Articles of Mastication

Bambus in Tkalčićeva

February 3, 2007 – 3:49 pm

There might not be a better way to spend a night in Zagreb than by sitting in one of the many cafes of Tkalčićeva Ulica with a glass of bambus, lazily watching the beautiful people of Croatia’s capital city stroll by. But what is “bambus“, you ask? I’ll get to that as soon as I take care of some business.

Purists will opine that blending wine with other potable liquids is an insult to the vintage and vintner. I’ve had many conversations with many liters of wine, and some of them turned nasty. But even when I hurled curses at the body of liquid in the glass, it had little to say in return. Wine is not easily offended. Winemakers? Different story.

I’ll counter that some wines are insulting to the palate and need a good dumbing down. And some purists need to lighten up. I could say that salt and pepper are an insult to the deep earth flavors of a simply boiled potato, but I won’t waste anyone’s time.

Enjoy your food and drink as you prefer to do so, and leave others to do the same. This shall be the whole of The Law. Amazing new flavors and textures are never discovered through constant adherence to the gastronomic norms and snobbery of antiquity. Anyhoodle…

In Croatia the blend of white wine and sparkling mineral water is called gemišt, and it is quite popular in Austrian-flavored, Reisling-loving Zagreb and the Zagorje region. In the Dalmatian region of Croatia, the blend of 30% red wine and 70% still spring water is referred to as bevanda. This was reportedly originated by the ancient Illyrians (Croatia’s earlier inhabitants), who loved wine, praised hard work and frowned upon drunkenness. Some (like me) enjoy mixing wine with fruit juice, and I must say that the delicate sharpness of some Malvazija and Graševina can be complimented nicely with the malic acid pucker of fresh apple nectar. You’ll hear me draw that parallel a lot if you haven’t already.

But then there is bambus. This is a concoction of red wine and cola that is oft considered a “girl drink”, but which I have come to adopt as my social beverage of choice when mixing it up with the livelier, prettier set. Most will pronounce the formula at half wine and half cola, but again, individual preference is king. I’m a 70-30 man, myself.

There are a number of desirable effects to arise from this amateur vinological alchemy, not the least of which is the improvement in flavor of an “inferior” wine (I should note that I haven’t yet tasted a Croatian wine that was completely terrible, but then I’m also not much of a complainer). It’s a lot like lambrusco or sangria. If you substitute Cockta for cola, the sangria-like quality will be all the more apparent. And, you will begin to speak with a Slovenian accent.

When you begin to feel the effects of bambus, the appelation will strike you as onomotopoeia (oeno-motopoeia?). The combination punch of low-carbohydrate alcohol and caffeine delivers a sort of light, crystal-clear mellowness. This mist of joviality washes over the imbiber, the stimulating conversation flows, and the boom-boom is in the room. Trust me, it beats the hell out of mixing coffee and beer.

There is yet another desirable effect for the boys: If you’re secure enough in your masculinity to walk around in public with a “girl drink”, the girls will wonder about you. In a good way. You can trust me on that too.

Posted in Beverages, Croatia, Wine | No Comments »

Bakalar at Zagreb’s Bistro Lampion

January 10, 2007 – 10:23 am

It was a tongue-twister of a lunch on a drizzly late-spring afternoon in Remiza, a working-class neighborhood of Zagreb with winding alleys and hidden back roads. Josip and I had originally planned to leave on that day for Kućište with his brother-in-law Anton to begin preparing Restoran Argosy and Caffe Bar Bota for the busy tourist season on the Pelješac Peninsula, but a conflict with the borrowed cargo van prevented the departure. Without the van we wouldn’t be able to pick up needed stock and equipment in Dubrovnik, so aside from an extra week of sun and sea in Dalmatia, the trip wouldn’t be very productive. Instead, we had an excellent Dalmatian lunch at Bistro Lampion.

For an aperitivo we each had a rogaćica. This is an uncommon, specifically Dalmatian brandy made from carob pods which, I’m told, aren’t used for much else in Dalmatia. The version we sampled was an aromatic liqueur of dark almond hue with pleasantly bitter herb overtones and a subtle foundation of sweetness for balance. Since that day, I’ve tasted homemade, medicinal-strength rogaćica on Pelješac that tilted more to the brandy side of the spirit equation, with no masking of the profoundly earthy, cocoa-like flavor of pure carob behind sugar. If I wasn’t a man before I downed that mahogany elixir, I was definitely a man afterward. (Endless thanks for the dram are due to Matias Glavaš of Kućište, who also shared his recipe for uštipce od tikve with me.)

The decor and much of the cuisine at Lampion owes a deeper nod to northern Croatia than to the Dalmatian coast, but Dalmatian food seems to pop up on menus everywhere in this country. Most everyone I speak with in Croatia about Dalmatian cooking loves it, regardless of their ethnic or geographical origins. Dalmatian food is primarily simple, straightforward Mediterranean homecooking, the comfort food of the Adriatic coast. As with many things, its beauty is due almost entirely to its simplicity and purity.

Bakalar is the Croatian word for cod (bacalao in Spanish), and also the name of the elegantly simple cod stew seen above. This preparation is traditionally enjoyed around Christmas time, but I didn’t know this when Josip ordered a terra cotta crock filled with enough bakalar for three hungry men. The absence of Christmas decorations, elves and wise men didn’t prevent me from proclaiming the bakalar delectable. And, besides, every day is Christmas to me.

Cod is not at all native to Mediterranean locales like the southern coast of Croatia; I’m told it was introduced there by Dalmatian sailors returning from tours of the North Atlantic. As with just about everywhere else in the world, cod’s mildness and versatility (in addition to the durability of the dried product) caused it to become immensely popular in the republic of a thousand islands.

Manifesting a crock of bakalar requires little more than rehydrating dried salt cod and stewing it with potatoes, onions, garlic, parsley and olive oil until tender and brothy. If you want the recipe, read the preceding sentence again. Lampion’s partnership of fish and potato melts in the mouth, and the moat of broth is ideal for sopping up with bread. I shouldn’t need to mention that I added about three deciliters of Dalmatian olive oil to my portion. My appreciation was best expressed by the bowl I emptied, refilled and emptied again.

We nursed what remained of the two liters of gemišt (white wine and sparkling water) as we sopped up the juices from the bakalar with bread and chatted lightly. Then Josip insisted that I sample the baklava and ordered a portion for me. Lampion’s baklava was a first for me, and (obviously) so was photographing it in the softly lit dining chamber.

This was more like the Greek baklava to which I am accustomed in that it was layered and full of ground nuts, but it was DENSE (another nod to the calorie-bomb cuisine of the north). This excellent pastry almost had the eggy texture of a bread pudding, and ecstasy was mine when my espresso finally arrived to ferry it down the hatch.

No journey to the coast on that day, but the splendidly simple lunch at Lampion was a welcome consolation.

Posted in Croatia, Fish and Seafood, Potatoes, Restaurants, Spirits, Sweets | 1 Comment »

A Recollection of Istria

December 27, 2006 – 10:33 am

Heading from Zagreb to the Istrian peninsula is a bit like bidding farewell to a tipsy uncle at a boisterous family gathering as you retreat to the peace of a rustic cottage in a cool, quiet forest. I’d arrived in Croatia’s easygoing capital a few days earlier on my first research trip for the book, and on this journey west I was beginning to understand that the slowly developing republic’s remarkable diversity isn’t reflected only in its food, dialects and microclimates, but also in the distinctive moods that dawdle on the air of each and every locale. While Zagreb chuckles mischievously behind a deceptive façade of imposing architecture and lingering Austro-Hungarian formality, the soul of Istria whispers dark green aromas of sea mist, pine smoke and herbs from the crisp silence of wooded hills flanked by ancient stone fences.

I heard the whispers of that soul when I arrived on a dark, rainy night in the sleepy Istrian village of Smoljanci, just a short drive from the fairytale city of Rovinj. My hosts were Rolf and Drazenka Moll of Stancija 1904, an idyllic getaway tucked back from the winding labyrinth of unlit country roads that snakes through the countryside. Upon exiting the car, that first full breath of pure Istrian air produced a euphoria that reached into every cell of my being, confirming that I was most certainly no longer in Zagreb. The only sounds audible on the sprawling estate were those of a scattered choir of frogs and the massive boughs of a solitary oak creaking and groaning under the force of a chilly, wet wind.

As I entered the resort’s rustic stone dining hall, I was greeted in the traditional fashion with krostule – a crisp, fried pastry dusted with powdered sugar – and a snifter of superb, locally distilled herb brandy to whet the appetite. Drazenka and her tiny staff of assistants were busy in the wood-fueled outdoor kitchen putting the final touches on our late supper, and so I discussed Croatian cuisine with another guest, BBC wine critic Jilly Goolden. The light tasting menu of Istrian delights came in courses, concocted entirely from local ingredients. Jilly and her daughter Verity had even lent their hands in rolling the pasta earlier that evening. Notable highlights included the fresh cheese accented with nettles, a salad of arugula and wild strawberries, and a bottle of Istrian Teran with the most striking herb aromas I’ve ever perceived in a wine. Istria is enchanting not only for its magnificent landscapes, Roman and Venetian architecture and heavenly cuisine, but also for its wines, and your first taste of a regional vintage will transport you to an entirely other world of oenophilia. In addition to Teran, I’ve come to love Malvazija, which carries whiffs of meadow grass and wild flowers under a bold bouquet and mild pucker of green apple.

Malvazija is a semi-sweet white typically served as a dessert wine, though I’d consider complementing it with an uncomplicated salad of arugula, grilled fowl, tart green apple and rosemary. It is wrought from the must of overripe grapes which, like some Montepulciano vintages, are air-dried to concentrate flavors. If you can’t find it in your area, inform your local wine merchant that Malvazija and a few other exceptional Croatian wines are (thankfully) available in the US from Blue Danube.

All told, the expertly prepared food, exquisite wine, warm conversation by firelight and five-star accommodations at Stancija 1904 combined to make the night far more than memorable. If it’s the mystical serenity of Istria you wish to experience, you’ll most definitely find it there in Smoljanci as I did.

Posted in Cheese, Croatia, Fruits, Pasta, Salads, Spirits, Sweets, The Air, Land and Sea, Wine | No Comments »

Say Yes to Quack

December 25, 2006 – 8:12 pm

I enjoyed one of my favorite meals at a favorite St. Louis restaurant the other night. Next time you’re in Missouri’s Gateway City, you’d do well to visit Wei Hong Bakery & BBQ (3175 South Grand Avenue, 314-773-8318) and order the roast duck on rice, a testament to the power of simplicity and freshness. From beneath its crisp skin, the succulent meat gives off the faintest suggestion of fragrant Five Spice, and the perfectly steamed rice is crowned with the leafy green punch of a slightly smoky stir-fried baby bok choi. It is a faultless trio.

Wei Hong is a real Cantonese restaurant and bakery, vastly superior to the hundreds of greasy woks in town that cater to the Midwestern love of over-seasoned glop-and-gravy. The menu boasts 167 dishes, so you may want to consider going with a large group and ordering family-style as the establishment’s loyal Chinese clientele frequently does. Ordering take-out from the BBQ case at the front is also advisable for adventurous diners or last-minute party planners. In addition to the splendid duck, there is roast pork, chicken, chicken feet and a few unrecognizable offal dishes available for purchase by weight at miraculously low prices. A full bakery case of traditional Chinese cookies, dumplings, noodles and pastries sweetens the deal. I couldn’t leave without a bag of lotus-flavored bean cakes.

Posted in Fowl, Restaurants, Rice, Vegetables | No Comments »

The Jewel in the Lotus

December 24, 2006 – 8:34 am

Hatching contrived ebulliences would undermine the evident sublimity of this recently consumed slab of beef round, and so I will go no further than revealing that it was broiled quickly, allowed to rest in chilly darkness for a day, sliced thinly against the grain and prudently seasoned with coarse sea salt and cracked peppercorns.

Posted in Meat | 1 Comment »

Steamed Hams

December 10, 2006 – 8:21 am

Recognize this routine? Principal Skinner invites Superintendent Chalmers over for dinner, and the wacky hijinks ensue. While in beautiful Zagreb, my Simpsons yen was kept in check with episodes dubbed in German on RTL. My inability to comprehend German didn’t detract in the least from my enjoyment of the program, but here’s the translation of what you hear in the audio:

Superintendent Chalmers:		Well Seymour, I made it, despite your directions.
Seymour Skinner:		Ah, Superintendent Chalmers, welcome. I hope you’re prepared for an unforgettable luncheon.
		[Chalmers enters and puts a bottle of wine on the table. Skinner walks into the kitchen to see smoke billowing from the oven. He opens the oven, and the roast bursts into flames.]
Seymour Skinner:		Oh, yegods, my roast is ruined!
		[Skinner looks out the kitchen window at the Krusty Burger across the street.]
Seymour Skinner:		But what if … I were to purchase fast food and disguise it as my own cooking? Ho ho ho ho … delightfully devlish, Seymour.
		[Skinner begins to climb out the window but stops when Chalmers enters the kitchen.]
Superintendent Chalmers:		Seymour!
Seymour Skinner:		Superintendent, I was just … just stretching my calves on the windowsill. Isometric exercise. Care to join me?
Superintendent Chalmers:		Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Seymour?
Seymour Skinner:		Oh, that isn’t smoke. It’s steam. Steam from the steamed clams we’re having. Mmmmm, steamed clams.
		[Skinner runs aross the street to Krusty Burger, and returns to the dining room with a tray of hamburgers.]
Seymour Skinner:		Superintendent, I hope you’re ready for mouth-watering hamburgers.
Superintendent Chalmers:		I thought we were having steamed clams.
Seymour Skinner:		Oh, no, I said steamed hams. That’s what I call hamburgers.
Superintendent Chalmers:		You call hamburgers steamed hams?
Seymour Skinner:		Yes, it’s a regional dialect.
Superintendent Chalmers:		Uh-huh. What region?
Seymour Skinner:		Uhh … Upstate New York.
Superintendent Chalmers:		Really? Well, I’m from Utica, and I’ve never heard anyone use the phrase ’steamed hams.’
Seymour Skinner:		Oh, not in Utica. No, it’s an Albany expression.
Superintendent Chalmers:		I see.
		[Chalmers bites into a steamed ham.]
Superintendent Chalmers:		You know, these hamburgers are quite similar to the ones they have at Krusty Burger.
Seymour Skinner:		Oh ho ho, no. Patented Skinner burgers. Old family recipe.
Superintendent Chalmers:		For steamed hams …
Seymour Skinner:		Yes …
Superintendent Chalmers:		Yes, and you call them steamed hams despite the fact that they are obviously grilled.
Seymour Skinner:		You know I— One thing I sh— Excuse me for one second.
		[Skinner walks into the kitchen and returns to the dining room.]
Seymour Skinner:		Well, that was wonderful. A good time was had by all. I’m pooped.
Superintendent Chalmers:		Yes, I should be— Good lord, what is happening in there?
Seymour Skinner:		Aurora Borealis?
Superintendent Chalmers:		Aurora Borealis? At this time of year? At this time of day? In this part of the country? Localized entirely within your kitchen?
Seymour Skinner:		Yes.
Superintendent Chalmers:		May I see it?
Seymour Skinner:		No
Agnes Skinner:		Seymour, the house is on fire!
Seymour Skinner:		No, Mother. It’s just the Northern Lights.
Superintendent Chalmers:		Well, Seymour, you are an odd fellow, but I must say you steam a good ham.

Posted in Croatia, Food and Funny | No Comments »

Almond Tahini and Mint Jelly Brûlée

December 7, 2006 – 2:13 pm

My occasionally whimsical notions of what could be quite tasty have led me to invent some bizarre dishes with idiotic names. Vivid memories of the meek-then-monstrous Apple Faddle and the palate-punishing Orange Crüelly bear up the truth of this. Tonight, after a rather slow night at the restaurant, another wild hair wiggled in my brain and set me to creating something utterly ridiculicious.

In addition to the rhapsodical braised lamb shank we serve, the establishment at which I cook offers grilled lamb chops. And, yes, you may have mint jelly with them if you wish to embellish your chops in the conventional, old-school fashion (It’s an old-school fine dining establishment, after all). I’ve been thinking about mint jelly for the last week, lamenting the fact that such a distinct preserve doesn’t get put to more use. Whenever you see mint jelly, lamb is nearby; if there is no lamb, there is probably no mint jelly. And, let’s face it, if you served lamb with mint jelly to dinner guests in your home five years ago, the remainder of the mint jelly - the full jar minus two teaspoons - is probably still whimpering for attention from the shelf of your refrigerator door. Poor jelly!

Time for a deconstruction and re-tooling of the lowly mint jelly. I brainstormed. I removed the word ‘mint’ from the equation and focused on ‘jelly’. I asked myself, “What does one ordinarily do with sweet, sticky, fruity or spicy jelly in the kitchen?” The first thing that plopped into me noggin (after a few titillating non-culinary uses) was the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, The P.B.J. I took this and ran with it, and the inner monologue then went pretty much like this:

If mint is most frequently used in southern Mediterranean cuisines, then I should make a Mediterranean peanut butter and mint jelly sandwich. No, wait… not peanut butter. Mediterranean nut butter. Almonds. Almond butter. Almond butter and mint jelly sandwich. On what? Texas Toast? Toast points? Pointed, pixellated… buh, buh, buh, BRUSCHETTA! Wee, open-faced finger sandwiches on crusty bread, toasted or…. grilled! Yes, grill the bread. While you’re at it, grill some lemon slices to put some pucker and twang onto the pile.

I grilled lemon slices and bread.

I toasted almonds and ground them into a paste.

I opened the jar of mint jelly.

I assembled the elements of my little bruschette roughly, more concerned about testing the combination of flavors and textures than the eloquence of my presentation. But, as I hammered out my little project at the crème brûlée station, I looked up, noticed the bowl of white sugar and kitchen torch and thought: This idiotic little sandwich needs caramelized sugar.

Is it a dessert? An appetizer? A sophisticated child’s meal? A snack for a purple-assed Mediterranean baboon? You tell me. As I mentioned, this was a function-before-fashion trial of the “dish”, so I wasn’t concerned enough with the presentation to remove it from the broiling plate, or plant tiny umbrellas fashioned from palm fronds for the photo and sampling. But The Boss and a few of the waitstaff gave it a go.

The Verdict: Totally functional.
This one’s worth refining. On the next go, we’ll have stiffer almond butter and a less hurried, less blackened caramelization. And it’s time to experiment with the concoction of a less commercial-type mint marmalade from whole leaves, says I.

Posted in Bread, Fruits, Herbs, Nuts, Sweets | 1 Comment »

The Last of the Yesterturkey

December 4, 2006 – 10:16 am

It ends today.

Aw, sweet geez, it’s fried slices of an extremely dense soufflé made from The Last of the Yesterturkey, unused herb stuffing nuggets, cheddar, cream cheese and many eggs. The very least I could have done was use turkey eggs, but I couldn’t find any. Why don’t people eat turkey eggs?

This is terrible. I feel like Rachael Ray with my slapdash clean-out-the-refrigerator cuisine. Shameful. But, at least I’m not assaulting you with a catchphrase or insipid abbreviation…

Allow me to salvage what remains of my dignity by sharing this song from one of my old bands, circa 1992. That’s me “singing” the lead. Yep, I used to be a rocker. I’ve learned to sing since then.

Posted in Bread, Cheese, Fowl | No Comments »

Late November Griddlecakes

November 26, 2006 – 12:52 pm

Through some miracle of Sweet Providence, I have emerged from the bewildering commotion of Thanksgiving proceedings relatively unscathed. No emotional contusions were suffered, thankfully, although I was attacked variously by a frozen prawn, an industrial dish rack and, at a friendly game of poker with the gents from work, a welterweight dog named Buddy who proved to be anything but.

But Thanksgiving dinner was lovely — a standard-fare affair. The family wasn’t initially too keen on my pandy - an Irish compromise between mashed potatoes and potato soup that always sends me into a rapture - but once I’d assured them that the spud goo was loaded with butter and cream cheese, they calmed down a bit. After I demonstrated how mellifluously pandy melds with gravy (the vitreous alliance is known to me as Gravy Pandy) they followed suit, ate up and gave out a few hesitant moans of approval. The other dishes went over well too.

A inevitable byproduct of the mandatory Thanksgiving excess is leftovers, practically a tradition unto themselves. For those of you less familiar with mandatory gastronomic excess and English idiom, leftovers are the portion of the meal that is not eaten, but stored away in the refrigerator to ferment so as to produce an hilarious olfactory shock when re-opened by an unsuspecting victim. Leftovers often become the unintentional Whoopee Cushion or Joy Buzzer of the refrigerator, an eventuality that I in no fashion endorse or condone. I say that when life gives you leftovers, make griddlecakes.

And so I did.

Into a large mixing bowl went the sausage-bread stuffing, roughly torn shards of roasted turkey meat, my beloved pandy, florets of cauliflower simmered in sharp cheddar rarebit, a dollop of candied sweet potatoes and a wink each of pan and giblet gravies. A few eggs were introduced, then the whole of it was tousled gently so as not to defeat the contrast of textures. I spooned little mounds of the mixture into hot butter and…

…when they had browned and unified as sovereign solids, they were treated with the cranberry and tangerine relish they so deserved. I fully expected to be horrified by the result, but my lowbrow kitchen choreography was instead rewarded with a pleasantly odd little dance of holiday flavors and textures, plus further proof that leftovers are meant to be griddlecakes. And then I went on with my bad self…

Posted in Bread, Fowl, Fruits, Potatoes, Vegetables | 2 Comments »

Carnival of Crapulence

November 23, 2006 – 7:36 pm

It’s Thanksgiving in America. It’s a day on which we give thanks for the blessings of family, friends and food. Technically, Thanksgiving is a holiday. Most of us have the day off work and do little else but eat and sink into a languid stupefaction. For this reason, it is perhaps the most American of all American holidays. The main course of the meal is typically a roasted whole turkey, escorted down the hatch by a vast array of tuber and root-derived vegetables and bread-oriented glop. All in all, it’s a meal high in fat and carbohydrates. Candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, bread stuffing… all laden with copious amounts of butter and gravy.

I’m in the midst of cooking the family dinner at this very minute, so I don’t have much time to write, but I’ll do my best to snap some photos and write a bit more after I’ve made the required visits with family and friends.

Posted in Fowl | 3 Comments »