Burger Fix at The Mash Tun
April 10, 2011
Mushroom Swiss burger and tomato, bleu cheese soup. Damn. Good.
I’m feeling sentimental.
It’s Sunday night, and J and I are in different cities. With our schedules you’d think we’d be used to separation. But we are seldom apart on weekends. So I am thinking about weekends past, and one in particular: last weekend and our Saturday-night burger fest at The Mash Tun.
Conveniently (and temptingly) located two blocks from our house, The Mash Tun is an Alberta Street brew pub with free pool, darts, a full bar and house-brewed suds. It’s the first restaurant we went to when we moved to the neighborhood, and is usually the first place we think of on nights that we’ve made the effort to get dressed, but can’t muster any more energy than that.
Two giant brew kettles mark the entry on NE 22nd Ave and Alberta. Inside, the feel is casual and convivial with wood paneling, a central pool table and a jukebox that spins everything from 80s pop hits to downtempo jams. TVs hang in three corners for those with an eye on the game, and a pooch-friendly patio beckons in good weather. Most tables are filled with friends out for a casual night of conversation, pool, board games or tasty food.
The menu lists a range of pub favorites — fried apps, sandwiches, mini-pizzas, salads and the like. In an attempt to mask this as anything but an indulgence, J and I typically start with the big, beautiful beet salad. The greens are fresh, the beets plentiful, a little goat cheese adds tang and hazelnuts crunch it up. After that, it’s on to the entrees, and we’ve tried a few: the bratwurst is one tasty, tangy dog with sauerkraut; the BLATO (bacon, lettuce, avocado, tomato, onion on sourdough) is a good bet, always. But, truth be told, we’re here for the burgers. Big beefy patties are juicy and flavorful enough to laugh in the face of the tabletop condiments — I go without. My top choice is mushroom Swiss. J switches it up, but last weekend, it was the bleu burger with bacon. (Specify your burger temperature when you order or you’ll get medium.) Fry fanatics, listen up: the frenchies here are hit and miss, and it breaks my heart. But too often they are tepid and mushy. I now avoid them in favor of crunchy tots. A handful of house-brewed beers on tap wet the whistle, but there’s a full bar if your whistle cries out for a cocktail.
Sweetie, I miss you. I miss The Mash Tun. Here is to many more almost-lazy Saturday nights in our neighborhood haunt.
Refrigerator Staple: Soffritto
April 1, 2011
Soffritto, draining.
Onions.
Olive oil.
Tomatoes.
Garlic.
Salt.
Whenever J and I make a meal, you can bet that, in most cases, at least four of the five ingredients above are featured in some way or another. But in one of our newest refrigerator staples, they are the stars.
Helloooo, soffritto, you sweet, jammy medley.
We had our first encounter with soffritto over the holidays last year, following the recipe from Thomas Keller’s “Ad Hoc at Home” cookbook in the ever-engaging “lifesavers” section. His is a simple recipe, really: Finely dice onions (3 cups) and combine in a large pan with olive oil (1 cup, though I sometimes us a bit more so there is more to save) and a bit of salt. Bring the oil just to a boil, then reduce the heat and place the pan on a heat diffuser. Simmer for 2 1/2 hours.
Cue the tomatoes. Keller gives instructions for halving one pound plum tomatoes lengthwise, and grating the flesh on a box grater until only the skin is left in your hand. I did this once. But in December in the Northwest, plum tomatoes are pretty anemic. And while the process of hand-grating tomatoes is not difficult, I feel it’s not entirely necessary when a box of good-quality Italian crushed tomatoes is a fine shortcut. Add the tomatoes (1 cup or so) to the onion/olive oil stew, give a stir and simmer for another 2 1/2 hours. Low, slow.
Remove the pan from the heat, add one or two (Two! No, three!) minced garlic cloves and let the mixture cool on the stove. Use a fine-mesh sieve to drain off the extra olive oil, reserving it for the next batch of soffritto (Keller’s advice), or for sauteeing vegetables (our advice). Either way, refrigerate the oil, refrigerate the soffritto. Enjoy.
How to enjoy? I eat my fair share of quesadillas, and this mellow-sweet, onion-y condiment is a luxurious topping. It’s also delicious on frittata, fish or pasta.
Or, by the spoonful.
(I would never do that.)
A Birthday Beast
March 26, 2011
Steak tartare + quail egg on toast = two bites of heaven.
Honestly, birthdays are getting a little old. (Pun sort of intended. Not really. They are getting really old.) I’ll spare you the self-indulgent details. But if mark them I must, what better way than by spending a Saturday evening with some of my favorite people at one of he most lauded restaurants in Portland? The company did not disappoint, nor did our meal at Beast.
James, Zandra, Margaret, J and I shared a communal table with a group of four that seemed content to keep to themselves, which was fine by me. Diners at the other, larger table in the room made acquaintances early, but in the end appeared to interact mostly with those they came with. (I mention this only as a point of solace for anyone uneasy about communal seating, as I, ever the introvert, tend to be.) The setting for dinner is snug, dusky, casual yet refined. The room features whimsical graffiti, a working kitchen that hums with quiet precision and a sizable plating island that seats two, maybe three, lucky diners. A seating, of which there are two nightly Wednesday-Saturday, accommodates perhaps 30. Two brunch seatings on Sunday round out the week.
We opted for the wine pairings, and once all parties had arrived, the feasting began. We commenced with a rich, inky French onion soup, its crouton oozing with Gruyere, paired with a bubbly Brut rose. Next was a colorful palette of charcuterie whose standouts included a silky chicken liver mousse on a crisp leaf lard cracker; toast topped with steak tartare and a delicate quail egg; and a tiny square of sauternes gelee perched on a rich, chilled fois gras bon-bon — a creamy mouthful that might have stood in for dessert. The main course brought a fork-tender braised duck accented by pickled sour cherries and a syrupy duck demi-glace alongside crunchy pink spring radishes with their greens. After that, a refresher: a bright arugula salad slightly wilted under an aged-sherry, bacon, balsamic vinaigrette with shaved Reggiano and tempura-fried lemons. The only jarring moment of the meal came during the cheese course, which included a spunky goat’s milk cheese; a salty, tangy blue; and a wow-invoking German cow’s milk cheese redolent of barnyard. (If you haven’t guessed, the last one was the jarring bit — a conversation stopper and most definitely an acquired taste.) After all that, dessert: spicy, chilled hazelnut cake alongside Armagnac prune frozen mousse.
Beast strikes a balance between rich and bright, sweet and tart, crunch and cream, with generous dashes of whimsy and elegance for good measure. We feel fortunate to have this cozy spot in our neck of the woods, and look forward to many (40-something?) celebratory meals to come.
Friday-Night Tradition: Bandini
March 19, 2011
Sausage/green pepper and Canadian bacon/onion.
I don’t know when it started — in Chicago, probably — but somewhere along the line, we adopted the oh-so-original tradition of Friday night pizza. We have made it our quest, wherever we go, to find the best delivery joint: the crust must be thin, crisp, oven-browned; the salads must be big (nothing worse than paying $10 for a paltry tin of dying lettuce and dead shaved carrots).
The quest continues in Portland, but our current favorite is Bandini. I confess to being a skeptic when we first walked by the restaurant on MLK. The place looks cozy and inviting enough, but the menu seems scattershot: appetizers, pastas, salads, sandwiches, desserts and, of course, pizza. A real red-sauce, family-style, kid-in-booster-seats kind of place. But we took the leap and ordered delivery one Friday night last November, and it’s been our go-to Friday-night date ever since. Ordering can be tricky, especially if you are trying to communicate the concept of “easy cheese” or even “light cheese” to the sweet, non-native English-speaker on the phone — but who cares? The pizza arrives lickety-split, and the delivery guy is courteous and friendly.
Pizza crust is delicious, though it never quite achieves the crispness we crave. It has a pretzel quality: Definitely thin, slightly chewy, with a pretzel-style sheen. I love it. J wishes we could convey the desired well-done effect, and we’ll keep trying. (“When it’s finished, leave it in the oven for an extra 5 minutes.”)
Toppings are fresh and flavorful (we’re talking to you, sausage). Salads are plentiful. (Yeah, the Caesar dressing conspicuously lacks garlic and anchovies, but we won’t complain: The lettuce is fresh and there’s lots of it.)
Bandini: Thank you for being our Friday-night steady. We’ll call you. *Kiss.*
Sunday Dinner: Greens, Ribs and Bacon Jam
March 13, 2011
Bacon bourbon jam
The first day of daylight savings was a windy, rainy one, but it’s 6:45pm, the clouds have broken, the sun is still out. We can’t complain. Especially since we spent the day cooking the most amazing meal: pork ribs slow braised in Coca-Cola, soy sauce and apple cider vinegar; collard greens with bacon and sausage and a new member of our immediate family, bourbon bacon jam. Hello, dear. Sit down, you’re just in time for dinner.
I first heard the ingenious words “bacon” and “jam” together when season 6 “Top Chef” contestant Kevin Gillespie made it during a quickfire. Since that brilliant moment, I knew I’d make it at some point. With tonight’s menu, the time was ripe.
I followed the recipe on the blog evilshennanigans.com with minimal deviation. I started by barely crisping bacon in a cast-iron skillet. Reserving a bit of bacon fat, I added one very large sweet onion (sliced) and bit of brown sugar, and caramelized until the onions took on a deep golden brown color. In went the spices: cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, chipotle powder and sweet paprika. I added a bit more bourbon than the recipe called for, and caramelized the onions for at least ten minutes after the spices went in — that’s it. After a good two hours on the stove and a quick spin in the food processor, the sticky sweet, salty, spicy jam was ready. The result was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever tasted. Our favorite bite so far: a slice of apple, a piece of blue cheese and a dollop of the jam.
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- Frying the bacon, just until it starts to crisp.
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- Sliced sweet onions caramelized in bacon fat.
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- Caramelizing the onions.
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- The slow cook.
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- Collard greens with red onions and bacon.
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- The end.
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- Bacon bourbon jam, still brewing
Pork au Coke
March 13, 2011
Pork au Coke
The star of this evening’s meal was a J production. He felt like cooking a barbecue-style Southern meal, and the rib recipe was improvised. First, he marinated pork ribs in a dry “Memphis rib rub” (in a tin) and a half cup of kalbi marinade overnight.
Next day, in a large cast iron pan, J caramelized red onions and green cabbage (salt and pepper to taste) in oil till golden. Then he added an 8 oz bottle of Coca-Cola, half a cup of apple cider vinegar, two tablespoons soy sauce, one teaspoon of red pepper flakes and good squeeze of sriracha.
Simmer, simmer, simmer.
Meanwhile, he seared the ribs on a hot grill, then braised ribs in sauce for about four hours. Low and slow.
He removed ribs. Let ’em rest in a warm oven while the sauce reduced until it was a rich, brown cola color. (About an hour.)
Ribs went back into the sauce for a bath. The result: fork tender, tangy, spicy, slightly sweet deliciousness. We served it up with greens and mac and cheese.
This recipe, it’s a keeper.
Wildwood Restaurant & Bar
March 12, 2011
We won’t deny it: We love going out to eat, and we don’t mind spending money on a nice dinner. We love cooking at home, too, but there is something about the anticipation of an evening out — whether it’s just the two of us, or with family and friends — that imparts a celebratory feeling. Tonight, we met James, Zandra, David and Karen at Wildwood in the Pearl District to celebrate David’s birthday, so the scene was set: delightful company, cool spring evening and a lovely high-end restaurant. David knows wine, we all love to eat and drink, not a picky person in the group. So, it was perfect, right? That we were disappointed came as a surprise.
The menu showcases local, seasonal ingredients, so in early March, we had a plethora of winter vegetables and hearty meats and flavors verging on Mediterranean. Appetizers were the night’s clear winners, in my opinion. Standouts in the starter arena included bright, fresh flavors of roasted parsnip and grapefruit salad with creme fraiche and a drizzle of aromatic truffle oil. And I’ll be honest: I would have kept the buttery pork belly and dungeness crab app to myself if I thought I could get away with it.
Among the six of us, we tried four entrees. Karen and Zandra both had the oven-roasted pork chop, a mammoth cut, nicely cooked, but topped with a preserved tomato sauce that seemed to overpower the dish. James and David ordered lamb which looked promising, but the meat was chewy. (Dare I say gamey? Yes, I dare.) My rib eye filet, the size of a small fist, was nicely browned on the surface, and a lovely medium pink inside, but the flavor was non-existent, and the meat … how could it possibly have been tough? J’s entree of crispy, flavorful duck confit with deliciously caramelized brussels sprouts and pancetta was the only redeeming plate.
First impressions are everything, especially when the competition is so strong. We might give Wildwood another chance, in another season. Maybe.
French Bistro in the High Desert of Southern California
February 25, 2011
When J and I lived in Venice, we made a tradition of meeting my dad (Levi Mike) and his girlfriend Christie (collectively known as D&C) in Borrego Springs over President’s Day weekend. They make the trek each January to escape the frigid winter temperatures of Boise for two or three months. A 3-hour drive from Venice, Borrego Springs was an easy place to meet them, and a welcome respite from the workaday stress of Southern California life.
Last weekend, J and I resumed the tradition. We drove down from Santa Monica on Friday afternoon, made good time, and commenced with the desert relaxation involving golf, wine, home-cooked dinners and lunch on the town. Saturday’s lunch took us to the most unlikely spot: a quaint French bistro called The French Corner.
For years, Christie raved about this little spot, and everything was she described: a cozy, well-spaced dining room/gift shop with tables topped with Provence-style linens, walls lined with decorative signs (for sale) and shelves filled with antique enameled French coffee pots. The owners, two Belgian fellows who spend summers in Provence (what a life!), charm with their dry wit and wry sense of humor.
The food? Delicious. D&C had crab quiche, with flaky, buttery crust and generous crab filling. J opted for a steaming bucket of plump Basque mussels with a sop-up-able tomato and olive sauce. (When J commented on the deliciousness of the mussels, owner Yves quipped, “From the Salton Sea!”). I am always tempted by croque monsieur, but I prefer the ham-and-cheese sandwich topped with a sunny-side-up egg. When I asked if I could make mine a croque madame, Yves, with a half smile, ribbed me about the request, but complied. The result was melty, yolk-y perfection.
French Corner: What an unexpected surprise in a tiny desert town. Tres bien. Que romantique!
Alberta’s Sushi Hana
February 13, 2011
The wind howled on Saturday, and we had slogged through it for two hours in the name of exercise and exploring. So, after a shower and nap, we were so ready for something casual and satisfying. Our first choice was a burger at Mash Tun — always delicious and easy — but we thought we’d give Sushi Hana a look before making any snap decisions. A quick scan at the menu and the welcoming-enough sushi bar, we decided to give it a go.
The verdict: Eh. It was all right.
Nigiri had fresh flavors (we tried yellowtail, salmon and mackerel) and the egg rolls and gyoza were piping hot. Of the long list of elaborate rolls, we landed on the Flaming Dragon Roll with tempura shrimp inside and spicy tuna on top. The biggest setbacks for me were the toro sashimi (semi frozen and grainy) the vegetable tempura. J liked the tempura, I was not a fan. The batter was too thin to make an impact, but the flavor and texture of the veggies were fine. Choosing well is the key, and next time I’ll likely stick to rolls. May even venture into the udon section of the menu.
Overall, Sushi Hana was slightly disappointing, but not a disaster. Certainly nothing a late-night cocktail and a couple of tacos at Cruzroom didn’t fix.
First look: Aviary on Alberta
February 5, 2011
Sitting at the communal dining bar at Aviary.
Oh, pffft. Why did we worry? With restaurants like Aquavit, Jean Georges and Ducasse, on their resumes, clearly these people know what they’re doing. At 8pm, the dining room was at about 50 percent capacity, so we had no trouble sitting down. And the staff, though perhaps not completely comfortable yet, were more than welcoming and attentive. And the menu? Oh yeah.
Choosing was the biggest hurdle. Ten small plates were so tempting, we found it a challenge to get past that. In the end, we settled on kushi oysters on the half shell with only a skiff of tomato granite and horseradish to complement; crispy, bite sized ox tail croquettes; and tempura pumpkin with mild red curry and bright Thai basil. I was less sure about the pumpkin dish, imagining heavy flavors and textures. Of course, I was wrong, and sorry I doubted.
Entrees consisted of seared snapper with crispy skin over greens and bacon for J, and fork-tender, braised beef cheeks with a creamy celery-root puree and blood orange segments for sweet acidity for me.
Aviary: We know we just met you, but we can’t help it. We think we love you.
Chile Verde Chronicles 