Showing posts with label food presentation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food presentation. Show all posts

Friday, November 29, 2019

Thanksgiving 2019

Time for a breather amid my tales of our trip to Japan . . .

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and, as always, our family met at our apartment. This year we had fourteen, and I decided to repeat my menu of 2018 with few changes. Why argue with success? Here's what I made:

For hors d'oeuvres, I made Michael Romano's great bar nuts from the Union Square Cafe Cookbook, roasted with an inspired combination of rosemary, brown sugar, cayenne pepper, butter and salt,

Union Square Cafe bar nuts
as well as Whipped Feta Dip, from Milk Street, served with fresh pita chips.

Whipped Feta Dip from Milk Street
For some reason, I have been craving tonnato (tuna) sauce lately, the kind used in vitello tonnato. I turned to Marcella Hazan's iconic Essentials of Italian Cooking for her recipe, but altered it greatly to make it into a stand-alone dip, served with little endive leaves for dipping.

Tonnato dip with endive leaves
This was accompanied by Dorie Greenspan's simple but delicious mustard batons and my hors d'oeuve de résistence, Shrimp with Toasted Garlic (Camerones de Ajo) from Tyler Florence.

Tyler Florence's Shrimp with Toasted Garlic (Camerones de Ajo)
This is always a huge hit, especially with my seve year-old great nice and her grandfather (my brother).

For me the actual dinner is less interesting. I made my usual turkey, a version of Julia Childs' deconstructed turkey (which Michael Chiarello's fennel seed rub) cooked over sausage stuffing from The Food Lab (also the source of my gravy recipe),

Deconstructed and carved turkey
accompanied by hashed Brussels sprouts quickly sauteed with lemon and poppy seeds, also from the Union Square Cafe Cookbook (I added toasted pine nuts, which I love, but found they offered little to this dish),

Union Square Cafe's Hashed Brussels Sprouts
and Sweet Potato Gratin from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook,

Ottolenghi's Sweet Potato Gratin
together with my fiery cranberry mostarda, a confit of dried cranberries and cranberry juice, mustard seeds soaked in wine, mustard powder, orange zest, cinnamon and lots of Champagne vinegar, a recipe from Food and Wine.

Cranberry mostarda
For dessert, guests were kind enough to bring a pumpkin pie, a chocolate cake and (yes, it's true) a peppermint cake, but I had to make at least one, in this case Clotile Dusoulier's Flourless Orange and Ginger Cake, a moist masterpiece of a cake suitable for serving friends with celiac disease (my celiac-afflicted friend has become addicted) and for Passover. This is one of my best recipes: it's easy, can be made a day or two in advance and never ceases to please. By the way, I use clementines rather than oranges.

Clotilde Dusoulier's Orange and Ginger Cake
So there it is, a large meal, followed by a good night's sleep and thoughts of what to do next year.

Bobby Jay

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Paris -- Holiday Food Windows

Maybe it's just me, but the Paris food windows this year-end seem a little less exciting than usual. In part because one of my favorites, Hediard, is closed for renovation.

Still, there were some nice things to see.

Bûches de Noël from Dalloyau . . .

Bûches de Noël at Dalloyau
. . . and from a good local patisserie, Miss Manon.

Bûches de Noël at Miss Manon
Macarons at Ladurée.

Ladurée macarons
A chocolate Thinker from Patrick Roger.

Rodin meets chocolatier Patrick Roger
Truffles at Maison de la Truffe.

Truffles at Maison de la Truffe
Caviar at Kaspia.

Caviar Kaspia
And assorted cakes at Fauchon.

Cakes at Fauchon
Paris is still a great place for holiday window-shopping.

Bobby Jay

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Paris -- Lebanese Extravaganza -- Innovative Dessert

The meals described in the last post would not have been complete without a wonderful dessert, and my friend Tania invented one: the Chocobüchelava, or Chocobaklabûche, which consists of logs of baklava made into a bûche de Noël.

Here's the wonderful baklava that Tania found, which is not sweet and has just a hint of cashew flavor:

Baklava logs
And here's the bûche that Tania made in honor of her new grandson Raphael.

Tania's chocbûchelava
And here's the büche that I made, served on a plate by the wonderful Kanazawa artist, Nakamura Takuo.

My chocobûchelava
One of the nicest aspects of our two-day extravaganza was seeing how well the same food can work with different plates and aesthetic sensibilities.

Bobby Jay

Paris - Another Lebanese Multi-day Extravaganza

When I was last in Paris, I met Tania Abourrousse, a Lebanese woman living in Paris who cooks like a demon, and had the good fortune to shop and cook a meal with her. (See my post of September 7, 2015.)

Joan and I typically share Christmas dinner with three of our Japanese friends in Paris, and this year I decided to try to do a Middle Eastern meal, with Tania's help of course. This led to Joan and me spending Christmas Eve with Tania and her family, and Tania joining us and our Japanese friends for Christmas dinner. Lots of new friends made!

Tania and I did a lot of the shopping on Tuesday, at Iranian and Lebanese groceries, and then prepared one dish: walnut pesto (Aleppo mouhammara):

Making Aleppo muhammara and the final produce
On Wednesday we made a few more dishes, subject to completion of course. Then on Thursday (Christmas Eve), we made the rest of the dishes, plated all, served and ate. What a treat!

Grapes encased in goat cheese and dusted with pistachio
Eggplant salad - raheb
Persian rice with Lebanese lamb stew, favas and dill - riz b'foul wa shbint
Okra stew
Tania's table
(I have left out the gorgeous hommos, which and the Moroccan b'stilla (made to order by a Moroccan cook whom Tania knows), which are shown below as served chez nous.)

On Christmas day, I made a very similar meal, with totally different presentation -- mostly on Japanese plates -- and some alterations of the dishes. Here are some of the highlights.

Hommos on plate by Katsumata Chieko
Chicken b'stilla
Okra stew on Futamura Yoshimi plate
Our table, arranged by Joan
Of course there was a wonderful dessert, but that is a story for another post.

Never eating again.




Well, maybe . . . . After all, we're in Paris

Bobby Jay

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Thoughts on Japanese Food Presentation

My last 11 posts have described and shown photos of some of the amazing food we ate as we toured Japan in late October through early November. Reflecting on this, and similar experiences from earlier trips to Japan, got me thinking about what makes Japanese food so special, and I set forth my thoughts below. This is a long post, but there are some nice pictures at the end, and this one just to prevent you from being bored during the introduction.

Rice course at Kanmean ryokan in Kyoto
Elizabeth Andoh, who knows as much as anyone about Japanese food, sets forth the "five principles" of Washoku (Japanese food) in her authoritative book of the same name.
  • Five colors. Each meal should include foods that are red, yellow, green, black (or nearly) and white.
  • Five tastes. Salty, sour, sweet, bitter and spice tastes should be present, in a harmonious way, in each meal.
  • Multiple cooking methods. Simmering, boiling, steaming, raw and yaki (broiled, grilled, and/or sauteed).
  • Five senses. The senses of taste, sight, sound, smell and touch (i.e. texture) should all be engaged.
  • Five Buddhist rules about eating. Respect for those who contributed to the food (farmers as well as cooks), doing good deeds to be worthy of the food, coming to the meal without anger, eating for spiritual as well as temporal well-being and struggling to attain enlightenment.
Fine Japanese cooking embodies the first four principles. The fifth comes from the diner, and is outside the scope of this post.

I love the tastes and textures of Japanese food, which reflect meticulously produced and cared for ingredients that are elevated by amazingly skillful chefs and the principles described above. However, the most striking thing to me, and what I discuss in this post, is the way a Japanese meal, and each plate, engages the sense of sight.

Japanese people have learned the ability to see beauty in the midst of the ordinary, or worse. Thus, they can focus on a flower, a bonsai tree or a bamboo and pine arrangement placed in a window or on a door and shut out the extraneous visual or aural noise, which can be pretty extreme. Similarly, the tea ceremony, which is an important influence on all Japanese esthetics, involves concentration on a lovely, but contrived, environment, with tea bowls and utensils, flowers and art all contributing to a kind of miniature tableau in which to escape the outside world and its pressures.

Another important characteristic of the Japanese sensibility is the awareness of the seasons. Probably the most common theme in Japanese painting is the four seasons, and this motif is carried over into ceramics and lacquer ware, as well as food presentation, with appropriate seasonal symbols (plum in winter, cherry blossoms in spring, flowers in summer and vibrantly colored maple leaves in autumn) being seen throughout Japan.

Applied to food presentation, I am always struck by the multiplicity of dishes that are served at the same time, usually a central tray and surrounding dishes but often a large plate with multiple elements. With luck, the dishes themselves and some of the serving plates and implements are of fine quality and enhance the experience of the meal by emphasizing the season in a beautiful way.

To me, this type of presentation fills the peripheral vision and permits (commands may be more accurate) the diner to focus his or her attention on a tableau that is not unlike a garden. It is beautiful when viewed from a distance and equally rewarding, in a different way, when each element is focused on separately. The idea is to take in and admire the garden from multiple points of view, with each one enhancing the total experience, which will vary greatly from one season to the next.

Tenryuji garden, Kyoto, central part viewed from a distance
Tenryuji garden, closer view of central part
Tenruji garden, still closer view
Tenryuji garden, left side
Tenryuji garden, closer view of left side
Well, you get the picture.

Now let's examine some food presentations that invoke the same exercise, i.e., to admire the whole but then focus on the separate elements and enjoy the relationship between the multiple views.

Here's a two-part lacquer box from a restaurant in Izumo, which contains some 19 elements (counting the soup as one), with a close up of part of the top half, focusing on a mere 12.

Izumo restaurant tray and close-up of a portion
Another example is this breakfast tray from Saginoyuso Ryokan, and close-ups of some of the major elements.

Saginoyuso breakfast tray and some individual elements
And from this year's tour, a magnificent breakfast presentation at River Retreat Garaku.

Breakfast platter at River Retreat Garaku with close-ups of some elements
We saw a different take on the same idea at Daigo, the famous temple food restaurant in Tokyo, where a round sectional plate presented about 15 separate elements, one more gorgeous than the next.

Sectional plate and separate elments at Daigo
And on the trip we just completed, there was Zeniya, already described in my post of November 15, 2015 in detail. But the seasonal plate, with 10 exquisite items, is worth examining in detail, as it makes my point more eloquently than I possibly can.

Zeniya seasonal plate and some of its elements
This style of presentation is not limited to Japanese ingredients. At one modern ryokan we visited on a prior tour, a Western style breakfast was given the same treatment.

Western breakfast, Japanese presentation
In the 1970s, a number of young French chefs visited Japan and became entranced with the way the Japanese presented food. These chefs created the movement known as Nouvelle Cuisine, of which an important element was a revolution in plating, with larger plates giving the ingredients room to breathe and to tell a story. Although the Nouvelle Cuisine movement is long over, the influence of Japanese presentation is still seen in fine restaurants in France and, indeed, around the world.

On a less global note, enjoying Japanese food is an important part of traveling in Japan, and the glorious presentation is at least as important as the food itself. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that careful observation of the plates of food placed in front of you can provide profound insight into how the Japanese relate to their environment.

Bobby Jay