Augieland

Strip House: 612 entendrillian stars

Steak houses exist outside my normal standards for restaurants. Whereas usually I like to observe the subtle choices chefs make in similar dishes and look for merit or fault within these confines, properly prepared meat in a steak house is either the greatest steak in the world or not. There is no grey area. Either it tastes like the best I have ever had or like a miserable facsimile of the best I have ever had and therefore a waste of time.

Over my lifetime, what this steak is has changed. In my adolescence, it was the 4-inch sirloins my dad would grill at least once a weekend. Later, my dad read a New York Times article about dry aging and convinced our local butcher to dry age beef for us. This was a special occasion thing because it involved planning and money, but when it would happen it was awesome. Later, I started buying aged strip steaks at Ottomanelli's, seasoning them with sea salt and black pepper, and grilling them in a Webber kettle over lump charcoal that had been started in a chimney.

This remains the best sirloin I have had anywhere, ever, so why go out for steaks? Lugar's porterhouse. I have heard the tales of butter and rendered lard and so on used to top Lugar's steak, but I believe at its heart what makes their steak great are the same three things that make all the great steaks great: quality meat, the right amount of high intensity heat, and the right amount of coarse salt and pepper for the chosen cut. I believe there is a little wiggle room in making a good steak (which is why you must accept possible change), depending on the cut and the heat method, but the reason one place always so far beats all its competition is there is an exactly right ratio of cut, quality, heat, time, and seasoning. Which is why there is no reason to order anything but porterhouse at Lugar's, and no reason ever to order filet mignon at a steak house.

Usually, I go to Strip House for one of two reasons: either I have an overwhelming urge for a great piece of beef, the kind only to be found in New York, or someone has dragged me to another chop house insisting that it has meat equal to or better than the chops that top my list of the greats (Lugar's porterhouse, Strip House's rib chop and Keen's mutton) and, having tried this person's proposed equal, I develop a taste for my preferred that can only be sated by committing to a big meal.

This time, my Strip House trip was inspired by having gone to Del Frisco's and tried their rib chop. At this point, the rib chop at Strip House is reigning champ in my book for the best rib chop, best steak in Manhattan, and best adaptations of standard steakhouse sides.

When Strip House first opened, to get things rolling they had a special on Sunday nights that offered certain selections on the wine list for wholesale prices. I probably went one Sunday a month in those days. Once I had had the rib chop about 20 times I started trying their other offerings and, after some successful and unsuccessful experimentation, I have settled into a standard order that I probably get 4 out of 5 times.

Lobster bisque. True lobster bisque in that it is not lobster chowder or cream of lobster soup, all heavy and chunky with overcooked bits of lobster meat, but rather the perfect aroma of lobster captured in the luxurious richness of hot cream. It is as if a cappuccino maker was somehow involved in frothing it to keep it as light and sweet as lobster should be. The bisque is poured on a crisp wonton, with a cannel of crème fraiche and a little sliced lobster meat.

  The bone-in-rib chop medium rare. In general, I like steaks either rare or Pittsburg, but early in my visits to Strip House a waiter explained that the chef suggested medium rare for this steak because the amount of fat strata inherent to the cut would melt to a more pleasing point at medium rare then my oft-preferred versions of blue. I tried it his way a couple times, tried it my way again, and decided he was right: this steak is best medium rare.

Truffle creamed spinach. I have tried all the sides at least once and I know devotees of all but, compared to the spinach, I feel the other sides all pale. At some point in any chop shop meal, you are going to put some of a side dish and some steak on your fork together. Something awesome happens here between the crusty, black, salty edge of the steak and the rich, creamy, earthy, mouth-staining truffle aroma of the spinach that is unique.

The only other thing I order with this meal (dessert would be a waste) is a glass and bottle of wine. The glass is a white to go with the chowder. A Chablis would obviously be best paired, but any rich white with good acids can play with the soup. For dinner, I have taken trips through the big Bordeaux's and Cali reds, I have ordered off the sommelier's choices on the back page, but I have pretty much learned this meal wants cheap red from the Rhone. There is almost always a decent bottle of something like Gigondas to be found and it seems to bring the best game to this meal. The meal is too rich for a rich red, and too bold for a finesse red. Trust me, go with a cheap, angular, slutty red from the Rhone.

The room is cool; it is dark, dark, in shades of dark red and dull gold. There are black and white photos out of the days when evening gowns and black ties were common. At some point, you realize the patterns on both your napkin and the wallpaper are risqué silhouettes of women posed in pairs. When you mention this to your server you'll learn that they are offered for sale but that the restaurant is out at the moment and it's best to order from the website. This has been the state of affairs for about 4 years.

If there is a chink in the armor of Strip House it is the service. I have had good service there, but on the whole it runs from mediocre to crap. The only time ever in my life I could not find a reason to at least tip a waiter 18% was on a particularly bad occasion at Strip House. I don't mean the brusque badness of a typical steak house where guys tell you what you're having. I mean a waiter who seemed to go out of his way to screw up every step of service, from bringing the wrong steak to one diner who then got to sit, foodless, for 20 minutes while the proper one was prepared, to screaming from the POS terminal to one of the people at the table across the room that his credit card seemed to have been rejected.

When faced with bad execution at places I believe are worth my dining dollar, I prefer to advise management of my experience and give them the chance to remedy the situation rather than just giving up. Since this uniquely bad incident came in a string of mediocre experiences there, I chose to talk to a manager on the way out. None were around so I left a business card and asked for a call back. When no call had come 3 days later, I called and left a voicemail. I am still waiting for a call back from about a year ago. I guess bad management breeds bad service.

Finally, after not having been back in about eight months, I joined a friend for a special occasion and decided at this point I have become so regimented in my Strip House choices all I lose from the potentially bad service is a couple of minutes and exposure to anything new the chefs are trying to do, and in this place that is ok. Steak houses almost encourage a curmudgeonly approach to ordering.

This time, a guy named Gabe was our waiter and did a great job, and my wine was an '01 Thalabert Crozes Hermitage, a little thin but still good enough next to that steak.

Every now and then you need meat, and you don't want to go to Brooklyn, and you are not in the mood to appreciate a uniquely slight game note in an old lamb chop. If you are someone who can overlook occasionally poor service and management, the rib chop at Strip House is probably your best bet.

Beware of ’98 Beaucastel, or be careful what you wish for

Very early on, my father gave me the advice that if I was going to be a wine drinker it was important to learn about wine. The basic idea was that people who haven't learned about wine would always need to depend on others for guidance to safely find good wine. Of course if everyone agrees that a wine is good, and as a brand it becomes well respected, its price will rise out of sync with lesser known brands, and there can be real value in what less dependable makers are capable of in particular vintages. So, by learning the fundamentals of wine, you would be able to drink better, more economically, than the large group of people who need to pay for concurrence.

This went well for me for a long time; while friends were spending $40 for fruity California monsters I was able to find very similar wines capable of playing the same parts from places like Washington and, to some extent, Australia at a significant discount; an ability that has proven very helpful now that any Napa cab, good or bad, trades in the hundreds.

In most cases, since I was drinking current vintage wines and not looking for genius potential I was quite capable of finding wines actually drinking better in their youth than most of the more famous wines people were spending large sums of money on. Of course the pitfall of studying wine becomes apparent when you have your first great one. For me it was the '98 Beaucastel.

One evening when Bubby had returned from France with some cheeses that are very hard to find here in America (insert the FDA sucks comment here), Urchin brought over a '98 Beaucastel to enjoy them with. At this exact moment, what was a mildly distracting interest in wine turned into an obsession.  I had had good Burgundy before, I had tasted most of the first growths and super seconds, there are stories of bottles of d'Yquem disappearing from my dad's cellar in my youth, but on this fateful night I saw for the first time potential greatness and it was not cheap.

You see, every great I had had up to that point was something someone else had acquired and shared with me once it was accepted as great, so I never thought to get involved in the process. Here, though, was a wine with many things to offer and a promising future I felt I could see. It seemed to be wonderful, with huge potential ahead. I immediately bought a case and put it in the cellar and, starting in '08, I plan to drink a bottle a year each January (this is the month we had the first) because I want to see how it evolves. And now I search the wine world incessantly for more of these wines.

The '98 Beaucastel was dangerous because it took away my myth that all expensive wine was overvalued. Turns out some things are worth more money and, with a strong foundation in basic wine knowledge (thanks dad), you can start seeing potential in different places. Plus, there is the fact that a big part of learning what Pinot Noir is capable of is having a properly aged DRC from a great vintage (insert gloat about the '39 DRC RC here). My path of seeking out more of these special wines all starts with Urchin's Beaucastel. That one bottle has now cost me in wines, books, and storage, but mostly it has made me embrace the passage of time, something I never did before. Beware the great ones!

The Perfect cocktail

When tasting wine, whether at an organized event, a wine dinner, or just with a group of friends in a wine club format, I find it's good to have a warm up drink. The wines at the beginning of a tasting never get a fair shake compared to those tasted when your palate hit its stride, say by taste three or so. This has led me on a quest for the perfect warm up drink, which I think I have found.

The Perfect is equal parts sweet and dry vermouth (white and red) on the rocks with a lemon twist. The base of vermouth is wine, so it seems to jibe with an evening of wine while remaining different enough as to not pre-flavor drastically. All together, this drink is in the upper 30's proof area so it won't skew you like a cocktail. It has many flavors of citrus and spices and walks a good path along the worlds of flavors. Mostly, though, it is cold, refreshing, and tastes good, while still being a cocktail.

I use the Perfect as my palate warm up/refresher anytime I am walking into a wine tasting after say 3 pm when the day has crushed my palate. I suggest you try it as well.

WD-50: 772 contemplativillian stars

New York does have its own, locally-grown practitioner of the new cuisine and his name is Wylie Dufresne. Wylie's restaurant is WD-50 at 50 Clinton Street on the Lower East Side, and he first gained notoriety as the chef at 71 Clinton Fresh Food, the restaurant credited as the progenitor of the "serious restaurants on the LES" movement.

Having blazed a path on New York’s restaurant landscape in being part of the groundbreaking 71 Clinton, Wylie seems to have decided to offer a place of his own where his creativity could combine with advancements in technology and the consumers' new interest in more experimental cuisine to establish a destination restaurant. In the beginning, it was a destination even for those of us that live in NY to get all the way down there. Now, since Sis and Bil just chose to celebrate an occasion there, I think it's safe to say this has become a restaurant to travel to, at least from as far as the Jersey shore.

WD-50 inhabits its space well; narrow and long, it seems to fit from beginning to end. There is a very pretty, simple bar as you enter, then tables in rows running the length of the room. There are banquettes capable of accommodating six or so along the northern wall, a line of deuces in the middle with a bench on one side and chairs on the other then, starting at a copper fireplace on the southern wall, are square tables for four with one larger rectangle at the end of the row. All this flows straight into the open kitchen where Wylie works his magic at a station comprised of reference books, a flat top and a service table.

The entire design – from the randomly different, brightly-colored blown glass pendant lights and the secreted, handle-less doors to the bathrooms, to the woven plastic placemats – seems to pay attention to comfort and fineness while understanding that this is the Lower East Side and that overdoing luxurious touches may not only feel out of place, but might also ruin the flow from outside to in. The restaurant really presents itself well. Along the southern wall is one large slice of beautiful, rose-colored marble placed  in seven continuous sections that looks like it may as well be fractal imaging printed on stone. Somehow, this piece seems to subtly state the restaurant's mission, blurring the lines between science and nature using an artisan's skills to coax beauty from what could have been mundane rocks if left alone.

As the practitioners of the modern cuisine pop up around the globe, more and more people get branded part of the movement (this is found in press labels like “molecular gastronomy” or any comparison to Ferran Adrià). True practitioners are discernable in their tendency to:
1.    Use technique to highlight the purity of ingredients' essential flavors.
2.    Play with the standard balance of the four components of flavor (sour, salty, bitter, and sweet).
3.    Use presentation for crafty subversion of visual perceptions.
4.    Create textures different from those associated with a flavor’s natural state.
Wylie applies these without ever letting a chosen affectation outshine the dish as a whole. There is a note of soil in the flavor of a fresh-picked carrot and there is a note of soil in Wylie's interpretation, even when that the flavor is coming from a liquid that looks like an egg yolk, contained in a membrane that makes it actually act and feel like one. Not only do you taste it and say "this tastes like the essence of a carrot," you say, "this tastes like an organic carrot smells while being juiced."

In the interest of exposure, we ordered the tasting menu with its paired wines. The wines represent more then one course so I will note them at the end of their series (if we finished the taste before the wine's series had ended, more showed up promptly: beware the inebriation this inspires).

Rabbit leg, sweet potato, pecan, pea shoot led it all off. The rabbit leg was from a terrine with a crisped edge. Spring peas and pea shoots joined the sweet potato puree to be varying layers of sweetness, while the pecan and the rabbit leg were contrasting types of richness, all freshened by the acids of a piece of pickled rabbit rib.

Carrot-coconut "sunny side up" This dish cannot be discussed with out mentioning its presentation. It appears as an egg with an orange center, comprised of a carrot liquid trapped in an alginate on top of a coconut gel that appears to be the egg's white. Once past the dish's uncanny resemblance to the "sunny-side up" egg its name eludes to, it becomes about the clarity with which the flavor components represent themselves. The coconut is sweet, the carrot is sweet while earthy, and the two are brought together by olive oil, smoked maple syrup and cardamom. Once the yolk is broken, the flavors combine to end up reminiscent of a soup that may have been a second course, while all the while the textures force the dish's uniqueness.

Pairing: Cava Rosado Avinyó Non vintage A 100% Pinot Noir rose sparkler from Spain, it had enough fruit and structure to compliment the rabbit while being dry and earthy enough to allow the "egg" its sweetness.

Foie gras, candied olives, green peas, beet juice This is probably the dish that best shows the chef's skill in presentation, juxtaposition, technique, and balance. For sweet flavors there are micro beet greens, candied olives, sweet pea sand, and beet juice. However, the greens have the slightest bit of chlorophyll bitterness, the pea sand has the bitters of uncooked starch, the olives are sweet on the outside while displaying pure olive richness on the inside, the beet juice is both sweet and somehow astringent. All this is served with the most uniform, rich, creamy, unctuous foie topped with flakes of Maldon salt.  The textures are all opposites, soft peas are mealy here, the bite of beet flesh is replaced with a liquid, the meat of an olive presented as a crunch. Each part interesting when taken and appreciated alone, they all tie together to make a harmony of disparate ingredients that run the gambit from obvious to subtle depending on how you've apportioned each component's share of space on your fork.

Pairing: 'Rainwater' Justinos Madeira NV Choosing a sweet wine with this made sense; choosing one as lightly sweet as this was appreciated. While doing the job of bringing balance to the foie's richness, it was not so deeply flavored as to blow out the delicate flavors in the dish.

Shrimp cannelloni, chorizo, Thai basil Shrimp and leaves of Thai basil are rolled into a wrapper made of shrimp, which is placed on an emulsion of chorizo. The lightness of shrimp is toughened in texture, while the flavor is dragged ashore by the Thai basil, and the normally heavy flavors of chorizo are lightened through emulsion. This dish seems to lose the essence of shrimp to the power of its accoutrement, the dilemma of the classic surf-and-turf battle made interesting by unique textures across the board. While Bil hated the basil and chorizo notes, Sis declared it the best-cooked shrimp she had had. So if you love texture, love this; if you hate the union of dissociate flavors, hate it.

Beef tongue, fried mayo, tomato molasses In case it hasn't already occurred to you from the name, I'll tell you the garnish was finely diced romaine ribs and red onion and, once you figure out that some type of breading must be involved in frying mayo, you'll see that what we have here are the deconstructed components of a traditional deli sandwich. Maybe while he was opening Wylie walked past Katz' a bunch, maybe not, whatever his inspiration, the flavors of a good deli sandwich are good flavors. By pickling the tongue, warming the mayo, and adding the deep, burnt, sweet flavors of molasses to the ketchup, you end up with one of those “wow” moments familiar flavors in a new presentation can inspire.

Pairing: '03 Bianco di Jacopo Colli Orentali Ronco del Gnemiz A super-white of Friuli, this had the acid definition to play with the shrimp and sausage flavors, while being rich enough to complement the tongue. With its well-balanced notes of minerals, flowers and citrus, I imagine this would pair well with many foods.

Miso soup with sesame "noodles" The "noodles" are basically raw tofu in a squeeze bottle that sets when you squeeze it into the hot soup. Make sure to separate the noodle once you have extruded it. If you eat it all in one bite, as one is apt to do since it comes out as one long strand floating atop the broth, you find that the remaining broth is exceedingly salty without the taming affects of the protein. Also, get as much out of the bottle as you can in the beginning. Once you have finished and the soup has cooled a bit you realize that what you can still get out won't set and ends up a boring, flavorless paste. Get it all together while the getting's good.

Langoustine, celery root, banana-mustard This dish is really about the banana-mustard, interesting in both flavor and texture. The bitter celery greens, sweet langoustine, caramelized starches of the celery root, and dried bits of bananas all serve to coax out the unique sweetness of banana. Bananas walk an interesting side of flavor and seem almost savory when tamed by things like fish. All together, this dish contrasts and compliments flavors, textures, and familiarity.

Pairing: '04 Agiorgitiko 'Notios Red' Gaia Wines This is a light, red wine. I mean like Beaujolais light. Were it not for strawberry and cherry on the nose, blind I would probably have guessed it white.  The acids are light, the flavors are light, and it was red, perfect in a flight where most people are going to insist on a red-colored wine but your ambition is to have them taste your food.


Duck breast, parsnip "ricotta", spaghetti squash, black vinegar Black vinegar is another not-what-you-thought ingredient. Thick and black, resembling a balsamic reduction on the plate, it is actually light and has an aroma of fermented malt with hardly notable acidity. The ricotta seems to be the coagulated starch of a parsnip and is more a textural than a flavor component. The flavor of the sides comes more from the sweetness of the spaghetti squash and the bitterness of tiny cocoa nibs, which together pull richness from the duck.

Pairing: '04 House wine The Magnificant Wine Co. A brand name befitting this big, hot-weather Syrah fruit-bomb. Fine next to the duck, it seemed to point out the strength of the accompanying flavors in the dish in that they stood up next to this fat, cherry, chocolate monster.

Tangerine sorbet, basil, olive oil not mentioned is salt The bitterness of the tangerine pith incorporated with the sweetness of the fruit was contrasted by the richness of the olive oil and the strictly herbal basil. I found it a pleasing intermezzo, while Bil thought it far too salty.

Manchego cheesecake, foamed pineapple, pear Sooner or later foam was bound to show up. Here, it seemed to do what foams do best, accurately representing the pineapple while  controlling its power so as not to blow out the cheesecake.

Pairing: des Charentes Ferrand NV The alcohol used to fortify it does a good job of lightning a wine that tastes like it was on its way to being a sickly sweet one, reminiscent of Madeira. As it is, it is a light, sweet wine that will involve but stay out of the way of food.

Butternut sorbet, pumpkin seed cake, chocolate soil A dessert about the natural sugars in gourds, of course this spoke to me for its not being sweet for no good reason, but sweet more as an exploration of types of sweetness.

Pairing: Commanderia St' John Another Greek wine, made in the Solera method of sherry, it was as slightly sweet as the sorbet it accompanied.

Red bell pepper jellies What if you ate something from that was reminiscent of bell pepper, but wasn’t? It tasted exactly like a bell pepper, the sweetness, the astringency, the color, the slight bitter note, even a sense of juiciness, yet rather then being crisp and cold, it was chewy and room temperature?  Could it play the role of a petit-fours for you? That’s what this is, and you’ll have to try it if you want to know the answer.

The hunger WD-50 best sates is the intellectual one that involves inspired food. If you love thinking about food, Wylie is definitely putting himself out there to stimulate your thoughts. There are enough unique presentations to captivate one's imagination, enough emphasis on less-often accented components of well-known flavors, and enough juxtaposition of known textures to excite anyone that truly enjoys dining, while the element of playfulness and whimsy that accompanies presentations that subvert one's expectations -- the "egg" that tastes of vegetables, a deli sandwich separated into assorted shapes and sensations, the surprise of blood red beet-juice pouring from a cylinder of foie gras like a jelly doughnut -- lend a sense of childish fun to the whole venture. There is something here for most, if not all.

Seldom is the dining experience solitary, and Wylie's approach may not appeal to everyone. Before going I would ask myself, "how much do I want my chef testing boundaries tonight," and "how open am I to experiences that play with run-of-the-mill standards?" If you are intrigued by a savory course that incorporates two interpretations of banana, then you should either find like-minded people or a group whose boring boundaries you like to push.

Wylie makes no apologies for these dishes; there is an integrity, a definite and precise logic to every dish, which everything at WD-50 seems to stand behind. If someone is going to “not get” dried bananas, you may find them asking you to apologize, and this food is too exciting, meticulous, and inspired to apologize for and so involving that you may only muster an “oh well,” even for a loved one. Go with people strong enough for this reaction.

Aroma: the wine list

A little more then a year ago, while walking to Prune for brunch, Wife and I passed a small enoteca pulling paper from its windows on 4th street between Swift’s and Bowery Bar. We said hello to the nice lady doing it, asked her about her plan, and made a mental note to make sure to get back there.

Last week, I got a publicity announcement about a happy hour deal on 3 glasses of wine at the wine bar and thought, “I can’t believe I haven’t made it there yet.” When I polled my friends, Downstairs and Mouthfeel both praised the wine list and food.

Then Lady, having just read Augieland for the first time, suggested I try her and Gentleman’s favorite little wine bar and write it up. Since she and I already had a standing date for Wednesday night, I decided too many things were pushing me to Aroma to ignore.

I met Lady around 9pm and was immediately introduced to Alexandra Degiorgio and Vito Polosa, Aroma’s proprietors. A diminutive and very cute pair, they exude Italy. As it was late and we only were meeting for wine, I can’t report on the food yet. Wine, however, is the domain of Vito and he loves it. If you want to geek out on Italian wine go to Aroma and ask for him, he is ready to rock.

The wine list is the young list of a young restaurant, organized by ascending price, and is comprised of little-known wines so you can go one of three ways: either be a geek, bring a geek, or put yourself in Vito’s hands. Each wine has descriptors of its palate and its constituent grapes so you need not be Karen MacNeil but will probably enjoy this place more if you either know more than “I like Merlot,” or want to learn more than that.

The front page has a shortlist of Vito’s recommendations and early on I realized that trusting Vito might be the way to go, as wrapped up as I was with Lady.  To begin, Vito went with a Montepulciano D’Abruzzo by Solàrea (Vito was happy to remind me the winery has a tre biccieri award for a different label). It was extracted as heck, a big fruity wine with firm tannins and a nose reminiscent of figs and vin cotto.

When choosing our second wine, I had a chance to discuss the layout of the list with Vito. He mentioned he intends to reorganize it into three sections; something like Modern, Traditional, and Unique. Which led me to ask about things like Sagrantino, a pretty traditional Umbrian wine very attractive to the modern palate. This caused him to mention he had a Sag on the list by the former wine maker of Arnaldo Capri, one of the two well-respected Montefalco houses, and there was the bottle two decision. The ’01 Taccalite Sagrantino Di Montefalco by Tiburzi finished up the night for us. A huge, extracted wine, it had great tannins drawing a line right down the middle of it

Both of these were cocktail wines, but still unique to their part of the world. It was fun; I look forward to grabbing the list, ordering some food, and seeing how it all plays out.

I would like to report on the ambiance and so on but don’t think it would be fair. A party they were throwing to celebrate Aroma’s first birthday started about an hour after we arrived and, based on my one experience, I would call this place convivial at worst but would probably use words like jubilant and festive. The party involved things like cups of wine poured from a five-liter bottle and complimentary food in the basement.

At some point soon after the shooting at Bar Veloce, someone decided the little enotecca was a good business and, as often happens, the couple of awesome ones were lost in a sea of imitators, making it impossible for good, new ones to stick out. Hence my apathy about walking past Otto to seek out gems. I am very glad to have finally made it to Aroma and intend to go back soon.

Cafetasia menu

Hey you know that place on 8th street that used to be the Krispy Kreme, then it opened as some crappy overpriced sandwich shop called Faye’s where NYU kids could use there student ID’s to pay ? Well apparently it reopened right under my nose as a place called Cafetasia. I stumbled on it walking home tonight. They were closed, but they had just been open for business, they seemed very nice, when i stopped in for a menu. I’ll report on the food once I have eaten it but in the mean time here’s a snap and the menu.

Have your-self a comparison tasting

Went to Cru after a Conterno wine dinner the other night in the interest of doing some side-by-side comparing. It is hard to discuss Barolo without making Burgundy comparisons. Both grapes are thin-skinned, very temperamental, and seem to only do genius work in small parts of the world. Great ones are the best, bad ones are horrible, and both now have people turning their backs on long-standing tradition in the interest of making high extraction wines pleasing to the current palate trends.

We chose a '90 Giacomo Conterno Monfortino as the Barolo because it was in the group we had just had and it made sense to stay in a groove. For the comparison, we asked Robert Bohr (cork dork extraordinaire) to choose a Burgundy he thought would be fair for a comparison. He chose a '90 Richebourg by Domaine Gros Frere et Soeurs.

1990 is considered a genius year in Piemonte and a great year in Burgundy. Because the traditional versions of these wines are truly born of the notion that great wine comes from the best grapes properly tortured while in the vineyard, not in the winery, these are very vintage sensitive wines.  It would be better to compare an '02 Burgundy to an '01 Barolo then an '02.

As far as drinking goes, I think we preferred the Burgundy, but that may well be because it was up against mouths that had tasted 8 young Conterno Barolos at that point in the evening.

The greats from the great vintages of both regions are capable of very long aging. Traditional Barolo may be the dry wine that wants the longest time before it hits its stride, while words like nervous are used to describe young Burgundy. Great Barolos have blazing tannins in their youth that only precipitate with time or the interference of the sweetening effect of new wood aging (modern style). Great Burgundy is very linear in its youth; Burgundian tannins tend to be sweeter so the wines are more approachable in their youth, but consuming them then means aborting what is a very unique potential.

There is a school that says Burgundy should be drunk young while it is still largely about its fruit, but if what you want is the genius layers of cherry, horseshit, roasted game, and the hundreds of other flavors that Burgundy is capable of, you have to be patient, or pay someone else who is both patient and willing to give up the fruits of that patience. Unlike Burgundy, Barolo has a simple answer to the "what to drink now" dilemma. It is called Barbera and good Barbera can be had while you wait for good Barolo to become genius, which is why it makes no sense to use things like small oak barrels to make Barolo approachable young.

Wine people often use the word noble: noble grapes, noble regions, noble rot. I guess this a by-product of wine's roots in the times of nobles, but if there is a truly noble thing in the wine world it is the connoisseur.  A person who has learned enough about these wines, in all their permutations, their makers, and their processes, and has the conviction to deprive himself immediate gratification to afford these greats of wines the elements involved in them becoming transcendental

vertical of Giacomo Conterno, at Babbo

We (Helmet, Pichon, Magnus, Fox, Xing, and myself) attended a vertical wines of Giacomo Conterno dinner with the wine maker Roberto Conterno at Babbo last night. We had 7 wines spanning the 1990's, each paired with its own course. The Monfortinos were all reserve Barolo, and the Cascinas were all Borolo Cascina Franca.

93 Monfortino
Nose: Stones, black tea, cedar, leather, rose
Palate: Big attack, short finish, lots of tannin
Pairing: Agnolotti. Goat cheese, rabbit and veal-stuffed pillows of pasta, lightly buttered and served to be eaten with fingers from a folded napkin. The cheese brought a pull to the texture, while the seam of the pasta was folded back over itself, creating a dense chew.

90 Cascina
Nose: Tar, creosote, raspberries, burdock
Palate: Leather, stones, great integration
Pairing: Sformato di Castelmagno with Rabbit and Watercress. The rabbit was said to be confit which I imagine involved much olive oil -- one, because it tasted remarkably of olive oil and two, because rabbits aren't very fatty. This dish was truly rich, lightened by the micro watercress.

90 Monfortino
Nose: Roses, forest floor, mushrooms
Palate: Bracing acids, huge tannin
Pairing: Zuppa di Porcini with Poppy Seed "Strichetti." This soup was truly about porcinis. It was made by reconstituting the dried porcinis, chopping and then blending them into vegetable stock with a touch of cream. This was then poured over little bowties that had poppy seeds incorporated into the dough.

97 Cascina
Nose: Tar, creosote, raspberries, fennel
Palate: Black tea, forward tannin, lactic notes
Pairing: Cannelloni with Radicchio and Goat Cheese. Organized, baked and topped with a béchamel

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97 Monfortino
Nose: Raspberries, mint, minerals, mousse, flowers
Palate: Tart, rich, young lactic notes, raspberries

Pairing: "Panchetta Ripiena" with Chanterelles and Thyme. Imagine the joy we experienced when it was explained to us that a piece of pork belly was going to be spread flat, covered with a layer of pancetta, rolled, sliced, fried, and topped with chanterelles that had been sautéed crisp in butter with some thyme. If that doesn't ring in your ears like a beautiful sonnet, I just don't know what to tell you.

95 Monfortino
Nose: Kirsch liqueur, stones, red currants
Palate: Signs of integration, wanton fruit, linear tannic finish
Pairing: Gorgonzola Crostino. A simple piece of bread topped with Gorgonzola, baked and drizzled with black truffle honey. Remember being a kid and topping Triscuts with cheddar and throwing them in the toaster-oven when you had the munchies? That, but with gorgonzola and truffle honey, enough said.

99 Cascina
Nose: Game, raw meat, raspberries
Palate: Lively, hot, it's a monster
Paring: Bonêt alla Piemontese. Reminiscent of a hazelnut studded flan, this was a custard strewn with nuts and topped with crème fraiche.

In a world where everyone is paying lip service to tradition while fiddling around with things to make them appealing to the general American palate, the Giacomo Conterno winery has zero French oak. That means two things: first, these wines want time, and second, there is nothing getting in the way of the terroir showing itself.

It is wonderful how grape selection can affect a wine. The grapes for Monfortino are selected from the same vineyards as the Cascina, yet all the Monfortinos are reminiscent of rose petals and tea, while tar and raspberries are the flavors of Cascina.

All these wines have a long life ahead of them -- I am still not sure the '90 is ready yet, and the '99 was definitely grumpy for having been roused so early. The accepted truth is (and I think we all agree) that 20 years is young for these wines, and there really is no rushing genius. Because only if you have had a perfect Monfortino at the right time can you say “Gaja who?”

Like sex, there is no bad Babbo. There is Babbo-that-doesn't-knock-you-out-and-seems-bad-for-not-being-amazing, but I have yet to have bad Babbo. Also like sex, when Babbo goes perfectly it is so great. Because of the types of wine involved, there was just one dessert on this menu and standing alone it was great. For the first time in six years, I was served non-Coach Farms cheese at the end of the meal and, except for the service of the Agnolotti, I had seen none of these dishes before at any of the Empire's restaurants.

Truly great Babbo is truly inspired Italian food that sticks with the ethos that in Italy you would never use sub-par ingredients to fit a recipe but would adapt your recipe to fit your greatest ingredients. So here in America, what is best, not what is traditional, is served. Maybe the inspiration was a great winemaker; maybe another round of Beard nominations, but without being fussy or familiar this dinner managed to be fantastic.

Cookshop brunch: 651 swellzillian stars

Where to eat the first meal of the day on a weekend is taken as seriously among my crowd as the burial vs. cremation decision. Although there are many places that make a nice early-in-the-day food spread around town, the largest concentration of ones with good reputations are in the heavily foot trafficked/ late-riser portion of town, namely downtown on the East side. So if you straggle that way an estimated 45 minute wait can be very standard and often very inaccurate. It would seem, then, that what the city needs would be a new place, good at what they do, to start offering something resembling a brunch, ideally as far from the breakfast neighborhoods as possible.

We (Wife, Bear, Celery, and I) went to Cookshop for lunch on Saturday and were very pleased. Brunch need not be fancy, all it takes to make great eggs benedict is a good hollandaise and not over-poaching the eggs. The only real way to get it wrong is to try to jazz it up. So we tend to like places that leave the old brunch script behind and make food according to the restaurant's individual philosophy, with a couple of egg dishes added.  This is exactly what Cookshop has done. No pancakes, no eggs benedict, just breakfast and lunch made from local, whole ingredients in their slow American way.

We all started with a bloody each. A simple, respectable example, it benefited from not being made individually to order (a horrible practice) so it had come together and the tastes had had a chance to harmonize.

For the rest of the meal, the '01 Nuits St. George by Jean Chauvenet seemed like it would play best with our selections and it did well. A little on the extracted side, there was good red fruit and well-harmonized tannin and acid light enough for breakfast but defined enough to match up with egg yolks.

For breakfast I started with Potato horseradish soup & chive crème fraiche. Lighter in texture and flavor than the name suggests, I would not necessarily pair it with a Bloody Mary again as the soup was lost against it.

What are you to do when three things from the main section of the menu appeal to you and it is the start of the day? Have the one most easy to split as an appetizer and split it with someone. Wife and I shared the soup and split the Grass fed mini burgers, Vermont cheddar, onion rings, fries, chipotle ketchup & a Guss' pickle as our other appetizer.

Grass-fed beef may never be as soft as wagyu or as fatty as prime, but boy is it flavorful. The accoutrements for this little slider would have walked all over the beef typically being used these days. Here, though, there is a strong matching of sharp cheddar, ketchup with the warm reminders of capsicum, and a rather sweet roll, with the very flavorful almost mineral tang of good beef.

For my main dish, I went with Chilaquiles: 3eggs, corn tortillas, red mole, crème fraiche cheddar and cilantro. A clear nod to Huevos Rancheros, it was solid.  The dish was made interesting by being baked all together in a casserole rather than being composed of stacked ingredients which had been cooked separately. I was happy to have had it and it was hearty, but I feel I can easily move on to more things on the menu.

What matters on weekend afternoons is; good morning drinks, comfort, dependability, and a manageable wait. Cookshop does a very worthy weekend afternoon lunch. I'll be back.

Bagna Cauda as dressing

I love the flavor of bagna cauda with bitter vegetables, but some of my favorite bitter greens are dandelion greens and they don’t work well for dipping in hot oil. Besides being a perfect level of bitter, dandelion greens are purported to greatly encourage liver health, so it makes sense to eat them raw, at least sometimes.

This is how I make the hot olive oil, garlic, anchovy dipping sauce of Piemonte, bagna cauda, into a cool dressing for raw leafy greens.

Cover the bottom of a small pan with crushed raw garlic cloves, pour olive oil in to generously cover, add 1 fillet of white anchovy to equal half the total number of garlic cloves, plus 1 fillet. Set it on the lowest possible flame. The ideal is steady but minimal bubbling. When I have trouble maintaining this level, I will set the small saucepan in a large sauté pan to help dissipate some of the heat. Let this simmer for 1 hour. Then remove from the heat, and steep at room temperature for at least 4 hours (if it will be longer then 12 hours before the next step, refrigerate but let it come up to room temperature before using).

When it is time to dress, puree the mixture evenly with an immersion blender, and drizzle on the washed greens. Finish with a scattering of dry grating cheese. Parmigiano is fine, I like a dry, grating goat cheese Coach Farms makes, but that may be because I usually buy my dandelion greens at the Union Square Green Market on Saturdays, and that’s when they are there.