ESCAPES: Puglia, ITALY, Part 2: The Southern Salento

The southern part of the Salento region in Puglia boasts some of the most dramatic and stunning landscape in southern Italy. Here, you can head to an eastern, rocky Adriatic coast beach in the morning, then head west to the mostly sandy Ionian coast for sunset and aperitivi. And this can all be done in an hour's time. The water is the gorgeous turquoise green of the Caribbean, and then gradually deepens to a royal blue found in the most pristine waters of the North Atlantic. From the eastern tip of Puglia, you can look across the Mediterranean on a clear day and see Albania. I know from experience that you can pick up their radio stations as you drive along the coast heading south.

And it's here that you hit the most easterly town in Italy, the beautiful coastal mini-city of Otranto(pronounced OH-tran-to), which abuts the water and boasts a charming harbor, the city having served as Italy's main port to the East for 1,000 years.

The beautiful seaside port belies a brutal history in the sack of Otranto in 1480, when the Turks and Venetians rushed the city with 18,000 troops and basically massacred everyone there, including the 800 survivors who were marched up a hill and beheaded for refusal to renounce their Christian faith. Some of these martyrs' remains are contained in a chapel in the nearby Cathedral. The Aragonese Castle (attributed to the 16th century Spanish) is another landmark in town that towers over the landscape. It's open for touring. Beyond this checkered history, Otranto and the Salento are lovely locales, packed with (mostly Italian) tourists and former residents-come-home in the summertime. 

The beaches in this area are gorgeous and bustling, and the coastline is a dramatic and stunning scape. You can see how this was originally a Greek outpost, just from the visuals: the Cerulean waters and arid land covered with ancient, craggy olive trees as far as the eye can see. The drives along the coast to the north and south of Otranto offer some of the best beaches in Puglia -- and arguably in all of Italy. To the north, there is the Baia dei Turchi (Bay of Turks), where translucent turquoise waters from tourist posters comes to life. Heading south, towns like Santa Cesarea Terme (home of a renowned Moorish resort) and Castro, with a small marina much like Otranto's, are worthy of stops down to the very tip of the Pugliese peninsula.

And, they're not on the typical tourist radar. There are also grottoes to be visited -- including Grotta Zinzulusa, most famously -- offering a subterranean glimpse into the rich cave formations of the region and, where there's water, an otherworldly emerald glow. The very southern tip of Puglia is capped by Capo Santa Maria di Leuca, with its lighthouse at the very end of southeastern Italian land -- and where you're only 44 miles from Albania. 

As for lodging around Otranto, like in most of Puglia, the masserie reign supreme. These former working farmhouses for communal living that dot the Puglian landscape have been transformed into the area's signature B&B/hotel, most of which have a central courtyard with a pool, and a functioning restaurant on the property, which usually uses local ingredients often procured on the masseria's land, from its garden, etc.

One such lovely spot is Masseria Montelauro, originally constructed in 1878. Since then it has been a monastery, an herbal pharmacy, a restaurant -- even a discotheque. It now houses 32 rooms and suites refurbished in whitewashed Mediterranean minimalist chic, with wrought-iron beds, arched stone ceilings, flowing white curtains, and bathrooms in stone and marble.

The on-site restaurant serves three meals a day (including poolside and room service), and uses Montelauro's own olive oil, herbs, and vegetables in the cooking. The pool in the middle of it all is the perfect place to while away the morning or afternoon, and then you can take a short drive to one of the coasts for a few hours at the beach, after breakfast or post-lunch. Part of the charm of Puglia is that, though it's an ancient part of the Italian peninsula, it's not jam-packed with must-see tourist sites. There are those, of course, but it's also about getting into the Italian rhythm of life, and vacation, which is decidedly slow. You may very well finish that novel you pack.

Across the region, on the western (Ionian) coast, there is the area around Punta della Suina ("Pig's Point"), a beach in an area of nature reserve where you walk through a small pine forest to get to the waterline itself. (That's a view of Gallipoli in the distance, by the way -- we'll get there in a minute). Here at Punta della Suina, there are stabilimenti (beachside establishments that include bathrooms, bars, and often restaurants or sandwich and pizza bars, from completely informal shacks to sprawling, mod-design aperitivo magnets with full-on DJs). Here, you can rent lounge chairs and umbrellas, indulge in a salad or a panino and a glass of vino or a cocktail, if you like. It's one of the charms of the area.

There are also plenty of seaside trattorie where they serve local seafood dished up in various preparations. And this being Puglia, there is always a wealth of vegetable sides alongside the seafood stars. In short: you will not go hungry at the beach if you don't bring a picnic lunch.

Drive just north up the Ionian coast and you hit the famed town on the Golf of Taranto, Gallipoli -- which, fittingly, means "beautiful town" in Greek. The ancient city center ia an island joined by a bridge from the more modern (and much less interesting) part of town. The historic quarter is relentlessly charming, extremely photogenic, and definitely a must-see on any trip to the southern Salento.

The perimeter of the old city is lined with sea walls, on top of which are perched pastel and whitewashed stucco houses, hotels, restaurants, and shops. The cobblestones streets of the old city offer much of the same: charming vicoli and back alleys from which echo the patter of sandal-clad feet, reminiscent of those historic towns of the Greek islands of Mykonos or Paros. You can linger for a serious gelato or granita, particularly at the entrance to the old city, by the port, or at

Caffe' Duomo

.

There are some very lovely and stylish retail stores, including a personal favorite, Blanc, which sells everything from furniture and home design to women's accessories -- basically what you'd want your ideal Puglian trullo to look like, with you in it. The large space also contains a super-chic cafe' and lounge within its fabulous stone walls, perfect for a coffee or cocktail post-beach. Another amazing shop is Salamastra, a store specializing in fun shoes, leather and suede wraps and skirts trimmed in what's made to look like Pugliese eyelet lace, and jewelry made from lizards skins and leather. They also feature home goods made out of local shells, nautical rope and the like, inspired by the Salentino beachy style. The three co-owners also have a store in South Beach Florida. They divide their time between the two places, which is certainly a best-of-all-worlds scenario!

As for the food, Gallipoli's port is its pride, and it's all about fresh seafood here. Fresh catches arrive in the morning and again in the late afternoon, and opposite the port on the other side of the bridge, a fish market is set up twice a day until they sell out of goods. As to be expected in these parts, there are booths set up for the sole purpose of selling ricci di mare, or sea urchin. Some are meant to be scooped out and eaten on the spot, but many sellers clean the ricci at their booth and plop the little orange sacks into seawater-filled jars to preserve them.

These are sold cheaply for about 8-10 euros per small jar. We bought a jar and I added the sea urchin at the last minute to that evening's pasta, spaghetti con le vongele (with clams) -- it was a particularly rich and delicious Pugliese version! But the fish market in general is a gorgeous spot. You can bargain for great prices on the famous local red shrimp, beautiful scampi, swordfish...on all kinds of whole fish like branzino, and for octopus, calamari, and every kind of sweet shellfish you could hope for. So much of this delicious seafood is edible without cooking -- and here in Puglia, it's often best simply sprinkled with a little sea salt and some buttery-green unfiltered Pugliese olive oil, possibly a spritz of lemon. And that's it. Simple enough to do without lighting a stove, casually sitting there on your patio or terrazza or poolside at the masseria (or ask the chef where you're staying to prep it for you!). Add a little local rose' wine, and you're set. Southern Salento style.

photo credit: M. Sweeney

For more information on locations, lodging, and activities around the region, check out:

http://www.charmingpuglia.com/en

Masseria Montelauro

Uggiano Localita Montelauro

Strada Provinciale 358, 73028 Otranto

+39 0836 806 203

Blanc

Via XXIV Maggio, 19

Gallipoli LE, Italy

+39 0833 26349

Salamastra

Via Antonietta De Pace 90

73014 Gallipoli (LE)

+39 0833 261577

info@salamastra.com

SEASONAL INGREDIENT: Capers

Capers are a curious little flower bud. Their briny touch of heat adds an interesting hit of flavor to sauces, salads, and main courses to which they're added. Caper bushes grow in harsh, semi-arid environments in Morocco, southeastern Spain, Italy, throughout the Middle East, and in parts of Asia and Australia.

The plant thrives in intense daylight and temperatures of over 40 degrees centigrade in the summer -- though it doesn't do so well in cold and frost. Once it takes hold it acts much like a weed, growing through the cracks of the Western Wall in Jerusalem, creeping over ancient walls in Rome, and snaking between cobblestones and fortifications in Marrakesh and Damascus.

The caper and its relatives in several European tongues can be traced back to classical Latin capparis, which was borrowed from the Greek kápparis -- the origin of which, much like the plant itself, is unknown but most likely Asian. A different theory traces kápparis to the name of the island of Cyprus (Kýpros), where capers grow abundantly. The Sicilian islands of Salina and Pantelleria are justly famous for their capers in salt. There, rustic, often unpaved roads are lined with makeshift (and sometimes not-so-makeshift) stands selling local capers, often manned by a young boy who picked the capers himself.

The island of Salina is the perfect place for every step in the caper production process, since the salt, too, often comes from the island's own salt flats (hence the island's name). It's the good fortune of nature that capers pair so well with the fruits of these islands: seafood from the surrounding Mediterranean, as well as vegetables like eggplant, tomatoes, and peppers for which the cuisine of Sicily is renowned.

The caper buds, when ready to pick, are a dark olive green and roughly the size of a kernel of corn. They're plucked from the bush at the bud's base, then placed in a jar and brined in sea salt, or pickled in a salt-and-vinegar solution, and then eventually drained.

Here, we're picking the little guys from a couple of bushes in the walled back yard of the B&B my friends Monica and Marcello run in the Salento region of southern Puglia, Italy. It was June and every day when we awoke, new buds were ready to be picked and put in a small jar, sotto sale("under salt"), as the Italians say. This way they're perfectly preserved for future use -- though it's best to know a little in advance when you're going to need them for cooking, as they do well with several soakings in water to remove the powerful saline intensity they pick up from the salt. 

Harvesting capers can be a labor-intensive, arduous process on a larger scale, since they're too small and delicate to be plucked by machine. It's all done by hand, which is what makes them a pricey comestible. The smallest, called nonpareil, are the most prized of the bunch, and the most frequently used in cooking. Mustard oil (known as glucocapparin) in the capers is released from each bud, which accounts for the bite capers have. When this oil is released, the enzymatic reaction forms rutin, resulting in the crystallized white spots you often find on the surface of the bud.

If left to flower and come to fruit, caper berries are created, which are almost a cross between a traditional caper (bud) and an olive, with lots of tiny, crunchy seeds inside. The caper berries are usually pickled and are often served in Southern Italian and Greek aperitivi and mezze -- perfect pop-in-your-mouth cocktail snacks that, much like briny olives, help to fill the tummy while working up a thirst.

Capers are a distinctive ingredient in Italian cuisine, especially in Sicilian and southern Italian cooking. They're used in everything from salads and pasta salads to meat dishes, fish preparations, and pasta sauces. Two of the most famous uses for capers are in chicken piccata and pasta alla puttanesca.

The latter, of course, is famously named supposedly because it was a pasta dish that was relatively easy for Neapolitan prostitutes ("puttane") to prepare for their clients...(yes, everything -- everything -- in Italy seems to come with a side of pasta!)...the thought being that every single Italian pantry contains, at the very least, canned tomatoes, olives, capers, anchovies, and dried pasta. Whether this is true or not is a different story, but I've always loved this culinary origin tale, mostly because it paints the working girl-client relationship as more than just a business transaction, but as one during which they actually break bread, share pasta, have a few laughs, maybe a glass of wine.

Which leads me to this fun fact about capers: in Biblical times, the caper berry was supposed to have aphrodisiac properties. The Hebrew wordabiyyonah (אֲבִיּוֹנָה) for caperberry is quite closely linked to the Hebrew root אבה, which means "desire" (the word even occurs once in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes). Ancient desire, the Wailing Wall, gorgeous Sicilian islands, friendly prostitutes in Naples...as it turns out, the little caper is a mighty flower bud, finding itself in places sacred and profane, arid and lush, throughout history. Something to chew on.    

LIBATIONS: Borgoña, Chilean "Sangria"

I'm always looking for a new refreshing summer cocktail. And the search, of course, is half of the fun! In honor of Chile winning the Copa America this past weekend, I thought I'd introduce my readers to a delicious Chilean summer drink staple.

While on a city tour in Santiago, Chile, my friend Jess and I were pointed in the direction of a very famous, time-worn dive of a bar/restaurante favored by old men playing cards, eating overstuffed sandwiches and sipping on local wine cocktails. We knew once the the tour ended, we'd do a B-line for the place. It's called Bar Restaurant de la Union, and it seemed fortuitous that it was located on a street named for my home city: Nueva York.

Once inside, we admired the dark wood paneling and the old-school waiters who looked like they'd been there since before Pinochet. We decided a snack was in order, so we enjoyed some delicious bocadillos (sandwiches)...and of course the drink that our guide had described to us as the thing to order here: Borgoña. This is a sort of Chilean sangria, refreshingly simple and using two star ingredients from Chile's rich earth: delicious red wine, preferably of the Carménère varietal, and frutillas, which is Chilean Spanish for strawberries. 

These strawberries, it needs to be stated, were some of the most gorgeous specimens I've ever seen in my life (and living in Rome for the better part of a decade, I know from gorgeous strawberries)! They most likely don't need any help in Chile, or in Rome for that matter, but if you can't find ripe, ruby-red strawberries where you are, you might want to add a touch of sugar to the mix. Now, like most things, this drink gets better the longer it sits with the fruit macerating in the wine. But you can also mix in the berries (sugar optional) just before you make a batch. Yes, "batch" is more realistic than "glass" -- this is not the kind of drink of which you make just one, if you know what I mean.

And yes, there are variations on it. You can make it with white wine and strawberries, or white wine with peaches (great with a sauvignon blanc from Chile's Central Valley -- the peaches pick up the hints of stone fruit in the wine itself). This is called Clery or Ponche. You could add various kinds of berries, as well --- raspberries and red currants to tilt it towards tart, blackberries and blueberries to bring out the inky ripe berry flavors in the wine. 

The basic recipe is simple. Slice one cup of delicious, ripe strawberries, one bottle of Chilean red wine, and a tablespoon of sugar (optional). Mix with ice, or simply chill in the fridge, either for several hours or just 30 minutes, if you can't wait. And sip! That's it -- it's so simple, but so refreshing on a hot summer day. And it's the perfect drink to toast to the Chilean team, Copa America winners...and, while you're at it, toast the American Women's Soccer Team for a fabulous World Cup victory yesterday, as well! (Hmm...I may need to come up with a cocktail just for the women's soccer team....)

Bar Restaurant de la Union

Nueva York 11

Santiago Centro, Santiago, Chile

+56 2 269 61 821

RESTAURANT REVIEW: NOPI, London

It makes me quite happy that there is a trend in the western dining world in which Eastern Mediterranean/Middle Eastern Cuisine has experienced a surge in popularity -- or, as the real case may be, this cuisine is being discovered, for many, for the first time. Leading the way in this popularity is Israeli food, championed in America by the likes of Israel-born/America-raised Michael Solomonov, in Philadelphia, and in London, Jerusalem and internationally by foodie favorite Yotam Ottolenghi. It seems obvious that Israel, as a now-fertile part of the world, would have more to offer than just falafel and hummus (even if it is the most delicious falafel and hummus out there!). The Israelis have turned desert into functioning agricultural oasis, and the produce coming out of the Holy Land can seem, at times, like it's been touched by You-Know-Who.

Which is why it's so interesting that Yotam Ottolenghi has taken the food world by storm, by creating lush, interesting, abundantly-flavored salads and grain dishes and vegetarian-friendly fare (though not only)...in London, England, of all places.

It may be, though, because London's got the international audience and has been starved for market-fresh Mediterranean ingredients like Ottolenghi procures, that his eponymous cafes are such huge hits. Their success actually allowed him to open a couple of slightly more formal restaurants serving a more upscale, refined eastern Mediterranean Israeli cuisine, called NOPI. We enjoyed a delicious, multi-course dinner at the Soho location last month. I was, as expected, impressed.

The setting is a mod, spare white dining room upstairs. The subterranean level consists of an open kitchen and 2 large communal tables perfect for large groups or socializing your way through dinner. The sharing-plates thing adds to the communal nature of the dining experience here -- something at which I often roll my eyes these days (shared plates, again? Oh yes, server please explain to me how that works. 6-7 plates each, you suggest? Grrr). But here, since I really was tempted by practically everything on the menu, ordering lots of smaller-portioned plates "for the table" really did work well. 

We started with some nice homemade bread, and ordered cocktails immediately. My friend Helen had been sipping on a variation of one of the drinks on the list, doctored with vodka instead of tequila, and with plenty of passion fruit with seeds in the mix. (A plus: the bar was very accommodating).

Once we placed our orders, the dishes started coming out when they were ready, bit by bit. First out? The courgette and manouri cheese fritters with cardamom yogurt were flavorful bites of Mediterranean vegetal, herb, and tangy flavors in one. It wasn't much of a wait before we were scarfing down rainbow chard with tenderstem broccoli and yuzu, as well.

Of course, pretty much every time I see eggplant on a menu -- particularly when Mediterranean or Middle Eastern food is involved -- I need to order it. Here, it was a deliciously charred aubergine over a smear of almond yogurt (which seemed more like a miso, with its rich umami flavor), sprinkled with pickled chilis. It was fabulous.

We continued with a plate of chickpeas, butternut squash, feta, and balsamic, a study in texture and sweet-savory-acidic-salty. We also enjoyed the hearty beef short ribs with a beer glaze and horseradish. We had scallops with apple, nettle, and lemon puree', and pork shoulder croquettes with kohlrabi, nashi pear, and basil mayonnaise. The classic simple staple on the menu is the chicken dish: a twice-cooked baby chicken, with lemon myrtle salt and chili sauce, in either a half or whole-chicken portion. We didn't have room for it, but I imagine it's perfectly cooked, seasoned, and balanced in flavor, with enough of a spicy bite to make it a standout. The beauty of the cooking here is the freshness, paired with an excellent, heightened sense of the interplay of texture, flavor, and elements of taste that the chefs employ. This, to me, is one of the most important skills in being a quality chef.

Sadly, we had no room for dessert. And that's a real shame, because pastry and "puddings" are a strong point of Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, his partner. Next time, I'd go for something like the roast pineapple, macadamia nuts, lemongrass and coconut cream (Asian style) or stick with the strawberry mess, sumac, and rosewater (Middle Eastern fused with old English). We were able to finish up our cocktails and enjoy a trip or two to the over-the-top bathrooms downstairs: an Alice In Wonderland, hall-of-mirrors affair where they feel compelled to label the exit door handle. Don't leave the restaurant without a trip here!

And more good news: the restaurant is open for breakfast and lunch, which are traditionally strong meals for Israelis, with elaborate spreads both savory and sweet. NOPI also features one of my favorite Israeli breakfast/brunch/lunch options: shakshuka, the egg and spicy tomato-pepper-onion dish of north African extraction that you find in every cafe worth its sumac in Tel Aviv. And much like I've done with Tel Aviv, I swear to return to NOPI and Ottolenghi's other restaurants. You should join me!

NOPI 

21-22 Warwick Street

London W1B 5NE

Tel: 020 7494 9584

contact@nopi-restaurant.com

MARKETS: Ortygia Island in Siracusa, Sicily

The island of Ortygia, the centro storico (historic center) within the city of Siracusa, Sicily, is a gorgeous spit of land connected to the mainland coastal town by a narrow channel and 3 small bridges. It's a typically Southern Italian ornate, mostly-baroque confection of narrow streets and wrought iron balconies, fortresses and cathedrals, and plenty of ruins and underground tunnels. It's as Greek in feel as it is Italian, and of course Siracusa actually defeated Athens in 413 A.D., so perhaps what we think of as Greek is actually just, well, Sicilian. Regardless, the name Ortygia (also Ortigia, same pronunciation in Italian) means "quail" and comes from the Greek ortyx. 

"Quail Island" has an old Jewish quarter that's probably the most charming section of a tiny island filled with charm. The Jewish community here in Siracusa was the second most populous in Sicily after Palermo, and was an integral part of the population before they were expelled by the Spanish kings in 1492. Here in the Giudecca (Jewish section), the beautiful architecture that lines the narrow vicoli is a blend of Medieval and Renassiance, Hebrew-Israelite and Sicilian Baroque. You can even visit the miqvah, the Jewish baths restored and open, on a limited basis, to the public. Water is such an integral part of life here on the Sicilian coast, where you're surrounded by it, you're on top of it, and you sustain human life with aquatic life.

Speaking of, we're focusing on the relatively small-but-beautiful food market of Ortygia today, teeming with life and Sicilian salesmen calling out their wares. The local aquatic life is, of course, something of which to be proud: branzini so fresh they're still in rigor mortis, ruby-red tuna famous in these parts. There's Sicilian swordfish as well as abundant sardines, calamari and scampi and shrimp and octopus...all beautifully displayed for purchase and cooking for lunch or dinner (though admittedly, I'd had an amazing seafood couscous the previous evening that was so filling that I could barely fathom eating anything more than a juicy peach the next day!).

The market itself is surrounded by inexpensive clothing and souvenir stalls, but the good part of the food market is mostly on Via de Benedictis, opening up onto the Piazza C. Battisti, abutting the shoreline, where there is also a famous specialty store owned by the Fratelli Burgio called Il Gusto dei Sapori Smarriti ("The Taste of Lost Flavors"). Here you can find countless local Sicilian cheeses, salumi,and specialty food items local to the island of Sicily. You can even ask them to make you sandwiches and put together a great picnic basket to take to the water or to the 4,600 year-old Greek ampitheater in town.

The market stalls offer spices sold from baskets, remnants of Sicily as a cultural crossroads. And in the general fruit and vegetable market, there are countless beautiful iterations of southern Italian produce, from numerous variations of eggplant and peppers and onions (including the torpedo-shaped red Tropea onions from Calabria, pictured here), to garlic and herbs. There are countless fruits available by the piece -- though they're so enticing, you'll want them by the bushel or the bag full, so yo can serve them by the bowlful (and they'd look even more delicious served in some of the stunning decorated ceramic pottery for which Sicily is famous. But I digress). Of course, each season in Sicily is reflected in the market, and I had the good fortune of being in Sicily in early August, when so many stone fruits and melons and berries and figs and fichi d'india ("Indian figs," what we call cactus pears) are abundant.

But of these fruits, possibly the most abundant and mind-boggling in its variety is the tomato. The market in Ortygia offered an impossibly vermilion collection of the most gorgeous tomatoes, in all shapes and sizes, I've ever seen. And the scent of them! They've never seen a refrigerator (nor should they), and the smell of ripe tomatoes, warm to the touch, sitting in the shade but in the Sicilian heat, vine-ripened....well, you get the idea. The photo at right is not enhanced in any way -- the red glow is as it was in 'real life'. You can see why I might wax poetic about this display.

And speaking of tomatoes, another wonderful aspect of Ortygia's market is the variety of Sicilian-specific products featured in its stalls. We're talking about local oregano, hung to dry and sold like bouquets of dried flowers. We're talking about those peerless Sicilian tomatoes, sun-dried to concentrate their flavor, and sold alongside other salt-cured, -brined, or otherwise salt-forward products, including Sicilian capers and caper berries, olives, and frutta secca (dried fruit) which includes sultanas, almonds, figs, and the world-renowned pistachios from Bronte. Everything is lovingly displayed, and the sellers of these items call to passers-by (often in Sicilian dialect, mind you), highlighting the extraordinary quality of all the foods this proud island has to offer. My recommendation? Get it all, everything you may have room for, in your kitchen, your fridge, your bags. Regret is for suckers, not Sicilians.

RECIPE: Saltimbocca alla Romana

It's a classic Roman dish that never goes out of style, though there are many renditions of this cucina romana staple: saltimbocca alla romana. The name saltimbocca literally means "jumps in the mouth," which is what a great version of this dish should do, in terms of flavor. The elements are simple: great quality, super thinly-sliced veal scaloppine (though the dish works surprisingly well with chicken or turkey scaloppine as well -- just don't tell any Romans I said so!). Top-quality prosciutto. Fresh sage leaf. Local white wine. Good quality olive oil and butter, and a spritz of lemon and/or white wine vinegar. And that's it. No cheese, please. And for even cooking and simplicity's sake, I don't roll the scaloppine up. Flour is negotiable: coat the scaloppine in a light dusting of flour if you'd like a more pronounced crust to the meat and a slightly thicker sauce. But really, the beauty of the preparation is also its simplicity, like most great Italian dishes.

SALTIMBOCCA ALLA ROMANA

(4 servings)

4 large slices prosciutto, thinly sliced

4 large veal scallopes, about 3/4 lb. total weight

4 fresh sage leaves

AP flour for dusting (optional)

salt & pepper to taste

6 TBS. butter

2 TBS. olive oil

6 TBS. dry white wine

Juice of one lemon or 2 TBSP. white wine vinegar

- Place a slice of prosciutto over each veal slice, so it’s just slightly smaller than the piece of veal.

- Place a sage leaf in the middle of the prosciutto and secure with a wooden toothpick.

- Dredge in flour mixed with a bit of salt and pepper, if desired

- Heat 2 TBS. butter and 2 TBS. oil in a large skillet.

- When foam subsides, add the meat, prosciutto side down.

- Brown on both sides until golden.

- Remove meat from pan and transfer to serving dish.

- Add wine to skillet, and stir to mix up the browned bits in the pan. Add lemon juice/vinegar here if desired.

- Turn up heat and let the sauce bubble for 1-3 minutes, to reduce to about 1/3 cup of liquid.

- Add the remaining 4 TBS. butter to the pan, a bit at a time, swirling to melt as you go.

- Taste and adjust seasoning, then place veal back in pan to heat through and glaze with sauce. Remove veal and place on a serving platter, pour sauce over meat, and serve.

ESCAPES: Charleston, South Carolina, Part 2

And we're back in Charleston...back in the South, where the summer days are languid in this semi-tropical clime, and the only way to cool off is on a side porch or inside under a ceiling fan with a cool drink.

Hominy Grill is just about the best place in town to relax with a laid-back lunch, either on their cute outdoor patio, or inside under their white painted pressed-tin ceilings and aforementioned spinning ceiling fans, pictured at left.

The blackboard specials are sure to entice, but of course one comes here to enjoy the southern staples of low-country cooking.

Their version of shrimp and grits is a beautiful, simple thing: a bed of stone-ground creamy-white hominy, with plump gulf shrimp, crispy bacon, sauteed mushrooms, and scallions on top of the grits. Served with a lemon wedge to squeeze over top, this is the ultimate in southern comfort food. It's filling, but it doesn't overwhelm. Which is a good thing, since you can't order just one dish at Hominy Grill.

The boiled peanuts we got to munch on while waiting for our appetizers (yes, that's right) were so flavorful they practically defied culinary explanation. They were meaty, in the best sense of the word, and I'm guessing they were cooked in ham liquor -- the brothy goodness made with ham hocks in which collard greens are boiled in the southern kitchen.  They were unbelievable.

The picnic plate appetizer consisted of delicious southern ham, pimento cheese (another southern staple), pickled okra, and beet-pickled hard-boiled eggs, served with garlic toasts.

It's a fun and eclectic selection of the various flavors of the region. Of course, the she-crab soup needed to be sampled, in all its sherry-laced glory.

And one of the specials of the day happened to be cheese-stuffed jalapeno poppers -- here done one better than standard bar fare style, as the peppers were served with whipped sorghum butter, a rich, sweet counterpart to the spice and sharpness of the peppers and cheese stuffing.

Delish.

All of this was washed down with iced tea, of course, but I did feel it necessary to try one of the house cocktails, since so many of the ingredients used were local and terribly enticing. I selected the Blackberry Collins, which was refreshing and tart with a nice vodka kick. I had to reel myself in so I didn't start day drinking with multiples of this cocktail! But the indulgence continued, of course, with a special dessert of the day: a coconut pie with dark chocolate ganache, sort of a Mounds bar (love) in pie form.

The ganache was super dark and rich, the coconut textured and just sweet enough, with an expertly-made pie crust that was thin, flaky, and fell on the savory side, which I love as a nice counterbalance to a sweet pie. It was topped with fresh, unsweetened whipped cream on top. I mean...come on! I left Hominy Grill a very happy camper. And full doesn't even begin to cover it.

Once you've had a filling lunch like that, you may want to find a hammock somewhere and nap (I wanted that desperately). But instead, your time might be better spent on a lovely carriage ride around town to see the sites around historic Charleston, from King Street on down to the Battery. You could also take a River Boat Cruise on the water down to Ft. Sumter, which is a relaxing and informative way to spend a few hours (some tours allow you to get off at the Fort, some just swing by the island on the water).

You can go to the old slave market and museum, where America's slave trade was essentially headquartered. I know -- all of this is pretty hard to swallow, no pun intended.

But as much as it all leaves a bad taste in your mouth (ahem), it's all part of America's history, and important to witness and to study.

Even the beautiful houses that participate in the Charleston House Tours -- historically registered and restored, explained by well-versed tour guides, and lovingly kept up inside and out by gardeners and caretakers...sometimes I felt like paying money to see these things was contributing to the upholding of something sinister. But really, it's much better that these places remain, not just for their historical significance, but also for their aesthetic beauty and the current Charleston community that survives based heavily on its tourism appeal. Much as its history is checkered, there's no denying Charleston's present day charm. There are a few weeks a year when houses that are not usually open to the public, open their doors. The city tends to get crowded during these weeks, and hotel rooms can be hard to come by, so book ahead if you can. One house that is open to the public year round is the Nathaniel Russell House. Built in 1808, It's possibly the town's finest example of Federal-style architecture, with a free-flying staircase and beautiful garden.

And speaking of palatial digs, we spent the second half of our stay in Charleston at the gorgeous Charleston Place, in the middle of much of the city's center, with one side on King Street, the city's shopping epicenter and a hub of restaurants and bars. This grande dame was recently refurbished, and it shows. The huge lobby chandelier and sweeping staircases make for a dramatic entrance, and the rooftop indoor pool, gym, and outdoor lounge area give you a bird's-eye view of Charleston. One of the top restaurants in the city, Charleston Grill, is contained within the hotel, and many shops, if not in the hotel proper, are very nearby, as are so many restaurants and bars of note. The renovated rooms are spacious and beautiful, tranquil, with large marble bathrooms and a gigantic shower: a real treat.

We had one of our best meals the evening we moved to Charleston Place, at the nearby FIG, which had come highly recommended to me by colleagues in the food business and various culinary publications as well. I have a weakness for places with "fig" in their name, but in this case it's an acronym for "Food Is Good." Direct and to the point, you can't argue that. But it's deceptively simple for a menu seemingly straightforward, but executed with a sophisticated flair and a spot-on chef's palate. Our server was incredibly thorough in his explanations and well-versed in the preparation of the dishes, their ingredients, and the wine list as well.

I started with a vegetable salad, a cornucopia of various fresh veggies of all colors, shapes, and sizes, bright and springy and left to taste the way they're supposed to taste -- everything from cauliflower and beans to French finger radishes and crisp peas. Refreshing. The hands-down best dish of the evening was one that The Big Guy ordered, and it was a rare occasion that I suffered order envy. The pork schnitzel over farro with spring peas was exactly what the English dub as "moreish": you want more and more of it. The delicate lettuce leaves on top and the peas kept their snap, as did the crunchy crust of the schnitzel itself, but the meat inside was juicy, the farro was nutty-toothsome, and the sauce was one the most flavorful kinds of savory, enriched jus I've ever tasted.

I would like this dish right now, actually. All this is not to say that I didn't enjoy my dish, because I most definitely did: triggerfish (a local fish we saw all over the menus of Charleston, which is delicious) over broken rice grits -- that is, broken bits of rice grains cooked in the manner of grits, another thing you see on menus in these parts -- with a vibrant green sauce and broccoli.

It was a delicious, light, springy dish, local.

Tasty. But it was no schnitzel! The sides were delicious as well, and included a silky potato puree and earthy roasted beets with a vinegar kick. The portions don't look terribly huge, nor are they miniscule -- but they're actually much more filling and hearty than they look. By the time we leisurely made our way to dessert, we were absolutely stuffed. And yet. A chocolate almond cake with mint chocolate chip ice cream beckoned to the 9-year-old inside of me. The port tasting, to accompany the dessert, beckoned to the adult, real-time me. It was almost -- almost -- too much. But the richness of the chocolate cake was cut by the minty freshness of my favorite ice cream flavor. It was an excellent way to cap off a meal that exceeded expectations, even if those expectations were pretty high to begin with. 

Did I mention we were in town during March Madness? My alma mater's team was doing quite well in the tournament, something UVA had not experienced since I was in college (!) in the early-to-mid-nineties. So we were all very excited to be able to root for the Cavaliers once again. The ACC is quite a competitive group of schools, many of which are in the South, so we had our competition just to watch the UVA games in Charleston. But there were establishments that showed the game, and we found them.

They were often the more casual joints around the city, serving burgers and beer, or fish and chips -- pubby, but still really focused on good quality food. The first place we viewed a game was a pub next door to our first hotel, The Vendue Inn, called The Griffon. It was a small place that felt authentically English, with a great beer selection and a big screen (literally. Not a TV. A big screen) showing the Virginia game, with lots of UVA fans mixed with local Carolinians rooting for their team.

We were winning, but we got there late, so they'd stopped serving dinner fare. We hopped over to the Pearlz Oyster Bar around the corner off Meeting Street, as the kitchen is open late. They also indulged us and let us change the channel on the bar TV to the UVA game. We were happy with a great beer selection and some very legitimate fish and chips, as well, served in newspaper with homemade tartar sauce and all. The only drawback was that the 'chips' were American chips, potato chips. They were homemade though, so they get some points back.

The next memorable meal we enjoyed was a brunch at The Grocery, in a converted loft-like space off of Upper King Street. Again, this place features local ingredients, and since Southern style breakfasts are a strong suit in the low country repertoire, brunch offers numerous possibilities for this revamped local cuisine to shine. Examples?

Take, for instance, the playful "Green Eggs and Ham": poached eggs rolled in parsley bread crumbs (hence the green), over smoked ham, on cornmeal-cheddar griddle cakes, drizzled with a mustard vinaigrette.

Or, their upscale update of chicken and waffles: fried quail and french toast (made with thick country bread), with an orange-sorghum syrup. I wished there was more of it, as quail lacks the meaty quality of good fried chicken, but it was flavorful, with a nice batter, and of course the interplay of super-savory and sweet was there in all its glory. It's one of those places with a menu that begs you to try everything on it. Next trip, I'm eager to try their Hangtown Fry (fried oysters and green tomatoes with a  farm egg and bacon frittata, with remoulade) and the Duck Confit Hash with potatoes, apple, fennel, a soft egg and dijonnaise. I'd also like to return for dinner, especially at this time of year, when their Soft Shell Crab 3 Ways has my name written all over it. After brunch, one might head out to see a nearby plantation.

Middleton Place is highly recommended for its gorgeous grounds and architecture, a short drive outside of Charleston proper.

There are several great cocktail spots in Charleston for aperitivi, or pre-dinner drinks. One of the best is the rooftop at the Market Pavilion Hotel. It's decidedly less formal than their old world, beautiful dining room downstairs.

You take the elevator to the rooftop and get some gorgeous views at sunset, with an expansive cocktail list to boot.

The rooftop at the Vendue Inn was, sadly, under renovation while we were in town and staying there ourselves, which was a real shame. But I hear it's fabulous, and our experience at the inn was great in general, so I'm sure the rooftop is an excellent spot.

Another game night, another sports-viewing-friendly establishment...but again, with some good food. We headed to the oddly-named Closed for Business, which was open for business and showed the UVA game. Their craft beer selection met the approval of The Big Guy, and we selected our beers according to our divergent tastes in brews...and with glass sizes to match our actual sizes! After this mellow game night on Upper King Street, we headed for a change of pace to Bin 152, on lower King Street near our hotel. Their wine list is long and varied, and the atmosphere is mellow and rustic. We could have shared a lovely cheese plate, but were too full to have been able to enjoy it, so we sipped our wine and reflected on our time in Charleston. I was happy to have finally made my first trip to this charming southern city, and swore it would not be our last. With a flight under 2 hours and a temperate semi-tropical climate, popping down to the palmetto state is a very enticing option. The food and drink? That's the icing on the cake.

Hominy Grill

207 Rutledge Ave. (Canonboro)

(843) 937-0930

www.hominygrill.com

FIG

Mike Lata

232 Meeting Street

(843) 805-5900

www.eatatfig.com

The Griffon

18 Vendue Range

(843) 723-1700

 www.griffoncharleston.com

Pearlz Oyster Bar

153 East Bay Street

(843) 577-5755

The Grocery

4 Cannon Street

(843) 302-8825

www.thegrocerycharleston.com

Rooftop at the Market Pavilion Hotel

225 E. Bay Street

(843)723-0500

www.marketpavilion.com/pavilionbar.cfm

Closed for Business

453 King Street

(843) 853-8466

www.closed4business.com

Bin 152

152 King Street

(843) 577-7359

www.bin152.com 

Charleston Place

205 Meeting Street

(843) 722-4900

www.charlestonplace.com

Nathaniel Russell House

51 Meeting Street (South of Broad)

(843) 724-8481

www.historicalcharleston.org

SEASONAL INGREDIENTS: Rhubarb

Rhubarbis a curious ingredient, one that many shoppers consider confusing, but it's a rewarding one to use during its short market season. We're in the prime time now: late spring in the northeastern United States (it can be grown and sold into fall, further south). Rhubarb is technically a vegetable, but is used most often as a fruit -- sort of the opposite of the tomato -- and looks like red or pink-tinged celery. The leaves can be poisonous, so unlike many other vegetables with edible, often prized, leaves...well, it's here rhubarb's similarity to celery, and other veggies, ends.

The stalks were used centuries ago as a curative "spice" along with saffron and other expensive ingestibles, starting in the Far East as part of Chinese curative medicines, and eventually making its way west along the spice routes. It is still considered to have laxative properties and is rarely eaten raw, though it is sometimes enjoyed in Scandinavia when its stalks are in season and most tender, dipped in sugar and eaten out-of-hand.

Still, rhubarb is probably most famous for being paired with its seasonal sister-in-crimson, the strawberry. The beloved strawberry-rhubarb pie is a favorite in America and northern Europe, a true culinary signal to spring.

Here's a photo of baby strawberry-rhubarb pies I made for a client's spring baby shower: perfectly pretty and just large enough in single-serving format. And though rhubarb is commonly paired with strawberry, other seasonal sweet berries work just as well with rhubarb's tart zest. And for an interesting twist on highlighting rhubarb's savory side, pickled rhubarb is a wonderful way to use the stalks.

With a brine of three parts water to one part vinegar (and maybe a splash of wine, too -- a dry rose' would work fabulously well!), plus a few tablespoons of salt and a few of sugar, and a handful of spices of your choice (peppercorns and coriander are standard, but cloves and ginger and cardamom and star anise are interesting options, too)...and you've got the perfect liquid in which to soak those stalks and come away with delicious pickled rhubarb in no time.

Keep these in the fridge to use in savory salads, to cut through the fat and smoke of early summer's grilled meats, and to dot on gorgeous plates of spring and summer fish dishes, for a bit of acid that pairs perfectly with both raw and seared seafood. Mixed together with other spring ingredients, like fresh peas, greens, seared scallop, and crisp bacon, the final presentation is like May on a plate.

Of course, we can also pair rhubarb with berries in another favorite way: cocktails! For a delicious late spring sangria, simply cook the rhubarb over a low flame with some sugar to make a barely-sweet compote. Use this as a base with other fresh berries and pair with white or rose' wine, cointreau and some club soda for sangria. Or mix with rum, lime, and a little mint, top with soda, and you have a fabulous rhubarb mojito. There are countless iterations for cocktails (rhubarb-arita, anyone?) -- all it takes is a little sugar and a little creativity to make it work. But hurry, the growing (and eating) season is relatively short for fresh rhubarb in these parts.

And once you start using the ingredient, you'll be devising new recipes and creating new dishes just to incorporate the "pie fruit" into your spring diet. Of course, there's always the classic. Or, the galette: a free-form tart that, unlike a pie, is uncovered. This allows the rhubarb, in all its ruby glory, to shine through.

QUICK BITES: Il Maritozzaro, Roma

Rome is no longer the late-night, curfew-free city it once was. In many ways, this is a sad change, and my friends and I often reflect on the crazy times we had in bars that stayed open until the owners wanted to go to bed, and in clubs that opened at 4:30 or 5 a.m. where you danced until noon. Times have changed, and alas, so have we all, to some degree. But the great thing about Rome is that it never completely changes, it never morphs into a city that's unrecognizable, like so many urban centers. It is in many ways, as its nickname suggests, The Eternal City. And one of my favorite holdovers from my late-night jaunts around the Eternal City still exists:  Il Maritozzaro near the Trastevere train station. 

For the uninitiated, a maritozzo is basically a freshly-baked brioche bun, torpedo-shaped like an oversized hot dog bun, but faintly sweet and fluffy and light, and barely warm with a few crisp, buttery corners. When you order one, the barman behind the counter fills it with freshly whipped cream, smoothing it out along the top like delicious, decadent spackle.The original version of the brioche, intended as an offering for newlyweds (hence its name) also contained raisins and dried fruit and orange zest and probably resembled panettone more than anything, but I prefer the simplicity and beauty of the maritozzo in its current form.

The Maritozzaro even makes other pastries, including the standard breakfast fare of cornetti (sweetened croissants) and cream-filled donuts. These are fine, but not why I come to the Maritozzaro. I suppose you could pair your maritozzo with a turbo-charged espresso or for breakfast with a cappuccino. It certainly qualifies as a morning waker-upper (though you might need a nap once it's consumed!). But I prefer to think of the whipped cream-filled delicacy as a dreamy, end-of-the-evening indulgence, after a few too many glasses of vino and some limoncello. On a crisp Roman evening, it doesn't get much better. 

Il Maritozzaro
Via Ettore Rolli, 50
00153 ROMA
+06 581 0781
 

RECIPE: Lenticchie e Salsiccia

It's a classic central Italian pairing: Lenticchie e Salsiccia. Lentils and sausage. It reminds me of trips out to Umbria, usually in the fall or winter, and sometimes early spring. We'd spend a Sunday afternoon in Orvieto, enjoying the gorgeous churches and small shops, as well as some surprisingly sophisticated restaurants, in this hill town an hour outside of Rome. Or, we'd head out for a weekend in the country to a friend's house on the Tuscan-Umbrian border, just taking in the view and building fires and looking up at the stars after a full-table feast of simple, local fare. Or we'd visit friends in Citta' di Castello, not far from Lake Trasimeno, sharing a lunch al fresco with lots of local, juicy, dark Sagrantino di Montefalco wine.

Umbria is Italy's only landlocked region that doesn't share a border with another country. Its name echoes ombra, the Italian word for "shadow" -- and it seems to have always been in the shadow of its better-known neighbors, like Tuscany and Lazio. But the region has so much going for it, including the beautiful topography and a history as rich as its cuisine. One of its famous local foods is the Umbrian lentil, which is tawny brown and roughly the size of the tiny green French Puy lentil. Umbrian lentils are often featured in local dishes, and are a great foil for the rich game featured so prominently in this region.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention another great Umbrian contribution to Italian cuisine, which is the concept of the norcineria. There's no direct translation for the word, but it's basically a 'meat emporium,' including and especially pork products, fresh and cured. Norcia is a town in the province of Perugia in Southeast Umbria, nestled between Spoleto and Ascoli Piceno (in the Le Marche region). 

The town is famous for its meat emporiums, and so this kind of shop all over central Italy has taken on the moniker norcineria. I did once make it to "ground zero" in Norcia on a trip to my ex's childhood home near Ascoli Piceno, and we picked up some delicious pancetta and a few other items to cook for dinner at his mother's house. But the important thing is not procuring these meats in Norcia itself, but rather the significance of the quality norcineria, wherever you may find one. I often went to the Norcineria Viola in Rome's Campo de' Fiori, as it was close to home and they had a great selection, offered up assaggi (samples), and the owners were a hoot. 

If you're lucky enough to be cooking the following recipe in Italy, a norcineria would be the prime spot to pick up some delicious, house-made sausages. And if you don't have a go-to 'meat emporium' -- well, a butcher (preferably Italian) or Italian specialty store would be second-best. But anywhere you trust the sausage makers qualifies; the quality is key. And a tip: generally speaking, though Tuscany is the next region over, this dish does not use Tuscan-style sausages, which contain fennel seed. Try and use sausages without that anise flavor...if you're sticking to tradition, that is.

LENTICCHIE E SALSICCIA

4 TBS. olive oil

1/2 large onion, finely chopped

3 carrots, chopped into small dice (1/8 inch)

1 celery stalk, chopped into small dice 

2 cloves garlic

3 cups Umbrian lentils (or Puy lentils), washed and sorted through to clean

2 sprigs rosemary

8 Italian sausage links, sliced in half lengthwise

1/3 cup hearty Italian red wine, Sagrantino if possible

1/2 cup water

Flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Salt + pepper to taste

For the lentils:

- Warm the oil over medium heat in a wide saucepan with some depth (and one with a fitted lid). Add the garlic cloves and infuse the olive oil for a minute or so. 

- Add the chopped carrots, celery, and onion, and cook to soften, about 4 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and cook another minute. 

- Add the lentils, stir well, and cover with cold water until submerged and with a bit of water above the lentils. Bring to a boil, add a couple of small sprigs of rosemary, and cover. Turn down the heat to low and let simmer for 30 minutes or so, until the lentils are cooked through and most of the liquid is absorbed. Add salt and pepper to taste.

*Lentils can be cooked in advance to this point*

- When the lentils are almost ready, or you're reheating them, heat a grill pan or a frying pan over medium-high heat, and add enough olive oil to just cover the bottom of the pan. - Brown the sausages on both sides, making sure not to crowd the pan (we want them seared, not steamed).

- When sausages are fully browned, toss in the red wine and the water and let the liquid cook down and bubble up for a few minutes. Then cover, an cook for another 10 minutes or so.

- Plate the warm lentils on a serving platter, and then place the sausages on top of the bed of lentils. You can either use the wine gravy as is, or add a spoonful of a dijon mustard and whisk that into the sauce. Add salt and pepper to taste.

- Pour the sauce over the sausages and lentils, and sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve.

Buon appetito!

RESTAURANT REVIEW: Il Sanlorenzo, Rome, ITALY

I recently tried to describe a certain category of Italian restaurant to someone who had spent very little time in Italy. The category is the upscale ristorante di pesce, or fish restaurant, and all over the Italian peninsula, this kind of restaurant stands out to me as its own special genre. The Italian fish restaurant also happens to be one of my favorite kinds of places in the world to enjoy a great meal.

I'm not talking about any old fish place. Sure, I love seaside spots where you can actually see the water your dinner came from, quite possibly caught just hours earlier. Italy excels in this type of dining experience too, though I've been lucky enough to have enjoyed plenty of great seaside restaurants around the world, from the Aeolian Islands to the Amalfi Coast to Venice, Thailand to Tel Aviv, Uruguay to southern France, Maine to the Florida Keys. I'm also not talking about the beloved seafood shack, where you can enjoy home-style specialties like lobster rolls and clam chowder, Old Bay-dusted crabs and fish and chips. I love those spots too, in all of their rubber-boots-in-sawdust-covered-floor glory. (I can still clean a crab, peel a shrimp, and deconstruct a lobster faster than most -- skills I learned as a young girl). No, I'm talking about the elegant, refined dining of an Italian ristorante di pesce, which may be at the beach or in a port, but is just as likely in a metropolitan city like Rome or Milan. 

My favorite spot in all of Rome for fine fish and "fruits of the sea" (frutti di mare) is a spot tucked on a back street off of Campo de' Fiori, and just down the street from my old beloved apartment on the edge of the Jewish quarter. In fact, it's the old site of what used to be called Sotto Sopra, location of the second incarnation of our American brunch in Rome --  a story for another time and another blog post. The space it occupies, meanwhile, is a gorgeous, cavernous bi-level restaurant with a raised, glassed-in kitchen and arched cathedral ceilings hung with beautiful chandeliers. The subterranean area (once the dungeon-like downstairs of a messy discoteca) is perfect as a wine cellar and temperate spot for sipping some of Il Sanlorenzo's delicious vintages.

But beyond the vibrant, sophisticated atmosphere, the important thing here is the food -- and above all, the quality and freshness of the seafood itself. There is a display when you walk through the entrance featuring the day's fresh catch, which may include any variety of local white fish (branzino, turbot, gilthead bream), tuna, swordfish, crustaceans galore (the Mediterranean offers a wealth of shrimp varieties we've never seen in the States), mussels and clams, sea urchin, squid, octopus...and the list goes on. Much of it comes from the waters off the coast between Rome and Naples, though some items may come from Sicily and Puglia, all the way north to Venice.

The most talented Italian seafood chefs know that the best thing they can do to top-quality fish and seafood is to do very little. Let the delicate flavor of the fish shine through. Which is why a dish in the tasting antipasto of crudi (raw items) like the tartare trio is so enjoyable. We tasted three types of fish -- yellowfin tuna, sea bass, and amberjack -- cut into a small dice and mixed with extra-virgin olive oil, a squeeze of citrus, and a few fresh herbs. That's all the fish needs.

The raw antipasto continued with one of my personal favorites, the carpaccio di gamberi rossi. They flatten the famous red shrimp from southern Italy into a paper-thin disc on the plate. It's then dressed with little more than olive oil, sea salt, a zest of lemon and a squeeze of lemon juice. It is beautiful on the plate and on the tongue. We proceeded with possibly my favorite of all elegant sea creatures: scampi. Don't be confused -- these are not the shrimp in 'shrimp scampi' (which makes no sense in Italian, by the way: it means 'shrimp langoustine' and does not exist as a dish in Italy). 

These are crustaceans of their own category, known in various parts of the world as langoustines, or Dublin Bay prawns, or in Italy, scampi. They are the sophisticated cross between a shrimp and the most tender baby lobster you can imagine. They can be cooked gently on a grill or in a saute' pan, or lightly poached, but to me, they're best raw. Like the red shrimp, their delicate briny flavor is best experienced with a soft, pliable texture that you can only have before they're cooked. There's not much meat for all the work required to get at it, but patience is rewarded with unique flavor. I think it's worth it. The final plate of our raw appetizer tasting was, per our request, some delicious, fresh-from-the-sea ricci di mare, or sea urchin, shown in this posting's opening photo. Again, it's not about quantity of substance, but rather the briny, unctuous punch packed into the tiny, flame-orange pockets of the prickly shell. These are actually egg sacks and offer up a creamy, custard-like saline treat you scoop out. To note is that all of this was accompanied by some delicious, wire-thin grissini, and washed down with a delicious, crisp rose' champagne. To me, the best accompaniment to fine raw seafood is often something sparkling.

The pastas on offer here are delicious and well-balanced -- memorable is a long pasta with lobster in which the pasta is cooked in lobster stock for an added layer of flavor. We split a primo so as not to throw our meal completely off course, which was a lovely tagliolini with a ragu featuring my beloved gambero rosso, both cooked and raw, with fresh uncooked tomato and herbs.  It was light and silky and the perfect portion.

Often, when a meal features spectacular antipasti, by the time you get to your secondo (main course), it can be a bit anticlimactic. Not here. There were so many options to tempt, and I know from past experience here that the simplest of dishes (a salt-baked spigola [sea bass], for instance) is anything but plain when done well. We decided on one simple main, and one less so. A delicious piece of Mediterranean sea bass was perfectly cooked, skin crisped, and set atop a bed of wilted greens and served on a clean, oven-roasted tomato consomme.

We also thoroughly enjoyed the swordfish, marinated in soy and charred on the grill,which was plated on a brilliant spiral of sweet-and-sour vegetable sauce, garnished with frigitelli (small sweet green peppers) and pistachios. The two mains complemented each other well, and proved to be substantial enough that there was no way we had room for dessert! It's a shame because desserts here, too, are accomplished and decadent. But we had many more hours to go in our evening, and we didn't want to weigh ourselves down after an already grand meal. It turned out to be a good choice, all of it. My boyfriend said then, and continues to claim, that he felt as good after that meal as any meal he's ever eaten. It's quite a statement, but one with which I agree. Il Sanlorenzo makes you feel pampered with good service, well-fed and overwhelmingly happy with a delicious, fresh Italian seafood feast, and sends you off into the night, elated and satisfied. And really, what more could anyone ask of a great meal?

Ristorante Il Sanlorenzo

Via dei Chiavari 4/5 Roma

+39 (06) 686.5097

www.ilsanlorenzo.it

info@ilsanlorenzo.it

Closed Mondays.

MARKETS: L.A. Farmers Market

Farmer's Markets right now are, one could say, trending. And though we're using a very 21st century term for a much older concept, we can be thankful that there's been a kind of movement in this country to get back to the basics that once made this an agrarian nation. California is of course responsible for a large segment of America's produce. But when we think of Los Angeles, southern California's metropolis, we generally think of urban sprawl and smog, and Hollywood, Santa Monica and Malibu.

But not...farms. And yet, the Los Angeles Farmers Market -- coined "The Original" -- is a venerable institution that has been around since 1934, when L.A. was decidedly less urban. At the corner of Third and Fairfax, its central location makes it a Los Angeles landmark.

It's a market housed in a building structure that allows it to have an open courtyard feeling inside, while the merchants and restaurants within are based in covered permanent structures.

It's a destination where you can source great produce, poultry, meat, and seafood, and stay for lunch at one of the great stalls or restaurants housed in the market. Both Farm Boy Produce and Farm Fresh Produce offer great fresh fruits and veggies, including items you'd find not just in California, but also south of the border, and in Asia. Puritan Poultry offers fresh chicken, turkey, and exotic fowl, and Farmers Market Poultry specializes in delicious turkey and quality eggs. Marconda's Meats offers top-notch butchered cuts of beef, lamb, and pork, as well as homemade Italian sausages and cold cuts. Tusquellas Seafoods is the place for staples like shrimp, tuna, salmon, cod, and snapper, as well as fresh daily catches -- and some cooking tips for anyone who asks.

Little Spain is a gourmet market with a tiny restaurant tucked into its back interior patio, and offers all the wondrous foods and specialty ingredients found in Spanish cooking. In fact, there are several specialty-item stores. Dragunara Spice Bazaar has a mind-boggling array of spices and spice mixes, as well as specialty salts (a personal favorite). T (The Tea Shoppe) has an exotic array of teas, particularly from Asia -- heavenly for all of those tea purists out there.

Zia Valentina is a spot specializing in the fabulous frozen Sicilian treat called granita (the original frozen treat before Italians made the leap to gelato), as well as specialty Italian baked goods and healthy shakes and nibbles to jump-start your morning. There are several delicious bakeries, including Normandie Bakery (classic French style), T&Y Bakery, Short Cake, and Du-Par's Pie Shop (a real American throwback). And for old-fashioned American frozen goodness, there is Bennett's Ice Cream and Gill's Old Fashioned Ice Cream. 

And then there are the restaurants. With a generous seating area and so many delicious spots from which to choose, I could happily eat here 3 times a week if I lived in the area (luckily for my waistline, I do not). The restaurants in the Farmers Market are a reflection of the ethnic diversity of Los Angeles itself. Of course, you have Mexican food, sushi, pizza, Chinese, deli, and vegetarian food. But you also have Korean, Brazilian, Middle Eastern, Cajun, Greek, Texas BBQ, Spanish, and French cuisine featured here.

I decided to try the Southeast Asian restaurant called Singapore's Banana Leaf, on a recent visit. They offer a mix of Singapore-style Malaysian, Indonesian, and Indian cuisine -- because that's how they eat in Singapore. This delicious mash-up proved satisfying, filling, and delicious. For under $10 a plate, any one dish would serve as a great lunch.

But I suffered from eyes-bigger-than-my-stomach syndrome, and was curious to taste a couple of dishes. I started with the Rojak salad, a tasty tossing-together of cucumber, pineapple, bean sprouts, apple, tofu, and spinach. The spicy peanut-tamarind dressing brought it all together in the hot-sour way that makes food from this part of the world so interesting...and more-ish.

I followed that up with Mee Indo Style -- that is, pan-sauteed noodles with two satay sticks and a fried egg on top - -with spicy peanut sauce on the side for dipping, of course. If I'd been hung over it would have been beyond perfect, but as it stands, this lunch was pretty fabulous. A limeade to help wash it down was the best accompaniment I could have asked for.

There are other, non-food-related stores at the Farmers Market, including Zara, a sunglass store, and a new Havaianas store, to satisfy all of your Brazilian flip-flop fantasies. The Grove L.A. is literally steps away from the Farmers Market, too. It's a popular gathering spot if you need to make a run to the Apple Store, Nike, or Nordstrom, or to see a movie or grab a bite to eat in one of the pretty eateries in the main square. I prefer just enjoying the Farmers Market for what it offers. When L.A. can feel like a nameless, faceless sprawling metropolis, it's merchants and farmers that gather in one place, like this, that remind us that we're a community, first and foremost. That's enough for me. That, and maybe a scoop of ice cream.  

L.A. FARMERS MARKET

Monday - Friday: 9 am - 9 pm

Saturday: 9 am to 8 pm

Sunday: 10 am - 7 pm

Telephone: (323) 933.9211

Toll Free: (866) 993.9211

www.farmersmarketla.com

FOOD PORN: A Look Back, 2014: Sweet Endings

Ahhh, dessert. There's no better way to cap off an enjoyable, delicious meal than with a little bit of sweet decadence. For me, if at all possible, it's in the form of chocolate. That's me, that's how I am and have always been. But occasionally, if it's done well, I love a good cheesecake or creme brulee', a carrot cake or an apple pie. Or, as in the case of the above photo -- taken in real time as I served this dessert to clients this summer in the Hamptons, no photoshopping necessary -- a good fruit tart, especially in the summer. 

Herewith, more samples from my photo gallery of sweets. They're mostly plated desserts, some single serving and some are whole pies or cakes or tarts. But they're all homemade, from scratch, and made with love. I'm not a pastry chef, specifically. But I love making delicious desserts (always have), and I think the way to make a client's meal memorable is to end it on a high note.

Some of my clients are kosher, some are vegetarian, some are lactose-intolerant or gluten-free eaters. I enjoy catering to specific tastes and relish the challenge of creating delicious food within guidelines. But my favorite type of food-specific eaters? Dessertarians, of course!

Flourless chocolate cake with fresh strawberry sauce

...and plated, with caramel sauce and raspberry truffle and pistachio ice creams

 

It's only right that I would start out the tantalizing photo stream with chocolate galore. Flourless chocolate cake is always a favorite, and it's so versatile. The chocolate fondant cake is also a classic, and this version with a molten center and a caramelized outside is particularly decadent. I paired it with homemade banana-caramel ice cream, a caramelized banana slice, blackberry sauce, and a meringue kiss.
The chocolate truffletorte is as rich as they come, with a thickened ganache consistency and shaved white chocolate on top. I paired it with a white and dark chocolate-dipped strawberry and edible flowers, and sprinkled strawberry rock crystal candy around the plate for whimsy. It's a serious chocolate-lover's dessert, with a wink.

Valentine's Day is always a time we think of sweet treats, and clients hosted some fun, romance-themed dinner parties in 2014. A simple, but moist, red velvet cake with classic cream cheese icing strikes a chord with many. My version definitely falls on the side of chocolatey, deep red -- not the electric red version that's simply vanilla cake with a ridiculous amount of red food coloring.

But that's my personal preference, of course. A departure from the classic is the rosewater panna cotta I served together with the red velvet cake. This was a creamy, light, subtle dessert with hints of the exotic. The panna cotta itself is tangy, the strawberry sauce bright and sweet, and the balsamic reduction a counterpoint to all of the above. Rosewater turkish delight and candied violets as garnish elevate the final dessert futher, adding texture and nuance. I loved how this all turned out!

Individual Apple Crumble

Apple-cinnamon tart

I love good old American apple desserts, in pretty much any form. One of my favorite ways to enjoy fruit desserts is by making them into crumbles. I make them all summer long with berries and stone fruits like peaches, nectarines, plums, and pluots. Come autumn, I go for apples and, upon occasion, pears. There's something about the combination of these fall fruits with cinnamon and warm spices that screams perfection in sweater weather. I also love cheesecake. It's a no-chocolate "exception" dessert for me. I love both the classic New York version as well as the Italian/Roman ricotta version. They bridge the continental divide that is my life in cooking. They also make for damned tasty endings to great meals, and they're light enough so they don't weigh on you. I love a classic with strawberries, but I also love throwing some chocolate chips in with the batter and making these mini ricotta cheesecakes. I like to whip some cream and add some crushed pistachios to it, and top it all off with some berries (here, raspberries) and mint. Light and delicious!

Pine nut tart with grapefruit-rosemary sorbetto

Pavlova with red fruits and passion fruit sorbet

Sometimes desserts are a challenge to pair within the context of a meal. Sometimes, the meal dictates the invention of a new dessert that just works. Often these are "compound desserts" made up of several elements that work better together as a whole. The desserts above and here all fall into that category. A chewy, caramelized pine nut tart laced with rosemary in its caramel base is accompanied by a bracing grapefruit-rosemary sorbetto. Gluten-free diners on Valentine's Day shouldn't miss out on all the pleasures of decadent desserts: to wit, a meringue pavlova filled with pillowy cream and red fruits pairs perfectly with a tart passion fruit sorbet. It was a multi-course Moroccan meal that spurred me to invent a dessert worthy of the previous courses. The solution was a light-as-air citrus cake on a meyer lemon yogurt cream, marinated figs and dates in spiced syrup, caramelized figs, and an orange-mint salad. Gorgeous, light, and a great complement to the spirit of the Moroccan food. 

 

And then there's the beauty of the berry, in its various forms. I love the classic strawberry shortcake, like the one above -- closer to a lightly sweet biscuit, stuffed with fresh organic whipped cream, and lashed with ripe, juicy berries. There's the more ascetic but incredibly flavorful dessert I created of a strawberry-balsamic sorbetto, packed with flavor, over minted sliced strawberries and paired with a pistachio tuile and a touch of whipped cream -- a bit of an Italian-modernist version of the strawberry shortcake.

In a class of its own? The simple, dignified elegance of a chocolate-dipped berry, here used to top a shadow cake. This magnificent dessert is a cake my mother used to pick up from a local bakery for family birthdays when I was a child, when she didn't have time to make a homemade cake. It's a layer of chocolate cake and a layer of vanilla, with chocolate buttercream in the middle, regular buttercream on the outside, and a chocolate ganache glaze on top. I doubled down for a client's birthday, here, and made the cake 4 layers, alternating between chocolate and vanilla. The ganache is extra rich, and the chocolate-covered strawberry trim is my over-the-top invention...for which I refuse to apologize. This cake was what the Italians would call "una bomba" -- a bomb. And it is. A delicious, decadent bomba. And that's what dessert, of course, is all about.

 

QUICK BITE: The Chocolate of Modica, Sicily

With the approach of San Valentino, or Valentine's Day as it's known in the U.S., my thoughts turn to all that this holiday stands for: love and romance, of course, red hearts and red roses. But for me, this holiday will always be about my first love, the love I've had for one thing, since I can remember first tasting it: chocolate. And so I thought I'd indulge my readers with a quick bite of information about the world-renowned Sicilian chocolate I was lucky enough to experience first-hand this summer.

Modica is a gorgeous baroque town that spreads across two hills, divided by its main thoroughfare at the bottom of these hills, Corso Umberto I. This town, just a few miles inland from the southern Sicilian coast, seems encapsulated in time. And though it had existed for many centuries previous to the terrible earthquake at the end of the 17th century, Modica was left in ruins. The resulting rebuild in the style of that time period gave us a gorgeous baroque jewel (like so many towns in this part of the island, famous for their baroque architecture) that is a beauty to behold. Sicilians, traditionalists that they are, may have rebuilt a new city, but even an earthquake couldn't shake them from their traditions, first and foremost of the culinary variety.

The Spanish had conquered Sicily during the period of Spanish exploration to the New World, and so the Spanish happened to introduce many food items they discovered in the Americas, cacao included. The Aztec method for using cacao was often used to make a bitter drink (not unlike coffee), or to be added to savory dishes, like the Sicilian u lebbru 'nciucculattatu - - wild hare cooked in a chocolate sauce, still made today in local restaurants. Another incarnation of an Aztec cacao recipe was for cold-worked chocolate, which is the style in which Modica's chocolate is still made today. 

The chocolate of Modica -- which has been winning awards internationally for over a century -- sticks to the very simple recipe of hand-ground cocoa beans and sugar. E basta. That's it. This allows for the quality and flavor of the cocoa bean itself to shine through, with natural cocoa butter and no added soy lecithin, or any other emulsifiers or additives. The Mexican stone called a metate is used to grind the cocoa beans, as shown in this photo (taken in a cave-like chocolate processing room off of the main corso in town, part of the Chocolate Museum's tour). This ground cocoa is gently warmed and mixed with sugar. But it's warmed to between 40-50 degrees celsius, so the sugar doesn't melt. This preserves the flavors and the nutrients and antioxidants of the cocoa better than modern processing methods. 

It also leaves the texture as very granular and crumbly, so you get that sugar crunch when you bite into it. There are various popular flavors the Sicilians add to their chocolate, and they're generally locally-grown and reflect their culinary history as an island whose conquerors included the Spanish, French, and Arabs. You'll see Modica chocolate with pistachios and almonds, cinnamon and cardamom, citrus zest, peperoncino (chile pepper), black and white pepper, and sea salt, mint and jasmine. The flavor combinations with the style of the cold-processed chocolate make for a unique taste experience.

The most famous arbiters of this taste experience are the owners of Antica Dolceria Bonajuto, a tiny jewel box of a chocolatier tucked into a side alley off of the main drag in Modica. It was established in 1880, and is the oldest chocolate shop in Sicily. But you can find great Modica chocolate in almost any shop in town, as well as in many specialty shops all over the island.

Sicilians are proud of their chocolate-making tradition, and rightly so. I realized just how proud they were when I toured the Museo del Cioccolato di Modica, or the Chocolate Museum, which shares pride of place in the center of town, housed in a former convent of St. Francis alla Cava. They've got a sculpture in chocolate of the entire Italian peninsula and islands, as well as some beautiful chocolate sculptures made by artists and students, creating everything from a series of chocolate pastry chefs to the Incredible Hulk, handmade and all in Modica chocolate. Impressive, and fun.

But the chocolate in Modica isn't only eaten in sweet form in bar or bonbon, nor is it only for show in creative sculpture. We can't forget to mention cannoli, the delicious flaky fried cinnamon-scented dough funnel, stuffed (fresh, on request, please!) with a sweetened ricotta filling and rolled in ground pistachios and chocolate bits, in its best iteration. The chocolate is also folded into mpanatigghi, small pastries stuffed with minced meat and chocolate, in a very Arab-influenced preparation. 

And there are also liccumie, another pastry-like preparation stuffed with eggplant and chocolate (which was basically my motivation to come to this part of Sicily: they pair my two favorite food things! In one dish!). I enjoyed a dessert inspired by this combination in an elegant restaurant in town: an eggplant custard-like filling covered in dark chocolate from Modica. Heaven.  

So, when you're considering which chocolates you should surprise your sweetheart with this Valentine's Day, or you're deciding which chocolate to treat yourself to this year, consider the unique flavors of chocolate from Modica. Better yet, go for the ultimate indulgence and head to the source! There's nothing more romantic than a getaway to an Italian island for some chocolate amore...

Antica Dolceria Bonajuto
Corso Umberto I, 159
+39 0932 94122
www.bonajuto.it/en/

Museo del Cioccolato Modica
Piazzo 8 Marzo
+39 347 461.2771
museo.cioccolatomodica@gmail.com   

RECIPE: Ribollita (Tuscan minestrone bread soup)

There are few things better on a bitter cold day, or evening, than a bowl of ribollita, the cool weather Tuscan bread soup. It's made with a Tuscan minestrone base, to which stale bread is added -- preferably the tasteless, salt-free crusty bread that became a staple in Tuscany when an overwhelming majority of citizens refused to pay a steep salt tax. It's even been used to clean precious frescoes in Tuscan churches, as its texture is similar to a sponge (its stand-alone taste is fairly similar, too). 

How is a Tuscan minestrone different from your average minestrone, you may ask? It shares all of the basic vegetables, like celery, carrots, and onions, of course. But Tuscans, like their mangiafagioli (bean-eaters) moniker suggests, often add cannellini beans to dishes, for added heft, starch, and protein.

Their minestrone is no exception, so they use beans to replace the tiny pasta tubes that the rest of the Italian peninsula uses. They also add Tuscan kale (or lacinato), what in Italian is called cavolo nero (black kale) or cavolo laciniato (fringed kale). This is sliced or hand-torn into strips that get thrown into the minestrone, adding color and great nutrients and fiber to the soup. 

The thing that turns Tuscan minestrone into ribollita (which literally means "re-boiled") is the addition of bread. The Tuscans are a thrifty bunch, not ones to let bread go to waste simply because it's stale. So they have a series of bread-thickened soups in their culinary repertoire to make the most of it. Ribollita is the wintry version, and it's one of my all-time favorites. It freezes well, so you can make a huge pot of it during, say, a February snowstorm. You can eat it until (and if) you get sick of it, and freeze the rest for another blustery night.

RIBOLLITA

(Serves 4-8)

6 TBS. Olive oil, plus more for drizzling

1 onion, chopped into medium dice

1 carrot, chopped into medium dice

2 stalks celery, chopped into medium dice

3 cloves garlic

2 cups cooked or canned cannellini beans, drained

4 whole peeled tomatoes or 1 15-oz. can peeled tomatoes

8 cups vegetable stock or chicken stock

1 sprig fresh rosemary

2 sprigs fresh thyme

2 bunches chopped cavolo nero (black kale)

1 small loaf Tuscan (unsalted) or crusty peasant bread, preferably a day old

1/2 cup freshly grated parmigiano cheese

Salt & pepper to taste

- Warm 6 TBS. of olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. When it's hot, toss in the onion, celery, carrot, and garlic. Sprinkle with a dash of salt and pepper and cook, stirring so the vegetables don't stick, until they're softened, about 5 minutes.

- Add the tomatoes and beans, stir and cook for 2 minutes. Add the broth and the rosemary and thyme, and cook for 15-20 minutes, so the flavors meld.

- Add the kale (and remove the herbs if you'd like), and stir to blend. Add salt and pepper to taste.

- Tearing the bread with your hands into bite-sized chunks, slowly add the bread to the broth, mixing to absorb the bread every 10 pieces or so. You may not use the whole loaf, but you may. The consistency should be a thick porridge. Let the soup cook another 15 minutes or so, simmering on low, so the bread breaks down and becomes integrated into the soup a bit. Taste to adjust for seasoning.

- To serve, ladle into bowls, drizzle generously with the highest-quality extra-virgin olive oil you can find (Tuscan is most relevant here), and sprinkle with grated parmigiano cheese.

Note: Like most soups, this one is even better the next day, or even the day after that. Since it's ribollita (re-boiled) anyway, it keeps very well for several days in the fridge, or for 2 months in the freezer.

FOOD PORN: A Look Back at 2014 (Private Chef Edition)

Vietnamese marinated grilled pork chops on watercress with watermelon, pickled watermelon rind, + fizzled shallots

Here we have Part 2 of the 2014 Food Porn "A Look Back" -- this time, dedicated to private chef and small-scale catering events for which I created menus and cooked my rear off in the pursuit of deliciousness. I prepared plenty of Italian meals, as always, but I also spanned the globe for myriad influences and exciting tastes and flavor pairings to keep me on my toes, and keep my clients' palates tickled. So now, on to the good stuff.

Sumac-roasted cauliflower salad with celery, parsley, and pomegranate

Winter Valentine's salad of veggies and "heart beets"

Spicy lobster fra diavolo with spinach fettucine

Moroccan-spiced beet and carrot salad with carrot-top pesto

Thai crab salad on Upland cress with pomelo, peanuts, mint, and fried garlic

Dover sole with rosemary roasted baby potatoes and asparagus

In the cold winter weather, I get a lot of requests for beef tenderloin -- it impresses guests but also acts as upscale comfort food. I love pairing it with polenta, either soft or made ahead and seared in a grill pan. I pair it with a bitter green of some kind, and finish with a barely-sweet sauce of red wine or balsamic vinegar. Below, two different preparations:

Beef tenderloin with griddled polenta diamonds, broccoletti, balsamic reduction

Pepper-crusted beef tenderloin, soft polenta and Tuscan kale, Sangiovese-shallot sauce

Summertime sheds a whole new light on primary ingredients (literally: the sun), and with it, the ability to play around with countless fruits and vegetables, and lighter fare, than clients crave in cooler months. Composed salads and seafood reign supreme, and seaside dining offers the perfect backdrop for tasty, and healthy, meals with friends and family.

Composed summer fruit and vegetable salad

Striped bass ceviche with holy basil, pomegranate, mache, and herb oil

Burrata with heirloom tomatoes, white peaches, and torn garden herbs

  

Snapper over julienned veggies with cockles in a saffron sauce

Nicoise salad with fresh seared tuna

Some delicious savory eats for the Jewish Holidays...

Roast chicken with vegetables and za'atar

Beef tenderloin

...into early and late autumn dishes.

Striped bass, wild rice with ginger sauce, asparagus + carrots, carrot top pesto

Heirloom tomato + radicchio salad with grilled peaches, herb vinaigrette

Angel hair with crab, caviar, chives, and white wine sauce

Seared halibut with velvet potato puree and Israeli veggie ragout

Striped bass, harissa couscous, haricot vert, saffron aioli

Grilled pork chop, silk potatoes, walnut-grape chutney

Autumn greens, mushrooms sungold tomatoes, goat cheese + hazelnuts

Grilled tuna steak over wilted greens, tomato-ginger-garlic confit

Have a delicious day! 

#bluaubergine

ESCAPES: Santiago, Chile

Plaza de Armas in central Santiago

It was just before the end of 2013 that I was headed to Chile, landing in Santiago a few days before New Year's Eve. I wasn't sure what to expect of the metropolitan city, but I'd heard good things, and had a high school friend who'd moved to the progressive capital city a few years back. Santiago has been named one of the best cities in the Americas for start-ups and entrepreneurial activity, which always interests me. This connotes an innovative approach to life, which I very much appreciate. I was interested to explore Santiago. And it was summer in the southern hemisphere (with arctic temperatures and record lows back in New York City), so what better time than January? I met my friend Jessica who'd arrived in Santiago a few days before I had. She'd already explored some of the great markets of the city, hunting for trinkets and keepsakes and anything in the market that would trigger her sense of the place, that she could eventually translate into jewelry back home. We were staying in a lovely hotel in a bucolic part of town called Las Condes. I was severely jet-lagged, having traveled from Miami with a stopover in Lima, Peru, without the benefit of sleep. Once I checked into my spacious digs (the room was a suite with a kitchenette), I booked a massage and took a power nap. The spa in the hotel was welcoming and cozy and the massage did wonders for my aching back, post-flight. After a shower, I met Jess on the rooftop bar with fabulous views of the city. With a glass of Chilean white in hand, we surveyed the tall buildings and mountainous backdrop -- and temperate weather -- with smiles. Our first night, we met my friend Tim and a gaggle of his expat friends at a nearby bar called Flannery's. Now, it's a well-known fact that every city has its fair share of Irish pubs, so I had my trepidation in going there. But as it turns out, it's very much a part of the "real" Santiago experience, at least as an expat. We caught up and met Tim's interesting and eclectic group of friends and had too many white wines to make it to dinner at a reasonable hour.

 So, we stumbled nearby to the beautiful W Hotel Santiago -- the first W Hotel in South America, in fact -- and ate a lovely late-night dinner in their lobby restaurant. Since I was on a mission to consume as much ceviche as possible, and fresh Pacific seafood in general, I started my first night with some barely-seared tuna and some sea bass ceviche, for good measure.  

We left the following day for the coast, but we returned to Santiago towards the end of the first week in January. One of the things we heard most frequently from locals and guides was how easy the metro system was to use. I am a New Yorker, so I usually feel like I have a handle on underground travel anyway. But this was, in fact, an easy, clean, inexpensive, and relatively hassle-free way to get around the city, even for those who may be public transport-averse. Some metro stations have mini shopping malls within their subterranean walls, or beautiful artwork in the form of large-scale murals, depicting scenes from Chile's history, like the photograph pictured. Santiago also boasts a lot of great outdoor space in the form of parks and plazas, and the city is quite dedicated to green construction, sometimes covering entire office buildings with living terrariums. It's a great foil to the glass-and-concrete downtown buildings, and in line with the progressive thinking of this very European-influenced South American capital.

As much as Santiago offers many of the great marks of a capital city -- wonderful art and history museums, grand public spaces and parks, interesting shopping and markets -- and these should be explored, of course...my focus is specifically food-related here. So, the basic rules of what you can expect to find in Chile are fairly simple. I went during the Southern Hemisphere summer, so there was lots of luscious fruit to be found in the markets, best of all the gorgeous, fragrant, elongated frutillas (strawberries) and the incredibly inexpensive and delicious, buttery paltas (avocados). (Chileans consume the most avocados per capita of any place on the planet). The streets are lined with vendors offering fresh fruit and vegetables at ridiculously low prices.

Eating casually, you can find some great bocadillos, or sandwiches, in casual sandwich shops to old school watering holes. The lomo sandwich, with roast pork, is a Chilean classic called the chacarero, and is sliced pork piled on a crusty roll, often with tomatoes, cheese, peppers, and something green -- possibly chimichurri sauce, sometimes green beans. The sandwich is an appetite-killer, very satisfying and homey, and delicious with a cold beer or sangria. There are empanadas aplenty in Chile, made with everything from classic ground beef to potato or pumpkin to crab or mixed seafood. It's a great lunch or portable snack, especially by the beach. And though there are precious few internationally-sought-after Chilean dishes, the seafood here is really fresh, and is served in everything from stews (try the famous Conger Eel stew, called Caldillo di Congrio) to one of the inspirations for my trip to Chile in the first place: CEVICHE.

I already mentioned my deep love for ceviche in my previous post about coastal Chile/Valparaiso and Vina del Mar, so I'll spare the waxing poetic once again. But really, if any food is deserving of poetic praise, ceviche is up there on the list. Yes, there are a lot of onions involved. Also, the pepper in some form, often aji' amarillo, the famously sweet-and-spicy local yellow pepper. There is citrus aplenty, though just as often the sour juice used is something a little more aromatic, like passion fruit (oh, do I love passion fruit!). And then the varieties of seafood used in these ceviches is head-spinning. But all pristine and local, and fresh, as is required in this dish. 

As for neighborhoods boasting some great spots to enjoy food and drink, Bellavista is among the cutest. This is the part of town, built on a hill, where Pablo Neruda's Santiago house, La Chascona, is located. (I highly recommend going to this museum-house, though they don't allow photos to be taken inside, hence no photos here). There is a complex on the main road leading down from the house, called Patio Bellavista. It's essentially a plaza lined with bars and restaurants and shops, particularly ones that sell artisanal products, from soaps to honeys to handcrafted jewelry. Then on this same street, (Constitucion), there are plentiful dining spots from which to choose. We settled in on the very adorable Como Agua Para Chocolate (Like Water For Chocolate), based on the novel and film of the same name. This cute, Mexican-themed oasis features a romantic setting. Apps and mains can be light or heavy (from salads and ceviches to fried goodies and full dinners), but always save room for dessert. There are some ridiculous chocolate-based offerings, and with a name like this, you must try them! 

 

The second half of our time in Santiago, we actually rented a 2-bedroom condo, complete with pool and gym, to feel a bit more like locals than when we were staying in a hotel. We started to find our way around town. We were in the Cerro Santa Lucia neighborhood, with a great park and a large market nearby. It's a cute part of town very close to Lastarria: this is the part of Santiago in which I would most likely hang out, and probably live, if ever I were to spend any significant amount of time here. It's got the bohemian vibe and high cafe/restaurant/bar index I look for in a beloved neighborhood. Cobblestone streets, check. Great food spots, check. Wine bars to dive bars, check, check.The only problem I really see with Santiago night life is that there isn't much of it, particularly for a Latin American city, so here one must be contented with nice drinks, a dinner, and a nightcap -- most places don't even stay open much past 1 am.

Still, the places that are around, especially in Lastarria, are great. For good food and wine, there is Bocanariz (mouth nose!), serving interesting flights of wine and great apps-as-meal dishes like a selection of ceviches, sashimi, and various raw or barely-cooked seafood delicacies. The seared tuna was amazing, and the passion fruit ceviche hit the right notes for me. We also enjoyed an interesting quinoa and shrimp salad -- everything light and tasty, and great accompaniment to the delicious white wines from the Central Coast (we'd just returned from a wine tasting trip to the area -- more on that in another post).

There's an old school dive bar just down the street where we had some great after-dinner drinks, called Bar Berri.It's a turn-of-the-century colonial house that was an illicit after-hours bar, now a 2-story drinking den for a mix of local cool kids and expats. And just around the corner and down the street a bit, you'll find Emporio La Rosa, voted by The Daily Meal as one of the 25 best ice cream shops in the world -- and they're not afraid to tout this ranking. Their flavors are indeed amazing, so beyond the usual nut and chocolate and fruit combinations, you have rose petal and dulce de leche and lucuma (a local fruit called egg fruit). They also serve sandwiches and lunches and coffee, but really the driving force here is the wonderful selection of top-notch helado (ice cream).

As for high end fine dining, the Vitacura area (sort of the Madison Avenue of Santiago), with lots of upscale shopping, also features upscale restaurants. Puerto Fuy, a gorgeous hot spot among many in this chi-chi nabe, is a gem. The talented chef Giancarlo Mazzarelli created not only the menu but also the decor, with an organic, woodsy feel reminiscent of the lake district in Chile. The formal dining room up front is more urban spare-chic. Jess got a foamy, frothy creamy mushroom soup that was an intense representation of the best a chef can possibly extract from a fungus: it was heavenly. I ordered a mixed seafood starter that included octopus, sea urchin, crab, conger eel, and ceviche -- kind of like a refined greatest seafood hits of our Chilean adventure. It, too, was a treat. The main courses were stellar as well, with a highlight of a local fish prepared three different ways. We shared a dessert -- yes, the ubiquitous molten chocolate cake, but with a fresh strawberry sorbet that may have been the best thing I've ever experienced made from a berry. Gaston Acurio, the biggest celebrity chef in Peru, has cebicherias all over the world, and his La Mar in Vitacura is a gorgeous one. There's a maritime feel to surroundings, with a view of the Andes from the terrace -- plus, great ceviche and the best pisco sour in town. And though I'm not one to advise travelers to eat in Italian restaurants outside of Italy (and I almost never do it, myself), I will admit that I enjoyed a fun dinner with Jess and my high school friend Tim at Tiramisu' in Las Condes (or nearby). This success of a restaurant is comprised of 4 rooms (they kept expanding to keep up with demand), and still there's always a wait at this pizzeria/casual trattoria. But the bar scene is fun so lingering in anticipation of a table isn't so bad. And in reality, the pizzas are damned good, authentic Neapolitan pizzas. And that's all one can really ask of a pizzeria.

There are countless other restaurants serving up local, Peruvian, Argentine, and all kinds of food from all over the globe, and Santiago's food scene seems to be in constant flux -- constantly expanding, that is. I can't wait to see how it's blossomed even more the next time I return to Santiago...

SANTIAGO SPOTS

Hotel Plaza El Bosque Ebro
Ebro 2828, Las Condes
+56 2.2498.1800
www.plazaelbosque.cl/ebro/index.php

W Santiago
Isidora Goyenechea 3000, Las Condes
www.whotels.com
Modern luxe hotel with a fabulous rooftop pool


Castillo Rojo
Calle Constitucion 195, Providencia
+56 2 2352 4500
www.castillorojohotel.com


Puerto Fuy
Avenida Nueva Costanera 3969, Vitacura
+56 2.208.8908
www.puertofuy.cl

La Mar
Avenida Nueva Costanera 3922, Vitacura
+56 2.206.7839

Tiramisu'
Avenida Isidora Goyenechea 3141
+56 2.519.4900
www.tiramisu.cl

Como Agua Para Chocolate
Constitucion 88, Bellavista
Santiago 
+ 56 2.2777.8740
www.comoaguaparachocolate.cl 

Emporio La Rosa
Ave. Las Torres 1424, El Rosal
+56 2.2280.4100
www.emporiolarosa.com

Bar Berri
Rosal 321, Lastarria
+56 2.6384734

Flannery's
Encomenderos 83, Las Condes
Total expat bar.

La Chascona
Fernando Marquez de la Plate 0192, Bellavista
+56 2 777.8741
www.fundacionneruda.org
This is the Pablo Neruda house in Santiago, which, like his other 2 houses in Chile (in Isla Negra and Valparaiso), is now a museum.



Mercado Central
Ismael Vlades Vergara 900, Parque Forestal
www.mercadocentral.cl
Lots of restaurants on the perimeter of the market from which to choose.

Pueblito Los Domincos Market
Av. Apoquindo 9085, Las Condes
www.pueblitolosdominicos.com
Open Daily 10-8
Great shopping for souvenirs, Andean wools, copper ware, and jewelry.

Patio Bellavista
Constitucion 30, Bellavista
Open 10 am - 10 pm daily
A collection of shops and restaurants and bars built around a central plaza. There are scheduled performances and cultural exhibitions as well as a boutique hotel, Hotel del Patio. 

FOOD PORN: A Look Back at 2014 (Catering Edition)

Spicy steak tartare on baguette crisps with cornichon

The last month of the year is always (thankfully) an extremely hectic, busy time for chefs and caterers. 2014 was no exception for me, and as a result, my blogging suffered. As in, I haven't posted on here since before Thanksgiving. My apologies. 

So here, now, I thought I'd start the new year off with something different than what's currently clogging your inbox. I'll hold off on the healthy eating and new year resolution diets and cabbage soup recipes to reflect on some of the lovely, tasty tidbits and creations I made over the past year. This is a multi-part posting under a new Blu Aubergine blog category I'm calling FOOD PORN. It's simply handsome photos of drool-worthy dishes -- trolling for culinary salivary stimulation. And I'm unapologetic.

Here are some catering goodies from 2014... 

Baked brie en croute with honey, nuts, and dried fruits

Deviled eggs with candied ancho chile bacon

 

Herbed ricotta crostini with prosciutto and apple

Homemade gravlax rosettes on endive leaves with horseradish cream

Crab and avocado salad cuplets

Ricotta crostini with cranberry honey and rosemary

Israeli couscous with pistou and veggies + lentil and goat cheese salad

Buckwheat blini with caviar and creme fraiche

Cheese plate with persimmon and pear, ginger and apricot jams

Grilled swordfish steaks over fregola sarda with zucchini

Caprese with burrata and haricot verts

Roasted chilean sea bass crostini with romesco, prosciutto, + scallion

Sweet potato latke with chipotle sour cream and wasabi caviar

Meringue kisses with pomegranate cream

RESTAURANT REVIEW: Messa and Raphael, Tel Aviv

In many ways, they're like day and night. Raphael is a refined, airy space overlooking the sea with a dining room recently updated to be more streamlined and casual -- and the food is fresh, unfussy Mediterranean fare executed with perfect technique: classic. Messa is a funky, sophisticated boite where the food dazzles as much as the room -- whitewashed and oversized and communal in the dining room, and all black and sleek and hip in the bar-lounge area. In this comparison, Raphael is day, and Messa is most definitely the night. But while the chefs' aesthetics and cooking styles may differ, and the dining rooms of the two spots have very different feels to them, Raphael and Messa share an expert approach to redefining what Mediterranean and Israeli food is, and can be. In this, both restaurants move Israeli cuisine forward, and front and center on the world stage. Indeed, SAVEUR magazine just named Tel Aviv as one of the world's top dining destinations. It's about time they caught on -- though honestly, I'd prefer to keep this little culinary gem between us!

Let's start with Chef Raffi Cohen's delicious, pared-down cuisine at Raphael. Cohen has worked in top kitchens around the world, including l'Arpege in Paris, Nobu in NYC, and with Marco Pierre White in London. He honed his craft at the restaurant at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem at the ripe old age of 23. And he credits much of his formative cooking chops to his Moroccan grandmother, from whom he draws his North African and French culinary influences. He's a Jerusalem boy, but since 2001, Cohen has been running Raphael in Tel Aviv, and the urban hub is the better for it. The dining room as had a makeover in recent years, and it's a lighter, brighter place to eat. Linens have been replaced with wood tables and cream-colored mod leather chairs. Overhead drop lights have replaced linen-covered oversized ceiling lamps, and the overall feel is cool, almost Scandinavian. The giveaway as to your actual location is in the view overlooking Tel Aviv's famous beachfront.

Raphael offers an interesting menu of that Sephardic French/North African-influenced food of Cohen's youth, mixed with some Ashkenazi Jewish staples. All of these dishes are elevated versions of classic home cooking, or they're whittled down to a simpler, cleaner version of a complicated, ingredient-heavy recipe. The stuffed cabbage appetizer is a trio of a taste bomb on a sauce of labneh (fresh, tangy yogurt-like cheese) infused with dill. The cabbage rolls were cold, stuffed with a bulgar wheat falvored with herbs, raisins, pine nuts, and black olives, and was perfectly sweet-and-sour. Normally, stuffed cabbage is a heavy dish, a meal in itself. These mini versions were a wonderful light appetizer and just what the doctor ordered on an unusually stormy afternoon in January.

A warm salad of barely-sauteed calamari was tossed with red and golden tomatoes and peppers, red onion, fruity olive oil, and white beans, and was as bright and fresh and delicious as the photo makes it seem. Fresh mint brought the dish from excellent to superb. These offerings were first courses in what is a very economical "business lunch," as it's dubbed in this city: a prix fixe, usually three-course lunch for a great price. You don't have to be talking shop to enjoy the Restaurant Week-style menu offerings, however. And the menus are simple abbreviated versions of dishes from the a la carte menus, so you can often try the restaurant's most renowned dishes, usually for around $35 or so, all in.

To best explain why I love Raphael, let me describe my first experience with it. It was 2011, and the dining room back then had a muted elegance to it. The lights were dim, I managed to get a last-minute 10 pm reservation, and it was the first place I headed once I'd checked into my hotel a few doors down. I remember the bread served was incredibly delicious and restorative, just what I needed at the time. I was coming to Tel Aviv, and back to Israel, after a 13 year hiatus, taking some time to myself after the roughest year of my life, personally. It was also the first time I'd ever vacationed completely by myself. I found Raphael to be an elegant enclave where I sat, dined, and just thought, in silence. I scribbled some notes in a small notebook I'd brought with me from Rome, feeling slightly self-conscious about sitting at a two-top alone. Maybe they'd think I was working as a restaurant critic (only partly true), as long as they didn't ask me questions. I ate lots of that bread and started the meal with a delicious fish carpaccio of some kind, with a lovely Israeli white wine (lovely white wine is a recurring theme in my Israeli dining experiences). But it was the main course that sticks in my mind. It remains there because it was so simple: Mediterranean cuisine, steps from the Mediterranean itself.

The sauce hit all the right fresh, briny, acidic notes, comprised of olives, tomato, capers, parsley and mint, over a perfectly-cooked piece of local drumfish. Eating it, I knew exactly where I was. That time, there was a bit of okra in the mix -- a vegetable, I came to discover, that Israelis use quite frequently in their cooking. When I ordered the same dish a year and a half later, it was almost exactly the same, but without the okra. It was still perfectly cooked. And it came with the same side of buttery, creamy potato puree' that should be set forth as an example of how potato purees are to be made now and forever after for all time. Seriously. Those were some transformative potatoes! But beyond transformative, they were utter comfort. This food to me, especially on that balmy July evening, was a virtual, warm, engulfing Mediterranean hug when I really needed it.

It's a taste memory that I've kept in my mind and on my palate ever since, and I've tried to reproduce that meal for clients to enjoy back in New York, 6,000 miles from where it changed me, just a little bit, years ago. 

Messa is one of my favorite restaurants I've ever experienced, and I've eaten all over the world. When I say "experienced," that's what I mean: it's an upscale restaurant, to be sure, with delicious and inventive food. But its neighboring bar (where you can eat as well, though I think it's best for drinks) completes the "package" and allows you to spend an evening in the Messa environs without needing to go elsewhere. The setting is sleek and gorgeous. It's not wholly original -- I've eaten, or lodged, in some similar environments, with Schrager spots like the Modrian in L.A. and Asia de Cuba coming immediately to mind. But these count among some of my favorite places to frequent over the years, as well (let's all take a moment to bemoan the closure of Asia de Cuba in the Morgans Hotel in NYC: end of an era!). There is something to be said for a setting in which you actually feel more beautiful. Everyone and everything around you oozes sexiness.

The main restaurant is part communal table lined with tall white bar stools, part series of dining nooks separated by curtains and oversize modern-baroque chairs that resemble thrones (this shouts out anyone can be king or queen for the length of a meal!). It is all a whitewashed affair with gossamer draping and candelabras, and everything is just-right. The lighting is flattering. The rooms are comfortable and spacious. The music is at the ideal volume and sets the mood perfectly. The restaurant is staffed by servers who know the menu and its chef inside and out, who have a grasp of Israeli and New and Old World wines, are warm and friendly and helpful, and also happen to look like they could do double-duty as runway models on their off nights.  

And then, of course, there's the food. The restaurant's style could be dubbed Luxe Levantine, and it's an interesting mix of Middle Eastern, Sephardic, classic French, and Mediterranean culinary influences that comprise what has become "New Israeli" cuisine. Chef Aviv Moshe is an autodidact of Kurdish ancestry who was born in Jerusalem 40 years ago. He started his on-the-job training at Chateau Ein Karem in his home city in '92, which explains the French/Provencal flourishes in his dishes. Like Cohen, he is heavily influenced by his grandmother's cooking, which is also North African. With her, Moshe was able to see how to utilize exotic spices and blends and apply them to cooking with local staples like eggplant, tahini, pomegranate, and labane (a yogurt-like cheese).

Moshe and three partners debuted Messa with the ambition to redefine what new Israeli cuisine -- and an amazing dining experience could be in Tel Aviv -- a decade ago now. It's been one of the focal points of fine dining in this beachside city ever since, attracting an eclectic client base, from Paul Anka to Lady Gaga, Rudy Giuliani to Roberto Cavalli.

At Messa, the menu is fairly large, which can often be an indicator that what comes out of the kitchen is unfocused, hit-or-miss. But not here, not from what I've seen. The dishes are original, the flavor pairings often unique, the technique accomplished. And the service and presentation are typically flawless. I ordered a foie gras appetizer which was seared to caramelized and served with a Valhrona white chocolate-vanilla bean sauce (not as strange as it may sound: foie and sweet flavors pair well together), with hits of lemon and balsamic, paired with a vodka-based lemon shooter of some kind. Odd at first, but anything that pairs one of my favorite rich foods with one of my favorite brisk alcohols to cut the richness of the liver -- well, it's alright with me. Plus, it's fun! It was a lighthearted approach and presentation to a dish too often mired in the seriousness of its rich history and taste. 

My friend Jessica ordered an app on special that evening, which was an interesting take on all of the countless versions we see of beets with goat cheese. The beets were half way to pickled (beets in Israel are a very common accompaniment to salads and sandwiches, so seeing them pickled or made into a slaw is familiar to locals), and the goat cheese was not a soft, crumbling affair but a nice, solid slice of an aged chevre, placed atop the beet salad with herbs. Simple and lovely.

And I'd be remiss in covering the many gorgeous offerings for appetizers if I didn't mention at least one of the seafood apps. There was a delectable barely-seared tuna dish, basically sashimi, with an eggplant roll, mushrooms, and chevre cheese in a pomegranate broth: delicious. Now that dish has become the tuna served with "raw shakshuka" and a six minute egg, which sounds wonderful. And there's a gorgeous raw yellowtail starter with sumac-dusted onions, caramelized eggplant and wasabi sorbet. You can't have a restaurant of international acclaim, these days, without some nod to Japan and its sushi culture. And that's fine with me, especially when the seafood you have to work with is as fresh and delicious as it is in Israel.

For second courses, we had an equally-difficult time deciding what to try, but Jess went for the classic Moroccan style fish with homemade couscous (here, the grandmother's North African influence in full bloom). The broth of the fish stew was thick and bright red with harissa paste and tomatoes, a contrast to the pale, fluffy couscous beside it. It was as delicious as you might expect. Paul stuck to seafood and chose a light sea bass dish with shallot ravioli and porcini foam, which was beautiful and light, but very savory.

I went for something a little more substantial with the veal cheeks. These were served with root vegetables and crispy gnocchi with a sweet spice broth. This dish was as rich and hearty as it sounds, but it was a cool, rainy night outside, we were settled in here at Messa, nothing to do but enjoy our time between now and the end of the evening when we'd climb into a taxi and head home. So yes, foie gras and veal cheeks made sense at the time. Dessert was equally as rich, a study in dark, milk, and white chocolate of varying degrees of temperature and consistency (oh, that all studying and degrees were chocolate-based!). It didn't photograph well, but trust me when I say it went down easily.

The amazing thing about a place like this one is that once dinner and its accompanying prosecco are over with, you can hop down out of your incredibly comfortable chairs or bar stools, head through a pair of double-glazed, curtained glass doors, and enter into the bar part of Messa. And it's a shock to the senses, in the best possible way. It's completely black: the walls, the chairs, the tables, the napkins.

The bar is a deep gray-brown marble and the lighting is quite dim with a few spotlights and bedside table-style lamps on the bar for illumination. The central bar is long and rectangular, and there are cushy cocktail tables and banquettes along the perimeter. And oh yeah, there's a trippy blue-black film projected on the far wall, with images of people's heads morphing into each other. There is a window that looks onto the white dining room, for contrast, but overall the feeling of the place is dark exotic drinking den. And the bartenders are, as most Israelis, quite friendly but can keep their space from you when wanted. They have a great cocktail list that features Israeli-friendly ingredients. I had a vodka cocktail with citrus, pomegranate, and mint which was divine...so I had another. Ostensibly, you could start your evening with a pre-dinner drink here, dine in the white room, and come back here for post-prandial cocktails, and you will have passed a very happy portion of your day here. Like I said at the beginning, Messa is an experience.

Raphael

87 Ha-Yarkon (King David Tower)

Tel Aviv, Israel

Phone +972 3.522.6464

www.raphaeltlv.co.il

Messa

19 HaArba'a Street

Tel Aviv, Israel

+972 3.685.6859

www.messa.co.il

RECIPE BY REQUEST: Cumin-Herb Grilled Lamb Chops

Occasionally I will post some photos online of a dish I've made, either for clients or for myself, that elicit responses on social media, from likes to Yum! to looks delicious to Please post a recipe for this dish, my mouth is watering! It is for this last response that I am starting a new series on my blog called "Recipe By Request" -- and I'm happy to announce that the first in this series is here.

I made this dish for some of my very best clients, this summer out in the Hamptons. It was a balmy evening, and the grill was calling to me (not hard to hear, considering how massive the grill was at the house!). I was in the mood for some savory Mediterranean cooking, so I made a series of dishes that paired grilled meats with cooling salads. The dish here -- lamb chops with a North African touch -- I served over a salad that tosses together parsley (I love using this herb like a salad green. It's so palate-cleansing and bright.) with sliced red onions, chick peas, and pomegranate arils. This salad would be at home in Morocco, but equally at home in Andalusia, Spain, or Italy, Provence, or Israel. I think it pairs really well with the smokiness and warm spices on the lamb chops, and matches the herbal notes in the rub as well. Tying everything together is a great-quality extra-virgin olive oil. 

You don't have to grill these chops to make them at home -- you can use a grill pan or even just sear them in a hot frying pan (cast iron would be best), or even bake them. The important thing is to play with them, mix and match the ingredients in here to your personal taste. I guarantee you this dish, however modified, pared-down or amped-up, will be a favorite player in your arsenal of deceptively easy, flavorful dishes.

Cumin and Herb-Spiced Lamb Chops
Serves 8 people

With lamb chops, especially if they're being grilled, it's best to leave the fat on the bone instead of trimming it. This keeps the meat moist while cooking and adds flavor. 

INGREDIENTS
2 medium onions, peeled, quartered
3 cloves garlic, peeled
1 cup fresh cilantro leaves with clean, tender stems
1 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves with clean, tender stems
1 cup fresh mint leaves
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 small chili pepper with seeds (anything from jalapeno to bird's eye Thai chili), roughly chopped
1 teaspoon ras-el-hanout (North African spice mix)
Kosher salt
24 untrimmed lamb rib chops (approximately 5 pounds)
Olive oil

PREPARATION
- Place onions, garlic, cilantro, parsley, mint, cumin, paprika, chili pepper, ras-el-hanout, salt, pepper, and olive oil in a food processor until very finely chopped. This should make a flavor paste that is thick but easily spreadable.
- Place lamb in a large dish and rub with spice and herb mixture. Cover and chill at least 2 hours.
- One hour before cooking, take the marinating lamb chops out of the fridge and bring to room temperature.
- Prepare grill for medium-high heat and oil grate. 
- Grill lamb to desired doneness, about 3 minutes per side for medium-rare. Let rest at least 5 minutes before serving.

*Can be served with a salad of flat-leaf parsley, chick peas, sliced red onion, and pomegranate arils. Toss with extra-virgin olive oil and salt and line a platter with the salad. Place the lamb chops on top and it's a real show-stopper of a presentation!


NOTE: Lamb can be marinated 12 hours ahead. Keep chilled.