Curried Ballston

Here's what I think my friend Anoop cooked up tonight in his Ballston high-rise: curried broccoli and potatoes with black mustard seeds and spiced basmati rice. We scooped it up by hand, the greatest of utensils.

Absolute zero

In some ways, I was relieved to hear that El Bulli is closing, at least temporarily. It meant that I no longer had to stay up all night hatching plans to score a table at this Barcelona "culinary laboratory," not to mention figure out a way to pay for the trip and the €250 price of a meal. I only know one person who has managed to sample chef Ferran Adrià's "molecular gastronomy"; she keeps a photo album of the meal that she passes around at dinner parties. (El Bulli is open just six months a year, and it gets 1 million reservation requests for about 7,000 slots.)



But I do hope it reopens in two years, as promised. Though I'd be frightened to taste some of its creations, I'm endlessly fascinated to read about the "ravioli made from squid and freeze-dried foie gras," "Parmesan ice cream sandwiches" and "blood orange foam with tomato sorbet" tapas.

Don't Panic

Chipotle may just be the most lovable of big, corporate restaurant chains. First, there's its above-average burritos and salsas, including roasted chili-corn. Then there's the super interactive Web site. Next comes its unexpectedly substantial attempts at sustainability, including buying meat from farms that favor "old-fashioned animal husbandry" over mega-industrial efficiency. That means, for example, that Chipotle's pork comes from pasture-raised, antibiotics-free pigs fattened up on purely vegetarian feed. In fact, Chipotle even helps promote Food Inc., a disturbing documentary about U.S. agribusinesses that does not exactly leave you with a big appetite. My new favorite Chipotle quirk: the sign on its closed Chinatown shop reads, "Don't Panic. We are closed for remodel construction. Order will restored to the universe in a few weeks." Apparently, "Don't Panic" (all caps but without an exclamation point) is a corporate slogan. During a big snow storm, one Chipotle shop that locked up early put up a "Don't Panic" banner that urged disappointed customers to "wander around the block or just loiter here on the sidewalk."

Couscous, carrots

In a tagine, couscous with chickpeas and sauteed sliced carrots, onions and garlic, adapted from Pam Anderson's Perfect Recipes for Having People Over. I added ground cumin; next time, I'm going to sneak in some chopped pistachios.

Madiba

In November, a South African friend invited me over for what I imagined would be a traditional South African meal. (After all, she has a limited edition Nelson Mandela oil painting on her wall and a closet full of Springboks rugby jerseys.) I ended up happily feasting on scrumptious Greek salad and Greek orzo stew and ungraciously grumbling that I had missed out on authentic South Africa eats.

I made up for that on Tuesday in Brooklyn, stopping by Mandiba (195 Dekalb Avenue, Fort Greene) with my brother and mother for a South African lunch. An unexpected highlight of the Indian-accented menu: the vegetable curry, breyani style, is served alongside mango chutney, banana coconut and milk, cucumber mint and yogurt, and a salsa of onions, tomato and parsley soaked in white wine vinegar. (And I thought the funky mayos at Good Stuff Eatery stood out.) We also sampled the "Bushman Vegetable Platter," with grilled, fresh greens from the Fort Greene Farmer's Market including roasted corn on the cob, and the chakalaka, a "spicy mix of baked beans, carrots, tomato and onion."

My other food adventures in NYC: dinner at Sushi Sen-Nin (30 East 33rd Street) in Murray Hill on "Manhattan Island," as these sea-loving Japanese restaurateurs put it, where I bored my friend Craig with trivia gleaned from The Sushi Economy; and drinks at The Breslin (29th Street and Broadway), at the Ace Hotel, where I could only afford to order the spiced almonds ($4) after my $11 (plus tip) Maker's Mark, but still managed to mooch a bite of other interesting apps including the "Scotch egg" ($6), an interesting meaty and eggy hushpuppy, and the "Beef & Stilton Pie."

I also picked up this kooky recipe from "The Silk Road - Ancient Pathway to the Modern World" exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History: melt butter in a hot frying pan, add 2 cups of mashed pitted dates, crushed graham crackers, cardamom, ground fennel seeds and ground coriander, cook for about 10 minutes then spread on a baking tray, press (your favorite) nuts onto the surface, let cool and then cut into squares and serve as a 1,000 AD snack.

(Pretty) Good Stuff

For a small, practically fast-food (no waiters, bus-your-own-table) burger joint, there's a generous helping of self-importance at the Good Stuff Eatery (303 Pennsylvania Ave. SE). Spike Mendelsohn, the chef, Culinary Institute of America grad and former contestant on Top Chef Chicago who opened the two-floor operation in 2008 insists that Good Stuff is no mere restaurant; no, the popular Capitol Hill spot is more of "a rallying cry," "a whoop," "a holler," "a hail." I admire the enthusiasm. I truly do. And I have no trouble with the small menu, or the prices, about $7 for a specialty burger, $4 for the specialty fries seasoned generously with fresh thyme, rosemary and pepper. (At $5.25, the homemade, "bring on the brain-freeze" milkshakes are a bit steep.) Moreover, who wouldn't be intrigued by the mayo bar, offering mango, chipotle, Old Bay and Sriracha varieties?


Still, for all the ego on display, I was not floored on Saturday night by the creativity of the burger creations, which lean heavily on bacon and cheddar cheese. My "Uncle D's Chili 'N Cheddar" burger, for example, was tasty for sure, but it was a few ounces short of satisfying and the cheddar sauce, sour cream and forgettable bun dulled any of the advertised spiciness of the chili. Over all, it all felt a bit constrained, a transparent attempt to make the business easy to replicate.

It did, however, easily out-compete the dull, dry "Campfire Buffalo Burger" I sampled yesterday at The National Museum of the American Indian (Fourth Street and Independence Ave. SW), seriously worse for wear in the late afternoon at the Native Foods Cafe but still priced around $10. (Next time, I'll go for the grilled venison, South American fish stew or perhaps the Indian Taco, with buffalo chili on fry bread with pickled chilies.)

Belgium to the left of me, Belgium to the right

In Adams Morgan, there's L'Enfant Café & Bar (2000 18th St NW) and its expensive Belgian beers on one side of 18th and there's Locolat Café (1781 Florida Avenue NW) and its expensive Belgian chocolates on the other side. Here it's clear, I suppose, why a chicken would cross the road. It's also clear that now and again, you'll want a break from Belgium. If that day comes, there's no need to leave the intersection (or settle for a giant slice of pizza). Instead, try El Tamarindo (1785 Florida Ave. NW), a Salvadoran/Mexican joint with funky, original art (for sale), a long list of margaritas, refreshingly fresh salsa and tortilla chips and tasty, though generally uninspired, specialties such as "Carne a la Parrilla" ($12), grilled tenderloin topped with ranchera sauce and served with rice and refried beans. Compared to other Latin food joints I've sampled around Washington, I'd say it's far superior to La Frontera Cantina (1633 17th St. NW) in Dupont, but less authentic than Taqueria Distrito Federal (3463 14th St. NW) in Columbia Heights and El Paraiso (1916 14th St. NW) by U Street.

I was less impressed by a recent dinner at Medaterra (2614 Connecticut Ave. NW) in Woodley Park, where I met up with a few cousins the other day for a Happy Hour appetizer feast. We sampled sausage and eggplant, hummus and falafel. Not very memorable.

'The Sushi Economy'

I just finished The Sushi Economy, by a friend in Washington, Sasha Issenberg. Allow me to recommend it. It's a lively trip from Boston to Austin to Tokyo, and points beyond and in between. It's also packed, not only with bite-sized trivia for regaling dining companions at your next sushi outing (be it a budget-busting prix fixe at MASA or a bargain-basement all-you-can-eat adventure with Bobby Flay's body double, Jeff Novich), but also with plenty of practical tips such as this one, from a skilled but foul-mouthed Texas restaurateur:

"'I can pick out and choose every different cut of every different fish. If two women sit down and they're not going to taste a bit of the food - they're ordering a California roll - I'm not going to give them a good piece of salmon. I'm going to give them a piece of tail. If there's a forty-year-old Japanese guy who has been eating sushi since before I was born, I'm goping to cut him the best piece I've got.' Orders from a table in the dining room, distant and anonymous, all get treated like California-roll preferring women. 'I reserve the best cuts for the bar,' Cole says plainly. 'Wherever you go, you should always sit at the bar.'"

Curried veggie burgers

Corn gusto is my Uruguayan homage, curried onions are just a way to stain my entire kitchen the color of turmeric.

Top secret microwave

I was fortunate enough to spend a few days in Vail last week at a friend's elegantly appointed duplex, equipped not only with a mountain-view jacuzzi and passenger elevator but also with a giant, modern kitchen with a huge gas range, acres of counter space and a futuristic microwave hidden in a drawer in the kitchen island. As they say in Argentina, aprovechamos a full.




Friday night dinner, "Notisserie" chicken, seasoned and oven roasted, stuffed with garlic, thyme, rosemary and halved lemons and served with a mushroom risotto including porcinis lovingly reconstituted, by chef David Menon, with the hydrating aid of chicken broth and white wine.



For Saturday morning breakfast, I drenched and toasted up some grilled cheese in homemade schmaltz (rendered chicken fat) and served it with a medley of guacamole and spinach-blue cheese-pine nut dip. (Leftover "Notisserie" chicken also went to work in a crunchy chicken salad that we munched on at 10,000 feet.)

Chef David Steinvurzel, swineing around all weekend, skipped the après-ski hot tub on Saturday night to hunt (fruitlessly) for broccoli rabe and prepare (fruitfully) orecchiette (Italian for "little ears," a tiny disk-shaped pasta) with sweet broccolini (eats, shoots and leaves), spicy Italian sausage, shallots, Parmesan and thickly chopped garlic. (Admission: I dig broccolini, and I was kinda hoping he'd come up short on his broccoli rabe odyssey.) Speaking of Steinvurzel, he also shot all the photographs above.

Greater U Street

Breakfast: Busboys and Poets (2021 14th St. NW). I ordered the Mahi Mahi, blackened with a lemon-pepper aioli and served with sweet potato fries ($10), and sampled the Sweet Fuji Apple sandwich ($7.50), served with Gorgonzola and a fig spread on walnut raisin bread. The OJ is freshly squeezed.

Lunch: DC Noodles (1410 U St. NW). I ordered the "noodles in spicy soup" ($12), served with ground peanuts, chili pepper, bean sprouts, carrots, cilantro, spring onion and my choice of noodle (I had the wide variety) and "meat" (I had the tofu, hence the quotation marks).

Cafe Salsa

Cafe Salsa (1712 14th St. NW), bites off a lot, promising a "nuevo Latino cuisine" that is "inspired by the diversity of Cuba, Puerto Rico, Caribbean and South American culture" (emphasis added). After an admittedly small sampling, I'd say it generally pulls it off. The complimentary, fried, Asian-style noodles and Provençal -style tapenade make for a strange starting note. But Cafe Salsa shines when it counts, as with the ropa vieja and the bistec with sauteed onions.

Zakuski

Let me preface this post by saying that I in no way blame Lynne Rossetto Kasper for my many missteps on New Year's Eve. For the most part, the problems were, as ever, those of execution. That said, I'm really not sure what I could possibly have been thinking when I listened to an interview with food writer Diana Henry on The Splendid Table and decided to make Zakuski, or Russian small plates, for our New Year's Eve party. After all, I had no cayenne pepper, a surprisingly common ingredient in the recipes I dug up; I had no experience preparing Eastern European eats; and I had no idea how unforgiving these dishes could be.


I'll spare you the gruesome details and offer only the learned-it-the-hard-way lessons:

1. If you're skipping the sour cream, dill and sauteed mushrooms and scallions are better served hot. (Saddled with fridge-cramping leftovers, I resuscitated the mushrooms the next evening in a risotto.)
2. Smoked fish is too expensive to buy for 25 people.
3. Not even the most refreshing squirt of lemon juice can induce guests to dig into cold, partially mashed kidney beans served with stewed prunes, red wine vinegar, mint and cilantro.

In the end, even the platters of canned sauerkraut and pickled beets sat mostly untouched. (My brother, in town for New Year's Eve, referred to the entire spread as condiments in search of a hot dog.) Fortunately, I had bought cheese and pita, whipped up some spinach-and-artichoke dip and brown-sugared roasted sweet potato slices, persuaded a friend to bake a few pecan pies and received homemade rugelach from an adventurous South Asian guest. Those snacks, washed down with my wife's fruity champagne punch and my sister-in-law's Puerto Rican coquitos, managed to keep spirits high all night. But I'll say this: No one was begging me for recipes as they headed out the door.