Beginning

I am a gourmand, not a gourmet, a food lover, not a food snob.
I hope to share my love of food with you through narratives, restaurant recaps,
menu suggestions, and recipes. Bon appetit!
(And if you blog about food, are you "flogging"?)

Saturday, June 27, 2009

NoJa--Mobile, Alabama

It may seem a little odd that the first restaurant recap by The Baton Rouge Eater is not about a restaurant in Baton Rouge, but Mobile, Alabama. But, hey, I take my good meals wherever, whenever I find them.

But before I begin--why “recap” and not “review”? Apart from the fact that I don’t have the “creds” to be a food critic, frankly I don’t want the responsibility of reviewing an entire restaurant. I just want to present a “snapshot” of my meal, for, as the French say, “Chacun à son gout” (roughly, “Let taste be individual”).

On to NoJa!

Located at 6 North Jackson Street in historic downtown Mobile, NoJa‘s exterior features a dramatic canopy over the front door. The detailed ironwork on the second-floor balconies and the lush courtyard at the back of the restaurant are reminiscent of the New Orleans French Quarter.

Inside, brick walls, a dark wood bar, and stylish pendant lighting create an upscale, but not stuffy, atmosphere. On the left side of the restaurant, a large window allows diners to watch the kitchen staff in action.

This was actually our second visit to NoJa, and both times we were blessed with a waiter who described items on and off the menu knowledgeably and not condescendingly. A good food-talker is worth his or her weight in gold—or at least a really good tip.

My husband and I shared two appetizers. The first was “Escargotioli” which were seven small snail-filled ravioli topped with a roasted garlic, parmesan, and lemon cream sauce The second was an appetizer special that night of pan-fired sweetbreads served with small pickled onions in a bacon-broth reduction. The appetizers were presented in unusual white dishes that had oversized rims and undersized bowls and showcased the food nicely.

Both of our starters were a little on the small side, and the ravioli had neither the taste nor the “bite” of snails. The sweetbreads, however, were prepped (labor-intensive!) and cooked perfectly and had a wonderful German sweet-sour sauce—definitely “sop-worthy.”

As my entrée I chose the panko-crusted fish of the day which was tigerfish. The fish was presented on a trio of vegetable sides that comprised an attractive and tasty spectrum of green: the bright green of the shelled edamame, the dark green of the seared Swiss chard (a little over-salted), and the, well, avocado green of the avocado mousse.

The fish was topped with a watermelon-miso froth which was tasteless and looked like (sorry) pink spit. To me froths and foams are in the same category as skinny jeans—trends I don’t get and wish would go away.

The fish itself, however, was outstanding. Coated in well-seasoned bread crumbs and pan-fried, the fish was thin-cut, mildly flavored, and cooked perfectly

My husband had the Kobe beef hanger steak which was served on polenta with grilled spring onions and a roasted onion glaze. The fact that he only shared one small bite of his steak with me and that he ate every last morsel leads me to conclude that his meal was also excellent.

For a description of the fantastic ginger donut dessert we shared, see “Donut Memories” (June, 2009).

Chef and owner Chakli Diggs describes his NoJa cuisine as “Mediterasian,” but the menu also has a strong Gulf Coast vibe to it. And Diggs is clearly a hands-on chef as he visited our table and others’ to ask how our meals were. And since I am a total “chef groupie,” this was a special treat.

NoJa may not be a destination restaurant worth a three-hour drive from Baton Rouge, but if you find yourself in Mobile, I recommend it highly. By the way, Mobile itself is a great weekend vacation spot with several fine hotels, museums and eating establishments within walking distance of each other in the downtown district.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Drinking Italy


I am currently not in Italy. In fact, I have not been in Italy since June of 2006. That is depressing.

And with a daughter in college and a tattered roof that needs replacing (thanks to Hurricanes Katrina and Gustav), I don’t anticipate a return trip in the near future. Very depressing indeed.

But in keeping with my “flashback” theory of food (see “Donut Memories”), I can be instantly transported to an outdoor café in Florence (Firenze, if you want to be picky) with a sip of one of my favorite summer drinks, a Campari and soda with a twist of lime.

Campari, along with Cinzano and Cynar, is a type of bitters. People tell me that drinking bitters is an acquired taste, but it’s definitely one I’ve acquired. With its bright herbal and orange flavors and its jewel-like pinkish red color, Campari is a delight to the nose, the taste buds, and the eyes.

Another drink equally refreshing in the summer, and equally evocative of Italy, is limoncello which, to me, is like a glass of sunlight.

Purists would maintain that Campari is an aperitif (apertivo in Italian) and limoncello is a digestif (digestivo), but I find Campari, with soda or even straight up, to be a very non-cloying end to a meal, and one with much less of the headache-producing qualities of, say, Strega. (I’ll save my Strega “adventures” for another post).

A shot of limoncello on ice, in soda, or in Prosecco, is a great way to begin a warm-weather meal. And it is surprisingly easy to make.

Limoncello

This version results in a lemony liqueur that is somewhat sweeter and, to my taste, less alcoholic than store-bought limoncello. Also, some limoncellos tend to be cloudy, whereas this is wonderfully clear. I’ve substituted orange peel to make a fantastic orangecello which my husband prefers to limoncello. I plan to try lime peel in the future and will post my results!

Source: very old magazine clipping

Ingredients:

Peel (yellow part only) of 2 pounds of lemons
4 c. 100-proof vodka
3 c. sugar
3 c. water

Process:

Pour the vodka into a large glass or plastic container. Add the peel, cover and steep for one week at room temperature. Stir the sugar and water in a large saucepan over medium heat until the sugar dissolves; cool. Add the sugar syrup to the vodka mixture and stir. Strain the liquid into bottles and chill the limoncello for one month. Serve chilled.

I’m not sure if the “one month” in the instructions means how long it should be chilled before the limoncello is ready or if that is how long it lasts once brewed. I’ve drunk it right after adding the simple syrup and kept it in the refrigerator for much more than a month—it’s all good!

Serving suggestions:

In addition to the soda or Prosecco suggestions above, limoncello can also be used in a variety of mixed drinks and desserts such as drizzled over pieces of melon garnished with fresh mint leaves.

Ciao!

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Donut Memories


Undoubtedly you’ve had this experience: the plate of food in front of you becomes a portal through time and space, and one bite can send you hurtling back to a moment in your past.

That has happened to me many times, but most recently the trigger was a dessert at NoJa in Mobile, Alabama (more about that later), called the Ginger Donut which featured two deep-fried, sugar-and-ginger encrusted donuts stacked on each other, topped with a quenelle of a chicory-flavored semi-freddo and drizzled with a burnt-sugar sauce. The donuts were warm and crispy, and the semi-freddo had a wonderful not-too-sweet, eggy taste.

Those donuts made me recall in vivid, mouth-watering detail my grandmother’s homemade donuts.

My grandmother, Grandma T we called her, was the daughter of Norwegian immigrants and a devout believer in the ability of food to communicate love. When she offered us seconds and thirds, saying, “Have some more,” which sounded like one word--“Hassummore”-- my four siblings and I knew early on that she really meant “I love you.”

During my childhood in northern Wisconsin, a family ritual on Sundays was to go to our grandparents’ house for an after-church snack which might be chewy molasses cookies, a slice of apple pie, ginger cream cookies drizzled with vanilla icing, or, my favorite, fresh, deep-fried cake donuts and donut holes.

Grandma T’s donuts emerged from their hot oil bath to rest briefly on a bed of flattened brown paper grocery bags. Then, still glistening, they were tossed into a smaller paper bag full of cinnamon-sugar to emerge fully clothed.

And that first bite. The hot, greasy, sugary crust gave way to a chewy cake that had a hint of nutmeg. It is my personal, but unprofessional, opinion that the inner-tube design of donuts was intended to maximize the surface area of fried, sweet goodness.

Now I know there some people who prefer the raised donut, especially here in the South where Krispy Kremes are king, and I know that in my adopted state of Louisiana the beignet is almost a holy sacrament, but I stand by my commitment to the cake donut.

"Hassummore!"