Petit salé aux lentilles

This class bistro dish was one of my favorites when I lived in France and great winter comfort food. I've been wanting to do more recipes from my Anne Willan books and this seemed very apt in the cold weather between the years.

It's very simple. You put a 2 lb pork shoulder (mine was a little bigger), tied in a cylinder, in a brine made of 2 qu. water, 2 sprigs thyme, 1 bay leaf, 2 sliced garlic cloves, 2 tsp. juniper berries, 1 tsp. peppercorns (oops, forgot these), 2 whole cloves, 1-3/4 c. coarse salt, 3 Tbl. sugar and an optional 2 Tbl. curing salt gently heated and stirred until salt and sugar dissolve then completely cooled. Cover and refrigerate, the recipe says, anywhere from 12 hrs. to a week (I saw too late that the headnote recommends at least two days and cooked mine after 24 hrs.)

To cook, you rinse off the brine and cover pork with water in a pot. Bring to a simmer and cook for 5 min. then pour off water and refill. (If the pork has been in the brine longer than 3 days, soak for 1 hr. in cold water prior to this step.) Bring to a boil and simmer for 1-1/2 hrs. Then stir in 10 oz. French lentils (closer to 12 oz. in my dish), a whole peeled onion with two cloves stuck in it, a crushed clove of garlic and a bouquet garni (parsley, thyme, bay leaf tied together) and cook for another 1/2 hr. Remove pork and cover, drain excess liquid from lentils, take out onion, remove cloves, chop and return to lentils, and remove bouquet garni. Slice pork and serve on bed of lentils. The pork is juicy and tender from the brine, and salty without tasting too salty. Lentils are always great.

I've been loyal to Anne Willan since I attended a cooking course at her Ecole de La Varenne in Paris (before it de-camped for the countryside) and have several of her cookbooks. This recipe was in The Country Cooking of France. Her books tend to be big, heavy coffee table books with lots of text and photos. I don't have the impression that the recipes are quite as meticulously tested for the home cook as you would expect from someone who operated a cooking school. Nothing that can't be overcome if you do a little thinking yourself, which I tend to do after the fact. So I probably should have used a smaller pot, since there was a lot of excess liquid which may have kept the flavor from concentrating. I should have read the headnote about keeping it in the brine for two days, but why should the recipe say something different? The result was nonetheless delicious, but I will put on my thinking cap the next time I use one of her recipes.

Masala Art

It seems I was observing radio silence the first time we went to Masala Art a couple of months ago, so let me rectify that after our return trip this week. Both times our reaction was the same: I love this place!

The name of the restaurant comes from its mastery of spice blends. As the Web site says: "Spice blends are called masalas. Indian cooks have mastered the timed roast of spices, releasing various flavors from the same spice based on its length of roasting. A spice is also manipulated by the way it is prepared. Each of the many spices has its own unique function: some spices tenderize, some intensify heat while others cool, some augment color, some thicken and others bring necessary tartness."

That must account for the remarkable freshness and novelty of the dishes we've tried. I can't remember the ones we had the first trip, but on this latest visit we split an appetizer, Aloo aur Pyaz ki Bhaji, which is juliennes of potatoes and onions in chickpea batter. This came out fresh and hot from deep frying with two very nice little sauces and was delicious. For main courses, we ordered a tawa -- cooked on a griddle like skillet -- and a tandoori. The Tawa Murgh Khatta Pyaaz was marinated chicken cubes with masala gravy, royal cumin and pickled onion. It had a rich tomato-ey flavor and a quiet, deep heat set off nicely by the pickled onion. The Bhuna Gosht was stir-fried lamb curry with spices. Somewhat less original but the lamb was very tender with a nice mature (muttony, the way I like!) taste. We got a rock salt and garlic nan (the one small criticism of the restaurant is that the nan portions are relatively small).

Prices are great: appetizers run about $5 and entrees $10 to $15. We split an appetizer and got two entrees. Next time we may get two appetizers and split an entree, with perhaps an additional half-order of a vegetable entree. All in all a great find, and close enough in Tenleytown to be considered a neighborhood restaurant.

Chicken and dumplings

One of the strongest food memories from my childhood is the time we went to a Methodist church supper for chicken and dumplings. We attended Catholic schools, and I worried that it was vaguely sinful to go to a Protestant church for dinner. But what a revelation! These anonymous ladies at the Methodist church created a fabulous meal with plump dumplings, a luscious broth and melt-in-your-mouth chicken.

My mother never cooked chicken and dumplings because her fried chicken was so good. Perhaps because the standard was set so high by the Methodist ladies, I've rarely attempted it myself. But the recipe in Molly Stevens' All About Braising was too appealing to resist.

Rather than the traditional method of poaching the dumplings in the broth the chicken is cooking in, Stevens has you cook everything separately. So first you sear the salted and peppered chicken parts in 2 Tbl. butter (I elected the thighs and legs option instead of the cut-up chicken). She insists that you just color the chicken pieces frying 4 min. a side, not brown them. Remove, pour off the fat, heat 2 more Tbl. butter, and sautee 1 medium onion chopped into 1/2-in. pieces, 2 celery stalks likewise chopped, 1 large shallot chopped, 2 strips lemon zest, and scant 1/4 tsp. grated nutmeg with sprinkling of salt and pepper until vegetables are soft. Add 1/2 c. dry white wine and simmer for 7 min. (until 3/4 of the wine is gone), add another 1/2 c. wine and simmer another 6 or 7 min. Add the stock and bring to simmer, then add the chicken pieces (if using cut-up chicken, keep the breasts out for the first 10 min.). Check heat after 10 min. to make sure braise is at a slow simmer, turn chicken pieces (add white meat) and simmer a further 25 to 30 min.

Remove the chicken pieces to platter and loosely cover with foil. In the meantime, you have mixed the dumpling batter, whisking 1 c. flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/2 tsp. coarse salt, 1 Tbl. chopped parsley, 1 Tbl. chopped chives or scallion ends (I just used 2 Tbl. parsley), and scant 1/8 tsp. grated nutmeg (call it a pinch). You make a well in the dry ingredients, put in a whole egg at room temperature and add 6 Tbl. milk. Whisk ingredients together, adding up to 2 Tbl. more milk if batter is too stiff (mine was still pretty stiff with all 8 Tbl. milk), then whisk in 2 Tbl. butter, melted and cooled. Don't overmix, Stevens warns, because that will toughen dumplings. Form the dumplings with 2 tablespoons and put into the braising liquid, which you have strained to remove the aromatics (and skimmed for fat, a step I skipped). Simmer for 5 min. on one side, then gently turn and simmer for another 5 min. Remove to platter with the chicken.

Whisk together a liaison from 2 egg yolks, 1/2 c. heavy cream, salt and pepper. Whisk in a ladle-full of the braising liquid, and then whisk the liaison back into the pan with the rest of the braising liquid, stir and avoid bringing to a boil. If sauce tastes starchy, add a squeeze of lemon (I did anyway, what the heck). When sauce has thickened, pour over chicken and dumplings, sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve.

This was different than the church supper, but it was extremely good. The Stevens book has been a great find, with many wonderful braising recipes.

Eye of the Goat beans

This has nothing to do with Men Who Stare at Goats. It is a pinto-like bean from Rancho Gordo and I used a pound in two more wonderful dishes from Steve Sando's Heirloom Beans.

The first was Posole with Eye of the Goat beans and chicken. I also got the posole -- husked, dried kernels of corn -- from Rancho Gordo. I soaked the beans and 2/3 c. posole (separately) overnight. I cooked the beans for 1-1/2 hrs with chopped onion and garlic sauteed in lard. The posole, following this recipe, I cooked 1/4 chopped onion for a little over 2 hrs (recipe said 3 hrs but they were plenty tender before that). Meanwhile, I slit 3 New Mexico chiles (next time maybe something a little hotter) and removed stems and seeds, roasted them in a skillet then poured boiling water over them and let them soak 30 min. Afterwards, I pureed them with some of the soaking water to "the consistency of buttermilk."

For the final assembly, I thinly sliced 2 more onion quarters and sauteed 3 to 4 min. in 2 Tbl oil with 2 chopped garlic cloves. I added 4 c. chicken broth, 1-1/2 tsp. Mexican oregano, the pureed chiles, and 4 canned tomatoes, chopped. Then I added the posole with 1 c. of the cooking liquid, brought all that to a boil, checked the salt, added 2 c. of cooked beans and simmered 20 min. to blend. Then I added 2 c. (recipe said 1-1/2 c.) of shredded chicken from a rotisserie chicken and warmed through. The stew was served with chopped onion, cilantro leaves, limes, and diced avocado on the side, accompanied by warm corn tortillas. Very satisfying.

To use up the other 2 c. of beans, I used Sando's Chili verde with Anasazi beans, where Eye of Goat beans were listed as a suitable substitute. This was even better. I husked 8 tomatillos (first time I've ever cooked with these little green tomatoes!), boiled them for 5 min. and chopped them. I roasted 8 poblano chiles under the broiler for 15 min., turning often, put them into towels to steam for 10 min., peeled, seeded and cut into strips. In a large Dutch oven, I sauteed 1/2 chopped white onion in 2 Tbl oil, 3 chopped garlic cloves, and 1 tsp. of toasted, ground cumin seeds for about 10 min. Then I added 3 lbs. boneless pork shoulder cut into 3/4-in. cubes, chiles, tomatillos, 1/2 c. cilantro leaves and 1 tsp. Mexican oregano, and poured in chicken broth to cover. I seasoned with salt and pepper and simmered for 1-1/2 hrs. until pork was very tender, added 2 c. cooked beans and simmered another 30 min. Served with chopped cilantro. The green chiles lent a very satisfying heat to the tender, slightly fatty (I'd cut off a good deal of the fat) pork. Sando continues to astonish us.

Celery root and wild rice chowder

This was actually the first course in the meal with the Zürcher Geschnetzeltes, but I wanted to feature it in its own posting because it is so good and the first recipe I've used from Local Flavors: Cooking and Eating from America's Farmers' Markets by Deborah Madison.

This dish is earthy, elegant and relatively simple -- a real keeper. You simmer 1/2 c. wild rice in 5 c. water for 45 min. (She doesn't specify, but I drained after it was done.)

Separately, you cut away the skin of a 1 lb. celery root (also known as celeriac), quarter it, and then cut into bite-size pieces. Chop and wash the white part of 2 large leeks. Dice one celery rib and thinly slice 1 c. russet potato. Melt 2 Tbl. butter in a soup pot, add the vegetables with 1/4 c. chopped parsley, bay leaf, sprig of thyme, and 1-1/2 tsp. salt. Cook over medium-high heat for 5 min., then add 2 c. vegetable or chicken stock (I used chicken), bring to boil, then simmer for 20 min. Add 2 c. half-and-half (or milk, I used half-and-half) and cook until vegetables are tender (didn't take that much longer). Check seasoning. For extra creaminess, purree 1 c. of chowder in blender and add back in to pot. Thin with stock or milk if chowder is too thick. Ladle soup into bowl, add mound of wild rice, and garnish with more chopped parsley and an optional drop of truffle oil.

This probably tastes great without the truffle oil, but I have to say I felt like the money for the oil was well-spent because that little whiff of truffles brings an added dimension to this chowder. We will certainly serve again this winter!

Zürcher Geschnetzeltes

This is one of the all-time classic European dishes, at least in German-speaking countries, so I was surprised that my well-traveled dining companions had never heard of it. It's a great winter dish and relatively easy, though pricey if you use veal as in the original.

Geschnetzeltes just means cut up, and this veal dish is to Zurich what Fegato alla veneziana (calves' liver, Venetian style) is to Venice. The recipe in the Swiss cookbook I've been carrying around for decades (Cooking in Switzerland by Marianne Haltenbach) was too vague. For instance, she neglected to mention that the veal should be cut in narrow strips, perhaps because she figures, wrongly, that everyone knows this. So I scoured the Web and settled on a recipe by Manuela Darling-Gansser carried at sbs.com.au/food as my guide.

She calls for veal back strap, whatever that is. Since American supermarkets carry very few cuts of veal, I just got scaloppini from the leg, buying 1-1/2 lbs for 4 people. I cut 3/4-in. strips cross-wise to get strips 2-4 in. long. Alone among the recipes, this one calls for flouring the veal, and since this works so well for scaloppini, I thought it made sense. However, the flour burned on the skillet and I had to change pans, so I would probably skip this the next time.

You sautée the veal quickly in butter and oil to brown the strips and set them aside. Add more butter and oil and sautée a finely sliced onion, 2 sliced cloves of garlic and 15 fresh sage leaves, chopped. After a few minutes, add a half-pound of "Swiss brown mushrooms" (I used cremini), thickly sliced. When the mushrooms are softened, add a cup of dry white wine, deglaze skillet, add the veal back in and cook until the wine evaporates, check seasoning. I stopped here to save the finish for just before serving. To finish, add 10 oz. of heavy cream and let bubble a couple of minutes, then serve.

The traditional accompaniment is rösti, a simple Swiss version of home fries. You are supposed to boil Yukon gold potatoes, let them cool, and then refrigerate covered for at least 4 hours and up to 2 days. I barely made the minimum and it probably works better if you can do it a day ahead of time. You peel and grate the potatoes in the large-hole side of the grater, and toss with salt and pepper. You heat butter and oil in a skillet, put in the potatoes, press into a flat "cake" with a spatula. Mine did not come out quite right (still tasted good because you can't really screw up with those ingredients). I used a skillet that was too big instead of the 9 to 9-1/2 in. called for. Other recipes call for it to be covered, but perhaps that was a mistake with this one, since it gets turned. Anyway, after 10 min. or so, a brown crust should form on the bottom of the cake, and you flip it onto a plate and slide the cake bakc into the skillet (with more butter and oil) with the uncooked side down and form a crust on that side for another 10 min. To serve, you cut into wedges.

Scallops with Brussels sprouts

I like Brussels sprouts anyway but this recipe in The Barcelona Cookbook featured a novel way of using them. After you parboil just 1 c. of pared Brussels sprouts for 3 min. (they are at their greenest), drain and plunge in ice water (to keep them green), you then "separate the sprouts into leaves for cooking." I just sliced off a bit more of the root and the outer leaves came off easily, sliced again for some of the inner leaves, then threw away the small core attached to the root.

We love scallops but only splurge on them a couple of times a year. The recipe specifies "dry" scallops from a "reputable" fish store. Apparently a cheaper version is preserved in liquid and won't work in this recipe. The Fishery, being reputable, had dry scallops and I got 6 beauties for the 2 of us (the recipe calls for 12 to serve 4). I did the full recipe for the rest, because we weren't having any other accompaniment.

Heat 2 Tbl. of butter in a skillet over high heat, add 1/4-lb. slab bacon cut into 1/2-in. dice (I used thick slice bacon I had on hand, but it's probably better to make the effort to get the slab because my bacon got pretty crispy), cook for 2 min. and then put the scallops, salted and peppered, in the pan to sear for 3 min. Directions not clear whether you also sear another 3 min. after turning (in general, this great cookbook could have used another round of home kitchen testing and final style editing because it is not always clear), but these were big scallops and I figured they weren't going to get overdone with another 3 min. Then you add those separated sprout leaves, 2 diced shallots, and 1 tsp. chopped garlic and cook for another 2 to 3 min. while stirring. Then you add 3/4 c. dry white wine, bring to a boil and scrape to deglaze pan. Remove scallops and boil down wine by 2/3. Swirl in another Tbl. butter (I actually forgot this and didn't miss it). Divide scallops onto serving plates and ladle sprouts and sauce over them. Elegant, delicious, light, lovely.

I ordered this book after the short ribs recipe I got online was such a hit. The book is very nice and there are also great descriptions of Barcelona, Spanish cheeses, etc. though the title itself refers to a restaurant group in Connecticut.

Parkway Deli

I've gone to Parkway Deli on Grubb Road to pick up sandwiches but we tried the dining room for the first time because we wanted pancakes but not the usual Sunday morning mob scene at House of Pancakes or the diners. Parkway certainly filled the bill (though it was also crowded). We were seated quickly, service was rapid and efficient, breakfast came out fast and hot and the buttermilk pancakes were great. Even the coffee was not bad for a diner-type restaurant. We'll go again -- maybe for bagel and lox!

Halibut, Short ribs

Two separate recipes and meals -- not together! Just catching up.

I've written several glowing reports about Steve Sando's Heirloom Beans but the best recipe yet was his fabulous Flageolet bean and halibut stew with asparagus and parsley-mint pistou. What a great balance of flavors that brings the wonderful qualities of halibut to the forefront -- white, chunky, tasty in a non-fishy way.

First you cook the half-pound of beans, soaked overnight, in a dutch oven where you sautée two garlic cloves, a chopped celery stalk and a chopped half onion for 10 minutes, then add the beans and soaking water, bring to a boil and simmer for an hour, until the beans are almost tender.

In the meantime, make the pistou by chopping a garlic clove and salt in a food processor to make a paste. Sando specifies 1/2 c. parsley and 1/3 c. mint with 2 Tbl. of EVOO to make the pistou, but that amount is small even for my mini-food processor, so it's probably a good idea to double it and have a little extra in order to get a smoother pistou.

Preheat broiler. Add 1-1/2 lbs. halibut cut into 2-inch pieces, a large bunch of asparagus with ends removed and cut into bite-sized pieces, and an optional 3 stems of green garlic (I opted out) to the pot with beans. Submerge ingredients gently with wooden spoon and simmer on top of stove about 10 to 15 min., turning fish once carefully to not break in pieces. When asparagus is tender and fish cooked through, top with 1/3 c. toasted bread crumbs, drizzle with 1 Tbl. olive oil, and put under broiler until stew is bubbling and bread crumbs are brown. Serve in shallow bowls and garnish each portion with the pistou. Serves 4.

One of my RSS feeds came up with a recipe for Sherry-braised short ribs with autumn vegetables from The Barcelona Cookbook. It was such a hit I ordered the cookbook (the point of the exercise, I suppose).

You brine the short ribs -- they say 1 4-in. short rib per person for 6 but I did more -- in a marinade of 1 small chopped celery, 1/2 chopped carrot, 1/2 small chopped onion, 1/2 small head garlic halved (you tell me what that means, I just put in some garlic), 3 sprigs coarsely chopped parsley, 2 sprigs chopped thyme, 1 sprig chopped rosemary, 1 c. apple cider, 3/4 c. cream or other sweet sherry, 2 Tbl. sherry vinegar, 4 black peppercorns, 1 bay leaf, 2 tsp. kosher salt. Cover and refrigerate for 8 hrs. to 2 days.

Parboil and peel 2 c. pearl onions. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. The other vegetables get peeled and cut into 3/4 dice (though the book curiously does not specify this preparation for the potatoes, they certainly can't mean to leave them unpeeled and whole) -- 2 Yukon Gold potatoes, 2 parsnips, 2 carrots, 1 celery root, 1 turnip. You toss these with 3 Tbl olive oil, then salt and pepper. Spread 1 more Tbl olive oil in roasting pan and roast vegetables for 20 to 25 min., stirring after 10 min. (and rotating roasting pans if you need more than one to keep vegetables spread out).

To braise the ribs, preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix 2 c. flour, 1/2 cup paprika (not smoked paprika), 1/4 c. chili powder, 3 tsp. kosher salt, 1-1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper in a ziploc bag. Remove ribs from brine (keep the brine!), pat dry, and drop two at a time into bag to coat. Heat 3/4 c. olive oil in a roasting pan and brown ribs over medium high heat. Drain oil from pan and wipe clean. Return ribs to pan and pour 1 c. of brine and 5 c. veal stock over them. Cover with foil, bring to boil, and transfer to oven to braise 1-1/2 hrs. Remove ribs from braise and after it has cooled, strain braise. Skim fat or put into freezer to congeal fat on top. I did everything to this point ahead of time. For final assembly you raise oven to 425 degrees, put short ribs into pan with onions, veggies, strained braising liquid, bring to boil on stove and then roast in oven for 35 to 40 min. The meat is falling off the bone and the braising sauce is almost a demi-glace. Magnifique!

We served with a very nice Bradford Mountain Winery Grist Vineyard Dry Creek Valley Syrah 2006 that got 90 points from Wine Spectator and that I got at a good price from Wines Til Sold Out.

Matisse

I've been neglecting my food blog, so will try to get back on track. I fell into the trap of thinking everything has to be a set piece, with photo, etc. But this is for me to talk about one of my passions -- food and drink -- so I will try to keep it more informal.

On the spur of the moment, we went back to Matisse last night after a long absence, and we loved it. It is a place of many memories for us when we went there regularly with Andrea's parents and partly for that reason, I think, we have been reluctant to go back.

But it is in oasis of civilization in the hurly-burly of downmarket restaurants in our neighborhood. Tablecloths, white napkins, flowers -- quiet! And the food was excellent. I had the grilled Portuguese sardines (did they come from Portugal? is it a Portuguese technique?) which gave me that whiff of the Mediterranean I wanted (yes, I know Portugal is on the Atlantic and not the Mediterranean, but you know what I mean). Andrea had a lovely lentil soup.

My main course was New Zealand venison (a waste, I know, given how much venison on the hoof we have right here in Chevy Chase), and it had a nice, slightly gamey taste cooked to just the right medium rare. Spaetzle and brussels sprouts accompanied it, and I paired it with a very nice California Zinfandel by the glass. By now, you pay $10 everywhere for a glass of wine, but at Matisse you actually get a very good wine.

Andrea had a luscious duck breast that truly was to die for -- tender, very ducky meat with a crispy, spicey skin. She had a glass of red Burgundy (pinot noir) with it.

The owner recognized us and was friendly as always. For some puzzling reason, he seems to have trouble finding good wait staff. We never see the same person -- which is good, because the waiters have been generally not so great, and last night was no exception. All in all, though, a lovely meal and good value. Think we'll be going back more often!

Bean salad

Beans aren't only for cold weather, as these lovely salads in Steve Sando's Heirloom Beans demonstrate (see my blog from last year on these beans). I forgot the volume that a pound of dried beans swells into, so I had a chance to try three salads in quick succession when I cooked up a pound of Rancho Gordo's Mayacoba beans.

I cooked the beans per Sando's instructions with a mirepoix (one carrot, one celery and half an onion) and a crushed garlic. After soaking overnight, they only required a little over an hour to get soft. Sando encourages you to make the salads with the beans slightly warmed so I brought them to room temperature and briefly warmed them in a skillet with a couple tablespoons water in it before making each salad.

With a cup and a half of the cooked beans, I made the Fennel and Radicchio with Mayacoba bean salad. Two fennel bulbs sliced lengthwise are tossed in olive oil, salt and pepper and sautéed until golden brown and soft. These are mixed with sliced radicchio, 6 slices of bacon fried and crumbled and the beans and tossed in a dressing of 1/2 chopped shallot, 1 tsp. dijon mustard, 1 Tbl. fresh lemon juice, 1 Tbl. red wine vinegar and 4 Tbl. EVOO. Shaved parmesan is added to the tossed salad. (Sando's recipe also includes hazelnuts roasted and rubbed to remove the skin, then chopped -- but I omitted these. He calls for radicchio di Treviso, but I had to make do with California radicchio and it still tasted excellent.)

With another two cups of the cooked beans, I made the Mayacoba bean salad with pesto and shrimp. A half pound of medium shrimp are peeled and deveined and then cooked 30 seconds in a court bouillon of 1 bay leaf, 1/4 tsp. fennel seads, 1/4 tsp. coriander seeds, 4 to 5 peppercorns, 1 crushed garlic clove, a 1/3 c. dry white wine, 1/2 lemon, and 1/2 tsp salt simmered in a small saucepan of water for 10 min. The pesto, which expressly omits the usual parmesan and pine nuts, is made from 2 c. loosely packed fresh basil leaves, 2 garlic cloves, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/3 c. EVOO processed in a food processor. To assemble, toss the beans and shrimp together with 1 c. cherry or grape tomatoes cut in half, pour over the pesto and toss again, then season with salt, pepper and the juice of 1/2 lemon. Very tasty.

With the remaining 2-1/2 c. of Mayacoba beans I made the Italian marrow bean with tuna salad, a variation on a standard Mediterranean dish. Sando specifies that you use imported tuna packed in oil (standard 5 oz. can). You break this up with a fork in a salad bowl, add the beans, 1/2 thinly sliced medium sweet onion, 1 celery stalk half lengthwise then sliced on the diagonal, 1/3 c. chopped fresh parsley, and then drizzle with 3 Tbl EVOO, 2 tsp red wine vinegar, and toss with salt and pepper.

Believe it or not, I didn't get tired of beans. Each salad is so different and has such a nice balance of flavors, you forget that they're all made from the same batch of beans.

Daube Avignonnaise

It might seem counterintuitive to have a beef stew when the outside temperature is topping 100 degrees, but Patricia Wells bills this white wine daube as "ideal for summer."

It's the first recipe I've taken from The Provence Cookbook and it was a big success. A full 6 lbs of beef cut into large cubes (3 oz) -- she recommends two or three different cuts like round, short ribs, etc. -- plus 2 onions sliced, 4 carrots sliced, 4 oz mushrooms sliced, a head of garlic with cloves peeled and halved, zest of orange, 2 tomatoes peeled and chopped, a parsley and bay leaf bouquet garni and 2 bottles of white wine simmer in a slow oven (325 degrees) for 3-4 hours. The beef is marinated for 2 hours beforehand in just 2 Tbl cognac, 2 Tbl olive oil and salt and pepper. The stew is served over penne tossed in parmesan and accompanied with a white Cote du Rhone (I did not splurge on white Chateauneuf du Pape, but that obviously would be ideal). It is listed as 6 servings, but those are very, very generous servings.

I worked for Walter Wells at the International Herald Tribune back in 1980-81 and met Patricia just as she was starting on her fabulous career as a food writer in France. Like most francophile gourmets (yes, a redundant expression), I have several of her books. She knows her food, though her recipes are not always as careful and reliable as writers more specialized in cookbooks. This one works fine if, like me, you don't mind a soupy stew with lots of fat.

Patricia's career as a bestselling author eventually eclipsed Walter's as newspaper editor, though I doubt he has many complaints with the idyllic life they have carved out for themselves in Provence. Patricia reportedly is scouting out Uzès, where we stayed briefly last summer, for a possible school. Though not actually in Provence, Uzès is incredibly charming and has a wonderful market. Avignon, home of this daube, is the closest big city.

Spice Xing

There's not a thing wrong with the food at Spice Xing (pronounced Spice Crossing). The restaurant in Rockville Town Center offers the high-quality Indian cuisine one expects from Sudhir Seth. However, there's no reason to make the trek to Rockville when Passage to India, with its fuller and more interesting menu, is right in Bethesda.

The Rockville restaurant is billed as contemporary Indian fare, featuring dishes influenced by other cultures in India. That may be, but the bulk of the offerings in Spice Xing seemed remarkably similar to those at Passage or other Indian restaurants. Decor may be upscale by Rockville standards, but decidedly suburban (more so than the Bethesda restaurant). And service in Rockville was spotty and sloppy.

That said, the four of us on this trek had some very good food, including Lamb Ishtoo stew with cardamom and curry leaf and another lamb stew, Persian style, with apricots. Starters, except for the exotic Bhel Puri, were not that distinguished. Well worth the visit if you live in Rockville or find yourself there for some reason or another. Otherwise, go to Passage to India.

Roadtrip: Bourbon

Our roadtrip took us through the two best states for whiskey -- Tennessee and Kentucky. Jack Daniels of course is a Tennessee sour mash and bourbon derives its name from a county in Kentucky.

We had a very nice meal in Nashville at the Capitol Grille (no relation to chain) and did not make it to Whiskey Kitchen, a trendy new restaurant featuring lots of whiskeys. But the hotel concierge sent me to Midtown Wine and Spirits, a huge liquor store, to look for whiskeys I might have trouble finding elsewhere.

A very helpful staffer steered me to a bottle of Bejamin Prichard's Straight Tennessee Whiskey, which has only been on the market a few months. Prichard's distills a lot of rum and has produced a "double-barreled" 90-proof whiskey. But this is a premium product in a bottle like Woodford Reserve. Tennesse whiskey has the distinction of being filtered through maple, marking its flavor accordingly.

Otherwise, he said, the main Tennessee alternative to Jack Daniel's is Dickel, which apparently is fairly widely distributed, though new to me. He also recommended a Kentucky small-batch bourbon, Rowan's Creek, from Bardstown. Prichard's is very good, but the Rowan's Creek is excellent.

In the new cable series "Justified" with Timothy Olyphant, set in Lexington, Ky., everyone is always having a shot of neat whiskey. Easy to see why once you get there.

We didn't dally along the bourbon trail in Kentucky, but did go to dinner in Lexington, at deSha's, which was voted the best whiskey bar in the country in 2008. The bar menu listed at least three dozen small-batch bourbons, and a knowledgeable waiter helped me build a flight of bourbons to go with my steak dinner. We started with an Elmer T. Lee, a single-barrel bourbon produced at the Buffalo Trace distillery, which makes the Eagle Rare and Blanton brands, among others. A review in a spirits magazine praises the deep golden color of the 14-year-old whiskey and detects a toffee flavor. I thought it was great.

With the main course, I had a Noah's Mill bourbon, also from Bardstown. It had a nice whiskey flavor, in contrast to the final member of my little flight, which had a beautiful cognac flavor. That was a special Woodford Reserve. The waiter explained that the Woodford Reserve in the store is mixed with Old Forrester, but that deSha's had its own label of pure Woodford Reserve -- a Woodford Reserve reserve, so to speak. It was heavenly, and when I say it tasted like cognac, keep in mind that cognac, like bourbon, is aged in charred oak barrels. I floated out of the restaurant. It might be fun to go back to Kentucky and travel down the bourbon trail!

Roadtrip: Barbecue

I love barbecue and our roadtrip gave us an opportunity to sample many different barbecue places. But I worry that a focus on down home authentic food, like that in Jane and Michael Stern's Roadfood, is reducing American cuisine to barbecue, hamburgers and fried chicken.

Most of the barbecue places we went to in fact are not in Roadfood. The book's recommendation for Johnson City, Dixie BBQ, was closed on Sunday (we neglected to call ahead) so we ended up grabbing pork and brisket at another barbecue place for lunch. It was fine, tasty, quick. Barbecue is the ultimate fast food because it's been cooked for hours and is sitting ready for the diner when ordered. This was great on the roadtrip because we could not leave the dog for too long in the car in the hot weather.

That night in Sevierville, we went to Tony Gore's barbecue and it again was all right, though we were beginning to worry that we would be eating too much barbecue. A break then in Nashville, when we ate at non-barbecue places.

The best pulled pork we had was at B.E. Scott's in Lexington, Tennessee, a short detour off I-40 (not in Roadfood) between Nashville and Memphis. I had read about it in Leite's Culinaria blog, where he described spending a couple of days there learning how to smoke whole hogs. The pulled pork was fabulously tender, moist, tasting of pork and only slightly of smoke. It was served without sauce and you could add whatever you liked.

In Memphis, we followed a hotel staffer's advice to go to Central BBQ (again not in Roadfood) and had some excellent Memphis-style ribs. Succulent, falling off the bone tender. I ordered a half slab half and half dry and wet and probably could have eaten a whole slab.

The best barbecue of the trip, though, came in Kansas City at Jack Stack's, my old favorite just south of the city off I-495. I'd often gone there when my mother was at the nursing home just up the street and it was as good as I remembered it. We got burnt ends, pork and beef, and the beef stole the show. On our last roadtrip in 2008, I'd had the wonderful crown rib roast at Jack Stack's in Overland Park. This wasn't available at lunch and would have been too much to handle in any case. Jack Stack's is not in Roadfood, though they list other barbecue places in the immediate area.

Last barbecue stop was in Owensboro, Kentucky, where we went to Old Hickory for the barbecued mutton and burgoo typical of the region. We went here instead of George's, which is listed in Roadfood, on the advice of locals, but perhaps George's was better, because the mutton was dry and not very tasty. The burgoo was fine, but nothing special really.

Fortunately, there are always other possibilities, like the locavore places springing up everywhere, or the nice steak I had in Lexington, Kentucky with my bourbon flight. When all is said and done, Rocklands here in town puts out a perfectly good barbecue, and I'm sure the pit beef we saw in Maryland outside of Baltimore was very tasty, too. It's not rocket science and fairly useless to discuss just who has the absolutely best barbecue.

Batali grills

Pork tenderloin is one of my favorite meats to grill and this easy recipe from Mario Batali's Italian Grill appealed to me because he serves it with vegetables tossed in a Negroni vinaigrette.

If Batali knew his cocktail history better he would have called it an Americano vinaigrette, because he uses only the vermouth and campari (along with orange juice and red wine vinegar) and leaves out the gin. Also, the recipe calls for Jerusalem artichokes, which are only available in the winter, hardly the prime time for grilling. Rather than taking a chance on substitutes (jicama roots did not seem very promising), I just tossed the other vegetable in the recipe, haricots beans, in the vinaigrette.

What stole the show, though, was the rub for the tenderloin. The secret ingredient was "porcini powder," which you can make by grinding dried porcini in a spice grinder. This is combined with brown sugar, crushed red pepper flakes and ground fennel seed in a dry rub that you put on the pork 12 to 24 hours before grilling. The rub chars quickly and gives the meat a nice crust and a wonderful flavor. Batali never salts or peppers the meat, but I found it needed both when served.

The Negroni vinaigrette was great on the beans -- helped no doubt by the addition of sautéed pancetta in the final phase. In lieu of the missing Jerusalem artichokes, we served separately prepared green lentils, cooked classically with a mirepoix and more pancetta. For hors d'oeuvres we had melon wrapped in prosciutto -- a cliché, but an acceptable one at the peak of melon season -- and for dessert the wonderful cornmeal pound cake along with strawberries macerated in that ripe peach balsamic vinegar and a sabayon made with Grand Marnier instead of Marsala.

The main course was paired with the very nice Philippe Cambie La Deveze Cotes du Rhone 2007 that I got from Wine Til Sold Out and all in all it was a delightful meal. I bought the book earlier in the summer after the son of a friend asked me if I knew a grill cookbook he could give my friend for father's day that also discussed wine pairings. My googling came up with the Batali book and it looked so interesting I got a copy for myself. Will use it again!

Roadtrip: Locavore

The first meal on our roadtrip out to Wichita and back was at the delightful Staunton Grocery just before getting on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Staunton is a charming little town with, it turns out, a Shakespeare theater.

The restaurant has an open kitchen and we sat at the bar where Chef Ian Boden happened to be prepping dinner as we ordered from the brunch/lunch menu. Boden worked at New York restaurants for a decade before returning to Virginia about five years ago when his parents retired to Staunton. He has built his restaurant on connections to local producers, who are listed on his menu on the Web site. It alerted us to a phenomenon we saw throughout our trip -- the locavore movement has made great inroads on America's eating habits.

The "pre-fixe" brunch menu (hope he's kidding) was a bargain at $15. I started with Surryano Ham, a pun on Serrano for a cured ham made locally. It was out of this world, sliced fresh and wafer thin with that creamy, melt in your mouth salty flavor of great ham and served with baguette, mustard and cornichons. It stole the show and was the best advertisement for local sourcing you could ask for.

We also got the fried chicken, which Boden said came from a local producer who fed her chicks goat's milk. The breast, small like God intended for chickens to have, was moist, ever so flavorful and perfectly sealed in a batter fried just right. My main course, Boden's take on "hon poss," was less to my liking, partly because I misunderstood what the menu meant when it explained that it included a "confit" of pork and guineau fowl -- me thinking of the French confit, as in confit d'oie or confit de canard, a bird cooked and preserved in its own fat. Instead, this was ground meat that was spiced somewhat oddly and needed to be served much hotter than what I got.

That said, we loved the place and can't wait to go back. Boden and his sous chef filleted whole salmon and halibut while we sat, ate and chatted with him. He is clearly passionate about food and about what he's doing with his restaurant. He pointed out the charms of Staunton -- the theater, antique stores, B&Bs -- and suggested coming back for a weekend and eating dinner at the restaurant. Happy to do it first chance we get.

Probably the best meal we had on the trip was at the Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville (pictured above). The restaurant, as the staff repeated mantra-like, is not related to the chain and is the city's top-rated restaurant. The Hermitage is a fabulous hotel and was voted the country's No. 1 pet-friendly hotel the very week we arrived with our dog, Ziggy.

Chef Tyler Brown also cultivates local producers and, as our waiter explained, much of the produce is grown at a farm outside Nashville operated by the restaurant under pre-modern conditions -- no artificial fertlizer, etc. The summer salad with sassafras vinaigrette was bursting with flavor; you could feel the energy of the sun still in the fresh lettuce and vegetables, no doubt enhanced by the mysterious properties of sassafras.

For main courses we had the smoked Berkshire pork chop with fried grits, Swiss chard and local peach jam -- very nice, though the portion was small -- and braised Painted Hills beef short ribs -- a good portion and very tasty. The wine by the glass choices were great -- we started out with a Chandon Classic Brut from Napa Valley and moved on to an Erath Pinot Noir from Oregon with the short ribs and an Artessa Merlot from Sonoma with the pork. The short dessert menu held little appeal.

Locavore of course doesn not guarantee a good meal. In fact, a sure sign that the farm-to-table movement has really arrived is the abuse by pretentious restaurants that use it as an excuse to overprice their offerings. This was the case with Annie Gunn's in Chesterfield, Mo., a St. Louis suburb where we stayed overnight on the return trip. In fact, a Tripadvisor comment described it as "overpriced and pretentious" but we went anyway because it was the only non-chain restaurant in the vicinity. We should have listened. We weren't too venturesome, but it was noticeable that the "locally grown" tomato served with minuscule dabs of burrata was almost completely tasteless.

Negroni

During the really hot spell last week, I made the happy discovery that a Negroni, one of the few European cocktails to get any traction here, is a very refreshing summer drink. I've always liked them and when I had one in the midst of the stifling 100-degree weather, it tasted particularly good.

A Negroni is one-third gin, one-third Campari, and one-third sweet vermouth, with an optional splash of soda and a lemon twist or orange slice as garnish. I always add the soda, and in the summer would consider it obligatory. To me, it tastes fine without the twist. The bitter Campari flavor predominates, softened by the vermouth and the gin, of course, gives it a nice little kick.

The Negroni is attributed to Count Camillo Negroni, who asked a Florence bartender to add gin to his Americano, a cocktail with just the other three ingredients. I don't know why one would ever drink an Americano now without the gin.

The first summer I went to Europe, I discovered that Martini refers to vermouth as an apperitif and not to the cocktail. Vermouth, a flavored, fortified wine, is used exclusively as a mixer here, but is typical of the European-style apperitifs, which have double the alcoholic content of wine but half of that in whiskey or other distilled spirits.

I learned to order Martini "rouge" for sweet, and "blanc" for dry, and "rouge et blanc" for a mix, which turned out to be my favorite. And you order a "Martini cocktail" if you want our mix of gin and dry vermouth.

Campari is a "bitter" so beloved of the Europeans, consisting of alcohol infused with a secret mix of herbs and colored an unhealthy shade of chemical red. It is usually served with soda or orange juice and quite refreshing in its own right, once you've acquired the taste for it.

Mediterranean countries prefer the anisette drinks on hot late afternoons -- pastis in France, ouzo in Greece, raki in Turkey. With a couple of ice cubes and an occasional splash of water to dilute it, you can stretch out a glass of pastis for quite a while. It is not so much refreshing, as soothing in the heat, giving you a pleasant little buzz that makes the heat seem kind of nice.

Here of course we like our gin, rum and vodka with tonic, or the almighty margarita in the summer, or other citrusy Latin drinks like mojito or caparinha. A pastis is not to everyone's taste, nor probably is Campari. But venturesome drinkers might keep these European apperitifs in mind as nice summer alternatives.

Olive oil

Part of the fun of traveling, even close to home, is the serendipity of a great discovery -- like the one we had this weekend in Frederick when we stumbled onto the Lebherz Oil and Vinegar Emporium (L.O.V.E.). It's the most fun I've had shopping for olive oil since A L'Olivier in Paris.

L.O.V.E. is brand new, with a spare and elegant decor of hardwood flooring and dark green walls allowing the dazzling array of stainless steel vats to occupy center stage. The uniform vats contain two dozen-some olive oils and about 17 balsamic vinegars. Customers can sample any of the oils and vinegars by holding a little paper cup under the spigot for a quick shot, then dipping bread into it. Once you find what you like, you take one of the empty bottles (375ml and 750ml) and fill it up. They will seal the cork in tinfoil when you pay and you tie a pre-printed little tag around the neck of the bottle to label your choice.

It's all completely charming and the products are good. The 375ml bottle of oil costs $17 and of balsamic vinegar $16. Balsamic vinegar of course can mean virtually anything, but proprietor Maggie Lebherz shops for hers in Modena, the home of the real traditional balsamic. This selection does not fit the definition of aged balsamic but they are pretty darn good for salads, marinades and other uses. We got the ripe peach white balsamic (!) and it was heavenly on a salad of summer greens, heirloom tomatoes, avocado and tarragon from the garden. Can't wait to use it to marinate some strawberries for dessert.

The olive oils are more diverse in origin, alike in being crushed within hours of picking. The shop has oils from Italy, Spain, Greece, France, Chile, Tunisia and California. We got a bottle of the Arquebina oil from California -- a full-flavored olive oil on the darker side that worked perfectly to drizzle on steak fiorentina. Our favorite oil so far has been the McEvoy brand sold at Cowgirl Creamery -- a Tuscan style blend also produced on a California ranch.

We had gone to Frederick to shop for furniture but it turned out to be more satisfying on the culinary front. After our pleasant interlude at L.O.V.E. we strolled down North Market to look at the menu at Volt, but found a $25 prix fixe luncheon menu a bit more food and time than we were ready for, so we ended up at the Tasting Room for lunch. The big-window, sleek modern decor was perfect for a summer lunch and the food was excellent, bursting with freshness. We ordered a grilled-chicken salad that had avocado, corn, bacon and a lime cilantro dressing that was just the perfect thing for a hot day, and a salad Nicoise with pan-seared sushi tuna that was very elegant and just ample enough. The challah-style bread had a crispy, light crust that was delicious and the brewed iced tea was refreshing. It was an altogether pleasant experience at what is now the No. 2 Zagat-rated restaurant in Frederick since Volt opened.

The glass partitions separating the dining area from the bar have short descriptions of some basic foods stenciled onto them -- salt, bread and, coincidentally, olive oil. We returned to Washington without any furniture but a feeling that Frederick is a nice little gourmet oasis and hardly more than a half-hour from our upper NW starting point.

The Black Olive

If you're ever looking for definitive proof that good ingredients are the secret to flavor, go to The Black Olive in Fells Point. This charming little Greek place has rocketed to very near the top of our favorite area restaurants, and is worth the trek to Baltimore.

It is the closest thing I've experienced here to the times in Greece when I saw the fish being unloaded from the boats late in the day and carried up to the seaside restaurant for a simple grilling and some divine eating. The Black Olive is all about fish, but everything -- from the homemade bread, to the grilled asparagus accompaniment to the strawberry-ouzo sorbet at the end -- was superb. The fish itself was not only fresh, it was grilled or sautéed to perfection. The wine was a crisp, chilled Puligny-Montrachet with a wonderful mineral undertone that paired nicely with the fish dishes.

None of this comes cheap, even with the Baltimore discount, but it is money well spent. They claim to be one of the few places in the U.S. that serves genuine, fresh Dover sole, and certainly the people in our party who ordered that were thrilled. I personally was in seventh heaven with my royal dorade, a Mediterranean fish that has the firm texture of monkfish but a subtler flavor. It was grilled and filleted at table side in two wonderful mounds that made you think the Mediterranean was right outside the door. The waitress dribbled an olive-oil lemon sauce over it that was all the extra ingredient this fish needed.

The real secret of the good Greek restaurants is their olive oil -- and here it was a matchless, light oil that never tasted of olive but enhanced the flavors of everything it came into contact with, which is to say everything. This was especially the case with my starter -- an octopus salad that featured the most tender, subtly flavored octopus I've ever eaten. The little tentacles are marinated in a red wine mix, grilled, chopped and tossed with tiny slivers of onion and this delicious olive oil for an exquisite little salad that eaten with the hard-crust country bread and white Burgundy is alone worth the trip.

The restaurant is fun. Whether it's the charming Mediterranean decor behind the federal brick facade, or the cheerful French maitre-d' late of Petit Louis, or, best of all, the icy display cabinet of whole fish that you view before making your choice. There were the gleaming dorade, red snapper, black sea bass, dover sole, sardines and other fish cavorting in the crushed ice. A separate display case showed off the fillets of halibut, grouper, and salmon as well as the scallops, soft-shell crabs, crab cakes (no filler, olive oil is the only binder), and the rack of lamb thoughtfully provided for those not in the mood for fish.

Good food puts you in a good mood and the high quality of the food here turned this effort to bring together old friends on a summer evening into a real party. The serendipity of unexpected connections gave the whole meal a special air of Greek karma.

Restaurant Martin

Santa Fe is always a fun place to eat and Restaurant Martin is a great addition to the scene. Martin Rios was born in Mexico and raised in Santa Fe, where he has pursued his cooking career at the Eldorado Hotel and the Inn at Anasazi. His dishes are not particularly Southwestern, except for the occasional chile accent, but they are very good and dinner on the large outdoor terrace, sheltered from the wind and the sun, was a very pleasant experience.

The Snake River pork belly I had as a starter was exquisite -- a word you would never think to combine with pork belly. This was melt-in-your-mouth tender, no doubt from a good brine, and full of real pork flavor. It was served, interestingly, with chile-glazed tiger prawns -- a real variation on surf and turf -- and a creamy cauliflower mousseline. The grilled Berkshire pork chop that I had as a main course was almost anticlimactic, though it also was tasty and moist (brine again?), though whiter than I might have expected from a heritage breed. The chop had a nice guajillo chile glaze and was served with a delightful combination of sweet potato pave, broccolini and lemon garlic shoots, reflecting the limited seasonal choices from the local farmers' market.

What I sampled from companions' dishes was equally delicious -- a signature ahi tuna tartar and a superb wild mushroom and truffle risotto with bay scallops. We had a very nice Willamette Valley pinot noir with the meal.

This trip to Santa Fe had a greater focus on art than food. We did get to our standbys of Coyote Cafe and Tesuque Village Market; had some other nice outdoor dining experiences at The Shed (carnitas) and Harry's Roadhouse (green chile cheeseburger -- good but no match to Bobcat Bite); and a nice farewell dinner at Plaza Cafe, where the food was so-so but the view is great.

Our other recent trip was to Rehoboth Beach, where we re-visited the Back Porch Cafe and had a very pleasant dinner on the back porch. I had a very tender half-rack of lamb, perfectly grilled to medium rare, combined with an unusual beetroot and poppyseed whole wheat linguini smothered in a lamb ragu that was simply delicious. The other main course similarly combined two versions of the same meat -- a meaty leg of rabbit confit with a rabbit ragu lasagna. Very satisfying.

Joe's Burgers

One reviewer says it's the best burger in metropolitan DC after Ray's, but who knows. It's a very good burger, and a very good bun. Fries are good and the sweet potato fries are divine, served with a buttermilk ranch dressing to dip them in -- and they are served hot, straight out of the frier. The BLT is also very tasty, with a layer of ripe avocado added to the traditional ingredients.

Joe's is a cozy little restaurant in McLean, on Old Dominion Drive, just off Chain Bridge Road. It has a bright, freshly painted interior with some old retro signs to give it a whiff of the roadside diner. Burgers are cooked from scratch, so it's not fast food. There are about a dozen different burgers to choose from, including the Millionaire's Foie Gras Burger for $26 with a seared New York foie gras in it, and burgers made of turkey, lamb and ostrich. (My Joe's Classic was $9.50, without cheese but including fries.)

I didn't have any onion rings but probably put on a couple of pounds just watching them go by to other tables -- big, fat rings with puffy crust fresh out of the frier.

The meat for the burgers comes from the Organic Butcher of McLean next door. This is another bright interior with a great butcher case displaying open cuts and some packaged specialties like wild boar shoulder, duck breast and fresh rabbit. They get some beef and regular deliveries of chicken from the Polyface Farm featured so prominently in Michael Pollan's Omnivores Dilemma. Much of the meat is local, they say, though some is not. It's all fairly expensive, of course, with pork chops at $13.99 a pound and steaks above $20 a pound.

It's a little far for us for regular visits. If I was going to venture across the river for a burger, I'd probably just go to Ray's. But a good butcher is hard to find and it is on the way to the Tyson's Corner malls.

RIS

Ris Lacoste's new restaurant is terrific. Food, atmosphere, service are all great, and it's not so expensive that you can't indulge on a regular basis. We had appetizers, entrees and a bottle of wine, but you can also buy the hamburger -- which will probably be our next trip.

We started out with gnudis -- a trendy new dish that apparently is the stuffing from a filled pasta without the pasta. Described in the menu as ricotta dumplings with eggplant and tomato fondue with spinach and crisp prosciutto, it was a very tasty starter, with the fondue cooked to almost a tomato-paste intensity of flavor. We also had the asparagus and gingered grapefruit salad with miso and sesame vinaigrette, which was an elegant and refreshing seasonal dish. The asparagus was not undercooked, remaining ever so slightly crunchy but also very tender, while the flavor combinations were, as always with Ris, fresh and well-balanced.

What stole the show was the lemon salt crusted soft shell crab, served with fava bean purree and onion jam. The crabs, fried to perfection, burst with flavor in the crust, including a whiff of cayenne pepper that lent it a little fire. The crabs were good-sized and the entree portion was quite ample. The accompaniments, which also included spinach in the entree portion, softened the sea and fire with some sweet vegetable notes. I had an excellent North Carolina grouper from the "Fish on Friday" menu, served with a lemon and sweet pea risotto and a tomato fondue that, in contrast to the one with the gnudis, was light as a feather. The fish was pan-seared and one of those thick, meaty fillets that only restaurants seem to get. We had a very nice and moderately priced white Burgundy (Aligote, Domaine A. and P. de Villaine, Bouzeron, 2007) with the meal.

Ris, who waited a long time to get her own place, seemed very happy that the restaurant on 23rd and L translated her vision of a place that was informal but very fine in its dining choices. As sous chef for Kinkead, she mother-henned a whole group of cooks who have gone on to start their own restaurants in DC and elsewhere. As executive chef for 1789 in Georgetown, she hosted Julia Child's 90th birthday party in 2002. For the last several years, she has raised money and made plans for this restaurant.

The decor is serene and welcoming. Some of the Zagat reviewers described it as bland, like a hotel, but they haven't spent enough time in hotels, because each detail in RIS -- the lamps, the chairs, the tables, the plates, the silver, even the restroom -- is carefully chosen and elegant, not ordered by the gross. It is not an echo chamber designed to create an artificial buzz -- you can actually conduct a conversation while eating.

The menu has some of the old standbys from the Kinkead days, such as the signature lamb shank, but as the crab dish shows, it will evolve with new creations from Ris's talented hands. It's definitely a keeper for us.

Meatless Monday

I have no problem with Meatless Mondays, as long as the goal is not Meatless Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and so on.

I think Americans in general do eat too much meat and that the industrialized meat industry is pernicious. But I don't agree with animal rights activists who eventually would like to ban all slaughter of animals for food. As for the nutrition argument, I think the "health" opposition to meat, and particularly red meat, will turn out to be as much of a fad as opposition to butter, eggs and whole milk.

Jane Black's piece in the Washington Post Food section this week doesn't delve into the arguments for or against eating meat but rather chronicles the efforts of activist groups to promote Meatless Mondays and the meat industry's counter-measures.

Ever since I had my first gout attack at the tender age of 30 while I was on the protein-rich Atkins diet, I've consciously tried to limit my consumption of meat (proteins contain purines, which lead to the formation of uric acid crystals that cause gout). I probably have at least one, if not two, meatless dinners a week (not so sure about lunch).

A campaign to scale back meat consumption could have several benefits. It would encourage people to eat more vegetables, and it might encourage them to buy the more expensive locally grown and butchered meats in the remaining meals. But it also runs the risk of co-opting people into the notion that meat is bad, an unnecessary and harmful indulgence. Meat has always been a part of the human diet and Michael Pollan discusses some of the reasons in his Omnivore's Dilemma.

I have no problems with vegetarians or vegans who out of personal conviction refrain from eating meat or animal products, but I'm wary of a campaign like this getting hijacked by extremists on a mission to proselytize the rest of us or to impose their standards through government guidelines.

I have not yet read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals but it has obviously become a major voice in this debate. I'm in favor of any effort to enlighten us about the issues of industrialized food production, and a significant reduction in meat consumption might convince the industry to begin altering some of its practices. The unavoidable fact is that we cannot continue to eat as much meat as we do now and produce that meat in a humane and environmental fashion.

A slogan like "meatless Mondays" is probably helpful in a campaign like this, especially with institutions, but I think that personally I will continue to let my meatless meals fall where they may. Having grown up with "meatless Fridays", I'm not ready for the regimentation of a new religion.

Maine shrimp risotto

Making a fish broth from scratch and then cooking a risotto is a "quick-cook recipe"? Actually it is quite doable on a weeknight. The only time-consuming step is peeling the fresh shrimp.

Sara Jenkins, a chef in New York, and Mindy Fox, a food editor, helpfully characterize the recipes in Olives and Oranges: Recipes & Flavor Secrets from Italy, Spain, Cyprus & Beyond as quick-cook and slow-cook.

I would not normally buy a lavish, hardback cookbook for more than $30, but I ran into Loren Jenkins at a book-signing event a few weeks ago and the proud father made a compelling case for his daughter's book. Loren, now at NPR, was a foreign correspondent for many years, and his stories about Sara learning how to cook at the elbow of local Italian homemakers made the book sound appealing.

One of the things I always appreciated about Marcella Hazan is that she did not hesitate to include the simplest recipes, like some of her tomato sauces. Jenkins subscribes to the same school of thought, and her Bistecca Chianina, our favorite dish at Dino's under its alternate name of Bistecca Fiorentina, is really more a simple technique than a recipe.

The Maine shrimp in this recipe are available in December, so I had to use the "large" shrimp available at the Fishery. You are supposed to get them with the heads on, but in our squeamish society, the guy at the store made clear to me, I was lucky to get them still with shells, minus heads. So I got an extra quarter pound, per recipe instructions, to make up for the heads in the broth.

You peel the pound of shrimp for the risotto and use the shells and heads if available for the broth. You sautée the shells for 3 to 4 minutes in 1/4 c. EVOO until they become opaque and then add the cut-up vegetables -- a celery stalk, a carrot, an onion, and a small fennel bulb -- along with a bay leaf and sautée them for 6 minutes. Then you add 1-1/2 Tbl of tomato paste mixed with 1/3 c. wine and let the wine evaporate for a couple of minutes. Then you add 1/4 bunch of parsley, 5-1/2 c. water, 1/4 tsp. saffron and 1/2 tsp. peppercorns, bring to a boil and let simmer a half hour. Turn off the heat and let steep a quarter hour, then strain. That was easy, and you get a dark, rich broth that smells like every Mediterranean dish you ever ate.

For the risotto itself, you sautée a diced onion in 3 Tbl. EVOO for 5 minutes until translucent, add 2 c. of rice and continue cooking for another 5 minutes, add 2/3 c. wine and evaporate in a minute or so, and then add the first cup of simmering broth to start the risotto process. Continue adding broth a half cup at a time until the rice is al dente. With the last quarter cup of broth, put in the peeled shrimp and 1/4 c. chopped chives, stir a couple of minutes, turn of the heat, cover and let it sit for 5 minutes.

It's a sure-fire method to keep from overcooking the shrimp. Even my so-called large shrimp cooked through with this method, but remained moist and tender. The risotto itself was redolent of a lavish bouillabaise and a nice change of pace from the cheesy, creamy risottos I usually make.

Jenkins (I think Fox is mainly a ghost writer for the chef) is very chatty about ingredients, and this is an added plus for the book, I think. For instance, she specifies Carnaroli rice for this risotto and explains in her page-long introduction to her short risotto section that she prefers Carnaroli to the more common Arborio because it makes a more luxurious and creamy risotto. I used the Arborio I had on hand, but will look for Carnaroli when I shop.

Not that I'll have much luck with that. I could not even find chives in three Chevy Chase stores. As the Magruder's guy explained to me, it comes in small packages, doesn't keep very well and they don't have much demand for it. Chives! So I used spring onion greens in a somewhat smaller portion. Stores are simply getting too scientific about what they are willing to stock, serving themselves instead of their customers.

Salmon with pink peppercorn citrus sauce

My current approach to a new cookbook is to look at the pictures and pick the first recipes on that basis. Right there on p. 16 of Entrée to Judaism: A Culinary Exploration of the Jewish Diaspora by Tina Wasserman was a tantalizing photo of this dish and I bit.

Simple and delicious, exotic with ginger and the pink peppercorns, this is a winner. It's an easy week night dinner because it's simply a vinaigrette over grilled salmon fillet. The only work is to section the four citrus fruits -- grapefruit, orange, lemon and lime.

Wasserman, a Dallas-based cookbook author, explains that oranges and other citrus fruits were traditionally cultivated by both Jews and Arabs around the Mediterranean, so that citrus is often found in Jewish cooking.

For me, the novelty of this dish was the pink peppercorns, which I used in cooking for the first time. By now, of course, you can get a variety of peppercorns in the supermarket, and you see some dishes with "mixed peppercorns." They are not interchangeable. The pink peppercorns are peppery, but also have a tart flavor in the direction of pomegranate seeds or juniper berries.

The basic vinaigrette consists of 2 tsp each of sherry vinegar (which oddly I could not find in two supermarkets), soy sauce, 2 pink peppercorns and julienned ginger, along with 1/4 tsp each of ground ginger and salt, 1/8 tsp each of celery seed and hot red pepper sauce (I used Cholula), and 1/4 c EVOO.

Just before serving you add the sectioned, diced fruit and 2 Tbl chiffonade of cilantro to the vinaigrette. To section the fruit, Wasserman explains in one her helpful little "Tina's Tidbits" boxes, you cut off the top and bottom peel so you can see the fruit, then cut off the sides to expose the fruit all around. Then you slice along the membrane on each side of a section so it falls out. The idea, of course, is to have the pure fruit, with no peel, pith or membrane. A serrated knife works best for this, I think.

The combined sauce has a great balance, is refreshing and perfectly complements the grilled salmon. I just used regular old farmed Scottish salmon.

As a side, I got some nice green asparagus from New Jersey -- not California or Chile -- and used another Tina Tidbit from a recipe that happened to be on the facing page of the salmon recipe. She suggests holding the stalk by the middle and the end and bending. The stalk will break naturally just where it becomes tender. This worked great and the asparagus was perfect.

On the recommendation of Sara Jenkins in her Olives and Oranges: Recipes and Flavor Secrets from Italy, Spain, Cyprus and Beyond, I've started using sea salt instead of kosher salt in cooking. I got a chunky Maldon sea salt at Whole Foods and used it both in the vinaigrette and to toss the asparagus with olive oil. Have to say, it really seemed to make a difference, especially in the grilled asparagus.

The salmon recipe was the second one we used from Wasserman's book. The first was the chocolate chip cappuccino brownies we served after the burgoo for the Kentucky Derby (see previous post). It, too, is pictured but we actually tasted a sample at the book signing Wasserman had in DC, which sold us on the book.

Burgoo

This traditional Kentucky stew with lamb and many other good things gets served on Derby day and that's what we did. I was flying a bit blind, because I've never been to the Kentucky Derby and on my one trip to Owensboro to visit my aunt and uncle I was served salmon my uncle had caught in Alaska.

A couple of our stew cookbooks had versions that quickly emerged as not quite authentic after some Internet research. While everyone says that like cassoulet there are many versions, there was a fair consensus on the ingredients. It includes lamb as a surrogate for the mutton that they use in western Kentucky, where they have a lot of sheep. I would like someday to cook a burgoo with mutton, but many people find it a bit gamey and it's hard to find anyway. Every recipe also included chicken, and then either beef or pork. In olden days, it would be whatever varmint was at hand -- squirrels, possum, venison, whatever. All versions included potatoes, corn, okra, tomatoes and carrots. There was some heat -- from chiles, hot sauce or cayenne. Some included Worcestershire sauce and other flavoring ingredients. It became clear that burgoo has to cook a good 12 hours, whereas the cookbook recipes just said 3 or 4.

It was hard to know from the different recipes just how soupy it was supposed to be, how much tomato or how spicey. YouTube answered the soupy and tomato questions (it is soupy and tomato-ey), but couldn't really help with the spicey question. Maybe someday they'll figure out how to get taste on the Web.

After considerable research, I settled on a version by Chef Susan Goss of Zinfandel in Chicago as a master recipe. Her recipe served 14, so I doubled it. She had lamb, chicken and pork, but I also used beef since so many recipes called for beef. So I used about 3 lbs lamb shoulder, 3-some lbs of chicken parts, scant 2 lbs pork shoulder, and 2 lbs beef shank. I cooked these for 2 hours Thursday in beef broth, chicken broth and water. I removed the meat from the broth and when it was cool enough, took out all the bones, gristle, fat I could and loosely shredded the meat, which was falling apart anyway. Everything in the fridge overnight.

On Friday, I skimmed off the layer of fat from the broth, put the meat back in and added around 2 c each of diced potatoes (I used red bliss), fava beans (fresh), red and white onions, corn (frozen), green peppers, carrots and 1 c of celery, which Goss didn't have but most other recipes did. I did not use the ancho chile she called for; store was out and nobody else used it that I saw. I did put in some cayenne pepper and some salt and pepper and simmered all this for 3 hours.

At that point, I added the okra (fresh), tomatoes (canned), cider vinegar, lemon juice, bourbon, Worcestershire sauce and hot sauce, and simmered for another 6 or so hours. I added some tomato sauce and chicken broth as it simmered. Back into the fridge overnight.

On Derby day, it remained only to warm it up, chop the parsley and serve it with cornbread and rolled oat biscuits (prepared by the marvelous baker in the family). It was preceded by mint juleps during the race, and accompanied by a couple of very nice bulk wines. Everybody seemed to like it. Dessert was out-of-the world grasshopper squares (brownies with a layer of white chocolate-creme de menthe ganache and a layer of chocolate ganache) and some very delicious capuccino chocolate chip brownies.

I think probably this burgoo, though delicious, was not soupy enough, but too stewy. In Kentucky, it is served with a barbecued mutton sandwich. It probably needed to be a little spicier as well. I may have a chance to stop and visit my cousin in Owensboro on our road trip in August and taste the genuine article. Then I would be ready to cook Burgoo II next May!

Brazilian fish stew

There's many things I like about this recipe, starting with how good it tastes. I had a craving for a fish stew kind of thing and this recipe from the book The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Schwartz popped up on a blog called Leite's Culinaria.

So here's a couple of great things to start with -- the boom in cookbooks that puts so many new, classy cookbooks on the market. And a blog like this one by David Leite, himself author of a cookbook called The New Portuguese Table. I'm not sure I'll buy either cookbook. I looked at Leite's at Politics & Prose and I'm doubtful we'll ever be fans enough of salt cod to make it worthwhile. As for the Brazilian book, I'd like to take a look at it before buying it.

But this recipe for a moqueca is really good. The key is a type of Brazilian palm oil called dendê. Its reddish-orange color lends an exotic warmth to the dish and undoubtedly some nuance of flavor. So where do you find this palm oil? The blog has a not-so-helpful link to Kalustyan's mail order. But I thought if any place here carries it, it would be A&H Gourmet and Seafood Market in Bethesda, because it is very Portuguese in nature. Sure enough, A&H had dendê oil, so I got a couple of other key ingredients while I was there -- monkfish and A&H's own homemade fish stock.

So this was another great thing about this recipe. It's nice to explore new sourcing for food and A&H proved itself to be a great resource.

The recipe itself calls for sea bass, but adds that you should experiment with different kinds of fish. When I asked the guy at the counter which of his choice of the day to take for a stew, monkfish was his first thought, and that suited me fine, because it's a fish I've always liked since I got to know it as lotte in France. The complete recipe can be found at the link above, but the short version is: you marinate the chunks of monkfish in dendê oil, olive oil, ginger, garlic, onion, scallions and cilantro for three hours. You then put the chunks in a casserole, sprinkle them with lemon juice, salt, pepper, and bake them in a 350-degree oven for 10 to 12 min. In the meantime, you sautee the other half of the ginger, garlic, onion, and scallions you chopped in more dendê oil, then put in some chopped green and yellow pepper and let soften, add fish stock and bring to a boil, add coconut milk and bring to a boil and then simmer till the fish comes out of the oven. You put the chunks in the sauce and simmer for a few minutes, then add chopped tomato and sliced palm heart and warm them up, sprinkle with more cilantro and serve four people.

The monkfish worked really well because it's firm and has a great texture for stew. I found the moqueca even a little better on the second day because the flavors had blended more together while the monkfish remained plenty fresh. It's a colorful, warming dish -- I would have put the photo here, but Leite has a whole section on permissions and copyrights, so you will have to look at it on his site at the link above. Instead, I've put the cover of the Brazilian cookbook, though the stew on the cover is a different one, because I don't think anyone gets upset about that.

The Julia Child Dinner

Along with thousands of others, I'm sure, a group of us decided in the wake of Julie & Julia to do a meal together from Julia's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Ours was weeks in the planning, but it all paid off last night with four superb courses, paired wonderfully with wine.

Julia Child's two-volume work was for me, as it was for so many others, the introduction to gourmet cooking. Now, of course, her classic French recipes -- in the wake of nouvelle cuisine, fusion and the plethora of cookbooks built on the foundation she laid -- seem a bit dowdy. But that doesn't mean they don't taste good, and that was certainly the case for this meal.

We started with an hors d'oeuvres of paté de campagne. This consisted of veal, pork shoulder, calf's liver, and fatback put through a meat grinder with a rice panade, mixed with an egg, brandy, salt, pepper, allspice, thyme and minced onions parboiled then softened in lard and turned into a dish lined with strips of fatback. The paté was then placed in a pan of water and baked for about an hour and a half, to an internal temperature of 160 degrees F. Small slices of the paté were served on toasted rondelles of baguette, topped with a sliver of cornichon. The accompanying apperitif was a fabulous 1993 Dom Perignon.

The first seated course then was a gratin de quenelles de poisson. The fish in this case was a delicious halibut fresh from the Fishery, mixed Julia's pȃte à choux (flour, water, butter, salt, eggs, egg white) and lots of heavy cream. The quenelles are poached then gratinéed in a white wine sauce that, yes, has more butter, flour and heavy cream. But they nonetheless came out enchantingly light and I can say, since it wasn't me that cooked them, these could have been the best quenelles I've ever eaten. The wine was a 2008 Sancerre "Les Coutes" from Pascal and Nicolas Reverdy, discussed along with the other wines in my earlier posting on our January wine tasting at Weygandt Wines.

The main course was, what else, boeuf bourguignon. This wonderful beef stew with bacon, pearl onions and mushrooms was lush and tender, the wine making a rich dark sauce and the long cooking making the beef melt in your mouth. It was accompanied with a gratin jurassien, one of Julia's versions of scalloped potatoes, this one with heavy cream (yes!) and grated cheese -- in this instance cave-aged Gruyere from Franche-Comté bought at Cowgirl Creamery. The potatoes were white all-purpose potatoes from the New Morning Farm market, which held their shape nicely. The wine was the 2007 Marsannay Le Clos de Jeu from Domaine Collotte. This may seem rich to you, and indeed it was, and so good on a winter evening.

The cheese course was four cheeses from Cowgirl Creamery -- their own Red Hawk triple cream and a nutty aged Mimolette, a creamy blue Fourme d'Ambert from the Auvergne that almost stole the show, and a tome de Bordeaux goat cheese with a herb crust. Baguettes, by the way, came from Broad Branch, which may have the best baguettes in town. We started our two dessert wines -- a 2007 Maury and a 2006 Banyuls -- with this course, and decided that the red Maury went better with the cheese and the white Banyuls was delightful with the dessert.

Dessert was a Napoleon -- a labor-intensive puff pastry concoction that involved doing the several turns of the pastry the weekend before then spending a day cooking up a crème pátissière, an apricot jam, a white fondant, a chocolate trim, then baking the puff pastry and assembling the Napoleon, not neglecting getting just the right pattern on top with the chocolate stripes. It looked as accomplished as any I've seen in French pastry shops and tasted a good deal fresher.

The meal was a smashing success and a good time was had by all. Thank you, Julia, and bon appetit!

Meat

I've always loved meat and I don't buy the theory that humans are like apes and are naturally suited for a diet of berries and plants. Man has eaten meat since time immemorial. I accept that I need to eat less meat than I had when I was growing up, and one way to do that is to make sure I eat only high-quality meat. In these days, that means grass-fed, free-range, etc. -- everything described by Pollan, who in Omnivore's Dilemma, at least, never told us the end of his experiment with vegetarianism.

The River Cottage Meat Book by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is very English, but England, as I've said here before, is way ahead of the U.S. in food consciousness. Visiting a butcher in London or the Borough Market is a totally different experience than shopping for meat here. I picked up this book some time ago and finally used a simple recipe from it during the snow week here.

"Pan-to-Oven Pork Chops With Garlic" is really more a technique than a recipe. You heat up an ovenproof dish as you preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Meanwhile, you take all the cloves from a head of garlic, unpeeled, and sautee them in some olive oil. Then you brown the pork chops in the skillet (I did a half-recipe, just two pork chops); salt and pepper them as they brown. You put the chops in the ovenproof dish, use a slotted spoon to remove the garlic gloves and put them on top of the chops, deglaze the skillet with white wine, reducing by half. You pour the wine over the chops and pop them in the oven for 15 to 20 minutes. The result is delicious.

I used forest-fed pig pork chops for this recipe from a farm in Virginia that lets its pigs, a cross between a Duroc boar and a Tammworth sow, roam in 75 acres of woodlands. This meat, called Babes in the Woods, is available for pickup in a couple of spots around Washington, including every other Saturday in Silver Spring.

A friend put me on to this site a year ago or so, but my first order failed because they didn't have any of the things I wanted, so I gave up on it. But I tried again in January, ordering a pork loin roast and the two chops. I also wanted a pig's foot for another recipe but that wasn't available because the farmer does not butcher the pigs himself and the butcher keeps the skin and feet.

I picked up my order from the back of a pickup truck, frozen of course, and was astonished to pay $51 for a 2-1/2-lb. roast and the two chops. The meat was about $14 a pound! So here's the thing -- we want our artisanal, locally grown food, but we rebel against it costing more than the supermarket. Can't have it both ways. I won't buy this forest-fed pig every time I want pork -- the Niman Ranch pork at Whole Foods at half the price is an acceptable alternative -- but I will get it again. The meat is lean, though with delicious marbling, very flavorful and tender.

I cooked the other piece in a recipe from Paula Wolfert's Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking, "Roast Loin of Pork with Golden Raisins." You pound a paste of 4 garlic cloves, 1 Tbl. salt, 1 Tbl. herbes de provence, 6 sage leaves, 1 tsp. fennel seeds and 1-1/2 tsp. peppercorns in a mortar and smear that over the pork roast an hour before cooking. You preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Rub the bottom and sides of a cazuela with a cut garlic clove, smear some olive oil over the surface, add 3 medium onions sliced, 1/2 tsp. red wine vinegar, 2 Tbl. water, pinches of salt and pepper and put this in the oven for an hour. Raise the temperature to 400 degrees, stir the onions and flatten into a bed and put the roast on top. Return to the oven and roast for about an hour (internal temperature of 140 degrees). Transfer pork to cutting board and rest for 10 minutes, remove onions with slotted spoon, drain off most of the fat from the cazuela, add 1/4 c. vin de noix or 3 Tbl. red wine and 1 Tbl. cognac or port and light (this didn't work for me). Add 3/4 c. golden raisins that have soaked for 1 or 2 hours in 1 c. hot water and 1 Tbl. vin de noix (didn't use), along with the soaking liquid. Add cooked onions and bring to a boil, stirring. Slice the pork and arrange the slices over the onion mixture to serve in the cazuela. This also was fabulous as the garlic-herb paste made a nice flavorful crust for the roast.

I've learned a couple of things from this experience. One is that frozen meat is not bad at all, and since that's the only way it can be sold by vendors at farmers' markets I won't hesitate to buy it for that reason. Second, artisanal farm meat costs a lot more than even Whole Foods meat, but it's probably worth it. I can't afford it every day, but I will try more of the meats -- heritage pork, for instance -- available at the farmers' markets.

The Omnivore's Dilemma

This is a transformative book. I long ago stopped buying meat at Safeway or Giant and now I know why. So much of what Michael Pollan has chronicled in this book has filtered down into the general consciousness. This book and his subsequent works have been bestsellers and his ideas were a big part of the documentary Food Inc.

It's not just that Pollan does some great reporting -- visiting the cattle feed lots and corn fields of modern industrial agriculture, reading a massive amount of literature on food production, and doing a George Plimpton by going to Joel Salatin's Polyface farm and hunting wild pig with a Sicilian emigre -- but he relentlessly analyzes, reasons, reflects. And he does so in a lucid, intelligent prose that is laced with rich humor.

In the key chapter that explains the title of the book, Pollan describes how eating many kinds of food as do omnivores like rats and human increases brain capacity because of the choices that must be made. He contrasts that with animals like the koala bear who eat only one thing, such as eucalyptus leaves. "Eating might be simpler as a thimble-brained monophage, but it's also a lot more precarious, which partly explains why there are so many more rats and humans in the world than koalas. Should a disease or drought strike the eucalyptus trees in your neck of the woods, that's it for you. But the rat and human can live just about anywhere on earth, and when their familiar foods are in short supply, there's always another they can try."

Fungi are apparently neither animal nor vegetable and this whole chapter is hilarious. Pollan describes why people find mushrooms mysterious and somewhat off-putting. "That the fungi are so steeped in death might account for much of their mystery and our mycophobia. They stand on the threshold between the living and the dead, breaking the dead down into food for the living, a process on which no one likes to dwell."

But of course the real meat of the book, so to speak, is Pollan's vivid and damning description of where the meat at McDonald's or Safeway comes from. His patient tracing of industrial food from subsidized corn through the CAFO to the terrible process that produces ground beef. E. coli, obesity, and a host of ills are traced back to bad food.

What struck me is how relatively recent the really bad stuff is. The misguided agricultural subsidies started under Earl Butz, Nixon's Agriculture secretary. I grew up in a different world and much of this pernicious development took place while I was in Europe. European agriculture has been industrialized as well, of course, but never to the same extent and the backlash started much earlier than here. England is a good 10 years ahead of us in food awareness, I know from my friend Sheila Dillon at the BBC Food Programme.

But the awareness is growing here. The Joel Salatin chapters are such an eye opener, as Pollan meticulously describes the genuinely organic loop at Polyface Farm, where it all starts with grass. Polyface is only a couple hours' drive from here, so it's easy to relate to. Not sure to what extent I'll jump on the locavore bandwagon, though I'm already on it to a much greater extent than I was a year ago. We'll see.

CommonWealth Gastropub

The thing I liked best about this pub was the cask ale that is actually a departure from their Commonwealth theme because it comes from Baltimore. But there's a lot of other things I liked, too.

The ale was Oliver Breweries Best Bitter, brewed by the Pratt Ale House in Baltimore and making a guest appearance at the pub in DC. It was flavorful, just the right temperature, fresh and not too gassy because it's a hand-pumped cask ale. I had two British pints (20 oz.) and it took me back to some happy hours pub-crawling in London.

The conceit of the place is to have beers from the UK and original Commonwealth countries as well as the four states in the U.S. that style themselves commonwealths -- Virginia, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Kentucky (so you see why a Maryland ale doesn't really fit in, but so what). Gastropub is a new concept in the UK to designate efforts to serve relatively healthy, good-quality pub grub. The UK is a good 10 to 20 years ahead of the U.S. in food awareness, but they don't have the massive industrialization of food production that we have.

The food and atmosphere here were both great. It's a light, high-quality version of very heavy pub food (translation: it's still pretty heavy) and we may have ordered too many fried things. But the Scotch eggs -- hardboiled eggs wrapped in sausage and bread crumbs, deep-fried, and served cut in half with three sauces -- were a great starter with beer. And the frog in a puff -- merguez in pastry puff like pigs in a blanket, served with pickles and mustard -- were equally good. The fish and chips were equal to anything I've had in England, and great with the tartar sauce and ketchup.

The atmosphere was deconstructed pub. Some dark paneling, some cinderblocks, some tufted leather upholstery, but big windows looking out on the crowd going to and from the Columbia Heights Metro station.

Another great thing about this pub are the prices, which are considerably moderate, even the beer, keeping in mind that $8 gets you a 20-oz. portion of a real cask ale.

Lots of other food to try, and rotating cask ales -- so we'll definitely go back.

Weygandt Wines

Todd Ross, one of the proprietors of a new wine store in Cleveland Park, Weygandt Wines, believes that most New World wines are striving to achieve the quality of Old World wines. So why not just buy the Old World wines to begin with?

So his store carries mostly French wines, with a smattering of Italian, German and Austrian. It doesn't have nearly the stock, say, of an Addie Bassin's, but it has a great selection of largely handcrafted wines. It's a fun store, with the wines not displayed on shelves but resting in their cartons below "road" signs designating the region.

I took part yesterday in a private tasting arranged for a small group (try it, it's fun!). We tasted six wines destined to be paired with the courses in a French meal. Todd selected the wines, all French, most in the $20-$30 price range, and talked about them while he poured the samples (we paid for the sample bottles and for the wines we finally chose to go with the meal).

For the first course, a fish dish, Todd offered us a Pascal and Nicolas Reverdy Sancerre Les Coutes 2008 ($23), which had the crisp, flinty taste that this terroir lends to sauvignon blanc grapes. Aged in stainless steel vats, this wine offers a clean taste to cut through the fish, Todd suggested.

As an alternative, he suggested a 2007 Domaine de la Chapelle Pouilly-Fussé Vieilles Vignes 2007 ($34). This white burgundy chardonnay reminded you how silky and fruity the varietal can taste when it's not overshadowed by oak. This wine was aged in barrels with new and seasoned oak but this only served to round out the flavor. The Pouilly-Fussé would complement the fish flavor, Todd said. We thought both were terrific but opted for the Sancerre for the meal.

For the main course, a beef dish, Todd offered a Domaine Collotte Marsannay Clos de Jeu 2007 ($26). This Burgundy pinot noir, while still a bit young, had a beautiful ruby color and a light, refreshing taste. Todd suggested that a light wine could set off a heavy dish better.

As an alternative, he suggested a Domaine Alary Cotes du Rhone-Villages Cairanne La Font d'Estévenas 2007 ($28). This inky, fruity Cotes du Rhone -- 60% Grenache and 40% Syrah -- was outstanding and a great value. However, we opted for the Burgundy to keep the tone light.

For the cheese course, Todd suggested two fortified wines. My notion of what wines to drink with cheese, I'll admit, has undergone considerable revision in the past few months as all of a sudden, it seems, everyone is suggesting sweet wines with cheese rather than the red wines I have habitually had. Todd, for instance, said that red wine with blue cheese is not a good match, and on reflection, I have to agree.

First choice was Vial-Magneres Banyuls Rivage 2006 ($39), a white Banyuls that Todd said would pair well with most cheeses -- our selection includes a blue and a goat cheese, as well as a triple cream and a semi-soft, washed rind cheese. This dessert wine had yellowish-golden color and a honey taste that coated your throat and left you wanting more.

The alternative choice was a Domaine des Soulanes Maury Vin Doux Naturel 2007 ($25). A real contrast to the Banyuls, this inky red dessert wine truly had a soft, velvety mouth-feel from the rich Grenache and Carignan grapes grown in Roussillon in the shadow of a Cathar fortress. We found the choice too hard this time, so took one bottle of each for our meal.

The store has a great Web site, with a searchable database and information about each of the selections and vintners. Most of them are personally known to Peter Weygandt, the epynomous co-proprietor, and Todd. You can order online. The crew is also preparing to offer wine tours in Europe next fall.

Disclaimer: As always, I received no compensation or consideration of any kind from the store for writing this blog.

Clay pot cooking

I've been fascinated by clay pot cooking since I got my first Roemertopf in Germany many years ago. I still have a Roemertopf (my second), though I haven't used it much in recent years. A year ago or so, La Tienda lured me into buying a 12-inch Spanish cazuela, a round, relatively shallow earthenware casserole. A few months ago, I got a Pirmal beanpot at La Cuisine in Alexandria.

So I was happy to see Paula Wolfert's new book, "Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking." I think she is a great cookbook writer; several of her books are already on my shelf. Happily, she said most recipes in the new book could be done in four types of clay pots -- a Roemertopf (!), a cazuela (!), a beanpot (!), and a tagine -- the only one I don't have (yet).

She also has some recipes that call for being baked in a clay environment and suggests lining your stove with fire bricks to achieve this. It occurs to me, though, that my Big Green Egg provides a ceramic environment, so I will experiment with using it for those recipes.

The trick of cooking with clay pots is to avoid sudden shifts in temperature. They must warm up gradually and should not be set while hot onto a cold surface, even just granite at room temperature. Recipes with baking always call for a start in a cold oven, so the pot heats up as the oven does. A Roemertopf must be soaked in water before each use. The cazuela and beanpot both required "curing" before use by soaking in water.

I used Wolfert's new cookbook for the first time over the weekend, cooking a "tiella" of pork, wild mushrooms and potatoes. A tiella is an Italian version of a cazuela, which Wolfert says is quite serviceable for this recipe, which comes from Calabria in southern Italy.

I increased the amount of pork in the recipe because 1 lb. seemed too skimpy for four people, but I left other quantities as written. You start by sauteeing 3 crushed garlic cloves and 3 oz. of thinly sliced, shredded pancetta in 2 Tbl. of olive oil for a few minutes. Then you add the boneless pork shoulder cut into 1-1/2 inch cubes (I used just shy of 2 lbs.) and brown them on all sides. Then you add 1 lb. of red potatoes, peeled and thickly sliced; 1 lb. of brown mushrooms, quartered; 3/4 oz. of dried porcini, soaked and coarsely chopped; the strained soaking liquid from the porcini; 1 tsp. salt; 1/2 tsp. pepper; 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper, and a sprig of rosemary. You cover (my cazuela doesn't have a cover, so I borrowed the cover from a 12-in. braising pan) and simmer 45 min. It can be done ahead of time to this point.

Before putting into the oven to finish, you scrape off any congealed fat from the top, and pick out the potato slices and put them to one side. You mush the meat and mushrooms into a single layer and then arrange a layer of potatoes on top. You "press gently" to compact the casserole, then top the potatoes with 4 oz. of shredded cheese. First choice is a Calabrian cheese called caciocavallo, which Vace didn't have, so I used the second choice, aged provolone. You drizzle 1 Tbl. of olive oil over this, set in a cold oven, and turn it on, set at 400 F. After half an hour, you turn off the oven and let the casserole continue to cook in the receding heat for 45 minutes. Sprinkle 1 Tbl. chopped parsley on top and serve. I served it with a simple green salad and ciabatta.

I was very happy with the result. It was, obviously, very rich. It's hard to say just what the earthenware pot contributes, but Wolfert says these recipes are better cooked in earthenware than in conventional pots, and I'm willing to take her word for it.