Reuben

Another item on Saveur's top 100 list is the Rueben sandwich. This was one of several All-American sandwiches listed by Saveur. I couldn't agree more with this choice. The Rueben is very worthy of being named one of the best American sammy's and here's why.

The perfect Reuben consists of four simple ingredients. Lightly toasted rye bread, swiss cheese, Russian dressing, and the meat. The meat can be either pastrami or corned beef, or a combination. I've had Reubens from all over the country. San Francisco, New York, Los Angeles, Miami, Dallas. Yet the best Reuben I've had in my life was from the Midwest, where the sandwich was born. On a trip to Chicago my uncle took me to Manny's Deli. This old fashioned Jewish deli churns out plate after plate of mountainous Reubens each day. They are so popular because of the high quality of the ingredients used at Manny's.

There are two main things that make up a good Reuben.

It all starts with the meat. Whether you prefer pastrami or corned beef, the best Reuben consists of a plentiful pile of light, thinly sliced meat. The meat should not be chewy or have any large chunks of fat. While both corned beef and pastrami are fatty meats, it isn't pleasant to bite into pure fat and have it drag the rest of the meat out from between the two pieces of bread. The perfect Reuben is made with meat that has been cooked without too many added flavors. It is simply roasted in its own juices until it is soft, easy to chew, and retains its natural smoky meat flavor.

The second most important facet of the sandwich is the bread. While rye bread may not be the part of the sandwich that adds the majority of the flavor, it is incredibly important for both its texture, and its ability to keep the contents of the sandwich together. Let's face it, the Reuben is a messy sandwich. If the bread isn't up to the task of keeping the dressing, kraut, meat and cheese together then the combination of flavors is lost. Fresh, well baked rye bread is crucial to a good sandwich. The grainy crunch characteristic of fresh rye makes it so that the sandwich would be too mushy and soft when chewed. The main reason why the bread is so important however, is because it is the first taste of the sandwich. If poor quality rye is used, the texture and that initial grainy, almost sourdough flavor is lost. This makes the Reuben much less pleasant to eat.

The additions of the gooey, bitter swiss, the sour, vinegary sauerkraut, and the thick creamy Russian dressing mix to combine into a sandwich that has flavors that satisfy every taste bud on the tongue. Though there are really only four simple ingredients, they have many distinct flavors of their own. The mixture of so many different flavors and texture leads to one of my all-time favorite deli treats.

Kecap Manis

As I read Saveur magazine's top 100 list I came across a foreign ingredient that I had never heard of before. Ranked number 11 on the list, Kecap Manis is an Indonesian condiment made of soy sauce that has been sweetened with palm sugar. The article raved about this sauce's unique and "haunting" flavor. They mentioned that it has become the choice condiment for a range of foods. From French Fries to satay to eggs, and even vinaigrettes. The people at Saveur were clearly impressed with this sweet substance.

As I was reading this article I immediately knew I needed to try a sample of Kecap Manis. I needed to see for myself if it was really all that it was described to be. Upon a giant stroke of luck, I found a store selling a multitude of different sauces in Los Angeles this past weekend. The store sold small bottles of Kecap Manis, so I grabbed two and took them home.

I forced myself to wait to open a bottle until the following morning. I woke up, quickly fried up two eggs, and began pouring the dark, rich sauce over the eggs. I was surprised at first by the texture. The author of the Saveur article had written that it had a honey-like consistency, however I found it to be only slightly thicker than your average soy sauce. This misinterpretation of the consistency slightly lowered my expectations. I was worried that if the physical description of the sauce was off, the description of the flavor might be off as well. Upon my first bite however, I was happy to see that the magazine did not let me down.

The essence of soy sauce was there. It was still salty and the tangy soy flavor was still very present. The sweetness of the palm sugar was the perfect adaptation to the average soy sauce. Normally I use very small amounts of Tamari or Kikoman. While the complex flavor of these sauces can add to a dish, the intense sodium content can often overpower the entire dish. The sugary component of Kecap Manis changes this completely. It subdues the saltiness, and allows the soy to stand out on its own. The savory garlic flavor lingers in the background, and sweet, but slightly bitter, anise is present in the aftertaste. It can be added to foods like French Fries because the sauce affects so many different parts of the tongue. There is saltiness, sweetness, bitterness, and umami, four of the five major tastes the tongue recognizes. The starch absorbs these many different flavors, and takes something with very little intricacy, like French Fries, to a whole new level. Kecap Manis is a good addition to vinaigrettes because the acidity and sharpness of the vinegar is made more bearable.

While I wouldn't necessarily say that the flavor is haunting, it is one that I would happily welcome as a condiment to balance salty, savory side dishes, as well as an ingredient in many different types of food. Its complexity and richness is nearly unparalleled, and its ability to satisfy nearly every sense the tongue can throw at it makes it an intriguing and unique sauce. Saveur was right to speak so highly of this Indonesian treat.

Better than a Quesadilla

Thick, mealy corn tortillas that have been lightly fried to a crunch on the outside, but left soft and chewy the rest of the way through. Easily a half of an inch thick, almost tomale-like in texture, and then the teeth pierce the inner pocket of hot, gooey monterey jack cheese and small cubes of al dente zucchini. The zucchini's crisp exterior complimented the silky, smoothness of the cheese. The many different crunches and chews, as well as the mixtures of the creamy cheese with the salty corn tortilla and the watery zucchini combined into a classic Salvadoran pupusa.

Menudo

After reading the featured article in the Chronicle about tripe, I felt that I must try it for my first time. As someone who will try just about anything, and often enjoys some of the stranger parts of animals, I figured that tripe should be added to the array of delicacies that I have tasted. I went to one of the great Mexican places on 24th Street in the Mission and bought a bowl of menudo. The broth was a deep, blood red with an abundant amount of glossy bubbles of rendered fat. It had a rich, almost gamey tomato flavor, and was livened up with spicy and aromatic flavors of chili peppers. As I fished through the depths of the murky broth I found long but thin chunks of honeycomb tripe. This was it...

As I began chewing I was not surprised to find the texture to be similar to that of tongue or very fatty pieces of beef. It was chewy with a slight resistance to the teeth that allowed for the flavor of the menudo to be fully appreciated by the tongue. It was a unique flavor. Its roots were definitely in the realm of steak, but it had the gamey flavor similar to lamb, with an almost sour aftertaste. It was also possible to detect the remnants of the bleach used to clean the tripe. This may have been some of the sour flavor, or else the slightly bitter taste of the meat.

I can't say that the menudo was my favorite of the exotic meats I have tried, it seems to be an acquired taste, and maybe it will come some day.

Forgotten Favorite

It had been a very long time since I had last tasted this flavor combination. It starts with the crisp but doughy, toasted herb focaccia. The chewiness of this bread, together with the rosemary complimented the creamy, saltiness of the tuna fish. The sliced mozzarella had been melted so that the gooey cheese enveloped the entire sandwich, yet it the subtle cheese didn't overpower the flavor of the tuna. Its main purpose was for texture more than flavor. The final touch was sliced avocado that added the smooth texture that balanced out the chunky bits of tuna. My first tuna melt in almost a year.

Lunch

Maybe it was the sunny, warm early March afternoon, maybe it was the Bob Marley playing in the background. Whatever is was, the soft, chewy, spicy chorizo melted in my mouth along with the tangy sour cream and acidic guacamole. The rice was soft and the beans were robust and earthy without being oily or heavy. The finishing touch was a spicy, not-too-wet salsa that didn't overpower the other flavors. It simply added spice and a slight crunch to the overall flavor. The copious amounts of these ingredients were wrapped in a warm, steamed, slightly grilled flour tortilla. This burrito was perfect for a beautiful day.

Jewish Deli Done Right

The dill pickles were crunchy on the outside, but slightly soft on the inside. They had that salty, vinegar flavor associated with pickles. The catch was that they were also soaked with hot red peppers, and therefore they had a subtle spice to them that added a different dimension to pickles.

The real treat was the mountain of thin, soft slices of warm, salty pastrami and smokey corned beef. Neither of the meats were tough or chewy, and they were well marbled with fat; not at all stringy. The soft, savory meat was somehow squished between two pieces of herbed rye that were slightly toasted so that just the edges were crisp. This sandwich needed only just a touch of spicy dijon mustard to be perfect.

Too bad we don't have a Canter's in San Francisco.

Rotten Tomatoes

The muscles in my jaw began to grow sore as I seemed to chew for an eternity. The crust was too thick, and instead of being especially crunchy or flaky on the outside, it was simply chewy. A giant mass of doughy bread. The tomato sauce, clearly made of some tomato other than Roma, was potently sweet, surprising my taste buds with the strange sensation that I was eating dessert. It seemed as if the sauce had been layered onto the crust as like the chocolate of a sacher torte. It was heavy and overwhelming instead of light; a simple undertone of the flavor. The sauce was totally over-seasoned with basil. I normally like lots of basil, however when mixed with the extremely sweet tomatoes, and possibly even sugar, the basil did not taste like its normal, refreshing self. It had morphed into a nameless monster-spice ruining flavor by adding a bitter aftertaste to something sweet. Unlike dark chocolate however, the bitter and sweet clashed tremendously when brought into contact with the salty cheese. The mozzarella seemed to have a high quantity of sodium, and instead of causing a good contrast between flavors, they all mixed into a very disappointing piece of pizza.

Mario's Bohemian Cigar

Aromatic, slightly sweet, almost smokey tomato sauce was ladled over steak-cut-french-fry-sized pieces of eggplant. The eggplant had been breaded in Italian bread crumbs, and lightly panfried in olive oil. It was earthy, salty and tender, just crunchy on the outside. Just a hint of parmesan had been sprinkled over the hot eggplant to give it a slightly gooey, sharp flavor. The eggplant and sauce was sitting in between two large pieces of foccacia. This foccacia was not like the one at Farina however, it was soft and squishy, coated with herbs like chive. The sandwich was toasted in the oven for several minutes to make sure that the soft bread was just crisp around the edges, and to let all of the flavors of the sauce, eggplant, and cheese to mingle together. This eggplant parm was a real North Beach treat.

Milkshake

Thick, but smooth enough to be sucked through a straw. Creamy and icy cold, but without the little crystals of ice that can sometimes get trapped and cause the shake to be too airy. Just enough milk added to the ice cream for the texture to be goopy, but still stick together. The chocolate flavor of was potent enough to be fulfilling of even the biggest chocoholic's needs, and yet it wasn't as if I was sucking on cocoa powder. This chocolate milkshake was one of the best I have had in a while.

Anchovies

Paper thin, crusty, salty, and slightly bitter from the charred edges. A light layer of sweet, tangy tomato sauce spread atop the crust. Capers were sprinkled across the top like bite sized bombs that explode with juicy, salty flavor when bit into. The final touch was the anchovy, ground with mortar and pestle into an almost unrecognizable topping. That is, before it came into contact with the tongue anyway. While most anchovies are far too fishy and often overpower the rest of a dish, these anchovies simply provided the essence of their flavor. They complimented the crunch of the crust, the sweetness of the sauce, and the added saltiness of the capers. These anchovies played into the perfect balance of the pizzata at Farina.

Taste of the Day #1

Warmth was the first thing to hit my tongue as I bit into the foccacia at Farina. The crusty, crisp exterior held up enough so as to resist my teeth upon biting into it. The inner part of the bread however was soft, chewy, and moist. This texture is the key to a good foccacia. The bits of sea salt scattered about the bread, as well as the ample amounts of olive oil added to the dough give it a very salty and savory flavor. These pieces of sea salt give the bread tingly, salty bursts of flavor whenever they are bitten into. This bread took the simply art of making foccacia and perfected it.

The Final Bite

I went to Little Star for pizza the other night with my uncle. It had been a very long time since I had last been to this great pizza place in San Francisco. They are known for both their thin crust, and deep dish. The last couple of times I have been to Little Star I had the thin crust pizza. This time however I returned to the deep dish. It was an amazing choice. We had the special, which had bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, and house-made meatballs. These toppings, along with the chunky, roasted tomato sauce, worked perfectly together. Each bite of pizza contained a small explosion of flavor. One bite would highlight the sweet and crunchy onion, another would underline the smoky bell peppers, or the earthy, chewy mushrooms, and the next would display the robust, salty meatballs. This pizza was savory and slightly sweet while being crunchy and firm around the edges, but soft and gooey in the middle.

The most impressive part of the pizza however was the crust. I have made crust for deep-dish pizzas before, and I understand how difficult it can be to keep it crusty and strong, but moist and buttery without it becoming over-stretched or mealy. The people in the kitchen at Little Star clearly have not run into this problem. I would have paid for a giant bowl of crust from this restaurant. It was crunchy and yet buttery enough to melt in your mouth on contact. The most amazing part was that it was able to hold up to the well-stuffed Chicago-style pizza without falling apart at all. This crust was great because instead of being a huge, over-the-top pie like the ones at Zachary's, this was just the right size. It was big enough to pile with cheese, meat, veggies, and tomato sauce, but it wasn't intimidatingly large. This crust was so good I looked forward to finishing each piece of pizza so that I could eat the crust alone. Never before have I tasted a crust this perfectly crafted on a deep-dish pie.

Brazil

I was reading the December edition of Saveur magazine a couple of days ago, and I thoroughly enjoyed the article about Brazilian fare from the beautiful city of Salvador in the northern part of Brazil. It reminded me immediately of my two-week trip to Rio de Janeiro over the past summer. The pictures of the creamy, spicy, fishy moqueca, the salty and rib-sticking sausage and okra stew, and the bright colored festivals all brought me right back to some of my favorite meals and experiences in one of the friendliest, most inviting, and most food oriented countries in the world.

The author of this particular article was guided around the culinary world of Salvador by Cacique, a man formally known as Jubiraci Martins da Silva. Cacique is his apelido, or nickname. These are incredibly common throughout Brazil. This man seemed to be exactly like my good friend Renato Alvarez, or Zezé, a native of Rio de Janeiro, and my family’s guru for all things “Brazil” while we were there. Cacique, just like Renato, is described as an amazingly friendly and loving Brazilian who is known by everyone all throughout Salvador. During my trip it was very common to hear, “Oi Renato! Tudo bem mi amigo?” (Hey Renato! How are you my friend?) The author describes this same phenomenon as a part of her daily life while accompanied by Cacique. Another similarity between the two is that they are both fantastic cooks who have mastered many of the tasty dishes native to their home cities. If someone was to ask either of these men where they learned to cook, neither would say that they learned from a chef in a restaurant, and definitely not from a culinary academy. Both would simply reply, “My mom.”

The fact that so many of the Brazilians I met learned to be great cooks through their family was not an entirely new concept for me. After all I have learned the majority of the Italian food I make through one half of my family, as well as many traditional Jewish dishes from the other half. What was amazing however, was the large amount of family members who were all highly efficient in the kitchen. In many of the families I know, there are those who cook, and those who don’t. During large street parties in Brazil, however, I quickly observed that if one person began grilling the traditional churrasco (Brazilian-style meat), many others would soon follow.

What was it about these people that encouraged them all to learn how to cook? It wasn’t until thinking back on my trip while reading the Saveur article that I was able to establish any thoughts on the matter. I realized that maybe it was these extended family get-togethers the led to the high proficiency levels in the kitchen.

One thing about Brazilians is that they certainly know how to have a good time. They seem to be able to take the slightest amounts of things and turn them into something more. Their food is a great example of this. They were given the discarded meats, white rice, and black beans, and they created feijoada, a ridiculously heavy, meaty, savory, chewy, crunchy, and salty black bean “stew” of sorts. They were given plain cuts of meat with nothing more than salt, and they made churrasco.

So when it came time for the large families, as well as friends and members of the community, to come together and celebrate some event, it was clearly a time for all of the best food to be cooked up. It makes sense to me that with the large quantities of food needed to feed the block parties that can easily attract 100 people, everyone needs to lend a helping hand when it comes time to cook. Since Brazilians tend to find many different occasions to come together and celebrate, these large meals must be cooked fairly often. As a result, many members of the community must learn to cook in order to help feed one another.

There are probably many other reasons for the spectacle of great home chefs in Brazil. I look forward to exploring the idea more in my future visits to Rio de Janeiro.

Global

I spent a lot of time and thought looking into what brand of knives I wanted for my knife set. I looked at many different kinds. Wüstof has a great reputation. German knives in general are thought to be the top of the line. Many friends of mine own these knives, and I have always enjoyed using them. At the same time I have never been terribly impressed. It's not that they didn't work well, but I always felt that even some of the top of the line Wüstof's were not much better than the Henkels that I grew up using. While these knives seemed good, I wanted something really special for my first set of knives.

It was time to turn from the Western style of German knives to the beautifully crafted Eastern style of Japan. I have heard more and more about the precision of Japanese knives over the past couple of years. I knew it was worth a shot, but I had no idea what brand of Japanese knives would be the best. In the end I put "Japanese knives" on the list of things I wanted for my birthday and Christmas.

My birthday came, and the only knife I received was an 8-inch chef knife from Henkel's Twin Cuisine line. It looked like a nicely weighted, sharp knife, but I really wanted a set of Japanese knives. I went to bed that night looking forward to the knives I hoped to unwrap the following morning.

Christmas morning came, and I noticed a bag from Williams-Sonoma sitting beside the tree. This was from my uncle, who had arrived the night before. He was one of my major culinary influences, so it seemed appropriate that he might be getting me some knives. I couldn't wait to open that white and green-trimmed bag.

I pulled two long thing boxes out of the bag, now I was trembling with excitement. There was only one thing that could be inside these boxes. I undid the bow and quickly unwrapped the smaller box first, and I was holding in my hand the 4-inch paring knife made by Global. The other box contained the 8-inch chef's knife, also by Global.

These were the knives I had been looking for. Beautifully shiny stainless steel, these knives look like miniature katanas. This is no coincidence either. These knives are made using the same ice-hardening process that has been used in Japan for over a millennium to make samurai swords. Needless to say, these knives look very sharp. Their stunning handles are silver steel spotted with black, and fit perfectly into my hand. In the traditional samurai way, the knives are perfectly balanced, and unbelievably light. I knew I needed to try the Global knife out immediately. I ripped the chef's knife out of its box and ran to the kitchen where I saw half of a Bermuda onion sitting on a cutting board. How perfect is that? I put the knife up the surface of the onion, and before I knew what was happening there was a thin slice of onion on the cutting board. I gasped with pleasure and quickly cut the rest of the onion into paper-thin slices. The knife was so sharp it went through the onion with no resistance whatsoever. The knife was so well balanced that I hardly had to put any pressure on the blade in order to force it through the onion. Cutting was now effortless. I had soon chopped, sliced, minced, and diced as many vegetables and fruits as I could quickly find between the chef's knife and the paring knife. The paring knife, though much smaller than the chef's knife, was still as useful for cutting as its big brother, and pleasure to use for cutting small things like garlic and shallots. I knew that I needed more of these knives.

After returning my Henkel, I decided on buying the 5.5 inch fluted vegetable knife, and the 6-inch serrated utility knife. These knives are just as satisfying as the others. The hollow-ground vegetable knife is big enough for just about every vegetable that comes in its way, as well as almost anything else that a utility knife normally accomplishes. It is easily one of the most useful knives to have around because it is big enough to handle the big things, but still very maneuverable for chopping herbs and other small spices. The fluted sides work wonderfully for preventing things from sticking to the sides. As for the serrated utility knife, it cuts any kind of bread with ease, whether it’s a crusty, fresh baked loaf, or several day old sandwich rolls. It also slices things like tomatoes and lemons into any size needed without squeezing out any of the valuable juices. This knife is incredibly useful for just about any fruit or vegetable with a tough outer layer, but soft and juicy insides.

I can't wait to continue adding to my collection of Global knives. I love these knives, and highly recommend them to anyone looking at buying new knives. They are completely worth the money.

My Return to Gary Danko

I went back to Gary Danko last week, but this time I was in the back of the house instead of the front. I did not mention in my first post about my dinner at Gary Danko that I was invited to return to the kitchen. It all started when I was given a tour of the slightly small, yet fully efficient and well-organized kitchen at Gary Danko. I was led from one end to the other. The kitchen is divided into four different rows. The row on the far left is for preparing the cold appetizers, such as salads. The row to the right of this is for hot meats and poultry. These are almost all cooked on the stove. To the right of this was the seafood row. This is where all of the hot seafood was cooked, like the seared scallops, the salmon, and steamed shellfish. The fourth and final row is where the specialty meats, poultry, and seafood are assembled, like the foie gras, and the glazed oysters. In the back of the kitchen there is a counter for all of the desserts to be prepared that runs in between the two walk-ins. Though it is small, it has everything needed for a high-quality restaurant. As I was led through the different sections I asked many chefs what they thought of being a chef, and whether or not it was a path I should follow. I was greeted with a very enthusiastic "yes." Everyone I spoke with was very friendly and encouraging about my culinary hopes. Then the sous chef, Kolin, approached me and asked me about my cooking experiences. We spoke for several minutes, and to make a long story short, he told me that I was welcome to come and visit the kitchen for a day if I wanted to. Now it was my turn to respond with an ecstatic "yes."

I got to the restaurant at 2:00 last Wednesday, around the time that the chefs were arriving. After meeting a few of the guys, I got right to work by helping with whatever prep work I could. After set-up I got a chance to walk around the kitchen and watch what all the different chefs were doing to finish getting ready for dinner. Then the restaurant opened. Soon the expeditors were yelling out orders at the end of the meat and fish lines, and runners were headed back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. The air became thick with the scents of searing meats, frying cauliflower, slow roasting lobsters, and steamed shellfish. The remarkable thing about this kitchen however, is that through all the chaos of making around 175 dinners in one night, the kitchen never became loud, angry, or rushed. In fact, the chefs were so well organized that they were even able to make some of their amazing food for me to taste. I would be watching the scallops cook and someone would pop up behind me saying, "Try this, it's the seared ahi." I would be asking the pastry chefs about the huckleberry butter cake, and someone would magically appear beside me offering me pancetta wrapped frog's legs, only to disappear a moment later to continue manning their station. Though I thought that all kitchens must get wild and crazy, I saw that the meticulously run kitchen and Gary Danko always seems to keep their cool.

During set-up I must have picked and minced herbs for hours, yet I was so happy to do it. How often does someone get the opportunity to work in the kitchen of such a prestigious and well-known restaurant? The fact that I was even allowed to touch a knife in that kitchen showed me the remarkable generosity of the people at Gary Danko. Not a single person in that kitchen owed me a thing. They did not have to offer me the chance to get to see what it was that they did there. To them I am a very amateur cook who is years away from knowing half the things that they know about cooking. And yet there they were, teaching me to make the rich scallop dish I had tasted there. Though I know that I still have much to learn and do before I will ever be on a level with the people in this kitchen, I am deeply grateful for everything that I learned from the kind people at Gary Danko.

West Coast Clams

Back in October I wrote about the succulent, golden fried clams that I enjoyed so much in Boston. I said that fried clams could not be found on the West Coast. I'm sorry to say that I lied. I was on my way to In N Out burger in Fisherman's Wharf on Wednesday when I smelled the strong, sharp, fishy scent that is associated with seafood. When I followed the scent to the row of sidewalk crab stands I was enchanted by the massive quantities of fried fish, golden-brown and yeasty bowls of sourdough filled with thick, creamy clam chowder, and crabs so fresh that they were still creeping and crawling around only minutes before being devoured by the loads of tourists who flock to the famous section of San Francisco. Then I saw it. "Clams and chips" was listed on a sign under fish and chips, and above fried calamari. I was ecstatic. I was finally going to get to compare the juicy, briny clams of New England with Californian clams. In N Out would have to wait for another day.

I was given a container of crispy curly fries that were topped with a mountain of small, crispy clams. I found myself a bench near the boats docked by the wharf, and I began munching on the popcorn-sized shellfish. They were crunchy and chewy, but they did not compare to the ones that I had had in Boston. These were littlenecks, they were small and chewy with very little belly. Personally, I enjoyed the salty burst of clam juice that would explode from the clams in Boston. These tiny clams that I tasted here were much milder. Because they had no large belly, they did not release any of the clammy juice that many people may consider too fishy. While I understood that these small, less fishy tasting clams are probably much more popular with the thousands of tourists that travel throughout Fisherman's Wharf each day, I was still disappointed. I guess my first impression was right; the fried clams out here just aren't the same.

Potato Latkes

Though Chanukah has sadly come and gone, it would not be Chanukah without some potato latkes. I was lucky enough to enjoy these wonderful treats several times over the eight nights. These latkes can be thick or thin, crispy and chewy. They hold up well to sour cream and applesauce. They are filling, but not mealy or doughy. I've tried many different latkes but these are always my favorite. This is my mom's original recipe, and it has never failed. Though time consuming, it is easy enough to figure out. The key is to make sure that while processing the potatoes in the Cuisinart, use two different blades in order to vary the textures of the potatoes. This recipe makes about 16 latkes, but it can be easily adjusted to make more than that. Doubling this recipe, or using large potatoes works well. You'll never eat conventional hash browns again.

Potato Latkes

5 to 6 medium potatoes
6 eggs, well beaten
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 medium onion
Plenty of vegetable oil for frying

1) Peel and coarsely shred potatoes using a food processor.
2) Squeeze out excess water from the shredded potatoes. Do this with your hands in a sink. Cheesecloth can be very useful for this.
3) In a separate bowl, beat together the eggs, flour, onion, salt and pepper until smooth.
4) Stir the potatoes into the egg mixture.
5) Heat a pan and add about 1/2 an inch of oil. Once oil is very hot, begin adding batter in scoops about 1/4 of a cup. Flatten and round the scoop into a pancake.
6) Fry pancakes on each side until the sides are golden brown. If the oil is hot enough this should only take 3-5 minutes on each side.
7) Preheat an oven to 200 degrees, and keep the latkes warm in until all the latkes are cooked.

Perfection... Gary Danko

On Sunday I had my first meal at Restaurant Gary Danko in San Francisco. All other meals in my life fall short. Every single taste was exciting and new because I was introduced to different combinations that I never realized existed before. The originality and ingenuity that was displayed by the different flavors and textures was stunning. I don't know if any one meal was ever as daring or innovative as this one.

The service was the first jab made by Gary Danko in its one-two knock out combo. The staff knew exactly how to act, what to do, and what to say. Each and every one was poised and extremely helpful when it came to the food. They all seemed to have an immense knowledge of the menu, and somehow they seemed to know exactly what it was that I was looking for. The entire night I had this strange sensation that the waiters were reading my mind. Want to try a fish and a meat? (Yes.) Get the four-course dinner. Want something light but flavorful for the first course? (Definitely.) Try the oysters. Need something sweet, indulgent, and rich for dessert? (You know it.) Have the flambéed apples. The second a diner would leave to use the restroom, someone would pop up to fold his or her napkin. As soon as someone's water was running low, they were there to refill it. The waiters were everywhere, and yet they were nowhere. They managed to make sure that everything was going well, and yet they did not seem bothersome or overly present throughout the meal. It was as if they were trained to pick up signals from customers letting them know when they were needed. They were all very personable and friendly, and none of them were pretentious. To put it simply, the waiters were able to add to the meal without working too hard to do it.

The haymaker of the meal was definitely the food. I now understand what Dante meant when he said that words are not descriptive enough to illustrate the beauty in life. There is no way I can fully do justice to the flavors that I tasted that night. While it was already over a week ago, it is still fresh in my mouth. My mom and I essentially shared everything we tried, this way we each got to have about eight different courses.
First we had the glazed oysters, and a lobster salad.

The lobster was fresh, juicy, and soft on the inside, and served with a fruity, tangy puree. It was a very light dish that mixed textures like soft and juicy along with crunchy and goopy like a masterpiece. The subtle and buttery flavor of the lobster was succulent and played well with the bright flavors of the puree.

The glazed oysters were warm and creamy with a slight hint of brine in a thick glaze. Caviar was dolloped on top of each oyster. The sweet, creamy flavor of the glazed oysters was perfectly balanced with the salty chewiness of the caviar. It was presented in a stunningly white bowl and the light, creamy, pink glaze filled the bowl about a half of an inch up the walls. It was nice to look at as well as to eat. This was one of my favorite dishes of the night.

Next we split the pan-seared scallops. This was definitely another favorite! The scallops were simply done by searing on the top and bottom in oil and served with a butternut squash puree, roasted cauliflower, pistachios, and pomegranate seeds. The scallops were placed on top of the butternut squash puree and were then sprinkled with all of the other accoutrements. The scallops were chewy and succulent on the inside, but had a crisp outer layer. The squash and pomegranate mixed perfectly with the pistachios and cauliflower to create and sweet and savory dance for the taste buds. The cauliflower, pistachios and pomegranate seeds all added a crunch to the scallop and puree. Nothing about this dish was overly fancy or intricate, and yet the flavors and textures were all thought through to the point of food bliss.

For our entrées my mom had the pan steamed shellfish with a Thai red curry sauce, and jasmine rice. I had roasted quail stuffed with foie gras and porcini mushrooms. I tasted the shellfish and it was a wonderful curry, sweet with a spicy undertone that didn't overpower the shellfish. All of the shellfish was cooked to perfection. I won't go into long detail about this dish because I did not get to taste it thoroughly. I will talk about my quail, however. Anyone who thinks that quail tastes just like chicken has to be crazy. The quail was juicy and tender in a way that chicken can rarely achieve. While chicken can most certainly be delicious, the size of the bird makes it more difficult to cook so that parts of it are juicy without other parts becoming dry. With the tiny quail, it seemed that roasting allows all of the poultry’s own flavors and juices to remain sealed up within the skin throughout the entire bird. Also, I think that the quail must be raised in a way that keeps the meat fatty and tender, as opposed to some chickens that develop more muscular tones. There’s no doubt in my mind that the quail has an advantage over the average chicken. This particular quail was roasted so that the outside was just browned with crispy parts, but the overall texture was very soft and moist. The inside was the best part, because this is where the juices of the quail, foie gras, and mushrooms all combined. The smoky, earthy flavors of the mushrooms complimented the quail, and the foie gras' soft, buttery texture made the whole dish perfectly tender. It is hard to go back to chicken after this quail.

For our dessert course we shared the apple flambé for two. This is prepared tableside, and is truly a treat to watch. A tableside cart was wheeled out, a stainless steel pan was brought to temperature, and then the brown sugar was slowly melted. One of the smart and talented waiters whipped up the caramel and flambéed apples right in front of us, and a crisp and warm funnel cake was brought out with creamy, sweet cinnamon ice cream. While making the caramel and apples the waiter entertained us with anecdotes about the waiters with the best caramel, and soon his pan was sizzling with goopy, thick caramel. The apples were warm, sweet, and soft enough to cut with a fork, yet strong enough not to turn into mush. The funnel cake came in a satisfying cube, the dough fried to a golden crisp. While funnel cakes are generally found in fairs, ballparks, and IHOP, this was the gourmet’s version. It was crispy and strong on the outside, perfect for standing up to soft apples, gooey caramel, and ice cream. Yet the inside was soft and chewy. The flavor was not overly sweet. It did not need to be; the apples and caramel did the job. This dessert was the culmination of the entire meal. It was another example of the innovative way that Gary Danko mixes textures and flavors, as well as a beautiful presentation, to impress his audience. This was a very sweet and satisfying way to finish off the meal.

Chemical free coals

As a quick follow up to my recent post about cooking meat, I did have a MEAT club meeting this past Friday. I used a cone to help light the coals this week instead of using lighter fluid. Wow was I happy! I had no idea that having chemical free coals at my first meeting was going to release that many endorphins.

There was a clear difference between the tastes of the meat. I know this because my good friend, and co-leader of MEAT club used lighter fluid on our second grill. I know, I feel guilty that I wasn't able to completely outlaw lighter fluid from the MEAT fires, but I'm well on my way! While both of our grills had powerful heat emanating from its coals, I took pride in the fact that mine had been lit without the use of lighter fluid. Those who chose burgers and steaks from my fire seemed to be happy as well. While the meat on both grills was coming off of the fire juicy on the inside with a crisp brown outer layer, the product from the other grill still seemed to have the sourish, gasoline-like flavor that can be associated with lighter fluid. Not to mention, I still think I may have heard a few grumbling tummies... not a good sign.

I was happy to say however that everything cooked from the fluid-free grill seemed to taste simply like meat should, smoky and salty with the savory juices that go so well with cheese on top. From now on I will be lighting my coals without lighter fluid, for a much purer taste. Maybe soon I will be able to try out a wood fire!