Online Publications

Pizza in BA: An absolute must, have to, don’t miss, to die for

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
June 18, 2006

Pizza in BA: An absolute must, have to, don’t miss, to die for

pizzas
Pizza is one of those things that is easy to carry on about. We all have our likes and dislikes. Thin crust, thick crust, red sauce, white, cheese or no, and toppings from simple herbs to tuna and pineapple. Properly constructed, a pizza could be the illustration for the USDA’s food pyramid, with it’s grain-based crust, vegetable, meat, and dairy toppings.

Buenos Aires in particular, with its strong Italian-rooted population, and Argentina in general, offers up its own takes on Nature’s most perfect food. Locals can wax poetic and argue for hours over not only which pizzeria serves up the best pie, but whether pizza porteña tops New York, Chicago, or even Naples for quality. That’s not a debate I care to weigh in on, I prefer to think that everyone brings their own contribution to the table. Why limit yourself?

Pizza in Buenos Aires tends to show up in one of four guises. There are variations on the theme, with coal, wood, or gas fired ovens that produce differing results, and further variations on the former two with various types of charcoal and wood being used – for example, quebracha wood, a type of evergreen, being unique to many of the country’s ovens and grills. The most common of the four types is the pizza a la piedra, or pizza cooked on a stone. Generally a thin to medium thickness crust, this is probably the most familiar to folks from other places. Arguably the finest spot in Buenos Aires for this style is Güerrin, right by the Obelisk.

Pizza al molde, or pan pizza, is a favorite for many folk. A thicker crust, sometimes showing up a bit like just a thicker version of the piedra and sometimes a true deep-dish style – this can range from something similar to what we think of as “Sicilian” to classic “Chicago”. Though there are folks who would disagree, I think it would be near impossible here to beat Las Cuartetas, also near to the Obelisk.

Although not some new invention, as some folks here like to boast, pizza a la parrilla, or grilled pizza, is a relatively new introduction to the Capital. Cracker thin crusts, and given that most of the places serving it are sort of trendy new hotspots, often far more creative toppings than the norm, are the hallmarks of this style. There aren’t many places offering it yet, and the contenders to the throne don’t have a clear winner – Minna, in Puerto Madero Este; Morelia in Palermo Viejo; and Mamina in Liniers are clearly the top of the heap.

Buenos Aires’ unique contribution to the pizza world is the faina, a pizza, or focaccia, made of chickpea flour, the crust baked and usually served unadorned or with a simple herb or onion topping, as an accompaniment to a standard pizza. Though faina clearly comes from Liguria, where it is sometimes called farinata, (and there are versions throughout the Mediterranean – Gibralter’s “national dish” of calentita or Nice’s socca come to mind) – what makes it unusual is that here it is served as an adjunct to pizza – a “classic” porteño lunch is a a slice or two of pizza and a slice of faina – which is often laid atop of a slice of pizza as a sort of top-crust, or eaten in alternating bites – and a glass of cheap Moscato.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Offal: Chinchulines, Mollejas, Corazon and Other Delights…

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
March 10, 2006

Offal: Chinchulines, Mollejas, Corazon and Other Delights…

OffalIt’s a shame that the words offal and awful are virtual homonyms in the English language. It immediately gives some leverage to the folks who fall into the camp of “I wouldn’t touch a plate of that with your tongue if I was paid to do it”. Versus, of course, the camp that others fall into where the mere mention of one of these body parts is enough to cause Pavlovian salivation. Even in the Argentine culture (and the Italian culture from which many of their recipes derive) opinion, no, vehemence pro or con in regard to the “fifth quarter” as the Romans called it, abounds.

Most everyone has tried something like liver – whether calf, beef, duck, or chicken – in one guise or another. On the chicken front, gizzards and hearts are common enough; perhaps even a chicken foot or two. When it comes to other animals and other organs, there are certainly things like steak and kidney pie out there, but here comes the moment when the two camps divide and begin to wage war. “If I only had a heart… a brain… the nerve…” takes on a whole new meaning from its connotations in the land of Oz. Here, we want them seasoned, grilled, sauced, and served.

For those of us in the pro camp, variety meats are not just the spice of life, they are the pinnacle of its culinary possibilities. For those who have yet to try them, or are unfamiliar with what is available, this basic guide, more or less from one entrail to the other.

Chinchulines are the small intestines
Chotos are a strangely braided larger part of the small intestine
Corazón is the heart
Criadillas are testicles, or if it makes you feel better, prairie or Rocky Mountain oysters
Higado is your already probably familiar liver
Mollejas de corazón are sweetbreads from the lower regions, the pancreas
Mollejas de cuello are sweetbreads from the neck, or, the thymus glands
Mondongo is tripe
Pulmones are lungs
Riñones are kidneys
Seso is the brain
Tripa is the stomach (not tripe, as you might think)

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

On Empanadas

What’s Up Buenos Aires
NEWS
January 19, 2006

On Empanadas

Empanadas
While not impossible to visit Buenos Aires and avoid sampling empanadas, it would be foolish. Argentina is known far and wide for its beef, and aficionados will argue the fine points of presentation from the parrilla or the asado. Yet probably no other item from the culinary repertoire engenders quite so much passion as the defense of one’s favorite empanada. Arguments range from “my grandmother made criollas that your grandmother wasn’t fit to eat” to “my favorite place has the most perfect… baked, fried, cut beef or ground, potatoes, olives, eggs, onions, or raisins, included or not… and I’ll take you there and prove it.” Culinary historians natter on about the origin of this bread enveloped pastry, tracing it back to Galicia in Spain, or perhaps to ancient Persia. To hear some of them go on, we’d need carbon dating to settle on the origin.

It would come as no surprise to find that every culture on the planet has some version of the empanada – from Middle Eastern fatays, to Asian pot-stickers, to Scandinavian pastys, to a classic savory turnover from France. Yet, there is something uniquely Latin American about the empanada. It would be difficult to put one’s finger on it – the dough is not unique in the pastry world, most often made from simple white flour, eggs, water, and lard. The fillings range from beef to pork to chicken to fish. The spices vary in accordance with local favorites throughout South and Central America and the Caribbean. The additions are too numerous to consider. Yet there’s something about them, when one picks them up, hot and juicy, that fits the Latin culture.

Argentines would argue that theirs are the best. That would be a hard claim to prove, but it would be a fantastically delicious exercise to sit down at a table laden with examples from throughout the empanada world. Certainly there is a wide variety of regional styles, thankfully most of them are available here in Buenos Aires (including examples from neighboring countries), removing the need to hop on colectivos and travel province by province to sample them. Here you can find garlicky, spicy catamarqueñas chockfull of potatoes, green onion packed salteñas, white onion filled san juaninos, touches of tomato and various cheeses in the tucumanas, salmon and tuna from the shore, or packed into Chilean styles, lamb and mushrooms from Patagonia, pumpkin based Venezuelans, and finely ground goat meat in the arabe styles. Cheese filled, corn filled, vegetable laden, or a wide variety of meats abound. Local shops may offer specialty versions, and it is worth seeking out something like smoky pancetta and plum, or spicy sausage and green onion, or even an Italian knockoff like a napolitana.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Jupiter’s Blood

Outlet Radio Network
May 8, 2005

Jupiter’s Blood

I’m getting ready to move. It’s a big move, leaving New York after nearly 23 years here. But I figure, I spent half my life so far in the midwest, half here in “the Big Apple”, I may as well split it in thirds and spend the next 23 years somewhere else. Then it’ll be time to go for splitting it in quarters, then fifths, then… I’m really hoping for some sort of cool longevity drug (as long as I get to keep my adorably cute looks).

Part of my move has been clearing a lot of, well, crap, out of my life. I sold off books that I never intend to read, or re-read. I sold furniture. I gave away things to friends and local charities. And then I had to confront my wine collection. Now, there’s no question I plan to keep some of it. But the idea of storing away and then carting cross-country or cross-planet (my future destination is a little murky at the moment) nearly 700 bottles of wine (yes, 700) was more than I wanted to contemplate.

A large percentage of what I had was made up of samples sent to me by various wine companies that I know I’ll never get around to trying before they go bad. I gave away those to a friend who holds casual parties and just needs cheap wine around. That left me with a little over 400 bottles. I auctioned off a whole bunch of them. Now down to about 240 bottles, it’s time to look at drinking a lot of them before I move. So, party time!

I suggested a Brunello party to a wine geek friend of mine (more about Brunello and what it is in a minute). He agreed, we decided to keep it casual, invite a bunch of friends, and order pizza. The pizza turned out to be just okay, but the wines, well, they certainly got us all talking and thinking.

I thought I’d take a look at the grape behind Brunello, Sangiovese, for this column. Sanguis Jovis, is the Latin that the varietal name comes from, literally meaning “blood of Jove” (an early name for the Roman god Jupiter). Believed to be indigenous to Tuscany, this grape has probably been growing there for nearly 2,000 years, though the first literary references to it don’t appear until the 1700s. The grape has been transplanted to various spots around the world, especially by early Italian immigrants to California, where it still forms part of the crop used in old “field blends” of red wine.

Probably the best known Sangiovese based wine is Chianti. Chianti is an area in Tuscany. Though the wine of the same name has been made there for centuries, it wasn’t until the late 19th Century that Baron Ricasoli (wines are still made from this estate and can be found in your local “bottle shops”) laid down the law and set out the “formula” for Chianti. Basically it involves roughly 70% Sangiovese with the blending of two local red grapes, Canaiolo and Colorino, and a white grape, Trebbiano. There have been changes made to the law since then, especially in the heart of the Chianti region, Chianti Classico, that allow for the use of the “international varietals”, Cabernet and Merlot.

Wine geeks will tell you that good Chianti tends to have flavors of black cherries and bacon fat or smoked salami, and that’s an apt description. It sounds strange in a wine, but indeed the flavors are there. Most of us think of Chianti as a classic match for red sauce pastas, and that shouldn’t be a surprise, since many of those come from the same region.

The two “big brothers” of Chianti in Tuscany are Vino Nobile di Montepulciano and Brunello di Montalcino. The former, the “noble wine” of Montepulciano (a town in Tuscany, not to be confused with the classic grape of the same name from Puglia in southern Italy), is a big, rustic wine that some might say combines the elegance of a good Chianti with the power of a Brunello. It is made from a specific clone of Sangiovese (there are 14 recognized clones) called Prugnolo Gentile.

Montepulciano is located in Southeast Tuscany. The flavor profile of a good Vino Nobile is much like that of Chianti, just with more depth and complexity. Vino Nobile traditionally was aged in chestnut casks rather than oak casks, and as the modern wine press began to push for bigger, richer, and oakier wines, Vino Nobile lost favor in the early 1980s. Many producers opted to switch to oak aging, and soon, unsurprisingly, many of them began to get good reviews from those who review. Personally, I like the different flavor profile that comes with the traditional style – if I want to drink Chianti or Brunello, I’ll get a bottle of one of those! There is a lighter, young, easy drinking style of wine from here called Rosso di Montepulciano as well.

Brunello di Montalcino is the true “big boy” of the Sangiovese world. From a town called Montalcino (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?), the Brunello clone produces the richest, darkest, and most complex of the Sangiovese based wines from Tuscany. Most of these wines require years of aging before they’re ready to drink, in fact, it can’t even be bottled, by law, until it has aged in cask for several years. Like Vino Nobile, there is a lighter, younger version called Rosso di Montalcino. Brunellos tend to be quite expensive!

Less well known is a wine called Morellino di Scansano. Another “kissing cousin” to Sangiovese, Morellino comes from the town of Scansano… another surprise, right? It is the local name for this particular clone. I tend to find that Morellinos have a touch more acidity to them than the rest of the Sangioveses, but at the same time have darker fruit flavors – although black cherry is still evident, there is more than a hint of black plum flavors and a bit more spiciness than the others. They are a bit harder to find, but as more folk discover them, the search is becoming easier.

I’m not going to get deeply into the world of “super-Tuscans” because, simply, they are not necessarily Sangiovese. The term super-Tuscan was coined by wine writers a few years back to refer to some of the truly special wines that were coming out of the Chianti area, were often in the writers’ opinions better than classic Chianti, but didn’t conform to the traditional blend and therefore couldn’t be called Chianti. They often were 100% Sangiovese, or included large percentages (or even completely) non-traditional grapes like Cabernet and Merlot. Some of them became quite famous – like Tignanello, Sassicaia, Ornellaia, Le Pergole Torte, and Massetto just to name a few. Unfortunately, the category has no standards, and now, anyone who makes a non-traditional blend feels like they have the right to call their wine a “super-Tuscan”, and many of those now produced are, basically, average swill.

Lastly, as I said earlier, Sangiovese was transplanted many moons ago to California. There are some fine ones produced there, though generally I find that they are too, shall we say, “California-ized”, i.e., too much time in new oak barrels, and too much extraction of flavor, resulting in what amounts to California Red Wine, indistinguishable from other varietals. There are also a few interesting Sangioveses coming out of Australia, though, often the suffer from the same problem.

So, order a good pizza or two, invite a few friends over, and get a line up of a few bottles of different Sangioveses to try. It’s a brave new world out there to explore beyond Cabernet, Merlot and Pinot Noir, but you can do it!


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Silver Screen

Outlet Radio Network
March 20, 2005

Silver Screen

James Bond roars across Europe in an Aston-Martin and tens of thousands of people rush to their local car dealer demanding to purchase one just like the one he drove. No? Make that Dr. No and let him mention Dom Perignon ’53 (which he preferred to the doctor’s ’55), and the public rushed their local wineshops demanding the ’53. The same scene is basically repeated in Goldfinger; yet in Thunderball, he goes for the ’55, and in You Only Live Twice, the ’59. Marilyn Monroe was a big fan of the ’53. Various vintages of Bollinger champagne are featured as well… ’69, ’75, ’88, and ’90. The ’34, ’47, and ’55 Chateau Mouton Rothschilds from Bordeaux make their appearances as well. (I won’t get into all the rest, there’s [was, no longer in existence] a great site for James’ drinking habits at Make Mine a 007… I’m only using these to make a point… soon.)

Demi Moore offers Michael Douglas a bottle of ’91 Pahlmeyer Chardonnay in the film Disclosure. Sales of Pahlmeyer wines, and not just the ’91 Chardonnay, rocketed. It became “the” cult wine to get for a short time. Prices were raised.

And now, we have Miles in Sideways proferring pretentious wine advice on Pinot noir, Merlot, and what have you. Sales of Pinot noir have climbed, sales of Merlot have dropped. It will no doubt be temporary. But try getting your hands on the three featured wines in the film. Many retailers and restauranteurs (not to mention the wineries themselves) have raised prices or are doling them out in small quantities. Tourism in Santa Barbara has gone up (well it is beautiful).

I won’t go on and on, though it’s possible to, I’d rather get to my point. Starting back from my opening line, the point comes down to… hey folks, it’s a movie. Some scriptwriter wrote it. Some director directed it. Actors were given scripts and lines to say. In many cases some winery, or at least their marketing company, horror of horrors, shockingly, paid for the product placement!

Now, I’m not disparaging the tastebuds of Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan, Demi Moore, Michael Douglas or Paul Giamatti, or anyone else who appears in a movie. I haven’t a clue. I haven’t gone out to dinner with any of them. Some of them might have amazing palates when it comes to wine. But here’s a little secret…

Dom Perignon 2265Sean Connery did not personally recommend to you that you go out and buy 1953 Dom Perignon. Really, he didn’t. Paul Giamatti may play the pretentious wine snob well, but he did not personally recommend that you run out and buy Hitching Post’s Highliner Pinot noir, Sea Smoke’s Botella Pinot Noir, or Fiddlehead Cellars’ Sauvignon Blanc. Really, he didn’t either. And without knowing their personal tastes, even if they had, why would you run out to buy it?

Nonetheless, “the herd instinct is strong,” as someone posted on one of the wine geek websites.

Now, I have to get back to explaining to my trekkie customers that the 2265 Dom Perignon (opening sequence of Star Trek VII: Generations) won’t be produced, if at all, for another 260 years… and no, I cannot get them a sample bottle…


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

BA

Outlet Radio Network
February 18, 2005

BA

I’ve just returned from a fantastic vacation in Buenos Aires! Two weeks of (mostly) good weather, an amazing city to explore, new friends met (including one quite special one), and all sorts of adventures to share. I’m going to try to encapsulate it, and include a proper dose of food and wine, in a few short paragraphs (which won’t remotely do it justice, but such is life).

Friends Pascal, Nestor and Tuomas chat over breakfast.

Friends Pascal, Nestor and Tuomas chat over breakfast.

It’s a long flight from New York, a solid ten hours, but I’ve done worse and I had two seats to myself, so being the petite sort, I curled up and went to sleep for most of the time. Arrival in Argentina, and ready to go. My guesthouse (more about which later, as I highly recommend it), had arranged a taxi to meet me, and so I was quickly whisked off to the neighborhood of San Telmo. As we pulled into the area, all I could think of was, I’m back home! It could have been the East Village/Lower East Side…there wasn’t even that much of an increase in signage in Spanish (which says more about the East Village than about Buenos Aires).

Evita's tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Evita’s tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

At the guesthouse, LugarGay (literally “gay place”), I was welcomed with open arms by Nestor (center in the pic) and Juan, the two owners, and the current temporary “houseboy”, Henry – about whom much more later! We stumbled along in my limited Spanish and Nestor’s somewhat better English, got me settled, and then I was promptly greeted by several of the current residents. LugarGay seems perfect for those who like to travel, comfortable rooms, a quiet atmosphere, and a relatively sophisticated clientele. I spent the afternoon on my own exploring the immediate neighborhood, and then found myself in the company of a charming man from Finland, Tuomas, on the right in the picture (who thankfully spoke impeccable English…and French…and Spanish…and Italian…and Dutch…and Finnish…), for dinner. We were joined by another man, originally from Canada, who had fallen in love with a local guy a few months earlier and decided to move, at least part-time, to “BA”.

Evita's tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Evita’s tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Dinner at a local, very gay friendly (as is most of Buenos Aires) restaurant, La Farmacia, and then a good night’s sleep. Breakfast with some of the guys in the house, at least those who had awakened, and I met yet another charmer, Pascal, from Paris. In fact, Pascal (left in the picture) and I spent a good portion of the next week exploring the city together.

People line up to get into favorite parrillas...

People line up to get into favorite parrillas

Like any big city, there are tons of things to do. Museums and galleries, parks, monuments, cemeteries (one has to pay homage to Evita’s tomb…), and loads of restaurants to sample. Argentinians, and especially porteños, as the denizens of BA refer to themselves, love to eat. And they eat a lot of red meat, especially beef. In fact, other than accompaniments of a bit of salad or the occasional sauteed green leaves, little shows up on plates other than slabs of beef. Argentinian beef is a bit leaner than what we see in the US, but I am still amazed that with the quantity (often a steak for both lunch and dinner) that is consumed, that porteños aren’t all a bit on the hefty side. Dinner at a parrilla can often consist of several courses of meat – what is referred to as an asado, or as we might call it, a barbecue. Innards are quite popular, and I tried several new things (seasoned and grilled intestines anyone?), and a lot of old faves. An afternoon lunch on the roof of La Farmacia. Meat is generally served with a sauce called chimichurri, a slightly spicy herb sauce, for which I’ve posted a recipe below. It’s quite delicious!

Porteños also eat late by our standards. Most restaurants, other than those catering to tourists, don’t open until 9 p.m. And no local would be caught in one before 10 – in fact, many folk go out to dinner at 11 or 12 at night, even on “school nights”. How they manage to eat so late, and often go out to a club or bar or coffeehouse afterwards, and still get up for work in the morning, is beyond me.

Argentinian wines are to be found everywhere, and there is little else to be had other than in some of the swankier wine shops. Some Chilean and the occasional Uruguayan wine (again, more later, as I spent a couple of days in Uruguay exploring as well), and maybe a high-end French or Italian wine. Prices, by the way, are extraordinarily low, mostly based on the current exchange rate – nearly 3:1 to the US dollar. But even with the exchange, markups just aren’t as ridiculous as they often are here. At fine restaurants, a bottle of a good reserve wine might go for 60-70 pesos, or about $25-30. The same bottle here might sell in a restaurant for $60-70, or more than double…trust me, import costs aren’t that high. And meals are also inexpensive – lunch is available fixed price at most restaurants and is almost always under 10 pesos – $3-4. Dinner might, in the finer restaurants, run you 60 pesos, but more than likely not. Generally we ate for about 40 pesos apiece, including wine.

Henry (right) and I (umm, left)...

Henry (right) and I (umm, left)…

And last, for this column, but by no means least, I return to the aforementioned “houseboy”, Henry. We hit it off immediately, and within a day of flirting we had quickly become an “item” around the guesthouse. He hails from Trujillo, Peru, and is adorable and my heart remains with him! We spent my entire vacation together, when he wasn’t working, and who knows what the future will bring!?


Chimichurri

½ cup oil
½ cup vinegar
½ cup white wine
1 teaspoon salt
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped
1 scallion, chopped
1 small tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped
1 small sweet pepper, finely chopped
1 teaspoon paprika
½ teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon ground pepper (or chili powder if you want spicy)
½ teaspoon oregano leaves
2 bay leaves

Basically, mix all the ingredients together and let it steep for at least 12 hours before using. It should be used within a couple of days as the freshness of the flavors will fade quickly. This isn’t my recipe, but comes from a local chef, and I may play with it a bit and re-post a new one down the road…


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Salsa!

Outlet Radio Network
January 12, 2005

Salsa!

Visions of whirling women in bright colored skirts, men dancing their way across the floor, dressed to the nines. Not that kind.

Salsa is simply a Spanish word for sauce. Now, in our nortamericano daily parlance, we usually use it to denote a somewhat fiery red or green sauce for dipping tortilla chips into. Often we see it on restaurant menus to refer to some chopped blend of vegetables, fruits and spices that accompany a dish. But we keep going back to that dipping sauce in our minds.

For me, however, as a chef, I tend to think of salsas in terms of what a Mexican chef might call a salsa cruda. That is, a chopped blend of raw or barely cooked ingredients that is used as the sauce on a dish. And the couple of recipes I’m going to give you aren’t going to relate to Latin American cooking. They’re just a couple of my current favorites that I hope you’ll try out and enjoy!

I was reading my favorite cooking magazine, Australian Gourmet Traveller (one of the best written consumer food magazines out there, even if the vocabulary takes some getting used to), and came across a reference to a fascinating sounding veal dish. No recipe was provided, so I experimented and came up with this little gem that we all fell in love with.

Veal Scallops with Meyer Lemon Salsa
Serves 4

1½ pounds of thinly sliced veal scallopini
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large seedless cucumber
3 Meyer lemons (not regular lemons, Meyers are sweet lemons from Florida)
2 tablespoons of coarsely chopped fresh oregano
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

Peel and dice the cucumber. Remove the peel from the lemons and carefully cut out the individual segments of the lemons, then cut each segment in half. Add the oregano and the extra virgin olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Let it sit for at least an hour.

Season the veal scallops with salt and pepper. Saute them in a mix of the butter and olive oil (or just use one of the new “butter flavored” olive oil spreads), until lightly browned. Serve topped with the salsa, which can be left room temperature or slightly warmed. If you’re not into veal, this salsa works just as well on thinly pounded chicken breasts, or even a sauteed slice of tempeh!

Beef Fillet with Radish Salsa
Serves 4

Okay, it sounds strange, but it is oh, so good!

4 beef fillets, each about 6 ounces
2-3 limes
1 bunch of icicle radishes (these are pure white and sort of long and skinny radishes)
a dozen or so fresh mint leaves
2 serrano peppers
¼ cup olive oil
salt and pepper

Peel the limes and coarsely chop the peel. Mix the peel, the juice of the limes, and a bit of salt and pepper to make a marinade. Rub the beef all over with this and let it stand in the refrigerator, occasionally turning it to recoat, for at least 2 hours.

In a food processor, pulse the radishes (greens removed), the serranos (seeds and stems removed), and the mint leaves, until you have a coarse mixture. Add olive oil, and the salt and pepper to taste, and let sit for at least an hour.

In a very hot pan, sear the beef fillets on both sides, and then put the whole pan into a hot (500°F) oven. Let it cook for about 5-10 minutes depending on how done you like your beef. You can always stick the pan back in if you check a fillet and it isn’t done enough.

I like to serve this one by slicing the fillets and fanning them out on the plate and then topping with the salsa.

For the non-beef folk, try this one with portabello mushroom caps, just don’t over cook the caps in the oven, five minutes is usually plenty of time.


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

How Do You Like Dem Apples?

Outlet Radio Network
November 19, 2004

How Do You Like Dem Apples?

Just a short column to let you all know I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. Being in the food and wine biz this time of year gets a bit crazed. Out in the non-electronic world I’ve gotten several requests recently for good old-fashioned apple pie. Things like “what’s the world’s most amazing apple pie recipe?” and other easy demands to respond to like that.

Well, I’ll tell you. I haven’t a clue. There are probably a gazillion recipes out there for apple pies, and I’ve only tried a few of them. Truthfully, I tend to go about as simple as I can when I make an apple pie, which isn’t very often. You can use something basic from the Time-Life Good Cook series, or that long-famed kitchen staple, The Joy of Cooking. Or your mother’s recipe. Hey, if you think you’ve got the world’s best apple pie recipe, I’d love to hear about it and try it out.

What I do make pretty regularly with apples is an old Ukranian-Belarusian (somewhere out there) sort of apple pie-cake-crumbly kinda thingie. The recipe isn’t my own and it’s been reproduced in Eastern European cookbooks for eons, but damned if it isn’t really easy and really good! It’s usually referred to as something like “Guest at the Door Apple Cake”, for reasons that should be apparent from the name.

This comes out best if you use a 9″ springform pan, but any deep dish pie, tart, or cake pan will do. You can even do this in a cast iron skillet if you want!

Butter the inside of the pan and sprinkle with bread crumbs or flour to prevent the cake from sticking. Preheat oven to 350F.

Take six large, tart apples and peel, core, quarter and then slice them. Toss the apple segments with a teaspoon of ground cinnamon. Put them in the buttered pan.

In a mixing bowl, whisk or beat together 3 large eggs and just under a cup of sugar (don’t ask me why, but a full cup makes it too sweet, so take out a heaping spoonful). Beat this until it is pale yellow and forms a ribbon when your whisk or beaters are lifted.

By the way, what that means is… if you lift the egg beater, or electric mixer, or hand whisk out of the mixture, it kind of drizzles off and leaves a ribbony looking trail that takes a moment or two to sink in, rather than just streaming off and disappearing into the bowl.

Gradually beat in one and a half cups of all purpose flour. The batter will get pretty thick. Pour the batter relatively evenly over the apples. Bake until it turns puffy and golden colored, about 50-60 minutes, depending on your oven, the pan, etc. Let cool for a little and serve with whatever you like to serve on appley things – whipped cream, ice cream…

On other apple topics, since I promised I’d throw in some booze sort of tasting notes, some drinking thoughts:

Apple cider. Not the stuff in big gallon jugs that’s brown and filled with sediment from apples and your parents made you and all that…

Traditional French, English or American (they’re the only ones I know who make the stuff) alcohol-type apple cider. There are lots of producers out there of these. Two favorites:

Farnum Hill apple ciders, from Lebanon, New Hampshire. Made in relatively dry styles, these, to me, taste like very delicately apple scented light beers. They are quite yummy, and well worth checking out. Farnum Hill distributes primarily in the northeast U.S., but you can hit their website at www.farnumhillciders.com and who knows, maybe you can score some!

Eric Bordelet produces amazing apple and pear ciders in France. They range from relatively dry to relatively sweet. My faves are the Argelette for the apple and the Granit for the pear, but they’re all worth seeking out and trying. Once you taste these you’ll be hooked!

I’m also a huge fan of calvados. This is brandy made from apple and pear wine rather than grape wine. You get all that warming fire that is what good brandy is all about, with a delicious touch of apple fruit. Not sweet! My favorite producer is Christian Drouhin who makes a regular “Selection” calvados and stunningly good vintage calvados under the Coeur du Lion label. The vintage ones make great gifts!


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail