Graze on my lips, and if those hills are dry, Stray lower where the pleasant fountains lie.”

- William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis

Buenos Aires – While quite likely, pretty positively, Bill S wasn’t referring to the stomach, I shall. Just a quick roundup of some recent dishes, both here at home and out.

Frango Mineirinho – This has become one of our favorite easy to make dishes ever since I took that series of classes in Brazilian cooking – chicken breasts, quickly grilled (we do it on the stovetop), a sauce made from fresh corn cooked in salted water, then drained and pureed with some cream. Onions sauteed in butter, add the creamed corn, season to taste with salt and pepper and ladle over the chicken. Serve it up with rice cooked with a little garlic and bay leaf.

Found this one on the ‘net, simply titled “Brazilian Chicken With Coconut Milk”. Sounded good, if not overly Brazilian when I read through the recipe. Decided to give it a go as written, and it’s indeed tasty, though a couple of things just don’t fit Brazilian cuisine – I’m betting the large quantity of turmeric in the recipe was someone’s idea to try to get that glowing yellow color that so many dishes in the repertoire have – either from lack of dende oil, which is what would have given it the right color and flavor, or simply not knowing. The other, the use of jalapeños is likely a substitute for the wonderful and distinctive flavor of malagueta peppers. And parsley? Nah, I’ll bet cilantro. It was good enough that I’ll play around with this and then post my own recipe when I think I’ve got it.

Here’s where you get that beautiful glowing yellow color. A simple sauce of garlic and onions cooked in dende and olive oil, then tomatoes, red bell peppers and malaguetas added. A little coconut milk, some fresh basil and cilantro, and simmer the fish – in this case, pollack cheeks – until just cooked through. We weren’t in the mood for the traditional rice, so simply tossed the moqueca do peixe, as the dish is called, with some fettucini.

We do eat a lot of chicken, don’t we? Roasted beets and carrots tossed with a little hazelnut oil. Chicken breasts soaked in soured milk, then rolled in breadcrumbs with finely chopped tarragon and basil, quickly sauteed in a little olive oil to just lightly brown the crust, then into the oven to finish cooking. Not our typical spicy fare, but even we need a break now and again.

I’ve said before that if somone puts their name on a dish, it’s worth trying just to see what they think of themselves. Out with a couple of friends the other night and, by default rather than design, ended up at the branch of Campo dei Fiori, Venezuela 1411 in Monserrat. Split the “house” pizza, i.e.,, the “Pizza de Campo dei Fiori” with one of my friends – good crust, nicely browned; way too much cheese, but at least of good quality; anchovies, capers, olives, tomato sauce – not bad, not great.

And, one of the more interesting dishes I’ve tried recently. Somewhere in my cooking school days, if not elsewhere, I’m sure I must have run across salsa del principe de napoli, or Prince of Naples Sauce, though it didn’t spring to mind when I saw it on the menu at Lo de Roldan, Carlos Calvo 2701 at the corner of Av. Jujuy – out in the restaurant supply district, which is where we were headed the other day. A little place I’ve noted in passing and thought it looked interesting. Have to admit, quite good food – we tried a couple of pastas, a very nice salad of argula and garlic – and very reasonably priced. This pasta – vegetable filled canneloni topped with the aforementioned sauce – bechamel with diced ham, fresh mushrooms and peas, and then with a quivering, just barely set egg atop. Absolutely delicious – and I think I finished off all the bread in the bread basket just mopping up the remains of the sauce – not something I usually do!

 The greatness of Sunthorn Phu lies not so much in correct and ornate style, which is the aim of most Thai poets, as in the very simplicity and sincerity of his expression. Unlike so many other poets, he wrote from his heart and not from his head. Not being a learned man, he confined himself to simple forms of verse and simple language. But in his own field he was past master and his works are unsurpassed and probably can never be surpassed although no other Thai poet has had so many imitators. But Sunthorn Phu reigns supreme because in his poetry, in Phra Abhai Mani, in his Narats with their mixture of romance, pathos, and humour, he touched the heartstrings of the common people. That is why he is so deservedly called the People’s Poet.”

- HM Prince Prem Purachatra

Buenos Aires – How could we not celebrate the annual day dedicated to Thailand’s “People’s Poet”? There were no ifs, ands, or buts, and so off we went. The unfortunate part of the weekend – we had a lovely, full dinner on Thursday, and hardly any for Friday or Saturday. So, we first decided to cancel Friday’s dinner, holding out hope for Saturday – but then, in a coincidence of fate, the power and water went out on our block and was out most of the time from Friday evening until early Monday morning – so no Saturday dinner either. Also no lights, no stove, no showers…. Nah, we wouldn’t have been good company. But, back to Thursday, and with nods to the patience of the few of you who’ve been prodding me about how the egg nets turned out….

Having zero experience with this dish, latiang, other than seeing it made on Masterchef Australia, I followed the recipe in chef Martin Boetz’ book Modern Thai Food pretty much to the letter (if you do an “inside search” on the book for “egg net”, you’ll find the recipe on page 32 and the picture on page 33). All I can say is, amazing. I could have just sat and eaten a platter of these. The only change was, since the next recipe used peanuts in it, I substituted toasted cashews in the mix in this plate. And while the egg nets still aren’t quite to the delicacy of his, they’re getting better!

We first starting making this dish as part of our series of spicy vegetarian classes, and it was so popular that I’ve been including it in classes on working with chilies, and Thai food in general. This dinner was a perfect opportunity to show off this version of the dish – a vegan version of tom kha, which I picked up here – I’ve changed the recipe in only two things, I add a couple of finely chopped yellow chilies at the same time as the onions, etc. and, because we love chickpeas, I actually add two cans of chickpeas to this quantity of soup. The thai-style vegetable stock I make is a mix of mushroom stalks, Chinese cabbage leaves, green onion, white radish, onion, celery, coriander, ginger, garlic, salt and sugar all simmered together for about half an hour in water.

There are probably as many versions of pad thai as there are Thai cooks. This is my version based on several different recipes and a bit of playing around:

A nice, medium spicy red curry of squid for the main course seemed like a nice way to round out the meal. It’s actually a relatively simple curry to make – I pureed a couple of cups of coconut cream with 8 dried red Chinese chilies, a 1″ knob of ginger, 3 stalks of lemongrass, 2 kaffir lime leaves, 4 garlic cloves, 3 shallots, a dozen white peppercorns, 2 teaspoons of shrimp paste, a handful of cilantro leaves and some salt to taste. That went into a deep pan and cooked for about 7-8 minutes. To that I added a 1″ block of sugar (the somewhat dried, Peruvian/Bolivian sugar wrapped in husks), a couple tablespoons of fish sauce and about a cup of coconut milk. Then I cooked that all down until it was a thick, creamy consistency, about an hour over low heat. I turned the heat up to high, added about 3 pounds of squid rings and tentacles, and just sauteed them until just barely cooked. Then onto the plate over jasmine rice and garnished with slivers of kaffir lime leaves and fresh red chilies.

And, the dessert, my favorite banana springrolls with coconut-turmeric sauce….

Thai poetry on a plate.

 Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water.”

- W.C. Fields

Buenos Aires – Over the past few months I’ve been hearing about “an African restaurant” that opened up over by Parque Centenario in Villa Crespo. No one seemed overly enthused, other than about the fact that it was simply something different. And, it is different for BsAs – after all, outside of a couple of Moroccan restaurants, the continent of Africa is woefully under-represented here. Then again, it usually is in most other continents. Still, three restaurants is more than, say, for the continent of Australia, which to the best of my knowledge has no presence here, gastronomically speaking. So when a local, online acquaintance suggested meeting there one eve last week, I was game, and off I trooped, on the 92 bus, to El Buen Sabor, Camargo 296, 4584-8800. My acquaintance didn’t show (a back and forth disagreement about who was where, all I know is, I had dinner there, she didn’t), but I sat down to an interesting and tasty meal.

First of all, it’s a hole-in-the-wall. Not disparagingly, it’s clean and brightly lit. The space is a cheery yellow with the menu plastered across the wall (also a paper version available), with a listing of African specialties along with “traditional dishes” – which seems to mean milanesas, pastas, and sandwiches that could be found at any local porteño cafe – even their website only currently lists the latter (there’s a non-working link to view the African menu). I’m not overly versed in the cuisines of Africa myself, though my sense is that most of the dishes are probably from the west coast and perhaps on down around the coast to Nigeria. The staff seem to be four guys rattling away in heavily accented French – none of them speak much Spanish, nor English, and ordering, for the most part, is done by pointing at something on the menu (which is in Spanish and French), or by giving a go at the French name of the dish. They’ve got the porteño style of service down pat that, two of the guys never left staring at the computer screen, the waiter, who cheerfully greeted each person on arrival and delivered a menu, and served the food, spent the rest of the time back in the kitchen with the chef/cook, who was the one who came out and took the orders. So most of the time, no one was paying any attention.

The one thing that would have been nice, with, perhaps, a waiter who spoke enough Spanish to let me (or anyone else) know that the portions are huge. This appetizer of fried yucca root, though way too much starch for the whole dinner, was enough to be the whole one. The two sauces, delicious – a very smooth and almost fruity tomato sauce, and a fiery hot chili sauce. They seemed to work best in combination, a little of each with each bite.

And then the main course arrived – a big, steaming bowl of a fairly thin, vaguely peanut flavored vegetable broth with a large piece of corvina, or grouper, mucking about in it – bones, fins and skin – thankfully gutted and scaled. It was good – not wow by any stretch – just good home cooking – and, not at all what I imagined in a dish of fish with peanut sauce. The foufou on the side, a massive portion of completely unseasoned semolina mush, about the size of two large baking potatoes, worked well when doused in the soup, with a bite of fish, and perhaps a bit of the hot sauce. The two other tables of people dining inside while I was there all ordered from the African menu as well, and bowls of soupy sauces with meat sticking out of them of one sort or another seemed the order of the day. There were two guys having wine and smoking outside at a table who seemed completely stunned that there wasn’t a tabla of fiambres (coldcuts and cheeses) available for them to enjoy with their wine – and quickly finished off their wine and left, a bit… ticked off… that the food wasn’t Argentine cafe style. Jeez guys, read the big sign that says “Comida Africana”… ya know?

So hmm, would I go back? The food was decent, if a touch bland, mostly of interest simply because, as noted by the folks who told me about it in the first place, it’s different. It’s inexpensive – both plates plus a bottle of water ran me only 37 pesos, or about ten dollars. Yeah, I suppose I would, just for a cheap and interesting meal – but I wouldn’t make a mad rush to get back there.

 There must be courage; there must be no awe. There must be criticism, for humor, to my mind, is encapsulated in criticism. There must be a disciplined eye and a wild mind.”

- Dorothy Parker, author (born in 1893)

Buenos Aires – It’s not that 1893 wasn’t an interesting year, plenty of stuff did happen. The Cherry Sisters performed for the first time, in Marion, Iowa. The U.S. Navy created the rank of Chief Petty Officer, apparently having one too many Petty Officers and needing to do something with him. Edward Munch painted the first of his series of The Scream paintings. The World Parliament of Religions was held in Chicago and Americans first heard about the Baha’i faith. And sports clubs popped up everywhere – Italy’s famed Genoa Cricket & Athletic Club was founded, the Futebol Clube do Porto came on the scene in Portugal, and here in Argentina, the very first officially recognized soccer league tournament was held under the auspices of the Asociación del Fútbol Argentino. None of these things seem a particularly good reason to name a restaurant by the same number, yet, 1893 Pizza & Pasta holds the moniker. It’s not the address, which is Scalabrini Ortíz 701, in Villa Crespo, though perhaps at one time it was at a different locale.

All, of course, that interests me… no that’s not true, I actually am curious as to what prompted the name… is the pizza a la parrilla (a la piedra, more standard thin crust, is also available), which is delivered with little aplomb and less interest by a world weary waiter. Then again, that seemed the general tenor of the place. Two guys behind the counter spent most of the evening text messaging on their phones, looking up only briefly when someone walked in the door. Two women off in the corner who seemed to be the cashiers of sorts (already an awful lot of staff when you add in two waiters, for a relatively small restaurant with a whopping six customers in it), came as close to sitting around knitting afghans as they could without the needles and yarn. The cook, apparently, since we got the pizza in reasonably short order, did manage to produce it. And, it wasn’t bad. The crust, nice and thin and with a bit of a smoky crunch to it. The sauce, a bit of herbal and garlic zip. Decent mozzarella and likewise the goat’s cheese on the other half. In fact, the only thing I’d fault the pizza on, and it wasn’t the pizza’s fault at all, was its size. As I’ve pointed out before, the usual litany of sizes here – individual, chica, grande – almost always is touted as 4, 6 and 8 pieces – but those pieces are subject to interpretation, and here, they were a bit skimpy. Make that a lot skimpy – I could easily have eaten the 6 piece one myself. We left hungry, and, walked the 9 blocks down to Haysam where we sat and had a shawarma and some kebbe – the former being raised up a notch or so this time around – the two men who were running the place that eve were friendly and helpful, no one was screaming at anyone else, and, they had locoto en polvo – ground, dried rocoto peppers (Bolivians call them locotos) available to sprinkle into the shawarma and give it a nice kick. So, back to 1893, at least for the review, since I’m unlikely to go back to it in person, I give it an “okay” bordering on “recommended” – it was good enough, but the oh-so disinterested service and the small size of the pizza leave plenty of other spots out there far more interesting.

 Because not much was written about the origin of phở until recently, its beginnings are a bit murky and mostly culled from oral histories. Still, the consensus among academics, diners and restaurateurs is that it originated about a century ago in northern Vietnam. It was originally sold by venders from large boxes, until the first phở restaurant was opened in the 1920s in Hanoi. While a distinctly Vietnamese dish, phở has French and Chinese influences. The origin of the word was one subject in a seminar on ph? held in Hanoi in 2003. One theory advanced at the seminar is that the name comes from the French feu (fire), as in the dish pot-au-feu, which like phở uses the French method of adding charred o­nion to the broth for color and flavor, one of the techniques which distinguishes phở from other Asian noodle soups.”

- Wikipedia entry

Buenos Aires – I don’t recall how it came up, but a couple of my students asked for a class in making the Vietnamese classic noodle soup, phở. While I could probably have followed a recipe and shown them something, it wouldn’t necessarily have been the authentic version, and it occured to me that our new friend Thuy, who runs the closed door restaurant A Little Saigon might just know a thing or two about the dish. Though she hadn’t considered giving classes, she readily agreed, and earlier this week myself, three students, and one of her regular guests, all turned up for a morning session. She added in a couple of other recipes – one of my favorite Vietnamese appetizers, banh tom, which are deep-fried sweet potato and shrimp fritters, along with their dipping sauce, nước chấm, and finishing off with che chuoi, banana, tapioca and coconut soup. On to the photos….

Thuy shows off the rice flour for the fritters

Mixing up the batter for the fritters

Into the oil to fry ‘em up

Ready for eating

Close up on our banh tom

Prepping ingredients for the phở

Cleaning up the charred onions and ginger

Putting together the phở bowls

Ready to dig in

Closeup on the finished phở

Cooking up tapioca pearls for the che chuoi

Stewing away with the bananas

And, a closeup on the che chuoi

 Similar to a small mango in appearance, lucuma is green-skinned when young, ripening to a warm red. Round or oval in shape, the fruit has golden flesh and a distinct, fragrant flavour, said to be similar to that of maple syrup.”

- from 1001 Foods You Must Try Before You Die

Buenos Aires – The walls were a glowing yellow orange color, and it took us a moment before we both declared, “Hey, it’s the color of the inside of a lucuma!” Henry and I had headed off to one of the locales amongst the growing number of moderate to high-end Peruvian and Peruvian fusion restaurants that seem to be springing up in every corner of Buenos Aires. Lucumma (no idea why a double “m”), at Olazábal 1679 in Belgrano (at the far end of Barrio Chino), 4784-9167, bills itself as serving cocina inka, whatever that may have been. Not that we were expecting some sort of 500 year old recipes, and, as it turned out, the menu is very classic, current, Peruvian cooking.

We started off with a couple of pisco sours – the only cocktails offered – we went for the “premium” pisco, coming in at 18 pesos a drink (but then, the “regular”, a supermarket brand pisco that we pretty much only use for cooking, comes in at 15, so it was likely worth it). Then, on to a trio of appetizers to share:

A quite good tamal, really quite good – made with the right kind of corn, steamed properly, and well-flavored. Slightly less picante than we tend to like, but still decently seasoned, and a request for hot sauce garnered us a bowl filled with finely chopped rocoto peppers – perfect!

Two nicely skewered anticuchos – grilled beef heart – a bit underseasoned we thought – they clearly hadn’t marinated long enough in the pepper sauce – also a little undercooked, as you can see they’re leaking blood onto the plate – I don’t mind rare meat, but Henry usually screams Tan Crudo! – interesting that he only commented on it but didn’t ask for them to be cooked more – either it was because it was a Peruvian restaurant where he didn’t want to offend, or he’s getting more used to rare meat….

One of our favorite potato dishes, ocopa – not bad, but a little heavy on the walnuts in the sauce and a little light on the huacatay herb – it just wasn’t quite balanced right – but, we ate every bit and still mopped up the sauce.

Moving on to the main courses – the menu offers up quite a few varieties of ceviche, from a simple classic of mero, or sea bass, which is Henry’s favorite, and pictured here, to some intricate fusion varieties of one sort or another that didn’t actually sound that intriguing. This one was pristinely fresh and well prepared – short a little on the peppers again, but easily remedied.

I opted for one of the chef’s suggestions, and went with the mero con mariscos – again the sea bass, in lightly floured and pan-fried fillets, topped with a delicious mixed seafood and mild pepper sauce.

Overall, loved the ambiance. Service was friendly and helpful. They could use beefing up their bar and wine programs – the former, as noted, only consisting of two liquors and the same drink made from each, the latter a very short list of very usual suspects – big commerial brands here that give major discounts to show up on list after list. The food – quite good. A bit more picante would be nice, but given the neighborhood, and the clientele who were there, I’d guess that for most of them, it was probably spicy enough. Pricing, not too bad – we spent 156 pesos before tip, including a whopping 36 for the drinks; having ordered an extra appetizer to try (apps in the mid-teens, mains in the high 20s/low 30s), and a cubierto charge (I hate those) of 3 pesos each.

 It isn’t what they say about you, it’s what they whisper.”

- Errol Flynn, actor

Buenos Aires – Joining our various centenarians for their birthday celebrations, this last weekend saw our tribute to Errol Flynn, Hollywood’s original sex symbol. Born in Tasmania, and living out a good part of his adult life in Hollywood and Port Antonio, Jamaica, as well as a certain fondness for the Irish, he gave us all sorts of options to work with for a menu….

Starting from the Tasmania end of things, a popular starter of smoked salmon and arugular “roll-ups”, which I simply re-worked one of my favorite little appetizers to produce, smoked salmon around homemade cream cheese, served over a warm, caramelized sweet potato disk (caramelized in orange juice, dijon mustart, sweet white wine, brown sugar and salt), and added in a simple arugula salad tossed with picual olive oil, salt and pepper.

Moving on to our soup, and a touch of a curry spice inspired by Jamaican cuisine – a fairly classic vegetable soup in this case where I cooked onions, garlic, carrots and celery in a little oil until just starting to turn golden, then added some homemade toasted curry powder, cooked that a few minutes to develop the aromas, then a bunch of diced zucchini, one finely diced potato to put some starch in the soup to thicken it, and a couple of diced apples. To finish, I took a few ladlefuls of the soup out, pureed them in the blender and added them back in for a richer texture. A drizzle of unsweetened yogurt and some chopped cilantro and celery leaves finished it off.

Goat’s cheese is a popular ingredient down under, or at least as some purport things to be in Hobart. Initially I was thinking of a goat’s cheese filled ravioli with a roasted red pepper sauce, something simple and clean. However, I had a couple of request for “lactose free” (left the cream cheese out of the salmon roll and the yogurt off the soup), and the best way to handle this dish was a simple reversal. I roasted red, yellow and green bell peppers, peeled them, finely diced them and added peeled, seeded and diced tomatoes along with some finely chopped sauteed shallots. I let those drain to get rid of excess liquid for awhile, then made ravioli with that as the filling. The sauce was a mix of fresh chevre, cream, garlic, rosemary, thyme, oregano and basil, salt and white pepper, all simmered together slowly to thicken it slightly and meld the flavors – for the lactose free version, just simply infused some olive oil with the garlic and herbs.

According to one or another source, Errol’s favorite dinner was Irish pasties with deviled tomatoes – the former more or less a giant empanada filled with Irish stew. I decided to stick with a stew – browned some yellow onions, garlic and leeks, then added cubes of beef (cuadril, or rump roast) and cooked until those were browned. Added lemon juice, worcestershire sauce, bay leaves, smoked paprika, cloves, sugar, salt and pepper, and cooked a few more minutes, then topped it off with a bottle of stout, covered the pan and let it cook for about two hours over low heat. At that point I added slices of carrots, celery, and a mix of diced regular potatoes and small Andean potatoes, and button mushrooms. Covered it back up and let it go another hour and it was ready to serve. The little pastry is empanada dough cut in triangles, sprinkled with hot paprika and smoked salt and baked. The deviled tomato is a round, vine-ripened tomato with the top cut off, then a paste of olive oil, garlic, dijon mustard and mustard powder, and cayenne flakes, is spread over the top, left to sit a couple of hours, then baked in the oven, finishing it off after they’re cooked through by sticking them under the broiler to brown them. We also had a couple of vegetarian requests – so simply substituted “vegetarian oyster sauce”, or mushroom sauce, for the worcestershire, and a mix of brown mushrooms and baby portobellos for the meat – less cooking time too – just about 20 minutes where the meat had been let to go two hours.

I’d looked at a dish called Port Antonio Orange Trifle as a possibility, but I’ve been having fun with classic tarts lately – if you look back at the recipe for the Lemon Kiss Tart that I’ve made before – it was that crust, done in small tartlet shells, and the filling was made with a mix of roughly equal parts of lemon and orange and about half the amount of lime – both zest and juice. Atop, a simple orange curd, which after the first night I decided was overkill in terms of sweetness and dropped it from the dish on the succeeding nights. A little grated bittersweet chocolate, and, voila!

 Doubts and mistrust are the mere panic of timid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the large mind transcend.”

- Helen Keller

Buenos Aires – There is a Constantín pizzeria in Pile, Italy, another in Menaggio on Lake Como, and a third in Brasov, Romania. There are likely others, and there’s certainly now one here in Buenos Aires, in Puerto Madero, at Alicia Moreau de Justo 1798, on the canal side. Having recently had two dreadful Puerto Madero “dining” experiences, and I use that term at the loosest possible, and generally avoiding eating in the area anyway, I had my doubts about checking out a new pizza a la parrilla spot there – but, I’m looking for the good stuff, and who knows where one will find it? And, I’ve always enjoyed Minna, which is in the zone. So, off we went the other day to check it out.

And, I’m glad we did. Constantín’s pizza turns out to be quite good, and for PM, not badly priced. The crust is nice and smoky and lightly crispy from the fires, the cheese, of which it’s hard to tell in the photo, but there are two different types on the different halves, mozzarella and goat’s cheese, are good if slightly bland, at least not oily. I can’t tell you about the tomato sauce since, after we got the pizza, we realized we’d ordered our two selections both of varieties that didn’t have sauce on them. But there’s a nice sprinkling of herbs over the whole thing, which gives good flavor. The toppings were fresh, and good. Overall, quite high marks – especially that crust. The menu offers a choice of a la parrilla or a la piedra – grilled very thin or oven-baked thin crust – and 32 different combinations, including the two we picked – a smoked bacon and mozzarella, and a sun-dried tomato and goat’s cheese. Definitely recommended!