Texas BBQ

Being born and bred in our lovely Deseret, a place where baked chicken smothered in Kraft Barbecue Sauce can be counted as BBQ instead of as a hangin' crime ("Get a rope!"), I figured it was high time I got me an education in real live barbeque, Texas-style. You can't throw a stone down here without hitting a BBQ place. On the short drive home from the jobsite on the freeway, I can always distinctly smell two or three hardwood fires slow smoking their way to dinner. It's more than eating down here. It's a passion, a point of pride, a way of life. Sure, I've read the reviews and the theories. I've eaten the imports and the imitations. I've seen Guy Fieri pop it in
his mouth and declare it "money". But nothin' beats the real deal. Right?

My first stab took me to Fuschak's Pit Bar-B-Q (since 1966), midway between Austin and San Antonio on Hwy35 (http://www.fuschaksbbq.com/). I ordered the 3 meat combo and it came with 4 sides. I chose the brisket, the smoked turkey and the sausage, the coleslaw, potato salad, green beans and the banana pudding. It came with a side of sauce and two pieces of the whitest white bread that ever was. Add to that a big ole sweet tea.
I started by sampling the sides. Potato salad: Eh. Not too much mayo. Fine. Coleslaw: Very good. Machine-shredded but with a nice spicy cabbage bite to it. Green beans: Had 'em before. Fine.
The meats: Smoked turkey, excellent, moist. Brisket: great, nice smoke-ring. Sausage: Fine, Tasty. The sauce was thin and spicy. It tasted of dried chiles and vinegar, brown sugar and a little tomato. Frankly, all of it was delicious.Real good, even. But not the mythic experience I was expecting. As I ate the delicious banana pudding with 'Nilla wafer crust, the conclusion that I came to was that if you put meat in a smoker, it was gonna taste pretty good! Simple as that. But far too much has been made of Texas BBQ over the years for me to be turned away so easily.
I regrouped, reformulated. I did my homework. Consulting the Reader's Poll from the local weekly, I narrowed my candidates. First on my list and theirs was Rudy's. (http://www.rudys.com/)


I had read the reviews and talked with people in line as I waited to order. I wasn't in the mood for the heat on the patio (the only seating available) so I ordered mine to go. After all my research, I was feeling academic so I ordered as closely to my original as I could: brisket, turkey, sausage. At Rudy's, you don't order a plate of food. You order it by the pound. You can get your brisket moist or lean. Someone in line said the brisket was too fatty. I count that as a logical fallacy. Too fatty? What are you talking about? I ordered moist. I needed a full array of sides. I was taking it home, I justified to myself. It will be good leftovers. I ordered the potato salad, the coleslaw, the bbq beans, the creamed corn and the peach cobbler. You could take as much white bread as you wanted. As I chatted with my cashier and meat-handler, I told him the tale of my search. With a knowing look in his eye, he turned to his carving block and handed me a rosy nugget. "A little sample for you. That's our baby-backs." A wink and a nod and he was on to the next customer.
I walked back to my car with nugget in hand. I debated for a moment whether to stash it with the rest of dinner or eat it now. As I started the car, I sampled it. Wow. I mean WOW! Never, I mean, NEVER have I had ribs like that. I don't know why or how... the pepper-crust, the all-oak smoking, some secret marinade? I nibbled and sucked that bone, licking my fingers and gnawing some more. When I arrived home 10 minutes later, that bone was COMPLETELY clean. I had been lost in a meat-eating trance.
Cranking the AC on full and plopping down in front of some NCIS on USA, I started cracking open my haul. Renewing my survey, I started sides first. Potato salad: Eh. Mustardy, very standard. Coleslaw: Hand-chopped but not as good as Fuschak's. BBQ beans: excellent. Creamed corn: What?! Next bite: WHAT?! A quick forensic examination told me this was probably a good frozen corn barely simmered in a buttery bechamel with some salt and a heaping helping of white sugar. The effect: an evocation of my best childhood memory of corn-on-the-cob, only creamier. (For the record, the incident in question was a booth at the South-Eastern Idaho State Fair in Blackfoot, where the corn is picked earlier that day, boiled and dipped in a crockpot-full of melted butter and liberally salted.) Absolutely delicious!
On to the meats. The sausage, good. The turkey, insanely good. The brisket, even better. The sauce was good but I didn't find myself using much of it. I couldn't believe my tastebuds. I began muttering to myself. "This is so good." Chomp, chomp, chomp. "Do you know how good this is?" Sausage, brisket, turkey, brisket. "I can't believe how good this is!" Brisket, corn, turkey, what's this under this little stack? Butt-end of brisket!? Extra smoky?! How could I be so lucky?!? I was overwhelmed. As I dug into the peach cobbler, I felt a huge swell of emotion. My eyes watered and I almost started to cry. I had been blown away. My definitions for what was even possible had been forever altered. Honest to God, I almost started to cry.
Monday morning at work, I tried to explain my recent religious experience. I was by teased for days about my emotional response but no matter. I bear testimony to the truth! But in order to be properly academic about this, I needed a third sample. I began to ask the locals on the other crews if they had had any barbecue that was better than Rudy's. It took some rooting around but I finally got a good lead.
HVAC Dude 1: "Have you tried the Smoke House out on Rigsby and Roland?"
HVAC Dude 2: "WHAT?!? You're sending him out there? He's gonna need a bullet-proof vest in that neighborhood."
HVAC Dude 1: "Yeah. But that barbecue is even better than Rudy's."
Me: "What was that address again?"


Todd and I spent today out and about in San Antonio and when it was time for dinner, we were hungry. Pulling up to the restaurant, I was very pleased to see the letters of the sign had been cut out of plywood and crudely painted. This was a good omen. The neighborhood didn't seem that dodgy but it was still daylight. Walking in, I knew we were in the right place. The service bordered on rude, another good sign. We each got the brisket and pork rib with beans and coleslaw and we split half a chicken. My tea was sweet, his wasn't. The barbecue was fantastic. The chicken was the standout. But it's hard to beat an experience like Rudy's. I don't doubt that on a good day, it's the best. But today, it was merely excellent. We both left very full and very happy. I ordered and paid for a piece of pecan pie but it never made it onto my tray. I didn't miss it until we were on our way home and as anyone who knows anything about my love of pecan pie, that says a lot. This place was the real deal as you can see by the checkered table cloth, the wood paneling, and that expression on Todd's face. Good authentic home cooking full of love. Todd remarked that nothing else seemed to get quite as cold as an iced tea. I'd have to concur... he's a sharp one, that Todd. We both thought a biscuit would be a better side than the ubiquitous white bread. I guess I can understand the white bread on a historic level but on a gastronomic level, it is a big fail. Yeah, I know. I'm a heretic. A heretic who had a religious experience. I met the God of Meat and his name is Rudy.

Just what I needed

Having arrived in San Antonio, I crashed hard. Upon waking, I opened my door onto the glaring sun and a gust of 95 degree humid air. I closed the door and laid back down. When I rose again, the sun had started to set and I braved another excursion. These Extended Stay Motels are always in the armpit of town and was pleased to find this one no exception. Directly across the street is EZ Payday Loans & Check Cashing and Jerky World. No lie. But I find these areas of town to have my favorite kinds of restaurants in them: little, authentic, generally-ethnic eateries of little pretense. My iPhone told me there was a pho place around the corner and I thought a bun cha giao might be just the ticket in this heat. I set out in search! The pho place was long gone, replaced by a Domino's Pizza but in an adjoining strip mall was a place that my restaurant radar was beckoning me into like an air traffic controller waving lighted cones. And once again, my spidey sense satisfied.

Moroccan Bites Tagine Cuisine (http://www.moroccanbitescuisine.com/) had a few little tables out in front that looked like they could be of use only after the sun went down. I went in and sat myself in one of the eight or so tables. There were only two other tables occupied, both with groups engrossed in conversation. I thumbed through the menu and order a combo grill plate to experience the widest array. As much as I would have liked to try it, the heat had sapped my enthusiasm for tagine! Cold water was poured into a clear red plaster tumbler and I was brought a small bowl of spicy pickles and olives. My server looked at the pickles and arched her eyebrows... "Spicy!" I thought this was turning out rather well and settled in for my meal.

It arrived almost instantly. The spiced carrots, barbas (beets) and lettuce side was refreshing. The carrots had fresh oregano and a hint of lemon that brought out their sweetness. The beets were steamed, undressed and earthy whilt the chopped romaine provide a bed. The three skewers were lamb, chicken and a chopped lamb kafta kebab on a bed of pilaf. They had been roasted on charcoal and were moist and succulent. A fantastic plate and the $13 price tag only made it more delicious. As I wrapped up, my server asked if I was sure I didn't want something sweet. I had a little room and said I'd love to look at the pastry case. There was a couple seated next to the pastry case who had just finished there dessert, and in the way of satisfied diners everywhere asked me how I had liked my meal. I said it was fantastic, that it was first day in town and I had managed to choose very well for myself. They laughed and said San Antonio has some very fine restaurants. My server began to point out the desserts as they leaned out of the way so I could see them. There was a pineapple cake, baklava and numerous others. She said "we have this with rosewater, almonds, honey..." I stopped her short and said "Sold!" She grinned from ear to ear. I returned to my table and saw that the sun had finally gone down and restaurant was closing. Sure enough, the kitchen staff began to populate the tables outside, smoking, talking, laughing. Then this arrived at my table.

As you gaze upon this, you should hear a choir of angels, a rich harmonic swell of well being. This, ladies and gentlemen, is basbossa. "An Egyptian cake, but we know how to make it," she said. She placed it one the table and I said "Tell me again...?" She smiled and said "Rosewater, almonds, honey... semolina." I smiled and so did she. I took my fork in my hand and sensed that I was poised on the brink of greatness. I cut a small bite from the corner, much smaller than my usual. I lifted it onto my fork, gathered a bit of the maple syrup drizzle and gave it a small flourish. I took it to my lips and partook.
My other senses dimmed as I was transported. This flavor! This flavor! It was as charming, as comforting, as mysterious as a hauntingly beautiful Old-World grandmother winking out from beneath wrinkles and shawl. She is saying something to me... what is she saying? Slowly the world fell back into place. I shuddered, shaking off the trance. The couple who were sitting next to pastry case were watching me, smiling. He asked across the little room, "Well?" I managed to stammer out "Excellent...", grinning from ear to ear.
Then we laughed. We shared a laugh, all three of us together. We laughed the laugh of those who know, of those who know basbossa.

On the road again

Traveling is really an extended opportunity, in my mind, to eat. And as I am once more working out of town, I intend to take full advantage. This time I have a per diem, which really makes it a kind of moral necessity. So here once more, I will document these notches on my steak knife, as it were, sharing with you my tales of gastronomic conquest.

I just finished driving 1400 miles in 36 hours and I am incredibly proud of my little bucket of bolts for having done such a stellar job. You’d never guess it to look at her but she is a trooper!

The first leg of my journey took me to Albuquerque where I stayed with my dear friend Knykir whom I have not seen for far too long. She lives with my friend Kim and over the back fence from her sister Maren who lives with Kim's sister and nephew, a cozy arrangement! When I arrived at dawn, Maren had just done a rather unfortunate faceplant from her bike into the driveway and snapped off half her front tooth and cut up her face rather badly! She was looking as lovely as always (with the addition of her flesh wounds, that is) and assured me it was "no big deal". She gave me a warm hug and invited me to go to the parade the next morning then wandered home in a bit of a daze, shrugging off attempts to take her to the hospital.

Upon waking the next afternoon, I wanted to take Kim and Knykir out for a bite to thank them for being such lovely hosts. They were all set to refuse when I reminded them that I had a car (a convenience they have been without for some time) and that we could go anywhere and I really would love to sample some New Mexican cuisine. They shared a conspiratorial glance and said in unison, "The Range Cafe!"

We arrived and ordered combo platters, I ordered one and they ordered one to share. Kim carefully chose which chile sauces to go on which items and me, the newbie, had to order the NM classic "christmas"(meaning both red and green chile sauces on everything) on general principles. What a plateful! 2 beef enchiladas, a chicken tamale and a chile relleno with a thick blue cornmeal crust. Each was a paragon of excellence, a recipe perfected over decades. Bold flavors and subtle nuances intertwined in perfect focus, iconic flavors playing hide and seek amongst each other. The classic red enchilada sauce was a new highmark for me. The green chile sauce was redolent of smoke and fire. There is something magical that happens when you fire-roast a green chile and when you start with the best NM chiles and prepare them perfectly, magic barely begins to describe it. The blue corn crust on the relleno was a revelation. The contrasting textures of the coarse-ground deep-fried cornmeal and the barely-done snap of the chile was exquisite. Luckily, I had remembered my lactase enzyme so I didn't even need to leave ALL of the cheese on the plate and savored the rare pleasure of gooey cheese! The tamale was perfumed with the corn leaf it had been steamed in to point of having almost sarsparilla overtones! Exquisite!

Whilst wrapping our mouths around these moist forkfuls, the elderly woman who had been sitting behind us sidled up to our booth, gripping the sides of the table with both hands. She had remarked (loudly) on Knykir's t-shirt as we seated ourselves and seemed to greet us as old friends. We had exchanged pleasantries and settled into our respective tables. Now standing at our table, she launched into a verse of "Yes, We Have No Bananas". She looked like she was attempting to channel Rita Hayworth as she eyed us all in a manner that can only be called seductively. The three of us exchanged a shared glance of mystification and we turned back to her. She explained that she had been singing and playing piano at the local veteran's hospital ("Three hours... Every week!) and concluded, "They are a VERY appreciative audience" with a rather lewd eyebrow wiggle punctuating that VERY in way that left some question as to what exactly it was she was talking about, but certainly alluded to something we weren’t sure we were comfortable imagining. After suppressing our giggles that almost erupted after another shared glance of mystification, she bid us adieu as her 50-something daughter looked on with a look of apologetic embarrassment.

We returned to their place and as I gathered my things to get on the road again, they gave me samples of the baked goods they have been making for a local café. They were devoured so quickly no photographic evidence remains but each was more delicious than the last. A raspberry streusel bar, a pumpkin cheesecake loaf and a banana-blueberry bread. All accompanied by an iced chai from their secret recipe. I could taste the cardamom but couldn’t pick out the NM red chile until Kim pointed it out to me. Warm hugs ensued and I hit the road once more.

Brussels Sprouts in the Celestial Kingdom

In the continuing saga of Momofuku inspiration, and in the spirit of David Chang, I tweaked another one of his recipes last night as a course in the parade of dishes for S’ birthday. (...artisan ham and softboiled farm egg, scallops in elderflower glaze, sweet ginger scallops with cucumber, bacon-seared calvados-splashed fuji apple on toasted ciabatta under a bubbling local smoked white cheddar...)
He calls his Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Pureed Kimchi. I added roasted pinenuts, sherry vinegar (one of Chang’s favorite moves) and fried shallots. They evoke favorite casseroles the way my mom used to do it, but with the flavor profiles of haut cuisine. The apotheosis of my Mormon childhood favorites, this is:

BRUSSELS SPROUTS IN THE CELESTIAL KINGDOM

4 c. trimmed and halved Brussels Sprouts Trim the stems and any sad outer leaves. If you have your pick, choose the smaller sprouts.

2 pieces of premium bacon, chopped into ¼” strips.

1/3 cup shelled pinenuts

1/3 cup pureed kimchi The more live-culture, the better!

1 ½ tbsp quality sherry vinegar

Fried shallots I use the plastic box of crisp pre-fried shallots from the Asian market. If I fried my own, I’d slice them very thin and use butter to do it.

Fry the chopped bacon until fat is melting but before it browns too much. Add Brussels sprouts, ½ tsp salt and about a 1/3 cup water to the pan. Don’t stir. Cover immediately and let it steam off until the sprouts begin to tenderize. In the meantime, dry panroast the pinenuts until golden. Then stir the pan for the first time. Hopefully, the bottom of the pan will have a nice brown sear on it. Think hash browns. Think how much better they are when they are actually browned. When the sprouts leaves crisp, they impart a nuttiness that is amazing. That’s what we want. So stir once to turn it over and then leave it alone so it will brown the other side. The bacon should now be brown and crisp but not burned. When sprouts are tender but still bright, add the roast nuts and remove from heat. Combine the pureed kimchi and the sherry vinegar and toss in the pan. Top with the fried shallots.

Pretty easy and pretty damn good. As always, all measurements are rough estimates. I cook with my mouth, not measuring spoons. The kimchi adds just another little funk to the funk of the Brussels sprouts… hard to call out in the final dish but adding whole layers of depths and complexity. Chang mentions that he makes his own kimchi and uses it while it’s still very young. I haven’t made a traditionally flavored kimchi yet so I used bottled. A trip through the food processor and voila!

That box of fried shallots is quickly becoming a staple in my kitchen. I put a few tablespoons into every broth and they make a great topping in everything from sandwiches to salads to whatever. It seems I’m always pulling them out of the cupboard.

A brief note on the preposition in the title of this recipe: To non-native Utah Mormonese speakers, this wording may sound a bit awkward. You might think that things would be “from” or “of” the Celestial Kingdom. You would be reveal yourself as non-native with this shibboleth. Things don’t generally come from the Celestial Kingdom, they go to it. And as one is on one’s way there (ontologically-speaking), one would refer to it as existing as a location not in (finite) space, but in time (in the future). One would say “in the Celestial Kingdom” much as one would say “in the presence of God”. Yes, this is me. Nerding out. “Big Love” can get me thinking about such things and last night’s season premiere was pretty awesome. Can’t wait for this season!

Torta Salgado

My coworker, Rocky Gilberti wanted to go home to Brooklyn for the weekend and invited me to tag along. She promised some Brazilian home cooking and I jumped at the chance.

Rocky obviously knows her way around the kitchen. She even taught me a couple kitchen tricks I'd never seen before. She showed me how lighting a candle next to onions being chopped will prevent your eyes burning... now that's a handy bit of knowledge! We were both in full lounge mode and she was dressed more for capoeira than for having her picture taken but as you can see, she was a good sport about it.

She is an art conservator originally from Belo Horizonte in the Minas Gerais region of Brazil. She let me thumb through her mother's Livro de Bruxa, or Witch's Book, a compendium of family recipes going back several generations. Evidently, her mother's copy is a green felt-covered book stuffed so full she had to wrap a belt around it to keep it all together (thus "Witch's Book"). But several years ago, she scanned every page and pieced it all together scrapbook-style as a gift to each of her children. The pages are largely in Portuguese with recipes gathered from many family members (in their individual handwriting) or clipped from newspapers from many decades. What a treasure! The recipe she had chosen for the evening was from page 120, Torta Salgado or Salted Pie.

Torta Salgado
Batter:
2 c. milk
4 eggs
12 tbsp. white flour
5 tbsp. olive oil
3 tbsp. grated hard cheese (Pecorino, Romano, or Parmesan)
Depending on the cheese used, possibly 1 tsp. salt
Blend until smooth and add 2 tsp. dry yeast

Filling:
1 large chicken breast, poached & shredded
1 med. yellow onion, chopped
1 14 oz. can hearts of palm, chopped
1 15 oz. can tomato sauce
1/2 c. frozen sweet peas
2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped

Saute the onions in some olive oil until translucent, add chicken and the liquid from the can of hearts of palm. Reduce. Add tomato sauce and frozen peas and reduce the standing liquid. Season to taste. Add chopped hearts of palm and chopped hard-boiled eggs. Pour 1/2 of the batter into an ungreased 9x13 Pyrex baking pan. Add chicken mixture into pan, distributing evenly. Cover with remaining batter. Bake at 350 degrees until done, about 30 minutes or until a poked toothpick comes clean.

The result was a light and eggy pie that tasted like rich comfort food of the first order. The hearts of palm were remarkably similar to artichokes in flavor and texture, but with a distinctly Latin flair. She conjectured that they were originally a New World replacement for an unavailable ingredient familiar to Portuguese immigrants but assured me they were absolutely indispensable for Brazilian cooking. She said this is but one of many variations of this dish. There is a ground beef version for which she would probably omit the peas. Her great aunt even made a version with large, fresh sardines.

We talked into the night about the indigenous cultures of Brazil and the fusion of cultures that is Brazil today. Her fiance, Charles, is currently in Brazil helping out finishing her parent's new home and doing a large fresco there. Even though we were both away from our respective sweeties for Valentine's Day, at least we had her marvelous cooking to comfort our pining hearts.

Alexandria, Virginia

I have been quite pleasantly surprised by the food here. And once again, I find that some of the best ethnic cuisine can be found, of all places, in strip malls. While the food in the DC area is generally expensive, in both restaurants and the grocery stores, I have found it to all be quite good.

Pho Viet Flare is a little shop serving only pho and bun (rice vermicelli noodle salad), with cha gio (egg rolls) and spring rolls. These are always my favorite. Somehow the pho is always better in a place that does only pho! I found the broth to be very good; rich and aromatic without being overly spiced. The bo vien (meatballs) were a little lackluster but the herb plate was fully loaded. Their spring rolls were fantastic! The texture was so perfect, maybe the best I've ever had. Their che (sweet bean parfait dessert) was also excellent. Something about the sweetened red beans, grassjellies, coconut milk and shaved ice come together to just complete a pho meal! Good to know I can get my fix for pho here.

My coworker Rachel Gilberti and I went to the Afgan Market Restaurant and Bakery. We both enjoyed it quite a bit. We both ordered kubedah kabob combos. I got a lamb kabob too (which was tender and quite good) but the kubedah was fantastic. Ground sirloin mixed with fresh herbs and spices rolled onto a skewer and char-grilled, served on a bed of basmati rice sprinkled with cinnamon served with a little bowl of tender garbanzo beans in an oily, spicy tomato sauce. This was served with a salad of romaine lettuce and tomato with a dressing of yogurt, tahini and lemon, and some oil-fried flatbread. It is located in a market where you can buy everything from rugs to hookahs to groceries to jewelry. They had some dumplings that looked like they'd be worth going back for too, but we were sooo stuffed when we left! They'll just have to wait until next time.

Satay Sarinah is an Indonesian restaurant located in the same strip mall as Pho Viet Flare. I started with the crab shomai fried dumplings. As I browsed the menu, I noticed they had Kopi Luwak on the menu. I have read about this before and had promised myself I would try it if I got the chance. Kopi Luwak is coffee made from coffee berries that have been eaten by the civet cat. The civet digests the berries but passes the coffee bean and, in the process, filters some of the harsher alkaloids from the bean. People collect the beans and the result is supposed to be the very finest cup of coffee in the world. The price reflected the labor-intensive nature of this drink ($10/cup!) but it is quite rare and thought I should take the opportunity when I had it. They made it by grinding the beans to an turkish grind, steeping it in hot water and hand filtering most of the grounds, making each cup individually. The result was a cup of full-bodied coffee like a cup of french-press, but not so strong as turkish, but with the sediment that turkish coffee has. The remarkable thing about it was that it was completely free of that final bitter note of coffee. It was strange to have a nice strong cup of coffee without that tang at the end. Like hearing the first three notes of Beethoven's 9th, and just kind of waiting for that fourth note that never comes. The caffeine was mellower too, not so jangly as it can be for me sometimes. Quite nice but worth the price? Maybe not but you gotta do it once... and truly it's not THAT much more than a latte, especially given what it is.

I moved on to the Rames village platter. Steamed jasmine rice topped with fried shallots surrounded by several bites of several things: coconut curry chicken, green beens in a spicy coconut sauce, a deep-fried hard boiled egg in a sweet chili sauce, a skewer each of beef satay and chicken satay, and some deep-fried shrimp chips, like a pork rind only shrimpier. The portions were a little modest but the attention to detail was nice, the flavors fantastic and I left with quite a nice little spice high. For dessert, I ordered the Es Campur. This is kind of an ideal dessert for me. The only thing that could have made it better was if it had been summer outside instead of 25 degrees. It is chopped rambutan, lychee, pineapple and jackfruit, cubes of grassjelly, and a hunk of young coconut all topped with shaved ice drizzled with a little condensed milk and plenty of pandan syrup. YES! Pandan is such an intriguing flavor, I can never quite wrap my mouth around it. It is made from the leaves of the Screwpine tree and used like vanilla but tastes nothing like vanilla. It tastes kind of fruity, nutty, grassy... very difficult to describe. Kind of like coconut maybe but kind of like buttery rice. Very delicate, almost floral, but earthy. It made for a delightful end to a very nice meal even if the service was kind of distracted.

Polish Cuisine in Brooklyn

My room in Alexandria, VA where I am working from had been overbooked for the Inauguration so I went to stay with coworker Anita Flejter and her husband Slawek at their place in Ridgepoint, Brooklyn. Anita is a fine art and architectural conservator and Slawek is a geologist working on an oil platform in the Gulf of Mexico off Louisiana. They are such lovely people and such gracious hosts! In addition to giving me a place to stay and lovely company, they gave me a primer in Polish cuisine that I enjoyed immensely.

Ridgepoint has a sizable Polish community and they took me to one of their favorite traditional Polish restaurants, Bona. http://bonarestaurant.com/en/ A guided tour of Polish cuisine in the Polish borough? Hell yeah! I had the sampler platter: fried pierogies (potato filled dumplings) topped with some fried onions, a grilled kielbasa (the real thing, not hot-doggy at all), and golabki, a cabbage roll stuffed with pork and rice, covered with a thin tomato sauce that tasted like a very mild demiglace. All was served with a little plate of salads: coleslaw, sauerkraut, a pickled beet salad and a red cabbage & apple slaw. Quite good. Anita gave me some of her batter-fried fish in Greek sauce, a kind of sweet and sour carrot-based marinara-looking sauce. Also good. They drank hot beer. I had a sip and it tasted like Stella Artois with some allspice/cinnamon/nutmeg on it. They said it should have had some honey and an egg yolk in it to give it body but as it was bitter cold out and the beer was warm, it was good enough!

The next night Slawek made bigos. This is a very traditional Polish dish known all over Poland that he put his own spin on. It is made with about half and half sauerkraut and fresh cabbage, although proportions vary. To this, he added onion, shredded carrots, chopped dried prunes, dried cranberries and some chopped pecans (the nuts are their own innovation). This is stewed all day or for several days, Slawek said, it keeps getting better and better. Traditionally, it is made with a meat base; bacon, kielbasa, pork, even chicken. But as Anita is vegetarian, Slawek and I just added some grilled chopped kielbasa to ours before serving. I liked this dish alot. A stick to your ribs winter dish that soothes the soul. Real farm-style comfort food. The kind of thing you hope is waiting for you when you come in from the cold. Interestingly, I had just been reading about making lacto-fermented sauerkraut a few days before ( http://boingboing.net/2009/01/12/making-sauerkraut-is.html ). I will definitely be trying this out once I get back to my kitchen!

Thank you Anita & Slawek!