Restaurant

Greek Wine Goes Best, Even in Wine Country

by liz · Jan 22, 2013

They say local wines, and cocktails, go best with the local food. So what to do when dining at an authentic Greek restaurant in the middle of Santa Barbara county wine country? Go Greek.

Petros in Los Olivos is the third of Petros Benekos’ restaurants in southern California, where he serves up high-quality, delicious and authentic Greek dishes in beautiful spaces. But one of the most beautiful things in this space is the Greek wine list.

Greek White Wines

The Greek whites are my favorite, with two outstanding choices:

1) Moschofilero Grape, from Monemvasia or Boutari Wineries – this wine can be compared to a Viognier with its apricot, melon and floral notes. My white-Rhone-loving friend can attest to this. This wine is lovely with so many Greek dishes, as the wine’s floral notes and food’s Mediterranean character take you to blue summer seas.

2) Sigalas, Assyrtiko, from Santorini – with its dry, crisp, volcanic taste, this wine is more of along the lines of a Sauvignon Blanc or Chablis. I love mineral notes, acid and freshness in white wines, so this one is a perfect palate cleanser for everything you order.

The red Greek wine list is much longer than the white, and the 2 reds available by the glass are good choices, especially for the lamb dishes. But if you really want to be authentic, try the Boutari Grand Reserve, Xinomavro from Naoussa 46, a Greek varietal, or Tsantalis, Metoxi, Cabernet-Limnio from Mt. Athos, a Cabernet Sauvignon variety.

And did I mention the Kourtakis, Retsina from Attiki? Named for the taste of pine resin, this is very typical wine of regions throughout the country, just a little bizarre and a must-try. Right before you finish with a Classic Ouzo. Opa!

Thank God It’s Foieday: Foie Gras Lives on in Dordogne, France

by liz · Jul 1, 2012

In Périgord, Dordogne France, it’s always foie day. It happens to be the foie gras capital of France (and the world), producing 90% of all foie consumed in France. And the French consume a lot of foie: 18,450 tons — 78.5% of the world’s estimated total production. This region also produces high-quality almost-Bordeaux wines at a fraction of the cost, sometimes poured for you in the wine maker’s own kitchen.

But back to foie. Ducks and geese are inclined to eat as much food as you give them, so force-feeding is actually not a necessity. This is something we’re all familiar with; it’s not unlike the US population residing in middle America. Producers should give up force-feeding machines and let the birds eat three times their weight naturally so we can still eat foie in California! Alas, with the recent foie gras ban in California, we are now forced to travel to nearby Los Vegas, where it is plentiful and permanently on the menu — no morals there — or preferably to the Dordogne in France.

It was there that I actually ate 5 different kinds of foie gras in one day! And it just might have been the best day of my life.

After visiting Bergerac’s town market that morning, we found the only Michelen-starred restaurant in the area: La Tour des Vents. We sat on the outdoor deck, overlooking the valley of grapes and geese.

First course was traditional foie gras mousse served in a small ramekin, with a hard brûlée top and a bite of salad on the side, shown above. It was like a foie-savory creme brûlée…quite possibly the most delicious thing I will ever put in my mouth.

For my main, I ordered a trio of foie gras — just to make sure I tried them all! All three were terrines: 1) marbelized black pepper (center), 2) maple and spice cake with mango/cherry jelly (left) and finally, 3) traditional on toasted brioche with seasonal fruit chutney and aged balsamic (right). It was heaven, especially paired with the local sweet wine that actually works better than Sauternes: Monbazillac.

And when we returned to the hotel later that day for dinner, we found our hosts busy cooking in the kitchen for us. And guess what they were preparing for us that night? You guessed it, homemade foie gras, pan grilled and served with lentils and cured duck slices, shown above. It really was the best day ever.

TGIFoie.

The Ham & High: Locally Sourced Ingredients in Montgomery

by liz · Sep 1, 2011

Montgomery Alabama is, as one would expect, full of down home cookin’ and it certainly doesn’t disappoint. Being from a central mid-western state myself, I loved the barbecue, mashed potatoes with mounds of butter, baked beans and hot dogs with all the fixin’s. And don’t forget the grits!

But I was very excited to find a new-fangled restaurant in town that uses local produce – sourced from its neighborhood farm just across the street – and a fresh approach to Southern cooking. The Ham & High, in the new Hampstead urban living space (you may have read about it in Food & Wine) changes their menu every day, and serves brunch on Sundays…with grits on the menu.

My brunching partner and I decided to kick it off with cocktails, above. Him: Ham & High Farm-Fresh Bloody Mary. Me: Basil Shrug with gin. Who doesn’t love a garden-to-glass basil drink in a jar? (Get a similar recipe here to make it at home.)

We couldn’t resist ordering something Southern..steak and farm eggs over creamy, cheesy grits. I’ve had a lot of grits in my life and these were perfectly cooked: a delightfully red-necked rendition of risotto.

Next was the French toast Monte Cristo sandwich with maple syrup and strawberry preserves, served with shoestring fries and smoked ketchup, shown above. Gruyère, ham, French toast, syrup and fries? I can’t think of a better heap of grub for one dish.

And to round it out, we had to try the house-made sausage of bacon and jalapeño, which was easily the best thing we ate that Sunday.

But the best thing we did that Sunday was what we did next: head home in the heat and humidity – bellies full, gin settled in – and hit the hay for a long afternoon nap.

If I get the chance to eat my fill in Montgomery again, I’ll be back here for a proper dinner. Right after my afternoon cocktail. And a nap.

Michel Guerard: Heaven’s Delight for One More Night

by liz · Jun 4, 2011

As the pleasure of the Baker’s company had already begun its slow, steady decline, the town of Eugénie-les-Bains, in France’s southwest corner, just outside the French Basque region, came just in the nick of time.

This town has long been celebrated for its healing spring waters and tranquil valley setting, and as we coasted into town on a winding road lit golden by the late afternoon sun, I could see why thousands of people have been relaxing, easing their pains, and “taking the water” here for years.

Acclaimed chef Michel Guerard gives folks another reason to make the trek here to improve their health: cuisine minceur, a form of healthy cooking that Guerard invented. It’s basically cooking in a traditional French method, but with lower-calorie or higher-nutrition substitutions. Think fish steamed in a concentrated, fragrant spring vegetable broth instead of pan-fried in bread crumbs with butter. Fresh, light, satisfying and French are the defining words for Guerard’s unique, form-enhancing cuisine.

The town was simply beautiful, with one quiet road leading through the small valley floor. Small rock and sandy paths led off each side of the road into gardens and trees and old stone churches and houses. Water fountains, flowers, lawns of grass and pastel-painted shutters on the windows surrounded us as we pulled into La Maison Rose, the most affordable of Michel’s three lodgings in town, Les Pres d’Eugenie (which, with his two restaurants, seemed to take up one entire side of town).

I felt such relaxation and peace here that I began to drink in long, slow, deep breaths of the fresh spring air, and to feel slightly better about us. Hope was peeking through the French countryside, and we would dine well tonight!

The main house held the gourmet restaurant, while a simple restored farmhouse held Guerard’s rustic restaurant, La Ferme aux Grives — built to look like his childhood home, with food cooked over a fire in a big hearth in the main room like his mother used to cook. We chose the gourmet menu in the white and beige-colored dining room. It was the most beautiful and peaceful dinner setting I had ever seen! I could barely see any other diners for the nooks of tables and gorgeous flowers everywhere, and the waiters excelled in hushed voices and silent steps. Michel himself was also here, with a constant smile and a warm handshake.

The sun was setting and a warm breeze wafted in. I felt positively serene and agreeable to any story to come from the Baker’s mouth tonight. The wine certainly helped. And the first course was a mushroom soup, with a “cloud” and truffles on top, see above. Sigh.

Then steamed lobster with butter and herbs, plus duck breast and foie gras with a trio of citrus sauces. So delicious! And so light!

And, of course, his signature local fish with fresh spring vegetables and a fresh, savory consommé.

And the cheese course: gooey French cheeses are the best antidote to anything that ails you, including affairs of the heart.

The desserts were the best: this was a lemon soufflé with a brûlée top. Gorgeous on the plate and heaven in the mouth.

I love rhubarb (reminds me of both my Kansan grandmothers) and our menu happened to have a Festival of Rhubarb listed! What luck, to enjoy a plate of rhubarb tarts and pastries along with a baked bread pudding with rich, creamy rhubarb ice cream. It was a dream.

I was thankful and full and resigned. This elegant dinner would be our last real pleasure — our last act of kindness and love — and I would always remember it with a smile and a long, deep breath.