Pas de deux

The sous-chef is Austrian, so I'll give him all the credit* for my favorite entree in 2010, making this the 2nd in an occasional series, as Pipón guest blogger Julia Oliver likes to say. I'm speaking, of course, of the "Duet of Duck" ($27) at Foti's, in downtown Culpeper, Va., by Shenandoah National Park, an inspired pairing of vinegar and juniper marinated crispy skinned Long Island duck breast, served smoothly rare and uninterrupted, alongside a complexly spiced duck and cabbage sausage, atop a caramelized onion, potato and bacon sautee, down there soaking up all that duck jus but somehow staying crunchy, set off by a bright blueberry gastrique and local green bean medley.

I lead with Foti's because visitors to Washington, Va., do not all make it to nearby Culpeper, whilst I can't imagine anyone would miss breakfast at the Foster Harris House, a 4-course extravaganza that today included out-of-the-oven currant and chocolate scones; fresh fruit in yogurt and homemade granola; pastrami smoked salmon with tzatziki; custard scrambled eggs, garnished with an Hawaiian volcanic sea salt; a pleasantly daintily fried zucchini fritter; and a short stack of miniature pancakes with shaved chocolate above and maple butter syrup below.

*Foti's chef and owner, Foteos “Frank” Maragos, a Johnson and Wales grad and the former executive sous chef at the Inn at Little Washington, Laura Bush's old haunt, probably deserves some credit, too.

Bisontennial

I go in with the best intentions. Salad fixings, like an avocado, cucumbers and a "spring mix," that's all that's on my shopping list. But last night and again tonight, Whole Foods, that evil temptress, lured me to its butcher shop, where the buffalo meat is deeply discounted, and delicious.


Simmering some ground bison beef last night, I made a meat marinara and a pound of pasta, and I hoped that would be the end of my flirtation with at-home omnivoring. After all, after a year of eating almost nothing but steak in Uruguay, I have been trying to transition to tofu. Ah, but tonight the bison skirt steak caught my eye, and so I gathered up some green beans and onions, raided my roommate's Thai sauces and marinades, boiled yellow rice with frozen peas, and soon I was munching on the flesh of my childhood friends from the Bronx Zoo, those furry, lazy, regal creatures that my father, since July 4, 1976, has always called the "Bisontennial."