By Kevin Finch on July 25, 2009
Mark Hosack spent his birthday (today) riding herd on the International Pinot Noir Celebration kitchen with his monster mug. Happy Birthday, Chef.
Posted in dining, play, travel | Tagged birthday, chef, happy birthday, IPNC, Mark Hosack, Portland chef, Portland OR |
By Kevin Finch on July 23, 2009
Thursday: Today in the kitchen at the International Pinot Noir Celebration is both a ramp up to a weekend of fine dining and a reunion as the kitchen crew alumni arrive with their knife kits and chef whites. Preparation begins for meals throughout the weekend and the first headliner chefs arrive to work. Chef Mark Hosack hands out kitchen assignments as people arrive:
Snap these beans.
Zest these limes.
Shuck this corn.
Pit these olives.
Do whatever Chef Priest asks.
Press these tortillas.
Cook that octopus.
Bias cut this celery for a potato salad.
Other chefs filter in: those with their names in the weekend’s program next to the course at one of the lunches or dinners that they will prepare… often with our help. More prep tasks are handed out.
My intimate companions for the day were yellow beans, limes (and my Microplane), olives, four types of beans for a salad, and Mexican chocolate for Molly’s Mole.
The theme for the staff dinner tonight is Mexican and Molly Priest is in charge, and her instructions to me as I incorporate the chocolate at the end is definitive: “Don’t waste a drop. That stuff is gold.”
I take just a nip once the chocolate is melted it. It doesn’t look like gold, but I agree. It is.
This is only my second year, but in addition to plenty of work, the kitchen is also full of welcome smiles. I suspect it is the smiles as much as anything that keeps the crew coming back: smiles, some great Pinot, and time working alongside some of the most creative culinary figures in the Northwest.
[caption id="attachment_584" align="alignnone" width="550" caption="Melissa has a great smile..."]
[/caption]
Posted in culture, travel | Tagged celery, International Pinot Noir Celebration, IPNC, kitchen crew, Mark Hosack, Melissa Williams, Mexican food, mole, Molly Priest |
By Kevin Finch on July 22, 2009
Last year a friend who calls herself a “chef and food wrangler” invited me to spend four days working in the campus kitchen for Linfield College alongside some of the best chefs from around the Northwest. “We don’t pay you, but we give you room and board. The wine is not bad, and you’ll get to meet some amazing chefs.”
I went. The event is called the International Pinot Noir Festival and for the better part of the week each summer the IPNC folks take over the college in the heart of Oregon’s Williamette Valley. The wine is excellent and the food is as well.
Today I’m headed back for more 10 hour days in a hot kitchen for no pay and I’m looking forward to it. My friend describes it as “summer camp for chefs” and most of the other volunteers in the kitchen (who actually are chefs in their own right) agree. They keep coming back because it is fun.
Last year I kept a running record in pictures of the bottle bin in the back. I might do so again. Over the course of the long weekend it goes from empty to overflowing.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel, wine | Tagged Ann Nisbet, International Pinot Noir Celebration, IPNC, McMinnville OR, Northwest chefs, Oregon wine, pinot noir, Williamette Valley, wine |
By Kevin Finch on July 13, 2009
By the time I reach St. Regis (Exit 33 coming down off of Lookout Pass in Montana) I’m usually hungry. The Travel Center promises fudge, ice cream, slot machines, a full-service restaurant with the word “huckleberry” in the title, and a massive trout tank in the shape of a moat that you can actually crawl inside. It also offers almost as much travel kitsch as the 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar a few miles back up the road.
It is true that the St. Regis Travel Center can’t match the 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar in the area of medieval swords and black ops knives. Yet unless you want a replica of Excalibur in the trunk or a Chinese knock-off of a Navy Seal blade under your car seat, I recommend stopping in St. Regis.
Particularly if your destination is the Flathead, actually leaving the freeway at Exit 33 feels like real progress rather than just caving into the tourist trap pressure of a bar surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of silver dollars with a life-sized carving of an Indian chief guarding the door.
St. Regis is the place to stop, but where to eat has never been settled to my satisfaction. The seasonal trailer hocking fresh Montana cherries at highway robbery prices is an viable option. The Travel Center restaurant isn’t.
I still haven’t mustered the courage to go into the restaurant in the center. The word “berry” in the title combined with a cave-like entrance is part of it. Bad experiences at similar places next to other exits in other states is also a factor. Then there is the urgency to keep moving. Junk food from the racks near the register might not be heart-healthy or wholesome, but it can be eaten in the car.
Yet there is something more that has kept me out of the restaurant all these years. For absolutely no rational reason I can identify, the place feels sinister. I may be missing the best buffalo meatloaf on the planet cooked by some rising truck-stop star who will win Top Chef. But if I am, you’ll have to tell me because the place makes me nervous.
This has presented a problem in the hunger-for-hot-food department until now.
Now another option at Exit 33 takes credit cards. Frosty’s Drive In isn’t new, but for years they’ve been a cash only spot.
No longer. They take credit, and offer at least the pretense of fast food with their drive-up window. Realistically you probably want to park and walk in. Frosty’s isn’t the place for your burger in a minute or two. Try six. Or ten.
Neither is it the spot for a culinary revelation. You can, with confidence, skip the banana shake. The handmade sign made me hope for actual banana. Instead, the syrup they use produces a color not found in nature and a taste to match. But the Mushroom Burger was a surprise in the other direction.
It has personality. The beef appears to be food service standard, but the bun is fresh, grilled slightly, and comes with a smear of special sauce. They include a cheese product without advertising it on the menu and the cook takes the time to slap the canned mushrooms on the grill. She is also generous with the hand-torn lettuce.
Frosty’s isn’t In-N-Out, Fatburger, or Shake Shack, but it does give me a place to stop when I’m hungry in St. Regis and not in the mood for kitsch and travel center sinister. I count this as progress.
Posted in dining, travel | Tagged 000 Silver Dollar Bar, 50, banana shake, cherries, Danny Meyer, Exit 33, Fatburger, Flathead, Frosty's, Frosty's Drive In, huckleberries, In-N-Out Burger, Interstate 90, knock off knives, Lookout Pass, Montana, Montana cherries, Montana restaurants, Shake Shack, St Regis, St. Regis Travel Center, Top Chef, travel kitsch |
By Kevin Finch on June 25, 2009
In my ongoing investigation into whether Facebook can be useful or is ultimately a sinister plot by Chaos to cut worldwide productivity in half, I requested suggestions on places worth eating in San Francisco.
Here are the responses I received in the event you might want to add them to your ‘hit list’ for the next time you visit. I’ve added a few explanatory notes in ITALICS at points.
Daryl Geffken commented on your status: “naan and curry… fantastic. azteca in the castro… not the chain… ask a local what to get. pho vietnam II. have fun”
Jeremy Leonard Hansen commented on your status: “Say hi to Chef Eric Tucker at Millennium for lunch & Michael Mina’s Clock Bar for cocktails. Have fun and eat with thought my friend.”
Tad Wisenor commented on your status: “You can never go wrong with the Pacific Cafe at 7000 Geary. Two of my favorite seafood meals ever.”
Diane Allen Buzzard commented on your status: “Try Tommie’s Joint! Very fun + good food!”
Jeff Englehorn commented on your status: “the stinking rose is always fun… oh yeah- the caffe trieste in north beach for espresso, then over to vesuvio – where kerouac used to hang out…”
Eric Charles Lanes commented on your status: “Bouca di Beppo on Howard is always a riot–but you have to go in a group to the hang of it. Meatballs the size of softballs, ravioli the size of playing cards, parmigiana to kill g’ma for. Get off on Harrison/Bryant from S. 101 or from the Bay Bridge coming West (and you could get off on Howard just as easily) and in your in South-of-Market. Up and down Harrison, Bryant, Howard, & Folsom (run parallel) you’ll find alot of different things. Gets somewhat fancier toward Financial District/Mkt. St. so try to stay toward the grungier part of SoMa. Good Indian food places, dim sum, etc. Too many to list here.” “Almost forgot: Picadilly Fish & Chips @ 1348 Polk St (415) 771-6477 is excellent (it’s a block off Van Ness, right turn). Naan N’ Chutney 525 Haight for Indian is good. Okay, okay. Last: If you want some fancier excellent food that’s prepared by a staff of all ex-convicts/parolees (I’m not kidding) go to Delancey Street Restaurant at 600 Embarcadero St (right under the 80 freeway, pretty much). From S. 101 get off on Howard go to the bottom of Howard, turn right and go on. Ex-cons doing valet parking, too. http://www.facebook.com/l/;delanceystreefoundation.org” “One more thing: If you get to the East Bay and have time, go to Linguini’s in Alameda 1506 Park St. Pescatore is recommended (every shellfish there is w/calamari over garlicky fettucine, basil, olive oil, parmesan butter, tomatoes, onions, etc). So is the asiago w/prosciutto on spinach fettucine with peas. From 80 E. on Bay Bridge take 880 Nimitz Freeway south get off on Webster St./Alameda exit, thru the tube onto the island, take a left on Central at end of Webster (becomes Encinal at split right exactly where I lived a block away), drive thru town and left on Park. Lived here for 5 years–great little town and this was my favorite eating place. http://www.facebook.com/l/;linguinisrestaurant.com (pix of the food!) Sushi in Alameda: Kamakura 2549 Santa Clara. Oakland: In the Piedmont off MacArthur is Shin-Shin. Small excellent Chinese outfit. Ask for waiter Dennis-good man. In Jack London Square (right on water under freeway) in Oakland: Hahn’s Hibachi–great Korean Grill (get a side of spicy kim chee).”
Cammie Finnerty commented on your status: “Swans (OYSTER BAR) for lunch if you haven’t been already. Also, try Anchor and Hope. My sister-in-law works there and I hear the food is yummy!” “Just thought of another good one… Burma Superstar- on Clement St. The tea leaf salad is a must!”
Julie Ann Higgins Russell commented on your status: “I had an excellent dinner at Gitane on Claude Alley. The bacon bonbons were delicious (and I don’t usually eat meat) and the dessert beignets are something I still think about.”
Thanks to everyone who weighed in with a suggstion. Eric gets the award for the most enthusiastic and detailed suggestions. Naan and Curry picked up two votes and I happened to drive by it as well as The Stinking Rose on my way to pick up a friend in the Financial District. In the end we headed down to the Ferry Terminal on the Embarcadero to Taylor’s Automatic Refresher for half a bottle of wine and an order of sweet potato fries. The setting was near perfect, but one of the food suggestions above would have been better.
Posted in culture, dining, travel | Tagged Anchor and Hope, azteca in the castro, Bouca di Beppo, Burma Superstar, Caffe Trieste, Chaos, Chef Eric Tucker, Delancy Street Restaurant, Facebook, Ferry Terminal, Gitane, Hahn's Hibachi, Linguini's, Michael Mina's Clock Bar, millenium, naan and curry, Pacific Cafe, Pescatore, pho vietnam II, Picadilly Fish & Chips, San Francisco, San Francisco CA, San Francisco restaurants, Swan's, Taylor's Automatic Refresher, The Stinking Rose, Tommie's Joint, Vesuvio |
By Kevin Finch on June 24, 2009
For those of you who don’t know, Fry’s Electronics is a Bay Area phenomenon that took the idea of an electronics store with a few snack food items and turned it into a retail technology juggernaut that retains just enough geek to be credible to everyone else.
Each trip we make to the Bay Area to visit family includes a pilgrimage to Fry’s on Hamilton in Campbell. This particular Fry’s store was designed on the outside to look vaguely like an Egyptian pyramid and decorated inside to resemble King Tut’s tomb.
My standard operating procedure on each pilgrimage includes at least some time in the PC role playing games section debating whether to buy a new game guaranteed to turn me into an obsessed computer addict for several weeks. This trip I opted not to spend 29.95 and check out of the family for the first half of July.
But I did find something I couldn’t resist buying.
This would be Fry’s brand of bottled water. Apparently gamers and geeks are not all slugging down Mountain Dew any more and Fry’s is angling to capture the H2O crowd standing in line waiting to pay for their 109 inch LCD and Hyper-Pentium Liquid-Cooled Tower.
Now I rarely buy water in bottles both because I am happy with free water, and I hate the environmental impact of carting water in bottles all around our country (not to mentioned from exotic islands in the Pacific), but I broke my principle for one bottle from Fry’s. While I have yet to figure out what the monkey has to do with technology, I think these bottles just may end up as a collector’s item.
Posted in cooking, culture, play, travel | Tagged Bay Area, bottled water, Campbell CA, electronics, Fry's, Fry's Electronics, geek, King Tut, pyramid, water |
By Kevin Finch on June 24, 2009
I’ve been complaining about the lack of Shanghai-style dumplings in the states for over a year. One of the food-related downsides to travel is the two-fold discovery. First you eat something transcendent in, say, China, only to return and realize it is impossible to get anthing remotely similar at home.
During a week in Shanghai in the spring of 2008, my goal was to eat absolutely everything put in front of me, and I came remarkably close. I even managed to gulp down a few bites of blood soup before calling ‘uncle’ in universal sign language (clutching my throat, rolling off the chair, and writhing on the floor while making gagging noises).
But without a doubt the biggest culinary revelation of the trip were the incredible dumplings. We even ate them for breakfast and in less than a week I went from thinking that pork dumplings at 8 am were about the strangest start to the day to craving them from the moment I woke up.
This presented an immediate problem once I passed through customs back into the U.S. It was morning in Portland and there wasn’t a dumpling anywhere in the airport. Spokane wasn’t any better: no dumplings. And not just for breakfast. I couldn’t find anything even marginally similar anywhere in town at any hour.
I asked my Chinese friends: still no joy. They said part of the reason they return to China almost yearly is simply to eat dumplings.
Then Wednesday night I discovered a reference on a San Francisco web site describing a tiny shop in Millbrae that served Xiao Long Bao. The place is called the Shanghai Dumpling Shop. It was a long shot, but I was desperate.
Last night after a meeting in San Francisco with Kate Riley of Mercedes ‘Hair of the Dog’ Cantina I punched into the GPS the coordinates for the dumpling shop (455 Broadway, Millbrae CA) and headed down the 101.
I counted it as a hopeful sign that nearly everyone in the shop was Chinese and the man behind the counter looked suspiciously at me. It is the Seinfeld ‘Soup Nazi’ Principle: some of the best food is to be found in places that don’t need your business and might not be particularly pleased you walked in the door.
The fact that I heard more Mandarin at the tables around me than English was another hopeful sign, and so I didn’t waste my time exegeting the whole menu. I just asked for the pork Xiao Long Bao ($7.50 for 10) and ten minutes later a bamboo steamer arrived without ceremony at my table.
They were not exactly like I remembered from the storefront shops in Shanghai, but they were very, very close. In fact they were so close I was very, very happy even though I nearly burned my tongue as the hot juices of the first one squirted out into my mouth when I bit down.
Millbrae isn’t close enought to Spokane for a daily fix, but plane tickets to California are somewhat cheaper than those to Shanghai and, at least as of yesterday, a passport wasn’t required to order at the Shanghai Dumpling Shop.
Posted in culture, dining, travel | Tagged bamboo steamer, blood soup, breakfast dumplings, China, Mercedes, Mercedes Hair of the Dog Cantina, Mercedes restaurant, Millbrae CA, pork, pork dumplings, San Francisco, San Francisco CA, San Francisco restaurants, Seinfeld, Shanghai, Shanghai dumplings, Soup Nazi, steamed dumplings, xiao long bao |
By Kevin Finch on June 16, 2009
New England Trip #7
Boston is the site of the Freedom Trail and Fenway Park, the Big Dig and… a real contender for the best hot dog in the country.
The dog in question comes from a tiny white trailer in an industrial triangle in south Boston called Newmarket Square. Apparently the rules of geometry can be suspended in New England geography because there are only three sides to this particular “square.” Around the perimeter of the triangle called a square are warehouses devoted almost exclusively to food: Lun Fat Produce, Mutual Beef, J. Carter Veal, Boston Brisket Company Inc, the Chinese Spaghetti Factory, Katsiroubas Bros. Wholesale Fruit and Produce, and a place simply titled Lord Jeff.
Yet the reason to come is Speed’s trailer.
I would have never ventured within miles of Newmarket Square if it wasn’t for the hot dog that won the hearts of both Raymond Sokolov of the Wall Street Journal and Frank Bruni of the New York Times. Given the number of classic dogs on NYC street corners, I would take the vote of either as statistically significant. Together their claim that Speed’s is the dog of all dogs is much more.
Sokolov embarked on a crosss-country quest for the best dog and counts Pink’s (Los Angeles), Gene and Jude’s (Chicago), and the Shake Shack (New York) as runners-up to the top dog. Yet he claims that Speed’s is the ultimate tube steak: “the wiener with the most wow, the frank of all franks.”
Then there is Bruni, former restaurant critic for the New York Times. His post at the paper made him arguably the most powerful and influential critic is in the country and possibly the world. And his choice: Boston Speed’s. Sure I wanted to try some calm “chow-da” while in Boston, but I simply couldn’t pass up a chance to taste a truly top contender for the best hot dog in the land.
The man behind Boston Speed’s is Ezra “Speed” Anderson, and he started dishing dogs in 1975. He personally no longer serves his famous franks out the window of the tiny mobile dog house, but he remains the one making the secret sauce that you can get slathered on your $7 charcoal grilled dog along with an equally fresh and homemade red relish. The secret sauce recipe is a closely guarded secret, but one of my sources passed along the rumor that one of the ingredients is… get this… grape jelly. Sources even closer to Speed would neither confirm nor deny this rumor.
What isn’t rumor is the recent panic among Boston’s hot dog aficionados. Recently Speed (well into his eighties) hung up his tongs, and passed along the day-to-day operations of the wagon to a younger partner, Greg Gale. By the time I arrived, though, this ruckus seems to have died down with Gale proving he wouldn’t mess with the best. Like Speed himself, Gale continues to use 1/2 pound commercial franks and marinate each one in apple cider and brown sugar before tossing it on the grill. The bun also gets toasted on the grill briefly.
The result is a wonder in a bun.
I haven’t yet tried every dog Sokolov did before crowning Speed’s the king, but I do know that Speed and Gale are deserve the buzz. They serve up a truly great dog… possibly the very best.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged Amanda Hyman, Anthony Hyman, best hot dog, Boston, Boston Speed's, Boston Speed's Famous Hot Dogs, Ezra "Speed" Anderson, Frank Bruni, Gene and Jude's hot dog, grape jelly, Greg Gale, grilled bun, hot dog, hot dog wagon, New York Times, Newmarket Square, Pink's hot dogs, Raymond Sokolov, secret sauce, Shake Shack hot dog, Wall Street Journal |
By Kevin Finch on June 12, 2009
New England Trip #6
Seafood is clearly central to the regional identity of New England and lobster appears to be king. Growing up in Montana we had Rocky Mountain Oysters readily available, but not a lot of fresh lobster. Even in Seattle with its myriad of fresh fish and seafood options, lobster stayed far from center stage; appearing only occasionally on a menu and the often as part of a surf-n-turf paring listed at “market price.”
My budget usually means I don’t even both to ask what “market price” might be.
Truthfully, I’d never even heard of a lobster roll until I set foot in Connecticut, but it became evident immediately that any trip to New England that didn’t include a lobster roll was woefully incomplete.
A little reading informed me that much of New England serves up lobster rolls cold with the lobster tosses with a little mayo: a lobster salad sandwich if you will. Yet Connecticut prides itself on its hot lobster rolls that are nothing but lobster drenched in melted butter on a bun. No mayo, no diced celery for crunch, no nothing but lobster, butter, and bread.
The more I read the more I realized that the best lobster rolls probably were not to be found in sit-down, white-linen, big-check establishments. Instead I realized the best would probably be found at some small seafood shack near the shore where you ordered at a window and ate at a picnic table or at least on a plastic chair.
Zagat’s probably lists a high-end spot willing to put a lobster roll on the menu, but I turned instead to Yelp and Road Food to find the perfect spot for a stellar example of ye olde lobster roll. Road Food came through for me with a promising hole-in-the-wall recommendation in Old Saybrook, CT.
Johnny Ad’s also serves up hot dogs that have taken home awards, but I refused to be distracted from my objective: a great HOT lobster roll ($15.50). A clear birch beer was a bonus.
The purist clam pizza might be a learned craving. The hot lobster roll? Not so much. It took all of a bite for me to decide this could easily become an obsession.
Johnny’s has been open since 1957 which suggests that a number of locals probably agree since you certainly don’t head to Johnny’s for ambiance.
Posted in culture, dining, travel | Tagged addiction, birch beer, Clam Pizza, Connecticut, hot dog, hot lobster roll, Johnny Ad's, lobster, lobster roll, market price, New England, obsession, Old Saybrook, Road Food, Rocky Mountain Oysters, seafood, shore, Yelp |
By Kevin Finch on June 11, 2009
New England Trip #5
On a side street in New Haven, Connecticut, Frank Pepe opened his Pizzeria Napoletana in 1925 to serve up classic “tomato pies.” And with a coal-fired, brick oven that hit 2200 degrees, he started turning out pizzas quickly famous for their thin blistered crispy-chewy crusts.
Today Frank Pepe’s feels something like a stripped-down food shrine with utilitarian booths identified by number and the faded pictures hung on the walls above.
We ended up in booth 19 after making the pilgrimage to Frank Pepe’s in New Haven for one reason only: the clam pizza. Frank’s clam pizza is widely rumored to be the best on the planet.
Of course it is not unusual for restaurants to claim they have the very best of something, but more often than not these claims go unsubstantiated. Frank Pepe’s clam pie is in a different category. A few pizza fundamentalists might argue that you can find a better clam pie somewhere else, but even they have to admit it is Frank’s Pizzeria Napoletana that set the standard and remains the pie to beat.
I love clams. I love pizza. And Frank’s progeny and staff aren’t stingy. Even the smallest pizza on the menu is substantial and thick with clams. We ordered ours without mozzarella at the advice of our brisk and business-like waitress. She didn’t beat around the bush when asked if a quintessential pie came with cheese or without. “Without,” she said definitively and didn’t bother to explain.
Thirteen minutes later… without cheese… but with the promised thin crispy-chewy blistered crust our pie arrived at the table.
I confess to disappointment. My West Coast pizza sensibilities and taste buds are decidedly New World and apparently assume a pizza isn’t a pizza without tomato sauce and melted cheese. Faced with possibly the country’s best clam pizza, I found myself ogling the massive sausage pizza at Table 18 across the aisle. It sported the same brilliant crust but was slathered with sauce and topped with a thick sheen of melted mozzarella.
Bottom line? I’ll return to Frank Pepe’s next time I’m in New Haven. I bet I’ll even order another classic clam pie on the premise that it might well grow on me. But I’ll also order one of Frank’s original tomato pies and get the version – authentic or not – that includes cheese.
Posted in culture, dining, travel | Tagged 1925, brick oven pizza, Clam Pizza, clams, coal-fired pizza oven, Connecticut, Frank Pepe's, Frank Pepe's Pizzaria, Frank Pepe's Pizzaria Napoletana, New England, New Haven, pizza, pizza crust, Tomato Pies |
By Kevin Finch on June 9, 2009
New England Trip #4
Allow me to make fun of myself as well as others. One detail of the impressive lunch at The Hermitage that I failed to mention earlier was the very first bite I took.
Michael and Amanda’s enthusiastic description of the food at The Hermitage had me poised to dive in the moment something edible reached our table, and dive in I did. My first glance at the first small plate to arrive suggested it was a soft cheese drizzled in extra virgin olive oil and a balsamic reduction. “Ah!” I thought. “An amuse-bouche right out of the gate. Fresh Vermont cheese. Brilliant.” And without pause, I cut off a generous (but not greedy) portion and popped it in my mouth.
The look on Amanda’s face warned me a second before my taste buds.
It wasn’t cheese at all, but butter. Good butter, sure. Drizzled in olive oil and a balsamic reduction, yes. But straight butter.
No need to chew. Just swallow, gulp water, and deal with the embarrassed flush on my cheeks.
Currently this amuse-bouche faux pas makes my Top Ten Stupid Restaurant Critic Dining Decisions. If the very secrective oversight board that licenses restaurant critics worldwide hears about it, I am sure I will be put on critic probation for at least six months.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged amuse bouche, balsamic reduction, butter, dining enthusiasm, faux pas, olive oil, The Hermitage, The Hermitage Country Inn, The Hermitage Inn |
