Photos

Categories

• About
• Travelogue
• Dining
• Books
• Wine & Spirits
• Freakish Ramblings
• Tools
• Recipes
• Des Autres Bon Mots

Monthly Archives

• August 2010
• June 2010
• February 2010
• January 2010
• December 2009
• November 2009
• October 2009
• September 2009
• June 2009
• May 2009
• March 2009
• February 2009
• December 2008
• October 2008
• September 2008
• August 2008
• July 2008
• June 2008
• May 2008
• April 2008
• March 2008
• February 2008
• January 2008
• December 2007
• November 2007
• October 2007
• September 2007
• August 2007
• July 2007
• June 2007
• May 2007
• April 2007
• March 2007
• February 2007
• January 2007
• Complete Archives
• Category Archives

Most recent entries

• Suddenly, we’re in Paris.
• The Baltic Cruise 2010: Friday and Saturday, St. Petersburg
• The Baltic Cruise 2010: Thursday, Tallinn
• The Baltic Cruise 2010: Wednesday, Stockholm
• The Baltic Cruise 2010: Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday at Sea
• Minor Calamities
• The Summer of Us
• Valentine’s Day
• If You’re Ever in Cedar Rapids, Iowa …
• The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop
• Beginning the New Year With a New Kitchen
• Favorites from 2009
• On My Not Getting Lucky Last Night
• And I’ve Decided That Close Enough, Is Enough
• A Little Closer

Syndicate

• Atom
• RSS 2.0

Friday, January 29, 2010

If You’re Ever in Cedar Rapids, Iowa …

I have to admit that when I heard the forecast for snow, rain, and a wintery mix, I was hoping for something along the lines of chicory, frisee, and perhaps some curly endive. But sleet and ice be damned, we had a great time launching a new project in Cedar Rapids, and we had a couple of terrific dinners as well. If you’re ever in the area, check out Zins, which I am told is the new “it” place downtown. The dining room is warm and inviting--the kind of place that can feel both romantic and gregarious, depending on your company that night. And framed on the main wall is a shroud from the flood--a tablecloth upon which the impression of plates and place settings has seeped in indelibly as the restauranteurs quickly abandoned the building for safe and dry. Thank goodness for the restaurant’s resurrection.

Small plates, their specialty, a sort of international tapas approach. We shared classic pommes frites, meatloaf, tasso ham pizza, gnocchi, greek lamb burgers, as well as some salads and soups meant for one. The place was so great we went back a second night and ordered what we didn’t have the evening before. Next time we’re there, I’m going to try to score the semi-private table with a window into the kitchen.

And for great coffee and homemade pastries, check out Brewed Awakenings, a nifty little place on First Avenue. It’s the kind of place that makes you heartsick for the coffeehouse around the corner where they know your name and your drink-of-choice and are always glad to see you. Places like Zins and Brewed Awakenings ... are the next best thing to being home. 

Saturday, January 09, 2010

The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop

The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop
http://www.thecowboystar.com/
640 10th Avenue
San Diego, CA 92101
619.450.5880

Angie greets us with a big smile and friendly “welcome back.” Our second night at The Cowboy Star Restaurant and Butcher Shop. She may be excited to see us, but we’re even more excited just to be back.

“Same drinks as last night?” Angie asks. We nod, and the vodka martinis materialize in champagne coupes. They’re perfect--shaken just vigorously enough to produce those happy little ice crystals that float on the surface of the cold, cold drink.

We’d decided last night what we would be ordering tonight, but I’m swayed by two of the specials: the bone marrow appetizer served with toasted brioche points and the elk rack. Honey P. and I debate for a moment and decide to proceed, as planned:

For appetizers, braised lamb short ribs with potato dumpling and whisky-currant sauce, and bourbon braised berkshire pork belly with celery root puree, natural jus, frisee garnish. And for the entree, Elysian Fields farm lamb with green garlic farro, grilled artichokes, lamb jus, and rabbit duo with potato gnocchi, organic swiss chard, morel mushroom sauce. The wine, a 2006 Elizabeth Spencer merlot (thank you, Michael M., for introducing us to this label at In Fine Spirits!).

It’s hard to properly describe precisely how well prepared our meals are--they simply are wonderful. Everything from the quality of ingredients to the harmony of flavors to the size of the portions--all brilliantly balanced and presented with simple elegance.

And just as our meal is wonderful, the setting is also extraordinary. The interior design strikes me as a blend of Chanel and Tom Ford sensibilities, with a touch of The Territory Ahead and Patsy Cline. The space is beautiful, and I fight the urge to sing harmony on “Strange.” And though the restaurant is fairly full this particular Friday night, Honey P. and I can enjoy a quiet conversation. Priceless.

Even though I’m not a dessert person, I’m tempted by a number of the items they have on offer: profiteroles, a cheese plate, bread pudding, and, most honestly, the absinthe. We resist, happily pay the bill, and stroll back to the Hotel Solamar--all the while thrilled by our good fortune to be enjoying a warm breeze under a Western night sky.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

Beginning the New Year With a New Kitchen

“The larder is looking a little bare,” commented Honey P. “No, my darling,” I retorted, “what you see is clean and well-lighted place.”
You wouldn’t know it from a cursory glance--a lot looks the same--but I’m beginning the year with a new kitchen.

When we moved into our townhome roughly six years, I spent a good deal of time thinking through how I wanted to configure the space. The kitchen was--and continues to be--the room in the house that most belongs to me. And I think I did a pretty good job back then, but things change. My style of cooking evolved, and with it, my tools and the ways in which I used them. Also over time, I allowed what was originally a very organized space to accommodate the sprawl of foodstuffs, toys, and other miscellany. In a room almost twice the size of my last kitchen, I was starting to run out of both space and order. I was determined to meet the new year with a re-calibrated kitchen.

I began by opening all of the cabinets and drawers in the room to take stock of what was in the them, all the while asking myself three simple questions:

1. What do I use most?
2. What do I find most frustrating?
3. What would Michael and Molly do? (A few years back, Michael arranged for Molly Stevens to teach a class on braising in his kitchen. During her tutorial, she asked Michael where he kept a certain utensil--he told her, and she smiled and said something along the lines of “that’s where I’d keep it, too. This is definitely a cook’s kitchen.” I want to go to that place.)

The first to get emptied out, two cabinets devoted to bags (mostly brown paper bags from Whole Foods and the really nice shopping bags I’d gotten from little boutique stores over the years and thought were too nice to get rid of) and wicker baskets and trays from catered events years back that I’d also felt the need to save.

Then, the appliances. Taking into account the relative weight of each machine (the juicer’s pretty crazy-heavy) and the frequency with which I used each piece, I moved them all into the now-empty cabinet and arranged them in rows to allow quick reminders of their existence and easy reach, should the need occur.

I cleaned out the junk drawers by grouping all of the user manuals and restaurant menus together respectively, and stacking all of the recipe clippings I’d grabbed over the years into a gigantic pile that I relocated to my desk. (I later went through the pile, and pulled the electronic version of each recipe--most of them were online--into Evernote for the future.)

Next, the kitchen island, with its massive drawers crammed with all manner of gadgetry. I regrouped utensils by type or purpose (clips with clips, muddler with mallet, chinois with colander) and moved the items I used most so they’d be only an arm’s length away from the sink and the island, where I do most of my prep work.

Three piles began to form in the adjacent dining room: things I thought that friends and family could use, things to be donated to The Brown Elephant, and things to recycle or discard.

Storage items: Tupperware, Gladware, mason jars, and the like. This was mostly a matter of matching and stacking the containers and lids together--so easy, and it brought me such a sense of peace.

Pots, what to do with all of the pots and pans? I took the opportunity to burnish all of the All-Clad back to brilliant bright with the help of some Bar Keeper’s Friend before I redistributed the pieces into drawers closest to the ovens and cooktop. Note, Bar Keeper’s Friend is absolutely fantastic for removing stains and blemishes from stainless steel!

Next, the foodstuffs. Quickly discarded, anything past its freshness date, which reduced the pantry by a third. Then, I changed the shelve configuration around so I could reach items without the use of a stepladder.

And finally, the counters. I hear stories about counter wars: debates over what stays out and what gets tucked away can often be contentious. Thankfully, Honey P. lets me decide solely, and I decided that less is more. I kept only the food processor and Kitchenaid mixer by the sink. And on the island, a cookbook in its stand (for now, it’s Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home), my OXO kitchen scale, and an instant read thermometer. The book is currently open to Thomas’ recipe for a New England clam bake, which I intend to make as soon as I can get my hands on a 20-quart stockpot. Seven hours and eight bags of donations later, I can honestly say I’ll have room to store that pot, once I find it. Sante.