Bye Bye, Black(faced) Sheep

Maintaining the natural environment can mean sacrifice.

Mont Saint Michel -- St. Michael's Mount in anglais -- is one of the coolest places in the world, a medieval abbey that to the eye seems to grow from a rock that juts out of the sand on the coast of France.

In the old days the Mount would be cut off from the mainland at high tide, the water even covering the road. It was a major destination for Christian pilgrims, who would take the road or a risky walk across the sand from the east at low tide. In the modern era a causeway was built, allowing tourist-bearing cars and buses to drive to the base of the Mount.

But the causeway hampers the tidal action, so over the years the Bay of Saint Michel (it's the mouth of the Couesnon River) has silted-in. This has created areas within the tidelands that are now rarely covered by the tide. These areas have become meadows.

Because the Mount is a UNESCO World Heritage site, as well as the #1 tourist attraction in France, a project is being planned to restore the bay and tidelands. The causeway will be replaced with a bridge that will allow water to flow underneath and get the natural flushing action going again.

Unfortunately this means we are going to say goodbye to a particular delicacy: the Bay of Saint Michel sheep.

The silt-meadows grow grass that is naturally salty due to the seawater. Shepherds graze sheep on it, and as a result the resulting lamb tastes naturally salty. This lamb -- agneau de pré salé -- has become a highly prized dining experience, and it's one we got to try recently.


Junk food has given salt a bad name. Fritos are salty. The flavor of Saint Michel lamb is saline.

The dining room of our hotel, the Montgomery (right), is said to be the best in Pontorson, the last town before the Mount. Nothing about our lamb rib chops gave cause to doubt the rep.

For starters, the saline flavor was more like the essence of sea air rather than saltwater -- closer to an herb than a mineral.

Second was the mild, delicate taste. It barely tasted like lamb, just enough to be able to tell what it was. Again, essence.

We ordered it medium, but agneau de pré salé is becoming rare. Because of the causeway replacement project the sheep farmers see the handwriting on the wall, and are getting out of the business. Supplies are shrinking, and prices are going up. One day, Mont Saint Michel's ecosystem will be restored, but the sheep, a happy accident of man's interference, will be elsewhere. Just regular-tasting sheep.

Where's the boeuf?

Charolais (shar-o-lay) -- a big, docile sweetheart of a white French cow -- is a slice (sorry) of heaven.

They are raised all over the world now, but the ones I saw recently were concentrated in Burgundy, and in the Loire bread basket -- hey, that's a pain panier!

The way they do charolais at La Ciboulette (Beaune) is, I am assured by a Francophile, in the traditional French country style

Ordered medium-rare, the unmarbled cut cooked up firm yet not even remotely tough. The texture was not unlike a high quality buffalo steak.

The flavor of charolais is earthy, remarkably like lamb. I would use the term gamey, but a lot of unadventurous eaters (yeah lamb-haters, I mean you) confuse that with liver-y, and I don't want to scare anyone off.

Market day in Beaune (video below)

Best of all is a thin sauce of lemon and cheese (possibly Epoisses, the signature Burgundian cheese) poured over the charolais. These are not overpowering flavors, even though Epoisses is known for a stinky aroma.* I suspect the heat of cooking moderates the lemon and cheesiness. If I were making it, I would use the sequence melted butter - cheese - lemon juice - skillet drippings. Maybe a little white wine.

Bon apetit.

Of course, you have to finish the meal with a Calvados. Purely to aid the digestion, of course.

Cute and yummy.

24 seconds at Beaune market day

* We later had a chance to sample some Epoisses, and its stinky reputation is undeserved. It has an aroma, but it is in no way unpleasant or overpowering. And it may be the most complexly flavored cheese you'll every try -- nutty, buttery, with a distinct undertone of lamb.

Tourists on the halfshell

Elliott's (Waterfront) is on Seattle's Pier 57, so I was expecting tourists. Which was fine. It was a nice day, so the tourists sat outside, while we locals sat in the distractions-free dining room.

Normally I don't order seafood in local restaurants, because I know what we discharge into nearby waters. But Elliott's menu didn't specify the origin of the Pan Fried Oysters, so I ordered them on the calculation that there were decent odds they wouldn't poison me.

They may have been pan-fried, but they were also breaded -- something the menu failed to mention. The result was a crunchy coating like a McNugget, totally unwelcome and covering up the flavor of the tender oyster. The accompanying two dipping sauces were average -- one a risky mix of Jack Daniels and hoisin with too much of the former, the other a bland tartar.

I forgot to bring my CSI kit, so I'll trust the chef on there being garlic in the garlic mashed potatoes. This unfortunate mass of starch arrived lukewarm, and looked like it had been plopped out of the plastic wrap in which it had no doubt been wrapped prior to being reheated. If Elliott's is going to do formed mashed potatoes, the least they can do is use a Jell-o mold. That would be cute, at least.

All I can say is: thank gawd for the fresh sourdough rolls with whipped butter.

On the schedule

The Pig & Whistle bar/grill (Greenwood) is back in business -- under new management (the Olive You/Sweet On You people). There's still time to rename it Whistle At You Like a Pig.

Still no sign of Naked City Brewing Co. (also Greenwood). Summer's almost over, guys.

I think they forgot something

As noted previously, Thai food has a fairly small basic ingredient set. Perhaps the most important of these is basil.

The basic stir fry with basil, peppers, onion and meat is called a kra pao, or on English-speaker-friendly menus, ‘Thai basil.’ I always order it because it's my favorite, but because it's a good dish with which to gauge the quality of a Thai restaurant. It allows me to focus on how well it is prepared, rather than wondering what's in it.

Really, I'm doing them a favor. Thai basil should be foolproof.

Thai Herbs (Downtown), a hole in the wall catering to the office worker demographic, manages to get it wrong. On a recent visit I ordered the beef version of Thai basil. What the cook came up with was acceptable lunch fare, but should more properly be labeled 'beef stir fry.'

It contained only 3 or 4 tiny slivers of basil. I've had more basil in dishes that weren't supposed to have basil in them.

A cheap cut of beef is fine, but it has to be sliced thin -- otherwise it takes too long to cook, and comes out tough.

The vegetables were cooked perfectly, sauteed onion and bell pepper, and green beans still crisp. But because they were not overcooked, it doesn't explain the origin of the extra water in the too-thin sauce. I suspect sauce prepared in advance, instead of created in the wok with the rest of the dish.

There are plenty of Thai restaurants in Seattle charging what Thai Herbs charges, yet they deliver a far superior product.

A funny thing happened on the way to the fake cocktail

An odd thing just happened on my way home.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up lunch fixin's for the rest of the workweek, and on my way to the checkstand I passed the Adult Beverages aisle. I spied with my little eye a single bottle of Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade sitting forlornly by itself, next to all the full sixpacks.

Normally I wouldn't touch these faux malt beverage-based cocktails with a ten meter cattleprod, but it was hot (still is as I write this), and I was thirsty (ibid.). So I slipped it into my sustainable canvas shopping bag.

When the clerk rang up the Mike's, the register started bleeping at her. "Uh oh," she said. "The Rules don't let us sell just one of these. I have to put this back," she explained.

Great, a rule to discourage drinking and prevent impulse-boozing. A bureaucratic end to a long day. Another example of Washington's out of control, irrelevant, Temperance-inspired liquor laws.

The situation lets us expose absurdities of these rules:

1) The rules allow the sale of 5/6 of a sixpack;
2) The rules force the clerk to put back a single so that she then can't sell it to someone else;
3) The rules assume that buying 5/6 of a sixpack is not an impulse-buy and doesn't encourage drinking.

Someone please explain.

Maybe I'm just sensitive, as I was in California over the weekend, where they sell liquor in grocery stores and civilization has not collapsed, the election of Arnold Schwarzenegger notwithstanding.

Next time I'll try buying two bottles, as an experiment. Maybe the State doesn't want the bottles to get lonely.

"Show us your Tat's"

That's what it says on the official t-shirts at Tat's Deli (Pioneer Square), direct all complaints to them.

Since the cheesesteak place in Pike Place closed I've been looking for another joint serving good Philly-style cheesesteaks. Yes, I've tried Philadelphia Fevre (East Madison). But those are not cheesesteaks so much as chipped dried beef-like food product, dipped briefly in warm broth. Sorry, but that's how I feel.

I think I've finally found cheesesteak heaven, and I've seen it's Tat's.

I always get the 8-inch with provolone and hot peppers ($7; you can also get a 12-incher, as well as a t-shirt that announces that preference to the world; again, don't send your complaints to me). It comes on a split french roll, filled with a generous portion of moist, perfectly seasoned beef and peppers mixed in.

The first time I was there, the counter guy tried to talk me into ordering my cheesesteak with ketchup. "It's real goooood," he promised. Don't fall for it! I've been to South Philly, I've had a real South Philly steak sandwich, and you sir are no -- that is, no one ever offered me ketchup. If you want tangy, that's what the peppers are for.

Upgrade to an order of fries and a can of pop for just $2.

Warning: the lunch line is often out the door between 11:30 and 12:30.

Update: Tat's has moved to the Interurban Building on Yesler, across from the Sinking Ship garage.

What's Not in a Name

You don't get to call a billard-theme bar a ‘ristorante.’ Sorry, but it's an Official Rule.

Seattle Chinese Community Girls Drill Team

Sometimes you're in the mood for a very specific meal, but nothing you can find on a restaurant menu comes close to matching what you want. So it is at the moment with me and Chinese food.

What I want is an authentic, South Seattle-style home-cooked dinner, like I used to get on Monday nights when I was growing up. I've never really found anything quite like it in a restaurant.

You have to make it yourself. My favorite reference for this is "Flavors Of China" by the Chinese Parents Service Organization, which contains favorite recipes from a large number of local families. Proceeds benefit the Seattle Chinese Community Girls Drill Team.

Here are my quickie versions of three excellent examples of the book's comfort food:

Chinese "Meatloaf"

1 pound fresh ground pork
1-2 Chinese sausages
4-5 canned water chestnuts
1 egg
soy sauce (optional)

Slice sausage lengthwise into 3-4 strips, then dice; the sausage is important, it has to be the dark red, 50% fat kind, or the dish doesn't work. Finely chop water chestnuts. Mix all ingredients together -- the only good way to do this is to squeeze it all together with your hands! Form into a cake in a shallow, oven-safe dish. Bake at 400 degrees for 30-40 minutes or until juices runs clear (you can also steam it on the stovetop for 40 min.). Serve over rice (spoon the juice onto the rice).

Steamed Eggs

5 eggs
Sliced beef (optional)
Soy sauce (optional)

Beat eggs well. Then slowly mix in 1 to 1-1/2 cups of water. Pour into shallow oven safe-dish. Add sliced beef if desired. Steam on a rack in a covered skillet of boiling water for 40-45 minutes; watch water to make sure it doesn't boil off. Serve over rice. Note: My grandfather got the eggs to come out of the oven glassy-smooth on top; I am unable to replicate this feat, as you will be too.

Barbecued Pork

Boneless pork ribs (should have some fat; 'Boston' style works best)
Hoisin sauce
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp soy sauce
garlic, finely chopped, to taste
hot mustard and sesame seeds (optional)

This is ridiculously easy, and they charge you a million bucks for it when ordering take out.
Do this the night before. Lay out a rib left to right. Hold a chef's knife in your right hand, pointed to 10 o'clock, and make diagonal cuts about a 1/2 inch deep into the rib every 1-1/2 to 2 inches. Flip the rib over horizontally and repeat the slicing. Each rib should have the cuts angled in opposite directions on opposite sides.
In a big bowl, mix sugar, soy sauce and garlic with enough hoisin to make a marinade for the ribs. Place ribs in marinade and cover with plastic. Leave overnight so it can work its magic.
The next day. Put an inch of water in a large baking pan and put a rack over it. Remove ribs from marinade, shake off excess sauce and place on rack, twisting each rib enough to open the cuts a little (this also creates little points that get crispy in the oven).
Bake at 400 degrees; as the ribs roast, the juices will drip into the water instead of burning and filling your kitchen with smoke. Turn, and brush on more hoisin every 15-20 minutes. Cooking time varies according to how thick the ribs are -- but you'll know when they're done. Keep an eye on it, and do your best to resist breaking off the crispy bits to 'test it.' Slice and serve with the mustard and sesame seeds.

These are just three examples from this thick volume! I'm not sure if the book is still being produced; I got mine at a garage sale. It has an orange cover with a plastic comb binding.

Thai Civil War

The reality of many restaurants with ethnic menus is that a lot of the dishes are variations on a core of basic ingredients. The exceptional restaurant knows how to take those basics and vary them in interesting ways. The standard restaurant fails to innovate and just exists in time and space.

A prime example of this contrast is currently on display in a little Thai civil war going on near Pioneer Square. In one corner: upstart Thai 65 (93 Marion, $7.50-$9.50). In the other corner, your returning champion, cube worker fave Mae Phim (94 Columbia, everything $5.99).

These establishments are on opposite sides of the venerable Colman Building (which also houses the two Irish pubs Fadó and Owl & Thistle -- Fadó on First Avenue, Owl on the Post Alley side).

The basic ingredient set for Thai food is rice noodles, the sweet sauce, chilis, a vegetable assortment, meat or tofu, coconut milk (when called for), and BASIL.

Yet in terms of the final product Thai 65 and Mae Phim are light years apart.

Mae Phim (foam takeouts)

I've had a few dishes from Mae Phim (but not the soup), and what stands out is that nothing stands out. It all tastes the same -- and not in a good way. The way it's supposed to taste is stir-fried, but the way Mae Phim does it, it comes out tasting braised.

That is: simmered. As a result the flavor lacks the desired taste accompaniment to the sizzle you hear when Thai food is cooked right.

Other quibbles: too much coconut milk transforms braised into bland; small portions on top of a big pile of rice fools you into thinking you're getting more.

And perhaps the biggest sin -- not spicy enough. On the familiar 1-to-5 stars of Thai hotness, 3 is usually on the fence between medium-hot and almost-too-much. Mae Phim's 3 stars is a 1 everywhere else.

Thai 65 (paper takeouts)

On the other hand, Thai 65 is everything Mae Phim is not (and never was). Take a bite of cashew chicken or kra pao and and there it is -- the stir-fry zip and noticeable differentiation of flavors, even though you know both contain many of those same basic ingredients. The flavors are wok-fresh, whereas Mae Phim smacks of pre-cooking.

Especially good is the orange chicken -- not just sliced chicken in syrup, but breaded white meat, delicately soft on the outside, not hard and crusty. The orange sauce does not overpower.

Finally, a tip: Thai 65's hotness scale has a 1 handicap; a 3 is what every other Thai place calls a 4. So be warned.

Mae Phim est mort. Vive le Thai 65.

"We don't have those"...

...the waiter at Olive You (Greenwood) said to me, at 11am on a Saturday morning, in response to my request, Hi, I just wanted to stop in for an omelet.

It's on the menu posted out front, I replied to his reply.

"Oh, we stopped doing that a while ago," he said, lackadaisically.

No omelets? This is a Greek restaurant?

"Yes."

That’s open for brunch?

"That’s right."

Then it’s the strangest Greek restaurant I’ll never eat in.*



* I don't count the time we went in to Olive You for take out. It was during their first month in existence. We chatted with the owner, and before you could say avgolemono he had talked us into homemade dolmathes, marinated peppers, calimari and olives for a cool $45. Apparently the only thing we didn't get was the undercoating.

A brief affair

Well that was over quickly. For a while, things were going hot and heavy between people in my office and Jimmy John's (Downtown, Pioneer Square), a variation on the Subway/Quiznos formula.

A coworker came back from lunch one day raving about a new sandwich place, and shortly thereafter everybody in the office was Jimmy John's this / Jimmy John's that.

One must admit that Jimmy John's operation is built for convenience and speed. You order at the register, and there's no tedious relaying of information to the sandwich making line, because the first station is right at the cashier's elbow. Your order is already halfway done by the time you finish paying, and when you get to the pickup spot, it is done.

One time I could swear a time paradox occurred, and the sandwich was ready before I ordered.

All sandwiches come on fresh, chewy bread, and they'll make any of the 8-inch subs in a "Slim" version, basic meat and/or cheese only.

They even do free & friendly delivery, which is great for when you're on a gawd-awful deadline.

The thing is -- they only have one-and-a-half good things on the menu for under $5: The Vito, and it's lighter version, the Slim #5. The Vito is an Italian-style sub with salami, cheese, and oil-vinegar dressing, and hot peppers on request. It's good, and it's the only thing on the menu I ever seemed to order.

The love affair ended when I tried the other 8-inch subs. The roast beef, the turkey, the ham, the tuna -- all disappoint in the skimpiness of their contents.

One-hit wonders go away for a reason. Today, no one at work goes to Jimmy John's.

Reuben From Space

Warm pickled cabbage. Why would anyone want to eat anything that sounded like warm pickled cabbage?

Yet in the guise of sauerkraut it is a major ingredient in the reuben sandwich, one of my favorite diner/cafe items, and it has been my quest to try every reuben in Seattle.

It's very difficult to do a reuben badly. Can you grill corned beef? Do you have cheese? Then put it on rye bread with thousand island and the aforementioned sauerkraut. Butter the outside, grill that. By then the cheese is melted, and you're done. Cut in half and serve.

That said, it is therefore not only amazing that Chez Dominique (West Edge) does a bad reuben, but just how badly they do it.

Who makes the Chez Dominique reuben, an obsessive-compulsive engineer? Maybe one formerly employed in the German automotive industry? Who was fired for being too precise?

Because the Chez Dominique reuben is efficiently compact, all the edges are parallel inside and out, all the angles 90 degrees.

It is a reuben they might package for NASA, or any environment where you don't want crumbs floating off and getting into the space station equipment. This reuben is fully ISO9000 compliant.

Certainly some space-age system was used to heat, barely, the corned beef. It did not taste or appear grilled or fried. Maybe it was synthesized in a replicator.

The slice of white 'cheese' was also perfectly square even though slightly melted. It tasted... Swiss-y. I'm sure it will come in handy to seal hull breaches and spacesuit punctures. Or reattaching heat shield tiles.

The rye bread was dry on the outside, but toasted using some process that did not involve browning.

At least the sauerkraut was good.

All in all, I'd have to say the Chez Dominique reuben is bland, unimaginative, and fails to impart any joy when consumed. But it is perfect for tucking into your kid's jet pack for lunchtime at the space academy.

Go ahead and talk about Fight Club

I'll just come right out and say it: Voula's Offshore Cafe (North Lake Union; breakfast, lunch).

I used to give people the stank eye for talking about Voula's. Talking about it meant Others could find out about Voula's, and we couldn't allow that. If one outsider found out, they'd tell someone, who would tell someone else, and pretty soon I wouldn't be able to get a table on Saturday morning.

As far as secret wars go, it was a losing battle. Voula's is right out in plain view, next door to the Northlake Tavern, itself a popular pizza joint. But the major giveaway is that Voula, the person, has her name printed on the blue awning, where anyone can see it.

Then last year Television discovered Voula's, featuring it on the Food Network's (grrrr) “Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives.” The war is over.

So what makes Voula's Seattle's best non-kept secret? It's the omelets, man. The silkiest eggs, the right selection of fillings, and the smoothest cheese in the Denver. Go back every weekend and try the Greek with feta and gyros sausage, or the Chili & Cheese.

A seat at the counter offers a good view of the grill. Pour the eggs, pile on the toppings, then a few minutes later -- flip-flip-flip-flip, and there you have it. A variation called the Hobo piles all the ingredients together with the hashbrowns.

And they are generously sized, but not obscenely so. You can put away an omelet and hashbrowns, and still complete your 50 mile bike ride.

Voula's is also the only place in town I know of that has egg bread toast.

Here's the segment from Food Network. Mourn the loss of the secret, but be happy Voula and her crew are getting well-deserved notoriety.

They had me at Ketel One

On this year's first really warm day, we made our way to the Back Door Kitchen (Friday Harbor).

The Back Door is tucked behind a landscaping business on San Juan Island. Look off the back corner of the gravel parking lot on A Street for the boulder with Enter chiseled into it; this is the gate to food paradise.

Choose between sitting in the intimate dining room, cozy bar or outdoor piazza. The sandstone and granite area doubles, I suspect, as the daytime showroom for the landscapers, so it looks like something out of Sunset.

Food & Wine writers, feel free to crib: Back Door's menu is heavy on organic and local ingredients --

• Westcott Bay oysters with bread crumbs and Parm
• Caesar salad
• Chipotle Mushroom Soup
• Herb-crusted Mediterranean lamb sirloin, with mashed potatoes and fresh veg.
• Scallops tasting fresh like the ocean, not fishy
• An excellent house red
  

Best of all, the cocktail list is anchored by a terrific vodka concoction that uses Ketel One, muddled mint leaves, lime juice, and Reed's Ginger Brew.

Back Door Kitchen is another one of those places that are managing to put quality, organic dishes on the table, at prices that are not bad at all -- entrees are $27-28, appetizers $7-11.

The next day I took Clipper Vacation's Victoria Clipper III catamaran ferry back to Seattle. The good news: only 3 hours to downtown. The bad news: it was like taking the bus. Specifically, the Metro Route 358. If the 358 had filthy carpets, smaller seats, germy handprints everywhere, and children running constantly up and down the aisle.

Heresy

I would never say the burgers at Red Mill (Phinney Ridge, Interbay) are bad. They're just standard.

One doesn't have to do much evaluation since, as a concept, the burger has few components:

The bun. Red Mill's are of the standard Franz/Langendorf variety. Has Red Mill never heard of the Essential Baking Company? Or Kaiser? Sprechen Sie Deutsche?

The lettuce. No iceberg for Red Mill. But the leaf lettuce that adorns its buns is usually wilty.

The tomato. It's a tomato, anyone can get them. Thanks to diesel we can get beefsteaks in all their mealy glory even in dead of winter.

The sauce. OK, the Mill Sauce is pretty good. I use a dash of Liquid Smoke when I make burger sauce at home; I wonnnnnder what the Mill does.

The patty. This is the crucial part, the burger in the hamburger. And Red Mill always overcooks theirs -- as in not a hint of pink. There's that word again; standard.

Even Red Mill's pomme frites, the all-important accompaniment to the above, are from the freezer. And while Red Mill's onion ring option is really excellent, honestly, top-notch, you never get enough of them. And the secret is hushpuppy mix.

All in all, the Red Mill burger is tasty and filling, but just not worth waiting for in a line that often stretches out the door. So I don't.

OK, burger heretic, you're probably saying, where does one get what you consider a good hamburger?

I submit there is not just one place, but an entire class of establishment where such an item can usually be found: the pub. I'll name two.

I give you: Fadó (Pioneer Square), an extremely Irish pub. Their "Bacon Cheeseburger Mór" is cooked to order, and I get mine medium so it arrives juicy and still sorta pink in the middle. The fries are thick-cut. Top it off with a pint of Guinness -- or a "Velveteen," i.e. cider floated on Guinness -- and what could be better?

Finally, I'll steer you in the direction of Dad Watson's (Fremont), part of the McMenamin's chain. I don't mean the cheeseburger on the menu, which is standard. You need to look at the specials, where Dad has featured a series of "Stuffed Burgers" to delight the palate. Stuffed with cheese, tomatoes, onions -- it matters not what. It's all good. Plus, you can get either the giant basket of fresh cut fries or TATER TOTS.

And so, burger lovers, I bid thee go forth and pub.


Update: McMenamin's has closed the Fremont Dad Watson's location, and announced plans to reopen it in the University District).