chez pim

The best meal and the worst meal

...of this trip. One of them is perhaps the ---- meal ever. Can you tell which one is which? Extra kudos for anyone who could guess the restaurant names too.

reflexión 2

reflexión

Brilliant dessert idea: Chocolate mousse and basil gelee

This cute little dessert came at the end of our nice lunch at Rodero in Pamplona. More on the lunch itself later -I hope- but I want to show you this ingenious idea while I'm still on the road. It's a silky chocolate mousse, topped with cold gélée of basil. It's an unusual combination, I know, but it worked so beautifully.

I'm sure this can be translated easily enough for a home kitchen. It might not be as refined as the version you see here, but the concept is really quite simple. Just make a bitter chocolate mousse, then add to that a purée of basil mixed with a little bit of gelatin for the thicker texture. I'll try it as soon as I get back from this trip.

Cheers <waving> from Denia.

Not a bad way to start

(If you are reading this post on a RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the slideshow.

This is about as good as it gets: Josélito ham. Enough said.

My first by-line in the New York Times

I have a small piece in the New York Time's T:Travel magazine this weekend! I've had recipes published in the Times before, but this is the first time I have a by-line. Yay! I did both the story and the photos accompanying it, though strangely enough I didn't get credit for the photos. But I'm not letting that minute detail bother me right now. I have a by-line in the NY Times!!

Two cutest things

Ella found Clotilde's new book I left on the chaise sofa and went to investigate. I managed to snap a picture before she lost interest -what, you don't have a camera ready wherever your new kitten happens to be? These two are the cutest things in my house right now.

Of course you know Clotilde has a new book, yes? If not, where have you been? She's everywhere, including the Today's Show just the other day. How exciting! If you missed it you could watch her online here.

I grabbed my copy today and spent the afternoon on my sofa snuggling up with it, sipping a cup of tea -which, admittedly, would have been a tad messier to do when reading Chocolate and Zucchini online.

The many inspiring recipes are not sending me into the kitchen today though. I've got to get packing. I'm leaving for Spain tomorrow for a quick 10-day trip. Alas, while Clotilde's book can tag along to keep me company, my Ella won't do so well in the luggage. I'm going to miss her so much.

I'll see you Monday from rainy(!) Pamplona. Kudos to anyone who can guess what I'd be doing there. Oh, and if you are in the US or UK, Clotilde is in the middle of her book tour at the moment. Say hello for me if you see her!

a tiny bit occupied

Sorry I've been a little occupied. Back to regular programming soon.

What's in my fridge?

Sam asked the question, what's in your unedited fridge? A bunch of bloggers played, even my friend David in Paris. I envy the Bordier butter in his fridge. Good butter is so hard to find this side of the pond.

What's in my fridge then? Well, evidently far too many bottles of wine, three of which are opened. Not sure what that says about us really. There's a bit of Wlliam Fevre Chablis Montmains (1er cru) still in the bottle, left over from when I made the noodle with crab meat and green garlic the other night. A bit more left in the bottle is Eric Texier's wine, a Côte Rôtie St.Véran from '03. It's not showing so well, to tell the truth. We opened the half bottle of Meursault ('02 Jobard) that's been hanging around in the fridge for a while. We left just a tiny bit in the bottle that I put back in the fridge -ostensibly- to deglace a pan or something later. As though I don't look enough like an alcoholic, I should tell you there are four bottles of champagne in there as well. None opened, happily. Two Paul Bara, one of which is, of course, a rosé. A bottle of your average everyday Mumm, and a Crémant something or another. There's also a bottle of Brachetto -not entirely sure how or why it's there.

In the none-booze department, the jams -confitures, preserves, pick a term you like- are representing well in my fridge. Two jars of Christine Ferber, one with the last spoonful or two of Quetches d'Alsace and about a half jar of Pêche de Vigne. One jar of June Taylor's Candied Seville Peel in Syrup, a perfect match for the Strauss Yogurt you see on the top right corner of the picture here. There's a jar of Asian Pear Chutney from Frog Hollow, of the fabled peach farm fame. Did you know they make chutney and jams as well? This Asian Pear Chutney is perfect for goat cheese, like the Acapella in Ash that I picked up from Soyoung's stall at the Ferry Plaza market yesterday.

A year from Opening Day

by Daniel Patterson (see part one and two of Opening Day)

I know what you’re thinking: haven’t I said quite enough? Well, yes. But Pim asked for a “where are they now” perspective, and I can’t say no to her (and really, why would I?).

I’m not sure exactly where we are now, but wherever it is, it’s a long way from where we started. After a year out of kitchens, I was beyond rusty when we opened – I had dismantled everything I knew about restaurants, and it took months to sort through the piles of prejudices and preconceptions that had accumulated over decades, trying to decide what to keep and what to discard. I was also exhausted and vaguely depressed from having pushed myself so hard before we opened. I had no problem getting writing assignments in the first few months, but in the kitchen I wondered if I had anything left to say.

But then something happened.

Opening Day (Part II)

Part II of guest blogger Daniel Patterson's Opening Day. Daniel is the chef and owner of the restaurant Coi in San Francisco. Part one of the series can be found here.

12PM
Ginger Rogers famously said of Fred Astaire, “I did everything he did, but backwards and in high heels,” which pretty much sums up the difference between chef and chef/owner. I pondered this as I stood on the top step of a ten foot ladder, reaching forward three feet while twisting to the left to apply another layer of matte medium to a corner pane. Around this time my phone rang, and I half-turned to pull it from my back pocket. I felt like a contortionist. My back would be unhappy with me later.

(Chefs, more than any profession except perhaps athletes, tend to ignore the effects of the passage of time on their bodies’ capabilities, until the evidence, a carefully collected assortment of nagging injuries and aching joints, becomes too overwhelming. Because they start so young, they become accustomed to their bodies being loyal, obedient and indefatigable employees, which is largely how they’re treated. Somewhere around the mid-thirties there evolves a lengthy and bitter fight between spirit and corporal body, which sooner or later the body inevitably wins. After that the interaction between mind and flesh becomes a series of terse exchanges between two distrustful and occasionally vengeful equals.)

“Daniel. It’s Dick. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

Opening Day, by Daniel Patterson

Chez Pim has another special guest blogger today, my friend Daniel Patterson, the talented chef and owner of the restaurant Coi in San Francisco. Daniel is among the rare breed of chefs who can write. (He also contributes to the NYT and Food&Wine magazine.)

A few weeks ago, Coi celebrated its first anniversary, a milestone far too many restaurants sadly never reach. Here is Daniel's look back at Coi's opening day. His words afford us a rare glimpse behind the scenes at a real-world fine dining restaurant.

And, no, this is no 'Rocco', nor is it 'Kitchen Confidential', it's just a simple story well told. Enjoy. --Pim

Opening Day
by Daniel Patterson

When I first started working in restaurants, chefs ran with their own kind. For one thing, the pool of civilians looking for a misanthropic conversation in some dive bar between the hours of midnight and two am was small. For another, the profession was not exactly held in high esteem. Parents didn’t hope for their kids to grow up to be chefs, and the only “dinner parties” we were invited to involved pizzas and kegs of beer.

But times have changed. Now we not only find ourselves occasionally included in polite social events, but when conversations turn to the subject of vocation, few phrases elicit more energetic responses than, “I’m a chef.” This usually leads to a brief but vigorous interrogation, with a fairly predictable series of questions, like, “Have you read Kitchen Confidential?” (yes), and “How did you become a chef?” (by accident). This is generally followed by a lengthy recounting of the time they ate at the French Laundry/Masa/Other Name Brand restaurant, and how great/terrible/worth it/disappointing it was. At these moments I have learned to listen patiently. I smile. I answer their questions. I explain that cooking is an exercise in tedium interrupted by the occasional disaster. They look at me funny. I wonder how quickly I can find another drink.

Make the mistake of mentioning that you’re opening a restaurant, however, and the floodgates open in earnest. After a bit of prodding, you attempt to describe the décor and food in detail (and if you’re really lucky, the concept). You notice a dreamy look creeping across their face. Their eyes widen as they imagine the proverbial red carpet rolling out and the fabulous people crowding in, the glitz and glamour of Opening Night. You realize that the Food Network has some serious explaining to do.

Chez Pim TV

(If you are reading this post on a RSS reader, you might want to click through to Chez Pim for the video.)

My new baby camera, Leica D-Lux-3, has a video mode, so yesterday my friend Beccy and I spent the afternoon playing with it. The result is this silly video here. We had so much fun doing it that we thought we'd share it with you. Mind you, it's Beccy's first time holding a video camera, and my first time using iMovie (that's why the editing looked like it's done with craft scissors and ducktape.) We winged it, bascially, no script or anything. So, really, don't expect much.

We shot the whole thing in the sequence it's shown, so you could see the progression of me getting slightly more comfortable with it, which means you'd only have to put up with me fidgetting like a bunny on crack for just a bit in the beginning. Ha ha.

And if you want a recipe, here it is.

Bits and bites and yet another fav find

Bits of me are scattering around the web these days. Here's a quick list should you be interested. Or just look away if you don't want to see me patting myself in the back.

Adam, that Amateur Gourmet Adam, was over here and share a dinner with me that he went ga-ga over –the dinner, not me. He's got pictures even.

I contributed –for the second year running- to the Go List in Food & Wine magazine that's on the stand now. Go get a copy of the May issue of the magazine, or if check it out online here.

Over in London, Olive magazine asked me to give a bit of advice to their Smart Dining Tips from the Experts –and by experts they meant people like Giles Coren and Jay Rayner who were also on the list, not little me, I'm sure. It's not online but a screenshot is here.

Down way under in Australia, Chez Pim got a mention with a spattering of other blogs like Noodlepie and Man That Cooks in Men's Style Magazine. The article is not online either –what's up with that- but Helen of Grab Your Fork was kind enough to flickr-ed it so I could see. Thanks!

Chez Pim was also recommended in Madame Figaro in February -with Clotilde, Pascale and a bunch of other bloggers. There was also a 50 best food websites list in the Independent (over in London) that Chez Pim was included in, unfortunately it's not online so I can't link to it. And another interview in Restaurant Magazine, which ran last month I think. I haven't seen it either. When they get around to sending me a copy I might post it in case you are curious.

And now on to the fav find, inedible but delightful just the same. I found these irresistible little Moo pockets, made just for your Moo cards. If you have Moo cards, you simple cannot live without one of these. If you haven't got Moo cards, well that's your own damn fault, isn't it?

Domaine de Marquiliani Corsican olive oil, the best oil you've never heard of

I love it when I find something delightful no one else has heard of. The thrill of discovery. That smug sense of satisfaction for being the first. And I bet you've never heard of this one, Corsican olive oil. Domaine de Marquiliani olive oil to be precise.

Ok, well I'm not exactly the first to have found this. Olive oil has been made and enjoyed on the beautiful island of Corsica since 3400 BC. Still, most people I know, even the most hardcore foodies, have never heard of it so I am going to keep the smug, thanks much.

The first time I encountered Corsican olive oil was at Casa Corse, a nice Corsican restaurant in Paris. I'm a bit vague on the meal itself, but I remember the three baskets of bread I ate, as a mere conduit for that marvelous oil they served. I tried to ask the indifferent server what oil they use. Corsican oil, of course, he said, in that gruff reply that could only come from a discommoded French waiter. Not entirely in the mood to press him anymore, I left it at that.

The following weeks I went on a hunt for Corsican oil. I bought pretty much every kind I came across. That's still not adding up to many, mind you, since Corsican oils are something of a rarity even in Paris. I did a taste test in my little flat, and found one I loved the most. It was an oil from Domaine de Marquiliani, which I bought from the little Corsican épicerie near the Opera.

recognition

When you travel as much as I do, a familiar face is always a welcome sight. Even if the face belongs to someone you don't even know.

Almost two years ago I went to the big food market in San Remo, Italy -just over the border from Southern France. I took a photo of a woman selling produce in the farmers' section of the market, where small farmers –mostly old ladies- sell produce they've grown themselves. She had a small, unexceptional stall selling a mound of potatoes and a few heads of curly Savoy cabbage: it was November and the pickings were slim. I took a shot –she looked away, playing coy for the camera, smiling only after the camera dropped back around my neck. It was one unremarkable shot amongst the hundreds I took that day.