Pensieri di un lunatico minore
I don’t know what else to call the site but what it is: Cake Wrecks. While I have been known to encourage people to explore their creative side culinarily, there are limits, ok? Just stop.
2 thoughts
One of my favorite things, which I’ve written about before is French toast, or pain perdu. Not some cloying sweet creation, or something so over done that it loses the essence of its character: bread. So this morning, to celebrate the sun rising, I made some more and some yummy scrambled eggs with chervil, shallots and tarragon.
A great way to start the day. Simple; yummy; don’t scrimp on the bread. This is not for Wonder Bread, which, as everyone knows, is neither.
No thoughts
I grew up in Texas. While this can have a lot of meaning for various people, what it means for me is that I love BBQ. Not just any BBQ, but specifically the intense blending of Carribean barbicoa and German influences that begat what I still consider the finest destiny of a cow on the planet: Texas BBQ. Unsullied by a complicated “rub” or cloying sauces, it is simply meat and smoke and time; perhaps a little bit of magic as well.
Texas is blessed with perhaps the largest number of just damned fine, and sometimes nearly religious—even for me—BBQ joints in the country. Texas Monthly even surveys them every few years and can’t limit it to less than 50. Heck, I’ve been to 4 of the top 5 that they list, and they’re all temples of BBQ. A trip home is just not a trip home to Austin without BBQ, whether it be Rudy’s, The Iron Works, or a afternoon drive out to Lockhart to partake of the mecca of BBQ: Smitty’s Market or Kreutz’s Market.
This time, unfortunately, time ran out and we were “forced” to turn to another old stand-by: The Salt Lick, which is about 30-45 minutes from my mom in Driftwood, TX. I was lucky enough to go with my sister, Kim, and a friend, Brettany, and we decided, after much contemplation, to partake of the “family style” meal, with a little extra chicken:
What’s that? Well, it’s brisket, sausage, pork ribs and smoked chicken. The sides are yummy smokey baked beans, cole slaw (mediocre this trip), real German potato salad, pickles, onion and a jalapeño—just in case. We refilled the plate, part of the family style tradition, once, but then that was enough. While normally they don’t let you take anything home if you order this way, the waitress was nice enough to let us pack up the little remaining that my sister thoughtfully saved for my brother-in-law.
That was my last evening in Austin, but all in all, not a bad way to end it. Sadly, even the best BBQ in DC, MD and VA is a pale imitation of what you can get in NC, much less TX.
3 thoughts
When summer arrives, the time comes to make salads. A friend’s partner’s birthday was this weekend, and I was asked to make a few salads for the event. I love cooking, and since I’m on the road all the time, I don’t get much of an opportunity. Knowing that, I took it. Salads aren’t my strength, but why not? To make sure I had my bases covered, I chose two different salads. One built around peas and the other built around tomatoes and cucumbers—all perfect summer ingredients.
So, the first salad I made this way. Last night, I chopped up some English cucumbers after deseeding1 them, slicing them on the bias. Then, I shoved them in a brine of equal parts sugar and salt. I also added some cider vinegar, pickling spices and crushed red chilis. I then let these sit over night, lightly pickling them. This morning, I cut up a few types of tomatoes, including some heirloom varieties, frenched some Vidalia onions and tossed the whole thing with olive oil, sweet pickled garlic, dill, parsley and course sea salt. The result:
The next salad is one that I was inspired by my friend Kristen to create. It isn’t particularly from a recipe, but more just some ideas thrown together. I started by blanching and shocking some petite spring peas and some regular spring peas (to provide textural contrast). They were frozen, I admit, simply because summer peas aren’t really up to snuff yet, and the frozen are better. I blanched them in salty boiling water for 1 minute per batch.
While I was doing that, I also sweated down a large onion diced into small bits in a little olive oil, and bloomed a pinch of saffron in hot water (recovered from the “pea broth”). Once the peas were finished and the onion sweated down, I added the saffron to it and let some of the water evaporate.
In a large bowl I combined them together and mixed with a healthy amount of mint, a very light vinaigrette—heavy on the oil, light on the mustard—and then diced up some ricotta salata into 1/4” cubes and tossed it all together. Finally, I added some pistachios for texture. This was all set aside to meld for a few hours before the party, and here’s the result:
All in all, a success I think. Now to reverse engineer my own recipes for future use. I didn’t bother to write anything down.
1 I didn’t remove the skin as it’s quite thin on these.
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For my birthday, a very wonderful person took me out to dinner at 2941 as an early birthday present. We decided to do the tasting menu, which changes weekly, and it was composed of the following:
Maine Peekytoe Crab Salad
w/cherry tomato, mango, basil
Domaine Lauverjat Perle Blanche from Sancerre (Loire Valley), France, 2006.
Slowly Cooked John Dory
w/fingerling potato, fava beans, tomato compote
Weingut Köfererhof from the Alto Adige, Italy, 2006.
Pan Seared Sea Scallops
w/yellow corn, lobster broth, celery
Domaine du Chêne Viognier from Condrieu (Rhône Valley), France, 2005.
Hudson Valley Foie Gras
w/apricot chutney, spinach, almond
Château Pajzos Tokaji Aszu 5 Puttonyos from Hungary, 1999.
Milk Fed Suckling Pig
w/fiddlehead firn, ramps, pickled salad
La Rioja Alta (Tempranillo) from Rioja, Spain, 2001.
Westmoreland Farm Strawberries
w/almond pain de Gênes, calisson ice cream, rhubarb marmalade
Brachetto d’Acqui from Pineto (Piedmont), Italy, 2006.
I can only say that it was amazing. Truly amazing. Several of the dishes were the finest examples I’d ever had in their “area”, and the wine pairings were uniformly great. It’s not a cheap place to eat, but the effort shows. Add to that the best carrot cake I’ve ever managed to eat, and not by a small amount.
It’s a good thing the place didn’t burn down with all those candles.
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I have been coming down to North Carolina for a project for a few months. Unfortunately, a combination of coworkers who seem not to like Carolina-style BBQ, and a vegetarian, seem to have conspired to keep me away from BBQ. That is until now.
Having decided I didn’t want to wait till 7:30-8:00pm for dinner, I decided to question the great oracle, and see what I could find. Hozannah! BBQ near by, and it was a place I vaguely recalled driving past. Doing a bit more digging online, I found a rave review by someone whose opinion has been pretty accurate in my past experience. So there was my dinner plans. The joint is only 2-3 miles from my hotel, so it was easy to find, although Google had it on the wrong side of the road.
Behold, my first proper NC BBQ plate in a while, courtesy the kind smoke wizards at Backyard BBQ Pit:
Pulled pork BBQ, or just “BBQ” in this area, hush puppies, collard greens and some lemonade. Oh, and a really yummy-looking piece of lemon bundt cake. Just as I was starting my meal, the okra I had ordered showed up, even though I had forgotten it already!
So how was it? First, the good news: the BBQ itself was excellent. It is, in fact, one of the better examples of Eastern NC-style BBQ that I’ve ever had. Moistened by some vinegar and chili flakes, it balanced the wonderful sweetness of the pork with just a bit of sharp. None of it over powered the pork in my mind.
The sides were generally great. The collard greens were outstanding, tender yet not mushy. The okra was some of the best I’ve ever had. Greeselessly crisp on the outside, almost creamy on the inside, with none of the “slime” that so often troubles okra. The hush puppies, however, were unremarkable. Not actually bad, but lacking in the crisp exterior that I want in a hush puppy. Perhaps it was that they had sat under a heat lamp—something that isn’t kind to fried foods—but I could have done without them gladly.
Finally, the cake. Yum! Obviously homemade, and reminding me of my friend James’s lemon cake that is famous within the circle of friends. The icing and top of the bundt was crisp and the whole thing was lemony. A perfect finish.
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As a friend termed it, “Italian steak and eggs”:
Of course, you can’t have dinner without a salad:
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Behold, another pie is born:
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Sometimes all I want for dinner is a salad, but not that insipid bland thing that passes for greens in most restaurants.
Tonight, I made a nice salad with baby greens, seared skirt steak, heirloom tomatoes and caramelized onions. All of it tossed in a homemade (is there any other kind?) burnt fig vinaigrette.
Yum!
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You know you are in the South when one of the fast-food joints is not only called Biscuitville, but also has pretty darn good fresh biscuits.
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When I was growing up in Texas, it was a dark, dark time for milk-derived food items. The “authorities” were telling everyone how evil butter was, and how you should use this wonderful almost-kinda-like-sorta-butter margerine, that was really little more than highly processed food “products”. Whipped cream was evil, but you should eat all the “Cool Whip” you want. I just don’t get it. Sadly, there are people who still think Cool Whip is the best thing to put on top of … well, probably some other mass-produced, engineered food product.
Now I’m not one to tell you that putting some artificially engineered vaguely creamy whipped product on top of your high-fructose corn syrup diabetic dessert disaster is a bad idea; it’s all just personal taste. But for the love of all that is creamy, pick up the damned spoon and don’t make someone put it in a damned can so you can spray it into your mouth when nobody is looking!
Or, better yet, pick up that whisk and a container of heavy cream and make your own “whipped topping” that will taste 10,000x better, and is also healthier for you. Your taste buds will thank you, as will the environment.
2 thoughts
Cream cheese frosting brings a relentless cascade of drool to many people’s lips. It is, at its core, a very simple frosting and yet it is so often cloyingly sweet and bereft of the tang and substance that makes it so sublime. Here then, is my “ultimate” cream cheese frosting:
| 8oz |
cream cheese, cold |
| 4Tbsp |
butter, unsalted |
| 2Tbsp |
powdered buttermilk (Sacco) |
| 3/4C |
confectioner’s sugar (10x powdered) |
| 1tsp |
vanilla |
The method is reasonably simple. Beat the cream cheese until lightened and slightly airy. Then, add the butter, beating to combine. Then, add the powdered buttermilk and mix.
Once that’s done, slowly add the confectioner’s sugar1 until combined and the texture begins to change. At that point, add the vanilla and mix in. Spread, eat, repeat.
1 This is to taste. I like it less sweet, some people use more.
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When I get bored, I bake. This is the result:
A pineapple-buttermilk pie with a meringue top. Loosely based on this recipe.
A follow-up, once a taste test could be performed. First, a slice:
On the surface, no problems. While it might look like the meringue did not adhere, it did. So kudos there. The crust, on the other hand, is not what I was looking for. The taste is fine, but I simply didn’t blind bake it long enough, so it got a bit damp. Not soggy, but not what it should have been. The filling’s texture is a tiny bit looser than I would like, but I think this is likely due to weeping from the pineapple that makes it simply loosen up over time.
The taste? Yowza! The taste is very good. Total flashback pie. And, if I do say so myself, a darn near perfect meringue for my tastes. Structurally sound, but just barely so. Nothing that fights against the fork, which to me is a frustrating battle.
1 thought
Food. The simple word conjures up memories of home for some, and terrified cold-sweats of diet-fueled insanity for others. As Americans, we have a passive-agressive relationship with our food. We eat too much, but by and large, it’s the wrong things. We fear fat, but worship high-fructose corn syrup. Which do you think occurs in nature?
Michael Ruhlman writes about America’s fat problem, and he doesn’t mean the ever-expanding waistline. Of all my travels, I’ve never been anywhere else in the world where the word “diet” is greeted with anything but complete and utter derision. People in France, Italy, China, Japan and Korea do not diet. It’s simply not in their relationship with food. Ours, however, is dysfunctional in the extreme, and so people are constantly swinging from “fat will kill you” to “eat more bacon, it’s a health food”. Both are wrong. Bacon is beautiful, but like all things, moderation is the key.
Now, why would anyone listen to me for health advice? I’m not exactly built for a Calvin Klein ad. I do have an observation of late with my extensive travels throughout the United States, but not internationally. Because of my constant “road warrior” status, I eat out a lot. I eat at a lot of horrible places1 because I’m in places that only have chains. I carefully pick and choose from the least evil of the offerings, but without a doubt, I’d be better just stuffing my maw with a stick of Kerrygold butter, as it is healthier.
I’ve always struggled with my weight, as has my sister and my dad—at least until he snapped, and went all IronMan on us. I had been under control though with a modicum of exercise, walking a lot to various things, and cooking at home most of the time. Then the travel started. Not only have I struggled to eat even passably well, but I’ve had to find new ways to get any exercise in, and my weight has gone up. When I’m home, I cook as much as I can.
What am I going to do? I don’t know. This is one place where not only do I not have answers, but I don’t even have a lead on the right answer. Cooking on the road is a difficult proposition, and restaurant choices are limited. How do other people deal with this?
1 Applebees, I’m looking at you!
4 thoughts
Sometimes the simplest things are the best.
While it’s not “berry season”, at least anywhere near Washington, DC, I did happen upon some reasonably nice looking berries at the market and couldn’t help but purchase them. I have a weakness for fruit. How then, to use them?
Simply.
A little Greek yogurt, Tupelo honey and lemon juice, mixed in equal parts—about a tablespoon each—and tossed with the berries. Nothing else needed. Yum!
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As I have a long drive ahead of me today, to Raleigh, I figured I needed to make sure I had a nice breakfast before I headed out. Of late, owing to my terrifying travel schedule, I’ve allowed breakfast to fall apart. I know that it’s the “most important” meal of the day, but I just haven’t had time to cook anything of substance.
Today, the substance was pinhead oats, or steel-cut oats, or whatever you want to call them. To paraphrase Alton Brown, there’s a reason we feed horses rolled oats, and you shouldn’t eat them as oatmeal. Anyway, this morning’s combination was simply oats and milk with a pinch of salt, and then I sliced up my remaining Turkish figs and added some Demerara sugar) on top. Yum.
Easy and satisfying.
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How to make a proper nacho. As someone who misses real Mexican and Tex-Mex, I pine for the days of real nachos. Just throwing a bunch of “stuff” on a pile of chips isn’t a nacho, it’s just lazy.
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Shrimp with Bacon Salt. Yum. I’d comment on the odd fact that Bacon Salt is vegetarian and kosher, except the shrimp kinda kill that.
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When time is short, and I’m simply out of ideas for what to cook for dinner, I often turn to my Italian heritage for ideas. What could be better than a little pasta with pesto? Tonight, I decided to try a new one made from piquillo peppers and pistachios. It turned out quite well, and you can find the recipe here in PDF form. I’m tired of fighting with HTML to make it look reasonable.
To go with it, I decided to do my own spin on shrimp fra diavolo, this time basically poaching the shrimp in olive oil that’d been warmed with chiles pequin in it to pull the heat out, without the bitterness. While a lot of people would saute the shrimp, I’ve found that high heat and shrimp—especially frozen shrimp—is a bad idea. Rubber is the result. Instead, let them just barely cook, almost poaching, in the oil.
The end result of the two together. As always, click to enlarge.
Not bad for less than half an hour. Now to get better at the photography aspect of food.
2 thoughts
I grew up in TX, the child of a woman from the south (KY), and so black eyed peas are an integral part of what I love to eat. Whether cooked simply, or in Hopp’n John, they’re a memory of childhood; no time more so than New Years Day. It is myth that they will bring good luck, but for me, it’s just a tradition I love. I’d give you a recipe, but there’s really not one.
For me, I cook 2 strips of thick bacon in a dutch oven, covered, with a little water to help render out the fat. After a few minutes, I take the lid off, and let it crisp, then remove it. If necessary, I add a little olive oil, and then sauté onions, garlic and red peppers until they start to soften. After that, just add some chicken stock, a couple bay leaves, thyme and usually a dried chipotle pepper and allow it to simmer for 10-15 minutes. I add the crisp bacon at the very end, so that it doesn’t lose all it’s texture.
Finally, combine frozen black eyed peas1 into the “stock,” and allow to simmer on very low heat until they reach a doneness that is good for you.
Eat. :)
1 You could start with dried, but honestly, it’s more work than I care for, and I’ve never found them better. Please, though, don’t use canned unless you are just unable to find the frozen ones.
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So, since I recently perfected what I wanted in a brownie, I was thinking about new directions, and I wondered what it might be like to combine it with one of my favorite frostings: cream cheese. Even better, add some nice apricot preserves to it to give it a little different flavor, and you have a Sacherbrownie.
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I’ve written about Penzey’s Spices before, and their strange similarity to crack dealers—in a good way. Today, I finally stopped by the new store they opened, not far from my place, and on the way home from work. Today’s haul was largely intended to replenish a few things that have been recently depleted:
In addition, being the ever-effective crack dealers, I managed to walk out with 2 “free jars” that had damaged labels, but were otherwise intact. One, I was intending to buy anyway, so it was a major bonus:
I can see this is going to be dangerous.
1 thought
French toast, or pain perdu originated as a way to salvage bread that would otherwise be too old to use. Today, some wily restaurants actually make bread specifically for it, and others use a multitude of strange choices to make it more interesting. The thing is, it’s already a brilliant ploy and a wonderful meal, without any assistance from outlandish creations. This morning, I made what is perhaps the best pain perdu I have ever tasted.
It all started with a loaf of wonderful of pain au levain from a bakery down the street on Friday. Since I woke up at 6:30am this morning (don’t ask), I cut some lovely 3/4” slices and set them out to dry some more. For me, the goal of pain perdu is a creamy, almost custardy interior, but with the sturdy structure of a good bread. This requires that the bread dry a little—“go stale” in other words—so that it can absorb the custard without losing its integrity.
After a couple hours sitting out, I made a quick custard mixture with a few eggs, whole milk1 and some almond extract. Standing in for the usual fresh nutmeg was a little bit of malted milk powder, which brings a slightly different flavor to the mixture. I let the bread soak a few minutes on each side before it hit a warm non-stick griddle.
The secret, if there is one, of good French toast is that it can not be rushed when it is cooked. If you cook it at too high a heat, you end up making scrambled eggs inside the toast. Heck, I don’t even like my scrambled eggs cooked as fast as most do. Instead, you must let it cook over low heat so that the custard has time to set, and only then you can raise the temperature a bit, perhaps to medium, to finish and set the exterior. This could be done in the oven, I suppose, but I’m simply lazy and do it on the griddle.
Once done, I decided to try out some new, and shockingly good, apricot preserves. Made with Blenheim apricots, it puts anything you’ve ever thought you knew about apricot preserves to shame. So, forsaking my normal grade B maple syrup, I plopped a healthy dollop of the preserves on the newly finished creations.
In a word: perfection.
1 Really, what’s the point of tinted water?
1 thought
In my ongoing effort to cook more, tonight was inspired by a green pointy thing, namely a Hatch chile. So, what to do with these beautiful peppers now that they’re in season? Well, turn Cuban food on its head of course, and put a slightly spicey spin on mojo criollo.
The results were much better than I expected, with the heat of the chili enhancing the flavors of the mojo criollo. Very yummy. Here’s the recipe, modified from tradition, since I didn’t have Saville oranges available.
| 1 |
|
Chicken, medium |
| 1/4 cup |
|
lime juice, fresh |
| 1/2 cup |
|
orange juice, fresh |
| 1/2 cup |
|
olive oil |
| 1 tsp |
|
oregano, dried |
| 8 |
|
garlic cloves |
| 1 |
|
Hatch chile |
| 1/2 tsp |
|
salt |
| 1/4 tsp |
|
pepper |
| 2 cups |
|
chicken stock |
- Butcher the chicken, or buy pre-cut chicken pieces. I prefer to butcher my own, largely because it’s cheaper and I can control the exact cuts. You want the chicken with the bones and skin still on.
- Road the Hatch chile, either under the broiler in the oven or on top of the stove (gas only). You’re done when it’s fully blistered.
- Once finished, wrap in paper towels and let sit for a few minutes, before rolling it around in the towels to remove the skin.
- Cut up the chili into small dices, removing the seeds and skin.
- Take the lime and orange juice, along with the garlic, salt and pepper and run it through the food processor, adding the olive oil slowly to achieve an emulsion.
- Mix the oregano and diced chili in after you’re done.
- Place the chicken and marinade together in a zip lock bag and seal, tossing to coat. Let stand in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour, preferably 2-4 hours.
- Heat a couple table spoons of olive oil in a dutch oven, and sauté the chicken in the oil, after shaking off any extra marinade. You’re only looking to brown the chicken, not cook it all the way through. This may need to be done in multiple batches.
- Remove the chicken and set on a plate.
- De-glaze the pan with the chicken stock, scraping up all the fond that is stuck ot the pan.
- Once you’ve got the pan cleaned, add the remaining marinade and bring up to a simmer.
- Return the chicken, and any accumulated juices to the pain, trying to submerge them as best as possible.
- Cover, and cook until chicken’s internal temperature indicates 155F (68C).
- Remove the chicken and set aside again.
- Turn the heat up to a boil, and reduce the sauce by 1/4. If it’s still not thick enough to your liking (it should coat the back of a spoon), you can add arrowroot.
- Serve with rice and beans, or another vegetable.
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In a further attempt to get back to the roots of my cooking, I’ve invited a few friends over for dinner, with something that is largely a Florentine menu. Tonight:
- Arucola composed with roasted red peppers, pickled garlic and marinated tomatoes
- Gnocchi con ricotta e spinaci w/tomato cream sauce
- Gelato caramella con sale
In addition, my friends are bringing a blueberry pie, that while not particularly Italian, is yummy. Hopefully everything turns out as well as hoped, and if so, I’ll post the recipes for the gnocchi and gelato.
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The history of spaghetti alla carbonara is intertwined with the closing days of World War II. And while some historians attribute its creation to hungry American soldiers in Rome, it rarely reaches the heights in this country that it does in Rome. For me, a carbonara is the height of perfection in pasta, surpasing even the more foundational aio e oio (garlic and oil). In a good carbonara, the creaminess comes not from cream, but from the perfect use of eggs against the residual heat of the spaghetti. Correctly done, spaghetti alla carbonara is a textural and sensual wonderland.
Alas, it is usually gloppy, gummy and otherwise a pale imitation of the real thing. What I’ve tried to capture here is the essence of a carbonara, and the technique that should hopefully make it succeed every time. This is not a low-fat recipe, but do not let the ingredients scare you, as the quantities that are involved are small on a per-serving basis.
For 6 servings.
| 1/2 lb |
|
pancetta, or slab bacon |
| 5 cloves |
|
garlic |
| 3 tbsp |
|
extra virgin olive oil |
| 1/4 cup |
|
dry white wine1 |
| 2 |
|
large eggs2 |
| 1/2 cup |
|
parmigiano-reggiano, grated |
| 1/4 cup |
|
peccorino-romano, grated |
| 2 tbsp |
|
parsley, chopped |
| 1 1/2 lb |
|
pasta, prefferably spaghetti |
| to taste |
|
course ground fresh black pepper3 |
- Slice the pancetta or bacon into 1/4 inch wide strips.
- Crush the garlic with the blade of a knife, but do not chop. Discard the skin.
- Place a heavy pan on medium-high heat and add the olive oil and crushed garlic. Allow the garlic to sauté until it is lightly golden brown. Remove and save for later.
- Add the pancetta to the oil, and cook over medium-high heat until it just begins to crisp around the edge.
- Add the wine (or stock) and allow to reduce down by half, approximately 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat.
- Break the eggs into the bowl to be used for serving. Beat them lightly with a fork, then add the cheeses, parsley and a very liberal amount of freshly ground pepper.
- Add cooked and drained, but not rinsed, spaghetti to the serving bowl, tossing rapidly to coat. Do not allow it to sit, or the eggs will scrambled, rather than turn to a near custard.
- Reheat the pancetta over high heat, and add to the bowl, tossing thoroughly.
- Serve immediately. Do not delay. Do not freeze, do not refrigerate, do not take a nap.
Note that I do like a little but of crushed red pepper that I add when I take out the garlic. I find the heat cuts any “heaviness” that would otherwise exist.
1 If you are avoiding alcohol, or simply do not have it around the house, then chicken stock is a passable substitute.
2 Because of the nature of this recipe, I can understand some people’s adversion to it, as it requires using “raw” eggs, cooked only by the heat of the pasta. If this is a problem, seek out eggs pasteurized in their shell.
3 Please do not try and substitute pre-ground pepper here. The pepper forms a key component of the dish, and it must be ground fresh to have its full pungency.
1 thought
This morning, I had brunch with a friend at South Austin Grill and their special was something new called Congress Avenue Eggs. Yum. Two poached eggs over 2 layers of tostadas, chorizo and jalapeño-cheddar grits. All topped with some roasted tomato salsa. Highly recommended when it shows up on the menu.
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So as I’m unpacking, I realize that I have a prodigious amount of gin in my life. What’s funny is that, as all my friends know, I don’t drink that often. Unfortunately, when I do drink, it’s invariably a gin and tonic, or perhaps a traditional martini—not one of these abominations that people call a martini today—and I like a bit of choice. In order of preference, for today at least:
Alas, Tanqueray Malacca is no longer made, largely due to the gross incompetence of the Tanqueray marketing department. Make the best gin in the world (at the time) and then don’t tell anyone about it. Idiots.
3 thoughts
For lunch, a few friends and I went to a new restaurant in Alexandria, Rustico, which has gotten good word-of-mouth review. After reading a review on a favorite blog, I decided that I must go. Anyway, I was afraid that with the insanity of Easter brunching, the place would be mobbed, but instead, found it quiet and peaceful with excellent service, and outstanding food.
I had their pizza (wood fired) with duck confit, brie and arucola, but started with their daily soup, which was a light cream of asparagus with white truffle creme fraiche. Yummy! This went surprising well with the beer I had, an Allagash Triple. Did I mention they have 30 beer taps, and 250+ bottles? Yum!
Afterwards, we walked across the street to a sister bakery, Buzz, where I partook of an outstanding cupcake while relaxing on a comfortable sofa. Overall, quite grand. Highly recommended.
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Tonight, I met a few friends, and their kids, for dinner at Taste of Morocco, which I think is the best Moroccan restaurant in town. There, we decided to have their feast, which brings forth a myriad of yummy things, from beautiful cured olives, to a mixture of vegetable salads. Combine that with beautiful mint tea, and lovely tagine of lamb and prunes, combined with another dish ofcouscous, and you have a great dinner. The highlight, for me at least, is the B’stilla, which is a North African dish that defies its own description. Have one. Have two, you’ll want another.
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