Have You Seen the Little Piggies...?

Pigging out, pork-barrel, hog-wild-- why is something so delicious the signifier of the gluttonous? And is it possible to have too much pork?

Last week, my Omnivore and I set out to answer these and other questions at the Whole Hog Dinner 2009, cooked up by Oliveto. It was a gift of Mr. and Ms. Art Attack, which is ironic in that Ms. Art Attack is a vegetarian. But she knew we'd love the idea, one of the regular special dinners on offer at Oakland's Oliveto Cafe and Restaurant.

The Whole Hog Dinner is, as you might imagine, a soup-to-nuts pig themed menu, and I must admit, I was surprised and rather delighted by the range of dishes they had on offer.

I remember as a kid reading with great interest in Little House in the Big Woods how the Ingalls family slaughtered their one pig. Here's what I have learned from this experience: 1) a single humble pig could feed a family of four, 2) you're not supposed to eat the whole pig on one night.

Le Menu:












Our server was nice, but seemed not to be into our usual style of banter. I guess if all you've been dealing with is pork-crazy folks all night asking you how the spezzatino is prepared, you're not so keen on banter. He recommended two dishes from each category, antipasti, pastas, entrees and maybe a side, to split between the three of us. Ms. Art Attack, of course, being vegetarian had her own menu.

So pictured above is the salumi platter of sweet meats, consisting of mortadella (at the top, light, sweet and possibly my fave among the meats), pate cappriccioso (the wedge to the right of the mortadella), pork liver pate (the wedge below drizzled with maybe a balsamic? A fantastic, fantastic, savory-sweet pate, really, one of the best I've ever had), salame cotto (continuing clockwise around the plate), and a fine coppa di testa (or head cheese). We had to do salumi, because Oliveto is where Paul Bertolli started his handcrafted salumi revolution before founding Fra'Mani, which is ONLY our favorite salumi in all the--well, really all the world. Honestly. And yes, I'm including the salumi we had in Tuscany.

We also had the Sbricciolona, a quenelle of raw sausage and fennel (don't start with me, we ate raw, whipped lard slathered on bread in Tuscany) with terrific little squares of flatbread and an arugula salad on the side. Fresh salsiccia cruda is really flavorful. I guess in one sense it makes me feel like a feral animal, gnawing away at raw flesh, but it also oddly reminds me of being a small child and going to a butcher shop. As the adults consulted over the meats, the butcher would always give me a little bite of raw ground beef as a treat. I miss that.

We also tried the pork tongue with artichokes in a balsamic sauce.

I'm not the biggest fan of tongue, although this was very good. I never get "big" flavor from it, but Oliveto certainly knows how to cook it for perfect texture.

Ms. Art Attack, showing off her mixed green salad. LOL





Paccheroni with wild boar spezzatino was probably my favorite pasta of the night. The paccheroni are long hollow noodles which was interesting to me -- it didn't seem like the ragu would be carried well on the pasta, but it coated the outside of the pasta appealingly, and the boar tasted not so gamey, but actually very tender.

We also got a papparedelle nero with pork heart and wild mushroom ragu. Nose-to-tail -- eat everything and waste nothing on the animal...

I actually really loved the pastas, all homemade I'm presuming, because the texture on all of them was really silky and lovely.

Our wines for the evening: Barbera del Monferrato and Montefalco Sagrantino. Italian wines are not my strong point, but I will say this, they are smashing with food.

I'll leave the describing to my Omnivore, our resident wine expert.



Ms. Art Attack's other salad, with a fabulous dressing.

Throughout the evening, I must interject here, I was trying very very hard to pace myself. Don't get me wrong -- I enjoyed everything. I had little bites of all the dishes, certainly plenty to taste -- but at this point, I was starting to get that full feeling...Seriously? I've had like a bite of pate, a slice of mortadella, a bit of cotto and head cheese, a half bite of a heart, a long paccheroni, a smidge of salsiccia -- I'm really not eating that much, but my brain is going. "Wow, great dinner...and that's a wrap..." Except that we're, like, halfway through.

I did get to try Ms. Art Attack's absolutely toothsome gnocchi, made mostly with greens, I heard nettles and a lttle binder of flour and I've forgotten the rest... So good. Possible candidate for our pasta tasting menu later this spring...?


Ms. Art Attack also got the shaved Bussel Sprouts drenched in lemon and pecorino. I have to remember this litttle trick , because I love brussels and they tasted less cruciferous, and more savory this way.

I guess our server must have felt a little sorry for Ms. Art, because he brought along a little plate of Oliveto's fresh-milled polenta for her to try -- much softer and creamier in texture than polenta made with the typical store-bought dried milled corn.

Okay, so here we get to the part where I began drowning. The Zampone Braised in Saba Sauce.

We saw it go by to another table and--well, first, let me say, it looked a lot, a LOT smaller-- but it also looked succulent and irresistible. This is a pig foreleg, with the bone taken out and replaced with ground meat. It says on the menu "to share" and they ain't kidding. It's absolutely delicious and unusual -- the flavor of the saba sauce has a terrific spiciness, almost like clove and cinnamon on a Christmas roast. I scooped out a slice which was about the same size as a quarter-pounder burger and then considered it on my plate. It might as well have been a horse.

The whole dish is incredibly rich, partly from the fat, partly from the well-developed flavor, and about two bites in, I knew I'd be forcing myself to eat, so I had to put my fork down. There was still bacon ice cream yet to come, I reminded myself. I took a few bites of the shaved fennel and puntarella, just to clear my mind and it actually helped refresh me quite a bit-- one of the pleasant mysteries of eating that I often wonder about, the relationship between flavor on your palate and that feeling of "fullness."

Anyhoo. yeah, we took a lot of that home. A LOT.

I digress. Bacon ice cream and Seville orange ice cream. Sounds weird, I know, but is really spectacularly good -- smoky and sweet, with a creamy finish, of course.

And as a little extra, since we were celebrating My Omnivore's birthday, albeit a little early, the server brought the little plate of candied bacon that is at the top of this post, with a candle in it. Maybe he was trying to get back in my good graces after blowing off the banter.


At this point, since the fennel worked so well, I was all about the palate-cleansing. Rosemary sorbet, bring it on. Actually beautifully fragrant, and not too resinous, but definitely woodsy.

Okay, my good man, I believe we're ready. Be a sport and bring my wheelbarrow around and help me get in it?

An Afternoon of Tasties and Tidbits

I've never really gone all out and tried to learn the ins and outs of Asian cuisine. I mean, don't get me wrong, we live in San Francisco and I grew up in New York. I've watched Yan Can Cook, and made my fair share of stir fry and dim sum. I can even do up those steamed pork buns that My Omnivore loves so much. But I've never made a full scale inquiry into how to make fine Chinese or Japanese cuisine. My Chinese teacher once tried to teach me how to make noodles for my birthday, and I don't recall a single thing about it.

So I tend to bypass the great little Japanese markets around here, which is a shame, because they have, as I discovered, fantastic fish, as well as a dizzying array of Stuff I Can't Identify. Some of it's written in English too, and it's still perplexing. What, for example, WHAT is "Pocari Sweat"?

I'm on the hunt for yuzu juice though, to make a yuzu sorbet. Fortunately they have a large sign saying "YUZU" in English, and I consider my options for a sec before picking up a bottle. It's all in Japanese, so I can't tell if this is salted or unsalted Yuzu juice -- why do they even sell yuzu juice salted?

Speaking of salt, I then spot more salt -- Hawaiian pink sea salt, and I pick that up too. Never shop when you're hungry, or when you can't read the language.

Anyway, the reason for all this market-haunting was the Tasties and Tidbits party we held on Sunday. It was inspired by all the crazy little foodie gifts that people gave us over the holidays--truffle salt, truffle oil, yuzu powder, Himalayan Rock Salt, Merlot Vinegar... quite the haul. So we decided to invite everyone who'd given us foodie fun items and make a lot of, well, tasties, with each of the ingredients -- not all of them together in one dish, mind you.

Assembled in our apartment: Randy and Cindy of Food Migration, Ms. Food Snoot, The Pajama Queen, Mr. Tarte Tatin and Ms. Devushka -- amazing that we can fit that many people into our humble abode, isn't it? And that's missing Ms. & Mr. Art Attack and La Canadienne.

Here's our foodie list in our suggested tasting order:

SALT (Mr. & Ms. Art Attack)

• Chicken Liver pate with a tasting of salts: Maldon Sea Salt from Essex, La Baleine Sea Salt from Camargue, Hawaiian Pink Salt and the salt that kicked off this whole idea, Himalayan Rock Salt from Nepal.

YUZU (Cindy & Randy)

• A Tasting of Misos with Yuzu and Leek on tofu, with a Sesame Wonton Crisp and Daikon Sprouts (courtesy of Cindy from Food Migration. I am so sorry I didn't get a photo of Cindy and Randy applying the daikon sprouts with angled tweezers! Expertly done, I must say.)
• Bites of Maguro Tuna dusted with Yuzu Powder
• Yuzu Sorbet

MERLOT VINEGAR (Ms. Art Attack)

• Roasted Portobellos drizzled with Merlot Vinegar.
• Salad Dressed with Merlot Vinagrette

• Wild Herb Sorbet Intermezzo (which we needed, to "re-clear" palates after trying the Yuzu Sorbet!)

TRUFFLE SALT AND OIL (Pajama Queen & Mr. Tarte Tatin and La Canadienne)

• Sips of Cauliflower and Roasted Garlic Soup with a Drizzle of Truffle Oil (executed by Ms. Food Snoot according to Martha Stewart's recipe.)
  
• Truffled Foccaccia slices with Taleggio and Robiola and Truffle Oil

DESSERTS

• Green Tea Financiers (courtesy of Cindy and Randy)
• And regular old Flan
  

As you can probably imagine, I wasn't sure what to serve to drink with all of this, but while picking up the tuna in the morning, the wall of sake at Nijiya Market caught my eye. Why not? After all, I like sake, but I know absolutely nothing about it. And this is all experimental anyway.

As I stood there considering the possible merits of a jereboam of sake on sale for $9.99, a woman came up to and asked earnestly, "Do you know anything about sake?" Oh, honey pie. Not a bit. I didn't even do any of my customary sake research until well after this whole event was over.

According to True Sake's website, "the best way to taste sake professionally is to eat very little for breakfast and find a cream-colored room with windows that have a northerly exposure. Then without wearing any perfumes or colognes, enter the room exactly at 10:00AM with your mind cleared of thoughts of the outside world and begin tasting."

So we ate breakfast and lunch as usual, and had our tasting in a room with a disgusting green carpet that faces south. I spritzed myself with my favorite French perfume, lit a scented candle in the bathroom and started us off at around 3:30 pm. So I guess that puts us exactly on target?

I carefully selected our sakes with an eye to bottle color (green, black and white frost) and price range (~$6), and we ended up with a Junmai Nigori ("cloudy and sweet") from Gekkeikan in the green bottle, a Tanrei Junmai ("crisp and dry") from the Murai Family in the black bottle with the fetching warrior on it and a "fresh and light" Junmai Nama from Hakushika in the white bottle.

Yes, I almost purchased the matched set of pink and blue frosted bottles with names like "Dream Cloud." Oh, give me a break, people. I know nothing about sake and we had to start someplace. At least none of them had Pokemon figures on the label.

So, my final feeling was that among these three "nice and cheap" sakes, my favorite was the Hakushika, followed by the Murai family. The Nigori was very sweet, and compared to the others, I wasn't as impressed with the cloudiness. Still, when I tried it again today (2:14 pm, still in my green-carpeted, south-facing room) I liked it better, and could imagine it with a dessert of some sort.

Guess I have to try more cheap sake choices and work my way up.

Even after a long bout of sake tasting, My Omnivore is still sharp enough to solve six little foam puzzles....

Tea at Wayne Manor

"When was the last time you had sherry in the afternoon?" one of the ladies asked me as she sipped from a delicately gilded sherry glass.

One of the pleasures of civilized life for me has always been tea. We used to have very un-fancy teas in the afternoon in the physics lab at my alma mater, but even without frills or furbelows, it's still one of the only lab traditions that I miss.

So I was thrilled when Ms. Five-and-a-Half suggested I come by for tea at Wayne David Hand's gorgeous Victorian on Divisadero.

Wayne's a talented, self-trained artist-- his work has been exhibited at Le Trianon, but you can see some of the best at Capricorn Framing, which is housed in his front parlor. He also does fabulous work in Venetian plaster, so if you're ever looking for an unusual, yet lavish decorative idea, give him a call.

Personally, I'm in love with his exquisite watercolors, especially this one of a gorgeously rich tulip.

Wayne was the fairy godmother who loaned us some of his beautiful antiques for our "Ah, Wilderness!" dinner last week, including the crystal dessert dishes, a pair of Faberge candlesticks and an beautifully bound copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam bound in gold and leather.

His own tea table is set with just as lovely and detailed and eye, Wedgewood teapots, silver service-- as elegant as tea at the Ritz with none of the stuffiness.

We feasted on canelles from Bay Breads, tiny finger sandwiches, apricot tart, and a wide array of tea choices. There was Harney and Sons' Florence, with overtones of Chocolate and Hazelnut; Kusmi's dark Petrushka Tea; and also the elusive Pu'er tea, which he describes as the European's secret --cholesterol-lowering, weight-reducing, hang-over curing. Pu'er, which has long been a prized and pricey tea, was also the subject recently of a fascinating article in the NY Times about the many victims of the "tea speculation" bubble.

Over the past decade, as the nation went wild for the region’s brand of tea, known as Pu’er, farmers bought minivans, manufacturers became millionaires and Chinese citizens plowed their savings into black bricks of compacted Pu’er.But that was before the collapse of the tea market turned thousands of farmers and dealers into paupers and provided the nation with a very pungent lesson about gullibility, greed and the perils of the speculative bubble.

In fact Wayne's entire home is filled with a luxurious and artful array of decorative objects, all obviously lovingly selected. Sitting in his dining room, you feel as though you've been transported to a far more refined, genteel era.


We can dream for at least an afternoon...

Dumping the Refrigerator for a Greener Planet - NYTimes.com

Wow... now that is hard-core. On the other hand, our refrigerator, which is rated as "No Help to the Environment...At All," is small anyhow. should we change over to a mini-fridge and a cooler?

FOR the last two years, Rachel Muston, a 32-year-old information-technology worker for the Canadian government in Ottawa, has been taking steps to reduce her carbon footprint — composting, line-drying clothes, installing an efficient furnace in her three-story house downtown.

About a year ago, though, she decided to “go big” in her effort to be more environmentally responsible, she said. After mulling the idea over for several weeks, she and her husband, Scott Young, did something many would find unthinkable: they unplugged their refrigerator. For good.

More on the NYTimes.com.

Ah, Wilderness! Dinner

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

-- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

It's been a long weekend. Actually a long week. But check this out: we cooked, I think, our most elaborate dinner to date, and have lived to tell.

Can I tell you a few things that we learned?
1) We are not Thomas Keller. Two people do not equal Thomas Keller, Three or more, probably do not equal Thomas Keller. He's weird--like supernatural weird. So before you go trying to cook some recipe out of his French Laundry cookbook, think. Carefully. That's all I'm gonna say.

2) Martha Stewart is on your side. I don't care what kind of a person she is in real life. I don't care if she scares small children or freaks you out with her individually stuffed peas. She knows her food. She knows how to set you up for a fancy party. Trust me.

3) It truly takes a village to complete one of these shindigs. None of us, NONE of us has all that you need to pull this off -- lean on your friends. Heavily.

Okay, so on we go. Here's our fridge--woefully inadequate as it is, but pressed into service again for our multi-course dinner in honor of our Russian friends, including three of our terrific local choreographers, and the lovely Lady Di, a ballerina from the Kirov and Bolshoi. Joining the guest list, Ms. Devushka and one of our gorgeous Bay Area dancers, whom I'll call La Muse.

As regular readers of this blog know, we've been prepping this for a few days, making stock bases, testing dishes.

With our schedules packed to brim with work, we needed a battle plan for the whole week. I won't put up the picture of our sauce-stained schedule but it went from Sunday all the way through a minute to minute schedule on the day of cooking. Good thing too, around course four, when the stress gets to be overwhelming, there's a comfort in just looking at the plan and, in an almost zombie-like fashion, following orders.

We check everything off the check list, pack it up into boxes and cooler and bags, stuff it into the car and away we gooo...

Here's the usual printed menu-- you might notice that what started out as simple printed recipe cards has gotten progressively more elaborate...

The Menu:

• "Borscht," Fried Red Beet Chip with Creme Fraiche and Dill
  
• Sformato of Celeriac with Duck Confit, Green Apple and Parsley Vinaigrette
• Cream of Cepes with Chervil Cream and Crispy Croutons
• Paupiette of Sablefish on a Bed of Melted Leeks with Syrah Sauce
• Herb Sorbet
• Venison with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash, Braised Shallots and Wild Rice
• Montbriac Blue Cheese with Comice Pear Poached in Nebbiolo d’Alba & Toasted Walnuts
• Petit Fours and Rosemary Shortbreads
  

Ms. Five-and-a-Half, as always, arranged a spectacular table, with a beautiful centerpiece designed by her friend Tom Bastianon at Trillium Flowers in Petaluma.

Our theme was "Ah, Wilderness," so the final assembly had everything from forsythia to little wild mushrooms. Honestly, this is something I could never even visualize, much less execute. Thank goodness there are talented people out there!



So as I said, it takes a village to do one of these things. We busily borrowed from all sorts of kind folks who were actually extraordinarily generous with their kitchen goods.

Ms. Food Snoot loaned us her mandoline -- ours is horrible and just doesn't cut anything. But having used this all week, I have to say, I am so springing for one of these things. Brunoise, slices of beets--it slices, it dices, it even juliennes.

From Ms. Five-and-a-Half's friend Wayne, came these elegant ruffled crystal plates, which we used for dessert -- so delicate I barely wanted to even pick them up (Have I mentioned that I've had a little problem um, holding anything lately. Especially if it's expensive?)


Wayne's an artist (Check out his website to see some of his work.) and he gamely joined in the planning fun, also loaning these gorgeous Faberge candlestick holders and this beautifully bound copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam from the 1920s.

No pressure.

So as usual, we descended on Ms. Five-and-a-Half and Mr. Thirteen's kitchen and took over pretty much every exposed surface.




When we began planning, Ms. Five-and-a-Half left me a message, "Okay, start thinking of a menu that doesn't have borscht or pierogies."

It's a sort of sense of inborn perversity then that My Omnivore suggested we do an amuse of beet chips with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkle of dill, and call it "Borscht."

Beet chips actually cook down A LOT when you fry them. I knew that already from past experience, so I bought the biggest beet you've ever seen in your life -- really, the size of a small child's head. Honestly. Like six inches in diameter.

They cooked down to about and inch and a half in diameter.

It was quite a process -- and let me say how grateful I was for the mandoline in this case.

But the efforts were woth it. The flavor of the beet was intensified and the bit of creme fraiche and dill just gave you that fleeting image of borscht in your head.

By the way, I have to say I love my new little plates. It's utterly silly, but I love them.

Okay, the first course was based on a terrific starter I had at Babbo's in New York. The hardest part of this one is making the celeriac puree. By the way, it's worth the trouble to run the celeriac through a food mill and then also blenderize it with a stick blender to get it super creamy. The texture of the resulting sformato will be ungodly creamy.

Sformato of Celeriac

• 2 cups bechamel sauce, recipe follows
• 1 pound celeriac
• 1-2 cups milk
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 pinch freshly ground nutmeg, or to taste
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan
• 2 eggs and 2 yolks
• 2 ounces butter
• 1/4 cup fresh bread crumbs, lightly toasted under broiler
Bechamel:
• 1 stick unsalted butter
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 4 cups hot milk
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Cut the celeriac into 2-inch cubes and put into a medium pot. Cover with milk and bring to a simmer (do not allow to boil). Cook until the celeriac is tender (about 30 minutes) then remove celeriac with a slotted spoon and puree in a blender or food processor. If the mixture is too thick, add a little of the milk. Set aside to cool.

Make the béchamel sauce as follows:
Melt butter in a 2-quart saucepan until frothing. Remove from heat and stir in flour with a whisk. Cook over low heat for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add 1/2 of the hot milk and whisk until smooth. Add remaining milk and whisk until smooth. Bring to boil, add nutmeg, lower heat and simmer 10 minutes. Can be used hot or cold.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

In a mixing bowl, mix the pureed celeriac, the bechamel, salt, nutmeg, Parmesan, eggs and yolks. Stir until thoroughly combined.

Butter 12 1-cup oven-proof dessert cups for individual servings and coat with bread crumbs. Divide the celeriac mixture into the each cup-- each one should be about 2/3 to 3/4 full. Fill a 12-inch baking pan 2/3 filled with hot water.

Place the cups on the baking pan, so that they are standing in the hot water. Carefully place the baking pan into the oven. Bake until the top of the sformatos are golden brown and a dipped toothpick comes out clean, about 35 to 40 minutes. Remove and allow to cool 15 minutes.

To serve: Turn the sformatos out onto plates and serve.

We served them the way I had them at Babbo's, with a little salad, shredded duck confit and julienned tart green apple.

This next is a recipe out of Martha Stewart. You can make it up to three days ahead and then just heat it up to serve when you're ready-- it was the easiest course to put together the whole evening and it was one of the best. This is why I love Martha. By the way, spring for the Italian porcinis, they're way more fragrant than the American ones we tried. And feel free to increase the amount liberally.

Porcini Mushroom Soup

• 3/4 cup dried Polish or porcini mushrooms (about 3/4 ounce)
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 medium leeks (about 1 pound), white and pale-green parts only, finely chopped and rinsed well
• 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup medium sherry, such as amontillado
• 5 cups homemade or low-sodium chicken stock
• 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme
• 2 pounds assorted fresh mushrooms, such as cremini
• Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk

Cover dried mushrooms with 2 cups boiling water in a heatproof bowl; let stand until soft, about 30 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer mushrooms to a cutting board, and finely chop; set aside. Strain soaking liquid; set aside.

Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add leeks; cook, stirring occasionally, until soft but not browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Stir in flour; cook 2 minutes. Add sherry; whisk until smooth. Whisk in stock, thyme, and reserved soaking liquid; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer 5 minutes. Stir in dried and fresh mushrooms. Remove from heat.

Pour into a large bowl. Working in 3 batches, puree soup in a food processor, making sure there are no remaining mushroom pieces; return to pan. Bring to a simmer; cook, stirring occasionally, 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Stir in cream; bring just to a simmer. Season with salt. Stir in milk; cook until just heated through. Serve immediately, or refrigerate, covered, up to 3 days; reheat before serving.

Ah the Paupiette of Sea Bass. Our bugaboo. If you're observant you'll note that the potato wrapping is not on the fish. That's because it all slid off in the cooking process.

We worked hard to not freak out as this is the THIRD time this damnable, DAMNABLE dish has thwarted us.

As they started coming apart in the pan in the flipping of the fish we conferenced on what to do. "Take them off." I barked angrily. If I could have wrung Daniel Boulud's neck, I would have.

But then I'm torn-- should I wring Boulud's neck first or Thomas Keller's?

This stuff takes nerves of steel, and ours are more or less at the stage of aluminum foil by this point and we have our biggest high-wire act to come. The Thomas Keller Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots. We added wild rice to this mix because it could be cooked and quietly sit on its own.

I won't reprint the recipe or process here because this is the dish which we started preparing on Sunday (veal stock), continued on Monday (remouillage of veal bones), went on in the wee hours of Tuesday (veal reduction), and Thursday (Veal "Quick" Sauce). My Omnivore handled the venison famously, I must say, searing the chops--which we got at my new favorite meat supplier, Polarica--minute and a half on each side, and then a little rest in Beurre Monte.

The venison was perfect, although if I'm being honest, I think the butternut squashes needed more attention-- they were pretty, but underdone. Still, altogether it was a lovely dish-- but just complex enough to make your stress level rise.

Our pièce de résistance though is the cheese course. We've done this one before and it was crazy good: Montbriac cheese with Toasted Walnuts and a Comice Pear poached in Nebbiolo d'Alba. Here's the thing: when we made this years ago, we threw this course together based on a rumor of a Thomas Keller (there's that name again) pairing, and got a wine recommendation from someone at the SF Wine Club, or someplace...we couldn't remember. We also couldn't remember what the !#$^** wine was, because I didn't blog it. We knew that it was an inexpensive Italian, we knew it was red, and we knew it went together perfectly with the Montbriac. That's all. Let that be a lesson to me. Must blog everything so there's a record...

So this course became our Great White Whale. Long--LONG-- did we seek the answer to our simple question -- a red wine to poach a pear in so it would go with the cheese. You wouldn't believe how much resistance we ran into. We went from wine shops to wine bars, toting along pieces of Comice pear, toasted walnuts and little wedges of Montbriac (a creamy cow's milk blue from the Auvergne region) for people to try. But the most frustrating thing was how many folks would listen to our expanation of what we wanted, and then say, "But what you really want is a white wine, a sweet wine, Champagne, a dessert wine, try this Eiswein, you don't put red wine with blue cheese, horrors--Mon Dieu, Quelle Horreur!"

I became quite uncharacteristically testy, I must say. Some guy in a wine store would start saying, "But I just can't help thinking that this little white would be..."

And I would cut them off. "We want red. RED! Yes, we know all about white wine and blue cheese, but we're asking for RED. What part of "RED" don't you understand?"

What was ultimately educational about this whole exercise, I guess, is that we learned which wine stores to go to where they'll actually listen to you, who you can ask a challenging question of, who is willing to think outside the box. And I'm gonna name names: one I mentioned above, the guys at Wine Club and Guilhaume Gerard at Terroir.

Terroir is a great place to sit and chat with some really knowledgeable folks about wine, especially organic, biodynamic wines. But I will say this: Dagan, you're a great guy, but when you kept pushing the whites, when you said, "Well, now this white is what I'M talking about...," I knew you were NOT PAYING ATTENTION. Guilhaume, on the other hand, quietly took a nibble of Montbriac, walnuts and pear and thought about it. And every so often he'd come back with a thought. Ultimately we didn't use any of his red suggestions, but he totally won me over.

"You guys are rebels aren't you? You're outside the box," he observed.

Anyway, long story short, Italian red wine for poached Comice pears, budgetricious-- Nebbiolo d'Alba. Extra-special points to Floribeth at the Jug Shop for correctly surmising that it must be a wine from the Piedmont, because a Barolo or a Barbaresco would have been her choice. Nebbiolo d'Alba is made from the same grape, but far more in our budget range. Victory, at last! By the way, I've mentioned the name Nebbiolo d'Alba about fifty times here because I never want to forget it!!!

Comice Pear Poached in Nebbiolo d’Alba

• 4 Comice Pears
• ¾ cup sugar
• 1-1/2 cups dry red wine such as Nebbiolo d’Alba
• 1 Tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
• pinch of salt
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Combine the sugar, wine, lemon juice and a pinch of salt in a saucepan and bring just to the boiling point, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Lower the heat, and let simmer for 5 minutes.

Peel the pears, cut them into quarters and remove the cores.

Add the pears to the hot syrup, cover and cook gently for 20-25 minutes or until the pears are tender. Do not allow to boil.

Stir in the vanilla extract. Cool the pears in the syrup then chill in the refrigerator.

Serve with ripe Montbriac cheese and walnuts blanched in milk and then toasted.

Oh, so spectacular and so satisfying. I love Montbriac. And I love that we prevailed and served a RED wine with BLUE cheese.

And as promised, here is the recipe for those Rosemary Shortbreads. They were a last minute thing I threw together, but they're super easy to make on short notice.

Rosemary Shortbread
2-1/2 cups AP flour
2 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1-2 tsp chopped rosemary
1-2 Tbsp granulated white sugar

Combine first four ingredients in a bowl, mixing until combined. It will be dry and crumbly, but keep kneading until the lumps are out.

Press the dough into a 9x 13 pan and score "cookie lines" and prick the tops. Sprinkle granulated sugar across the top

Bake at 300°F for 30 min.

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Some good links:

• Wayne David Hand's website
• Nikolai Kabaniaev's site
  
• Viktor Kabaniaev's site
• Trillium Flowers
• Daniel Boulud and those Paupiettes
• One of my favorite bloggers, Carol cooks Thomas Keller's venison
• Babbo's recipe archive
• Divine Delights for those fabulous petit fours