Back in Spain for a looksee, and making up for lost time with great food and wine. Look for my travel/food stories soon. In the meanwhile, hold the fort in NYC and visit Gaspar, Steve, and Andres at Pata Negra for a civilized evening.
One of the travails of a professional in the wine business is to go to tastings and gather intel about wine to be used for future purchase and knowledge. There is a lot of spitting and yearning for a beer. Some importers know how to promote an event better than others. Venue, food, crowd management, and many others variables factor into what separates a good tasting from a great one.
At the forefront for some time in the Spanish wine market is Tempranillo Inc., a New York based Jorge Ordonez company, whose mission is to bring unique and distinct Spanish winemaking to the world’s cellars, retail shops, restaurants and wine bars. Part of what made the May 14th tasting so memorable was the roster of star winery representatives present. Meeting and conversing with the actual producers gives the consumer/buyer a real inside track to the wine’s intent. They are genuinely interesting people who love to talk about their wines with passion and great enthusiasm.
There was a “warm-up†tasting at Amalia restaurant in midtown which was well attended. Tasty hors d’ouevres were passed out so as to try the wines in context with food. I am a big proponent of this method of tasting because this is how the everyday person consumes wine on a daily basis. More often than not the wine needs the food to express its flavor profile, if not to enjoy it more fully.
The evening venue was top notch, the upstairs private room at Eleven Madison Park. Just the presence of Art Deco architecture and design evokes a feeling of Gotham, and is one of the reasons New York is such a charmed city.
The menu, created by executive chef Daniel Humm, featured four courses plus dessert, accompanied by the thirty or so wines slated for tasting. Herein lay the only true flaw of the evening, as the invited guests tasted through the majority of the wines accompanied by brief introductions by the winery representatives. While the added info about the wines was useful, tasting 30 wines in rapid succession does little for me to understand the wines carefully. My palate was seriously hampered by wine number twelve.
Finally, relief arrived in the form of bread and water, and after a brief seating rearrangement, the food commenced and we were allowed to bring whatever wines to the table for pairings. At my table was Mani Dawes, owner of Tinto Fino, Tia Pol, and Quinto Pino, her partner Karen, formerly Tempranillo Inc.’s golden girl, Shelley McClure of interior design, her husband Steve Flynn of September Wines & Spirits, and Amy Hopkinson, winemaker of special projects for Bodegas Juan Gil, and Jose Manuel Azofra, representative of Sierra Cantabria in Rioja. Present at other tables: Juan Muga of Muga, Rioja, Raphael Canizares winemaker of Volver in Toledo, Nathalie Leboeuf of Allende, Maite Esteve from Marques de Gelida, Loren Gil, and Victoria Ordonez (Jorge’s sister).
With the serving of dinner finally set, we had the liberty to taste any of the wines with the ensuing courses. This was great freedom and exceptionally fun. This type of bottle sharing occurs naturally at normal meals at home.
The first course, a composed plate of Hawaiian prawns with a puree of avocado, lime and yogurt – a bright seafood dish – begs for acidity, and the Avanthia godello, Botani moscatel, and Shaya verdejo married nicely. The next offering, poached Nova Scotia Lobster with spring carrots, ginger and vadouvan granola, required a white wine with an oily mouthfeel – although the Cana albarino fared well enough.
The next course, the milk fed veal with fava beans and chanterelles is an old wine’s best friend. Many of the older vintages served improved with this pairing. My favorite red with this dish was the 2004 Allende, a Rioja with minerality. Some of the more tannic wines were too overpowering. Not so for the next plate, black angus beef tenderloin with asparagus, potato puree, and Oregon morels, the morels creating a minor shock wave of earthy excitement on the tongue. I am not a huge fan of black angus, what is sold in the supermarket with this brand often disappoints in flavor, but this preparation made me a believer. The bigger wines (Torre Muga 2005, Remrez de Ganuza 2004, Clio 2006) were in heaven here, all of their masculinity supported by the bold flavors of the black angus beef. The 2007 Almirez of Toro really shined here, as well as the Vega Sindoa blend cab/temp blend.
A Fuji Apple tarte fine with granola crumble and vanilla ice cream rounded things out, and the 2006 Jorge Ordonez Victoria moscatel from Malaga is like an ice wine with less residual sugar – breezy and delish.
The winery representatives, weary from an exhausting tour of U.S. cities, were just about finished, having missed their siestas indicative of Spanish culture. Ramon del Monte, my friend and rep. from Tempranillo Inc. brought a few of them to Pata Negra for a tapas run before the evening’s event. They had Basque cider, Estrella beer, tortilla, gambas and jamon iberico. I am only sad I could not offer them hammocks. I asked Juan Muga what he planned to do when he got back to Spain. He replied, “I will sleep for three weeks.â€
After that many wines and such a fine meal, I think I will join them.
Highlights of some of the wines tasted from both events:
Torre Muga 2005
Aro 2005
Muga Prado Enea Gran Reserva 2001
Sierra Cantabria Amancio 2005
El Bosque 2006
El Punitdo 2005
Sierrra Cantabria Coleccion Privada 2006
Sierra Cantabria 2001
San Vicente 2005
Protocolo Rosado 2008
Allende 2004
Remirez de Ganuza 2004
Emilio Moro 2005
Emilio Moro Resalso 2007
Malleolus 2006
Almirez 2007
Volver 2007
Mas de Can Blau 2006
Alto Moncayo 2006
Borsao Crianza Seleccion 2006
Atteca Armas 2006
Wrongo Dongo 2007
Clio 2006
Avanthia Godello 2008
La Cana 2008
Shaya 2008
Botani 2008
Marques de Gelida Brut Res. Ecologico 2005
Urban Uco 2007
On a recent Sunday I decided to wake up early for a change with dim sum on my mind. Ping’s is an obvious choice, but I headed over to Oriental Garden instead, which was different but still delicious (the service here is better than most as well). Companioned with the Matzoh Ball Queen, we wended our way through Nolita. The shops in Nolita evoke a similar feeling one used to sense in Soho, before the vast commercialization. People don’t seem to be in a hurry, and shops genuinely promote artisanal designers and products. Tucked between two tourist zones (Chinatown and Little Italy), Nolita benefits from relative anonymity in the middle. The nabe is not high on tourist guides and the community seems to be sticking its slow developing guns. Once the Bowery finally rids itself of the kitchen supply stores, the transformation will take shape.
Due to a tilt in the heat index, we stopped in for beers at Loreley which has a backdoor garden and a jazz brunch in progress.   The timing was right for a sweet craving, and as providence would have it, curiousity led us to Papabubble. At first, you don’t know what the store actually specializes in. You just get the impression something artistic and sweet is being created within. Papabubble is Quechee meets Willy Wonka. This eurocandy company (Barcelona) crafts whimsical candy with unusual flavor combinations, and often perform the process right before your eyes. This joyful experience for adults and children brings true delight to the savoring of the candies. They can cleverly custom inscribe for special occasions (at a cost). Think gifts for anyone artfully minded and treat yourself for the rest of the week too.
As far as palate goes, I find that mine is ever-changing, evolving, but sometimes devolving, finding my tolerance and craving for certain foods tied into emotional needs and culinary curiosity. Coming from such diverse roots, I am open to various types of cuisine, but often balk at staples I am supposed to enjoy. Take black beans, a basic Caribbean representative at any Latino table. I hated the stuff until my late twenties. My grandmother, who is part Syrian/Lebanese, filled our meals with Arab delicacies like kibbe and stuffed grape leaves. But I seldom found myself in a hummus parlor or craving falafel or babaganush. There are better ways to serve meat in my opinion than kebabs, and as an opponent of vegetarianism (don’t even mention the other V word), I foolishly associated this cooking to be unfulfilling.
Recently, I have had numerous hankerings for Middle Eastern and Indian comfort food, choices which were always at the bottom of my list in the past. What sparked my revolution is tough to pinpoint. Intellectually speaking I must broaden my horizons to be considered a true foodie (although monkey brains I am staying clear). My appetite drives me, as my grandfather loves to point out – I am a slave of food and wine.
Start out at the best places possible – I think – so at least I have given a particular food its due at or near its peak performance. The same doesn’t hold for wine, by the way. I drank Yellow Tail like everyone else, and my tastes continue to evolve with each glass. But I am glad I started at the bottom first so I can appreciate superior products later.
On a tip from my friend Evan, I headed over to Hell’s Kitchen (that’s right, Clinton was a President, not this neighborhood) to Gazala Place on ninth avenue. The cuisine is labeled as Druze, originating from the mountains of Syria, Israel and Lebanon which features much of the same standard fare one would find at a hummus parlor, plus a bonus of crepe-like pitas and pastries which are crafted on a griddle called a saag. Chef Gazala Halabi utilizes the spices from her family back home, and the quality and seasoning combination stand out.
My excitement for the home style cooking here was rewarded with brightness and good flavors with a light touch. My disappointments may be tied into my own shortcomings and understanding of this type of food. Like all ethnic cuisine, you have to be in the mood for it. If you want sushi don’t get Mexican. If you want Thai, don’t look for Italian, etc.
I imagine that judgment of any Middle Eastern place should begin with its hummus. While the hummus here is very organic and delicious, it does not have the same consistency I am accustomed too. It is too whipped, and does not hold its form. The tahini is fresh, and with the choices of chick peas or fava beans, a delight. Rather treat yourself to the labanee, creamy goat cheese accented with zahatar, fragrant olive oil and a zing of lemon. I only wish the homemade crepe-like pita were more solid. My attempts at scooping up the labanee often ended in failure.
A close second is the babaganush. The eggplant is not too smoky (I detest overly smoked anything, especially barbecue), and coupled with tahini, probably the best I have tasted in some time. You will forgive me that I did not try any of the salads, but con attest to the bright quality of the tabouli. If I could douse my body with this after a shower I would. It gives anything green a good name. I have not tried the kibbe, but have heard they are competent. Kibbe is one of the reasons my grandfather married my grandmother. Hers are unbelievable, and the knockoffs that exist always disappoint me.
Moving onto what separates Gazala Place from the rest are the homemade breads and pies. Upon looking at them, located in the front window, they look like pastries from a street breakfast cart, an appearance of too much dough and staleness with an amateurish sprinkling. These burekas are spiced with sesame and filled with goat cheese, tomatoes or chicken.  In reality each bite gets better and better, and coupled with yogurt are irresistible. Save room to sample these. The shell is flaky, the fillings moist, the balance correct. Not as successful are the fresh baked pita shells, which are a tad greasy and uninteresting, the meat on top unremarakable.
Instead have the falafel, just lovely testaments to a chef Gazala’s hand, light and crispy and ideal. I am upset that they are so far away from the Upper West Side.
I still have not tried any of the kebabs or the fish dishes, again holding onto my own prefabricated beliefs about what the essence of this type of food really is. Who knows, maybe sometime in the near future, I will head over to a place like Angelica Kitchen, because I am in the mood and ready for a plate of fine vegetables. Until then, break me in with a little hummus, babaganush, labanee, tabouli and a grape leaf or two and chalk that up to progress.
By KC Koonce
It should be simple—all of the ingredients are ordinary, inexpensive, and the same color—but somehow the elusive pancake is almost impossible to find. Too many people (and restaurants) don’t take their pancakes seriously enough, and Upper West Siders are faced with a plethora of pedestrian pancakes.
But I take my pancakes seriously and think if we all did, restaurants would be forced to serve better ones. One need only visit the great state of Vermont for comparison.
Good pancakes, most would agree, are something we go for when we’re seeking weekend decadence. We enjoy pancakes with good company, and good coffee, juice, meat, and perhaps a boozy beverage. We expect them to be fluffy, cloud-like sweet treats that we’ve worked hard for all week and deserve. Or don’t deserve, but eat on credit from the future workout we promise to take.
Regardless of the circumstance, everyone deserves good pancakes.
Good pancakes are light gold in color. They are soft to the touch, roughly a half-inch thick with bubbly edges; the underside is slightly lighter than the top. When you cut into the pancake it is slightly doughy, it absorbs syrup easily, and when you put it in our mouth you know you have the perfect pancake.
I like to taste the tang of baking soda, just to ensure that the pancake didn’t come from a box. The slight imperfection reminds me of the care human hands took to make the pancake, like a slightly asymmetrical hand-woven carpet.
Accoutrements are as important as the pancakes themselves.
SYRUP
It sounds bourgeois, but there is no substitute for real maple syrup. “Syrup†substitutes (the kinds that come in plastic bottles) contain frightening ingredients with “x’s†and “z’s†and more than 10 letters. Maple syrup is healthy and works as a great substitute for sugar – for more than just pancakes. I know these are tough times, but I strongly advise against cutting corners with syrup.
CONFIDENT COFFEE
To me—and I know I’m not alone—coffee is an absolutely essential part of the day. Coffee is not expensive – so why do so many eateries skimp on coffee? There really is no excuse for ruining the start of our days, and yet so many places do it. We deserve to feel confident that we will be served good quality coffee with brunch. I brew and drink my coffee at home before going to brunch, because a mediocre coffee on a weekend morning is one of life’s greatest disappointments.
SAVORING THE SIDE
Pancakes can be too sweet to stomach alone, so it helps to have a salty side, such as sausage or bacon. A good breakfast sausage is my favorite. I’m always happy when restaurants make it easy to order a side. If sausage and bacon are too decadent, not many meat-eaters will turn down an offer to share your bacon or sausage. Two bites of pancakes per one bite of your side meat dish is just heavenly, and the protein will keep you full for much longer than pancakes alone.
RECOMMENDATIONS ON THE UPPER WEST SIDE
Upper West Siders face an uphill battle for good brunch. Who wants to stand on those lines only to be served mediocrity at best? Perhaps you should just skip the idea altogether and have a burger; I recommend the Shake Shack (finally, fast food done correctly), but if you really have a craving and you can’t, or don’t have time to make them, I have two recommendations.
The first time I tried Community pancakes I was in heaven. They are thick and perfect and the sausages are also delicious. The unusually good coffee was a pleasant complement to the breakfast. Warning: Smack in the middle of Columbia University valley, there are obscene crowds.
Another classic pancake can be found at French Roast. The pancakes don’t disappoint. The side of sausage is good and the coffee is decent (but the selection of Belgian beers is even better).
But I rarely go out to brunch these days. Even if I had a larger budget, I would still have a hard time paying for the mediocre choices. I can’t tolerate half-assed coffee and pancakes, so I just don’t bother.Below is an adapted recipe I like from Epicurious.com
Ingredients
* 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
* 3 tablespoons sugar
* 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
* 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* 1 1/2 cups well-shaken buttermilk
* 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
* 2 large eggs
* 1 teaspoon vanilla
* Accompaniment: maple syrup
Pancakes
Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. Whisk together buttermilk, 2 tablespoons melted butter, eggs, and vanilla in a large bowl until smooth. Add flour mixture and whisk until just combined.
Brush a 12-inch nonstick skillet with some of remaining tablespoon melted butter and heat over moderate heat until hot but not smoking. Working in batches of 3, pour 1/4 cup batter per pancake into hot skillet and cook until bubbles appear on surface and undersides are golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip pancakes with a spatula and cook until golden brown and cooked through, 1 to 2 minutes more. Transfer to a large plate and loosely cover with foil to keep warm, then make more pancakes, brushing skillet with butter for each batch.