Magazine articles

Pretty in Pink

Tuesday, December 5, 19950

Q San Francisco
Winter 1996
Pages 38-39

Pretty in Pink

The world would be a better place if we had more pink. Ask the Pink Panther. I remember a study done back in the 70s that demonstrated how different colors caused mood changes in psychotic patients. Pink created calm. Lavender may be the official color of the gay movement, but pink is almost always associated with us first.

Pink is a color for celebration, for festivities, for wine. Yes, wine. I realize that pink and wine together tend to conjure up images of semi-sweet, sometimes fizzy wines like white Zinfandel. Those of you who read my column in last issue will remember that I lumped white Zinfandel, screw- top bottle caps and plastic bendy straws into a small package suitable for a vinyl backpack. But let’s face it, there’s also red and white wine in gallon jugs that you wouldn’t want to drink.

Picture this: a toast – champagne glasses filled to the brim with frothy pink champagne. Tall, cool, crisp glasses of rosé freshing your palate as you dive into your appetizer course. Rich, full flavors of berries and spice as you move to your entrees. Soft, round tones of fruit and chocolate as you savor a flute of yet another, just barely pink champagne with your dessert. That’s a dinner I’d go to. That’s a dinner I think I’ll plan right now. So how does wine get to be pink? I mean, anyone knows that white grapes make white wine and red grapes make red wine, right? Right and wrong. Red wine pretty much has to have red grapes in it – unless you’re using large quantities of Red No. 5 dye. But it often has white grapes too. And white wine can be made from either.. Why? Because the juice of both is white, all the color is in the skin. And this leads us to rosés…

There are three basic ways to make pink wine. The first, and most obvious, is to mix red and white together. This is sometimes done with really cheap wines, but the truly classic place it is done is in Champagne. Actually, it’s the only place in the European Community you can legally make pink wine that way. The second way is to take red grapes and squeeze them really, really hard. Kind of like thighmaster exercises. Then you get just a little bit of color from the grape skins and have what is called a “vin gris.” Or, you can start making a red wine but then strain out the skins before the color of the wine gets too dark. Decisions, decisions.

Enough of the dull, technical stuff, let’s drink some wine. Here are some of my favorites in pink:

Pink Picks for Partying

In the Champagne category, my top honors go to three wineries off there in the north of France. First place, a pink ribbon, to Perrier-Jouet Fleur de Champagne Rosé. This wine blew me away the first time I tried it. Full, rich fruit flavors, dry as a bone, and an elegance that made Princess Grace look cheap. Unfortunately, the wine isn’t. But it is in a gorgeous bottle: clear glass painted all over with adorable pink flowers.. You can’t make a better impression.

Second place, coming in at a significantly lower cut of your cash, goes to Laurent-Perrier Rosé Brut. First, again, a stunning bottle. This wine comes packaged in an old 1800s style wide bottle that catches your eye. The wine itself is pale and delicate, and is perfect for reminding you that there are, indeed, finer things in life. In a close third place is Champagne de Venoge Crémant Rosé. A crémant is a champagne that isn’t quite as bubbly as usual. Rather than froth and bubbles, you get a sort of sparkling creaminess. This particular wine, again in a great bottle (see, even the bottles are great for celebrations!), is the perfect accompaniment to a lobster, especially in the form of a lobster bisque. I don’t know why, but I know it works.

Staying in the sparkling category, there are wines from places other than Champagne.that deserve special mention. First,. Maison Deutz Blanc de Noirs. Now, technically, “blanc de noirs” ought to mean white from black (the wine aficionado’s term for red grapes). But most of them are of that sort of vin gris variety we talked about, so they have a light, golden pink kind of color. This one shows that classic champagne elegance, not surprising given its connection to Champagne Deutz over in France. Beautiful berry flavors with soft toasty notes make this one the California winner.

In the truly rosé category, I’m tempted to give an award to Domaine Chandon for its Bin 222 Rosé, but again, the faintly pink Blanc de Noirs is their true winner and takes the second place spot. Rich, almost chocolatey flavors, mixed with berry fruit, make this a perfect wine to complement desserts.

And a surprising entry from the east coast of our fair nation, Pindar Cuvée Rare from Long Island is a pale salmon color, with an exuberant style that can kick off a party or wind up its finish with a bang. And the bottle’s pretty darn good-looking too.

Getting away from the bubbly, I want to recommend a few enjoyable table wines. Topping the list is Bruno Clair Marsannay Rose. Marsannay is a small commune in Burgundy. Imagine a classy Pinot Noir done in pink and you have some idea of this wine. One of the best matches with salmon I’ve ever had.

From the far southern end of the French domain comes the Domaine Ott Chateau de Selle Rosé. This wine is crisp, light, and perfect chilled as you sit outside enjoying the sunset or dig into a huge bowl of bouillabaisse, the classic fish stew of Provence, where this wine is from.

From nearby Italy, two top entries make my list. Amadea Rosato (the Italian term for rosé) gets the nod here. This is a light, slightly sparkling (frizzante in Italian) version of the Piedmontese wine Barbera. A toughy to find, but a great match for things barbecued or spicy foods. Not only that, but it’s got a handwritten label and is Kosher to boot. A very close second place goes to Regaleali Conte Tasca d’Almerita Rosato. This wine impresses me year after year. You taste it and all you can think is fun. If you can imagine strawberries, watermelon, limes and spices all rolled up in a party-pak, you’re on the right track.

I have to admit, most American winemakers went the sweet, fizzy route to pink. But slowly, some of them are realizing that good, dry table wines can be made here. One of the first, and still, in my estimation, leading the pack, was Randall Graham of Bonny Doon Vineyard with his Vin Gris de Cigare. Using primarily grape varieties native to the Rhòne valley, he has carved out a niche for an American style not seen before. This vin gris is rich in dark berry flavors, floral notes, and a smokiness that is particularly appealing. In second place, but awfully close, is Etude Pinot Noir Rosé. Coming out of the Carneros area overlapping the Napa and Sonoma valleys, this wine ties up bright berry flavors, spices and just a touch of sparkle with alight pink bow.

For a good time, think pink, drink pink. See you next time.

Dan Perlman is a chef and sommelier. He is co-owner of both Somewhere Else Catering, Inc. and Wine Partners, located in New York.

Q San Francisco magazine premiered in late 1995 as a ultra-slick, ultra-hip gay lifestyle magazine targeted primarily for the San Francisco community. It was launched by my friends Don Tuthill and Robert Adams, respectively the publisher and editor-in-chief, who had owned and run Genre magazine for several years prior. They asked me to come along as the food and wine geek, umm, editor, for this venture as well. In order to devote their time to Passport magazine, their newest venture, they ceased publication of QSF in early 2003.

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Magazine articles, Q San Francisco

Uncorked

Tuesday, September 5, 19950

Q San Francisco
Fall 1995
Pages 42-43

Uncorked

uncorkedIt takes neither wine geek nor fashion queen to figure out that champagne is the classic match for black tie and ball gowns. But then, like a string of pearls, champagne goes with everything. What do you don while sipping a glass of Cabernet? And what do you drink when attired in your best club kid vinyl? The wine of the late seventies was Chablis. The mode of dress, denim and flannel. In the eighties we turned to California Chardonnay and those scrawny little iridescent ties. Halfway through the nineties, the rage is plastic and Merlot. Are these fashion faux pas? Should the fashion police be called? Enquiring minds want to know. Behind-the-seams and behind-the-stems, a definitive guide to the properly bedecked body when lofting stemware is long overdue.

The Definitive Guide to Wine Apparel

Plastic & Rubber: This is clothing at its most high-tech. You find yourself wearing black vinyl shorts, green rubberized PVC boots and a see-through orange jacket vaguely reminiscent of the notebook cover your mother bought you for 7th grade. You have rings on your fingers and bells on your toes, not to mention rubber O-rings on your wrists and elsewhere.

This is not a time to go for classic vintages. This is not a time for elegance and delicacy. You want bold, up-front, high-tech winemaking at its best. You’re also on a budget ’cause that outfit cost you three weeks of paychecks. Think screwtop. Think White Zinfandel. Pack a handful of those airline-size bottles in your clutch or Scooby- Doo lunchbox and you’ll make club kid of the week. Make sure to take along a couple of those bendy straws.

Metal: This is a tough one. Metal can be subtle or bold. Silver or gold. A mere medallion attached to a cap or an entire steel mesh sleeveless T. It can be whisper quiet and heavy or jangle when you walk. Most importantly, metal makes a statement that can’t be ignored. And that’s your key to a wine match. You don’t do what’s usual. You’re on the cutting edge of fashion and you’re ready for the cutting edge of wine. This is the moment for the hottest trends around. With white metal – California Viognier. Even in wine circles this sizzling style is hush-hush. There’s just so little to go around. Snap some up! Decked in gold, brass, bronze and copper? Cash in on the red-hot button – Washington State Merlot. You couldn’t be any trendier if you wore iron body armor.

Leather: Okay, let’s face it. Leather has been, is, and probably always will be part of our community. Except, of course, for those who feel it should be left attached to the body of its original owner. We’re not talking about a belt, shoes, or even a tasteful and oh-so trendy faux motorcycle jacket. This is for those of you who deck yourselves in pants, chaps, vests, jackets, boots, and, yes, even hoods. After all, even in a dungeon one needs to stop for refreshment now and then. You love the smell of old leather and you like it a little rough. Grab for Rhone and Rioja red. Big, earthy, leathery wines, full of fruit, spice and power. Forget the corkscrew. Knock the top off and drink it straight from the bottle.

Denim: Farmers may have worn blue jeans first, but we made ’em an industry. Not only did we take the classic LEVI and turn it into a fashion trend, but we insisted on eighty-two different styles and every color of the rainbow. From shiny new to stonewashed, rough-and- ready to soft and brushed, denim is our most ubiquitous fabric. Pants, shirts, jackets. There’s a good chance you don’t know anyone who doesn’t have at least one piece of clothing made from it. Denim virtually begs for the most widely known grape variety out there. Chardonnay. You can’t miss. Whether it’s a tight, lean styled Chablis with your form-fit zipped boot jeans, a polished, elegant white Burgundy with your brushed cotton jacket, or a bold, buttery California Chard with your button-fly baggies, no other wine fits your lifestyle so well.

Suede, Corduroy & Velvet: Not that they’re all the same thing, but each has that soft, full-bodied, sensual element to them. My high school graduation picture shows me wearing an orange shirt and a dark tan corduroy jacket. I think I’ve destroyed all the copies. But these fabrics have their place. Blue suede shoes, black corduroy pants and a violet, velvet smoking jacket (no shirt or an open white ruffled pirate shirt, of course) call for hedonism in a wine. No wine is as sexy, as sensual, as carnal as Pinot Noir. The paramount red grape of Burgundy draws you in with its earthy manner only to envelope you in its soft embrace. From South Africa there is smoke and heat and passion emanating from each bottle. And from the Pacific Northwest of the good old U.S. of A., a wine as bright, energetic and enthusiastic as a roll in the hay.

Silk: While we’re steaming up the mirrors here… this is another fabric that is pure ardor. From nightwear to boxer shorts, from suit and tie, to a simple, softly draped shirt, silk calls for a soft, caressing elegance. Silk may be the most misunderstood fabric. Your dry cleaner doesn’t know how to clean it. People make fun of you when you wear it. But oh, it feels so good. It’s time to introduce yourself to the most misunderstood wine of all time. Famed wine writer Jancis Robinson said of it, “Unbeatable quality; indisputably aristocratic. Ludicrously unfashionable.” That could describe silk, but no, she was referring to Riesling. Not the vaguely sweet stuff the Germans flooded our markets with over the last few decades, but the good stuff they kept for themselves. Serve a bottle of a dry, top quality wine from the Rhein or Mosel, and then let your silk dressing-gowned companions tell you they don’t like Riesling.

Wool: There’s nothing quite like a warm woolen sweater, perhaps pink angora, or a tailor-made suit, preferably not mohair. Wool is the archetype, from the preppie look to dress-up to spending a weekend in the country – playing polo or some such… A classic calls for a classic. Bordeaux will always be correct with wool. Rich, luxurious, full- bodied and age-worthy. Just like you.

Last, but not least, the electric blue iridescent tie, three-quarters of an inch wide, that we all still secretly have in our closets. Possibly, just possibly, a wine spritzer. But my recollection is that in truth, it wasn’t wine, but the Alabama Slammers that my friend Michael used to make that went best. See you in the wine bars.

Uncorked Picks

White ZinfandelIt may actually be an oxymoron to have a favorite White Zinfandel, and I must admit, I don't. I recomend grabbing whatever's closest to the cash register, you don't have time to waste worrying about brand names.
California ViognierThe two top of the line choices in my tongue's eyes are Preston Vineyards and Alban Vineyards.
Washington State MerlotFirst place honors go to Canoe Ridge Vineyards, with a close runner-up status to Hogue Cellars.
Rhône redFrom the northern Rhône, Michel Ogier Côte Rôtie or Robert Michel Cornas. From the southern Rhône, Père Anselme Gigondas or J. Vidal-Fleury Vacqueyras.
Rioja redGo for the Bodegas La Rioja Alta Viña Ardanza Réserva or Bodegas Montecillo Viña Monty Gran Reserva.
ChardonnayThis is much too wide a category for any flat out top choices, but within each of my recommended styles, here goes a shot at it... Chablis - R. Vocoret "Les Clos" Grand Cru.
White BurgundyDarnat "Clos Richemont" Meursault Premier Cru. California - Mayacamas or Kistler.
Pinot NoirAgain, too much going on in this category, but... Burgundy - Baron de la Charrière Maranges or Santenay. South Africa - Hamilton-Russell. Pacific Northwest USA - Benton Lane or Domaine Drouhin from Oregon, Acacia or Mahoney Estate from California.
RieslingLook for the producers K. Neckerauer or Weingut Lingenfelder. Unless of course, you really want to search out Freiherr zu Knyphausen Erbacher Michelmark?
BordeauxOn a budget? Look for Château Simard, Château Meyney, or Château Bourgneuf. Willing to put out a couple more bucks? Château Kirwan or Château Cos d'Estournel.

Dan Perlman is a chef and sommelier. In 1994 he won the tri-annual competition for Best Sommelier in the Northeastern United States from the Sommelier Society of America.

Q San Francisco magazine premiered in late 1995 as a ultra-slick, ultra-hip gay lifestyle magazine targeted primarily for the San Francisco community. It was launched by my friends Don Tuthill and Robert Adams, respectively the publisher and editor-in-chief, who had owned and run Genre magazine for several years prior. They asked me to come along as the food and wine geek, umm, editor, for this venture as well. In order to devote their time to Passport magazine, their newest venture, they ceased publication of QSF in early 2003.

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Magazine articles, Q San Francisco

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Très Veggie

Wednesday, November 2, 19940

GENRE
November 1994

Hungry Man
Très Veggie
Vegetarian Meals with a French Twist

When I think of France, I think of my grandmother, an adorable young man named Daniel, and food. Admittedly, being a chef, when I think of anything I think of food. But France, more than anywhere else on earth, seems to be inextricably entwined with visions of the pleasures of eating – often to excess.

The remnants of my grade-school French allow me to inquire how to get to the local métro stop, ask the whereabouts of the pen of my aunt, and understand the chorus to “Lady Marmalade.” Luckily, my kitchen French is a bit better, and I generally know what someone is talking about when they say omelette, bon bon, or café au lait. I even know the word for vegetables, légumes, though I admit I had to look up where to put the accent.

In considering French cooking, vegetables are not the first thing that comes to mind, let alone vegetarian cooking. Even the 1,193-page bible of French cuisine, the Larousse Gastronomique, grants a grand total of one paragraph to vegetarianism and two to veganism, the latter referring to the outdated belief that it’s difficult to have a balanced diet in such a strict regimen. On the other hand, vegetables and grains are the core of Niçois and Provençal cuisines in the south of France, and cooks there wouldn’t think of serving a meal without them. The Niçois even claim to know more than 70 ways to cook vegetables – a claim that puts Americans to shame, since most of us have trouble handling boil-in-the-bag peas.

The French also have a devotion to eggs and things dairy – cheese, milk, cream and butter. For those who are looking for the strictly vegetarian, it often looks like a challenge to cook in a French manner. Luckily, it is indeed possible to cook without dairy and not risk offending your nearest francophile.

Among the vegetables that are available, but not common in use in the U.S., is fennel. This beautiful light-green bulb has a crisp, slight licorice taste that is delicious raw in salads or braised to brighten those cool fall evening meals. Although simple, this recipe is guaranteed to delight your tastebuds.

Braised Fennel

6 fennel bulbs
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and fresh black pepper
4 cups vegetable stock (yes, the omnivores among you may use chicken or beef stock)
¼ cup white wine

Trim the hard outer stalks of the fennel bulbs and wash and dry the bulbs. Heat the olive oil in a large pan. Sprinkle the bulbs with salt and pepper and quickly sauté in the olive oil until they just begin to color. Add stock (though homemade would be preferred, bouillon cubes dissolved in water is acceptable) and the wine, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pan and simmer for an hour until the bulbs are tender to the touch. Slice the bulbs lengthwise, season with salt and pepper, and serve hot. Makes enough for six as a side dish or two as a main course.

Carrots are among the favorite vegetables for many of us. I don’t know if it’s the bright orange color that reminds us of our school days in the safety patrol, or that buttery, sugary taste of candied carrots that mom used to make for special occasions. Updating that classic French dish gives us something that will bring a smile to any adult’s face, let alone a kid’s.

Carrot Fondue

(Fondue is not only the name for the classic Swiss dish with all those long color-coded forks and a bubbling pot of some unknown substance in the center of the table, but also a classic French cooking method of slowly cooking vegetables in butter or cream until very soft. Obviously, this one isn’t for the strict vegans.)

4 carrots
1 pint of heavy cream
salt and freshly ground pepper
Angostura bitters
2 tablespoons Madeira wine
2 tablespoons honey

Peel and finely dice the carrots, or thinly slice them. Put them in a heavy saucepan and cover them with the cream. Add a dash of bitters and the wine. Bring to a simmer and cook over very low heat until the carrots are soft and the cream has mostly absorbed into them. Add the honey, stir and serve. Makes enough for one to four, depending on how far you get from the stove before you taste….

Genre is a gay “lifestyle” and travel magazine. It was launched in 1992 by three entrepreneurs, two of whom shortly thereafter left to found QSF magazine. I went with them…

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Mariachi Meals

Friday, September 2, 19940

GENRE
September 1994

Hungry Man
Mariachi Meals
More Than a Hill of Beans

It’s that dreaded phrase: “Let’s go out for Mexican.” Visions of Taco Bell alternate with visions of greasy chimichangas, nachos, tacos and refried beans. A nightmarishly oversized lime-and-tequila Sno-Cone excuse for a marguerita flashes through my brain. Mariachi music plays in the background. In a cold sweat, I suggest we order pizza.

It is unfortunate that we folk up here in the U.S. of A. have managed to convert the rich and varied cuisine of the U.S. of M. into a hill of mashed beans – with jalapeños on top and corn chips below. With 29 states, two territories and a federal district, settlement by Spaniards, Portuguese, Frenchmen, Germans, Danes, Lebanese and Chinese, and native cooking that includes Aztec, Yaqui, Mayan, and Olmec, Mexican cuisine is far more interesting than that. It is mestizo, “of mixed blood,” a core ancestral fusion, not only of food, but of the entire Mexican culture.

Okay, yes, Mexicans do eat tacos. A lot of them. And enchiladas, burritos, tostadas, and frijoles refritos. They also eat fish and seafood, turkey and chicken, and an incredible array of vegetables and fruits, from the familiar, like celery, tomatoes and squash, to the unusual – jicama, tomatillos, nopal cacti and cactus pears, and sour oranges. Seasonings – Mexican cinnamon, chocolate, vanilla, and oregano – taste elusively different from their counterparts we know in the U.S., and others, achiote, epazote, and hoja santa, are nearly unknown outside Mexican and Central American cuisine.

Corn is the staple grain of the Mexican diet, generally softened and cooked with lime (the alkali, not the fruit), and used whole in pozole or ground to produce masa, or dough, for tortillas and tamales. If corn is the heart of Mexican cuisine, chilies are its soul. There are dozens if not hundreds of varieties, from mild poblanos to smoky chipotles to hot jalapeños and serranos to the scorching habaneros.

We’re all familiar with the ubiquitous salsa and chips, but salsas and other sauces go far beyond chopped tomatoes, onions and chilies. There are recados, dry herb and spice mixtures, adobos, with chilies and vinegar, pepianes, thick, rich sauces thickened with ground seeds or nuts, and moles, spiced and thickened with ground chilies.

Let’s take a look at two simple dishes that can add some zip to your next dinner party. The first is a basic green salsa, which uses tomatillos, or “husk tomatoes,” instead of the usual red tomatoes. If you can’t find them fresh in your area, it is possible to use canned ones, though I don’t recommend them. You could also try fresh green tomatoes, which will make a different, but tasty variation.

Salsa Verde

1½ pounds fresh tomatillos
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 fresh serrano or jalapeño chilies, seeded and minced
1 cup fresh cilantro (coriander) leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon sugar
salt and pepper
vegetable oil

Remove husks from tomatillos and place them in a pot of cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat and then simmer for about five minutes. Drain and chop coarsely, saving the juices. Sauté the onions and garlic in oil over low heat until just softened, but not browned. Add the chilies and continue cooking for one to two minutes to bring out the chili’s flavor. Combine tomatillos, cilantro, sugar, and add salt and pepper to taste. Serve with chips or as a sauce over grilled fish. Makes four cups.

The second dish makes use of my favorite chili, the chipotle, which is dried and smoked jalapeño. Chipotles come in loose, dry form and also packed in a tomato sauce called adobo. This dish uses the dry form.

Cerdo con Crema Chipotle

1 pound pork tenderloin
1 medium onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 chipotle chili
1 pint heavy cream
vegetable oil

Trim and cut the pork into one-inch cubes. Remove the seeds from the chipotle. Sauté the onion, garlic and chipotle in the oil over low heat until the onions are soft but not browned. Add the pork and continue cooking until golden brown. Remove the chipotle and purée in a blender with the cream. Pour the chipotle cream back over the pork and bring to a simmer over low heat. Let simmer for ten minutes to allow the pork to absorb the flavors and the sauce to thicken. Serve over pasta or rice. Serves two.

Genre is a gay “lifestyle” and travel magazine. It was launched in 1992 by three entrepreneurs, two of whom shortly thereafter left to found QSF magazine. I went with them…

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Breaking the Fast with Breakfast

Saturday, July 2, 19940

GENRE
July 1994

Hungry Man
Breaking the Fast with Breakfast
The Meal Nobody Eats

In the course of an average day, the mythical average American adult watches four hours and 12 minutes of television and flips through a magazine for entertainment, and, no doubt, for the half-dozen breakfast ads for cereal, orange juice, coffee, English muffins, and at least one of a small child berating a parent for not eating a Pop-Tart. We are a culture obsessed with a meal we don’t even eat: breakfast.

We have to go to the gym. We have to get to the bank. We have to finish paperwork. We have to get dressed. We have no time. We have to get a child off to school. We have nothing in the cupboards or refrigerator that looks good. Basically, if whatever deity may or may not exist up in the sky thought breakfast was so important, it would have made the menus much more interesting.

Most of us grew up on breakfast cereal. Lovely little flakes, crunchy nuggets and colorful, squishy marshmallows abounded in bowls all across America. Prepackaged and processed breakfast cereal was introduced in the 1860s to the unsuspecting public by an equally unsuspecting cadre of Seventh-Day Adventists at their sanitarium in Battle Creek, Michigan. The latter were merely trying to add to their vegetarian diet. The former just wanted something to eat besides bacon and eggs.

Squirreled away (can I use squirreled in relation to a sanitarium?) in the facility was one C.W. Post. And living nearby was local resident W.K. Kellogg. Need I say any more about what happened between that sanitarium and Madison Avenue?

I am of the opinion that breakfast should provide your most balanced meal of the day. A proper selection for each of the four basic food groups is an absolute necessity: sugar, fat, salt, and caffeine. So yes, a sardine omelet, Bavarian cream doughnut and espresso would be a proper breakfast. But thanks, I won’t be joining you this morning.

We don’t want our nutritionists to keel over wholesale in horror. (Well, maybe just some of them.) In order to achieve the proper balance and still provide for something that the remaining nutritionists would only gasp politely at, we have to get creative.

About a squillion years ago, a friend gave me a coffee recipe guaranteed to charm that special guest on a first Saturday morning. that was back in the days when we believed in one-night stands and weekend romances. We have, of course, outgrown that belief. My friend called this Brazilian Coffee; I haven’t really a clue why, and neither do my Brazilian friends.

Brazilian Coffee

Serves 2

1 cup strong, fresh coffee
1 tablespoon sugar
a pinch of salt
1 ounce bittersweet chocolate
1 cup half & half (or ½ cup milk and ½ cup heavy cream)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cinnamon stick

Combine the coffee, sugar and salt in a pan. Warm over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Add the chocolate and continue cooking, stirring steadily, for three minutes. Whisk the half & half and the vanilla into the mixture and continue cooking another three minutes. Break the cinnamon stick in half, put each piece in a large coffee mug and pour the coffee mixture over.

That wasn’t so hard, was it? How about baking up a few muffins to impress that stud muffin still asleep in the other room?

Citrus (Stud) Muffins

1½ cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
2½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
¾ cup milk
⅓ cup unsalted butter
grated rinds of 1 orange, 1 lime and 1 lemon

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Melt the butter over low heat. Beat the eggs, milk, butter and grated rinds together and stir into flour mixture. Stir until just mixed; if you stir too much, the muffins will be chewy. Pour into greased muffin cups (⅔ full in each one) and bake for 20 minutes, until a toothpick stuck in the center comes out clean, and the tops are golden brown. Makes about a dozen.

And that about covers our four basic food groups. So get creative with your mornings. And next time someone says you can have two eggs “any style,” let’s see just what kind of style you have…

Genre is a gay “lifestyle” and travel magazine. It was launched in 1992 by three entrepreneurs, two of whom shortly thereafter left to found QSF magazine. I went with them…

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Most Works-in-Progress Aren’t Meant To Be Reviewed

Wednesday, June 1, 19940

CaB Magazine
June 1994

Theater Reviews

I am faced with an apparent dilemma. I just saw a delightful new musical work and am ready to recommend it to virtually anyone. On the other hand, it is a work-in-progress, I don’t know how it will turn out in the end, or even when (if?) it will be performed again, and friends in the business say it’s unfair to review something in progress anyway. So shoot me; nobody can be fair all the time.

We wandered down to the Under One Roof Theater in Tribeca, a nice little dive that doesn’t quite hold an entire audience. Our plan was to see Most Men Are, a new work by Stephen Dolginoff, who recently won the 1994 Bistro Award in the category of Outstanding Book, Music and Lyrics for his musical One Foot Out The Door (praised by Maryann Lopinto and panned by Andrew Martin in various back issues of CaB). Once inside, grabbing whatever space we could, we were greeted by an almost-bare stage, the only props a table and chairs. The setting – according to our program – a New York City apartment, the time – the present.

The show’s opening number, “You Won’t Die Alone”, introduces us to an attractive young couple, Russ and Scott (Joel Carlton and James Heatherly), the latter of who is about to die. This, he apparently does, quietly and without audience involvement, sometime between the first and second numbers. The balance of the show is sprawled across the weekend of his funeral, with Scott’s stifling father, Jack (Chris Lindstrom), and obnoxious, homophobic brother, Larry (Roger Seyer), dropping in to stay with Russ. To top it off, Larry and Jack haven’t seen or spoken to each other in nine years, and never got along in the first place.

The show’s tension builds between the three living characters, with Larry and Jack doing little to be civil to each other, and then only in deference to Russ’ exhortations to remember why they are there. Russ, for his part, spends an awful lot of time looking to his karma and stars for guidance, much to the consternation of the familial duo. Over drinks, the three fall into a series of vignettes, where each remembers times spent with Scott. Scott, for his part, keeps popping out from behind a black curtain to take part in the memories.

Larry leads us through their childhood together, with Scott idolizing his older brother and never quite understanding why daddy treats the rebellious Larry as non-existent and spoils Scott rotten (something we find out later in Jack’s number “When I Came Home At Night”. Perhaps the funniest number in the show is “Daddy’s Playboy Magazines”, a tribute to a discovery that many of us made in Dad’s lower nightstand drawer. We, and Jack, also get to see what not having his father’s love has meant to Larry in “Melinda”.

For his part, Jack leads us through his fantasy of the perfect son, Scott. We get to see Scott’s coming out, in the song “What If”, a beautifully-performed ballad that, for my two cents, was the best number of the show (the song is reprised later when he lets Russ know he has AIDS). Jack drives Scott towards success that never comes and drives Larry out and into the achievement that he never expected in “You Can Do Anything”.

Russ shows us meeting Scott in a bar, where he performs a seductive, if completely off-the-wall pickup of Scott, and the new couple’s search for the perfect apartment in two numbers “Something Bound To Begin” and “The Perfect Place On Christopher Street”. The seduction song is worthy of writing down the lyrics – just to try out on a slow night next time you’re feeling lonely.

The show ends with two numbers, reliving Scott’s last moments in the hospital through “My Body” and “Urban Legend”, and a post-funeral scene with the entire cast considering “Maybe Next Christmas” as Larry and Jack seem to find a provisional truce.

The music and lyrics are good, at times great, and with no particular sour notes. No doubt there will be some changes to look forward to here and there that will only improve what already works. James Heatherly, playing a moody ghost of a character, is a delight to watch as he bounces from one emotion to the next. His soft, lyrical voice is perfect for ballads, and he can sing one to me any time. Joel Carlton, despite his bold, dark-haired, incredibly blue-eyed looks and powerhouse voice, manages to pull off being a bit of a space cadet rather well. Roger Seyer has captured that special spot in life that is reserved just for homophobic brothers who also happen to love their gay brothers, and still manages to be a defiant brat at the same time. Chris Lindstrom (who looks a lot like the guy who played the dad in the TV show ALF), plays both disappointed and proud daddy impeccably, at the same time.

Is it fair here to point out the negatives? Probably not, for this is a work-in-progress. However, I only have two criticisms of the show, and both are in the staging. First, all four actors need to figure out what to do with themselves when they aren’t “active”. There was a little too much lookign around into space, thumb-twiddling, and looking bored while their co-stars were up performing numbers. The second not is one of volume. The Under One Roof Theater is a small venue, and the singing voices of the four need to be modulated to fit it (or wherever they end up playing). Joel Carlton belted out most of his numbers in a voice that no doubt was heard by folks passing through the nearby Holland Tunnel, while at the other end of the spectrum, Chris Lindstrom, who is operatically trained, was holding his volume back to the point where at times he was drowned out by one of those same cars exiting at the New Jersey end.

The question in this day and age is, do we really need another show about someone dying of AIDS? Probably not, but in truth, this show is more about remembering someone’s life before they were dying of AIDS. And that, is something we all need. Admittedly, the show is uneven, but that’s what a work-in-progress performance is for. It is well-written, well-cast, and, well-destined, in my opinion, to be another hit for Stephen Dolginoff.

CaB magazine was one of the first publications I ever wrote for. Published by my dear friend Andrew Martin, it covered the Cabaret, Theater, Music and Dining scene in New York City, long before slick publications like Time Out NY and Where NY became popular. We had great fun writing it, and some wonderful writers contributed to its pages. When the magazine folded in the mid-90s, Andrew disappeared from the scene, and rumors had it that he departed from this existence not long after. I was thrilled to find out in mid-October 2005, a decade later, that the rumors were just that. Andrew contacted me after finding my site via that omnipresent force, Google. He’s alive and well and a member of a comedy troupe called Meet the Mistake. Somehow quite fitting!

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Cafe Mogador, El Quijote

Wednesday, June 1, 19940

CaB Magazine
June 1994

You Are Where You Eat
Restaurant Reviews

Repeat after me; I’m not going to pay a lot for this Moroccan food. And at Cafe Mogador, you’re not. This is one of those quiet little finds that you discover yourself going back to over and over again. Or at least, I do. I first found this place shortly after moving into the neighborhood. There I was, wandering along enjoying the ever-changing pageant that is St. Marks Place. Up ahead, a small sidewalk cafe beckoned, and soon I found myself somewhere between Casablanca and Marrakech.

The place itself is about what you’d expect from a small, East Village-y cafe. Yes, there are touches of Morocco all around – the artwork, the rugs, Bogie and Bacall… Well, perhaps not. Regardless, those touches that are present serve merely to suggest a far-off land, though the cafe itself remains firmly planted…somewhere. We turn to the menu with its reassuring words, “Everything on our menu is made fresh in our kitchen daily.” Words for a restaurateur to live by.

The selection is short, but representative. Couscous, tagines, bastilla, kebabs, and those standards of New York-Middle Eastern fare, humus/falafel style combination plates. Start with a plate of mixed appetizers – marinated mushrooms or beets, babaganoush, tabouli, humus, herbed potato salad, cucumber yogurt, spicy carrots – on my part, I’m virtually always happy with a good-sized helping of spicy chickpeas and Moroccan cured black olives. Occasionally, a Greek salad with tahini dressing is in order, at other times the house salad with endive, beets, cucumbers and red onions.

Let’s face it, we can get falafel and humus at any of a couple dozen places in Manhattan. Cafe Mogador may serve some of the better of the genre around, but that’s not what they specialize in. The couscous is the real hit here. Light, fluffy grains of semolina pasta perfectly steamed over broth. Your choice of vegetarian, chicken, lamb or merguez sausage, or even a combination of these are added in. And on the side, a melange of turnips, carrots, cabbage, zucchini, pumpkin, chickpeas, and onions and raisins that have been simmered in honey. Add a touch of the spicy harissa sauce – a fiery blend of red peppers, olive oil and garlic – and your tastebuds will think they’ve died and gone to heaven.

But perhaps one night, we’re not in a mood for coucous. A delicious chicken or lamb tagine – long-stewed with spices, vegetables, and a touch of lemon seems more fitting. My personal favorite is the bastilla – a layered chicken pie of crisp phyllo pastry, lemon-flavored eggs, almonds and cinnamon – that generally leaves me wishing I was just a little bigger so I could fit another piece in. The only disappointing note for me personally, and not all my friends agree, is the merguez sausage. This is a spicy beef sausage that unfortunately just isn’t spicy here – though I admit it’s still pretty tasty.

Desserts change on and off, but we can generally count on some interesting fruit pies and I recently had a delicious raspberry and almond tart. But the real winner here is the melt-in-your-mouth, super-sweet, super-rich, out-of-this-world baklava. I honestly don’t think I’ve had better here in New York. Topped off with a thick, steaming cup of sweetened Turkish coffee (why not Moroccan coffee?), this place is a delight.

Cafe Mogador, 101 St. Marks Place (at 1st Avenue), (212) 677-2226. Open 7 days a week for dinner, Monday through Friday for lunch. Cash only, delivery available. $15 – $25 for dinner.

Somewhere in the back of my mind a haunting voice starts singing “little bird, little bird…” Perhaps it’s because my eyes have lighted on the entrance to this establishment’s back room, labelled “The Dulcinea Room”. We are in tre, or should I say mucho, Man of La Mancha territory. No windmills in sight, no charging knights on donkey-back, we venture forward into El Quijote.

This is one of those places that someone took me to early on in my New York residency, and I fell in love with it right off the bat. How can you pass up a place where the menu assures you that Manny (the owner)’s family has been passing down their secret recipe for not only Spanish Coffee, but Sangria, for generations! How can you pass up a place where you can get a platter of luscious, whole broiled lobsters at a price that even Uncle Scrooge would pry open his wallet for?

A pitcher of Sangria on the table, perhaps some “regular” wine from the cellar too (a couple of my favorite Riojas grace the short list) and we’re ready to wade into the menu. The garlic soup is a must – rich chicken and egg broth, seasoned with sweet-roasted garlic and saffron. For the sausage folk amongst us, a platter of sizzling grilled chorizos. I like the Serrano ham with cured Spanish olives (you can have it with melon if you prefer). Then, we look at the list of main courses.

Some of us will, of course, order a broiled lobster or two. Maybe a small little one-pounder, or if hungrier, perhaps a two- or three-pounder. The full selection of proper Spanish seafood dishes is present. Shrimps, scallops, clams, mussels and lobster are graced with green, white, garlic and egg sauces available. You want a little chicken thrown in? No problem. Some sausages? Ditto. Maybe a little extra lobster? Okay. The classic paella twins – Valencia and Marinera – are available with, respectively, chicken and sausage or a mix of seafood.

Some nights we’re just not in the mood for seafood and garlic. So, okay, in truth, we’ probably would just go somewhere else, because those things are why we come here. But the menu does include some truly tasty veal and chicken dishes. I have to admit, with the exception of one time when we managed to split a flan four ways at a table, we’ve never had enough room left for dessert. So I can’t even tell you if it’s good, though I’d bet it is. Top the night off with that secret Spanish coffee, and head off into the night ready to tilt at your closest windmill.

El Quijote, 226 W. 23rd Street (between 7th and 8th Avenues at the Chelsea Hotel), (212) 929-1855. Open 7 days a week for lunch and dinner. Cash and major credit cards. $25 – $35 for dinner.

CaB magazine was one of the first publications I ever wrote for. Published by my dear friend Andrew Martin, it covered the Cabaret, Theater, Music and Dining scene in New York City, long before slick publications like Time Out NY and Where NY became popular. We had great fun writing it, and some wonderful writers contributed to its pages. When the magazine folded in the mid-90s, Andrew disappeared from the scene, and rumors had it that he departed from this existence not long after. I was thrilled to find out in mid-October 2005, a decade later, that the rumors were just that. Andrew contacted me after finding my site via that omnipresent force, Google. He’s alive and well and a member of a comedy troupe called Meet the Mistake. Somehow quite fitting!

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Is It Soup Yet?

Monday, May 2, 19940

GENRE
May 1994

Hungry Man
Is It Soup Yet?
The True Test of a Chef’s Artistry

I grew up, like most of us thirty-somethings, believing that soup came in little red-and-white cans. Then it started coming in little red-and-white foil envelopes in little red-and-white boxes. We were red-and-white with wonder. Both versions said to mix with water, heat, and serve. Wow! Food even a college freshman could cook.

By the time I was 18 or so, I must have tried chicken with or without vegetables, rice, noodles, or matzo balls, beef with vegetables or barley, split pea with ham, and French onion with cheese and croutons. I hated cream of tomato.

I’m not 18 anymore (sorry, guys) and I’ve tried soup that comes out of a real pot. I realize it’s not as simple as opening a can or box, but the little bit of inconvenience is worth it. It’s not hard. Put solid things in liquid things. Cook or not. Soup.

Okay, so there are a few things that might not qualify. You won’t find me simmering pebbles (the stone kind, not the fruity) and chocolate chips in basil vinegar. Really. I’m not even sure we could get anyone to agree that it’s soup, even if it fits the technical definition. I’m also not putting it on the lunch menu. Trust me.

Soup fills the world of literature, from the Mock Turtle’s tribute in verse to “Beautiful Soup” in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to Robert Browning’s Hamelin rats lapping it up left and right. Whether it is the creation of a culinary genius like Fritz Brenner in Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe mysteries, or the production of the entire village in Marcia Brown’s Stone Soup, soup is a mainstay of the dining table.

To the best of my knowledge, every human culture on this planet and two others makes soup. There are simple ones, like Italian Stracciatella, with its flakes of egg and cheese sprinkled through chicken broth, or Kaeng Tom Yam Kung, from Thailand, with beautiful shrimp and lemongrass simmered in hot spices. There are thick soups – New England Clam Chowder, Vermont Cheddar Cheese, English Mulligatawny, and Algerian Cherbah. Even life itself started in a primordial soup.

In the professional world, a chef’s soups are considered a mark of his or her abilities. The French chef must have perfectly seasoned broths, crystal-clear consommés, and rich, unctuous flavors. The Japanese kokku is noted for stunning presentations of sea life in clear dashi, with simple, clean flavors. And Aunt Edna is noted for bowls of fresh chicken broth, each with a matzo ball you could knock down tenpins with.

There is an old Spanish proverb, “Of soup and love, the first is best.” (Well, actually, it’s “De sopa y amor, el primero es mejor.”) Whomever first said it was obviously experienced in such matters. It is spring, and it’s clear to me that if spring is a time for love, it is, even more, a time for soup.

Gazpacho Soup

Gazpacho is the perfect spring or summer soup, served cold, with crisp, clean vegetable flavors. Not only that, but it’s easy to make. This version serves six.

3 ripe tomatoes
1 cucumber
1 yellow onion
1 green pepper
1 carrot
2-3 cloves garlic
3 tablespoons really, really good olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
¼ cup good sherry
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
½ cup fresh herbs, like mint, marjoram, or parsley
1 cup ice water

Finely chop the tomatoes, carrot, garlic and herbs. Peel and seed the cucumber. Dice the cucumber, onion and pepper. Mix all ingredients in a large bowl, and keep cold until ready to serve. Adjust seasoning to taste; add additional ice water if needed to thin the soup.

Leek Soup

Okay, you have to cook this one, but it’s worth it.

2 large leeks, coarsely chopped
3 cups chicken stock
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon white pepper
¼ teaspoon mace (the spice, not the spray…)
4 teaspoons butter
thick sliced whole-wheat bread
brick cheese, grated
parmesan cheese, grated

Sauté leeks in butter until limp but not browned. Add milk, stock, and seasonings. Simmer 30 minutes. Put slices of bread in individual oven-proof soup crocks. Fill with soup, top with grated cheeses. Broil until brown and bubbly. Serves four.

Genre is a gay “lifestyle” and travel magazine. It was launched in 1992 by three entrepreneurs, two of whom shortly thereafter left to found QSF magazine. I went with them…

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