50 Shades of White (Asparagus)

I just got back from a wine pilgrimage to Champagne, Burgundy, and Alsace. After weeks of diligent research in local restaurants featuring regional cuisine, I learned that these three very different areas -- whose wines also differ dramatically -- nonetheless share a gut-bustingly rich eating tradition. Meat monopolized these restaurant menus, appearing in every dish in at least one form, but frequently two or three.  All green salads were systematically loaded with lardons (sauteed nuggets of pork belly similar to bacon), if not also cheese, various regional charcuterie items, and/or foie gras.
 

Burgundy is known for its Charolais beef and Epoisses cheese.
Regional specialists frequently combine the two to achieve maximal artery blockage.

This was called the salade Sparnacienne -- Epernay-style salad. Fried lardons, fried potatoes, a quarter-pound of goat cheese toasts broiled with honey, and a few pieces of lettuce and tomato (for color).

The only vegetable dishes to be found in most regional restaurants were the aforementioned salads, potatoes, sauerkraut (in Alsace), and the much-beloved white asparagus that was making its annual appearance while I was there.  Seemingly every restaurant I visited offered a form of this ultra-seasonal delicacy as its vegetable offering.

Some preparations were more successful than others.

The oddest version we tried on our first night in Alsace: a gigantic (white) platter of boiled white asparagus -- easily over two pounds' worth -- served with two white ramekins of (white) mayo and off-white, mayo-based mustard sauce, and two different types of sliced hams on a side plate.  This monochromatic mountain of blandness was far more asparagus than any human could eat in a single sitting (though I felt this way frequently in Alsace), and really didn't do any favors for the mild flavored vegetable. Not my favorite preparation. Also not very photogenic.

I loved the version we found at the excellent Brasserie Boulingrin in Reims (Champagne), though.  Here a comparatively stingy serving of asparagus had been cut into bite size pieces and baked inside a small coffee cup as part of an oeuf cocotte.  The asparagus lent its delicate flavor to the cream in which the egg had been baked, adding a lovely fresh counterpoint to the richness.

Eh, oui.

More kudos go to Au Pont du Courbeau in Strasbourg (Alsace), who served a handful of perfectly-cooked spears on top of a French lentil salad with a gorgeous soft boiled egg (oeuf mollet) to provide the sauce. Minced shallots, chives, and a splash of vinaigrette rounded out the seasoning.

Was this an asparagus dish? Or just a vehicle for that mesmerizing egg?

Takeaway lesson: unless you are German (and thus culturally bound to worship the white asparagus as a physical manifestation of the divine), feel free to skip white asparagus dishes that are only about the white asparagus.  In this writer's opinion, the veggie really shines when it's singing backup to more colorful lead vocalists.

Dinner At Downton Abbey

My mother's ability to choose wildly undesirable gifts for her family is notorious and unsurpassed.  So when I received an unexpected bubble-pack envelope from her a few weeks ago, I chortled with the anticipation of finding another French-language cookbook of Hungarian goulash recipes, or a pair of hand-made plastic beaded earrings from one of her Southwestern crafting friends, or the pamphlet from the last museum audio tour she's taken on her travels, or maybe just her latest clothing contribution that she was too lazy to drive past the post office to Goodwill's drop box (all of which I have, in fact, received from her in past years).  

Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and discovered a copy of The Unofficial Downton Abbey Cookbook!  Actually something I might voluntarily select for myself?? I could hear my inner Dowager Countess: "Well, now I've seen ev'rything." 

The author of this shockingly desirable gift, Emily Ansara Baines, also wrote The Unofficial Hunger Games Cookbook, which was the focus of a fabulous dinner party last year.  Ms. Baines' latest contribution to the unauthorized cookbook scene takes on both the Crawleys' refined francophile cuisine in Downton's upstairs dining room (including recipes for each of the 8-13 courses that were de rigueur for a proper meal with service à la Russe, as well as a selection of classic teatime favorites), and the hearty British workingman's fare dished out below-stairs in the servants' hall.   Interspersed with the recipes are snippets of etiquette advice, and historical curiosities related to the recipes and the show's plot lines.  (Disappointingly, there is no recipe for Turkish Delight.)

I foresee at least one Unofficial Downton Dinner Party in my future, though... and Valentine's Day might be just the right occasion to break out some Crawley-style decadence.

Portlandia, I Love You

THE wings.

Every time I visit Portland, I have to rethink my decision not to move there.  Partially this is because I always manage to visit during their glorious summer, but mostly it's because of the city's incredible food and beverage culture. 

I never cease to be amazed at how much creative deliciousness is available, all over the city, at every price point.

On my most recent visit last week, I was struck by the popularity of "drinking vinegars" -- something I had only recently discovered thanks to the "Spring Shrub" cocktail at Goose & Gander.  In Portland, these fruit vinegars aren't just at cutting-edge temples of mixology; you'll find them at the downtown farmer's market and neighborhood Thai restaurants, among many other places. 

One of the tastiest beverages of my trip (an extremely competitive field) was the non-alcoholic tamarind vinegar soda at Pok Pok Noi.  Tart, savory, and refreshing, this was the ideal pairing for the restaurant's famed Ike's Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings, Spicy style.  The punchy acidity made me think I was sipping a cocktail and should ease up on my drinking speed, but no matter how fast I drank or how many I had, I was going to be fine biking home.  And in Portlandia, that's essential.



Tamarind Som.

The Pok Pok restaurant group calls its vinegars "Soms," and now distribute 16-ounce bottles of the standard flavor assortment online.  Another Portland company called Blossom Vinegars proudly hawks its own interesting selection of drinking vinegars at farmers' markets around town.  Think blueberry-basil, and apple-jalapeno vinegar.

Why is wine country behind trend on this? With so much olive oil, grape juice, and culinary talent, you'd think we would be leading the infused vinegar movement.  But Portlandia is leagues ahead of us here.

Discovering the Sahagun Ka-Pow "coffee bar" in a random cafe also humbled my Bay Area food snobbery.  As you can see from the picture, this thing looks like any other premium dark chocolate bar, but it's made entirely of coffee beans, sugar, and cocoa butter -- no cocoa mass at all.  The interior texture reminded me of a Kit Kat with its crystallized honeycomb of crunchies, but the flavor was pure coffee -- Extracto Roasters' Ethiopia Sidamo Adem Chilcho coffee, to be exact. 

In brief, it is absolutely delicious.  And, naturally, highly caffeinated. One bar contains just a bit less caffeine than a shot of espresso. 

We need more of these things in California.  And also, THIS:

"And it's delicious!"

J'adore.