Jan. 5
This was the first day of real paper sessions, so we had to have a boring lunch in the Marriott. But at dinner we, Kathy, Bert and Susann foraged out - okay, walked eight or ten blocks - to the Royal Thai restaurant. Fortunately, the group was congenial to ordering in the proper way, with everything available to share. Appetizers included a platter of fish-spam-filled crabcakes, shrimp salad, chicken saté, spring rolls, and various cups of spicy and unidentifiable things. Main courses were pad thai; deep-fried chee-chee duck; a dark and devilish melange of seafood (shrimp, scallops, mussels, squid) called the Red Sea (isn't that the name of every Ethiopian restaurant?); and "crying tiger beef" - nicely spiced and sliced flank steak. Not your usual Thai menu, and low-cost as well.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
San Diego Dining, Day Two
Jan. 4:
The first part of the day was spent museuming and researching that echt San Diego specialty, the Fish Taco; we asked cab drivers, museum guards, even waiters in other restaurants. There was a good consensus for Rubio's, and Wahoo's received special mention, but we would have needed a car and lots of time to get to either. So we had a good example of the genre at the Tin Fish downtown, which also serves tasty waffle-cut fried potatoes and oddly sweet but edible coleslaw.
That evening's dinner was a party in honor of Larissa Bonfante, Barbara's undergraduate archaeology teacher, who had just won the AIA gold medal. Ili Nagy wisely organized the celebration in a beautiful condo complex away from the Marriott, and the food was superb: cold poached sides of salmon, asparagus, and various patés and quiches, accompanied by champagne and followed by petits fours. It was an actual celebratory dinner, rather than the mingy hors d'oeuvres we would have gotten at the hotel.
The first part of the day was spent museuming and researching that echt San Diego specialty, the Fish Taco; we asked cab drivers, museum guards, even waiters in other restaurants. There was a good consensus for Rubio's, and Wahoo's received special mention, but we would have needed a car and lots of time to get to either. So we had a good example of the genre at the Tin Fish downtown, which also serves tasty waffle-cut fried potatoes and oddly sweet but edible coleslaw.
That evening's dinner was a party in honor of Larissa Bonfante, Barbara's undergraduate archaeology teacher, who had just won the AIA gold medal. Ili Nagy wisely organized the celebration in a beautiful condo complex away from the Marriott, and the food was superb: cold poached sides of salmon, asparagus, and various patés and quiches, accompanied by champagne and followed by petits fours. It was an actual celebratory dinner, rather than the mingy hors d'oeuvres we would have gotten at the hotel.
San Diego Dining, Day One
Jan. 3:
It's so nice to travel from wintry, land-locked Cincinnati to a sunny place on the ocean. The only thing that would have made San Diego yet more marvelous would have been NOT having to go to a convention, give a paper, or attend other people's papers. But in that case, we wouldn't have gotten to go.
The omens were not good for dinner that night: we had booked an evening with our friend Brian, whose professional responsibilities are ten times as onerous as both of ours put together, and who takes them seriously, yet. By the time we had dragged him away from the reception after his talk, it was after nine P.M. and restaurants in the area were closing like clams - not what we expected of a seaport/resort. The result: we had to head back to the Marriott's "sports pub." Now, this didn't bother Brian, who hadn't eaten all day, and has certain traits in common with Calvin Trillin's "Man with the Naugahide Palate" (sic - I checked the spelling in American Fried). But we hate dining with televisions and medleys of 80s music blaring all around us, and sports pubs don't generally supply much beyond that, beer and burgers - okay for lunch, not dinner. But this pub, DW's, wasn't that bad, especially once the bottle of Chardonnay arrived. We had adequate crabcakes, and the horseradish-crusted salmon with mesclun greens was actually very good.
What helped maintain our equilibrium was that we'd had a very elegant lunch at JSix (named for its location in the neighboring Gaslamp district) earlier in the day. There had been a small starter of rich red Ahi tuna tartare, followed by a plate of crusted snapper on mashed potatoes, and a dish of clams and spicy sausage in a red sauce on fresh angel-hair pasta. A pinch of salt was needed on everything but the latter - the chef is a local-food fanatic, and it seems to me that they often undersalt, unless they're Maldenites pushing the native fleur de sel. The wine was Sokol Blosser Evolution, rather like a Viognier. So to paraphrase Sydney Smith, "Fate (i.e. the sports bar) cannot harm us, - we have dined to-day."
It's so nice to travel from wintry, land-locked Cincinnati to a sunny place on the ocean. The only thing that would have made San Diego yet more marvelous would have been NOT having to go to a convention, give a paper, or attend other people's papers. But in that case, we wouldn't have gotten to go.
The omens were not good for dinner that night: we had booked an evening with our friend Brian, whose professional responsibilities are ten times as onerous as both of ours put together, and who takes them seriously, yet. By the time we had dragged him away from the reception after his talk, it was after nine P.M. and restaurants in the area were closing like clams - not what we expected of a seaport/resort. The result: we had to head back to the Marriott's "sports pub." Now, this didn't bother Brian, who hadn't eaten all day, and has certain traits in common with Calvin Trillin's "Man with the Naugahide Palate" (sic - I checked the spelling in American Fried). But we hate dining with televisions and medleys of 80s music blaring all around us, and sports pubs don't generally supply much beyond that, beer and burgers - okay for lunch, not dinner. But this pub, DW's, wasn't that bad, especially once the bottle of Chardonnay arrived. We had adequate crabcakes, and the horseradish-crusted salmon with mesclun greens was actually very good.
What helped maintain our equilibrium was that we'd had a very elegant lunch at JSix (named for its location in the neighboring Gaslamp district) earlier in the day. There had been a small starter of rich red Ahi tuna tartare, followed by a plate of crusted snapper on mashed potatoes, and a dish of clams and spicy sausage in a red sauce on fresh angel-hair pasta. A pinch of salt was needed on everything but the latter - the chef is a local-food fanatic, and it seems to me that they often undersalt, unless they're Maldenites pushing the native fleur de sel. The wine was Sokol Blosser Evolution, rather like a Viognier. So to paraphrase Sydney Smith, "Fate (i.e. the sports bar) cannot harm us, - we have dined to-day."
Left-over leftovers
Jan. 2
A refrigerator clean-out before we left for our annual professional convention. The less said the better. One good point: it didn't include bacalà.
A refrigerator clean-out before we left for our annual professional convention. The less said the better. One good point: it didn't include bacalà.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
New Year's Eve
Julie came over for New Year's Eve to help us finish our left-overs. So caviar, champagne, smoked salmon, cream cheese, toasted bread for appetizers. Then "La Morue en Raïto." This—can I be frank here?— was a disaster. The idea is a green sauce over fried slices of salt cod. I took this from The Cuisine of the Sun: a fabulous cookbook, but not this recipe.
Now, the bacalà had been soaked for a full day in various changes of water and was had just the perfect residual saltiness for the brandade on Christmas Eve, tempered, I suppose, by the oil and milk. However, when fried, and then topped with a parsley, caper, and olive sauce, it was close to inedible. Way too many saline objects going on there. The recipe called for capers or cornichons, and I don't think the cornichons would have helped either. Other recipes added anchovies! Visions of the salt monster from Star Trek Season I. The Cuisine of the Sun also called for red vermouth as the cooking liquid. With some misgivings I followed the recipe closely, but wooooo! The vermouth clashed with everything, and the result was so salty that it pretty much stripped all the water molecules from my throat and upper esophagus. The Italian version is bacalà al verde which layers the bacalà with potatoes. That should spread the salt about a bit. In some ways, however, it might have been a life saver. In my desperate thirst, I pounded down quarts of water, rather than champagne, which might account to the fact that I woke up with very little headache. Then again, it might have been the Milk Thistle pills that Julie brought over on a friend's recommendation. Clearly a scientific review is called for, where we get drunk on champagne with the Milk Thistle pills, without Milk Thistle pills, with water plus Milk Thistle pills, with water minus Milk Thistle pills, and compare the four resulting hangovers.
Julie also brought a lovely salad (and champagne) which helped clear our palettes for the lasagnoid object, i.e. more baked ziti.
Biscotti, eggnog with extra shots of Barbadian nog, and more champagne completed the night.
Merry 007 to all.
Now, the bacalà had been soaked for a full day in various changes of water and was had just the perfect residual saltiness for the brandade on Christmas Eve, tempered, I suppose, by the oil and milk. However, when fried, and then topped with a parsley, caper, and olive sauce, it was close to inedible. Way too many saline objects going on there. The recipe called for capers or cornichons, and I don't think the cornichons would have helped either. Other recipes added anchovies! Visions of the salt monster from Star Trek Season I. The Cuisine of the Sun also called for red vermouth as the cooking liquid. With some misgivings I followed the recipe closely, but wooooo! The vermouth clashed with everything, and the result was so salty that it pretty much stripped all the water molecules from my throat and upper esophagus. The Italian version is bacalà al verde which layers the bacalà with potatoes. That should spread the salt about a bit. In some ways, however, it might have been a life saver. In my desperate thirst, I pounded down quarts of water, rather than champagne, which might account to the fact that I woke up with very little headache. Then again, it might have been the Milk Thistle pills that Julie brought over on a friend's recommendation. Clearly a scientific review is called for, where we get drunk on champagne with the Milk Thistle pills, without Milk Thistle pills, with water plus Milk Thistle pills, with water minus Milk Thistle pills, and compare the four resulting hangovers.
Julie also brought a lovely salad (and champagne) which helped clear our palettes for the lasagnoid object, i.e. more baked ziti.
Biscotti, eggnog with extra shots of Barbadian nog, and more champagne completed the night.
Merry 007 to all.
Grand Goosoulet
A cassoulet is the thing for left-over goose. Remember by ancient French tradition (and nobody's more traditional than the ancient French) a cassoulet must contain mutton . . . or roast pork . . . or ham . . . and sausages . . or not . . . or tomatoes . . . or not . . . topped with bread crumbs . . . or not. Even the duck or goose is optional. In other words, the cassoulet must contain whatever you got a lot of . . . plus beans. Makes it out kind of meal. Here's a fun article on the cassoulet wars.
So ours: Soaked white beans the day before, then pressure cooked them. We fried some onions and garlic in the goose fat plus thyme, fried some kielbasa (recommended substitute for Toulouse sausages) in that, tossed the fry up into the mess of beans. Needed more liquid so added a can of tomatoes. Put into an oven in the giant cast iron Dutch oven (Thanks, Barbara!) and baked for an hour. Delicious, but to tell the truth, I'm not sure the sausages added that much to it.
So ours: Soaked white beans the day before, then pressure cooked them. We fried some onions and garlic in the goose fat plus thyme, fried some kielbasa (recommended substitute for Toulouse sausages) in that, tossed the fry up into the mess of beans. Needed more liquid so added a can of tomatoes. Put into an oven in the giant cast iron Dutch oven (Thanks, Barbara!) and baked for an hour. Delicious, but to tell the truth, I'm not sure the sausages added that much to it.
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