The Accidental Wino » Cajun & Creole Cooking

Vintage Cajun: “The Justin Wilson Cook Book” by Justin Wilson

The Accidental Wino — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 06:44:27 +0000

Being in my 30s — and not being a native of Louisiana — my first exposure to Justin Wilson was from a Ruffles commercial in the mid-1980s. For better or worse, that was also the first time that I’d ever heard the Cajun dialect, a quirky easygoing patois that now has many associations for me, having lived and cooked in New Orleans since then. During the same few years that Wilson was landing these national ad campaigns, his Louisiana-based cooking series began to appear on California public television stations, and Wilson himself began doing cooking demos on several morning talk shows. At least that’s how I remember it, growing up in Northern California.

As a semi-serious collector of vinyl LPs, I would later discover Wilson’s comedy albums from the early 1960s, languishing in the dollar bins, alongside so many copies of “Staying Alive.” Although I never purchased any of Wilson’s albums (even for a buck), his ample discography was a strange revelation for me: I had grown up assuming that Wilson was simply a chef with a schtick, not an established humorist who had somehow branched out into cooking. I’m still not even sure how Wilson — as grassroots and as authentic he was — managed to make the jump to celebrity chef, although I’m glad he did (I should note, however, that Wilson actively continued to record comedy albums well into the 1990s, long after his popularity as a chef had peaked).

I stumbled across my reprinted edition of “The Justin Wilson Cookbook” on a rainy Napa Valley afternoon, and felt it was worth mentioning. Wilson originally published his first cookbook in 1965, though my copy is the eighth printing from 1986 (just about the same year that Wilson began shilling Cajun-spiced potato chips for Ruffles). The spiral-bound book is a rather slender volume — about 90 pages — with simple Cajun recipes and plenty of photos and anecdotes, written in his trademark dialect. I found my copy of “The Justin Wilson Cook Book” in a used bookstore for $3, and I’m pretty sure most copies turn up for $5 or less. At that price, it’s a wondermous piece of Americana, for true.

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Breakfast on Mardi Gras Day @ Stanley Restaurant, New Orleans

The Accidental Wino — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 18:46:01 +0000

Softshell crab po-boy: Looks like it could crawl right off the plate. This was a friend's sandwich, but I had a great version at the Galley in Metairie.

It’s now almost two weeks since Mardi Gras, but I have a few photos left from New Orleans. These pictures were snapped at Stanley, which is a relatively new restaurant in the French Quarter. The name, I assume, is an homage to Stanley Kowalski, the main protagonist of “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

Bananas Foster French Toast: Ice cream for breakfast. After the gluttonous week that lead up to Mardi Gras, I had clearly stopped caring.

• • •

Chocolate Malt: What better chaser for Bananas Foster French Toast?

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Food Pictures from New Orleans

The Accidental Wino — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 02:34:15 +0000

The Cheeseburger @ Port of Call: For me, a trip to New Orleans just isn't complete without a visit to POC. Known for its large tropical drinks and its scaled-down menu, Port of Call offers only burgers and steaks, although I've only ever ordered the cheeseburger. Fries are not an option either -- just baked potatoes. I could criticize the fake bacon bits, but they serve as part of the charm for me. Plus, the vibrant contrast of yellow and red give the plate a distinctly feng shui appearance.

If you still have a dial-up connection, you might want to close your browser and come back once you’ve entered the 21st century. I’ve uploaded most of my decent food photo from New Orleans, although this collection only represents a slight fraction of what I actually ate during my 10 days in the Big Easy. It was an epic tour de force, and I will add a few other photos as I am able (I snapped a few good pictures with a friend’s camera, as well). As far as documenting the trip was concerned, there were numerous times — dinners mostly– when the lighting just wasn’t sufficient, or maybe I just wasn’t willing to bring along my camera on certain days (such as Mardi Gras in the French Quarter). Nonetheless, I’ve found that these photos do represent a decent cross-section of my culinary exploits. And I can’t wait to get back.

• • •

Muffaletta @ The Central Grocery: As the originators of this well-known sandwich, I suppose the Central Grocery represents the gold-standard, but I tasted other good ones, as well. Some of these included the versions at Cochon Butcher, Frankie & Johnny's, and the "Frenchuletta" at Liuzza's.

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The Fried Chicken @ Neyow's Creole Cafe: Located at Bienville in Mid-City, Neyow's is a delicious upstart with a menu filled with the classics. The plate above was only $8, which I thought was amazing. The mac and cheese features the same tiny macaroni as the infamous "blue box," but this version is decidedly from scratch.

• • •

Shrimp Po-boy @ The Gumbo Pot: Located over on Decatur in the French Quarter, the Gumbo Pot might seem a bit touristy, but the food is on point. I'm not convinced this sandwich features Leidenheimer bread, since the crust seems a bit dark, but it remains photogenic nonetheless.

• • •

Still the best. I ordered the Turtle Soup and the Shrimp Po-Boy, like I always do. Should've gone twice.

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Sea Bass with Oyster Mushrooms @ Cafe Degas: Definitely a bit more "high-concept" than a lot of the other meals I ate. Cafe Degas is located by Bayou St. John, and actually represents a classic French bistro more than your typical New Orleans eatery. Great colors on this plate, although I wish the oyster mushrooms had been sauteed.

• • •

Fried Oysters with Bacon Vinaigrette @ Cafe Degas. Not a bad start.

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Frankie & Johnny's: So many great restaurants in New Orleans are retro-fitted houses. Unfortunately, these darkened, windowless dining rooms don't allow for very good food photography. So be it. Note the "Gator Nuggets" on the specials board.

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Chicken & Andouille Gumbo @ The Gumbo Pot. Although this version of gumbo was delicious, I've found that I prefer a darker roux than the one pictured above. I also enjoy the texture of okra much more than I remember (I don't think the gumbo above features okra) . I probably ate 10 versions of gumbo in 10 days.

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Pork Belly Sandwich @ Cochon Butcher, garnished with Cucumber, Mint and a Chili Aioli: This happening little lunch spot is affiliated with Cochon Restaurant on Tchopitoulas, and they offer some really amazing sandwiches, alongside house-made sausages and pates. Cured meats galore.

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Pancetta Mac & Cheese @ Cochon Butcher: The best I've ever tasted, anywhere. World class.

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Leidenheimer trucks are easy to spot in New Orleans. And they deliver the goodness.

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Pecan Fried Flounder with Mashed Potatoes and Cheese Grits @ K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen: Not my favorite picture, I admit, but I spent six months cooking at K-Paul's, and I had to acknowledge this New Orleans institution. At dinner, this dish would be served on a real plate, and it would cost $30. At lunch, it was only $10.

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Bon Ton Cafe: I had a wonderful crawfish etoufee here, although the pictures from lunch didn't turn out. Love the signage.

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The $20 Three-Course Lunch @ Restaurant August, New Orleans

The Accidental Wino — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 16:41:26 +0000

The First Course: Wow, once I noticed that the pate de champagne offers no less than six condiments, I knew that I was in for something memorable. That's a bacon marmalade at 12 o'clock, and a strawberry marmalade at two o'clock. Not pictured, toasted brioche.

Perhaps it was fitting that my last meal in New Orleans was a quick Thursday lunch at Restaurant August. The lunch itself was unlike anything else I had during my 10-day visit in the Crescent City, where I had spent most waking hours trolling for the classic Southern comfort foods, such as gumbo, shrimp po-boys, and boiled crawfish. But even though the menu at August certainly features a distinctly Southern spin, the dishes themselves offer a refined elegance, the same type of elegance that pervades the Napa Valley. In that sense, my lunch at August felt like a segue of sorts, a reminder not only of where I’d been visiting, but also the place that I call home.

• • •

The Second Course: Breaded veal tenderloin over snow-white grits, with a rich sauce piquant. The small cubes of meat are indeed braised pork belly. An elevated version of grillades and grits, to be sure. If the Michelin Guide ever visits New Orleans, then Restaurant August will easily earn a star, no question.

• • •

The Amuse Bouche: Seafood custard with sabayon. Elegant and delicious.

• • •

The Third Course: Most of the desserts that I ate in New Orleans featured Ponchatoulas strawberries, including the one pictured above, which was pleasant but not memorable. On the other hand, the strawberry shortcake at Brigsten's Restaurant was epic.

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10 Things I’ll Eat Again in 2011:

The Accidental Wino — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 07:10:26 +0000

End-of-the-year recaps present a great opportunity to “re-purpose” some old content (I learned this valuable euphemism during the dot-com era). Here are 10 dishes that I really enjoyed this year, in no particular order. I’m not saying this list comprises my top 10 dishes for the year, but some of them could definitely qualify. Clicking the photos will transport you back to the original article — and perhaps, a much simpler time and place.

Crispy shrimp with ginger and onions @ Huong Tra, Richmond.

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Flounder special @ Yuet Lee, San Francisco.

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The #6 Banh Mi @ Viet Nam, San Francisco.

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Black pepper brisket hash @ Fremont Diner, Sonoma Carneros.

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Chilaquiles @ Miguel's, Calistoga.

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Señorita bread @ Star Bread Bakery, Vallejo.

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Sake-marinated black cod @ Terra, St. Helena.

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Oyster po-boy with macaroni and cheese @ Brown Sugar Kitchen, West Oakland

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Pad See Iew @ Sa Wad Dee, Richmond.

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Garlic pork broth ramen @ Ramen Dojo, San Mateo.

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Project Food Blog 2010, Round 3: Harvest Dinner, Napa Valley, Autumn 2010

The Accidental Wino — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 08:10:03 +0000

The Main Event: Blackened Pacific Halibut with Crispy Pancetta New Potatoes, smothered in Sauce Anthony.

Here in the Napa Valley, hosting a dinner party this time of year can be a mighty tall order. The problem is finding enough guests with free time, since so many folks in the valley remain hopelessly preoccupied during harvest and crush. Among most of the people I know, they’re either working long days in the cellar, or they’re working long nights in the kitchen (tourism in the Napa Valley also hits its peak this same time of year). No doubt, as September yields to October, the typical Monday-through-Friday work schedule is a distant pipe dream for many, while eight-hour work days are also few and far between. However, in the spirit of Project Food Blog, I can definitely whip up some dinner-party-sized portions for my would-be dinner party. At worst, I can stuff myself silly, and still have a few left-overs for the week. I’ve provided the menu for the dinner further below, although I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself at this point. However, I should mention that the photo above is the main course for the dinner: Pan-Seared Halibut with Sauce Anthony, plated over Crispy Pancetta New Potatoes. You were expecting a pork chop, perhaps? Well, allow me to explain.

• • •

Some of the featured players in tonight's drama: (A) Soon-to-be butternut squash soup; (B) Pancetta and new potatoes; (C) Soon-to-be curried sweet corn; (D) Heirloom apples and tomatoes.

With fall having arrived just a few days ago, my inspiration for a dinner menu was to offer the last vestiges of summer alongside an early prelude to autumn. Sweet corn, heirloom tomatoes and peaches are fast moving out of season, while heirloom apples, new potatoes, and butternut squash are just arriving. It’s one of the best times of the year to produce really top-level, ingredient-driven cuisine. In fact, many of these ingredients can easily take care of themselves with very little culinary intervention, which allows for many different flavors, yet requires remarkably little effort during the dinner itself. The tomatoes, for instance, only need to be sliced and dressed for the panzanella salad, and this task can be accomplished the night before (simply add the bread component just prior to serving). The Waldorf salad can also be assembled ahead of time, and the peaches require only a few quick slices, followed by a drizzle of balsamic vinegar.

• • •

Pure as the driven snow.

Although this season’s produce served as the basis for many of the dishes that I’d planned, I still had to consider the protein. What would be the main event of the evening? Although my gut and my intuition would usually point me towards something more terrestrial, such as pork or beef, I actually prefer halibut for dinner parties, and I’ve compiled five good reasons to argue in favor of fish: (1) Halibut is delicious, and it’s one of the most approachable fish out there; (2) halibut boasts a wonderful texture, a vibrant snow-white color, and it’s not overly delicate in the pan; (3) a fish entree helps to significantly lighten a multi-course meal, especially when served in lieu of pork or beef; (4) there’s no “temperature requests” (medium, medium-rare, etc.) with fish, as there might be with pork or beef; (5) fish is lean, meaning that it cooks quickly.

• • •

The first rule of hosting a dinner party is that is has to look easy. Otherwise, your guests will be offering to help, rather than just relaxing for the evening. Worse than that, if you leave yourself too much to do on the night of the dinner, you’ll be scrambling to get warm food on the table, rather than enjoying your own shindig. With that in mind, I recommend a menu of quick-cooking dishes, a few cold dishes, and a couple of dishes that can be prepared a couple days in advance. I’m all about putting in the time and effort, just not so much during the dinner itself. In terms of my own menu, my quick-cooking dishes include the halibut, the curried sweet corn, and the pancetta new potatoes, while the cold dishes include the Waldorf salad, the heirloom tomato panzanella, and the balsamic peaches. The butternut squash soup and the praline crème brûlée both require the most prep time, but each dish can be prepared a few days prior to the dinner. I’ve posted my dinner menu below, followed by a few tips and observations.

• • •

• WINE PAIRING TIPS •

As crazy as it may seem, I’ve actually geared this menu towards white and sparkling wines, with the possibility of pairing rosé with the halibut course. It may be a sin not to serve Napa Cabernet at a harvest dinner, but the heavy reds will have their time in the winter; I drink white wines almost exclusively during the summer, so this dinner would present a terrific opportunity to sip some whites while the weather remains warm. If I could name some specific current releases for each course, I would pair a bottle of Roederer Extra Dry with the Waldorf salad, a Toulouse Vineyards Gewurztraminer with the butternut squash soup, an Unti Vineyards Rosé with the halibut, and a small glass of Dolce Late Harvest with the praline crème brûlée. As more of a nod to Napa Valley, I might also consider a Shafer Red Shoulder Ranch Chardonnay with either of the first two courses. The possibilities are endless. Drink what you like.

• SOUP & SALAD •

Killer Apps: Waldorf Salad with Heirloom Apples.

The Waldorf salad is an American classic, and a wonderful way to showcase Sonoma and Mendocino’s emerging heirloom apple season. Rather than dress the salad with mayonnaise, I opted for a dressing of Greek yogurt and some local Napa blackberry-blossom honey. A sweet start helps to rekindle the waning days of summer.

Butternut Squash Soup with Amorelli Croutons.

For me, butternut squash soup remains one of the quintessential dishes of autumn, and as this soup percolates on the stove top, it provides a fantastic aroma as the guests arrive. Even better, it allows for the second course to hit the table with very little effort. Of course, most of the effort in making this soup occurs earlier in the week. I like to slow-roast the squash as I make the chicken stock for the soup. Since it requires at least fours hours for a proper batch of chicken stock, I roast the squash at 200ºF for the same amount of time, allowing the squash to assume a rich, mahogany color. The amorelli “croutons” are small Italian cookies, feather-light and almond-flavored. They complement the flavors of the soup, and they also float nicely.

• THE ENTREE & SIDE DISHES •

Click the image for Thirsty Reader HD.

Getting the soup and the salad to the table is relatively painless, and the real challenge of the dinner is to deliver the halibut and the sides at the same time. Much like the Waldorf salad, the heirloom panzanella can actually be prepared a couple hours ahead of time, minus the bread component. As a chilled dish, the panzanella can sit quietly in the refrigerator until it’s needed, so it doesn’t really require any attention during pick-up. On the other hand, the curried sweet corn, the pancetta potatoes, and the halibut need to be prepared simultaneously. As the simplest dish of the three, I began with the sweet corn, which only needs to be heated through after the curry powder and the pecans have had a chance to toast in the melted butter.

Curried Sweet Corn with Pecans and Dried Cranberries.

Once the curried sweet corn had finished cooking, I held the dish over low heat, and turned my attention toward the pancetta potatoes and the blackened halibut. Since the pancetta would need some time to render its fat, I began this process in a cold pan while I sliced the new potatoes and dusted the halibut with a little Paul Prudhomme Seafood Magic. In order to decrease the cooking time of the potatoes, I had already par-cooked them earlier in the week, slow-roasting them whole alongside the butternut squash. This par-cooking technique also helps to eliminate the possibility of serving under-cooked potatoes, which is reason enough to adopt this approach. As I browned the sliced potatoes in the rendered pork fat, I blackened the halibut in a separate skillet, then focused my efforts on the Sauce Anthony. One of my secret culinary weapons from New Orleans, Sauce Anthony is a simple heavy-cream reduction with accents of lemon, shallot, capers, Cajun spice, and sun-dried tomatoes. I learned this pan sauce when I was cooking at K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen several years ago, and it has remained in my arsenal ever since.

• INTERMEZZO & DESSERT •

Sometimes, two ingredients is all that's necessary.

I included balsamic-drizzled peaches as an intermezzo because I’ve been eating peaches this way all summer long. Served chilled, these peaches feature a refreshing sweetness and a palate-cleansing acidity that provides an apt segue to dessert. In fact, some might even call this dessert, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of half-stepping.

Grand Finale: Crème Brûlée with Pralines (lurking at the bottom).

Crème brûlée is a crowd-pleasing dessert that can be almost fully prepared a few days in advance. The burning of the sugar is the only step that cannot be executed ahead of time, but it only takes a couple moments to complete. I like to sneak a couple pralines into the bottom of each ramekin before baking. When your guests discover this little addition, it may just provide the final “ah-ha” moment that slays them at the very end.

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Breakfast & Lunch: The Pulled Pork Sandwich @ The Brown Sugar Kitchen, West Oakland

The Accidental Wino — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 07:41:58 +0000

Pulled Pork Sandwich with Macaroni and Cheese.

The pulled pork sandwich at the Brown Sugar Kitchen is good, but when it shares a menu with the Bay Area’s best oyster po-boy, pork becomes a tough sell, even for yours truly. Look, I worship the pig as much as anybody, but the oyster po-boy at BSK remains formidable. In my mind, the oyster po-boy is the star — the pulled pork sandwich is just an astronaut. However, if you have a shellfish allergy, then the pulled pork sandwich (pictured above) will prove smokey and succulent, slightly spicy, with a judicious amount of barbecue sauce. It’s good, but the oyster po-boy remains top-shelf around these parts, no question. Fortunately, either sandwich qualifies for the $1 macaroni and cheese add-on, which should be the easiest decision of your adult life: Sign on the line which is dotted.

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Breakfast & Lunch: Bibim Bap @ Koryo Korean BBQ, Berkeley

The Accidental Wino — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 01:15:58 +0000

The #11: Sometimes hot really means hot.

So many Asian restaurants seem to be closed on Mondays, and I always seem to fall into this trap again and again. Today, I had driven down to Berkeley on another ramen mission, this time to Norikonoko on Telegraph, which is catty-corner from one of Berkeley’s best used book shops, Shakespeare & Company Books. I found a killer parking spot just off of the main drag, fed the meter full of coinage, and soon found out that Norikonoko was closed. Fortunately, Berkeley offers a target-rich environment when it comes to Asian cuisine, and Koryo Korean BBQ shares a courtyard with Norikonoko (and more importantly, they’re also open on Mondays).

• • •

Bibimbap (or Bi Bim Bap, or Bibim Bap) will always remind me of the Culinary Institute of America, where this classic Korean comfort food played a memorable role in Cuisines of Asia. My good friend Phil insisted upon calling this dish “bibbity-bop” or “be-bop” or any other name that he might’ve improvised during lunch service. On the surface, this bastardization of the word “bibimbap” may seem culturally insensitive, except that Phil was a native of New Orleans, and jazz was part of his own heritage. I just chalked it up to Phil being homesick for the Big Easy, which was certainly understandable (odd random fact: in his 2006 book “The Reach of a Chef,” Michael Ruhlman authors a chapter called “Waiting for Bibimbap,” in which he name-checks Phil on page 81; yours truly is also mentioned in the very same paragraph, although not by name).

• • •

Right off the top, I must admit that the bibimbap that we were slinging at the CIA was nothing like the bibimbap offered at Koryo Korean BBQ (no surprise, in Cuisines of the Americas, the jambalaya was nothing like New Orleans jambalaya, either). For one thing, our bibimbap didn’t sing on its way out to the table. The bibimbap at Koryo not only sings upon arrival, but depending on how fast you can eat with chopsticks, the dish may sing for most of the meal, as well. The super-heated, heavy stone bowl is the key, and it causes the rice to sizzle quite loudly, the soundtrack to shredding an over-easy egg with chopsticks, and then mixing it all together with more than half a dozen condiments (yet another feature that the CIA version lacked). The rice actually develops a golden-brown crust as it sits, sizzling away for minutes on end, adding a wonderful caramelized complexity to the dish. As the photo shows above, I placed the metal chopsticks on the bowl, and in the short time it took to snap the picture, they actually became too hot to hold. Then again, maybe I’ve just lost my kitchen hands.

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More Than Just Recipes: Bananas Foster

The Accidental Wino — Sun, 30 May 2010 08:16:01 +0000

Set adrift on butter, brown sugar, and rum bliss.

Although Bananas Foster is widely known as a New Orleans recipe, I never had any experience with this particular dish while I was cooking in the Crescent City. I dealt with plenty of bread pudding recipes, and I had an occasional hand in the hyper-decadent sweet potato-and-pecan pies at K-Paul’s, but Bananas Foster was never part of my repertoire. However, when I was attending the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park NY, I did have the opportunity to whip up several batches of Bananas Foster while I was finishing the culinary program. My very last course at the CIA was actually a three-week stint waiting tables at the Escoffier Room, which was the classicly-themed French restaurant on campus (known simply as the “E-Room” among the student population). Frankly, I hated every single day of E-Room service — not being in the kitchen — but stumbling around the dining room, fumbling with the silverware, and saying insipid things in front of the guests.

As it was, I still feel very fortunate to have ended my time at the CIA in the dead of a cold, snowy winter, which meant that the E-Room was relatively quiet, since navigating Route 9 could be awfully treacherous that time of year. But even with scant reservations on the books, I struggled with many aspects of restaurant service. The worst thing, by far, was balancing drinks on trays (top-heavy martini glasses being my greatest nemesis). Despite all of my fears, I never actually dumped a drink on a guest, but I do remember trembling like an idiot whenever I tried to place a brimming martini glass on the table, usually spilling it uncontrollably in the process. Looking back, I’m not sure why this was such an issue for me, but waiting tables had definitely gotten inside my head. I still recall my buddy DK — with whom I was partnered as a back-waiter — just shaking his head at all of my pitiful displays. His disgust was as real as real can get, and I deserved it, every last bit. It’s absolutely hilarious to me now.

One aspect of service that I actually felt a lot more comfortable with was making Bananas Foster as a table-side dessert. Although table-side service did make me the momentary center of attention, to me, it was just cooking, and pretty easy cooking at that (plus, at the end of meal, it was also my last chance for redemption). The reason for preparing Bananas Foster table-side, of course, is the showmanship of the flambé. It could sometimes become pretty interesting in the E-Room, as different classmates vied to produce the biggest ball of fire. If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure that our instructor encouraged this behavior, pointing out that because lunch service offered too much daylight, we should hit the pan with a little extra rum in order produce a more noticeable flame. As the weeks went by, and as graduation neared, we pushed the envelope more and more, and despite the din of service, you could often hear a low and satisfying whoooooooom! as the flames jumped from the pan.

• • •

There is no mystery as to the origin of Bananas Foster, which means that finding the definitive recipe is rather simple. The dessert began in New Orleans in 1951, and it was created by the executive chef at Brennan’s, Paul Blangé. Bananas Foster took its name from Richard Foster, the chairman of the New Orleans Crime Commission and a personal friend of restaurateur Owen Brennan. I did, however, find a small discrepancy between the recipe offered on the Brennan’s official website and the one offered in my 1968 edition of the Brennan’s cookbook. Below are the ingredients for both versions, with the book version being expanded to include four servings (as a nod to its table-side origins, the book actually outlines Bananas Foster as a single-serve recipe). When converted to the same scale, however, the original recipe features only half as much brown sugar as the modern version, but it also features an extra quarter-cup of booze. Somewhere along the way, the recipe also switched from white rum to dark rum, which I thought was interesting.

BANANAS FOSTER, Brennan’s Online

1/2 stick butter

1 cup brown sugar

4 bananas, cut in half lengthwise, then halved

1/4 cup banana liqueur

1/4 cup dark rum

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

4 scoops vanilla ice cream

versus…

BANANAS FOSTER, Brennan’s Cookbook

1/2 stick butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

4 bananas, cut in half lengthwise

1/4 cup banana liqueur

1/2 cup white rum

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

4 scoops vanilla ice cream

• • •

Within certain boundaries, the recipe for Bananas Foster has a large degree of flexibility. For one, I wouldn’t go out of my way to buy banana liqueur, and I would probably use whatever style rum was on hand. For the version pictured above, which I scaled down to a single serving, I created the sauce from three tablespoons of butter, two tablespoons of brown sugar, two tablespoons of dark rum, and 1/4 teaspoon of ground cinnamon. Once you prepare this dessert, measuring eventually becomes less and less significant. It is, after all, a very basic combination of common ingredients. In my mind’s eye, I think of Bananas Foster simply as a good chunk of butter, an equal portion of brown sugar, a generous dash of ground cinnamon, and enough rum to turn it all into a sauce (and enough to throw a mighty flame, as well). Add one sliced banana and serve with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Done.

Although the ingredient list for Bananas Foster remains quite simple, the execution of the dish is worth explaining, especially in regard to its timing. Typically, I begin with a cold pan and heat the butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon together, allowing them to combine without burning the butter. During this initial step, it’s important to point out that the sugar itself may not readily dissolve, since sugar and butterfat are not soluble. Not to worry, however; sugar is soluble in rum. When the booze hits the pan, give it a second to vaporize, then flambé it before the moment is lost. Once the flames begin to subside, stir the mixture until the sugar loses its granular texture (if you use a wooden spoon, you can usually “feel” the sugar crystals against the bottom of the pan). Contrary to the classic approach, I typically prefer to add the sliced bananas at the very end; they’re delicate, and there’s no need to beat them up unnecessarily. Of course, the vanilla ice cream (preferably homemade) should be plated only moments before serving.

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Breakfast & Lunch: The Muffaletta @ Farmstead, St. Helena

The Accidental Wino — Tue, 25 May 2010 12:13:37 +0000

Almost famous.

Only in New Orleans could a sandwich as glorious as the muffaletta take a backseat to the po-boy. In just about any other city in the United States, the muffaletta would certainly rank as a culinary claim-to-fame, earning a mention alongside the cheesesteaks of Philly or the towering deli pastramis of New York City. But even in the shadow of the more famous po-boy, the muffaletta of New Orleans boasts a loyal legion of followers (after all, one cannot exist on po-boys alone). With its roots at the Central Grocery in the French Quarter, the classic muffaletta features a round sesame roll, olive spread, a slice of provolone cheese and an assortment of Italian cured meats. It’s thought that the original muffaletta dates back about 100 years, and traditionally, these unusually large sandwiches were sold either as halves or quarter-slices.

At Farmstead, the muffaletta is scaled down to an individual portion, but in terms of flavor and execution, the St. Helena restaurant features an admirable version of the New Orleans classic. Even better, the sandwich comes with Farmstead’s roasted-then-fried new potatoes.

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