French Dip - Mussels "Provencale" Style

My entire food life revolves around sauce. Dry rubs - forget it. A simple grilled piece of fish or steak? Not interested. That rich chocolate torte you made and are putting in front of me...It better have some raspberry coulis next to it or I may just get nasty.

I'm saucy and not afraid to say it.

I am not sure how this evolved. My dad and I virtually come to blows when we discuss barbeque sauce and its place on the table so it's clearly not genetic (as you can probably tell, I think it belongs, he thinks it should be banished).

On my last night in San Diego before moving up to the Bay Area, we walked over to a wonderfully casual French bistro called Bleu Boheme in Kensington. Earlier that day I had crashed the U-haul moving truck into a neighbor's car which ended up costing $2400. A few really nice dinners in Aix-en-Provence. Add to that a dead battery and an hour on the phone with a less than helpful customer service rep hadn't helped my mood. I was miffed. OK, pissed off actually (excuse my French). Working all day, my muscles were tired from lugging boxes and lifting furniture. I was exhausted mentally, physically, and economically.

Entering the restaurant brought me right back to a trip in the south of France to Provence. Warm mineral walls and light blue banquettes. The smell of lavender herbs you find in the country outside Arles. A whiff of herbal anise scented Pernod from a pastis in Nice. The troubled and lovely Edith Piaf crooning "La vie en rose" in the background. I needed liquid therapy.

I dove headfirst into a whirlpool bath glass of champagne to get my bearings. Sipping measuredly, I started to calm down a bit. Just enough to open the menu and look at the 6 choices of mussels they were serving that night. Because all of that flavor isn't in the gentle tasting bi-valve molluscs of the Mediterranean.

It was time for something with real dipping potential to satisfy my hunger and saucy worldview.

Herbs. Pernod. White Wine. Mussels steamed to perfection in this Provencale goodness. And a basket of warm, crusty French bread to soak it all up.

I made my own version of the Blue Boheme dish from that evening and took some inspiration from the fabulously talented Maria Helm Sinskey's "The Vineyard Kitchen" to come up with this version adding a generous amount of herbs, some Pernod, and my secret weapon for adding flavor to sauces - anchovies.

This came out very well and is fairly easy to make. With all that delectable sauce I could eat a truckload of these...Damned U-Haul.

Recipe for Mussels Provencale
Serves 2

1 lb black mussels (12-15 per person)
3 T olive oil
1 small shallot, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 anchovy, minced
2 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
4 sprigs fresh thyme
6 large basil leaves, julienned
1 pinch salt
1 C white wine
1 t Pernod liqueur*
1 T fresh Italian parsley, chopped

Scrub the mussels and debeard them. Keep them cool or refrigerated until ready to cook. In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, head the olive oil over a medium high flame. Add the shallots and cook for 3 to 4 minutes until soft. Add the garlic and cook for one more minute. Add the anchovy and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and cook for about 2 minutes until they begin to break down. Add the thyme sprigs, half of the basil, salt and wine. Bring to a boil. Add the pernod and place the mussels in the pan. Cover and cook over medium high heat for 6-7 minutes, shaking the pan 2-3 times. Take off the lid and discard any unopened mussels. Using a sloted spoon place the mussels into ceramic bowls. Remove the thyme sprigs and ladle the sauce over the mussels. Garnish with remaining fresh basil and parsley. Serve with french bread toast and white wine.

*Pernod is French made liquor that has a black licorice taste. You can substitute 3 T of chopped fennel and saute with the shallots for a similar and very tasty effect.

Recipe for Garlic & Herb French Toast
1 artisan baguette, sliced lengthwise in half
1/2 stick butter, melted
2 cloves garlic, minced
4 T fresh Italian parsley, chopped
salt
cracked black pepper

Pre-heat an oven to 325 degrees. Brush each side of the sliced bread with melted butter. Spread minced garlic and parsley over bread and season lightly with salt and pepper. Place the bread halves back together and wrap tightly in aluminum foil. Bake for 15 minutes. Slice into 2 or 3 inch portions and serve.

Don't You Look Hot...White Peach & Rainier Cherry Sangria

It's been a hot summer so far. Like Plains of La Mancha Hot. And I need something cool. Easy. Relaxed. Juicy. Fortunately my love affair with all things Spanish can get us through this hot flash. Saffron. Tapas. Paella. Penelope Cruz. Wine. These wonderful (and mostly) culinary elements support a lifestyle in Spain I categorize as "graceful living".

Spaniards are beautiful people (note from wife - Javier Bardem) with a special culture and way of life I hope becomes better understood and appreciated in the United States. And when it gets hot the Spanish know how to maintain their cool. A walk through the patio of the soaring Cathedral at Sevilla. The shade and smell of orange trees intertwined in a warm breeze. Nibbling on inventively light tapas at San Sebastian's seaside. Overlooking the Mediterranean from Barcelona's glorious Parc Guell.

Such Spanish coolness comes alive in an icy glass of Sangria. A pleasant way of drinking and living in these hot summer months.

There are many translations of Sangria that speak of how to make it. The basic principle is to marinate different fruits, typically citrus, in wine for several hours and then mix it with sugar and sparkling water. Sangria is very food friendly and pairs well with BBQ, spicy foods and uncomplicated preparations. It also stands by itself and can be fully enjoyed without the need for any supporting actors...although we can still pour Señorita Cruz and Señor Bardem a glass.

While many will argue that red wine is used for traditional sangria, in this day and age those traditions don't mean much. I love the platform sangria offers for innovation and often use excellent regional Spanish white wines, including Galician Albarino and Verdejo from Rueda, to make new types of sangrias. Spain has become ground zero for a global food revolution of innovation led by Ferrán Adriá, Juan Mari Arzak, and even the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. Their inspiration and passion against the backdrop of Spain has influenced and inspired me to develop this updated, yet simple recipe.

Spain. Glorious. Seductive. Innovative. Hot. I hope you have a chance to cool off and ponder this good life while you sip some summertime in a glass...

Recipe for White Peach and

Rainier Cherry Sangria

Makes 8-10 Servings

1 bottle of Spanish White Wine such as Albarino or Verdejo
2 ripe white peaches, cut in 1/2 inch chunks with skin on
15 Rainier Cherries, pitted and halved
2 TBSP Cointreau
2 TBSP sugar (superfine preferred but you can use regular granulated sugar as well)
1 bottle of sparkling water or club soda

Method

In a large pitcher combine the wine, peaches, cherries, Cointreau and sugar. Mix well and refrigerate for 4 to 6 hours. Fill a glass with ice cubes and pour in the sangria and a few pieces of each of the macerated fruits. The glass should be 2/3 full. Top off with club soda and mix gently.

Note that virtually any fruit can be used in Sangria. If you can't find white peaches, yellow ones also work well. The Rainier Cherry has a short season (May to July) but regular Bing cherries can be substituted or you can use raspberries or strawberries. No matter what fruit you select, make sure it is ripe as this drink is only as good as the sweetness the fruit imparts. Also, if you can't find a Spanish white wine, a crisp California Sauvignon Blanc works well in this recipe.

Can't we move on?...Chipotle Chocolate Creme Brulee

It's official. This week I am naming the chipotle as the single most overused foodstuff of the decade. No small feat in knocking creme brulee off of its 1990's "rode hard and put away wet" mantle. There is an obsession in this country with discovering a new ingredient and overusing it. We are in full gear with the decidedly curious chipotle and there is no let up in sight.

Not that long ago too many restaurants offered Creme Brulee on the dessert menu. It was as if those chefs not serving it were lacking somehow. Or felt some misguided need to do whatever "the herd" was doing. I appreciated the effort to opening up our country's eyes to something new and different, but after awhile, it got to be a little much. Not that I didn't love creme brulee, I did (and still do). There are so many qualities that make it appealing to eat. Its smooth texture has decidedly luxurious aspect to it. Sort of an adult vanilla pudding sans Bill Cosby with a pleasant mouth feel (he was Jell-O's spokesman for you younger readers). So, a waiter might say something like "and tonight we are featuring Creme Brulee - two spoons to share?" And we would order it like lemmings over the cliff. It became time to break off this relationship, like the "ex" we would go back to time and again but for no good reason other than convenience.

Well, we did. The mysterious Mr. Chipotle showed up and distracted us from of our unhealthy relationship with Ms. Brulee. It was easy. Love at first sight really. Complex. Mysterious. Spicy. Romantic. It felt like "Gone with the Wind" on a tortilla with a squeeze of lime. Chipotles are everywhere now.

I was first introduced to dried and smoked chiles on a business trip to the charming colonial Mexican city of Guadalajara in 1995. A chance lunch of Pork Adobado in a restaurant on the way to a meeting introduced me to the use of smoked chiles in cuisines from both Mexico and the Philippines. Adobado typically refers to some type of smoked or dried chile (ancho, poblano, etc...) that is preserved in vinegar. It is then cooked with a meat for a slightly spicy, typically rustic dish. For whatever reason, what I ordered came with chipotles, which are traditionally made from dried Jalapeno peppers. The smokiness of this altered pepper is deep and revealing. A real flavor booster that delivers a complex taste and transforms everyday preparations of beef, pork, chicken and even fish.

Having traveled throughout Latin American I have come to love the varied cuisines of these unique regions. And as a resident of San Diego, CA I eat Mexican food regularly. Don't get me wrong, I like chipotles. A few days ago I bought a couple of cans of chipotles at a local market for absolutely no reason. I started to think about how we are now living in such an evolving food culture and how this evolution of chipotles showing up everywhere was unthinkable not that long ago. Back in 1999 you couldn't buy a chipotle except in a Latin American food market. Today googling the term "chipotle" returns 4.5 million results. Creme brulee doesn't get even half of that kind of attention from a search engine.

We definitely have moved on from our sultry ex, Ms. Brulee. However, this love of the Chipotle is pointing toward a relationship attachment problem in our society. Too much of a good thing? While I wish it were the case, I think our problem is worse than that and we might need to bring in Dr. Phil. We can't stand to be alone, can we? It's time to get real.

Chipotle burgers. Chipotle Pancakes. Chipotle Mayonnaise. "The Herd" is definitely back. I hit my limit this week when I visited the Food Network site by chance and the #1 recipe was for the talented chef Bobby Flay's "Grilled Chicken Wings with Spicy Chipotle Sauce". That did it. Creme Brulee. Chipotles. Isn't it enough already...or is it?

And then I did the unthinkable. I got these two old flames together. You know what I mean. When you start to tire of a love interest, you think of a previous one, remembering only the good parts. In this instance, bringing together creme brulee and chipotles may be the only case where this is a good idea. I have asked our dear friend Chocolate to tag along. Try this recipe, and tell me what you think. Enjoy this sultry, smoky, smooth and sexy dessert with an enormous glass of Zinfandel, Malbec, or a Cabernet Franc from the up and coming wine regions of Mexico. It'll be just like old times...with a new twist.

Recipe for Chocolate Chipotle Creme Brulee
Serves 8*

Ingredients

2 Chipotle chiles split in half with excess adobo sauce removed

2 cups whipping cream + 1 cup for topping (see note below)

2 cups half and half

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (70%, such as Valrona), coarsely chopped

4 ounces semisweet chocolate, finely coarsely chopped

8 large egg yolks

1/3 cup sugar

Method

Preheat oven to 300°F. Combine cream and half and half in heavy large saucepan with the split chipotles and seeds. Bring to a boil mixing occasionally and pressing chipotles to the side of the pan to extra the flavor. Reduce heat to low.

Strain the mixture, pressing the chipotle solids to extra additional flavor. Pour the hot mixture from the saucepan through a strainer over the chipotle, into medium bowl and then back into the saucepan 2-3 times. Strain one final time back into the saucepan and discard solids.

Boil water in a tea kettle while you complete the next step.

Add chocolate and whisk until melted and smooth. Remove from heat. Whisk yolks and 1/3 cup sugar in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk in hot chocolate mixture to yolks starting with a small amount of hot liquid and whisk quickly. Strain the liquid and egg mixture a final time.

Pour equal amounts of custard among eight 3/4-cup custard cups. Place cups in large baking pan. Add enough hot water to pan to come halfway up sides of cups. Bake until custards are set, about 50 minutes. Remove from water; chill 2 hours. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

(Note: a traditional creme brulee calls for a burnt sugar crust to complete the dessert by adding 1 TBSP of sugar over the top of the brulee and either placing it under your oven broiler for 1 to 2 minutes or using a hand torch to caramelize the sugar. While that makes perfect sense for a traditional brulee, I don't believe it works as well here. Rather, I like a dollop of freshly whipped cream with a small amount of sugar or vanilla to lightly sweeten it. You will want something clean to cut the intense flavor and richness of the chocolate and chile and this does it.

* Recipe can be cut in half for four servings.

The Pleasure of an Omelet

I can't get my mind off of her. I don't care that she was once scorned. Her curves. Delicate. A smooth touch. I used to sneak around, making sure no one saw us together. There is no need to vilify her anymore simply because of what she does for a living. She is so gorgeous and sensual. She gives me exactly what I need, when I need it. Her pleasure is intoxicating.


I love eggs. They discreetly support our culinary dalliances yet pleasure us with decadent simplicity. A complementary dancer in a waltz of smooth custard. A rock steady partner that never misses a step in the rhumba of chilaquiles. A uniter (more so than any politician) of disparate ingredients that brings together the necessary ingredients to give us a perfectly baked cake. And, at her best she is a perfect guide to savor the purity of deliciously simple ingredients. You know her well. Brulee, flan, custard. Sinful.


I know all this to be true having had the pleasure of eating omelets in Paris. And I thank the country of France for my obsession and love for eggs. Why? Because while the French excel at the techniques of thoughtful and meaningful cooking (versus phoning it in), there are certain foods they simply cook better than anyone else. If you have not been to France, I hope you make time to go at least once in your life to see what I mean. There are many reasons to visit, but they way they cook eggs is reason enough for me. Excellent cooking focuses on the technical execution of simple ingredients. Only the French can cook fish in a simple way with a sincerity of perfection I have never been able to replicate or taste outside their country. The smell of real artisan breads, baguettes, croissants. The airiness. Deeply rustic or gentle crusts that are not an afterthought. And then there is the egg. In my opinion a true chef (not necessarily a professional that gets paid to cook) who cares about the end state of their cooking respects the egg and can cook her well. The French do and they do it with seriousness. They view the egg as a central player in the most respected of all meals from a preparation standpoint: dinner.


My first tryst with our mistress of the carton was at Christian Constant's Michelin 3 starred restaurant La Violon D'Ingress in the 7th arrondisement on Rue Saint-Dominque in Paris. A perfectly poached egg sitting atop a salad, with lardons and mustard dressing. Simply cutting into this oval of goodness was an experience I cannot forget. A slightly set yolk that was soft and flavorful. It elevated a simple salad to something greater. Another trip to Paris, brought me to Jamin, where chef Benoit Guichard (Superstar chef Joel Robuchon's executive chef) took over and made a crayfish stuffed raviolo with an egg yolk center. Bursting out of the first cut, the yolk came forth, making a bright orange sauce that delicately complemented the filling. No matter how conservative some view M. Guichard's approach to cooking versus his predecessor, I don't really care. The man knows how to cook an egg.

Yet for all of these expensive dining experiences, my favorite way to enjoy the French commitment to cooking eggs is from the humble omelet. Although not complicated to make, it is difficult to cook them perfectly. I have found that using a non stick pan will deliver the most consistent results. Eggfully soft and flavorful of the yolk's goodness, but not overdone. A medium flame provides the right amount of heat to allow the protein to harden. Too high of a heat and the eggs will become tough. Mixing in a small amount of cream, milk or even sparkling water, provides a better cooking base than simply a beaten yolk. Add about 1 TBSP for each egg. The most effective technique for properly cooking an omelet simply involves the use of a fork or small spatula that allows you to pull the cooked edges inward to the center so you can slightly lift the pan and allow the liquid egg mixture to move to the perimeter of the omelet. Doing it this way means you don't have to flip the omelet over, a true mark of proper cooking by not "disturbing" the food.




Fillings for omelet are endless. However, I find the tanginess and creaminess of goat cheese and the freshness of chopped chives to be the most enjoyable way to have an omelet. Add the ingredients to the center of the cooked omelet and fold it over about 20 seconds prior to coming off the heat. A simply tossed salad of butter or red-oak leaf lettuce with a mustard and shallot vinaigrette and a glass of champagne makes this the perfect summer evening meal.


Recipe for Goat Cheese and Chive Omelet
Serves 1

Ingredients
2 large eggs
1 TBSP milk
Kosher salt
Grind of black pepper
3 oz goat cheese
3 TBSP chives, finely chopped
1 TBSP butter for the pan


Method
In a small bowl, beat eggs, milk, salt and pepper gently to combine. Do not over mix, about 10-12 strokes is all that is needed. Heat a nonstick or seasoned 10 inch skillet over medium heat for 60 seconds. Add butter and let it melt to coat the pan. Pour egg mixture into pan and let it cook undisturbed for about 30-45 seconds until the edges start to harden slightly. Using a fork or spatula, gently pull the edges to the center of the pan. Tilt the pan slightly to move the liquid egg mixture outwards to the edges of the pan, keeping the entire pan base covered and let it set. It should take approximately 90 seconds to cook the omelet to this stage. Crumble the goat cheese onto the half of the omelet that is furthest away from the pan handle. You will want to do it this way because you will use the pan handle to flip the uncovered part of the omelet over the top of the goat cheese when you are done cooking. Sprinkle chives over the entire omelet. Slide the omelet onto a warmed plate (175 degree oven for 5 minutes) with the goat cheese covered half coming out of the pan first. When the goat cheese portion of the omelet is on the plate flip the other half of the omelet over the top. You will be able to do this easily because you are holding the pan handle. Dust the top of the omelet with 1 TBSP chopped chives, and a few grinds of fresh black pepper.

I let the omelet rest for about 60 seconds before serving. This is similar in a sense to allowing a piece of meat to rest when coming out of an oven or off a hot grill. The heat of the omelet will melt the goat cheese and dissipate slightly so your first mouthful won't be too hot.

Please enjoy. It's OK if everyone is watching you.

Eat Me

“Do you want two meats with that?” I was standing in a diner in Montgomery, Alabama on a blisteringly hot and humid day in the heart of Dixie. I love food. And I really can't stand bad food. “Yes ma’am, I’ll have the pully chicken and the fried pork chop”. My fate for the afternoon was sealed. I was likely headed to the bathroom for a date with Mylanta. Honestly, can anyone tell me why we accept poorly made or even puzzlingly mediocre meals at restaurants and pay money for those disappointing results? Does it bother you as much as it does me when friends eat TV dinners at home or look upon a meal as “fuel”? I don’t want me or you to settle for this state of food affairs because in this day and age I don’t believe we have to.

I was fortunate to grow up in a household where food was valued. My mom is an excellent cook and she really understood the value of how to execute an entire meal properly. Everything tasted good when she cooked. Food was properly seasoned. Meats were roasted and vegetables sautéed to the correct doneness. An entire meal was put together and orchestrated with meaning. And we sat down to eat together.

I can’t tell you the number of expense account dinners and multi-star Michelin restaurants I have been to that couldn’t meet the Judy Winitz domestic cooking diva standard ‘a la’ Julia Child. Mom got me going in the kitchen early, and by the age of 10 I was making my own pasta and homemade spaghetti sauce using Contadina canned tomatoes, dried oregano and sugar. My dad, no slouch in the kitchen either, brought another dimension to our dinner table: wine. A serious collector and student of oenology, my sister and I learned at an early age the craftsmanship of fine wine and the meaning that other countries and regions placed on it and its relationship to food. We sort of visited the UN every week – wines from France, Spain, Italy, Argentina, Australia, and ultimately Napa Valley made me realize our food roots are far and wide, crossing borders, continents and oceans. Up until that time, I had no idea that the International House of Pancakes was bad breakfast food that lacked a global viewpoint. I knew I needed to travel.

The correlation between food and wine only became more intense for me as good wine demands complementary meals that are equivalent in execution, while being satisfying and purposeful. At the age of 12 we went on a trip to Napa as my father was on the board of directors of an up and coming winery in the valley. We got to walk through the grape vineyards of Oakville and have small sips of some of the Chardonnay being made. Very much like France, the soil and earth in Napa has a very distinctive and pleasing scent I still remember. For lunch that day we dined at Mustards Grill, an early beacon of thoughtful dining based on locally sourced products. I can still taste the smokiness of the Pacific mako shark I ordered. Toothy, flavorful, mature - I loved every bite of it. The importance of good food was rubbing off on me and at 14 years old I was cooking my first family meal: “Poulet de Normande” or Chicken with Apples and Calvados from the Normandy region of France. I think my mom and dad drank a French Beaujolais. That meal was excellent.

Since those formative years, I have spent a lot of time learning about food and how to prepare it. I am totally self-taught devoting time and effort to learn about the qualities of good cooking. I really believe anyone can cook and eat well. Eating great food means different things to different people. For me it calls out for using the freshest ingredients while executing the outcome perfectly. I'll take a well executed hamburger - using the right ratio of ground chuck and sirloin, seasoned properly with salt and pepper, and cooked to the right degree of doneness, over a flavorless and overcooked filet mignon any day. The net result is that food should taste good and we should demand nothing less from those that cook for us, or what we make for ourselves.

I’ve wanted to start Chefectomy for a long time. After traveling all over the world and marrying the woman of my dreams (who appreciates food and travel as much as I) Chefectomy is being born to share thoughts and views with others about the many dimensions of food: thoughtful preparation, simplicity in approach and technique, sophistication in execution, and the creativity food can offer and bring us together in an ever shrinking world.

The blog title is my humorous take on getting the world to cook and eat better. Professionals that pass off poorly made food for a lot of money need to have this procedure to realize those of us paying money expect more. And for the self taught or home cook, this term provides you the confidence to know you can sling hash with the best of them. Either way, a “Chefectomy” gets you to the same place: Understanding what makes good food good, and how to make it part of your life. Otherwise, there is no room on my plate for anything less.