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Dish of the Week: Chorrillana

Having just formulated my policy against naming anything eaten outside of the US as Dish of the Week for practical reasons of availability, I’m breaking it for chorrillana, an insane scramble of french fries & chunks of beef fried up with egg & onion; after all, it would be so easy to recreate at home. I tried it twice in Santiago—once at Galindo (see here) & once at El Parrón, where the topping seems rather to have been sauteed in a red wine sauce.

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Given its location in a giant modern mall, El Parrón has a surprisingly swanky air about it;

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it’s apparently well-known for its traditional Chilean cuisine, particularly parrillada, an extravaganza of mixed grilled meats we were still too stuffed from our seafood blowout at the Mercado Central that afternoon to attempt—although we somehow made room for what I guess translates literally as queso de cabeza, or head cheese (edit: an expert tells me it’s actually called arrollado, meaning “rolled”),

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& pastel de congrio, a sort of crab casserole that was unfortunately rather gruel-like in comparison to the custardy versions we had elsewhere.
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Still, the chorrillana was the be-all end-all—what’s that, ser todo terminar todo?

Chile Photo Essay 5: Chilling & Chowing en el Barrio Bellavista, Santiago

Once home to Pablo Neruda, Santiago’s best-known bohemian enclave is a riot of fantástico graffiti, architecture, nightlife & all-around élan.

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Amid all this funk & splendor, there was nary a sidewalk café, sleek bôite or sketchy pub I didn’t hanker to hang my hat in, but we had to make do with 2.

Galindo

Galindo‘s a beloved, scuffed-up, decades-old bar serving homestyle Chilean classics like
Galindoempanada
empanadas de pino with beef, onion, egg, olive & raisins (the Chilean style, at least at the humbler joints & roadside stands, tends toward the oversized & folded rather than crimped at the edges)

Galindopasteldechoclopastel de choclo, a baked corn pudding with more beef, chicken, onions, olives & raisins
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porotos con plateada: ugly but luscious white beans with mashed corn, pumpkin, red pepper & basil

& the dish that became an obsession for the 4 of us on this Wines of Chile–led trip: chorrillana.

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Light years ahead of chili fries, it’s a platter of papas fritas beneath a pile of beef chunks fried with egg & onions. Ridiculous.

Rather more elegant was El Mesón Nerudiano.

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Of the many pisco sours I sampled throughout Chile, theirs was my favorite, punch-packing, laced with bitters
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& a perfect complement to the signature appetizer composed of all sorts of seafood salad canapés

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as well as tilapia ceviche & bracingly but pleasurably acidic shrimp ceviche,
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rounded out by empanadas. (Whatever shape they take, the vast majority of Chilean empanadas are stuffed with beef or seafood; we didn’t encounter any that contained queso.)
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The entrees too were typically Chilean—very straightforward, no frills, be it foil-wrapped salmon or beef filet; hardly gorgeous, the photos do accurately portray the satisfying, ingredient-driven simplicity of the national cookery:
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All this—& so much more yet to share from South America’s extraordinary left coast.

Chile Photo Essay 4: Mercado Central, Santiago

At 2653 miles N to S & an average of 109 miles E to W,  Chile isn’t a country so much as a fat coastline. Naturally, then, seafood is a crux of its culinary & economic identity—& the Mercado Central in Santiago a sparkling exemplar thereof, as is clear the second you set foot in the entrance hall.

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Breathtaking as it all is, excitement reaches its peak upon the sighting of creatures rarely if ever encountered in the US—

Marketlocos Locos: Chilean abalone

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Piures: the “strangest sea critter Andrew Zimmern has ever eaten,” they seem to be sea squirts, which according to Wikipedia undergo “many physical changes” in the course of their lifetime, “one of the most interesting being the digestion of the cerebral ganglion, which controls movement & is the equivalent of the human brain. From this comes the common saying that the sea squirt ‘eats its own brain.'” Yes!

Marketurchins Erizos: sea urchins

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Ostiones: scallops in the shell

Marketoctopus Pulpo: octopus, complete with gaping siphon

—not to mention the ultimate thrill of tasting them.

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Abalone—darker & more pungent than the US version—topped with a mustard-mayo mixture over potato salad

Marketpiures2Piures, marinated & served at room temperature, topped with a variation on pebre

Described variously as “outrageously strong” “iodine bombs,” I found sea squirts to be anything but: watery, rubbery, passively rather than aggressively sour—not uninteresting but not particularly savory either—sort of the Noah Baumbach character in the cast of Chilean seafood.

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2 shrimp dishes

The Spanish-style preparation on the left in sizzling garlic & oil appears to be the more typical (see below); salt & black pepper, meanwhile, seem to be used sparingly if at all, their function in Chilean cookery relegated to DIY table salt as well as my new favorite seasonings, merquén & pebre (see here).

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Crab in more sizzling garlic & machas à la parmesana, the wonderful red wedge clams broiled with parmesan you can also see here

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Broiled mixed fish, including salmon, fresh conger eel & albacora—not a type of tuna but a cousin of swordfish

Eye- & button-poppingly enough, after all that came fresh mixed fruit, the sort of folded custard of which Chileans seem to be especially fond,

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& the refreshing, none-too-sweet street snack known as mote con huesillo, or wheatberries stewed with dried peaches, of which I myself have become especially fond (see also here).

Mariachis roved throughout lunch, but the far more entertaining floor show involved the tableside preparation of whole steamed king crab;

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any wine geeks within 50 feet, meanwhile, might have spent their meal gawking at my own table, surrounded as I was by such bright oenological lights as

MarketAlpanaandTKCanada’s Véronique Rivest—1 of 12 semifinalists at the Concours du Meilleur Sommelier du Monde 2010 (see here) & the winner of the Peter Lehman Shiraz Award; Chicago-based master somm, author & TV personality Alpana Singh, who has her own damn Wikipedia page; &

MarketFionaillustrious UK-based pairing expert Fiona Beckett (who has already knocked out a post on ceviche & pisco sours).

The sign above her head doesn’t read “Experiencia Memorable” for nothing.

Chile Photo Essay 3: Chowdown at the Concours du Meilleur Sommelier du Monde 2010, Santiago

***Cont’d. from Chile Photo Essay 2.*** Amid celebrated winemakers & brilliant wine writers & masters of wine & master sommeliers, oenological conversation over every meal at the Concours undoubtedly sparkled & bubbled. I hope I soaked it up by osmosis, because I was too focused on bite after bite on plate after plate to hang on so many words. Behold: pre-competition almuerzo at the Concours, W Santiago:

Concoursbrandade Grouper-avocado brandade with pebre & tomato cream

Concoursgoat

Roasted goat au jus with potatoes & favas

ConcoursmoussePapaya mousse–filled papaya in passionfruit–prickly pear soup with lavender spun sugar & sliced prickly pear of a type we don’t seem to get in the States (here called tuna)

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Array of truffles, shortbread, macarons, nut clusters, wedding cookies, tropical shooter

And behold some more: the closing gala dinner at the Castillo Hidalgo, Santiago.

ConcoursgalareceptionReception on the terrace: oysters, empanadas, foie gras on apple chips, guinea hen sausage on potato puree, etc.,. etc.

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Seared yellowfin over quinoa-pebre cake with green chile aroma; sliced abalone (ahhh) over avocado & potato with mango caviar

ConcoursgalafishCape Horn king crab “chowder”—more like a casserole—with skewered scallops over greens & truffled mushroom salsa

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Goat cheese–topped beef filet with thyme juice, potato cakes & grilled vegetables

ConcoursgaladessertL to R: rice pudding ice cream; mote con huesillo—wheatberries with dried peach in juice, a classic Chilean street food; orange custard

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Array of truffles, chocolates, nut clusters & bark

Chile Photo Essay 2: Grand Finale, Concours du Meilleur Sommelier du Monde 2010, Santiago

As the disgustingly lovely & prematurely illustrious MS Alpana Singh explained to me, the Concours de Meilleur Sommelier du Monde is the Olympics of oenology, a major global event for virtually every wine-drinking nation except the US, whose absence glares a bit on the long roster of the Association de la Sommellerie Internationale. Apparently we got kicked out a while back—undoubtedly with good reason for bad breeding.

Still, it’d be interesting to see how our homegrown master somms (including a disproportionate number of then-or-still Coloradans, not least Bobby Stuckey & Richard Betts) would perform against the crème de la crème de la culture in a grueling competition that takes place over the course of 6 days—in this case at the W Santiago—encompassing written, oral & practical exams on every subject from the obvious (viticulture, organoleptic analysis, service) to the obscure (alcohol legislation, cigar pairings, fluency in 3 languages—English, French & Spanish).

I arrived in Chile on the last day of the Concours, in time for the championship round. Here’s a look-see.

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Introduction of the 12 semifinalists (among them 4 women!) before the announcement of the 3 finalists—hotelier & French-born representative of the UK Gerard Basset; France’s David Biraud, of the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris; & Switzerland’s Paolo Basso, owner of Lugano wine boutique Ceresio Vini:

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This trio of almost cartoonishly distinguished gentlemen had to serve champagne, make cocktails, pour wine from a traditional basket (top below), suggest food pairings for a wine list, taste, describe & identify several wines & spirits (bottom below), & answer oral test questions ranging from the philosophical to the geographical—all in front of a crowd of 100s, among them the flashbulb-popping global wine press. (I’m keeping the narrative brief for various reasons, not least that the pics tell their own story; for further details, however, don’t hesitate to comment or e-mail me at denveater@earthlink.net.)

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Drum roll for the champ: the charming-under-fire Basset, a 5-time contestant & 3-time finalist before this year, for whom the 6th time was clearly itself a charm.

Concourswinner2On the right, being congratulated by 2007 winner Andreas Larsson

Painfully exciting as it all was, the ultimate thrills for me came at the luncheon preceding it (top below) & the gala dinner (bottom below) following it. Keep your eyes on these tables, soon to be laden with all manner of Chilean delicacies.

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Chile Photo Essay 1: Tasting, Tour, & Lunch at Amayna, San Antonio

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If, with the briefest of captions, these pictures of San Antonio winery Amayna—which translates roughly as “the calm after the storm”—don’t say it all, then you either need an eye exam or a soul transplant.

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Sorting the pinot noir harvest

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In the cellar with the owner, Mr. Garcès Silva

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Tasting with winemaker Francisco Ponce

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Outside the farmhouse

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Amaynadiningtable Inside the farmhouse

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Sauvignon blanc and pinot noir grapes—the distinctly grassy taste of the former turning mushroom-honeyed where affected with botrytis (noble rot)

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AmaynamachasHors d’oeuvres: machas, a native red wedge clam, broiled with parmesan & herbs, plus strawberries that, gasp!, taste like strawberries

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The lunch table set with rolls, merquén (smoked ground chiles), ultra-refreshing pebre with tomatoes (pico de gallo’s superior by far), butter & olive oil

The 1st course: fresh tomato & avocado with marinated cucumbers, celery–black olive salad, roasted beets & pebre without tomatoes

AmyanamaincourseThe main course: gray-fleshed, dark-flavored reineta, apparently a local type of bream, roasted with olive oil, butter, lemon, onions & tomatoes, plus roasted potatoes (as served to Sam Kass of Wines of Chile & man-about-New York dining scene Ariel Lacayo)

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Dessert: floating island & custard with dulce de leche & fresh strawberries

Such idyllic, easy grace as to echo Rilke: you must change your life.

What’s long & thin & red & white all over? Bingo—Chilean wine country!

Yep, babies & bitches, I’m headed there for 10 days, which may or may not mean I post more or less about food here or there—we shall see.

Ciao for the nonce.

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Dish of the Week: Fiesta Morning Sandwich, Flying Star Café, ABQ

In town for less than 48 hours, I as usual spent about half of them drinking up the free WiFi juice the Flying Star at Paseo del Norte & Wyoming pumps out. Of course, it came with actual food; as I’ve suggested, the New Mexican–American deli/diner/coffeehouse repertoire of this wildly popular citywide franchise, rounded out by a bakery counter bestowed with many a local blue ribbon, is highly likeable—as satisfying as could be, really, under the presumably corners-cutting circumstances of such a high-volume operation.

For instance, even artlessly photographed in its takeout container for the road trip back to Denver, the Fiesta Morning Sandwich is a beauty, eh?

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Spilling over the sides of the huge housemade “cheesy chile bun”—extra-chewy, with a nice hard yet thin crust & a strong hint of onion—is a fine mess of cheddar, green chile &, usually, egg, but in this case tofu that I’d have sworn was a bit curried, though that may have been a trick of the hue. In any case, the mixture was so bold, funky & moist it didn’t really need the chipotle salsa (also distinctive for being far smokier than it was spicy). And I didn’t need to eat again til home.

Oklahoma Yin & Yang: Pho Lien Hoa & Iron Starr Urban Barbecue

Here was what there was to eat in Oklahoma when I was growing up: Steak. Chicken-fried steak. Fried chicken. Biscuits. White gravy. Brown gravy. Fried catfish. French fries. Fried okra. Burgers. The occasional barbecued rib. More steak.

Yet even here, things have changed—not a lot, but enough. In just a couple of decades, for instance, Oklahoma City has become home to a significant Vietnamese population—enough to warrant notice by the New York Times back in ’07, in a piece whose author gave a nod to Pho Lien Hoa (aka Pho Hoa). ‘Twas well-deserved.

But for a couple of apps—including the taut-wrapped & sprightly goi cuon (the ubiquitous but rarely so fresh spring rolls) with a superb, thick, smoky-spicy-sweet dip (note the extra dollop of chili sauce on top)

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& 3 noodle-based dishes (bun), the menu’s composed entirely of soups—nearly 50 in all.

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That there’s the H4 or hu tiu My Tho, i.e., pork broth with clear noodles, barbecued pork, shrimp, quail eggs, lettuce, scallions, fried onions & such a cute little cracker with a shrimp in the middle.

As uniquely comforting as noodle soups are, the work that goes into them is easy to underestimate. And while quick-witted, intensive multitasking—chopping & peeling & frying & stirring & draining & chopping & frying some more—is key, the ultimate craftsmanship reveals itself in the broth (as anyone who’s ever made stock from scratch, much less tackled, say, a double consommé, knows all too well). This one was unforgettable—light yet tealike in the complexity of its spiced aroma, & just a slight touch sour-&-sweet. You wouldn’t say it was porky in the way you’d say a beef broth tastes beefy or a chicken broth chickeny; that it was in fact porky was reflected simply in the way it enhanced the mild, chewy slices of pork itself. And beneath it all, an abundance of glass noodles to add slurp to the chew & bite of the meats & veggies.

One soup is not a lot to go on, but it’s enough to ensure that Pho Lien Hoa will be my first stop upon landing at the ever-optimistically named Will Rogers World Airport (there are about 12 gates total; as Rogers himself said, “The farmer has to be an optimist or he wouldn’t still be a farmer”).

Pho Lien Hoa on Urbanspoon

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Of course, this is still a red state, with cows & oilwells & televangelists & shit; true ‘cue can be found all over the place. But not in a former college bookstore run by a hospitality group. (Real pitmasters don’t wear their corporate values on their sleeves. Hell, they don’t even usually wear sleeves.) There, instead, you’ll find Iron Starr Urban Barbeque, whose menu consists of 1 approximately barbecue classic (ribs, brisket, pulled pork, etc.) to every 4 plates of cornmeal-dusted rock shrimp with jicama slaw or molasses-glazed salmon. In short, this isn’t a barbecue joint, it’s a contemporary American cafe. As such, it’s just fine. As I knew it would be; the way-savvy owners of terrific gourmet shop Forward Foods, my dining companions Wampus & Suzy, wouldn’t steer me wrong.

Though we all had our misgivings upon the arrival of our appetizer of bacon-wrapped quail breast.

ISquail
Before they could crawl off the plate & squirt us in the eyes with their instant paralyzing venom, we just had to stab the obscene little reanimated body parts in their sore spots & rip ’em in half with our teeth. Turns out suppurating leeches taste pretty good, charred here, unctuous there & slicked with apricot-serrano jam.

Meanwhile, get a load of this “salad.”

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Apparently employing mathematical formulae to determine the smallest ratio of vegetable to protein necessary to equal a salad, they actually scooped out the iceberg wedge to make room for a building block of blue cheese & pecans “spiced,” presumably, with lots of butter & brown sugar. I can’t pretend the mixture wasn’t a heady one, right down to the swirling of the pecan drippings into the bacon-blue cheese vinaigrette. The tenderloin, grilled nice & rare, was really just the icing on this guilty-pleasure cake.

As for Wampus’s rib dinner,

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the description of the house specialty sounds a note of warning in promising “fall-off-the-bone perfection.” In fact, the meat on perfect ribs should not fall off, a sign of overcooking; it should slide clean off. And though the St. Louis–cut pork ribs are supposedly smoked for 24 hours over hickory & pecan, they lacked a well-defined smoke ring. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t competition material. I didn’t try his mac & cheese or “slaw” of seasoned browned onions, jalapenos & I’m not sure what all else, but the latter looked to me like the best thing on the plate.

A bit dry at the edges, the cornbread was otherwise decent, studded with whole kernels.

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But dessert was the surprise highlight. We split the buttermilk pie

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& the 7-layer chocolate cake topped with truffles,

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& if neither was the intricate stuff of a brilliant pastry chef, both were wholly satisfying, well-textured (I feared the cake might be a bit dry too, but it wasn’t) & clear-flavored for being so rich.

Ultimately, if it’s true ‘cue you’re craving, I’d check out this guy’s suggestions, adding my beloved Bob’s Pig Shop to the roster (see here, here & here), & maybe Midwest City’s Mr. Spriggs, if for no other reason than to reward them for the greatest ad ever. For an easygoing bar & grill experience, however, you could certainly do worse than Iron Starr.

Iron Starr Urban Barbecue on Urbanspoon

The Scoop Series: Erbaluce Maestro Charles Draghi’s Got Sauce

Renowned Boston restaurateur Christopher Myers wasn’t the only one who held forth with wit & feeling during a recent round of interviews for a forthcoming piece for Boston’s Stuff Magazine. Like Myers, the light that makes Boston’s acclaimed Erbaluce so bright, Charles Draghi, has a literary background—& it showed so stirringly in his detailed description of the innovative sauce techniques he uses in his contemporary Italian kitchen that I implored him, too, to allow me to publish here what I couldn’t use for the piece. Also like Myers, he graciously agreed.

Chuck_kitchen1 from the Erbaluce website

Again, be ye a Rocky Roller, Beantownie, or anyone in between, the man has something prismatic to say TO YOU as an inquiring cook &/or back-of-house voyeur. Heed.

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On Eschewing Butter & Cream

I used to work in kitchens where butter was abused beyond belief. I was a sous chef at [a turn-of-the-millennium Back Bay hot spot], where we would go through approximately 20 pounds of butter a night—all used to thicken sauces. My position on the line was as saucier—& from tasting those sauces repeatedly every night, I went home feeling ill & internally beaten up after every shift. When I had worked in New York, before Ambrosia, I had worked with chefs who were using butter very sparingly, & I never felt that sort of pain from their food.

When I opened Marcuccio’s in the North End immediately after leaving [hot spot X], I started cooking Italian food they way I was raised with it: very little butter, used only where it made sense. I found that the less butter I used, the better & clearer the flavors of the vegetables, herbs, fish & meat became. I soon got to the point where I was not using butter or cream at all (except in desserts like panna cotta, of course).

On the flip side of that coin, I also found that all of my ingredients had to be immaculately fresh, because there was no place to hide older or inferior ingredients without the heavy saucing. I often use pork fat or duck fat (which is actually very healthy for you & reduces bad cholesterol), various high quality olive oils, walnut oil, expeller-pressed corn oil, etc. My omission of butter (which many consider to be a crime of omission) is not about health, or doing something that is better environmentally—although those are worthy considerations. My only concern as a chef is flavor. I am driven to get haunting, captivating & indicative flavors from all of my ingredients and from each of my dishes, and I find this much easier to achieve without the muddying sensation of butter-laden sauces.

I may be alone in this belief among chefs (as almost every other chef I’ve ever met swears by large amounts of beurre monté in virtually every dish) but I have legions of dining fans who love the way my food tastes & the feeling of being pleasantly sated after a meal without the food hangovers or indigestion they normally experience.

On Succos, Sugos, Sughettos, Leccos & Mostos
I have sauces based on vegetables [which Draghi calls succos—Denved.]—using the roasted jus from things like peppers, red onions, and white eggplant, reduced with their natural pectins as thickeners to add body. I have meat-based sauces [sugos & sughettos], which are really a variation on roasting jus, combined with acidity from fermented juices & housemade vinegars & the rendered fats of the meats, which add richness—like my salmon vinagrette [lecco] made from rendered salmon belly oil & bits of caramelized salmon meat, emulsified together with fermented gold beet juice to make a sauce for sole filets. [Here’s where I melt into a puddle of want]

The genesis of mostos was in my desire to come up with a fruit-based sauce to add to my vegetable- & meat-based sauces. [Note: mosto, or must, is technically unfermented juice fresh-pressed for winemaking; as Draghi explains, “I am using the term loosely, as I do all of my sauce styles, because there isn’t an exact term for much of what I’m doing.”] When classic sauces are made from fruits, the fruit is always cooked with sugar, making the sauce sweet and somewhat old & overcooked in taste. But if you just used pureed fresh fruit, with no added sugar, the sauce would oxidize & the flavor of the fruit would die quickly.

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rack of wild boar with Concord grape mosto, from Erbaluce’s website

So I thought to use the natural yeasts of the fruit to eat their sugars, & to create heady, intoxicating aromas from the fruit (much like those you sense when going through a winery that practices open-barrel fermentation). In terms of the process, it’s simply like making wine. I use organic, sometimes wild fruit to obtain wild yeast strains; crush the fruit, sometimes adding herb branches for flavor, aroma, & tannins; then I run the fermented fruit through a food mill to get an intensely aromatic, pulpy fruit puree. On occasion, I strain the puree to get a fine sauce, to which I add the pan drippings of whatever meat the sauce will accompany. But the fruits I crush are only lightly fermented; I don’t intend to produce alcohol as anything other than a flavor preservative & aroma enhancer. (Don’t forget, the second that fruit is crushed, it begins to ferment from the yeast on its skin, so all musts are at least slightly fermented, no matter how freshly they’ve been crushed from their host fruits.)

These mostos can be as intensely aromatic as perfumes, with startlingly strong fruit flavors, tricking the diner into thinking the taste will finish sweet, only to leave a very dry tannic bite on the palate. They’re similar to the wines they drink along with their dishes. I remembered that my family in Piemonte, when they roasted a pheasant or rabbit, would use the skins from the wine caps of the wines they were fermenting, along with a little olive oil, to add flavor to the meat, & so I’ve tried to capture that traditional taste combination.

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So Draghi’s reviving the most vital & honest aspect of nouvelle cuisine—its emphasis on essence—while substituting its more precious tendencies for the rustic make-do smarts of cucina povera. Mwah, eh?