simon says french food blog

Pizza and Perfection on the L Train

BROOKLYN
By Joe Ray

Cue the rock music, throw on a cool T-shirt and hop in the L train to Williamsburg – Roberta’s cures what ails you. While the possibility of a lamb dish worthy of a spot in Daniel next to a pizza might sound a bit schizophrenic, here it works just fine.

With its woodsy feel and merry, multicolored light garlands on the walls, Roberta’s, est. 2008, has a feeling of a saloon that sits not too far from the 49th parallel – one that hits full swing by 7 and stays that way till the last tippler is pushed into the Brooklyn night at closing time. I was invited by my sweetheart, Elisabeth, who’d picked up on some very strong hints on where I’d like to celebrate my birthday and we were not let down.

These guys, particularly chef Carlo Mirachi, have some serous friends in the food sourcing business. ‘Beef Carpaccio’ shows up with the marbling of something noteworthy and turns out to be Wagyu from a farm on a big, flat state out west. A drizzle of stellar olive oil creates a dreamy, one-two-three-four adagio progression between vegetal freshness, slick vegetable fat, beefy meatiness and Wagyu fat. I got as much pleasure nibbling away at it as watching Elisabeth enjoy it – something she readily encouraged.

One plate over, tiny bay scallops with crispy bits of trout skin, Meyer lemon and poppies snuggled in a bowl, reminding me of not one but two childhood favorites – Mom’s broiled scallops, and, thanks to the poppies and the almost bread-y flavor to the broth they waded in, the frozen Pepperidge Farm rolls she’d make in the oven when I was little.

The big gun, however, was the lamb breast main course, cooked sous-vide for a long time then sizzled for a short time to create a crispy/melting combination that recalls the textures of a savory crème brulée. Nearby, a comma of yogurt, dollops of a light mint aspic and gently-braised leaves of, I believe, radicchio and swiss chard provided punctuation marks of acidity, bitterness and a faint sweetness. Any three-star restaurant would be proud to serve the dish at three times the price.

Next to the lamb, we’d ordered a pizza – this is a pizzeria, after all – and maybe because it was next to something so spectacular, our pie was the evening’s only relative whiff. The ‘Tracy Patty’ pie features tasty mozzarella, ricotta, lip-smacking boquerones (vinegar-drenched anchovies), garlic and savoy cabbage, but it lacked some juicy agent like tomatoes or more of that amazing olive oil to shuttle each slice it to its final home.

No matter. Next time we go, we’ll likely try another pie. Perhaps the ‘Voltron’ – it’s got sopressata.

While some crow that the bar-like atmosphere is an odd or uncomfortable place for food this sophisticated, we could have cared less. This is the kind of spot where you want to grab good friend or three on your birthday and have one of the best nights of the year, fussiness be damned. Mirachi's created an American doppelganger of Sicilian chef Francesco Cassarino's wonderful Pizzeria Caravanserraglio.

On the subway and once nibbling some of Elisabeth’s fantastic birthday cake at home, we got talking about the best dishes we’d ever had. Rare are the meals that engender that sort of conversation.

“What were the tens?” Elisabeth asked, a question that brought us around the world and back to the meal still in our bellies.

Our lamb, we agreed, was a 9 ½, the scallops a scarce point and a half behind.

“What about the Wagyu carpaccio?” I asked. “A solid eight?”

She responded without hesitation.

“That was a ten.”

Roberta’s
261 Moore St.
Brooklyn
+1 (718) 417-1118
www.robertaspizza.com
(Editor’s note: No reservations at Roberta’s - go early or wait in line.)

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is a Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

Is Paris The World Champion of Gastronomy?

By Joe Ray
PARIS

That's the question French food critic Francois Simon posed to a little panel: Nick Lander, Carlo Petrini, Ken Hom, Anissa Helou, Yumiko Inukai and...yours truly. For a recent article in Le Figaro's magazine, Figaroscope.

Here's my response in Version Originale...

World capital? That's loaded question.
Twenty years – even 10 – ago, the question was bandied about for fun but we already knew the answer, but now, just using the places I know well, it’s a legitimate debate. Barcelona combines an unquenchable curiosity and solid base to keep themselves on cuisine’s front edge. Sicily combines incredible raw ingredients with solid value and New York could win on sheer numbers yet it is Paris’ equal in quality and exponentially more diverse. India is a time machine whose cuisine never ages.

Plus, in Paris, coffee is awful and the beer second rate. It’s also pricey. That said, you forget all problems instantly when the former butcher who can hold four bottles of wine in one hand and owns Le Severo puts a côte de boeuf aged 40 days under your nose. You forget it when Pierre Gagnaire boils down a great vat of red wine to make a tiny component of a sauce. You forget it when Laetitia at Le Bistro Paul Bert greets you with a smile, seats you at your favorite table and gifts you with a glass of wine and when it comes to choosing a bottle of wine doesn’t foist something you can’t afford on you. You forget it when three bottles, two glasses of Calvados and one conversation into a meal, you realize with a start that it’s 5 a.m. and you’ve been at the table for nine hours.
Undeniable world champ? Not anymore. However, the French exception still reigns. Let’s call Paris first among equals.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is a Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

 

The Morgenthaler Method or The King of the Carbonated Cocktail

By Joe Ray
PORTLAND, OR

Before I visited Portland to meet bartender extraordinaire Jeffrey Morgenthaler, I visited his blog. One distracting post, now two years old, offered video of a man giving the health department all the reasons it needs to send an inspector. In the post, titled “How to Make a Daiquiri – The American Bartending School Way,” Morgenthaler recaps “the way” with a 10-point breakdown, including steps like: 1) Chill an 8-ounce cocktail glass; 2) Pick your nose, and wipe the resulting findings on the back of your hand; 5) Wipe nose on back of hand for four full seconds; and 10) Enjoy! Morgenthaler’s subtle jabs make a sharp point about his craft.

Along with descriptions of new products like Xanté Pear Liqueur — headline: “Not A Sex Toy!” — Morgenthaler uses his blog as a platform to announce what he’s doing at the bar in Clyde Common, a Portland restaurant. The drinks and styles he writes about tend to become cocktail-world trends.

... read the rest here in The Daily.

Holy Cow! Forget pork belly – Italian beef is the Windy City’s ultimate meat

CHICAGO
By Joe Ray 

In the parking lot of one of the Windy City’s better-known Italian beef sandwich stands, while waiting for my Uncle Joe to arrive for lunch, Uncle Charlie added the terms “juice loan” and “bag drop” to my vocabulary, as if Mafia-style extortion and illicit payoffs are part and parcel of a Chicago beef tour.

Inside the kitchen of one of these restaurants, someone politely told me, “You won’t be taking a picture of him,” and I stuck my camera right back into its bag, no questions asked.

As ubiquitous and popular a Chicago institution as pizza and Vienna hot dogs, Italian beef needs a guide. I’ve got family.

... read the rest here in The Daily.

 

LE SEVERO - ORDER ANOTHER PLATE

By Joe Ray
PARIS

I’ll begin with the closer; sometimes I talk about a meal having ‘momentum,’ something that gets better and better with every bite making you want more. Le Severo served a meal’s worth.

I’d wanted to come here since I first walked by years ago when I lived on place Denfert-Rochereau. The chalkboard wall full of good wines and the short menu had a wonderful ‘serious food’ air that tripped my radar.

The hard-working waiter speeds around the floor by himself. He also happens to be the owner, a former butcher and a man who knows how to age meat, which he does for 40 days in the space beneath the dining room.

Did I mention he can carry three wine bottles in one hand and though very busy, is unfailingly polite and patient with my table of nine?

On this night, we order appetizers, passing them around to share. When cep mushrooms, seared in generous quantities of butter make it to Mom, she takes one bite and commands, “Order another plate.”

There’s also a meatier-than-most blood sausage served without casing and cooked crispy on the outside, melting within. Mom immediately declares one of the best she’s ever eaten.

I mention this to the owner and he blushes.

After this, we pass to the serious meat. Just before taking our order, the owner declares that all meat will be cooked rare, fanning his arms out over the table. I mention that Mom prefers her meat on the done side and he blushes again, then caves to her wishes.

Dad and Jim get a côte de boeuf with intense marbling served blissfully rare and accompanied by fries that would make a Belgian proud. Jim gnaws on the bone, smiling the whole time and Dad’s got that “ooh, baby, baby” look on his face.

At the end of the night, the owner’s got time to come by and talk about his food – he’s wonderfully proud of it, rightfully so.

Momentum, indeed.

Count on 40-50€.

Le Severo – MAP
8 rue des Plantes
Paris
+33 (0)1.40.44.73.09

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

 

 

FOLLOWING YOUR NOSE TO A MAN OF HIS CRAFT

By Joe Ray
GREENSBORO, Vermont

New story: Beer wunderkind Shaun Hill's new digs at Hill Farmstead Brewery in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom. Cheers!

A TASTE OF THE FUTURE

By Joe Ray
LUMMI ISLAND, Washington

I’ve seen the future on a little island in the Pacific Northwest. A few weeks ago, I got a taste of Blaine Wetzel’s cuisine in his new role as executive chef at the Willows Inn.

Who’s Wetzel? You’ll likely be hearing quite a bit about him, particularly if you’re from that neck of the woods. Wetzel, 24, is fresh off a stint at Copenhagen’s noma restaurant, working as the chef de partie for Rene Redzepi. He was there when noma officially went through the roof, knocking El Bulli out of the top slot in San Pellegrino’s Best Restaurant in The World hooplah.

Did they win because he was there? No. Was he taking good notes? You bet.

I was at the Willows to interview Wetzel for a set of upcoming articles and a sneak preview of what to expect when the Willows reopens next month.

A seven-course tasting menu was about six courses more than I needed to know that it was worth the trip. He might be a two-hour drive and five minute ferry ride from both Seattle and Vancouver, but you might want to reserve now.

What’d he serve? Barely poached end gently pickled Hammersley Inlet oysters were one of many surprise ‘snacks,’ but my favorite dish might have been the wild mushrooms, fresh cheese and woodruff. For the latter, he forages some of the mushrooms and woodruff and makes the cheese - rennet’s in a little bottle on a shelf in the fridge. He devotes a whole course to the potatoes inn owner Riley Starks grows at the adjacent Nettles Farm that supplies much of the kitchen’s produce.

Need any more reason to go? A four-course tasting menu will start at $40 and a seven course for $65. The inn and restaurant are closed for a January remodel.

Taste of the future begins in February. Go early.

The Willows Inn - MAP
2579 West Shore Drive

Lummi Island, WA 98262
+1 
(360)758-2620
www.willows-inn.com

For a bit of background on Wetzel’s arrival, click here. ...and for my Boston Globe story on Willows Inn owner Riley Starks, click here.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner.

 

“THIS PART OF SICILY IS LIKE A PROTEIN FACTORY”

By Joe Ray
FRIGINTINI, Sicily

Having found pizza 8.5, we went to see grandma in Frigntini. I’d heard about Ristorante Maria Fidone from a man who let his choice to live in Noto be based largely on proximity to pastry chef Corrado Assenza so I followed through on the recommendation.

Maria Fidone is the spiritual cousin of Casalinga Benevento, one notch higher in quality and one notch less expensive. This is about as close as yo8u can get to eating at a Sicilian grandmother’s house without an invite from a Sicilian grandmother.

The exterior has a art deco look more at place in Florida than here but the interior has that peculiar no-frills look that allows a flat screen TV to qualify as a decoration.

There are few choices to make. Red or white is one and it will arrive in a carafe fitting to the number of people at your table. There’s no menu to choose from either, but just by answering in the affirmative to every question the waiter asks, you’ll be eating what grandma is making. You’ll be wildly happy.

I know we’re on to something special when house-cured olives arrive with a bit of mint, but realize how serious this place is with one bite of ravioli di ricotta con sugo di maiale - something that instantly becomes one of the best-prepared pasta dishes of my life. The pasta is almost see through while still retaining a bit of al dente crunch. The ricotta within is transformed, with a cloudy, almost flan-like texture. 

“This part of Sicily is like a protein factory,” quips Francesco. 

The meat in the sauce along with the tomatoes create an acidic tang that gives the place immediate momentum: the more you eat, the more you want to eat.

“There’s a precision to this that reminds me of my grandmother’s cooking,” says Francesco. In all of the meals we’ve shared together, he’s never complimented food like that.

We share a pork dish, also in the tomato sauce, and the meal is crowned by stewed rabbit with veggies - again, a hint of mint - and each element retaining its own flavor.

The kicker? It’s a steal. Dinner for two, including wine, fizzy water, several courses, coffee and a shot of grappa and a handshake from the waiter as we head out the door is 26 euros. Total. Thirteen euros each. 

Memories of grandma and her untouchable cooking are provided free of charge.

If you don’t get to a restaurant like this in Sicily, you’re missing the point.

Ristorante Maria Fidone - MAP
Via Gianforma, 6
Frigintini (Modica)
+39 0932 901 135
www.mariafidone.com

Closed Monday. Cash only. Reserve ahead. Wednesday is vegetarian night.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

CHEESE TIME IN RAGUSA

RAGUSA, Sicily
By Joe Ray 

We arrive a bit early for the cheese and mill around in the mist - wandering through the garden courtyard of a church we never find before settling on the step in front of DiPasquale. We’re not alone; a pair of men wait next to us and two women wait in an old, minuscule baby blue fiat that’s nudged up against the curb.

We’re all waiting for the cheese. 

Once in, the cheesemonger recognizes my face and I just say that I’ve been in before and would like to introduce my friends to some good Sicilian cheese. In Sicily, Dipasquale is where you go for the good stuff. The sourcing is impeccable and the cheese, wine and meat they procure has made them deservedly famous.

Show interest or let your eye rest too long and the cheesemonger cuts a slab for each of you to taste. One slab per person. The clever could easily make a meal out of a visit.

He guides us toward beautiful Ragusanos of different ages - these being the large, rectangular cheeses aged by hanging them on thick ropes, tumas (tomme), pecorino and a lovely, saffron-laced Piacentinu Ennese.

Above it all, there’s Lardo di Colonnata - melt in your mouth fatback typically aged in marble with herbs in the Colonnata mines.

In a larger European city, we’d pay twice as much for this kind of quality, but the real value is the contribution to the evening ahead.

Here, I wink to my great friends in the Ispica Social Club, whisper buonanotte, and disappear.

Dipasquale - MAP
Corso Italia, 387
Ragusa
+39 0932 227485
www.dipasqualeformaggi.it

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

THE ANARCHIST’S CANNOLI

PALAZZOLO ACREIDE, SICILY
By Joe Ray 

At the end of dinner at the anarchist’s in Siracusa, I asked the woman at the counter - the anarchette??? - where to go in town for good cannoli.

“There’s a fair one on the square, but if you really want a good one, you have to head up into the hills - to Palazzolo Acreide, but they’ll be closed now. It’s too late.”

We went to the piazza and ‘fair’ in this case was more than enough. We’re thrilled to be rediscovering the island, the architecture and the people. The Motherland.

The next day, Lex and I head to see winemaker Salvo Foti in Chiaramonte Gulfi, then head up and away into the hills and windmills, the sheep and the sunset. We start leaning vaguely toward home when a roadsign indicates “Palazzolo A.”

“That’s where the cannoli is!” I shout. I may have a memory like a sieve, but not when a town shares a name with one of my favorite Sicilian pastry chefs and gelato makers, Santi Palazzolo. 

Had I not turned, Lex might have staged a putsch.

Palazzolo Acreide is an off-the-track find, cannoli or no. We hop a fence to explore the ruins of a hilltop castle, then wander between the town’s four gem-like churches. 

Everyone in town knows that Corsino is the place for cannoli and there’s a bit of a momentary panic when it appears they’re out of ricotta filling. My word.

Instead, we get two cannoli on one tiny plate and have a seat outside. They’re wonderfully un-made-up - no chocolate bits, no candied fruit just the ricotta, just the shell and a dusting of powdered sugar - the Tilda Swinton of cannoli.

The filling’s perfect - the silky texture contrasting with the punch of good ricotta. Lexy may have had a life-changing experience at Bonajauto but isn’t above devouring this one. She does her little ‘pure pleasure’ gesture, eyes closed, huge smile, head thrown back a little, clapping her wrists together. 

There we are again, grinning our way through another town. We sit on the stairs above the main square and watch a wedding party stroll by - photos of the bride and groom taken between the columns in the arcade of an old building.

In front of another church hidden up a set of stairs, Lex twirls and smiles. The moon comes up full and orange above the city. 

Corsino - MAP
Via Nazionale, 2
Palazzolo Acreide
+39 0931 875533
www.corsino.it

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

MEN MISSING THEIR MOTHERS

By Joe Ray
MODICA, Sicily

Lexy will be the only woman in the room when we sit down for lunch, but I’ll wait to tell her that until after we’re through the front door.

There’s no reason to know there’s a restaurant there and no name on the outside of the building - just a misleading circular sign that says ‘BAR.’ Cucina Casalinga Benevantano (“Beneventano’s home cooking”) - is a name used mostly to have something for the phone book and the business cards.

Inside, you might get a curious glance or two if you’re not a regular, but you’re welcome just the same. The sign on the wall opposite the TV no one watches tells you all you need to know - starters, pasta and meats all within the five to ten euro range.

There are about twenty items, from chickpea or fava bean soup, ricotta ravioli with ragu, perfect lamb stew and, aside from the addition of tripe one or two days a week, the menu never changes. This is daily food made for the local crowd and a primer on homestyle Sicilian cuisine.

Maybe all the men in here just miss their moms. 

Cucina Casalinga Benevantano - MAP
Via Nazionale Modica-Ispica, 155/a
Modica
+39 0932 771250

Closed on Sunday.

 

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: @joe_diner. 

My Debatable Fondness for the Armani Caffe

By François Simon

PARIS

I was going to say, "I know this place by heart," which is oddly untrue because I should, actually. But I've got a feeling that my liking for the Armani Caffe probably irritates some of you. Too expensive (I'll grant you that), too many spoiled brats (ok, we could add too many spoiled parents), too much bling and that's not all!

So what? I like it when a place is a bit "too much" because you can never get enough. Having said that, the dishes are rigorous, frequently good and I am nuts about their ice cream. They serve it like "crème glacée,"slightly soft, not hard as a rock. The wines are convincing. So much so that if I ever get squashed on the boulevard, you'll know why.

For the time being, I managed to make it to the opposite sidewalk with overwhelming literary enthusiasm; the next morning, I discovered a huge bag from La Hune bookstore on the table. What was in it? The latest Pascal Quignard ("La Barque silencieuse"), Hiromi Kawakami ("Manuzaru," edited by Piquier; I loved the previous books, "The Teacher's Briefcase" and "The Nakano Thrift Store"), Laurent Mauvignier ("Des Hommes"), Bernard Chapuis ("Le Rêve entouré d'eau") and Yannick Haenel's latest: "Jan Karski," devoured in just two days. And a book by Jules Renard.

Armani Caffe : 149, Boulevard St Germain, Paris 6‎. Tel :+33 1 45 48 62 15 Map

BRUSSELS BEER & FRIES WEEK! PART SIX: GOOD (FRY) HUMOR

By Joe Ray
BRUSSELS

I love this kind of place: old, out of the way and authentic. La Bonne Humeur is a spiritual cousin to the American diner, right down the splotch of Formica worn white by the thousands of Dutch ovens and plates set in front of every seat.

What’s cooking? Millions of mussels, a google of frites, too many Jupiler drafts to remember!

Here in the house of moules et frites, the offerings do not disappoint. The mussels are magnificent. What appears to be important is not which sauce (marinière? Green peppercorn?) but that you pause to spoon some of the buttery, fennel-y goodness up from the bottom and pour it over the top.

The fries, part of my five consecutive meal fry extravaganza, cause the group buffoon to shout “McDonalds!” when he first tastes them - which made me want to hit the dirt in case knives came flying from the kitchen … even if there’s a grain of truth to it. ‘McDonald’s in heaven’ is much more appropriate.

The clever can save money by ordering smaller numbers of bigger portions. Three larger portions - they are ordered by the kilo or kilo and half - are plenty for the five of us, buffoon included.

Count on about 30 euros and, as it’s in a funny neighborhood and not too close to a Metro stop, take a cab. 

La Bonne Humeur - MAP
Chaussée de Louvain 244
Brussels
+32 02 230 71 69

Follow me on Twitter: @joe_diner and on Facebook.

BRUSSELS BEER & FRIES WEEK! PART QUATRE: FRY ME A RIVER

By Joe Ray
BRUSSELS

Part by design, part by chance, I had fries at five meals in a row in Brussels, including one breakfast.

This might rile some feathers, but what’s funny is that the Bruxellois don’t seem terribly picky about their fry stands as long as their frites are done right: fried once to cook them through, then a second time to crisp up the edges at a hotter temperature.

My two faves come from dedicated places outside the center, often surrounded by pimply students who make lunches out of fried meat sandwiches called mitraillettes – pure roach coach grub ‘machine guns’ topped with a few fries and drowned in the sauce of your choosing. Let your eyes alone do the feasting.

The fries, however, are thick, stubby, soft, crispy and salty - the kind of things that have you walking along, gazing up at the city and chuckling to yourself, thinking ‘I’m eating fries in Brussels’ as you pop another another in your mouth.

Two notables:
Friterie de la Place de la Chapelle - MAP
Place de la Chapelle
Brussels
First ones I had on this trip. Breakfast, bien sûr!

Friterie de la Barriere - MAP
5, Avenue du Parc
Brussels

Follow me on Twitter: @joe_diner and on Facebook.

BRUSSELS BEER & FRIES WEEK! PART 1: REMEMBER THE FUNK

BRUSSELS
BY JOE RAY 

Back in Brussels, I quickly note that this is the trip where my eyes are still wide open, but the pieces of the city begin to connect.

Back at La Brocante, a beer bar I visited last year, I notice that this year, the deer head on the wall has a cigarette in its mouth and put a finger on one of my favorite things about this town: the inherent funkiness. Even the popular Jupiler is an acquired taste that makes equivalents like Kronenbourg, Budweiser and Estrella Damm taste like ultra-pasteurized wimp.

I let the waiter steer me toward a beer called Floreffe, a Trappist triple with apple compote, smoke and some wonderful, nose-in-a-brewery smells.

On this day, with the flea market outside, there’s a band - Le Jeu de Balles - crammed into the space between the front door and a beer cooler. The guy next to me appears not to have left the premises since I was here a year ago. Another dude walks in wearing ski googles, followed by an older woman in heels and fur.

It’s good to be back.

Café La Brocante - MAP
Blaesstraat 170
Brussels
+32 (0) 2 512 13 43

Click here to read my 2009 Belgian beer story, “Stalking A Wild Brew”

Follow me on Twitter: @joe_diner and on Facebook.

HAIL THAT CAB!

PARIS

By Joe Ray

 

I’d been back in town for 48 hours, my mental Rolodex a little rusty and trying to think of a good place to meet a friend for lunch. My brain falls on a well-worn card.

Taxi Jaune is a perfect ‘welcome back’ - serving, on this day, radishes with good, sweet, creamy butter and salt flakes - the dish might as well have a little French flag on the top.

Later, Ari and I share mains. A bavette (flank steak) is crunchy on the outside, juicy within - a bite full of flavor, good technique and strong sourcing.

The trout, skin crisp and peeled back like the page of a good book reveals something sensual, a kind of ‘pages turned slowly’ read. There’s a fettucine next to it that’s so good, it causes me to go home and try to make my own pasta.

Outside, the sun is bright. The city shines like a diamond.

Count on about 20€ with a drink at lunch.

Le Taxi Jaune - MAP
13, rue Chapon
Paris
+33 1 42 76 00 40

Closed weekends.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Twitter: @joe_diner.

SUGAR FRENZY

By Joe Ray

PARIS

 

"Mmm… Almonds, fleur d'oranger, vanilla…" says Ari dissecting the Pain du Sucre confection I'm sharing.

"What else is in it?" asks her friend.

My only reply is a frenzied chewing sound, similar to the dining animals in "The Fantastic Mr. Fox."

Both friends have each ordered exactly one mint macaroon with chocolate (girls!) and they taste exactly like the mint that grew in our side yard when I was five.

Yesterday in the patisserie where we got them – Pain de Sucre, run by ex-Pierre Gagnaire partner/dynamic do Didier Mathray and Nathalie Robert – a woman, perhaps intoxicated by the beautiful fumes practically stampedes our threesome.

Today, on our return visit (Ari needed some more for her return to Barcelona), another woman snatches one of her macaroons from the box before the salesman can close the top, pretends to offer it to her infant and acts surprised when, ostensibly, the baby says 'no.'

The mom wolfs it down in one bite.

I can't blame her.

Pain de Sucre – MAP
14 rue Rambuteau
75003 Paris
http://www.patisseriepaindesucre.com/
Closed Tuesday & Wednesday

Click here to see my 2007 Boston Globe story on Pain du Sucre and other, emm, mold-breaking patisseries

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Twitter: @joe_diner.

BYE-BYE BARCELONA: LAST LUNCH & A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

By Joe Ray

BARCELONA

 

I’d wanted to come back here for years. I’d also been wondering where to have my last meal of the summer in Barcelona.

Appropriately, I went with my old lunch partner/landlord Fede who introduced me to Restaurant Montalban when I rented my Poble Sec apartment from him years ago.

All I wanted for this meal was to repeat the one I remembered, as it seemed the owner had made some sort of deal with the devil to make good seafood. 

There is no disappointment.

We start with percebes - gooseneck barnacles - sugar sweet, wildly expensive, and looking like dinosaur toes, Montalban’s are made with a pinch of cinnamon in the court bouillon. To eat them, pinch the neck, pull out the sweet center, pop it in your mouth and wash it down with a Galician white and you, too, will be saying, “Money? What money???”

We follow with a plate of galician octopus that’s plump, tender, almost sweet and paprika smoky. Every time I eat this dish I like it more.

Barnacles and octopi, however, are sideshows compared with the real reason I want to return; I want the rodaballo. The turbot comes out crispy-chewy on the outside firm and flavorful on the inside. There’s a lemon, but there’s no reason to bother with it; this fish is worth a deal with the devil. My word - one taste and you wonder why anyone would bother with any other preparation.

You’ll pay for the pleasure, but Montalban is still a great value. As Fede says, “this place and Quimet & Quimet are the only places you’ll find people wearing suits in Poble Sec.”

Count on about 35 euros for lunch with wine. Sky’s the limit if you order percebes, but they’ll be worth it.

Bar-Restaurante Montalban “Casa Jose” - MAP
Margarit 31
+34 93 442 31 43

 Closed Sunday night and Monday.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. Twitter: @joe_diner.

WORLD'S BEST? THAT'S UP TO YOU.

BARCELONA
By Joe Ray

 
 

I love the hype surrounding the announcement of The World’s 50 Best Restaurants* – it somehow points out how goofy and subjective it is to rank them (where are Pinotxo and the Agawam Diner?!?!) while reminding us how wonderful they are.

For anyone interested in a trip down memory lane to the places on the list where I’ve been lucky enough to eat, here we go…

noma – Rene Redzepi

El Bulli – Ferran Adria

El Celler de Can Roca – Joan Roca

WD-50 & Daniel

Le Chateaubriand

Pierre Gagnaire / Plaza Athenée - Pierre Gagnaire & Alain Ducasse

St. John

Finally, two conspicuously absent personal faves:

Restaurant Jean-Marie Amat (and here)

and

Les Cols

*Congrats to my pal Lexy Topping for breaking the 50 Best story for the Guardian – woop woop!

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the 2009 Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year and author of the blog Eating The Motherland. 

GEOTHERMAL CUISINE

By Joe Ray

OLOT, Spain

 

The first thing you notice on a tour of the kitchen at Les Cols is that there’s a water garden fed from the heavens in the middle of it. This makes sense. An ardent but not annoying locavore, chef Fina Puigdevall is intent on building your relationship to the ground beneath your feet - this volcanic area where she was born.

She immediately shines spotlights on local ingredients - buckwheat, cured sausage from Olot, wild mushrooms, the cabbage that gives the restaurant its name and even wonderfully fragrant black truffles. One dish features an egg from the black chickens running around outside the window.

The clever thief would begin by swiping Puigdevall’s purveyor list;  in retrospect, what’s odd is that there’s no standout dish, nothing so wildly good that it makes you want to do cartwheels between the tables, yet hers is is food with roots. These are deep and wild flavors, strength pulled up from the soil - a geothermal cuisine. 

Puigdevall is like a wayward member of Rene Redzepi’s New Nordic cuisine gang - you half-expect to find Sigur Ros jamming in the henhouse.

You spend a bit of time like this, thinking of where she fits into the scheme of things - some say she’s the next Carme Ruscalleda but you quickly realize their styles don’t match, give up the ghost and start enjoying things. 

There is pea soup - a bright and happy green canvas supporting tiny cubes of balsamic, a micro-scoop of peanut ice cream, a bright yellow dollop of saffron sauce and a deep orange sea urchin. Squint from above and it looks like abstract art made with a set of Crayolas.

‘Pumpkin in five different ways’ has similar beauty, showcasing an ingredient that deserves the attention. Tendrils might grow from our fingers, roots from our feet. 

In another dish, salt cod floats on brandade, those under spinach and chard everything heating the truffle (see above). You stare, you smell, you think, you hesitate to destroy it with a fork, then you smile. The beauty in the presentation of these dishes is subtle when looked at individually and breathtaking when considered together. 

Equally as sublime is the space.

Using iron, glass and stone, the design of this restaurant hits what they missed at Can Fabes. While spots inside Santi Santamaria’s nearby restaurant can feel like the inside of a tank, Puigdevall clearly spent a long time talking to an architect who listened.

The sliding and pivoting glass doors and arches make the chef’s 13th century home modern and the main dining room are set slightly into the earth, so your eyes are level with the grass. We’re here on one of those winter days where you look at a picture of the backyard in summertime and it’s so green it might as well be another planet, yet even in winter, that subtle shift makes you notice shoots and buds you wouldn’t have seen otherwise. 

When your gaze extends upward, it might linger on clouds clinging to the hills or you might spend two minutes watching a drop of water work its way down the giant window. On any other date, this much time spent gazing outside would signal disaster. Here, you’re simply taking time to reconnect to the world around you.

The hotel rooms here are minimalist glass and metal cubes and I would love to return and spend the whole afternoon - post lunch - in the bathtub with a bottle of wine watching the clouds stick to the hills and contemplating the meal I just ate.

Service is well done, without hovering, and low key. Bravo for the bravery to offer a cart full of very worthy Catalan cheeses. 

A tasting menu is 70 euros plus wine.

Les Cols – MAP
Carretera de la Canya
Olot, Spain
+34 97 226 9209
www.lescols.com

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.