Roast meat, play music, be happy!

Who among us can deny the allure of a piece of roasted meat. I'm sure that deep within each of us is the belief that this is a good thing, maybe even our vegetarian brethren. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for eating less meat, because I think it is clear that in today's day and age our meat consumption has gone off the charts, leading to obesity, environmental catastrophe, and an industrialized food system that is criminal at best. I certainly don't eat meat everyday, having even gone weeks without a single indulgence, but when the desire arrives, quenching it with a good roast is tough to beat. And when I think about a piece of meat roasting to perfection, I can't help but think of days of old when people would gather round the fire, play music, dance, celebrate, and eat. In my mind, music and food seem to go hand in hand. The right music at a restaurant adds so much to the experience, while the right track played at home while cooking can elevate the entire creative process. Now I'd like to be super hip and tell you that I have a deep collection of vintage vinyl that I play on my German turntable, but I'd be a big fat liar. The truth is, many times when I cook I listen to my ipod with headphones, as my girlfriend studies away. Yet that simple act of creating a cooking soundtrack transports me to a wonderful place, and adds yet another element of fun to the daily meal. Food, and its preparation, should be enjoyable remember. I even think it is allowed to be classified as fun, but don't tell too many people about that or we may disturb the delicate balance of daily drudgery that so many people have bought into.

Shall we roast some meat? I think so.

Step #1: Go to a good butcher or farmer's market if possible. Procure a piece of humanely raised, antibiotic-free meat. If they can tell you where it came from it is a very good sign. In my case I went to Dickson's Farmstand Meats (dicksonsfarmstand.com) and purchased a beautiful Boston Butt pork roast. If you question my use of the term beautiful, just look at the picture above. It is beautiful, with plenty of fat, proof positive that good pork was never meant to be the 'other white meat'. The sad fact is that 'the other white meat', encased in styrofoam and plastic wrap at your local Mega Super-Duper Mart, tastes like shit. Good pork is a revelation for those who are uninitiated.

Step #2: Turn your oven on to 450F. Take your roast out of the fridge and allow it to come up to temperature while the oven is heating up. This is a step that so many people never do, and it makes a huge difference.

Step #3: Put on some great music. (My choices are listed below, and will be attached to many of my future posts. You don't have to like what I do, but try and put together a sweet playlist the next time you cook, if you don't already)

Step #4: Season the outside of the roast with whatever you damn well please. In my case I went pretty straightforward, salt, pepper, and herbes de provence.

Step #5: You should already own Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's River Cottage Meat Book. If you don't, you should stop reading this and go buy that, you owe it to yourself. Use Hugh's 'half hour sizzle' method of roasting (half hour at 450F, then take the oven down to 325F to finish the roasting). For my pork, I was looking for an internal temp of 160F. On that note, make sure you have a good thermometer. They are incredibly useful, yet men in particular seem to shy away from them at all costs. Cooking a large roast without a thermometer is similar to the 'I'm obviously lost, but refuse to stop and ask for directions' maneuver.

Step#6: Make some vegetables, maybe a starch. I had some cute little mini acorn squash, and a bunch of multi-colored baby carrots from the farmers market. The oven was being used for one thing, why not use it for two? Squash and carrots on a baking sheet, toss a little olive oil over top and pop them in the oven. I don't salt vegetables beforehand when I roast them because it hinders the caramelization process, which is the whole point of roasting them in the first place (thanks Mr. Carmellini). Salt later if necessary.

Step #7: When the roast is done (you will know with the use of your trusty thermometer remember), take it out and let it rest for at least fifteen minutes, reserving the roasting pan and its contents for a pan sauce/gravy. Letting it rest means not touching it, AT ALL! Don't cut into it to see if it is done (remember the thermometer? if you used it, you already know it's done). Don't poke, prod, or shake. Think about when you want to rest. During those moments, would you appreciate someone poking at you? Well neither does your meat.

Step #8:Finish your vegetables or starch. I took out my squash and carrots when they were nicely roasted and preceded to make a little beurre monte. This is just the french term for butter sauce. You heat a little water and whisk in some butter, emulsifying the two together. Drop a couple sprigs of time (or any herb) in there and gently toss the carrots in the sauce. I placed a half a squash on the plate, placed some carrots on top, and placed a small spoonful of the beurre monte inside the natural well of the squash.

Step#9:Make a gravy or pan sauce. I'm not going to tell you how to do this because at some point I want to talk extensively about the lack of sauce making in home kitchens, and how to remedy this ugly reality. It's not that hard, I promise. The River Cottage Meat Book also has great instructions.

Step#10:Now that the roast has rested, cut nice slices for service. Not too thick, not too thin.

Step#11:Spoon a bit of sauce over the meat, and serve to someone you love, which could be yourself, though people seem to avoid cooking for one at all costs.

Step#12:Enjoy the fruits of your labor, and thank the pig for being the magnificent culinary creature that it is.

10/12/10 Playlist

Mumford and Sons: The Cave

White Blank Page

John Lennon: Beautiful Boy

Drake: Unforgettable

City and Colour: Live at the Orange Lounge EP

Black Star: Definition

The Black Crowes: Freak 'N' Roll....Into The Fog (2 CD)

Three Cheers for Rene!

As I have said before, I love cookbooks, and few things get me as excited as the release of a new one that has been on my radar for some time. NOMA by Rene Redzepi dropped this week, which to most people means nothing, but to me was a very big deal. Quick breakdown as told by the press: Rene Redzepi (chef/owner) is a genius, NOMA has defined an entire regional cooking style (Nordic), ranked #1 in S. Pelligrinos 2010 50 Best Restaurants list (a big deal to say the least), NOMA's food is strictly comprised of ingredients that are native to Denmark and the surrounding countries (save for exceptions like chocolate and coffee), etc., etc. With that out of the way, I can talk about what I think is the most important thing in the book, purity. The truth is I will most likely never recreate a single recipe in this massive tome, both for lack of equipment (unless someone cares to purchase a Thermomix and Vacuum Sealer for my amusement), and lack of ingredients (buckthorn berries and such). But I really don't think that matters, because within its pages NOMA holds a bounty of inspiration that can be taken to any home kitchen.

The story of how the restaurant developed is amazing, and the pictures perfectly capture the amazing plating skills of Redzepi. But what really comes through as the pages are turned is the idea that food should really taste of itself. How can a cook most honor the ingredients at hand, making them as delicious as possible? How does seasonality go from being a buzz word at the latest restaurant opening, to a storyline that allows the cook, and subsequently the eater, to appreciate the bounty of any region? It is this purity of intention, and purity of ingredients that makes NOMA such a compelling read. "A sense of time and place" is a quote that can be referenced in just about any article on Redzepi, and it is important not to overlook the power of that statement. Believe me when I tell you that I am not a diehard locavore by any stretch of the imagination, but I am strongly drawn to the idea that every place has a bounty of ingredients that can help the cook find their own voice. After all, it is easy to be a great cook when you have a perfectly ripe tomato. When I go to the farmer's market I really try to take in the signs of the changing seasons, the smells that abound, the farmers that have produced the very things that I am taking home in my bag. It becomes much easier to tell a story when you have really soaked in the backdrop that it springs from. The only unfortunate aspect of the book is its ability to remind us of how far we have drifted from this ideal.

Coffee is a magical product in so many ways. I have been in love with coffee for a long, long time. In fact I can trace the love affair back to a specific instance. Not a date, but a memory as vivid today as it was when it first happened. Every Sunday my Mom would cart me and my brother to my Grandmother's house for Sunday dinner. And after every one of those dinners my Grandmother and Mother would bring out the Folgers and have a cup of coffee. Now I know that Folgers is not the pinnacle of coffee, but you also have to understand that in the 80's in New England, that is precisely what people were drinking at home. Around the time I was 9 or 10 I was finally allowed to partake in the ritual of after-dinner coffee, and it was revolutionary. I can't pinpoint if it was the bitter taste (Folgers, remember?), the milk and sugar to cover it up, the caffeine, the aroma, or maybe the chance to engage in a ritual that up to that point had been strictly for the adults. I guess I had finally moved from the 'kid's table', to the adult table at a family gathering, and I liked it.

I've been drinking coffee for twenty years, and those years have been interesting ones to be a coffee drinker in the United States. We all know how much has changed, as Starbucks swept the nation, and 'specialty coffee' became part of the American lexicon. Twenty years ago, the idea of paying $5 for any coffee beverage would have been considered ludicrous by 99% of the American public. These days there are more options for coffee consumption than even seems economically feasible, or even sustainable in the long run.

I buy good beans (mostly Stumptown), grind at home, and use a press pot. The coffee I make at home is simply delicious. When I'm out, there are a few coffeeshops that I frequent, including Stumptown at the Ace Hotel, and Cafe Grumpy in Chelsea. I will occasionally even go into a Starbucks if I am with someone who wants to, or there simply isn't another option (but their drip coffee is virtually unpalatable at this point). But here is where I differ from the current crop of coffee connoisseurs; I will go to Dunkin Donuts and order a coffee light and sweet, and I will enjoy the hell out of it. Sacrilegious say the coffee aficionados. I say lighten up.

I'm sorry, but I simply don't know how some twenty-year old kid got the idea that just because he waxes his mustache, and wears suspenders, he has the right to tell me about how I should enjoy coffee. I'm all for education surrounding a topic like coffee, but elitism I can deal without. Many of the 'third wave' coffee operations must have pretentious aloofness listed as a job requirement. Listen, I get the fact that you know more about coffee than I could ever wrap my head around. I get the fact that you take your craft seriously, which is something that I have an immense admiration for. I get the fact that your ipod is filled with obscure bands, and their latest Japanese only EP releases. What I don't get is taking the fun and enjoyment surrounding good coffee and strangling the life right out of it. I think it is incredibly honorable to work hard at a craft, in fact I think it is something that society is truly lacking these days. And a days work at a typical coffeeshop is tough. Much like working in a kitchen, there is a lot of bending (oh the knees), long hours on your feet (painful to say the least), and many customers who treat you like crap (after all you're just someone who 'makes coffee', or so the thinking goes for this particular brand of asshole). But here's the thing; I'm not one of those people. So what if I wear baseball hats instead of a cool fedora that I bought at the Brooklyn Flea. So what if my pants aren't unisex. So what if my lack of retro (or shall we say vintage) facial hair clearly pegs me as painfully unhip. I'm nice to you! I actually tip you for the services you render! I actually have a deep appreciation for what it is that you do! You don't have to impress me with your knowledge of obscure music, or the screenplay you are writing, or the fixed gear bike shop you hope to open. In my book, you are a rockstar just the way you are......because you make amazing coffee! That's it. So the next time I ask you a question because I would like to learn more from you, who knows more than I, just answer it nicely. Don't look me up and down as you ponder whether it is worth your time. Don't blow it off and go back to talking to your co-worker about the new craft ale you are so excited to try. If you love coffee as much as you say you do, wouldn't you want to pass that passion on to others? Just saying. With all that being said, I must confess to having met two people recently who know a lot about coffee. A whole lot. In fact one of them probably knows as much about coffee and the coffee industry as anyone else out there. And guess what, they were incredibly nice. No pretension, no bullshit attitude, no holier than thou complex. Just really cool people with a passion for coffee. It was a refreshing experience.

So what have I been drinking lately:

-At home I have been brewing Ethiopian Suke Quto, Kenyan Ngunguru, and Costa Rican Don Mayo Reserva, all from Stumptown. They are all delicious. I mostly drink coffee black, but I must say that the Don Mayo is exceptional with cream and sugar.

-My favorite drink when I'm out is a cappuccino at Stumptown in the Ace Hotel. The crew there have never made me a subpar drink. Exceptional every time. A close second has been the espresso shots I have been getting at Cafe Grumpy.

-I love Vietnamese coffee and get it almost anytime I am enjoying Southeast Asian food. I can never understand why more coffeeshops don't make a version of it using high end coffee.

-And yes, at times I drink Dunkin Donuts. Maybe it's my New England upbringing. Or maybe it's just good. Dunkin Donuts, light and sweet, is my version of table wine. I like it, a lot.

Adaptive Cooking

Let me start out by saying that I really love my girlfriend. I really, really do. It's that special heartfelt connection embodied by the fact that things that some would view as flaws, become the most cherished traits of the person you love. Ashley is truly amazing, and the fact that she puts up with me is even more remarkable. With that being said, I must confess to have just recently worked through a long standing resentment associated with her eating habits. What could cause such caustic reaction in association to the girl I love (besides my general thickheaded behavior, which is a given)? Well let's see....she doesn't eat seafood. I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but oh so true. And potentially even more devastating to our otherwise blissful relationship is the fact that she is adamantly opposed to spicy food.

Let's briefly travel back in time to my younger years, where I grew up near the shore in Connecticut. Before you go imagining a picturesque beach house, resplendent with nautical memorabilia, understand that my family was working middle-class. Growing up near the shore meant that our town was on Long Island Sound, and we were within a fifteen minute drive of the water. But that nearness to the beach, the saltwater, and its bounty meant that I grew up eating seafood, and it became a staple in so many of my eating memories. The Captain's Galley restaurant where fried seafood and onion rings were a religion. Weddings based around real New England clambakes. My father overcooking massive slabs of swordfish (though at the time I thought it was great). Lobsters whenever the prices were down. Getting New England clam chowder at every roadside restaurant from CT to Nova Scotia just to compare. Shrimp cocktail at Christmas. My eventual introduction to sushi. I loved it all, and I still do. It feels like seafood is in my blood, though I rarely have a chance to eat it. On the rare occasions when we eat out, we simply never go to restaurants where fish would be the highlight of the menu. I'm not going to suggest we go to a sushi bar where I get to indulge in one of my favorite things to eat, while she is forced to order a sub par version of chicken yakitori. And at home I continue to crack myself up daily when I ask her what she wants for dinner, then follow it with the suggestion of fish. Somehow it's still funny to me.

With spicy food I may fare slightly better, because I can always kick it up at the end with a sprinkling of this, or a dollop of that. Believe me when I tell you, I am not one of these post-frat freaks who get off on turning their frayed hat backwards and diving into a pile of wings that was listed on the menu as being covered in Gonad Exploding Supernova Hot Sauce. I just love a little heat. Not heat for heats sake, but to enhance the food. Give me a bowl of noodles and a jar of homemade Thai Fish Sauce with chilies, and I am a happy man. Crushed red pepper in fresh tomato sauce...yes please! Sichuan anything...but of course. Sriracha on the pork buns at Momofuku...I couldn't agree more. Spicy salsa on my tacos...gracias! But alas, it remains a solo pursuit that I don't think will change anytime soon.

So what does that leave a man to do when donning the apron for the evening meal? Adapt. Here's the thing (BLD), I love to cook for other people. The act of feeding someone else is a noble act in a world that has lost much of its nobility. And of all the people in the world, there is no one I would rather feed than Ashley. So I cook things that I know she will enjoy. There has certainly been experimentation with her palette; new ingredients, flavors, etc. But I'm not making Sichuan hot pots and presenting it for dinner with the disclaimer that it's something she should try. In the process of cutting out seafood and heat, I've become much more adept at cooking other things, which has been a bonus to my spicy seafood celibacy. Just remember to cook for those you love, with them in mind, and everything will be okay. I just hope I don't forget how to cook a piece of fish.

Let's Grab A Bite To Eat

Let me start off by saying that I love to eat out at restaurants. I love the going out ritual, the sojourn (as me and my girlfriend like to call it) to unknown neighborhoods, the atmosphere, the comfort of being served. There isn't much to not like about the activity, except for one small thing...the food. Prepare yourselves, as I am about to make a rather bold statement. Most restaurants aren't very good. That's right, I said it, and believe me, I stand by that statement 100%. So what exactly do I mean, since I will admit to it being a rather broad stroke of the brush (or pen I suppose). From where I sit, which is most assuredly not at a table in a fine dining establishment, the food at most restaurants in the mid to low price range is fair at best. Maybe to some people the food seems great, and maybe I just haven't been to enough restaurants, or had the experience of ordering take-out for 90% of the meals during my twenties. But I can tell you this much, I have been eating at restaurants since I was five. The point being, I've logged some real-world experience. I've had great times with great people. I've laughed, I've loved, I've gotten drunk (in my younger years). I've admired trendy design elements, and recieved brilliant service from out of work actors who should accept the fact that being a great waiter or waitress is an honorable career (just ask the French). But how many times have I had really great food?

Chain restaurants are bad, almost across the board, despite the fact that many are no bargain. I sometimes imagine the corporate heads of all the chains gathering in a secret room somewhere to craft their menus....

"Ok Bob, you do the Chicken Fingers with ranch sauce, and we will do it with buffalo sauce, and Chili's over there will do it with chipotle sauce (the Bobby Flay effect, wherein chipotles have become the ingredient of choice for chain hacks)." "We will make a burger that is as close to a hockey puck as possible, and you will too. Except we will put mayo on it, and you will use a seeded bun." "And don't forget guys, the oriental chicken salad is a must!!!" "We are all going to serve tons of fries with virtually every entree, let's just make sure they are undercooked, undersalted, and essentially inedible without mounds of ketchup. We need complete compliance on this one."

Are there exceptions to the rule that chain food is bad? I suppose there is, but in my mind the list is pretty short, and even these are servicable mainly when convenience is paramount to a successful meal. Smashburger makes a tasty burger indeed, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know where their meat comes from. Chipotle is fast, reliable, tasty, and made with pretty decent ingredients. But the truth is a really good taqueria will always be better. I don't even mind P.F. Changs (I know, it's slightly embarrasing) for its middle of the road Asain flair, it's ability to go down smooth and leave you feeling full then empty in mere minutes. But real Chinese food it is not.

What might be even worse is the fact that most independent restaurants aren't very good either. Don't get me wrong, there are many good restaurants out there, but in comparison to the amount of bad ones, it seems quite clear to me that the scales are tipped in the wrong direction. The restaurant business is incredibly tough, and I give all the credit in the world to those who show up day in and day out and cook, but that doesn't mean I have to like the food they turn out. Maybe I'm picky, maybe I'm a snob (pretty sure the answer is no), or maybe I just find myself leaving restaurants feeling slightly ripped off (BINGO!). Or maybe I think I could do better (Triple Letter Bonus!!). Is that an incredibly arrogant thing to say? Am I totally kidding myself? Maybe. It's just that I have made many incredible meals at home that were infinitely more enjoyable than most of the restaurant experiences I have had in my lifetime. Simple food, using the best ingredients I could get my hands on. My own two hands, using tried and true techniques that some of the great chefs of the world have taught me (through books of course, though it would be pretty cool if Batali or Ripert was chillin at my counter showing me the way Yoda style). Plus I get to pick the music! What's the lesson that I have learned? Eat at home more often. Make eating out something special, not a way of life. If you need a jump start, read Cathy Erway's book The Art Of Eating In, and you will be inspired to find your own passion in the kitchen (it is a great personal story that is wonderfully written, I read in in two days simply because I couldn't put it down).

What are some great restaurants in my humble opinion? Find out soon.