FotoCuisine

The March issue of Gourmet had a little recipe for steak béarnaise, with fried matchstick potatoes. It was kinda tucked in the middle, among all the other interesting French rustic meals hither and yon. How classic can you get? Meat and béarnaise, with fried potatoes. Steak frites with a twist.

Since March, I’ve probably made this recipe four times. I’ve made it more than any other idea from that magazine since I got my subscription this year.

Of course, I’ve personalized it a bit.

Mmmmm steak

We went camping this weekend at Oscar Scherer State Park in Sarasota, Florida with some family and friends. Though Peter didn’t cook anything, I did shoot some shots that were more like snapshots than anything but it was so good that I wanted to share it here.

We missed the hobo pies that were made on Friday night, as we didn’t even get there till 11PM, so I will start with Saturday morning where we had sausage and scrambled eggs:

In here, much more food including amazing ribs!

Pics I did this weekend for my father-in-law’s business:

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So, we are going camping next weekend, and this weekend heading out to St. Petersburg to see family. We asked Peter’s mom if she would mind watching our youngest one (7 mths old) next weekend while we take our other three kids out camping with us.

She bargained.

Peter had just sent her a link to our last lobster dinner and that got her taste buds wanting some lobster tonight, so she said if we bring lobster tonight she will watch Jules next weekend.

Sounds like a win win deal to me!

MMMmmmmmm, Tuna. So, the whole seared tuna thing is about as cliche as you can get these days. Even Nebraska steak houses have a seared tuna appetizer, and there’s not much originality you can present with the fish these days.

On the other hand, why is that different from a steak bearnaise or a shellfish bisque? It’s relatively new, but it is somewhat of a fusion classic in modern cuisine. It could be worse — it could be fried mozerella sticks or something.

My favorite restaurant in South Beach Miami is Nemo’s (which opened long before Pixar). One of their signature dishes is a softball-sized chunk of tuna, rolled in nori seaweed, seared, and presented with a sesame seared rice-ball. It’s too good for words.

Today, one of my fish suppliers had AAA-grade sashimi yellowfin tuna on sale, ruby-red and glistening, and the muscle grains were tight and compact. So, I did my part to riff off of the Nemo’s.

I made a honey-lime-soy glaze, and served the tuna over a glaze-wasabi stir fry of vegetables and pad thai noodles.

toooooooona

Taken with strobes, 1/250 f/6.7 with canon 50mm macro

entry of AU NATUREL for:

This is probably more of a fall or winter recipe, rather than a sunny spring one. But, I was in the mood for duck breast, and duck goes well with fruit. A lot of fruits like orange and cherry are a bit overdone, so I went with apples instead, but cooked them in butter and orange juice for a least a nod to à l’orange. I wanted a rich, rich sauce to be able to hold up to the duck, so I used beef and mushroom stocks with a couple kicks. Wrapped in crepes with some exotic mushrooms and feta, and the richness was definitely on target, and it was tasty.

more recipe and tons of pictures

Ten years ago, I had a client in Phoenix, Arizona. About a week a month, I’d shuttle out to the desert from Atlanta, do some biz, see some sights, and eat some food. I was really starting my foodie-ness about then, and at one restaurant, I was stunned to taste the best Hawaiian ahi tuna I’d ever had in my life. In Phoenix. More than 5000 miles away from the seas where that fish was caught.

I’m a fan of cooking local; supporting local farms or fishermen or using local ingredients. I think it’s a good thing to do for cuisine, a good thing for the environment, a good thing for local economies.

However, one of my culinary quirks is taking an established cuisine or technique, then throwing in something from halfway around the world. I think part of this comes from that time in Phoenix, where I could nibble on fresh tuna when it was still 105 degrees outside at 8pm. The world still has a lot of problems, but I think there are times where the internet and FedEx have brought ideas and physical chunks of the planet to places which may not have otherwise experienced them. And that can be a good thing.

All of this philosophy is too lofty for last night’s meal, though. I wanted to go a little crazy and throw together far-flung techniques and food, and jam them into one dish with, I hope, a little elegance and extravagance.

So, I made pan-roasted Maine lobster, put it in a corn tortilla nest, covered it with a French-influenced sauce Supreme/Mornay, with plenty of New Mexican Red Chile. And we ate it here — Spring in Florida.

Live lobstah await their fate

I mentioned in my last post, I have a lot of eastern European in my background. Goulash, or the similar Stroganoff, is what the French would term a “peasant dish”. It throws together what is underground, either in the dirt or a cellar, with whatever meat can be scrounged, cooked with some local herbs, spices, and such from local gardens.

I’ve had a mother and two grandmothers cook their interpretations, and each is different. Throw in the rest of eastern Europe, and each recipe may be as different as the mother or grandmother cooking that day for the family.

I kicked the recipe up a bit with ingredients that would not normally be used in traditional versions of this dish, but the inspiration is from my upbringing.

But wait! There’s more!

I am distantly South African on my father’s side, through Capetown great-grandparents. It’s never been much more than an entry on my family tree, which is an opalescent moving target. Depending on wars, shifting European borders, bloodlines, religion, and territorial disputes, I can be considered 100% Polish in one perspective, or as splintered as American, Polish, German, South African, Russian, Latvian, and Jewish.

When I lived in Atlanta, I lived near a South African restaurant (the webpage is here: 10degreessouth.com but it was a hole in the wall when I first found it). I went there so often, the owners, South African brothers, got to know me well. I fell in foodie love with the spicy peri peri sauce that accompanied the Chef’s fish dishes. I hinted and guessed and beat around, but he would never tell me how he made it. He did, however, once give me a quarter-cup of peri peri powder to experiment with — something the bartender told me he never gave to any customer in the history of the restaurant.

The closest American pepper to the African bird’s eye pepper is probably cayenne, though there’s a pleasant lemony brightness to peri peri that cayenne’s sweetness doesn’t quite reach. After I moved to Florida, I found a supplier in Tampa, though there are mail order sites as well.

I never was able to duplicate the Chef’s sauce, but the closest I have come is with a basic French beurre blanc, steeped with peri peri powder. The restaurant serves the sauce with a cold water fish like Cape Capensis or Hake. I find it goes well with warm water fish like grouper or snapper, or other thick, white-fleshed fish of any climate, such as halibut. If you can’t find peri peri, use cayenne — South African culinary purists would laugh at my attempts anyway.

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