DORIE GREENSPAN

A Taste of Vegas Uncork'd

I'm in Las Vegas for Bon Appetit's Vegas Uncork'd, billed as an Epicurean Experience, it could modestly be called a culinary lollapalloza.  It's three days of lunches, dinners, workshops, tastings and general jolly-making with tens of Las Vegas chefs, which means tens of the country's best.  The amount of talent in this town is mind-boggling.

I've been here only 36 hours and already I've got too much to tell you and not enough time to sit down and do the telling.  So, I'll mention just a few things and then try to tell you more when I'm not in the midst of it all.   In no particular order, here are some tidbits ...

I'm staying at Wynn and being spoiled silly.  When I toddled into my room last night I found this amazing box of chocolates by Frederic Robert waiting for me.  It was very late and I was very tired, but as soon as I spotted the huge box I started giggling like a little kid.  From left to right by rows, there's:

• Candy bars -- coffee and coconut
• Caramel bouchee and milk gianduja bouchee
• Lollipops
• Chocolate-covered hazelnuts
• Tablets of milk chocolate, dark chocolate and white chocolate with fruit and nuts
• Chocolate-covered almonds
• Spiced mixed nuts
• Popcorn, and these

• Soft pretzels with mustard, which made a great snack this afternoon

These chocolates -- I called them, the package and the thoughtfulness amazing already, didn't I? -- joined another little goody, which also came with a story. I was picked up at the airport by someone from Wynn (told you I was being spoiled) and, in the course of our chatting, I mentioned that I love M&Ms and was hoping to find time to visit the M&M museum.  Thirty minutes later, when the bellman arrived with my bags, he said, "I understand you like M&M's, so maybe you'll like these," and he handed me this:

a bowl with enough M&Ms to keep me for the weekend.

In between chocolate treats, I hosted a dinner at Payard, Francois Payard's gem of a patisserie and dessert restaurant in Caesars Palace.  Here I am with Francois and Mario Rinaldi from Champagne Paul Goerg, who makes Francois' excellent rose Champagne (if you know my blog, you know that I almost never appear in pictures, but last night, whenever I said I wanted a picture of someone, I seemed to get pulled into the shot)

I was so busy eating and chatting with guests that I didn't get to take food shots, but if ever you're in Las Vegas, you've got to go to Payard, have the four-course dessert menu -- all of which will be prepared in the kitchen-in-the-round in the center of his beautiful and very intimate (only 40 seats) restaurant -- and hope that the Milk Chocolate Payard Candy Bar with Gianduja and Caramel Glaze is on it.

At the dinner was someone I think many of you know

the adorable (funny and smart) Adam Roberts, The Amateur Gourmet and the star of The FN Dish on the Food Network's website.

Then this afternoon, I played sidekick to Anthony Amorosa, executive chef of Michael Mina. 

Anthony did a workshop that had us all mesmerized -- he prepared a lobster cannoloni and a boneless rack of lamb sous-vide and got everyone in the overflow audience (me included) so excited about the possibilities of cooking this way at home that we were all teasing that soon we'd be competing against one another on e-bay to buy immersion circulators, the tool chefs use to keep water at a constant 68 degrees C, the ideal sous-vide temp.  Because it was so fascinating, I'll tell you more about Anthony's workshop and what I learned in a separate post.

The workshop was in the Bellagio, which means I had the chance to ogle Jean-Philippe Maury's pastisserie.  In the pastry case, I found Maury's contribution to rose fever

and on display, this whimsical assemblage of sculpted cakes

There's more, but I've got to get dolled up and get over to Caesar's for the Grand Tasting.

Hungry For Paris

The only thing wrong with Alec Lobrano's new book, Hungry for Paris, is that, after 418 pages and 102 stories (and solid information) about restaurants, you're starved for more.  Read the book like a novel - the writing is superb and each restaurant "review" is more short story than traditional critique - and when you reach the end, you might want to start all over again.  For sure, you'll want to go to Paris, follow in Alec's footsteps and eat your way through the city.  The book is a little gem.

And really, so is Alec, who is a friend of mine and the best dining companion on any side of the Atlantic.  Alec is an American who's lived in Paris for over 20 years, has watched the Paris scene since his arrival, and has reported on it for many, many publications, most notably as Gourmet's European Correspondent, all of which doesn't tell you the important stuff about Alec: he's top-of-the-class smart, charming, so funny that I never go out with him without making sure I have a handkerchief, so I can dab away the inevitable tears of laughter (I also make sure not to wear mascara that can run), boundlessly talented and deeply passionate about food and restaurants.  After years of eating out, thousands of restaurants and just as many articles about his adventures, Alec is still in love with the scene - and it's all on the page.

Can you tell I'm crazy about him?  And can you see why?

Funny, but I think that when you read Hungry for Paris, you'll be able to tell why.  You'll also be a lot more savvy about Paris restaurants.  In addition to what Alec calls "portraits" of the 102 restaurants, there's a section about "how to have a perfect meal in Paris," a glossary of French food, quick summaries of each restaurant, indexes of restaurants by type and price, and, at the end of each chapter, a not-to-be-missed story.

I've lived in Paris for a while and I know a lot about the city's restaurants, but still, as I read through Hungry for Paris, I found myself sticking Post-its on tens of pages.  Bet you will, too.

If you want to follow Alec as he travels around, visit his new website.

Rose Fever - Paris's Got It

It has to have been about 10 years ago that Pierre Herme created the Ispahan, a dessert composed of the now iconic trinity: rose, litchi and raspberry.  His first Ispahan was two rose-flavored macarons sandwiching a rose cream studded with fresh litchis and raspberries, the whole topped with a fresh red rose petal.  Since that time, not only has just about every pastry chef in Paris created something rose flavored, Pierre himself has created at least a dozen desserts, jams and pate-a-fruit (fruit jellies) using the combination. 

I find Pierre's fascination with the flavors remarkable and love how he never seems to tire of working with the threesome.  Quite the opposite, creating with this trio seems to energize him and this energy has brought us the newest family member: the above Gateau Saint-Honore, version Ispahan.

The Gateau Saint-Honore is a completely Parisian creation, having made its debut in 1846 in a pastry shop on the rue Saint Honore (how fitting that Saint-Honore is the patron saint of pastry chefs) owned by Chiboust, who gave his name to the cream filling, a pastry cream lightened with meringue and stabilized with a little gelatin.  The cake is a luscious but complicated affair.  From the bottom up, you've got: a puff pastry base; a ring of caramelized pate-a-choux (cream puff dough); a few caramel-crowned cream puffs (which are filled with either chiboust or whipped cream); a chiboust filling; whipped cream swirled like a prince's turban.  In Pierre's version, the cream is rose-flavored (of course), there are raspberries and litchis, and the caramel is a sexy, iridescent pink color.  And yes, it's fabulously delicious.

Pierre has taken to devoting weeks at a time to what he calls his "fetishes," and March was Fetish Ispahan, a fetish all of Paris seems to share.  So the last night I was in Paris, I went on a little Ispahan spree and bought six little treats to serve to friends after dinner.

The Gateau Saint-Honore is in the center and right above it you've got the Surprise, a crisp but fragile meringue confection wrapped up like a bon-bon for a good child.  Going clockwise, there's the Ispahan Cheesecake, the Ispahan Tart, with little squares of litchi gelee (sooooooo good) and the classic Ispahan. 

Talk about la vie en rose ...

Michelin Names Their Favorite Breadbakers in Paris

What you're looking at are some of the 143 traditional baguettes that were brought to the bakers' union on Ile Saint-Louis in Paris to be judged for this year's 'best baguette in Paris' award.  According to a French reporter writing for Via Michelin, 14 of the breads were disqualified for not meeting the standards for a baguette, which specify that the bread must be 70 cm long (27 1/2 inches), weigh between 250 and 300 grams (about 9 to 10 ounces) and contain additive-free wheat flour, water and salt. 

As you'll see when you read the article, the judges are as passionate about bread as the bakers (in some cases, far more passionate) and it's a good thing they take their jobs so seriously because the winner of the Meilleur Baguette de Paris is charged with supplying the daily loaf for the President of France (and, we assume, his gorgeous new wife, Carla Bruni). 

This year's winner, 28-year-old Anis Bouabsa, has a bakery in Montmartre and said he would need to hire someone to make the morning deliveries to Elysee Palace, proving that being honored can be both flattering and expensive.  Not surprisingly, Bouabsa is included in the list of Paris's Ten Best Bread Bakeries that Via Michelin just published.

I'm going to check out all the bakeries when I've got some time - and the energy to bicycle all over Paris, since not even one of the ten best is in my neighborhood.  In fact, there isn't even one in my whole arrondissement.  Zut!

Bacon: Make Mine Sweet

Good news baconlovers - we can now have our favorite ingredient in every part of every meal: appetizers, yup; main dishes, check; and desserts, you bet!  Following my theory that if you see something twice, it just might be a trend, I'm officially declaring baconized desserts a trend.

Last week at Gramercy Tavern, after having had bacon in a fabulous bean and cauliflower side dish (served in a cast-iron skillet, it was both great looking and so delicious), it turned up in this truly extraordinary dessert

It's a chocolate - mostly milk chocolate and very soft - ganache tartlet topped with a little not-sweet creme fraiche, a few flakes of Maldon sea salt and, here it comes, teensy, tiny bits of crispy bacon behaving just as if they were streusel.  It was perfect! And just right with the milk chocolate.  I don't think the bacon's effect would have been as stunning, or as right, had the chocolate been more bitter.

The tartlet would have made anyone sit up and pay attention, but it made me giggle because, only the night before, at Dovetail, a new restaurant on Manhattan's Upper West Side, the menu offered a brioche bread pudding with bananas and bacon brittle.  Yum, right?

Well, the bacon brittle looked pretty startling on the menu, but it was ringing bells in my head.  A quick Google and I found lots of recipes on sites as different as Chowhound, Off the Bone and the Chicago Sun-Times, which took the recipe from the book, Everything Tastes Better with Bacon.

And I think I remember seeing something about bacon cream - maybe bacon-infused cream that's whipped or put in a siphon - I just can't remember exactly how it was done or where I saw it.  But I'm not worried, I have a feeling it will turn up soon.  Maybe even tomorrow night ...

Any bacon sweets in your neighborhood?  Maybe even chez you?

Michael Laiskonis: Ace Pastry Chef/New Blogger

Yesterday, my friend Michael Laiskonis, the extraordinarily talented pastry chef of Le Bernardin restaurant in New York, wrote to tell me that he's launched his blog.  It's exciting to have a new neighbor in cyberspace, especially one who is so smart and has so much to tell us and to teach us.

For his first post, Michael muses on "The Egg" and gives a recipe - pictured above - for an eggshell filled with milk chocolate creme brulee, caramel sauce and caramel foam and topped with a drizzle of maple syrup and a few flakes of Maldon sea salt.  It's a showstopping restaurant dessert that can be accomplished chez you with patience and two pieces of fancy, fun equipment - an egg-topper and a whipped cream siphon.  I think  it could also be made in teensy espresso cups (and I hope Michael doesn't mind my suggesting this for us homebakers).

Whether you make the egg or not, you'll find interesting thoughts about eggs, the recipe's roots (as soon as I saw it and the words "maple syrup," I thought of Alain Passard in Paris and, indeed, Michael acknowledges Passard as a source of inspiration here) and Michael's way of working.

I'm really happy to have another friend in the ether - I think you'll be, too.

Three Wonderful Things: Chestnuts, Pierre Herme and a Tart

I've got a special place in my heart for chestnuts.  I associate them with my mother, who'd roast them late at night; I think about them when I think of Paris - hot chestnuts wrapped in newspaper and bought from a street vendor are ace handwarmers when you're browsing the outdoor flea markets in winter; and I have chestnuts to thank for my friendship with Pierre Herme, the famous Paris pastry chef.

I can't remember what year it was (1991, maybe? ), but, although I was in Paris for vacation, it was impossible then not to do a little research for a chestnut story I was doing for The New York Times.  Chestnuts were everywhere!  It wasn't just the carts on the street corner or the iconic trees in all the squares, there were nuts decorating store windows, turning up on menus and just beginning to be seen in their most elegant and expensive incarnation: marrons glaces, or candied chestnuts.

Marrons glaces are chestnuts that have been serially cooked and soaked in a sugar/glucose syrup until the nut is thoroughly candied and has a thin, crackly, crystaline coating.  Traditionally wrapped in gold foil so that they look like the jewels that they are, they are a treasured holiday luxury. 

Because I was curious about how marrons glaces were made, I telephoned Fauchon for information and was told that I'd have to talk to the pastry chef, M. Herme.  And so I did.  I called and Pierre invited me to come to his "lab" (that's what French pastry kitchens are called) the following day.  I showed up with my husband, Michael, in tow because I thought I'd just be meeting with the chef for about the amount of time it would take for Michael to have a cup of coffee.  Wrong.

First of all, Pierre, being gracious Pierre, welcomed both of us and wouldn't hear of Michael taking off.  And then he took us around the kitchen and we talked and talked and talked and tasted and tasted and two hours - count'em - later I discovered that Fauchon did not make their marrons glaces in house (so I never got to see the process) and that I was in love.  Actually, I fell in love 1 hour and 55 minutes before the chestnut discovery:  I was smitten within minutes of meeting Pierre Herme and all these years - and two books together - later, I'm still smitten.

But back to the chestnuts.  When Pierre and I were working on our first book, Desserts by Pierre Herme, we were told that Americans are not as wild about chestnuts as the French or, for that matter, the Italians, and that we should make sure that if we included a chestnut recipe it could win converts.  Well, we included two and they're both winners.  One is the Christmas Log, a ladyfinger cake rolled around a chestnut, rum and cassis filling and finished with a chestnut buttercream; and the other is the tart, which is filled with a chestnut-Scotch clafoutis (a corss between custard and flan) studded with pears and chestnuts and topped with a phyllo crown that is gorgeous, fun to make and a neat little trick to have in your repertoire to dress up other tarts or even cakes.

CHESTNUT AND PEAR TART

Adapted from Desserts by Pierre Herme

Makes 8 to 10 servings

The crust:

One unbaked 10-inch tart shell (make it from a sweet tart dough)

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Place the tart on a lined baking sheet.  Line the crust with foil or parchment, fill with beans or rice and bake it for just 15 minutes.  Transfer the pan to a rack and allow the crust to cool to room temperature.

The filling:

2 to 3 very ripe medium pears (Comice or Bartlett pears are good here)

Juice of 1/2 lemon

3 tablespoons chestnut puree (stir before measuring)

2/3 cup whole milk

1/3 cup creme fraiche

1 1/2 teaspoons Scotch whisky

1/4 cup sugar

2 large eggs

2/3 cup dry bottled chestnuts

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Core and cut the unpeeled pears into small (about 1/3 inch) cubes; you should have about 2 1/2 cups of fruit.  Toss the pears in a bowl with the lemon juice to keep them from darkening and set aside.  (Pierre likes the extra flavor and texture he gets by keeping the skin on the pears.  If the skin on your pears is thick, or if keeping the skin on doesn't appeal to you, by all means, peel the pears.)

Scrape the chestnut puree into a medium bowl and, using a whisk, stir the puree to loosen it, then blend in the milk and creme fraiche.  One by one, add the whisky, sugar and eggs, stirring until the mixture is smooth.  There's no reason to be overzealous - you're aiming to make sure the filling is smooth, not airy.  With your fingers, break the chestnuts into small pieces and scatter them over the bottom of the crust.  Turn the pears into the crust, spreading them evenly over the chestnuts, and then pour in the filling (you might find this easier to do if you put the baking sheet with the tart shell into the oven before you pour in the filling); depending on how much or how little your crust shrank during baking, you may have some filling leftover.

Bake the tart for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a slender knife inserted into the custard comes out clean.  Remove the tart from the oven and, keeping it in the pan on the baking sheet, set it on a rack to cool.  (You can make the phyllo topping while the tart cools or do it later, at your convenience.)

To finish:

3 sheets phyllo

Confectioner's sugar

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Place the outer circle of a 10-inch tart pan on a baking sheet.  Working with 1 piece of phyllo at a time, and keeping the other pieces under a damp cloth, scrunch the phyllo to fit it inside the tart ring.  Neatness doesn't count here, so just get the phyllo, with all its hills and valleys, into the ring and then pat it down lightly.  Repeat with the 2 remaining sheets, piling the sheets one on top of another.  Dust the top of the phyllo crown evenly but not too heavily with confectioner's sugar and slide the baking sheet into the oven. 

Bake the phyllo for 5 to 7 minutes, or just until the top sheet is shiny and caramelized.  Remove the baking sheet from the oven and let the crown cool to room temperature.

To serve, remove the tart from its pan, transfer it to a serving platter and top with the pyllo.

Keeping:  The tart should be served at room temperature - it's really best kept out of the refrigerator - and eaten the day it is made.

Ronnybrook Milk Bar:Soups, Shakes, Salads and More at the Market

There are so many reasons to love the Chelsea Market - among them Amy's Bread, Sarabeth's and the Chelsea Wine Vault - and now there's one more:  Ronnybrook Milk Bar.

Those of you who know the Market may remember the tiny milk bar, where you could get ice cream cones, fresh-from-Ronnybrook-Farm milk and butter churned from Ronnybrook cream.  Well, just a few months ago, the bar was transformed into a modern-day soda shop/luncheonette, a place with enough charm to make us nostalgic for a time most of us know only from books and movies, and enough edge to make you think it would be cool as a club.  (I bet the pumpkin-pie milkshake would be great with a shot of rum.)  Actually, it's already been vetted as cool:  I.D. magazine featured it in a recent issue.

But unless you're a designer and want to see what Mark Sarosi (above), who spent four years with David Rockwell (aka, Mr. Restaurant Design), has done with the space - okay, even if you're not a designer, you should see it:  look at the way the milk crates lining the walls pull out for extra seating:

you need to go for the soda-fountain treats - the shakes and ice cream cones, the lavender-infused milk (yum), the floats - and the food.  The menu is so appealing and the ingredients so terrific - as much as possible, Mark is trying to source his products from other local farms - that it's just not easy to figure out what you want.

Cast-iron eggs with roasted mushrooms, Ronnybrook's farmer cheese (I love good farmer cheese) and herbs?

Country-style turkey meatballs over buttered egg noodles with sweet cream gravy?

Roasted herbed Berkshire pork sandwich with avocade aioli (a great idea) and watercress on 7-grain bread?

If the world were a perfect place, we'd have a Ronnybrook Milk Bar near us no matter where we lived and the adorable Mark to whip up shakes for us at the first sign of an urge to slurp.

For Thanksgiving: Daniel Boulud's Chestnut Soup

I know just how hard it can be to change even one dish on any family's traditional Thanksgiving menu - it took me years to get rid of our dread stringbean-swiss cheese-cornflake-topped casserole even though no one really wanted to eat it anymore.  Traditions can be like that.  So, knowing that, I wouldn't dare suggest that you give up whatever soup you normally make for the holiday and turn to this one, but if you're undecided in the soup department, here's a winner.

As soon as I tasted this soup - which would have been in 1998 when I was working with Daniel Boulud on The Cafe Boulud Cookbook - I knew it was going to knock my traditional carrot soup off the T-day menu. 

The soup is a mix of chestnuts (I used jarred chestnuts), celery root and apple.  It's a great combination and it can be served as is or it can be dressed up with a few add-ins.  Daniel suggests some shredded duck confit, thin strips of prosciutto, sliced truffles or cubes of foie gras, but some nice little croutons tossed with minced thyme would be good too. 

If you don't have room for this soup on Thursday's menu, hold onto the recipe - Christmas and New Year's Eve are just around the proverbial corner. 

Chestnut, Celery Root and Apple Soup

from The Cafe Boulud Cookbook

Makes 6 to 8 servings

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, peeled, trimmed and thinly sliced

1 medium leek, white part only, thinly sliced, washed and dried

2 McIntosh apples, peeled, cored and cut into 1/2-inch cubes

10 ounces celery root, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes

1 bay leaf

1 sprig thyme

Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

Salt and freshly ground white pepper

3/4 pound peeled fresh chestnuts (from about 1 1/4 pounds chestnuts in the shell) or dry-packed bottled or vacuum-sealed peeled chestnuts

2 quarts chicken stock or store-bought chicken broth

1/2 cup heavy cream

Heat the oil in a stockpot or large casserole over medium heat.  Add the onion, leek, apples, celery root, bay leaf, thyme, nutmeg and salt and pepper to taste and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, or until the onions and leeks are soft but not colored.  Add the chestnuts and chicken stock and bring to the boil.  Lower the heat to a simmer and cook, skimming the surface regularly, for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the chestnuts can be mashed easily with a fork.  Add the heavy cream and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes more, then remove from the heat and discard the bay leaf and thyme.

Puree the soup until smooth using a blender or a food processor, and working in batches if necessary, then pass it through a fine-mesh strainer.  You should have about 2 quarts soup.  If you have more, or if you think the soup is too thin -- it should have the consistency of a veloute or light cream soup - simmer it over medium heat until slightly thickened.  Taste and, if necessary, adjust the seasoning.  (The soup can be cooled completely and stored in a covered container in the refrigerator for 3 to 4 days or frozen for up to one month.  Bring the soup to a boil before serving.)

Cafe Salle Pleyel: Listen Up

Helene Samuel, the genie behind Delicabar Snack Chic in the Bon Marche department store has created a new, equally chic spot, Cafe Salle Pleyel, in another mythic location, the newly renovated Salle Pleyel concert hall.  The girl knows how to pick her places.

The Cafe Pleyel is what the French would call a confidential address, meaning it's one insiders know about.  But while it's confidential now - it's on the second floor of the Pleyel building and there is no sign on the street - it won't be for long:  Le Figaroscope just wrote about it.

The room is modern in a deco kind of way; cool in a zen way; and relaxing in every way - the tables are far enough apart that you don't have to whisper secrets and the chairs are so comfortable that a friend of mine wanted to buy one along with her coffee.

And the menu is signature Helene - light, funny, smart and appealing.  (Here's la belle Helene)

For the Cafe Salle Pleyel, Helene (whom I'm sooooooo lucky to have as a friend), created the menu with her Guest Chef for the year, Sonia Ezgulian.  (I love that the restaurant has a Guest Chef just way an orchestra has a Guest Conductor.)  Sonia, the former restaurant critic for Paris-Match, chef of her own restaurant in Lyon and a prolific and very good cookbook author, comes to Paris once a week to change the menu. 

All the dishes at Pleyel are cooked either on a plancha or in a wok and every week there are different gremolatas and fleur-de-sels set on the table, so you can season whatever you want as you want.  It's a great idea.  (Last week, the gremolata was hazelnut, orange and cilantro and the fleur-de-sel was mixed with candied ginger.)

While the Cafe, which serves lunch Monday through Friday and dinner on concert evenings, has only been open a little over a month, there's already a signature can't-take-it-off-the-menu dish:  Le Cafe Salle Pleyel Burger.  Although it looks like a great all-American cheeseburger, a rarity in this town, it's actually got a secret ingredient:  chopped cepes (porcini mushrooms), which make the meat seem even meatier.  The burger comes with housemade pickles, confited tomatoes, salad and more of those delicious mushrooms.  (This picture comes, with permission, from Caroline Mignot's terrific blog.)

It's hard to pass up the burger, but then neither is it easy to ingore the wasabi-marinated vegetables cooked on the plancha and served with a sparkling little herb salad.  And how can you give up the mango-pain d'epices croque for the caramelized baked apple filled with dried fruits and nuts?  Oh, just go with friends and share - it's the only way to have it all.

And speaking of friends, when you see Helene, say "hi" for me.