Posts filed under 'food'
One of the classic tales of fiction is Hans Christian Anderson’s The Emperor Has No Clothes.
One day two rogues arrived in town, claiming to be gifted weavers. They convinced the Emperor that they could weave the most wonderful cloth, which had a magical property. The clothes were only visible to those who were completely pure in heart and spirit.
The Emperor was impressed and ordered the weavers to begin work immediately. The rogues, who had a deep understanding of human nature, began to feign work on empty looms.
Minister after minister went to view the new clothes and all came back exhorting the beauty of the cloth on the looms even though none of them could see a thing.
Finally a grand procession was planned for the Emperor to display his new finery. The Emperor went to view his clothes and was shocked to see absolutely nothing, but he pretended to admire the fabulous cloth, inspect the clothes with awe, and, after disrobing, go through the motions of carefully putting on a suit of the new garments.
Under a royal canopy the Emperor appeared to the admiring throng of his people – - all of whom cheered and clapped because they all knew the rogue weavers’ tale and did not want to be seen as less than pure of heart.
But, the bubble burst when an innocent child loudly exclaimed, for the whole kingdom to hear, that the Emperor had nothing on at all. He had no clothes.
Now the moral of the story is that there are sycophants in a room, and that we should be willing to point out when there is a lie.
But in the Sandman, by Neil Gaiman, I am reminded of another point of view:
It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.
In the episode titled Trick in a Box, the master chef’s are asked to cook a meal for a bunch of aspiring chef’s in cooking school.
And so the aspiring chef’s, feel that they should criticize these legendary cooks … They act as if they have the right to an opinion. Except what they should be doing is using that opportunity to touch greatness and learn from greatness and shut the fuck up about the quality of the food.
Watching these children make comments is painful. And so maybe the food wasn’t perfect, but the Emperor, the master chef, is still Emperor, and the aspiring chef is still the aspiring chef that critiqued the master chef’s food on television.
August 15th, 2009
In a recent Top Chef Masters episode I got to see the difference between a great food critic and an amateur.
Anito Lo was asked to create a dish with the theme illusion. Her dish was a masterpiece of thought and execution. A key element of the dish was a steak tartare sauce whose purpose was to be poured into a bowl.
In the regular Top Chef, where newbies compete, Gail Simmons is one of the better food critics whose opinions are usually thoughtful and insightful.
But little did I realize the gap between her and the great critics. Presented with this dish, Gail complains it lacks salt. Then the incomparably greater critic, James Oseland, turns to her and says:
Well I poured the steak tartare sauce into the bowl, and it was perfectly salted.
I suppose that’s the way one food critic tells another food critic:
Dude, have you ever eaten food before?
Gail, after having been educated on how to eat her food, proceeds to give the seemingly unsalted dish 4.5 stars.
August 15th, 2009
Top Chef, a Bravo TV, reality program pits aspiring chefs against each other in a month long competition where they are asked to, on their feet, create great food week after week after week.
The team that brought us top chef, decided to do a spin on the show, where they would bring in great chef’s and ask them to compete in the same format.
In many ways, the creators of Top Chef, looked at gladiator matches of yesteryear, and realized that we all want to watch the greatest go head to head. We all want to see Hector fight Achilles in front of the walls of troy. And yet the reality is that in our modern world, that never happens. hector would be a general, and so would achilles, and they would never be allowed to risk their lives in man-to-man combat.
Top Chef Masters creates that delicious competitive battle, where the stakes are infinitely lower, but still real. These are after all, great chefs, who want to do great cooking.
In one episode, they take the chef’s and have them compete in a speed competition where they have to prep food. For all of them, the last time they prepped food was at least decade ago, and for Roy Yamaguchi it may have been more than two decades ago.
What’s amazing to watch is how these great, great, great Chef’s are forced to do something as elementary as create a great dish on the fly, and to see them struggle. Not because they can’t create a great dish, but because the last time they did it on their own was years ago. Watching Jonathan Waxman, a man whose efforts years ago helped create the foodie culture that produced top chef, struggle with how to use a pressure cooker was delightful because it reminded me of how all leaders rely on some kind of support staff.
It’s an interesting statement about life in general. As we promote people to positions of leadership, their ability to do the simple basic tasks, under time pressure, begins to evaporate. So Rick Moonen, can’t finish a quick fire, but then turns it around and creates a masterpiece, because he is still a great, great chef.
It is very rare that you see great men compete mano-a-mano in their chosen profession. Top Chef Masters is a great bit of television.
August 15th, 2009
How to make a perfect rib-eye.
First buy a large, 6-8 inch thick, piece of rib-eye meat. You can find this at Costco.
Second cut into three or four 2 inch thick slabs.
Third marinate for at least 24 hours, better 48 hours in Soy-Vay terriaki sauce.
When you cook the meat using a Weber, make the heat very hot intense on half of the grill. I fill half of the Weber to 2/3 of the way to the top, and then have the other half have no charcoal.
Place meat on cold side.
Cook for 30 minutes. Every ten minutes, flip the steak.
After thirty minutes, remove steak from fire. Put steak on a plate, measure temperature.
If the temperature is ~120 farenheit, put back for a 3-4 more minutes.
If it’s below 120 put for another 7-8 minutes.
After 3-4 minutes, remove and re-probe. If it’s 125 or over you’re done.
Let sit for 5-10 minutes. During that time the steak will cook a few more degrees.
Slice into pieces and eat.
October 12th, 2008
One of the coolest parts about going to Santorini is eating with my uncle Iannis Roussos at his Canava. 
Iannis, not only is a great story teller, but is also a lover of great food and wine.
Like very few people on the island he is a traditionalist and a lover of what Santorini was as much as what Santorini should be.
Every time I visit the place, I am treated to excellent wine, food and conversation, and this year was no exception.
It all started innocently enough with some crackers,
moved to fruit and coffee
and then we had three kinds of cheeses with my uncle.
And of course there was the wine.
The greatest part of the experience, however, was when he opened one of his barrels to let us taste some of his 30 year old Visanto.
Here my uncle is pouring some wine into a glass held by his daughter Liouba.
September 8th, 2008
One of the most picturesque villages in Santorini is Oia.
And one of the most picturesque places in Oia is the port area also known as Amoudi.
And the best place to eat in Amoudi is Taverna Katina (Katina is shown sitting under her store sign).
While you sit waiting to be served you can enjoy the view.
Like all good Greek fish taverns, first you select your fish from the set of available fresh fish. Then eat some appetizers…
Followed by some fantastic fresh fish, in particular I recommend barbounia, the red-mullet.
Otherwise, anything fresh will do
Top to it all off we had a fantastic dessert
September 8th, 2008
Santorini is one of those spectacularly beautiful places in the world that must endure bad restaurants producing bad food in prime locations.
Occasionally, though there is a restaurant that meets and exceeds whatever obscenely high standards I may have.
Philipas was such a restaurant.
Serving the best tomatokeftes, salad, and tsatsiki anywhere the food was tasty, well prepared and made to order.
Overlooking the small port where fishermen place their boats
to survive the weather.
The owner, Philipas,
serves excellent Greek and Santorinian food.
Apparently much of the produce the restaurant serves is grown by the owner himself.
A fantastic, absolutely fantastic meal …
And I would have taken pictures of the food but I was too busy eating …
Eat whatever is on the menu. Enjoy the view. And remember my recommendation…
September 7th, 2008
I grew up in Europe where waiters were expected to serve you not talk to you.
This charming albeit irritating habit waiters in the US have to chat grates on my nerves. I wish I could just tell them:
Dude I am not spending 70$ for the privilege of talking to you. I am spending the money for the priviledge of talking to my friends. Please just shut the Fuck up!
May 17th, 2008
On the way to Lassithi, the plateau in the mountains of Crete, my wife, Andrew and I stopped to take some photos of the surround countryside.
Almost 100 feet later there was a church and we stopped again, because we could not resist the temptation to take a picture of a Church in Greece. I one-upped the one church quota with this two church shot …
The windmills themselves are nothing but ruins, relics of an era when wind was used to grind grains.
The view from the top of the ride is spectacular and most definitely worth stopping to check out.
Once we entered the plateau it was somewhat of a disappointment. As a child the plateau made a tremendous impression on me because it was the only bit of flat land I had ever seen on a Greek island. I suppose, when I was a child, I had found the notion that in the middle of these mountains there would be something flat to be very disturbing.
But in the end, a plateau that is used to farm, is just that, a plateau that is used to farm. I suspect if you stayed in this area for a month, you would notice some very subtle rhythms that seemed to speak out to me, but were ultimately lost in our rush to get in and get out.
April 15th, 2008
After our hike up what we thought was Karfi, we were very hungry. The oranges were very tasty, but somewhat insubstantial.
The guide book offered a few places to go eat, but I wanted to check out what was available before I committed to anything.
We parked in front of a house that belonged to an old widow that I could not resist taking a picture of.
Our walk around the town made it quite clear that the right place to eat was at Taverna Kronio.
A small tavern that had been in business since 1965. The current owner, pictured below, was a local who had married a French woman which explained why the wait staff (husband and son) spoke perfect French and the menu was written in perfect French cursive.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I was very hungry and demanded to start ordering. His reaction was funny. He goes:
Sit down, relax, this is not a Mc. Donald’s. There is a pace to how you will eat here.
He started the menu with an aperitif offering ouzo. I told him that I was a designated driver, and he gave me a priceless reaction:
Spare me. Soon we will be like Denmark. One little drink will not hurt.
And so we ordered food, chastised for being in a rush, and told to drink and if we needed to wait for the alcohol to be digested to sit and wait because there was no rush.
Across the way from us was a Kafenion with a set of locals who were drinking their coffee. Their mustaches and their looks were quintessentially Cretan.
Their patience and willingness to take their time to drink their coffee did much to convince this hurried man that he should slow down. 
The food was very tasty and very colorful. What I find most interesting in Crete is how vivid the food colors are. The stifado is very red. The yellows/green of the artichoke was very yellow/green. There is something to be said for organically grown produce.
As we were about to leave to head towards the cave where Zeus was supposedly born, the owner warned us to not go. He said, there is a cave, and there is a fee to park, a fee to enter, a fee to smile, a fee to exit, a fee to frown, and if the local bureaucrat smiles he made decide that your car is a fee. With that warning, we decided to turn around and head back to Xersonissos.
April 15th, 2008
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