We’re Here, We Sear, and We Most Definitely Do Not Schmear!

Seared fois gras for your Monday feasting

What do you do for a little something special on a Monday night? Tonight is a visit from Alishia. She had this Thanksgiving notion to bring foie gras and Sauternes over for a tasting. Alishia explains further, “I bought the fois gras during Thanksgiving last year in France.”  (GFind out more of the details on HER THANKSGIVING BLOG POST.)

Like Cynthia and I and our Food Day DC celebration (tune in for that post coming soon!), Alishia brings a flair for style and an optimism for creepy food products like foie gras. I mean, it’s a little daunting—duck liver mousse? Really? It’s a bit much for an American palette. But if you were in the Dordogne, France—during what she calls “Frenchgiving”— you’d gobble down some foie gras and Sauternes too!  She decided to bring a little Issigeac, France, to my doorstep tonight.

Now, how precisely this experience fits into the larger theme of alunchboxblog, I dare not posit an answer; however, the culinary adventure is half the joy of creating meals worth eating. The very idea of bringing Sauternes to work with some foie gras, well, it’s positively revolutionary. This is a must-try at least once.

The joy of a fine Sauternes

As you may know, politically correctly speaking, foie gras is a tad dicey. It’s made in such an inhumane, hideous way, that I completely get the idea of not even trying food like this. Yet, I have had seared foie gras before and been pleasantly surprised by the depth of flavor. Food ethics aside, tonight was a great night for the affair—Congress had given up on scoring a Grand Bargain; some crazy-ass police officer pepper-sprayed protesters at U.C. Davis, in California; and the stock market had dropped 250 points (again). A little foie gras might make America seem worth living in for a while—a note to all my international readers:  it’s not been a particularly terrific three years here in the states. Hell, if nothing else a little protest might make America a better country. So in honor of Alishia bringing contraband into America, here’s how you enjoy a most disturbing treat!

Straight out of Issigeac

Foie Gras Contraband

Truth be told, there’s no need to sear foie gras. However, if the idea of eating a whole duck liver disturbs you, I’ll give you a few tips on doing so.

Ingredients:

1 small glass jar of vacuum packed foie gras. Orange rubber ring-sealed.

Maldon Sea Salt or Fleur de Sel

Cracked White Pepper

Dijon (yellow) mustard

A very hot frying surface

First step: opening that damned French vacuum sealed jar.  Just getting the thing out of the jar was nearly a catastrophe.  We just couldn’t wrap our brains around how to get that damned orange rubber ring to pop open the jar.  But with a few clicks on my trusty iPad2 (BTW, I’m reading that Steve Jobs book—it’s a total page-turner, don’t miss it), we found that you pull that orange tab outward away from the jar.  This ended up taking the two of us: I grabbed the jar, Alishia the orange tab and we pushed away from each other. Once you do get a good solid grip on it, the jar pops open easily as air wheezes out.  Then the foie gras can pop to life; out comes a mass– like a tumor of foie gras.  Yeeeeesh!

Yikes! Only the French...

But don’t let the look scare the crap out of you! Place gently the easily damaged ball of fatty glop on a cutting board. Find the finest center area, and slice perfect slices to set aside for toast points that do not have seared foie gras on them. If you do have a nice solid liver and get a few perfect slices of the foie gras—exquisitely pink and off-grey inside—then you’ll want to save those slices for eating the liver on toast points with a touch of yellow Dijon moutarde.

Salt and pepper each fragile slice of the crappier looking pieces, ones that you deem more sear-able. You may find that it’s more helpful to take the scraggy, messy ends and seared these—seared, they go from looking a bit manc-y to looking class A perfect.

Salting and peppering is particularly helpful prior to searing, and doing so adds, indescribably, a little je ne sais quoi. But still, the texture isn’t so appealing as the whole liver foie gras, right out of the jar.

Dare I?

If you just cannot be bothered to sear the foie gras, you will be joining the good company of millions who have gone before. But beware! Do not smear the foie gras across your toast. God knows why, just don’t. Frankly, when it’s room temperature, foie gras looks like something you should smear. Like a delicious cream cheese, it just seems so spreadable. But that’s what the French folks say—no schmearing. Well, it probably sounds much better in French.

As we chatted about the latest wild successes at work and the agony of the loves and losses in our lives, I found myself wondering, what would Alishia think about that horrible Lars Von Trier flick I just saw with Kirsten Dunst? And then suddenly, she blurts out, “You know that Kiefer is SOOOOO short.” Obviously Dunst didn’t really rate a mention.

We were talking about Kiefer Sutherland—who is like five feet tall and captivates in the second half of the film. Short dudes who are famous became the subject of the night. She was crystal-frigging clear though—Alishia only dates taller guys. I thought wow, she and I are so on the same wavelength. Perhaps it was the foie gras but the honesty just poured out this night. Or perhaps it was the “Melancholia”—that Kiefer was the best thing in that art schlock and he was top of mind…but really…this isn’t a movie reviewing blog, so I’ll move on…or, no, wait another minute here…

Taking Your First Bite is the Greatest Challenge

Naturally, this led me to ruminating on the thoughts of my pals Alan and Peter who had gone to see “Melancholia” with me. Peter had also had visions of a very tall man in Kiefer from all those explosive evenings in front of the tube watching “24.” But one night in Laguna Beach while having dinner with his brother, he noticed that Kiefer was at the table next to them. When he got up to have a smoke or whatever, much to Peter’s surprise, Mr. Shorty shocked with his very presence. Well, what are you going to do?!

In the end, while you may not learn much about foie gras and Sauternes from my blog post today, I hope you get a sense of where food can take you.  It took Alishia and me ‘til like midnight or so.  A long, lovely evening of nibbling, fine wine and chatter—what a way to get a work week rolling.  Happy Mondays, everyone!

Down to the last morsel

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Plenty: Yotam Ottolenghi's Green Pancakes

Get Out of my Dreams, Get onto my Plate!

YOTAM OTTOLENGHI’S PLENTY came out earlier this year and blew the world of vegetarian cuisine out of its familiar territory. The joy of his book is how he marries a meat-driven culture with vegetarian food. He is Middle-eastern focused and teaches you how to enjoy vegetarian foods by adding in sauces and sides and elegant touches like Yoghourt dips, and he uses pomegranate seeds the way the rest of us sprinkle parsley over a finished dish.

Who can't love very idea of creating Lime Butter?

His green pancakes with lime butter are terrific. After having read the way he makes these, I feel as if I have a couple of quick fixes that make

1. Be sure to sift your flour

2. Consider making these with a whole wheat flour with a couple of tablespoon full of oat flour or ground oats.

Making Your Self-Rising Flour

3. Make your own “self-rising” flour. The very idea that anyone would purchase “self-rising” flour once you know that it’s one cup of flour with a large pinch of salt and a teaspoon and a 1/4 of baking soda, it seems nuts to purchase separately.

4. I also feel that you need to make these pancakes particularly small. Don’t make pancake-sized pancakes. Aim to make them no more than large silver dollars (about 2″-3″ in circumference).

The Makings of a Perfect Tzatziki

5. Consider adding my tzatziki as an accompaniment–1 c Greek yoghourt with a finely diced small red onion with a tablespoon of finely minced cilantro, 2 teaspoons of finely minced mint, and a squeeze of a half of a garlic clove. Pinch of salt and pepper, and then let it sit. If it’s hot out, then refrigerate. If cool, place on the table until dinner.

So, these green pancakes are a treat, like I was saying–fun food for fun meals. I think the challenge is amalgamating Ottolenghi’s recipe with your own flair–making it your own. My suggestion would be to experiment a bit with these before you make them for others.

They will fry up nicely the next day if you use my recommendations above. I’m not sure why; however, I’d guess it’s all the baking powder that fluffs it up too much if you use the batter right away. I am concerned about all the rising agents in the flour failing after sitting for an evening–it suggests that Ottolenghi’s recipe is really made for a European kitchen and doesn’t take into consideration the limitations we have on the quality of flour we have in the states.

At any rate, the upshot is that it’s super classy! Chopped spinach and cilantro with green onions turns into a really filling starter when you fold in one well-beaten egg and a meringue of an egg white. I think folding in the egg white meringue is a big part of creating the texture.

What a fun surprise. The appearance is arresting and causes everyone to say, “Oooh, I want to try a bit of that. No one thinks, “Ooh, I want a dinner made of that.” So it’s a perfect starter. Although, home, alone, I found myself eating three pancakes like they were spinach latkes.

"Fry 'em up in a pan, and never, ever let you forget you're..."

Still, I also think that if you could just make these more crepe like and less American pancake like. These should be more thin and savory. I found that my guests found them totally delightful, so I’m just being a bit overly critical here perhaps.

The recipe is fool proof, but could do with amalgamating as I say. How could you take this recipe and remove the extra steps? I found chopping the spinach first, meant that you had no need to sweat the spinach in water and then squeeze the water back out of it. Just chop it finely and fry on a non-stick surface. No oil added, no water. It was easy to use. Add in the chopped green onions and cilantro and you have a tasty filling. The flour, milk and egg need to be perfected. My gut tells me you don’t really need an entire 1/2 pound of spinach. I think it could benefit from more garlic and more onion. Perhaps 6 green onion finely chopped and 1 small (1.5″ in circumference) red onion. Then with a couple of garlic cloves, you would end up creating a savory crepey treat.

Funny, how messing with original recipes can give you a better sense of how to cook. I learned a lot by playing with this recipe: (1) Is English flour so different that it would create a different meal? (2) Are European temperatures so different that they cook up differently on our stoves? All very interesting for my money. In the end, it kind of doesn’t matter. It tastes delicious, so play away. This is fun food for friends and family.

Plenty

Up next…summer? Ottolenghi has a recipe for something he calls “Tomato Party.” This sounds right up my alley…maybe this time I’ll organize a couple of tests before I actually put it in my blog. (Insert shameful face emoticon here).

It involves fregola sarda, so that will definitely be in an upcoming post soon.

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Luella—Neighborhood Joint Does Good? Let's See.

Be sure to get a table by the window...
Where the action is

I suppose I’m a bit of a bait and switch kind of blog. My friend Sue told me to not just write up recipes, but to tell the stories of my travels behind the food–beyond the experiences of eating. She’s kinds right, they’re a bit more interesting than the food I make sometimes.

That’s because Sue has traveled with me before. San Diego, San Antonio…San Fran. So, Sue, this one’s for you…

Who starts a dinner with Butternut and acorn squash ribbons with sea salt and parsley? Well, what I most appreciated about this little amuse bouche was that the waiter’s assistant whose first language was clearly not English knew how to explain this treat that arrived unannounced better than the waiter.

Bread–as you’ll see most of my reviews tend to focus a bit too heavy on the quality of the bread that they bring to the table–this bread is San Fran sourdough and is that rather ideal combo of chew with sour and an unexpected yeasty pull on the teeth. The Italians have an expression you’ve probably heard–”al dente”–and that’s how bread is supposed to affect you. If the aroma should hit you in the wrong way if the feeling on the teeth is wrong, well, then it really doesn’t succeed. Is this the magic Acme Baking Company bread I’ve heard so much about??? Nope, my man says it’s pain batarde from Pinky’s bakery here in San Francisco.

I ordered the Mon-Thurs prix fixe

I ordered the Mon-Thurs prix fixe: $50 for three courses and three wines, none of which were on the main menu. I couldn’t have ordered these wines by the glass, and so I was hoodwinked into trying the prix fixe. I’ll be honest, I neither needed a dessert, nor wanted one, but I figured….when in Rome…And wines here are $8-$15 per glass, so this is a bargain, given where we are.

I will confess, I was more than a little suspicious. The white was something I just couldn’t commit to without tasting it first. And yes, as you read this blog, you’ll see that this too is a running theme with me–tasting before I buy. Is it the right thing to do? Well, many friends think it’s because I want to squeeze the restaurant for more hooch. This couldn’t be further from the truth. At any rate, the waiter who was a tad exasperated with me not being able to make up my mind on the choices of wine, just brought me a taste to probably shut me up. Well, it worked. I was smitten with a Languedoc blended wine– these wines usually do much less than enthuse me. I’m a terribly picky wine drinker, so the surprise was appreciated and valued.

My white wine came before the starter…a fragrant Picpoul/Grenache Blanc/Rousanne, perhaps?

The radicchio, romaine, and watercress salad seemed on the page to be a dull choice, but hell, it was included and the greens couldn’t hurt, so….

radicchio, romaine, and watercress salad

It comes in a soup bowl and except for the gorgonzola and the play with the red wine vinegar, well, I was really delighted that the flavors worked. Seemed a little glossy with oil but the taste was solid. An oddly simple chopped salad with walnuts to give it a classy edge made the whole thing seem understated and simple. Like Grandma could have made it, but didn’t. Could have been pine nuts, pistachios, but they used walnuts. Nice touch.

Sitting up against the window overlooking the street as the cable cars come whipping down the hill as they passed clang-clang thru the intersection of Hyde and Green Streets. The sounds of the streets filter past as my street-side window sits open–and the night and the flickering candles lights. And oh!!! So I’m sitting there, having dinner alone, as I often do when traveling for work or this blog.

And the guy who just walked up to the woman from the upper east side recently transplanted to San Francisco for her job. He’d not met her before. She seemed reticent to meet him. I think this was a J-date, and she didn’t like what he looked like. But the bar at this restaurant is obviously the place to sit for entertainment, and she seemed to be warming up to him.

She liked that he has a serious job. Man, she is interviewing him for reals. But if you are alone in the city–great seat right in the window at the edge of the bar. Get a table before 7pm, and the place is silent. Yelp has panned the noisiness of the place, but I was able to hear ever word of all the table mates around me. It was fine on a Wednesday–so their conversation was more interesting than most.

And on a warm night–the three nights that they have warm weather each year in San Francisco–the outside seating was hopping.

a fragrant Picpoul/Grenache Blanc/Rousanne, perhaps?

Oh man, that lady from J-date, her convo is juicy. She is telling me–uh…I mean him–everything about her life. And he’s doing his best to keep up. ‘bless. I like the timbre of his voice. This could work if she stops badgering him with questions about his job and how hard he works.

So, not that you’ve asked but the salad: as I finished it, I noticed how I felt it was both oily and yet tasty. Was that walnut oil? I think it must have been…or they infused the dressing with walnuts. It was a light, lively starter. I suppose you’ll see that I’m a greens person rather than a fried calamari person. So don’t roll your eyes when hear me raving about salad…a great salad is hard to find. Luella makes a quality green starter.

OK, so really, I was at a loss for words, and couldn’t make up my mind from the many choices, so I told the waiter coca cola braised pork shoulder for dinner. Coca cola braised pork shoulder for dinner???? Over white bean puree? Well, it has an edge as well. A sweetness with a sharpnes, maybe bitter? I haven’t had this flavor before. Perhaps I need to spend more time in ATL–home of the eponymous soda.

Coca Cola Braised Pork Shoulder, A Thing of Beauty

The pork shoulder came with the shooting star Pinot Noir–some of you will know this red. It was is a reliable Pinot from California that doesn’t break the bank. It’s nice with pork no doubt, but the interplay with the coca-cola is refreshingly different. It almost brings out the coke flavor. Which is just plain odd, but I’m excited by the very notion. (I don’t recommend doing this at home!!!!) I love the way the pork sits on white bean puree as if it’s mashed potatoes. The puree is the ideal accompaniment for me, because I’m not a potato person…

Ah ha!!! It’s not parsley they’ve chopped over the top of this entree. It’s chopped mint. mint!!!! That explains the depth, the levels. This meal is scaffolding–one flavor is scaffolding on the other, so the coca-cola isn’t suffocating the dish. According to tonight’s waiter, the chef is from Detroit, so the southern connection still needs to be elucidated.

There’s little indication that he/she is black and his/her family came with the great migration, so I’d have to pester to find out why this melange is what it is. The mint is making me think Middle Eastern and the appetizers include a pomegranate starter, so perhaps it’s a fusion american middle eastern thing, though my meal feels pretty New American to me. Between the cable cars, the special food elements, the neon chic feel, the couple that is no getting along particularly well (BTW, he also lived in the area around central park) I think that the place is a hit. Even though it’s not packed–at 7:43, the crowd on a Wednesday is enough to keep the place in fine fettle.

About the Shooting Star Pinot Noir: It’s not leaving legs in the glass, so it doesn’t appear to be heavy on the alcohol; however, I’m assuming it must be fairly high in alcohol. The licorice is intense after about the fifth sip, and I like the way it plays off the sweeter flavors that evolve over the course of the entree. My sense is that if this glass were served on it’s own it’d run about ten bucks–maybe eleven. The thrust of my comment here is that when you see a prix fixe wine meal coming at you, be discerning about what they’re throwing your way. Prix fixe is chic in Europe. It can be total shite in America. You need to not be a ripped off customer feeling chic, but living as a ripped off tourist in San Francisco.

In the end, I wish that this posting was later on my blog, not so early on. The complexity that this meal provides requires a lot more detail, a lot more time to develop.

It’s one thing to put out recipes and advice on making meals that you can serve to folks who are otherwise unlikely to enjoy them without some sense that you put your bloody life into making it, I think it helps to be a connoisseur of life. When you go to the Best Buy, did you get the kind of treatment that a person spending $99 dollars a month on their cell phone plan deserved? There is no need to be a snotty bitch to know when you’ve been ripped off. It may require you to be more select and involve yourself in the dialogue with the people who “serve” you. Having said that, when it comes to food and culture (theater, movies, performance), it pays to be discerning. So when folks ask you what you thought of the play, you have a real opinion that isn’t based on that fact that you just frankly don’t like being pushed to order an entree you really didn’t want in the first place, but the waiter was so influential, I just couldn’t decide.

Luella's Fritters for..8???

OMG, she just asked him his sign. And he said January 27th, and she said, I knew it. He’s a Capricorn!!! She is a Gemini…is this going to work???? OMG, she just said, “so I take it you are a perfectionist as well?” For the record, he seems very nice.

Dessert did come. So, OK, a warning, the beignets are many. Ricotta stuffed balls of joy wrapped in loving honey…wild, I’ll bet. The essence of orange is intense…zest that’s been added into the ricotta perhaps or in the honey. It’s lovely, although enough beignets for three people.

Then the final wine came. I asked him to up-charge me for a dessert version of the Vouvray I saw on the menu. California ruined Vouvray in the seventies with the creation of the California Chenin Blanc, and no one drinks it anymore so be wise of that. However, it is foolish and unwise to follow that lead. Like that chap in the Sideways movie, Paul Giamatti, don’t underestimate the Merlot–you might just get a date out of it. I feel that Chenin, like Merlot, has a bad wrap, and just because money-hungry fools ruined their reputation, doesn’t mean the fish can’t swim.

Hmmm, is that the metaphor? Euphemism? Chenin like Alsatian Riesling or even Californian Riesling (for precise examples, see 2009 Chateau Montelena, Calistoga, CA) are blessings on the wine list that no one chooses. Luella has a dessert Chenin Blanc that is light, not cloying, and it feels low in calories, in comparison to the Six Grapes Porto from Australia that is just one of the heavy alternatives.

When you see French Vouvray, reach out and touch it. It is an experiment worth trying out…rarely does it result in Frankenstein’s bride. Usually, it’s a freshly, fruity mouthful of surprise whether it’s a dry starter wine or a quality dessert wine like the one at Luella.

Overall, Luella is the kind of place you come back to and make your own. It’s your neighborhood high-end joint, the one you take mom to. The one you have your parents take you to when you graduate.

The waiters will know you if you come here often enough, and they will greet you with a welcome that surprises in the city. By 9 p.m., on a Wednesday, all the folks in the Russian Hill area had come to fill the place to the gills. It is actually a gem in one of America’s most expensive cities. And really, if you want to impress, but feel comfortable, wouldn’t you rather do that in a place where the waiters know you.

Chic, not shabby, and not stuffy. Luella is a simple pleasure worth the trip up here on the cable car and back. Feel the San Francisco that you have in your mind from all the brochures without the plate of Rice-a-Roni. Luella’s a San Francisco treat.

___________________________________________

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A Night With Michael Mina

Rabbit Boudin with Pounded Loin

Wit and Wisdom
Food Quality
Drinks
There's some really pricey wine on this list!
Environment
Just a beautiful space through and through.
Price
Super expensive. Not pricey like the new tasting bar craze pricey, but expensive nonetheless.

Overall

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It all started perfectly innocently with a suggestion of “Let’s go out to dinner tonight, haven’t seen you in ages.” KoKo has a habit of disappearing into the suburbs and so we don’t see so much of him, and I had wanderlust after last week’s Thanksgiving trip into the North Carolina Outer Banks with Sarah, Wendy, Georges, Kooki, and crew.

So a Friday morning phone call turned into a 90-minute rushhour drive in stopped traffic heading north to make a 8:30 reservation. We were off to meet up with the magic of Michael Mina–the guy is sporting tons of restaurants at this point from Vegas to New York, so it felt like it was time. Well actually, it was to determine if executive chef Benjamin Lambert had it in him to bring the “tavern”-styled menu by Lincoln Carson, the corporate pastry chef, to life. I thought that his being a pastry chef was peculiar, but a little careful ordering made the experience worthwhile.

“Wit and Wisdom, a Tavern by Michael Mina” had been open two weeks (since November 14, 2011) when we arrived, and the staff was so gracious and accommodating with us. Well, we had used Open Table, so I find generally, that they usually read the notes you put in there. Most folks don’t seem to use the notes section, so if you have seating preferences, state them in the online reservation, it’s a great help. They’ll usually seat you according to your whims. They did for us: the area was warm and not drafty or located underneath a vent!

Well, “wit and wisdom” comes in many forms as me and those seated nearby us were about to find out. KoKo had been dying to talk about his wild day since we’d plunked ourselves down in the car for the twenty minute drive to Harbor East, Baltimore. Thanksfully, he held on until we were seated.

As Marlene would have said, "Let's see what the boys in the backroom will have!'

PLAYPREV|NEXT1 of 5

Today, KoKo was called out to a meningitis outbreak at a local construction site–epidemiology provides such outings, apparently. There he had to go in and explain to the guys that they needn’t be worried about their co-workers meningitis death because it would have required kissing him to get it from him. This resulted in jocular ribbing, he assured me. This same explanation was also explained in Spanish and was met with quizzical looks. Turns out the guy who contracted it on Tuesday, died on Friday. Bam, dead in 4 days. Wow.

Well, as KoKo was telling the story to the construction workers, it came to pass that the co-workers began to raise their hands.

“Did you know he had a mistress? Have you guys checked her out?” Public health investigations being what they are, this was a particularly helpful question.

Another Joe piped up, “Uh, did you know his wife had taken a life insurance policy out on him three months ago?” Hmmmm…the plot thickened.

Turns out that on his death bed on Thursday, the mistress strolled in to say goodbye. The wife was a little uncertain who she was and why she was so distraught. The mistress’ emotional outburst was met with cold anger. The scene got ugly. And all the boys at the construction site knew the story already note for note.

We didn’t mean to howl, but the story had the makings of a hilariously over-the-top Lifetime or Oprah-channel television special. “Danny Glover, Alfre Woodard, and Halle Berry, in a story that will make you cry…make you smile…and change your world forever.” Oh my, well, the only thing missing from the Department of Health visit was one of the construction workers announcing to all that he and the deceased had been lovers.

At any rate, we get to Wit and Wisdom, A Tavern by Michael Mina (perhaps they should think about shortening the name of the place?) and they wedge us between this chic pair of ex-Londonites and a guy in a Prada suit with his very quiet girlfriend/wife. It was a bit much.

KoKo and I really brought the tone of the place down a notch or two with how we were dressed. Frankly, there isn’t really anything taverny about the place–and I felt like I was the only one dressed for a tavern. It’s completely high-end, inside the Four Seasons hotel, (Anyone besides me wondering what Baltimore is doing with a Four Seasons?)., and stunningly beautiful with a seriously cool bar straight out of Fassbinder’s “Welt am Draht.” From the city that brought you Divine and John Waters, well, I expected a tavern. W&WATBMM is not so much.

Nevertheless, our fears were dispelled, when we found that we immediately liked the vibe of the wait staff, and the sommelier–all really knowledgable folks who could tell you about every ingredient. Given that I love that sort of info, it was great for me. Not so great for those who just hate that kinda environment.

Then came the wine choices. It was a monster wine list with bottles beginning at $52. Now for the record, I call “absurd” on that. Have I mentioned already that wines by the bottle should be a bargain, in comparison to the wines by the glass? Well they should be. I am completely flummoxed as to why they are gouging with the prices on the bottles. We were totally prepared to go bottle, but four glasses of either of our wines would have been cheaper than a full bottle of the wines we wanted.

And most of the wines by the glass are ridiculously priced! KoKo started with a Evening Land Pinot Noir, Oregon 2010. It was raspberries with vanilla creme in a glass, but the wine’s overall affect was forgettable, oddly. At $15 a glass, that’s nuts. My Stolpman Sauv Blanc, however, at $8 a glass was a steal by comparison, and my wine lady was a heavy pour. So the wine went well past the mid-mark not the glass, befitting of a place touting itself as a tavern. So I was pleased, pleased, pleased that they touched my glass with a little gauche Baltimore by filling me up with wine. Nice–a generous thanks to all on that account.

Housemade Ricotta

We started with the Trickling Springs Creamery Ricotta with ember roasted Chinese eggplant, black walnuts and whiskey barrel vinegar. This bowl of housemade bliss came with some rather peculiar bread. Thanks to my ShareOurStrength.org friend, Emily Byram, I found out that the bread that goes with the ricotta is Walter Grohs’ bread from Hamilton Bakery in the Baltimore area. This brown bread was made with wort from a local brewery–somehow they make it with the boil of grains leftover from the fermentation process. That explains the funky texture. Interesting, but not the crusty delicious white bread you would normally get.

Turns out the tight seating arrangements along the banquette was a blessing in disguise. Were it not for the awkwardly close seating, we never would have met the chic doctors next to us, Aneil and his wife Nisha. They had and were willing to share loads of culinary knowledge. They are regulars at the Woodbury Kitchen, and had a wealth of comparisons for the food we were eating. Neil had gotten the meatballs, which he pronounced, “nothing particularly memorable” and Nisha had a perfectly fine mac ‘n’ cheese with the ham hock removed (she’s a vegetarian). But neither were wowed with the results of their orders. KoKo and I were of a different mind: the house made ricotta was terrific. Served with Grohs’ brown bread, the curds sat oddly in a moderately deep white bowl with three Russian kale leaves and two oddly placed pieces of Chinese eggplants.

However inelegant, it’s a starter that tastes terrific. So who cares about presentation in the end? I think Aniel put it best when he said, “I could just eat a whole bowl of that.”

My favorite part about people like Aniel and Nisha–the kinds of people this place attracts–is that they know about things you just wouldn’t expect. For example, the subject of “farro” came up when I asked the waitress about the Caroline gold rice from Anson Mills that they were selling. Apparently, according to Aneil, the restaurant uses heirloom grains–farro in the meatballs, corn in the polenta and gold rice in the porridge. I suppose that’s why the farro used in the starter was discussed in such great detail by the waitress at the table with the Prada-wearing dude. Heirloom grains at a hotel restaurant? It’s not normal for a hotel. So, I supposed I cannot accuse it of being a typical hotel restaurant.

Well, the Four Seasons isn’t your “normal” hotel. Entering it reminded me of the Kimpton’s Hotel Epic in downtown Miami. Exotic Pottery Barn mixed with sparse, Japanese accents, Italian stone, and then all those mochas on the walls, in the large flat surfaces in the public spaces. A war of beiges juiced up with the flair for minimalism.

My my, I’m getting a bit off track. The ricotta went beautifully with the Stolpman Sauv Blanc. I’m looking forward to filling you in on the Santa Barbara wines soon. I’ll be travelling through there just before Christmas, so I’m hoping to bring you all some informed surprises soon. Perhaps New Years Wines or something. Santa Barbara are the hidden gem of California wines. You saw them profiled in Alexander Payne’s “Sideways”–but then after he made Pinot Noir the go-to for foodies, and gave Merlot a bad rep–no one followed up in the media or in the liquor stores. Paso Robles wines sort of exploded. Well, stay tuned. I’ll get back to you on this shortly.

Back to Mr. Mina, Lambert and Carson. By the time we got to the entrees, KoKo and I succeeded where others failed. Not only were Aneil and Nisha unhappy with theirs, “My vegetarian option was just terrible. I actually had to ask the waiter, where’s the polenta?”, but the Prada man and his woman were unhappy with theirs rotisserie porchettas! And the chef obviously intends to become known for his porchetta.

Aniel was really demonstrative with his disappointment in Nisha’s plate, “Oh, I’ll tell you what she got. A plate with three turnip tops, four florettes of cauliflower and a drizzle of polenta. That is not an entree.” His flair for intonation and color in what he said made Aniel our favorite spontaneous dinner guest of the year. KoKo and I had to agree that Nisha was seriously the most attractive woman either of us had seen in ages. And smart! Internal medicine doctor at Mercy Hospital, really? With all her fantastic jewelry and expensive clothes, I would have said trophy wife before I said doctor.

I did notice that the women over by the window had really beautiful lamb shank dinners. Unabashed, I did a quick whip ’round and asked. They confirmed that they loved their entrees, and took the giant portions they couldn’t eat home with them. So, in fitting in with the theme of this blog, with a little careful ordering, and Wit and Wisdom can make lunch worthy leftovers.

We just couldn’t decide between the rabbit boudin blanc and pounded loin, green apples and sweet potato puree and the Amish baked chicken with spinach and country bread. The jus of both were awfully similar, and I know because in the end, we just shared each other’s meals. We were both super pleased with the results. The boudin sausage was made perfectly, and I would guess house-made like the ricotta. It was the highlight of all the dishes. KoKo also thought the loin pounded out, lightly breaded and pan fried was also a revelation. But I couldn’t make heads or tales of the sweet potato puree– with carmelized, perhaps preserved garlic cloves, however, KoKo loved it.

Baked Amish Chicken

He felt it tasted almost vinegary, and the umami flavor was great for him and I have to say, the uniqueness made it one of the best rabbit meals I’ve ever had. And, well, I eat as much rabbit as I can get my hands on. For me, I felt the chicken was a bit uninspired looking and felt it was sort of just sitting on the plate. But with the jus, you just didn’t care. They worked together with the spinach balancing on each bite–it seemed healthy and was delightful eating.

But that jus! It worked perfectly on the Amish Chicken as well as the rabbit. You can see from the pictures that the plates are nothing amazing in presentation, as I mentioned before, but taken together, it’s a great meal for $70 a person.

Well, oddly, after a great experience with the sommelier selecting the Stolpman, our waiter didn’t get my Corbieres order in on time and unfortunately, the wine came at the tale end of my entree.

Domaine St. Eugenie

Corbières 2009

40% Carignan, 30% Grenache, 30% Syrah

The Sommelier, John Filkins was superb and had really led me to the best elements of this particular bottling. It’s great to talk with folks who value all their wines, not just the high priced ones.

So, due to the late delivery, I ended up not being able to tell the story of the pairing of this very special southern French red (an actually quite cheap wine when you purchase it in the stores) with the chicken. But the glass drinks well on its own and was a nice way to end a meal.

The best part of the joint is the type of people this place attracts and the close proximity that they place you in the banquettes–makes meeting new people here easy and fun. Unlike Washington DC or San Francisco or even London, Baltimore, Philly and New York are great places to meet random people and inadvertently end up eating dinner with them. KoKo and I were all ready to go hang out with Aneil and Nisha by the time we’d finished our appetizer.

But they’d been sitting there forever, so they left well before we were ready to go. The Prada man next to us had great things to say in describing his meal after the doctors departed. The women by the windows were bubbly and fun and strolled out with us swinging their leftovers as if they were Carrie and the “Sex in the City” girls rushing home with their brand new shoes from Jimmy Choo. The whole place had a really good energy that way. maybe it’s that small open kitchen in the middle of the dining room and the beautiful big fire behind the grates in the sofa setting area behind the maitre d’ that makes the place so inviting and helps to create a “tavern” feel in the midst of heirloom grains and whiskey barrel vinegars.

But that beautiful Fassbinder spaceship-like bar! And then! Then! At the back of the bar is a new coffee shop with possibly the biggest door I’d ever seen anywhere, a very tall man comes out of nowhere to explain to me their lavish new coffee house hidden beyond. The door leads into a carefully transplanted Los Angeles coffee craze phenom from Silverlake called LAMill.

As Marlene would have said, "Let's see what the boys in the backroom will have!'

W&WATBMM is a wonderfully dramatic space worth the visit, even if all you do is go there for a $12 bowl of ricotta and bread with a glass of $8 wine. Once they get that coffee shop opened during the evening hours, it’ll be the ideal apres-dinner location to have a chic sip and Euro treat before bedtime with that terrifically tall mystery man behind the door.

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