Thursday, May 13, 2010
Chutzpah Magazine � Blog Archive � Modern, Hip and Delicious, Zahav charms for: One Night in Morocco
Chutzpah Magazine � Blog Archive � Modern, Hip and Delicious, Zahav charms for: One Night in Morocco
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
# 30 in Saveur Magazine's 100 for 2010!
http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/Tuna-Melt-1000079473
joystocke @ 7:14 am
by Warren Bobrow
Not a real Tuna Melt. It is the dreaded HOT TUNA! Photo: Warren Bobrow
An abridged history of the Tuna Melt:
Charleston, South Carolina. About 1965. Woolworth’s lunch counter on King Street. The air is thick with the smell of tea being brewed for the large glass containers that sit atop ceramic dispensers. Inside the containers are chunks of rough-cut ice, fresh mint and golden brown-colored tea.
One container says simply, Sweet. As quickly as a glass is filled, it is emptied by thirsty passers-by. All of King Street finds their way in for a cup. Sweet Tea is the most popular drink on a day like today.
It’s July and hamburgers are sizzling away on the sleek metal of the grill. The sun seems to rise low in the sky earlier and set later, extending the heat and mud-scented humidity from the tidal confluence of Ashley and Cooper Rivers.
Behind the counter, the ladies work at their prescribed tasks. Send a Tuna on White over there, cup of Tomato Soup to the end of the counter! Macaroni and Cheese with a Fish Cake? Side of Slaw!
Chef Bo is greeted; orders given. “Sweet tea! I‘ll have a grilled cheese sandwich, white bread with a smear of mayo and slices of American cheese, “just as you like it.” Atop the griddle on a shelf, a bowl of freshly made tuna salad sits on the edge… and, as if guided by a hidden hand, the contents tip over, falling on the grilled cheese sandwich.
Voila! The Tuna Melt is born!
About the same time as the tuna salad falls onto the grill, Bo notices it bubbling away along with his open-faced grilled cheese. Some of the tuna has coated the top. The smell is familiar to him. The metallic tang of nearby sweet southern ocean air, the syrupy caramelized smell of mayo combining and dripping on celery and onion sinking into the butter and mayo-coated white bread. And on top, becoming crisp and sealing in all the flavors… that errant dollop of tuna!
One of the gals from behind the counter offers to make him another one, ’cause he might not want to eat the mistake!”
Tucking in-carefully at first, then with fervor – time and history make way for a new sandwich, a new invention. Pursing his lips and sipping the sweet tea Bo has no idea that he has invented the Tuna Melt.
Soon, thereafter, the Tuna Melt became a favorite at the Woolworth’s lunch counter on King Street in Charleston, South Carolina. It was almost always served with a glass of sweet Iced Tea and a side of Lay’s potato chips.
http://www.saveur.com/article/Kitchen/The-2010-SAVEUR-100-List
Wild River Review contributing editor, Warren Bobrow grew up on a farm in Morristown, NJ. A graduate of Emerson College with a degree in Film, he spent his senior year as a research assistant in visual thinking at CAVS / MIT. He worked for many years in the corporate world.His column on food, wine and life, Wild Table appears daily in the online magazine, Wild River Review. In addition to Wild River Review, Warren writes for NJMYWay.com, NJ Life Magazine, NJ Monthly and SLOWFOODNNJ.org. He has upcoming work in Edible Jersey Magazine on the topic of Organic and Biodynamic wine and upcoming submissions for the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America. Ed., 2. Warren is featured in Saveur Magazine’s 2010-100 best list. #30. February brings an article to NJ Savvy Living. Please follow his moving about and drinkin’ ’round on Twitter @WarrenBobrow1 or on Plaxo.
Trust your instincts and cook with passion!
You can support Warren’s work on Wild River Review, and his column, Wild Table by making a donation: Wild River Review, PO Box 53, Stockton, NJ 08559. Wild River Review is an international website and 501c3 non-profit organization so your donation may be tax deductible.
Please put Wild Bite in the subject line. Thank you!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Blue Hill/Stone Barns: Time Exists in Harmony with Nature
I might have been near Normandy in France the way the road opened in front of me with those stone barns set off the lane in the background. Several baby lambs ran beside my car and older sheep chewing calmly dotted the fields. It seemed everything on this farm worked in a specific meter. Each person I met was charged with a task of some kind, which they performed with a purpose, yet a smile at every turn was shared immediately and with meaning. It was a simple lesson in customer awareness, which enriched the scene.
Stone Barns, restored and in a sense re-created as they were 100 years prior in another time…. the drive through leafy forest north of here about an about an hour or a bit more, winding my way off the usual superhighway 287 route…the well beaten path of (old route) 9w through exclusive Alpine, NJ and across the Tappan Zee bridge from Morristown to Pocantico Hills.
The founder of Standard Oil built this living enterprise at one time with no cares as to how expensive or how to skimp on materials-this place for built to endure for centuries… now it is wistfully and lovingly recreated by Chef Dan Barber and team; who to my great delight was tromping across… (With several producers and video cameras in tow) a 50 or so acre-rolling field dotted with the mobile cages of the free ranging chickens. I happened to be walking the estate in the gathering mist and came upon a very animated but soft-spoken man, with time to spend teaching his craft to others… and being videotaped at the same time for some television event in the future. It was completely unscripted and he spoke using his hands for emphasis. He was classically dressed as a gentleman chef/farmer in crisply starched chef whites, white apron and euro-clogs.
I had transcended the decades and was standing about 50 yards away-not hearing his words-only seeing him point softly, calmly, in a gentle fashion at the food raised all around me. Cows patiently waited-sheep ate-goats burrowed and pigs slept the day away. Chickens slept.
Meanwhile, nearby…..
The on site abattoir takes care of the nasty business of slaughtering- but this place, known for the “farm to table” approach to the craft of food-is disguised by few windows and few doors. You cannot see what goes on within, but I cannot imagine a fresher approach to dining.
Surrounding the abattoir, free ranging bird pens were filled with ancient varieties of edible birds, geese, turkey, chickens and ducks- which existed on grasses, and vegetarian grains almost hand fed by a swarm of young, eager farm workers… surrounded by pure soil and a constant variety of free-ranging insects who wander into the cages-then are hungrily devoured by the hungry, waiting birds. This variety shown above seems to have few feathers.. I imagined an "innner zip tab" engineered by ancestors long departed into the breasts for easy removal of all feathers. Chef Barber was pointing out to some young Berkshire Pigs who were napping-blissfully unaware of the restaurant “Blue Hill Stone Barns” just beyond a quiet knoll surrounded by a small pond.
They seemed to be smiling-perhaps they dreamt of warm days in the future there on this sustainable farm, their home and not of the sum of their parts which will grace someone’s farmers feast dinner later in the season?
I continued down the road and came upon the greenhouses. Over 1/2 acre under cover with roof panels which open with the time of day.
Tonight’s salad at Blue Hill was still in the ground.
Several female college students were snacking on a salad of Mache, chervil and faro grains with goat cheese made fresh daily from the farm. A young commis cook from the restaurant was charming them with some freshly picked greens, quickly prepared and served. I wanted to photograph them, but didn’t want to disturb their sense of discovery… The fog took over and I continued back to the front door of Blue Hill. But it was locked!
To my chagrin- Blue Hill/Stone Barns are closed at Lunch, unless it is a Sunday, but this was during the week… So-I enjoyed a visit to their well-appointed cafe. It reminded me a rurally set Chez Panisse. Friendly, smiling college aged girls and guys worked the steaming, spotless espresso machine. The foods were all self-serve, Tuna in water from Italy with chervil served on whole grains with a sprinkling of garden greens, a Frittata of local ramps and farm-made goat cheese-Sweets from classic breakfast treats to more succinct, yet humorous granola made on the farm with local dried berries and nuts, fresh yoghurt, milk from local farms and farm-made goat cheese filled the refrigerator cases-carefully chosen juices and seltzers-strawberry milk, chocolate milk and grand cups of steaming lattes…
… I helped myself to a lovely egg salad sandwich-composed of the day’s fresh eggs from the farm, capers, a simple garlic mayonnaise and then gently spooned over a warm slice of open faced chibatta bread from the estate’s bakery. Although a fine mist flew in my eyes-the energy of the place warmed me deeply. I enjoyed a tall glass of Ronnybrook Farms Chocolate Milk and photographed my lunch as it sat on the long wooden tables in my mind’s eye.
There were preserves to be sampled, made freshly on the farm. I chose an Apricot Jam and a Quince Preserve. Quince is meant to be cooked with, baked into a cheesecake of goat cheese and flaky crust. Not a sweet, but a savory.
The apricot jam made me think of iced summer wines from the Basque region of Spain, the softest bubbly nose…the flavors of stone fruits, some of those roasted apricots; marcona almonds coated in sea salt and drenched in fine olive oil…. the terroir from the soil. Deep in the earth-powerful salty flavors from the fogs, which hang over the ancient vineyards, fresh anchovies caught minutes before and then grilled over hardwood and sherry wine vinegar. Olives freshly crushed until they are a soft paste with garlic and anchovy more olive oil, grey salt and rosemary from the tree over there…. served with good charred country bread.
Creativity is easy to find when surrounded by deliberate provisions.
Lunch was a feeling of contentment. All that was missing was that plate of freshly grilled Anchovies right out of the sea and a glass of Spanish Txomin from the Basque Country to wash it all down.
Paul Bocuse once said-serve great bread and everything is possible.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Billy Reid (From Wild Culture)
October 22, 2009
Wild Culture
A Bucket o'PBR's at Billy Reid. Photo: Warren Bobrow
1-Year Anniversary of Billy Reid
Has it been a year? My discovery of Billy Reid has given me a new way of dressing, in keeping with the spirit of my “look” over the years. From the moment I walked into the shop on Bond Street in New York City, I felt something familiar. My wife and I shopped in the neighborhood and we stumbled in. There was an article in the New York Times waxing poetic about bespoke Southern Clothing and I am constantly intrigued to find that Kentucky bourbon and hand sewn bespoke clothing makes for a good conversation. Perhaps it is the casual elegance of the clothing. Maybe the music playing puts me in a good place. Then there is the sales help. I’ve always been spoken with, not spoken at. This is a good Zen exercise on manners if there is anything that a person can learn about great service.
Then there is the Bourbon. Great Kentucky bourbon can be offered to you if you know the secret code. There is a lesson to be learned regarding a glass of brown. That lesson is the art of listening for the queue. The secret code is somewhere between the actual word meaning, “yes, I’d enjoy a glass”… and that knowing smile…one that comes with a steady hand and quick wit. This is the Southern way of thinking. Offer a glass and reap the rewards. A new friendship is born!
Billy Reid-Photo: Warren Bobrow
You don’t know what I’m talking about? Then Billy Reid is not the store for you. With their 1-Year Anniversary on my mind, having the chance to enjoy a brown cocktail seems very friendly. Too bad the last few nights freezing weather killed off most of the mint. I’ll bet in a few days of warm weather, some sweet sprouts will pop up and a fine mint and bourbon cocktail will be offered up. If not, there is always Fee Brothers Mint Bitters- used only in very small drops!
Southern Gentility/Billy Reid Photo: Warren Bobrow
Billy Reid’s clothing embodies a deeply Southern sensibility. Inside every person who wears this clothing there exists a good old boy (or gal) who is “fixin’ to get some barbeque” from a restaurant like Skeets in Darlington, SC. This is pit style meat. Cooked low and slow. I once drove all the way from Charleston for Barbeque at Skeets. This was before Hugo. When I called asking for directions- the kind person on the phone said: “When you smell Hog, you’re almost there.” That in itself is the metaphor for good cookin’ and fine eatin’. So in the spirit of the 1st anniversary of Billy Reid’s store on Bond Street in NYC, grab yourself a tall-boy PBR or a short glass of Brown and drink in the smell of Pit Barbeque, which just may be on the menu tonight.
You need the right music to get all y’all’s in the mood. A bit of Vassar Clements is in order:
Magnolia Springfest, Live Oak, Florida 03/24/00 www.archive.org
Wild River Review contributing editor, Warren Bobrow grew up on a farm in Morristown, NJ. A graduate of Emerson College with a degree in Film, he spent his senior year as a research assistant in visual thinking at The Center for Advanced Visual Studies at MIT. He worked for many years in the corporate world.
His column, Wild Snack, appears every Wednesday on WRR@Large. His daily eMag; Wild Table is now available. In addition to Wild River Review, Warren writes for NJMYWay.com and SLOWFOODNNJ.org. He has upcoming work in Edible Jersey Magazine on the topic of Organic and Biodynamic Wine and upcoming submissions for the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America. Ed., 2. February brings an article to NJ Savvy Living. Please follow his moving about and drinkin’ ’round on Twitter @ jockeyhollow.
Trust your instincts and cook with passion!
You can support Warren’s work on Wild River Review, and his column, Wild Table by making a donation: Wild River Review, PO Box 53, Stockton, NJ 08559. Wild River Review is an international website and 501c3 non-profit organization so your donation may be tax deductible.Please put Wild Bite in the subject line. Thank
Sunday, September 20, 2009
A Perfect-Ending of Summer!
A Toute Heure is located not in Martha’s Vineyard, or Boston or even New York City… But, if you ever find yourself just off the Garden State Parkway in Cranford, New Jersey and locavore is how you eat, then you must find your way to one of the best restaurants in New Jersey, if not in the entire Tri-State area. (New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut.)
Walking up the path to A Toute Heure, is like stepping into a farmhouse located somewhere in the Hudson River Valley of New York, without the farm tractors parked outside.
Local to the restaurant is a postage stamp farm called Cherry Lane-mere blocks away-nurturing perfect little heirloom tomatoes that glow on the plate with an inner energy. The mention of the Cherry Lane farm had originally piqued my interest. Where was the Cherry Lane Farm? Did I know that it was “just around the corner?” You cannot get any fresher than this!
A black board prominently displayed on the wall tells all you need to know about who is supplying what ingredient to the restaurant. Fresh cheeses are listed alongside the farm names. All the varied locavore ingredients right down to the eggs are given a place on the wall. The list changes daily depending on what is fresh.
Local foods complete the scene in this change-the-entire-menu-weekly, James Beard Society-nominated restaurant. But that kind of award doesn’t make the scene. What makes the scene is the abundant energy and pulse-the smiles from the staff-the smell of the open kitchen as the staff prepares each plate. The kitchen just radiates good feeling… you can taste the energy in anticipation of your supper.
A Toute Heure is a BYOB. I brought a peach pit and citrus-tinged Sybille Kuntz Trocken Riesling in a 1/2 sized bottle for our appetizers and a really special bottle of a single vineyard, Pax Syrah from 2004-which has rested in my cellar until I opened it about 9 hours prior to dinner. The tap water doesn’t taste like chlorine that is a nice complement to the meal, one I cannot say for Morristown, New Jersey, where I live and where the tap water reeks of it, making for difficult drinking and eating.
We were presented with an Amuse Bouche of Hush Puppies that sent me right back down to Charleston, South Carolina. It was here that sparkling fresh shrimp from Shem Creek fished just out of the brackish pluff mud filtered water filled my memories. One taste and I was eating the essence of Wild Shrimp. A brilliant, freshly made remoulade sauce sealed the deal.
My mother-in-law, who doesn’t eat shrimp, was offered a small plate of several heirloom “cherry” tomatoes. Each one was brimming with flavor and were still slightly warm from being just picked maybe seconds before they were sliced, dashed with a grassy olive oil and a bit of sea salt to raise their inner secrets to her fork. I tasted one and wanted to eat an entire bowl of them with aged Balsamico and crusty bread.
I started with a bowl of Kara’s Mussel Pot, an appetizer size that dwarfed the other plates on the table. It was brimming with succulent, steaming hot PEI Mussels. Sweet and plump, they came drenched in Belgian Ale from a local microbrewery, dotted with sweet, yet tangy blue cheese and a splash of cream. I inhaled most of the bowl and set to work at the excellent bread served and refilled without my notice to sop up the broth.
My wife and her mom shared the satisfyingly filling, meltingly soft to the tooth Paffenroth Garden’s roast beet salad. Each generous portion of beets echoed their specific terroir and was folded between perfectly cleaned local greens. I could smell the earthy nature of the beets and it stirred a far away feeling of summer and memories that lingered at the edge of my memory.
Tables around us shared large portions of all the items I had myself dreamed of ordering. Steak Frites! Pork n’ Clams! Cones of Pomme Frites - Can I snag one?
I ordered the Hudson Valley magret duck breast which came over goat cheese-infused mashed potatoes that tasted made a la minute-the glutens of the potato had not turned to glue. I wanted to jump right in to bowl full of them. A veritable pillow-top mattress made of them. The duck, rendered of the fat that sometimes plagues other examples of this dish, tasted as if it had been running around just that morning. Or swimming, so deep was the flavor.
The other dishes were the boneless, brined, “brick” roast ½ chicken. Brick-Cooked Chicken holds a special place in my heart and this delicacy was brined to bring out all the flavors of a small, organic bird. So delicate and almost sous vide in texture- I wanted to tear into the chicken and perhaps convince the chef to fry me up a few wings,to keep me honest and quiet.
My mom-in-law has a restrictive diet, so she doesn’t eat meat in a restaurant, nor most fish. A Toute Heure accommodated her needs, serving her the bountiful, piping hot, Heirloom Cherry Lane Farm’s eggplant gratin with Gruyere and Parma cheese. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her polish off a plate of vegetables so quickly.
While we were finishing our meal I took note of the cheese list. Perfectly aged cheeses abound. Without asking, we were served a selection of cheeses which included: Cayuga Blue from Lively Run Dairy in NY, a perfectly aged specimen of the Weston Wheel from Woodcock Farm in Vt., and my personal favorite-the Constant Bliss from Jasper Hill in Vt. Each cheese was just about 2 bites-served with house-cured olives and more of that excellent toast, carefully marked by the grill in crosshatches. I love seeing that extra effort at taking an ingredient and expanding on the flavors of the charred bread.
Dessert would be a selection of the best ice-cream I have ever tasted in NJ, the Burnt Sugar, the brightly flavored and toothsome Spearmint Bittersweet Chocolate Chip and the Ricotta with Candied Citrus. if I had a cooler, they might have been missing some. My wife enjoyed the chocolate bread pudding, drizzled with caramel sauce.. it was… deep, dark and filling.
Coffee was served in a French Press-nice touch! I wanted more-but wanted to be able to sleep and dream of our beautiful meal.
At A Toute Heure, if they stick to their ethos of fresh food,cooked simply with the love that we were shown through the excellent service and not-overly intellectualized cuisine, they will have that grail.. The James Beard Award nomination, hanging on the wall-just out of eyeshot though, for their food doesn’t need an award to be truly wonderful.
What better ending to summer could there be than that?
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