James Beard Celebrity Chef Dinner Series: Cookin' In The Bluegrass

On a warm  autumn Saturday early evening, Michael, I, and 80 guests gathered on the lawn of the The Farmhouse  tucked amid the rolling grounds of The Kentucky Horse Park for one of the final James Beard Celebrity Chef Dinners.  We,  and other guests, arrived early and lounged on the front lawn with great anticipation for the festivities to begin.

Several of the guest chefs mingled with the crowd until it was time to start.  Last nights dinner featured spectacular James Beard celebrity chefs cooking alongside very high caliber local chefs.  They gathered in the kitchen of The Farmhouse to spotlight Kentucky food and ingredients.  Chef Michael Cimarusti, partner and Executive Chef of Providence, Los Angeles, California is a  2010 James Beard Award Winner.  Chef Christopher Lee, Executive Chef of Charlie Palmer's Aureole, New York, New York was a 2006 James Beard Award Winner and earned 2 Michelin Stars at Gilt Restaurant in New York before taking over the kitchen at Aureole.  Chef Dean Corbett, Corbett's, Jack's Lounge, and Equus, Louisville, Kentucky is an instituion in the local culinary community.  Representing Holly Hill, Midway, Kentucky, was  3 time James Beard Award nominee Ouita Michel.

Those were some heavy credentials hitting the grounds of the Kentucky Horse Park and the kitchen of The Farmhouse.  It promised to be an eventful evening.

It was epic.  In every way.

From the very first sip of wine and nibble of food to the last toast with dessert, the evening was a tremendous success.

Precisely at 7 p.m., the corks  popped on the front lawn for a Kentucky Wine Tasting, featuring Elk Creek Vineyards & Equus Run Vineyard and Winery.

Inside the lobby of The Farmhouse, Maker's Mark Specialty Cocktails and Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale were served from a waxed dripped Maker's Mark Bar.

We sipped cocktails and mingled with the crowd while servers glided in and out with trays of passed hors d' oeuvres.  Chef Dean Corbett offered local Kentucky Bison Tartar served on on tiny crisp crostini.  It was highly seasoned with flecks of fresh herbs, very lean, and rich.  Happy Jack's Savory Pumpkin Beignet with Sapori d' Italia Aged Goat Cheese came nestled on tiny china plates with bite sized deep fried pumpkin beignets topped with a specks of tangy goat cheese.    It was a fascinating flavor profile.

Our favorite server of the evening, Marie, carried a long rectangular china serving platter with individual tasting spoons of House Cured Guanciale (cured pork jowls), with Maker's Mark 46 Bourbon and Green Apple. The crisp tartness of the apple provided crunch and acid for the Italian bacon.  I loved the delicate fresh chervil garnish that enveloped the pork jowl bites.  Marie hawked them as "the best bacon you'll ever eat."  I ate seven.

Ouita Michel is famous for her shrimp & grits.  Last night, she prepared a deconstructed passed hors d' oeurvres version of it with Kentucky Raised Freshwater Shrimp and Grits. Perched atop tall shot glasses of grits essence was a skewered ham cube, scallion, perfectly cooked shrimp, and fried cheese grits cubes.  We sucked down the skewered delicacies and shot the essence.  The combination was impeccable. It tasted like a bowl of shrimp and grits in one bite-shoot-and-swallow motion.  Salty and sweet with major corn impact.  I wanted more.

As the sun began to set under a gorgeous Kentucky sky, we were called to dinner.  We made our way into The Farmhouse, through the lobby, out the back door, past the Governor's Garden, and into the glassed-in dining room.  It was beautiful.. Every table was gilded with gorgeous glass centerpieces from Artique and set with enough stemware to fill a warehouse.  Each table had 64 pieces of stemware for eight guests.  I know.  I counted.

First Course: Diver Sea Scallop Sashimi

Butternut Squash, Endive, Green Apple, Pumpkin Seeds, and Kentucky Barrel Ale

                       Wild Horse, Viognier, Central Coast

What a way to begin a meal.  The incredibly fresh diver sea scallops were very thinly sliced and served raw

with dollops of chilled pureed butternut squash, green apple, endive, and Kentucky Barrel Ale.  Toasted pumpkin seeds added crunch while tender greens provided freshness.  Sporting a nod to molecular gastronomy, the individual pockets of  jellied flavor exploded when sliced.  Individually, they didn't make sense and were too intense.  But, when swirled together like a Jackson Pollack painting with bits of scallop shashimi, they became a unified whole.  The buttery soft briny sea scallops soaked up the vibrant endive, tart apple, and velvet squash.  It was smart and clean.  A perfect beginning.

Second Course: Bluegrass Moussaka

Socca Crepes filled with Bourbon County Pulled Lamb, Eggplant Caviar, Cream, and Fresh Tomato Coulis

                          Robert Mondavi Winery, Pinot Noir, Caneros

In complete contrast to the first course, the bluegrass moussaka was earthy and deep.  Socca crepes are made from ground chicpeas forming light as air pancakes. The crepe had the texture of a soft thick corn tortillas.  It was an utter surprise with its fluffy texture perfectly draped over fork tender brasied local pulled lamb mixed eggplant caviar.  Napped with cream and fresh tomato coulis, it was sophisticated comfort food.  Fried chickpeas tumbled by the side added crunch and earthiness.  I could have eaten only that socca lamb-filled crepe and called it a day.  It was perfect.  The soft Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir was an ideal pairing with the rustic succulent lamb soccas.

Third Course: Kentucky Farm Raised Striped Bass

Cannellini Beans, Okra, Smoked Bacon, Gallrein Farms Corn Broth, Corn Fritter and Popcorn Shoots

                            Ruffino, La Solatia Chardonnay, Toscanna IGT

The sea bass arrived on a bed of tender slow cooked cannellini beans in a pool of corn broth topped with smoked bacon and a fried corn fritter. It was moist, mild, and flaky. It held up to the robust hardiness of the beans, the smoky saltiness of the bacon, and the transparent corn broth. The fluffy fresh corn-studded fried fritter punched the corn flavor through while the bacon actually provided a meaty heftiness to the dish. The mouthfeel was velvety until the crackling bacon crunch.  Although I would have loved to have had a lemon squeeze for a bit of acidity, it was boldy seasoned and fantastic.  That being said, the bright acidity of the Ruffino Chardonnay provided the needed lift.  The sea bass was a huge crowd favorite.  Bacon makes everything better.

The food seemed to never end.  It just kept coming and coming.  The wine kept flowing and flowing. 

Were we on the Titanic's maiden voyage seated in the Grand Ballroom with American Nobility living life to excess?  It felt like it .......and it was grand.

Fourth Course: Roasted Breast of Kentucky Squab

Maker's Mark 46 Infused Squab Jus, Sweet Potatoes, Collard Greens

                             SIMI Merlot, Sonoma County

The roasted squab hit my culinary G-Spot. It was cooked to a perfect pink with crackling skin bathed in a sweet Maker's Mark 46 bourbon glaze.  Oh my.  It was a tiny thing with just a bit of meat.  With permission from our tablemates, we all ate it with our fingers gnawing every bit of flesh from the bones.  Like animals.  Maybe it was the wine.  Nope, it was the delicate tender rich bourbon-glazed squab.  There was enough squab jus puddled on the plate to swipe the meat through for unnecassary added richness.  A cubed sauteed caramelized sweet potato sat next to the shiny squab. With a mad stroke of culinary genius, Chef Michael Cimarusti perched a fois gras & ground squab stuffed collard green bundle on top of the sticky caramelized sweet potato cube. Speechless.

It was time for a needed break.  We excused ourselves from the table to step outside.  Apparently, everyone else felt the same as the entire room full of people followed suit.  We were calling a collective time out.  Everyone needed a short break from the divine culinary assault. 

I, of course, slipped into the kitchen to absorb the back-of-the-house action. It was fascinating.

Fifth Course: A Selection of Ripened and Aged Chevres from Capriole with Pear Compote

                            Champagne Veuve Cliquot, Demi Sec NV, Reims, France

The three cheese selections represented the finest from Capriole.  The goat cheese sampler was served in ripening succesion from soft and tangy to to aged and nutty.  Splendid.  Pear compote was passed as an optional topper.  It was a nice respite with calming flavors that was accentuated beautifully with sparkling dry Veuve Cliquot.

Sixth Course: Individual Apple Stack Cake with Scott County Hickory Nut Brittle and Maker's Mark Bourbon Caramelized Evan's Orchard Apples.

                             Inniskillin, Reisling Icewine, Niagara Peninsula Ontario

How could life have gotten any better?  Short bread topped with deeply caramelized sticky apples with a scoop of pristine fresh whipped cream to the side, that's how.  Better, yet? Crunchy black hickory nut brittle scattered over the top.  Again, speechless.  I'm not a big dessert eater.  I inhaled it.  The shortcake had complete soaked the sugary sweetness from the caramelized apples.  Think inverted gooey pineapple upside down cake (without the cherries).  It had that essence. Unbelievable.

Royal Cup Coffee, Decaffeinated Coffe and Tea

Wow!

The guests chefs came out to thunderous applause and were introduced and presented with traditional James Beard Certificates honoring the celebration, nurturing, and preservation of America's diverse culinary heritage and future.

Michael and I were honored and fortunate to be a part of The James Beard Celebrity Chef Dinner Series: Cookin' In The Bluegrass. The food was impeccable, the people were joyous, and the atmosphere was electric.  We will never forget the evening, the meal, the service, the hospitality, or the experience.

Michael gave me a James Beard Foundation Culinary Professional Membership for my birthday.

Last night, we were invited to stop by the James Beard House the next time we are in New York.

We will.

Kitchen Shenanagins

"What are you making for dinner?", Michael asked, as he strolled into the kitchen after his afternoon nap. I was frying parmesan breaded baby eggplant medallions at the time.  "I have no idea.", I replied.

I didn't. 

No clue.

I had a lot of ingredients.  I was trying to figure out a dinner plan while I fried the tiny and cute baby eggplants as a jumping point. Frying and thinking.  Frying and thinking.  I thought about eggplant parmesan.  Nope.  The last one I attempted sucked.  It looked awful and tasted even worse. Scratch that.

Moussaka?  Hardly. They were too small for a proper moussaka.

I had  fresh pasta, caperberries, nicoise olives, capers, and farmers' market red peppers. Should I place the fried eggplant on top of the pasta?  Or, make a pasta nest and rest the eggplant into the nest before saucing? Should the eggplant and pasta be sauced together or seperately?  And, if so, with which sauce?Alfredo?  Carbonara? Puttanesca? Marinara?

I fried all the eggplant rounds with their stemmed tops, sprinkled them with sea salt,  and stared at them for a while before deciding to construct individual eggplant napoleans.  Deconstructed eggplant parmesan napoleans.

Fun!

I stacked repeated layers of the parmesan breaded fried eggplant rounds with fresh mozzarella,  fresh basil leaves, and tiny dollops of fresh marinara before topping the individual stacks with their fried lids. I set them aside and heated the oven to 350.

I finally settled on  fresh marinara sauce to dress the eggplant napoleans and decided to serve them   alongside olive oil  sauteed al dente fresh pasta, sliced red peppers, slivered onions, caperberries, capers, minced garlic, and nicoise olives.

Whew. With decisions made and mise en place,  it was time to enjoy a few glasses of wine.  Not a moment too soon.  My head was exploding.

When it was time to dine, I slid the eggplant napoleans into the well heated oven to melt the cheese and warm through.  While they warmed, I sauteed sliced red peppers, onions, and minced garlic until softened and caramelized.  After cooking  fresh linguini in heavily salted water until almost al dente, I scooped it out with a spider and tossed it into the hot saute pan to finish cooking with the sizzling vegetables.  Torn fresh basil, scattered caperberries, capers, black olives, salt, pepper, and a glug of olive oil finished it off.

I pooled fresh marinara onto our plates, nestled the eggplant stacks onto the sauce, and drizzled additional marinara over the top.  Using tongs, I twirled and swirled the jeweled pasta to the side of the napoleans with  garlic-butter slathered ciabatta slices as soppers.

The eggplant was crisp and salty with gooey dripping mozzarella streaming down the layers.  The slight anise  flavored baked basil flavored the mild cheese with its inherent essential oils as it oozed from the napoleans.  The thick fresh marinara sauce added a sweet tomato acidity that cut through the fried eggplant and baked cheese, adding a needed freshness.  Fantastic.

The lip sticking olive oil draped linguini was tarted up by the briny pickled caperberries and capers with mouth popping explosions.  Acidic.  Sharp. Perfect. The black olives played off the crisp red peppers with salty earthy undertones. Side by side, the vegetable studded olive oil dressed pasta wonderfully balanced the crunchy cheesy richness of the marinara napped eggplant napoleans. 

It was fun to fly by the seat of my pants.  To not have a plan.....at all.

Farmers' Market: Fall Harvest

Throughout the entire growing season I have stopped by the farmers' market every Tuesday morning on my way to work.  Some days I had particular things in mind to purchase, while other days I simply strolled through the stalls for inspiration.  I made occasional trips to the crazy, vibrant, and bustling Saturday market, but Tuesday mornings were  always my market time.  It's been interesting watching the seasons morph into each other as the fresh produce changed over time.  Beautiful fresh locally grown vegetables would come in for a short stay before overlapping with newly arriving vegetables until gone.  Change.

Lately, the bright colors of tomatoes, plump blackberries, raspberries, summer squash, melons, and cantelopes have been replaced with the muted autumn hues of winter squash, potatoes, kale, turnips, pole beans, roma beans, okra, hickory nuts, and garlic.  The glorious fresh bursting plentiful piles of  corn  now have tall bundled proud corn shocks in thier place.   The autumn vegetables are all glorious and beautiful in a melancholy way. 

With crisp cool air erasing  memories of long gone stifling summer heat under a steel blue sky, I made my weekly pilgrimage yesterday morning amid long cast morning  shadows.  Serene.  Quiet.

The venders have dwindled to a few, slowly dropping away from the grounds. The ones still remaining exude hopeful exhuberance and, as usual, I was entranced.  Delicata squash, striped acorn squash, Casey County turnips with greens, tender tiny collard greens, baby bulbous eggplant, and orange fleshed sweet potatoes caught my eye yesterday morning. 

An autumn harvest meal was in the making and I was happy.

I ripped open my morning haul when I got home from work.  I needed to get the striped acorn squash in the oven because of the long braise it required.  I halved the squash, scraped out the seeds, and salted it before laying it cut side down in a covered  casserole dish with juiced oranges to braise for 1 1/2 hours.

I prepped the beautiful tender tiny collard greens by washing them before slicing them into 1/2 inch ribbons.  Late season collards can be large and tough.  The greens were picked that morning from a Casey Country farmer trying to avoid the possible early frost that had been predicted. They were  like  baby collard green leaves with tender slim central stems that did not require removal.  Just gorgeous. After slicing them into ribbons, I set them aside to work on the chicken.

After rinsing two organic chicken breasts under cool water, I carefully slid a very sharp knife into the thickest part of the meat and gingerly sliced pockets into each breast before stuffing them with herbed goat cheese.  Once stuffed, I dipped them in egg wash, rolled them in panko bread crumbs, and placed them in the refrigerator to set up before dinner.

With mise en place while the squash braised away, I joined Michael in our 130 year old victorian parlor for wine, music, and our daily catch-up conversations. Comfort.

After the squash had braised into buttery goodness, I heated a skillet until screaming hot, added olive oil until it sizzled, and carefully placed the panko breaded goat cheese stuffed chicken breasts into the pan.  When both sides had fried to a golden luxurious brown, I removed them to rest while I whipped up a quick white wine sauce.

At the very last minute, I sauteed sliced bacon in a tad of olive oil until crisp, tossed in 2 minced garlic cloves to caramelize, and feathered the ribbony collard greens into the garlicky bacon fat to cook for exactly 4 minutes before pulling them off the heat.  A final splash of balsamic vinegar bathed the bright green bacony garlic greens.

I inverted the striped acorn squash onto our plates, added a knob of butter, a drizzle of pure maple syrup, a sprinkling of sea salt, and finger torn parsely.

I tonged the collard greens next to the squash, topped them with the crisp chicken, and ladled the translucent  white wine sauce over the chicken before sprinkling with finely sliced scallions.

I nestled traditional sliced boiled eggs into the collard greens as a nod to southern heritage.

Usually, greens   are cooked for hours with smoked ham hock until greyish brown.  Tasty and familiar.  Old school.

Our new school greens were vivid green, fresh, and had body. They were bold and flavorful.  They tasted, smelled, and snapped like fresh collard greens. 

When sliced, the golden crisp chicken unleashed the tangy goat cheese filling, allowing it to spill onto the plate and into the greens. The combination of white wine-sauced crackingly crisp chicken, tangy soft melted warm goat cheese, and earthy garlicky sauteed collard greens was unbelievable.  Really unbelievable. We were undone. Totally.  Think about it.

The rich velvet squash oozed with butter and maple syrup.  Gutteral goodness.  Spoonable heaven.  Calming and comforting.

The bright freshness of summer vegetables may be on hold until next year.  We'll have to wait and yearn for their return.

But, right now there is bountiful beautiful harvesting to be enjoyed. 

Fall.  I welcome you with open arms.

Got Green Tomatoes? Roast Them For Chile Verde

I usually don't cook a lot of southwestern or Mexican dishes.  Lately, I have had  the ingredients on hand and the umph to do it.

Our tomato jungle is still producing gorgeous plump tomatoes. The ripening process has slowed a bit with the cooler weather. Consequently, we have many more green tomatoes than bright red ripe ones.  With so many of them out back, I decided I would cook them. With yesterday being a cool grey lazy Sunday, I wanted to make something that could simmer all day.  Fried green tomatoes didn't fit the bill. Even though I have fried everything under the sun this summer, I just wasn't in the mood for fried green tomatoes.

After the last summer's tomato blight, I ended up canning most of the unripened green tomatoes into chow chow, pickled greens tomatoes, and green tomato salsa verde.  Although, they are very different plants with very different characteristics, green tomatoes are not a bad substitute for tomatillos in Mexican cooking.

Chile Verde.  Perfect.

It was very straightforward and fairly traditional. I combined  ingredients for New Mexico Green Chili with those of Mexican Chile Verde for a hybrid chili....or stew.

I broiled Anaheim and poblano chiles until they were charred and blackened before tossing them in a bag to steam and soften.  While they self-steamed, I roasted seasoned halved green tomatoes, sliced onions, and peeled garlic until they collapsed and caramelized.

I peeled the skin off the charred peppers and scraped the seeds away.  Though some might rinse the seeds under running water, I didn't want to wash away the smoky flavor. When the tomatoes, onions, and garlic were cooked and softened, I coursely pureed them with the peppers until blended.

I chose big fat country style pork ribs for the stew.  They were easier to manipulate and to slice into one inch cubes before sauteing in olive oil until browned.  After they browned, I added the tomato pepper puree,  2 cups of chicken stock, cumin, ancho chile powder, oregano, salt, and pepper.  I plopped a lid over the dutch oven and let the stew simmer for 3 hours.

2 hours into the stove-top braise, I dropped in diced Delicata winter squash, diced new potatoes, chopped green bell peppers, and quartered red tomatoes to simmer uncovered for another hour. The house smelled amazing as the stew bubbled and reduced into a thick chunky chili.

Thankfully, at some point during the cooking process, I realized the chili was going to be way too spicy hot for Michael.  I kept tasting it and tasting it.  I knew it was totally not going to work for him.  The long braise afforded me the time to whip  up a milder pot of red chili that he could actually enjoy eating. I made it in the exact manner as the green chili, but used san marzano tomatoes in place of the fiery chiles.  Thank God.

I filled my bowl with the New Mexico Green Mexican Chile Verde, topped it with a dollop of sour cream, a squeeze of fresh lime juice, minced fresh green peppers, and a shower of cojita cheese.  I finished Michael's bowl of red the same way.

It was incredibly spicy, even for me.  I squirt Sriracha sauce straight from the bottle into my  mouth and suck Tobasco sauce from the tiny jar opening.  I know and like hot stuff.  It. Was. Spicy.

I loved it.  I loved the many-layered levels of flavor.  The sweet soft butternut-like Delicata squash tempered the heat with richness while the fatty pork offered up an unctous luxurious mouthfeel.  With welcome relief, the tangy sour cream and cojita cheese tamed the stew with tart creaminess. Cilantro added bright freshness while crisp minced green peppers crunched with tiny wet pepper bursts. Fantastic.

 Even through that fine line between pleasure and pain, I couldn't stop eating it.

Got green tomatoes?  Go ahead, roast them.!