Welcome to the Moulin Rouge Ramble, a dimly lit den of cabaret, cake  & corsets that popped up on Great Windmill Street a few weeks ago.  Hosted by the amazing word-of-mouth agency 1000heads, decorated by the creative visionary Ali O’Malley, and captured on film by the fantastically talented Mark, it was quite the evening to remember…as long as you didn’t down too many absinthe cocktails.

Come check out Mark’s amazing photos of our ephemeral Parisian creation filled with candlelit erotic poetry, beef bourguignon,  fishnet stockings and freeflowing champagne…

I tell you no lies when I mention the freeflowing champagne, generously supplied by the astonishingly accommodating, friendly, and up-for-anything folks at 1000heads.  Lined up in the soaring foyer of their Soho office building were dozens of champagne flutes, ready to welcome our diners who had solved mysterious clues of translation and location to turn up cabaret-clad in front of the Windmill Club for a night of adventure.

More meals should involve top hats and feathers.

All that week, we’d cooked and cleaned and baked and transported and decorated, up to the very last minute. Below, we add last-minute touches while the dancers practice their burlesque routines.

Thankfully, our dedicated team had everything looking spectacular by the time everyone arrived.

The Rambling Restaurant was lucky to have the most dedicated and gorgeous team of corseted and feathered servers from 1000heads, including the wonderful Lauren, Lisa, Donna, Gemma, Nicola, Sam, and even more who pitched in to hang curtains, wash dishes, move tables and boxes and abandon their desk and office space to our bizarre activities.  Below, Lauren and Lisa begin to take the cornichons and carrot salad out to be served with crusty baguettes & butter and foodrambler‘s delicious pork rillettes.

The large flatscreen television gives away our boardroom-as-kitchen, from which we served and stewed our three course meal.

Here foodrambler and I spoon up slow-cooked beef stew with parsley cream sauce. While I loved the earthy combination of wine and spices in the bourguignon, it doesn’t make for the prettiest presentation.  That was one of the many lessons we learned while serving 140 eaters over 2 nights, as well as very important ones on keeping food hot and timely for people.  Just as foodrambler flambéed about 25  saucepans of beef that made her kitchen erupt in flames, we jumped straight into the fire for this dining challenge and learned a lot about what worked and what didn’t as we went along that will be valuable for future events.  Most useful information learned: how to rock a corset-apron combination.  So much wisdom gained over this experience.

Back in the satin-draped dining room, people showed off their masks and moustaches…

and displayed their amazing handmade Moulin Rouge themed hats (well done Ailbhe)…

and talked and ate and admired the decorations…

…and participated in a fancy dress competition led by the deliciously scandalous poet Abi Palmer…

…and even found love at the Moulin Rouge.

But mostly, I think, they drank….

and drank…

…and drank.

We certainly contributed by handing out a very strong absinthe cocktail that we called the Drunken Fairy, but is generally known as Death In The Afternoon. Judging by the feedback from some aching heads the next day, it’s pretty apparent why.

I acknowledge I had quite a strong hand with the absinthe from Liqueurs de France …

but it’s much more fun to blame it all on Nicola the Green Fairy.

Some of my favorite photos of the evenings are of the favorite people I met, including the shot of this laughing lady…

and this adorable photo of our sexy dancers, the Chitty Chitty Bang Bangs. I only wish I had been hardcore enough to go out dancing with them till 6am like some impressive people I know.

Even if you don’t go clubbing with dancers in fishnets, you at least need to fit in a photo shoot in front of the Windmill Club.

Before our late night marathon dancing and cleaning sessions, we ended with a very sticky Moulin Rouge Velvet cake. I loved foodrambler’s chocolate fishnet stockings, threatening to slide off the tilting cake into a pool of buttery frosting madness.  I cut the red velvet cake into shocking scarlet slices that looked insane but tasted damn good.

And of course, everything tastes better with birthday candles.

Thanks a million to everyone involved. For more on the event, check out blog posts by foodrambler and 1000heads.

All photos copyright by Mark, except the last one from 1000heads.

Let’s talk about the menu. Since we’re new at this whole restaurant thing, we haven’t really figured out how to simultaneously serve a secret supper and photodocument it, so bear with us on the pictures!

We started with a red wine oxtail and beef tongue stew, served as chilled, jelly hemispheres, with a layer of homemade Momofuku pickles on a toasted baguette round.

Probably the most challenging dish of the evening, our tongue-and-tail amuse bouche was cast in a mold designed and cut by Amin. Pretty cool, huh? We value the use of all parts of the animals we eat, and wanted our guests to do the same. To our surprise and delight, nobody tried to escape the event while we described this dish, and everyone cleaned their plate! On a side note, those pickles are so addictive and delicious – definitely at the top of my these-are-so-easy-to-make-i’ll-never-buy-them-again list.

For our starter, we served the dish that has been our pride, joy, and near-undoing for the last several months: pork belly with butternut squash polenta. Cured for two days in a mix of brown sugar, sea salt, cinnamon, cloves, star anise and black pepper, and then braised for upwards of three hours in a pot of chicken stock and Delirium Tremens (famed as the best beer in the world), this local pork from Autumn’s Harvest Farm is tender, buttery, and melts in your mouth. The butternut squash polenta is cooked on the stovetop and then baked (or is it fried?) on cast iron with a lot of butter. We made our sauce out of a reduction of the braising liquid and some Cornell Orchards cider. This isn’t actually the pork belly we served, but an earlier incarnation that looks mostly alike:

We also served some cider mulled with the same spice mix that we cured the belly with. Still with us, even through the bad flash photography? Our other three dishes, after the jump…

Our third dish was a palate cleanser: quenelles (a.k.a. football shaped lumps, originally and traditionally made of meats or fish, but now just any mushy substance) of fresh grape sorbet. We seeded, peeled, and pureed the grapes, then added lemon juice and simple syrup, and stirred in crushed dry ice. Voila! Sorbet. Pretty cool. Sadly, no pictures this time around, but we’ll do a recipe post soon enough!

Our main was a wilted arugula salad with walnuts and figs, surrounded by brined, pan-fried chicken breast, graced by a quenelle of goat cheese whipped with shallots. I’m never eating normal, non-whipped, no-shallot goat cheese again.

That green puree you see is a mixture of spinach and arugula, and has a wonderful, tangy bite. Did we competitively squeezee-bottle it into our mouths in the kitchen after the dinner was over? Maybe. Here’s a closeup of the entree.

Finally, we served a dessert of chocolate torte over crisp madeleine biscuit with chocolate ganache, raspberry coulis, and earl grey-infused whipped cream. Best at room temperature, torte is flourless and crazy-rich. The photos speak for themselves.

All in all, it was a beautiful two nights. Our guests were gracious and generous, we didn’t have any major disasters in the kitchen, we didn’t break any dishes, and dinner-table conversation didn’t lull once (lulz). Thank you to everyone who joined us. Here are some final action shots!

Irene, interrupted while considering a bed of very green and flavorful arugula while trying to pretend she’s not drinking a milkshake during dinner preparations.

Daniel and Amin, straining cider through a cheesecloth.

Max, performing some classic gesticulations while describing a dish.

Daniel, laughing at the sheer volume of dishes to be done.

Can’t wait for the next event!

Hooray! It’s time for another Rambling Restaurant Singles Night featuring an aphrodisiac dinner, so you know things are bound to get hot.  Particularly when you have five people in a veryverycozy kitchen and have fresh bread baking in the oven, a giant vat of soup bubbling on the stove, and ten large pork loins popping and fizzing boiling oil all over the place.

Really. Hot. Temperatures. Luckily, there was also a dining room full of really hot people (yes yes, as in extremely attractive) all mixing and mingling on the other side of the curtain.  To get their taste buds primed and hearts racing, we served four courses featuring ingredients thought to have aphrodisiac qualities.  Of course, both dessert courses featured what is inarguably the most guaranteed aphrodisiac of them all – a large quantity of alcohol. Which is how we started the night as well, with glasses of passionfruit, raspberry and rosebud fizz.

Each cocktail came with a little tag marked with a suit denoting where to sit for your first table, along with some silly icebreaker questions inside to spark conversation or incite passionate debate.  Our eleven brave men and eleven brave women scattered amongst four tables to wait for these shiny happy braids of dough…

…to toast to perfection into these lovely browned plaits with a soft and fluffy white interior.

Ripped into chunks wafting thin trails of steam, these rolls dipped and dived  into large bowls of rich and creamy Jerusalem Artichoke soup, garnished with a swirl of hazelnut pesto, a flourish of extra virgin olive oil and a twist of crushed black pepper.  My apologies for the blinding glare of reflective soup.

While soup was seductively sipped, Michelle and I played with the searing loins. Seriously, that joke kept us entertained throughout the entire dinner service. She and Sarah had busted their asses stuffing and assembling the pork loins over the last few hours and the marscarpone, sage, asparagus, and pancetta – filled rolls were works of art.

Take the pork loin, pound it furiously, and lay it out on a flat surface. Line up your fresh ingredients in a narrow strip lengthwise about two inches in from the edge.

Roll the flattened loin into a narrow tube, keeping the pile of ingredients towards the center, and secure with an array of torturesome looking toothpicks.

And then…ta-da! A beautiful, colorful, and flavorful cross-section of meat, vegetable, and cheese. It’s like all your  essential dietary needs in one satisfying bite.

Sear the loins (don’t be restrained here – make it hot and fiery!) for a minute or so on each side until lightly browned, then wack them into the oven until your desired level of doneness.

We served the pretty little meat spirals (prettier in person, I promise) with gravy, roasted potatoes, and a wilted spinach and toasted pine nut salad with a red wine-honey-english mustard dressing.

Following the main course, it was time for more table switching, more new friends, and of course, more food.  For dessert, we served a fantastic find of Sarah’s called a St. Valentine’s Syllabub – an old school English pudding, popular from the 16th-19th century, consisting of heavy cream, lemon, brandy, white wine, sugar, and…some other stuff.  Since the cream required a lot of arm action to whip and solidify, I handed the bowl over to the lone male in the kitchen and instructed him to ‘beat it until you get a bulky whiteness.’

Uh. Oops. Sexual innuendo so thick you could scoop it with a spoon.  And layer it with toasted almonds, juicy red raspberries, and top it with a tuile biscuit heart (in my defense, ‘bulky whiteness’ is exactly what you’re aiming for in the recipe. I did not make that up).

Such adorable tuile hearts, just the right consistency to break or crush or stomp into pieces, as foodrambler said. However, we should also remember that hearts can jiggle and wiggle, bewitch and bewilder, and they can most certainly intoxicate.  Especially when served as a Glow-In-The-Heart Gin & Tonic Jelly, as molded by the fabulously inventive jellymonger duo of Bompas & Parr.

Under normal light, it’s an architecturally impressive jello mold that packs the wallop of  a silky smooth G&T in one cool and condensed mouthful. Way classier than a cherry red gelatinous mess of jello shot in a Dixie cup.

But it gets so much cooler. Just add blacklight and it glows! It’s like magic! Especially after ingesting many spoonfuls of gin-soaked jello!

We gave one to each table to share and then split another one behind the scenes. And then another. By then, things were starting to get a bit hazy.

Which meant, time to head off to the pub!  A Rambling Restaurant Singles Night would never be complete without a proper visit to the pub.  At which point this story must end. Can’t give away any secrets! You’ll just have to come along next time…

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/02/16/a-rambling-aphrodisiac-dinner-complete-with-searing-loins-and-gin-tonic-jelly/feed/ 6 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/02/06/playtime-with-boiling-oil-experimenting-with-deep-fried-mars-bars/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/02/06/playtime-with-boiling-oil-experimenting-with-deep-fried-mars-bars/#comments Sat, 06 Feb 2010 16:12:33 +0000 mei http://eatfamilystyles.com/?p=2750

I should be kept far away from deep frying machines.

Don’t get me wrong – I love a crunchy, golden, batter-encrusted item as much as the next arterial disease-scorning glutton.  The problem is, I never know when to stop. I’ll start off with a perfectly reasonable goal, like 15 or 20 deep fried Mars bars. But by the end of the evening, everything that is fit for human consumption and hasn’t been tied down has gotten thrown in the boiling oil and things are just getting out of hand.

Lest that look of horror on your face prevent you from reading further, let me inform you that I didn’t consume all those crispy, glistening, gooey-with-hot-caramel-and-melted-chocolate deep fried candies on my own. Foodrambler and I made the deep fried Mars bars for Burns Night at Rambling Restaurant, a Scottish culinary extravaganza starring our homemade haggis (so not as disgusting as you might think…eventually).  In case you’re wondering, deep fried Mars bars are a genuine Scottish delicacy according to Wikipedia.  To enhance the Scottishness of the dish, foodrambler had the inspired idea to batter the chocolate logs in another Scottish delicacy: the violently (and controversially) orange-colored soft drink known as Irn-Bru.

I thought that was a genius idea, until I tasted Irn-Bru. It boasts the gloriously saccaharine taste of Red Bull, the vaguely citrusy overtones of dishwashing detergent/washing up liquid and the unpleasantly chemical reminder of cough medicine or assorted cleaning product. However, it’s the 3rd best-selling soft drink in the UK behind Coke and Pepsi, so someone somewhere is drinking it and it just may be Sarah, our third woman in the kitchen on Burns Night. Apparently, the exact recipe for this magic brew is known only by the chairman of the company and one other person, and they are not allowed to fly on the same plane. Hilarious.

We decided to give it a fair chance in a Deep Fried Mars Bar Batter Taste Test. In the name of culinary exploration, the Irn-Bru would face off against a beer batter (Carlsberg, if you’re curious) and a traditional milk batter. We found a classic batter recipe (details below) and tried several variations with each of the liquids.

This bubbly mess is what you get when you add Irn-Bru to a bowl of flour, cornstarch, and baking soda. Warning: this activity will lead to you scraping a floury gluey mess off all your countertops for the next week.

After tasting way too many little bits of deep fried candy, we settled on the classic milk batter as the best. The artficial aftertaste of the Irn-Bru came through too much in the batter and the beer tasted slightly sour and too thin, but the milk batter was thick, rich and indulgent. The beer batter could be great for savory items, and I’d be interested in trying other liquids, but for a sweet dessert dish the milk batter was perfect.

Of course we had to try deep frying some battered haggis balls too. That sounds like a really bad insult.

Get out of my sight, you battered haggis ball.

After playing around with the various batters, the deep fried haggis balls and the haggis-stuffed deep fried English muffin, not to mention three other preparations of haggis, the scent of batter grease was making us feel seriously ill.  We put away the deep fryer until the actual Burns Night, which is when we broke out the big guns to deep fry half a Mars Bar for each of our 20-odd guests to be served with a hefty dollop of cranachan. Cranachan is a light and highly alcoholic Scottish dessert involving whipped cream, honey, raspberries, toasted oatmeal, and a serious splash of whiskey.

And here’s why I should stay away from deep fat fryers.  Once the oil is boiling, bowls of batter are within reach, and there are edible items within the vicinity, I can’t stop myself from tossing things in.  We started with a second round of Mars bars, because they were there. Then I peered through the fridge and found a block of cheddar cheese. Cut into pinky finger-sized slices and dipped in batter, these tongue-scorching oozy and cheesy mouthfuls were a beautiful bit of batter-encased delight. Good idea.

Deep frying a spoonful of creamy cranachan? Bad idea. Actually, I think the deep-fried cream has potential to be delicious (like tempura-fried ice cream…mmm) but the whisky-soaked cranachan traces in the greasy batter remnants was just nauseating.

Pouring the remaining batter straight into the increasingly gross oil in an attempt at funnel cake? Even worse idea.  Straight up fried dough is amazing, but not when the oil has already been used to fry several dozen chocolate and caramel bars, a block of cheddar cheese, a Scotch-infused spoonful of cream, and several small household pets.  Kidding about the pets though – the cat really didn’t like being dipped in batter and couldn’t fit in the deep fryer anyway.

Kidding.  I don’t have a cat….anymore.

I just can't quit you.

In case you want to have your own deep frying adventures, here’s a very easy recipe for batter:

Deep Fried Mars Bar (And Anything Else Fryable Within Reach) Batter

What You Need:

1 cup flour

1/2 cup cornstarch or cornflour

pinch of baking soda or bicarbonate of soda

milk (or beer or Irn-Bru or liquid of choice)

What You Do:

It’s pretty simple. Mix the powdered ingredients. Whisk in the liquid until it approaches the consistency of a light pancake batter. Dip delicious or random or curious items into the batter and carefully place into the boiling oil. Let cool, place in mouth, repeat.

Just make sure you know when to stop.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/02/06/playtime-with-boiling-oil-experimenting-with-deep-fried-mars-bars/feed/ 7 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/01/31/adventures-in-haggis-making-sheep-innards-beef-kidney-fat-and-fun-with-a-deep-fryer/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/01/31/adventures-in-haggis-making-sheep-innards-beef-kidney-fat-and-fun-with-a-deep-fryer/#comments Sun, 31 Jan 2010 23:34:37 +0000 mei http://eatfamilystyles.com/?p=2720

When I was told we’d be celebrating our Rambling Restaurant Burns Night with poetry, whiskey, and homemade haggis stabbing, my thoughts went like this:

1. Awesome! I’ve always wanted to try haggis.

2. By the way, what’s Burns Night?

3. And while I’m asking…what, exactly, is haggis?

4.  A sheep heart, lung, and liver minced and mixed with oatmeal and onions and stuffed inside a sheep stomach? <gulp> We are definitely going to need that whiskey.

Haggis, to most ignorant Americans like myself, is one of those iconic Scottish associations like kilts, bagpipes, and Mel Gibson covered in blue facepaint and exuding a throaty roar for ‘FREEEEDOOOM!’ We might have heard of it but almost certainly wouldn’t be able to say what it’s made of, only that it has something to do with terrifying animal parts and probably shouldn’t ever be consumed until after seven shots of Scotch.

Well, let me set the record straight on two fronts.

1. As much as you may love William Wallace in a skirt, kilts weren’t invented for another three centuries (one of the many twists of truth contributing to Braveheart being second on a list of ‘most historically inaccurate’ movies ever made).

2.  Haggis is, shockingly, absolutely delicious.

However, it took quite a long time and a lot of work to get it to that point. And I’ll be  honest, there was a fair amount of  grimacing, gagging, nose-holding, and are-we-really-serving-this-to-paying-customers?-questioning along the way.  It all started with my haggis-making partner-in-crime, foodrambler, hunting in vain and then finally securing three lamb’s plucks – the windpipe, heart, lungs and liver – for our haggis adventure. Following this recipe from the Guardian by Tim Hayward, she began the adventure the previous evening by cutting out the windpipes (blecch), boiling the plucks for several hours then leaving them to cool overnight in the murky cooking liquid.

A rubbery white sheep heart above and a massive chunk of liver below. Not exactly the most appetizing start to a meal, is it?  Don’t worry though, there is deliciousness to come…

Once out of the liquid and cut into cross-sections, the lungs were smooth and vaguely spongy while the heart was uncomfortably pink and muscly looking.

Being the intrepid culinary explorers/deluded masochists we are, we sliced off minute pieces of the heart, lung, and liver to taste them in all their unadulterated glory.  I’m sure you’re not surprised, but this turned out NOT to be a good idea. Offal is generally not the most appetizing of foods when you haven’t added any additional seasoning or flavor. Then add in the fact that the innards were ice cold and straight out of a disturbingly sewage-colored meat bath and both of us ended up jumping up and down and squealing in disgust at the musty lumps of chilled sheep innards in our mouths.

Lesson learned, we returned to the daunting task at hand. Dicing six onions was the easy part. Next, we tossed the heart and lung into the food processor and pulsed it gently into a fine mince.

Next, we grated the liver in the food processor to avoid the pasty textured chunks from turning into pate. Here’s a photo from foodrambler’s haggis post of me working the magimix on the meat.

I think the expression on my face is veering between skepticism, bemusement, horror and disgust. Note how I am as far as humanly possible away from the food processor in a vain attempt to avoid directly inhaling the stench of chopped lamb bits.  Below, the pungent strands of sheep liver.

All the dicing, slicing, and mincing of the heart, livers, and lungs began to fill the kitchen with a distinctly unpleasant smell. The thought crossed both our minds simultaneously: this smells exactly like cat food. Then the uncomfortable realization came to us…in fact, this is what cats eat. We are literally making cat food.

As you can see, it looked like cat food too. But just when we couldn’t really hold our noses much longer, we started mixing in the onions lying underneath the offal mince and all of a sudden, the smell changed. The sharp onion scent cut into the decaying meaty odor and the mixture somehow became warm and almost familiar, like the rich wafting steam of a slow-cooked stew.  The transition was aided by the inclusion of a generous amount of salt, white pepper, sage, thyme, and mace (the outer layer of nutmeg) for a layered and wintry hint of spices.

The general smell of the kitchen was further enhanced by the comforting aroma of toasted oatmeal, both of the rolled and Irish steel cut variety, which we wacked into the oven until lightly browned and then added to the pot.

But haggis wouldn’t be complete without one last element of grossness and that came in the form of eight boxes of shredded dried suet.

I had to look up ‘suet‘ on wikipedia to even find it in the grocery store – in case you’re wondering, it’s the raw fat that surrounds beef kidneys.  It looks like rodent turds made of candle wax.

Once we’d added a few ladlefuls of the sheep pluck stock to moisten and plunged our hands deep into the pot to mix, the haggis was smelling remarkably good and ready to be cooked.

Except, unfortunately, due to a stolen sheep stomach incident at Selfridge’s as well as a mail-order mishap with a backup ox bung (the attractively named last yard of a cow’s large intestine) we had nothing to stuff our haggis into.

Forced to experiment, we came up with a bunch of alternate showcases for our haggis:

1. Steamed in the oven by surrounding scoops in a layer of plastic wrap and then aluminum foil.

2. Oven roasted

3. Pan-fried

4. Formed into balls, dipped into batter, and deep fried. Having just acquired a deep fat fryer for Rambling Restaurant, you can expect to see a lot of deep fried items making an appearance on this blog.  Right up until my first heart attack.

5. Finally, after playing around a bit in a game of What Tastes Good Deep Fried? (Answer: EVERYTHING!) the ultimate haggis preparation came to us in a simultaneous bizarre great-minds-think-alike moment.

I present to you – Haggis. Stuffed into an English muffin. And deep fried.

It’s a Boston creme donut gone wrong or maybe so right – a rich, warm, meaty inside surrounded by a crunchy, oily,  golden exterior.  It was shockingly, decadently delicious, but I couldn’t eat more than two bites without feeling my arteries harden in protest.

The verdict of the haggis cooking comparison? Steamed was unanimously voted the best, as it allowed the oatmeal to cook, soften, and become infused with the intense meaty flavors of the offal. The roasted was okay, the pan-fried was too dry and crunchy with bits of oatmeal, and the deep-fried options were delicious but way too over the top for a meal ending with deep fried Mars bars.  Instructions for that coming up soon…

All in all, haggis making was an entertaining, educational, at times both delicious and disgusting experience.  Along with the traditional accompaniments of neeps (mashed swede, or rutabaga), tatties (potatoes) and cranachan (a Scottish dessert of whipped cream, honey, whiskey, raspberries and toasted oatmeal), my understanding of Scottish culinary brilliance has increased by leaps and bounds over the past few weeks. Add in a real Scot reading Burns’ Address To A Haggis followed by a stabbing…and the haggis experience is complete.

Salt, pepper, and reckless abandon? Sounds just like my kind of evening.

The adorable setting above, complete with handmade British napkin, comes courtesy of Lex of LexEat, the kitchen mistress of a brand new London underground restaurant. I love underground restaurants/ secret suppers because you never know what you’re going to get. It’s a bit of the surprising and unexpected from the culinary and creative mind of someone who cares enough to prepare a whole meal, or rather, a whole dining experience for you and your new friends for the evening.  This secret supper from a few weeks ago was a secret supper done right, an excellent meal with great company and all sorts of additional little touches to make a fantastic evening.

A perfect example is this lovely little plate below. Not only is it pretty, but it’s accompanied by an charmingly handwritten menu and even more importantly, topped with homemade orange pepper tortelli.

Casual yet well-designed, carefully thought out yet seemingly effortless – that’s pretty much how the whole night went.  We sat next to some great people and chatted food, games, and travel over multiple bottles of wine.

What else did we eat? I’ll let the tablecloth (tablepaper?) tell you.

Yum. I can certainly take on an organic roast loin of lamb with reckless abandon. Here’s what it looked like, in some romantic (i.e. overly dark) lighting.

Classic, well-executed, and mighty tasty. But the real excitement came after even more wine and discussion, when the desserts came out. Yes, that’s dessertS as in plural: first, a Chinese soup spoon of lemongrass coconut sorbet which you can see below alongside my individually patterned cloth napkin (I’ll be honest, I was sad I didn’t get the pirate one, but I was quite impressed by the effort all the same).

You can tell by the state of the tablepaper that I did some splopping during the evening. And then, an assiette of desserts:  a bite of fudgy chocolate brownie, a square of luscious lemon tart, and best of all, a fantastic rosewater Turkish Delight cheesecake topped with pomegranate candy floss.

I felt like some poor fuzzy Jim Henson creation or Sesame Street character was shaved from head to toe for this tray of pale pink explosions.

But fret not, my dear muppet friend.  The loss of your fluffy pastel pelt was not in vain. The pomegranate threads dissolved in a sugary sweetness on a cushion of rosewater creaminess in an unusual and highly addictive combination.

The beautiful apartment, an open multi-level loft with criss-crossing M.C. Escher staircases in an old brick school building, was an ideal setting for a long, wine-soaked dinner. From the upstairs loft, a photo of our table complete with a well-timed embrace.

Fantastic decor – colorful posters from the London Transport Museum that I now plan to purchase, an old-fashioned record player spinning in the corner, shelves of well-designed and highly covetable objects, windowsills filled with interior flower boxes, vintage ladders stacked with cookbooks and plants  – it was so lovely I hated to leave.  But alas, the night finally ended and we all poured out the door.

Thanks to Lex and our fabulous, funny, warm and welcoming waitress and co-hostess Yohanna for a wonderful night. If you have any muppet fur left over, send it my way…

In approximately three weeks, Deadpan Restaurant, Ithaca’s newest secret supper club, will be hosting its first event.

What’s a secret restaurant, you ask? Good thing we already wrote a post on that: big sister lays it down for the uninitiated.

We’ll be serving a three course meal at a to-be-revealed location. Look out for more announcements!

After all, who wouldn’t want to hang out with and experience the epicurean adventures of champions such as these…

Max

Amin

Dan

Irene

At the last Rambling Restaurant of 2009, we served a trio of richly colored dips – chickpea hummous, beetroot hummous, and carrot cumin dip. So pretty in pink.

For maximum dippability, we prepared straight-out-of-a-hot-oven-and-onto-the-grill flatbreads. Take Moro flatbread recipe (recipe below), multiply by 15 (eek!) and you have a lot of steaming hot fresh bread  in your future. Also a lot of rolling pin action. Stop whining, it’s good for the arm muscles.

I know making your own bread for a meal sounds thoroughly unrealistic, but this pita-like bread only needs about 20 minutes to sit. This means you can take about five minutes to make the dough, let it sit while you chop vegetables or prepare something else, and have WOW-YOU’RE-AMAZING homemade bread to accompany your meal. Even if it’s only yourself you’re impressing, it’s totally worth it. Especially when you fold it over and stuff it with sauteed spinach and halloumi cheese and roasted eggplant and other such delights.

We followed up the onslaught of foldable starch and pretty bowls of mush with a Turmeric Lime Chili Chicken over a Roasted Eggplant, Pomegranate Seed, Scallion, Parsley, Mint, Tomato Fattoush with a dollop of Cumin Yogurt Sauce. It’s a lot of ingredients that somehow all work in symbiotic grace to produce a happy mouthful of amazing.

But a discussion of odd-sounding ingredients that don’t really seem like they’d work together but actually will blow your mind would not be complete without Chef foodrambler‘s dessert: Orange Blossom Almond Polenta Cake with Coriander Syrup.  You might not think you like coriander, but I DARE you not to like this cake. I like this cake so much I am actually going to make it right now for a Christmas Eve Day Brunch.  I also like you enough to show you this pretty picture which does no justice to the rich, moist, exotically sweet and just a touch of spicy cake perfection.

Garnish with a twist of orange, a sprig of cilantro, and a spoonful of honeyed syrup with dots of coriander seeds.  Staring at this picture makes me very happy that this cake is only several hours in my future.  For those of you gluten-free people out there (sis Irene Bean is testing out a potential gluten allergy),  this cake is made with polenta and not flour. Woohoo!

Now go find yourself some cake too. Happy holidays!

Moro Flatbread

What You Need:

1 cup flour
1/4 tsp sea salt
1/4 tsp dried yeast
a bit less than 1/2 a cup lukewarm water
1 tbsp olive oil

NOTE: this amount makes about four small-plate size flatbreads, enough for one very very hungry carb fiend like me, or two normal people. Multiply appropriately depending on your eating party’s level of carbophilia.

What You Do:

1. Mix the flour and salt in a big bowl and activate the yeast in the water, if necessary.

2. Slowly pour the water and yeast into the flour and incorporate by hand. Once all the liquid has been mixed in, punch the dough around for a few minutes. If it’s too sticky, add a bit more flour. Add the oil and keep kneading until you have a single ball of dough with a relatively smooth texture and a bit shiny with oil.

3. Let sit, covered with a damp tea towel, for about 20 minutes.

4. Pull off small balls, larger than a golf ball but smaller than a tennis ball, and roll them out to your desired thickness onto a sturdy floured surface. A good rolling pin is handy here, but floured wine bottles work just as well.  We decided to go super-thin at Rambling Restaurant, but I like the thick and fluffy kind too.

5. Once the dough has been rolled out, you can either put them on a lightly floured baking tray or a lightly oiled pan. At RR, we decided to do both – stick it in a hot oven until they puff up and lose their wet doughy sheen, then finish off on a griddle pan for some tasty brownedness. Either way is delicious.

6.  Cook until puffy, browned, and yearning to jump into your mouth. Dip in something tasty and pat yourself on the back for having produced your very own homemade bread. That is, if your hands aren’t busy tearing apart your creation and stuffing it in your mouth.

like you enough to leave you with a picture so you can start drooling yourself.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5qx-MVrXfk&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Rambling Restaurant is looking for some hot male action.  Why, you ask? Do we need a reason? Well, we’ve got one here:

‘Due to popular demand, on Thursday 3rd December & Friday 4th December we are holding a Lone Ramblers’ & Rambling Roses’ Singles Night at Rambling Restaurant!

It’s a 3-course dinner party of aphrodisiac foods & music. Lone Ramblers (gentlemen) and Rambling Roses (ladies) share tables and bring your own booze (no corkage fee). Lone Ramblers move tables every course to keep it lively. Who knows what might happen?!’

We’ve already sold all the Rambling Roses tickets, so it’s time to spread the word amongst your single male friends to get their asses in gear. An evening of great food, wine, music and a cozy room full of available women? Yes, Rambling Restaurant can make your wildest dreams come true.  According to Kanye West, it’s going to be ‘ONE OF THE BEST NIGHTS OF ALL TIME.’

Lone Ramblers,  get your tickets here for the Thursday the 3rd  or here for the Friday the 4th.

We hope to see you there…but not in the outfits like JT and Andy Samberg in the above video, okay? Best to leave a little to the imagination.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/23/all-the-single-lads-put-your-hands-up/feed/ 4 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/22/rambling-restaurant-fun-ninety-nine-bottles-of-wine-on-the-wall/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/22/rambling-restaurant-fun-ninety-nine-bottles-of-wine-on-the-wall/#comments Sun, 22 Nov 2009 15:58:46 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2398

Thursday’s Rambling Restaurant was a boozy festival of wine tasting and matching canapes  – so many glasses of alcohol that I’m amazed I could stand up straight long enough to take any of these photos. We partnered with the lovely and charming Dan of Bibendum Wines to do a casual and relaxed evening event in our usual secret location. Dan ‘liberated’ a serious stock of bottles from the Bibendum stores for us – Champagne, Riesling, Chardonnay, Malbec, Chianti, and an excellent dessert wine – all matched with bite-size hor d’oeuvres such as the Zamorano cheese with quince jelly and persimmon, above. Below, tasting notes with parmesan crisps awaiting their toppings for the first round of canapes.

The full line-up of booze and bites below…

Dan started us off with a delightfully fizzy champagne and Chef foodrambler baked some golden parmesan biscuits  topped with caramelized red onion chutney and a sliver of orange zest:

Bruno Paillard Brut Premiere Cuvee NV: A wonderful, elegant Champagne with delicate freshly baked bread and citrus aromas. The palate is crisp, fresh and complex with grapefruit, lime and subtle red berry fruit.

We then moved on to two white wines, served with the Spanish cheese canape at the top and a round of mini Vietnamese summer rolls:

Riesling Kabinett Rheingau Prinz von Hessen 2008: Every drop of this explodes with citrus fireworks & mineral verve. Luscious mouthfuls of lemon ice, freshly cut green apples & delicate quince. Fruity, but not sweet; refreshing, but not tart.

Laroche Punto Alto Chardonnay 2008: Elegant aromas of lime, white peach and melon. Crisp, fresh acidity underlying a rich but classy palate bursting with citrus and green apple fruit.

Moving on to the red wines, Chef foodrambler had baked a tray of fabulous beef empanadas according to Michelle’s mother’s traditional Argentine recipe as a perfect local accompaniment to an excellent and very affordable Malbec:

Argento Malbec Tempranillo 2009:This exquisite blend of Malbec and Tempranillo is intense red in colour with deep indigo hues. Enticing aromas of red cherries and fresh violets accompany flavours of ripe plum and chocolate with subtle smoky notes. The finish is persistent with sweet tannins and balanced acidity.

I spent a week in Buenos Aires about 7 years ago during my semester in Santiago, Chile. I spent a laughable amount of that week on the hunt for the best empanadas in the city (asking cab drivers and strangers on the street for their opinion and eventually purchasing so many empanadas that we resorted to trying to give them away to people at the airport who mostly gave us bizarre looks and turned away)  so I feel fairly qualified to say that these empanadas were fantastic.

The second red wine was a bolder and more complex Chianti, so foodrambler devised a black pudding/pea puree/crispy bacon bite of intense meaty flavor as a counterpoint:

Campomaggio Chianti Classico 2005: Smooth, ripe Chianti Classico in a modern style; juicy black cherries, blackberries, cinnamon spice, vanilla and chocolate abound. The ripe, bold tannins and crisp Sangiovese acidity add the all important backbone.

I loved all the bursts of color throughout the meal – the warm sunshine brightness of the persimmon against the dark ruby hues of the quince jelly, the fresh green grass feeling exuding from the pea puree next to the meaty red slivers of streaky bacon.  I also love this photo, which captures the essence of the pork celebration occuring that night: a pan of bacon, a pan of black pudding, and a tray of slow-roasted pork shoulder about to be whacked back in the oven to toast up some crackling.

This pork shoulder, roasting in the oven for about nine hours, was reprised from the previous evening due to popular demand.  Even after sending out 22 plates of the pork, pulled and drenched with a soy-hoisin-chili-roast-drippings gravy, we had so much leftover that I went around with a overflowing plate o’meat and offered seconds to everyone to absolute rave reviews. Honestly, you can’t ever go wrong with a good piece of meat in the oven for hours and hours to cook in its own fat. Mmmm…

The meal ended with a beautifully rich tarte tatin, sort of like an upside-down caramelized apple pie, and a scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream. As always, we got so caught up in plating and snacking on the dessert that I didn’t take any pictures, but trust me, it was fabulous. The caramelly sweetness of the apples matched the deliciously complex dessert wine to perfection:

Els Pyreneus Rivesaltes Ambre NV (solera aged):Rich, golden hue, with a nose of honey, roast coffee, apricots and hazelnuts. Beautifully balanced palate bursting with candied fruit and brioche flavours.

Six wines down (not to mention the bottles we broke open to sip on behind the scenes during the cooking) and it was all a wrap, folks.  Add in seven different dishes and it was quite an evening to remember. Thankfully the photographic evidence helps with the resulting fuzziness of the brain…