Ruth Tobias

Distilling her experience as a globe-trotting contestant on Bravo’s new series Around the World in 80 Plates down to 5 courses over 3 hours, Jenna Johansen led a hell of a posse at Studio F last week, including chef-owner James Mazzio (far left) & Il Mondo Vecchio maestro Mark DeNittis (aka Mr. Johansen to be, second from left); the tall drink of water in the middle, Iain Chisholm, is the proud papa of soon-to-open Amerigo. This pop-up being the sequel to the inaugural, Charles Dale-cheffed blowout last month (which I also had the fortune to attend), it might well shed light on the kind of wild ride guests of The Inventing Room’s Ian Kleinman, whose 9-night run starts tomorrow, are in for. I’ll keep it brief.

Kicking off the whirlwind culinary world tour (enhanced by piped-in music from each featured country) was a trip to Spain: we started with a light rosé sangria

& 3 passed apps, including my favorite, the skewer of tangy marinated beef heart, tomatoes & croutons

as well as chorizo empanadas

& blistered pimientos de padrón.

The first sit-down course took us to Thailand via a cocktail based on mekhong (a sugar cane-&-rice based spirit) & flavored with lime, pear & papaya, as well as a salad combining cucumber, onion, cilantro, peanuts &, above all, abundant slices of Il Mondo Vecchio’s addictively spiced lap cheong (a Chinese sausage known in Thailand as kun chiang).

The second found us in Italy: Johansen paired a biodynamic Pinot Grigio from Friuli with a springtime risotto swirled with a huge dollop of risotto, chive pesto & bits of green garlic & asparagus.

Next up was France: a superb hunk of beef cheek prepared bourguignon-style (& accompanied, of course, by a glass of red Burgundy).

Last stop, Morocco: a type of coiled pastry called m’hanncha—flavored with orange-flower water & almonds & garnished with a honey-&-almond-stuffed Medjool date—alongside a potent mint-tea cocktail.

Check out the lovebirds at work.

As for Kleinman’s gig, here’s a sneak preview:

Cocktails
· Lemondrop martini with blueberry caviar
· Rosemary vodka, St. Germain & grapefruit juice with rosemary foam
· “Maple Mark”: Maker’s Mark, lime juice & ginger beer poured over maple-syrup cotton candy
· Jalapeño-cucumber “rita” with jalapeno bubbles

Small Plates
· Liquid nitrogen bruschetta popcorn
· Marinated tomatoes & strawberries with tandoori mozzarella sheet, whipped burnt balsamic & candied micro-basil
· Lump crab crème brûlée with soy sugar, ginger-poached pears & habañero tobiko
· Strawberry yuzu sorbet with frozen olive oil & goat-cheese jelly
· Sous-vide spiced beef shoulder with baked potato-stuffed mushroom, candied shallot & smoked pudding
· Lobster crêpe with black truffle caviar, Mornay & saltwater bubbles
· Berbere-fried pork belly with Israeli couscous carbonara, poached egg & smoked spinach

Sweets
· Apple pie ala mode: 20-hour apples, warm green-apple gel, brown-butter pie-dough wafers, crème fraîche streusel & liquid ice cream
· Vanilla-encased carrot cake with orange cream-cheese crisps, dry-salted rosehip caramel & buckwheat-honey almond cubes

Well, from the 10-second glimpse I got around the media preview before I had to bail, this should be good.

The 2nd annual Colorado Urban Winefest, held on June 9 to cap off Colorado Wine Week (June 3-9), is a fundraiser for CAVE, a taste-around of pours from 42 state wineries—& as someone who spends a lot of time researching regional wine festivals, I can tell you that’s a whole hell of a lot—& an educational extravaganza. Digging on the “interactive wine wheel”—

a lineup of ingredients whose aromas you’ll find in the featured wines. When you’re wondering how wine writers come up with this stuff—(“pencil shavings”? “horse blanket”? “cat urine”? etc.), this is how: the some 2000 compounds that can be found in wine are also found in jillions of other Things in Our World. The more you smell, the more you taste, the more you learn & appreciate, repeat.

And you’ll have plenty to see you through that cycle, judging by tonight’s event, which was just for starters:

Of course, there’ll be plenty of industry folk on hand to further lead you on the path to oeno-enlightenment, including Row 14 Bistro & Wine Bar’s bright & shiny Jensen Cummings.

So, ya know, be there, otherwise be 4-sided.

***A day late as usual, but I had no time to post on Sunday, as I was blowing through the galleys for my upcoming Food Lovers’ Guide to Denver & Boulder, which is finally nearing its to-press date. So yay.***

I’ve only got 2 cents to add to the huge pot staked on Williams & Graham, Sean Kenyon’s much-discussed LoHi bar. But add it I will—starting with damn, it’s dark in there! Almost ghostly, really: if you were to enter when the place was vacant, surveying the heavy woods & flickeringly low light & bookshelves, you could easily imagine you’d stumbled upon some long-abandoned, turn-of-the-century club where gentlemen with ivory canes & muttonchops once gathered over toddies to debate the electoral platform of Teddy Roosevelt.

Dispelling the near-gloom, however, is a bright-&-shiny staff that aims to know your name & your poison from the get-go (even when class-act Kenyon’s not in the house). On last week’s visit, our server was a dead ringer for the young Brigitte Bardot; how about that? The 1st round was a doozy, including a cocktail that deserves the title of Dish of the Week, liquid though it is, for being everything a beautifully made drink should be: the Tokyo Dagger (pictured left).

A blend of 12-year Japanese single malt with the herbal aperitif known as Bonal Gentiane-Quina & rich, raisinated Lustau San Emilio Pedro Ximenez Sherry, it demonstrates Kenyon’s trademark sense of balance. Every element falls seamlessly into place: the sweet & the savory, the bitter & the smooth, aromatics & mouthfeel. Nothing’s ever stark on the 1 hand or florid on the other. Equally exemplary in that regard is The Smoking Frenchman (unpictured), whose list of ingredients alone reveals as much: cognac (warmth & old spice), ginger liqueur (sweetness & fresh spice), lemon bitters (acid & bittersweetness), & a Scotch rinse (smoke & earth). (Of course, the bar can whip up special requests with ease; I also knocked back a refreshing, vodka-spiked, sangria-like concoction after asking for a red-wine cocktail.)

My only minor beef is with the tiny menu; serving only a handful of dishes is in itself totally understandable as a means to keeping the focus on the booze, but by the same token, I’d get rid of larger plates entirely in favor of a greater variety of complementary bar snacks. In addition to the spiced caramel popcorn with peanuts (above right), we nibbled on the kitchen’s elegant version of steak & eggs,

which I mainly remember (see: 3 cocktails) for the perfectly medium-rare sear on the meat. Nice job so far. I plan to return very shortly, so I’ll be updating this post anon.

Yes, I still have some beefs with this Ohio-based seafood franchise, beyond the fact that it’s an Ohio-based seafood franchise—at the price point of its urban-coastal superiors. But after a recent, somewhat reluctant excursion to its swank downstairs lounge, I have to admit it has its good points.

Bar service, for instance. Although markup, especially for wines by the glass, is way out of line—think $12 for a glass of Malbec that I happen to know goes for about $16-17 per retail bottle—pours are generous, & the Director’s (more reasonably priced) Scotch was handsomely presented with both ice & water on the side for diluting as desired. Plus: free popcorn! Reeking of truffle oil, to be sure, but I’m not in the camp that looks down its nose at the synthetic imitation of the precious fungus—smells like it, tastes like it, has its place, namely on popcorn.

Slivers of real truffle do, however, add aromatic verve to the creamiest of deviled eggs, along with a smidgen of caviar.

At nearly $20, the shellfish “Cobb” salad had better be bursting with chunks of lobster & shrimp as well as lump crab, & it is, plus plenty of crumbled bacon, blue cheese & egg. Honey-mustard-like “gourmet dressing” serves it well, adding a touch of sweetness & spice.

As for the Director’s hunk of Chilean sea bass over whipped potatoes in a Champagne sauce flecked with carrots & yet more (although in this case scant) truffle—I know the price of this fish per pound has increased dramatically, no doubt in relation to species depletion (I really should pay more attention to this stuff), but $42 still strikes me as over the top for a dish that, given its luxury ingredients, didn’t taste all that luxurious—it tasted fine, like a nice piece of fish over nice potatoes in a nice sauce.

Still, whatever cynicism born of greed may be operating in the corporate office, I don’t sense it coming from the ground crew; there’s genuine effort being made here to serve contemporary surf & turf with polish. If only they offered oysters à la carte, I might even return.

Or, for that matter, the “ado”?

Your answer will depend largely, of course, on how you define Colorado cuisine—on the relative importance you assign to ingredient sources v. technical styles v. demographic & cultural influences, etc. How would a Moroccan tagine made with locally raised lamb, say, compare to green chile containing peppers from Hatch rather than Pueblo? Or perhaps a Denver steak (you know there was such a thing, right?) cut from Texas beef v. a New York strip courtesy from Colorado’s finest? Which is more “local”?

For me, it’s like Supreme Court justice Potter Stewart’s legendary claim about pornography: modern Colorado cookery is hard to define, but I know it when I see it. And while I don’t see it in the output of every chef who’s made a personal mission to source from his/her neighbors—that’s not a complaint in the least, just a stylistic fact—I sure as hell saw it, perhaps more than I have to date, in the exceptional 4-course meal Black Cat Bistro’s Eric Skokan & Daniel Asher of Root Down & Linger prepared for the Governor’s Residence Dinner that kicked off the Drink Local Wine conference last Friday.

Pressed to pinpoint the secret of its success, I’d say it wasn’t the wealth of homegrown ingredients, or the level of innovation, or even the extent to which the food genuinely complemented the wine (& vice-versa); rather it was the easy confidence—& obvious joy—with which Skokan & Asher brought all these elements into play.

To accompany Bookcliff Vineyards’ Dry Muscat Blanc 2010 & Cottonwood Cellars’ intriguing Lemberger 2008—a German grape that may prove to have some legs around here—the duo offered up 2 passed apps: cider-&-beer-braised goat tacos on Raquelita’s tortillas with red sauerkraut from Five Points Fermentation Co. (about which I’ve been hearing many good things of late) & Ugly Goat feta—whew—as well as pungent tartlets topped with sauteed dandelion greens & Windsor Dairy’s Gruyère-like Glendevey. Way to go all Colorado on our buttocks!

The 1st sit-down course featured 2009 Chardonnay from Settembre Cellars & Creekside Cellars’ blended Rosé 2011 alongside a truly imaginative & snappy salad of bitter foraged greens & watermelon radish in an invigorating clover honey-toasted cumin vinaigrette that I would put on anything, garnished with a scoop of pea-mascarpone gelato that, as it melted, further dressed the foliage.

Wowee. The main course showcased pork from Skokan’s own Black Cat Farm 3 ways—loin, belly & sausage—that was so fleshy & luscious it hardly needed accompaniment by fingerlings & melting smoked cabbage with golden raisins plus just a touch of mustard (but they certainly didn’t hurt). Frankly, I think simplicity’s overrated; all that lip service so many chefs pay to “getting quality ingredients & not fucking them up” goes in 1 of my ears & out the other, since I can hack simple cooking in my own kitchen. I’m a sucker for skill & creativity & transformation, man! All that said, when you’ve got it, flaunt it—& whatever Skokan’s doing for those pigs, feeding them gilded chestnuts or massaging their ears with baby oil or whatever, it’s working. (The dish was paired with a Guy Drew Vineyards Riesling 2010 that didn’t stand much of a chance against the 50/50 blend of Petit Verdot & Cab Franc that was the Anemoi Zephyrus 2010: generous but not slutty; distinctive, with staying power, but not exhaustingly so.)

Of course, giving props to worthy local producers was par for the course all evening, but Skokan & Asher did me a personal solid by prefacing dessert with a platter of Black Star Chocolates: basil-lemon-white chocolate & pomegranate-raspberry-rose. Just beautiful little things—clear of scent, ethereal & complex on the palate.

We finished with cute, not-too-sweet cups of Ovaltine chocolate pudding topped with freeze-dried berries & milk crumble as well as outstanding squares of blood orange-ricotta cheesecake, almost like silky blond fudge. The Winery at Holy Cross Abbey’s Port-style 2010 Merlot, Divinity, had its charms, but if you ask me Whitewater Hill Vineyards is the one to beat when it comes to Colorado dessert wines, and this evening was no different: its Riesling Ice Wine 2011 was surprisingly light & more flowery than honeyed.

Anyway, the candidates for king & queen of Colorado Cuisine are many & varied—the crew at The Kitchen, Potager’s Teri Rippeto, & of course Fruition’s Alex Seidel all come to mind (though I might rule out the latter insofar as his style is so clearly European-influenced). But for their audacity & graciousness in representing, I’d be hard pressed to vote for anyone other than Skokan & Asher right now.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to Mateo, but the memory that I’d dug it was crystal clear. And now that it’s right across the street from my new office, I suspect I’ll be thanking it for many a future memory.

Including an ultra-vivid one of this burger,

which pal K & I split (along with an order of the minestrone-like soupe au pistou—the Provençal version of pesto—& a side of kale chips, fried to a crackling transluence & slick with oil & salt.)

I’m not a burger buff by any stretch, but Mateo’s thick-pattied beauty could make me one. It’s everything a burger should be, intensified: the medium-rare Colorado sirloin that much juicier & sweeter in & of itself, enhanced all the more by caramelized onions & a tender, buttery brioche bun; the addition of gruyère (or blue cheese if you prefer) providing a touch of salty nuttiness. The crisp-fluffy golden fries, too, are comme-il-faut, accompanied by garlicky aioli with the texture of butter.

Kicking it all off with Robert Sinksey’s lively Vin Gris of Pinot Noir in the longest-stemmed glass I’ve ever seen

made for a lunch break that was, apropos of nothing, downright celebratory.

Very, very carefully.

First, you & the Director arrange to meet Denver on a Spit (DOAS), Mantonat, & their blushing brides for a late lunch at this Lebanese sleeper on Colfax; then, you hardly eat all morning, to ensure you’ll be nice & saber-toothed by the appointed meeting time; meanwhile, you chip away at some looming deadline, so that hunger & work stress will swirl into a perfect storm of determined debauchery, a play-by-play of which, complete with full dish descriptions, you’ll find right here at DOAS.

By the time your companions arrive, you’ll both be on your 2nd of 3 glasses of Château Kafraya‘s red blend from the Bakaa Valley of Lebanon, & you’ll have polished off much of the 1st of 2 orders of your favorite, most vengeful of garlic dips with pita fresh from the oven.

Then DOAS—otherwise known as the only soul in all of Denver who can eat as much as you–will suggest you start with the pizza-like specialty known as manaqish (or, sometimes, lahmacun) heavily sprinkled with the region’s famed, earthy, slightly bitter spice mixture, za’atar, & dotted with, all of things, cornichons & Japanese-style pickles (aka tsukemono).

The fact that, being wonderfully airy but slightly dry, it doesn’t quite beat your favorite local version, that of Amira Bakery,

which also makes a killer pie topped with ground lamb,

will not keep you from digging in whole-heartedly.

DOAS will also suggest an order of fatayer filled with lamb, onions & pine nuts,

unusual to me for being open-faced rather than turnover-like, which as far as I know is more common. The pastry’s flaky, almost puff-like, but also slightly on the dry side (perhaps that’s a point in favor of encasing the filling completely, so the dough soaks up the meat juices)? Still, nothing a little tzatziki can’t fix.

Of course, you & the Director will have ordered separate combo patters: yours vegetarian with falafel, hummus, baba ghanoush, tabouleh, dolmas, rice & the richest of yogurt dips, lebne, 

his topped further with chopped gyro & chicken.

(Meanwhile, one member of your party will order a daily special, comprised of enough saffron rice, beef & potatoes, along with more tzatziki, to feed a whole bunch of normal people.)

By now, not even you can stomach the thought of dessert, much as you adore baklava, kunafa, & the like. Coffee that’s nearly thick as fudge batter will have to do.

If, like me, you dig Arabic, Cuban & all the other coffee styles that are at once intensely bitter & well sweetened, you’l be set, but DOAS warns: “I hate sweet coffee & love strong, black coffee, so I was torn, though I appreciated the copious amounts of sludge on the bottom of my mini-cup (I think I got extra sludge & really did like it). And 3 or 4 pours had me going the rest of the day.”

And that, folks, is how you blow stacks of cash at Phoenician Kabob, & how you’ll no doubt do it again someday soon.

The sequel that surpasses the original is, of course, a rarity in any medium, be it film, lit, or cuisine. It’s too early to say whether The Kitchen’s LoDo outpost will be that surprise gem, but I’ll tell you what: ambiance-wise it’s got the Boulder flagship by the balls, at least in my book. Where the latter, especially downstairs, always feels cramped, the new branch sprawls—filled with light & air, the tables generously spaced, the old woods & antique accents gleaming gently. Neither cluttered nor cold, it’s the kind of place you feel at home instantly. (I guess I’m not the only who digs it—check out this Denver Post profile on designer Jen Lewin.)

Cozying up to the bar at happy hour recently, the Director & I couldn’t get enough of one not-so-small plate in particular: pictured at top left, the burrata—boasting that characteristicly thick yet airy creaminess, plus the slightest pull—was smeared with pungent dollops of anchoïade (a garlicky anchovy dip) atop some of the best country-style bread I’ve had in ages: crusty, vaguely sourdoughy, grilled with enough olive oil to ooze flavor as well as moisture. Under all that cheesy goodness, I couldn’t tell if it was the same bread, clearly caraway-flecked, that accompanied the coarse-chopped pork terrine (made even funkier with the addition of chicken livers), but either way, & whether made in-house or bakery-sourced, it’s all good chewy stuff. The online menu refers to a porchetto tonnato, rather than a terrine, that I admit I felt a slight pang at not seeing on paper. Though it’s more commonly made with veal, this specialty of northwestern Italy is undersung stateside—thin slices of cold meat smothered in a creamy, lemony tuna-&-anchovy sauce? What’s not to love?)

Chock-full of root vegetables—parsnips, potatoes, celeriac—the turlu turlu was cooked a bit too al dente for my tastes, but the bright yet earthy flavor, highlighted by chickpeas, tomatoes & a cumin-scented yogurt (plus a squeeze of lemon), was plenty refreshing—& I could have polished off more than 1 smallish piece of the tortilla-like Indian whole-wheat flatbread known as chapati.

Still, for me the surprise hits of the evening were the proprietary house pours. Apparently wine director Tim Wanner had a hand in their making; if so, it was one assured hand. The white, a Chardonnay-Riesling blend, is at once full & elegant; the red, combining Syrah with Cabernet, balances candied violets & baking spices. Nicely done, sir.

…in Albuquerque. 

I generally aim to bestow the extraordinary honor that is Denveater’s Dish of the Week only on Coloradan concoctions, but this New Mexican sushi franchise offers such an oddly delectable departure from the bubbling, creamy dynamite I’ve come to know & sheepishly covet at local Japanese joints (not to mention Russell’s Smokehouse) that a tip of the old paddy hat seems only fair.

Rather than being smothered in chili mayo, this was judiciously drizzled; the seafood was a mixture of fin & shellfish, including what I’d swear on my last tastebud was swordfish (I was told the contents change constantly depending on what’s cooking); & the whole mess was brightened with a sprinkling of flying-fish roe & sesame seeds. I want more right now.

One space, countless restaurants. That’s essentially what longtime star chef James Mazzio is making of Studio F, where the plan is to host a series of communal feasts helmed by the equally bright culinary lights he recruits in succession. Swinging into town for the inaugural multi-course dinner was Charles Dale of Encantado in Santa Fe,

whose gorgeous tidbits—now intricate, now luscious—were, I must say, really well paired with wines from Sutcliffe Vineyards, headed by the English-born bon vivant John Sutcliffe. Character alert.

At long tables overlooking the warmly lit open kitchen that dominates the Ice House space (aka Mise en Place), we lucky guinea pigs started with a savvy little duo of amuses bouches: tuna tartare atop blue-corn blini & a goat cheese-&-masa-stuffed peppadew relleno. Raw seafood really needs to be given the Southwestern treatment more often; the tuna popped against the earthy blue corn, as I bet it would against beans & squash. (Hey, Italians pair tuna with cannellini & zucchini, so why not pintos & crooknecks?) As for the pepper fritter, its fruity, spicy filling, while mellowed by the tempura-like breading, was also enhanced by the rosé it came with, a 100% Cabernet that evoked nothing so much as fresh watermelon sprinkled with salt & pepper.

Next up: a velvety rich yet purely vegetal asparagus soup suffused with the aroma of smoked trout & funk of “chipotle caviar,” sparkling little ruby-toned roe. A super-peachy, slightly minty Viognier made for clean, juicy contrast.

Meanwhile, Mazzio & Dale tag-teamed on the next course,

a custard-textured chunk of pork belly & mahogany-seared sea scallop over creamy yet vibrant edamame-celery root puree garnished, I was told, with the aromatic leaves of bull’s blood beet & coriander. Paired with a Napa-sourced Chardonnay that tasted exactly like a Napa Chardonnay—a little lacking in acid structure for me, but it held up well enough.

The show-stopper might have been this spice-rubbed short rib with pillowy, poblano-infused gemelli—just a beautiful, spoon-tender, saucy hunk of beef tinged, I believe, with the dense Syrah that accompanied it.

Equally comforting was the final course of butterscotch pot de crème sprinkled with toffee crumble & cocoa powder & topped with a rosette of whipped cream & a gingersnap. Why you don’t see butterscotch on dessert menus more often is beyond me—I love the brown-sugary stuff.

Last hurrah: we were sent home with a goodie bag of cookies & truffles. If every pop-up is as well orchestrated as this one, Mazzio’s got a winning concept on his hands.