Oysters & Gumbo? Ya! Ya!

 fig. a:  the oyster-stand

You heard right:  Oysters & gumbo.  

At the Foodlab.  This Friday, October 3rd, from 7:00 p.m. on.

And it's all for a great cause.

 fig. b:  smoked cajun sausage

You see, Michelle & Seth will be shucking oysters all night and I'll be serving smoked turkey & sausage gumbo (while quantities last!), and all the proceeds will go towards the Ange-Aimée Woods Memorial Bursary at Concordia University.  

We've said it before, but we'll say it again:  Ange-Aimée was a fantastic journalist and a devoted friend.  She loved great food, and good parties.  She was also a big fan of the Foodlab.  We can't think of a better way to honour Ange-Aimée's memory and to benefit a bursary that will continue to share her incredible warmth & generosity with others for years to come.

Eat, drink, & be merry!  Give Generously!  And laissez bon temps rouler!

Oyster & Gumbo Feast
Friday, October 3, 2014
7:00 - 10:00 p.m.
Foodlab / Labo Culinaire
1201 St-Laurent Blvd. (3rd floor)

aj

On the Road 8: VA & NC, Pt. 2

In our last instalment of On the Road, we began in the Ham Belt and quickly made our into an overlapping, but not entirely identical, region known as the Barbecue Belt.  As we headed east, we soon entered one of the most famous parts of the Peanut Belt.

Peanuts

 fig. a:  peanuts & driftwood

In fact, at Mackey's Ferry Peanuts in Jamesville, NC, I found a little slice of peanut heaven positioned adjacent to a pretty nifty collection of driftwood.  I was on the lookout for peanuts--real ones:  jumbo, expertly roasted, and grown-in-the-USA--and that BOILED PEANUTS sign definitely caught my eye.  I quickly made a U-turn and found everything I was looking for inside:  salted roasted peanuts, unsalted roasted peanuts, peanut butter, peanut brittle, and boiled peanuts.  Actually, in spite of that eye-catching sign, I wasn't sure that I was looking for boiled peanuts until I asked the counterperson for a sample.  It almost sounds shameful, but I'd never, ever had boiled peanuts until that moment.  When she came back out with a Dixie cup's worth of piping hot peanuts I was pretty excited.  Then I tried one.  "Hmm, I like that.  Those are good," I told her, but I wasn't immediately bowled over, so I continued to take a look around the store.  After about a minute, though, I realized I was doing so distractedly.  Those boiled peanuts had gotten to me.  They were sneaky like that.  I had boiled peanuts on the brain.

What, exactly, is a boiled peanut?  Well, it's just a raw peanut that's been boiled in salted water.  You can make them with fresh, green peanuts during the mid-summer harvest, but typically they're made with peanuts that are unroasted, but that have been sun-dried.  And if you've never had the pleasure, the taste sensation is something akin to having edamame in a Japanese restaurant.  In fact, as the Lee Bros. recount in their Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook, a friend of theirs once approached with the idea of marketing boiled peanuts as "redneck edamame."  They're both served hot and steamy, they're both salty, and they're both highly addictive and great as a snack food, and having them boiled really emphasizes the fact that peanuts are legumes and not "nuts."

Anyway, after a couple of minutes, I realized those boiled peanuts were much better than just "good"--they were "great" and that I was already hooked.  I ordered a small portion, and I received a sizeable ziplock bag stuffed full of them.  They arrived hot and steamy--straight out of the cauldron.

Now I just needed a place to sit and enjoy them, preferably with a beer.  They tasted pretty amazing right there in the car, but I was pretty sure I could find a more scenic location to enjoy the rest of them.  Which is where the Outer Banks came in handy.

 fig. b:  under the rainbow

Those boiled peanuts were still hot by the time I'd set up my campsite, and the light and the temperature were just perfect for my beer and peanuts appetizer.

 fig. c:  boiled peanut appetizer

Little Layer Cakes

Across parts of the South, you find a number of areas where the ages-old tradition of little layer cakes--lovely homemade layer cakes that are notable for the thinness of their layers and the number of layers involved (usually 12 or more)--still runs strong.  It's a region known as the Little Layer Cake Archipelago, and it extends at least as far south as Alabama, but some of its most famous islands of activity--perhaps even the most famous--can be found in an area that stretches from coastal North Carolina, up into the Eastern Shore of both Maryland and Virginia, including the Chesapeake Bay islands.  I don't think there's any question that Smith Island Cake, which became the Official Dessert of the State of Maryland in 2008, is the most widely known variation on the little layer cake, and one of the most beloved.  But, like I said, you can find little layer cakes throughout coastal North Carolina and Virginia.

 fig. d:  layer cakes & biscuits

In fact, you can even find them in gas station concessions in North Carolina--like Cindy's Kitchen & Katering in Barco, NC--alongside homemade country ham & egg biscuits.  They're right there on the shelf, freshly made, ready to take home with you (or to some friends of yours in New York), for $19.95 (!).*  Don't even hesitate.  There aren't tons of bakeries in the region that make little layer cakes--the field is dominated by expert home cooks--but those that do often make you order them well in advance.

Oysters

All through coastal North Carolina and Virginia you also find a whole lot of good seafood, including blue crabs, shrimp, fish, and oysters.  There are signs of it everywhere.

 fig. e:  signs of life

And when you see makeshift signs like these announcing a seafood shack, it pays to make a pit stop.  What you're likely to find are fried fish platters and fried sandwiches of all kinds, sometimes even cooked to order.  Like this freshly fried Chesapeake oyster sandwich, topped with tartar sauce and smothered in hot sauce.

 fig. f:  fried oyster sandwich

Here, the seafood shack in question was a ramshackle two-man husband & wife affair that consisted of a storefront (wife) and a tiny fry kitchen (husband).  The place was a real hotspot for the local blue-collar lunch crowd, and the Southern charm was in full effect.  In fact, the accents and the storefront banter were just as delicious as the sandwich.

Home

 fig. g:  the haul

When I arrived back in Montreal, I arrived bearing trophies and gifts, most of them edible.

Not surprisingly, I've been cooking a lot of Southern food since I returned home.  My Southern sojourn only served to whet my appetite for Southern fare, and, plus, I came back with all kinds of useful ingredients.  So I've been making a lot of barbecue, and cornbread, and grits, and I've been eating a lot of peanuts.

Last week I had a hankering for a fresh fried oyster sandwich, so I went ahead and made some.

 fig. h:  shucking

There are parts of the South where freshly harvested pre-shucked oysters are commonplace.  Here,  in the North, you pretty much have to shuck your own, and our oysters are delicious, but they're not exactly inexpensive. Even oysters at wholesale prices cost a pretty penny.  So it's a little cost-prohibitive to make an oyster sandwich as plentiful as you'd find in the South, but it sure tastes great, and you can make it to your specifications.

My fried oyster sandwiches were based on the recipe you find in the Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook, and once Michelle had shucked our oysters, they were cooked up and assembled in a flash.

 fig. i:  assembly required

Fried Oyster No' Boys 

a bare minimum of 12 plump, freshly-shucked oysters**
1/2 cup All-Purpose Fry Dredge (recipe follows)
2-3 cups peanut oil or canola oil for frying
Spicy Tartar Sauce (recipe follows)
Bibb lettuce
fresh avocado slices
2 Portuguese buns hot sauce

Pour the oil in a cast-iron skillet to a depth of about 1/2 inch.  Heat over medium-high to high heat until a thermometer reads 365º F.   

Scatter the dredge on a plate and gently toss the oysters in the dredge.  When your oil has reached temperature, carefully transfer the oysters into the oil, making sure not to splatter the oil, and turn down the temperature to medium.  Agitate the oysters in the oil gently until they're golden brown, about 30 to 45 seconds. 

Transfer the oysters to a plate lined with paper towel (double thick). 

Assemble your sandwiches, dividing the oysters between the sandwiches evenly.  Devour. 

[makes two sandwiches] 

Lee Bros. All-Purpose Dredge 

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3 tbsp stone-ground cornmeal
2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
a sprinkling of bread crumbs for quick browning, if you're dredging fish or oysters (which you are) 

Mix thoroughly.  Keep in a jar. 

Spicy Tartar Sauce 

1/2 cup Pickled Corn (or Chowchow, or Jerusalem Artichoke Relish)
1/2 cup high-quality store-bought mayonnaise
1/2 tbsp chipotle purée
1 scallion, diced

Mix together.  Adjust seasoning, if necessary. 

The fried oyster sandwich--sometimes called a fried oyster po' boy, and here designated the Fried Oyster No' Boy to indicate that this sandwich was a) made in the North, where oysters are b) rarely the food of po' folks--is one of the great classics of sandwichery.

We've got the oysters.  Don't you owe it to yourself?

aj

* If math isn't your strong suit, that works out to about $1.66 a layer.

** Again, if you're not that strong in mathematics, that works out to about 6 oysters per sandwich.  12 would be ideal, but six plump oysters will do, again, as a bare minimum.  It definitely won't take long to fry them--you can do them all in one batch.

Baby's Turning One

 fig. a:  déja un an!

Foodlab/Labo Culinaire turns one this weekend [!].  With this in mind AEB conducted an exclusive interview with its chefs, Seth Gabrielse and Michelle Marek, at Foodlab, on the third floor of Montreal's Société des arts technologiques.

"A Brief History of Foodlab"

AEB:  First off, is it “Foodlab” or “the Foodlab”?  You know, like “Mile End” or “the Mile End.”

S:  Foodlab.

M:  Definitely just “Foodlab.”

 fig. b:  Michelle & Seth

AEB:  What was the first thing that ran through your minds when you were approached with this project?

S:  “You’re out to lunch.”  

Seriously.  I thought they were flat-out crazy.

The idea seemed to go against everything I knew about the business.

M:  Plus, there was a very specific notion about how this place would function.

S:  Yeah, they had this concept that involved doing a 5 à 7 every night, then stopping service for the show in the dome, then starting up again to serve food from 9:30 pm to 1:00 am.

AEB:  [laughter]

M:  And it all seemed very pie in the sky.

AEB:  But obviously both of you are here, so there must have been things that enticed you.

S:  More than anything, we were intrigued.

And there was the prospect of complete control over the menu.  It sounded like a rare opportunity.

Plus, there was the vast amounts of travel we’d be doing.

M:  And the massive staff we’d have.

S:  And the research budget.

M:  And the cleaning team.

[laughter]

We didn’t know at the time that we wouldn’t actually get a pizza oven.

S:  At one point we had the idea that we’d be baking bread and that the aroma would be vented out onto the street to entice any passersby.

People would be lured into the lobby and then they’d be overwhelmed by Michelle’s display case of desserts.  [This display case of desserts doesn't exist as of yet.]  When they saw those they’d be totally powerless.  They’d come up the 3 flights of stairs without any hesitation and they'd be ours.

AEB:  How did you settle on the rotating theme approach?

S:  We did one week that was all over the place.  No theme to it at all.  The only constant was that everything was small.

M:  And everything came with a $6 price tag.

S:  Including tax

M:  We knew we needed a direction, but we weren’t ready to decide, we weren’t ready to settle on a fixed menu.  And there’s something about this building, this space, that demands flux.

S:  Plus, the constant change allows us to keep our sanity.

We have something really special here.  There are no restrictions on which direction we take the menu.  We can change the entire menu in a way other restaurants just can’t.

We do these tributes to all these different regions, all these different cuisines, and we’re interested in doing them justice and being true to them, but, at the same time, everything is always our interpretation of these dishes.

Because, you know, Michelle and I aren’t Japanese.  [They ran an izakaya/manga menu last February, around the time of Nuit Blanche.]

AEB:  Really?  Because there’s a rumour going around town...

[dead silence]

 fig. c:  Foodlab by night

AEB:  Okay...  Moving right along.  What were some of the crazier themes that you came up with, but ultimately passed on?

S:  Well, when we did our Fou de cochon menu, the idea that was presented to us was that it should have a mud theme.  It should be a mud menu.  Everything should either be brown or have mud involved in the dish.

AEB:  Or both?

S:  Yeah, or both.

M:  One plate was supposed to involve five different shades of brown, including something baked in mud...

We ended up kind of using that idea--we just went the opposite direction with it.  I thought, it’s spring in Montreal, we’re sick of brown.  We’re craving colour.  And that’s what we did for our Homage to Fou de cochon menu--we added colour--and everyone was really happy with it.

AEB:  How about some of the crazier themes you guys came up with?

[Michelle consults her notebook]

M:  Wedding menu theme.  It would be like attending someone else’s wedding.  Someone you didn’t know at all.  There’d be a fixed menu and you’d have to stay the duration, and there’d be a big, elaborate cake.  And a cake ceremony.  And dancing.

“Wartime Europe Under Rations.”  

AEB:  Ooh, that's a catchy one.  Who wouldn't want to relive the pleasures of Turnip Winter?

M:  “Real Cocktail Hour.”  Where the emphasis would be on mixed drinks and the food would only consist of snacks and they wouldn’t be sufficient to soak up all the alcohol.

S:  Is that the week that we take off?

M:  Yeah.

“Sommeliers’ Ball.”  This would be about the dancing.  We’d turn the dome into a ballroom and get some dancing instructors to teach everyone some moves.  It would be on a Monday night and all the sommeliers in town would come and learn to dance while they drink.

S:  “Expo 67.”  

We ended up turning that one into a TV episode.  [For the Les Touilleurs show.]

M:  “Dinner at sea.”

S:  Oh, yeah.  And we talked to Fred [Morin, of Joe Beef fame] about doing a train menu.  We’re still hoping that one actually happens one day.

AEB:  What was the kitchen like when you first started?

 S:  There was no kitchen--there was a folding table.

M:  No, there wasn't even a folding table.  There was a riser that the SAT used for their [music] shows.

S:  There was no running water on the third floor [where Foodlab is located].  You had to go to the first floor to do the dishes, and if you wanted to wash your hands you had to go to the second floor.

We cooked at my house and biked everything in.  And all our equipment came from home.  Most of it is still here.

AEB:  Believe me, I know...

M:  There were no plates and no utensils.

We had two induction burners and during our first week one of our staff broke one of them.  So within a week we’d lost 50% of our cooking power.

S:  We had actual stoves for our first menu, but not for the first couple of events we did.

M:  We pitched the idea of just buying two electric home stoves--$450 for both.  We still have them.  They’re the only stoves we have, and one of them is still going strong

S:  Of course, we can only use four burners at a time between the two of them, otherwise the breaker jumps.  So it makes the logistics of cooking here pretty interesting.

AEB:  Did this situation pose any problems when you hosted Omnivore?

S:  Oh, my god.  Did it ever.

Actually, our ovens were doing great until then.  They really took a beating that weekend.

That Saturday we had thirty people in our kitchen area for most of the day, many of whom weren't necessarily chefs.  It was bedlam.

And the fact that our walk-in fridge is down in the basement caused a lot of headaches.

AEB:  What’s still on the wish list?

M:  A sous-vide machine.  A Hobart mixer.

S:  A blender.  A telephone?

M:  A gas range.  They’re on order right now.  They should arrive tomorrow [!].

AEB:  And what was your staffing situation when you guys got started?

S:  For the first few months, till January, Michelle and I did all the prep, the cooking, the cleaning, and the serving.  Michelle was also responsible for ordering the wine.  In mid-January, Heidi [Gindl, Michelle and Seth's trusted assistant] came on board.

Maude [Rochette, Foodlab's sommelier] got hired just before the summer started and she took over the wine list, the service, and the hiring.  Things have been much smoother since then.

M:  Originally, we inherited a bunch of bar servers who didn’t know anything about serving food.

S:  They were used to running kegs up and down the stairs.  And suddenly they actually had to wear [button-down] shirts, and they had to serve food, and learn a menu.

 fig. d:  Foodlab + Oenopole

AEB:  What has been your proudest moment?

M:  During our summer boom, when we were suddenly handling way more customers with exactly the same amount of staff.

Especially that special night we did with Theo [Diamantis, of Oenopole fame]--the kebab night.  That was really crazy-busy, and really magical.

I’ve done stuffy events my whole career, but here we’ve had the opportunity to do these special events that are totally different.  There's a freedom and ease to them that I really love.  And we've gotten to work with some of our favourite people.

And people have responded.

S:  With the help of Theo, we got them to come to an Izmir-style kebab night.  No one had any idea what an Izmir-style kebab was, but people loved it.

 fig. e:  Theo brings it!

M:  And the Richard Olney night.  There were probably some people who had only the vaguest idea who Olney was, but they turned out, they stayed late, and everybody had a great time.

S:  I've worked in a couple of places that were well-known, well-stocked,  and well-managed and that made it into The New York Times.

But we got a mention in The New York Times in our first year, and that made me pretty proud.

AEB:  What can we expect from you over the course of Year Two?

S:  Gas stoves!  Of course, we have no budget for pans, but that's another story.

AEB:  You'll just have to raid your home kitchens again.

S:  More stuff from home!

M:  A Chinatown menu.  My Chinatown menu.  I can't wait.  All the things that I want to eat when I go to Chinatown.

And more events.  We had this other great idea:  a Masters Dinner.

We'd invite all the old-school chefs in town.  All the chefs that have been working the line for decades.

They all know each other, so it would be a reunion.  It would also be a beautiful night of beautiful technique.

AEB:  Anything else?

S:  The release of our first cookbook.  And the launch of our Food Network show.

M:  And our line of cookware.

[laughter]

AEB:  Thanks, guys.  And congratulations!


Foodlab's First Anniversary Party takes place this Saturday, November 3.

On the menu:  

Oysters:  Thrumpbacks and Sea Angels 

Consommé with bone marrow dumpling 

Seafood terrine 

Beef carpaccio with lemon and watercress 

Carrot, cumin, currant, and cilantro salad 

bar snacks 

& 

cake for all!

Festivities begin at 5pm.  (Makes for a great stop after RASPIPAV 2012.)

Foodlab, 1201 rue St-Laurent, Montreal, QC

aj

Don't let it slip you by, pt. 2

 fig. a:  lake girl 1

If you do have the means to get out of town:  get thee to a lake.  If you can spend a night or two there, all the better.  Just make sure to bring plenty of food and drink.  And lots of reading material.

 fig. b:  lake girl 2

 fig. c:  lake girl 3

Keep the wine flowing.

 fig. d:  rosé 1

 fig. e:  rosé 2

Eat with regularity.

In both cases, focus on quality over quantity, although the idea is to celebrate summer, so there's no point in being stingy.

As much as possible, keep things simple.  You'll find that the dishes that are the most elemental will also often be the most memorable ones.

It doesn't get any more elemental than Padrón peppers, which have been a sensation from Spain to California for years, and which are finally making their presence known in Quebec, thanks in no small measure to the Birri Brothers at Jean-Talon market.

 fig. f:  padróns 1

 fig. g:  padróns 2

Pan-fried Padróns 

Padrón peppers
bacon fat or olive oil
kosher salt
limes
Heat the bacon fat or olive oil over medium to medium-high heat in a large pan or skillet.  When the fat begins to smoke, add as many peppers as will fit comfortably.  Sear them until they are just nicely charred.  Toss liberally with kosher salt.  Place on a serving platter and add a squeeze of lime juice.  Serve immediately.  Devour while hot.   

Padrón peppers generally aren't hot, they're pretty mild, but they do have some heat to them, and occasionally you might encounter one that might make your lips tingle.  Maybe even one that makes you sweat.   We call this game Spanish Roulette.  

Serve as a side or as a snack.

Bring a charcoal barbecue, too, if you can.  There's nothing more elemental than fuel (wood, all-natural charcoal, all-natural briquets) and fire.  And if you can find choice oysters in sufficient quantities before you head out to the country, you're really in luck.

  fig. h:  rosé 3 w/ grilled oysters

Grilled Oysters 

fresh choice oysters
parsley
chives
garlic chives
scallions
hickory-smoked bacon
sharp cheddar cheese 

Shuck the oysters, severing the muscle and making sure to spill as little liquor as possible.   

Fry up the bacon until crisp.  Keep about one rounded tablespoon full of the bacon fat in your skillet, pouring the rest in a jar for a later use.  Mince the fried bacon into bits.  [3 strips of bacon made enough bits for 36 oysters.] 

Chop the scallions and the herbs and sauté them in the bacon fat until wilted.  Toss with the bacon bits. [4 scallions, 1/3 bunch of parsley, 1/2 bunch of chives and garlic chives made plenty enough for 36 oysters.] 

Spoon a little of the herb mixture into each oyster. 

Top with grated cheddar cheese. 

Grill over a hot charcoal fire until the cheese has melted. 

Serve immediately.  Savour.

I usually make my Mexican-style corn pretty tricked out:  lime mayonnaise with premium chili powder (freshly toasted and ground); fresh cheese; aged cheese; cilantro; and grated radishes.  But even this stripped-down version is sensational if you start with great corn and you grill your cobs just so.

 fig. i:  grilling corn

Grilled Corn 

fresh sweet corn, preferably Grade A Quebec
mayonnaise
limes
Tabasco sauce
salt 

Shuck the corn completely.   

Mix your lime mayonnaise.  Add enough lime juice to make it just a bit looser than a regular mayonnaise.  Add salt and Tabasco sauce to taste. 

Place the corn cobs directly over a medium-hot charcoal fire.  No need to keep the husk on.  No need to soak the corn in anything.  No need to brush it with any substances.  Being careful not to scorch your corn, roast the cobs over the fire.  Rotate them from time to time.  Don't worry about cooking them completely evenly.  It's okay if some portions are slightly more charred than others.  This will only add to the taste sensation. 

When the cobs have been cooked on all sides, remove from the grill and slather with the lime mayonnaise.   

Allow to cool for about a minute, then serve while still hot. 

Repeat as needed.

[If you don't believe this method works, check out this video.  I used to fuss around with my corn cobs before I grilled them, and they often turned out great, but Mark "The Minimalist" Bittman made a convert out of me.]

As Michelle put things recently, "18 wines, 4 people, 2 days, 1 lake = perfect weekend."

80 Padrón peppers, 36 oysters, 20 eggs, 18 ears of corn, 2 briskets, 2 racks of ribs, and 1 pound of bacon didn't hurt either.

With this much fun built into your weekend, you won't even care if there's a little rain.

 fig. j:  did someone say "rain"?

Go swimming anyway.  You might stay in long enough to see a truly celestial display of light.

We did.

aj

Boston Notebook

fig. a: You don't know beans...

When M., our friend and Ultimate Boston Authority, titled her extensive run-down of the food scene in Boston "Beans & Tweed," we weren't exactly 100% sure what to make of it.  I mean, yeah, we all know about Boston baked beans, but are they still just as central to the local imagination as they once were to the national imagination?

  fig. b: Uncle Sam + Sitting Bull

And, sure, I guess I can see the tweed connection, but what kind of Boston Tweed are we talking about?

 Ivy League?

fig. c: boss tweed


 fig. d:  bros. tweed

Retrosexual?

   fig. e:  tweed ride

fig. f: tweed rides again

Or this kind?

  fig. g:  Boston tweed cat carrier

Well, in the end, we didn't encounter a whole lot of beans or tweed.  No beans, because we placed our emphasis on scoring some premium seafood.  And no tweed, because it was somewhere close to 85º F when we arrived in Beantown.  But M.'s "Beans & Tweed" guide to Boston was a treasure trove of tasty and tantalizing tips nonetheless.

Unfortunately for us, our trip to Boston (Michelle's first!) was exceedingly short, and the stated purpose of the visit had to do with attending a conference, but we still managed to squeeze in some great outings...

Toro

We were dead set on going to Toro for our first dinner in Boston.  We'd heard great things, we were in the mood for top-notch tapas, we were thirsty for wine, and we were on another one of our crazy cross-border missions.  This time involving a bread delivery (?).

When Michelle's colleague and fellow Twitterer Jeffrey Finkelstein heard that we were heading down to Boston, he asked us if we could do him a favour--drop off a batch of his exceptional Hof Kelsten bread to a friend of his:  Ken Oringer, the owner and one of the co-chefs at Toro.  We told him we'd been thinking about visiting Toro anyway.  He told us that he'd make sure that he got us hooked up if we did.  Right on!

So that's how we wound up hauling an industrial-size bag (literally) of bread from Montreal to Boston.  This time the customs officials didn't even bat an eye.

Dropping off a load of bread didn't help to get us seated at Toro--it was Friday night and that joint was hopping!--but it did score us some attentive service and some lovely extras when we did.

Everything (and I do mean everything) we had was simply outstanding, but the highlights included the cauliflower a la plancha (with pine nuts and golden raisins), the whole salt-encrusted Mediterranean sea bass stuffed with herbs, the griddled garlic shrimp with Romesco, and their house special Latin American-style grilled corn with aioli, aged cheese, and espelette pepper.  I know, I know:  corn in March?  Like Michelle says:  just order it.  It was totally off the hook--the very best grilled corn either of us had ever had.

Verdict:  Olé!

Mr. Bartley's

Mr. Bartley's actually has a rather extensive menu, but their reputation rests on their assortment of "gourmet burgers."  You might think the "gourmet" label might scare some people off, but, no--Mr. Bartley's burgers are unbelievably popular.  The line-up outside stretched down the block at 2:30 in the afternoon.

When we saw the size of this queue, we figured we'd have to come up with a Plan B, but there were only two of us, so we decided to ask how long the wait was anyway.  After all, we were both majorly jonesing for a burger.  When the host told us "about 15 minutes" we thought he was having us on, but we decided to stick around to find out.  Sure enough, 15 minutes later, we were seated, waiting for our gourmet burgers.

Mr. Bartley's isn't exactly a fast food joint--the burgers are much too generous (7 ounces!) for that.  But it's pretty much as fast as it could possibly be, and it's an impressive operation to see in action.  They take your order outside, when you're waiting in line.  When you actually enter the premises, your order is set into motion, and is matched with your seating assignment.  No time is wasted on customers lollygagging over the menu, and the ritual of ordering has been seriously streamlined.  You still have a bit of a wait on your hands after you get seated, because these are big burgers and they're prepared with care, but Mr. Bartley's system allows them to cycle customers through the restaurant highly efficiently (hence, the miraculous "about 15 minutes" wait time).  More importantly, they make a tasty, perfectly cooked burger, and the place has all the character you'd expect of a Harvard Square burger institution of its vintage (since 1960!).  Plus, if it's good enough for the likes of Johnny Cash, Jacqueline Onasis, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Bill Belichick, Al Pacino, Adam Sandler, Tom Werner, and Katie Couric, it's good enough for you.  It was definitely good enough for us.

Verdict:  Rah!  Rah!  Rah!

Neptune


 fig. h:  Neptune

Easily the single biggest food highlight of the entire trip.  Neptune was definitely a bit of a splurge, but it was absolutely worth it.  We sat at the raw bar and took our sweet, sweet time, and when everything was said and devoured, Michelle proclaimed the meal one of her Top 5 restaurant meals of all time (!).

One of the reasons the meal was so much fun was because we avoided the main courses, and, instead, placed our focus on the raw bar and on a selection of accompanying appetizers and other side dishes (in retrospect, I guess we were still in tapas mode from the night before).  We ended up doing two platters from the raw bar--both of them à la carte, both of them consisting mainly of New England oysters--and even that wasn't enough:  Michelle ended up having an extra Jonah crab claw "for dessert" at the very end of our meal.

The oysters were simultaneously out of the world, and very much of it.  They were so plump, so juicy, so sweet, and so wonderfully briny.  We ended up having most of Neptune's East Coast offerings, including Cotuits (Cotuit, MA), Island Creeks (Duxbury, MA), and Wellfleets (Wellfleet, MA), but our favourites were the Ninigrets (Ninigret, RI) and the Thatch Islands (Barnstable, MA).  Michelle had never had Jonah crab claws before, so she insisted, and I was all too happy to comply.  I'd never had cracked crab without drawn butter, but those claws were pretty damn fine au naturel, and they were even better with a dab of Neptune's horseradish-laced cocktail sauce.  Finally, I insisted on adding some clams to the mix, and I was pretty glad I did, because their cherrystones were the sweetest, most tender clams I've ever had.

Other delica-seas included the Wellfleet littlenecks steamed in Vermentino wine, with garlic and parsley, the Neptune Caesar, whose combination of lolla rossa lettuce, pecorino, lemon, and boquerones (yes!) may have made it my definitive restaurant Caesar salad, and Neptune's crudo special.  Their crudo-of-the-day was striped bass from Virginia dressed with olive oil, chives, sliced red grapes, and verjus, and it was utterly masterful.  It blew us away, and I'm sure it would have made Dave Pasternack proud.

Next time (and, let me tell you, there will be a next time) we're definitely going to split one of Neptune's lobster rolls, but, otherwise, I'd go about things pretty much exactly the same way.

Verdict:  Ahoy!

Deluxe Town Diner

 fig. g:  deluxe!

Sunday we were in the mood for a deluxe diner breakfast, and a deluxe diner breakfast is what we got. In fact, that was the name of the diner we went to:  Deluxe Town Diner, in nearby Watertown, MA.  New England still has its fair share of authentic early- to mid-20th-century diners, and the Deluxe Town Diner is one of them.  And though the owners are clearly aware of their diner's retro charms, they haven't gone all Wowsville with it.  Instead, the focus is on the food.

We were lured by rumours of honest-to-goodness, homemade Johnny Cakes, and they were truly excellent (especially when drizzled with their 100% pure Vermont maple syrup), but so was everything else:  the corned beef hash, the home fries, the bottomless cups of coffee.

Verdict:  Hubba hubba!

Mystery Train

 fig. h:  all aboard!


On our way back to the Great White North, we made a detour to Cape Anne to eat some more seafood, buy some saltwater taffy, and experience the charms of coastal New England, but the best stop of this jaunt was one of our first:  Mystery Train Records in Gloucester, MA.  (M. didn't steer us wrong [she never does].)  Now that's what I call a record store.  Definitely one of the best I've been to in years. Such a crazy hodge-podge of a collection, such reasonable prices, and such a great shopfront window.  Classic record store dudes, too.

Verdict:  Kick out the jams!




Toro, 1704 Washington St., Boston, MA 02118 (South End), (617) 536-4300


Mr. Bartley's, 1246 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge, MA 02138 (Harvard Square), (617) 354-6559


Neptune, 63 Salem St., Boston, MA 02113 (North End), (617) 742-3474


Deluxe Town Diner, 627 Mount Auburn St., Watertown, MA 02472 (617) 926-8400


Mystery Train Records, 21 Main St. Gloucester, MA 01930, (978) 281-8911



aj

Grand Opening!

FOODLAB
Grand Opening!
5 à Huitres

The Société des arts technologiques,
the FOODLAB's coordinator (Frédéric Gauthier),
and its chefs (Seth Gabrielse and Michelle Marek),
cordially invite you to

the FOODLAB's Grand Opening

Thursday, November 3, 2011
17:00 - 22:00
1201 St-Laurent Boulevard
Sensorium Level
 $20 prix fixe
(half a dozen oysters + one glass of wine)

Friday, November 4 and Saturday, November 5, 2011
multi-course oyster menu
($6 per plate)

Oysters! Oyster Festivals!, rev. ed.

fig. a: Oh, Oysterman!

For those of you oyster lovers who've been asleep at the wheel, the third annual Montreal Oyster Festival takes place this Sunday, September 11, from 2:00 PM to 9:00 PM, in Old Montreal.

There'll be thousands upon thousands of oysters, plenty of beer and wine, and all kinds of other edible delicacies on offer, including peach and sour cherry tartlets with bourbon whipped cream by Michelle--served by Michelle herself, along with her two lovely assistants, Natasha and Thea. Stop by and say "hi."

fig. b: raw

Added bonus: Remember those phenomenal Tomales Bay oysters we told you all about last year (the ones you see in the photograph above)? Well, one of Daniel "Montreal Oysterguy" Notkin's fellow brothers-in-oysters will be hauling some up to Montreal all the way from California for this very occasion. Get psyched. The coast-to-coast selection will be mind-blowing.

The last time I had the pleasure of tasting Montreal Oysterguy's oysters, freshly shucked by his very hands, was at a killer La Q.V. Été event earlier this summer. Not only did we have a selection of fantastically tasty oysters from New Brunswick, Massachusetts, and Washington matched with a lovely Sancerre, but we had the option of buying oysters by the dozen to take home with us, at rock-bottom prices. Yes!

I brought three dozen home with me, and the next night we held our very own oyster festival in the privacy of AEB HQ. And because we had a relatively plentiful amount, and because we'd gotten them at such a good price, we went ahead and prepared them California style: on the grill.

They looked something like this,

fig. c: grilled

and they tasted like paradise.

Never grilled an oyster before? This is what you want to do:

Prepare a medium-hot grill, preferably one that's burning wood or natural charcoal.

Scrub your oysters clean.

Place your oysters on the grill, either directly, or on a piece of aluminum foil. Cover the grill with a lid to get more of that beautiful smoky flavor.

Grill the oysters until they begin to open, about 5-8 minutes. Do not wait until they've all opened. Whatever you do, you don't want to overcook them, and you definitely don't want to dry them out. So, as soon as the first couple open, take 'em all off the grill.

Once you've removed the oysters from the grill, shuck them, leaving each of your oysters with its precious juices in the half-shell. Remember, these oysters will be HOT. They've been grilling. The ones that have begun to open should be easy to shuck. Those that haven't opened up yet will be a little more difficult. Either way, remember to use a towel to handle them, because, again, they will be HOT.

When you've shucked your oysters, add the toppings of your choice. In Tomales Bay we saw all kinds of adventurous combinations being created around us. At Big Sur Bakery, they dressed their wood-fired oysters with a simple California-style mignonette. In the photo above, we went with bacon, parsley, green onions, butter, and grated Parmesan. Kind of a modified Rockefeller vibe.

Place the oysters back on the grill, covered, for another 2-4 minutes. Just long enough for the oysters to come back to temperature and for certain toppings (butter, cheese) to melt.

Remove the oysters from the grill and serve immediately.

Once again, the Montreal Oyster Festival takes place this Sunday.

Montreal Oyster Festival
The Pigeon Hole Parking Lot
Rue St Jean x Notre Dame Ouest
Sunday, September 11, 2011
2:00 PM - 9:00 PM

And you can find tickets online here.

aj

P.S. Wondering what it looked like behind the scenes at this year's Montreal Oysterfest? You can find a full report with lots of lovely photographs right here. Nice work, PP!

In a Golden State 2: Oysters

fig. a: simple pleasures

Quite simply the very best oysters either of us have ever had, and we had them in August, which, as you may have noticed, is one of those months that does not contain a letter "r." "They" said it couldn't be done. "They" obviously never visited Tomales Bay.

fig. b: TBOC HQ

When you find oysters labeled "Tomales Bay," there's a good chance they were harvested by the Tomales Bay Oyster Company in Marshall, CA, which, as you can see if you read the fine print, celebrated its centenary last year, in 2009.

fig. c: Drake's Bay, Tomales Bay

Not sure where either Tomales Bay or Marshall, CA are? Well, they're about 50 miles north of San Francisco, and just a few miles north of Point Reyes Station, in an area for its proximity to Point Reyes National Seashore and its associations with Sir Francis Drake.

fig. d: Tomales Bay

And if you visit the Tomales Bay Oyster Company, you'll see that it's still a very small operation perched directly on Tomales Bay, exactly as you'd expect it to be.

fig. e: TBOC picnic area

There are a couple of small buildings (huts, really), including the business office, but occupying center stage is a massive tank behind a counter where the catch of the day is kept in cool salt water. You sidle up to the counter, decide how many oysters you'd like to purchase, and strike up a deal. There's no restaurant, no table service. Just the counter, the tank, the oysters, a stretch of pebble beach, and a bunch of picnic tables and barbecues. You buy your oysters, ask for an oyster knife or some Tabasco sauce, if you need some, and make your way to the picnic table of your choice.  If you're a regular, you'll know that the smart thing to do is to make an honest table out of that picnic table by actually bringing along a picnic.  Some beers, a bottle of wine, a salad or two, a loaf of bread, perhaps, some charcoals and a charcoal chimney, and possibly some limes or lemons--that kind of thing.  Then you have the option of having your insanely delicious Tomales Bay oysters raw or grilled, and when you do, you'll have plenty of nice things to accompany them and/or wash them down with.  With or without a picnic, they're still going to be insanely delicious.  You probably won't have to limit yourself to six or twelve either, because the utter lack of a middleman means that these oysters are incredibly inexpensive. Hell, get 50.  It'll only set you back $35-$70, depending on the size you choose. Think about it: an oyster festival, every day of the year.*

Neither of us were regulars, which means it never occurred to us to bring a picnic.  It also means that we had our oysters pretty much straight-up, with just a dash of Tabasco sauce or a squeeze of lime every now and then to add a little something to oysters that were already the freshest, sweetest, most perfect oysters we'd ever had.  Easily one of the best meals of the last decade.

fig. f: surf's up(-ish)

And the fact that I'd gotten to swim with a sea lion off Stinson Beach just a few hours earlier,

fig. g: Golden Gate, golden light

and that we drove back toward San Francisco through a truly legendary sunset,

fig. h: Vladimir's

and that we had big steins of Pilsner Urquell in a "Czechoslovaki" pub across the bay from Marshall in Inverness, CA,

fig. i: Ms. Marek finds her dream house

and that Michelle found that the dream house that she'd first spotted in 2005 was still very much available, well, they all added up to the kind of overall experience Lou Reed once labeled a Perfect Day.

Tomales Bay Oyster Company, 15479 Hwy. 1, Marshall, CA, (415) 663-1242

Vladimir's Czech Restaurant, 12785 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Inverness, CA, (415) 669-1021

Looking for "In a Golden State 1: Coffee"? You can find it here.

aj

* This being California, with cool, cool waters and temperate weather pretty much all year round, the Tomales Bay Oyster Company is open 365 days a year. But if you're planning on going there for a Thanksgiving Day feast, keep in mind that their hours will be shortened: 9 am - 2 pm. Plenty enough time to pick up a few dozen for your oyster stuffing!

New York Winterlude 1, rev. ed.

fig. a: several large men's footprints, one giant shadow

Maybe it's the fact that Snowpocalypse 2010 has had me thinking of our friends to the south. Then again, maybe it's just that Sam Sifton's review of Motorino this week has left me in a tizzy--a pizza tizzy. Whatever, the case, I finally got around to revising a post that got started about a year ago, not long after a short, sweet mid-February New York Winterlude in early 2009.

It went something like this:

Day 1 began with us having to move our car out of our Midtown, 2nd Ave. parking spot by 8:00 am to avoid getting a nasty ticket. We weren't planning on using the car while we were in New York, but once we got in the car, we figured, "if we have to move it anyway, might as well get some use out of it, right?" So we went about as far crosstown as you could possibly go, to Jim Lahey's Sullivan Street Bakery on W. 47th near 11th Ave. A little crazy, I know, especially when you're on vacation, but Michelle had a hankering for croissants and I had designs on some of their famous flatbreads, so... Plus, we had plans to visit Lahey’s just-opened Co. later in the trip, so this was research.

They'd just opened when we arrived, and they were still very much in the process of setting up shop, but they had plenty of fresh croissants on hand and their counter display already looked pretty appealing.

fig. b: display case, Sullivan St. Bakery

So we grabbed a couple of croissants, and a couple of slices and headed back through the crosstown traffic and the mayhem in search of coffee.

fig. c: Michelle & Juan

We didn't find any of New York's "serious" coffee shops, but we did find Juan Valdez, and he was happy to serve us.

fig. d: sous les pavés, la forêt

Day 1 was all about Midtown and the Upper East Side. We were lucky enough to be staying with friends on E. 57th, and we had museums we wanted to visit, so we put our car in long-term parking and hit the pavement.

fig. e: Sullivan St. Bakery's potato pie

By the time we reached the Met, we were a little peckish again, so Michelle pulled out a slice of Sullivan Street's lovely potato pie that she'd wisely stashed in her backpack, and we refueled in Central Park. We love their basic marinara slice, but those guys definitely have a way with potatoes. Look how golden they are!

fig. f: one in a thousand

Our main reason for going to the Met was to check out their "Walker Evans and the Picture Postcard" exhibition, which displayed hundreds of artifacts from Evans' gargantuan personal collection of early 20th-century postcards (including this beauty depicting plums being dried into prunes in Campbell, CA) and made a very interesting argument about how this collection influenced his work. It was a phenomenal exhibit, but, I have to say, it attracted a strange crowd. It was a compact exhibition too, so it wasn't as though you could get away from all those weird people with their loud voices and their bad attitudes. It felt more like an antiques show than that contemplative museum experience I've heard so much about.

fig. g: To: Walker Evans; From: Diane Arbus

Even with all those difficult people, we still had a great time, and we particularly liked this postcard from Diane Arbus to Walker in particular, with its idiosyncratic script and its curious left field reference to Evans' talents in the kitchen (and his way with potatoes).

fig. h: fancy feet 1

Afterwards, we made the most of our donation and toured a fairly wide cross-section of the Met's collection, but we were particularly taken by the Medieval tapestries.

fig. i: fancy feet 2

By mid-afternoon, we had made our way up the street to the Neue Galerie. In part, so that we could immerse ourselves in its Mitteleuropean splendor.

fig. j: return to Café Sabarsky

But mostly, so that we could pay a repeat visit to our friends at Café Sabarsky. This was our first time having a full meal at Café Sabarsky, and I suspect it won't be our last. Goulash, sausage and rotkohl, beer, kaffee und kuchen--we were in Hapsburg Heaven.

The lowdown:

mains: weisswurst w/ potato salad and mustard; goulash soup w/ potatoes

desserts: sabarsky torte; milchrahmstrudel

fig. k: Schaller und Weber

So much so, in fact, that when we asked about our amazing weisswurst and found out it came from the legendary Schaller & Weber, we made that our very next stop. There we bought some more weisswurst and some frankfurters, and some of their famously spicy house mustard, and we admired their whimsical beer paraphernalia.

fig. l: Shad is here!

Speaking of repeat visits and old favorites, that night we had a hankering for seafood, so we went back to visit our friends at the Grand Central Oyster Bar. We love the atmosphere at the bar--the mix of regulars, tourists, and the seasoned staff, the banter, the repartee--and GCOB’s selection of oysters on the half-shell is always impressive. We ordered a cross-section of house specialties--baked, fried, stewed, and raw (representing Long Island, the Chesapeake, Nova Scotia, and Washington)--and a round of beers, and we settled right in.

The lowdown:

appetizer: clams casino

raw bar: blue points; bras d'or; kumimoto; royal miyagi

hot dishes: oyster stew; clam pan roast

fig. m: inside the Campbell Apartment

Afterwards, we found out our friends R & M had a little surprise in store for us: a nightcap at the Campbell Apartment, the cocktail bar that occupies the former office of William J. Campbell, a financier and railroad tycoon. A former office in a railway station. Sounds glamorous, right? Well, this was no ordinary office. Campbell evidently had a thing for the Northern Italian culture of the late Middle Ages--he spent loads to have the place decked out in medieval Florentine splendor, and just to make sure everyone understood that he had money to burn, he placed a huge, imposing safe in his sizable fireplace. Campbell’s 3,500 sq. ft. office has been fully renovated to its previous splendor (including the safe), but now much of the space is taken up by a big, old bar, and the Campbell Apartment functions as a swanky cocktail bar. Talk about a nightcap!

To be continued...

Sullivan Street Bakery, 533 West 47th Street, New York, NY (212) 265-5580

Colombian Coffee Federation/Juan Valdez Coffee, 140 East 57th Street, New York, NY (917) 289-0981

Café Sabarsky, 1048 5th Avenue, New York, NY (212) 288-0665

Schaller & Weber, 1654 2nd Avenue, New York, NY (212) 879-3047

The Grand Central Oyster Bar, 89 East 42nd Street, New York, NY (212) 490-6653

The Campbell Apartment, 15 Vanderbilt Ave., New York, NY (212) 953-0409