SJ here. Last week a photograph of mine of a Chesapeake Bay Oyster topped with a slice of hard boiled egg caused HG such a wave of food envy that he was prompted to write a post about it (see An HG Sin: Food Envy) Well, as much as I love HG, I love to fan the embers of his Food Envy into a roaring fire. Soo….let me tell you a little about that oyster…
Last week, myself, my wife — the aptly named Exquisite Maiko — and our son decided to forsake our beloved NYC for a weekend in Baltimore. The drive down took only about 3 hours and along the way we stopped in Wilmington, Delaware at the Charcoal Pit for absolutely great hamburgers and milkshakes.
The Charcoal Pit is a Road Food classic — been there since the 1950s and still as popular as ever. Places like this often become parodies of themselves, existing in the squinty light of nostalgia — but the Pit avoids that trap by neither seeming cutesy nor precious and instead just serving up good, well made classic food at very reasonable prices.
The last time I had been in Baltimore I went to Obryckis in Fells Point for crabs. They were dumped right on the table onto butcher’s paper, and hammer in hand I demolished a number of these wonderful crustaceans steamed in a heady black-pepper seasoning. I was excited to return and excited for Exquisite Maiko to taste such a regional specialty. Alas, Obryckis has closed (note to all restaurants who close and have websites: MAKE BEING CLOSED THE FOCUS OF YOUR WEBSITE!!!) so we had to find an alternative. Now, not being from Baltimore and not really knowing a lot about the city, it can be hard separating out the tourist crap from something both authentic and authentically good. So, reading between the lines of numerous blog postings and Best Of Baltimore lists, we decided on a spot called Canton Dockside who seemed to be the spot for year-round crabs. Well, we got there and guess what…NO CRABS! Why? Because Canton Dockside gets their crabs in the off-season from Louisiana and this being Mardi Gras week all the Louisiana Crabbers were either too drunk to ship crabs or they wanted to keep all crabs within the state for Mardi Gras. Either way, we were thwarted but soothed ourselves with great broiled crab cakes (light on the mayonnaise and breadcrumbs), plump shrimps steamed with Old Bay Seasoning and a rather horrifying pretzel like thing smeared in cheese and crab dip (the less said about that last dish, the better!).
I also made a new friend in the Baltimore beer known as National Bohemian Beer or Natty Boh.
Extremely cold and extremely yummy!
The next day, we woke up early to take in some real touristy stuff (Huge Aquarium! Dolphin Show!) and get hungry in preparation for my focus — The covered markets of Baltimore. Since 1763, Baltimore has maintained a group of municipally owned covered markets that serve specific neighborhoods. There are seven markets remaining in Baltimore and the largest is the Lexington Market located right in the heart of Down Town. I had heard tell of some serious food happening at this Lexington Market so off we went. Well…I absolutely fell in love. Lexington market is an urban institution — while tourists like myself might pass through, the market is unadorned, gritty and absolutely true to itself.
This is the spot for discount groceries, cheap cell phone plans, butchers that specialize in the rough bits (chitterlings, hog maws, ham hocks, pig ears, fat back and more), fish mongers and stall upon stall of prepared foods — many of which hawk the fact that they accept CDC vouchers and food stamps. So what were in these stalls? Well, oddly, the majority seem to have been taken over by Chinese and Koreans who are serving up a mixture of cheap Chinese and soul food staples — beef and broccoli alongside stewed chicken and dumplings not to mention the happy guy I saw munching away on a scoop-full of pork fried rice accompanied by a bowl of Chitterlings doused with hot sauce.
There is no pretensions of regional food-ways purity here at the Lexington. Its cheap and good? Yes! Lots of fried chicken spots with a heavy focus on the livers, backs and gizzards — not something you see at KFC! Many sandwich spots selling (I think) Baltimore produced smoked meats — courtesy of its Polish and German immigrants. And, fruit salad — big containers of very fresh and very cheap fruit salad. Interestingly, I noticed that you could use your food stamps to buy fruit salad, fruit smoothies and groceries, but not a lot of the heavier prepared foods — I am imagining that this was a bid by the Health Department to influence healthier eating standards. And all the way in back — pretty much a separate enclave all to itself is Faidley’s Seafood.
Faidley’s is a working seafood market hawking the rather impressive bounty of the Chesapeake Bay and other southern water-ways, but they also have a raw bar and a simple lunch counter serving up hot foods. Well, I sidled up to the raw bar — packed with working people simply gorging on oysters and clams and plastic cups of Natty Boh — and ordered myself a half dozen “Prime” oysters. The oyster man was astonishing; as fast and precise a shucker as I have ever witnessed even while keeping up a running commentary as to whether or not (based on his emotional speech at her funeral) Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston ever had sex (Yes! we raw bar denizens agreed). I was asked, as the plate of fat, shimmery bivalves appeared before me, if I wanted an egg with my oysters. An egg? Madness!!! Nope. Just hit me with some lemon and a touch of hot sauce and I am good. Well I slurped those six down and they were cold, briny, firm with a touch of cucumber snap that I just love. Ahhh…The joy of a good oyster. Well, as I let out a sated breath I glanced at my neighbor, who was there with his girl, drinking beers and preparing his oysters with a slice of hard-boiled egg!!! Yes! He had a hard-boiled egg slicer and was layering the egg slices on top of his oysters with horseradish and hot sauce. This guy looked like a serious Baltimorean, so I had to ask if the egg was the Baltimore style? Oh yes he said. So, I had to give it a shot — six more with a boiled egg. Well, they brought them over, I peeled the egg, used the slicer and got to work. My new friend guided me — “You got the horse radish first, then you got to hit it with the black pepper…yeah that’s it, don’t be scared of the black pepper! Then squeeze that lemon right on top and lay that egg right right up on there. Yeah! Hit it with the hot sauce now!” — and then I was ready.
Wow! Oh boy was this a good thing. Somehow, the smoothness of a boiled egg blends with the brine of the oyster and the bite of hose-radish to create something unique that doesn’t distract from the very oysterness of the experience. While I probably won’t be putting hard-boiled eggs on my beloved Prince Edward Island oysters, the whole experience, the specificity of the place, the very real connections that you can make with strangers when you express interest in a local specialty put a giant smile on my face and made those oysters amongst the most special I have ever eaten. Exquisite Maiko (very pregnant at this point and simmering with jealousy that she could not eat an oyster) took in some crab cakes from the counter and pronounced them unbeatable.
Faidley's Crab Cake
So, if you ever find yourself in Baltimore, ignore the Yelp and Google and Yahoo reviews that describe the Lexington Market as being scary and sketchy and filled with drug addicts and homeless people and march your way in and have a chilled Chesapeake Bay oyster topped with hard boiled egg on me. Thank me later and tell HG about it as soon as you can!
Of course, the most soulful sole is Dover sole. But, this should only be eaten — at a great price — in London (even though HG once had some splendid Dover sole at Legal Seafoods in Boston). Folks in the northeast can enjoy firm fleshed Atlantic Flounder filets. In Vancouver, HG developed a taste for sauteed brill, a sole-like Pacific flatfish. But, the closest thing to authentic Dover sole is Petrale sole from the waters off northern California. HG first had Petrale sole at the venerable Tadich Grill in San Francisco’s financial district. HG preceded the beautifully cooked fish with a few sloe gin fizzes, a delightful house specialty.
Petrale sole makes an occasional appearance at the Whole Foods fish counter. When that happens, HG pounces upon it. A quick dusting in flour. Swift saute. A generous topping of melted butter, capers and lemon juice. Finny perfection.
Great fun last night Chez HG/BSK. Two Colorado friends came to dinner bearing (as is their happy custom) two bottles of splendid Pinot Noir. Meal started with sliced Kumato Tomatoes and a heavenly Burrata (a mozzarella filled with cream). Washed it down with chilled Italian Lambrusco (slightly sweet, semi-sparkling red). Then the meal got serious. Brisket time. BSK had consulted our pal Stevie Pierson’s invaluable new book: The Brisket Book: A Love Story With Recipes. (Run, don’t walk, and go buy it immediately so you will be a culinary hero just in time for Passover!). BSK selected cookbook author Joan Nathan’s brisket recipe (pg. 105), a classic Jewish recipe. Three hours in the oven. A nice rest to let things cool down (and skim off the fat). A half hour of reheating. The result: Tender, juicy meat filled with flavor (from onions,garlic,wine, etc.). The abundant robust sauce was a killer. BSK flanked the meat and sauce with smashed (not mashed or pureed) potatoes. BSK’s touch is to smash the spuds with free range chicken broth and very good olive oil. There was a refreshing salad of sliced fennel and radishes, hearts of palm and Italian parsley. A bottle of old vine Zinfandel made an appearance after the Pinots were demolished. A bottle of fruity Malbec was opened to accompany dessert (Yes, five bottles of wine for four persons and one drank very moderately so HG had a lot of ground to cover). The dessert: Trader Joe’s New York Deli Cheese Cake. A nice surprise. Real Big Apple Taste. Encore tonight since (Oh,Joy!!) there were plenty of brisket and sauce left overs. Noodles will replace the spuds (all devoured).
When HG is not wallowing in old fogey nostalgia about New York food way back when, he happens to be a guy on the culinary cutting edge. This fact was borne out this week when New York Magazine did an article about the Reuben sandwich just days after HG reported on this much-mishandled treat. New York reported a Reuben now costs $15-18. Wow, that is a meaty escalation. The article was illustrated with photos of some fairly traditional Reubens. But, there were some aberrations: a turkey Reuben and a short ribs Reuben. Pleasant sandwiches indeed — but not, as HG has emphatically stated, Reubens.
Brodetto means “little soup” in Italian. Strange. That’s because there’s nothing small about this Italian fish soup in flavor or the number of sea ingredients that usually go into the dish. It is HG and BSK’s favorite fish soup. Among those who share their brodetto obsession is famed food wrier Mimi Sheraton. She recently did an article for the New Yorker about her search in Italy for the perfect brodetto. A brodetto can be simple or complex. It can contain a multitude of fresh fish, mussels, clams, squid, shrimp, etc. — or a single fish. BSK believes the best brodetto she ever had was at Little Italy’s Luna Restaurant (long gone) many decades ago. It was Brodetto di Merluzzo — brodetto with filets of delicate whiting. BSK recalls the fish broth was intense with sea flavor heightened by garlic, onions and vinegar. No tomatoes (unusual in a Neapolitan restaurant). There are many brodetto recipes online. Experiment. You will be rewarded with a wonderful soup.
A final note on Luna: It was one of “Crazy Joe” Gallo’s Manhattan hangouts. No liquor license. But, you tipped your waiter and he brought you a bottle of rough and ready chianti in a paper bag. You drank it out of a water glass.Other than the brodetto, the gangsters and the paper-bag Chianti the best thing about the Luna was its mural of the Bay of Naples. This type of primitive — yet bravura — mural was standard in many New York Italian restaurants and pizzerias. Must have given employment to many immigrant artists. But, what made the Luna mural memorable was the fact that the artist had pierced the canvas and backed it with lights giving the effect of twinkling stars over the Bay. Waiters proudly pointed out the effect if a hungry customer hadn’t noticed it.
HG’s delightful pal, Lynn S., sent along a funny YouTube short film called A Reuben By Any Other Name. In the film, two contentious Jewish couples argue about the proper construction, history and etymology of the Reuben sandwich. Permit HG, a sage in such matters, to make the final decision. The Reuben sandwich is now ubiquitous, served virtually everywhere and, for the most part, very badly prepared. During HG’s days in New York the Reuben was only served at the classy Reuben’s Restaurant and Delicatessen (long departed) at 6 E. 58th Street in Manhattan. Arnold Reuben opened the first Reuben’s Restaurant in 1908 (there were a number of moves before the final landmark on E.58th). Legend has it that an actress working with Charlie Chaplin ordered the combination in 1914 and the Reuben was born. HG had it many times at that delightful eatery with crisp French fries and kosher dill pickles. It was the best.
Okay. What are the ingredients? Grilled Jewish rye bread coated with Russian dressing. Corned beef. Sliced swiss cheese. Sauerkraut. Like many great things, the ingredients are simple. But, in order to have that great sandwich — favored by significant figures like Charlie Chaplin, crime boss Arnold Rothstein and showman Billy Rose — all the elements have to be of top quality, the proportions need to be perfect and finally the bread needs proper grilling (not toasting!). Don’t cut corners and you’ll be rewarded with a classic taste of American regional cooking.
HG’s Mom often prepared HG’s favorite after-school snack: A slice of Pechter’s Pumpernickel liberally covered with chicken fat and topped with sliced onion and kosher salt. As HG matured, he pondered his Mom’s heritage which encouraged such obviously unhealthy food. Well, the small town — well, shtetl really — Belorussian lady knew something. Chicken fat (aka Schmaltz) is rich in lineolic acid, an omega 6 fatty acid with many health benefits. So, comrades, schmaltz it up with impunity. It is essential with chopped liver. Very good with garlicky chopped eggplant. Enhances fried onions. HG likes to stir it into a bowl of Goya garbanzos topped with microplaned garlic and sea salt. (HG intends to pair it with Duvel Belgian Ale while watching key NCAA basketball games).
Chicken fat can be ordered online from: mykoshermarket.com. Or, make it yourself (many easy recipes — such as this ONE — to be found online ). DYI chicken fat provides crispy and delicious bits of chicken skin known as “gribenes” — Jewish cuchifritos. For a carnivorous meal drenched in chicken fat go to the Shrine of Schmaltz: Sammy’s Roumanian Restaurant on New York’s Lower East Side. Wash the golden grease down with plenty of frozen vodka. L’chaim!!
Tilapia is a farm raised fish, and like farm raised salmon, has been scorned by HG. As HG’s massive public knows, HG is a fancier of batter fried catfish (rolled in flour, dipped in beaten egg and rolled again in panko or cornmeal and first soaked in buttermilk). Well, here’s the problem. BSK doesn’t like catfish. Says it tastes muddy. HG believes BSK’s distaste was caused by eating wild, bottom feeding catfish in her youth. Today’s farm raised catfish (an exception to HG’s quickly disappearing No-Farm-Raised rule) does not taste muddy. Emphatically not. But, BSK won’t change her mind. So, what to do? A number of culinary authorities (including Mark Bittman) have said you can substitute tilapia for catfish when you’re hovering over the big, sizzling cast iron pan. HG bought a pound of tilapia. No buttermilk bath, but followed the usual procedure. The result was sensational, Even BSK had to agree. Crisp crust covering juicy, firm white fish. A treat. BSK cooked up a mess of southern greens. Had a few boiled fingerling potatoes. There was lots of hot sauce and lemons. Once more, family culinary harmony prevails.
A simple great dessert is Greek yogurt (preferably, the Fage brand) doused with some good honey and sprinkled with an abundance of walnuts. Presume this was enjoyed by Socrates, Aristotle, Melina Mercouri and other splendid Greeks. HG first had the dessert in Chicago’s Greektown after a lunch of grilled, tender octopus and a big platter of greens and okra braised in garlic and pungent Greek olive oil. Washed it down with retsina (an acquired taste), of course. HG’s counsel: Follow it up with Metaxa and throw some plates around. Zorba had it right.
Rapini (also known as broccoli di rabe) is a splendid vegetable, combining the sweetish taste of broccoli with the pleasantly bitter taste of mustard greens. HG is going to have it with some linguini tonight. BSK cooks it perfectly and simply, first sauting a bunch of garlic and sweet onion in good olive oil until the onion is translucent and just starting to color. Then BSK chops the rapini up and blanches it in boiling water before adding it to the pan with the onion and garlic. When the rapini softens she hits it with some chicken stock and eventually finishes the linguini in the pan. Serves it with the olive oil bottle, grated parmesan and the pepper grinder on the table. Usually BSK adds chopped pancetta to the dish but tonight there will be slices of grilled chorizo. Kumato tomatoes and anchovies as a starter and some clementines for dessert.
I also made a new friend in the Baltimore beer known as National Bohemian Beer or Natty Boh.
Extremely cold and extremely yummy!
There is no pretensions of regional food-ways purity here at the Lexington. Its cheap and good? Yes! Lots of fried chicken spots with a heavy focus on the livers, backs and gizzards — not something you see at KFC! Many sandwich spots selling (I think) Baltimore produced smoked meats — courtesy of its Polish and German immigrants. And, fruit salad — big containers of very fresh and very cheap fruit salad. Interestingly, I noticed that you could use your food stamps to buy fruit salad, fruit smoothies and groceries, but not a lot of the heavier prepared foods — I am imagining that this was a bid by the Health Department to influence healthier eating standards. And all the way in back — pretty much a separate enclave all to itself is Faidley’s Seafood.
