Ate This, Drank That

Because it's hard to keep track of so many tasty things.

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Allagash White: perfect for a Sunday football watching session. Bear Down!

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Because I was too much into sleeping to hit the farmers’ market for fresh Sungold tomatoes: a no-cook sauce based on local farm Tomato Mountain's Sungold Preserves. It’s all about the ingredients. I wish I had decided to grow tarragon this year. More cheese will have to suffice.

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After a not-so-brief absence from this little project, I’m back. With a purpose. That purpose harkening back to the original point of this tumblr, which was to keep track of beers I’d tried, then morphed into a record of pretty much anything interesting and tasty I’d consumed.

So. Beer. This one was most definitely tasty. The label suggested that this collaborative effort by New Belgium and Red Rock was best enjoyed by May 2014. Pretty sure this was still in the back of my closet along with shoes, wine, and other things that live in my “cellar”. I’m a sucker for pretty much everything in this brew, from peach juice to dandelion greens (I like dandelion tea), to wood aging. And it suits my mood tonight on this cool, not-a-summer-not-yet-an-autumn night.

Cheers, you lovely people.

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Merchant Summer Originals, part 2: Encores. Both these cocktails are making an encore appearance on the seasonal menu. I love it. Rosa in Fiore and Mr. GQ (JR Mocanu).

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Merchant Originals summer menu, part 1: The Dangerous Summer (Tom Dufek), Not Yet 25 (JR Mocanu), The Rose of Sharon (Michael Lu), I Don't Think You're Ready for This Jelly (Sean Davis)

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Sour Beer and Haggis Crisps? Yes, please.

And this entry might have ended there. But after calling it a night at Fatpour and cabbing back to the hotel, we ran into a whole Scottish wedding that was pouring out of the hotel lobby into the Chicago night, presumably for more reveling. We encountered at close range at least a dozen men with genuine (not just drunken) Scottish accents and very stately kilts laughing and stumbling through the revolving door as well as some lovely women in formal wear who were not doing as much stumbling. We couldn't hear their accents at the time. Anyway, one of these gents passing by says to me (in said authentic Scottish accent): "Eh, ever had haggis crisps?" And he handed me what I think was an extra party favor, a snack-sized bag of potato chips.

I still have no idea what haggis tastes like, but I can tell you that Mackie's of Scotland makes a damn tasty Haggis & Cracked Black Pepper flavour potato crisp. Salty, savory, and smacking faintly of sweet, roasted meat, I actually think that these would have been fantastic with the Tart of Darkness. I liked them so much that I devoured the small bag in the elevator to the hotel room and then was sad the next morning when there were none left over for breakfast. Oh well; I can always order a case from Amazon.com.

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Because I don't want to blog this twice... here's a link to something I wrote about some home-made ice cream that is seriously life-changingly tasty.

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The Chilaquiles Challenge: Plato Auténtico en Gualala versus "Spa" Breakfast in Wine Country.

Forget the poetry and the restaurant review. This is a straight-up challenge of one dish versus another, based on only one standard: mine. I love chilaquiles. Have for years, ever since I discovered them on a breakfast buffet at an all-inclusive resort in Mexico. Yeah, that's right. And I've since moved on to learn that sometimes they're more like a casserole, sometimes they're more like nachos, and sometimes... rarely, but sometimes... they're not even that tasty.

I digress. 

On your left, a reasonably priced lunch plate from a local taquería in Gualala on California Route 1. On your right, a breakfast plate priced twice as twice as much from a Sonoma, CA restaurant run by the hotel next door: The Fairmont Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa.

Normally, if I were a betting woman, I'd put my money on the Gualala plate. Authentic Mexican food is usually an outstanding and tasty value, and spa food is usually overrated. But I loves me a soft fried egg, some avocado, and triangular tortilla chips. The red sauce on the Fairmont plate was not as spicy as the Gualala which (for someone who can't tolerate a lot of heat) was just about at my limit by the time I'd finished eating most of it. The loose sour cream drizzled amply over the pile of food on the authentic plate seemed just right and what I was expecting, while the dollop of crème fraîche atop the perfectly plated Fairmont dish was, well, too perfect.

They were both very tasty in their own respective classes, but in this particular case, the spa food won me over. It was just as tasty as the authentic chilaquiles, if more dolled up and polished. I mean, if you're going to do spa diner chilaquiles, this is how to do it, folks. And I just preferred the egg to the chicken (on the Gualala plate), the triangles to the strips, and the portion, which was a little smaller and didn't create as many soggy chips. Now, for value, you can't beat the Gualala plate, and so I won't be eating the chilaquiles at The Big 3 anytime again soon, if ever. But the bar has just been raised, amigos. I want fried egg and avocado on all my chilaquiles from now on. And don't even try to push non-triangular shaped chips on me.

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Drink Your Beets

During a visit to Portland, OR, I felt way too Midwestern uncool to take photos of my food while dining with my cousin and his partner in some very foodie sorts of restaurants. However, at Mextiza, I did manage a photo of a cocktail (which, actually, I was encouraged by my dining companion to snap).

This is the Remolacha: Basil, beet-infused mezcal, brown sugar, lime, topped with soda. It is the tastiest liquid beet-flavored beverage you will ever have. Earthy, yet refreshing, and it pairs perfectly with the Lomita al Pastor that was on the menu that night. Succulent roasted pork tenderloin on a pepita/tomatillo-sort of mole sauce (no cocoa in this version), served with perfect cebolla roja asada, white rice, and a side of corn tortillas. It was exactly the kind of food I would expect to find on a Rick Bayless menu, and certainly just as tasty as anything I've had at Frontera Grill. And if it were really this easy to get vegetables, I'd drink a Remolacha every day.

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Butternut squash ravioli. Seasonal. Timeless. Certainly tasty. In fact, I had already decided to write this post when I stumbled upon an irresistible impulse-buy in a grocery store check-out line: Cook's Illustrated Modern Classics: America's New Favorite Recipes. With a beautiful, simple, tasty-looking photo if (or rather, a photo of tasty-looking) Squash Ravioli with Sage and Hazelnut Browned Butter Sauce. What more affirmation do I need?

I'm sorry to disappoint any of you who were looking forward to my testing of America's Test Kitchen's sure-to-be-solid rendition of this "modern classic". While I agree that much of the beauty in delicious food is simple, high-quality ingredients used in technically accurate exercises of culinary basics... oh, hell. Sometimes the best basic cheeseburger isn't enough. And when I want butternut squash ravioli, I want a burger with three kinds of cheese and onion strings and caramelized shallot and garlic special sauce and avocado and grilled vegetables and bacon-glazed brisket (that's a thing, right?).

To the point: This a photo of my favorite butternut squash ravioli. It offers a lot of autumn flavors without requiring pasta making. Handy, since I'm rarely in the mood to make fresh pasta or clean up from making fresh pasta. Mostly, you have to get over wanting the squash inside the ravioli.  So, pick your favorite fresh, cheese-filled ravioli. If I'm at a store that carries it, I buy local. Make it. Let's also assume that you've already diced and roasted some butternut squash for just such an occasion (believe it or not, I often have this in my fridge in the fall). Make a brown butter sage sauce, remove the crispy sage, and use the oil to toast crushed red pepper flakes and sauté thinly sliced local hardneck garlic until golden (I like Greek Blue, Korean Red - for kick, and/or multi-purpose Spanish Roja). Finish the sauce with a little cream and golden balsamic or good sherry vinegar. Toss in the pasta, plate, and top with toasted walnuts and/or hazelnuts, pine nuts, crispy sage leaves, a drizzle of pumpkin seed oil, a scratch of fresh nutmeg, a pinch of smoked paprika, and as much parmesan or romano as you care to grate.

Okay, so maybe that sounds like a lot of work. But I've been really sad about the offerings of this dish found around Madison this season, and I'm venting my annoyance through one finishing touch after another. Really, I suppose, it's the execution in the restaurant dishes that's been lacking; also, the cubes of sweet, caramelized, roasted butternut squash on top (and boiled, undercooked cubes of squash do not count). And while over-the-top gourmet burgers seem to be going strong around here, pasta dishes have certainly trended the other way. I'm okay with that. Except when it's autumn, and all I want is tasty butternut squash-on-the-outside ravioli. That I don't have to make.

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While everyone else is probably blogging about their heritage-turkey-fresh-cranberry-gluten-free-stuffing-locavore Thanksgiving feasts, I'm eating shrimp scampi. Why? Well, because it's one of my favorite dishes and because I can. (And I'll drink chocolate milk whenever I damn well please.) Also, because I spent the entire autumn season bouncing among some of the best harvest-oriented pairing dinners I can imagine. I've had three months of Thanksgiving for local foods, Wisconsin chefs, craft beer, wine, and spirits. So here's my list of foodie gratefulness (certainly not all-inclusive):

Garlic. Especially local, fresh, hardneck garlic and the people who grow it for me. Like Lon Gunderson, of Gunderson's Great Garlic, at the Dane County Farmers' Market.

Craft spirits and craft cocktails. Especially a go-to gin and tonic made with Wisconsin-grown, locally-distilled Death's Door Gin. And especially creative drinks like those served at Merchant and those paired up with amazing food at the DD Dinner in the Distillery. Cheers and thanks to Brian, Mike, Kinder, Johnny, and all the crew at DD working so hard to make my G&T the tastiest it can be.

Local wine. And the role I play in the industry. One of the amazing dinners I attended this fall was hosted by my employers, Peter and Sarah Botham of Botham Vineyards & Winery. A portion of their 110-year old barn was transformed into a beautifully rustic (if chilly) white-linen canvas for Peter's wines and Chef Michael Pruett's food. Some of the prettiest and tastiest plates I've ever seen appeared before me, perfectly complimented by my boss' craftmanship. My favorite pairing: Roasted Lamb with 2011 Field 3. Although I do have to 'fess up to licking the Beet Cake plate clean and washing it down with the refreshingly delightful dessert wine Finis.

Local farmers and local food. While my schedule these days doesn't allow me to shop the farmers' markets as I would like, more local grocery stores are stocking regional produce and calling attention to their vendors with signage and promotions. I love food that tastes like food. And in the past year, I've come to know more and more people involved in Wisconsin agriculture, both small- and large-scale. And after such a disastrous drought this summer, I am all the more thankful that we have strong, dedicated individuals and families who continue to live their lives in the service of our good eating.

Local beverage-pairing dinners. Two years ago, I went to my first reserved-seating wine pairing dinner, and I haven't looked back. This autumn, I was so fortunate to attend 4 pairing dinners that ran the gamut of beverage pairings (wine, beer, and craft cocktails) and made me comfortably full and giddy happy that all this is happening in my own back yard. Which brings me to my next point...

Local chefs. In particular, this year I'm thankful to have discovered the culinary stylings of Michael Pruett and Dan Fox through said beverage pairing dinners. Chef Pruett made it onto the short, short list of chefs whose sauces I surreptitiously lick from the plate. And I'm ever so grateful to be gaining a deep appreciation for heritage pork from Chef Dan (and I was already a huge fan of pork). They're both hands-on, down-to-earth cooks. Just like my other favorite local chefs, Wave Kasprzak, Rob Grisham, and Bee Khang. All you guys - and your kitchen crews - rock.

Local bars. From LeCork Lounge and Bistro 101 in my old MoHo stomping grounds to places that always know my name even though I'm not a weekly attendee (Merchant, Brasserie V, Sushi Muramoto) - my great thanks to the owners and their staff for creative, consistent, and compassionate service. Always professional and always personable, a great local bar and its bartenders can turn around a bad day before you've even touched your first drink. 

Friends and family who are willing to eat my cooking. I know this sounds like I make terrible food, that my greatest skill is not screwing up a casserole. However,  (to pat my own back) I make excellent food. But much of the joy I take in cooking is sharing it with loved ones; I show my love through sharing food and food experiences. And there's almost nothing that makes me happier than to create something tasty and have the people I care most about it tell me that it is tasty, that they feel nourished and cared for, bite after bite. And as a footnote to this point, many thanks to my good friend Sandra who accompanied me to every single pairing dinner I attended this season. I can't wait to do it all again next year.

So, thank you to all the people and all the places that make being a Wisconsin foodie intellectually challenging and gastronomically satisfying. I wouldn't be who I am without you.

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Kyle of Sushi Muramoto gives the Wisconsin Old Fashioned an Asian-fusion twist in his Wisco Moto cocktail. I ordered this drink exclusively for the candied kumquat garnish. I drank this drink because it was tasty. Yeah, that's how I roll.

And if you have no idea what a Wisconsin Old Fashioned is, read a top-notch description from this guy writing from the beautiful, trendy city of Portland, Oregon (and that's pronounced "OR-eh-gun" to you Wisconsin folks). Sure, he'd rather class it up with some fancy cherries instead of the bright red maraschinos that are the staple garnish of kiddie cocktails everywhere in this state. But, hey - I love fancy, and the first comment on the article sums up why I'd order a drink anywhere that Jeffery Morgenthaler runs the bar, even though I'd never heard of him prior to landing on his Brandy Old Fashioned post:

"This is, for me, the best representation of hospitality in bartending. A tacit acknowledgement that it's not all about you, and you are here to give people what they want, made with the best possible ingredients and methods." - Donald Kenney 

And if any of you are out in the Madison, Wisconsin area, I'm sure Kyle will make your Old Fashioned however you like it. Cheers.

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I don't like mushrooms. They're sometimes styrafoamy when raw, slimy when cooked, or chewy like clams (without the satisfaction of clam chowder), and generally weird tasting. Not quite meat, not quite vegetable, and definitely not pretty. So I often tell people that I'll eat mushrooms... if I can't tell that they're there. On the other hand, earthy, savory, umami-like flavors are some of the best flavors I can imagine in food, drink, and combinations of the two. So where does that leave me?

Enter mushroom risotto. Specifically, my own home-made mushroom risotto, where I have complete control of the flavors, textures, and accompaniments surrounding these questionable fungi. Through the polite sampling of a Northern Italian acquaintance's mushroom risotto, I learned that there are many things to love about this dish, if they're done the way I like them.

1) Use dried mushrooms to up the earthy/meaty flavor. One of the reasons stovetop beef ramen noodle soup tastes so good is the powdered dried mushrooms in the seasoning packet. Dried porcini mushrooms smell a lot like beef ramen seasoning.

2) Don't use regular, flavorless button mushrooms. Portabellas and shitake mushrooms (for example) have meatier flavors and make it worth the weird texture that is bound to happen when you cook them.

3) Use chicken stock, not veggie stock, and make the risotto al dente. Overcooked risotto is just as slimy as overcooked mushrooms.

4) Add more earthy flavors: minced rosemary and earthy red wine (such as 2009 Field 3 from Botham Vineyards). Toss in toward the end of cooking so the flavors are still fresh. Drink the rest of the wine with dinner.

5) Finish with truffle oil. White truffle oil makes everything sexier. Trust me.

And so once a year, I buy mushrooms on purpose to cook up one of the most comforting and grounding dishes I can make. And I always have at least one guest - I love this dish, but seriously, I'm not getting seconds of anything with mushrooms in it. 

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You. Me. Two pounds of happy hog pork belly, chef-butchered at a Slo-Pig meat raffle, courtesy of Chef Dan Fox of Fox Heritage Foods, and a (raffle trivia-won) bottle of Death's Door White Whiskey.

Who turns down an invitation like this? Welcome to my Pork Belly Potluck, sponsored entirely by winnings from the Slo-Pig Meat raffle hosted at Death's Door Distillery and friends who were willing to bring cheesy potatoes, tabouleh, fried rice, and other delicacies to my home in the hopes of scoring some tasty bacon and a refreshing beverage. 

I'll spare you the details of the raffle and cut to the chase: Pork belly is damn tasty. I've had it slow-roasted, braised, and even sous vide. When I had the good fortune to win a choice of cuts from the heritage pig Chef Dan Fox had butchered before my very eyes, I barely hesitated between the chops and the belly. Everyone cooks chops. Not everyone (in America) cooks pork belly. But what to do with it? Given that I don't have a way to cook things in a temperature-modulated water bath at home, I was stuck with the time-tested methods of braising or slow roasting. And given that all my chef acquaintances advocated the slow-roasting method, the choice was easy.

While researching recipes for inspiration, I learned that Brits and Aussies make a fair amount of pork belly, but Americans (or at least anyone not using metric measurements and cheeky slang) appear to leave preparation of this amazing cut to the restaurants. No matter; I can do conversions. I based my method on this recipe and my spice rub on a variety of recipes and suggestions from chef friends. A little brown sugar, coriander, fennel seed, Chinese Five-Spice powder, fresh thyme, kosher salt, black pepper, olive oil... you know - this and that.

And the magic of it is: Slow roasting is so easy. Really. I recommend slow roasting everything you ever eat as long as your oven isn't a fire hazard in my apartment building. And do the high-heat thing after the meat is roasted to crisp up the skin. The skin is almost the best part. Think Bacos® without the annoying fake bacon flavor. Even my guests who don't normally eat chunks of fat were raving about the crispy-fatty skin bits. All the more reason to score the skin finely - you get the most rub flavor in the meat and the crispiest bits. And to get the most our of your pork experience, pair it with a solid semi-dry Riesling. That evening, I was test-driving Selbach 2010 incline and Loosen Brothers 2010 Dr. L Riesling. Good choices for semi-dry Mosel Rieslings, but my  favorite semi-dry is still the one my boss makes at Botham Vineyards.

As for the after-dinner cocktail? Turns out none of us really like milk. So that was kind of a bust. However, the more liquor you added to it, the more tasty it became. Thus, a Maple Whiskey Milk Punch became a Maple Whiskey-Brandy-Bourbon Milk Punch. And thus we (and by "we", I mean "I") became seriously inebriated by the end of the evening. Damn good thing I was hosting.

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So many Merlots have a weird piney-turpentine-retsina-like quality that I just can't get past. But this one, recommended by one of my favorite professional barkeeps, Marko at Bistro 101 in li'l ol' Mount Horeb, is just berries, earth, and cocoa. Perfect for an autumn evening in Wisconsin.

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Sometimes it pays to make friends with the guy at the party who's looking for duct tape. Case in point: The guy who brought this bottle of Sam Adams Utopias to the friend of a friend's home bar christening party this weekend. I won't say I invited myself to take a sip, but I was curiously enough engaged in conversation with him about his quest for duct tape when he poured a little into small 3-oz beer tasting glasses for himself and the host. So, I asked, he graciously offered, and yeah - I tasted it.

Dried porcini mushrooms. Not knowing much of anything about this beer (except that it was obviously rare and expensive and supposedly "tasted a lot of maple"), the first thing I smelled on the nose was dried porcini mushrooms. Maybe they'd just been reconstituted in hot water, and it was the water I was smelling. Earth. So much rich, dirty, tasty smelling earth. And the sweetness from the various casks the beer has aged in. Upon tasting it, the rich aromas only fulfilled their promises with full, alcohol-laden (although not alcoholic tasting) body supporting the echoes of bourbon, wine, and whiskey dancing along the finish. Best beer ever? Nope. Worth trying? Yep. Worth buying? Only if you're a real collector. At least $150 list price, and some older releases are selling for up to $400 on ebay (sometimes with, sometimes without the collector's Ridel snifter glass).

But about that duct tape... Ultimately, someone on an ice run picked up some duct tape and in exchange for his generous 2-sip pour of the Utopias, I helped this reasonably mature (read: 34) man stage an upscale Edward 40 Hands photo for him to text to his slightly younger (read: 29) friends using this expensive bottle of cask-aged strong ale, a bottle of Angels Envy bourbon from behind the bar, and a tame amount of duct tape. "Who's missing a good time now, bitches?" (Well, he didn't really say that, but it was implied). Not me.

P.S. And I know the real question plaguing you since you started reading this post: who doesn't just have duct tape laying around their house?

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Because I like peaches and bourbon and trying new liqueurs. Hooray for Autumn.