I am (was?) on a Thomas Keller roll. No, I did not say "I ate a Thomas Keller roll." I simply mean I am writing a second time about a Thomas Keller venue. (In this case, I have actually been to a NYC Bouchon as well as, more recently, the Bouchon Bakery in Yountville.) Hurrah. They are . . . . indulgent. Splendiferous. Dandy.
Can you tell? I like them.
Here's why. First and foremost, I like the macarons. I had them first in NYC -- little ones and on occasion, on a business trip, I would sneak away with a large one. No matter what flavor (ok, I like the caramel ones. But wait, the pepeprmint? ) I like them. On occasion I do find them too sweet, and then I say to myself, but they are gluten free. (I am not, but hey, anything to pretend I am virtuous while eating Bouchon Bakery . . . .) Have you seen them? If you want to, just click here. But remember, this is JUST a visual.
Then, I went to the Bakery in Yountville itself. Same macaroons. But: I had additional (different) treats. These included: a bacon cheddar and something else scone. A+ (well, it did not actually trump one I had that involved green chilis somewhere in the middle of no where on a road trip this past summer, but then, what could?). I also had a chocolate croissant. Now: I have to admit it -- this is a vice of mine. In this case, I treasured the darn thing and held on to it, and ate it a tiny bit past its due date (aka it was stale). Still dandy. And, I had some sort of pork bun that . . . well, suffice it to say that I love pork.
Finally, I have to comment on the rice krispie treat. I do. It was multicolored. In fact, it was a layer of pink, a layer of brown and a layer of white. It looked like neopolitan ice cream. I had a tiny sliver -- and wow. It was like no other rice krispie treat ever. I cannot find a picture on line -- but here's something related just to torture you.
They have soup (which I did not sample), sandwiches (I had some delightful ham and cheese on baguette), and other things. But really: the treats are the treats. Mmmmm.
I love the phrase “ad hoc” – as in ad hoc committees and task forces, in ad hoc decisions, and in many other uses. According to the web, in the form of wikipedia, the phrase is Latin for "for this." (the relevant article is here.)
But, of course, these days it has another referent: say ad hoc in some environs (even if you google it) and people think Thomas Keller, Yountville, food, fried chicken, and more. They think Ad Hoc.
Some time ago, I was in Yountville, a life aspiration, and had a delightful treat of a birthday meal at. . . Ad Hoc. It was amazing. Here’s what we experienced:
First: we waited a tiny bit, entranced by the various pig-related objects around us. When seated, we began the thrilling part; they really get the notion of gluten free! This was important because we happened to be there on one of Ad Hoc's iconic fried chicken nights; and yes, they made gluten free (ok, the real issue is wheat free) fried chicken. And, looking at it, it seemed identical! Apparently it tasted magnificent. They also provided gluten free versions of all the courses, including (and I was incredibly jealous, despite the perfection of my bit) an over the top amazing black pepper biscuit. Yes, I had tiny, perfect, tasty grilled cheese sandwiches for that course which tsted cheesier and butter-y-er (not a woird I know) than anything I have ever tasted. I can remember the tanginess of the cheese. But I was still (and indeed remain) jealous of the biscuit.
Let me slow down, and take you through the courses. First: salad. Because every thing is served family style when possible, the salad was huge. It was chopped romaine with a creamy dill dressing. Sounds simple. Tasted amazing. Then: fried chicken. Ok, there was more -- side dishes of green beans and mashed potatoes. The latter were nearly all consumed by my partner. (Not really, but I know she loved them.) The chicken -- well, it was fried chicken. It was great. I could not make it that well. That's why it was Ad Hoc and not my dining room. If I have a criticism, it would be this: too much food. Way too much food.
All this was followed by the humor and fun of the cheese course. As noted above, mine included itny tiny little grilled cheese sandwiches. I still swoon. Then there was dessert. What wonder? A root beer float. Ordinarily, I would turn up my nose at a root beer float. I just do not like root beer. But: this was Thomas Keller, this was Yountville. I tried it. I liked it. I am not a convert, but I enjoyed what I had. Yes, indeedy.
All in all: I loved Ad Hoc. As I said, I do think the family style leads the restaurant to serve portions that are way too big (no, I am not asking for nouvelle cuisine with puny little 1980s size portions, but there is no word other than HUGE for the dishes that came out. While they were for two, I am not sure what two people on earth could have consumed all of what we received.) Think doggy bags – and really eat them thereafter.In our case, the chicken left overs made it all the way back to Chicago and were delicious as a meal at home.
Finally, I shoudl say this: we all know the story of Ad Hoc. (look it up if you do not); we know that he started mainly serving meals like those his staff at the French Laundry and elsewhere ate -- and loved -- between services. We all know it stuck. And we all know that the food is good. The real question -- and I know my answer: is it worth it? In my case, yes, The food was delightful -- and I love that I ate somewhere that I already "knew" through the cookbook. While I have not made fried chicken, I have made a wonderful chicken dish from the cookbook -- and it was swell to be there, in the flesh (as it were) dining.
I love holidays that involve receiving gifts. And, for me, that includes Christmas. This year, among the treats, oil and vinegar from Old Town Oil, located. . . you guessed, in Old Town (actually at 1520 North Wells Street in Chicago). I have, I think, never been there. But I have tasted their wares – and they definitely pass inspection. My partner, who provided the oil and vinegar (a balsamic with pomegranate) was amazed by the tasting possibilities. I was and am amazed at the delightful gift.
What most amazes me, I think, is the on-premises bottling. I ought say, as well, that though I am currently sitting many many miles from the bottles, which are in Chicago (and I am not), I can still taste both the oil and the vinegar. The vinegar itself is right at the cusp of tart and sweet, with a delightful juicy stickiness to it. (I did use it in a kind of compote I made with some left over prunes and other bits of fruit. I imagined it might work. It definitely did.)
BUt why Old Town. Well, if you do not know, there is a section of Chicago called "Old Town." It even has funky signage. Here is a related site. (The section on history is dandy; in part, what it does is tell you what is at a location now -- and what was there "then" -- whenever then was. In the case of Old Town Oil, here's the history. When was the last time you used the phrase "go-go club?") And, here is the relevant wikipwdia article, in which you can learn about the neighborhood and its history. Did oyu know that the first homophile organization known in the US made its home in . . . Old Town? Neither did I, though I knew it was Chicago.
So: a good place to get gifts. For me. For anyone. Old Town Oil. Old Town. Chicago
So, lovely name, Lucky Peach. And, I had seen the magazine around. So, one day I purchased a copy of the cooks and chefs issue (Fall 2013) for $12. It then languished in a pile of unread quasi-reading material, largely because when I leafed through Lucky Peach, I came across this thing that kind of put me off. No, not a slug. Yes, a belly with stitches in it, that was clearly meant to be ripped open and . . . who knew what would emerge. So, I did not rip it open, nor did I read much of Lucky Peach, Fall 2013.
I would start and stop. Mostly, I stopped.That was then. This is now.
This trip, I brought it along – partly because it was light, partly because I thought the $12 was otherwise wasted, and partly because I knew I was being silly. I started at the very beginning and read it through including stopping at the part with the stitches and ripping it apart and removing the pamphlet inside (which I will address below). The magazine was – is – swell.
The visuals were very comic heavy, and carried some of the more chatty, quote-like prose along at a nice speed. Voices form Wolfgang Puck to David Chang met. I read about staging (known in other worlds than the culinary as unpaid [usually] internships) and the rise of various organic efforts in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I read about Wylie Dufresne (and the restaurant WD-50) as well as a delightful bit on the place of women in kitchens. I had fun. And, I ripped open the stitched abdomen and did not puke. I have no idea what I imagined might be in there. It worried me – partly because I read the abdomen as female and worried it might signify eating disorders or the ripping might be misread (or intended to be read as) something unsavory. (and by unsavory I do not mean either sweet or umami.)
Several fun things about this issue of Lucky Peach, beyond those noted in listing various items I read. First: the tone of voice is amazingly chatty and whether intended or not, is a delightful riff on the snotty and look-at-how-great-I-am tone of much foodie related literature. Second: the visuals are silly while serious. I like that. And, this magazine is not so full of advertisements that when those are ripped out (a la the stitched abdomen) there is nothing left. There is a lot squeezed into this space. It may even be worth the $12, though I can still not get over that cost for a magazine rather than a book. Also, it read as though everyone was included; or, to put it another way, it neither spoke up or down to its reader – it ws simply colleagially chatty and (perhaps) of as much interest to some foodie insiders as to those of us lurking on the fringes, just reading (and blogging) and eating or cooking.
Yes, I am skirting the subject of the abdomen.
So: what was inside it? What was the secret surprise? As I said, a small pamphlet that is a kind of diary of a “food event” called MAD that takes place in Copenhagen. The event (in its second incarnation) is sponsored by NOMA. And, in this case, Lucky Peach had a big role, hence the pamphlet. The event brings together chefs (in the main) and a few journalists around a theme. This year’s (oh, wait, 2013’s) theme was “guts.” The pamphlet takes up that theme in every possible meaning of the term – both guts (as in digestive and alimentary organs) and as in perseverance or fearlessness or. . . . There are visuals and written materials (many of which, I think, were delivered orally). My faves included some scientific reflection on the small brain within the gut (I was persuaded) and Chris Ying’s very disturbing piece connecting global warming to eating. The data is truly troubling. War zone cuisine? Yep. A recipe for quail and lentils. Yep. A history of wild rice? Yep. The tale of a young person (very young) whose passion for food, well, is very brave. Yep, guts.
I personally like the blend of personal, professional, weird and imaginable that emerged in Lucky Peach (and its secret pamphlet) in all its glory. It was not all about anticipation – nor avoidance – now, it just was. And is. A good read.
And now, I have to admit it: I want to write to the folks at MAD and make suggestions - about the ways that what they do might be enhanced by . . . . . well, aspects of liberal education. Worlds merge.
