Back to the Valley!

It's been several months since (a) I've written and (b) I've soaked up some California sunshine whilst enjoying some delicious wine. What better time to reinvigorate The Oakville Grade than on the eve of a trip back to the Valley?

Mrs. Oakville Grade and I are leaving tonight for a few days of hedonistic pleasures. We're considering this part two of our honeymoon and a final hurrah before she starts a new job and we have to live apart for three months. The Napa to-do list is long and we look forward to checking off each "task," from wineries and restaurants, to bicycling through the valley and visiting with friends. In the coming days we'll recap them all, hopefully with pictures galore.

Viva la Valley!

Breaking News: Top Chef Coming to D.C.!

According to a recent post on the Washington Post, the upcoming season of Top Chef will be filmed in Washington, D.C. The show is set to begin taping in the spring.

Check out the Post article here.

Food on TV: Coming Soon to a DVR Near You

There are two exciting upcoming food shows on television that I learned about today, both of which are making DVR at the new apartment look like a fantastic investment.

First, the return of Top Chef: Masters on Wednesday, April 7. In addition to a number of new "master" chefs, a few of Season 1's unsuccessful chefs will be returning for another chance. I am, of course, excited for the return of any form of Top Chef. But, I barely recognize any of these chefs except for prior appearances on Bravo or the Food Network, e.g. Wiley Dufresne, Marcus Samulesson. That's not necessarily a bad thing, however, as it could present a good opportunity to learn about a new generation of "masters" out there. Most importantly, though, it will be the effective greasy breakfast for the post-Top Chef hangover, rather than the ineffective cup of coffee that Shear Genius has been.

Second, a new show, Food Wars, premiers tonight on The Travel Channel at 10 p.m. The premise of the show is to settle debates between two rival food purveyors. The classic example would be the battle between the two iconic cheesesteak shops in Philadelphia: Geno's and Pat's. The score is "settled" by a blind taste test. The series starts with a doozy: Buffalo, N.Y. The battle is between Anchor Bar, the birthplace of the Buffalo Wing, and Duff's. As a newly converted buffalo wing fanatic, I'm looking forward to checking this one out. Of course, the series will do little "settling." Most likely it will just amount to additional promotional materials for the winning establishment and make the owners thankful that Camille Ford showed up on their doorstep rather than Bobby Flay for a throwdown.

The French Laundry, At Last

The rain had subsided earlier in the day, which meant that we were able to walk down Washington Street in Yountville without an umbrella or fear of getting splashed by the occasional passing car. It was an odd sensation to be nervous about going out to dinner. We clearly were, but uncertain why. We weren’t meeting each other’s parents for the first time or having dinner with an important boss or client. It was just the two of us.

But, we were finally going to The French Laundry. We had driven past it several times on the way to eat at one of Yountville’s other spectacular restaurants, but had never crossed its threshold. We had even seen Chef Keller walking around town a couple of times. And, most recently, after being awake for almost 20 hours straight, we had slept through a reservation on the day we got engaged. Now, there was nothing between us and dining at what the New York Times had once called the most exciting restaurant in America but about 100 yards and finding exactly where the front door was located.

Superlative words have been written about The French Laundry almost since the day that Thomas Keller took over its kitchen in 1994. I’m sure that I can’t add anything to this long list of laudatory reviews. Let’s just take it as given that the food was fantastic, the service was precise and professional, and the experience was exceptional.

Nevertheless there were still “wow” moments in the eighteen courses (nine each) we enjoyed over the three and a half hours we were at the restaurant. Although these are certainly worthy of mention, it was the overall experience of dining at the restaurant from the moment we entered the courtyard outside of the front door to hearing the door close behind us that has stuck with me. With the exception of trying to figure out how to use the foie gras accoutrements – triangular pillows of toasted brioche and three types of coarse grained salt – it was a comfortable and relaxed experience uncommon in such fine-dining atmospheres.

Enough chatter. What about the food?

The meal got off to a perfect start with two of the Laundry’s signature dishes: salmon cornets and “Oysters and Pearls.” For my vegetarian partner, the salmon cornet was modified into an artichoke “tartare” cornet. The artichoke was so finely chopped that it looked like shaved ice.

These two dishes are perfect examples of Keller’s approach in the kitchen: witty, evocative, and precise. The inspiration for the salmon cornets, which look like little ice cream cones with a scoop of glistening pink sorbet, was, allegedly, a late-night visit to an ice cream shop. With this dish the wit is clear, the dish is visually evocative of something familiar and fun, and the flavors are harmonious. “Oysters and Pearls” are playful more in name than in visual presentation. Resting on a bed of tapioca pearls, two briney and delicate oysters arrive with a generous dollop of salty, savory caviar.

These were the two dishes I knew I would eat – they never leave the menu – but, somehow, they still managed to surprise me because of how bloody good they were. They were my two favorite dishes of the meal.

In his four-star review of Keller’s New York City flagship restaurant Per Se, New York Times critic Frank Bruni said that the meal that solidified the fourth star was the vegetarian tasting menu. Both Per Se and The French Laundry have two nine-course offerings per night: the Chef’s Tasting Menu and a “Tasting of Vegetables.”

(The French Laundry Garden, directly across the street from the restaurant.)

My fiancée ordered the Tasting of Vegetables and two of the courses were vegetables she doesn’t like: eggplant and mushrooms. But, as an example of the kitchen’s skill, these ended up being two of her favorite dishes. The eggplant was a particular standout. Cooked sous-vide, the Japanese eggplant had a fleshy look and texture. Paired with Madras curry, cauliflower, and chickpeas the dish was a standout and a surprising taste of India in the beginning of the meal.

Having checked the daily menu religiously for the month leading up to our reservation, I had noticed that a roasted hen-of-the-woods mushroom dish had become popular on the menu. Given my fiancee’s aversion to mushrooms, I was worried that she might not like it. I should have had more confidence in The French Laundry kitchen. Like the eggplant, it was a standout dish that had a wonderful, rich earthy flavor that was perfect for a winter’s night.

There were two low points early in our meals and for similar reasons. (“Low,” of course, is entirely relative in the context of this otherwise amazing meal.) For me, it was my tuna tartare dish (three of nine?), and for my fiancée it was her beet salad (course two of nine). Both were minimal to the point of barely being noticeable in caloric intake and it seemed like the kitchen spent more time on visual appeal than on flavor composition.

Keller is a fan of the “composed” cheese course. In other words, a cheese course that looks like a real dish with cheese as the star, rather than simply a hunk of cheese with some bread, marmalade, and nuts. This approach is fantastic because it pairs untraditional accoutrements with a certain cheese. My cheese course – “Manchester” – (the menu’s excessive use of quotation marks remains a mystery), for example, played off the now omnipresent beet and goat cheese pairing, but with some added highlights. Most notably, the addition of light, fresh brussels sprouts leaves – just the leaves – was a perfect counterpoint to the richness and earthiness of this combination.What was on the plate did taste good, but I realized a new pet peeve. I don’t like it when chefs force you to compose your own bite. Take my tuna tartare as an example. The hearts of palm, perfect pink cubes of bluefin tuna, and ginger were scattered around the flat white plate like individual Lego blocks on the floor waiting to be put together. Considering the diversity and sparse amount of ingredients, I wasn’t sure how to compose a bite of food. Each individual ingredient was, of course, delicious, but it was near impossible to get a sense of how they were intended to fit together.

We could tell that the meal was starting to wind down as soon as our cheese course arrived. It is difficult to break up with someone after building up a relationship over six unforgettable courses, but the final three courses let us down easy.

A few minutes after our empty cheese plates were whisked away, the sorbet course arrived. Sorbet is rarely elevated to sensational heights. The course, after all, is mainly a functional one. And, although both of our dishes were delicious, what was most impressive about them was that the same high standards were clearly applied to this course as the butter-poached lobster tail. Flavored frozen water was given the same respect as a pricey, luxurious piece of seafood.

Finally, dessert. Our two desserts were an “Opera Cake” and a Peanut Butter “Bavarois.” (I told you about those quotation marks.) A traditional opera cake is France’s answer to tiramisu, but without the hacking-cough-inducing cocoa powder. The Laundry’s version didn’t use sponge cake, but did have a thin layer of chocolate ganache formed into a tube filled with a praline cream like a cannoli. The most intriguing element of the dessert, however, was a milk granité.

But, the Peanut Butter “Bavarois” was our favorite of the two. It was a rich a peanut butter Bavarian cream with milk chocolate “whip” on a light, crispy crust (a “feuilletine”). This was paired with a banana sorbet that perfectly captured the flavor of the fruit and had an amazingly smooth texture. It’s not that there was anything wrong with the Opera Cake to make us like it less, it’s just that the peanut butter and chocolate combination is always a winner. And, when prepared by The French Laundry it is even that much better.

In addition to a menu that can make one’s mouth water, The French Laundry also has an encyclopedic wine list that would pique even an experienced wine collector’s curiosity. It is also really, really expensive. The Laundry has, by far, the highest wine mark-ups in the Valley. One reason for this is that service is included in the price of the bottle. However, taking my housemate’s recommendation we decided on a strategy to avoid the high prices.

We planned to suck it up and pay the $50 corkage fee for our bottle of red, order a half bottle of white for the early courses, and have a glass of sparkling as an apertif. It ended up working perfectly. Like many restaurants that serve long, multi-course dinners, the Laundry has a great selection of half-bottles, which allows diners to try a number of different wines as the meal progresses. We selected a half-bottle of chardonnay from Burgundy, France. In particular, we selected a bottle from the Meursault area, which traditionally make some of the richest chardonnays in Burgundy. It paired well with many of the decadent flavors and ingredients in the meal, such as my foie gras and my fiancee’s turnip soup.

Keller’s goal for each dish is to serve just enough food that the diner wants one more bite of food at the end of the course. After nine courses, this adds up to enough food to be almost perfectly sated without being stuffed. As we were walking out the door, I found myself wanting one more bite of food, one more sip of wine, and just to stay a little longer.

Super Bowl Wings: Homemade Hot Sauce, Batch #00 Makes its Debut

I was looking forward to Super Bowl Sunday not only because it promised to be a great match-up, but also because I had been itching to use my homemade hot sauce on a batch of Super Bowl wings.

I did not know this before I started making wings this past NFL season, but the “original” Buffalo Wing Sauce recipe is simply a 50-50 mixture of melted butter and Frank’s Red Hot Sauce. Since I am not a very big fan of butter, I decided to try a 67-33 mixture of my homemade hot sauce and butter.

However, I was watching this Super Bowl in the Napa Valley and simply adding melted butter to hot sauce didn’t seem like much of a culinary challenge. Instead, I decided to make a slightly different version of the beurre blanc sauce from my earlier salmon and leek recipe.

I followed the same basic instructions from the Bouchon Cookbook, but with two alterations. First, I added some finely chopped garlic to the shallot-wine-vinegar base, because my favorite wing sauces typically have a nice garlicky flavor. Second, I did not add cream to the reduction before melting butter into the sauce. I wanted to stay as “traditional” as possible and retain the original hot sauce-butter recipe.

(Beurre blanc base with lots of chopped garlic)

("Butter, butter! Give me butter! Always butter!" - F. Point)

(Fresh beurre blanc!)

With the two key elements of the sauce completed, I turned my attention to the chicken. Since I had good luck with Petaluma Poultry’s roasting chicken back in my very first recipe, I bought two packs of “Rocky Jr.” wings at Whole Foods.

In order to add just a little bit more flavor to the wings, I quickly brined the wings in a very basic salt, honey, and thyme brine. They only sat in the brine for about an hour, because wings, obviously, are much smaller than an entire chicken (about 6 hours of brining). I dried the wings before setting them out to be cooked.

Although most wings are fried, I prefer to bake my wings. Considering I’m bathing them in butter, I figure that I don’t need to add any more plaque to my arteries. Before putting them in a 375-degree oven I put a little salt and pepper on the wings for a final dose of flavor. I took them out after about 45 minutes.

Now, it was time to put all the elements together. I had taken the hot sauce out to come to room temperature and measured out 2/3 of a cup of sauce and 1/3 of a cup of beurre blanc. I combined them in a measuring cup, stirred, and poured them over the wings, which were resting in a mixing bowl.

(1/3 of a cup beurre blanc; 2/3 of a cup hot sauce)

Sitting back with a plate full of wings and a Bear Republic Racer 5 IPA in the first quarter as the Colts looked ready to roll over the Saints, I was very content. The spice from the hot sauce and the tangy richness of the beurre blanc worked well together to create a distinctive sauce. The hot sauce, however, was a bit of a one-note sauce. It satisfied its requirement of being hot, but didn’t have much depth to it. This might have been due to the short aging period or the types of chiles I used. Needless to say, it will be a fun challenge to find new ways to improve on Batch #00 of my homemade hot sauce.

Sorry Daffy, It's Duck Season: Roast Duck

Chicken…check. Salmon…check. Beef…check. What’s next on the list of proteins? Lamb? I like lamb sometimes, but I’m not the biggest fan. Veal? Keller talks about the wonders of veal stock, but as for the meat itself I rarely eat it or order it. Wandering through the poultry, meat, and seafood counters at Sunshine Foods (they’re all together in a small horseshoe shape), I had an “A ha!” moment. Duck.

I enjoy duck in many forms, from the legendary Peking Duck at the Peking Gourmet Inn in Falls Church, Virginia to a tasty Duck Confit. I decided to start off simple: roast duck. Plus, the process would give me a necessary by-product if I wanted to try the more complicated confit method: duck fat.

I did not have a good roasting weekend. Both the duck and the next roasting recipe I tried ended up slightly overcooked. The duck stayed in the oven for about 15 minutes too long. Luckily, my overcooking couldn’t completely destroy the great natural flavors in this fresh, local duck from nearby Sonoma Poultry.

(When you buy a duck...you get a whole duck.)

The most difficult part of the process was deciding which recipe to follow. I found a number of different recipes each with different cooking times (from 90 minutes to four hours) and different methods for dealing with the thick layer of fat under the duck’s skin. Here is a sampling of approaches from three well known cooking authorities:

James Beard: cook at 350 degrees for 2.5 hours, pierce skin all over and turn heat up to 400 to cook for 15 minutes and allow fat to drain from skin

Julia Child: cook at 350 degrees for about 90 minutes (she notes that the French like their duck medium-rare) or a little longer for medium, pierce skin before roasting to allow fat to drain during roasting

Ina Garten: pierce duck skin and place duck in a simmering pot of chicken stock for 45 minutes; skim off duck fat that rises to top; allow duck to dry, then roast in 500 degree oven for 30 minutes

I decided to strike something of a middle ground and combine Beard’s and Julia’s approaches. I pierced the skin, making sure not to go all the way through to the flesh, before roasting (Julia’s approach), but decided to leave it in for about two hours (Beard’s approach).

(Duck, trussed and ready to roast)

One of the reasons why roasting a duck appears so daunting is the task of managing the fat. Approximately every twenty minutes, I poked holes in the duck skin on the breast, leg, and thigh with the point of a knife to release additional fat from under the skin. After the duck cooked for a little while it was easy to understand why Beard suggested waiting a little while to pierce the skin: it’s much easier to do once the skin gets slightly crispy. I’m also curious what, if any, affect leaving the fat under the skin has on the flavor and moisture of the meat. But, that’s for another attempt.

(After roasting...you can see the marks in the crispy skin to release the subcutaneous layer of fat)

By the end of the roasting period, the bottom of the pan had collected a large amount of grease, which I saved (but sadly never used). The skin had turned a dark shade of brown and was very crispy. After taking it out of the oven, I let it rest for about 10 minutes.

Carving the duck was a little more complicated than carving a chicken, because there is less meat and more bone. Also, the bones aren’t where you expect them to be. For example, the joint that connects the thigh to the body is much further underneath the duck than on a chicken. It took about four minutes of frustrating searching with the tip of my knife before I finally just ripped it off.

The thigh was tender, but the leg meat and skin had dried out a little too much. Luckily, the meat retained the traditional duck flavors that are a mix of sweetness and gaminess. Similarly, the breast meat was a mix of moist and dry meat but still flavorful.

I served the duck with an improvised foccacia dressing (I didn't want to stuff the bird on my first attempt) that I baked in the oven. I took about half of a plain foccacia loaf that I purchased from the Model Bakery, chopped it into approximately one-inch cubes, and sauteed them with some shallots in a little butter until the bread got slightly browned. I put the bread crumbs in a square, glass baking dish with a few tablespoons of chicken stock to add some flavor and moisture. I put it in a 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes or so. It probably could have gone a little longer, but since I wasn't following any recipe and the duck was ready I pulled it out.

It was my time ever cooking a “game” meat and I’m glad that I tried it, even if it wasn’t a total success. But, I learned some valuable lessons for my next attempt and ended up with some good leftovers that turned into a tasty second meal.

The Oakville Grade - East

Well, my time in Napa has come to an end. The last weekend was something of a grand finale. My fiancee was in town and we went to four wonderful restaurants (including The French Laundry!) and about 10 wineries, some old and some new (including a new favorite). What this all means is that I'm even further behind! But, in my last month as a deferred first-year associate, I'll do my best to catch up.

Now that I'm back home, I hope to continue the blog from this coast. It will now have more of a D.C. focus, but Napa wines and recipes will still appear often.

Ad Hoc: Best. Fried. Chicken. Ever.

There is a street near the house I grew up in called Ad Hoc Road. It used to be the first thing that popped into my head when I heard the word “ad hoc,” like on high school English vocabulary tests. After two recent dinners at Thomas Keller’s restaurant Ad Hoc, however, the first image that will pop into my head is an amazing chicken and dumpling soup or the best fried chicken I’ve ever had.

Thomas Keller’s third restaurant in Yountville (fourth, if you count Bouchon Bakery) serves a single four course prix-fixe menu that changes every day. In other words, if you don’t like what they’re serving that night, pick a different restaurant. Each day’s menu is posted on the website by 11 a.m. PST and includes an appetizer (usually a salad or soup), a main course, a cheese course, and dessert. The four courses, each of which is served family style, will run you $49. If you choose to sit at the bar, however, you can order the courses a la carte, but you’re still limited to the same four items.

I’ve eaten at Ad Hoc twice in the past week, once with a friend and once on my own at the bar. Both experiences were phenomenal. But, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different from one of Thomas Keller’s restaurants.

Consistent with my experiences at other Keller outposts, the staff was knowledgeable, courteous, and professional. The interior was tasteful, clean, and appropriate for the atmosphere and type of food being served. In this, Keller’s most casual restaurant, the wines by the glass are served in tumblers and classic rock hits play in the background. The casual American theme even extends to attire. Rather than the tuxedo shirts and bowties worn by Bouchon’s staff down the street, Ad Hoc’s waiters sport relaxed dark brown bowling shirts.

I enjoyed all eight of the courses that came out of the Ad Hoc kitchen, but a few stood tall over the rest.

One of those was my first spoonful of food at Ad Hoc, the chicken and dumpling soup. I had seen this recipe in the Ad Hoc at Home cookbook and it looked amazing. It looked even better in person. One thing that I did not expect is that each course is served family style. The soup was delivered in a large bowl with a ladle set in the middle of the table, leaving my friend and I to fight over the luxurious chicken broth (those words don’t normally go together, but it aptly describes this soup – it’s better than your grandmother’s, I promise) and the last of the soft, pillowy herbed dumplings.

The soup was followed by a grilled lamb sirloin with braised mustard greens, acorn squash, and hush puppies made of black garbanzo beans and sweet potato. I grew up, like many Americans, with roasted lamb served by a food that looked about as naturally green as Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream: mint jelly. Needless to say, I never developed much of an affection for lamb. Ad Hoc’s grilled lamb, however, needed no green jelly. A cheese course with a sour bergamot jelly, which tastes kind of like sour orange rind, followed. This was the evening’s least successful course. The cheese didn’t have much flavor and had an unappealing rubbery texture. The highlight was the fact that both my friend and I remarked that the breadsticks tasted like Pepperidge Farm Goldfish.

The bergamot jelly made another appearance when I ate at the bar a couple nights later and was a fantastic pairing with the Mona, a sheep and cow’s milk cheese from the Wisconsin Sheep Dairy Cooperative. (I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a little gauche and took the leftovers of my cheese course to go. I mean it’s not like they’re going to serve it to someone else, right?) These two elements of the cheese course were balanced by some wonderful honey that had a naturally smooth vanilla flavor.

Dessert on both nights provided a fitting and satisfying conclusion to the meal. In a meal anchored by chicken soup and roasted lamb, the rich and dense sticky toffee pudding rounded out a satisfying winter supper. A few nights later, the lemon pound cake with huckleberry sauce and crème fraiche was rich, yet citrusy. The familiar deliciousness of lemon pound cake was almost overshadowed by what in any other restaurateur’s hands would have been a throwaway garnish. Candied pine nuts. It is often these singular, unanticipated little bites of pleasure that I’m finding to be a hallmark of the dishes in Keller’s restaurants. They often transform the familiar into the unexpected and exceptional.

The cheese and pound cake would have been the highlight of my second meal if it hadn’t been for the fried chicken. It is so popular at Ad Hoc that not only have they packaged the mix for the chicken for sale at Williams-Sonoma stores, but it is also the only entrée in regular rotation (every other Monday night). Having heard rumors of its popularity, I arrived early to ensure grabbing a seat at the bar. It was a good thing I did, because by 6 p.m. there was only one stool open. Later in the night, a local who regularly visited Ad Hoc (I think the entire waitstaff knew her by name) told me that during the summer people have been known to wait for a bar stool on fried chicken nights for up to two hours. Not waiting two hours: yet another benefit of traveling to wine country in the off-season.

I don’t think the kitchen is accustomed to serving solo diners, because I received a generous serving of five pieces of perfectly fried chicken. I love fried chicken. I had been looking forward to this dinner all day. I had a small lunch and even went for a run in the afternoon. I walked in the door to Ad Hoc hungry and ready for business. I’m not ashamed to admit that I ate all five pieces of my chicken. I was, however, a little embarrassed when I realized that the woman next to me, also dining alone, only ate two of her five pieces.

So, what made this the best friend chicken ever? First of all, it wasn’t greasy. Even the parchment paper at the bottom of the All-Clad bowl in which the chicken was delivered only had minimal grease stains. Second, the skin was perfectly crispy. Although it is fried to a slightly darker color than we might be used to in fast-food chains, neither the skin nor the meat was overcooked. Third, and most importantly, flavor. There was flavor in both the meat and the breading. The meat’s flavor and moisture is due, most likely, to brining. In case you missed it, the chicken was amazing. I’ve spent the time since this dinner trying to determine whether it’s worth it to travel back to Yountville from D.C. one Monday a month. The jury’s still out.

Lest I forget that I’m in wine country, Ad Hoc also has a well-rounded and reasonably priced wine list. In fact I spotted a couple wines from the Bouchon wine list on the Ad Hoc list, but at about a 25% discount. This is just another indication that this restaurant is catering to a crowd whose plastic doesn’t come in gold, platinum, or black.

Similar to the restaurant’s approach to food, it also has nightly wine specials designed to pair well with the evening’s meal. For example, on the first night there was an option to get a pre-selected wine pairing for each course. On fried chicken night, however, there was a sparkling wine being poured by the glass that is normally not on the list. But, for those diners who are tired of drinking wine, the staff is happy to suggest beer pairings too. To accompany my fried chicken, I selected “Blue Apron Ale,” which is a proprietary brown ale made just for Keller’s restaurants by Brooklyn Brewery in New York.

While I’m not ready to put Ad Hoc ahead of Bouchon on my list of favorite Napa restaurants, it does satisfy that craving for good, soul-satisfying, American food prepared at a high level. Also, don’t forget to check out the Ad Hoc at Home cookbook, which is my favorite of Keller’s four.

Bouchon: Just Right

With the exception of the afternoon my fiancée and I got engaged at Gargiulo Vineyards, the Napa Valley memory that sticks out most clearly in my mind is the time we first set foot in Bouchon, Thomas Keller’s French bistro-style restaurant. We were here in January 2005 on a surprise trip that she had planned for us. Lucky to even make it through a snowstorm that almost brought O’Hare to a halt, we arrived in Napa late in the evening exhausted and road-weary.

During our delay at O’Hare we had flipped through our guidebook and decided to make dinner reservations at Bouchon for nine o’clock. The book said it was owned by the same guy who ran this fancy-shmancy place called “The French Laundry.” So, we figured it would be a safe bet for our first dinner in wine country.

After quickly checking in to and dropping our belongings off at our bed and breakfast, we set off north on Route 29 towards Yountville. Of course we didn’t have directions to the restaurant (we were too tired to think of such details), but Yountville looked small enough on the map and we figured we couldn’t miss it.

Fortunately, we were right and we spotted the dark red awning on the right side of Washington Street (the main drag in Yountville), found a parking space, and willed our tired bodies out of the car and into the restaurant.

Like a jolt of caffeine, the noise and energy of the restaurant snapped us out of our travel-induced malaise. I can still remember the bottle of wine and food that we ordered that night, although I’m pretty sure we were too tired to really taste either. But, there was something about the place that made us want to come back. And we have, every time that we visit Napa one of the first things we do is make an Opentable reservation for Bouchon.

Despite the fact that it serves “casual” French bistro fare, it is, admittedly, a luxury. Most entrees are over $20 and many are over $30. It has one Michelin Star. The staff is professional and attentive, and treats it like a special place. But, at the same time, it has a level of comfort in its casualness that seems hard to reconcile with “luxury.” The menus are printed on thin brown paper and simple wrapped around the napkin. The space is small and can feel a little claustrophobic on a busy night (which most are).

It is because of this feeling of familiarity that I tend to order pretty much the same thing every time I visit Bouchon: the poulet rôti, or roast chicken. Like the restaurant itself, there is something comfortable and reassuring about having a “usual.” Sometimes I’ll get an appetizer, like the delicious bibb lettuce salad or steamed mussels. But, for dinner, it’s always the roast chicken for me. On my most recent visit for dinner, about a week and a half ago, I was lucky enough to find a seat at the bar. Although the bar was slow, the restaurant was packed. On a Sunday night. In January.

Since I had been cooking recipes from The Bouchon Cookbook I scanned the menu to see what I recognized (the bulk of the menu rarely changes). Sure enough, there was the French Onion Soup, Parisian Gnocchi, and Croque Madame. I also spotted the delicious sides that my fiancée regularly orders: cauliflower gratin, sautéed spinach, and haricots verts. The menu also includes many traditional French favorites like escargots, caviar, foie gras, and duck confit. Then, of course, there was my poulet rôti.

Although the roast chicken is always on the menu, its sides and garnishes do change from season to season. Since I tend to be here most often in the winter months, the chicken is often accompanied by a rich, brown jus and hearty vegetables or mushrooms. One memorable preparation included my introduction to morel mushrooms. This evening’s chicken was a little different, and absolutely delicious. In addition to a whole grain mustard jus was a blend of winter squash, poached pears, chestnuts, and wonderfully crispy and salty spätzle. The spätzle were the surprise of the dish, as I found myself digging around on the plate when I had finished the chicken just to make sure I had unearthed all of them. This is one thing that makes Bouchon so great, even in a dish I’ve ordered many, many times they still find a way to make it a little different, a little better.

As delicious as the chicken was, I was feeling inspired by the fact that I had enjoyed some new French flavors from the Bouchon Cookbook, e.g. mornay sauce, and decided to order outside of my comfort zone when I visited for lunch yesterday (Bouchon serves exactly the same menu from open to close, like a traditional French bistro).

I started by ordering a glass of the house white, a lovely Napa Valley viognier made by popular local winemaker Sean Larkin. I sipped on this while ruminating on just exactly how far outside of my comfort zone I was willing to go.

I settled on French Onion Soup for an appetizer and a Tuna Niçoise Tartine (basically an open-faced tuna salad sandwich) with Frites. I’ve only had French Onion Soup once in my life, and was not a big fan. But, Keller waxed so poetically about the soup in the Bouchon Cookbook that I decided to give it another shot after 10+ years. Plus, I figured that wherever I had ordered the soup before, it was probably not nearly as good as Bouchon.

But, after ordering the soup, I realized a mistake. I had already ordered a delicate, floral white wine that would be completely overshadowed by this rich and hearty soup. Conveying my mistake to the bartender, I ordered a glass of cabernet sauvignon to enjoy with the soup. What I appreciated (in addition to the bartender, hopefully, not thinking I was a drunk) was that he offered to keep my glass of wine cool in the fridge while I had my soup. I declined, but the thought to ask indicated a degree of care and attention that impressed me (either that or he was looking out for appearances and didn’t want people to think he had a drunk at his bar). I ended up ordering a glass of cabernet to have with the soup.

The soup arrived and looked amazing. But, about half way through the soup I remembered another thing that Keller had mentioned about this dish: that it was almost an entire meal in itself. The soup itself was thick, hearty, and a little tart, which contrasted with a mellow sweetness in the onions. Both of these flavors were balanced by the toasted cheese covering the top of the pot, which I tried to incorporate with every spoonful. While I enjoyed the experience, I’m not sure how often I’ll order the soup again at Bouchon or elsewhere, unless I need an inexpensive one-pot meal on a cold winter afternoon.

After a much needed five-minute respite, the tartine arrived with a pile of fresh frites. In almost exact contrast to the soup, it had bright colors and appeared fresh and delicate. Here is where I must make a confession. I had never eaten a hard-boiled egg. Ever. But, like an authentic Tuna Niçoise salad, the sandwich came topped with slivers of hard-boiled egg. Considering I enjoy fried and poached eggs, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Perhaps, I thought that they would have the pungent and unappealing taste of egg salad. I don’t know. But, paired with the tuna salad, bibb lettuce, and toasted bread, they were quite nice. If anything, they contributed more to the texture of the dish than to the taste.

One of the least expensive entrees on the menu, the tartine did not fail to fill me up. Served with Bouchon’s fantastic frites, it would have been a perfectly sized, filling lunch on its own. But, combined with the French Onion Soup, this soup and sandwich combo kept me sated well into the evening. And, like most of my visits to Bouchon, it was just right.

Leftovers, Quickly (the beginning of a series): Red Wine Jus Hamburgers à la Julia Child

I rarely get a craving for a good steak. A good burger, on the other hand...well, that's a completely different story. The thing I like most about all these steakhouses that now populate our country is not their super-duper dry-aged grass-fed Kobayashi steaks of expensiveness. Rather, it's the fact that most of them serve damn good burgers at the bar.

After ending up with a lot of leftover and pricey (it required half a bottle of cabernet sauvignon) red wine jus from my skirt steak and caramelized shallots attempt, I thought that it might taste good mixed into a burger. So, I went on the hunt for a good burger recipe, of which there are hundreds.

But, I found an intriguing recipe and decided to use it: Biftek Haché à la Lyonnaise from Julia Child's seminal Mastering the Art of French Cooking. That's right, Julia did a "hamburger" recipe in her first cookbook. It is a little more than a burger, however, because it contains an egg, sauteed onions, thyme, salt, pepper, and butter with lean ground beef. In contrast, Alton Brown's "Best Burger Ever" Recipe simply combines equal parts of three types of ground meat: two kinds of beef and ground lamb. Period.

I made some adjustments to Julia's recipe for a couple of reasons: wanting to make the best use of my leftovers, and the recommendation of the Five Dot Ranch butcher at Oxbow.

First, Julia suggests using a lean ground beef and then adding fat in the form of butter and an egg. But, the butcher at Five Dot Ranch suggested using a fattier beef, ground chuck (80-85% lean, as compared to ground sirloin which is 90-92% lean), so I cut back on introducing more fat to the mix. This meant no butter and no egg.

Second, I had a little bit of leftover shallot, so I used that instead of sauteed onions.

Third, and finally, I used about 1.5 to 2 tablespoons of leftover red wine jus for one pound of meat.

To assemble my patties, I combined the sauteed shallots, jus, thyme (also leftover from previous recipes), salt, and pepper in a bowl. I formed the meat into three patties, two medium and one small, and let them rest in the fridge for about 10 minutes. In the meantime, I melted a tablespoon of butter with about the same amount of canola oil in a stainless-steel skillet.

(A finished patty -- sorry for the overall lack of pictures!)

Julia suggested adding a light coating of flour to the exterior of the burger, which I did, before cooking. I cooked the burger for a total of about 10 minutes, five on each side, and then let them rest. While they were resting I toasted a couple pieces of sourdough bread from the Model Bakery (a St. Helena bakery with a Napa location in Oxbow) and spread on some whole-grain mustard.

That was the sum total of the condiments this burger received. I wanted to see how the flavor of the beef could stand up on its own. And, it did surprisingly well. The jus added some salt and richness to the burger that it would be hard to incorporate in any other way. While this may not be the purist's burger, it was pretty tasty...and that's good enough for me.

Taylor's Automatic Refresher: Fast Food for the Wine Country

My favorite restaurant in the Napa Valley is Taylor's Automatic Refresher. It does not have a Michelin Star. You cannot buy a Taylor's cookbook. It's most expensive entree is fish and chips, which will run you about $16. Until recently you couldn't even sit indoors at a Taylor's. But it is, without question, the restaurant I visit most often in the Valley and the one that I would go to if I could only have one final meal here.

So, what's the big deal with this place?

Taylor's originated in an old drive-in restaurant space in St. Helena with a menu comprised of upscale fast food prepared to order using high-quality ingredients, including hamburgers, onion rings, garlic fries, shakes, and chicken fingers. But, there are also some unconventional menu items. One recent special included a New York Kim Chee Burger. However, the one menu item that seems to attract the most attention, especially from the various TV shows that have spotlighted the restaurant, is its Ahi Burger ($14.99).

Until recently I had never had this popular Taylor's creation. Instead, I alternated between two different selections: a hamburger and the chicken club. In well over twenty visits to Taylor's, these were the only two entrees I'd ever eaten. (I also alternate between three different side orders: fries, garlic fries, and onion rings.) Some might call me a "creature of habit." The regular burgers are served on a toasted bun with a secret sauce (probably just Thousand Island dressing) and are perfectly cooked with just a little pink left in the center. They also have a good selection of specialty burgers like the Western Bacon Blue Ring with blue cheese, bacon, BBQ sauce, and an onion ring, and the Texas Burger with salsa, guacamole, and pickled jalapenos.

Last week I had a revelation. While ordering a chicken club at Taylor's new Napa location at the Oxbow Market (there is also a San Francisco outpost in the Ferry Building), I saw one of the cooks breaking down a gorgeous, bright red tuna loin for the Ahi Burgers. It was an absolutely beautiful piece of fish that would have looked right at home at a sushi restaurant. At that moment I decided that I needed to branch out.

Although the lines get obscenely long during the lunch rush on weekends and the tourist season, Taylor's also has a local following. One of my proudest accomplishments while working at Cakebread was establishing Taylor's Sundays (each day of the week had a designated restaurant lunch run - for example, Saturdays were sandwiches from Sunshine Foods). Not only did it mean that I got an extra day of Taylor's for me, but I also realized that most people had their one favorite dish that they ordered over and over. In other words, I wasn't the only boring one.

I can still remember many of them. One of my managers would get a veggie burger; the other would get a chocolate shake and some onion rings; one of the part-time guys loved the patty melt. Everyone has their own favorite at a place like Taylor's. I think that's what makes places like this great.

So, it was a big deal when I decided to try something new. With trepidation, I ordered my Ahi Burger and a side of fries at the Napa location and patiently waited for my buzzer to go off (the introduction of these typical restaurant buzzers for the Napa location diminishes a little of Taylor's charm, but I'll deal). Although Taylor's is upscale fast food, it's not "fast." Everything is prepared to order, which means you should expect to wait about 10 minutes or more.

At last the buzzer vibrated and I leapt up to retrieve my burger. Served on a toasted egg bun, the tuna is seared on the outside but has a rare interior. The tuna is toped with a ginger wasabi mayo and light, crispy Asian slaw. I enjoyed the sandwich overall, but I think that the mayo almost overwhelmed the natural flavors of that great tuna loin. I think a little extra slaw might have better balanced out the strong ginger and soy flavors in the mayo. Still, for a "fast food" sandwich, it was a pretty damn good sandwich.

A few parting notes. Taylor's has a pretty good wine list (it is a wine country restaurant, after all), with some nice selection in half bottles and by the glass. Its food can be a little pricey (it is a wine country restaurant after all). Even though you're eating a burger and fries outside, don't expect to pay less than $13 for it. Also, I'd suggest going either early (before noon) or late (after 2), because the place can be a mob scene at lunch -- even in the off-season.

Finally, if you're new to Taylor's, I'd recommend visiting the original St. Helena location first, even if the weather is bad. In my mind (probably because many of my visits have been during January), part of the experience is sitting outside, regardless of the weather, at one of the picnic tables or long metallic communal tables under large space heaters. While I can certainly recommend the Ahi Burger, I'd suggest checking out the menu and finding your own favorite. As for me, I'll most likely be ordering my burger or chicken club.

Some Real Heat in the Kitchen: Homemade Hot Sauce, Batch #00

I have developed a recurring craving for Buffalo wings, especially while watching or attending sporting events. I used to be pretty ambivalent about them. They didn’t have much meat. They were messy. And, I didn’t care too much for spicy food. Etc., etc.

But, after having a batch of good wings in Charlottesville one summer, every once in awhile a little sensation would develop on my palate asking for some more of those sweet and spicy flavors. As I began to cave into these cravings more often, the cravings only grew stronger until I was ordering them out regularly. I've heard heroin works in a similar fashion.

I know there is a whole culture surrounding hot sauces and wing sauces, but I had no idea what made one good, bad, or amazing. This past football season, before one of the Redskins many losses, I decided to find a wing sauce recipe on-line and make some wings. I was surprised to find that many wing sauces are just tinkerings with an off-the-shelf hot sauce base, like Tabasco or Frank’s Hot Sauce.

I realized that I had to go one step further back in the process and try to make my own hot sauce if I was going to make a distinctive wing. But, with the football season winding down and despair setting in like a fog over the Redskins viewing area, I never experimented with my own hot sauce.

Walking through my neighborhood grocery store here in Napa the other day, I noticed a hearty selection of different chili peppers. Since I’ve been spending so much time in the kitchen lately, the idea of making a hot sauce came back to me. Plus, with the Super Bowl coming up, it was perfect timing.

Thus began the Hot Sauce Project, Batch #00.

Surprisingly, neither the Bouchon Cookbook nor The French Laundry Cookbook had a hot sauce recipe, so I looked to the internet for a basic hot sauce how-to. This would be my first attempt after all, and I wanted to establish a baseline. Although there were many copycat recipes out there, i.e. make your own Frank’s Hot Sauce at home, I just wanted a helpful and informative recipe. I ended up settling on an Emeril recipe -- "Homemade Hot Sauce" -- from the Food Network’s website.

The most important step, of course, was finding the right peppers. The recipe called for serranos, tabascos, or red jalapenos. This proved more difficult than I anticipated. I found some green serranos, but didn’t want a green sauce. The store also had what looked like red jalapenos, but they were simply labeled as “red chiles.” So, I decided to make a blend. Instead of using 12 red jalapenos, like the recipe called for, I bought ten “red chiles,” three green serranos, and two bright orange habaneros. I just couldn’t resist. If you’ve seen my car, you know I like the color orange. Plus, I knew they'd supply some extra heat if the mysterious "red chiles" weren't hot enough.

Having heard horror stories about people cutting hot peppers and then touching their eyes only to experience a horrible, horrible burning sensation, I kept repeating to myself “don’t touch your eyes, don’t touch your eyes.” I can safely say that I still have full vision in both eyes. The peppers simply got de-stemmed and then chopped crosswise into rings before going into a saucepan, seeds and all. I sautéed them with some garlic, onions, salt, and vegetable oil for a couple minutes before adding two cups of water.

Still battling to learn the proper temperature for a “simmer,” I ended up having to reduce the mixture for about double the recipe time (20 minutes said Emeril) before almost all the water evaporated. (One note: the recipe said to do this reduction in a well ventilated area, so I had a window open and a vent fan over the stove going the entire time.)

(Pepper mixture after reducing for about 40 minutes)

Once the reduction had cooled to room temperature, I transferred it to a blender. I accidentally got a drop of liquid on my finger and, still uncertain about the decision to buy those “red chiles,” I licked it off. Big mistake. It was hot. Really hot. But, other than that little bit of hot sauce naivete, I escaped from the process unscathed.

I started the blending process by just pureeing the mixture for about 15 seconds, until everything got at least a rough mix. Then, with the blender running I poured in one cup of distilled white vinegar. As the vinegar was incorporating, the sauce became smoother and a beautiful orangish-red color. At this point, the recipe said to season with salt to taste. This ordinarily simple instruction took on a whole new meaning when hot sauce was involved. So, with a tall glass of milk on standby, I sampled a drop of sauce and added a little more salt and then promptly drained the glass to kill the spice. The final step was to strain the sauce and discard the cooked peppers.

My timing in deciding to make the sauce was also fortuitous because hot sauces apparently need to age for at least two weeks. I made the sauce on the Monday after the AFC and NFC championship games. So, my sauce won't get the full two weeks, but I figured it would be fine. Also, almost like a jelly or preserve, the hot sauce must go into a sterilized jar for storage. Again turning to the internet, I found a quick method for sterilizing a mason jar I found in the pantry. First, I ran it through the dishwasher on the high temperature setting. After letting it dry, I put it in a 250-degree oven for thirty minutes. I then let it cool to room temperature before pouring in the room temperature sauce. Finally, it went into the back of the refrigerator – out of sight, out of mind.

It’s been a week since I made the sauce and, although I haven’t tasted it, I can already detect some development in the sauce’s aroma. When I first put it in the fridge the vinegar smell and flavor was almost overwhelming, but now it seems to have balanced out a bit. The texture, as seen on the side of the jar, looks about right too. One final note about yield: I only got about a cup and a half of sauce. I probably could have gotten more if I had really pressed the mixture through the strainer at that phase, but I was afraid that doing so might extract even more spice out of the peppers and make the sauce overwhelming or out of balance.

(Hot sauce after one week of aging in the fridge)

Finally, I'd love to hear from any hot sauce junkies out there about different ways to alter/improve on this approach. For example, are there benefits to using different kinds of vinegar? What are the "best" peppers to use? What other flavors do you introduce into your sauces? Etc., etc.

Stay tuned for the final chapter…wings on Super Bowl Sunday.