Cooking With Wine

Ahab had his white whale; I have brisket. Recently, I have become mildly obsessed with cooking the perfect brisket which is crusty and barked on the outside and juicy and tender on the inside. I am only in the beginning stages of this particular culinary obsession, but if you want to try some incredible brisket (as well as other bbq), make your way to Smokin Buddha BBQieux. Their brisket is fat and tender, with a spiced bark and rich interior. But more on the city's best barbecue later.

Mad Max sent forth a brawny and polished California Cab this week made by the folks at Five Vintners. Sourced from grapes from St. Helena, Rutherford, and Napa, this cab burst forth with red fruits and smooth tannins. Now, I could have easily grilled a fat porterhouse or thick lamb chops and knocked this pairing out of the park. But, brisket was on my mind. Specifically, a brisket that combined the benefits of braising with the glories of barbecue. Something that would not be too aggressive with the wine, but also stand up to the heavy onslaught or wine power that a California Cab brings to the table.

Marinated, uncooked brisket ready for the grill.

The Taste of Braising, the Texture of BBQ 

That is not an entirely accurate description, but let's go with it. What results in a juicy, lip smacking brisket with a deeper flavorprofile than traditional barbecued brisket while retaining more than a touch of smoke. To accomplish this, first get to marinating. Combine 3/4's of a bottle of stout red wine - Malbec will do- a glove of garlic smashed, a sprig of rosemary chopped, enough salt to fit in the palm of your hand, two bay leaves crushed, and ten or so cracks of black pepper. Mix all of this together, and pour over the brisket. Cover and marinate overnight. 

Get a smoker to hold steady at 225 degrees. I added a 3:2 mix of hickory and cherry wood chips, feel free to smoke with what the good lord gave you. Remove the brisket from the fridge and marinade; reserve the marinade. Pat dry and sprinkle some more coarse salt on top. Place in your smoker, cover and smoke at 225 for 3 hours. Meanwhile, reduce the marinade in a sauce pan until only about a quarter of it remains. 

After three hours, remove the brisket, place on a sheet of foil, pour over the reduced marinade, seal the foil, and place back on the smoker for another three hours or so. After three hours, remove from foil, place back on the smoker unencumbered for thirty minutes or so. Then slice across the grain. 

Last time I made this the Saints dominated the Lions in a playoff matchup. If everyone makes this brisket, no doubt the Saints are going to the win. Throw in the wine, and most likely we are hosting an NFC Championship game next Sunday. The 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon from Five Vintners is available at Iris, Commander's Palace, Mr. B's, Houston's, Whole Foods, and The Wine Seller, where it retails for around $37.

Fish Fridays - Scallops

Let's keep the pressure on the mollusks. But this week, let's talk scallops. No sure, scallops aren't really from around these parts, but that doesn't mean some restaurants in New Orleans can't use them.

One of the number one thing we get asked is how can you cook scallops at home. The easy answer is you cant. This is because restaurants that serve the scallops you want to emulate are using day boat scallops or diver scallops. Day boat scallops are those which are usually harvested on boats which return to shore each night. The scallops are then rushed off to fish markets around the world. The scallops you are likely buying from the grocery store come from scallop factory boats. These boats dip the scallops in a chemical substance to keep them fresh and milky white for transport. That chemical inhibits caramelizing, and so you tend to overcook your scallops waiting on the color.

So either leave it to the pros or go diving in cold, Atlantic waters. But if you want good scallops in New Orleans, might we suggest the following:

Iris - Hands down, the meatiest, sweetest scallops in the city. The scallops arrive looking like albino filet mignons. Usually, Chef Ian swabs them down with a crisp, grapefruit butter.

Gautreau's - Peter and I have a huge crush on Sue Zemanick's refined take on motherly cuisine. Something about the way she creates such a crisp crust on her scallops makes us feel warm and safe. Then when she serves it with a bacon and corn relish, it is enough to make us want to take her on a date. But we are too nervous.

MiLa - We have talked before about the lunch menu at MiLa before, and on that prix fixe, occasionally, is a puree of squash or pumpkin with a petite dice of scallop that heightens the sweetness of scallops to a whole 'nother level. If you go for lunch (and you should), and this soup is on the menu, get it.

Where are your favorite places to enjoy the scallop?

The Past is Half Empty

A few months ago, we chronicled our experience at the Tales of the Cocktail Spirited Dinner at Stella!. What we alluded to was the utter prevalence of the grandiose, self-importance of the cocktail experts and aficionados and how this in a way soured the night. The New York Times has run a more interesting and better crafted piece exploring the same. Shocking, we know, but we might as well get upstaged by a dying newspaper.

This is my favorite part:

"Just when Manhattan’s most ambitious bartenders had started to resemble a troupe of historical re-enactors, sporting antique patterns of facial hair as they concoct 19th-century julep recipes, along comes Apotheke, with a host of drinks that Diamond Jim Brady wouldn’t recognize."

Following the Spirited Dinner, I had a discussion with a noted New Orleans food bloggist/lawyer/raconteur/seal clubber who dined at Iris. His response to the night can be summed up thusly, "I needed a fedora and some tight jeans to fit in."

Thankfully for all he does not own either, but perhaps he will grow a pencil thin mustache, the Boston Blackie kind.

A good cocktail has a certain magic and transporting quality, but let's not pretend it can replace the Flux Capacitor. And costume parties, especially those with some clever theme along the lines of "Ghosts Travel to Outer Space and Encounter the Elizabethan Period" or "Dirty Old Nuns and Catholic School Boys", provide hours of fun and endless opportunities for inappropriate statements. But there is no need to combine the two.

Drinks desire to be enjoyed and savoured. When you discuss and meticulously recreate a classic cocktail (down to using lake harvested ice), one crosses a dangerous line. The line between enjoyment and obsession. The only thing a well made drink should make you do is order another one.

In The Soul of a Chef and The Making of a Chef, Michael Ruhlman discusses the idea that one of the hallmarks of cooking is that a dish is a dish the world around. What he means by this is Sole Veronique, Kung Pao Chicken, or a hamburger have a defined and exact standard. There is but one true version of each dish. However, no two restaurants serve the same dishes; well, outside of McChain's Tapas Grill and Singles Bar. A Plato's Cave of dishes, if you will. In many ways there is a similar desire for an exact recipe for cocktails.

When bartenders begin messing with a Brandy Alexander they have done two fundamental things. First, they have created something new. Secondly, they have worn away at the protective enamel of what defines and distinguishes a Brandy Alexander. If the resulting drink is called a Champagne Alexander no harm done. However, usually the menu writers guild mandates that the drink be called a Brandy Alexander, with cute parenthesis.

Many restaurant menus have turned into paragraph long entries that require a thesaurus, atlas, and a lawyer. You know the types: "Holstein Farm's raised porcine shoulder over a caraway consomme wilted spinach fricassee, Mackinaw Island peach sorbetto, a reduction of 'mushroom juice', and artisan salami". Great now what the hell did I order.

The day may be fast approaching when cocktail menus exhibit similar phraseology. If so the tendency of people to explore cocktails and other handcrafted, expertly prepared goods may weaken. Sometimes its just easier to say "Budweiser". After all Bud is an import now.

Recognition of historical drinks must not become anchored by the constraints of the past. New products, flavors, and techniques can coexist with recognition that a Manhattan is a damn fine drink. But if you subsitute Rum for Rye and replace the cherry with guava, what do you get and so on and so forth...

So I guess the point of this rambling is, how do you enjoy and honor a virtue without it turning into a vice?

Restaurant Iris

I first learned about Iris when the chef/owner Ian Schnoebelen became a Food and Wine Best New Chef in 2007. Lady and I dropped into Iris a few nights before LSU dismantled the Buckeyes. We sat at the bar and were completely blown away by the food, drinks, and quaintness of this wonderful Riverbend eatery. As we were leaving that visit, Matt Flynn walked in; coincidence or good food?

This past weekend Legend came back to New Orleans after a 4 month hiatus and he brought with him the Ultimate Law Clerk. Also, joining us were the Bodegas. I had called weeks before to get reservations and I am glad I did. When we arrived at 9 p.m., the place was packed. It took only a few minutes to get our table ready and we were seated.

I need to mention this restaurant is tiny, minuscule even. In a converted Riverbend house with two rooms, space is at a premium; but it still feels comfortable. In fact the entire experience will make you feel like you went over to a friends house. Allow me to explain.

Cocktails, especially retro classics and new spins on old favorites, have made a strong comeback recently, although for some of us they never went away. Iris' barkeep is a delightful, only in New Orleans-esque character named Alan. His concoctions will blow you away. Lady had the honeydew melon and lemongrass daqiuri. Some egg white helped froth up this sublime toddy. I had the Parsely Julep (it was Derby Day after all). What sounds weird was actually incredibly refreshing, perfect after being in the heat at Jazz Fest all day. A bottle of Rioja and 2 vodka martinis and we all settled in.

First, a double order of the Washington State Oysters served with a classic mignonette sauce. The mignonette sauce is incredibly complex. Varying between black pepper and vinegar flavors and perfect not only oysters, but also to sop up with bread.

I was a little concerned that the food would suffer based on just how busy the place was. Luckily my fears were as baseless as an Eskimo's tan. An amuse bouche arrived. Duck Liver pate on a crostini topped with a hard-boiled quail egg. Ok, that was awesome. (Last time we went the amuse was a crabmeat stuffed Zucchini Blossom.)

Lady got the Lamb Meatball soup. A huge bowl of warm soup with 3 good size lamb meatballs arrived. The broth was sensual, the meatballs divine, and the tapenade smeared crust of bread added a delightful touch of salinity. Chef Ian loves using olives to add a sublime note of salt and remind one of simple pleasures.

An order of Gulf Shrimp, baked simply in garlic and tomato kept the bodegas occupied. Legend rocked some escargot and he refused to share so it must have been good. I got the gnocchi, good and light. But I should have gotten the Veal Cheek Ravioli, when I tried the ravioli on my first visit fireworks went off.

Two orders of Halibut for the Bodegas, they ooohed and ahhed. I should mention, they big New Yorkers who are used to eating in world class restaurants, were absolutely charmed and enchanted by Iris. Legend got the Lamb Loin. Cooked perfectly, I only tried the meat, but that could have been improved by the addition of nothing. Lady got the poussin. A young, tender chicken cooked and crisped with little more than butter, salt, and pepper. Served with simple summer vegetables, Lady was in her words stoked.

Two orders of what was essentially steak frites rounded out the table: perfectly cooked hangar steak topped with a marrow maitre'd butter and crisp house cut fries. The marrow in the butter instead of serving as a flavoring, functioned more as a textural device giving the butter, and hence the steak, a silken mouthfeel. I have stopped eating steak in fine dining restaurants recently (mostly, because whats the point, I can cook a steak), but this dish re-awakened my inner-carnivore.

Desserts: cheese plate, coconut creme brulee, and the best dessert in the city. Poached Pear filled with mascarpone, served with a caramel and sea salt ice cream. Remember when you were a kid and you came home to a snack of Potato Chips and Chips-Ahoy? Its like that only much better; the ying and the yang of snacking, salty and sweet.

Service is punctual, effectual, helpful, and very hip. Eric, our waiter, picked out an affordable, delicious Sonoma Pinot Noir for the table to compliment the variety of dishes. Laurie, the maitre' d/owner, and girlfriend of Chef Ian, keeps things moving along.

This description sums up Iris, in my view. A small gem of a restaurant; seriously good food and if you look at the Maitre'd close enough you will notice she makes no attempt to hide her ink. Iris knows what it is and is confident in its own skin. Go and feel welcome.