It has been awhile since I've posted a recipe. There has definitely been some cooking going on, but nothing I've felt inclined to share. Even when I mentally peruse my list of recipes past, I just have not been inspired to write anything up. But no fear, I've finally found something worth writing about: roast beef.
Of course, cooking foods that require a 325 degree oven for hours on end when it's hot and humid out isn't really the smartest thing to do. But it's hard to argue with culinary inspiration, or with a 3.5 lb shoulder roast that has been thawed in the fridge for a week and needs to be cooked. So I grabbed the nearest cookbook (Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking), looked up a recipe for a pork roast, turned up the oven and the AC (well, mom, to 78), and started cooking. I should pause here to confirm that yes, I did say that I looked up a recipe for a pork roast, but in the last paragraph I noted that I was writing about roast beef. You see, with our meat CSA, the meat comes beautifully wrapped in butcher paper and labeled with the name of the cut, but I'm not always sure what type of meat each cut actually is. Of course, once I unwrapped it, I had an inkling that it was beef and not pork, but for reasons unknown I proceeded with the pork recipe. It all worked out in the end, and beautifully.
I'm by far my own toughest food critic, so when I tell you that this is the best thing I've cooked in the last six months, you know it was probably pretty good. I was really quite impressed with myself on this one. First of all, cooking a roast, while arguably about the easiest thing ever to cook, was a highly intimidating prospect. I'm here to tell you: totally manageable; almost as easy as just throwing it in the oven. Second, cooking a roast was entirely outside of my comfort zone in terms of the types of food I'm used to cooking. You know how some things just never cross your mind to cook or how some recipes you always just gloss over in the cookbooks? This was one of them, and this is yet another reason I love the meat CSA--it forces me to try new things.
Every bite of this roast had me saying "Wow, this is so good, I'm so impressed with myself." Yes, it was probably a bit (a lot) annoying. But it was that good. Despite my deep-seeded fear that beef cooked as pork would be totally dry and tough after two hours in the oven, the roast was perfectly cooked medium-rare and could be sliced with a butterknife. The onions and potatoes, cooked for two hours in beef fat and juices, were totally decadent and a perfect complement. And on the side, a salad of beautiful baby greens from our own garden was, of course, astoundingly perfect.
Just one caveat to all of this fawning over my own cooking: leave roasts to seasons where the outdoor temperature is below 60. You'll thank me for this.
Roast Beef
Adapted from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking
3 lb beef (or pork!) roast, boneless
2 Tbsp butter or cooking oil
1 yellow onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, unpeeled
4 baking potatoes, quartered (optional)
4 sprigs parsley (can also add thyme, bay into herb bouquet)
1/2 tsp dried sage or thyme
1/2 cup white wine (can also use stock, canned bouillon, or even water)
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Rinse and dry meat thoroughly. Heat the butter or oil in a heavy casserole or Dutch oven over moderately high heat. When the fat is almost smoking, brown the meat on all sides, about 10-15 minutes total. Remove the meat to a side dish.
Pour all but 2 Tbsp of fat out of the pan. Stir in the onions, garlic, potatoes (if using), and herbs. Cover, reduce the heat to low, and cook slowly for 5 minutes.
Season the meat with salt, pepper, and dried sage or thyme, and place into the casserole, fattiest side up. Cover and heat until meat is sizzling, then place in the lower third of the preheated oven. Cook about 2 hours, or until a meat thermometer measures the appropriate temperature for beef. Baste the roast 2 or 3 times during the cooking period with the juices in the casserole.
When the meat is done, remove to a hot serving platter along with half the onions and all of the potatoes. Pour the wine into the casserole and simmer for 2-3 minutes over low heat on the stovetop. Then, tilt the casserole and skim out all but a tablespoon of fat. Mash the remaining onions and garlic into the juices, then boil rapidly until you have around 1 cup of gravy. If desired, strain into gravy boat, then serve with the roast. Enjoy!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Dining in Lusaka, Zambia
Zambia was the 7th African country I've visited, assuming you count South Africa (#5) where I have spent the night at a Johannesburg airport hotel on two separate occasions and have spent a ton of money on souvenirs at the airport, but have never actually been outside of the airport property. Obviously, Africa is a huge continent and each country is different, but there are certain aspects of Africa travel that are inherent to the experience, so I was both surprised and skeptical when person after person told me how easy it is to travel in Zambia. Easy just isn't the word I'd usually use to describe Africa travel. All in all, and excepting a rather amusing bus ride to Victoria Falls, everyone was right--travel in Zambia was decidedly straightforward. Even the airport was calm and hassle free. Lusaka was far and away the most bucolic African city I've been in, and although perhaps not a culinary destination, there were enough good restaurants to keep me occupied for a week and a half trip. Here are some of my favorites.
Marlin
Located inside the Lusaka Club (where there is apparently also a bowling alley), Marlin is some sort of club as well as a restaurant. Not to be confused with the [Blue] Dolphin Restaurant, the Marlin is best known for their steak. My coworkers had eaten at the Marlin before, and remembered that one of the cuts of steak was particularly good, but couldn't remember which one, so I ordered the filet (pronounced fil-let in Zambia) and they had the rump steak. We all ordered our steak in pepper sauce, the house specialty. The steaks came with chips, as does practically everything in Zambia. All of it was good, not overwhelmingly, must-have-this-again wonderful, but a very nice steak. Apparently the Marlin also serves Chinese food, but I did not try this, next time perhaps.
Cedars of Lebanon
The person who recommended Cedars of Lebanon told us that the portions were so enormous that we should only order a couple of things to share, which is exactly what we did. Well, the portions were a far cry from enormous, but two shared appetizers (hummus with beef, chicken wings) and one shared entree (lamb kebabs, served with chips, see above) later we were sated, and deliciously so. I could have eaten endless plates of the hummus, and the lamb was incredible. The dessert menu was the only disappointment of the meal--we ordered baklava, which apparently hadn't yet arrived from Lebanon (!), and for some inexplicable reason there were no other desserts available. One bizarre conversation with a rotund elderly gentleman who might have been the owner later made us think that perhaps the restaurant had just changed owners, but it was rather unclear. This was a great meal, and the popularity of this place among expats was clear as evidenced by the large table of 20 Peace Corps volunteers dining adjacent to us, and because we ran into someone we'd just met earlier that day having dinner with her family.
Portico
You know that either 1) you have good taste in picking restaurants, or 2) there are only a handful of good restaurants in Lusaka when you run into the same person two nights in a row, at two different places (see Cedars of Lebanon, above). I'm thinking the latter, but for argument's sake, let's pretend the former. That said, our meal at Portico was arguably the best meal of the trip. First of all, the ambiance was fantastic--we sat outdoors on the patio, the stars were amazingly bright and we pretended to know the constellations, and when it became too cold (yes, cold), a little charcoal fire was brought over and placed next to the table. Most importantly, the food was authentic Italian. We started with a meat and cheese plate, with wonderful imported salamis and cheeses and olives. For my main course I had pork-stuffed ravioli in tomato sauce; simple, elegant, and delicious. The best dish, however, was the stuffed calamari that a coworker ordered off of the April specials menu (yes, it was May but even as of May 8 they hadn't yet made the May specials menu). I wish I could remember exactly what was in the calamari, and can't, but remember a succulent mix of spicy peppers and other vegetables. Fabulous.
Marlin
Located inside the Lusaka Club (where there is apparently also a bowling alley), Marlin is some sort of club as well as a restaurant. Not to be confused with the [Blue] Dolphin Restaurant, the Marlin is best known for their steak. My coworkers had eaten at the Marlin before, and remembered that one of the cuts of steak was particularly good, but couldn't remember which one, so I ordered the filet (pronounced fil-let in Zambia) and they had the rump steak. We all ordered our steak in pepper sauce, the house specialty. The steaks came with chips, as does practically everything in Zambia. All of it was good, not overwhelmingly, must-have-this-again wonderful, but a very nice steak. Apparently the Marlin also serves Chinese food, but I did not try this, next time perhaps.
Cedars of Lebanon
The person who recommended Cedars of Lebanon told us that the portions were so enormous that we should only order a couple of things to share, which is exactly what we did. Well, the portions were a far cry from enormous, but two shared appetizers (hummus with beef, chicken wings) and one shared entree (lamb kebabs, served with chips, see above) later we were sated, and deliciously so. I could have eaten endless plates of the hummus, and the lamb was incredible. The dessert menu was the only disappointment of the meal--we ordered baklava, which apparently hadn't yet arrived from Lebanon (!), and for some inexplicable reason there were no other desserts available. One bizarre conversation with a rotund elderly gentleman who might have been the owner later made us think that perhaps the restaurant had just changed owners, but it was rather unclear. This was a great meal, and the popularity of this place among expats was clear as evidenced by the large table of 20 Peace Corps volunteers dining adjacent to us, and because we ran into someone we'd just met earlier that day having dinner with her family.
Portico
You know that either 1) you have good taste in picking restaurants, or 2) there are only a handful of good restaurants in Lusaka when you run into the same person two nights in a row, at two different places (see Cedars of Lebanon, above). I'm thinking the latter, but for argument's sake, let's pretend the former. That said, our meal at Portico was arguably the best meal of the trip. First of all, the ambiance was fantastic--we sat outdoors on the patio, the stars were amazingly bright and we pretended to know the constellations, and when it became too cold (yes, cold), a little charcoal fire was brought over and placed next to the table. Most importantly, the food was authentic Italian. We started with a meat and cheese plate, with wonderful imported salamis and cheeses and olives. For my main course I had pork-stuffed ravioli in tomato sauce; simple, elegant, and delicious. The best dish, however, was the stuffed calamari that a coworker ordered off of the April specials menu (yes, it was May but even as of May 8 they hadn't yet made the May specials menu). I wish I could remember exactly what was in the calamari, and can't, but remember a succulent mix of spicy peppers and other vegetables. Fabulous.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Dining in the District: Founding Farmers
As I am sure you will be able to figure out from the next few posts (or lack thereof) I've been traveling a bit recently. Last week (or probably two weeks ago by the time the uber-slow internet connection here actually allows me to post this entry), I was in DC for a meeting. The best part of going to DC for meetings is getting to see all of my friends who live there, and of course, getting to try new restaurants.
Usually about 5% of each restaurant recommendation I produce has absolutely nothing to do with the food (yes, I'm saying you can only believe 95% of what I say; that's statistically significant). The things that spark that last 5% range from something kitschy like a giant animal sculpture outside, to a great patio, to the pioneering feeling of being in a complete hole-in-the-wall. In the case of Founding Farmers, it's the feeling that somehow you totally offset a lifetime's worth of carbon footprints by eating there. One look at their website says it all: LEED certified, certified green restaurant, gas emissions offset, local food, made from scratch. Etc. Etc... I feel so virtuous just telling people to go there. All jest aside, however, I really like that Founding Farmers shows that being 'green' can be hip without being stereotypically crunchy-the restaurant exudes a modern flair that belies the fact that everything about this restaurant is sustainably green (to be honest, it's a bit of conundrum for me to say that I like a place because it almost appears not green, but I like the idea that this sort of place can make a convert of the otherwise skeptical). Other, more esoteric reasons to like Founding Farmers: it's mere blocks from the White House, and it's in the same building as the International Monetary Fund (there is even a cocktail named after said financial institution; $25).
We started the meal with traditional deviled eggs ($4 for four eggs) and fried green tomatoes ($7). The deviled eggs were good, with a crunchy dose of celery and a sprinkling of coarse sea salt, but not as good as my mother's. Next time, I'll try the deviled eggs that come with lobster, crab, and salmon ($14). The fried green tomatoes had a wonderful cornmeal breading, although I thought the slices were a tad on the thick side for my taste. Both the goat cheese and green goddess dressings were perfect complements to the tomatoes.
The appetizers were huge, and at this point in the meal we were both already stuffed. Of course that didn't stop us from having dinner. I had the lobster bisque, the nightly special, and a the late harvest salad ($7). B had the veggie burger ($10). The salad was delicious, a nice mixture of flavors and textures, but I was rather disappointed in the bisque. While I admired that the chef was tending towards a less-creamy version of bisque, I found that the lighter version lacked cohesion and was rather unsatisfying. Additionally, there wasn't a single actual piece of lobster in my bowl. The smaller pieces of what I presumed was lobster puree just wasn't quite standout enough for me. I did not try the veggie burger, but B said it was quite good.
At this point we were both even more than stuffed but found a little space for the donut holes, which are served with a trio of dipping sauces (caramel, chocolate, and rum-vanilla). I loved these, especially when slathered in the caramel sauce. The rum sauce I could have done without, not my thing.
One of the highlights of Founding Farmers is the fabulous cocktail menu, a throwback to all of those drinks that you associate with your grandparents and generations prior. I ended up not ordering off of this menu, but loved just reading it, and would make a trip back just for the drinks. Also on the drink menu is what was undoubtedly the most amazing part of the meal: the ginger ale. I've never had anything like it before-fresh, homemade ginger ale. Outstanding, I need to figure out how to make this one at home.
Lastly, it warrants mention that the service was decidedly lacking. Usually I notice good service more than the lack thereof, but it was really noticeable that our waiter was frequently missing in action. And, B noted that she's such service has been par for the course on her other visits to Founding Farmers. Despite the service, however, I really liked Founding Farmers for the solidly good food, the creative drinks and fabulous ginger ale, and the feel-good ethos of eating there. Who wants to buy me the $25 IMF cocktail next time?
Usually about 5% of each restaurant recommendation I produce has absolutely nothing to do with the food (yes, I'm saying you can only believe 95% of what I say; that's statistically significant). The things that spark that last 5% range from something kitschy like a giant animal sculpture outside, to a great patio, to the pioneering feeling of being in a complete hole-in-the-wall. In the case of Founding Farmers, it's the feeling that somehow you totally offset a lifetime's worth of carbon footprints by eating there. One look at their website says it all: LEED certified, certified green restaurant, gas emissions offset, local food, made from scratch. Etc. Etc... I feel so virtuous just telling people to go there. All jest aside, however, I really like that Founding Farmers shows that being 'green' can be hip without being stereotypically crunchy-the restaurant exudes a modern flair that belies the fact that everything about this restaurant is sustainably green (to be honest, it's a bit of conundrum for me to say that I like a place because it almost appears not green, but I like the idea that this sort of place can make a convert of the otherwise skeptical). Other, more esoteric reasons to like Founding Farmers: it's mere blocks from the White House, and it's in the same building as the International Monetary Fund (there is even a cocktail named after said financial institution; $25).
We started the meal with traditional deviled eggs ($4 for four eggs) and fried green tomatoes ($7). The deviled eggs were good, with a crunchy dose of celery and a sprinkling of coarse sea salt, but not as good as my mother's. Next time, I'll try the deviled eggs that come with lobster, crab, and salmon ($14). The fried green tomatoes had a wonderful cornmeal breading, although I thought the slices were a tad on the thick side for my taste. Both the goat cheese and green goddess dressings were perfect complements to the tomatoes.
The appetizers were huge, and at this point in the meal we were both already stuffed. Of course that didn't stop us from having dinner. I had the lobster bisque, the nightly special, and a the late harvest salad ($7). B had the veggie burger ($10). The salad was delicious, a nice mixture of flavors and textures, but I was rather disappointed in the bisque. While I admired that the chef was tending towards a less-creamy version of bisque, I found that the lighter version lacked cohesion and was rather unsatisfying. Additionally, there wasn't a single actual piece of lobster in my bowl. The smaller pieces of what I presumed was lobster puree just wasn't quite standout enough for me. I did not try the veggie burger, but B said it was quite good.
At this point we were both even more than stuffed but found a little space for the donut holes, which are served with a trio of dipping sauces (caramel, chocolate, and rum-vanilla). I loved these, especially when slathered in the caramel sauce. The rum sauce I could have done without, not my thing.
One of the highlights of Founding Farmers is the fabulous cocktail menu, a throwback to all of those drinks that you associate with your grandparents and generations prior. I ended up not ordering off of this menu, but loved just reading it, and would make a trip back just for the drinks. Also on the drink menu is what was undoubtedly the most amazing part of the meal: the ginger ale. I've never had anything like it before-fresh, homemade ginger ale. Outstanding, I need to figure out how to make this one at home.
Lastly, it warrants mention that the service was decidedly lacking. Usually I notice good service more than the lack thereof, but it was really noticeable that our waiter was frequently missing in action. And, B noted that she's such service has been par for the course on her other visits to Founding Farmers. Despite the service, however, I really liked Founding Farmers for the solidly good food, the creative drinks and fabulous ginger ale, and the feel-good ethos of eating there. Who wants to buy me the $25 IMF cocktail next time?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Best Burgers in Atlanta, continued: Holeman and Finch
Apparently, part of what makes the Holeman and Finch burger so legendary is that it is sought after commodity. I only learned this from reading the website after my trip there; at Sunday brunch the burger is freely available. The rest of the week, only 24 burgers are released a day, at precisely 10 pm, and they can sell out in less than a minute. It sounds like a rather interesting event, but I'm glad that I was able to get one on the first visit; I would have been sorely disappointed to have finally made it there only to not be able to get a burger. More about this burger timing can be read on the online menu tab labeled 'burger'. Any restaurant with a special page on its website devoted to their burger should be taken very seriously.
The Holeman and Finch burger definitely deserves its spot on my list of best burgers in Atlanta. The burgers are made from in-restaurant ground meat, which I think is very cool and means that quality cuts of meat are used. Each burger is two patties, with cheese, and served on a homemade bun. Despite having two patties, the burgers are not obscenely large, just the right size for a perfect meal. I usually order burgers cooked well, but deferred to the chef on this one; the meat came cooked well, and was juicy and tender. Everything is homemade, including the ketchup, mustard, and pickles, and all were perfectly executed. The fries, also hand-cut, were lick-your-plate-to-get-up-the-last-bits good. Accompanied by a spicy Bloody Mary, this burger made my day.
My enthusiasm for the burger was also shared by our waiter. His eyes lit up when I asked him to describe the burger, and he waxed rhapsodic for quite a bit about how wonderful it was, how he wished he was eating one, and so on. His sincerity and enthusiasm were endearing, and so totally on point that I even offered him a bite. He declined, but I'm guessing he went back to the kitchen and ordered one for himself. After all, unlimited burgers on Sundays.
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