Cooking Creations: Giving Thanks for a Happy Thanksgiving!

Last year (after multiple glasses of wine, I’m sure) I promised that no matter where I was or what changed in our lives I would host Thanksgiving dinner for my parents and any other family members and friends who wanted to make the trip.

My grandmother had always been the Thanksgiving matriarch. She prepared dinner for my parents and I along with my aunt and grandfather- a stroke patient bound to a wheel chair for almost 30 years. When she passed away, we attempted several different versions of a Thanksgiving meal from a trip to Shenandoah National Park to a colonial times re-enactment dinner. Ultimately we got sick of the shenanigans. My burgeoning love of cooking afforded a solution. I started helping my mother cook so that we could make our own dinner in our condominium.

Then my parents moved. I decided to undertake the ambitious task of preparing an entire Thanksgiving dinner for us in my humble apartment- turkey and all- as they travelled down.

The attempt wasn’t without debacles… but in the end we had fun and we pledged that I would carry on my grandmother’s legacy. I felt entrusted with a sacred institution. Now I have a menu of my own that we look forward to each year. I’ve helped create new traditions. Today, I actually have something that I can pass on- and share with you. Here are the food staples that appear on my table each year:

The turkey- Last year was the first time I did a turkey by myself. I did everything but the bird- doing most of the sides while my parents tackled the poultry. When it came time to stand on my own, I had no idea what to do. A friend suggested I brine it, so I googled the term and looked for recipes. I found thousands of results- a zillion brining procedures and recipes that all seemed to offer something radically different. Panicked, I sent a tweet out into the internet universe to some of my favorite celeb-chefs… and was shocked to get responses! David Burke suggested orange juice and jalapenos. It sounded DELICIOUS but perhaps too untraditional for something like Thanksgiving. Carla Hall suggested her own recipe. The sugar addition frightened me at first, but she assured me it would not be overly sweet. I selected her brine as the winner.

I followed her instructions and added some herbs that I enjoy. At the last second I deviated even more and added my own touch: a handful of edible lavender that I purchased from Williams Sonoma. This turned out perfectly- imparting an extremely subtle floral note to the turkey that truly complimented the rosemary, thyme, and other flavors.

The final hurdle was how to baste the turkey. Dairy doesn’t sit well in my stomach, and I was hesitant to put a coat of butter on the bird. I also didn’t want to fry it up or cover it in oil either- both options seemed like they might result in heart attacks. I turned once more to twitter and asked if I could combine chicken broth with a bit of oil to cover the bird. People responded yes so long as I put on plenty of liquid and made sure to add more if it seemed dry during the time in the oven. The tactic worked produces the most well-cooked turkeys we’ve ever tasted. It gets crispy and brown on the outside, but stays perfectly moist on the inside.

For side dishes, I have two tried and true recipes that I return to every year. The first is my own concoction: roasted squash. I always use a mix of butternut and KABOCHA (also known as Buttercup) squash. The kabocha squash does not come pre-cubed, but its sweet taste makes it totally worth the work. I add a small amount (1-2 tbspoon) of maple syrup as well as salt, pepper, and garlic. I then put WHOLE twigs of fresh rosemary over the top of the squash (which I cook up in a glass casserole dish). The whole thing cooks at 400 F for about 40 minutes. I pop it in as soon as the turkey comes out. The time the turkey sits and is carved offers the perfect time span for the squash to get slightly brown and very tender.

The second is Brussels Sprouts with Cranberries, something I found on Food & Wine’s website: . I love Gail Simmons and the recipe was included in a slideshow of her favorite recipes. The part that I found most intriguing was the use of wine. The recipe begins with steeping dried cranberries in Riesling to play off the sweet and sour tastes. Brussels Sprouts aren’t known for being a crowd pleaser and my father is certainly not their biggest fan. However, he shocked us by declaring them his favorite side of the evening over last year’s table.

There are other items on the table: cranberry bread, stuffing, potatoes, etc… but the squash and cranberries are my additions to the family’s traditions!

And there’s always pie!! I use the apple pie recipe from the Buttercup Bake Shop. The secret ingredient? Apple butter spread inside for extra apple flavor! I also love the topping. It is a mix of crumb and crust so you get the best of both worlds. I use small leaf cutouts to shape extra crust into decorations for the top as well. The recipe can be found in the Buttercup Bake Shop Cookbook.

So here’s to another happy thanksgiving! And I wish you the best for the upcoming holiday season!

Wine-ings: A Special Tasting of TURKISH Wines... at the Russian Tea Room!

The Russian Tea Room is a New York City landmark. Its interior filled with tiny Russian dolls, jeweled ceramic eggs, and Eastern European artwork has enticed visitors since its debut in 1927. As a young child, I thought of it on a mythical scale, reserved for only the most special of occasions. It was an out-of-body experience when I had the chance to attend an elite wine tasting in the upper levels of the legendary restaurant. I did not even know that anything existed above the dining room itself; my jaw dropped as a hidden elevator opened to reveal exquisitely decorated long halls with high ceilings.

So how did I come to be behind the scenes at this remarkable New York City destination? A few weeks ago, I was invited to attend a tasting hosted by The House of Burgundy. The house has been importing wine since 1934. The event was particularly special because many of the wines were gems still finding their way to the U.S. market or soon to be released. Equally exciting were the bottles’ origins; many of them heralded from regions not yet recognized for their wines like Lebanon, Bolivia, and Turkey.

I have embraced Middle Eastern wines for some time. Last year, I explored Lebanese wines in my Winesday column for CTBites. After the Mohegan Sun Winefest, I labeled the Vinkara Wines from Turkey as "wines to watch." The evening was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to fully immerse myself in wines from the region. I loved all of the night’s offerings, but the wines from Turkey particularly captured my attention.

I was astounded at the number of Turkish wines represented that evening. Four vineyards came and each brought between 4 and 9 bottles. It’s mystifying to me that an entire region full of talented, busy winemakers has flown under the radar for so long. The lack of exposure seems to breed the misconception that the wines from the area are somehow amateur. Elizabeth Fried of House of Burgundy recognizes the struggle.

“It’s a discomfort,” she theorizes. “Most people aren’t looking for something new. They’re looking for something safe.”

What most people don’t know is that Turkey is one of the oldest wine-producing regions. Archaebotanists believe that the grape itself was discovered in Eastern Anatolia. They have also dated viticulture in Turkey back to 7000 years ago. The country is said to be home to between 600–1200 indigenous varietals. Another false assumption is that such an exotic birthplace must create bottles that compete with American foods. I have found that the wines from Turkey pair with the foods I love more artfully than any of the other bottles I have encountered.

First, I stopped at the table devoted to Corvus Vineyards located in Bozcaada, Turkey. The owners began as architects, but felt wine was their true calling. They went on to open a successful wine bar in Istanbul. They have wines at various price points. The Karga White and Red are more wallet-friendly options. The white is a blend of two indigenous varietals: Vasilaki and Cavus. I found it full of body- on the spectrum of Chardonnay. The red is 70% Kuntra, a local grape, and 30% Cabernet Sauvignon. The addition of Cabernet makes it especially palatable. The “Cruturk” lies at their higher end at about $150 a bottle. It contains 93% Cabernet Sauvignon and 7% Cabernet Franc. It was one of my favorite wines of the evening. It was round and full, bursting with notes of pepper and soil. I would put it up against any coveted Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon.

Next, I went to Kavaklidere Wines, one of the “oldest and largest wine producers of Turkey” according to House of Burgundy. This 5371 hectare vineyard is in Anatolia. Unlike other producers who frequently turn to internationally known grapes, Kavaklidere focuses almost entirely on indigenous varietals. They too have tiers of price. They start at the Selection series and move up to the Ancrya series. They work their way up to the Prestige, Ergeo, Pendore, and Cotes d’Avanos lines respectively. Of the selection products, I most enjoyed the Beyaz 2010. It was a white bottle, a 50/50 blend of Narince and Emir. Mild oaking and the Narince gave it a fuller body reminiscent of Chardonnay. The Beyaz had less weight than the Ancrya Narince though. The Emir lent the Selection vino a light crispness that the 100% Narince did not have. I fell in love with the rich palette of the Ancrya Narince immediately. At around $15, it is a true steal. The Prestige wines are made differently. Rather than use oak, they use stainless steel to enhance the flavor of the local grapes. The Cotes d’Avanos goes a step further by letting the grapes sit on the lees. All were delicious.

I then journeyed over to Suvla. I was familiar with them from the Greenwich Food & Wine Festival; Greg von Hess of Val’s Putnam Wine & Spirits brought a few of their wines with him that day. The family-owned vineyard is located in Eceabat. They have won a number of international wine contests and have participated in the Masters of Wine and Master Sommelier Weekends in Turkey. I loved each and every one of the wines Suvla had to offer. The Sauvignon Blanc was toasty while retaining a touch of minerality. Hess applauded it for its “big mouth feel.” The reds proved equally delectable. The Sur 2012 was more Bordeaux style. It combined Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot. It had the succulence of black fruit without becoming overly heavy.

“None of them have a lot of tannins. They are very clean,” explained von Hess. Selim, the vineyard owner, confirmed his assertion. He revealed that the wines are “unfiltered and have low sulfites.”

My favorite wine of theirs was the Sir. The wine had a handwritten label, embodying the novelty of the bottle before me. Salim referred to it as more Rhone in Style. It was a true study in texture- exuding in flavor while being velvety smooth.

The fourth and final table belonged to Urla. The name refers to the name of the town when it existed over 500 years ago. The wines were literally brand new; the first shipment went through customs the day before the tasting. Overall, this was one of my favorite tables of the evening. The fact that the wines were Turkish could have been revolutionizing enough, but Urla pushed the envelope even more. For example, they are the only Turkish vineyard to utilize Nero d’Avolo, a notoriously Sicilian varietal. The Chairman, Can Ortabas, recounted how they saw the potential in the Sicilian grape when no one else did.

“It was though of as ‘cheap’ but there was something in it,” he recounts. “It was powerful with lots of forrest fruit.” This was one of my favorite wines of the evening. It is the perfect balance of spice and fruit. I detected blackberry and plum on the nose and tongue. It would make the quintessential holiday wine.

I cannot wait to get my hands on these wines. However, the Turkish wines are still awaiting their debut to the U.S. Market. For now, they are only available on a small scale.

“Right now it’s all about who you know,” the representative from Corvus lamented. “You have to know where the pockets are.
Fortunately, the future for the wines is bright. Hopefully, they will be available on our shelves in the upcoming months.

“I believe in these wines; I see the potential,” Fried declares.

She is not alone. I attest to the quality of these wines and hope that the American market embraces them. They are magnificent; a delicious embodiment of history and terroir.

Von Hess summarizes their glory artfully:

“Welcome to the New Old World Turkish Wines....10,000 years in the making.”

Cooking Creations: Coq a Riesling... and Cranberries and Squash!

“What do you want to do for fun while you’re here?,” my Mom asked me from across the breakfast table. I had just arrived in New Hampshire to visit my parents for the weekend: a much needed respite after an intense stretch at work and the daily grind.

“I just want to cook,” I replied. “I just want to go into the kitchen by myself for hours and slice and dice.”

“Ok….” She looked perplexed, but I could tell she was trying to be accepting in her motherly way. That afternoon I did exactly that. I meticulously selected one of the recipes I’d saved for when I had time to cook for myself. I wanted the perfect, seasonal dish for my first foray back to cooking. I chose “Coq Au Riesling,” a recipe from the October issue of Food & Wine. Normally I would shy away from chicken and opt for something slightly more ambitious. However, I found the addition of the Riesling intriguing in this case. I love cooking with wine and Reisling’s hints of apple and citrus epitomize an autumnal beverage.

The original recipe called for the quintessential vegetable trio: carrots, celery, and onions. Those certainly impart flavor to meat upon simmering and I use them often. At the same time, I wanted to capitalize on fall produce. Autumn’s harvest bounty makes it my favorite time of year for cooking. I decided to add kabocha squash to the mix. This variety is sweeter than acorn or butternut squash. Sometimes called “buttercup,” it is sweet enough to be used as a substitute for sugar pumpkins in pie.

In another moment of inspiration, I got the idea to toss in cranberries. I recalled another recipe I had retrieved from Food & Wine years ago for Brussels Sprouts. They published it for Thanksgiving and now I make it every year; it’s a family Thanksgiving favorite. It starts with cranberries steeped in Riesling. Then they are added to Brussels sprouts. The wine cuts the tartness of the berries. At the same time, the remaining touch of sourness goes well with the earthy vegetables. I figured that adding cranberries to this dish would serve a similar purpose.

I used chicken thighs instead of the “split chicken legs.” I think chicken thighs are underappreciated when it comes to poultry. The dark meat gives them a bad reputation, but in actuality they are very close to chicken breasts in terms of calories and overall nutrition (skinless and trimmed). They are also extremely affordable- way more economic than breasts or cutlets.

Basically, my revised preparation and play on the recipe went as follows below. Overall, I omitted the mushrooms entirely, going with squash and cranberries instead. I also left out the creamy components of the sauce. As the squash breaks down, it imparts a creamy texture without using any dairy.

1. Preheat the oven to 300°. Season the chicken with salt and pepper. In a large, enameled cast-iron casserole coated with cooking spray, heat 2 tablespoons of the canola oil. Add half of the chicken and cook over moderately high heat, turning, until browned, 8 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Cook the remaining chicken, then pour off the fat and wipe out the casserole.
2. Respray the dish with cooking spray. Add the squash and sauté until just starting to get tender, about 5 minutes.
3. Add the onion, carrot, celery and shallots and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until the vegetables are softened and lightly browned, 8 minutes. Add the wine and simmer for 1 minute, scraping up the browned bits from the pot. Add the chicken stock and thyme and bring to a boil.
4. Nestle the chicken in the casserole; cover and braise in the oven for 40 minutes-1 hour, checking its progress. About 5 minutes before it seems done, add the cranberries and return the dish to the oven.
5. Garnish with tarragon and serve.

It turned out delicious! I am critical of my own recipes, but to me this marks one of the best family dinners I’ve prepared.

Leftover bonus: The vegetable part of this (all but the chicken pieces) goes great with eggs! I used them to make a “frittata” of sorts with the squash serving in lieu of potato. I broke an egg into a skillet with cooking spray, let it settle for about a minute, and layered the mixture over it. You can also fold it to make it more of an omelette.

Baro: Raising the "Bar, O!" So Much Higher in Fairfield County

I had never heard of Baro prior to the Community Plates Fundraiser that I covered for CTBites. Although the venue was studded with the who’s who of local restaurants, Baro blew guests away with an ambitious choice: oxtail! After that evening, I knew that I had to try the restaurant itself. It is located on the Post Road in Fairfield, which is an area I frequent and that is easily accessible. An encounter was destined.

Baro markets itself as “a new world cantina”- a phrase that mixes modernity with the old world. As I result, I did not know what to expect of the space itself. The first thing we came upon was a separate outdoor dining area that reminded me a bit of a safari outpost. Wooden supports lined it and gave it the feel of being enclosed. The restaurant itself maintained a touch of that desert rusticity via a large mural of a latin-esque landscape with pastel colored buildings. At the same time, the interior introduced a more upscale lounge vibe. Yellow lights hung from the ceilings casting a sexy glow over the diners and illuminating a sleek bar. The dark furniture had clean modern lines. Guests could sit in regular tables or high-tops in one section of the dining room. Baro also gives diners the chance to sit on stools at a counter overlooking the grill where the cooks prepare the food. We chose the latter. All that separated us from the fire, spice, and aromas was a thin sheet of glass.

Baro’s selection of wines by the glass impressed me immediately. Some new restaurants will stick to vino that they know will please the masses. Baro had traditional crowd pleasers, but also had more esoteric types on the list. For whites, those wanting a familiar varietal could choose from Albarino, Sauvignon Blanc, and Chardonnay. A more adventurous drinker, on the other hand, might opt for Portuguese Vinho Verde, a Verdejo from Rueda, or the Garnacha Blanco. I contently sipped the Verdejo, which proved deliciously herbaceous with a touch of minerality and green fruit. The reds by the glass contained many Spanish wines, including 2 Tempranillos. I was especially intrigued by the Cellers Can Blau “Can Blau” Rhone Blend from Montsant, Spain. I associate that type of blend with France and loved seeing one that heralded from Spain instead.

Baro devotes an entire menu section to “antichuros” or “skewers.” These grilled-to-order kebobs have become a signature of the restaurant. I love eating adventurously and the antichuros provide numerous opportunities for this from the “corazon,” beef hearts, to the “higado,” or chicken liver. We ordered the “corazon” along with the “pulpo” (octopus.)

The beef hearts arrived cooked to perfection. They were a beautiful medium-rare and each bite felt juicy and tender. I enjoyed the crispy shallots on top as well; they provided a slight crispiness to the dish to compliment the soft meat. The only critique I have deals with the sauce. The “rocota salsa” turned out to taste akin to cocktail sauce. While good, I would have preferred something more spicy, ethnic, and unexpected.

The pulpo… wasn’t pulpo. As we split the plate, we slowly realized that the meat was not octopus. There was no chorizo or chimichurri either. I returned to the menu and suspect that they gave us the “pollo” instead which is jerk chicken, pineapple salsa, and scotch bonnet ketchup. I did enjoy the sauce that it came with. This condiment had the latin flavors that the first lacked. It also had a twist: it started out deceptively sweet and then packed a punch of pepper at the end. On the other hand, I am disappointed that I did not get to try the octopus and chorizo. The chicken was fine, but at the end of the day I feel like I can get a chicken skewer with some type of diced fruit salsa at any grill.

Baro offers 2 types of guacamole: traditional and “verano.” The verano caught my eye because it was untraditional; it included mango, peach, habanero, and pomegranate. I enjoyed it a great deal. The pieces of fruit were refreshing. They complimented the smooth avocado, but also eased the bite from the peppers. The pomegranate seeds added a few crunches of texture. The best part, though, were the “chips” that the guacamole came with. Rather than use tortilla chips like so many restaurants, Baro served crispy plantain skins. They were thin, crunchy, and subtly sweet.

(Admittedly, Baro did attempt to deliver the traditional version of their guacamole to our table. Fortunately, we caught it before digging in and they replaced it. Despite the mix-ups- and the fact that I still want to try that octopus - I definitely recommend it. Just make sure you ensure your order is yours as it comes to the table!)

After splitting the antichuros and guacamole, we each ordered a taco. The server informed us that they were a small portion, amounting to about three bites. Had we not ordered the other small plates, we may have considered getting at least two apiece. I found my single petite taco hearty, flavorful, and perfectly sating when combined with the rest of the meal. I selected the “carnitas,” a combination of roasted pork shoulder, white onion, cilantro, and hot sauce. The meat was succulent. The heat from the hot sauce, bite of the onion, and zest from the cilantro played off of each other in my mouth. The tortilla alone was a prize. Although technically a soft taco, it was slightly more crispy and flour-y than the oft used commercialized versions. (Perhaps it was stone ground? It had a very homemade texture and taste.)

Despite the preceding assortment of food, I nodded enthusiastically when the waitress offered us a dessert menu. I was not surprised to see churros available. However, I enjoyed the liberties they took with the rest of the offerings; they transcended the usual Spanish/Latin staples. The very first item was a sponge cake. Pineapple and rum gave it a tropical cantina flair, but cakes don’t always make the cut in other restaurants with similar cuisine. Another example was their version of flan. While flan is commonplace in a “cantina,” Baro upped the ante by offering a chocolate flan. We decided to split that (though- confession- I pretty much wound up hording it for myself because it was delicious!) They used the perfect amount of chocolate: enough to impart flavor, but not enough to make it overly rich or heavy. The disc of flan itself tasted wonderful on its own, but all of the elements on the plate made a perfect bite when combined. The caramel sauce, lightly whipped cream, and mint leaves provided the final flourish.

Both my friend and I remarked on how well Baro handled the pacing with which they presented the food. As you can see, we ordered a handful of small plates. We did not allocate courses or specify when we wanted them to come out. Baro did it expertly and easily. The guacamole came out first. About halfway through eating that, the antichuros came out. The tacos were brought out once the antichuros were done. It was seamless and enjoyable. We never felt overwhelmed- there was never too much food in front of us all at once. At the same time, we never felt like we were waiting for the next plate. Working with small plates can be challenging for even the most experienced restaurateurs. It was remarkable how adroitly the relatively new eatery navigated it.

I definitely consider Baro a new personal favorite. In some ways it is still new and finding itself, but the potential is enormous. I believe that it will be one of Fairfield County’s eponymous, destination eateries in the months to come.

Baro
1229 Post Road
Fairfield, CT
(203) 292-9560
http://baroct.com/

Pictures courtesy of Baro's Facebook page. Visit them:
https://www.facebook.com/BaroCT1

Cuisine Couture Takes Kuwait: Why Eating Dessert is "Posh"

When I think of the word posh, my mind can’t help but revert to an image of Victoria Beckham: pursed lips, giant sunglasses, sky-high strappy heels. So when I heard the name “Posh Café,” I thought it must be an oxymoron- even if unintended. Victoria hardly seems like a person who would frequent a common café (or who eats much of anything for that matter.) Yet, I was told that the food was delicious and the desserts were decadent. Plus, the restaurant is owned by the same parent company that franchises Figs. Oxymoron or not, I knew I had to try it. I ventured over with a friend on my day off.

Our corporate chef is one of the coolest culinary anomalies ever. He heralds from Hong Kong and has the skill and palate for sophisticated Asian dishes. However, he spent significant time in England, which exposed him to European food styles. And now he works in Kuwait. He knows the Kuwait market intimately and the preparations that they favor. He takes fusion to a whole new level: weaving Asian touches into traditional Euro and American favorites, all while catering to the Middle Eastern clientele.

The first dish I tasted, “lobster toasts,” exemplifies his dexterity. The dish consisted of three fried mini sandwiches of sorts. The structure sort of resembled an oreo (albeit a gourmet, savory one.) Lobster meat flavored with chive, coriander, and other herbs sat between two quarter-sized discs of fried bread. Black and white sesame seeds studded the top layer. Thus, the dish brought together all of Andy’s cultural influences. The lobster seasonings and sesame seeds provided the subtle Asian flair. The small portion and sophisticated protein choice gave it the European touch. And the choice to fry it made it unequivocally Kuwaiti. (Here, the people eat everything fried!) I loved the dish. Not only did it tell Andy’s personal story in a single bite, but the flavors interacted perfectly. The herbs in the lobster played off of the richness from the fried preparation. Moreover, the sesame seeds provided an enjoyable crunch.

I also shared an order of sliders with my friend. We chose the barbequed sliders that promised to be slow cooked in a house-made barbeque sauce. Apparently, Andy has a touch for Southern cooking as well. The barbeque sauce rivaled some of the best briskets I’ve had in well-known BBQ joints.

The climax of the meal, however, was dessert. As a dessert enthusiast (and dare I say, connoisseur), I was permitted to taste a wide array of Posh’s sweet offerings. We began with Andy’s “signature:” cheesecake in a jar. Although moderately lactose-intolerant, I threw caution to the wind and decided a bite or two wouldn’t do irreversible damage. I am so glad I went for it!!! My friend and I agreed that it was UNBELIEVABLE. Many cheesecakes go overboard with the additions. By adding items like oreos, chocolate, or fruit, they mask the flavor of the cheese. This one did not. Sprinklings of graham cracker and fresh blueberries enhanced the rich notes of the cheese rather than covering it. And like the lobster toasts, the cheesecake was a study in texture. The graham cracker dusting on top lent crunch to the creamy layer of cheesecake below. The bite was harmonious and perfect.

My personal favorite of the day though was the strawberry short cake. It took the form of a layered cake: three layers of vanilla cake with frosting and fresh strawberries in between. The vanilla cake proved perfectly light and fluffy. The frosting, too, was airy; it seemed to wisp away in my mouth. The dessert reminded me of a classic vintage recipe; completely and perfectly old school, an homage to kitchens of the fifties.

And the fun didn’t end there! We tried a carrot cake that also had a vintage vibe. It had spices and raisins of more traditional carrot cake recipes rather than the overly sweet commercialized versions that are so prevalent today. My friend declared this dessert her favorite after the cheesecake and claimed the rest of the plate for herself. In addition, we tried a nutella mousse. While tasty and a beautiful presentation, the high amounts of dairy and cheesy consistency proved a bit much for me, as I’d already indulged in the cheesecake. Our final dish was a dreamy pecan pie. Unlike the other desserts, this one came warm. Usually I can pass on pecan pie because it seems as though the flavor in the pecan filling comes from artificial ingredients like sugar and sweeteners. This pie, however, relied on the pecans themselves. It was pure nutty goodness. The crust, too, was flawless. It was the perfect thickness: thick enough to compliment the robust pecans, but not so thick that it overpowered them. Plus, I like a crust that is just on the brink of burned, slightly crisp. This one achieved that effect.

I certainly took plenty of pictures that I plan to share with you! However, my browser is still set to Arabic and the uploads are extremely difficult. I’ll post them when I get the chance!

While stuffing one’s face with dessert might not be considered “posh,” I certainly enjoyed everything that Posh Café had to offer. From freshness to fusion, spicy to sweet, it will satisfy your every culinary craving.

Cuisine Couture Takes Kuwait: On the Town with Lady B and Cuisine Couture

“Crashed on the floor when I moved in, this little bungalow with some strange new friends….” –Vanessa Carlton, White Houses

OK, so “strange” might not be the best word choice, but I didn’t write the song. Fascinating. Unique. Free-spirited. Welcoming. Any of those would be better choices to describe the group of Kuwaiti girls I now feel lucky to count among my friends. Initially I gravitated toward their affinity for life and generosity, but the more I learn about their worlds and who they are the more awestruck I become.

Last week, I had the chance to experience two events for bloggers with one of my friends. Although introduced to me as Bibi, I soon discovered that Kuwait knows Bibi by another moniker: Lady B. “Lady B” curates a multifaceted fashion and lifestyle blog. Her knowledge proves vast and dynamic, she reports on clothing collaborations, fashion happenings, and blog events. She styles her own outfits and posts her creations. She often transcends the world of fashion completely! For example, she features a place to get incredible dessert in a weekly “sugar fix.” Her website is alive and full-blown. She has advertisements, a store, and often receives invites to sought-after events. You can visit it here: http://www.ladybq8.net/

I had my first exposure to Kuwait’s blog culture a few weeks ago when Figs catered the party for social media personalities. The blog world here differs markedly from that in the United States. In both places, it seems that everyone is a “blogger.” After all, I got my start posting about personal cooking adventures, restaurants I visited, and wine I enjoyed. But there lies the difference. In the U.S., blogs are fundamentally a personal endeavor. While an individual’s blog may ultimately become famous or respected, it ultimately falls on the individual to find the scoop, go out to the restaurants, and take independent initiative. As a result, many blogs- or at least the respected ones- prove unbiased, based on personal discoveries and recommendations. Here, bloggers are wooed. Every business opening holds at least one event for bloggers. Food! Models! Glitz! The idea is that if the store shows them a great evening, they will secure a wonderful review.

Bloggers here can be full out pop culture celebrities, appearing on magazines, and being paid exorbetent amounts for appearances. As a whole, bloggers comprise a social group. The same faces frequent the events. Here, the goal is to operate as an elite team and to make sure you’re invited to the same events as the other bloggers are. In the U.S. many bloggers are anonymous. They try to seek out the undiscovered. Crossing paths with another blogger is a red flag; it means your scoop might not be fresh.

Lady B took me to two events which I enjoyed immensely. Both were designed exclusively for bloggers and we were on a guest list. The first was for the launch of L’Occitane’s new collection. There was a dazzling array of colorful macaroons, chicken shaped into portable cones, and skewers of tropical fruit. Workers in Parisian attire encouraged us to design our own scents and phtographers snapped promotional shots of the event. The second was located in Kuwait City, an opening of a boutique. Models walked around showing off the clothes. Again, a beautiful food and beverage spread greeted guests. It was an event fit for queens, which here bloggers practically are! I LOVED the collection: idiosyncratic, colorful, and indigenous to Kuwait.

I report this not to pass judgement on either blog culture. It is yet another interesting difference between parts of the world. I am continually fascinated by the subtle divergences I encounter with each passing day. Furthermore, I admire Lady B for her commitment to remaining unbiased despite the constant courtship. She told me stories of politely declining to write a review after an invitation because of a less than spectacular experience. In Kuwait, that can blacklist you from events and soil your reputation so the step was courageous.

And, I suppose this post is a bit ironic- akin to the movie Inception in a way. It’s a post on blogs within a blog . It’s one humble bloggers observations about bloggers. Take it as you will.

“Crashed on the floor when I moved in….”

Cuisine Couture Takes Kuwait: Cater. Blog. And party!

Kuwait seems to defy all laws of time and space. Sometimes time never seems to elapse at all; people drift in slow motion with no particular destination or arrival time in mind. Tasks that could take minutes manage to take days. Other times, the country moves with lightning speed. One morning I walked in the mall to discover that an entire wing that had previously been nothing but plaster walls had transformed into an entire new offshoot, a gold market. After being ill and away from the restaurant for days, I expected things to be the same as when I left them, existing in the limbo of daily life here. However, things felt different as soon as I entered.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, noticing a significant lack of servers.

“They’re at the catering event at the University. Tonight we’ll also have less people because other servers are going to the evening catering event,” the Assistant Manager informed me.

Catering? Since when did we do catering? He quickly got me up to speed: the restaurant had always had the idea since its opening, and now that business had somewhat stabilized they were going to see if they could enact it. The two events today were trials, a first attempt to see how it would go. In the evening, Figs would cater a party for food and lifestyle bloggers, a perfect opportunity to garner publicity for the cuisine.

I knew that I had to be a part of it even though I was still nursing the remains of my illness. As guest relations manager, I feel it is important that I am up to date on any restaurant developments. Usually I am, but the sickness had struck in the days this suddenly transpired. In addition, I hoped that maybe I could come in handy. My knowledge of Todd English from the United States and my own experiences as a food blogger might be of use. Why not? I gave my manager a call and he agreed to let me come as long as I felt up to it physically.

Once more, I found myself with a backstage pass to a side of the food industry I had not fully considered before. Though the event began at 7, an array of chefs from all restaurants, servers, drivers, and other staff assembled at the restaurant at 5. They arranged massive wheeled coolers in the back hallway behind the restaurant. Then, they began moving food that had been pre-prepared from the kitchen and into the coolers. That took hours. It might sound simple but consider the following. Every single condiment, salt, herbs, any garnish, had to be accounted for. Like in the photo shoot, the components of the dishes had to be grouped together and labeled. And they somehow had to make it so that refrigerated items had a place in the cooler. It was like a giant jigsaw puzzle, but in the end every last food item was accounted for.

A catered event transcends food. In this case, we needed to bring all of our own cooking equipment as the party was located in an office building. The chef rounded up burners, microwaves, pans, and all items we would need in the space. The operations manager worked with the servers to pack extension cords, tables, and other miscellaneous items. They ultimately required an entire small truck, akin a small Uhaul, to fit everything.

I rode over with our corporate chef, Andy, and arrived after the servers and chefs had started to set up in the office. My jaw dropped as I walked in the door; the entire team was literally crammed in a small office, the restaurant recreated on a smaller scale in a mere room. Our “beverage section” stood to the direct left as I walked in the door. Bartenders worked hidden behind walls of soda cans, glasses, and juice. To my right, less than a foot away, was the “kitchen:” a table for plated food up front with another table with burners and equipment behind it. The chefs, too, were encased by boxes of food, the coolers, and, of course… office furniture. The servers, corporate chef, and I managed to find a space crammed between these two areas. (I spent much of my time in the back wedged between a bookshelf and shoulder-to-shoulder with a bartender.) It was truly a sight to behold.

The event proved sleek and sexy: the soft glow of a blacklight gave a blue tint to the party. Curved modern shoulder-height tables stood around the room for guests to lean and eat on. Club music drifted from a DJ booth in the corner. Guests signed a wall of the office in permanent markers- graffiti style- giving the space even more edge. When the hum of conversation started outside, our servers began going out with mini versions of some of our most coveted menu items: mezze platters, grilled shrimp, veal tenderloin, cocktails, sliders. I was mesmerized; the talented chefs had managed to recreate these complex plates as h'ors doeurves. Every component was accounted for in bite-sized potions.

I slowly made my way around the room, mixing my usual guest relations duties with the vibrant milleiu of a party. As I chatted with the bloggers, I made sure they were enjoying the food, having a good time, and publicized the restaurant. Although working, I had a blast. As a blogger and food writer, I found myself sharing stories with some interesting people. An amazing array of blogs were represented, and I learned about influential social media personalities in Kuwait. It was a great opportunity to network professionally and personally, both for the restaurant and myself.

Throughout the evening, the talented, dedicated chefs and servers hustled to send dish after dish out into the party. I counted at least 20 of our signature menu items and there were at least 50 people at the event. The climax of the evening was seeing some of our most famous, intricate desserts go out as bite-sized goodies. The “s’mores” dessert was recreated in all its glory: ice cream, smoked graham cracker, AND TOASTED MARSHMELLOW (perfected with a blow torch in the back) were all accounted for. Mini fried apple pies and chocolate tarts pleased the crowd as well. Like in the restaurant, the contrast between front and back of the house proved almost comical. Outside the doors of the “kitchen,” a chic, casual affair was underway. Behind the door, a loud, fast, full production unfolded at light speed.

Adam, the guest relations manager who worked with me from the American team, told me that I should “learn at least one new thing a day.” I thought back to his words affectionately as I considered everything I had learned in the span of a single evening.

Party on.

Cuisine Couture Takes Kuwait: Camel Flu and Secret Gardens

“Like a secret garden as I shuffle through this broken town…” –Dave Matthews Band, Snow Outside

Yesterday- Tuesday- marked exactly two months for me in Kuwait. How did I celebrate this “anniversary?” Flat on my back, victim to what I’ve satirically dubbed the “camel flu.” I didn’t really understand the lost-in-translation explanation offered by the doctor nor have I ever experienced anything quite like it before, so I figure this label is as good as any. Without gifting you with all the gory details, I lost my voice, got a whopping cough in its place, ran a fever, had a blocked nose, and pretty much wanted to lie in bed exhausted all day.

The “camel flu” kept me confined to my house for four days, and those four days are the closest I’ve come to throwing in the proverbial towel. The illness probably did account for most of the downward spiral. Those of you who know me are aware that I have a pronounced fear- phobia, if you will, of doctors and hospitals. I won’t bother you with the how’s and the why’s of that, but pretty much any doctor’s visit devolves into a panic attack. Compound that reflex with a foreign health clinic and it’s a recipe for disaster. I’ve been told that public government clinics here can be quite pristine, but for whatever reason I experienced a noisy, chaotic building stuffed with people. I walked up to a reception window where a fragmented exchange that I half understood resulted in my forking over 5KD and receiving a paper with a number on it, akin to what you would get at a deli counter. There were a series of rooms with doctors in them, and over each door was a sign displaying which number they were now servicing. The sign blinked my number 15 minutes later. I took my seat outside one of the rooms attending to my series of number and waited for my turn. I took a seat at a desk in front of a female doctor and her assistant. She briefly asked me my symptoms, took my temperature, and looked in my throat. About 2 minutes later, she was dismissing me from the room with a paper filled with four prescriptions that I was supposed to bring to the pharmacy. The “pharmacy” was a series of windows- kind of like those you would see at a box office or movie theatre. Two were open and one pharmacist worked behind each. Once more I was given a number and the number of the person being helped was displayed over the window. A quick calculation left me feeling helpless- there were at least 80 people in front of me. The waiting area was rows of metal chairs, like an uncomfortable gate at the airport. Infants screamed, people coughed, and those unable to find a seat stood around or leaned against the walls. I waited for over an hour feeling claustrophobic, nauseous, and downright lost. When they did call me, I made sure to get clear instructions about the doses; I had the pharmacist write in English numerals how many times and when to take the prescriptions each day. I’m still not exactly sure what cocktail I’m on (I do recognize an antibiotic, augmentin), but I do know I’m diligently taking 3 sets of pills and one oral cough suppressant. Even when the clinic was behind me, the ensuing illness continued to test my resolve. Obviously I felt physically terrible. However, no job to go to left me with too much time alone with my thoughts as well. My confidence nose-dived and I longed for my home.

It wasn’t just the illness, though, that made me consider jumping a plane and never looking back. I know that “a series of unfortunate events” is already a copywritten book title, but it certainly would sum up some of the occurrences the past few weeks. For starters, someone I trusted- considered a friend even- took a significant amount of money from me. Dishonesty from a stranger is one thing, but being stolen from by a purported friend is betrayal. I understand retrospectively I could have exercised better judgment, but still. Moreover, I’d been having significant trouble with my visa. With my residency permit due to expire in three days, I found that all three of my contacts in the company were MIA. The two responsible for my visa turned out to be out of the country entirely and my recruiter was sick himself. I found myself growing increasingly frustrated and doubting the people I had to rely on for security in this foreign place. Finally, I have had some setbacks at work recently. Mistakes and errors and par for the course- and learning experiences. In and of themselves, they wouldn’t be enough to make me question my place here or consider walking away. But with everything else, it was like adding kindling to the fire.

All of these thoughts continued bouncing around in my head, even this afternoon as I roamed around my apartment myself. I felt so excited on some levels, but other things felt downright hopeless. Finally I changed into pants (as the shorts I was wearing wouldn’t have been acceptable), got my purse, and decided to go for a walk. Sick or not, fresh air (albeit dusty) would do me good. I left my front door, went in a direction I hadn’t gone before, and just started walking. At first, I recognized some of the stores as ones I’d seen from the car on the way home. I gradually made my way to the main traffic circle leading to my neighborhood. And then, just beyond it, nestled behind some buildings, I saw the greenery of trees protruding from behind a disheveled apartment building. Intrigued by the fauna in the dry milleiu, I walked closer for a better look
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Gardens! A Middle Eastern Central Park! Right there, in the heart of my neighborhood, was a perfectly maintained beautiful park filled with walkers, runners, and children playing. Despite the heat and dessert climate, there were grass, trees, and flowers. My eyes settled on gravel paths running through the gardens and benches for people to sit. I set out on one of the paths, passing exercisers and people just out for a stroll. There were people of all cultures, a microcosm of the neighborhood. “I can come walking here in the mornings or my day off!” I thought to myself. I had found a new little niche in my urban block.

This, I realized, is why I can persevere- thrive, even- for the rest of my time in Kuwait. I had no idea that the garden was there. I had wandered up and down the dusty streets of my neighborhood numerous times without ever encountering the sanctuary before. It took me a full month to discover the gardens, but now that I had I felt as though a whole new world had opened to me. I had only walked down one of the paths- which one would I walk down tomorrow?

And so it goes with Kuwait. Sometimes it feels confined and limited. Overbearing and daunting. And then beauty emerged when- and where- I least expect it. I don’t know what beauty will emerge in the days ahead, but those gardens reminded me that there can be unknown wonders around each corner.

“You are like a secret garden as I shuffle through this broken town…” –Dave Matthews Band, Snow Outside

Cuisine Couture Kuwait: Food Photo Schoot

While reading a behind the scenes book on one of my favorite TV shows, Top Chef, I was shocked to learn that there is an entire production team devoted to “food styling.” A group of skilled individuals plate contestants’ submissions in a way that makes them aesthetically appealing and camera ready. This shouldn’t have surprised me; the show is filled with food close-ups that make audiences salivate. Of course there are people responsible for making that happen. I just had never really thought about it before.

I was recently reminded of how important food photography is last week at Figs. I have been working with our chef and technology supervisor to launch an application that will allows diners to place orders directly from an ipad. In Kuwait, photographs of the choices are crucial when a guest decides what to order. They commonly pull up instagram or look at the pictures already on the menu. As a result, the restaurant decided to have a corresponding photograph for each dish on the ipad. We had pictures of our regular menu items, but none of the chef’s specials that will be debuting in the weeks ahead. Thus, the restaurant coordinated a “food photo shoot” so that we could have professional images of these offerings.

Luckily for me, the timing of the photo shoot aligned with the beginning of my “training” in the kitchen. As you know from my past entry, I pretty much forced my way into the kitchen. I surreptitiously observe and memorize until someone entrusts me with a task or I feel comfortable (and courageous) enough to start working on something myself. Thus, I had a front row seat to the many preparations required for the shoot.

Work began weeks before the actual shoot took place. Once Chef Andy, our corporate chef, conceptualized his new specials, he had to introduce them to the rest of the chefs. He had to teach them how to cook them and assemble them. He would stop by the restaurant, call them together, and hold demos in the back of the kitchen where he prepared dishes in front of him. I saw that this was also an opportunity for Andy to solidify his ideas and troubleshoot potential problems. A dish would be one way in his mind, but actually preparing it resulted in alteration and improvement. For one thing, he could see what was actually possible in the Figs kitchen. He could get feedback and bounce ideas off of the other chefs as well.

In the days prior to the shoot, the chefs from Figs set to work prepping the ingredients that would be necessary to craft each dish on the day the photographs were to be taken. Garlic had to be cleaned, vegetables had to be meticulously diced, and meat had to be portioned. At least twenty plates were scheduled to be presented and each plate had several components including the main piece, such as a protein, sides, and garnishes. The task proved mighty, and work like dicing and chopping was something that I could help with.

Sunday, my first official full day of “training” fell the day before the shoot. This time proved especially exciting. On that day the chefs prepped as much as they could ahead of time. The meat was actually seasoned. Components that wouldn’t perish were prepared, labeled, and refrigerated. I shadowed a chef who worked his way down the list of plates, making sure all of the parts for each plate were accounted for so everything was readily available for the actual plating on the day of the shoot. For example, I got to make jalapeno pesto that would go along with a veal chop. When I finished, it we put saran over it, labeled it, put it with other items that would go on the plate, and put in the refrigerator. The next day we could simply take it out and plate it.

One thing I learned that a photo shoot depends on how the food looks, not necessarily how it tastes. The pesto, for instance, needed to look especially green for the pictures. Therefore, we added green peppers to the mix, something the recipe itself didn’t call for. Although the taste proved slightly different than what the guests will ultimately receive, the visual looked outstanding.

Monday, the day of the shoot, was a full production that took the entire day. A professional photography team arrived in the morning to set up a screen and lights. They sanctioned off part of the restaurant and allocated a carefully lit table for photographing the food. The best chefs from all of the company restaurants were on hand to help in whatever way they could. Each one was armed with a chronologically ordered list of the plates. The corporate chef, Andy, led the charge, announcing which plate they would work on. Ingredients were removed from the refrigerator and ready for use. Andy had an ipad with his own pictures of each plate so that everyone could see how it should be assembled. He and a team patiently perfected plate after plate before sending it out to the photographers. It went on like this for hours: plate after plate being captured in all its glory.

At 4:00, all of the servers and waitstaff, even those on their day off, arrived. Figs ensures that each server knows all about every dish so they can explain it to the guests. When every plate was photographed, it was set aside on one long table. When 20 or so plates had been completed, the head chef from Figs, Samir, would explain each and every dish to the servers. They stood around taking notes and asking questions. I stood with them. Even though I had observed all of the dishes, I wanted as much education as possible. Once we got through a group of dishes came the truly amazing part- tasting!!! For “educational” purposes, we dug into each plate. We did three sets of dishes in total.

Around 7:30, the shoot came to a close with the presentation of desserts. I watched with pride as my red velvet soufflé was explained to the servers; as you recall, that was a dish I envisioned on a whim and wound up making it to the actual list of specials! As an extra treat, Andy let me plate a serving of it myself and take photographs of it. They took professional photographs as well, but he thought that was a way I could be a part of the shoot and celebrate something I’d played a role in creating. (And I got to eat that serving!!)

I came to Kuwait to learn, and I certainly learned a great deal throughout the process. I saw a whole behind-the-scenes aspect of the food industry that I had not really considered before. So often we focus on taste and eating, but food is, in fact, an industry. A restaurant transcends the dining experience; there is marketing, costs, sales, and yes… even photo shoots! !”

Cousine Couture Kuwait: All Things Sweet

My favorite New York City bakery embraces the motto “life is uncertain- eat dessert first.” I subscribe to this theory whole-heartedly and consider dessert of the highest priority. It therefore seems appropriate- perhaps even destiny- that my kitchen time at Figs began with desserts.

When I considered making the move to Kuwait, one enticing benefit was the opportunity to get time in an actual restaurant kitchen. Although I accepted a position as “guest relations manager,” I made it clear that I desired exposure to the line, whether during work hours or on my own free time. As I settled in here though, I realized that might be harder than I thought. For starters, I had to learn my own job first. In addition, our own restaurant is still new. The chefs are still mastering the recipes and it seemed selfish to get underfoot and ask for them to turn around and help me. Finally, there is the company beaurocracy. Permission must be obtained for a non-chef to have time in the kitchen.

However, I did not lose sight of my dreams and objectives. Last week I started broaching the subject of kitchen time again. My manager OKed my presence in the kitchen, so long as it didn’t interfere with busy times for front of the house and the chefs graciously told me I could start spending time there observing as long as I understood they couldn’t take time to instruct me specifically. On Sunday, a relatively quiet day in the restaurant, I donned a hairnet and spent two hours in the kitchen quietly standing in the corner, out of the way, watching the chefs work. As the minutes elapsed, I gravitated toward the corner where the pastry chef was at work. I stumbled upon him making the bases for the chocolate tarts, one of my favorite desserts, so that immediately caught my attention. When he showed me the list of projects he had ahead, I knew I had to stick around and see how it all unfolded.

For at least a half an hour, I stood just behind him and watched every move he made, trying to memorize the techniques. As I started feeling more comfortable, I tentatively approached and motioned to the bases that he was filling with chocolate by hand, as if asking if I could mimic what he was doing on other bases. He nodded and before I knew it I was slipping on gloves and swirling chocolate into the tarts. When all the tarts were filled, he pointed to the list and said, “Now we do Nutella swirl.” I didn’t question him- if I was now included, I was going to stand right by his side, do what he said, and memorize every detail. The next hour and a half elapsed like that: working from one dessert component to the next. I mostly watched him work, but occasionally I would do things like measure out dry ingredients, mix melting butter, or pass him something he needed. In total I wound up watching/assisting with: chocolate tart bases, tart fillings, s’mores mousse cake, red velvet pancake mix, and nutella garnish.

I began surreptiously returning to the kitchen each day during lulls in service. I found myself returning to the pastry corner; I felt strangely at home there after Sunday. The chef was quiet, humble, and patient and the corner offered a few square feet of refuge in a tight, loud kitchen. I did thinks like help create a “raspberry caviar.” Tuesday was especially thrilling. I had an idea for a dessert and the pastry chefs were excited by the notion as well. They helped craft a batter that would fit my vision and within 20 minutes a red velvet soufflé was emerging from the oven. I enjoyed that immensely because I felt that they valued my ideas. More importantly, though, I felt like I was a part of a team. It had taken all of us to execute it and we had all played a role in what turned out to be a cool product.

Today (Friday), I slipped into the kitchen once more. (This time they even handed me a chef’s coat!) I assisted the pastry chefs in his list of prep tasks: making the outside bread for the fried apple pie, stuffing the pie, chocolate garnish, and toasted graham cracker crumbles. However, the turning point came when the two guests actually dining in the restaurant during that lull time ordered desserts. I watched him actually assemble the desserts to order and memorized his every move. A few minutes later, another order came out of the blue. I looked at him and he gave me the small, almost undetectable nod. With his help, I actually started assembling my favorite dessert of all: campfire s’mores. And before I knew it, a plate that I’d put together myself was on its way out to a table.

Usually Friday dinner service is overwhelmingly chaotic, but for some reason today was much slower than usual. I found myself taking an order for campfire s’mores from a table and I thought, “Hey, I know how to make this!” As soon as I punched the order, I put on my hairnet and ran into the kitchen so I could be there by the chef’s side when the order receipt came out of the machine. When it did, I looked at him, he nodded, and I started assembling the plate all by myself. It has many steps from heating a mousse cake, to decorative icing pipings, to sprinkling and layering graham cracker crumbs, and my favorite: caramelizing a pillow of marshmallows with one of those pastry torches! But I succeeded, picked up the plate, carried it to the front of the house, and presented it to the table. I felt proud as they oohed and ahhed, took pictures on their phone, and devoured it: all with no idea I’d created it.

To my surprise, the rest of dinner service unfolded like that! The front of the house remained slow, so I overheard, or was almost always the one taking, the dessert orders. As soon as I had one, I would punch it, run to the back, don a hairnet, enter the kitchen, and be there with the chef to pick up the receipt. At first he stood right by my side making corrections here and there. But by the third or fourth dessert, he was standing back or working on something else entirely. I was on the line doing dessert dinner service!

The highlight of the evening came when a table of four received dessert menus. I went scurrying over because I legitimately love recommending desserts; I genuinely love them and enjoy sharing my enthusiasm with the diners. They asked me which I preferred and I didn’t hesitate to them all about why I’m obsessed with the campfire s’mores. They ordered it on my recommendation, I punched it, and ran back into the kitchen. The chef watched from afar, but I made the entire plate by myself. I then presented it to them. They were in awe of the design, taking pictures. But the father and daughter especially went CRAZY for it. A few minutes later, when standing near another table, I heard them calling me. “Excuse me, this was sooo incredible. This might sound strange, but can we have another one?” “OF COURSE!!” I said with a huge smile on my face. I punched another order, went back to the kitchen, and executed what was probably my best plate of the evening. Even the chef took note, saying, “Whoa! A perfect campfire s’mores!” Sometimes the marshmallows have a tendency to slide off the top, but this one was perfectly layered. I brought it back out to the table, they squealed in delight, and relished every last bite of a second order of dessert.

So it’s been just over 5 weeks here and I’ve achieved one of my major goals: be on the line for dinner service! And for DESSERTS!! Don’t worry, I’m not slowing down… this has just given me more motivation to keep chasing my dreams. Special thanks to everyone who taught me, accepted me, and trusted me with a blow torch.

Life is uncertain, eat dessert first. Heck, even go for seconds.

Cuisine Couture Kuwait: Social Networking

From the second a child enters the world, adults start to teach them one cardinal rule: Don’t talk to strangers. Well, when you uproot the life that you know and journey by yourself to a foreign country, you pretty much have to throw that adage out the window. By default, everyone is a “stranger” and if you want human interaction you have to talk to them.

I’ve been slowly acclimating to daily life in Kuwait: moving into an apartment, having a daily schedule at work, identifying major roads, and learning where things are. However, what has stood out as missing is a social life. If you’re reading this blog, you’re probably a friend of mine. So you know how deeply I cherish our friendship, how blessed I feel by your presence in my life, and how important the people in my life are to me. I miss you all. At the same time, if I am going to be here for a long time, I need to develop a comradery over here. In addition to offering a new culture and terrain, Kuwait has numerous people just waiting to be met. I just need to find them .

Before the American chef left three weeks ago, he graciously permitted me one epic freak out. We used to go for daily walks around the mall as a break, and on the day of his departure he sensed my high levels of anxiety. He gave me the entire hour to voice all of my concerns to him so that we could hash them out together and have him leave me in a place of confidence. My major concern came down to the social aspect of my existence here. I felt like I had left behind such amazing people at home and I knew that just a job here wouldn’t be enough for me. I needed friends; I needed Kuwait to be a place where I belonged. His advice proved interesting. He admitted that as he was only here for a short period of time, he hadn’t expended energy into meeting people. At the same time, he had observed Americans working at American chains such as Texas Roadhouse and Shake Shack. He told me to just start going around the mall, observing who was where and introducing myself. Sometimes human nature gets a bad rap, but he told me to have faith in the people around me and to know that most people here are in similar situations.

While lurking in restaurant doorways and approaching strangers might sound creepy, I set to work on his suggestion the very next day. I paid visits to Texas Roadhouse and Cheescake Factory and surprisingly found a wonderful assortment of characters. I suddenly had contacts in my phone and people who would wave to me when they saw me pass by in the mall.

Those contacts then seemed to give birth to a multitude. One man from the Roadhouse put me in touch with a woman from the American embassy, and before I knew it I had scored a somewhat exclusive invite to an embassy gathering. That was a week ago. While the event was exciting because American soil offers certain pleasures from home not readily available in a traditional country I loved it because of the people I met. It felt like home: families playing, American colloquialisms, people who knew cities I did. My social circle grew in three small hours and over the next week I met up with two people I’d met there. I even got to return this past Thursday. And when I walked in, I had people to meet up and laugh with.

I’ve also started using Figs as a place to meet people. While it might seem forward for a host to ask people where they are from or what brings them to Kuwait, I have been met with nothing but hospitality. One such encounter yesterday brought me in contact with a couple from California. They gave me information on their running group- mostly Americans- who meet Saturday mornings to run along the seaside. They invited me to start joining them. This morning I found myself lacing up my sneakers and going to meet up with 20 people for a 5k along the marina. Ironically, the couple I met couldn’t make it, but there were 20 other kind people ready to embrace me in their stead. I had a wonderful time and now have another weekly activity to look forward to.

And of course, there’s Jumanah, my friend from the airport. When my flight to Kuwait was cancelled and another one wasn’t scheduled until the following night, I noticed a girl at the counter, about my age, looking calm, cool, and collected. I gradually approached and listened to the conversation; in straightforward syllables she was calmly changing her ticket to one on Qatari airlines. She explained to me that this had happened to her before, there was another flight to Kuwait on Qatari, and United could switch our tickets complimentarily. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a flight to Kuwait chatting away with her. Not only had she gotten us on the other plane, but some sweet talk had gotten us seats together with an extra one in between us for our stuff! She told me all about Kuwait, herself, and what to expect when I landed. We disembarked together, exchanging contact information in the process. We’ve seen each other regularly since then. She took me to the market one day and we’ll do brunch tomorrow.

She also came to see me at Figs which afforded me the opportunity to meet one of her close friends- Bibi. Bibi works at Cos, a clothing store below Figs, so I started visiting her daily. Bibi took me to the local aquarium one evening as well as a Lebanese restaurant on the beachside for dinner. She, too, broadened my circle of friends, introducing me to Anfal. On the day we went to the aquarium, Bibi had to work until 6pm. She knew Anfal went to a local pool and texted me her number so that I could be in touch with her. Writing this now, it seems strange that I called someone I didn’t know on a whim. And a day later she was on her way to my apartment and I was climbing into a car with someone I’d never seen or met before to go to a pool. But Anfal was awesome and we had a day of sun, tanning, and girl talk. She brought along her friend, Mimi, so I ended my day with two new friends that are truly awesome, fun people.

And, ironically, I still feel connected to all of you at home. In many ways, I feel as if the distance has brought us closer. I feel closer to you and more honest with you when I sit down to write these blog entries. I have learned not to take communication for granted as well; every minute I spend talking to someone is precious and I don't want to waste a single word.

So, kids, talk to strangers. I’m not advocating approaching sketchy men on the street or walking down dark alleys at night in search of people. What I am suggesting is that you keep your eyes and ears open to the people around you. The world not only has opportunities to see new places and have new experiences, but to meet incredible individuals. I came here to learn about food and experience a new landscape. I’m finding a far richer experience than I ever imagined though because of the people I’ve encountered along the way.

Cuisine Couture Kuwait: Machboos

This past Tuesday proved a special day. For starters, it marked exactly three weeks since I arrived in Kuwait. In addition, I moved out of the hotel and into my very own apartment! I feel especially accomplished because I procured it on my own; although the company had originally planned to find me one, their busy schedule and the competitive Kuwaiti real estate market prevented them from helping me immediately. I then took matters into my own hands: browsing internet listings, locating a real estate broker, and convincing my driver to take me on some renegade apartment showings. I wound up with a fully furnished apartment in a beautiful neighborhood that I adore.

As I attempt to adopt a routine and settle into this new chapter of my life, I’ve also been fortunate enough to make a few friends. I made one back in JFK airport, a Kuwaiti girl a few years older than me. She helped me navigate through cancelled flights and prepared me for the new locale on the flight over. We traded contact information and on Monday, my day off, we met back up. She took me to the souk, or local market, for some authentic Kuwaiti street food and an afternoon of bargaining and shopping.

The market is a throwback to Kuwait’s older days. While hotels and malls dominate the landscape, this small corner still contains old eclectic shops and artisans. It holds numerous “restaurants,” or small booths and counters lining the side of the market. Offerings were endless; a wide range of cuisines and nationalities were represented. My friend guided me to one that she called authentic Kuwaiti food. We sat at plastic tables covered with a saran tablecloth. Although humble, the set-up is highly functional. The idea is that the garbage can be gathered and the saran can be removed and replaced after each party finishes eating.

My friend selected foods that she felt best represented traditional Kuwaiti cuisine. She ordered some mezze, including hummus with meat and tabbouleh. I marveled at the hummus. Compared to Lebanese hummus or other versions of the spread I have encountered, Kuwaiti hummus seem slight and airy. The tabbouleh was also interesting because it contained no grains, only herbs and vegetables. My friend said that this is not true of all tabbouleh in Kuwait, but that some restaurants prefer to make it in this alternative way.

For my main dish, she ordered me “Machboos dejaj.” I knew that dejaj translates to chicken, but was unfamiliar with machboos. I have heard the term tossed around though, and I asked her to explain her choice. It turns out that machboos refers to a way of cooking rice. It is common to Kuwaiti households and eaten multiple times throughout the week. A family will often make a large batch and eat it for the next several days.

“I chose this because it’s the main dish in every Kuwaiti household,” she explained.

Machboos can be made with pretty much any protein (except pork since it’s not allowed here!) Common variations include lamb, shrimp, and chicken. First, the rice is soaked in water for about a half hour. Then, the cook prepares a pot with a blend of spices. The spices vary in each household with families passing down their own blends, but they generally contain cumin, cinnamon, dried lime, cardamom, mustard seed, black pepper, star anise, and bay leaf.

“You pretty much can toss in every hard spice you can think of,” my friend laughed.

Then, the meat is added to the pot. In the case of chicken, the protein simmers for about 45 minutes to an hour, until it is “cooked through and fragrant.” Once this has been achieved, the meat and spices are removed from the pot. Next, the rice is put back in the water which at this point is infused with flavor. It remains there until the water has evaporated to the top of the rice and then simmers for about 20 minutes more.

“The rice should be fully cooked, fluffy, and flavored,” my friend relayed.

My plate of machboos dejaj was exceptional. I am not usually one to gravitate toward rice as I find the texture ambiguous. This, however, was cooked perfectly. It was solid enough to retain its shape; it was substantive and thankfully identifiable in my mouth. At the same time, it was soft and cooked through. The spiciness imparted a subtle dynamic touch. It was not overt and overwhelming, but balanced, consistent, and harmonious. The restaurant served it with a tomato “sauce,” although the sauce was not thick like American or Italian sauces. It was more of a tomato broth with small wedges of potato and okra. My friend instructed me to pour small amounts on the rice and mix it together. I loved the effect of the tomato on the rice and spices.

The chicken, too, proved delicious. Although described as “fried” on the menu, the actual preparation was not. The chicken is sautéed in a pot on the stovetop to give it a crispy skin and then cooked through in the oven. The skin had an orange tint and I detected notes of citrus. Sometimes an orange hue comes from saffron or curry, but I did not notice that on my tongue. I think that the color came from orange juice, an interesting touch that also added a level of acidity to the spiciness in the rice.

As we finished our lunch, the Kuwaiti sun faded back behind us and into the horizon. My clock read 4:30, as meal schedules are much later in the Middle East. Even something as minor as this eating time reminded me of the completely new land around me. I have journeyed somewhere totally different: new food, people, schedules, and routines. At times it feels downright intimidating (and even- dare I admit- lonely). Yet I am slowly finding my stride. Tonight I will go “home”- not to a hotel, but to my own “flat” in the heart of the city.

Cuisine Couture: Reflections on Boston

Although Cuisine Couture is predominantly a culinary blog, I would like to digress slightly and discuss what I have seen transpiring in Boston over the last week. Witnessing news coverage from a different country, one in the Middle East at that, has offered a very interesting vantage point.

First and foremost, I want to say how much my heart goes out to everyone affected by the tragedy: those injured, families in upheaval, Boston residents, and Americans at large. I am so grateful that the friends and family I have that were there on that day returned unharmed and wish that everyone had been so lucky. And I am sure I join many others when I thank the EMTs, police, and other special forces who helped respond on that day and ultimately track down the suspects.

I first heard about the marathon on Monday at the hotel. I rode the shoddy interwebs and watched European CNN to try to gain insight into what was unfolding. On Tuesday morning I picked up my copy of The Arab Times, the English newspaper here, expecting a full front page explanation of what had occurred. To my surprise, there was only a short article in the upper left hand corner devoted to the events. More space was devoted to recent suicide bombings in Baghdad; over 30 lives had been claimed in blasts across the country in anticipation of upcoming elections. That reminded me that the Middle East frequently encounters such upheaval and tragedy. At the risk of making light of such horrors, it almost seems as if bombings are commonplace- or more so than back home.

Then there was the embarrassment when I picked up The Arab Times this morning, Saturday. A large article announced that the remaining suspect had been captured, but the headline stated that the “turn” in the suspects’ origins “shocked” investigators. The ever-so-reliable New York Post had sounded the alarm that the perpetrator was a Saudi nationalist. I understand that September 11 forever altered the relationship between the United States and the Middle East, but at the same time it seems that we are quick to cast blame on this part of the world. Islamist extremists are a small minority, as Christian extremists and Zionists too constitute only a small portion of their respective groups. To stereotype a culture or religion based on a violent, outlying faction is a travesty. And to quickly allocate blame to one group of people amid a sea of suspects in deplorable.

Today in the car on the way here, my driver said, “They caught the last suspect, no?” “Yes,” I said. “Why they bomb?” he asked. “Why does anyone bomb?” I replied. “Bomb, bomb, bomb. Too much bomb. In India, they bomb. Problems, they bomb,” he muttered before fading back into silence.
Why do people bomb? Why do they shoot? Why do we stereotype? Violence is not unique to one culture, time period, or place. It is a problem that we all face and, quite frankly, I wonder where we go from here.

Cuisine Couture Kuwait: 2 Weeks!

Hello, everyone! Since last I posted, I made it to the Iraqi border and back. Since the chef is leaving, our driver thought it would be fun to take us there so that we could say we’d seen it. We definitely turned around several hundred feet before it, but at least now I can say I’ve laid eyes on Iraq. Ironically, as we were driving there, we were listening to the local news report which gave updates about a suicide bombing that had unfolded in Iraq that morning. It’s easy to forget about the political terrain as I’m working in a US franchised restaurant in Western shopping mall, but that served as an abrupt reminder. It’s also hard to believe that Kuwait was under occupation two short decades ago in the face of the opulence and modernity.

Yesterday was my first day off since I’ve been here. (I don’t think that my bout with illness that kept me out of work for ½ a day counts as bona fide off time). The corporate boss invited the two chefs and I to a traditional lunch as a farewell to the chef and we decided to take the rest of the day away from the restaurant. The break from the shopping mall and confined restaurant helped remind me why it is I love the Middle East and sought out the chance to come here to begin with. I loved experiencing the architecture, climate (I got outdoors!), and the culture.

We began the day at the “souk,” or Arabic market. It’s probably one of the only sections of Kuwait that has managed to retain a culture and not get consumed by Westernization. From a culinary perspective, it was highly interesting. It had the huge whole butchered meets dangling from wooden stalls. I also found myself walking through a fish market with rare and exotic types of fish. (I think I would have considered that far more enjoyable had I NOT been wearing flip flops, however.) The souk also had an impressive selection of knock offs. I scored a pretty awesome pink bedazzled “Chanel” scarf that I pray makes it through customs upon my return .

Next, we went to lunch. As mentioned previously, schedules are much different in Kuwait and the Middle East at large. For one thing, the invitation was for 2:00 pm. The earliest portion of the lunch wave takes place in what we would consider the afternoon. Moreover, 2:00 really means 2:30 or 3. We arrived at 2:20 to be joined by our boss and the other chef around 2:45. Finally, lunches can last an incredibly long time. There are epic amounts of food and the ordeal can last hours. We did not finish eating until after 4:30 and the hookah did not commence until after 6.

The food was INCREDIBLE and as many of you read cuisine couture for the culinary content, I would love to enlighten you about the feast that unfolded. We met the boss at one of his other restaurants, Leila’s, a Lebanese place. While franchised, it is still small in that there are only a few locations and very authentic in terms of the cuisine served. The restaurant wanted to impress the boss and show him the latest appetizers they’d created for the new menu. As a result, they brought at least 20 mezzes, or Middle Eastern appetizers. Those in and of themselves could have constituted a meal, and I had I known all that was to come I probably would have held back slightly (although I did want to try everything and would not have taken that back). They were served with three types of pitas: fluffy ones made in house, crispy ones, and a few regular ones purchased and brought in. Mezze highlights included:
1. Kibbe- Not fried as per the usual preparation, but baked in a delicious pomegranate sauce. Kibbe is like meat balls- ground beef mixed with spices (curries, etc) and pine nuts- usually fried on the outside, but not this time.
2. Beet Baba ganoush- My personal fave! I LOVE baba ganoush, which is like hummus but made out of eggplant. The beet added a touch of sweetness and flavor and also made the mix pink- a color I most definitely condone.
3. Lentils Agro dolce
4. Truffles in lamb fat- The chefs bugged out over this one more than I did, but it was admittedly good. I found it incredibly rich and decadent, which is very much the point, but in terms of sitting down with something to eat I would go for one of the spreads.
5. Pomegranate baba ganoush
6. Hummus

The main event, however, came after the mezzes has been cleared. Our boss’s sisters had cooked authentic Kuwaiti seafood that they transported to the restaurant. There were two giant platters that could have easily served 10 people each. The platters consisted of a huge pile of authentically cooked up rice with seafood on top. One platter had three enormous stuffed filets of pomfret, the most expensive fish in Kuwait. The other had spicy shrimp. They also presented us with a bowl of fish stew: mackerel, spices, tomato, etc. We received several pickled condiments as well like mango, pomegranate, and extremely spicy peppers. (The boss warned me about the peppers, but I assured him I had high tolerance for heat. He was quite impressed with my spice threshold.)

So how does one go about eating this? Well, my boss started by slapping down the smallest of the three whole fish on my plate. A WHOLE fish- probably 12 ounces of meat at the minimum. One mixes the rice up with the stew and pickled goodies and eats that by the spoon. It’s one giant mash up of spice and flavor by the spoon. The pickled peppers really completed the meal. I left some of the rice, but I confess to eating the entire fish. It was perfectly salted, cooked, spiced, and stuffed with spinach and other green herbs.

Afterward, our boss left us and the chefs and I stayed at the restaurant to partake in the hookah, arguably my favorite Middle Eastern pastime. Leila’s sits in a small shopping alcove and contains an outside patio (truly outside as compared to the “outside” section of Figs in the mall.) The tables lie beside a fountain and downtown Kuwait rises above. The afternoon was sunny and warm, but we remained slightly sheltered in the shade. As I said earlier, I was reminded of what drew me to the Middle East in my younger years. We passed the hours talking, resting, and enjoying the “scenery” around us. The server came to refill our coals periodically. It was a wonderful afternoon and a nice departure from the restaurant.

We had planned to go to the border that evening, but by that time darkness had set in and our driver was hesitant to make the trip at night. We agreed to go in the morning and walked along the “boardwalk” instead. The Kuwaiti beaches are reminiscent of Puerto Rican beaches after hours: the humidity, groups of (Philippino/Latino) people congregating, and the eighties-esque colorblocked benches and chairs. Although the low tide smelled putrid and it was hard to see the beach after dark, the walk afforded us a beautiful view of downtown Kuwait illuminated at night.

I have tried to place pictures into this post, but Kuwait’s interwebs have proven tempermental to say the least. Numerous people are attempting to log on at once and uploading pictures has been near impossible. Fortunately, I was able to load several of them onto photobucket. The link is below and many of the photos supplement the descriptions I have provided in this post.

http://s1327.photobucket.com/user/demb8510/library/

Although I am enjoying this new chapter, I miss all of you and think of home often. Please keep me updates on what you are up to via email, facebook, or any other means of communication you have!

Cuisine Couture Kuwait: An Inside Look

After some consideration, I decided that my latest Cuisine Couture adventures should take the form of a more candid, personal blog rather than more formal reviews. My last post was more analytic; I took an observation, crafted a thesis, and came up with reasons to explain it. However, there is nothing analytic about the way this experience has unfolded! I took the job on a whim and have found myself on the other side of the world. It would be more fun for me- and more fun for you- if I honor that spontaneity and keep you updated on day to day occurences.

Admittedly, the restaurant is keeping me extremely busy! My usual day consists of a wake-up call around 10:30 so I can fit in a brief stint at the teeny hotel “gym.” The car picks us up for the restaurant between 12 and 1 pm. Then, it’s pretty much nonstop action. With the exception of Sundays, the equivalent to Monday in the US (first day of the workweek and school) the crowd converges right at lunchtime, roughly 2pm. It lasts steadily with a brief lull in the afternoon, which in Kuwait is between 6:30 and 8. At 8 dinner hits and doesn’t let up until 11pm. Our driver picks us up at 11 or 11:30pm and we’re back at the hotel around 12am. By the time I get ready for the next day, prepare for bed, and get caught up on my emails and Skyping, it’s about 2am. All things considered, I do not know how frequent my blog will be. However, I aspire to keep you posted at least once a week. I have not had any days off yet and may not for some time, but when I do that should give me more flexibility. (The restaurant is still in its opening stages and it is important that all of the managers be present each day in the weeks t come until we know it can function completely on its own.)

So what is Figs Kuwait all about? If you’ve been to the Figs in Boston, this Figs would probably take you by surprise. The décor stands in staunch contrast. While the Boston figs feels intimate, cozy, and snug, the Kuwait Figs in the Avenues mall proves large, sleek, and sexy. The restaurant name glows in purple neon lights against a backdrop of black textured walls. Inside round leather chairs surround dark wooden tables. The dim mood lighting is reminiscent of modern New York clubs. An “outdoor patio” overlooks the mall below. The formidable mall boasts large palm trees, dangling lights, and a format made to look like city streets.

The food mantains signature Todd English elements. The Kuwait location has the same types of offerings as the original: starters, pizzas, pastas, and mains. Many of the staples are present such as the Oliver’s pizza, Bronx Bomber, and Isabella’s. By name, many of the dishes overlap. At the same time, the cuisine diverges from the American plates in important ways. For one thing, Figs Kuwait has created several new dishes to cater to a Middle Eastern clientele like zaatar vinaigrette and a mezze platter. In addition, the Kuwait kitchen has to factor in limitations imposed by the country. Alchohol must be omitted entirely. It is not used in the cooking and the restaurant has an extensive list of “mocktails” in leiu of a beverage list. Pork cannot be included either. The famous “Fig and Prosciutto Pizza” has been replaced with the “Fig and Bresola,” another type of cured meat.

Most evident, however, is the difference in overall preparation and flavors. The Middle Eastern palate favors extremes: extreme creaminess, sweetness, and richness. Copious amounts of honey are added to agrodolces and sauces. Pastas are saturated in thick, heavy sauces. Also, meat almost always is prepared well done. I have seen numerous dishes that would have been considered a beautiful medium sent back to the kitchen as rare. I ordered a burger medium rare and the chef on duty almost had a heart attack. I would not want to pass judgment on another culture’s taste, but I will say that the difference has been a little bit of a shock to my system. I have become accustomed to a careful balance of flavors and this milieu seems to take the direct opposite approach.

I have an interesting role within the restaurant itself. There were two other Americans here when I arrived. They came as part of an “opening team” appointed by Todd English and scheduled to stay for a shorter time frame, about a month. I, on the other hand, have signed with the Middle Eastern restaurant group that partnered with Todd English to produce the franchise. I work closely with the Americans and share their resources for now, but I will stay on for months to come. The man whose position I filled, Guests Relations manager, already left and the American chef is leaving within the week. Then, I will be on my own!

I alluded to my title: Guest Relations Manager. This is a title they created for me and my exact duties are ambiguous, flexible, and evolving. My American counterpart first explained my job to me as the “American ambassador.” The company benefits from an American face promoting the restaurant, welcoming guests, and checking in on them to heighten their dining experiences. I have some mixed opinions about this in some respects. On the other hand, it puts me in the unique position to place myself in every part of the restaurant. I am on the floor all the time so I get to observe everything that goes on around me. I check in with the guests in the front, organize the servers on the floor, and communicate with the kitchen crew in the back. As a manager, I also have access to the upstairs office and get to see the restaurant logistical operations unfold. Since this is my first official restaurant gig, I am enjoying this vantage point. Had I been tasked with a more intense, specialized position I would not get to be everywhere at once.

My role gives me an opportunity for constant growth as well. The corporation knows that my goal is to learn as much as possible and challenge myself. The restaurant is still in its early stages, but as it grows I am gaining more responsibilities. For example, today I got organize and implement the entire waiting list. To an outsider it may seem like a meaningless feat. In reality, I was keeping track of a slew of things at once. I felt challenged. It was such a surge of adrenaline and the feeling of success w
when the hours of work were over proved exhilarating.

Another major perk is that I get to observe and learn from experienced, talented individuals around me. The American chef appreciates my culinary passions and has been trying to let me see as much as possible. He has taught me several important lessons like the importance of tasting everything. Even if you try a dish one day, you should check back on it a few days later to make sure the kitchen is still executing it correctly. And a taste doesn’t mean finishing it; a single bite as it comes off the line can make or break a guest’s experience. He also reminds me to “walk not run.” As passionate as I am, I need to respect the seasoned professionals around me. I can learn more from standing back and watching them than trying to jump in prematurely.

I have tried many items on the menu and will give you more specific culinary notes in subsequent entries. For now, that is a rundown on the world I have found myself in!

Go FIGure!