In response to a request on DonRockwell.com, I posted my recommendations for restaurants on the Outer Banks. My favorite places from Kitty Hawk to Nags Head are:
Rundown Cafe (Kitty Hawk) -- Beach food with a Carribbean/Indian bent; not nearly a cool as the original place but still a great fish burrito; also good for vegetarians.
Awful Arthur's (Kill Devil Hills) -- I don't love this place, but it has a dependable raw bar and good steamed shrimp, so I always head back when I want either.
Jolly Roger (Kill Devil Hills) -- Great breakfast spot where it's always Christmas (and crowded); the front dining room is much more fun than the back/bar area.
Dare Devil Inn (Nags Head) -- Decent pizza; I've been getting their Stromboli (which is a cheese bomb) since I was 10.
Dune Burger (Nags Head) -- 50's era take-away burger shack with a couple picnic tables; food style is also 50's era, but a lot of fun.
I have been going to the Outer Banks several times a year for most of my life, so my picks are dated and, admittedly, born of nostalgia you obviously don't share. Nevertheless, I hope this helps. Also, a few recommendations off the main drag include the Weeping Radish Brewery, which relocated from Manteo to about 20 miles north of the island on 158, Blue Point in Duck, and Howard's Pub in Okracoke.
Original Post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=16022&st=0&p=183904&#entry183904
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Como-No, Isla Mujeres
Tonight, Elke and I dined at a great little Israeli restaurant in Isla Mujeres, appropriately named "Como-No" (Why Not?). It was part of a side trip during my "annual" family vacation in Cancun (which I attend about once every five years) and came after a long day at a seedy beach with every immediate relative I have. We had "Comono hummous," which was hummous topped with very good falafel and slices of hard-boiled egg, and "Arabic salad" which was a salad of tomato, cucumber, and onion in a yoghurt-based dressing.
The place was very casual and very hip. It wasn't an Israeli restaurant, per se, so much as it was a place owned by a guy from Tel Aviv that served what appeared to be all of his favorite food. Before we talked with the owner, there was no real indication that it was an Israeli-owned restaurant except that the menu was rather odd for a tiny Mexican island and the people that worked there all spoke English. The menu had guacamole, but it was predominantly Middle-Eastern dishes like hummous and kebabs, with a few Spanish tapas thrown in for good measure. I determined that the owner must be Israeli because the menu also, curiously, has schnitzel, which I have come to learn is a "traditional Israeli dish" (at least for my friend Karen!). My suspicion was bolstered when the owner nodded knowingly to a customer that strolled in wearing what looked like a Mexican-themed, knit yarmulke and when Elke noticed a colorful, framed print of a menorah (which was directly behind me, so I initially didn't see it). It was confirmed when we met the owner shortly thereafter.
He was a nice guy, with a blonde, pregnant wife who was also from Israel (I don't recall the city, but Elke would). The place was a lot of fun, and tonight had a couple of Spanish-speaking guitar players as the entertainment. They too were great -- sort-of Jack Johnson types, only Mexican -- and we ended up staying for a full set. This was, of course, just long enough for us to miss the correct ferry back to the hotel zone, meaning we got on the wrong one and ended up in Cuidad Cancun. Fortunately for us, I have learned that nearly every stupid thing you do in Mexico is easily remedied with a few pesos. It this case, they went to a nice cab driver who entertained us with rather loud videos of deliciously bad American pop during the nearly 30-minute trip home from this remote port.
Original post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=8086&st=0&gopid=180768&#entry180768
The place was very casual and very hip. It wasn't an Israeli restaurant, per se, so much as it was a place owned by a guy from Tel Aviv that served what appeared to be all of his favorite food. Before we talked with the owner, there was no real indication that it was an Israeli-owned restaurant except that the menu was rather odd for a tiny Mexican island and the people that worked there all spoke English. The menu had guacamole, but it was predominantly Middle-Eastern dishes like hummous and kebabs, with a few Spanish tapas thrown in for good measure. I determined that the owner must be Israeli because the menu also, curiously, has schnitzel, which I have come to learn is a "traditional Israeli dish" (at least for my friend Karen!). My suspicion was bolstered when the owner nodded knowingly to a customer that strolled in wearing what looked like a Mexican-themed, knit yarmulke and when Elke noticed a colorful, framed print of a menorah (which was directly behind me, so I initially didn't see it). It was confirmed when we met the owner shortly thereafter.
He was a nice guy, with a blonde, pregnant wife who was also from Israel (I don't recall the city, but Elke would). The place was a lot of fun, and tonight had a couple of Spanish-speaking guitar players as the entertainment. They too were great -- sort-of Jack Johnson types, only Mexican -- and we ended up staying for a full set. This was, of course, just long enough for us to miss the correct ferry back to the hotel zone, meaning we got on the wrong one and ended up in Cuidad Cancun. Fortunately for us, I have learned that nearly every stupid thing you do in Mexico is easily remedied with a few pesos. It this case, they went to a nice cab driver who entertained us with rather loud videos of deliciously bad American pop during the nearly 30-minute trip home from this remote port.
Original post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=8086&st=0&gopid=180768&#entry180768
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Homemade Bagels
I made my first batch of bagels for brunch this morning. I used a recipe from the internet that used my bread machine to make the dough, then I boiled them on my stove and baked them in the oven. They were markedly better than any bagel I have ever purchased in the Washington DC metro area. That didn't surprise me, because the half-life of a fresh bagel is about 30 minutes. What did surprise me is that they are now, 8 hours later, still significantly better than any bagel I have ever purchased in the Washington DC metro area. What gives? Why can nobody here make a decent bagel? Or am I looking in the wrong place?
In case you were curious, the recipe:
BREAD MACHINE BAGELS
Ingredients
1 cup warm water
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons white sugar
3 cups bread flour
1 package active dry yeast
large pot of boiling water
cornmeal
egg white
Directions
1. Place water, salt, sugar, flour and yeast in the bread machine pan in the order recommended by the manufacturer. Select "Bagel Dough" setting.
2. When cycle is complete, let dough rest on a lightly floured surface. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil.
3. Cut dough into 8 equal pieces, and roll each piece into a small ball. Flatten balls. Poke a hole in the middle of each with your thumb. Twirl the dough on your finger or thumb to enlarge the hole, and to even out the dough around the hole. Cover bagels with a clean cloth, and let rest for 5-10 minutes.
4. Sprinkle an ungreased baking sheet with cornmeal. Carefully transfer bagels to boiling water. Boil for 2 minutes, turning half way through. Drain briefly on clean towel. Arrange boiled bagels on baking sheet. Glaze tops with egg white, and sprinkle with your choice of toppings.
5. Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for about 25 minutes, or until well browned.
Topping
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
1 tablespoon dried garlic flakes
1 tablespoon dried onion flakes
1 tablespoon kosher salt
This recipe is foolproof. I know this, because I am a fool.
Original Post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=5376&st=50&gopid=180140&#entry180140
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Champagne
In my house, I either have Champagne, or I am out of Champagne. So I wanted to write an ode, to describe why I love it. Why it is impossible to be unhappy while drinking Champagne. Alas, I cannot hope to top the words of Terry Theise. So here they are.
From Terry Theise's 2007 Catalogue:
I have a friend who was about to marry when, a week before the wedding, he and his fiance learned of her diagnosis with cancer, a bad cancer, a killer. They married nevertheless, and the eighteen months of their marriage were marked by the disease, its treatment, the endless round of doctors and specialists, and the pathos of her death. She was in her early thirties, and they were each the other’s Great Love. His friends did what we could to rally around him.
Within a week or two after the death, we gathered in one of our homes to cook supper and keep our friend company. He and I had spoken often, of course, and shed many a tear together, but this was my first time seeing him, and so I brought a special wine, a Magnum of Vilmart’s 1991 Coeur de Cuvée. And this is the first thing I want to tell you; what other wine can be at once appropriate for both celebration and consolation? The very sight of the tiny rising bubbles, dancing upward as if to snub their noses at gravity and exploding in a soft wash of foam, are heralds of an unquenchable hope. And so it was; the Champagne itself was enthralling, and I watched my friend be drawn into its suave complexity, and I knew very well that for these few moments he was engrossed in life, free of the ache of his dead. The Champagne almost literally brought him back to life.
What other wine could have done this?
...
That’s why Champagne matters, and why you should care.
Original URL: http://www.skurnikwines.com/msw/documents/2007Champagnecatalog_Champagne2007_working.pdf
From Terry Theise's 2007 Catalogue:
I have a friend who was about to marry when, a week before the wedding, he and his fiance learned of her diagnosis with cancer, a bad cancer, a killer. They married nevertheless, and the eighteen months of their marriage were marked by the disease, its treatment, the endless round of doctors and specialists, and the pathos of her death. She was in her early thirties, and they were each the other’s Great Love. His friends did what we could to rally around him.
Within a week or two after the death, we gathered in one of our homes to cook supper and keep our friend company. He and I had spoken often, of course, and shed many a tear together, but this was my first time seeing him, and so I brought a special wine, a Magnum of Vilmart’s 1991 Coeur de Cuvée. And this is the first thing I want to tell you; what other wine can be at once appropriate for both celebration and consolation? The very sight of the tiny rising bubbles, dancing upward as if to snub their noses at gravity and exploding in a soft wash of foam, are heralds of an unquenchable hope. And so it was; the Champagne itself was enthralling, and I watched my friend be drawn into its suave complexity, and I knew very well that for these few moments he was engrossed in life, free of the ache of his dead. The Champagne almost literally brought him back to life.
What other wine could have done this?
...
That’s why Champagne matters, and why you should care.
Original URL: http://www.skurnikwines.com/msw/documents/2007Champagnecatalog_Champagne2007_working.pdf
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Eve 2010
When my parents first moved to Arlington, it was Christmas Eve and their pots and pans were all in boxes. Faced with the daunting task of unpacking and then cooking, they decided instead to go out for dinner. They lived in the Lyon Village neighborhood, and the only thing open that night was a Chinese place called Wah Ying's. It was in the Lyon Village Shopping Center, where the Italian Store is now. And every Christmas Eve since then, my family has had Chinese food. This year, I decided to cook it for us. I made a number of great things, most from Fushia Dulop's cookbooks. But I came up with one on my own, which was based on a recipe from the Internet:
VEGETABLE LO MEIN
Ingredients
1 lb fresh lo mein noodles
5 green onions, sliced into 2” pieces
3 tablespoons fresh ginger, finely chopped
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 cup bean sprouts
1/2 cup pea pods
1/2 cup shredded Chinese cabbage
1/2 cup shredded carrot
1/2 cup mushrooms
3 tablespoons peanut oil
Sauce:
5 tablespoons soy sauce
5 tablespoons oyster sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon cornstarch
Directions:
Cut noodles to manageable length and boil noodles as directed; rinse under cold water and drain. Make sauce by combining soy sauce, oyster sauce, rice wine, salt, and cornstarch. Heat peanut oil in a wok or large skillet until very hot. Add ginger and garlic, stirring constantly for 30 seconds. Stir in vegetables and sauce. Stir fry for 1 or 2 minutes, until mostly cooked. Add noodles and stir fry until finished.
VEGETABLE LO MEIN
Ingredients
1 lb fresh lo mein noodles
5 green onions, sliced into 2” pieces
3 tablespoons fresh ginger, finely chopped
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 cup bean sprouts
1/2 cup pea pods
1/2 cup shredded Chinese cabbage
1/2 cup shredded carrot
1/2 cup mushrooms
3 tablespoons peanut oil
Sauce:
5 tablespoons soy sauce
5 tablespoons oyster sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon cornstarch
Directions:
Cut noodles to manageable length and boil noodles as directed; rinse under cold water and drain. Make sauce by combining soy sauce, oyster sauce, rice wine, salt, and cornstarch. Heat peanut oil in a wok or large skillet until very hot. Add ginger and garlic, stirring constantly for 30 seconds. Stir in vegetables and sauce. Stir fry for 1 or 2 minutes, until mostly cooked. Add noodles and stir fry until finished.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Dukem, U Street
So it is said, that one day in 1943, about a dozen or so officers’ wives on a shopping spree in a border town in Mexico wandered into a restaurant called the Victory Club. Though the accounts don’t typically mention this, I like to think that all of the women were more than a little tipsy. Unfortunately for them, the restaurant had closed for the day and, with few exceptions, everything had been sold. But, it being a border town, the restaurant owner did not want to disappoint the nice Gringos with money. So he told Chef Ignacio Anaya to come up with something, anything, for these well-heeled women. Having nothing but leftover tortillas, cheese, and jalapeños at his disposal, the Nacho was born (Nacho, of course, was the chef’s nickname).
Again it happened late one night in 1964, as Teressa Belissimo watched over the Anchor Bar in Buffalo New York, which she owned with her husband, Frank Lentz (who likely would not have allowed this to story to occur). That night, her son Dominic wandered in with his friends from college – doubtlessly drunk – looking for food. Again, limited by what was on hand at that late hour, she had her cook whip up a feast from some leftover chicken wings, hot sauce, and butter. The Buffalo wing was born.
And so, in the shadow of such legends, I found myself on the eve of Thanksgiving in 2010, the accidental beneficiary of scarcity. My girlfriend and I wandered out of the 9:30 club onto U Street, several drinks into a good night, looking for food. We tried the nearest establishment, Nelly's, but they were done cooking for the night. I immediately considered Ohh and Ahhs, but, this being late on the Wednesday night before a major holiday, they too were closed. As was Etete. So, when my girlfriend gave me a choice between finding the next open place to eat and death (followed, shortly thereafter, by her consuming my carcass), I decided Dukem was a better idea than the line at Ben’s.
The place was not only open, it was bouncing. Literally. It was full of (who I assume were) Ethiopians having a great time, dancing to (what I assume was) Ethiopian music. No one was eating, but, undeterred, we asked our waitress for menus. No menus. The kitchen was open, but there were only two choices: fried beef and fried lamb. And they didn’t have injera, only “regular bread.”
This was a bit of a quandary for me, given my girlfriend’s vegetarian proclivities (notwithstanding her recent threats). So I was as surprised – as you might imagine – when she demanded the lamb (but, let’s face it, most “vegetarians” are one good drunk away from a cheeseburger). Ten minutes later, the meat arrived, adorned by a few onions, fresh jalapeños, and four small French rolls. I’m pretty sure that what we ended up with was Dukem’s version of yebeg tibs with rolls instead of injera.
It didn’t look that promising. Then I cracked a roll. It was clearly store-bought bread, but it was very fresh and somehow better than what I’ve had in most of the sub shops that ship their rolls in from Philly. It was nicely toasted and the inside was like luscious cotton. The roll steamed as I cracked it. I greedily crammed the meat into my roll until it wouldn’t take any more and dug in.
I had created the perfect sandwich.
It was amazing: the bread, the (limited) vegetables, and the juice were like a good cheesesteak, but with the flavor of Ninth Street instead of South Street. I would recommend you try one, but I’m not sure you can. Clearly, my epiphany was, for Dukem, a problem and they seemed embarrassed to serve it to me. But in that moment, it was perfect.
Original Post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=11262&view=findpost&p=178001
Again it happened late one night in 1964, as Teressa Belissimo watched over the Anchor Bar in Buffalo New York, which she owned with her husband, Frank Lentz (who likely would not have allowed this to story to occur). That night, her son Dominic wandered in with his friends from college – doubtlessly drunk – looking for food. Again, limited by what was on hand at that late hour, she had her cook whip up a feast from some leftover chicken wings, hot sauce, and butter. The Buffalo wing was born.
And so, in the shadow of such legends, I found myself on the eve of Thanksgiving in 2010, the accidental beneficiary of scarcity. My girlfriend and I wandered out of the 9:30 club onto U Street, several drinks into a good night, looking for food. We tried the nearest establishment, Nelly's, but they were done cooking for the night. I immediately considered Ohh and Ahhs, but, this being late on the Wednesday night before a major holiday, they too were closed. As was Etete. So, when my girlfriend gave me a choice between finding the next open place to eat and death (followed, shortly thereafter, by her consuming my carcass), I decided Dukem was a better idea than the line at Ben’s.
The place was not only open, it was bouncing. Literally. It was full of (who I assume were) Ethiopians having a great time, dancing to (what I assume was) Ethiopian music. No one was eating, but, undeterred, we asked our waitress for menus. No menus. The kitchen was open, but there were only two choices: fried beef and fried lamb. And they didn’t have injera, only “regular bread.”
This was a bit of a quandary for me, given my girlfriend’s vegetarian proclivities (notwithstanding her recent threats). So I was as surprised – as you might imagine – when she demanded the lamb (but, let’s face it, most “vegetarians” are one good drunk away from a cheeseburger). Ten minutes later, the meat arrived, adorned by a few onions, fresh jalapeños, and four small French rolls. I’m pretty sure that what we ended up with was Dukem’s version of yebeg tibs with rolls instead of injera.
It didn’t look that promising. Then I cracked a roll. It was clearly store-bought bread, but it was very fresh and somehow better than what I’ve had in most of the sub shops that ship their rolls in from Philly. It was nicely toasted and the inside was like luscious cotton. The roll steamed as I cracked it. I greedily crammed the meat into my roll until it wouldn’t take any more and dug in.
I had created the perfect sandwich.
It was amazing: the bread, the (limited) vegetables, and the juice were like a good cheesesteak, but with the flavor of Ninth Street instead of South Street. I would recommend you try one, but I’m not sure you can. Clearly, my epiphany was, for Dukem, a problem and they seemed embarrassed to serve it to me. But in that moment, it was perfect.
Original Post: http://donrockwell.com/index.php?showtopic=11262&view=findpost&p=178001
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving 2010
After I graduated from law school in 2001, I moved back to the area and decided that I wanted to cook Thankgiving dinner for my family. It went so well that, ever since then, I have hosted Thanksgiving. I made a number of recipes, most of which were from Emeril, including "The Perfect Bird," the single best roasted turkey recipe imaginable. One easy recipe from Emeril that I have adapted as my own is his recipe for pumkpin bread pudding. The recipe follows:
PUMPKIN BREAD PUDDING
Ingredients
4 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
1 cup light brown sugar
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2 cups canned pumpkin purée (unseasoned)
6 cups cubed day-old bread
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brush a large (3 quart) casserole or (10 x 14 inch) baking dish with 2 tablespoons of butter. In a large bowl whisk together eggs, brown sugar, cream and milk. Stir in vanilla, spices, pumpkin purée, and bread, blending thoroughly. Stir in remaining 2 tablespoons butter and pour into casserole or baking dish. Bake until just firm, 1 hour. Cool pudding in dish on a baking rack and serve.
PUMPKIN BREAD PUDDING
Ingredients
4 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
1 cup light brown sugar
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2 cups canned pumpkin purée (unseasoned)
6 cups cubed day-old bread
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Brush a large (3 quart) casserole or (10 x 14 inch) baking dish with 2 tablespoons of butter. In a large bowl whisk together eggs, brown sugar, cream and milk. Stir in vanilla, spices, pumpkin purée, and bread, blending thoroughly. Stir in remaining 2 tablespoons butter and pour into casserole or baking dish. Bake until just firm, 1 hour. Cool pudding in dish on a baking rack and serve.
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