Friday, August 30, 2013
diana kennedy, who knows a lot about mexican regional and vernacular cooking, shows us how it's done.
to make chapulines, which everyone keeps a bag of in the freezer, all you need is a dry pan. salt the pan lightly, toast the grasshoppers until lightly browned to achieve a chitinous crunch and to kill off those pesky nematodes you don't want in you. then add lemon juice off the heat. liberally dispense thoughts about the authenticity of most so-called mexican foods (low) and the future of indigenous mexican edibles (dire). separately, have your cadre of starstruck minions begin to make the sauce. to do this, they will de-seed dried chiles into a bus tub, reserving the seeds for maximum flavour. pan-toast the chile seeds and chile flesh separately, then crush together into a paste with salt, raw garlic, and water. it helps to have a michelin-starred chef from ireland with a sense of humour operate the pestle.
the chapulines would have been great in a soft corn tortilla with finely diced onion and cilantro but copenhagen, for all its virtues, is not a taco town.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
sam and vic left noma and nearly instantly (by restaurant standards) opened their own place. it is not a hushed temple of gastronomy, nor does it stake its identity on precious ingredients. instead, some of the techniques of the new nordic kitchen, lusty cooking, a healthy sense of humour, lots of organs and what would, in a less thoughtful kitchen, be trash. expect an eyeball or two. in both food and service, bror shows where it came from and how it is different.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
chopsticks peel back a flap of raw scallop to expose an avocado cube, scallop roe, a shaving of not-overripe mango, and a drop of pique—a class of fruit and chili vinegars from puerto rico: new style, new world crudo with the finesse of old-school sashimi, from saison. before, a little bowl of egg custard, topped with gently cooked turnip slices and a tiny ball of wrung-out shungiku. and after, a barely warmed piece of lamb dry-aged for 60 days, lying on a pile of minted grilled eggplant and salt-cured lemon filled with the mediterranean scent of fire, scrub, and preservation.
go for the first courses, the fish, the furniture, and the extensive collection of exquisite glass and ceramic servingware. note: for those who have not yet exited their startups, the wine list may prove hard to swallow.
bread to use up the remnants of many small tubs of assorted flours, a bag of frozen walnut pieces, and a bundle of scallion tops—and not incidentally my last loaf, for now, as a resident of cambridge, mass. of course, this irreproducible, haphazard bread achieved the texture i plan and hope for but always, until now, have fallen far short of.