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Seattle Restaurant Week: April 2012

Just a friendly reminder: Seattle Restaurant Week is a little more than a week away -- April 8-12 and April 15-19.  Ten days / over 150 restaurants / 3 courses for $28.  It's a great excuse to check out Seattle's newest hot spots and revisit some of our favorite stand-bys.  Check out the list of participating restaurants, and make your reservations online.  

While you're downtown, why not make an evening of it and check out the Gaugin exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum -- it's breathtaking!

 

 

How to Make Galette Bretonne -- Here's a Photo Demo from Paris’ Street Market

 

 

Ever wonder how to make a Galette?  The master galette-maker in one of Paris’ best street markets works four griddles at a time.  It’s really quite the show!

 

Traditionally from Brittany & Normandy, Galette Bretonne is a basically a buckwheat crêpe cooked on one side only, and filled with egg, jambon (ham) and Emmental cheese -- it’s what the French call galette complète (a complete galette).

 

Here’s a step-by-step photo demo from the galette master of le Marché du President Wilson, Paris, France:

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Recipe for Galette Bretonne

 

A galette is not a crêpe.  Crêpes are filled with sweet ingredients and made with white wheat flour; while galettes are made with buckwheat flour and have savory fillings.  Originally from Brittany & Normandy, Galette Bretonne is traditionally cooked on one side only, and its most popular filling is egg, jambon (ham) and Emmental or Gruyere -- that’s what the French call galette complète (a complete galette).  Fillings are only limited to your imagination.  Have you heard of galette saucisse from Rennes?  It’s a hot sausage rolled up in a galette.  (Like a fancy hot dog.)

 

Paris Street Market: the Ultimate Foodie Mini-Tour

 

The Marché du President Wilson (street market on Pres. Wilson Ave.) is a jovial group of passionate food artisans cooking and selling their goods, bundled together beneath a long row of adjoining tents.  It’s like finding the entire city’s best products, but in one conveniently confined location -- a tour-ette of epicurean delights.  Tack on a 3-hour/9-course lunch at l’Astrance, and this food walk evolves into the ultimate food lover’s mini-tour.

 

 

 

The 16e arrondissement is known for its posh real estate -- stately apartments, tree-lined streets, concentration of museums, and exceptional views of the Eiffel Tower from across the Seine -- so, it’s cool that a stretch down the center of one of its regal neighborhoods has the vivacious atmosphere of the marché.  Not to imply the street market is bourgeoisie in such an area, like peasants peddling in the king’s courtyard -- these are true artisans with hand-crafted cheeses, beautiful pâtés, and heirloom produce.  Plus, great food is high priority in France, and the creators highly regarded. 

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The market begins just west of the l’Alma metro station on Avenue du President Wilson.  Inside the tent, booths line both walls, running the entire length, leaving a narrow walkway down the center.  There are displays of exotic seafood, frog legs and brightly colored fish.  Giant rotisseries spin dozens of chickens dripping juices onto potatoes strategically roasting underneath.  And then there's booth after booth of every cheese imaginable, plus a few more.  The charcuterie is stunning -- handmade sausages, salumi, and various pâtés and terrines.  Wild game, freshly shot and feathers still attached, is offered near an impressive array of prepped birds, including the rare black chickens.  In the autumn months, wild mushrooms are foraged and brought to the market -- giant cepes, porcini and Paris buttons.  There’s fresh pasta, fresh breads, fresh eggs; cured olives, dried fruits, whole nuts; pickled things, crafty things, snack things.  There’s even a master galette-maker working four griddles at once!  Dim sum, sandwiches, salads and wine -- all make a take-away lunch simple & tasty.  The three-foot paella pan is filled to the brim with saffron-colored rice studded with seafood and vegetables.  It’s marvelous!  What’s more, the booth keepers are very friendly -- proud of their products and delighted to share their knowledge & have their photo taken.  Not sure if I was mesmerized by the food or the joyful energy at le marché, but while inside, I don’t remember seeing or hearing anything from the outside world.  It’s really quite hypnotic.

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What Women Want for Valentine’s Day

 

 

Men hate Valentine’s Day.  It’s true.  In my profession, I spend most holidays in restaurant kitchens, Valentine’s included, so the occasion has never really been a big deal for me.  I had no idea that men hated this day in particular, until last year.  

 

I was thoroughly educated by my fellow chefs (4 men, various ages & situations) of the intense pressure this day brings to every man they know, themselves included.  Apparently, the expectation to somehow create, in setting and substance, a perfect, romantic gesture for the likely-to-be-disappointed woman in their life, drives men crazy.  For some, to the point of physical illness every February 14th.  Huh.

 

The answer?  That’s even more impossible to decode than resolving the issue that “life is short.”  However, by using the far-stretched notion that “life is short, melt some cheese” (aka, food fixes all things), it might be interesting to look at it a different way.  To decipher what women want, let’s first nix what they don’t want.

 

Mon Vieil Ami on Paris' I'Ile Saint Louis: Poshly Minimalistic & Stalker-free

 

Strolling around the 4th arrondissement on a beautiful, crisp autumn day, I inadvertently picked up my very first stalker.  I know -- big day!  It began innocently enough -- the sun, finally broke through the relentless rain clouds, highlighting the golden leaves fluttering to the pavement, children were playing in that park just off Quai de l’Hotel de Ville, I discovered adorable little shops off-the-beaten-path, and freely tested my accent with the locals.  Maybe I just “Bonjour”ed one too many times, because right around this antique shop, I swear I ran into the same gentleman that was sitting on the street bench a few blocks back.  Refusing to believe the “you all look the same to me” stereotype, I dismissed it as deja vu.  Besides, I was much more interested in breathing in the culture and capturing everything on film.

How to Backpack Through Paris in a Little Black Skirt, Part Deux

 

The little black skirt theory still holds true.  A little black skirt is light, comfortable, versatile, doesn’t take up much suitcase room, and with the appropriate accessories, it can take you anywhere.  And if “anywhere” is Paris, the general dress code is “make it black & make it tight.”  Perfect.  I have just the thing.

Other than dressing to blend in, planning the hell out of a trip (to make the most of it & to not look like a baffled tourist) is de rigueur.  I was well-researched, studied the language & customs, formed an impossibly long list of must-do’s, and efficiently mapped out an itinerary.  But Paris isn’t Parma, so I traded the backpack for an “it” bag and ramped up my reservations -- good Paris tables are tight even in low-season.  Also different from many other destinations, there’s no shortage of information on Paris; the challenge rather, is to wade through it all & find just what you need.

Here are some helpful tips & resources to design the perfect trip:

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Hedonism on Rue des Martyrs - It's What's for Dinner

There’s a charming little street in Paris’ 9th arrondissement that suddenly springs to life at dusk.  Rue des Martyrs is surprisingly neighborly and a little more jam-packed with hedonism than most, and at day’s end, it simply glows with wine shops, fish stands, and sidewalk rotisseries that seem nearly hidden in daylight.  

Beginning at the bottom, right around 6 pm, the subtle, enticing aromas of freshly baked baguettes waft down the hill, beckoning you upward.  Little by little, lights plink on and the sidewalk becomes increasingly speckled with curious visitors and lucky residents.  Continuing north, the anticipation builds, and the faint sights, sounds and smells become more apparent.  At this point, resistance is futile.  

Paper sacks crinkling while being filled with ripe pears & wild mushrooms; ice crunching as freshly caught fish are whisked away to be weighed & wrapped; people discussing, tasting, and choosing, which cheese, how much caviar, and with what wine; the rotisserie humming and slowly spinning golden-brown chickens dripping succulent juices upon heaps of roasting potatoes brilliantly placed underneath, while simultaneously releasing the single most pleasurable of all the dinner smells.  My god!  The only question on everyone’s mind is what’s for dinner.  Even if you had other thoughts on the way over to Martyrs, the deliciousness of this rue is utterly hypnotic.  All thoughts are consumed with consuming.  And with the variety and abundance on Martyrs, a feast can literally & easily be made within a few blocks.

This self-indulgent pleasure was mine for an entire week of evenings, strolling up the rue from the subway to my hotel.  Imagine the constant state of pleasure of her residents -- they are welcomed home like this every evening.

 

 

Photos of Paris: An Embarrassment of Riches

I recently returned from a week long, gastronomically enhanced, roller coaster love affair with Paris.  The City of Lights is unlike any other city in the world, containing such an excess of riches (not only in monetary value), there’s simply not enough room to display it all at one time.  

By day three, I was in a small art coma; day four, the food coma hit.  Toward the end of what I’d thought wasn’t nearly enough time to see much of anything, I had seen everything on my list and then some; and was so utterly saturated with incredibly amazing, beautiful things, I don’t think I could have absorbed one more incredibly amazing, beautiful thing.  It was incredibly amazing and yes, truly beautiful.

 

 

 

Hosteria Giusti & Mario's Pappy

Hopelessly lost in Modena, walking in circles and shivering in the rain, I was five minutes away from taking the train back to the comforts of my Bologna hotel room and completely giving up on the idea of lunch that day.  I wasn’t suffering from hunger by any means.  My vacation activities are pretty much single-mindedly food-centered -- I easily could (and probably should) nix one meal.  Oh, but I’d come so far!  I’d made this reservation for Hosteria Giusti four months ahead, by reading homemade, semi-phonetic Italian cue cards, no less.  Then again, I was almost late, and my cold, tired body began to trump my will for even one more amazing gastronomic experience.  Imagine my relief four minutes later to spot Salumeria Giusti.  

A man was rolling down the salumeria’s metal door for the afternoon siesta as I hurried across the street to inquire about an hosteria with the same name.  He shook his head; said I needed a reservation.  I assured him of mine.  He spoke to a woman inside the dark shop, who then asked my name.  Don’t know how she knew it off the top of her head, but she did.  The man motioned for me to quickly duck through the partially rolled-down door and clicked it shut behind us.

Gnoccho Fritto con Affetati

My mother taught me at a very young age how to eat and still maintain the integrity of one’s lipstick.  So when Signor Morandi served me my first plate of gnoccho fritto, and I picked up a knife and fork, you can imagine his expression.  He patiently showed me how to fold it, proving that the integrity of his gnocchi far outweighed the integrity of my lipstick.  

Gnoccho Fritto con Affetati - literally translated: knot or lump fried with salami.  

The more detailed translation: Small squares of dough that puff into light, hollow, airy pillows when deep-fried.  The crust is thin, golden and cracker-like, with a little give that consents to folding without crumbling.  These gnocchi are usually topped right out of the hot fat with thinly-sliced cured meats (prosciutto, prosciutto cotto and various salamis), which are then folded like a sandwich and eaten warm.  The heat slightly melds the fat-laced prosciutto with the warm pastry -- it’s quite a rich textural experience.

Not always getting great results with other recipes, I experimented a while and created a recipe I love.  It’s not for the faint-hearted, even with olive oil replacing the lard.  But, it’s a very easy process.  And good news for those who don’t have the best of luck with yeast-risen projects, gnoccho fritto is rolled and fried - no unforgiving rising sequence or rebellious gluten.  Just remember to leave the flatware in the drawer, gnoccho fritto tastes better folded over, plus, you don’t lose your salami.  

 

35th Street Bistro, Seattle's Fremont District

We happened upon the 35th Street Bistro several years ago during our first visit to the Fremont Street Fair in a desperate attempt to escape the increasing afternoon heat and throngs of looky-lous cheering-on the naked bikers in the Solstice Parade.  (Ah yes, even when you’ve heard they’re coming, you’re never truly prepared.)  Relief came immediately in the form of a shaded bistro, a quiet table, a slight breeze and a glass of pinot noir.  Although the dining room was mostly empty, I could feel an inevitable post-parade sneak attack; but after a few sips of wine and deep breaths, my aggravation transformed into relaxation.  Now, every time I walk by, I get the same feeling of deliverance.  

Trout stuffed with orange, fennel & hazelnuts

Edna Lewis, the Grand Dame of Southern Cuisine

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My favorite excerpt from The Taste of Country Cooking by Ms. Edna Lewis:

“I will never forget spring mornings in Virginia.  A warm morning and a red sun rising behind a thick fog gave the image of a pale pink veil supported by a gentle breeze that flew or thin marquisette curtains out into the living room, leaving them to fall lazily back.  Being awakened by this irresistible atmosphere we would hop out of bed, clothes in hand, rush downstairs, dress in a sunny spot, and rush out to the barn to find a sweet-faced calf, baby pigs, or perhaps a colt.  We always stopped by the hen house to look at the setting hens sitting in their row of nests along the wall.  They had to be checked often to see if the eggs were moist enough to hatch properly.  I can still remember the moist smell of chickens hatching and making quiet, cuddly noises.  The mother hen would fuss and ruffle her feathers, very annoyed at my mother for lifting her from the nest to sprinkle the eggs.  There would be guineas setting under the woodpile where no one could reach and they would appear one day with a brood that was so swift of movement that one could only get a glimpse of them scampering through the weeds.

Spicy Shrimp & Dirty Grits with Chateau Ste. Michelle 2007 Eroica Riesling

After hours of shrimp ‘n grits research and recipe testing, I decided I likes ‘em like my men -- spicy, smoky and dirty.  There’s a zillion variations of this Low-Country dish, and quite honestly, I haven’t figured out the original.  From what I can tell, if shrimp, bell peppers, Tabasco, and some type of smoky, fat-rendering pork product are included, it’s a fairly genuine nod to tradition.

Creamy Meyer Lemon & Chive Grits

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Deliciously creamy & lightly lemoned, these grits make an elegant side dish to grilled fish, roasted chicken or fried green tomatoes.

Creamy Meyer Lemon & Chive Grits

Based on The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook

Makes 3 cups

1 cup stone ground grits

3-1/2 cups water, plus more to float the chaff

1/2 cup milk

1/4 cup unsalted butter, divided

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste

Pinch freshly ground white pepper, to taste

1 Tablespoon buttermilk, or more to taste

Zest of 1 Meyer lemon

1/4 cup snipped chives

Broiled Grits with Smoky Bacon & Sharp Cheddar

Broiled grits is an excellent dinner party dish.  Made and topped in advance, this method lets you focus on your guests, not your grits.  When it’s time to serve, place them under the broiler for a few minutes to heat the grits and melt the cheese.  It’s also a great way to use up leftovers.

For an authentic touch, stir the grease from the bacon right into the grits at the end to dirty them up -- just don't tell your cardiologist.  If you don’t want the extra step of cooking bacon, a little chopped Kentucky ham is a delicious substitution.