907EAT

Bánh cuốn at Phở Vietnam

2009-08-05T18:31:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought that Phở Vietnam had totally blown my mind, the kind folks there introduced me to Bánh cuốn today. This is a plate of thin rice noodle stuffed with minced pork and spices, then topped with fried shallots and thinly sliced pork cake. Bánh cuốn sits in a tangy sweet bath of vinegar and perhaps nước chấm? and is topped with chopped fresh basil. At first Linda encouraged me to use the dark chile garlic paste to up the spice. I did so, but was then encouraged by my pal the handsome gentleman waiter (whose name I must learn very soon) to add the sliced, pickled jalapenos. The jalapenos are in a sweet pickle preparation that set off the delicate noodles, savory pork, and the fresh basil unspeakably well. I hear they also make my new favorite dish with shrimp. Needless to say I will try it in the next few days. Unbelievable food. I told Linda she needs to write a cookbook. "Maybe one day!" she said.

Chile Ancho Sauce Near Black Beans with Avocado Leaf

2009-07-28T22:00:00.000-07:00

It's been raining and that makes me blue. This time of year always pushes my fingers from the ledge just when I'm feeling sane. In spite of the somber tone of the day I made one true thing, a beautiful sauce of chile ancho. It's amazing how something so simple could be so flavorful. This sauce has a smoky sweetness that is dusky and almost plum-like. The shriveled, dry chiles transform into a rich froth without butter or cream. That's part of the genius of Mexican sauces as opposed to say, French sauces. Without butter or a technique of reduction, Mexican sauces unabashedly brandish sophisticated and intense flavors of their contents, like chiles or nuts (pipian) or dried fruit (picadillo). But it would be foolish and dangerous to get into a debate about who has the better sauce tradition. This sauce is simple and lifts my mood when eaten with a side of black refried beans with avocado leaf. It is perfect for beef, pork, or chicken. Crass, thrifty cooks have been known to make a mean enchilada with it, too.

Ingredients

4-8 chiles, dried and roasted, deseeded and reinflated in warm water
one small, cunning white onion chopped
two cloves garlic minced
salt
corn oil

Instructions

First slip your chiles into the blender with some chile water and puree. Next sautee the onions and garlic in the corn oil until soft and translucent. Don't forget the salt or you might as well eat cardboard. Let the onions and garlic cool. Add the onions and garlic to the chile puree in the blender and blend again until frothy. Add water to the mix until you have around a pint or more of the sauce.

To make enchiladas, soft fry a small corn tortilla in oil on both sides, tuck in some shredded boiled chicken, and pour a little sauce in the pan. Fold the enchilada like a taco and serve covered with sauce and garnished with a crumble of fresh cheese. Feta will do well, especially the mild French kind.

With a side of black beans, the kaleidoscope of flavor in the sauce and the beans with their intriguing, almost anise-like note of avocado leaf, will leave you laughing even through tears.

Image: Chile Ancho uploaded to flickr by macmacmac

Pelmenis and gin and tonic

2009-07-25T20:54:00.000-07:00

For roughly the first half of this decade, Jude lived in Juneau, Alaska. They were the longest years of her sweet short life. She remembers driving around aimlessly, as most people do when they first move there, looking at the sights of her new home, a place she'd only visited, years before, and always wanted to return. Many of those sights were hauntingly beautiful, something out of a dream she once had. Others were frankly puzzling. One of those was a little hole in the wall restaurant - at least it sort of looked like a restaurant - on the main drag through downtown, in the Hangar building.

A simple storefront furnished with State of Alaska surplus furniture and lined with hundreds of old LPs and decade-old magazines, Pel'meni was, and is, open odd hours, on a schedule that made more sense to Jude once she understood Juneau. It was, for example, open at 3 am, after the bars closed, and on weekends there was usually a line out the door. A pelmeni (or pel'meni, depending on where you look) is a Russian dumpling shaped like an ear. Or, for the squeamish, like a large tortellini, stuffed with various things. Jude never really learned what was in the meat pel'menis served in Juneau, and often preferred to order the potato-stuffed version.

People lined up for pel'menis, paying their five bucks and waiting for what seemed like eternity for a styrofoam square clamshell of little dumplings covered in a combination of vinegar, butter, Sriracha sauce, curry, and fresh cilantro, and sour cream, with a slice of bread to set it off.

Juneau and Jude are now separated by 700 air miles. Absence does not really make the heart grow fonder, but it occasionally makes one more resourceful. As it turns out, Eastern European Deli (601 W. 36th Avenue, Anchorage) sells frozen pelmenis in three pound bags for $13-14, depending upon whether you want chicken/pork, chicken, or beef. But the dumplings themselves are only a fraction of the show. Replicating the sauce was the harder part, but in itself, not really, thanks to the magic of the internet. Click here to read the recipe I used, possibly from the source itself, or at least someone who once worked there. Thanks to the author.

The only things we'd change, clarify or emphasize would be: 1) do NOT overboil the pelmenis, as they will fall apart; 2) be careful not to skimp on butter - saute the boiled pelmenis in enough butter and put a pat or so in the bottom of the bowl before you ladle the hot dumplings into it; 3) be sparing with the curry powder, and put it on before the Sriracha sauce; 4) vinegar should be maybe two Tbsp per serving; 5) lots of cilantro and sour cream. This is not a dish to make on a diet, Atkins or otherwise. Fifteen per person makes a good serving size.

Jewish rye, as storebought as possible, is the second best accompaniment. The best, as it turns out, is a nice gin and tonic. That recipe is below. Have both.

If you're ever in Juneau, locate Pel'meni and visit them yourself. It is rumored that the Hangar building is set to be torn down, though this rumor has persisted for at least a decade now. The likely replacement will be an even larger cruise ship dock, complete with more Tanzanite stores, tour bus parking, and T shirt shops. That's what the powers that be in Juneau (i.e. the cruise ship industry) are pushing for, so they will likely get it. When the Hangar is torn down, it will not only take out a large piece of Southeast Alaska history, but two of the best restaurants in Juneau (Pel'meni and Pizza Roma.) It may be that the global recession currently killing cruise ship profits is the only thing that saves the original Pel'meni and the best garlicky pizza crust in the PNW. Someone really needs to chain themselves to the place and refuse to move for the bulldozers, and I can think of a few good candidates for the job.

Here's Cait's gin and tonic, compliments of Liz at Gastronomy Domine. While Jude thinks of pelmenis as winter food, because she went there for lunch frequently in the winter and because it's always sort of winter in Juneau, Cait's G&T brings pelmenis into the torrid Anchorage summer.

Gin and Tonic

1 shot Hendricks gin
1 cap full of Rose water
shards of fresh cucumber
ice

Shake the gin and rosewater and pour over ice and cucumbers. Add tonic. Love your neighbor as yourself (unless you live near that cranky old codger who lived by Jude in Juneau and always had a rude comment for her. But he's probably in a home by now.)

Gomasio Rice Salad with Baby Spinach and Sweet 100 Tomatoes

2009-05-08T23:38:00.001-07:00

What in the world has happened to my sense of eat? I have always been into wretched excess, a slave to my senses. But lately my sense of what I like to eat has changed so that I crave strange flavor combinations of fresh and crisp over stodgy and gooey. Better take a picture to mark the occasion. This kind of healthy inclination won't last forever. Tonight I devised a salad of painfully healthy ingredients that turned out to be memorable. Here it is:

Gomasio Rice Salad with Baby Spinach and Sweet 100 Tomatoes

Ingredients:

brown basmati Rice
a tiny pat of butter
baby Spinach
sweet 100 cherry tomatoes
miso dressing
gomasio (gomashio (hiragana: ごま塩; also spelled gomasio) is a dry condiment, similar to furikake, made from unhulled sesame seeds (ごま, goma) and salt (塩, shio)

Instructions:

1. Prepare a few cups of rice, then stir in a tiny pat of butter and let it melt.
2. When rice cools a little, toss the rice with spinach, a handful of tomatoes, and miso dressing.
3. Garnish with gomasio.

Charlie's Bakery and Chinese Cuisine

2009-04-25T01:59:00.000-07:00

Charlie's is the place for dim sum and wedding cakes, kal bi and red bean sesame balls. Like the Tibetan place in Spenard or the Eastern European Deli with fresh pelmenis to go, Charlie's is an oddity so authentic that you'd think it would only exist in a bigger city, but in fact, it is the epitome of Anchorage. It's in a strip mall on "C" street across the street from Wells Fargo By the B & J Store that sells fishing knives and has a grimy marquee advertising rubber boots for breakup. I have spent many of my Saturdays in Anchorage since I moved back to my hometown trundling to Charlie's for their dim sum menu, but my current craze is Spicy Braised Beef with Noodles. This dish is a soup with a rich, chili-laden broth, swollen with long noodles and slow-cooked beef. Like all the best soups, the Spicy Beef has a complex, well-developed base, in which I struggle to pick out particular flavors and fragrances. My guess would be beef and bones, chili, garlic and scallions. The generous chunks of braised beef are velvety and tender to the fork. A scattering of shredded green pickle lends the soup a tart dash. Take advantage of the brisk days of breakup and order the Spicy Braised Beef with Noodles.

Charlie's Bakery and Chinese Cuisine
2729 C St, Anchorage - (907) 677-7777

Black Beans with Avocado Leaf

2009-04-19T23:23:00.000-07:00

This recipe is a secret but I have never been good at keeping my mouth shut so I tell people about it every chance I get. As if my indiscretion weren't enough, I have taken to changing the recipe whenever I like so the recipe I am giving here is not, in fact, the traditional, secret recipe. Sometimes I add chipotle or chile seco and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I add epazote and sometimes not. Today I used diced onion, sauteed with sliced fresh jalapenos, a small amount of ground cumin, and a large pinch of avocado leaves. The broth almost sings with the earthy flavor of the black beans made elegant with the tender, enigmatic anise notes of the avocado leaf. The avocado leaf should inspire a perfume. It has the bouquet of lotus tea and a teardrop in a rainstorm. An odd but delicious combination is to serve the beans soupy over sushi rice. Sticky and more solid than other rice, sushi rice cradles the soupy beans and soaks up their irreplaceable flavor.

Ingredients

two tablespoons of corn oil
onions (either the outer layer of half an onion beneath the papery layer or a diced handful, whatever you please)
one small bag of black beans
one pot of water
sliced jalapeno or a bit of chile seco or chipotle
one large pinch of dried avocado leaf, crumbled between finger and thumb

Instructions

1. Saute the onion in the corn oil until soft and golden if using diced onions and until almost brown if using the outer layer of half an onion. Add salt. Do not refrain from salting your food or the blahs will get you.

2. Discard the onion if using a single piece.

3. Add water to the pot and pour the beans in. The water should be double the level of the beans to allow evaporation over a slow cooking.

4. Add chile to the pot.

5. Boil the beans for a long time until soft. This can take hours. Add avocado leaf to the pot about 15 minutes before ready to serve either with rice or by its magnificent self.

Buen Provecho.

Image: a test of your depth perception in the form of a photo of dried avocado leaf

What was I thinking

2009-04-18T23:58:00.001-07:00

I know better, I really do. We all know what to expect when we darken the door of local Mexican eateries, don't we? Most are - diplomatically - Not Good. Most people don't really go to Mexican restaurants north of the border -- or for that matter north and west of the northern border -- because they want to eat good Mexican food. That is a shame, because Mexico produced one of the world's great cuisines. It is the interpretation of that cuisine (for Americans who go to Mexican restaurants to have an excuse to drink tequila and various syrupy tequila drinks) that sucks.

Generally, Americanized "Mexican" fare consists of a puddle of yellow cheese smothering something fried, unidentifiable, or both. It should be illegal to operate such an establishment without a portable AED at each table. Authenticity is clearly not a goal. Here's a rule I ignored tonight, and I know better, really I do: if you walk into a restaurant - any restaurant - and everyone eating there is over the age of 70, turn around and walk right the hell back out. For any restaurant that isn't a steakhouse or a cafeteria near a church in the Deep South, this rule of thumb cannot be repeated often enough.

But sometimes, you just want a margarita and some chips and salsa, which was my only goal when Cait and I visited a local Mexican-American restaurant this evening. I'm not going to name names, except to place it way out in an industrial area off Lake Otis Parkway that I associate with deadbeat dads who work under the table. Again, this obviously falls under the category of "you should have known better." Most "Mexican" restaurants fall into this category, and they are virtually indistinguishable from each other, so it doesn't really matter.

Here is what seems to be required to operate a typical Anchorage "Mexican" restaurant. These factors may be required to get a license out of the ABC board, for all I know:

1. Large plastic menu sticky with someone else's salsa. Sometimes it's fossilized on there; sometimes, for a real treat, it's still today's salsa. At this evening's fine dining establishment, I am surprised I wasn't charged for this as a side dish.

2. Serves Pepsi products. Really, make it stop. It conjures the image of Item #3 on the "standard fellow patrons at ANC restaurant" list: a hypercaffeinated 8 year old smearing something - you don't want to know what, exactly - on every surface within a radius of 30 feet in between sips of Mountain Dew while his parents bliss out on cheap booze.

3. What is served is rarely, if ever, what was ordered. Invariably, the server makes sure you quickly understand that sending the order back is going to be a hell of a lot more trouble than just eating whatever they brought out. And invariably, what was brought out includes the inevitable Big Puddle o' Cheese that you carefully sifted through a sticky menu to avoid.

4. 50 point bonus if the server serves it with a filthy oven mitt and says "Careful: this plate is really hot" (translation: this plate was in the microwave for 4 minutes to melt the Big Puddle o' Cheese you didn't order).

5. It's an added bonus if the entertainment wafting over from the bar consists of a friend of the owners "playing" an electric keyboard while wailing 80's hits half an octave off key. It is was like someone's demented uncle found the karaoke machine. This was a bona fide plus tonight, perhaps the only upside to this venture. You'll just have to believe me on this one, because...

6. the margaritas were not good. Actually, they were bad. Chips were OK, though. It's hard to screw up chips, though I have experienced a few places in this town that managed just that. Oh, and Cait's shrimp thing was decent, she said. That's a relief, because it sure didn't look that way. But margaritas are just about the only reason anyone in their right mind would choose to visit any of the local Anchorage "Mexican" spots: our Puritan heritage apparently demands that we restrict liquor licenses to those who promise to feed us an entire barnyard worth of fat with our poison.

The bill for all this? Over fifty bucks for two (one drink each) with the standard tip. Yes, the service was as craptastic as everything else, but everyone needs to make a living and stiffing a waiter in this economy is unconscionable. Even if she richly deserved it.

In short: everyone should know that the Taco King now delivers, if actual edible Mexican food is desired. Except for the occasional cheesy excess, none of the above applies to the Taco King, which remains the only purveyor of edible Mexican food in Anchorage. It of course, does not serve alcohol, but for a lot less than what was spent this evening, you can get a decent dinner for two -- in most cases, the ones you actually ordered! -- and a decent bottle of tequila. Long live the King. It's a recession. Stay home and make your own damn margaritas.

Pho Vietnam

2009-04-11T21:57:00.001-07:00

My friend and her family go to Pho Vietnam at least twice a week. They follow the proprietress wherever she goes, from Mountain View to Midtown. When Linda opens a restaurant, they find her. Visit this strip mall marvel behind Walmart on Denali and Benson Boulevard and you too, may become a helpless slave. After three visits in the last week, I am a slave to Lapp. And Pho. On my first two visits, Britney Spears wailed "Hit Me Baby One More Time" repeatedly from the boombox topped with Chinese wise men figurines. I wondered if the song had subliminal messages to keep me coming back for more. The menu at Pho Vietnam includes both Vietnamese and Thai dishes as well as smoothies depicted in giant glossy photo prints, steamed pork and hardboiled egg dumplings, tapioca and corn pudding, talkative babies, and infectious grooves. The dining room is an airy room with windows on two of its four walls. Clean and fragrant with freshly cooked soups and grilled meat, Pho Vietnam is the kind of place that, mercifully, makes you feel you're not in Anchorage. Or maybe it's the kind of place that Anchorage could become, graced with interesting flavors, people from all over the world, and a tidy gleam.My friend's favorite dishes have quickly become mine: Lapp and Pho. For the uninitiated, Lapp is a Thai dish of minced meat (chicken, beef or pork) sauteed with toasted rice, shallots, fish sauce, spearmint, cilantro, green onion and chile peppers served with a side of steamed white rice. Pho Vietnam buys their peppers at the A & P Market, which I hear makes them most authentic and dangerous. They use two different kinds: the black peppers and the red. What makes Lapp so addictive is the crispiness of the toasted rice studded with chile pepper seeds. Salty and sweet, the peppers attack the tongue with a heat that is first delicious, then punishingly inescapable. Be ready to sweat. A sprinkling of sugar from the condiment caddy can relieve the pain for a few seconds. I ordered Lapp spicy the first time. It was like hot yoga with a dominatrix, but food. It hurts, but don't order it mild, because it's the chile seeds that make Lapp crack. You don't want to miss them.The Pho Chicken Noodle has its own juju. The broth is infused with a balanced aromatic base of fresh chicken, ginger, star anise and cinnamon, a tang of fish sauce, fresh lime to squeeze, sprouts, thai basil, cilantro, and sliced jalapenos. Thin rice noodles soak up the intensely satisfying taste of the broth. The chicken is sliced in paper thin ruffles. If you haven't had enough heat, there are several chile choices on the table, including rooster sauce and black chile paste. After Lapp, the jalapenos lend a floral mercy, as relenting as a cucumber. I want the recipes for their Pho and Lapp so bad, but I'm intermittently shy. Maybe I'll see if I can ride my friend's coattails to get the inside dope.

Pho Vietnam 3030 Denali St # 1, Anchorage - (907) 929-9938

Belly Dancer's Risotto with Wild Mushrooms

2009-04-04T17:20:00.000-07:00

This risotto is a sumptuous pillow for delicate, earthy mushrooms spiced with garlic, shallots, cinnamon, fresh thyme, lemon juice, red pepper flakes, and parsley. I dub this Belly Dancer's Risotto because it has a spicy middle eastern kick and a voluptuous texture. Classic Italian risottos are delicious, but I am never sorry when I import the flavors of another cuisine to the realm of this marvelous, naturally creamy rice.

Serves 2 with leftovers

Ingredients:

1/8 cup olive oil
A shallot the size of your thumb, minced
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
Enough risotto for 4 people (2 belly dancer handfuls)
A goodly amount of chicken or mushroom stock, about 32 oz.
1-2 cups mixed button and wild mushrooms, sponged off and torn into tasty morsels
A bunch of roughly chopped parsley, plus extra for garnish
A handful of chopped thyme
A sprinkle of cinnamon (go easy to prevent this from being a rice pudding)
Juice of one lemon and the finely diced zest for garnish
½ lemon, very thinly sliced
Salt and pepper
Grated parmesan, grana padano, myzithra, asiago or the cheese of your choice

Instructions:

1. Saute the shallot in the olive oil in a pan for risotto, as convex as a dancer's belly. After the shallot softens, add the garlic for a minute or two. Don't let the garlic turn brown! Salt and pepper to taste.

2. Add the risotto to the pan and saute for a couple of minutes on low to medium heat. Here, add a splash of white wine if you like, or leave it out if you don't.

3. Heat up the stock in another pan until almost boiling and add enough hot stock to the risotto pan to cover the risotto. Set the heat on medium. Now you must stand at the stove and stir the risotto steadily until you notice the water has boiled off. Keep adding more stock to the risotto to cover it and stirring.

4. After you've replaced stock a few times, add the mushrooms, cinnamon, lemon juice, thyme, and more salt and pepper to taste.

5. Add more stock, stir, and let boil off as many times as is necessary until the risotto is soft and the mushrooms are cooked.

6. When the risotto has reached the desired texture, top the dish with grated cheese and red pepper flakes. This is the finishing touch. The cheese and the chili flakes are a creamy, hot counterpoint to the citrus and the meatiness of the mushrooms, almost recalling roasted meat or corn that comes served with many of the same seasonings. It's a magic dish.

Masbut! (This means "exact" in Arabic and is what you say if you want the perfect amount of sugar in your coffee)

Image: Bellydancer from Photobucket by Angelchild531

Sugarspoon

2009-03-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

I was not the sweetest tooth in my family. My mother could put away a pound of See's Candy in 48 hours. She was known, in her day, to visit the famous Mitchell's ice cream parlor in San Francisco more than once before the sun set. She was the queen of sweet. I am much more moderate in my taste for desserts, but Sugarspoon is undeniably one of the highlights of the gentrification of Spenard, our funky district of brothels and saloons just south of downtown.Sugarspoon sells approximately 6-8 cakes a day (both whole and by the slice) and has a sit down menu of chic concept desserts. Wednesday is cupcake day. The cupcakes are the pinnacle of sugarspoon, due to the perfect moistness of the cake as well as the rich frosting and whimsical decorations, like glaceed cherries. Since there aren't any cupcakes on Saturday, today I chose a slice of the chocolate peanut butter cake with a capuccino to whet my whistle. A multilayer chocolate cake with chopped peanuts on top with a delicious peanut butter filling the texture of caramel, this was one of Sugarspoon's best cakes. A mango mousse cake looked intriguing too, with its red dusting of li hing mui (salty sweet dried plum) powder on a creamy white frosting.Their tropical carrot cake has also been worth the indulgence on past visits, with its spicy carrot layers spliced with coconut and cream cheese frosting. Last summer, a poppyseed layer cake with fresh strawberries was tall, not too sweet, and tartly spiked with the fresh berries. It was summer in its platonic form. To me, food items should represent all otherwise banal concepts and objects in their platonic forms. In fact, Platonic Forms would be a good name for an eatery. But I digress.Sugarspoon has experimented with sugarfree desserts. I confess I have not explored these offerings. Banana cream pie was a sugarfree choice today. Health might require a sugarfree option, I realize. The place is called Sugarspoon, not Steviaspoon. What do I know?

The specialty dessert menu includes a rotating selection. Right now, they have profiteroles, raspberry hazelnut trifle, pineapple upside down cake with coconut ice cream, caramel and key lime sauce, strawberry coconut sorbet, caramel apple bread Pudding, warm chocolate cake with a cherry truffle center served with kirsch and cream crème brulee (always a different daily flavor), and a kid's menu, with black forest float, strawberry shortcake sunday, and peanut butter cup.

At 2601 Spenard Road, Anchorage, AK 99503, Sugarspoon is open from Tuesday through Sunday, 11 a.m. — 11 p.m. In Our Town, the 11 p.m. closing time gives you somewhere else to go if you can't fathom another night of pints at the pub, cruising the adult bookstores, or wine coolers on the davenport watching reality TV.

There's something unwholesome about too much TV at home. People should get out more in Spenard for their mental health. Here's a cautionary tale: a couple of years ago there was a couple who committed suicide in the apartments I call The Carcass Arms, just a few blocks away from Sugarspoon. Days after their suicide, the stench of their death was enough to bring help, but the TV was still running. Don't let this be you. Get out and eat cake. Make Spenard a healthier place.

Cait Makes Bouillabaisse

2009-03-25T01:12:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, Alaska was needing a little bit of Provence. It was snowing again, and I was nostalgic for my childhood days when my friend and I steamed full speed ahead into Julia Child's Mastering the Art to make french pastry puffs. True, our croquembouche ultimately required rubber cement, but we were gutsy kids to take on such a culinary challenge. Julia Child's recipe for bouillabaisse is much simpler than those for pastry. I modified her recipe to really bring out the flavors and textures that make a great bouillabaisse. Soft pillows of boiled fennel in a saffron infused broth, the typical provencal flavor base of copious amounts of garlic, onion, tomatoes, thyme, various fresh and wild fish and shellfish, and a chiffonade of basil with spicy red pepper mayo called rouille on top. Don't forget the crusty fresh bread! We've got a great bakery nearby. Have a little wine while you're at it.

Ingredients

For the broth:
3 tablespoons lobster better than bouillon
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 bulbs fennel, cut into large planks
6 cloves garlic
several bay leaves
handful of fresh thyme or dry herbes de provence
1 pound fish bones and crab shells (I used stone crab claws)
Water to cover
1 cup white wine

For the Bouillabaisse:
3 large pinches of saffron
1 large white onion, sliced
6 small fresh tomatoes, quartered
1 clementine, peel and all
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1 handful italian parsley, whole
Diced fresh red chili pepper
As much mixed fish and seafood as you can get your hands on. I used Alaskan
cod, spot shrimp, stone crab claws. and a tin of fine anchovies
Salt and pepper (careful on the salt if you’ve amped up the broth with bouillon
or anchovies as I did)

Instructions
First, chop up the onion, the fennel, and the garlic. Saute in olive oil. In a large stock pot, dissolve the “Better than Bouillon” goop in boiling water. Put the onion, fennel and garlic with the bay leaves into the stock pot, along with the fish bones and shells, water, and wine. Let boil for about 40 minutes.

When stock begins to develop flavor, strain to remove fish bones and shells. Leave in the bay leaves, onion, garlic and fennel. Add the saffron to the pot. In a separate pan, saute the onions, garlic and tomatoes. Add this additional flavor layer to the pot, along with the parsley. Peel a clementine. Dump the peel in the pot. Squeeze the clem tenderly and put it in the pot. Let these ingredients simmer for another 15 minutes. You should notice the color of the soup redden and become more velvety. Finally, take your tasty fish and shellfish, saute them in a bit more olive oil (I did a quick flash cook in a pan with hot red chilis) and splash them into the stock pot for a 10 minute simmer. Remove the darling clementine and any other stray twig, shell, bone, or carapace.

Snip a bunch of fresh basil into a chiffonade. Go to the Ripoff Market for a zesty red pepper mayonaise called rouille, happily made for lazy sods like me. A table, serve the bouillabaisse in bowls, with a dollop of rouille, a scatter of basil, and crusty bread.

Compliments au chef!

Momma O's

2009-03-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

While it's not always obvious amidst the tangle of oil company towers and Native corporation office buildings that sprawl across the Bowl, Anchorage is a seafood town. It's not like Homer, or Kodiak, or all the little Southeast towns with their rusting boat ramps and dockside filet stations that lace the Inside Passage, but here and there, tucked into the heavy machinery of commerce, is evidence of our fishy past. Like many young Alaskans before the Exxon Valdez put a big nail in the industry's coffin, I tried my luck in the fishing industry to make a quick summer buck or two for college. I worked, among other places, at the "egg house" at the old Whitney plant down at the port, packing salmon roe from 10 pm until noon the next day.

Later, after it became clear that I wasn't gifted in the arcane art of packing caviar, or canning fish, or really anything that looked like mindless work, but really wasn't, I became the Fish Ticket Princess of the long defunct John Cabot Seafoods, in an industrial area off the Old Seward Highway. Most of the time, I crunched numbers instead of salmon heads, but would sometimes go down and work in the cannery, or do quality control at the end of the slime line. It was a fun job, one that is almost entirely gone now, since the fishing titans took over and turned it into one more megalithic employer of the world's desperate people. Now industrial sharecroppers process fish in conditions that should not be allowed in the territorial waters of the United States instead of college kids looking for a summer job like me, my friends, and Hilary Rodham Clinton, who was fired for rabble rousing on a Valdez slime line the summer I was born.

We cherish our briny roots, though, and nowhere is that more evident than Momma O's Seafood. Located on what used to be a seedy block of Spenard Road, Momma O's has been serving Alaska halibut since long before I picked up a skein of roe. I chose Momma O's for my first review on 907EAT because it's one of the surviving quintessential Anchorage restaurants, like Club Paris, the subject of an upcoming post. There is a reason these places have survived in a town so unsentimental that it has for all practical purposes abandoned one of the finest remaining Art Deco theaters on the West Coast.

As the sign says, batter dipped halibut is king at Momma O's, and indeed it is. On a recent trip, Cait and I ordered battered halibut, clam strips, and the daily special, halibut tacos. The best daily special is Tuesday's halibut cheeks. Also available are various grilled and fried mollusks, a fresh, salty udon that would probably cure winter along with the common cold. Chicken and tasty, if slightly crispy, burgers are available for those who prefer turf to surf. Service is friendly, cheerful, and efficient, but not always quick when busy.

Cait's halibut dinner (about $15) was served with a side salad, available at the salad bar. Momma's salad bar is limited, but always seems fresh, with crunchy vegetables and a nice pasta shell salad. It's a healthy counterpoint for the fried bonanza to come.

Momma O's batter is light and does its job, which is to keep the fish inside tender and juicy while it cooks. I have never had bad halibut here and recent trips are no exception: the halibut was steamy, fresh and coated with golden batter. Served with fries, this is not a meal you should have every day, but it's great way to splurge when you have triglyceride points to spare. Ask for the "chicken sauce", a proprietary ginger/miso blend that was the subject of a big fight when Momma's was sold a few years back. It is good on everything, especially the fries.

The clam strips, while deep-fried to perfection, are not as good a choice as the scallops for a side mollusk. Get the scallops grilled.

The halibut tacos are not among Momma's better choices. Served on a tepid whole wheat tortilla with a dill sauce, they're fresh and the fish is perfectly steamed and seasoned, but the dish is just not up to the standard set by tastier options. A better healthy choice is grilled halibut served with brown rice and the chicken sauce. Steamed halibut is also available for the extreme ascetic. These steamed and grilled options are why Momma O's has a loyal following among local bodybuilders; the muscle boys love their protein without all the grease, and there are many fantastic options here. Those with smaller appetites can choose the halibut sandwich and forego the cheese and/or bun, grilled, steamed or fried.

The best bet for the uninitiated is an early lunch on Tuesday. Arrive just before noon, order the halibut cheeks special, grab a table or stool with a view, and sit back and watch most of Spenard trickle through the door. Show up at noon, and you'll need a shoehorn and some patience to get in the door.

Momma O's, 2636 Spenard Road, is open M-F until 8, Saturday until 6. Closed Sundays. 278-2216.

Fire Island Rustic Bakeshop Anchorage, AK

2009-03-18T18:49:00.000-07:00

Fire Island Rustic Bakeshop is a neighborhood gem. Tucked away on the corner of 14th and G street in downtown Anchorage, Fire Island is midway between Downtown City Market and Chugach Elementary. Even though it’s only been open a few weeks, Fire Island is no secret to the locals, who jam the place.

In a tiny space next to a nail salon, Fire Island has burnt orange walls and wood and a little row of tables for two that stay busy. The bakeshop is open Thursday through Monday 7 a.m. - 6 p.m. and closed Tuesday and Wednesday. Owners Jerry Lewanski and Janis Fleischman appear to be on site in the five times I have visited, working alongside the main team of Chase Agee, intern from the UAA Culinary Arts program, Jason Croft, and Greta Lewanski. The staff tends to their breads and their customers with a respect and care unusual in Anchorage, where many clerks and servers lack finesse (ahem).

Every time I walk into Fire Island, it seems the owners’ old friends are grinning at Lewanski and Fleischman’s new venture. The place does have a warmth about it and they offer something rare and in demand: organic, artisanal baked goods.

Daily breads include ciabatta, fire island rustic wheat, whole weat sourdough or rustic rye. A list of specialty breads change daily. Also on offer are French pastries, “other outrageous treats” (to quote the website www.fireislandbread.com) and sandwiches.

To drink, they have tea from local Summit Spice, drip coffee from Homer’s K Bay Coffee, and juice spritzers from Knudsen.

The scene at Fire Island is a mix of health nuts, arctic athletes, aged hippies, lawyers, yuppies of all ages and sizes, more lawyers, babies and their handlers, et al. Quality is high and this bakery has the goods, but you pay a premium to tooth the whole grain. In spite of the recession, Fire Island Bakeshop may just be the little bakery that could. Fire Island offers true artisanal baking to a niche customer who has the money to spend and feels good spending it on local, organic, fair trade food and drink.

I hope the economy can support this place, because the prices are higher than markets like Sagaya (my friends and family all call it the Ripoff Market as we shop there weekly) and bakeries like L’Aroma and Europa. Prices at Fire Island are comparable to bakeries and chic eateries in cities like Paris and San Francisco. I have to say that, on the whole, Fire Island’s quality does warrant its higher prices.

This brings a troubling question to mind: are organic/local/fair trade foods and drinks a luxury for the rich? YES.

Fire Island is a rustic bakeshop. If you are not a bakery scholar, you might not know that there has been a whole movement to revive the rustic methods of breadmaking. In France, by the 1960s, the quality of bread had tubed and societies formed to abandon the soft, tasteless mass-produced breads and return to breads made with lots of time, a little yeast, what are called “pre-ferments” (think sourdough), and different flours. The revival of old-fashioned methods has caught on all over the world. But enough pedantry.

Now, let’s rate the goods:

Original Croissant and Kin *****

The most delicious items at Fire Island are kin to the original croissant, I say. They are dainty perfection. Not too big, not too dry, but just right. Each croissant is the length of a lady’s hand and made of delicate pastry separated by myriad folds and invisible pats of butter. These croissants are perfect, even better than The Croissant Café née Crazy Croissant, the Spenard champion in the croissant category.

The monkey bread is also a must scarf. Adorable popover-like items made of cinnamon sugar croissant dough, these things could sway the likes of the sainted Dr. Atkins may he rest in peace.

Roasted Potato Bread ****

Also inspired is the roasted potato bread, a moist loaf of potato flour studded with tender chunks of roasted potato. This bread has a gentle crust and crumbly texture. It would be genius with a lemon and salt roasted chicken. We ate ours in thick slices alongside antipasti of various meats, cheeses, olives and pickles. Almost cakelike with a sweet mouthfeel (it’s not just for wine anymore), the roasted potato bread lends itself to cornucopia presentation, aka wretched excess.

Roasted Beet Sandwich **

The roasted beet sandwich is served on a whole wheat ciabatta roll with vibrant slices of beets, chevre, and peppery arugula. The fillings are bright and sustaining. The challenge is to turn out rustic bread that does not injure the gums. A person should not need to convalesce after eating a sandwich. I bought one of these sandwiches and halfway through, my jaw was too tired to finish. Fire Island should consider modifying the recipe to soften the crust just a bit. Rustic should not mean ravaging.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich ***

Served on small slices of bread, the PBJ has less crust surface area than the beet sandwich. The peanut butter is rich and moist and the jelly was one of the local Alaskan jams. Delicious. The crust was a little easier on the mouth but still quite rugged.

Cinnamon Roll *

Outrageous treat? Come on. We all want to be healthy, but a cinnamon roll should be lubricated with sugar and butter. Fire Island’s cinnamon roll is a cinnamon whole wheat dough with far too little sin. I say to this cinnamon roll, “Sing out Louise!” Treacle, somebody? Anybody? I’m parched.

Ginger Lemon Cookie *****

As if to redeem the whole operation, this cookie saves the day. The crumb is gentle, the flavor is a wallop of sweet gingerbread, and the rosettes of orange pastry cream are like pastel ornament on a San Francisco apartment building. I adore this cookie. It should never change.

This won’t be the last loving swipe we take at Fire Island Rustic Bakeshop on 907EAT. Please share your comments. What do you think of Fire Island’s products? Any favorites? Thoughts on artisanal baking? Local spots you’d like to see reviewed? Please let us know.

Welcome to 907EAT

2009-03-15T20:25:00.000-07:00

This blog will be devoted to food in the Last Frontier. We are searching for culinary inspiration in a state that's not known for good taste - not in politics, architecture, sartorial options, and not, unfortunately, in food. But, we'd rather light a candle than curse the darkness, especially when it's dark outside for 19 1/2 hours a day. We'll review restaurants but also report on our own travels, finds, and inventions at home.