Gazpacho

This is by far my favorite dish in the summer. It can be refreshing, crisp, and utterly delightful. Elegantly light with just vegetables, as in the Latin American version or, as in Spain and parts of Portugal, it can contain portions of stale bread.

I truly got hooked on gazpacho in Barcelona. Travelling there a few years ago, I had the serendipitous fortune to enjoy it at a now defunct restaurant. At the tip of Tibidabo, there was a spot that looked out across the entire city and the Mediterranean. (The restaurant there now just dispenses sandwiches and beer through a vending machine. Probably as a result of the economic downturn.)

With just a globe of lime sorbet, the waiter caressingly ladeled the coral liquid into my bowl and topped it with the slightest drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Sheer heaven.

Since then, I have enjoyed gazpacho in Madrid and throughout Southwestern Spain. I’ve even bought it in containers like orange juice. At the supermarkets, there are a gazillion different brands to choose from. Some are better than others. I do prefer the Spanish version to the Latin American one. But I also appreciate the lower caloric intake on the latter.  Its counterpart, salmorejo, is also one of my favorites. That recipe, however, calls for more bread and is typically a little thicker in consistency.

Another version, often referred to as ajoblanco, is white gazpacho. With bread, olive oil, vinegar, garlic, and often times a ¼ cup of almonds, this too is a lovely cold soup. It’s a nice starter to a summer meal and, because most people don’t realize there is a white option, it’s just a little surprising.

Gazpacho is thick enough to support some lovely garnish, too. The white gazpacho looks great with diced tomatoes and cilantro sitting prettily on top. For the tomato base, diced cucumber is super nice. Or, for a meat blast, a strip of fried Serrano ham. Crunchy. Salty. Yum.

The recipe for the Latin American version is simple. Dump your chopped vegetables in a food processor with olive oil, vinegar, and cumin. I usually add a little heat with some jalapenos and hot sauce. Sambal, sriracha, or just good old Tabasco. Whatever I have on hand.

If you are going for the Spanish version, remember to soak your stale bread in water first and then squeeze it out. It’s all about the consistency and texture.

Here’s a version I often use without the bread:

2 lbs chopped tomatoes

1 yellow pepper

1 orange pepper

2 jalapenos

1 cucumber, seeded

2 garlic cloves

1 small red onion

1 bunch of cilantro

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

2 tsp cumin
2 tsp hot sauce

1 cup tomato juice

¼ cup lime juice

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup red wine vinegar

Blend. If you like it chunkier, don’t blend as long. If you like it smooth, you’ve got two options. Either lengthen the blending time or, instead of using a food processor, you can throw everything in a blender until it is all incorporated. Drizzle with olive oil, y Hola! Gazpacho. It's what’s for dinner!

Blueberries…

I grew up spending many of my summers in Maine. Fresh lobster. Fresh corn. Tomatoes! But oh, the blueberries... They were everywhere and it was fantastic. Blueberries in cream. Blueberries with yogurt and honey. Blueberry milkshakes. Blueberries with peaches. Blueberry pancakes. Blueberry muffins. There was an endless stream of blueberry anything.

As soon as August hits, I know blueberries will be my new best friend. Today was no exception. I went to Jones Family Farm in Shelton with two of my three daughters. (And they went willingly! How’s that for incredible parenting?!?) We picked for about an hour and got close to six pounds of those tiny sapphire globes.

Once home, the kitchen frenzy began. Blueberry cobbler, blueberry jam, and blueberry muffins jumped out. (I will be getting a little more creative as the last basket of berries stares at me, longingly.)

The jam was easy. Berries, sugar, and a little lemon juice. Done. Reduce and you’ve got tomorrow’s bread spread. The cobbler and the muffins were a little troublesome. The cobbler called for ½ cup of all-purpose flour. It probably needed a full cup because the topping, once baked, didn’t quite cover the berries the way it should have. And the muffins were super cute, but a little dry. I’m not sure it was the batter, just the amount of cooking time. So I’ll shave off a few minutes the next time.

As August slides into September and early October, savor the best of a late summer harvest. Enjoy the season. Winter will be here before you know it.

Corn!

Every year, I wait for it with baited breath: corn season. While it does signal the waning dog days of summer, it’s always a celebration of what makes summer great. Farm fresh produce at its best. Just picked. Plop the little golden ears in boiling water. A little butter. A little salt. Et voila! The simplest ingredients make for some fabulous eats.

In the last few years, there has been a push to grill corn with funky ingredients like chipotle peppers, cilantro and lime, chili powder and queso fresco, or even mayonnaise. But I am a purist when it comes to corn. Much like my attitude about a lot of foods, if it’s fresh then it’s great all by itself. No need to adulterate it. (To further illustrate the point, you have unleashed the third ring of Hell if you put drawn butter on fresh lobster. That’s for crazy people with no taste. Just FYI.)

I love all varieties of corn on the cob. Although there’s something to be said of the ubiquitous Butter & Sugar kind, there’s nothing better than an ear of Silver Queen. The platinum blonde of the corn world, she is succulent, crisp, and sweet all at the same time.

Regardless of variety, it is highly unlikely for corn to go uneaten in my house. However, there are times when our eyes have been bigger than our stomachs and we have leftover corn. What to do? Corn salad. I usually scrape the kernels off the cob into a bowl, mix it with some form of acid, add a few other crunchy veg, and add salt and pepper.

This recipe is a go-to for me:

4-5 ears of corn, cooked and cooled

2 small limes, zested and juiced

2 tsp. fresh cilantro

1 red bell pepper, diced

2 small jalapeños

Salt and pepper to taste

Carefully slice kernels off the cob into a bowl. (Best to lob off the tip so that you’ve got a flat surface to balance while scraping.) Add the peppers and cilantro. Dust with salt and pepper. Add the juice and zest. Mix and serve.

Enjoy the last bits of summer with all the corn you can eat!

Just a little food porn...

There comes a time in everyone's life in which a little voyeurism is called for. When it comes to food, these are some of my favorites. Enjoy....

Everyday BBQ

You need smell-o-vision.

For a closet foodie like me, there is one dish that has always eluded me--barbecue. There’s a lot of debate about the best kind of barbecue sauce. Some like it hot. Some like it smoky. Some like it dark and sticky.

For certain regions in the U.S., barbecue is a serious business. In Texas, beef reigns supreme while in the Carolinas the pig is king. Memphis and Kansas City round out the Southern and Western flavors of smokiness, sweetness, and tang. Some regions prefer wood smoking; others dry rubs. Either way, it makes your kitchen smell incredible!

I’ve tried them all and the one barbecue sauce I just happen to love is Carolina barbecue sauce. It’s lighter in color—almost red, actually—and vinegary. It’s not smoky, but it doesn’t need to be. The tang from the vinegar gives it just the right bite.

Ah...Virgil's...

(Incidentally, one of my favorite restaurants is Virgil’s Real Barbecue in New York City not far from Times Square. They make a Carolina pulled pork sandwich that you would sell your own children just to have on your plate!)

I often go with pulled pork slow roasted after marinating it for a few hours. But this time, I went with chicken thighs—mainly because I happened to have them on hand. Frankly, this is how I make most of my culinary decisions. 

For my Carolina sauce, I took a few recipes, found the ingredients I liked the best, and combined them. The key is to have a good balance of vinegar to brown sugar. But make it ahead of time and then let it sit. Let the flavors get to know each other a little better.

In a bowl, combine:

1 ½ cups of cider vinegar

¾ cup of ketchup

2 T of brown sugar

2 tsp of Worcestershire sauce

1 tsp Kosher salt

½ tsp of dried crushed red pepper

Cracked black pepper to taste

I browned the thighs in a little olive oil first with salt and pepper and then set them aside. Pouring in the sauce, I let it simmer down. The consistency should get a thicker viscosity—a little like motor oil. Placing the thighs back in the mixture, I let them get cozy for another 20 minutes or so.

What you serve your barbecue with is up to you. I happened to make this meal with polenta and sautéed broccoli in garlic and oil. Next time, I might choose to pair it with an easy veg slaw and soft dinner rolls. But when all you want to do is dig in, who really cares what the sides are?

Local Kitchen & Beer Bar

Disclaimer: This restaurant review is a reposting of one I previously posted on another site in early January. This is my personal experience with my family. You are free to agree or disagree.

The latest hot spot to hit the Sportsplex is Local Kitchen and Beer Bar. And true to its name, this beer haven has a bucket of suds from a full range of breweries, many of them within a 100-mile radius. (The majority of the 30-plus beers are from New England with a few out West and one from Hawaii.)

From Two Roads in Stratford to Long Trail in Vermont, they’ve got everything for the thirsty beer connoisseur. Add to that a funky space, open bar area, and flat screen TVs for catching the game, and you can say hello to you new favorite place.

But that’s the upside. Here’s the downside: the food. I’d love to tell you that the meal my family and I had there tasted great and was well presented. I’d like to tell you that, true to their name “Local,” everything was fresh and crisp using only the finest ingredients.

Unfortunately, I can’t. Their offerings look good on paper. But on your plate, a plastic picnic one at that, they are merely a romp through mediocrity at best.

We ordered the pulled pork sliders and the beer braised mussels to start. We followed up with a tuna taco, seared salmon, and roasted bricked chicken.

The pulled pork was fine, although that’s kind of hard to screw up. As long as you don’t burn the meat, using bottled barbecue sauce to douse it with, you’re good to go. But the rolls shouldn’t look and taste like Parker House. And, the accompanying slaw was over-mayonnaised tasting less freshly made and more like it came out of a can. The whole dish gave the impression of dinner on a shoestring budget.

Beyond that, it was clear that the slaw on the pork sliders was also used on the tuna taco. For the taco, the tuna had an appropriate sear on the outside with a good color on the inside. But I shouldn’t taste a creamy goop on my tuna. It’s not a tuna sandwich, so skip the mayonnaise please. It should be crisp and bright with lime and cilantro and a matchstick medley of fresh veg. What I got was the exact same glop they put on the pork and the glop wasn’t that good to begin with.

The braised mussels were cooked, but that’s as far as my compliment goes. Very few of them weren’t steamed open from the cooking process, which you have to expect with shellfish. But the sauce tasted almost a little stale. I’ve had mussels steamed in beer many times before, so I had a certain expectation. I’m not sure if the beer was off or if everything they put in the beer just didn’t work. The veggies were way overcooked to the point of mush. Whatever herbs were in there didn’t marry well with the beer choice.

It should be a good quality light ale or rich lager to steam the shells open, the vapors steeping the meat inside. There should also be a hint of lemon that marries as much with the shellfish as it does with the beer. The mirepoix of carrots, onions, and celery should still be toothsome—cooked, but with enough give to let the patron know they’re fresh.

The bricked chicken, while over salted, was moist. The crispy potatoes were good, but the veg of the day was also over salted making a decent dish not so decent. The seared salmon, however, was far from moist. It was the kind of dense dryness just shy of a sandbox.

I’m not sure, but I think the veg used for the salmon was also used with the chicken. Frankly, it was hard to tell what was in any dish. The place was very dark, especially upstairs. And, that’s where they put us because we had kids. Even though we came in on a Sunday night with barely any of the booths occupied downstairs, I felt like we were pushed upstairs and out of the way. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t really bother me. Except, it’s a beer bar with flat screen TVs to watch the game. But you can’t see the game from upstairs. No TVs. You actually have to crane your neck around the bannister to catch a glimpse of anything. What, people with kids don’t like sports?

More to the point, my daughters are 13, 11, and 9. With family abroad, each of them has traveled starting as young as six months old. They have been to some high-end European restaurants and know how to conduct themselves appropriately. To be pushed upstairs with the kids felt a little insulting. And if you’re not going to entertain us as well, then injury just got added to insult.

(One of my work friends relayed a similar result. She and her husband took their 8-year-old daughter to watch a game on a recent Saturday evening around 5:00 p.m. The place was relatively empty, so they asked to watch the game from one of the booths downstairs. They were told no; they had to sit upstairs. That essentially meant not watching the game they came to see. They politely left.)

From a service standpoint, their stations are on the first floor. So even if you ask for a glass of water, it takes several minutes to get it because they don’t have what they need up top. That’s a planning and layout issue that should have been caught before they opened in late December.

Fairfield is a family town. If families feel like they’re not getting good food and good service (or worse, feel like they’re not really welcome), they won’t come back.  For Local, that should be food for thought.