Stock Lobster! Aaaaah, aaaaah, aaaaah, aaaaah...

I recently had some lobster heads made available to me.

That's all I'm saying.  

Looking to make things disappear?  I'll take them off your hands.  Get my drift?

I've had people give me everything from a bag of raw pork fat to fish heads with their eyes gouged out (fish eyes will make your stock cloudy----good to know).  

My freezer is perpetually full of "projects".  It's like freaking Jeffrey Dahmer in there.  

Before you try to cite this post as evidence of a borderline personality disorder...  YOU may have boneless, skinless, chicken boobs in your freezer.  I have their feet.

Please explain to me how we're so different.

Americans aren't used to seeing whole animals (especially live ones) in their local supermarket.  Butchering has been visually sanitized to encourage consumerism.  The ability to buy a whole dead chicken with its head and feet removed is pretty recent stuff, history-wise.  

The one place you'll MAYBE see whole, intact animals is in your supermarket lobster tank.  

Many a happy trip to the market has been ruined for me by seeing these doomed little guys all huddled together in the corner with rubber bands on their hands trying desperately to shield one another from the mysterious latex-gloved hand of death.   

I KNOW they're only a few chromosomes away from a NYC roach.  I'm fully aware they're just a big red bug in the water.

But I just can't "do the deed".

I may be a member of "the family", but I'm not "a made man".

What can I say?  

The heart is a lousy hunter.

But if the lobster is already dead, and there's some melted butter nearby...

And nothing could be more dead than these pre-cooked heads.

I squirreled them home with big plans to turn these decapitated lobster heads into some dee-licious lobster stock.

A basic fish/seafood stock can be anything from some leftover shrimp shells thrown into a pot to an elaborate production with fresh Herbes de Provence and shallots and lemongrass and all that good stuff. 

I've made plenty of stock in my day, but never one from lobster heads.  I worried that maybe there was some stuff in there not so great for stock.  So I put the victims of Madame Guillotine in the freezer and went online to do some research.

Not a whole lot of info out there on making stock from lobster heads.

I did discover that the tomalley (sometimes spelled tamale) may be inside of there.  This is lobster liver, basically.  I'd heard of it, but frankly, I'm not around whole lobster a lot.  By the time it gets to my plate, it's usually just a lobster tail on a Surf-n-Turf platter or it's been all mayonaise-d up on a cold lobster salad sandwich.  But I'd heard that it has a different taste (and can possibly be full of toxins).  

It IS a liver, after all.

Some people LOVE the tomalley!  They spread it on crackers like it's freaking lobster pâté.  And when they hear about people throwing it away, first thing out of their mouths is something that distinctly sounds like, "Stupid white people."

I've never eaten it, so I can't comment. 

But after checking in with a few friends who love tomalley, they unanimously agreed that it's probably not a flavor you want in your stock.  A few suggested that the bitter flavor might get boiled out of the tomalley (and yeah---there was gonna be some in there).  But no one had any proof of anything.  This was apparently going to be uncharted territory. 

I pulled a head out of my freezer to defrost and began studying up on lobster anatomy.  An hour later, I felt as ready as the creepy serial-killer in Manhunter.  But instead of "In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida" as my Dexter-like theme music, I put on some old Django Reinhardt tunes to calm my nerves and crept into my kitchen armed with nothing more than an espresso spoon and a cheese spreader.  

As I performed my surgery while Django strummed away at "Jeepers Creepers" on my iTunes playlist, I began to think about the world and how it works.  Because after all, this lobster was only able to survive to the requisite 1.5 pounds because he ate other living creatures.  

He's not so innocent!  And lobsters will eat ANYTHING!

If you're a creature smaller than a lobster (or maybe even a big Dungeness crab, but you just shed your shell and you're all vulnerable-like)-----he will EAT YOU ALIVE!

If you took the rubber bands off the guys at Red Lobster and dropped a newborn baby in there---those lobsters would eat your baby!!!

Like a dingo!

Oh, all sorts of crazy thoughts go thru your brain while you're gutting lobster heads.  

So---I think I did this right.

Here is a lobster head sliced off at the neck.  See that greenish-looking stuff at the top?  Apparently that's what I needed to get out.

After going in like a ghoul with my espresso spoon, I had all this gooky stuff on my plate. 

I'm guessing that big green glob is the tomalley.  Some of the rest of it might be good.  Or it might be brains.  I wasn't about to pick thru a few crumbs to find out which was which.

What I was left with was a lobotomized lobster head.

Plopped my heads in a pot of water with some leeks, carrots, celery, garlic, fresh parsley, bay leaves, salt, black peppercorns, and some dry white wine. 

Within minutes, my apartment smelled like lobster heaven!

Almost three hours later (oh yeah---I let this one simmer long and super-low to concentrate for three full hours) I had a giant bowl of deliciousness.

What can you do with lobster stock?  The possibilities are endless!  

A base for a creamy seafood bisque.  A fragrant lobster risotto.  Or just toss some veggies in a pan with olive oil, add some pasta, a pat of butter, and a ladle full of stock.

So what I'm saying is....  I'm open.  I'm available to take certain things off your hands.  You know, take care of business for you.  Maybe you could find something to do for someone such as myself?       

Chicken Feet For the Soul

You wouldn't think "free-range" chicken feet would be so hard to find.

But if you're going to cook with feet, don't you want the ones that have actually been able to walk around?

Why chicken feet?

Well...they make AMAZING chicken stock!

Okay, try not to notice that they look like little hands and stick with me here. 

In the old days, the death of a farm animal meant that the WHOLE animal would be used.  That's how things like ox tail soup, pickled pigs feet, and head cheese sandwiches came into being----ALL of which contain collagen.

You know, that stuff they put in skin creams?---which, by the way, is next-to worthless.  Collagen can not be absorbed thru the skin.  Period.  The molecules are too large.   Sorry to burst your bubble.  It's science.

But if you eat it...

Collagen DOES seem to have some benefits when taken orally.  It improves skin, bone, hair, and nail health.  It can also help relieve the symptoms of (and may even help cure) everything from diabetes to arthritis to Crohn's Disease.  It also helps absorption of other minerals.  Helps with asthma and colitis.  AND has the anti-inflammatory effect of an over-the-counter pain killer.

It's also the biggest reason why chicken soup is recommended for the common cold.  

Ever wonder why they serve Jell-O in hospitals?  Hmmmm?

I'm not saying it's laying hands on Lazarus or anything...

But it's definitely good stuff.

Chicken feet most likely won't be in the butcher case.  Even in those fancy (and pricey) butcher shops, you'll have to ask for them.

The secret word is "pastured".

Forget "organic".  Forget "free-range".  These words have all been worked around by greedy corporations and the US government.

"Pastured" is the code-word these days.  But, like any other word that promotes the latest "best"---there will always be someone trying to undercut the meaning of the word to make a buck.  There's really no true definition.  It's more "implied" between those of us who know.

"Organic" DOES have a definition.  But, like any other government term, it only means they meet the MINIMUM government standard.  

Your daily multi-vitamin that contains 100% Daily Value of Vitamin C?

That's just the bare minimum to prevent you from getting SCURVY.

Like an 18th Century pirate.

Arrrr.

I'm not saying the term "organic" is all bad---but it has more meaning for fruits and vegetables than meat and poultry.  Basically, a company pays the government a HUGE fee to get the term "organic" slapped on their packaging and (for thousands of dollars) the chickens don't eat GMO corn feed and they actually get to see a crack of daylight thru the slats in the wooden shed where they're clustered together by the thousands.

"Free-range" has also been co-oped.  Chickens are now ONLY allowed to shit on each other by the hundreds and occasionally they open the door to the shed.  The chickens see daylight and freak out.  Oh sure, they can go outside if they want...

The ones that aren't trampled to death at the sight of daylight are considered "free-range".  In fact, even the ones that got trampled...

I mean, they had the opportunity in life and all...

Even the terms "pasture-raised" and "pastured" are now being abused.  There's really no standard.  The word is whatever it means to you (the consumer) and the farmer.

So get to know your butcher!

The best butchers will inspect the farms they buy from.  They KNOW the farmers and what goes on there.

But enough semantics.  Let's get down to some funky chicken feet.

At the sound of the words "chicken feet", your butcher's ears will likely prick up a bit.  They'll stop everything to talk to you---like you're one of the "cool kids".

"We can special order them.  Stop back in on Monday and we may have them by then."

Monday. Different butcher.  Leaning over the counter, we exchanged the latest developments in hushed tones.  I felt like a private detective in a Dashiell Hammet novel----lurking around in a trench coat on a dock by the East River on a misty, Depression-era night.

"Pssst.  Buddy.  Got any chicken feet?"

"Sorry, lady.  Nothin' yet, see.  But there's another tomato who asks for them.  For stock.  Yeah.  They're hard to come by.  But I'll tighten the screws on 'em, see."

You may be asking yourself, with all the chicken Americans eat, why is it so hard to find chicken feet?

One word.

China.

China is THE biggest importer of chicken feet.  The Chinese freaking LOVE chicken feet and have a thousand recipes for them.  It's also a popular item on dim sum menus (I was told the best in NYC are at Golden Unicorn in Chinatown).

The owner of Perdue has been quoted as saying that if they couldn't export their chicken feet to China, they'd go out of business.

As recently as a few months ago, there was a huge scandal in China when tons and tons of chicken feet were found in a storage facility----many dating all the way back to 1967!

Apparently they were hoarding these Cold War Era feet for the next Zombie Apocalypse or something and then, boy oh boy, would they cash in...

But I'm not trying to start a religion here.  I'm just trying to give you some tips on how to make the best chicken stock ever.

Whatever you normally use for stock, that's what you're using here.

Onions

Garlic

Carrots

Celery

Peppercorns

Parsley

Thyme

Whatever rocks your boat.

You're going to boil your chicken feet for about a minute or two.

After that, remove them from the pot and put them in a cold water bath.  You just want them cool enough to handle.  Some chicken feet will still have the outer layer of skin attached.  This quick parboiling will make it easy to remove.

Oh---I almost forgot.  There's a tiny step that might send you packing.

You're going to hack off the toes at the first joint.

Basically, you're declawing them.

And if this freaks you out, THIS is what they do to your cat when you send it in to get declawed.

This is why declawing is considered inhumane and the procedure is against the law in most European countries.  

They're not delicately removing the nail bed of your cat---they're simply cutting off the entire first joint of its fingers.

They don't tell you that at the vet's office, do they?

And now your cat is dazed and in pain and has to walk around on those amputated paws with a cone on its head.

You might find it odd that the woman telling you to hack off chicken toes is urging you not to declaw your cat----but the chicken is dead.  Your cat is going to be a member of your family for potentially the next 20 years.

Like your expensive sofa?  Don't get a cat.

Okay---hack off those chicken nails?  Good.  Now that you feel all icky and Josef Mengele-y...

Just put the feet into a pot of water and add your veggies, herbs, and seasoning.

Same as you would with any other stock.

Difference being, with chicken feet, you're going to end up with a REALLY lush, gelatinous, and collagen-rich stock.  

Unfortuntatley, when I finally DID get my chicken feet from the butcher, upon inspection, I noticed that these chickens had been suffering from a case of "bumblefoot"---an infection in the feet.

I parboiled them for a minute to get a good photo for you (and the butcher) but wasn't really thrilled about putting abscesses into my dinner.  Call me crazy.  So there will be no chicken stock this week.  Because I'm like a freaking mom going thru a kid's trick-or-treat bag when I cook.

But don't let this discourage you from making chicken stock with feet!

I'm not discouraged.  I'll be back out there in no time knocking on butcher shop doors and whispering, "swordfish".

However, let this be a lesson that unless you're cooking for yourself and your family, sometimes what you're eating is just tossed onto an assembly line and barely even glanced at by a human being.  

That's why my secret ingredient is "love".

Okay---and butter.

  

How To Open a Bottle of Champagne---and other Gruesome Sparkling Wine Stories

Most folks celebrating New Year’s Eve will likely be popping the cork on a bottle of Champagne that night.

But are you REALLY drinking Champagne?

I’ll explain.

Champagne is a sparkling wine.  But not ALL sparkling wine is Champagne.  Champagne ONLY comes from the chalky and fossil-rich soil of the Champagne region in Northern France.  The use of the word “Champagne” is carefully controlled by the AOC (stands for “Appellation d'origine contrôlée”, France’s “quality control” for food and wine) and most of the civilized world has agreed to abide by their rules and play nice.

A list of rules that reads like a book of Sharia law. 

Just for starters:

Champagne can ONLY come from three grapes---chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier.

The grapes MUST be grown in one of the five vineyard areas of the Champagne region.
 
They also regulate everything from how you prune the vines to how you turn the damn bottles.
 
And that’s not even close to Champagne 101. 
 
The top Champagne producers are VERY old houses that are still run like the first season of Downton Abbey---lots of fuss over a missing snuff box.
 
But at the same time, it’s a very rock ‘n’ roll, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants operation.  Unlike other wines in France that are often judged by their year of vintage----most Champagne is NON-vintage.  In fact, it’s one of the AOC Sharia laws that a certain amount of wine from the house HAS to be saved to blend with the following years’ vintage to give Champagne that certain “je ne sais quoi”.
 
It’s also largely a matter of guesswork.  You really have to be a master to be able to throw stuff into the pot and know what the soup will taste like 2-10 years from now.  The big houses strive for consistency every year---though a few super biggies like Krug put out vintage bottles in years when the grapes are especially exciting.  The smaller, renegade grower's houses may not have the same prestige, but they can wow you with certain vintages and their “I’ll do what I want!” attitude.  
 
In short, Champagne is crazy town---but there’s nothing else in wine quite like it. 
 
Those are the basics.  But start getting into Champagne history and you’ll find hundreds of years of interesting stories.

For starters, Northern France ain’t no Cote d’Azur.  It’s freaking cold!  This has always limited the grape growers of the region.  Back in the day, they would pick the grapes and make their wine in the fall.  The cold winter would send the yeast in the fermentation process into hibernating like a freaking bear. 

Then by spring, the weather would warm up and the yeast would begin to RE-ferment.  The winemakers would open their carefully crafted wine and find….

Bubbles?!?!?!!!!

WTF?

This was seen as a horrible thing.  Good wine gone bad.

In truth, it WAS a bit of a problem.  Bottles of wine were exploding all over the place in the spring.  One bottle would explode and cause a chain reaction, seriously injuring the workers in the wine cellars.   

They tried everything to fix this.  Even a simple Benedictine monk (who didn’t even drink) named Dom Perignon couldn’t keep the bubbles out of his wine. 

Dom Perignon didn’t create Champagne.  He was just trying to turn lemons into lemonade.

He changed production methods, growing methods, harvesting methods.  He was also a savvy business man who increased the value both of the church’s estate AND their wines.

But he considered it a personal failure that he could never keep those damn bubbles out.

The tradition of Champagne on New Year’s Eve is a bit sketchy----but seems to have taken root after the French Revolution.  Champagne was beloved by the nobility in France.  But the Champagne in those days bore little resemblance to what we drink now; it was much sweeter to mask the acidity of the wine, a bit on the pink side, kind of gritty---and of course, they were still trying to get rid of those pesky bubbles. 

But it got the moniker “The Drink of Kings” due to its region more than anything. 

Reims cathedral is in the Champagne region of France.

The King of the Franks, Clovis I, was baptized in Reims in 496 A.D.  If you know nothing about French history, know that he’s kind of like our George Washington.  So because he was “the father of the country”, from then on, French coronation ceremonies were traditionally held in Reims.  They even built a huge cathedral on the site.  All the royals of Europe would show up and enjoy the local beverage---Champagne.

That’s why it’s called “The drink of kings.” 

It was such an important place that when the English took Reims during the Hundred Years War----it was Joan of Arc who got the cathedral back and made it possible for the dauphin (later Charles VII) to be crowned in the cathedral later that year.

Unfortunately, Charles VII was the equivalent of that guy who takes a lot of selfies and posts positive affirmations on his Twitter page to act like a leader-----but was really a self-centered, trust fund baby with no marketable skills. 

His depression and indecision during crucial moments of battle came across to his immediate circle as, “Why didn’t my general “like” my Instagram picture on Facebook?  I know he was still awake at midnight.  He wrote “LOL” on my court jester’s post.  I mean, why am I even fighting a war?  I should just quit everything I’m doing.  Like “opposite day” on that episode of Seinfeld.  I mean…what’s the point?  This is like…work.”

And right about then, a teenage Joan of Arc stepped up.  I know I complain about the youth of today----but SEE!  Not all young kids are lazy and good-for-nothing.

Jean d’Arc took Reims back from the English, met Charles VII, got him crowned-in as king, saved France, and then sometime around three o’clock in the morning, the tweet went out….

“Dudes!  I’m freaking KING!!!  Let’s par-tay!”

“Um…what about that girl who saved your ass?  You know she’s on trial now---right?”

“You r NOT invited, Debbie Downer!”

“I’m not kidding.  Here is a link to the pamphlet.”

“Lesbo.  Let’s PAR-TAY!!!!  Champagne in R-Town.  Ha!  OUR Town!”

“THIS IS NOT A JOKE.  BITCH WHO SAVED YOUR ASS IS GOING DOWN IF YOU DON’T HELP HER!!!!!”

“Tweaking so hard, dude.  Who’s the king?  Who’s the muthafucking king?”

“Unfriending.”

“Beheading.  LMFAO!!!!”

No secret---I’m not the biggest fan of Charles VII.

A few centuries later, the French Revolution was on, Louis XVI was reduced to the title, “Citizen Capet", they oiled up the guillotine, and suddenly---everyone was equal! 

Hooray!!! 

The newly formed National Assembly (in an attempt to wipe the slate clean---and to dip into the rich coffers of the Catholic church) abolished religion in France.  At one point, an entire convent of nuns was sent to the guillotine.  Poulenc’s opera “Dialogue of the Carmelites” ring a bell?

Okay, I’m geeking out.  But when you’re killing off nuns, your government is getting a bit kooky.

What Robespierre and his band DID realize was that they had to offer new traditions to replace the old ones.  Can’t worship your papal god?  How about our new “Supreme Being”?  Hmmm? 

They put on a whole festival and street fair to introduce “our brand-new god for your worshiping pleasure”. 

Unfortunately, while the fan-fares played and the paper-mache mountain designed by revolutionary artist David was unveiled to a public eagerly awaiting their new (and hopefully familiar) god-----Robespierre (perhaps as leader of “The Mountain” side of the aisle in the National Assembly) positioned himself at the TOP of that mountain.

Yeah---the guy shimmied himself up a wooden ladder and “appeared” as a vision in the azure painted-clouds that kind of made people wonder, “Um---are we supposed to be worshiping HIM?”

And if you thought Mark David Chapman resented the fact that John Lennon compared himself to Jesus…

It wasn’t long after that Robespierre had an unbreakable appointment with The National Razor.

But one of the non-religious customs that was encouraged by the secular government was to drink Champagne.  Because we’re all equal!  And you, too, can get drunk on the same stuff as the Kings of France.

Well, okay----you’re still poor.  We’re working on that.

So since you can only afford it once a year…

How about that non-religious day we all know and celebrate?

And THAT is why you drink Champagne on New Year’s Eve.

Does it HAVE to be Champagne?

Don’t be silly. 

If you’re simply looking for a cork that pops---it all falls under the category of “sparkling wine” and can be anything from a Brut Rose from California to a Prosecco from Italy to a Sparkling Shiraz from Australia.  Whatever rocks your boat.

A few things you should know:

Sparkling wines are traditionally served in a glass called a “flute”.

There's also the coupe.

There's a legend that it was supposedly molded to the shape of Marie Antoinette’s left breast.  Okay---that story is partially true.  Marie Antoinette supposedly DID have glasses molded in the shape of her breast---but they were supposed to be for drinking milk.  It was called a “jattes tetons” and had goat heads as a base. 

 
And yeah---that's a nipple at the bottom.

I know---kind of creepy.  But she was going thru this Rousseau back-to-nature phase that was hip and trendy in the day.  She and her lady friends would have these farm-to-table-like brunches where they’d dress up like farmer’s daughters and milk cows and churn butter outside her little palace Le Petit Trianon.  It was their way of convincing other noblewomen to breast-feed their babies instead of sending the kids off to a wet nurse.

Over the years, the coupe has been said to have been modeled after the boob of pretty much every King’s mistress or powerful woman the opposing political group hated---the sort of slut-shaming and women-hating that has been going on for centuries.

In any case, the titty glass is HORRIBLE for sparkling wine!  It spreads the bubbles all over the surface of the glass and causes them to dissipate---in short, flat Champagne.

Truth is, in the Champagne region, they just drink their bubbly out of a wine glass.

Now here’s where it gets dangerous…

The Champagne bottle is SPECIFICALLY designed to keep the forces within inside the bottle.  The glass is thicker than a normal wine bottle and the shape is different to help spread those forces around.  This took centuries to figure out.  This is also why you need to use great caution when opening one of these puppies.

As a server, I’ve opened hundreds of bottles of sparkling wine.  I’m always super careful.  

In my entire waiting-tables career, I’ve only had ONE bottle of sparkling explode on me.  Unfortunately, it was a bottle of sparkling red.  Shit.  As I loosened the cage, I could feel something was wrong.  I barely twisted the bottle when the whole thing exploded.

Red wine.

Luckily I knew what I was doing beforehand and had aimed it properly.  Only a napkin was injured.

But the pressure behind a bottle of sparkling wine can be up to 60 miles per hour.  Like that line in A Christmas Story---“You’ll shoot your eye out.”

The vast majority of eye injuries that turn up in emergency rooms across the U.S. are due to mishandled bottles of sparking wine.

So unless you have dreams of becoming one of those film directors with an eye patch…

Handle this stuff with caution.  Point it away from your face and anyone else’s face----and body.  Point it at the ceiling or a wall.

Also, Champagne should be properly chilled---about 45 to 48 degrees.  That’s about the same as your refrigerator.  If it’s opened when it’s too warm it may explode on you.

And it actually shouldn’t make that popping sound we all associate with sparkling wine.  As Karen MacNeil writes in her definitive book, The Wine Bible, “Unbidden, more than one older Frenchman has advised me that a Champagne bottle, correctly opened, should make a sound no greater than that of a contented woman’s sigh.  Frenchmen are French men after all.”   

So, what’s good this year?

Well, everyone has their preferences.

Jeffrey Goldin, general manager of Red Farm Broadway, prefers something on the sweeter side---a sparkling Muscat.  But as far as actual Champagne that won’t break the bank, he recommends the reliable crowd-pleaser, Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin.  And then he went on to tell me the whole history of the wine and how it was named after the first woman to take over a Champagne house---The widow (“veuve” in French) Madame Clicquot.  

He then proceeded to entertain me with his impressions of stuffy and ridiculous sommeliers that he once did at a wine dinner---impressions that made even the sommeliers laugh.

The thing about wine is that once you start to learn stuff about it---you realize how much you DON'T know.  But the more you learn, the more this whole wonderful world of stories and people (and, oh yeah---wine) opens up to you.

Wine knowledge isn't all stuffy old guys making weird slurping sounds and inventing stupid descriptive words and phrases like "chalice-y" and "the musk of a satiated otter".

It really is fun and exciting and WAY more down-to-earth than you would think.

It's like drinking beer with your smart friends.

I also contacted a few of my sommelier friends this week to get some quotes and recommendations.

I quickly learned that trying to get a quote out of a sommelier the week between Christmas and New Year’s is like trying to interview a fighter pilot in the thick of battle.

The emails came back, “I’m SO sorry I didn’t get back to you.  I’ve been working 15 hour days back-to-back.”

Luckily, my old and dear sommelier friend, Dana Farner, had just enough time to scrape out the message that she had already put something together for the website at her work.  Dana is the Beverage Director of CUT and sidebar, Wolfgang Puck’s outposts at Beverly Wilshire in Beverly Hills (A Four Seasons Hotel).

“Do you want to add that link? Or copy paste? I could add an intro for you to personalize it or something if you want but you're right- I am out of my mind busy.”

As a gal who just worked 14 hours on Christmas Day----I totally understood.  

So here are her top five recommendations (and notes) on her favorite bottles of bubbly this season.

1. Camille Savès Rosé Brut Grand Cru, Bouzy, Champagne NV

A delicious red cherry but not sweet Champagne from Grand Cru Bouzy, the village that’s as fun to drink as it is to say. If you look closely, you’ll find a tiny RM on the label which stands for Récoltant-Manipulants, meaning that Camille Savès grows all their own grapes — a rarity in Champagne.

2. Gaston Chiquet “Special Club” Brut Champagne 2004
The Special Club refers to a collection of 27 Growers (RM) who have organized to promote the flavour of the earth in Champagne. Only their best can be bottled as “Special Club.” A lean, bright, mouth-watering Champagne.

3. Jacques Selosse “Grand Cru Blanc de Blancs Substance”, Avize, Champagne NV
Another RM in a class of its own. Selosse blends vintages since 1986 to make this wine, with the intention of highlighting the specific beauty of the village of Avize. The wine is deeply layered with toasted nuts and candied citrus. A luxury “wow” bottle that tastes unlike any other.

4. Lanson Rosé Brut Champagne NV
An extremely popular Champagne in Europe, Lanson is less well-known in America. This rosé is surprisingly low in sweetness with dried fruit and lots of minerality.

5. Ca’ del Bosco “Cuvée Annamaria Clementi” Franciacorta Riserva 2004
Not all great bubbles come from Champagne. Franciacorta in Lombardy, Italy produces some of the greatest sparkling wines in the world. It’s made the same way as Champagne and often matches it in quality. You’ll find a little toastiness in this luxury bottle along with bright citrus notes.”

She also has an awesome video tutorial on how to correctly open a bottle of sparkling wine, which you can view here.

 

So watch, be safe, drink responsibly, and Happy New Year!  

Shot Glass Gardening

The window of time to purchase garlic scapes at your farmer’s market may not be QUITE as narrow as the eye of a needle that Biblical camel is trying to wedge his hump thru…

But it sure ain’t no damn tomato season, either.

I can get them in NYC for about a month in the spring.

Scapes are the greens that shoot out of a garlic bulb.  Farmers used to just chop them off and throw them away so the bulbs would get bigger----till some adventurous eater gave them a whirl.

And then the foodies started waxing poetic…

Nowadays, top chefs ALWAYS have them on their menu when they’re in season.  It’s their way of saying, “I’m connected to the markets and I know what’s out there right now.  Look what I can do, mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Look, Mom!  Look!  Mom!  Mom!”

Scapes are really just sprouts harvested at different times. 

And despite the fact that I live in a NYC apartment with lousy light…  It STILL doesn’t keep the garlic in my dark and foreboding garlic keeper from eventually outgrowing its Emo phase and wanting to experience the joy of life again.

You may have lost a bulb---but you gained a sprout.

Or immature garlic scape.

And it’s delicious.

I hear that Alice Waters religiously cuts that green center out----likely with an expensive Japanese paring knife—and swears the remaining garlic is milder, but still good.

Yappers online claim that sprouted garlic is “bitter” and occasionally I read the word “poisonous”.

But most chefs just chop it up and add it into the dish and you’ve probably eaten it a thousand times and never known the difference.

So----what’s the scoop?

Well, it’s not poisonous.  You’re thinking of potato sprouts.  Those ARE poisonous.  And that’s a whole other post.

If your garlic sprouts, it’s called “a shoot”.

Those pricey garlic scapes are really just a shoot that grew bigger and got all curly and sexy-looking.

Garlic shoots are milder than garlic.  Think onions versus scallions.  A whole different animal. 

So when life starts happening in my kitchen, I don’t throw the unwed mother out into the cold. 

I plop her in a shot glass! 

Disclaimer:  I have NO idea how I got that glass.  I haven’t had a shot of Jägermeister since college.

But I hang onto it because when a garlic bulb starts to sprout, it’s the perfect size.

You get greener pesto!  Delicate vinaigrette!  And an aioli so precious that you could have the best damn BLT of your life.

I tend to let them grow a few inches before I harvest them.

It’s also a nice bit of something green growing in your kitchen!

In about a week or so, you’ll have “micro-green” garlic scapes.  You can toss it in a stir fry, raw in a salad, or even pickle it in with your kosher dills.

Your garlic isn’t dead.  As Dr. Frankenstein declared, “It’s alive!  It’s alive!!!”

Christmas in a Crockpot

Cold winter days create a longing for things like beef stew and hot cider.

But did you know you can have both of those things in ONE delicious dish?

I’ll explain.

I have a fondness for what’s referred to as “ghetto-ass supermarkets”. 

They don’t look fancy, they’re generally in the more depressed areas of the city, and they don’t carry “free-range” chicken.  But they may carry LIVE chickens.  In Spanish neighborhoods, they’re known as “viveras”. 

Okay---I admit that I don’t go into viveras.  Because I have a fertile imagination and a strong leaning towards anthropomorphism.  I can’t even walk onto a Christmas tree lot without thinking that the scrawny, Charlie Brown tree isn’t crying out, “Why doesn’t anyone want me?  Why won’t someone take me home for Christmas?”

I’ve lugged home too many pathetic pine trees to know that if I walk into a vivera---I’ll come out with a new pet.

But a true food adventurer knows that these markets are a goldmine.

They’ve been there a long time and they’ve learned to cater to the ethnic communities in that particular neighborhood.  Somewhere in that store (and you may have to REALLY look carefully for it) you will find a small section devoted to ingredients that remind that community of home.  And it’s all delicious!

So the other day I was in a ghetto-ass supermarket in Harlem.  C-Town on 116^th St., to be exact.  

Like a truffle pig, I began to sniff out the goodies.

And sure enough, they were there.

Two small sections devoted to Jamaican and West African goods.

And when I saw the Red Palm Oil on the shelf, I KNEW I was making Jamaican Beef Stew for dinner.

For starters, Red Palm Oil (unrefined----don’t even bother with the refined stuff) is one of THE best oils you can put in your body.  Even better than coconut oil.  It actually UNCLOGS arteries, prevents heart attacks and strokes, is an anti-oxidant FULL of beta carotene, and does a ton more great stuff.  Just Google it and you’ll be amazed.   

It’s also one of those ingredients that most Jamaican recipes will change to “olive oil” in an attempt to make things easier for non-Jamaicans.  But it gives your dish that distinctive flavor that only locals can pick out. 

Yes, you want to be careful buying Red Palm Oil from countries with orangutans because it depletes their forest.  But this was from Jamaica, not Borneo.  And the easy way to tell refined from unrefined is that if the oil is red----that’s the good stuff! 

My friend Tommie has a Jamaican boyfriend.  He’s always looking for Jamaican dishes he can cook up for the two of them for their “Date Nights”.  He saw the photo of my stew on Facebook and immediately wanted the recipe.  So I'm sharing this one.

It’s a basic stew with a few added techniques and ingredients.  This is how I tried to share the recipe with my friend Tommie over dinner last night.  I did mine on the stove top, but once you brown the meat and sauté the onions and garlic, you could easily do this in a slow cooker. 

Jamaican Beef Stew

Ingredients:

Palm Oil

Sugar

Beef stew chunks

Onions

Garlic

Chicken stock (or just water)

Potatoes

Carrots

Ground Allspice

Cinnamon

Salt

Pepper

Thyme

Bay leaves

Tomato Paste

Rum

Soy Sauce

Brown Sugar

Red Wine Vinegar

West African Hot Pepper

Pickapepper Sauce

Corn Starch

Do NOT be scared of the list of ingredients!  It's mostly spices and things you likely have around your kitchen.

1. Put a bit of red palm oil in your pot over medium-high heat and stir a spoonful of sugar (I used pure cane sugar) into the oil.  This is a Caribbean technique.  Jamaican food (like Indian food) is carefully balanced.  Think of how they BOTH have curries.  Make sense now?  Anywho----once the oil and sugar are hot, put the beef stewing chunks into the pot and brown on all sides.
2. Add in some sliced onions and chopped garlic and sweat them out.
3. Pour enough water or chicken stock into the pot to cover the beef---add the carrots and potatoes.  Bring this to a boil.
4. Note:  When making stew, I peel my carrots and potatoes---Tommie asked me this so I’ll explain why.  The “peel” of carrots is a bit bitter and while I always roast potatoes “skin-on”, peeling them reminds me of Mom’s beef stew.  Purely sentimental.  I also cut them into chunks of a similar size as the meat so they cook evenly.  Depending on the type of potatoes you’re using, you may want to add the potatoes a few minutes later so they don’t turn to mush.  Older white potatoes will cook quicker than newer red ones.
5. Okay---now it’s time to add your spices.  Allspice is key!  It’s native to Jamaica and you’ll find it in many dishes.  And it's NOT a blend of spices like Chinese Five Spice.  It's its own thing.  And don’t get me talking about the Spice Wars.  I’ll bore your ears off.  But sordid history aside, you’re going to start adding the fun stuff---ground allspice, cinnamon, salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaves, tomato paste, rum, soy sauce, brown sugar, red wine vinegar, West African Hot Pepper (or cayenne or whatever you like) and something called Pickapeppa Sauce, which is the Jamaican equivalent of A-1 Steak Sauce.  But if you’re really going to do this, don’t substitute.  Find some Pickapeppa.  I first discovered it at a burrito shop in Minneapolis, so it’s out there.  You just have to open your eyes.  It’s also my favorite sauce to shake onto a mushroom cheese omelet.  And I don't give measurements here because I just shake stuff in and kinda know what I'm doing.  So I'm just going to trust you.    
6. Bring this all to a boil, then turn the heat down, put the lid on the pot, and let it simmer for about 2 hours.
7. You’ll know it’s done when the meat pulls away easily with a fork.  Now it’s time to turn water into wine----err, I mean gravy.  This is something Tommie didn’t know, so I’ll explain.  When a recipe says to add a tablespoon of corn starch to create gravy, you can’t just put a tablespoon of corn starch in!  The science of corn starch DEMANDS that you mix that spoonful of powder in with a spoonful or two of COLD water before pouring it into the pot.  I’m sure Alton Brown could explain it better, but you HAVE to do this or you will not get gravy.  But it’s easy.  Cold water.  Powder.  Stir with a fork.  Pour into pot.  Then bring your heat up to high and watch it turn into delicious gravy right before your eyes. 

I knew how amazing this stew was going to be right from the get-go.  So I got out some yeast and whipped up a quick batch of Jamaican Coco Bread to lap up all that sauce.  But you can also serve this over rice or use whatever bread you have handy.

While you may not think of Island food as Christmas-y-----this dish will totally change your mind.  It’s beef stew in mulling spices and rum.   And honestly, Christmas food ALL depends on where you grew up. 

So get thee to a ghetto-ass supermarket!