Oh my god, this was amazing! I had no idea this would turn out so well, but this was one of my top maybe three dishes I've ever made. I loved this, and licked my plate clean, then licked Jeanette's plate clean. Just awesome.

Last time I picked up a pork belly order from Wagshal's Northwest DC, I also grabbed a frozen, vacuum packed bag of veal cheeks, a bit over a pound. I'd had some meltingly tender braised beef cheeks at Jose Andres' restaurant Cafe Atlantico, and I'd also read some articles about the cheeks of veal, beef, pork, and even fish, and so when I saw the veal cheeks in Wagshal's freezer, I didn't hesitate. A little over a pound of veal cheeks turned out to be eight veal cheeks (picture the faces of four cute little baby cows). Last weekend I finally got around to cooking them. For veal cheeks (or beef cheeks) that means braising (although I just saw some 72-hour sous vide veal cheeks on another blog).

• Seared Braised Veal Cheeks
• Mashed Peruvian Purple Potatoes
• Roasted Carrots
• Reduction Sauce of Braising Juices
• Flat-leaf Parsley

For the veal cheeks, after they were all thawed, I set to trimming them. This meant cutting off the silverskin that covers most of one side of each cheek, and it took a bit of time to do it carefully, without too much waste, maybe 10 minutes. After they were all trimmed, I dried them thoroughly with paper towels, seasoned them with salt and pepper, and browned them a hot pan with some canola oil. I removed them from the pan, browned some onion, carrots, and leeks. Then I added just a bit of tomato paste, for a slight flavor bump (I've also read that the acidic tomato helps tenderize, but I haven't verified whether this is true). I stirred around the tomato paste until it was all cooking and started to stick to the bottom of the pan. Then I deglazed with red wine, then with white wine, and then let the wine reduce for a while. Finally, I added the veal cheeks back into the Dutch oven and added veal stock until they were covered.

I brought the pot to a boil, then put it in the oven to braise the cheeks at 325 F. After 2.5 hours, they seemed plenty tender to me. So I removed the cheeks to a narrow container (you'll see why it should be narrow). I then strained the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve and discarded the vegetables in the strainer. I added just enough of the liquid back to the container with the veal cheeks to just barely cover them (about 1/3 of the liquid in my case), and let the cheeks and juices cool. When you cool braised meat in its braising liquid, it evidently reabsorbs some of the liquid, making the final product much more juicy. So I left that container on the counter, covered, and then the remainder of the braising liquid back into the Dutch oven (after cleaning it out). I let it reduce on the stove for quite a while on high heat, maybe 30 minutes. Eventually, it reached the consistently of a perfect, amazingly rich stock. The highly gelatinous veal stock I'd added to the braise made this sauce awesomely unctuous and flavorful.

I made mashed potatoes in the normal way, but with some purple potatoes I got from Harris Teeter. If you'd like to know my mashed potatoes method, let me know in a comment below and I'd be happy to share. The carrots were halved lengthwise, tossed in salt, canola oil, and a touch of sugar, and roasted at 325 until tender and the edges were starting to lighten in color.

Finally, to bring it all together, I finished off the mashed potatoes with the butter and milk and seasoned it. I covered the pot to keep the potatoes warm. I took the cheeks out of the braising liquid (they should have cooled to room temperature by that time), patted them dry a bit with clean paper towels, and then seared them again in a nonstick pan. Finally, I toss the carrots for just 15 seconds or so in a hot pan to re-warm them and get a little extra browning, for added flavor. I put mounds of the potatoes in the centers of two wide, shallow bowls, placed half the cheeks on top of each, then poured a large quantity of the amazing warmed sauce around the potatoes. Finally, I stood up two carrots as erect as possible, propped up by the other food, and sprinkled some parsley over the whole affair for some color.

Again, this was just so amazing. I highly recommend you cook veal (or beef, or pig, or fish) cheeks, and I highly recommend you try them whenever available. Yum!

I had a night at home with nothing to do, and had to make dinner for just myself, so I decided to make some homemade pasta. I was trying to figure out what sauce to pair with it, so I scrounged around the ol' pantry, and the ol' refrigerator, and the ol' grocery store. I figured I'd use the last of my homemade bacon, and some kalamata olives that had been in the fridge for a while, because they sounded good. I was kinda sick with my nose a bit stuffed up, so I needed some strong flavors. It turned out great.

I had extra pasta, so I decided to make a whole second sauce for Jeanette's dinner the next night (opening night of her show, so she wouldn't have time to eat at home). I'm that nice. So I grabbed some portobellos and a packet of Aidell's Portobello Mushroom Sausage, and ran with it.

For the pasta, I made some basil fettuccine, with 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 2 eggs, 1 egg yolk, and about two tablespoons of ground up basil in olive oil (it had been a dipping sauce). Mix the flour and eggs together in the normal method (or any old method except food processor, really), knead for a while, then add the basil oil (or don't), knead a little bit more, let it rest for 20 minutes, then roll it out and cut it.

For the bacon and olive sauce, I cut up the last four ounces of some homemade bacon I'd made into lardons and fried them up. I also browned some strips of onion. Then I ground up the kalamatas with a bit of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and raw garlic, and then added some of the very hot bacon fat to the mixture just to cook the garlic a little bit. So I cooked the pasta, warmed the sauce (and re-crisped the lardons of bacon), and put 'em together with a little bit of fresh basil and some grated romano over top (again, I wanted strong flavors). It was absolutely delicious.

For the honey-portobello sauce, I cut up a couple of Aidell's Portobello Mushroom Sausages, and then browned them in a pan. I then sliced two portobello mushrooms and sauteed them until they had given off their water. Then, while the pasta was cooking, I quickly sauteed a bit of minced onion and garlic, added a bit of tomato paste, deglazed with some very reduced and gelatinous beef stock I had on hand (you could skip this), re-added the mushrooms and sausage to warm them, and then took it all off the heat. Then I added a few good-sized glops of nice, raw honey. I put a whole bunch of fresh basil over the top, added a bit of diced, raw tomato (I wanted to keep it crisp), and some small balls of fresh mozzarella (I had some leftover from the day before). Eventually, I also grated a bit of romano into it. I tasted it, and it was pretty amazing. Jeanette ended up having some of it when she came home that night, and the rest of it for dinner the next day.

A couple weeks ago, I ate at Babbo and tried a saffron panna cotta (Babbo review coming). I loved the texture! Just that right kind of wobble. So when I came across Mario Batali's saffron panna cotta recipe as I was perusing the internet, it was an easy decision which base to use with orange, my chosen flavoring.

Perhaps it's a little unusual, or maybe it's a sign of these progressive culinary times, but despite my many uses of various newer hydrocolloids, I had never used gelatin before I made this.

Now that's not really an accurate statement, because in truth I've used gelatin every time I've made a rich, unctuous stock, or set a gelee with the naturally occurring coagulants from animal bones, and even used gelatin filtration to clarify a stock. But I had never used gelatin as an additive, either in powdered form, or in sheet form. I don't even think I ever made (or liked) jell-o as a kid. But I found myself using it the other day when making this. Good panna cotta requires such a specific wobbly texture. A bit too rigid and it doesn't have that creamy mouthfeel, the problem with most panna cottas. But a bit too fluid and it won't set. So while I could have experimented, possibly with some combination of kappa and iota carrageenans, or even gellan, I decided to stick to the recipe, vegetarians be damned! I needed this to work the first time.

And it was great. The key to this recipe is that it uses about as small an amount of gelatin as it could possibly get away with. So it takes a while to set, but once it does, it's just a perfect jiggly mouthfeel. Yum. So here's an orange panna cotta, adapted from Batali's saffron panna cotta.

• 3 1/3 cups heavy cream
• 3/4 cup sugar
• Zest and juice of 2 oranges, preferably Valencia or navel
• Juice of half a lemon
• 1/2 tablespoon powdered gelatin
• 3/4 cup whole milk

Combine the cream, sugar, and zest and bring to a boil, stirring gently, then remove from the heat. Let the mixture rest for ten minutes to infuse with the orange zest's color and flavor. Then stir the powdered gelatin into the cream mixture until it dissolves, then stir in the orange and lemon juice, and the milk. If you don't want the zest to settle to the bottom (which will eventually be the top), strain through a fine-mesh sieve. But I like the way the zest looks on top of it.

Pour into chilled ramekins, or wine glasses. Unmold by running the tip of a knife around the edge of the cup, then dip the cup quickly into hot water, and then shake out onto a plate.

One of my favorite sandwiches is the Reuben. Not only is it the single greatest culinary legacy of the Jewish diaspora, it's also a refuge on the menu of every pickled-fish shilling deli for those of us happily estranged from the disgusting culinary facet of our otherwise proud heritage. So, it being one of my favorite sandwiches, and me having a fetish for making everything myself, of course I had to make one.

I pulled out my copy of Charcuterie, and familiarized myself with their method for making corned beef. The most surprising thing was how many somewhat-exotic spices were in it. I hadn't ever really stopped and just tasted corned beef for the spice, but I figured, oh well, I'm sure the flavor will pan out in the end. And it did! Just about every one of the spices was detectable in the final product, and the overall flavor was like a more complex version of the storebought corned beef I'd had. The method involves curing the meat in a spiced brine with nitrites (to produce that eerie red color, as much as any preservative effect it has), then slow-cooking it in a spiced bath.

And I could have stopped there. But then what kind of eccentric cook would I be? So of course I had to make my own rye bread. And my own thousand island dressing (I prefer thousand island versions to Russian dressing versions). And my own sauerkraut. And my own swiss cheese (no, just kidding, I didn't want to make my own swiss cheese, at least not yet).

But you know, I never really dug the sauerkraut. It's a nice flavor, but the texture is rather unpleasant on a reuben. Typically, when I get a reuben out somewhere, I'll get it with the sauerkraut, then I'll scrape pretty much all the sauerkraut off. That way, some of the tangy flavor stays, but the sauerkraut is gone. And well, even I wasn't gonna go to the trouble of making sauerkraut just to scrape it off. So I skipped that, but made the thousand island extra tangy to compensate. And I got some Jarlsberg cheese.

Oh, and about thousand island. It's mayonnaise + ketchup. Yeah. My version also contained chili sauce, cracked pepper, lemon juice, pickle, green olive, green pepper, and onion (all of which are also in many versions).

The final sandwich was great. I pressed the sandwich using my Jewish ghetto sandwich press method. The flavors were much more clear and complex than other versions I've had, and the spices in the beef and in the rye bread came through beautifully. The thousand island was tangy and creamy, and the whole thing was really delicious. Was it worth making myself? The corned beef and thousand island were worth it. The bread? Not so much.

Bright colors and deliciously rare fish. A delicious, healthy meal that doesn't take too much fuss (at least not compared to a lot of stuff).

• Atlantic Salmon, skin-on, pan-seared on high heat with a bit of canola oil until not really even rare inside. For good salmon like this, I like nice browning on the outside, but still just North of raw on the inside. The carryover cooking will ensure that the inside is plenty warm.
• Beets, diced and then roasted at 400 F for 20 minutes or so with a healthy amount of sugar, some salt, and a bit of canola oil.
• Carrots, chopped, then boiled for a few minutes in just enough salted water to cover, then pureed with some five-spice powder.

While plating, I accidentally dripped some of the beet oil (bright red canola infused with beet during the roasting process) on one of the plates, and liked the way it looked. So I dripped it all over the plates in a pseudo-random way. Very cool, spotted design (see above). Then, after Jeanette and I finished eating (cleaning our plates), and the dirty plates sat for a couple minutes, I noticed a beautiful, vivid red, fractal-like design on the plates where the beets had been. I photoed that, as you can see below. Very cool, fresh.

Oh, I was also going to add something bright green (blanched asparagus, or perhaps some mache), but forgot about it in the final plating. Speaking of which, I probably forgot some element of what I planned to plate every two days. It's really annoying when it's something I've prepped, but when it's just a few leaves of mache, it's no biggie, except for the photo. So, really, it only affects you guys. Sorry.

It sounds like people enjoyed this pairing (pineapple and blue cheese) very much. Unlike some of the pairings that sound really odd right from the start (though they often end up being tasty), this is one that sounds pretty delicious all by itself. Based on my tests, the main limiting factor on whether or not this pairing works for someone is their affinity for blue cheese. If they like blue cheese, they like it with pineapple. I guess that's about the most you can hope for with most pairings.

We got a lot of delicious-looking entries, and people came up with some interesting ways of putting the two ingredients together. In no particular order, here are the entries that people emailed me about, or that I otherwise located on the internet. Let me know if I missed your entry at david (at) barzelay (dot) (net). I found some intriguing blogs by checking out these entries, so I encourage you to follow the links to these blogs. Oh, and sorry about the delay in posting the round-up, but I was out of town all weekend.

	I, of EatFoo, made Pineapple-Blue Cheese Ravioli using a new rapid-hydration technique for pectin-sealing. I used a blowtorch to bring a sprinkling of pectin up to temperature on a slice of pineapple, forming a sticky gel. Then I stuck it to another slice of pineapple on which I'd done the same, with some blue cheese inside. After the ravioli has cooled and the gel thickens, the two slices of pineapple become sealed together. I also made a gnocchi-shaped thing sealed the same way, and some other stuff. I love this pairing, and think it works very well together. I also served this pairing at a dinner party, and out of sixteen people, pretty much everyone who liked blue cheese liked the pairing.
	Martin Lersch, of khymos.org, made Pineapple and Blue Cheese Pizza. He made the crust, then put on some tomato sauce, then a blue cheese and creme fraiche sauce, then some traditional toppings. His wife loved it, and he thought it was okay, but he prefers the saltiness of a normal pizza, as opposed to the slight sweetness brought on by the pineapple.
	Dennis, of Kookjegek.nl, made a delicious looking Danish Blue Parfait with Caramelized Pineapple. He says, "First of all I like the idea of a savory parfait. It gives the ice a out of the ordinary taste. I’m certainly gonna create more savory ice creams. Together with the sweet caramalized pineapple it really worked as a combination. The sweetness of the pineapple goes well with the specific taste of danish blue. I’m really happy with the result!"
	Daniel Whitefield, in Toronto, Canada, made what he calls a Nouvelle Napoleon, with pineapple, sweet potato, blue cheese, walnut, and thyme. He doesn't have a blog, so the links go to a page I made to display the email he sent me. About the pairing, he says, "I had tried the fresh pineapple and blue cheese, while making this dish, and the combination of flavours really didn't do it for me. However, I think the carmelization of the pineapple in the dish, combined with the bitterness of the toasted nuts, eathyness of the oil, sweetness of the honey, and fragrance of the thyme, really rounded this creation out ... I'm in no hurry, but would certainly make this dish again."
	Kiriel, of The Papillon Pantry, made Pineapple and Blue Cheese Soup. She sweated some onions and pineapple and then cooked them with some chicken stock. Then she partially mixed in some blue cheese. She tried it with a mild blue cheese and a stronger one, but she preferred the milder one. She says, "I also couldn't define for you why the soup ended up tasting so good... it just does! Go on... be brave and give it a try."
	Jim, of Biggest Jim, made Pineapple & Gorgonzola Bread. He mixed the two ingredients in with the rest of the dough before baking, and after two attempts, he hasn't settled on a good recipe yet. But he also tried the pairing in grilled form and on an 80's style cocktail toothpick. He says, "...[W]hilst there’s no doubt in my mind that the flavours go together, I think blue cheese doesn’t work quite as well with pineapple as other hard cheeses, such as cheddar. The melted gorgonzola on the (fresh, not tinned) pineapple ring was by far the best combination, though. The melting of the cheese took away some of the bitterness which seemed to overpower the pineapple in the other combinations (albeit less so on the cocktail stick) and the sugar helped pick up the sweetness of the pineapple to get a much better balance."
	Papin, of Flavor Alchemy, made Caramelized Grilled Pineapple with Blue Cheese, Tempered Chocolate, and Caramel Sugar. In doing so, he got to practice some techniques he'd never tried, and the result looks good. As I suggest, he says, "I noticed that people like or dislike the flavor combination depending on whether they like or dislike blue cheese. The first time I made this (the result in the first photo of the post) I used too much blue cheese. The peppery taste of the cheese just overwhelmed the sweet and juicy notes of the pineapple ... In my second attempt I used a thin layer of gorgonzola, as if one where spreading butter on toast. This time one could detect the fat of the cheese combining with the pineapple and the result was eaten before its was photographed."
	Roberto, of MexMix, made a Dirty Pineapple Martini with Blue Cheese-Stuffed Olives. He says, "After a bit of shaking I dropped it into a glass and went for the taste. I loved the almost spicy combination of the vodka, brine and pineapple juice, and I think it was very good with the blue cheese stuffed olives. While my wife decided she'd rather have it sweetened, I would rather opt for a dash of dry vermouth... and more olives."
	Chriesi, of Almond Corner, made Blue Cheese Souffle with Pineapple Cream, except she calls it by its original, genus name, "ananas," which must be the way German language speakers refer to what we call the pineapple. She melted the blue cheese into the souffle batter, and made a pineapple syrup, which she whipped in a whipper with some cream. She says, "Great combination!"
	Mrs. W, of Mrs. W's Kitchen, made Pineapple Curd in Prosciutto Cups with Crumbled Gorgonzola, appetizer style. She says, "What a delight! The pineapple curd was smooth and sweet (and something I was able to make using a sugar substitute to accommodate my dietary restrictions), the crumbly gorgonzola was salty and pungent, and the prosciutto cups provided a hammy, wonderfully crunchy base. It was an explosion of flavor that made my whole mouth sing. Well, not actually sing, because my mouth was full, but you get the idea."
	Kelly Schmickle, of Sounding My Barbaric Gulp!, made Caramelized Pineapple & Bleu Cheese Tartlettes. She filled phyllo shells with some fresh pineapple and crumbled gorgonzola, then torched them to melt the cheese and caramelize the pineapple. Someone she knows also got in on the action and made "a delicious bleu cheese cheesecake topped with pineapple pepper jelly to eat with crackers." Kelly says, "Pineapple and bleu cheese didn't seem like such an odd combination to me, since I've always liked sweet fruit and strong cheese together. I was more curious to find out what kind of wine goes best with this combination. Red wine or port is a classic pairing with bleu cheese ... and discovered that many people suggested a late-harvest riesling [with pineapple]. ... I liked the Riesling the best, even though I am not typically a sweet-wine drinker. The port was good, also. I thought the Bouvay and red wine were both too acidic for the pineapple."

Thanks!

But I shouldn't have worried. minibar blew away our expectations. Normally, you go somewhere with a 30-ish course tasting menu of stuff that is specifically designed to be surprising and interesting and weird, and you figure you'll be into maybe 2/3 of the dishes, on a good day. And to be fair, only a handful of the courses were really surprising or new to me. But here's the thing: every single course--yes, that's EVERY SINGLE COURSE--was absolutely delicious. At no point in the meal did I put something in my mouth that wasn't yummy. At no point did I eat something for which I wouldn't have been happy eating seconds (well, alright, just one, but it was still good, there was just too much of it). That was the most shocking thing about the meal, more than the techniques, or the format. I've never had such a parade of tastes without a miss. Now, I'm not saying every course was a homerun--that wasn't the case. But every course was a base hit.

At wd-50, things were interesting, yes, but not more so than the courses at minibar. And at wd-50, about half the courses (out of eight or so) were bland. A few of the people at my table there didn't even finish several of the courses (before they were even close to full). I very much wanted to like that restaurant, but it just didn't do it for me on that particular night, with that particular menu, so although it had a couple courses that were just amazing and on par with the best of the stuff at minibar, the other half of them were just plain boring. Not the case at minibar.

So I'm going to get into a rundown of all the dishes we had, with photos, but first let me talk about the format. minibar is a six-seat bar set up a lot like a sushi bar. Two cooks prep every dish right in front of you, while chatting with you (to the extent their personalities and work loads allow, which turned out to be quite a lot). The minibar is on the upper floor of Jose Andres' restaurant Cafe Atlantico (where we also had an excellent meal a couple months back, and I highly recommend it--miles better than the pedestrian Jaleo). minibar does two seatings per night, which means they serve twelve diners per night. That's it. That also means it's quite tough to get reservations. When you do, they email you a form asking about your dining restrictions, you send it back with a credit card number (in case you don't show). It also informs you of the cost, just in case you didn't know.

When you arrive, you are presented with drink options. They don't do wine pairings (anymore?), but they offer lots of wines by the glass, with a bunch under $10, as well as disproportionately expensive bottles and half bottles (nothing under $50 that I saw). They also have three options for wine flights, which are $40 for five 3-ounce pours. Jeanette got one of those. I went with wines by the glass, and a beer.

Anyway, the format, with the cooks preparing everything in front of us, and answering all of my way-more-curious-and-advanced-than-most questions, was really awesome, and this was an unforgettable experience. Immediately upon finishing, Jeanette was saying she wanted to go again before we leave DC (which is in about a month and a half). It was that good. This may have been my favorite meal ever. The main two criticisms about minibar have been 1) that it's derivative of El Bulli stuff, and indeed they said a couple El Bulli cooks spent a few months there in the off-season, so it may be true, but it is a friendly, sharing relationship. 2) The menu doesn't change very often. And really, that's probably why it's so good. Many of these dishes have evolved for the last year or two, getting better and better, weeding out the misses, until everything left is really good. Anyway, here's what we had (and the headings and titles are those from the menu, which we received at the end of the meal, not my creations):

Munchies

1. Caipirinha "Nitro"

For the first salvo, they took a lime and froze it with liquid nitrogen, which causes the individual lime cells to separate. They put that into martini glasses, then poured a normal Caipirinha over it. That way, you get a very cold drink, with ice, but which doesn't get watered down. It also looks cool when they pour the liquid over the super cooled ice, with lots of vapor, and the individual lime cells are interesting. Nothing amazing here, just a good idea, done well. Good.

2. Parmesan "Pringles"

Parmesan crisps served with a Greek yogurt sauce. Nothing special, just delicious parmesan chips. If they bagged them, they would sell very well. They didn't taste all that different from normal parmesan tuiles, but they really had a great, familiar texture that was just like Pringles. The yogurt dip was also nice, but nothing special. Good.

3. Beet "Tumbleweed"

Julienned beet, fried in a little bundle. The frying really brought out the sweetness in the beet, and it was shatteringly crunchy. I think this beet could be used like veggie bacon. Very good.

4. Olive Oil "Bon-Bon"

Great olive oil with some salt, encased in isomalt. They said they dip a tube in isomalt, then pour in the the olive oil, remove the tube, and shape the tops. This is mostly a visual thing that people won't have seen much of before. The isomalt did nothing but deliver a shot of really good olive oil. Good.

5. "Mojito"

Carbonated mojito, reverse-spherified, lime zest on top. This was one of my least favorite courses. If I wasn't already so familiar with alginate-based spherification, this might be more surprising and cool. The only interesting thing about it was that it maintained the carbonation when spherified. I would have thought that an alginate skin would allow dissipation of the carbon dioxide, but they said they made these several hours before service. Other than that, it was just a mojito. Good.

6. "Bagels & Lox"

Salmon roe and cream cheese in a little cornet of some sort, garnished with dill. The roe may have been cured, I forgot to ask. It was, in any case, delicious roe, and the combo went well. Very good.

7. Blue Cheese and Almond

Creamy almond, frozen in liquid nitrogen on the back of a ladle, then unmolded. Creamy, cold, slightly sweetened blue cheese sauce inside, with almond shavings on top. The pairing went surprisingly well, and the texture of the almond cup was exactly like the thin chocolate coating on a Nestle Crunch ice cream bar. It cracked when you bit, then melted as soon as it hit your tongue. Very good.

8. "Dragon's Breath" Popcorn

This was the most surprising, if gimmicky, course of the meal. As far as I know, it's just nitro frozen crushed popcorn in a ball, with a bit of curry powder. It tasted good enough, but that was really beside the point. We were instructed to eat it in a single bite, and breathe out through our noses while chewing it. We were also told to look at our neghbors when we did so. The effect was very dramatic. Tons of vapor came out our noses, shooting down like smoke from a dragon's nostrils. I kicked myself for not getting a photo of it happening, but oh well. Experience was amazing, but the flavor was nothing special. Very good.

9. Conch Fritter

Beer-battered fried ball of creamy conch chowder. The center was entirely liquid. These were very similar to the fried cream corn balls I made a couple weeks ago, but they used a liquid inside instead of the cream corn I used. They were nice and crispy, and quite delicious. Very good.

10. Steamed Brioche Bun with Caviar

Osetra caviar on a steamed "brioche" bun. It was topped with a lemon air, and I think that the bun had something creamy piped into it, but I can't remember what it was. I do remember this dish being nice, but not that special, except for the cool little one-bite steamers in which they were served. Good.

11. Cotton Candy Eel

One of my top three favorite dishes of the night. This was really where the meal got going. Everything from here on was great. This was cotton candy with soy powder, on top of sauteed eel with unagi sauce, wrapped in a shiso leaf with something julienned, and soy powder and some (storebought?) spice mixture sprinkled on top. The eel was so delicious, with the cotton candy bringing a sweetness that played against the cool, sharp shiso flavor. The eel was deliciously browned in the saute pan, and had just a light brushing of sauce. Excellent.

Flavors & Textures

12. "Sun Dried" Tomato Salad

This was a play on caprese. They spherified tomato soup (Campbell's, they said), then partially dehydrated it over many hours. The result was a an alginate sphere with a skin that completely melted in your mouth, instead of the normal gummy leftovers. That's a technique that will definitely catch on elsewhere. Like my kitchen. They also had some good mozzarella, basil, raw tomato guts, arugula, olive oil, balsamic, and some kind of air. All the flavors were wonderful, and more intense than in the prototype, and the textures were new, interesting and more unctuous. Excellent.

13. Zucchini in Textures

Zucchini in three textures. Caramelized zucchini puree on the bottom, gelled zucchini on top with embedded zucchini seeds. Nothing but zucchini flavor. It was well-seasoned, and I got what they were going for. The caramelized flavors were supposed to add flavor depth, and the seeds were supposed to add texture. And if it would only have been one or two bites, this would have been an interesting exploration of one veggie. But it had more bites than anything else all night (seven or eight), and as a result, it was the one dish I didn't want more of. But it was still... Good.

14. "Caesar Salad"

This was a reimagined, sorta deconstructed caesar salad, and it was delicious. It was presented as two pieces of jicama-wrapped maki (no idea where jicama fits into a caesar salad, but it tasted great) on a bed of deliciously creamy caesar dressing. One piece had romaine lettuce, and was topped with a quail egg yolk (yum!). The other piece had, I think, anchovy inside, and was topped with a mound of grated parmeggiano. There were also two little croutons. This dish was just two perfect bites. Excellent.

15. Parmesan "Egg" with Migas

This dish tied perfectly into the previous course. It was a reverse-spherified parmesan "egg." When you ate it, the warm, creamy, intense parmesan broth gushed into your mouth and revealed a surprise inside: a warm quail egg yolk. The "migas" added salty crunch. Very good.

16. Sea Urchin with Hibiscus

I am growing to love sea urchin, and this dish was good. The problem is, I think they were anticipating their diners disliking sea urchin, and as a result, masked it a bit too much with the hibiscus air. I would have preferred a less intense accompaniment, in order for the briny urchin to come shine. On the other hand, Jeanette doesn't normally like sea urchin, and she liked this. Good.

17. Corn on the Cob

Sauteed baby corn with corn puree, crushed, fried popcorn, chives, and a micro corn shoot (I'm guessing). This was delicious and crowd-pleasing (and again, reminiscent of my corn dish, and I was also going to use some fried popcorn, but it didn't need it). Nothing challenging or weird here, just yummy, [out-of-season] corn. Very good.

18. "Guacamole"

Another delicious crowd-pleaser here. Avocado, rolled maki-style, around thickened tomato puree, topped with fritos, micro-cilantro, tomato brunoise, and some lime cells. Perfect, for what it was. Very good.

19. Smoked Oyster and Apples

Good smoked, raw oyster with a cube of some kind of apple. I have no recollection of what the foam was, nor what kind of apple it was, nor what the little black stuff in there was. But none of them detracted from a full-flavored raw oyster with a nice smokiness. More subtle than most of the dishes in this meal, which sorta drowned this one out. Still... Good.

20. Salmon-Pineapple "Ravioli" with Crispy Quinoa

It was so funny to have pineapple "ravioli," the very night after I made my pineapple ravioli. Their flavors were more interesting, but my technique was more innovative (hehe). They partially freeze pineapple in order to slice it extremely thin (yeah, I should do that with mine, as soon as I get a deli slicer). It was wrapped around (not sealed around) awesomely fatty, flavorful salmon belly. The pineapple was so thin as not to overwhelm the salmon belly, and the crispy quinoa added crunch. The green line is a spicy avocado and serrano chili puree. Very good.

21. New England Clam Chowder

Two different kinds of raw clam, one of them supposedly encased in its own liquor (though I didn't see anything that looked like an encasement), bacon dice, caramelized onion, potato foam, and some little piped dollops of something (essence of clam, or something, maybe). These clams were so plump and delicious, with all the accoutrements bringing out their sweetness, for a serious improvement on a dish I always love. Super-intense flavors here, and interesting textures. Excellent.

22. Breaded Cigala with Sea Salad

The "cigala" is a langoustine, as far as I know. Our chefs insisted that it was different from a langoustine, but I can't find any info about that. They thinly sliced some kind of bread, and sauteed it with the cigala on top of it, until the bread was crispy and the langoustine was warmed. Served with wakame, sea beans, a sauce I can't remember, and a briny foam that may have been shellfish foam. It was a wonderful evocation of the sea, and the cigala had a great texture and sweet flavor. Excellent.

23. "Philly Cheesesteak"

Thinly-sliced rare wagyu over a crepe filled with some kind of oniony, cheesy goodness. Another big crowd-pleaser, and it was absolutely delicious. My only complaint--and it's a serious one--was that they froze the friggin' beef in order to slice it thin. You could tell from the texture that had been frozen, and was still watery from thawing. It was a subtle complaint that I'm positive very few of even their diners would notice, but if you're gonna get the good beef, you should respect it more. The pairing was so good, the flavors perfect, and the beef still very flavorful, so even despite that, it was still one of my favorite three dishes of the night. Still, given the complaint, I can't give it an Excellent. Very good.

Dessert

24. Frozen Yogurt and Honey

This was one of the more progressive dishes of the night, similar in concept to frozen yogurt powder with mastic at Ideas In Food. Here, they had frozen yogurt powder (done the same way as that of Ideas In Food, with a spin in the Pacojet), frozen honey powder, and mint leaves. The yellow liquid around the outside was honey. Whatever it was, this dish was spectacular. The mint really made it, but the play of the yogurt and honey was already fabulous. Excellent.

25. Thai Dessert

After that last dessert, I really didn't expect anything to beat it. But then came this dessert, and I think this was actually my favorite dessert that I've ever had. Ever. Out of all desserts. Admittedly, I love the flavors of Thai food more than almost any other cuisine, and this just pushed all my buttons, but this was seriously a transcendent dessert. It had a frozen peanut cracker type thing that melted on the tongue, amazingly creamy coconut milk ice cream, sweet peanut sauce, tamarind paste, spicy red pepper powder, lime zest, and micro cilantro (at least I think it was cilantro). Everything just worked perfectly together. It was like my very favorite Thai dish, Panang curry, but a bit sweeter, and in dessert form. Earlier in the meal, the cooks had said that there's one dish on the menu for which diners often lick their plates, and that's it's fine with them. So when this dish came up, and I took my last bite, I decided, "Fuck it. I'm licking it." So I literally picked my plate up and licked it clean. And then several other diners followed my lead. Then the chefs told us that this is that dish; lots of people lick this plate. I can't really imagine a better compliment to the chef than licking one's plate. Excellent.

Sweet Ending

26. "Fizzy" Ball

We were presented with the last four items on a single slate tray, and told to eat them in order. The "fizzy" ball was just cotton candy tossed in a fizzy powder, with some orange zest. Basically, you ate the cotton candy, and it fizzed in your mouth. They said they didn't use Ferran Adria's "Fizzy" product from his Texturas line, but that they used something very similar. Good.

27. White Chocolate, Black Olive, and Mango Box

Perfect flavor pairing. They go really well together. Absolutely delicious, creamy white chocolate in a tiny "box" made from a translucent mango chip, with black olive on top. Excellent.

28. Carrot Cake Macaroon

A bursting of carrot cake flavor in your mouth, along with the creaminess of the icing. Best macaroon I've had, and almost the best carrot cake I've had. Excellent.

29. Saffron Gumdrop

I failed to get a close-up picture of this last one (look in the background of the last couple), but it was sweet saffron candy wrapped up in a clear wrapper like caramel would be. We were told to eat the candy, wrapper and all. It was very tasty, with an intense but sweet saffron flavor. The wrapper was flavorless. Oh, and they don't make the wrappers in-house anyway. It's just edible pastry wrapping paper. Very good.

And then, of course, we also got the bill. The server came out and placed an egg on the table in front of us, then dramatically smashed the egg with her hand. It shattered in a neat pile on the table, revealing its contents: a folded piece of paper that was our bill. $400 for two, after drinks, tax, and a good tip. And I think that was a hell of a value, for the experience we got.

Here's my entry to They Go Really Well Together #10, which asked everyone to pair pineapple and blue cheese. For these pairings, everyone is also invited to include whatever other ingredients they want to, but here, I've shied away from other flavors and just used those two. This is because the things I'm posting today evolved out of what was intended to be a more simple component of a cheese course at a dinner party of mine. I'm going to post a roundup of all the entries within the next day or two, so if you still haven't sent me an email letting me know about yours, you still can do so.

For mine, the initial concept was borrowed from Shola at Studiokitchen: pineapple "ravioli," with very thinly sliced pineapple simply wrapped around something else and calling it "ravioli," with the quotes. And it evolved from there. When I did mine for the dinner party, I didn't have time to macerate the pineapple slices, so I just went with it. Because of that, they ended up being tough to bend without breaking. The final result was basically just thrown together, and the picture at right is fairly typical of what it looked like on the plate. Basically, like crap, but the flavors were there. Most of the people at the party liked the pairing. But I was later thinking about, and realized that even if I macerated the pineapple, and made nicer packages, it's still pineapple "ravioli." With the "quotes." I wanted to be able to take the quotes out.

The distinction I'm drawing is this: in order for it to be ravioli without quotes, it has to be two layers of something, completely encasing something else, with the edges sealed. It may be an arbitrary distinction, but if whatever's inside is visible, or leaks out, it is "ravioli." If it's sealed, and fully encasing the filling, it's just plain ravioli. So I wanted to figure out a way to seal two slices of pineapple together.

While writing this post, I discovered that plenty of other people have made pineapple "ravioli" as well. Here's Gordon Ramsey's take, for instance, and here's the recipe in the London Times. And some have even tried to seal slices of pineapple together by simply pressing them. But I wanted to go further. I wanted something that would actually hold together when moved, something that's somewhat water-tight, maybe even something that would feel a bit al dente.

As luck would have it, I'd been working a bunch with pectin lately, for various components of that same dinner party. And as luck would have it, I was using my blowtorch for something the other day. And as luck would have it, an idea occurred to me (can one attribute ideas to anything but luck?). My train of thought went like this: Normally, with many hydrocolloids, once they are fully hydrated, or dissolved in the medium they are acting upon, they have to be brought up to a certain temperature in order to activate them. This is true, for instance, of gelatin, pectin, carrageenan, agar agar, etc. The way we normally bring them up to temperature is by boiling (or at least heating) some liquid or puree until it reaches temperature, then cooling it to set the medium. My idea was to heat it up instead with a blowtorch. And so I had all the components of my ravioli.

I sliced very thin slices from a pineapple. In truth, I had already cut up the pineapple, and I didn't really have any appropriately-sized pieces left, or else I'd have made bigger ravioli, and more of them. But I digress. I took the slices of pineapple and laid them out on a rack on a cookie sheet. You can use something else, but it has to be something that won't be damaged from direct torching for ten seconds or so. I then sprinkled pectin over all but the centers of the slices, spread it around with my finger, and blew off the excess. I waited a minute or so for the juices in the pineapple to start absorbing some of the pectin. Then I sprayed a small quantity of water (misted, really) directly onto the pectin-dusted slices of pineapple, and proceeding to the torching. I torched each slice, moving the flame constantly, until each slice was a tad charred, with the pectin layer starting to form bubbles. Once I finished one, working quickly, I placed a a small rectangle of blue cheese on the slice, then torched a second slice and placed it on top of the first, encasing the cheese. I briefly pressed the edges to seal, then I transferred to the refrigerator for the pectin to set. They could be held in there for a day or two, until the pineapple dries out to the point that it would no longer be pleasant to eat.

So after giving them time to set, I tried them, and it worked quite well. Actually I'd done a test run first, with just two slices of pineapple, to make sure the bonding would occur. The two slices in the test run, and in the ravioli, were stuck together fairly well. About as well as ravioli is usually stuck together. It wasn't watertight, due to natural imperfections in the pineapple slices, but it was damn fine fruit ravioli, and I definitely feel comfortable not using the quotes. So, how did they taste? Well, if you like pineapple with blue cheese (I certainly do), they were excellent. If you don't dig the pairing, then sealing it up won't make it miraculously delicious. I find the salty pungent blue cheese to go very well with the astringent, sweet pineapple.

Anyway, this technique of using pectin to seal fruit (or even veggies) is potentially very useful. In practice, it offers some of the functionality of transglutaminase, but for non-proteins. I made a couple more items using the method outlined above. I made a nice little gnocchi-shaped thing by wrapping a piece of Danish blue in a slice of pineapple, then sealing the covering in order to keep it from unraveling when picked up. Then I cut off the ends in order to make it look more tidy. Note that this is "gnocchi," not gnocchi. I also made a long layered thing that I was hoping would be bendable. It wasn't. Since the different layers are quite sealed, bending would require them to slide against each other, and therefore would break the seal.

But in any case, this a nice addition to the repertoire for whimsical stuff like this, or for more serious apps in an entree. Oh, and I should note that, in general, this is going to require an LM pectin, and with most products it will have to be amidated pectin. Some products may even require the addition of calcium. I used Genu Pectin LM-20AS. For more info on pectin, this Ideas In Food post is a good place to start.

The other stuff on the plate is just some stacked cubes of pineapple and blue cheese. The blue cheese cubes were made by pressing the blue cheese, then leaving it in the freezer for a while until it's more sliceable. It's basically just a garnish, but also exhibits the pairing.

I was going to make brioche for my last dinner party, but it ended up not rising in time, so I used a store-bought loaf instead. I think the blame for the bread's failure should be divided 80/20. 80% to Thomas Keller for including a recipe that didn't work as expected, and 20% to Carol from French Laundry At Home for not having already made this and warned me. I, on the other hand, am obviously blameless.

Instead of the entire rising time being around 18 hours, it was around 42 hours before it finally rose to the point that FLC said it would. Even when I finally baked it, I still didn't think it was really ready, but it had pretty much quit rising by then. I may not have used quite enough yeast, or didn't knead enough after the initial rise, or a million other things. Even though we now understand the science behind baking, it doesn't necessarily make it any easier to control for the thousands of variables that can affect the final outcome.

Anyway, I baked the brioche the next day for my roommates and I. It was delicious, satisfying, rich, and even a bit tangy, and I ate it with delicious, expensive, satisfying butter. However, I've never actually had any other brioche, to my knowledge, so I can't say whether mine turned out like normal brioche.

This was my first experiment with sous vide cooking. I've been trolling eBay for a cheap immersion circulator for a long time now, as I think having a nicely sized water bath would be a godsend for dinner parties. I could have something cooked and held at the right temperature, and then just cut open the bags and serve (or sear, or whatever else I might want to do). Anyway, as of now, I am encumbered in several ways in my attempts to pursue sous vide cookery:

1. I don't have any special equipment to regulate the temperature of a water bath; and
2. I don't have a vacuum sealer.

But it turns out that those aren't necessarily deal-breakers. They just require workarounds. It turns out that I do have a water bath: a pot. And I do have equipment to regulate the temperature of that water bath: a stove and thermometer. And while others have had some success with plastic wrap and zip-locs, I still haven't really found a good workaround for the lack of a vacuum sealer, except this: some food is sold vacuum sealed! So here's how I did this:

I bought a D'Artagnan Magret breast (the odd Brookville grocery store in Cleveland Park, DC, sells a bunch of D'Artagnan products, and they also have an excellent selection of cheese). Those come vacuum-sealed in thick plastic. I don't know whether it's a kind of plastic made to be heated without releasing toxic chemicals, but I gave it a shot anyway, since I was the only one eating this. And I'm not dead yet.

I also set up a pot with about four liters of hot water (the more the better since temperature will stay more constant). The hottest water I can get out of my faucet is 126 Fahrenheit, which happens to be close to the temperature at which I wanted the duck to be cooked. I put the pot on a burner and set the temperature at the lowest heat level my stove can do. Within a couple minutes, the temperature had come up to 128 F, where it stayed for the next ten minutes or so. So I turned the heat up ever so slightly. In a couple more minutes, the temperature had come up to 130, and stayed there for a couple minutes. Perfect! I waited another twenty minutes to make sure the temperature would stay there. Then I put the vacuum packed duck breast into the pot. I watched it for a couple minutes to make sure the bag wasn't going to leak, or burst, or melt. It looked fine. I could see the proteins (some of them) coagulating. It was so weird to see the duck through the package, looking half-cooked, but knowing it was the perfect temperature.

Since I didn't have any way of knowing what the internal temperature of the duck breast was, and I hadn't done this before so I didn't have a good handle on how long it would take to come up to temperature, but since it can be held at that temperature indefinitely I left it in the bath for about three hours. I'm pretty sure it would have been up to temperature within twenty minutes or so, but I think it would only get better with more time in this case (up to a point, anyway). The water was cold enough that I could reach into the pot and feel the duck breast. And it felt perfectly rare after twenty minutes or so, and didn't really feel any differently after three hours.

Anyway, when I was finally sure it was done, I took it out, clipped off the side of the bag and dumped out the breast. I measured the internal temperature. It was 130. Yay! So I scored the fat side, gave it a quick sear in a hot pan to crisp it up, and then sliced it up and plated it. I served it over sauteed snow pea shoots, with browned potato gnocchi, raisin-yogurt puree (I had some left over), and blood orange segments. Because that was the stuff I had around.

The duck was amazing. Easily the best my duck has ever come out, and probably the best duck breast I've ever had. There was nothing special about how I did it. It's just delicious at that temperature, with crispy skin and a nice layer of almost-liquid fat underneath. As expected, the duck was done exactly the same throughout--no gray band of overcooked meat around the edges. Everything was super tender, juicy, and flavorful. Excellent. And the pairings even went very well with it!

So yeah, sous vide is within reach for home cooks, even with no special equipment. This was great, and I'm definitely going to do this more often. In fact, Lauren my roommate is running a marathon this weekend, and so I offered to cook her anything she wants the following night. She requested duck breast. Guess how I'm doing it?

After six attempts at soft chocolate, extensive internet research, and conversations with Sam Mason and Alex Stupak (two rockstar pastry chefs with a soft chocolate as one of their signature dishes), I finally got it pretty much right. It still wasn't perfect, but I think it will be very close the next time. Having eaten both their versions, I prefer the slightly plasticky, unusual texture of Stupak's at WD-50 to the creamy, malleable version of Sam Mason. Both of them have great mouthfeel, turning into smooth mousse when chewed.

I started out experimenting with kappa carrageenan. It took me two failures to figure out that I wasn't hydrating the hydrocolloids properly. I also tried a combination of locust bean gum and kappa carrageenan (Mason's method). But once I tried pectin, I got the texture I was looking for. Pectin based firm gels are... well... firm, but also a bit stretchy, and bendy. But most of all, they are not very brittle at all. Kappa gels, as pointed out by "Bobby" on this post, are very brittle and so they break when deformed. But pectin gels can be twisted, bent, stretched, etc. The only problem with pectin is that using enough of it to hold the chocolate together when twisting and bending results in a texture that is a bit too hard, and with only fair flavor release. So I tried reducing the pectin quantity, and adding some iota carrageenan (which forms a creamier, more fluid gel that isn't brittle).

The soft chocolate with the pectin and iota carrageenan turned out wonderfully. It was fully bendable and twistable, but was still soft and creamy on the mouth (and to the eye, much more so than the pure pectin soft chocolate). I should note, by the way, that the pectin I was using is Genupectin LM-20AS (amidated low methoxyl, with some calcium reactivity). It's somewhat stronger than whatever seems to be called for in most recipes, which I figured out when making red pepper jelly and pineapple-lime pâte de fruit, but here's what I used:

• 1 cup water
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 120 g bittersweet chocolate @ 60% cacao
• 50 g granulated sugar
• 1 g iota carrageenan
• 20 g Genu Pectin LM-20AS (about 1/8 cup--you don't have to be all that precise)

I sheared the iota into the water in the blender over several minutes. In a saucepan, I added the cream and sugar and stirred to dissolve the sugar, while heating up the cream to just below boiling. Then I poured the hot cream over the chocolate and let it sit for a minute. Then I whisked the chocolate a bit to melt it fully, and when it was smooth, I added the iota water and whisked gently to combine, so as not to incorporate bubbles. Then I brought the whole mixture to a boil and, once boiling, gradually whisked in the pectin. I let it cook for thirty seconds or so until the mixture had thickened slightly (to indicate that the pectin was doing its thing), and immediately poured it through a fine-mesh sieve (to get rid of bubbles) into a plastic-wrap lined 8" x 8" pyrex dish. I let it cool for a while, then covered it in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to set for a couple hours. Finally, when ready to plate, I sliced it into long, thin strips, then twisted them and placed them.

Everyone seemed to really like them, though they seemed less impressed than I was hoping for given the amount of effort that went into refining this recipe. Such is the life of a cook.

Overall, the dinner turned out very well. It lasted longer than intended (3.5 hours total) because courses three and four took a long time. For course three, I'd forgotten to get water boiling way in advance to compensate for my weak-ass stove, so that meant waiting almost 30 minutes, during which guests were encouraged to get up and mingle and play and such. For course four, it just took a while because I had run out of time and couldn't make the yam pancakes beforehand. So frying those, then eggs took a while. Besides those, there were few problems this time!

The realities of making and plating food for sixteen people, with just me cooking and Jeanette helping with plating, means that I didn't get to take many pictures, and when I did, I didn't get to arrange things nicely, or take them from what might be the best angle, or even to choose which of all the dishes to photograph. I just shot whatever dish was closest to where I was standing, so what you're seeing are the "real" dishes that got served, not the product of twenty minutes and a lightbox.

We've found, after several parties like this, that for courses with hot items, it doesn't usually work to plate all sixteen at once. Instead, we plate somewhere between four and eight at a time, then serve those and plate the next batch, and serve. We insist that everyone begins eating as soon as they get their food, instead of waiting for everyone to be served. This system works quite well, since these are friends, but it obviously would not be appropriate in a professional capacity. But then, in a professional capacity, I hope I would have more than four tiny, weak, electric burners, and space to actually put down sixteen plates for plating, if desired.

In addition to the description below, you can see the actual menus we printed by clicking the thumbnail at right. Jeanette insisted on us having menus this time, and it turned out to be brilliant. Yes, it makes it more fancy and... restaurant-like... but it also means I don't have to make a big to-do about explaining each course as it is served. And when I'm working hard to pull together the next course, that's a big advantage. Anyway, here's a more complete description of everything served, plus what pictures I managed:

First Course: Amuse Doigts:
Endive | Korean Pear | Scallion | Daikon | Crispy Onion | Korean Pepper | Soy-Pear Reduction
Pairing: “Pearody” ala Ronn Vigh from The Orbit Room - Pear, Mint, Lime, Cran, Ginger and Peppercorn-Infused Vodka

The idea was to have something that could be quickly and easily assembled and served to allow quicker production of the second course. We settled on some sort of Asian lettuce wraps, though we always intended to use either cabbage, raddicchio, or endive. Raddicchio de treviso was our first choice, but it was unavailable, so we went with the same shape but different color in Belgian endive. They were a great size for an amuse: one bite plus a bit, and were packed with yummy flavor. That said, they weren't really anything out of the ordinary. We served them on long rectangular platters, and invited everyone to grab one (or two) off the platters. Forgot to take a photo, but they were pretty. The cocktail was great. It's one of my favorites from a bar with a ton of great drinks. I copied it as well as I could remember.

Second Course: Cream Corn:

Corn Soup with Smoked Bell Pepper Oil | Fried Cream Corn Balls with Basil "Pesto" | Caramel Corn Cornets
Pairing: Sipacha Garnacha, Castilla 2005

Even though it's completely out of season, I had the idea and wanted to go with it. It turned out wonderfully, the most composed course of the night, and every element was absolutely delicious. The wine pairing worked well, too, though a lot of people didn't get theirs poured until halfway through the course.

Cream corn is one of my favorite things, so here I did three riffs on it. The soup was just a corn soup, nothing but corn cut off the cobs and the cobs scraped, water, sugar, salt. Pureed, then strained through mesh sieve before serving.

The fried ball of cream corn was just a bunch of cream corn with an unhealthy amount of butter, thickened slightly with xanthan gum. Remove kernels from the cob and scrape the cobs. Cook in butter until cooked through. Then pulse mixture in a food processor a few times to break down the kernels, but do not puree. It should still be chunky. Then add heavy cream and cook cream corn until it's a bit drier than normal. Add salt and sugar to taste (amounts will vary depending on the corn). Then add xanthan and stir in to hydrate, and let entire mixture cool to room temperature. Use a cookie scoop to get roughly 2 tablespoon balls onto a parchment lined cookie sheet or pan. Refrigerate until ready to cook, but at least until fully cooled (a couple hours). Then take balls off parchment, work each one into a more perfect sphere with your hands (they'll be malleable at this point). Roll each one in flour, then dip in beaten egg, then roll in panko, and fry for a couple minutes in canola oil (and yeah, it has to be canola oil--remember, it's a corn course) at 350 Fahrenheit or so. I used a multiple of this:

300 g corn
50 g butter
10 g sugar
75 g heavy cream
1 g xanthan gum

The cornets were more of a garnish. They were crunchy, but chewy, and obviously quite sweet. I made them by cooking sugar and water to the soft-ball stage (235 F), then adding cream corn to it and bringing it up to 235 F again. Then I poured it out onto a Silpat-lined baking sheet, and cooked it in a 250 F oven for around twenty minutes till it dried out a bit more. Then I removed it and, while still somewhat warm, snapped/cut it into bunches of pieces. I rolled each one into a cornet shape, using a blowtorch to re-warm one when it had cooled to the point of brittleness.

The basil pesto was really fresh basil processed with blanched and shocked arugula, olive oil, and salt. The arugula was added mostly for brighter color.

The smoked bell pepper oil drizzled into the soup was made by heavily browning red bell peppers in a pan with some canola oil, then adding a bunch of extra canola and some Spanish smoked paprika, then letting the whole thing infuse in the refrigerator for a couple days. Finally, it was strained through a paper-towel-lined mesh sieve (I just let it drip for an hour or two). Its color was brilliant red, but it sunk a bit into the foamy top of the soup.

Third Course: Ravioli and Stuff:

Caramelized Fennel-Carrot-Tomato Ravioli | Mushroom Foam | Thyme Caviar | Fennel Pollen
Pairing: Zen of Zin, Ravenswood Old Vine 2004

This course was also very delicious, and very composed. The ravioli filling was quite meaty-tasting and satisfying (but vegetarian), and the mushroom foam was extremely flavorful. The thyme caviar, which were intensely thymey, to the extent that's even possible, added a clean herbal note to the whole thing, and the fennel pollen... well, if you've ever had it, you know how ridiculously wonderful its aroma is.

For the ravioli filling, I roughly chopped three fennel bulbs and three carrots, tossed in olive oil, salt, and a bit of sugar, and then heavily caramelized them under the broiler. Then I added them to a pot with one large can of Muir Glen tomatoes, and about 1/3 of a bottle of red wine (I happened to used a bottle of Sangiovese I had open). I also added a tablespoon or so of fennel seeds and some oregano. I let it cook down until very thick, about an hour. Go elsewhere for instructions on making pasta dough and ravioli. It's a hassle, but delicious. I couldn't remember what pasta dough recipes I'd used the last time I made ravioli, so this time I used Cook's Illustrated's method for making my pasta dough, which was a terrible method. Seriously, do not use their pasta dough method. It yields pasta that is not very rich and will not roll out very well at all. Further, it requires vastly more kneading since the food processor cuts the gluten strands you're trying to stretch.

The mushroom foam was made by adding a whole big bag of dehydrated oyster mushrooms, and a whole big bag of dehydrated shiitake mushrooms, to a big pot of water and boiling for hours, then straining, then boiling for many more hours until reduced to a somewhat syrupy consistency. Then I adjusted salt and sugar, and added a bit of soy lecithin (it was already producing good foam without it, but the lecithin helps the foam hold its structure). Then I whipped up the foam a la minute with an immersion blender and spooned it over the ravioli.

Finally the thyme caviar was made by infusing some simmering water with a ton of dried thyme, then straining, then infusing with a ton of fresh thyme while off the heat, pureeing the mixture, straining, returning to the heat and adding agar (1.5% +/- 1%--it's very forgiving) and bringing to a boil. Then I took it off the heat, stirred in some chlorophyll (produced using the method from the French Laundry Cookbook) to brighten the color of the now brownish-greenish thyme liquid, and then drew the liquid up into a syringe. I drizzled it into chilled olive oil in a metal bowl set over ice water. Every minute or so, I'd shake the bowl to get the caviar to break the surface and sink down to the bottom. I was getting really fast with the drips by the end.

Fennel pollen is available at ridiculous prices from lots of gourmet stores, but I highly recommend it, if you like fennel.

Fourth Course: Breakfast for Dinner:

Garnet Yam Hashbrown | Fried Egg | Brioche Toast | Red Pepper Jam | Caramelized Brussels Sprouts
Pairing: Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout

This was definitely the ugliest course. The garnet yam hashbrown was delicious and crispy. The egg was delicious and crispy around the edges and with (in many cases) runny yolks. The idea was to pierce the yolk and allow it to run down over the hashbrown. I froze a red bell pepper and grated it over the egg just before a plate was served, and sprinkled the egg with sea salt. Also on the plate was a rectangle of toast (it was gonna be brioche, but it didn't rise quickly enough for me to bake it in time for dinner--stupid Keller). On top of the toast was some delicious red pepper jam, which was made using this recipe as a starting point, modded to use a less sugar, and only adding the seeds of a Korean red pepper (spicy) after processing so no seeds get broken up during processing. I also had to use a ton less pectin, because I was using Genupectin, rather than Sure-Jell or some such thing. Anyway, it was awesome, and we got lots of requests for people to bring home some of the jam, which we obliged. Oh, and we also had some heavily caramelized brussels sprouts, which are my fave. Continuing with the breakfast theme, I paired this course with an "oatmeal" stout, get it? But it's my absolute favorite beer, and it went really well with this course. The only problems with the course were, again, the delay in serving it, and the eggs that I know were cooked through.

The garnet yam hasbrowns were made by peeling three garnet yams and then chopping them finely into the "hash" in a food processor. Then I dumped them onto a clean kitchen towel and squeezed the fuck out of them until they were as dry as I could get them. Then I added four egg yolks, some salt, and just enough flour to get them to stick together. Then I pan-fried them in some canola oil, and cooked them through in a 400 F oven.

Fifth Course: Fruit and Cheese:

Carbonated Muscat Grapes with Queso de Mano Haystack Mountain (Goat) | Pineapple and Danish Blue Cheese “Ravioli” (Cow) | Partially Dehydrated Grapefruit and Fulvi Pecorino Romano (Sheep)

This was my favorite course. The carbonated muscat grapes were amazing. I've now carbonated oranges, strawberries, and these grapes, and the grapes were by far the most dramatic. They even had fizzy bubbles popping up all over them, and they felt extremely fizzy in your mouth. Everyone was wowed and amazed by them, except one person, who felt that the fizzing sensation was too much for her tongue. I searched quite a bit to find a good cheese to pair with the honey sweetness of the Muscat grapes, and finally settled on a Haystack Mountain raw goat milk cheese called Queso de Mano that was wonderful.

The other two pairings are things I've had before and think work very well. The pineapple-blue cheese wraps were delicious, and will get their own post as part of TGRWT #10. The partially dehydrated grapefruit segments with pecorino grated on top was an exact copy of part of our amuse at Jean-Georges a couple weeks ago. Anyway, all three worked perfectly, in my opinion, and I wish I had taken pictures. All I had for pictures after the fact was this extra pineapple-blue cheese wrap that we didn't serve cause it was one of the crappy-looking ones.

Sixth Course: Bananas and Peanuts (and Chocolate):

Peanut Butter Curd | Banana Bread | Soft Chocolate | Roasted Peanuts | Banana Ice Cream | Chocolate Oil
Pairing: Pedro Ximénez Monteagudo Dessert Sherry

This was the "finished" version of the in-process dish about which I posted here. The best part was the wonderful banana ice cream. I started with this recipe, but omitted the spices, tripled the quantity of banana, added a couple grams of stabilizer, and a tablespoon of rum before freezing in an ice cream maker.

The final soft chocolate was excellently pliable, made with iota carrageenan and pectin. I'll post about it on its own. The peanut curd was alright. It was better the last time I made it, but this time I tried it with locust bean gum plus kappa carrageenan (instead of just kappa), and it turned out too rubbery and with only fair flavor release. I don't know why I changed it, since it worked so well last time.

The chocolate oil is from Sam Mason's recipe here, which is super easy. The peanuts I roasted last week, after boiling them in salted water. The banana bread is just banana bread, cut into rectangular prisms.

Mignardises:

As the ultimate expression of how fanciness a dinner was, places will often feed you little treats after dessert (or in some cases, even send you home with them). We decided to do the same. Jeanette made little boxes out of card stock, and we included in each one a couple pieces of chocolate-covered candied grapefruit peel, a small baggie of roasted peanuts, a piece of pineapple-lime pâte de fruit (from Emeril's recipe, which was delicious), and a small butter rum caramel.

But since I was making biscuits for the party, and had some free time, I figured I'd try another recipe. Mom's were great, but they were sometimes a bit dry, and didn't really rise as much as would be ideal. So I also tried Cook's Illustrated's recipe for buttermilk biscuits. After trying them both fresh, warm, right out of the oven, I can say that Mom's recipe has definitely been beaten. The CI biscuits come out fluffier, more moist, and very buttery. On the other hand, Mom's can't be beaten for speed and ease. So I'm posting both.

Mom's Easy Buttermilk Biscuits

• 2 cups (10 oz) self-rising flour
• 3/4 cup shortening
• 3/4 cup buttermilk

Prepare a heavy baking pan (or preferably, a seasoned cast iron skillet) by coating with additional shortening. In a large bowl, cut the shortening into the flour until it's the size of small peas. Add the buttermilk to the flour mixture, gently kneading until it forms a large ball. Don't overmix or you'll have hard biscuits. Just mix until a ball is kinda sorta formed.

With floured hands, break off pieces from the dough, about the size of your palm, patting into rough balls. Place each one into the prepared pan. They'll end up expanding into each other, but that's okay. It's fine if they're touching each other a bit, but try to spread them out in the pan.

Bake at 450 Fahrenheit until a nice brown top appears. Makes six or so huge biscuits.

Cook's Illustrated "Tall And Fluffy Buttermilk Biscuits"

Dough

• 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (10 ounces)
  
• 1 tablespoon double-acting baking powder
  
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
  
• 1 teaspoon table salt
  
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter (cold), cut into 1/4-inch cubes
  
• 1 1/2 cups buttermilk cold, preferably low-fat

To Form and Finish Biscuits

• 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour (5 ounces), distributed in rimmed baking sheet
  
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 500 degrees. Spray 9-inch round cake pan with nonstick cooking spray; set aside. Generously spray inside and outside of 1/4 cup dry measure with nonstick cooking spray.

2. For the dough: In food processor, pulse flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, and baking soda to combine, about six 1-second pulses. Scatter butter cubes evenly over dry ingredients; pulse until mixture resembles pebbly, coarse cornmeal, eight to ten 1-second pulses. Transfer mixture to medium bowl. Add buttermilk to dry ingredients and stir with rubber spatula until just incorporated (dough will be very wet and slightly lumpy).

3. To form and bake biscuits: Using 1/4 cup dry measure and working quickly, scoop level amount of dough; drop dough from measuring cup into flour on baking sheet (if dough sticks to cup, use small spoon to pull it free). Repeat with remaining dough, forming 12 evenly sized mounds. Dust tops of each piece of dough with flour from baking sheet. With floured hands, gently pick up piece of dough and coat with flour; gently shape dough into rough ball, shake off excess flour, and place in prepared cake pan. Repeat with remaining dough, arranging 9 rounds around perimeter of cake pan and 3 in center. Brush rounds with hot melted butter, taking care not to flatten them. Bake 5 minutes, then reduce oven temperature to 450 degrees; continue to bake until biscuits are deep golden brown, about 15 minutes longer. Cool in pan 2 minutes, then invert biscuits from pan onto clean kitchen towel; turn biscuits right-side up and break apart. Cool 5 minutes longer and serve.