We Conquer the Paupiette

It's been a busy week, what with shows and a visit from my Dad (more on that later), but I didn't want to let too much time pass by without noting that we have at last conquered that !#%!$#! Paupiette of Sea Bass of Le Cirque fame.  

Long-time followers of my blog will note that we have been trying to recreate this damn dish again and  again and again since late 2007, with no success and much cursing of potatoes. 

Well, we had a wonderful friend over for dinner before her move to the wilds of Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and since she's an adventurous soul, we thought we'd give that !#%!$#! Paupiette one more try.

This time I did a lot more due diligence to figure out how exactly that potato wrapping was supposed to happen. I got some more tips from blogs and armed with a Börner V-slicer that makes potato slices so thin you can read through them, we forged ahead.  Here is Daniel Boulud's original recipe, which we adjusted slightly as follows:

Paupiettes of Sea Bass in Merlot Sauce (because using a whole bottle of Barolo wasn't in the budget)

For the Merlot Sauce:

1 tablespoon oil
1/2 cup chopped shallots
1/2 cup sliced white mushroom caps
1 small thyme sprig
1 cup chicken stock or clam juice
1 bottle (750 ml) Barolo or other full-bodied dry red wine
1 tablespoon heavy cream
1 stick (4 ounces) cold unsalted butter, cut into tablespoons
Pinch of sugar
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan. Add the shallots, mushrooms and thyme and cook over high heat for 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the stock and boil until the mushrooms are almost dry. Stir in the wine and boil until reduced to 2 tablespoons, about 30 minutes. Stir in the cream and bring to a boil over low heat. Whisk in the butter and sugar and season with salt and pepper. Strain the sauce through a fine sieve, pressing on the solids, and keep warm.

For the Paupiettes:
Four skinless 4-ounce sea bass fillets
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon chopped thyme, plus 4 small sprigs for garnish
2 very large baking potatoes
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, 1 melted
3 large leeks, white part only, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon minced chives

Trim each of the sea bass fillets into a 5-by-1 1/2-inch rectangle. Season with salt, pepper and the thyme.

Using a knife, slice each potato lengthwise to remove the rounded portions and make a block shape; do not cut off the tips of the potatoes, but do peel them. Using a mandoline, slice the potatoes lengthwise into very thin slices. Brush the slices on both sides with the melted butter and season with salt. This is important, don't rinse the slices or anything, just toss them in butter so they don't turn brown. The butter will also help the slices stick.

For each paupiette, on a 10-inch sheet of wax paper, arrange 8 slightly overlapping potato slices to form a 5-inch wide rectangle. Here's what isn't explicitly said: the slices should be placed with an overlap of at least an inch. So slice #1goes down (with the long side "landscape" orientation in front of you) and slice two is placed in the same orientation next to it, but overlapping about an inch or so. Slice #3 goes above Slice #1, overlapping it slightly, then slice 4 goes next to #3 overlapping an inch or so. This continues for 8 slices of potato. There should be an "interleaving" effect where ends of the slices meet. That is, don't put down a column of 4 slices and THEN try to place another column of four slices beside the first because the ends of the potato won't stick together as well.

Center a fish fillet horizontally in the rectangle and wrap the potatoes over and around the fillet to enclose it completely. Here again, use the "interleaving effect," so rather than just flapping one side of slices together on one side of the fish and flapping the other side over that, fold over one slice on the left side, then one on the right, then one on the left, then one on the right, etc., so that they'll stick better.  If you look carefully at the photo, you'll see what I mean.

Use the wax paper to help seal the potato wrap around the fish; remove the paper. Personally I think you should leave the paper and just wrap up the paupiettes in it. Repeat to form the remaining paupiettes. Cover and refrigerate for up to 2 hours. Refrigerating is key.  They need at least 30 minutes to settle in the right shape.

In a medium skillet, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter over moderate heat. Add the leeks and cook, stirring, until softened, about 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and keep warm.

In a large nonstick skillet, melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter over moderately high heat. Add the paupiettes and cook until the potatoes are tender and golden, turning once with a large spatula, 8 to 10 minutes per side.

Spoon the leeks onto 4 warmed serving plates and ladle the sauce around them. Set the paupiettes on the leeks and top each one with a thyme sprig. Garnish with the chives and serve.

I have to say, that making this was completely easy, ONCE you figured out how to do it.  But if you didn't know how to do it beforehand, it's such a frustrating dish.

The paupiettes themselves are fantastically tasty -- the crisp potato shell makes a fabulous contrast to the meaty white sea bass inside. And the wine sauce is just heavenly.  Do note that the wine sauce is best when freshly made.  If you're trying to get ahead, make the sauce all the way to the place where you've reduced the wine to about 2 tablespoons of concentrated flavor.  Then store that. when you're ready to serve it, continue with the addition of cream and butter and serve immediately.

Yum.

Madrid: Lunch at La Terraza -- Bring it on, Ferran Adria

So this place was recommended to us by no less than three reliable sources and I have to say, La Terraza in the Casino del Madrid, was one of more highly anticipated splurges of our whole trip.

This Ferran Adria outpost is housed not in a casino a la Las Vegas, but rather, a gentleman's club. It was jacket and tie (by the restaurant's request) and we could only get in for lunch. So already, I think you're getting a picture of what we're working with.

We are waved past the security guard and check in at the front desk where the guy has us on a list and takes my coat, then directs us past the Belle Epoque staircase to the cutest danged two-seater elevator which has swinging doors like a telephone booth and is, indeed, about the same size. Jeez, does that date me or what?


When we arrive upstairs, we are instantly greeted by two people. My Omnivore turns around to close the elevator doors, because, you know, we live in an old building with a "quaint" elevator and you have to close the gate or the elevator won't operate for the next person to use, and we're polite like that. The man looked visibly pained and on the verge of begging us not to do anything resembling sullying our hands with manual labor. Can't stand the sight of tears of consternation, so we hastily abandon the elevator door.


I'm a little worried because this place is white, white, white. The guy is in a pristine blazer with contrasting piping and it reminds me of nothing so much as The Prisoner's Village. I'm in silk and cashmere and I feel seriously underdressed. Not to mention that we're the ONLY two guests there and he asks me three times if I confirmed my reservation. I'm confused because I reconfirmed over email and they obviously had my name downstairs and it's not like the place is crowded. Do they get a massive rush for tapas at 1:30, I wonder to myself a little hysterically.


I'm half anticipating our next exchange to go like this:

"Donde estoy?"
En La Village.
"Quien es?"
Soy Numero Dos.
"Quien es Numero Uno?"
Tu eres Numero Seis...
Did I mention that this place is swank? Service is Gary Danko status--absolutely attentive, down to centering the plates over the crease made in the linen tablecloth from the previous plate. It's so attentive indeed, that you start to worry because the waitstaff outnumbers you three to one and they have a kitchen full of sodium alginate on their side.

Apparently despite my lack of sufficient reconfirmation, there is room for us in La Village because he graciously leads us down the hall to-- the only way to describe it is a salon, and seats us beside a massive, eight-foot tall mirror--EXACTLY the sort that could suck an unwary Alice into Wonderland. There are four people attending us and not another guest in sight. I am, at this point, one hundred and twenty seven percent weirded out.

I guess I don't do enough high-level, formal "meet-the-Queen" dining out? Must look into this.

Not to say that the staff is cold by any means. They were perfectly nice and even made the effort to communicate in English, which was much appreciated, because when you're talking about molecular gastronomy, the menu might say "Chicken a la KFC" and it will mean gelatinized corn purée formed into a drumstick and wrapped around a baton of perfectly sous-vide chicken with fried truffled potato pate coating and a pailliard of spherified gravy on the side.

I digress. That was not on the menu. But they helpfully explained the different items and as thing went on, I won't say that we and the staff were hanging loose, but they warmed up and seemed to appreciate the curiosity about how they constructed this truly marvelous food.

Anyway, enough babble. Here's what we had:

To begin, you sit down and they start you with a cocktail. That day's special was a gin fizz, but unlike any you've ever had. They call it a "Hot Frozen Gin Fizz" and the stuff in the glass is like a frozen sorbet of gin and lemon, and they bring out a nitrogen canister filled with lemon and egg white and make a hot foam with it. If you want to try this at home, folks, be my guest... It was amazing.

For wine, we decided to put ourselves in their hands, as we know nothing about wine. The white they suggested went well with almost all the starter courses. I was a little worried that they'd given us a bottle instead of by the glass, as the server propped the bottle in the chiller behind me and kept refilling our glasses, but in they end, they only charged us for two glasses, which gave me a blink when we got our bill.

(My Omnivore also had a red for the main course, but I forgot to get the name of it.)

To begin, a stick of rhubarb, yes rhubarb, drizzled in cane syrup and sprinkled with sugar, and pepper. Oddly enough, the effect was not bitter at all, and the pepper gave just a perfect zip to the morsel. Even for a non-rhubarb lover.

A crisp cracker, into which is nestled microgreens atop crystals of salt. It comes with its own little white tube which contains olive oil butter. You squeeze it over the cracker and the effect really is delightfully playful. Here's more info on how olive oil butter is made.

The olive oil butter is only relatively stable at room temperature. I squeezed a bit onto my fingertip and it immediately began "melting" into regular old olive oil in seconds. According to one of our many servers, a very nice woman, it's mixed with 10% cocoa butter and then kept cold until service.

Our next set of appetizers-- I might mention here that I'm not calling these amuses because they didn't amuse, they did, the restaurant called them appetizers. Also, even though you get no choices-- they just start bringing these babies out--there is a €10.70 charge per person for the apps plus bread (which is also good, but just "normal.")

From the top right: a roll of thin perfectly crisp filo dough, into which is embedded flakes of aromatic oregano and topped with flavorful dried tomato powder. Below that are squares of passion fruit crisp shaped into a cup and filled with light, cloudy shaving of parmesan cheese, and to the left are the most perfect triangles of chicharrones ever created by man-- light and crispy, with a melt-in-your-mouth spiciness.


One more item on the parade of glorious apps: a tiny sandwich that looks like PB&J, but which is really a thin slab of perfectly prepared foie gras sandwiched between two crisp bread sheets and drizzled with balsamic vinegar that is so reduced it's thick like jelly.

This one is so good you could skip the rest of lunch and eat just five more.

But here come the things you actually ordered.

One thing that's clear to me now is that most of the young guns I've seen dabbling in molecular gastronomy have gotten one thing seriously wrong-- they may have figured out Adria's techniques and copied his ideas but they lack, not just his flair, but his sense of humor. Like Thomas Keller, this guy is so serious about the food, but he is obviously also just one playful maniac. Every dish is exquisite, the visual is gorgeous, the aromas are full and generous and the flavor is exquisite, but the thing that kills you and just makes you giggle every time they put a plate in front of you is how delightfully funny the ideas are and how cleverly he plays on your expectations.

Take his carbonara egg nest, an Adria classic. The orange-gold yolk is a real one-- I might add, from a seriously happy pastured chicken-- but the white is perfectly set, spherified parmesan carbonara sauce that bursts with flavor and yet has exactly the texture of an egg white and blends beautifully with the yolk.

It's on top of what looks like pasta, but is actually consommé that has been gelatinized into thin sheets and cut into ribbons-- not rubbery at all, but just a touch al dente. The plate is hot, but onto it they place a thin slice of chilled bacon- infused cream that has been cut to resemble a piece of eggshell. See what I mean? All the elements of a classic carbonara reassembled in a surprisingly hilarious way. But it's not just a gimmick for a photo op, this dish is delicious. From the moment the bacon cream hits the plate it starts melting and sending out a siren call of scent. You gently poke into the yolk--our server's advice since it can spurt out a bit-- and the mix of flavors and smells is just perfect.

For his app, my Omnivore orders a marrow and cauliflower puree. The marrow comes in one succulent block, topped with caviar, and a silky quenelle of cauliflower pure on the side. Straight up, no weird chemicals as far as I can tell, but even though it sounds odd, it was absolutely decadent.

For his next course, my Omnivore has a deconstructed paella. This one is brilliant. Given the proliferation of lobster foams, I'm guessing people see this recipe and get some funny ideas about tricks you can do with foam, but let me tell you, Adria's flavors are absolutely classic, and this is a perfect example of respecting the classic dish while presenting it in a totally fresh light.

The "rice" is actually made of spherified olive oil, which is shaped into tiny rice grains, but still has the al dente "bite" of good paella rice. The chunks of lobster are perfectly tender and just done classically, and the thing is topped with a light foam of lemon, to give it that paella tang. In case you thought it might be missing the best part of the paella, the fabulous crunchy, caramelized "soccarat" that comes from the bottom of the pan, Adria overlooks no detail and sprinkles the dish with "rice crispies" to mimic the crunch.

My second course is the low-temperature egg with mushrooms, which doesn't begin to cover it. The egg is perfect poached and covered in truffle shavings. Around it is a pool of mushrooms, and a dense dark delicious brown sauce that I could just bathe in. Again, I didn't see any crazy tricks here. Just good classic cooking.

My main course, perfectly poached red mullet formed into sushi and seared to caramelize the top. It's served in an aromatic dashi with minutely shredded seaweed fronds.

My Omnivore had the rabbit, called "Hare Royale," again another take on a classic French dish. It's thin slice of rabbit loin wrapped around foie gras and served with an artfullya rranged array of wild mushrooms (cepes and morels, among others) and drizzled with deep dark yum-sauce. On the side, a paste of truffled potatoes.

I'm getting full by this time. But here comes dessert.

Mine is a buffet of "Flavors of Madrid"-- a Madrona ice cream with strawberry flavored cream and delicately flower scented foam.

For my Omnivore, a Chirimoya joke: Chirimoyo yoghurt with a mint and white chocolate shell and cocoa beans for the seeds.

If you're interested in how a real Chirimoyo fruit looks, check here.

And by the way, you're not done yet. There's still a parade of mignardises.

At top, tiny strawberry macaroons with vanilla cream, and below, dark chocolate spun into copper-colored "coils."

Lemon Frangelico gelee blocks, and then finally rich chocolates filled with Williams Pear brandy.

Ooooff... Roll me out the door and into the ridiculously small elevator. But wait, before we go....

We were there on March 31, so it was considered too cold to open the Terrace. Duh.

But in the warm weather, there are tables outside and the view, let me just note, is spectacular.

Reserve ahead.

And reconfirm. By phone (915 321 275 or 915 218 700)

LOL.

Casino de Madrid

Restaurante La Terraza

Calle Alcala, 15

Madrid 28014

www.casinodemadrid.es

Total price for lunch for two with wine: €228.40

- Posted from my iPhone

Scenes from the Ranch: Dinner at Della Fattoria's Webber Ranch

I am about to outline the Perfect Summer Day.

So Ms. Five-and-a-Half and Mr. Thirteen have been trying to organize a trip to the Webber Ranch for ages, and FINALLY we succeeded. The Ranch is where Ed and Kathleen Webber of Della Fattoria (the local favorite artisanal bread makers) got their start and their daughter Elisa and her husband Junker do a phenomenal job hosting these summertime get-togethers.

For some $50 a person, plus corkage for any wine you bring along, you get a lovely home cooked meal, a lesson in how to shape bread (which you'll get to take home), and a relaxing day on the farm.

The Webbers describe the farm as quirky, and that it is. There's a menagerie of dogs and cats, along with sheep, chickens, small crops of corn, a vegetable garden--basically it's everything I want in a home.

The food is cooked up on Junker's wood-fired cooktop, which he created himself -- essentially a large steel cooking surface heated from underneath, on which he made everything from fabulous roasted padron peppers to pork and chicken. And yes, it smelled divine.

Local cheeses, including some Cowgirl offerings, of course. Also in the small dish are some of Elisa's homemade cornichons, made with pickles from her garden.

The roasted padrons. I could eat about a million of those...

The table under the tree was near a giant barrel-like vat that looked like it was for making sauerkraut. about 30 gallons of it...

The breadmaking is one of the highlights of the day. The dough is already made, and has risen, but needs to be shaped.

My Omnivore getting some tips on the flip and tuck...

And the bread goes into the oven. Hot work, and for professionals only...

Mr. Thirteen watches the push and stick technique carefully.

After bread-making, there was time to wander the farm, say hi to the chickens and stare down the sheep.

While we were there, Elisa was nice enough to give me a bunch of pickles from her garden--and her cornichon recipe which is stellar. Make these babies and you'll never go back to store-bought. If you grow the cornichons in your garden, be sure to pickle them the day you pick them -- the flavor is incomparable when they're pickled fresh.

The farm is also home to a wide range of non-human folks, who are happy to wander about and mingle with the guests.

Poodles...

Pugs...

And kitties!!!! Very young, very adorable kitties.

This particularly friendly little one had the most charming habit of falling asleep in your arms.

Junker and Elisa overseeing the food making...

Pork steaks and halved peaches -- absolutely super! Peaches were wonderfully juicy and scorched.

A grilled seafood salad.

On the table, a carafe of water with a branch of lemon verbena in it. One of the things that really makes the whole dinner are details like these.

Ms. Five and a Half, perhaps on the verge of a toast?

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The updated Webber Ranch tour information is here.

And see video of the bread shaping technique here.