flowery or resorting to an excess of charts and numbers. The work is great for looking up specific details or reading, not reading straight through; in short, it’s a “bathroom book.” On the other end of the spectrum…

On Noble Rot

Echikson’s book is the gastronomical equivalent of an airport novel; the writing is easy to process and the substance is, well, unsubstantial. The work did have some pedagogical value. However, the piece on French wines was constructed like a California wine: excruciatingly engineered and formulaic, not to mention devoid of soul. The author presents a jumble of historical facts on Bordeaux, but fails to build a compelling narrative, and any reader with a modicum of background knowledge finds themselves patronized by the insertion of metaphorical sugar into the juice. The writing attempts to straddle a fine introductory line, but ultimately, it is far more Dr. Seuss than Ogden Nash.

That said, reading said story was not some sort of Manichean struggle, and I did enjoy parts, particularly the following two factoid/quotes…

- The first known review of Bordeaux was found amongst the voluminous diaries of Samuel Pepys. After a night at London’s Royal Oak Tavern in 1622, he wrote, “Drank a sort of French wine called Ho Bryan [sic] that hath a good and most particular taste that I ever met with.”

- When Le Monde criticized for Yquem’s medieval (literally!) practices, i.e. employment through a system that involved all workers living on the estate and issuing checks to the family, as opposes to the individual, scion, Count Alexandre de Lur-Saluces “Rural society permits social relations that would escape the understanding of Parisian journalists.” (Echikson also notes that the family advocated the restoration of the Bourbon Monarchy well past the Second World War!)

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Dining Out is Out

As I look to Tampa in preparation for the return of the Great American Pastime, restaurant workers in New York are just concluding their own favorite pass time: complaining about Restaurant Week. Never mind that struggling establishments reduce their prices a whole fifty cents, serve mediocre menus, sneer at the patrons, and still find their covers doubled! No, the added hours and pathetic patrons are sufficient catalysts for a self-righteous rage extending into mid-February. A typical industry one-liner goes something to the effect of, "Table Nine just ordered a coffee, and asked for four straws!"
A second love of those in 'da biz' is trashing Amanda Hesser a la "Her palate will improve when she hits puberty!"
Such laments are not without warrant; of course, Ms. Hesser temporary editorship lasted slightly shorter than Maximillien Robespierre's stewardship, but succeeded in being slightly more damaging to the entity's long term well being. Indeed, the Old Grey Lady's Food coverage is still slipping closer and closer to the USA Today standards of journalism!
In today's issue, we are presented with an entire article devoted to the finger bowl. To be exact, Alex Witchel squanders column inches attempting to impress someone out there by boasting about the Bourgeois dinner parties that he attends replete with wait-staff and ubiquitous Foie-Gras. While restraining himself from name dropping, he does find the time to insert some self deprecation in the form of an anecdote detailing his ignorance metal finger bowls... really!
Res Ipso Locquitor!
The Finger Bowl Article
(The article is followed by a threat that we'll be subjected to Witchel's writings on a monthly basis.)
Next, we are asked to read a blatant filler piece on Chicken Soup which I simply refuse to dignify through discussion.
I do enjoy Eric Asimov's Wine pieces as well as the host of oenological all-stars who comprise his tasting panels. However, these pieces are too seldom (roughly twice a month) and wine, too often, appears to be the product of some journalistic equivalent of affirmative action (quality pieces grudgingly inserted, but not too many lest we upset the power structure.)
Florence Fabricant's work is excellent, but for reasons unbeknownst to this humble blogger, they rarely receive the space they deserve. Today,
La Tour d'Argent's demotion to Michelin One Star Purgatory was given only a footnote amidst a shockingly scant 343 word effort on the new Michelin ratings. (Who would care about that?)
The Times is shockingly scarce in articles that are either practical or substantial! I must wonder whether this fallen standard can be attributed to its new bearer, Frank Bruni. After several years, Bruni has almost exorcised the specter of the infamous Babbo debut fiasco, and his writing is informative, insightful, and never fails to serve up the necessary historical data. All the same, it lacks a true eloquence (or elegance!) Bruni's obvious search for self and voice manifest itself not only through clumsy writings, but even worse through such Z-Axis experiments as his weeklong stint/gimmick as a waiter in New England.
Gastronomy is an inherently sensual, if not spiritual field, and Mr. Bruni has not yet mastered the all important art of writing that allows semantic expression of this essence. Therein lies the roots of the Dining In/Out Section's decline.
Alas, Billy T. where art thou?

Inaugural Fodder

Well, admittedly, I fdon't have to say right now; I guess that doesn't bode well for the site's future! In fact, a loss for words is at direct odds with the entire blog concept! However, I have input sufficient characters to secure my project.
In the future, there will be opinions, many opinions! They will touch upon food and wine, and all things related, but mainly people, restaurants, vineyards, and books!