The Beast Speaks

For the last few years, Nathaniel Zimet has cooked great food out of both a big purple truck and now a quaint purple hued restaurant on Jeannette St. In May, Zimet was shot outside of his house and his recovery is still ongoing. This Sunday over 30 restaurants, some brass bands, and more will gather to raise money to help Zimet cover his medical bills at Beasts and Brass. Let's put 20ish questions on the clock and speak with the chef known as The Beast.

Professional cooking is not a family trait, necessarily, but I come from a family who can cook. I've worked in kitchens my whole life. I always wanted to own a restaurant so it seemed to me working in kitchens was the best way to get into owning a restaurant.

Dropped out of college to attend culinary school. Started at Le Cordon Bleu in London and finished up in Sydney. Moved back home to North Carolina and started cooking at probably what is the best restaurant there, the Fearrington House. Everyone in that kitchen was British and it was a tightly run brigade. Then went to work with Shane Ingram of Four Square restaurant. Shane is my mentor. It was there that I developed my palate. Then I came to New Orleans, following a girl. 

Last restaurant I worked at before the purple truck, was Iris which I helped open. The most challenging aspect of going into the truck, wasn't so much having to do everything by myself, but the rogue nature of it. For instance to wash dishes, I originally had to rent an RV spot. Then it was a friend's driveway. Eventually, I wound up with a place in Gentilly where I turned a greenhouse into a dish pit. I installed a plastic pot sink, ran hot and cold water hoses...It was all pretty rogue, but the level of cooking always stayed the same.

I think about dishes a lot as I recover. We change the menu every month at Boucherie. Obviously since I was shot at the end of May, the May menu ran through June. We are currently switching out the menu. When I create, I am such a think about it, do it person  Right now my strength isn't 100%, which makes it tough to create. I'll go into the restaurant, but only be able to work for a few hours and then go home exhausted. Not being able to execute my ideas halts that process.

The July menu at Boucherie is going to have Summer Italian theme. One dish is going to be a warm polenta terrine where the polenta is surrounded by housemade Italian sausage, peppers, onions, and mozzarella pulled in house. This will be served with a salad of Creole tomatoes, mozzarella, and pesto. I am always trying to force a technique on my cooks in order to teach the technique to them. So with this menu, they are learning about making sausages, pulling mozzarella. 

James (Denio) has an interesting persepctive through all of this because I am so stuck in my own world. When I am able to eliminate the pain, I'm still very much stuck. It makes it very difficult for me to comprehend anything beyond me, right now. James has to work so much harder at Boucherie plus coordinate all these benefits and on top of all of that deal with the fact that his best friend got fucking shot. In a lot of ways, things are a lot easier on me than James. But he and the whole staff have excelled throughout this ordeal.

I couldn't be more proud of my kitchen staff. I've had many people call me and say, "I went to Boucherie tonight and it was awesome." This isn't an ego thing, but practically every chef in the city has called and offered to come in and work. And we've been able to tell them "Thanks, but we got it." I am just so proud of the way they have rallied around and come together to execute.

There is an impressive clique of us young chefs. This new crew, we all came up around the same time and pretty much all worked in at least one kitchen together. And now we all have our own restaurants and they are great. Chefs like Aaron Burgau, Justin Devillier, Dan Esses, we are all doing our own thing. Dan likes to tease me and say he taught me everything I know because I worked for him at the Bank Cafe.

I miss work a lot. Coming in here and only being able to work for a couple hours a day just isn't my style. Put it this way, if a stagiaire came in and worked like I am, I'd send his ass home. That is a very tough thing to deal with because cooking is the only thing I know how to do. I can't handle not doing it. My hands have been idle for what feels like forever. Also, I think one reason I was able to survive the shooting and go through this recovery is because I had begun doing Cross-Fit about five and a half months ago. I was in shape, losing weight, and really enjoying exercising. So I am looking forward to exercising again.

Knife. I have many, many knives. 3 weeks ago I got my new knives in. These are the first knives, I have ever had made especially for me. Guy named Alex Blue out of Seattle made them for me. They are true Damascus steel and have 412 layers of steel in each knife. Other knives, I use a lot, are made by Murray Carter in Oregon. Those are the thinnest, badest knives. I'm still getting used to the new ones though. I got my first knife at age 8. I became a chef in order to play with knives legitimately (laughs).

I did a soup once, more like a broth. The broth was kind of like pho, but not pho. I think on the menu I called it a kaffir lime fumet. I served it with a pork jowl dumpling. It was awesome but I couldn't sell it to save my life. Eventually ended up adding coconut milk and renaming it and then it sold. Fume just proved to hard to sell.

Picking a few cookbooks is tough because we change the menu a lot so I end up buying a lot of cookbooks. But two I really love are the Morimoto cookbook and Charcuterie. The Morimoto one, people say, "Ohh he is an Iron Chef, that is cool." But no, you read this guy's techniques and are in shock. It forever surprises me and impresses me. Charcuterie is a great book, very entry level, but an amazing resource for my cooks and I. 

Cooks going for the "Wow" factor. Strangely enough, because I'm so into it, cooks doing whole hog or nose to tail are some of the worst offenders. Sometimes people do whole hog or molecular stuff just to be extreme. When cooks do something hoping you say "Wow, look at that" instead of "Wow this tastes great" they are really forgetting about the act of eating. 

Most memorable meal was at Arzak in San Sebastien. That was the most badass meal ever because it was molecular gastronomy with bones. Things were fabulous but everything tasted fabulous also. I just love the way the Basque people rever their geography. At Mugaritz, I had a composed salad of 57 vegetables, 50 of which had been plucked off the mountain. They just care and are so proud about their land.

Dirtiness. Sloppy cooks, sloppy cuts, I don't deal with. When a stagiare comes in, I'll ask them to cut me some mirepoix. If not perfect, I tell them that I don't think we will match up well. Meticulous knife work is absolutely critical. Sloppy cooks make sloppy dishes.

Besides an alarm clock (laughs). My drive, I am always pumped and have a lot of energy. My mom had a friend who used to come stay with us over the summer. And she would always leave him lists of things to do. I remember being little and thinking that it must be awful to never be able to sit still. But now, I see that I am the same way.

Wine is traditionally the easiest to eat with. I love beer and sake as well. There are very few libations I won't drink. Last year we did a dinner with Don Julio tequila where each course had to be pared with a glass of straight tequila. It was difficult but I think we crushed it. In general though, wine with my food. This is because unlike beer, wine rarely offends. Sometimes beer and a dish can be polar opposites and wine has that wonderful quality of getting along with food.

I don't know why people call me The Beast. My cooks and I tend to work a lot and very hard. So maybe it comes from that. Or we have a roast beef sandwich on the menu called the Beast. So when they make a comment about the Beast in the kitchen, I never know if they are talking about me or the sandwich (laughs).

Pizza Delicious is awesome. Mike Friedmann. I love that kid to death. He worked for me for four months before I paid him. When he told me he wanted to cook, I sat him down and said everyone wants to be a chef. But you got to think about why you are doing it. You have to get to point of being exhausted and still wanna work. When people ask me if they can stage, I tell them they can't just agree to do it for one day, have to sign up for two. 

This is not a fun job, I work more hours than anyone I know. I am saddened by the things I have lost because of my lifestyle. Brittany, the girl I followed down here, and I aren't together anymore but she has been helping me recover. But cooking is what I want to do. Last week, my mentor came in town. Partly because I'd been shot and also because he had never been to my restaurant. So we went to eat at Boucherie, him, Brittany, and Mike. And that was a very cool thing to eat with my mentor and a kid who considers me his mentor.

Perfect day of eating in New Orleans would begin with eggs at my house cooked by me. Than a po-boy and some sushi. I refuse to name names (laughs). 

2010 Challenge: Picklin' Dixie

Chefs, cooks, and butchers across America have learned again the beautiful craft of charcurterie. The rediscovery of charcuterie has also birthed a renaissance in the fine art of pickling, relishing, and jamming. Terrines, pates, and rillettes fly out of the country's best kitchens, accompanied by little casseroles of mustard, sour cornichons, fruited jellies, and, of course, pickles. The acidity or sweetness, salty or sour flavor of the accompaniments harmoniously contrasts the richness of the charcuterie.

In the last few months alone, I've eaten pate de campagne at August served with no less than six accouterments. Cochon's spicy pork ribs would not be as satisfying were it not for the crunch and tang of the watermelon rind pickles. At La Petite Grocery the housemade boudin and pickles are a wonderful way to ease into a long lunch. Shoot, even the slimy, pale green po-boy pickles have a place in our cuisine.

Plus, if you choose to make pickles at home, the possibilities of pickle pun-filled commentary is an at an all time low.

Pickling

Don't worry about pickling. This is not difficult, and there is very little chance of screwing it up. You are doing little more than placing produce in an acidic and salty soak for three months in a fridge. I'm pretty certain you can handle that.

I followed the instructions in Ruhlman and Polcyn's Charcuterie. It calls for you to combine white wine vinegar, water, salt, peppercorns, pickling spice (make it yourself or buy), and dill seeds. Boil this mixture for three minutes, pour it over whatever you want to pickle, and let it sit in the fridge for 3 weeks.

You can pickle most about anything, but I started with some pickling cucumbers and watermelon rind. Into a mason jar goes your soon-to-be pickle of choice, a few sprigs of dill, and the liquid. I chose to cut up the rind and the cucumbers into little disks and cubes, but do whatever you like.

Will it work? Check back in three weeks.

Le Foret

The "trendy" national restaurant model these days serves house-made meatloaf or sausage balls in small plates portions and sells PBR by the can for $2. There is no dress code, so if you walk in wearing LL Bean Duck boots and a fanny pack over a bright pink leotard... sweet. Your waiter is the cook and also the butcher, presentation minimal, the room shellacked in wood paneling adorned with deer heads, and your chair will not have a back. The whole experience is meant to make you feel like a pauper dining in a hunting lodge with Truman Capote. The concept works and produces great results when done correctly.

The people behind Le Foret did not get that memo. This restaurant is a return to formal meals that mean something. Soup is poured tableside, you have a captain and two to three waiters per table, the room's white and cream tones are literally gilded, and your tush rests comfortable on a padded, backed chair. The whole experience makes you feel like a prince dining in Versailles with Winston Churchill. If the old adage rings true, "When others zig, you zag," Le Foret will be the best restaurant in New Orleans in no time.

Before our story begins, let's back up. Le Foret opened a few months ago at 129 Camp, after an extensive renovation of a building that had been abandoned for thirty (yes, 30) years. The chef is Jimmy Corwell, a Certified Master Chef. There are only sixty chefs in America with the title, and Chef Corwell is the only one in Louisiana. (For more info on what becoming a CMC entails read Michael Ruhlman's Soul of a Chef.)

Lindsay and I went last week at the tail end of the first decade of the 21st Century. And without a doubt, it was the best meal we had in New Orleans in 2009. In fact, Lindsay liked it so much she went back the next day. There are no pictures as it was night time. But let me say this. The food, setting, and service is all meticulous and strives for a perfection seen only at Michelin 3 Star Restaurants and one or two other spots in New Orleans.

As soon as we sat down in the chandelier ornamented, candlelit room, we were greeted with two fluffy black truffle and Parmesan gougeres. The airy gougeres evaporated on your tongue leaving a pleasant sensation of warmth and truffle. As we perused our menus and sipped cocktails, we decided to go with the Chef's tasting menu which had five courses for $60. That works out to $12 per course for those playing at home, which coincidentally is about what most "trendy, small plate" places charge.

Then the first amuse bouche- cauliflower semifreddo with jumbo lump crabmeat and caviar. This dish proved two things. First, the kitchen has the technical skills to compete. The semifreddo had the consistency of a thick pudding with the subtle sweetness of the crabmeat and the icy cold saltiness of the caviar providing both textural and flavorful counterpoints. Second, the food is not overly fussy. There was nothing more on the stark white plate, then a small disk of cauliflower, a chunk of crab and a spoon of caviar. Simplicity, refined.

Next up, another amuse. This time a beautifully arranged trio of teases. First, up was a veloute of sweet onion and Anjou pear. The sensation of sipping the veloute was not unlike taking a deep sip of a rich and satisfying cup of tea. Only the flavors were more floral and sweet. Then a rabbit rillette with a rabbit shaped sesame cracker. Finally a petite dice of shrimp set in a creamy dressing and placed on top of a cucumber.

Our first course was a Butternut squash puree with foie gras mousse, mushrooms, and a bacon chip. The soup was poured from a silver decanter tableside and was smoother than Drew Brees in the pocket. Rather than load the puree up with butter or cream, the chef used the foie gras mousse to add richness and mouth feel to the soup. As the mousse slowly blended with the soup, the two disparate elements combined to create one harmonious dish. Pure genius.

The second course was a tuna cassoulet. The weather on this night was cold and rainy, so seeing cassoulet I was very ready for something warming and filing. But that was not the direction the dish went. And this is where the meal went into overdrive for me.

At the bottom of a large bowl, were some perfectly cooked white beans and haricot vert. On top of this was a puck of tuna encased in a crunchy wrapping of pancetta and garlic puree. The outside of the tuna had a uniform ring of sear as if it was a visitor with just one toe in your door. Although not heavy, the dish managed to be deeply satisfying. Just a delicious dish which showed that the cooking had not only precision, but soul as well.

Next was an herb and shallot crusted noisette of venison set awash in a thick demi-glace. While we both had some silver streaks of fat running through our meat which were tough, the cooking of the venison was spot on medium rare. On top of the venison was an intricate design of pureed and fried onions thickened with some potatoes. The garnish provided a crust to the soft, juicy meat.

But it was the cheese course that stole our hearts. A salad dressed simply with lemon and olive oil sat next to mousse of Roquefort cheese which sat on top of a beet sauce. However, upon second look the beet sauce was not a sauce at all. Rather it was a slice of beet cut so thin it appeared to be liquid. The Roquefort was the perfect anchor on a dish of tastes, its creamy pungency highlighting the earthy, sweetness of the beet and the tart salad.

Finally a souffle with Valrhona chocolate sauce, then mignardises of French Macaroons and ginger jellies. Again, all of it impeccably prepared. Washed all of it down with a 2004 Chateau La Nerthe, and you know how I feel about that wine. Good wine list, but even better is an expansive, glass enclosed wine cellar which climbs the height of the first floor. When a bottle of wine is ordered, a member of the staff scurries up a library ladder and pulls down the selection.

A really great meal, be it in a bbq shack or a high end temple of gastronome, always has a few telltale signs. The first, is what happens to conversation at the table? As we ate at Le Foret, all the end of the year concerns, questions, and comments fell to the wayside. All we did was talk about the food we had eaten, were eating, or would eat. Not only was the kitchen focused, but we were as well. We are still talking about that meal, a week later.

Secondly, are there any little touches to make it an exceptional meal? Here, the soft butter and house baked brioche which was refreshed after each course, a rabbit shaped cracker, and the beet masquerading as a sauce all provided those little touches. As we left, we noticed our car had already been pulled to the front and the hostess stood at the ready with a package for both Lindsay and me. Inside, we found a Madeleine and were instructed by the hostess to enjoy it with coffee the next day.

Finally, did the cooking have emotion/soul/feeling? Sometimes despite a high-end restaurant's best intention, the experience seems sterile and manufactured. This was not the case at Le Foret. The food had that undefinable "soul" quality. Whether you are a $7 hot plate lunch or an indulgent dining experience, you can tell when a place truly cares. Le Foret cares. It was a great meal.

Le Foret will not be for everyone but you should give it a try. The service and cooking is highly polished, refined, and contagious if you like being spoiled. It is an expensive meal. Is it worth it? Absolutely, I am already planning on going back.

Le Foret - Birdie, dangerously close to Eagle.

Adventures in Economicalness

This year I hope to be more economical. Not cheap, thrifty, or frugal nor miserly. But economical. Which for me means being smarter with how I cook things. I got the ball rolling by ordering a copy of Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn. Also for Christmas, Lindsay got me this bad ass meat grinder and sausage stuffer which pairs nicely with this book. I purchased two whole ducks from Whole Foods and had them break the ducks down for me. The bounty from this would provide me with enough legs, breasts, carcasses and fat to do all sorts of learning. Some of which is pictured below.

I reserved one whole breast for later that night to cook. The other breast went into a pyrex with some kosher salt. More kosher salt on top, and into the fridge over night.
I roasted the two duck carcasses and wings for about an hour and added it to some onion, carrot, celery, black peppercorns, leeks, parsley, and a bay leaf to make a duck stock. This simmered on the stove at a low temperatrue for around 3 hours. Strain, cool, and refrigerate.

The duck legs seasoned with koser salt, garlic, black peppercorns, cloves and bay leafs await their sleepover in the fridge.
The next morning I removed the duck breasts from their kosher salt coffin, rinsed them, patted them dry, wrapped them in cheesecloth. Here they are hanging in my basement. Gus and Penny have spent the last few days trying to jump up and eat my duck prosciutto. So far they have been unsuccessful.
After a night in the fridge, the duck legs were also rinsed and placed in a casserole dish. Then one pours enough rendered duck fat to cover them. The duck legs cooked for ten hours in a 180 degree oven until the fat was clear. They then cooled in this container and voila, duck confit.
One night I broiled the duck confit until the skin got very crispy. Placed on top of an arugula salad dressed lightly with salt, pepper, olive oil and lemon, the ducks fattiness was matched by the acidic peppery bite of the salad. Plus, shaved parmesan never hurts.
A few nights later, I cooked the remaining two confited duck legs. This time however, I blanched some cubed potatoes and then fried them in the duck fat. They tasted like perfection. Here are the potatoes in the world's most perfect hot tub.
And here is the finished dish. Duck Confit with a pepper jelly butter emulsion over duck fat fried brabant potatoes with garlic and parsley. Could have used a little aioli for the potatoes, but other than that. Very good.

The duck cost me $28.56 at Whole Foods. Plus another $12 for some duck fat from Langensteins. With the salt and other ingredients lets call it $60. From this I got 10 cups of duck stock (I used some of that stock to make collards recently), two whole meals from the confit, another meal from the reserved breasts, two duck prosciuttos, a quart or so of duck fat (which I am still frying in) and a weekend well-spent.

Read the above again, none of this was hard, little to no special tools or mastery of French is required. Sure it took a while to do all this, but one day every few weeks to spend in your kitchen is a small price to pay for good food. I would say so far being economical tastes delicious.

Dear Mimi, Please Pass the Salt

A few weeks ago The Folk Singer and I decided to headed to Mimi's in the Marigny to satisfy our late night hunger. I know what you're thinking, "Tapas? Again? When will it ever end?" In a word: NEVER.

Actually, I am sure that the tapas craze will probably subside like other food trends that have come and gone before it. But I must say that I for one enjoy and sometimes prefer dining on three (... or four ... or five) appetizers in lieu of a main dish. And I am not the only one. How many times have you read this in one of Fr. Tom's reviews: "The appetizers are so delicious that one could make a meal out of those alone"?

The only problem (for me at least) is that I am not big on sharing my small plates for two reasons: 1) usually the portions are too small to split among more than two people, and 2) sometimes I feel that half (or less) of an appetizer is not enough to fully appreciate a dish. I guess you could say that this is one instance in which "sharing is caring" is an addage which need not be followed.

But I digress.

Mimi's was good, and you (sadly) can't find a better option for late night food in the city. But one recurring theme in every dish we ordered was a lack of seasoning. Now I have been told many a time that I over salt my food, but this was one instance when TFS backed me up. As Ruhlman more eloquently put it, salt can be a good thing. Salt enhances the flavors of foods during the cooking process. Maybe my trip was an isolated incident, but if there was one suggestion I could make to the chef it would be this: Do everything the same, except increase the salt and pepper during preparation.

Here are two snapshots of the dishes we tried:




This is the tomato and avocado bruschette.

The mushroom manchego cheese toast was the second best dish on the table: mushrooms in a cream sauce ladled over manchego and crusty bread.

Other dishes included the pork cannoli (shredded pork in a rolled pastry crust that was then deep fried and served with a sweet n' spicy BBQ sauce), an overly acidic and chewy ceviche, and patatas bravas. But the overall winner was the dish that ended up being dessert: freshly fried goat cheese croquetas drizzled with honey. Outstanding.

Mimi's in the Marigny - Par.