An Evening at Lemaire with John Mariani

Chefs Bundy, Schroeder, Ayyash with John Mariani and my table mate who wasn't too fond of being the center of attention but was a great sport

About a month ago, one of my husband's buddies tipped us off to an upcoming wine dinner at one of Richmond's award-winning restaurants Lemaire at The Jefferson Hotel featuring an evening of classic Italian cooking (as well as Lemaire's signature seasonally-inspired cuisine) hosted by Esquire magazine's food, wine and travel expert, John Mariani, who was also there to promote his latest book, "How Italian Food Conquered the World".

It took us all of about 8 seconds to buy our tickets.

Last night, as the wine flowed (served up as a crisp San Pietro Pinot Grigio and a 2008 Seghesio Dolcetto D'Alba Chiesa), guests were treated to a menu described as a "synergy of three driving forces" involving the infiltration of Italian ingredients and culinary methods in America along with Virginia's own meats and produce, all of which that was to blend seamlessly with the season.

In addition to culling from Jefferson's own urban garden, Bundy Farms, welcome appearances came from OLLI Salumeria (in the form of a pungent and simply outstanding pancetta nestled into a big pile of ricotta gnocchi topped with Dave and Dee's grated eggs) as well as a local rabbit pate (served atop a classic bruschetta) that hailed from Jamerson Farms. A very seasonal Chesapeake Bay soft-shell crab was dusted in cornmeal (a welcome change from simply flouring) and a fall-off-the-bone tender braised pork cheek rested atop Charleston Gold Rice from Anson Mills. However, I have to say, the star of the show was Pastry Chef Sara Ayyash's beautifully executed Semifreddo al 'Torrone accented with salted caramel, which arrived just as it should, half-frozen and just a little melty around the edges.

Here's a brief pictorial with a few delectable highlights. Apologies in advance for the lack of lighting, but setting off a flash during date night is a faux pax I just don't do.

Trio of Bruschetta with Jamerson Farms rabbit, puree of favas and Hanover tomato caponata

Chesapeake Bay soft shell crab w/ three bean salad & pickled okra

Ricotta gnocchi w/ OLLI pancetta, grated farm eggs and Parmesan

Chef James Schroeder's Emilia-Romagna inspired fall-apart braised pork cheek w/ gold rice and cabbage

Pastry Chef Sarah Ayyash's rendition of a semifreddo made with Torrone and salted caramel.

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Welcome to Cajun Country: the deliciousness that is Lake Charles, Louisiana

Fresh boudin sausage from Cajun Cowboy's Restaurant Vinton, LA

So, I just spent the past week eating my weight in boudin sausage (and lots of other local goodies) while visiting the Cajun culinary mecca of Lake Charles, Louisiana.  Lake Charles lies in the Southwestern part of the state, not too far from the Texas border, yet still deep south enough to be less than an hour and a half from the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico.

Lake Charles is a charming place, where deep Southern accents prevail and just about everyone you meet is quick to offer a handshake, or when you're lucky, a big 'ole Cajun-style bear hug.  It's the kind of town where folks spend the afternoon crowding around unadulterated diner tables sipping coffee and sharing tall fishing and hunting tales.  The vibe here is pure Cajun pride, and locals are quick to share with visitors their favorite haunts to get real deal crawfish etouffee, shrimp gumbo, fried catfish or homemade deer sausage.

Yet, it's the Cajun boudin sausage that triumphs with pride throughout the area.  Hearkening back to the area's French culinary roots (by way of a mass Acadian exile from Nova Scotia in the 1700's), Southwest Louisiana's boudin sausage is akin to North Carolina barbecue, with numerous variations (and consequent debates as to whose is best) ranging from spicy smoked boudin to fresh boudin rouge spiked with pig's blood.  However, while each sausage tastes just a tad different, several constants remain in all forms of boudin. First, there's got to be plenty of cooked Louisiana long-grain rice mixed in with the roasted pork.  Second, there are spices galore, many of which are top secret, never to be revealed.  There's always a generous helping of fresh green onions, and finally, all this Cajun goodness is packed into fresh hog's intestines.

People are happy here, with an innate pride and joy that is most evidenced in the foods they create, especially their particular brand of boudin.  It's all about Cajun cooking.  From pork cracklin's to crawfish pistolettes, every bite that hits your palate simply bursts with spice, texture and the flavor of the deep south.  If you're serious about good eating, the many off-the-beaten-track pit stops that circumvent the town of Lake Charles are must-stops for any lover of real home-cooked food.  From diner dives to gas station gems, Lake Charles is one place where you can eat like a king on a peasant's salary.

Here's a little slide show primer of some of the best of the best that this unique area of Cajun country has to offer.

Boudin expert, Glenn Earl of Cajun Cowboys

Shrimp Po'Boy, fried catfish & collards from Hollier's Cajun Kitchen

Pork cracklin's and smoked sausage from The Sausage Link

Green onions, hog's intestines (used for natural boudin casings)and homemade hog's head cheese (bites).  The Sausage Link.

Fried crabs, frog legs, crab claws and crawfish pies from The Seafood Palace

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Steakhouse Style Bacon and Blue Cheese Wedge Salad

Photo Kendra Bailey Morris

One of my most memorable wedge salad moments was when the hubby and I were dining at one of our favorite steak joints Flemings Steakhouse. While sampling a bottle of Hall Cab (which is utterly outstanding with big, meaty NY Strip, by the way) we dove into crisp, cold chunks of iceberg lettuce, smoky bacon bits smothered in gobs of creamy blue cheese dressing. Perhaps it was the environment (or that second glass of wine) but for a moment, I felt my eyes glaze over as I muttered something along the lines of, "Dear god, that is good."

Naturally, as happens with many of us home cooks, I had to take a stab at recreating this salad at home, beginning with the dressing. Blue cheese dressing is one of those salad accents that can be out of this world (homemade with chunks of quality blue cheese) or fundamentally dull (commercial made with little to no blue cheese and nearly devoid of flavor altogether). I figured if I stuck to my guns and used only the highest quality ingredients I could find, how could I go wrong?

One of the aspects of blue cheese dressing, I love so much is just that hint of garlic, not too much to overwhelm, but just enough to lend a piquant savoriness. I also discovered that a dash or two of Worcestershire sauce really elevates the flavor of the dressing to something truly swoon-worthy. Maybe it's the fact that Worcestershire lends just a bit of fermentation or incites memories of flaming grilled meat. I honestly have no idea, but what I do know, is that it's an essential addition to any homemade blue cheese dressing.

Then, there's the blue cheese, the star of this show, with its naturally salty, cow's milk goodness. Here, quality should not be overlooked. Avoid the pre-crumbled (tasteless) stuff and get yourself a nice wedge of Maytag, Amish Blue, Danish Blue or Roaring Forties and crumble it by hand.

When it comes to your salad, select only the freshest iceberg (check the base of the lettuce, where it has been picked, for signs of browning when looking for the freshest ones). Good quality, thick-cut bacon is a must, as is plenty of freshly ground pepper over your finished product. In true steakhouse fashion, serve your salad as a first course to your meat-laden dinner with a nice big pour of Cabernet, Merlot or even a spicy Zinfandel to play off the freshly ground pepper. For an excellent steak recipe, check out Giuliano and Lael Hazan's uber-tasty Italian-style grilled rib-eye recipe.

Photos Kendra Bailey Morris

Bacon and Blue Cheese Wedge Salad

Serves 4

One head of iceberg lettuce

Blue cheese dressing (see recipe below)One medium-sized tomato, seeded and diced

4 slices bacon, fried and crumbled

1/2 cup blue cheese, for garnish

Freshly ground black pepper

One tablespoon minced chives, optional.

Cut lettuce in 8 wedges and plate two wedges on each plate.  Drizzle each wedge with blue cheese. Then sprinkle with tomato, bacon bits and blue cheese.  Season generously with black pepper and garnish with fresh chives.  Serve any additional dressing on the side.

 

Buttermilk Blue Cheese Dressing

Makes about 4-6 servings

½ cup mayonnaise

½ cup buttermilk*

One heaping tablespoon sour cream

1 cup crumbled blue cheese

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce, or to taste

1 small clove garlic, minced

Coarse black pepper, to taste

In a medium-sized bowl, mix together mayo, buttermilk and sour cream. Add rest of ingredients and mix well, incorporating the blue cheese, but leaving a few chunks as well. Season generously with black pepper, cover and refrigerate until ready to use.  Note: this dressing is excellent served with Buffalo wings and celery.

*If dressing is too thick, simply add a little buttermilk until you achieve your desired consistency. Add less buttermilk if you want a chunkier-type dip.

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Fish Bites, Remoulade and Roadhouse Dives: this is Hatteras

Grouper Bites with Spicy Remoulade Hatteras Island, N.C.

Hatteras Island, North Carolina is its own kinda vacation spot. If you've got a big-ass truck, are addicted to saltwater fishing, divey food joints, spectacular sunsets, and prefer to spend the majority of your time sans shoes, shirt or make-up, you need to come here. If you're looking for crowded beaches with lots of nightlife, frozen seafood buffets, dolphin watch tours, water parks and high rise hotels, this ain't your place.

To give this proper perspective, nightlife in Hatteras pretty much consists of the moon-- staring at the moon, commenting on the tides, and watching out for shooting stars, all while imbibing whatever adult beverages you've got stashed in the fridge. While there are a few spots for late-night evening activities, there's not a single high-rise hotel on the entire island, and you can dolphin-watch for free from any nearby beach, which also doubles as its own natural water park, where fishing, kayaking or sleeping the day away is a must. It's quiet here, blissfully so, and it's the kind of place where the sounds of lapping waves, calling gulls and crickets lull you off to sleep instead of honking horns, drunken street brawls or worse, some teenagers' radio blasting The Jonas Brothers off in the distance.

All of this Hatteras magic takes place, of course, after you've spent the last hour or two staring at one of these:

Evening sunset on Canadian Hole, Hatteras Island

When it comes to eats, stash your shoes, slip on your flip flops and head to the nearest hole-in-the-wall such as Pop's Raw Bar & Restaurant in Buxton, where vacationers and locals happily mix. Pop's is a no-frills kinda joint where locally caught seafood is served up unadulterated on paper plates alongside plenty of ice cold beer. The bar is nearly always full here and is the perfect spot to share a tall fish tale or a bit of local gossip.

While the fact that Pop's defines what is so appealing about Hatteras Island (i.e. the kick off your shoes and stay a while roadhouse vibe) this joint also offers up some seriously good food. Since Pop's is a haven for the hardcore angler, you can bet they serve only the freshest catch. During the summer months, you're looking at steamed, spiced shrimp with drawn butter (the best we had on the island), grouper bites with an array of dipping sauces (from homemade tartar to cocktail) fried clam, oyster and crab cake sandwiches, all served with a big pile of freshly grated slaw, French fries and oniony hush puppies. Oh yeah, and really, really cold beer.

If you're not catching anything yourself and are craving a mess of fresh seafood, grab some to go and head back at your rental. For super-fresh local-caught fish, shrimp, clams etc...I must recommend Risky Business Seafood at Oden's Dock in Hatteras where you can get your shrimp steamed and spiced to order, a couple of their hand pressed crab cakes, or if you come after 4pm, perhaps some tuna, Wahoo, Red Drum or Mahi straight off the boats.

Guys cleaning Mahi

When it comes to enjoying a little taste of Hatteras at home, try your hand at making a batch of fish bites with tartar or spicy remoulade. Feel free to use my recipe for cornmeal dusted flounder and instead of frying up your fish as a large filet cut it into smaller bite-size chunks and shallow fry those. Add a homemade tartar or remoulade dipping sauce (see recipe below) along with a couple squeezes if lemon and you are good to go. Finally, grab a cold one, kick back and share your latest tall fish tale while starting at the moon, the stars or if you're lucky enough, a peaceful orange sunset.

Kickin’ Remoulade Dipping Sauce

Serve this sassy dipping sauce with a big pile of fish bites. While most any chunky, flaky white fish will do, I recommend using either Rockfish, Mahi, Grouper or Flounder.

3/4 cup mayonnaise

1/2 cup sour cream

1 tablespoon stone ground mustard
3 tablespoons minced sweet pickle

1 tablespoon minced parsley, plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons minced red onion 
1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 minced green onion, both white and green parts
1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
Salt and Pepper
Cayenne pepper, to taste

Old Bay, to taste
Tabasco sauce, to taste

Mix all of your ingredients together in a medium sized bowl. Top with additional minced parsley.  Best made a day ahead. Serve with fish bites or any fried seafood.

Makes approximately 1 cup of dipping sauce.

©2010 Fatback and Foie Gras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission

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Gone Fishing!

We're busting out our saltwater poles and heading to the shore.  If we're lucky, our catch will look something like this:

or this:

Only the inshore/offshore fishing gods know for sure.

In the meantime, keep an eye out for a couple of recipes and, of course, plenty of tall fishing tails! Pin It Now!

Golden Cornmeal-Crusted Quick-Fry Flounder

Kendra Bailey Morris

So, last night the hubby and I had a hankering for a big piece of fresh fish and the conversation went like this,

Hubs: "What you want for dinner?
Me: "Man, I would love a big piece of fresh fish."
Hubs: "Aww yeee. Do it."

So, off we set to our favorite place in the Richmond area to buy fish Yellow Umbrella Seafood where we know we will get the freshest goodies in town. When it comes to fresh seafood, like many people, I'm a stickler and I don't mind paying top dollar to get what I want. While our first preference is to catch our dinner...

Fishing in Avon, Hatteras Island, NC

and then whip up a little ditty back at the homestead...

unless we're pirating another family's vacation home in the OBX, the majority of the time, we are left to purchase our saltwater treats.

When it comes to fishing, fish and all the jazz, I like to keep things simple, especially when you're working with seafood that was pulled from the water merely hours  before. This stuff is so fresh, so packed with the essence of the sea, it would be a culinary crime to over season, over flavor or generally overdo it in any way. This is why, when I can get my hands on a hunk of fresh flounder, Virginia-caught rockfish, mahi or Wahoo, I ain't messing with it.  Give me some cornmeal, milk (or buttermilk), a vat of Crisco and a cast iron pot, and I'll make you dinner.

My dad is a fried seafood expert, and I learned from him the art of lightly dusting my fish, oysters, shrimp, etc... in real stone ground cornmeal (not the super fine stuff, by the way) that he would buy up in cases from an old gristmill on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Mabry Mill. Mabry Mill makes real deal cornmeal that's packed with just enough to the tooth crunch that it livens up any standard breading.

Dipped in milk and then dredged in a mixture of self-rising cornbread mix (for fluff) and stone ground cornmeal, we fry our fish exclusively Crisco in cast iron. With that in mind, let me suggest that if you choose to make this recipe at home, and are one those people who happen to have an aversion to shortening (as some people do...wha?) might I suggest two options for you: get the heck over it and stick to steaming your fish.

This recipe is fried goodness in all its glory, so either dive in head first and enjoy the ride or hop off the boat.

Golden Cornmeal-Crusted Quick-Fry Flounder
Adapted from "White Trash Gatherings: From-Scratch Cooking for Down-Home Entertaining, Ten Speed Press, 2006)

Serves 4

1/2 cup white stone ground cornmeal
1/3 cup yellow self-rising cornbread mix
Pinch of salt (and/or Old Bay)
3/4 cup milk (or buttermilk)
One pound fresh flounder (or other white fish)
Shortening, for frying

Preheat a large cast iron pan to medium-high.  Add about a 1/4 inch of melted shortening to the pan. In a medium flat-bottomed bowl, mix cornmeal and cornbread mix.  Add a little salt and/or Old Bay.  Pour milk in a separate flat pan. Place flounder in milk and soak for a few minutes. Then dredge in cornmeal mixture.  Fry fish skin-side down in hot oil until crunchy and crispy. Drain on paper towels and season with a little more salt.

Serve your fish with homemade tartar sauce.

Note: This fish recipe is excellent for fish sandwiches (on a roll with lettuce, tomato and tartar) or stuffed inside a warm soft flour tortilla topped with crunchy slaw, pico de gallo, a squeeze of fresh lime and Mexican crema. Pin It Now!

All Hail the Salad Nicoise

Photo Kendra Bailey Morris

So, last night's dinner consisted of the above-- locally grown green beans and potatoes, Hanover tomatoes, a couple of boiled eggs and a big jar of Spanish bonito tuna soaked in olive oil. A crusty baguette and a hunk of my favorite European-style butter, Plugra, rounded out the perfect meal for yet another searing day in ole Virginney.

My first love affair with this blanched and lightly dressed composed salad was as a culinary student at the Institute of Culinary Education in NYC. As we learned about blanching techniques and how to properly emulsify a vinaigrette, I couldn't help but feel rather Julia Childish in a newbie French kinda way. (By the way, Julia Child's recipe for salad nicoise is one of my all-time favs.) A classically prepared nicoise is a gorgeous salad with all its components gently mounded in the their proper place, all glistening with olive oil and minced fresh herbs.

I fell in love the nicoise all over again while visiting Grand Case Beach in French St. Martin. One afternoon, while sipping a crisp and lovely Aime Roquesante Cotes De Provence at a seaside brassiere, I ordered this little gem (along with a cheese and onion crisp bread pizza).

Photo Kendra Bailey Morris

As you can see, this salad, unlike the photo above it, is not composed but rather layered and tossed. The beauty of the salad nicoise is that, basically, you can make it however you want. As long as your foundation ingredients are there-- tuna, boiled eggs, tomatoes, green beans, potatoes, anchovies and of course, nicoise olives, the rest is up to you.

The salad I enjoyed in St. Martin incorporated onions, artichokes, even a bit of sprouts for garnish. I've enjoyed the nicoise with boquerones (white anchovies), freshly seared tuna instead of canned, capers, even pimentos, and with each variation, I relished each bite. What's important is not your chosen ingredients, but rather the method by which they are prepared.

Blanching is essential as the nicoise is typically not a raw salad per se. Carefully blanching your green beans, scoring and lightly boiling your tomatoes, and of course, cooking your potatoes and eggs are a must. Then, there's the vinaigrette. My favorite combination is classically French, and incorporates Dijon mustard, shallots, a little garlic, tarragon vinegar and lots of quality olive oil along with some fresh herbs (whatever I've got growing).

Finally, there's the tuna. I've seared it fresh on the grill, and I've poured it straight from the can, but every time I made sure the tuna was of the highest quality. The tuna in this dish is designed to shine. It's the star of the platter, so don't skimp here. If you're using canned, invest in imported tuna packed in olive oil, such as Italian or Spanish. Skip the Chicken of the Sea, even if it's packed in oil because it's probably low quality vegetable oil. Live a little and pay the extra couple of bucks to get the good stuff.

As the heat continues to rise (Lord knows it's been miserable in the Mid-Atlantic) consider this light refreshing meal as an alternative to firing up your oven, and if you can get a hold of a nice bottle of rose and a freshly baked baguette, you can spend the evening imagining your someplace else, perhaps a little cafe in St. Martin or a seaside patio along the French Riveria. Pin It Now!

An Ode to My Southern Baptist Food Roots

I was raised Southern Baptist. My dad was a deacon in the church and my mom was a Sunday school teacher. Our family spent every Sunday at our church, and I don't mean just showing up for morning service and then taking off for a leisurely afternoon of rest and relaxation. I mean, Sunday church was an all day event, beginning with an hour of Sunday school, then an hour or more of church service, after which we headed home for an early Sunday supper, which almost always involved some kind of casserole dish made with leftover ham along with sweet tea, kale cooked in fatback, and if we were really lucky, West Virginia pepperoni rolls topped with Oliverio peppers and mozzarella cheese, a family tradition harkening to our Fairmont, W.V. roots. Later that afternoon, we would return to the church for an hour of choir practice, another hour of youth group and finally evening service, which usually wrapped up well past 8 p.m. For active church members like ourselves, the seventh day of rest was hardly rest at all.


Later in the week there was Wednesday night church, which was prefaced by Wednesday night supper, an evening where the church ladies took over the kitchen, whipping up every comfort food imaginable. From fried chicken with white gravy and biscuits to meat sauce doused spaghetti, the hardworking ladies of our church created an array of decadent concoctions that culminated with a spread of homemade cakes and pies divine enough to make the angels weep.

You see, as true Southern Baptists, there isn't whole lot we're allowed to do. Booze is off limits as is smoking, fornicating, non-secular music, even dancing in some instances, but there's one action that is completely acceptable-- eating, and we do a heck of a lot of it, often in large, self-indulgent quantities.

From all-you-can eat ice cream socials where attendees are encouraged to taste their way around thirty or so hand-churned flavors (peach, strawberry, fudge) to the ubiquitous church potluck where ladies and gents offer up their "best of the best", often consisting of several different flavors of cheese balls, three-bean salads, deviled eggs, cream of mushroom soup-laden casseroles, bacon-laced BBQ beans, and no less than at least five variations of potato salad, with each version being touted as the only one worth eating, we Baptists will devour it all, happily oblivious to the number three deadliest sin: gluttony.

Speaking of sin, the dessert table at a church potluck is its own sugary evil. Think buttermilk pie, fried apple pie, bundt cakes made with 7-UP, coconut black walnut cake, cinnamon rolls dripping with powdered sugar icing, chocolate chunk cookies, peanut butter fudge, and of course, some gooey, jiggly goody that always involves gelatin. Jell-O salads spiked with pineapple bits, graham crackers, bananas, whipped cream, maraschino cherries, nuts, even rice, pimientos and crushed pretzels happily find their home somewhere along those long fold-out tables.

There's something so loving about offering up the rest of the world your very best even if cooking isn't your thing. Maybe it's just that one dish you know how to make, and maybe it's just a slap-together-crockpot of grape jelly meatballs made with frozen meatballs, grape jelly and jarred chili sauce. Maybe your go-to dish are those addictive sausage balls made with Bisquick (which are three ingredients of pure heaven, by the way).

There's no room for fancy when you're cooking with love.

Let's face it, church food is special. Made from the gentle, caring hands of many-a-church lady, these are recipes to be savored, cherished and hopefully passed along to future generations, no matter what one's chosen religion might be, because when it comes to food and fellowship, sometimes it's best to let the cooking do all the preaching.

Got a favorite food memory or recipe? I'd love to hear from you.

Church Ladies Circle Salad

This salad might seem an odd combination with its mixture of diced pimentos, cream cheese and pineapple, but trust me, it's an immaculate amalgamation of sweet, savory and crunchy. The church ladies love to serve this salad with side of Ritz crackers to enhance its salty sweet combo.

Serves 8

2 (3-ounce) boxes lemon gelatin
2 cups boiling water
1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (8-ounce) can crushed pineapple, drained
3 to 4 tablespoons diced pimientos
1/2 cup lightly crushed pecans
1 cup heavy whipping cream

Dissolve your gelatin in boiling water. Let it stand a few minutes and then add cream cheese so it will partially melt into the gelatin. It's ok to leave a few cream cheese chunks in there. Add in your drained pineapple, pimiento, and pecans. Mix well and refrigerate just until it starts to set. Then, stir it again. Whip up your whipping cream and fold it into the gelatin mixture. Throw the whole thing into a baking dish and stick it back in the fridge until it sets up.  Cut into squares and serve chilled.

From, "White Trash Gatherings: From-Scratch Cooking for Down-Home Entertaining" (Ten Speed Press, 2006) Pin It Now!