Let The Chips Fall Where They May

Dec 282011

Mac’s Fish and Chip Shop
Santa Barbara, California

Mac's Fish and Chip Shop in Santa Barbara, California

When you’re a European-born chef trained in classical French cuisine, it only stands to reason that the obvious thing to do in order to utilize your culinary talents is to open a chip shop in Santa Barbara, California. Although British expatriate Grant “Mac” MacNaughton offers typical and traditional chippy fare (such as fish and chips with mushy peas), he also playfully takes the menu where few men have gone before. The first indication that MacNaughton has turned the chip shop on its ear is the decor – where most respectable chippies in the U.K. might barely achieve a “B” letter rating in Los Angeles county, Mac’s is sparse, crisp and neat. There’s no menu board menu with plastic letters missing here, no bins of pre-cooked fish or chips under lamps – everything is made to order and the place is spotless.

A sizeable piece of Alaskan cod in Mac's fish and chips

As with any chip shop worth their salt, Mac’s uses cod as their fish of choice; however, instead of the familiar Atlantic cod used for battering and frying, theirs is sourced from Alaska. All of Mac’s fried items (which include the fish and chips) are served in baskets lined with fake newsprint to recreate the British experience without getting ink all over your hands. The ample fish filet is flaky, hot and tender with only a slight residue of oil from the fryer. Bangers are also available from the menu – these are sourced locally, made especially by Shalhoob Meat for Mac’s. Naturally you can also get a side of baked beans (Heinz, of course – the most popular tinned baked beans in the U.K., courtesy of the folks from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania known domestically for their ketchup), the aforementioned mushy peas, curry sauce – everything you’d expect to find in a British chippy right down to the malt vinegar and brown sauce. Mac’s also carries homemade meat pies, including Cornish pastys, Shepherd’s pie and cheese and onion leaving little to want for the displaced Brit, save for possibly some black pudding.

The unique, homemade deep-fried haggis

As good as Mac’s fish and chips are, I’m as likely to queue up for a newspaper-full in Santa Barbara, California as for a Chicago hot dog, bowl of New England clam chowder or Tex-Mex combination plate – what got me through the open-air archway was the sign in the window advertising something I’d never seen before, even in the U.K. – battered haggis. MacNaughton makes his haggis in large batches, which can be a gamble since it doesn’t keep long once prepared. Imagine a baseball-sized orb of the illustrious oat and organ mélange, dipped in the beer-based fish batter and deep fried to dark brown. Split with a fork, the steam rises from the gut ball’s innards and up to the nostrils to confirm that Mac’s haggis is the real deal (sans lights (lung), which the state of California bans in either fresh or imported haggis). The taste is a tad less earthy than a sturdy haggis consumed in the U.K., but it is still heady, fragrant and bursting with flavor although in its deep-fried form the inside temperature is slightly less than the surface of the sun.

The delightful mess that is the fried Reese's Peanut Butter Cup

If you’ve saved room for dessert, Mac’s has taken a cue from New York’s The Chip Shop and offers up a variety of deep fried candy bars. With fried Snickers being old hat, I opted for what sounded like the perfect oil-submersible snack – the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. The problem with the Reese’s cup is that the peanut butter turns to lava-like goo in the Frialator which fights off the batter and results in a fried blob; as unattractive as this sounds, the taste is heaven. The fried candy bars are available simply with a light dusting of powdered sugar or nestled in a generous dollop of whipped Chantilly cream and drizzled with Ghirardelli chocolate sauce, and while it may have been overkill I opted for the dressed-up version. The dessert comes with two Reese’s cups, about twice the limit of how much of the ultra-sweet confection I could handle.

Even with the proliferation of British flags and smattering of regional signage I’m not sure I would classify Mac’s as an authentic chippy where you can shut out the masses on State Street and be transported to the Olde Country, but the classic chip shop fare served up with delightfully modern and tongue-in-cheek twist makes Mac’s a nice diversion from the standard Santa Barbara restaurant options; think of it as a chip off the old block.

Mac’s Fish and Chips Shop
503 State St
Santa Barbara, CA 93101
GPS Coordinates: 34°25’0.64″N 119°41’44.87″W

Waiter, This Soup Is Old

Spain No Responses »

Dec 212011

Oldest Restaurant in the World
Sobrino de Botín, Madrid, Spain

Main entrance to the world's oldest restaurant

We often sit in slack-jawed wonder when our favorite bistro goes belly-up in less than a year, or when a popular gourmet food truck disappears off the road into the golden sunset, so imagine the kind of quality and service you’d have to deliver in order to get patrons to come back repeatedly for nearly 300 years. Madrid’s
Sobrino de Botín is the epitome of that spirit, and one visit to the world’s oldest restaurant (according to Guinness Book of World Records) is all it takes to demonstrate what made it one of Ernest Hemmingway’s favorites. The restaurant was originally established in 1725 as Casa Botín by James Botín, who passed it in to his nephew upon moving on to the great Zagat guide in the sky (thus the current name, Sobrino de Botín – Botín’s Nephew). The restaurant has been so popular through the centuries that it has been mentioned in Spanish and English literature by such notables as F. Scott Fitzgerald, John Dos Passos and the aforementioned Mr. Hemingway; a young Francisco José de Goya waited tables at Botín well before his stint as painter to the Spanish Crown.

One of the dining rooms on the upper floor

Sobrino de Botín is located just steps below Madrid’s Plaza Mayor; in addition to being the oldest restaurant in the world, it also remains one of the most popular. The crowd is lighter at lunchtime, but it’s best to arrive prior to the restaurant opening – you may have to wait past stated opening hours to get in, but you can probably cut them some slack since they literally have all the time in the world. The interior is a sprawling collection of rooms spanning four floors (including the brick-ceiling basement); you’ll want to explore, but you’d be best advised to wait until after your meal. Each dining room has its own sense of flavor and style, but all reflect the restaurant’s long lineage; if you can swing it, the rooms on the upper floors allow more natural light in, but there’s something to be said for eating in a room that looks like a taller and better lit version of Liverpool’s Cavern Club.

These bottles may be younger than they look

The Spanish know a thing or two about pork – Iberian ham appears on almost every menu in the city and there’s even a shop called Museo de Jamón devoted solely to Porky’s hindquarters. There are a variety of ham appetizers on the menu, but these aren’t the big moist chunks of pork you’re used to seeing on the holiday table; think prosciutto. Botín’s specialties are cochinillo asado (roast suckling pig) and cordero asado (roast lamb) and unless you want to try a variety of dishes from the menu, the perfect dining experience is to stick with the House Menu. For about 40 Euro you’ll enjoy a bowl of soup, the cochinillo asado, bread, a beer, wine or mineral water and dessert; although the baby eels are tempting, you’d better be prepared to shell out close to $150 for a dish of the tiny, ropy fish. Keep in mind that although nominal, when ordering off the regular menu as in most of Europe you’ll be charged extra for items such as bread and butter.

Sobrino de Botín's specialty - roast suckling pig

The soup is seasonal – if you time your visit right you may have the opportunity to try their sopa de ajo, which features egg poached in chicken broth and garlic, another Botín specialty; our dinner came with a crisp, rich and flavorful gazpacho. The suckling pig is roasted in the same oven (the horno de asar listed on the sign on the front of the restaurant) that’s been used since 1725; your waiter will bring a segment to the table in a clay dish and separate the meat for you. The pork is incredibly moist, still sheathed in a crackly chicharrón jacket. The contrast of the hot, tender pork with the crunchiness of the skin is heaven in your mouth – it’s easy to see why Botín is renowned for its cochinillo asado, so good it has been mentioned in the final chapter of Hemmingway’s “The Sun Also Rises”.

Roasting suckling pig in the original 1725 oven

After your meal you’ll want to explore the premises – the staff is extremely accommodating and will give you access to literally every square inch of the restaurant. The closet-sized kitchen where the stone roasting oven is housed is manned by a single chef who presides over shelves filled with piglets peering over clay dishes with lifeless eyes. Even though the chef scrambles to fill orders for the succulent hogs, he’ll still gladly answer any question you have and allow you to watch to your heart’s content while he stuffs Babe into the inferno on the end of a pizza peel.

Dining in Sobrino de Botín's cavern-like basement

A visit to the wine cellar is a must, and I mean that in more ways than one. Remember, the restaurant was established back when participants in America’s Revolutionary War were still in cloth diapers, so don’t be expecting some steel-and-glass, climate-controlled, air-sealed chamber for wine storage. Passing through an iron gate that probably hasn’t been locked in decades you arrive in the bowels of the 17th century structure to find iron or wooden wine racks free-standing on dust-caked tile floors. The labels on many of the bottles are covered with such a thick layer of age that they are unreadable, and although the dust sits heavy on the racks, some of the bottles look suspiciously modern.

The sense of hospitality, attentiveness, quality of the food and moderate prices for a restaurant with such a lofty pedigree all clearly define Sobrino de Botín’s staying power and what makes it one of the world’s prime culinary destinations. The only drawback as you leave to find one of the area’s famed flamenco tablaos and a pitcher of sangria is you may just feel a little bit older.

Sobrino de Botín
Calle de los Cuchilleros 17
28005 Madrid, Spain
GPS Coordinates: 40°24’51.13″N 3°42’28.68″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Sobrino de Botín in Madrid, Spain (world’s oldest restaurant)

Who Cut The Cheese?

France, Switzerland 2 Responses »

Dec 182011

Raclette, Switzerland and France

A half-wheel of raclette cheese

For millennia, cheese has been a part of almost every culture on earth capable of extracting milk from mammals in order to extend its shelf life. While some softer cheeses are fragile and are consumable for only a few hours, many develop thick rinds that allow them to be kept for longer periods of time. Of the latter, some of the cheeses from Switzerland and France develop a rind thick enough to allow them to be served in a style known as raclette (from the French word for scraping); several varieties of these cheeses are also called Raclette, including the French Tomme de Savoie.
For the cheese to be used for raclette it needs to be sturdy enough to withstand falling apart when heat is applied; this process melts the interior while leaving the rind intact. In days gone by, half-wheels would be placed by an open fire to liquefy the cheese – the wheel is then tilted and the melt is scraped out with a knife and onto dried meats, potatoes, bread and other easy-to-preserve items in a reverse process that is best described as “cheese fondon’t”. As the cheese cools, it solidifies on the foodstuffs it has been applied to.

Dual raclette grills working overtime

Thanks to modern science, there’s no need to lug that wheel of cheese up the side of a mountain only to have your rabbit fur hat catch fire causing you to do a triple gainer into a snow bank (unless you’re into that sort of thing); Swissmar, West Bend, Cuisinart and a bushel of other manufacturers make raclette grills for up to 8 people – some of these are even available at Wal-Mart, meaning that your grill may end up costing less than the cheese. Most raclette grills are electric; the flat top is used for grilling meats while the cheese, cut into slices, is melted in small trays that are placed underneath.

Assorted cheese-draped food for raclette

Don’t underestimate the value of making your guests work for their food at your next holiday party; there’s the extra added benefit of keeping them occupied when conversation lags and giving them something to talk about when they leave. Raclette is an age-old tradition that has been updated to be incorporated into whatever festivities you happen to be celebrating allowing you to be the big cheese this holiday season.

GALLERY: See images of raclette cheese for sale and in action

Candy Is Dandy But Licorice Quicker

Trippy Food (Tasty flora and fauna), UK, USA 4 Responses »

Oct 252011

Licorice

Soft and flavorful Australian licorice

Not since Marmite has a substance either generated instantaneous revulsion or evoked a deep breath and a smile; to some it has the effect of Kryptonite, while others are instantly transported back to when they were children, walking out of the corner store with the familiar rattle of a box of Good & Plenty in their hand. To those when asked if they like licorice who answer, “I like red licorice” I can only assume the Monkees are your favorite British Invasion band. As there is no cheese in head cheese, coffee is not a bean, and peanuts are not nuts, there is no licorice in red licorice. True licorice is an extract from the root of a member of the legume family (again with the beans) usually made into candy form with molasses resulting in the dark color. Licorice root is naturally sweet but also with a slight medicinal burn; although it is often mistaken for anise/fennel, the plants are unrelated. Some licorice is also flavored with anise, which gives it a familiar aroma as well and resulting in confusion with many anise-flavored liquors such as ouzo, Sambuca, absinthe, pastis and aguardiente thought of as “tasting like licorice”

On a personal level, I have a love for licorice that has evolved into an addiction; I must cast a pathetic dark silhouette cruising up and down the seedier side of town looking for that all-night Stop and Shop where I might be able to score a $2 bag of Scottie dogs. When my eldest offspring was but a wee food adventurer we were taking in an exhibit at Boston’s Museum of Science that delved into the sense of smell; several unmarked containers had lids that could be opened to allow you to guess what the smell released was. Juli could not correctly identify the smell of a musk deer (afterwards dubbing it “deer-ass”), but after opening the lid with the aroma of black licorice, both of us headed for the museum gift shop to see if we could score a fix.

I’ve loved licorice candy as far back as I can remember; Twizzlers are now synonymous with the aforementioned pretender to the throne, “red licorice”, but black licorice was the original confectionery company’s flavor of choice since the mid-1800s. A competing candy manufacturer (American Licorice Company) has manufactured “that red stuff” under the name Red Vines since its inception in the 1950s, thankfully giving a less deceptive name to the candy. Since the dawn of the 20th century, the New England Confectionery Company’s Necco Wafers featured licorice (the black disk) as one of the original flavors, and it continues to be included in the candy manufactured today (which incidentally makes a great projectile in a plastic tracer gun). Good & Plenty has been chock full of licorice goodness since 1893, but part of the guilty pleasure of eating them was pretending they were pills. Good & Plenty had the extra added bonus of having a hard candy shell, either white or pink (with the pink ones allegedly getting their color from crushed insects).

The dark Necco wafers are licorice flavored

Licorice candies are also available in bags or loose form; Australian licorice is sweeter and softer resulting in happier dental technicians everywhere. Panda brand licorice comes in small boxes and while a little chewier than Australian licorice is packed with more flavor. Most candy stores that have loose bins of candy will have Scotty dogs, a firmer and teeth polluting form of the candy – although the licorice flavor is pretty intense, you’ll need about a box and a half of floss after consuming a handful of them. For those who like their licorice somewhat muted, all-sorts are a licorice candy that originated in Britain with additional flavors and textures including nonpareils, coconut and fruit-flavored gelatin creating a nice entry-level foray into the world of licorice. A word of advice – stay away from Trader Joe’s all-sorts – they come in a plastic bag which usually reduces the candy to a gelatinous sticky mess. For a walk on the wild side (Finnish-style), there’s salted licorice. The Finns take the familiar Swedish fish shape and make a licorice that utilizes salt in the manufacturing process; this isn’t licorice candy with salt crystals sprinkled on to it, the salt permeates the confection all the way through. I am a self-confessed licorice junkie, but I can’t get past a single piece of these saline treats – eating one makes me wish it was actually made of some tiny black fish.

Black Jack, the original flavored gum inspired by General Santa Anna

When you’re leading an army of several thousand to the Alamo to quell the uprising (or attending Occupy San Antonio), why not have a stick of Black Jack gum in honor of the exiled Mexican general that inspired it. In 1884, New York businessman Thomas Adams created the first flavored chewing gum (Black Jack) after encountering General Antonio de Santa Anna chewing on chicle he brought with him to Staten Island. The gum was out of production for years, but nostalgia has brought it back through Cadbury, the company that acquired Adams – if you’re so inclined, you can also get clove gum, another of the early flavors. At Rocket Fizz (a candy and soda store in the western U.S.) you can pick up your Black Jack gum and a variety of licorice candies as well as a bottle of their house brand of black licorice soda that packs a flavor punch with the unmistakable licorice taste and aroma.

Lake Street Creamery's co-owner Beth Colla prepares an Extreme Black Jacker

Los Angeles gourmet food truck Lake Street Creamery is more than an ice cream truck – it’s like an ice cream parlor on wheels, right down to the gold leaf script lettering and red awning where you order your frozen confection. Lake Street Creamery has a variety of unique flavors, including one called Pancake Breakfast that tastes like… well, like a pancake breakfast, but what brought me to the truck was to try their homage to Black Jack gum – the licorice-flavored Black Jack ice cream. In addition to scoops, Lake Street Creamery will happily make floats for you, and their Weird Creep will combine a scoop of Black Jack with grape soda. I was in the market for a float, but wanted something that gave that extra push over the licorice cliff, that took the flavor to eleven. Proprietor Beth Colla was kind enough to make me a float using a bottle of the Rocket Fizz black licorice soda and a scoop of the Black Jack, garnished with Good & Plenty and functionally accompanied by a pair of black licorice straws. The result was an all-out assault that made my head explode in a cataclysm of licorice flavor; the cold, creamy treat screamed licorice while not being so overwhelming to only allow a taste. It was a magnificent celebration of licorice, a licorice-lover’s dream come true, the ice cream permeating the soda and being amplified by the flavor imparted from slurping it up from the straw, with the licorice pellets remaining from the denuded Good & Plenty adding chewy component to the ice cream left at the bottom. A shot of aguardiente would make this the perfect hot summer adult drink for the licorice aficionado.

Chaplin eats a real licorice shoe in Jason Mecier's "The Gold Rush"

If you love licorice enough to hang it on your wall, Jason Mecier (the Rembrandt of Red Vines) can do a portrait of you in Red Vines and licorice straws. The candy is glued to plywood and then laquered, but the art is better appreciated taking a few steps back. Mecier recently did a show entitled “Licorice Flix” at the iam8bit gallery in Echo Park in which he rendered television and movie stills with a candy, licorice or red and black reference in Red Vines and black licorice. The fun part is figuring out the tie-in, and although I was tempted to start at corner of Willy Wonka and work my way across, the glue and lacquer render the art inedible. Even iam8bit’s logo was cleverly recreated in Red Vines.

Licorice is an acquired taste, and some are never able to acquire it, but once it grabs you there’s no letting go. I hope I can explain to the Feds that all those plants under the UV lights in the shed are actually licorice…

iam8bit
2147 W. Sunset
Echo Park (Los Angeles), CA 90026
GPS Coordinates: 34°4’39.14″N 118°15’53.72″W

GALLERY: See images of the ton of licorice Val has consumed in his quest for licorice nirvana

See and hear the slide show / podcast of Val having the Extreme Black Jacker licorice float

2147 W. Sunset
Los Angeles, CA 90026

The Italian Job

Europe, Trippy Food (Tasty flora and fauna) No Responses »

Jul 222011

Cecconi’s
West Hollywood (Los Angeles) California

One of the outdoor dining wings

Los Angeles is a multi-cultural mélange of ethnicity represented by people with roots around the globe, but unlike major cities on the east coast there’s a lack of an Italian presence. Back on the east coast you didn’t have to stray far to find yourself caught up in the revelry of the round-the-clock gastronomic overload of Saint Anthony’s Feast, or the gluttonous decadence of the Feast of San Gennaro (both resplendent celebrations in the streets and a damned fine excuse to stuff yourself like a calzone). Where does one go in the L.A. area to immerse one’s self in the Italian experience? Fuggedaboutit! How does San Diego rate a Little Italy and San Francisco deserve a North Beach while L.A. languishes without a major Italian presence? Until we start installing bocce courts in Westwood and erecting rose trellises around bathtub B.V.M.Ms on lawns in Glendale, we’ll have to settle for the old world charm of Cecconi’s in West Hollywood.

Herbs grow at the bar, meats and cheese hang behind

Twin palms stand guard at the opening in a towering hedge wall, a portal to a slice of Italia sorely lacking in L.A. The space is part formal, part rustic, part lounge – the wings at the front are open air with white country hutches at either end decorated with loaves of artisan bread the size of your head. The atmosphere lends itself to memories of dining al fresco in the country until you pass through to the bar, a busy and cluttered marble-topped control center where fresh herbs grow on the counter and salami, meats and cheeses hang from the interior. The libations are both innovative and traditional where you can order signature cocktails, drinks by request or simply trust the bartender. On my visit I tasted the elementary named “Intro to Aperol” a refreshing tangy blend of Aperol, gin, lemon juice and angostura bitters with an orange peel balanced on the rim torched to release citrus aromas. Aperol was in ample supply – one syrupy drink not on the menu with the Italian moniker of “Sicilian Flower” blended St. Germaine, Aperol, Carpano Antica vermouth and Averna, again with the flamed twist (things have a way of catching fire, if you catch my drift). The Watermelon Paradise started with gin and cucumber with watermelon juice ginger syrup then christened with a basil leaf and cracked black pepper with the result looking like a pink shaved ice in a glass.

Intro to Aperol featuring Aperol, gin, lemon juice, and angostura bitters

To the left of the bar is a dining area illuminated by retro chandeliers and subtle yellow recessed lighting; a private dining area is separated from the main area by what looks leaded glass panels with a large orange heart on the back wall, a room where Frank (last name not necessary) would be at home entertaining. We chose the more austere and comforting outdoor area for dining; the one drawback is that as the night progresses, some of the visual excitement of the cuisine is lost. Small dishes of sharable cicchetti started arriving at the table; meatballs that nicely blended beef, veal and pork in a light tomato basil sauce were served a la carte but it would have been sinful to confuse the taste by crowning pasta with them. A plate of stacked marrow bones opened lengthwise looked like the spoils of a victorious battle and fortunately the rich essence of the greasy beef substance was not melted away. Crispy fried shishito peppers and anchovies were a snack-like curiosity; a puree of fava on bruschetta with aged Pecorino shavings was a delightful combination of textures with the sharpness of the cheese complementing the creamy legume spread and was the perfect partner for a rare tuna crudo and avocado crostini.

Meaty baked bone marrow

The gnocchi Romana in gorgonzola cream sauce was like an Italian mac and cheese – the gnocchi melted away like mashed potatoes leaving the cheese as the prominent taste and the zucchini flowers stuffed with goat cheese were a colorful and fanciful taste treat. There was a cavalcade of dishes brought out, each with urging from the staff who in true Italian fashion acted like my grandmother (“Finish that! There’s more coming!”). Baby scamorza cheese and zucchini calzones looked like empanadas but were a world apart in taste, and a cheese pizette arrived plain but was treated to a shower of rough grated black truffle to create an aromatic explosion of flavor on a crispy dough palette.

Clams and prawns with squid ink risotto

I could have thrown in the tricolor towel then and there, but this is Italian cuisine we’re talking about and the hits kept coming and became more substantial. As dark as the dining area, a mound of sepia risotto was accented with cuttlefish and clams with giant grilled prawn laying atop – in the dim light the legs and antennae gave the appearance of some odd spider, and the taste was dark, murky and decadent. The prawns were soft and creamy inside and the seafood didn’t overpower the risotto, but I came close to biting into a still-closed clam, hidden in the darkness of the squid ink. The item was not currently on the menu but I was fast losing track of what was and wasn’t. The interaction with the staff was as enjoyable as the cuisine; it seemed like a flock of employees came out to release a rock salt encrusted sea bream from its salty tomb. The baked fish was simply prepared with the salt paste held together with egg white and accented with rosemary and mint; the fish itself had only a light application of lemon and herbs. To my amazement, once the fish was extracted from the salt crust even when some of the grains ended up on the flesh it was not overly salty.

Sea bream entombed in a salt crust

Another item not on the menu was grilled Dover sole in a lemon caper sauce that is offered as a special item once a week when it is flown in fresh (on Air Italia, no doubt); the two fish items were different enough in taste to not be redundant. In keeping with the seafood theme, we sampled a crab gnocchi dish with peas and saffron. Most of the flavor came from the fresh lump crabmeat with the gnocchi having an almost negligent texture. The only pasta dish we encountered was a rich and creamy agnolotti Del Plin, which (unlike us) was lightly stuffed. Keeping in mind that this is an Italian restaurant, a fleet of desserts arrived at the table that included cannoli with pistachio, ice cream-filled profiterole, a warm, moist strawberry shortcake and a panna cotta topped with fresh berries.

Profiterole, ice cream-filled puff pastries

The food alone would have been a triumph but the camaraderie and boisterous humor from what initially looked like a very formal staff made the evening a special occasion and a welcome voyage to another land without leaving the Los Angeles city limits. The next time I feel the need to immerse myself in Italian culture, I’ll head over to Cecconi’s instead of cracking the cellophane on my Blu Ray copy of The Sopranos.

Cecconi’s West Hollywood
8764 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles 90069
GPS Coordinates: 34°4’49.91″N 118°23’6.55″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s lavish dinner at Cecconi’s West Hollywood in Los Angeles, California

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by the organizer of the event.

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