SaltShaker

 Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.”

- Theodore Roosevelt

Buenos Aires – Forget that it looks like you’ve just stepped onto the set of an Austin Powers movie. Forget that you are surrounded by strip clubs and telos. Just relax and let the folks at Cilantro, Anchorena 1122, 4966-2941, in Recoleta, serve you up some fun and really quite good pan-Asian cooking. Truly, upon setting foot in this bizarrely decorated space on a block devoid of any charm, I didn’t expect we’d have a good meal. Thank goodness for the surprise factor.

Try to ignore the red light. Cameras don’t take good photos in red light, something which this space has in abundance. I suppose it’s good for your night vision. So I had to work these photos more than a hooker at a bar and her “date”. We started off with a plate of a dozen plus mildly spicy chicken wings. These aren’t buffalo wings, but they’re meaty and tasty, and I’d have been happy with just a platter of them and a beer. It did occur to me that I was fairly certain that the menu said 8 pieces and we had somewhere around fourteen – that might have been my first clue that our waiter was flirting. That, or the fact that he was just pretty shameless about it.

Next clue might have been his murmurred, “There’ll be a delay until your main course, so I thought I’d bring you a sushi roll.” Salmon, cream cheese, avocado, not my favorite combo for sushi, but the roll was well made and the wasabi was nicely pungent.

Perhaps the two rounds of on-the-house cocktails, on top of the one that I’d ordered. Or maybe that I ordered up the glazed pork ribs, Indian style, and he delivered two huge, meaty pork chops (I really did kind of want to try the ribs – or maybe it’s just a misprint…), perched atop a mound of spiced potatoes and cabbage.

Or, that he just sort of plopped the plate of Chiang Mai Noodles in front of Barbara, and, hmm, didn’t really pay much attention to her during the evening.

Or when he kept standing behind me to look over my shoulder as I took photos.

Or chatting about his life… okay, I did ask a few questions, I mean, he was cute, and I can at least look at the menu even if I can’t order from it….

Or even the round of digestif tea packed with lemon, ginger and mint at the end of the meal.

Or the discount he threw in on top of all that.

But no, it didn’t really occur to me that he could be flirting… right?

Good thing that the food was good, gives me a valid reason for going back.

 Take a lesson from this old Parisian
And the finest entertainment she/he has known.
Folies Bergères
What a showing of color, costume, and dancing!
Not a moment in life could be more entrancing
Than an evening you spend aux Folies Bergères.”

- lyrics from Folies Bergères

Buenos Aires – Being the 140th anniversary of the opening the Folies Bergères in Paris, how could we resist a little French bistro dinner here at Casa S? Not having been the site of any dining, there were no menus to look back at – it was a place to drink and watch. New York, briefly, had a Folies Bergères of its own that for an even briefer time was a supper club, but it was a bit of a disaster, and besides, based on the menus I found, not particularly interesting food. I decided instead to base the dinner on ideas from my last trip to Paris and dining at some of the more interesting and creative modern bistros.

We began the evening with a beet, almond and orange tartlet – roasted the beets wrapped in foil with a couple of cloves of garlic, let them cool and diced them. Toasted the almond slivers. Made a custard of 1½ cups of heavy cream, warmed, infused with a teaspoon of thyme leaves and the grated peel of an orange. Let it cool, strained it, added the juice of the orange, then whisked it well with five whole eggs, ¼ cup of grated parmigiano, some salt and pepper. Made a tart crust – 400 grams cake flour, 360 grams cold butter, ½ teaspoon vinegar, 1 teaspoon each of sugar and salt. Lined tartlet pans, docked the dough, pre-baked them for about 7-8 minutes. Filled each with a mix of the beets and almonds, then poured the custard mixture in to just fill. Baked in the oven until set. Topped each with a thin slice of orange that had been dehydrated in the oven, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt, pepper, and thyme. Served warm with a little mixed herb salad scattered about (tarragon, parsley, mint).

Inspired by a recipe from Country Living magazine, this turned out to be one of the best soups I think we’ve served in a long time – though I made a number of changes to the original recipe. I made a brown chicken stock first, then strained that over a coarsely chopped head of cauliflower, a couple of small fennel bulbs, a potato and a white onion. Added a couple of bay leaves and a half dozen threads of saffron. Simmered all that together until the vegetables were soft, pureed it and adjusted the seasoning with salt and white pepper. Made a small “salad” of chopped vine-ripened tomatoes, black olives, and crumbled goat cheese, which I piled in the center of the dish and then ladled the soup around.

The surprising, and runaway hit of the evening – especially as, for the first time in our history of being open, I had half a dozen requests that more or less started with “ewwwww” and to have their gnocchi without the prime sauce ingredient, sweetbreads. By the time both nights of the dinners had rolled around, four of the six had been in BA long enough to have tried sweetbreads somewhere, and fallen in love with them, so they rescinded their requests, and the remaining two simply told me they’d give ‘em a shot. Much easier on me than keeping two sauces going. The gnocchi, a simple recipe of three potatoes, boiled (skin on) until soft, then cooled enough to handle, the skins removed, and beaten together lightly with two cups of bread flour, two eggs, salt, pepper, and a whole head of soft, creamy, roasted garlic. Left to sit for a little while, then using a small melon ball scooper, scooped into boiling salted water and left to boil until they floated. Into a warm oven in a pan with a little olive oil to help prevent sticking (didn’t use enought the first night and some of them clumped together) and kept hot.

The sauce – sauteed half a cup of hazelnuts and two tablespoons of grated horseradish in olive oil until lightly toasted, added half a pound each of halved white button mushrooms and small porcini, cooked until they were soft and starting to brown, added a cup of cream and a handful of chopped chives. Meanwhile… I’d poached sweetbreads in lightly vinegared vegetable water (in the next recipe I had to blanch and shock a bunch of vegetables, so I had this nicely vegetable flavored water… a light stock would work too), left them to cool, then broken them into pieces about the same size as the mushroom halves, coated them in cornstarch, salt and pepper, and fried them until golden brown. At the last minute before serving I mixed them into the cream sauce and ladled it over the gnocchi.

Originally I was going to make a classic blanquette de veau, veal stewed in a white sauce – the problem is, that veal here isn’t a “white meat” – it’s more like what we’d call baby beef, and in experimenting with it, it more or less screws up the dish – turning the sauce more of a soft brown color. Plus, the main vegetable in a blanquette is generally turnips, which simply aren’t available here. So I decided on one of my favorite chicken dishes (which also handled three requests for a substitution for “red meat” – interestingly, all of them ate the sweetbreads…), a Fricasée. Served it alongside a panaché of vegetables – seperately blanched and shocked carrot slices, corn right off the cob, green beans, broccoli, and fresh peas out of the pod (then used the water to poach the sweetbreads, as noted above). About 10-15 minutes before serving, I took the cold vegetables and sauteed them in a pot with lots of butter and some salt and pepper.

This was inspired by online co-food blogger Stephen at Stephencooks, though, I didn’t follow his recipe too closely. I dissolved a half cup of sugar in a liter of milk and half a liter of water, warmed it up, and then proceeded to make a classic risotto using about a pound of carnaroli rice, after first lightly toasting the grains in butter. When the risotto reached the right creamy al dente stage, I stirred in two egg yolks. I made a simple compote of three diced pears and two diced green apples, cooked with half a cup of sugar, a teaspoon of cinnamon and a half teaspoon of cardamom – covered pot, low heat, cooked until soft, stirring occasionally. I dusted the bowls with a little cinnamon, then ladled a scoop of the finished risotto into the bottom and topped it with the warm compote (first night I reversed that, but didn’t like the presentation as well).

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 I love your jellyroll. It do’s me good deep down in my soul.

- Lonnie Johnson, from the lyrics to He’s a Jelly Roll Baker

Buenos Aires – This odd looking thing is a pionono de pollo or arrollado de pollo. The pionono itself is the cake that’s wrapped around the outside, and, make no mistake, it’s cake – it’s the cake one uses for a jellyroll – equal parts flour and sugar with a little baking powder and some eggs to hold it together. The difference from the classic norteamericano or european jellyroll is that here in Argentina, it’s not filled with jelly or whipped cream or that sort of thing, but this sweet sheet of cake is rolled around chicken or tuna salad. Never let it be said that Argentines don’t have a sweet-tooth.

This particular version comes from the little casa de comida a block from us, they don’t have it often, but I had to sample it when I saw it. The first time I tried it, I’d say it was just sort of palate shocking, but ya know, it kinda grows on you…. I may actually have to play around with this in the kitchen.

Now, I wonder if anyone’s topped one with dulce de leche….

The ideal customer doesn’t come to El Bulli to eat,” Adria has declared, “but to have an experience,” inadvertently revealing not just the purpose of the operation, but also that there is an ideal customer, which may very well not be you, who merely wants to eat. The fact that eating is rather low down the priority list of molecular cooking is evidenced not just by the proliferation of foams and froths, crumbs and powders, but by the global obsession with serving a multiplicity of tiny courses, for which the inaccurate analogy is usually Spanish tapas.”

- Stuart Walton, Restaurant Revolutions

Buenos Aires – Having just gotten into the whole last post on ethics and disclosure and all that, let me start this review off by stating, upfront, that I’m not the ideal customer for molecular cooking. I find it an interesting curiosity, a conceit at times, a fun little fad, and, in the hands of a truly good chef, an amazing adjunct to the cuisine. In the hands of the average cook it is about as appetizing as the cheese powder that comes in a blue-box mac ‘n cheese, a canister of foaming non-dairy whipped topping, or a piece of fruit rollup that’s been sitting on the candy shelf since last John Frum Day. Experimentation for experimentation’s sake is all well and good when you’re sitting alone in your apartment, trying out ideas, but when you stick it prettily on a plate and charge people a pretty peso for it, it better be past the experimental stage.

I admit to a secret passion – I love watching all those various types of competition cooking shows. Some of them for the sheer interesting creations and inspirations – the original Iron Chef, Iron Chef America, The Chopping Block – come to mind. Others, because they push people to do more than they’re used to doing – to get them out of their complacency – Gordon Ramsey’s shows are probably the best exponents. I may not particularly care for his made up persona on the air, but when I’m sitting in front of a plate of some god-awful creation that’s wrapped up in a bow and that everyone is oohing and aahing over, I keep hearing Gordon’s voice in my ear screaming “But did you taste it first?!”

So, if you want to save yourself a bit of reading, and looking at dimly lit pictures, let me state upfront that it would take a major payment of some sort (small unmarked bills, non-sequential serial numbers, no dye packs in the package please) to get me back into La Vinería de Gualterio Bolivar, Bolivar 865 in San Telmo, 4361-4709. If that makes me unpopular with those who think it’s the most amazing thing since sliced bread, so be it. I’ll go hang with Stuart Walton (quoted above) and have some good food. At a minimum, that gives you two extra seats in the restaurant that you’re welcome to.

Let me start with what I expected: An overwrought room. Lots of foams, froths, crumbs, powders, gels, etc. Lots of interesting, very intense flavors. Really small portions and probably leaving hungry. Waiters (and chefs) who think that not only do they know more than you, a mere customer, could ever know, but defy you to do anything other than what you’re told to. Pretty much the experiences I’ve had in other temples of molecular cooking. Here’s where the problem starts… expectations, you know?

The room’s not overwrought, in fact, it’s quite a charming little space. While there are lots of foams, froths, crumbs, powders, gels, etc., they’re not the principle components of any of the dishes, they’re accents, little surprises. Hey, they’re doing well so far. Indeed, really small portions – in fact, our waiter upfront told us that if we didn’t order the full 11 course tasting menu (160 pesos) and settled on the 7 or 9, we’d leave hungry. While friendly about everything, he kept trying to change what I wanted to order for wine (options are by the bottle, or by the glass from anything that’s on the bottle list – but everyone at the table has to have the same glass of wine at the same time – charge is for 1/4 of the bottle, the pour is about 1/8 of the bottle – it’s hard for me to pay 20-30 pesos for a tasting sized glass of wine, especially when I serve some of the same wines in the same portions and only charge 8-10 pesos – and I’m buying retail!). Only twice did he try to tell us how to eat what was on our plates and he wasn’t pushy about it. On the other hand, I had to argue with him about slowing the pace down – as five plates had already hit our table within the first 40 minutes from the moment we’d arrived – his initial response, “If we don’t, you’ll be here more than 2-1/2 hours and that’s not acceptable.” It took three requests and a threat to send a plate back if it came quickly again to get the kitchen to slow down.

Here’s where the problem is… the food itself. Pretty, interesting presentation and touches, and with only a couple of exceptions, underseasoned, off-balance flavors, and, simply, poor choices of combinations. Gordon’s whisper popped up into my head repeatedly….

I was worried that this first thing to be plopped on the table, was a “course”. My dining companion felt not, and he turned out to be right – not because it was “too small”, as several others were just as small, but because this was the bread and olive oil, the latter whipped with glycerine in order give it a sort of strange slimy texture. The breadsticks, well, let’s just point out that that’s a shotglass they’re in. No seasoning. Oh, and we got a cocktail – a shot of cachaca flavored with ginger, honey, and passionfruit – I think they forgot the honey, there was no sweetness, just acidity – and very watered down, they’d done it as a frozen drink, probably blended with ice, and it was… insipid.

No, this was the first course, the apertivos, a trio of: unseasoned, refrigerator cold salmon gravlax; the best thing we were served – a liquid center ball of spinach soup surrounded by a crust and topped with caramelized lemon peel; and, a “bonbon” of foie gras pate that was fine. Ordered a couple of glasses of Quara Reserva Torrontés to go with the first couple of courses – amazingly rich, deep, complex torrontés with wildflowers, peach and apricot, and a touch of oak.

Missed the photo on the next course, a salad of cruciferos – some cold, chilled, undressed brussels sprouts, kale, and a couple of other greens with a puree of lettuce off to the side and a faint dusting of paprika and pepper in one corner.

The only other thing we really liked during the evening (I should point out, my dining companion had not been to any molecular cooking spots before and wasn’t coming in with the same preconceptions, yet we agreed on almost every dish, point for point) – the egg toast – an egg yolk wrapped in a thin bread crust and fried, served with a sheep’s milk cheese foam, a drizzle of chicken jus and some freeze-dried truffle. Flavors great, doesn’t stand up to the truffled egg toast at ‘ino on the Lower East Side, but then, what does?

About this time, the chef wandered in, bag over his shoulder, waved to the guys in the open kitchen, went over and chatted with a couple at one table who were clearly friends or regulars, and then went upstairs, returning only about an hour later, with an empty wineglass in hand, chatted with the same table, looked into the kitchen again, and left. Our waiter, on prompting, admitted that the chef never actually cooks in the restaurant except to introduce a new dish to his staff, then leaves them to deal with it. Guess he’s too important to actually work. Sorry, snarky moment.

The surf and turf of the evening, or mar y montaña as the combo is called here – on the menu listed as “scallops and lamb” – a few scattered bay scallops and some lamb’s tongues, both poached, little seasoning, and served with a spoonful of sickly sweet squash puree. Ordered a couple of glasses of the Cruzat Rosé Brut sparkling – 100% pinot noir, rich, ripe fruit, tangy acidity, great finish.

Overcooked to the edge of that squeaky point piece of salmón blanco, not really a salmon, but behaves kind of like one, in what was purported to be oyster consommé, tasting of, maybe, the water that some oysters were soaking in, and black tea “noodles” – overgelled to the point of being rubbery, and with almost no discernable tea flavor, and garnished with some scraggly, borderline rotting, pieces of dill. No seasoning on or in anything.

Missed another photo – a confit of rabbit – dried out shreds of rabbit that were actually dry to the point of being crusty in points, like the shredded meat’s been sitting in the refrigerator for a couple of days, without plastic wrap. Served in a tasteless foam of green apple over a tiny baton of green apple gel that at least had some flavor.

Ordered a couple of glasses of Finca Morera Cabernet Franc 2002 to go with our two meat courses – smoky, bacon fat, black olives, dark red fruit, everything a Cab Franc should be, and inexpensive (at most places, not here) to boot.

Remember Clara Peller, the “Where’s the beef?” lady from the commercials? I want to title this dish, “Where’s the lamb?” Offered up as a “remembrance of Bahia Blanca 1991″, apparently having something to do with the chef’s father, and stated as “Lamb and Peas” – it’s a crispy springroll shell filled with layers of, from the bottom up, fava bean puree (unseasoned), barely cooked peas, a single baby carrot, and a crouton. A teaspoonful of sauce in the bottom, on questioning, turned out to be the “lamb” in question, in the form of a jus.

A very nicely cooked piece of medium rare to rare rib-eye, though, a trifle chewy we both thought, served up with a Malbec reduction sauce painted on the plate – way too sweet, almost barbecue sauce level. The “turnip and ratatouille” turned out to be that postage stamp sized packet off to the side, an ice cold bit of finely chopped, overcooked peppers, wrapped inside a thin sheet of raw turnip – okay, probably not completely raw, but just blanched enough to make it pliable. Did I mention ice cold? Or flavorless?

Another couple of photos missed – the pear and spice bread “pre-dessert” was a small square of pear (cut cross-section, meaning it included the seeds from the pear in it – kind of weird and unpleasant), sandwiched between two tuile-thin pieces of “spice bread”, some pear “caviar” – gelled pear juice that couldn’t have been recognized as pear flavor if we hadn’t been told, and a streak of anise caramel that tasted like jagermeister or something similar. That, followed by a classic of the molecular cooking world – some brownie “crumbs”, a scoop of gelled yogurt, some chocolate cream, a goat cheese ice cream (the best thing on the plate), and a chocolate foam. Yawn.

Finally, and yes, this was a course, the petits fours, served up in an old saccharine pellet dish – one each balls of sweet chocolate ganache, each topped with a flake of Maldon salt. Oh the daring….

Let me just say, harking back to the whole thing about the chef – it’s great to have confidence in your staff – but, if, and I have no way of knowing since he wasn’t cooking and apparently rarely does cook at the restaurant anymore, if he’s a far better chef than what this food indicates, his confidence is misplaced and he needs to spend some time back in the kitchen getting things back on track. The biggest tell, dish after dish, was the complete lack of any seasoning, even something as basic as a sprinkle of salt. They have, by the way, an open kitchen, and not once did I ever see anyone taste anything, they were just pulling stuff out of containers and out of pans and arranging them on plates.

Did I mention you can have my seat at the table if you like?

 I try to live up to my standards and not sink down to my principles.

- paraphrase of an old movie quote that I can’t quite remember, but it fits…

Buenos Aires – The blogosphere is abuzz, yes abuzz I tell you. First it was a week or two ago’s big kerfuffle over Dr. Vino calling out the Wine Advocate on writer Jay Miller accepting all sorts of freebies on his trips, things that Robert Parker specifically claims he doesn’t allow for himself or writers in his magazine. Initially there was denial from the WA camp, circling the wagons, and then there was silence. The momentum built as some (believe me, nowhere near all) of the stuff got publicly revealed, with evidence to back it. At that point, Parker had no choice but to respond, and he did, basically saying that neither he nor his guys would have anything to do with the organization down here that sponsored the trip anymore. And, lashing out at his critics, whom he lumped together as “blobbers”, as he chooses to call bloggers (he said it, I didn’t), and likening us to a cabal of jihadists out for blood. While I like and respect Parker, that was just crap, and unworthy of him. But the whole thing called attention to “ethics” of bloggers and journalists, and everyone and their mother started to weigh in on the subject, with some of the more prominent wine bloggers calling for “everyone who blogs about wine must state their code of ethics openly on their blog”.

This week, the buzz is food bloggers. Don’t know if there was a precipitating factor, but a couple of bloggers decided to create a website called Food Ethics, and, surprise, surprise, a Food Blog Code of Ethics to which they, upfront, state they’re simply doing to “draw attention to food bloggers who hold themselves to a higher standard”. Now, every food blogger out there is oohing and aahing over it. We have a code, oh joy, no one can criticize us anymore, see, there it is….

Hogwash, Balderdash, Bullshit…. if I may use those terms, and I apologize if I offended anyone with any of those words, but this is just nonsense. Here’s the thing. I’ve been a journalist, no wait, I still am, I write, openly, for magazines and newspapers in various spots around the world. And I often get paid for that. When I write for them, I am, as far as I am concerned, completely beholden to accepted journalistic standards, loose as those may often be. In those fora you can count on my journalistic integrity.

My blog, as I’ve stated often enough in posts, in response to comments, in e-mails, is nothing more than an online diary about my food, wine and travel adventures and whatever else I feel like posting about. No one, really, no one, gets to hold me to any standards. If I wanted it to be an online “journal” with journalistic standards, I’d charge you guys a subscription fee and get paid, probably not much, to do this. Last I checked, I pay for this site and can pretty much do what I want with it.

Now, some of what they state in their code is just fine – I mean, my blog is about as far from anonymous as it can be – I’ve got a picture, a bio, many of my readers have been to my home, they know where I live and work, so to speak. But no, I’m not going to promise to be civil, other than as civil as my mom and dad raised me to be, and sometimes I may step outside of that – not often because it’s not my style, but sometimes. Revealing bias? Gifts? Comps? Conflicts of interest? Maybe, depends, I usually do say something if I got something for free or if I’m friends with a chef or whatever it may be, but nope, don’t promise to do so. In terms of what they consider to be “the rules of good journalism” – yeah, fine – not because of the code of ethics, but just because I respect other writers and photographers out there and if they wrote something or took a photo, and I’m using it for some reason, I’m giving them their props. And I ask for and hope for the same. Common courtesy, not a professional code.

So, in sum, I’m not subscribing to the codes of ethics proposed by any of the bandwagon hopping, flag waving, cheerleading crowd on either the food or wine blogging side. All that speechifyin’ just reminds me of one of those high school or college organizations where someone in the corner starts whining about how we have to have rules, how we can’t just go do things, and in order to shut them up, everyone sighs and raises their hand to approve the charter or the code or the procedural manual, and pretty soon, kills the organization.

So, here’s what you get from me – I promise to post my opinons, speculations, researches, conjectures, etc. about whatever I feel like doing so, and, to do my best to keep it entertaining. Totally subjective, no pretense at objectivity. Anything else, any expectations, standards, ethics, rules, or the like – just be clear that they’re yours, not mine.

I imagine at least a few of you will manage to live with that.

 The “double speak” in tourism material, in a country as new and immature as Argentina is to tourism, is lamentably common, much like the “double price” (for foreigners versus locals) that many practice since the devaluation of the peso, starting with our own Argentine government. That “native cunning”, along with the inefficiency of domestic air transport is in my opinion, the major threat to the future of tourism in Buenos Aires and Argentina.

- Diego Bigongiari, BUE, Buenos Aires and Surrounds, Traveler’s Guide [my translation]

Buenos Aires – Most of us have gotten used to the double pricing for many things here in Argentina and particularly in Buenos Aires. However, the majority of those have been things that have some level of government sponsorship or ownership, or at least patronage – museums, state theaters, domestic airlines, national and state parks. The general approach is that legal residents (which includes foreigners who have a national identity card and residency visa) get a 50% discount – the tacit assumption being that they pay some level of taxes and that that entitles them to a better rate. The truth is, those without simply pay double – the unspoken part being “they’re all rich foreigners and we poor Argentines deserve everything we can take from them”. The monetary effect is the same, the psychological is not.

I’ve even seen or heard of the occasional foreigner who gets hit for “the same price” but gets told that the “$” in front of the price stands for dollars, not pesos. Not true – the standard here, and anyone who lives here knows it, is that if the price is in dollars they use “US$” or “U$” or even “U$S” in front of the numbers – a dollar sign by itself is a peso sign. Period. Punto.

Today, a friend who is headed down to visit sent me a query, as one of the hotels that I’ve recommended, many times over the last few years, seemed to be charging him an exhorbitant rate. Indeed, it was easily double his last visit, less than two years ago. The hotel, the Juncal Palace Hotel, here in my ‘hood. And, I went to their site…

…and, right there, in black and white (and, by the way, illegal here for a private business, I should point out), a rate sheet giving, basically, one-third off to residents, or, more accurately, charging foreigners a 40% upcharge, simply because they foreigners. Needless to say, this place just came off my recommended list. Now, I know they’re not beholden to me, but over the last four plus years I’ve probably sent them 25-30 customers. No more. Same goes for anyplace else I find doing the same thing. Period. Punto.

 Caramels are only a fad. Chocolate is a permanent thing.”

- Milton S. Hershey, entrepreneur

Buenos Aires – The 102nd anniversary of the opening of Hersheypark, the amusement park created by Milton S. Hershey, seemed about as good a weekend as any to host our second Casa SaltShaker all-chocolate dinner. From my perspective, a far better result than the first dinner we offered – the dishes more creative, the flavors more integrated, and, I think, the guests enjoyed it more.

White chocolate is always a hard one to work with – first off, there’s the whole “it’s not really chocolate” conversation. Yet, while it may not be my favorite form of chocolate, I’ve never been known to turn it down. Neither, apparently, has Chef Ken Gladysz of The Hotel Hershey, from whom the idea behind this dish came. The differences… hmmm… used my own ricotta cheesecake recipe rather than the cream cheese one he provided – eliminating the sugar from it and adding in roughly the same proportions he advocated of the avocado and white chocolate (hard to find the unsweetened stuff here it turns out). I used king crab legs from Patagonia, chopped up and sauteed with shallots, then cooled, mixed with olive oil, tarragon and parsley leaves and chopped chives. And, I roasted cherry tomatoes in butter and vanilla to accompany. Still, the principle and flavor profile of the dish is probably pretty darned close to his original, and I was quite happy with it, so hats off to him!

Next up, the soup. Not one of my favorites in the end, and my least favorite dish of the evening – unusual for us, no? The base, I browned chicken wings, carrots, celery, onions and garlic in a splash of olive oil, then added bay leaf, parsley, black peppercorns and salt, and topped it up with the whey from making the ricotta. Simmered that until I had a nice rich chicken stock, about 45 minutes. Then I strained the liquid over some cubed butternut squash, added cumin and bitter cocoa and simmered that until the squash was soft. Pureed it and finished it with cream, and adjusted the seasoning to taste (a bit of salt, black pepper, cumin and cocoa). Drizzled with a little sour cream to serve.

This, I think, was my favorite dish of the evening. First, it’s not often that I can find fresh catfish here, so I was happy when I was able to get some. I crusted the fillets in a mix of panko (Japanese bread) crumbs, ground pecans, and powdered cocoa husk – and then broiled them. The sauce, a blend of roasted red bell pepper and chili with bourbon, maple syrup, butter and a stand-in for Mexican chocolate – using grated bittersweet chocolate, pulverized almonds and cinnamon.

Having recently made this dish several times for our “Color Palate of Italy” class, and it being a hit amongst the students, I had to go with a sweet and sour pork shoulder. It’s based on a traditional Sardinian dish of wild boar in a sweet and sour chocolate sauce. I cook a bit of diced bacon until it’s rendered most of its fat, then add the pork shoulder steaks (bondiola), lightly dusted in flour, brown them on both sides, then pour a mixture of red wine, red wine vinegar, sugar, bay leaf, yellow raisins, prunes, bitter chocolate, cinnamon and nutmeg over the top, cover the pot, and let it braise for about forty minutes, turning the steaks over once every ten to minutes or so. Towards the end I take the lid off so that the sauce reduces and thickens. We served this over polenta made with half milk and half water and then finished with butter and salt.

Sometimes, elegant presentation is unneccesary. I mean, who’s going to turn down a slab of thick, gooey, rich, dark chocolate cake, spiked with chilies, and served up with a fig icing. The cake based on this recipe on Confessions of a Foodaholic – but made as one large cake rather than cupcakes, used cake flour rather than all-purpose, doubled the amount of chili (wasn’t using cayenne, but locally available red pepper flakes, just crushed to be a bit finer), and instead of the chocolate icing, I made an icing of 1 cup confectioner’s sugar, 1 egg white, 1 teaspoon vanilla, and a cup of dried figs that I’d reconstituted in ½ cup of warm water – all pureed together.