A Time to Cheese.

Alluring cheeses at Borough Market, London 2010

In life there are times to cook, and then there are times to cheese.

Some days you just can't bring yourself to whip even the simplest of dinners up, and, lucky for me, I live with two men who will happily sit down to a table of bread and cheese as a complete meal.  Confession: I can't say I'm entirely with them.  I need something to go with the bread and cheese (prosciutto? olives? avocado? homemade jam? Membrillo!), but maybe that's the Mexican in me coming out.  My ancestral tendency to leave the cheese to the Europeans can't be entirely escaped.  (Translation: I'd still rather have some huevos rancheros.)  But despite all that, I do have to agree with my 3 year-old, there are most definitely days when you just have to cheese.

I remember well the feeling I had as the cheese cart was wheeled over to us at Daniel in NYC back in 2006.  (Brenda's inner-monologue: "A cheese course?! Amazing. OMG - what the hell do I choose?!")  It was the same feeling I used to get when I'd timidly walk to the cheese counter in Agata & Valentina and then run off pretending I didn't want cheese anyway.  Or how I felt going into the infamous Murray's Cheese with my chef brother-in-law for the first time.

Overwhelmed.

Slightly scared to ask questions.  Worried I'd pick the wrong one and end up not eating it, or, worse yet, not pick anything at all.  Then worrying the monger / waiter would judge me based on what I did pick.  Dreading that with one wrong turn I might end up with a shoe-box apartment that was not only stiflingly small, but also smelled like stinky feet.

A good meal.
Image credit: Marcus Ciardiello

  It has taken a couple of years (about seven, actually) for me to feel somewhat comfortable going to a cheese monger.  I didn't grow up eating a lot of cheese - outside of Oaxaca and Queso Fresco, of course.  As a remedy, it helped to live in London for almost four years.  There, cheese - good cheese - is available at even the worst supermarkets (well, not at the rather unfortunate Iceland, but you get the idea).  I dove head first into deliciously crumbly, aged Cheddars.  Dabbled in the world of wonderfully fruity Wensleydales.  And occasionally even tried a Stilton or two - ever-eyeing the Potted Stiltons at Fortnum & Mason - though I've, admittedly and somewhat shamefully, never been a huge fan of blue cheeses.

At some point in there, I also made a brief foray into the world of luxury food marketing and had the opportunity to visit Casa dei Giovani - and their cheese farm (a side business to their charity-fueled olive oil) where I took home a small wheel of handmade Pecorino plucked from the aging barn where the sheep themselves were tended to.  I carried it home to England, gently tucked in between my clothes on my carry-on.  I never looked at cheese the same way again.

These days, I am decidedly more adventurous in my cheesing.  I don't buy imitation Parmiggiano - Matt and Roman are far-too addicted to the real-thing to ever go back.  And I am lucky to, even in Denver, have grocers near me that carry wonderful, wonderful cheeses from both local (US) and international makers. 

After tasting many, many cheeses I feel it's truly an art and something that takes time to appreciate.  Each is different, unique and worth getting to know.  I still have some I like better (goat) than others (sheep), but at least now I can eat cheese for cheese's sake - without having to drown it in Membrillo or cold cuts.

Here are some of my favorites lately - maybe next time you don't feel like cooking, grab a few, sit down, and enjoy one of life's acquired-yet-simple pleasures.  Go on, cheese it.

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Brenda's Top Five Favorite Cheeses

Lately, anyway, and in no particular order

Camembert, fruit, saucisson & olives: an old standby.
Image Credit: Marcus Ciardiello

 

 

1. Cypress Grove's Humboldt Fog, American, Goat's Milk
This is a cheese I discovered in Maine, though it's made in California.  I love the tangy goatness of it.  So delicious and creamy - kind of a crowd-pleaser, actually.  And yet somewhat more sophisticated than the average goat cheese because of the distinctive layer of vegetable ash running like a vein through the center.  I love that America is producing such great cheeses now - no longer have to only buy French, Swiss or Italian.

2. Gorgonzola Dolce, Italian, Cow's Milk
My local King Soopers Supermarket is a hidden gem of delicious and reasonably priced cheeses.  They have a bargain bin where all the pieces are under $5 - a deal for good cheese.  In one of those a couple of weeks back I found a great looking piece of Gorgonzola Dolce.  Being a professed blue-hater, I had no clue that this would be the cheese for me.  Developed specifically to be milder than regular gorgonzola, it packs a gentler, kinder punch.

3. Parmiggian Reggiano, Italian, Raw Cow's Milk
Does Parma make any bad food?!  This is a classic but it bears repeating: everything tastes better with a little Parmiggiano on it.  I've always cooked with it, but it's only been in the past few years that I've started eating it alone, serving it as part of my cheese plates, and letting Roman snack on it.  It's a strong flavor, but one that is complex and infinitely satisfying with its crumbly, yet substantial feel.  While I almost always buy the Italian original, it's worth noting that there are now some nice American counterparts (counterfeits? :)) from, of course, Wisconsin.

Personal goal: to one day have a whole wheel in my house for the holidays, and finish it. :)

4. Taleggio, Italian, Cow's Milk
What a stinker this cheese is!  But it's creamy and receives the honor of being classified as "truly delish" by yours truly.  I have to admit that I especially like when it's really aged and becomes runny.  I don't like keeping it in the fridge for long because it really does make it awkward when you have visitors who don't like / know much about stinky cheese and its surprisingly large stink-span.  I also think it's cool that this type of cheese (washed-rind, smear-ripened) has been around since the Roman times.  Cicero cheese, anyone?

5. Saint-André
This cheese is almost too much.  Triple-cream?  Seriously?  
Predictably, it's one of Matt's favorites - a self-professed cream-freak and lover of cow's milk cheeses.  And after having it several times, I've also come around to loving it.  I especially love the white, fluffly, billowy little mold skin that covers the outside of the cheese.  If left to properly come to temp, this cheese is the closest thing you'll find to eating really, really sophisticated cheese-flavored-butter.  Ok, something about that almost grosses me out.  I can't eat much when we do have it (not that Matt minds), but I do love having an indulgent slice or two.

Happy Valentine's Day Dammit: Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Milk Chocolate Love

Some years Valentine's Day, in all its syrupy-sweet glory, is a natural extension of the fantasmagoric love-fest your life is.  Other years - like this one - it's just another snowy day in what was a pretty crap-tastic, cold, February week.  I sound bitter.  Here's why:

 *  *  *

Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately

A Brief, self-thrown-pity-party-filled explanation in list-form

1. Two weeks ago I sprained my foot pretty badly by falling down two of the smallest, most-not-injury-worthy steps into the garage.  Roman was still strapped into his car seat and had to listen to me whimper and moan on the garage floor for several minutes (he was kind of freaking out) until I managed to hobble over and unstrap him.  Crutches, an air cast, ridiculous amounts of Ibuprofen, and two weeks later it's still refusing to fully heal.  I can't even walk up and down stairs comfortably, much less chase Roman or go skiing.  Such a pain.

2. A few days after the epic sprain, I discovered an epic-failure: our beloved pet, Frankie the Betta fish, has a severe case of dropsy and is currently in week # who-knows-how-long-it-took-me-to-notice of a long and inevitably drawn-out death.  I spent an afternoon looking up humane ways to euthanize fish - for which Matt made fun of me mercilessly - only to wuss out and settle on changing his water in order to "make him more comfortable" (whatever that means).  I literally wake up every morning expecting to find him floating upside down and I tell myself I worry because I'm afraid Roman will be upset, but really - it'll be me crying at the backyard funeral.

3. Earlier this week I gently (if that's possible) dropped my iPhone, the way I have a hundred other times.  Naturally, my decision to get the $3 silver-glitter-covered-cover decided to slap me in the face at that very moment and the front of the phone completely shattered.  As stupidly inane and ungrateful as it sounds to complain about, it just pisses me off to have to get a new one and tether myself a further 2-years to AT&T (which is, in and of itself, an irrational reaction as I had no intention of leaving AT&T).

4. Yesterday, I spent a lot of time making individualized Valentines and sprinkle-filled, pink, rice krispy treats painfully (literally) cut-out into heart shapes for Roman's entire pre-school class, only to be told by his teacher when I picked him up today that they "didn't have time to hand his Valentines out."  All this while Roman sweetly complained, "Mommy!  I didn't get to give my friends their treats." [Insert adorable pouty face by Roman and not-so-adorable annoyed face by Mom].

*  *  * 

Ok, ok, it's not that I don't want to celebrate.  Really, I just need something to remind me of the simple pleasures in life - breathe some warmth into the cold Denver winter, and even soothe my whiny little soul a tiny bit.  Something to show me the silver linings.

Lucky for me, Matt is cooking me a special, romantic dinner tonight.  I'm not sure what it will comprise of but I know this much: it will taste great!

I know this because dinner pretty much always tastes great when I'm being cooked for, but also because Matt so rarely cooks that I honestly believe God has bestowed him with some sort of permanent beginner's-luck-thing.  His food is always awesome - no matter how randomly or haphazardly prepared.

The only thing I'm responsible for tonight, besides this awesome Valentine's gift I found for Matt at Target, is dessert.  I wanted to make something special, kind of fancy, but not over the top in terms of work, time-commitment or flashiness.

Enter the Bon Appetit Milk Chocolate Soufflé.

There's something magical-sounding about the world soufflé - to "puff" or "blow up" (but prettier sounding) in French.  I think it will bring a fun but somewhat dramatic air to the closing of the dinner, without going too far into the realm of wannabe-chef.  I mean, how seriously can you take milk chocolate, even if it is gourmet and even if it is in a beautifully puffed up soufflé?
 
Which brings me back to the week-long pity party I've been holding for myself and the fact that I need to stop taking that - and myself - so seriously too.  So in the name of milk chocolate's levity, here are all the silver-linings to the above-mentioned Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately:

The Silver Lingings

the milk-chocolate-y levity in the situation

1. The Ankle
I totally got pampered by both Matt and Roman for almost an entire week.  Roman learned that he can indeed use his stool to get the milk out of the fridge, and Matt learned that the house really does go to crap pretty quickly when the invisible cleaning fairy is out of commission :)

2. The Dropsy
Part of me believes that Frankie's demise might be karma coming to slap me in the face.  I'd been complaining a LOT lately that it's a lot of work to keep a large fishbowl clean.  I wouldn't be lying if I actually did briefly (ever-so-briefly!) wish Frankie might die soon.  So, in a way, even though it sucks to lose our only pet - I'm secretly pleased that I can de-clutter my counter and stop the bowl-cleaning madness for a while.

3. The iPhone
Oh yeah, I got an iPhone 5 today.  *sheepish grin*

4. The Rice Krispy Treats
I now know that the "raspberry" color combo on the back of neon food coloring is bullshit.  It turns an ugly mauve-y purple color.  Never again.  I also got to snack on the leftover, rather cute rice krispy hearts.  And for once, I rather enjoyed the sprinkles.

*  *  *

Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Using the Bon Appetit Recipe, copied below 

Makes 8 Servings

waiting to be baked

The original recipe also includes a Nougat whip to dollop on top of the soufflés.  It all seemed too rich for me so I didn't make the nougat whip and, instead, served this with plain homemade whipped cream.

Ingredients
12oz high-quality milk chocolate (such as Lindt, Green & Black, or Valrhona), choppedpped 
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 
2 large egg yolks 
Pinch of salt 
6 large egg whites, room temperature 
2 tablespoons sugar
Butter & sugar for ramekins 

The finished product.

Method
1. Butter eight 3/4-cup soufflé dishes; sprinkle with sugar, tilting cups to coat completely and tapping out any excess. Arrange prepared soufflé dishes on large baking sheet.

2. Combine chocolate and cream in large metal bowl. Set bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water and stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

3. Remove bowl from over water. Stir egg yolks and salt into chocolate mixture.

4. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add 2 tablespoons sugar, beating until semi-firm peaks form.

5. Using rubber spatula, fold 1/4 of beaten egg whites into chocolate mixture to lighten. Fold remaining egg whites into chocolate mixture in 2 additions.

6. Divide chocolate mixture among prepared soufflé dishes, filling dishes completely.  

DO AHEAD Can be made 2 days ahead. Refrigerate uncovered until cold, then cover and keep chilled.
  
7. Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Bake soufflés on baking sheet until puffed and tops feel firm, about 16 minutes if at room temperature and about 18 minutes if chilled.

Serve soufflés immediately, passing whipped cream alongside.

 Happy Valentine's Day Dammit. :)

This post has been brought to you by How do you do - a freaky, fascinating, former #1 hit in the 70s that I'm obsessed with.   Thank you Mouth & MacNeal.

Forgettable Shrove Tuesday; Memorable Baked Pancakes.

In all its Shriven Glory.

 I always forget about Shrove Tuesday.  How could I not when it is so obviously overshadowed by the infinitely more exciting Mardi Gras and Carnival?  Who wouldn't prefer gorging on Cajun food or dancing in Rio to being "shriven?"  Even with Papa Ratzi resigning in a somewhat foreboding reminder of of the Lenten season being upon us, I can't help but want to celebrate, pull out the marks, have a last hurrah of sorts.

I also forget Shrove Tuesday because, as a more somber holy day, I tend to associate it with my time in England.  In England it's known as Pancake Day (see my brief classicized homage here) - a time to use up the larder's contents before the fasting of Lent.  "What better way than to make pancakes (or, technically, crepes in the case of Britain)?" said nobody, ever. :) 

Well, they're not gumbo, that's for sure (And I even had my act together and put a batch of my wonderful gumbo in the freezer for the occasion!).  And did I mention I even bought Roman a Mardi Gras mask!?  But the other day I received the random newsletter I still get from the lovely deli / gourmet food store I used to frequent in my London Days: Melrose & Morgan.  And in it was contained a recipe for something I'd never really tried before (gasp!): baked pancakes.


My curiosity was sufficiently stirred.  And since Matt is in Florida for most of the week (back in time to make me Valentine's Dinner though :)), I figured we'd go with pancakes for dinner tonight.  Roman was thrilled.  As was I - with the result, that is.

It's fitting that a British deli should post this recipe - the result is like a flatter, eggier, more crepe-y Yorkshire Pudding.  I loved it.  I'd recommend making more than one as Roman and I greedily split one together and I could easily have had more.  But then I'm a bit of a piggy.

This recipe comes from David Eyre and was published in the infamous Essential New York Times Cookbook from back in 1966.  Can't wait to get my hands on the 2011 reprint.
The recipe is currently featured on the Melrose & Morgan webpage, but I'll copy it below as I'm certain it will be gone soon enough as we move onto other exciting, seasonal goodies.

*  *  *

David Eyre's Baked Pancakes

Makes 1 large pancake (crepe) to share

I'd make more if I were you. :)

You'll note that the ingredients are also listed in grams and milliliters, as is the British custom.  I would take this moment to recommend that you use this as an opportunity to go out and buy a cheap but accurate kitchen scale.  Weighing ingredients in baking and pastry is something that should not be undervalued.  Significantly more accurate, therefore guaranteeing consistency over time.  Just my two cents. :)

Ingredients
80g (a little less than 1/2 cup) Plain flour
120ml (1/2 cup) of milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
Freshly grated nutmeg (optional, but do it)
Pinch of salt
30g (2Tbsps) butter

For serving:
2 Tbsp icing sugar
Juice of half a lemon


Method

Preheat your oven to 425F (220C).

Mix all ingredients except butter, icing sugar and lemon juice in a bowl.  Do not over-mix.

Melt the butter in a 12-inch (or 10-inch, in a real pinch) pan.

Once melted, pour the batter and place in the oven for exactly 10-12 minutes (or until the edges are golden).

DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN until the time is up!


Sprinkle with icing sugar and lemon juice.  Serve warm with jam or maple syrup.

Yum.  I feel shriven. :)

Real-deal Quiche.

My first-ever real-deal quiche.

Quiche is one of those things that is so ubiquitous that I would venture to say it's actually reached the point of being under-lauded.  Up until a few weeks ago, in my uninformed mind, a quiche was simply the French version of an Italian Fritatta or a Spanish Tortilla.  Nothing particularly impressive, but tasty.  I figured all I had to do to make a quiche was mix a bunch of eggs in a bowl, add the fillings and pour that into a pastry crust.  Wrong, wrong, ever-so-embarrassingly-wrong.  

A quiche is not just another item on the list of many-splendid-cute-and-quick delicious appetizers available out there to the home cook.  It's not just another item on the mediocre and overpriced pathetic excuse for a French bistro I used to frequent in Abu Dhabi (I know, it looks so good but it's not - just think: pork-less French food! eek.), or any French bistro for that matter.  It's kind of an iconic thing, the quiche.  So simple, so well-known and widely-enjoyed around the world.  And yet, after making my first real quiche, from scratch, and asking all my closest friends and family, none of them knew that a quiche is made by creating a proper, real-deal egg custard.  Not just a sloppily whisked-together bowl of eggs.   A custard!  So simple and yet so different!  And when I realized it was a savory custard (ooh how I LOVE flan!) I was making (rather than baked scrambled eggs), I suddenly went from simply appreciating quiches to being a full-fledged devotee.

It was also a huge revelation to me that you layer the custard, rather than just dump all the fillings in at once.  It's a time-consuming process but makes for evenly dispersed ingredients within the quiche, and it's so worth the extra effort when you get the perfect bite every single time.

custardy layers

The recipes I used for the pastry and the fillings came from my newly discovered long-time cookbook Bouchon (of Thomas Keller fame).  One day I opened the book up and decided it was high-time I tried my hand at the real-deal.  I went into a quiche-making frenzy that Matt will probably remember for years to come.

I made three quiches in one-and-a-half days (which given how time consuming they are to make, is an achievement), two of which I kept and one of which I gave away to a friend who had just had a baby. 
I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did mine. Here are the flavors I made:

1. Kale, bacon and Gruyere
2. Maine Shrimp & Asparagus
3. Gruyere & caramelized onion

Apart from one disaster where I didn't pre-bake the crust long enough and it broke and the custard started leaking through, they all came out superbly.  I don't have a proper quiche pan like Thomas Keller recommends, so that's on the culinary wish-list, but until then I swear by my normal, removable-bottom tarte pan which worked really well.  On the other hand, I don't recommend trying the loaf tin so much.  Very hard to get the quiche out in one piece, and believe me, the last thing you want to do is break that thing of beauty after all the blood, sweat and tears it took to make.

My (&Matt's) favorite was the Kale, bacon and Gruyere, by far, so I'll share that recipe here.

* * *

Kale, Bacon & Gruyere Quiche
a la Bouchon

Serves 4

Pastry & Custard Recipes: See Thomas Keller's Bouchon Recipe

Follow the instructions above, simply substituting my fillings, as follows:

Ingredients:
(Besides the things needed for the custard and crust above, of course)
2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 head kale, chopped

6 rashers of bacon, chopped into small squares
1 cup grated fresh Gruyere cheese

1. While your crust is pre-baking, sautee the bacon until crisp.  Remove to drain and cool on paper towels, saving the fat in the pan. 

2. Add the minced garlic to the pan with the bacon fat at medium-high heat and sautee until fragrant (less than 30 seconds), then add the kale.  Sautee until completely wilted.  Set aside in pan.

3. When it's time to layer the quiche, start with a layer of custard, a layer of kale, a layer of bacon and a layer of cheese.  Repeat 2-3 times more (as necessary), ending with a generous layer of cheese.  Be sure, as Thomas Keller suggests, to fill the quiche to the very brim, even adding the last bit of custard mixture once you've placed the quiche in the oven, so as not to spill and waste.

Serve with a simply dressed mesclun salad and bon appetit!

Thomas Keller & The Perfect Roast Chicken

Thomas Keller's Favorite Simple Roast Chicken
and my awesome new Fig tablecloth

A couple of days ago I went on a food-literature binge.  I was about 4 issues behind on my Food & Wine and Bon Appetit subscriptions because of the holidays, and my cookbook collection (a small but varied selection of choice pieces of food lit) had been sorely neglected for months.  Besides the magazines, I pulled out two books on French cooking that I hadn't used in ages: Barefoot in Paris by Ina Garten and Bouchon by Thomas Keller.  As far as French cookery goes, the two are almost diametrically opposed to each other with Ina Garten, of Food Network fame, favoring French recipes simplified for the home cook often with a New England twist and Thomas Keller espousing the authentic and sophisticated French and French-bistro foods he is so well known for at Bouchon, Ad Hoc, Per Se, and The French Laundry.

I was flipping through the books because I'd been craving - positively craving - a good roast chicken for weeks.  I kept seeing ridiculously appetizing pictures of them all over Pinterest and decided to narrow down my top selections and then make the one I deemed most roast-worthy.  After I'd chosen my favorite among the pictures and recipes online - something labelled "Thomas Keller's Favorite Simple Roast Chicken" - I went to look through my French cookbooks to see if I could find anything better.

Open the book and there it was.  The first recipe in Thomas Keller's Bouchon: his favorite simple roast chicken. Seriously?!

Up until that point I had no idea who Thomas Keller even was, much less that he'd written that giant French cookbook my mother had given me 5 years ago or that he was the same chef referenced in the online chicken recipe I'd found.  But there you have it.  It was a match made in heaven, destined for completion on a cold January Sunday in Portland, Maine.  And here I am, like many other bloggers and amateur foodies post-Sunday dinner sharing my pictures of what could possibly be the perfect roast chicken.

The things that elevate this simple roast chicken to the realms of perfection are: the simplicity of the seasoning (salt and pepper only), the scant use of fat (no butter or oil on the chicken itself, though I did throw some in the skillet for the sake of an awesome pan-sauce), and the lack of basting until post-roasting (you throw some thyme into the pan juices and baste a couple of times only AFTER taking the bird out of the oven).  It's so simple I am amazed it tastes as good as it does, and yet, as we always seem to conclude, the best things in life do tend to be the simplest ones.  

Some might complain that it's overly simple.  Some might say that chicken is not sophisticated enough for the carefully cultivated palates of real gourmets.  To them I say: try this chicken.  It is a shocking combination of juicy meat and utterly crispy skin, and the unadulterated chicken flavor really hits you.  In short, roast-chicken-wise, it's about as close to perfect as I've ever tasted.  Why not be bold in our statements?

* * *

For the sake of voyeurism, here are my original top five roast chicken picks, mostly from my pins on Pinterest, in list form (click links to check out the mouthwatering pictures):

Top Five Roast-worthy Roast Chicken Recipes

good anytime but best on a cozy winter day

 

5. Lemon-Garlic Roast Chicken (no recipe) from http://whatkatieate.blogspot.com

This looks to-die-for but, alas, it's just a picture.  I would have had to whip up this one from my own imagination and that's a no-go on a lazy Sunday.  What's with that Katie?!

4. Cardamom & Yoghurt Roast Chicken from tastefoodblog.com

Matt doesn't like Cardamom, but I love it.  This gets points for including spatchcockage and skillet roasting.

3. Spanish Roast Chicken with Citrus & Chorizo from http://pickyin.blogspot.com

If only we had good Chorizo in Maine!  Needless to say, this is right up my alley.

2. Lazy Sunday Roast Chicken from bagandbaguette.com

I'm not huge on rosemary but I love it paired with chicken and citrus.  The skin doesn't look crispy enough for me but those potatoes might make up for that.

1. Thomas Keller's Favorite Simple Roast Chicken from almostbourdain.blogspot.com

What would you eat at your last meal?  I have no clue off the top of my head but Thomas Keller unequivocally said this chicken. Well, that's a recommendation :)  Get the recipe and story behind it at the link above - a great little blog too.

Sunday Dinner: Thomas Keller's Simple Roast Chicken and Grilled Brussel Sprouts

London Restaurant Week #2: O-M-G: 1 Lombard Street - The Restaurant

The stately City entrance to 1 Lombard Street, directly across the street from the Bank Tube Station;
fitting since it was once a banking hall.

I've reached a new low (or three).

1. This past Friday I actually considered skipping dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant to take a nap. And if you know me, you know: I don't nap.

2. Once Matt had (knowing me better than myself) badgered me into going to the aforementioned restaurant (despite me fighting him the whole way bratty-infant-style), I unabashedly wore black stretch pants (albeit with a nice top). And I didn't feel guilty.

3. I ate a steak. And it was Friday (though not the goodly one - that's L's due date!). But it was a goodly steak.

* * *

On those three inspiring notes: we made it to Restaurant Week 2. And it all ended with a bang. Allow me to explain...

*scooby-dooing flashback noises*

O-M-G: 1 Lombard Street - The Restaurant
or, how I became a quasi-philistine one Friday night during London Restaurant Week 2

The Epic Journey
On Thursday night I was struck with a sudden and harsh attack of Pregnancy Insomnia. I woke up at 3:30am and couldn't get back to sleep until close to 7, at which point I was half an hour away from getting up for breakfast with Matt anyhow. In those wee-hours I treated myself to the slow and excruciating torture of considering every possible aspect of what awaits me in the next few weeks: labor, delivery, child-rearing and every scary permutation of those things separately and together. Among the more disturbing issues was the then-real fear that I would, once he was born, forget I had a child and leave him at the birth center, grocery store, or a random Chinese restaurant (don't ask).

All this, as you can imagine, made for a relatively cranky Brenda on Friday. And also explains why at 6:00pm when Matt called and asked if I was on my way to his office to head to dinner, he found me sitting on the couch knitting socks and watching re-runs of Cold Case Files. I suddenly, despite hating naps, felt it was my right to go to sleep immediately and threw a small tantrum on the phone. Luckily, Matt was having none of it and made me get up and get to town (Thanks Matt :)).

Two bus-rides, numerous unmerited glares and holier-than-thou shakes of the head later, I arrived in front of his office ready to yell at anyone who gave me the chance. Lucky for Matt he came out with a co-worker (he later told me he did this on purpose knowing I was in a foul mood) and my situationally-forced-manners actually cheered me up to the prospect of some delicious food.

The cab driver was a decent chap and I always love riding into The City because of its pretty neo-classical / Dickensian style. When we pulled up to 1 Lombard Street, I was pretty much giddy (as I usually am at the prospect of good food) and ready to feast. Ah, what can I say? La donna e (seriously) mobile!


The Not-so-Epic Ambiance
1 Lombard Street is one of London's Michelin-starred restaurants, so expectations were high. I saved it for the second weekend of London Restaurant week for this reason, and knowing also that it would be one of the last super-posh romantic dates Matt and I would have for a while, and possibly the very last without a child in our lives (very, very weird to think of the end of that era, but generally something I am more happy than upset by).

Luckily, I would say that, in general, we made a good choice for our adult-centric-swan-song-date.

The welcome to the restaurant was pleasant though a little confusing. After our reservation was confirmed and our coats were taken, we were shown to the restaurant (not the Brasserie) by a nice (French) host. We walked through an incredibly beautiful open-plan room full of neo-classical domes and skylights. A live piano player was belting out jazz tunes and the clinking of glasses and silver-ware gave the air a general excitement that brought a familiar nice-restaurant-induced smile to my face.

The beautiful bar and brasserie at 1 Lombard Street.

You can imagine my disappointment when we were shown to the back room - The "Exclusive" Restaurant area - which resembled a catering banquet hall at the Hilton in College Station Texas. No music, no clinking, no circular bar with mirrored-shelves. Just reddish walls (that I couldn't help but remember as taupe) with neo-classical / Titianesque paintings and cheap looking centerpieces. Our table was fine - in the corner with a full-view of the room, but we couldn't hear the music from the Brasserie and, in the end, agreed we felt more "excluded" than "exclusive" by the other-ness of "The Restaurant." Even after a thoroughly fulfilling meal with decent service, I wanted to be in the Brasserie. Mental note made.

The "Excluded" Restaurant at 1 Lombard street; I'd rather be in the Brasserie.

My Catty but nevertheless Amusing General Observations
The Maitre D' was a small and relatively efficient (though, at times, feckless) man with the widest pale-pink tie this side of the Atlantic. (I guess that must be a prerequisite for becoming a Maitre D' at a fine French restaurant: a never ending wardrobe of wide pastel ties and tapered suit pants.) Sadly, his French charm was ruined somewhat by his slight inability to understand English properly. I witnessed him screw up orders at, at least, two tables (mostly regarding how people wanted their steaks cooked but in one case bringing four non-vegetarian starters to a table of four vegetarians).

When he asked me how I wanted my steak cooked, I had to repeat my answer twice before he understood I was saying "medium." When one customer complained his steak was overcooked and that he had requested it "rare" the Maitre D' snapped "Well did you request it BLEU?" in that specifically culinarily-condascending-French way we all know and hate. The man took the high road and just nodded, but come on, I'd expect a little better than that for London's restaurant scene's upper-crust.

The waiters were fine. Not great, but fine. Matt said they must have put the second-string on for Restaurant Week and I am a little bit tempted to agree. Our water was spilled twice while being re-filled (though at least no visible fuss was made over our not ordering bottled water). Matt's glass of wine was knocked over (thank God it was empty) while the table was being mediocrely cleaned of crumbs with the crumb scraper. And only one of the waitstaff ever bothered to ask how the meal was going, whether we needed anything else or even liked our food. I always hate it when there's no dialogue between the staff and the patrons: it makes you feel like a snooty imposter. I love talking to waiters and waitresses - it makes the meal familiar and memorable.

I don't know about you, but if I'm seated next to the wrong people at a restaurant, it really affects my meal. I can't help but take notice of particularly annoying, loud, or train-wreckish dinners and Matt always complains that I'm not listening when this happens. Well, aside from the actual restaurant and staff at 1 Lombard Street, some of the patrons were a little bit hard to watch.

The people next to us were under dressed (listen to me with my stretch pants on!) and seemed pretty out of their element. Excuse the snobbery but most of them had never heard of risotto before - leaving the only "knowledgeable one" to compare it to "sticky rice pudding" at which they all made disgusted faces and corresponding noises (I was more than flabbergasted as the risotto was actually, IMHO, the best course of the meal!). At least two out of the four people at that table also ordered their steaks well-done (I couldn't help but cringe - why the hell come to 1 Lombard Street for a well-done steak?!) and one guy in particular had a gnarly (yes, GNARLY) habit of chewing loudly with his mouth open and stabbing his food as if he were stuck in prehistoric times eating a nice juicy saber-toothed-lionsteak. Is it completely snooty of me to say that being next to them kind of brought the experience down a notch? Well, some might say: that's what I get for going during restaurant week.

On the other hand, bread was plentiful and promptly provided throughout the meal. Our water glasses were always full (if a little wet) and our drink order came quickly despite the wine recommendation being given somewhat grudgingly. The staff were smiley despite their silence and all the courses were timed perfectly, giving you a minute to recover in between. The portions were small but exactly right for what was actually a five-course dinner rather than three. And they always served ladies first, which definitely gets them bonus points in my book. :)


The Exceptionally Goodly Food

Now to the O-M-G part of the experience. The Food. It was, without exception, absolutely delicious and immaculately prepared. The quality of the ingredients, the presentation, the seasoning was all it should have been for a Michelin-starred establishment and I find pretty much nothing to fault. Maybe except myself and my shady eating of a steak on a Friday during Lent. (I guess we all have our ways of rebelling.) I felt we got an amazing deal for what we paid and even today, three days later, I am still dreaming about that damned delicious risotto. For the food alone, I would definitely go back.

Here's what we had:

Appetizer: Turnip and Foie Gras Veloute
Served daintily in an espresso cup, this frothy hot cup of deliciousness was so good I couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of goose-liver, even in my pregnant state.

Starter: Smoked Halibut Risotto with Quail Eggs and English Mustard and Lemon Veloute Garnished with a diminutive sprig of dill and a solitary but perfectly cooked cherry tomato
This was by far the star dish of the night. I'm not a huge fan of smoked things and much less smoked halibut, as the flavor is usually too strong, but this was unbelievable. I could eat a giant bowl of it for breakfast every day. The fish was so tender and flakey, the quail eggs were runny, and this is the only dish I've ever liked English mustard in, period. The people at the table next to us really missed out.

Main: Pave of Beef (sirloin) with morels, vin jaune sauce and vegetable fondant
We weren't sure what to expect but what we got was a tiny, square portion of extremely tasty and well-seasoned steak with similarly geometric vegetables (parsnip, carrot, potato and turnip) cooked to perfection. They were generous with the morels, and the sauce - with just a splash of cream - literally made me want to pick up my plate and lick it. Every bit as sinful as I had hoped.

The Drinks: Glass of Cabernet Merlot, Glass of Sauvignon Blanc
We each ordered a glass of wine to go with the meal. Matt ordered white on a whim and ended up with a deliciously fruity but not sweet Sauvignon Blanc that smelled strongly of pomegranate. I wanted to steal his glass and guzzle it after I tasted it. My Cabernet Merlo, recommended by the French guy, was medium-bodied and went really well with the steak.

Granita: Pear
We asked two separate servers what kind of granita this was and got the same answer twice: pear. But we still don't believe it. The granita smelled and tasted like Pomegranate - plus it had a pink hue to it. Whatever it was, it was delicious and tasted a little like a yummy frozen Campari and soda, an Italian indulgence I never get sick of.

Dessert: Dark Chocolate Pudding with Pears and Dark Chocolate Tuiles
This is the only course I couldn't remember the exact description of (I just refuse to take pictures with my cell phone). Suffice it to say that we were given a plate with a giant dollop of chocolate pudding-looking-stuff surrounded by sliced pears, a cream sauce and some crispy dark-chocolate tuiles. It was all delicious (and I don't even like the pear-chocolate combo that much) and a great way to end the night.

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1 Lombard Street - The Restaurant
London EC3 9AA

Tel: 020 7929 6611

*All photos taken from the 1 Lombard Street Website, unless otherwise noted.