Breakfast Fabergé

I'm reminiscing my time in Eidfjord last month. The B&B served this, and I want to do it again. Temperature and timing are key to achieve the yogurt texture of the yolk - perfect to stick through and capture it on a toasted buttered country bread. More or less five and a half minutes in boiling water, trusting your instincts. You need a demitasse spoon to scrape up the whites on the sides and at the bottom. Before you eat, ready some salt and pepper, raisins and olives, cheese, fruits as chasers. It's not a heavy meal. What you'll feel, instead, is you're on travel and in another part of the world ... like Norway. Across where I had stayed was a lake that seemed to had run aground, carrying the weight of a mountain. I had a conversation with a guy from Denmark (a musician; he drove all the way) staying at the nearby campsite, adjacent to the running stream. Foreignness of place becomes familiar. Nature has universal elements. So as people. So as travel. So as food.  

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FALL FOOD

 Toasted Fennel Seeds Cherry Tomato Soup

My partner, away at a conference in Houston, called me last night and asked what I was having for dinner. "Not much. Just soup I made really quick. But it's good because it's rainy and it's now fall, and I'm alone."

Mood is a food characteristic, especially if it is perfectly attributable to comfort the heart. I don't like eating solo, but the city's weather cozied me up with my soup. I like fall when it rains, and, no, New York isn't green, but it's shimmering this time.

I have "compost" stock in the fridge - of kale stems, corn cobs, yam skins, tofu water - and a few tomatoes and fresh basil leaves. I toasted fennel and cumin seeds and a pinch of sumac in pure olive oil (to be differentiated from extra virgin; this oil achieves neutrality like canola), and covered the pot on medium-high until I heard popping. I slowly added 3 cups of stock, salt and pepper, and reduced the heat to very low. When simmering, I added about a tbsp. or two of cornmeal parmesan, and more salt and pepper to taste, and a swirl of, this time, extra virgin olive oil for texture. Surprisingly, the cheese blended as opposed to reacted, made the soup somewhat milky, and its taste - very original and fresh. I added the basil leaves right after turning off the heat, spooned them around, and let them swim.

I don't know what happened to all the spices I had put in - but it turned out a soup of its own doing, and must be having a time of his life.
     
 

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FOODNOTE: Hanne på Høyden Restaurant (in Bergen, Norway)

These were my notes while dining at Hanne på Høyden a couple of weeks ago, away on a holiday:  

• Organic butter and spelt bread like a cream-lined splurge of popcorn but with rose petals notes
• Oxtail cubes with dill amuse-bouche simple standouts
• Beef tartar with fresh-cracked quail egg in mustard and herbs aioli - rawness undetected - just has a sea cucumber texture in the emulsion
• Shore crab soup - the aroma impressive: kelp wafts or a Mendocino abalone cove - a consummate consommé; the "caviar" of a mortar-and-pestle juicing of the head of shrimp in wine, with charred-flavor of bread, the bite of softened onion and fennel fronds; exquisite sophistication like dining at the elegant seafood restaurant, Hugo, in Portland, Maine
• Hake with cabbage and the Northern lamb dish (was told a "one of a kind" species)... -Disappointment - (like saying that horse will win, at the start of the race, but then with the main dish it didn't) - no where did the fish evoke the mighty scenery and postcard red farms along the fjords; the lamb - O, God - was tough - cutting it in front of the chef was embarrassing I had to change the subject; but in fairness the flavor was good, giving me an imagining of a traditional Nordic stew of reindeer meat slow-cooked in milk, water and juniper berries my host in Bergen, Aslaug, where I stayed with, talked about one night in her kitchen 
• Pre-dessert (chef been serving us since the main dish; probably informed by the waiter been engaged with us constructively about food) Brown ice cream: ha! - has an English short beard flavor in the creaminess, and its sweetness of a Spanish milk powder candy with toasted grains; and visuals aside, the mixed fruits sorbet - the main dessert - didn't come together - there was landscape planning, but all the wrong plants

With "luxury" food, I don't believe in strict consistency. I believe in the moment. Chefs should work in this ethos - arriving at the "words" reliably from a poetic voice - explain the food that way - so guests get in the idea of the taste. But no matter. The winning factor at Hanne på Høyden, albeit, was the professional and deep eye-contact hospitality to serve, to accept feedback and to intelligently converse from personal experience, expanding the table's horizons, leaving everyone satisfied with the overall production and tact.

The restaurant is located in a quiet residential hill of cobblestones and botanic gardens where the liberal arts college (Bergen University) resides, the area called Møhlenpris. You enter the premises and a useful wheelbarrow with potted plants and flowers greet you. The street-level dinning room is formal, but the ambiance comes from the northernly air outside to Scandinavia. A beautiful country. A friendly country. A food destination in the making, likely to emerge from her "forest" as Portland, Ore. did, in the U.S.A.     

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THE FOOD OF EIDFJORD, NORWAY

Fish Soup is the all-around comfort food of cold Norway, eaten with rustic, hard and chewy wheat-nut rolls and "brown" cheese from mountain goats. Fish bone stock becomes milky; adding root vegetables, onions and herbs clears and draws out its flavor, binding the salmon and cod's vitality like forest presence to glacial seas. 

Norway is a beautiful Nature. The interior of this land is ocean, and because of the fjords lush rocks rise above the country. The food of Norway is an evocation of what is caught here, is gathered, and is herded. There is light-sense in the fish, acorn and pine in the bread, and thunderstorms over the barn.

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THE FOOD OF BUSHWICK

Two blocks north of Roberta's on Thames St. just past Morgan, in one of those old, brick factories turned artist lofts building where I had moved to three years ago this summer from Portland, Ore., I remember setting my first meal over a spread of newspapers in a studio with a built-in stage. I don't remember what I had cooked then exactly - and that's not the point. What I want to write instead is about the neighborhood - gritty and tattooed - yet food and eating there are inspired. Bushwick has become New York's "culinartists'" retreat to find the voice of food. I think they have an extemporaneous style, revealing the creativity of their own disciplines, and what nature (the flavors and notes of food) can do - to sing out in us: Wow, this is good! In their own right are artists' visceral originality: they know what to do with their wares, and they know how to follow the mouths of their ingredients. When Shinobi, a ramen house, opened on Grattan Ave. west of Thames, sure it's about traditional slurps, but the vibe is more like after a band recording. Narrows, the oyster bar, is a "norm corps" dimension of cocktail cool. Roberta's world-class food is a nuance of the creative-anonymous sect. The octopus ceviche at Union restaurant was kind of what I had expected of a Brooklyn genre. My first night in Bushwick on stage eating my food under warehouse environment conditions changed my notion about food. It's not a big deal. It's who they are.

           

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