Ceviche To Die For

I must be the only person that does not like Mezcalero's tacos. Their particular kind of tacos has been described and explained by the owner in various media articles: they are meant to mimic the steamed texture created by the hot tacos Mexican workers pop into plastic baggies in the morning as they pack their lunch for the day. My friends adore them: I do not. But I am outvoted, which means repeated visits to the restaurant - or stay home.

Luckily for me, I've discovered that Mezcalero has other delectable options. In particular, it has magnificent ceviche. I had the Ceviche Mezcalero - a new item on the menu-  which includes shrimp, sliced octopus, and other sea creatures. This is quite possibly the best dish of its kind I have ever had. Ceviche done poorly can be too vinegary, the marinade saturating the fish to a limp and sodden version of its former self. But here, the impeccably fresh seafood stood up nicely to the spicy lime and habanero juice, which had just a touch of cream to keep the flavors balanced. I enjoyed every morsel and will be back for more. I am also keen to sample the other seafood dishes now that I know that the chef is serious about it.

I was also delighted by the super-fresh tortilla chips and three different kinds of salsa - all bright tasting and offering different levels of heat - that was served as a prelude to the meal. Here, too, there were new additions. Clearly, the chef is a continued presence in the kitchen and is invested in keeping things interesting and inventive. This is such a refreshing break from the celebrity chefs who have abandoned the kitchen long ago.

As we were leaving a party of 12 people that seemed like regular guests was just being served, many of them having ordered the steak fajitas. They looked impressive!

So if you're like me and are not a big fan of tacos, rest assured Mezcalero has so much more to offer. I am looking forward to working my way through the rest of the menu. Thanks chef!

Taberna del Alabardero

Full disclosure: the post I am about to write is based on a freebie. I was invited to a media event at Taberna del Alabardero, where Chef Javier Romero showcased his fall menu in the restaurant's private dining room. Accepting this sort of invitation is risky. The premise of Dishes to Die For is that I only post about spectacular food. Unless a dish moves me, I don't write about it. But by accepting this invitation, I was more or less promising that I would write. Still, the opportunity was too good to pass up, and I went.
 
Luckily, of the ten dishes that were presented, I can honestly rave about two of them. A third gets an honorable mention. And a fourth was widely praised by other attendees.


First the two dishes to die for:
 
Paella de Langosta: Paella of Maine lobster, mussels, and calamari.
 
Chef Romero considers himself an ambassador of Spain and cleaves to the classics. The paella is made with Calasparra rice, the traditional paella rice, grown in only one region of Spain. But like a good diplomat, the chef also tunes in to American sensibilities. And so what really sent me here was the lobster. Fresh from the chilly waters of Maine, the lobster is grilled and served in the shell, rather than cooked with the rest of the ingredients. Swoon. No, make that swoooon. The result is that the meat inside is smoky and sweet at the same time, flavorful yet nuanced, moist but not mushy. If you order this, do ask for a lobster cracker - you will not want to let a morsel of this divine creature go to waste for want of not being able to crack the shell. The dish was artfully paired with a Lopez de Haro tempranillo -- I might never return to white wine with lobster again. I must confess that I was so taken with the lobster and wine pairing that I was distracted from the paella itself. But my neighbor to the left, who does not eat shellfish, was able to focus better. She was impressed with the vegetarian paella -- also on the menu -- served with seasonal mushrooms.
 
Rape a la Parilla con Cangrejo Cremoso: Grilled monkfish over marinated giant broad beans
 
Oh the lowly monkfish. So ugly that it is often passed over, including by me. Think again. Chef Romero is a master with using the grill to draw out the sweet flavors of fish. Like the lobster, the monkfish is first grilled, then brushed with a crab dip - a nod to Annapolis. At the table, the dish is spritzed with fresh lemon. In the almost 3 hours of eating we did that night, this was the one dish that had me reaching for seconds. A tip for home cooks: according to the chef, monkfish bones make the best fish stock. So even if cooking monkfish is not for you, consider asking your fishmonger for the bones to take home.
 
Now for the honorable mention:
 
Tartar de Atun: Yellowfin tuna tartar with Spanish ajoblanco (almond garlic and pistachio sauce)
 
Let me just say: there are a lot of tuna tartars on offer in DC. This is one of the better ones. If you want to replicate the ajoblanco, you will need to start 24 hours in advance: this gives the nuts, garlic, bread, and olive oil time to lend their flavors to each other. Pair with a gentle dry white.
 
Raved about by others:
 
Mollejas de Ternera: Veal sweetbreads with chanterelle mushrooms, fava beans, and potato gnocchi
 
By this point in the meal (this was course #9), I was really full. And besides, I am sure I am not alone when I say that I have a hard time with sweetbreads, and especially veal sweetbreads. So, while I could appreciate the brown sugar sherry sauce that I think was a good pairing for offal, I still had a hard time with each swallow. But others named this their best dish of the evening, so if sweetbreads are your thing, sounds like this might be a winner.
 


Chef Javier Romero

 
A word about Taberna del Alabardero: a DC institution for 26 years, the restaurant prides itself on its direct connection to Spain. The Taberna Group has 5 restaurants in Spain as well as a cooking school that supplies a steady stream of talent from Madrid, Seville, Malaga, Marbella, and San Pedro de Alcantara. This is a high end restaurant, but has good specials as well: check its website for happy hour deals and executive lunch weekday menu, currently running $28 for three courses.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Hartwood, Tulum: New York in the Jungle

If are up on your social media, you likely know by now that Hartwood is one of THOSE places: the trendy bordering on snooty kind that make you stand in line to get a reservation (see the restaurant website for instructions). Whether this is worth it or not is highly subjective. How do you personally walk the line between the annoyance of waiting and the pleasure of eating? Are you able to reconcile the indignity of supplication with the romance of firelight?

My rule of thumb is that I am willing to invest an hour of my time for superlative food. Right now, this level of investment will get you a table at Hartwood at a reasonable time -- we were offered a table at 6:30 or 9, or at 7:00 at the bar. Scoring a table at the coveted times between 7-8:30 will require a higher investment. As of April 2015, that is. I predict that this state of affairs will not hold much longer as Hartwood's popularity grows. So it is unlikely I will be returning, unless perhaps in the off-season.

Alright, so how was the food? (and if you are irritated it has taken me so long to get to this point, consider this a mirror of the experience itself). First -- the romance of the jungle setting as the light fades and the candles are lit makes this a special experience. Even a religious experience, as a priest-like figure passes by swinging a brass censer, its incense-like contents spewing smoke intended to repel mosquitoes. And now, finally, to the sacrament, uh, I mean, food. Much has been made of the fresh fruit cocktails, and they were okay. But I was more impressed with the almost exclusively Mexican wine list, and very happy with the rose I chose. Who knew Mexico had such good wine? Tuna ceviche and jicama salad appetizers were indescribably good. It is this sort of eating that warrants the pain of getting through the door. The otherworldly mood set by the priest-like figure was sustained by these divine dishes. Alas, we were brought back to the mundane with the overly-sweetened ribs which were our main course. Agave marinade sounded like a good idea but turned out to be cloying. Corn and coconut ice cream for desert did nothing to restore the ecstasy.

Still, overall it was worth the wait. The one complaint I have has nothing to do with the logistics, the disappointing entree, or even the somewhat pretentious waitstaff. Rather it was with the hurried pacing of the courses. I have complained about this in other reviews as well: fine dining establishments should allow their guests the pleasure of a langorous meal. Having paid the price of admission, being rushed is the real indignity.

Tasting Notes: Venice

The local population of Venice is shrinking. "We are now down to 59,500, it's slowing slightly as we get down to the 'zoccolo duro', the hard core", said Matteo Secchi, head of the protest group Venessia.com. With millions of tourists flooding Venice each year to visit its immense art and architectural heritage, locals are fleeing for lack of affordable rents and services. To the casual visitor, it can be hard to get a sense of the living city.

This is where foodies have an advantage. Connecting with seasonal produce is one way of being in touch with local rhythms of farming and eating. In Venice, this connection is possible for two reasons. First, the agriculture of the Veneto is still characterized by market gardening. This labor intensive method allows for growing many more varieties of plants than industrial farming does. Particularities rather than consistency can be encouraged: cultivars that have a short season, or are more delicate, or are specific to a locality. (Here in the U.S., "heirloom gardening" is an attempt to revive this approach.) The second reason is that this bounty is readily available to Venetians at the Rialto market, right in the heart of town. This time last year, Venessia.com and other groups had an important victory: they succeeded in reversing plans to relocate the 700 year old market to the mainland.

If you are lucky enough to go to Venice in late March-early April, you will catch the short season of the "castraure", the first shoots of the artichoke. Before the full-grown artichokes begin to sprout, a tiny bud appears at the top of the plant. This is what is snipped off to become castraure -- so miniature that there is nothing to trim; so tender they can be eaten raw. In this delicate offering is held a concentrated bite (two at the most) of artichoke essence.

For such tiny morsels, castraure can be quite versatile. My first taste of it was at the esteemed restaurant, Osteria Da Fiore. Of the exquisite food we had there, the most exquisite was gnocchi stuffed with crab, served with braised castraure. Perhaps the gnocchi was intended to be the star, but from my first taste of the young artichokes, these were undoubtedly the main attraction, an unbelievable spring intensity leaping from their small tendrils. The crab and its juices were merely there to enhance the sweetness they yielded.

You don't have to go the most expensive restaurants in town to find castraure. I happened upon them again at one of those restaurants lining the Grand Canal near the Rialto bridge. The proprietor of the Terrazza Sommariva flagged us down as we were passing by, trying to lure us with offers of pizza. But when I inquired about castraure, sure enough, there they were on the menu as a special, this time paired with shrimp. The shrimp, by the way, were amongst the tenderest I have ever tasted. But the castraure blew me away. This time, they were shredded raw and lightly seasoned with olive oil, lemon, garlic, salt, and most importantly chives. This preparation brought out a completely different flavor than the one I had had the night before -- the slight stringency of the raw shoots given depth by the chives, then made to sparkle by the lemon.

Venice's food is sometimes criticized as being boring and limited. I disagree. Follow the market offerings and you will find chefs that are inspired and creative, and a cuisine that is very much alive.

Varieties of Artichoke at the Rialto Market (local and regional)

Venice, Italy

Photo credits: Chris Svoboda
And: thanks to Marcella Hazan, still my most reliable guide to Italian food.

Letter from Linguino: Guest Post from San Francisco (4)

Yank Sing

Steaming baskets of Chinese dumplings,
Filled with savory delights,
Wrapped in the most delicate of wontons,
That kept coming
And coming.

Road Food

When I am on a road trip, I somehow feel compelled to eat "regional food". Honestly -- is there really such a thing anymore? And if it were any good, why is it still only regional? Nevertheless, driving through Virginia on my way to North Carolina, I managed to ingest fried onion rings, deep fried pickles, and a pimiento cheeseburger. Pimiento cheese, for the uninitiated, is cheddar cheese mixed with mayonnaise and pimiento peppers. A big debate rages about whether to use Duke's mayonnaise or Miracle Whip.

All of this left me feeling quite green, and sort of jipped. Nevertheless, on the return journey, I felt compelled to make one last attempt. I had read about deep fried banana cheesecake at a place called the Glass House Grill. I was attracted to the idea of fried bananas nestled with the cheese filling, but if I had read more carefully, I would have realized that it was the pastry itself that was deep fried. Sure enough, when this dish showed up, it turned out to be something like a giant churro (deep fried, sugar dusted dough) stuffed with bananas and sweet cheese and topped with caramel sauce. And I loved it!  It was worth every calorie and every gram of cholesterol.

Sneaking peeks at what other diners where eating, everything looked fresh and tempting. This place really has a unique spin on road food, but road food it is: it's right off the highway (I-85) in a town called South Hill, VA.  Enough to make me look for reasons to head south again.

DC Noodles

There's a new love in my life. Her name is DC Noodles. DC Noodles is like the girl next door -- the one you pass a million times in the street and never notice. Then one day, something happens to change that. She becomes all you can think about.

Seriously, it's not often you can say that every aspect of the meal was perfect -- every dish, the vibe in the restaurant, the service, even the price. DC Noodles is fundamentally a Thai restaurant, but its unique appeal comes from its ecumenical approach to noodles. You'll find squid ink spaghetti prepared in a wok. Spinach linguini shows up in red curry. Rice noodles, egg noodles, thin noodles, broad noodles -- they are all welcome under a broadened tent of Thai cuisine. Very DC, no?

My dish to die for was drunken squid ink spaghetti, with seafood. Aside from the sheer sexiness of black noodles, I loved how the chef had not compromised on the heat. After a few bites, my lips were tingling, which only made me want more. This was not an all out assault kind of chili burn, but a gentle one, with a touch of sweetness. Really addictive. The portion was large, but I ate the whole thing.

I don't know what it is, but spicy food makes me crave dessert. I just wanted a little bit, though, so we ordered the green tea ice-cream to share. Unexpectedly, the ice cream came with a side of warm black sticky rice. This was truly a dessert to die for, hot and cold, sticky and smooth. Luckily for me, Chris had to step outside to take a call in the middle of eating this, and...what can I say? She was gracious about it.

As the eating wound down, we took the time to look around us. The DC Noodles physical space could not have been easy to work with -- it's long and narrow, with a bar running the length of one wall, and a row of tables down the other. But with low lights, funky art on the walls, and -- high up near the ceiling -- a discreet row of recessed mirrors fashioned to resemble windows, it is a welcoming space. Somehow the acoustics work too -- by the time we left, the place was packed and lively, but the noise level was never overwhelming.

As I said, this was a perfect first date. My only question:  how soon can I see her again?


Photo credits:
Chris Svoboda
DC Noodles